Life

My Prayer and a Parable

 

 

 

Dear Lord,

 

 

 

If I do not put the seed in the ground, the grass will not grow.

 

 

 

Yet; If I do put the seed in the ground, it still may not grow.

 

 

 

So please, teach me the art and science of growing grass.

 

 

 

And then; Grant me both the wisdom and the discipline to do what you have taught.

 

 

 

And when the grass grows, deliver me from believing that it grew because I did.

 

 

 

Amen

 

The Ache

Why was Paul stoned, whipped, beaten, and jailed so often? (II Corinthians 11:23-25) He lists nine severe episodes, and before the nine he says, “beaten times without number, often in danger of death.”

 

I know the “why” from the human perspective. There was always a political reason. Someone in authority was ticked off and had the power to arrest and beat him. Or, there were crowds who got riled up at what he was saying and grabbed him and stoned him.

 

But that's just the human perspective. I want to know what I can expect of God.

 

God routinely performed extraordinary miracles through the hand of Paul (Act 19:11,12) . Paul delivered people from bondage all the time. Be it, sickness, or demons, he commanded and they departed. So why not bind the whips, and change the trajectory of the stones, for himself?

 

There was supernatural aid for others through him, but not so much for him. Why?

 

I know some of the answer to this too. “Because Jesus promised it would be that way for His disciples (John 15:20)!” That gets much closer to what I am after. (What is true for the Son is true for His brothers and sisters.) But it doesn't quite get to the point.

 

Why did Jesus promise it would be that way?

 

God is obviously able to deliver, so why does He have a policy of not delivering – of letting His dearest go through cruel torture? Not all of the time, but most of the time?

 

Even these questions don't narrow it down well enough. To them I could say, “Because God does something in us through suffering that He can't do without suffering.” Or, “Because we demonstrate our union with Christ in His obedience, and our separation from Adam in his disobedience, when we remain obedient in the face of persecution or hardship.” We fill up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions ( Col 1:24). We know Him and the fellowship of His suffering, being conformed to His death, in order that we may attain to the resurrection from the dead ( Phil 3:10,11). We establish our place as fellow heirs with Christ “if indeed we suffer with Him.” (Romans 8:17)

 

That get's to be pretty profound stuff. But for today, my quest is more basic, – more narrative than theological. I want to understand what I can expect of a life with God, for me, now. And persecution helps me figure that out.

 

I want to talk about the ache. I think we need to set our expectations for our life with God here and now so that there is always an ache.

 

But I am getting ahead of myself.

 

Why was Paul stoned, whipped, beaten, and jailed so often?

 

At it's most basic level, the answer is, “Because he lives in the time after Jesus left and before He comes back.” Persecution is normal now. It won't be then, but it is now.

 

When you stop and think, it's a no brainer. Christians belong to a King whose Kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36). And the “god of this world” (2 Cor 4:4) in whose power the whole world lies ( I John 5:19), is the arch enemy of our King! So we live in enemy territory, making no attempt to hide our loyalty to our King. We our behind enemy lines without camouflage. That's all going to change, but not until our King returns.

 

Persecution is normal now. No amount of praying or wishing will change that. As a matter of fact, the only way to change it is to choose unfaithfulness. We can avoid persecution only by doing our best to fit in to our world.

 

So if persecution is normal now, what else is normal?

 

Weeds and painful childbirth.

 

And if we broaden it, viruses and bacteria, and all kinds of bad pathogens. The earth is not the way it was when it was first created. It is perverted, and it will be; also until our King returns.

 

No amount of praying or wishing will change this either. We are going to have to fight weeds and flues, and colds, and cancers until Jesus returns. God may intervene and heal some miraculously, or even raise the dead, but even they will get sick again and die.

 

And it doesn't end there.

 

The curse has also ruined or damaged all relationships. So we will fight tension and pain in our relationships. Simply put, we will not experience the joy of a relationship untainted by sin, this side of glory. Sometimes the pain of this will be minor, and sometimes excruciating, but never will it be absent. The gospel and the Spirit give us tools to keep the pain from reigning, but not to keep it from coming.

 

And there is more.

 

A few years ago, I learned a new four letter word. The word “surd.” As in “surd evil.” That's the evil of nature turned against itself. Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, droughts, and tsunamis all fit here. So if you belong to the King, and your house is in the path of a hurricane. Guess what! It's not going to be fun. For you, or for your neighbors. You have an anchor that they may not have, and you ought not rest in your possessions as they might, but your property will be be assailed as theirs is, and you will need to clean up and repair just as they do, and you will lose things precious to you, just as they do.

 

And on top of that...

 

There are financial failures, market crashes, tragic accidents, and the list goes on and on and on. Simply put, our cursed world has a bent towards disintegration and we live in the middle of it. The question is not if it will impact us, but when and how.

 

All of this because we live in the time before Jesus returns.

 

Not to imply that He is disinterested or uninvolved.

 

Without Him “holding all things together” (Col 1:17), everything would fall apart. My heart and yours would stop beating and we wouldn't be able to take another breath. The earth would stop rotating and fall into the sun. Or, maybe it would rotate erratically and fly off into space. It was chaos (Genesis 1:2) before He created, and without Him, what is left of created order (and most of it is left) would disintegrate again.

 

Much of His original creation is still ours to enjoy. Sunsets, and sunrises, warm gentle breezes on sunny days, refreshing showers and spring flowers, the warm embrace of our spouses, the smiles and laughter and love of our children – these are all gifts of Him to me and you through creation. Even His most strident enemies live daily in the midst of his graces.

 

And He is still involved. Miraculous healings, and providential blessings are still normal. Divine interventions are not just a thing of Bible times. They are being recorded around the world today.

 

But He is still a King whose Kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36). And the “god of this world” (2 Cor 4:4) in whose power the whole world lies ( I John 5:19), is still His arch enemy. And the world still lies under the curse ( Genesis 3). Creation longs eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God, when it will be set free from its slavery to corruption. Christians wait eagerly with it. Having the first fruits of the Spirit, we long for our adoption as sons (Romans 8:18-25). “For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees?” (Romans 8:24)

 

How many times have I mouthed the words, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” and not known what I was asking? I've been taking it as a bit of a wistful prayer. “It would sure be nice if the way things go on earth could be a bit more like it is in heaven.”

 

The rest of the Lord's prayer is realistic. Daily bread is daily bread. Forgiveness of sins, a needed current reality. Protection from temptation and deliverance from evil... Our spiritual lives depend on it . So why would I think that “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” is not a real prayer?

 

It's simple really. His will is not going to be done on earth as it is in heaven, until His Kingdom comes!

 

What I can expect in the story that God has written for me is a persistent ache.

 

Until He comes.

Finding Shalom Again

When I read the story of David and Goliath, I want to be a David. When I read the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel, I want to be an Elijah. Equally so for Moses, Daniel, Samuel, Paul, or many others.

 

And it's not just the glory that attracts me. When I read of Jeremiah being cast up to his armpits in a pit of mud (Jeremiah 38:6), I want to be a Jeremiah, not because I like mud, but because he was fearless, speaking the word of the Lord without concern for his own life. Even, Isaiah, walking around Israel for three years naked (Isaiah 20:2), attracts me with his audacity.

 

What they all have in common, and what I long for, is the clarity of their experience of God. They were God's men. – speaking, acting, living for Him, and experiencing His intervention, or not, but knowing all the while His voice and His call. My faith feels weak, and I long for God to make Himself obvious in my experience.

 

In my preaching, I have set these men up as examples to follow. And in many ways they are. Who can argue with the faith of Abraham, the humility of Moses, the heart of David, the courage of Elijah, or the faithfulness of Daniel? We do well to mimic them.

 

In fact, I would like to have it all. I would like to be a composite of the best of all of them. Just like Jesus!

 

But what do I do when my experience of God is not like theirs? When my life is mostly mundane? When I get up in the morning and send kids off to school, and go out and feed cattle? When the decisions I make are mostly common sense with no voice directing me? When it appears that I am to live in the pack and not as the leader of the pack?

 

There seems to be an unavoidable tyranny in life, where we aspire to the exceptional, but live the mundane.

 

I was struck by this when I pastored up north.

 

It is normal for young, newly licensed, commercial pilots to get their first job up north.

 

There were a steady stream of them, and as I got to know them, I discovered that most aspired to become airline pilots – to fly the big jets carrying lots of passengers to and from major cities. For the seven years I was up there, I know of only one who made it. The rest settled with small planes -- air ambulances, fire bombers, freighters, or some other less exceptional assignment, in and out of airports barely on the map. So it was inevitable. For at least nine out of ten pilots, the day comes when they have to adjust emotionally to the fact that they are never going to fly the big ones.

 

And then there are the missionaries I have known who write prayer letters chronicling the day God used them in a big way in someone's life (and well they should). But most of their days, are just days of mundane obedience. Nothing to write home about.

 

I am 55 years old, having been a pastor for about 25 years. I resigned from my first church when I realized I didn't know how to bring vibrancy to it. And after 21 years, my second church has just fallen apart for the third time – twice under my leadership.

My experience of God has not been a glory story. In fact sometimes I wonder how much of what I have done could happen without Him.

 

So I have been thinking a lot about Moses parents. More specifically, about their experience of God. Comparing their experience of God with the experience of Moses and the next generation.

 

Initially, the Bible doesn't even give them a name. A man from the house of Levi married to a daughter of Levi (Exodus 2:1). Later, we learn that they are Amram and Jochebed (Exodus 6:20), and it is Jochebed who is credited with defying Pharoah's orders, hiding the baby Moses for three months, and then floating him in the Nile to be discovered by Pharoah's daughter (Exodus 2:1-10).

 

Life, for them, was hard. Recognized as a threat to national security, the Pharoah had made them slaves and subjected them to hard labor (Exodus 1:13,14). Still insecure, the Pharoah ordered the midwives to murder all the baby boys. But the midwives feared God, and refused to comply.

 

The picture we get is of the Israelites living afflicted, fearing for the lives of their children.

 

The midwives feared God (Exodus 1:21). The children of Israel, “cried to the Lord, the God of (their) fathers,” (Deut. 26:7) out of their affliction. The point is that many, if not most, were people of faith living in very difficult circumstances, and praying for intervention. So what were most days like for the faithful? What did praying feel like?

 

We can do some math. Moses had a sister who was old enough to sit and watch the basket in the Nile, and to approach the Princess with an offer to find a nursemaid. Probably at least ten. So Amram and Jochebed were a minimum of 25 years old at the birth of Moses. More likely 30+. Moses was 40 when He fled and 80 when he returned. So Amram and Jochebed were at least 105 years old when they crossed the Red Sea to freedom. (They appear to be numbered in the census taken of those who were in the wilderness, and to be among those who died in the wilderness (Numbers 26:59).)

 

Now here is the deal. The affliction started before Moses was born (Exodus 1:8-14), and then persisted while he lived as an Egyptian prince and tended sheep in exile -- a period of 80 years. So for Amram and Jochebed, the most blessed of their generation, life consisted of suffering, then an amazing moment of Divine providence (no miracle), followed by 80 years of more suffering, followed by miraculous intervention. For most others of their generation it would have been the same, with the possible exception of their experience of providence. And for those born a generation earlier, a slightly less difficult youth, but death in bondage with no hint of relief in sight.

 

No matter how you cut it, the chosen people went through at least 100 years of significant suffering. And Deuteronomy 26:7 says they were a praying people. Praying for something for 100 years doesn't feel like an amazing experience of God.

 

Why does Amram have to be Amram, and Moses get to be Moses? Or, if Moses wrote a journal of his experience of God for 40 years in exile tending sheep, what would he say? Or, why does one generation have to breathe it's last with no relief in sight, while the next gets to see the salvation of the Lord?

 

We find the answer in Genesis 15:13: “Know for certain that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, where they will be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years.”

 

I don't know when the clock started, but clearly, God is working out His plan. Four hundred years have to pass before the words, “Let my people go,” can resound from the lips of Moses. If an Israelite is born in year two hundred, no amount of praying, or wishing, or trying, is going to change the story. He will not be a Moses, and he will not see the Exodus. He will be born, live and die in Egypt.

 

Why four hundred years?

 

Well at least part of the reason is that it will be that long before the “sin of the Amorite” is complete (Genesis 15:16). God is planning to use the children of Israel to judge the Canaanites, at the same time as He promises to fulfill His covenant promise to Abraham, at the same time as He judges the Egyptians for their mistreatment of the Israelites (Gen 15:14). And I would guess, He is also building a national identity for His people. Galvanized and glued together by suffering, they grow big enough to take possession of the land. And on top of that, who knows what God may be demonstrating to the principalities and powers in the spiritual realm?

 

But for our purposes, the “Why” is not important. We don't always know why we get what we get.

 

The point is that God has ordained four hundred years. Human aspirations will not change that. Human prayers will move the hand of God to intervene, but not before the time. Moses has an assignment in the story. So does Amram, and Jochebed, and the mother and father who passed the faith on to Jochebed and to Amram. It is theirs to be faithful, but it is not theirs to choose the time and the place of their birth or the part they will play in the story.

 

What we aspire to is trumped by what we are assigned.

 

This sounds like fatalism. “You get what you get, so why bother praying.”

 

Not at all. The birth of Moses is God's answer to the prayers of the people. As is his palace upbringing, desert exile, and charismatic return. They needed to pray! And God answered their prayer.

 

Perhaps even more helpful is the experience of the midwives.

 

First they refuse to obey Pharoah by keeping the boy babies alive, and then they lie to cover up their non compliance. They do this because they fear God (Ex. 1:17). And God changes their immediate life experience as a reward to their faithfulness.

 

“Because the midwives feared God, He established households for them (1:20).” Taking the text at face value, I assume that Shiprah and Puah were spinsters, without husbands or children, and God provided them with husbands and children. So instead of living without families of their own, they live out their years fearing for the safety of their very own children, as well as the children of their brethren.

 

I say that a bit tongue and cheek. But I mean no cynicism by it. It is truly a blessing to have children, a blessing experienced because God is a rewarder of Shiprah and Puah. But their faithfulness didn't fast forward the clock or the decree of God. So they live in a daily experience of God's blessing, under the shadow of a tyrant, anticipating deliverance at some unknown time.

 

That's the way it is for children of God. We live in a cursed world ruled by the god of this world and his minions. Into that world, God enters and grants gifts.

 

This brings us to the point. Life, for the godly, is made up of a mix. Much of our experience comes to us as an assignment that we can't pray away or dodge. We don't always know the why, In fact, we often don't know the why. And neither did Job. But it's still ours to complete. And within that, at times, we experience the intervention of God, sometimes miraculous, and sometimes providential. So we are neither in control of God, nor abandoned to our own devices.

 

The midwives had an impact, and were rewarded, but they couldn't pray themselves out of another 80 years of bondage (if they lived that long).

 

If you were an Israelite, and you could choose when you were born, when would you choose? I would choose to be a teenager at the time of the Exodus. That way I could watch God crush the gods of Egypt in the plagues, walk through the Red Sea and see Him annihilate the Egyptian army, be young enough to miss out on the dying in the wilderness, but experience God's provision in the wilderness, participate in the conquest of Canaan including the fall of Jericho, and settle in the land of milk and honey. They saw a lot of God.

 

But the point is that we don't get to choose.

 

So what do we do with our heroic aspirations? After all, most of the time, most of us, do not warrant special mention.

 

Elijah is perhaps our best point of contact. At one point he thinks he is the only faithful one left.

 

God's answer: “I have seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal or kissed him.” (I Kings 19:18)

 

We are told very little about the other 6999. Farmers, housewives, shepherds, servants, traders, going about their business and refusing to stand with the masses in idolatry. They are faithful, without being conspicuous. They are anonymous to us, but not to God. Perhaps we should think more about what it was like for them, and less about what it was like for Elijah.

 

Perhaps we have made too much of our heroes and too little of our God. Perhaps the point of the stories is not, “Be a hero,” but, “God is faithful!” The heroes are God's gifts to His people – examples of his undying faithfulness and his stubborn refusal to give up on us. But by definition, they are the exception.

 

If God has assigned you a heroes role, then fill it with all your heart. But if not, and it's almost certainly not, fill the role he has given you with all your heart.

 

It just makes no sense to construct a theology of Christian experience that fits only a few.

 

His faithfulness extends to all of His children, and their faithfulness pleases Him, regardless of their role.

 

I think sometimes we think God discovers heroes. As if He is a hero scout. And we live our lives hoping to be discovered, and are disappointed when we are not.

 

God doesn't discover anything. He creates.

 

May it be enough for us to magnify His name.

 

To Die For

 

 

 

 

 Too often, evil seems to win.

 

And then I was preparing an advent message out of John 13 and 14 and was surprised by a delicious train of thought, fresh from a text long loved and studied, but never seen before.

 

Jesus is preparing his friends for his departure. (John 13:31-35)

 

He tells them that he has to leave and that they can't come with Him – at least not yet. (cf. John 14:1-3) Their hearts are troubled, and they need comfort.

 

Into that, Jesus says, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this will all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34,35)

 

The ache that they are feeling is the soon to come loss of one who loved them.

 

His answer to their ache is that they will love each other in His stead. People will know that they have been with Him, because they love like Him. It's rubbed off. What they saw in His eyes they will now see in each others eyes, and the judgment free tenderhearted acceptance that was His to give and theirs to receive, will now be theirs to give each other.

 

“Even as I have loved you.”

 

I am used to thinking about love in terms of the cross. “He loved them by dying for them.”

 

But not here. Here, He has not yet gone to the cross, and He is comforting them before He goes. Pointing them to a love already experienced on the trail for the last three years.

 

And that's where the surprise came. I was looking for loving acts. What did He do for them on the trail? I tried to think of miracles that Jesus did for the disciples. But there are precious few. He healed Simon's mother in law (Lk 4:38,39) and He provided Simon Peter, and James and John with an amazing catch of fish (Lk 5:4-11) (both prior to their discipleship) and I suppose, when He stilled the storm he saved their lives. So there are some miracles for them.

 

But life was not easier for them, because they were with Jesus. (And I can't say it's been easier for me either.)

 

They left the fish. Far from seeing Jesus turn their business into a miraculous success, they left it altogether. Then they travel with Him for three years, homeless, and watch Him do miracle after miracle, but mostly not for them. And yet, when that's nearly over, they are overwhelmed with grief at the thought of being separated from Him.

 

It's not the miracles that they are missing.

 

In fact he tells them that they will be hated and persecuted and that they will drink the cup that He drinks and be baptized with a baptism of suffering like Him. That being His disciple will extend to suffering with Him.

 

Even His mother heard, “and a sword will pierce even your own soul.” (Lk 2:35)

 

There is no promise that He will ride in on a white horse and rescue every time they face the darkness. Far from it, they are promised the same experience of life this side of glory that He had. Complete with being reviled, hated, persecuted and martyred.

 

So those who are closest to Jesus get to hurt the most.

 

I can only conclude that, “Even as I have loved you,” is not first about doing. It's about a love that can be seen in someone's eyes and felt in someone's presence – a love for loved ones! A love that leads to, “I miss you.” Or, “I don't know how I can go on without you!” A love that is a way of being!

 

A love so strong and so beautiful that it's to die for.

A Change

Recently, I listened to a presentation by Dr. Piper – http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/conference-messages/the-pastor-as-scholar-a-personal-journey – in which he said that he wrote as a means of collecting and organizing his thoughts – that his writing was not just the result of his thinking but integral to it. I liked that, and it resonated with how it works for me.

 

Then I read Eugene Petersen's memoirs in a book titled, “The Pastor.” In it, he refers to another writer who likened writing to walking through dark woods with a flashlight in his mouth, illuminating the next two feet. (I would give you the writer and the page number, but I have lent the book out to a friend.) I really liked that. Writing as exploring. Writing without knowing where it is going to end. Writing for the sake of writing.

 

I have previously struggled with some tension. Sometimes writing in the “now,” with little thought for tomorrow, but more often feeling a sense of responsibility to keep my thoughts to myself until they have been refined, tested, and made a little safer. Perhaps it is important for people to know when my thoughts are the product of thorough Biblical contemplation and a long season of careful refining. I have done much of that, and am delighted to share it.

 

But that is not all I want to share...

 

Perhaps, it is not even sharing that drives me to write, but the desire to put words to thoughts that seem somehow homeless until they have found their place on a page in a story that is my journey.

 

And so after another short season of not writing, I embark again. This time I expect the journey will be a little more free, and a lot more raw! I suppose we will see.

Better Late than Never

Now, even to me, it seems ridiculous to write a blogpost to clarify something I wrote on April 12, 2012 – a full 5 months ago (after all, who still cares?) But this thought took flight within weeks of that last post, and needs a place to rest.

 

“Christianity is an experience of God in the midst of the darkness!” I wrote that, and it remains deeply meaningful to me -- providing comfort to me when I don't see as much of God as I would like, and reminding me that I do in fact experience much even when I am buffeted by hardships and evil seems to triumph around me.

 

But I was ruminating on it a few weeks after I wrote it and felt the fool. An experience of God is had by anyone who is alive, not just Christians. Any human who steps out of his dwelling into the warm sunshine or a refreshing breeze, receives the embrace of a loved one, smells the fragrance of flowers, or looks into the many splendored colors of a sunset, experiences God.

 

And equally, the darkness is felt by all!

 

So I just wanted to say, “That's not what I was talking about last time.”

 

Christians experience more. Ours is not just the enjoyment of God's creation. We experience God as Father, and Jesus as brother, in the intimacy of family. Sometimes our Father intervenes on our behalf and answers our prayers, making life easier. Sometimes He orders the natural events of our lives to our benefit. Sometimes He sets a course for us, bleak and hard, designed for our testing. Often, He sends us into battle on His behalf, and our pain is multiplied. But always He is more than creator, He is Dad! The Bible calls it fellowship or communion.

 

(My apologies to those who follow me, for the long break. I have fallen once again to the “I will write once I am caught up,” syndrome. I think I am back now.)

In a Nutshell

Way back in seminary I learned from Ecclesiastes that my life would not bring an end or even make a significant change to the darkness of our world. Now that I am in my 50's I have learned the same thing from life. The persistent and pervasive darkness makes me ache.

 

Our lives can turn on the light in a dark room. But the sun awaits the Son.

 

If you boil being a Christian down to it's very essence, it is an experience of God. It is a lot of other things too. But if it is not an experience of God, the other things are man made religion, not Christianity.

 

I was lying in bed the other day pondering these things and I realized that if I put these two conclusions together, it makes a very good framework for exploring “normal” Christian experience. (Helpful, in resolving my personal and corporate lament. ( cf. Earlier blogs)) The Christian life will not be a life free of darkness, and it will not be a life devoid of an experience of God.

 

Christianity is an experience of God in the midst of the darkness!

 

Within that you can have the experience of Stephen whose vision of Christ was had while rocks smashed into his head. Or you can have the experience of Paul, who experienced numerous miraculous rescues, and through whom others experienced many supernatural healings, but who was also stoned, shipwrecked, maligned, hated, bitten by a scorpion, and died in prison. Or you can have the experience of some Christians in World War II, whose normal lives of commerce, and church, and weddings and funerals, were turned upside down by the presence of a Jewish family at the back door, looking for a place to hide.

 

Within that, there is no, “one size fits all.” And we have only limited impact on the size that fits us. Are you the leader or vibrant member of an apostate church; a carpenter or nurse in a church in the midst of a Spiritual awakening; a martyr in a country with hatred towards Christ; a saint with a memory of mystical communion now going through a “dark night of the soul;” or a converted Muslim in a community into which God is breaking?

 

Christian experience can be radically different and still very real.

An Easter Meditation

Expectations Exceeded

 

They expected Him to resist arrest.

    He surrendered without a fight!

 

They expected Him to save Himself.

    He died, and saved everyone but Himself!

 

They expected Him to stay dead.

    If He who raises the dead is dead, who will raise the dead?

        His Father!! Into whose hands He committed His Spirit!

 

They expected His resurrection to bring Him back to normal.

    He walks through walls, moves without walking, and lives, never to die again!

 

They expected His throne – the throne of David -- to be in Jerusalem.

    He took up the crown of David seated on the throne at the right hand of God!

 

They expected Him to rule bodily in Israel.

    He rules through His Spirit in the church and is coming again to Israel!

 

They expected His people to be Jewish.

    He is gathering for Himself a people made up of every tribe and tongue and nation and grafting us in to Israel.

 

What do you expect?

Faithbuilding in Israel

So the eternal God, Creator of the universe, comes down to earth and gets a sixteen year old girl named Mary pregnant. The boy born of this union, though obviously of God, is scorned by his people as an illegitimate bastard, condemned, tortured, crucified, and buried as a criminal. His heavenly Father raises him from the dead, accepting his death as atonement for the sin of his mother's race, and receives him to his right hand side, from whence He pours out the holy Spirit on all who believe, and from whence He will return one day to reign over all humanity.

 

Doesn't that sound far fetched to you!

 

I am a sceptic. And very often, as I go about my life on the Canadian prairies, that story has seemed too far fetched to believe. Leaves, and sunsets, and thunder storms, and the eye of an eagle, make it impossible for me to deny the existence of God, but the incarnation has seemed more like a story book fairy tale.

 

For a while now, I have been asking God to increase my faith. I want the reality of the incarnation to have as much impact on me as do the realities of day to day life. Better yet, I would like the realities of the incarnation to control or give meaning to the realities of day to day life.

 

I have just returned from spending eleven days in Israel.

 

The first full day was the most overwhelming.

 

While it was yet morning we traveled from near Joppa, (where Peter received his vision declaring Gentiles clean, and from which Jonah fled his call to preach to Gentiles) to Caesarea by the Sea. We gathered in an ancient theater, some of the seats, 2000 years old. Perhaps the very place where the infamous Herod was eaten by worms and died for taking the glory due only to God. (cf. Acts 12:21-23) Our worship leader called us to sing. He had chosen many of my favorites, proclaiming the glory and majesty of God.

 

I had trouble singing. While we were being led to sing of His grandeur, I was being overwhelmed with His humility.

 

I am used to connecting with the earth as His creation. And because creation is grand, He can only be more grand. But here for the first time I was connecting with the earth as His dwelling place. This land was the land to which He had given His name. Before Jesus, there was Israel. Here, He had chosen to make Himself known. Here, He had created for Himself a people. Here, He had chosen to make Himself visible, not just in the leaves on the trees, but in the history of His people. Etched into the very ground upon which we walked, are the stories where He went to battle for His people. Places named after Him. Structures built to honor Him. Ruins, where His enemies fought Him and lost, or where His people abandoned Him and suffered the consequence.

 

In Canada you would need to get rid of creation in order to deny God, but in Israel you would need to erase history in order to deny Him. Everywhere He went, He left a trail.

 

Everywhere He went, He left a trail!

 

God became earthy, before He became flesh.

 

Words fail me. As I sat in the theater at Caesarea, I needed a song about His nearness. About His dwelling on the very soil He created. About His relentless pursuit of relationship. First by attaching Himself to Abraham, then to the Israelites, and then to the land of Israel. Israel foreshadows the body of Christ. It's like God said, “This is who I am, and this is the kind of thing I do, in pursuit of you. I get down and dirty, and come to you on your turf. I want you to know me! Majestic I am, but aloof I am not!”

 

Into our humble abode He comes.

 

And His glory shall fill the earth as the waters cover the sea.

The Gospel for Low Lifes, According to Jesus

So far we have seen John the Baptist and Jesus set the stakes way high – surprisingly high -- in response to people who have it together. What will His response be to people who obviously don't have it together?

 

I must confess that I had a hard time letting my title stand. I actually have a harder time loving the self righteous than I do loving the unrighteous, and I really find it distasteful to call anyone a “low life.”

 

Yet the woman featured in today's blog is clearly presented as just that – a known woman of ill repute. Luke leaves her nameless and describes her as, “a woman in the city who was a sinner.” (Lk 7:37) The Pharisee host gave himself permission to reduce his opinion of Christ, because, “If this man were a prophet He would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner.” (Lk 7:39) And even Jesus describes her as one whose sins “are many” (vs 47) and who needs much forgiveness in comparison to Simon, His Pharisee host, who needs little. She was society's trash – a low life, whose sins were public and on display.

 

His final word!

 

“Your faith has saved you, go in peace.” (vs 50) And before that, “Your sins have been forgiven.” (vs 48) And before that, “For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much.” (vs 47)

 

Why is there no, “But.”

 

“But, go clean up your act. “

 

Or

 

“But, make sure you don't return to your previous lifestyle.”

 

Just,

 

“Go in peace!”

 

I can feel it as I write. Her slumped shoulders lifting. Her downcast eyes and tear stained face now cautiously turned up, looking for His eyes. “Could it be true?” The smile breaking forth and the tears, now of joy, flowing again. Release! Release! Release! Blessed sweet release!

 

I am sure she went! In peace – forgiven – rescued by Jesus.

 

How could He? Why did He? What happened here anyways?

 

If you haven't read it by now, you should. We are talking about Luke 7:36-50.

 

There is lots of neat stuff here. Like how Simon thinks in his head, and has Jesus answer him out loud. And how Jesus makes Simon look like the low life in the story. But blog posts are supposed to be short.

 

Why does Jesus forgive her? Because she loves Him much!

 

The house

 

She goes, uninvited, into the home of a well reputed Pharisee who would not so much as touch her clothing. He has guests of his own kind gathered. This is not a safe place for her.

 

The alabaster vial of perfume

 

She hears that He is in there, picks up her perfume, and enters the house. There is nothing happenstance about this. She has heard about Him, recognized who He is, perhaps seen Him minister with compassion and authority to others, and is on a mission to express her love for Him, and seek forgiveness. He has her heart, and is her only hope.

 

The language of her body

 

She is weeping. Too broken to touch His head or His torso, her tears falling on His feet, she keeps wiping them off with her hair, all the while kissing his feet and anointing them with her perfume.

 

She says nothing. She doesn't need to!

 

Why does Jesus forgive her? Because He can forgive whomever He wants.

 

This is what has the Pharisees floored. For the moment they forget about the sinful woman making a public display at Jesus feet. Their murmuring is now not about her, but about Him. “Who is this man who even forgives sins?”

 

She knows who He is, but they do not!

 

My Hebrew professor in seminary once said something that so surprised me, I have never forgotten it. “There is no sacrifice for the sin of the high hand.” Premeditated things like murder and adultery are dealt with by stoning and by the absence of an atoning sacrifice.

 

King David committed adultery with Bathsheba and murdered her husband, Uriah. In Psalm 32, and Psalm 51 and II Samuel 11,12 there is no mention of him taking a lamb or a bull to the tabernacle in search of atonement. Instead he speaks in the Psalms of acknowledging His sin to God and being blessed with forgiveness. It was all he could do.

 

And it is all she can do. If she had taken a lamb to the priest at the temple, the priest would have turned her away. (Assuming that she was an adulteress.) The priest can only offer forgiveness under the law, and there is no provision for her under the law.

 

When Jesus says, “Your sins have been forgiven you,” He is placing Himself above the law (a higher authority than the High Priest) and equal with His Father. He can forgive whomever He wants.

 

For the record, I know that He does that on the basis of His own atoning sacrifice, yet to come! But I see no evidence that she knows that, or needs to know that. There is certainly no evidence that He points her in that direction. And He certainly could have, because He knows exactly where He is going. So He forgives her without pointing her back to the shadow of the atonement (the Old Testament sacrificial system) or pointing her forward to the reality of the atonement (His own sacrifice on the cross). He just forgives her, plain and simple!

 

There is yet another thing, perhaps the more breathtaking.

 

If I meet a stranger, and He tells me how he has sinned against his wife, and I say, “I forgive you,” what is that? Nothing! He will not go away forgiven, and unless he is a fool, he will not go away feeling forgiven. Why not? Because he has not sinned against me. So I can not forgive him.

 

When David is dealing with the guilt of committing adultery with Bathsheba, and murdering her husband, he says to the Lord, “Against You and You only I have sinned!” (Psalm 51:4) That sounds ridiculous. How could it be more clearly not true? He violated the marriage of Uriah, and Bathsheba – a sin against both of them. He took the life of Uriah, a sin against Uriah, and any who loved him or depended on him. Yet he says, “Against you and you only I have sinned!” What can he mean?

 

He means that he gets it! While His sin certainly violated many, first and foremost, it violated their Creator, and the forgiveness that counts has to come from Him! When a vandal sprays paint over a priceless painting, he violates the painting, but his action most importantly expresses contempt for the painter and the owner. God is both the painter and the owner of men and women and their marriages.

 

This woman knows intuitively that to which the Pharisees are blind. Jesus is God. Her sins, which are many, are against Him. Thus, He can forgive her!

 

And He does!

 

And He does without requirement, simply on the basis of her faith or her love! We see a heart, now upside down to the way it used to be. There is no tension between her and John the Baptist or the rich young ruler or lawyer.

 

Eternal life is for those whose hearts belong to Jesus.