Author Archives

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On this new day

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For nearly three years, Jesus has been telling His disciples–repeatedly–what lies ahead. Then it occurs: He’s taken, tried, killed. Their response? Bewilderment.

In Luke’s telling, for instance, several women trek to Jesus’ grave as soon as possible after the crucifixion so as to complete the embalming process for which there had not been sufficient time. Embalming? Meanwhile, back at some undisclosed location, other disciples mill about, their next steps unclear. Then those women burst in with news given them by angels about Jesus’ resurrection. Their audience–disciples, all–is incredulous; the women’s words “seemed to them like nonsense” (Luke 24:11). Peter runs over to the tomb to check for himself, but even he’s not sure what to make of things.

Meanwhile, two other disciples are walking west, out of Jerusalem, towards Emmaus. They’re joined by a third–Jesus, Luke tells us, soto voce–who asks about their discussion. Are you the only one around here who hasn’t grasped what’s going on? they ask. It’s a bit ironic, this statement.

What? the third man (that’s Jesus, Luke repeats–Luke, the ironist, driving home the point) asks. And they proceed to explain, complete with a mention of their own dashed hopes.

Dashed hopes. Luke’s tale strikes a chord because it illustrates what is still the case in our day: we want Jesus to care, be powerful, tell the truth, keep faith, stick around. When everything seems to go sideways, we get confused, angry, skeptical, wary, depressed.

The desire for faith, hope, and love is so strong inside us.

So strong, that when any or all are jostled–when someone we trust turns out to be false, when something we expected doesn’t materialize, when we’re lonely too long and for no apparent reason–we unravel.

I love how Luke gives us Jesus eventually appearing to all these torn-up people and–once again–making very clear who He is and what’s going on. Then instead of chiding them, or turning away in disgust, or expressing His own disappointment at their failure to get with the program, He tells them to saddle up. All is well! He’s saying. Let’s go! Which they hear, and do, and subsequently turn the world upside down.

What’s so great about this piece of the Easter story is the Lord’s patience, kindness, and grace in response to a range of reactions. It’s a vivid reminder of how great God is, how good. And it keeps nudging us, working its way into hearts with the promise that the faith, hope and love we need and want is just outside that open, empty tomb.

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The unsung (Hebrews 11:32-40)

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When the credits for a movie roll, a lot of names are missing. That is, the people who stood behind the heroine as she prepared to board the ocean liner or who milled on a sidewalk during the car chase–the ’extras’–don’t see their names scroll by; they are not singled out for attention. We’re used to this. Even in a day when celebrity is as common as cell phones, we expect that many will still be overlooked.

And yet, each of these people has value, each has a contribution to make, a song to sing. Lit up by limelight, getting a speaking part, achieving some measure of notoriety–these all have their place, but they tell us nothing of worth. In that department, sheer existence is sufficient.

As Hebrews wraps up the catalog of faithful people, we get a quick list of familiar names. But then we are told of several others, women and men whose exploits do not show up in Scripture but who all the same are remembered for their faith. It is as though our author wants to impress upon us that many down through the ages have lived well, and anonymously. What we see in this is that faith is not merely a trait of the famous, nor does God smile only on the well-known. There are many (we rub shoulders with them every day) whose lives play out off- off-Broadway to the glory of God.

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What we focus on (Hebrews 11:20-28

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What catches my attention in this next section of Hebrews’ ‘catalog of faith’ is what isn’t there. The stories our author recounts are well-known, but details familiar from the earlier record are curiously absent. A cover-up, perhaps?

My sense is that air-brushing is not the writer’s intent here. Rather, we’re hearing what needs to be told regarding the bigger picture. Quite clearly, this author has set an agenda of discussing faith–on a personal level, as it touches the body of Christ, and then, even bigger, what it means to read the world through a lens of faith in God’s way. Approached from that point of view, stories told as they are here ‘fit’: they are illustrating what happens when people follow God.

People fail–but failure is not the big story in Scripture. What matters is that God can make things right–indeed, that making things right is what God does. When we miss that, or insist on calling out the mistakes, we miss much. Conversely, when by faith we focus on grace, when we count on, embrace, welcome, live as though we might die without grace–what happens then?

One thing, at least: we see what’s worth looking at.

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Writers writing

more booksOnce I had the idea for Letters to Me, I went looking for people with something to say. Some of them I knew, others were friends of friends, and others I had ‘met’ via their on-line presence. A good-natured lot coalesced around the notion of speaking to the past in ways that bless the present, and as we worked together to fashion this book, I discovered more of their interests and style. We finished the project late last year and brought the book out to rave reviews. Meanwhile though, LTM‘s contributors continue to crank out more that’s worthy of attention…

Baker Books just released Margot Starbuck’s Permission Granted. Focused on love, the book emerges out of Margot’s kind, large-hearted life.

Eric Wyatt who, as a writing instructor, practices what he preaches, will have a short story published in the New Plains Review.

Brian McLaren’s latest book, Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha and Mohammed Cross the Road? is out and being widely read and reviewed. Brian’s output is prodigious and regularly life-provoking. He’s at work on his next book, too….

Tamára Lunardo has been shepherding What a Woman is Worth to completion. It’s another collaboration, carried out with the encouragement of Civitas Press.

Aletheia Schmidt published Awake My Soul, a devotional art journal that includes 52 full color images and a batch of intriguing questions and prompts that nudge deep reflection.

In addition to books and essays, other contributors continue to deepen and widen discussions via thoughtful blogging–consideration of which deserves its own post.

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Does it count if…? (Hebrews 11:17-19)

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The ‘binding of Isaac’ is one of the OT’s seminal stories. It strikes swift and deep, cutting into the heart of any parent who has nurtured a child, any person who has harbored a dream. Give it up, God says–and the right response of faith is, we know, Of course.

And yet.

It is no easy matter to see or hope for something, and then for that seen, hoped-for thing to materialize, only to be put in the balance. Harder still if that balance tips the other way, so that what is precious slips out, away from one’s grasp.

Give it up. Of course. But I can’t. Not now, at least–but perhaps I could if….

In Hebrews account of Abraham and Isaac, we read a detail not supplied in Genesis, where this story first appears. The early telling is long and tense, with no ‘omniscient narrator’ (to use a phrase fiction writers and readers know) explaining what is going on inside Abraham’s mind. In Hebrews, though, we read that Abraham complied after reasoning that God would raise Isaac from death.

Maybe the writer of Hebrews is, like preachers since have done, adding a wee bit to the original story. It might also be, though, that he has an inside track–a piece of information that has hitherto been missing from the record. Problem is, what he says seems to contradict the point he’s been trying to make in this extended treatment of faith. After all, if Abraham is banking on God resurrecting Isaac, does it really take faith to go through with the directions God has given him to follow?

I think so. First, there’s nothing that requires faith and reason to be incompatible. That is, just because we’re called upon to be people of faith, we need not unhook our brains. Indeed, there are times–and they tend to happen when we ‘over-spiritualize’–when what is purported to be faith is simply foolishness. To say it in language borrowed from James, faith ought to have an ‘action’ component–and sometimes, the appropriate action is careful reasoning.

Second, it still requires faith to believe that God can–and will–raise a dead person. Abraham had been around long enough to see plenty of people die. He also knew his history: up to that point, resurrection hadn’t exactly been common. So even if he’s calculating, banking on a miracle, it’s a long shot by any measurement.

Maybe the point, then, is that this section of Hebrews is rounding out our understanding of faith. At times, it is a mystical experience: it just feels right in ways we cannot easily explain. At others, though, faith is fueled by reason–and as such is in no way diminished.

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with, for

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A weekly study in Colossians has me walking over familiar ground with new eyes. This time through, rather than trying to explicate each word or phrase, I’m pulling back, for a bigger picture.

In last week’s portion–1:15-20–we keyed in on the idea of origins, and what it means to be from and connected to a particular family. Read like that, Paul’s poem/hymn really sings. Its emphasis on Jesus’ activity as creator and sustainer means, for instance, that one’s particular lineage need not have the final say. Rather, connection with God puts one in touch with God’s original intent and commitment to restoration so that the Creator’s early design can once more be seen, enjoyed, appreciated.

Read like that, I walk out of this text with new appreciation for roots and wings. The words and phrases of this hymn invite unpacking and reward close study, but sometimes examining trees misses the wonder of the forest. So, pulling back, I hear Paul extolling the God who includes, welcomes, grounds. Once again I am encountering the One who is full of grace and quick to affirm.

Jerry Hawthorne, a friend and mentor, wrote a commentary on Colossians that I’m using in this study. One of his observations about Paul’s message in this book–in fact, one of the themes Jerry loved to trumpet–is conveyed on the commentary’s dedication page. There, after mentioning family and friends, he starts the book with a clarion call: “Remember: God is for you!” Indeed.

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The image above is part of a larger collection in the devotional art journal, Awake My Soul. More info on that here.

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A foot on both sides (Hebrews 11:10-16)

Blank signpost 2 (clip path)The ‘heroes’ of Hebrews 11 nudge us towards an ‘already/not yet’ perspective, where one is both aware of one’s immediate surroundings and engaged with what is on the far horizon. Abraham is one such example–this patriarch who looked forward to the city with foundations engineered by God, who held fast to the notion of fathering a child in his dotage. Others with similar mien are remembered by this author, too, women and men who saw what had been promised them but never held an ‘answer’ in their hands.

The book’s writer describes them as aliens and strangers on earth whose home lay in a better country, where God has prepared a city for them. But he knows as well that for all their tilt toward a future destination, each of these people lived a solid, substantial, particular life. None of them detached from daily responsibilities or realities, none walked into the desert or up a mountain expecting to be whisked away. Indeed, to imagine that God would vacuum saints to heaven upon their ‘conversion’ is rather fanciful; far more typical is that people with faith in God generally stay where they are. In fact, it’s not uncommon for those with such faith to find more than occasionally that things get worse–as Abraham, for one, discovered.

Living by faith is no easy matter. Faith takes work, brings trouble, means–often–a long march in the dark. But what our writer seems to be suggesting is that for all the scouring and uncertainty associated with a life of faith, it beats the alternative. Without it, one drifts in the present, punting from pillar to post; without it, the future is faced with unfounded hope. Instead, as the folks profiled in this book would no doubt agree, an active, vital, vibrant faith–in God–is essential for now and later.

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Glory in the ordinary

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This week’s lectionary reading comes from John 2:1-11, the story of Jesus in Cana, turning water to wine. Great story, familiar–but one with a few twists. For example, the time markers (on the third day a wedding took place…). Leon Morris’ commentary put me on to the other ’days’ (1:29, 35, 43), and how, if you start with the interview between John the baptizer and those sent from Jerusalem as the first day (1:19), and then take ‘the third day’ seriously, you have Jesus at the wedding on the seventh day. Couple this with the way John’s gospel opens (In the beginning…), and it seems like there is a conscious, if subtle, reference to Genesis. Jesus, the creator, coming to start something new? Not so far-fetched. But the kicker: on the seventh day–what would be Sabbath–He does not rest, but goes to a party.

I like this. I like this picture of Jesus entering a completely ordinary situation and taking part. Then there’s a crisis: no more wine. Mary wants Jesus to intervene, they exchange words, she goes to the nearby servants and, soto voce, tells them to get ready. Transformation occurs. This time through, I did the math: 6 jars, 20-30 gallons each means 150 gallons of liquid (jars were filled to the brim; I took the average). Convert to liters (150 x 3.785). Divide by .75 (the typical bottle of wine in a store in these parts is 75 millilitres. Works out to about 757 bottles of wine. Yikes.

It probably would have been enough for Jesus to help out with a few gallons of mediocre wine; the party was, after all, nearly over. Instead, it’s abundance, and top quality. Disaster averted (Morris suggests that parties like this carried a certain legal obligation that, if not fulfilled, left the host in dire straits: he could have been sued if the bar ran dry)–and more: a surplus created. Nice gift for the family hosting the wedding, for the new couple starting out.

And, it happened in Cana, a town so obscure it needed a second descriptor (“of Galilee”). How great is this? Jesus enjoying the company of others (on a ‘Sabbath’), entering the ordinary, doing good where it’s needed, and so much more. It’s enough to boost one’s confidence for the rather mundane, typical, potentially glorious week ahead.

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The end of Christmas

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Most Saturdays, I try to post comments on the book I’m working through (the current study, from the New Testament, is on Hebrews). Today, though, Epiphany, which we celebrate tomorrow, and which ends the 12 days of Christmas, is on my mind.

Epiphany roughly translated comes out as ‘manifestation’, and in the context of the Church calendar, has to do especially with the appearance of God in human form. The story illustrating Epiphany centers on the magi, and their visit to the house in Bethlehem (for the Biblical telling of this tale, see Matthew 2:1-12). We focus on their journey, try to figure out where they came from, are fascinated with what they brought.

But the word–epiphany–tells us more. Built on the Greek noun phaino–for ‘light’–it conveys the notion of illumination, suggesting that rather than giving center stage to the kings who travel, we might better consider the God who reveals. And when we do that? All manner of things open up–like how God wants to be known, makes space for those who come from far away, widens understanding.

Our celebrations of Christmas are full of light (think about the streets you drive through full of bright houses, the tree you decorate, the candles you light at Advent)–for good reason: at the center of Christmas is the one who shines in the darkness (to quote John’s take on epiphany…). The tension between light and darkness is one we feel in various ways; it is a preoccupation of artists, too. From Harvey Dent’s speech about Gotham’s woes to Rembrandt’s chiaroscuro to Florence and the Machine’s Shake it Out*, the pushing back of dark by light is of great interest.

So, while Epiphany might signal the end of Christmas, it is also reminding us that a new day is dawning, and that night is on the wane.

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*And one more: Mumford & Sons, Lover of the Light…