Category: spiritual (Page 3 of 10)

In there somewhere

I read an inspiring story on ESPN (of all places?) about a group of young men doing the right thing in defense of a girl who needed extra encouragement. In some ways, she was one of “the least of these” in that she found herself at the mercy of others, defenseless. (I suppose we’re all a bit of “the least of these” from time to time then, right?)

The story sparked encouragement and reminded me why I love young people, specifically teenagers. Their capacity for doing good, even within their own sphere of influence, inspires and challenges me. My knee jerk was to hope that the young man loved Jesus, to give credibility to our cause. But then, it sparked a theory. 
What if: there are 4 types of people. 
A. Those who do good in the world and know why
B. Those who do good in the world and don’t know why
C. Those who do not do good in the world and know why
D. Those who do not do good in the world and don’t know why
A large majority of people in the world try and want and do live good lives. They participate in means of making the world better for others. They’re kind, they’re gracious, they’re giving. When you dig deep, their reason is some intrinsic call to it; they often flounder for a real hard fact as to why they think they should live “a good life.” I’m becoming convinced the source of this goodness – in everyone – is Jesus. All over scripture this idea is supported. The difference between category A and B?  Group A names their source of good works as Jesus. Group B just doesn’t know what – or Who – to call it. 
More and more, I believe (part of) our role, as people who want others to understand following Jesus, isn’t to “introduce” them to this other-worldly being, but rather connect them to someone who already lives within and even speaks to their spirit. Yearning for peace? Jesus wants Shalom for you. Regret those mean words? Jesus leads us to love others as ourselves. 
In the past our messages about Jesus and the God-sized-hole filled with sin and shortcomings have often served to alienate and arm others, putting them on the defensive. Sure, we acknowledge “we’re all sinners” but what we mean is you’re the one who needs to deal with this problem. But if we look at the way the story was originally written, and I mean really start at the beginning, we find this beautiful poem of God creating things good, culminating in a crescendo of praise for his work of creating man and woman, in his own image. 
Screw ups come later. And we’re all there… sin started as an event but became a situation that permeates the world we live. It’s a reality with which we’re too familiar and recent events bring that close to home. But that pull to live justly and love mercy and walk humbly? We’ve felt it tug us toward something and often we just don’t know how to name it. Maybe our experiences haven’t pointed us toward a man, a name, a belief, a way of life. 
Starting at the beginning of the story, with goodness, puts everyone – believer and non-believer alike – in the same garden. No one has to defend anything because we’re talking about beautiful things. We’re offering a name and a face to something – I’m convinced – we all feel and experience, perhaps in very different and distinct ways. And once we know the source of something we all want more of, who wouldn’t want to get to know more of it? If you say this Jesus is the cause of me wanting to let the old lady in Meijer go ahead because I have a cart full and she’s holding a ham, then I want to know more about this Jesus and how I can be like that more often. I want more goodness in my life, so it makes sense to get closer to that source of goodness. 
Right?
But again… it’s just a theory. 
(As for types C and D, that’s a separate post, but I’d be tempted to look deeper at all of Jesus’ healings for reasons in at least one case. The other, type C (?), comes down to living a life lesser than what’s offered. But it sounds so opposite of my post to say it that way. But yeah, that’s how I feel.) 

everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die

Of all theological topics, heaven ranks toward the bottom for me. I know, it should be a happy discussion point, what with all the robes and harps and the “milk and honey bar” (a phrase coined by KLR). We get to see grandma and fido and escape things like mosquitos and misery. What’s to dislike?

But my experience of heaven-talk always boils down to what I believe to be a fruitless discussion: who’s in and who’s out. And while I believe it to be true that folk do exist who neither want to nor will join us at the pearly gates, a large majority of us (according to Time, 85% of Americans) believe there is such a place and that they’re likely heading in that direction. I’m not going to put judgment to that statistic, just remark that it’s interesting. 
By random stroke of luck (fate, God’s hand & will, whatever your camp) I picked up N.T. Wright’s How God Became King this weekend, and what a fitting timeline. My experience with Wright has been limited – articles in seminary, for sure, because my favorite NT professor (short for New Testament, not an actual course sequence on the author) studied under him at Durham. I also touched on his heaven book out of curiosity but stopped after 2 chapters. The man’s depth sometimes requires a shovel in order to follow along, at least in purely eschatological matters. 
But my current read draws attention toward the heaven question inadvertently. And here’s a few quotes I’ve loved: 
The great second- and third-century Christian teachers insisted, against such new teaching, that God’s rescue of the created order itself, rather than the rescue of saved souls from the created order, was central. That was part of the essential Jewish faith, rooted in the jewish scriptures, that the early Christians firmly maintained (p. 17).
The ancient Jews were creational monotheists. For them, God’s great future purpose was not to rescue people out of the world, but to rescue the world itself, people included, from its present state of corruption and decay (p. 44). 
Wright’s backstory to this theology is meaty and he depends on his other works in order to get to the depths. But what he’s basically saying is that the gospels clearly communicate that Jesus served as the driving force, allowing heaven and earth to collide and intermix and even coexist. My mind has made it one of those Venn diagrams where heaven is circle A and earth is circle B and the spot where the 2 overlap is the Kingdom of God. Jesus brought this together through his life and fused it open through his death and resurrection. 
The life of the Christian, then, is to live there. As David Crowder puts it: (bonus points if you can catch the LARGE number of references in this post) give us roots and give us wings
Does this dispel the afterlife? In no way. Wright contends there is a bodily resurrection, and in my mind that happens when those 2 circles overlap. When the Kingdom Jesus ushered in rules in every corner of the world. When grace and mercy trump selfishness and pride. Everywhere. That’s when Jesus comes back in a celebratory parade of saints who have already left us. (That parade part isn’t biblical. I just like to tell an imaginative story. But why not a parade? But it’s at least a feast – that’s Biblical. Like a really great wedding where you see all your college roommates.) 
For me, this brings a new depth and excitement about Easter. As another (non-Crowder) song rephrases the scripture: sin has lost its power / death has lost its sting / from the grave you’ve risen / victoriously! The keys have been handed over. Where we were once powerless and slaves (to bring in some Pauline language) to another nature, we’ve been given a new stature, to live rightly. To live justly, love mercy and walk humbly with God. We may be on earth, but heaven has come to join, and even rule. Forever. And ever. In our hearts and in our homes. 
Jesus beat death. He beat sin – in fact, taking it all down to the grave with him. And while the serpent might rear its ugly head, the resurrection means it won’t win. 
Easter isn’t just a hope for “someday.” Resurrection isn’t just for when we die. Resurrection, by definition, is about living. Why wait until it’s nearly over to start? 

morning reflection

This morning’s reading came from Zechariah, one of those minor prophets that few approach outside of seminary assignments. But this is why I love a good devotional read (I’m currently using Solo and would recommend it to my friends), much like preaching from the lectionary. It forces you to deal with passages you’d otherwise like to skip. 

Today’s message included a reminder of God’s word to his people: “You’re interested in religion, I’m interested in people.” And Zechariah reminded the people of the previous message that repeats itself over and over in the prophetic books:
Treat one another justly. 
Love your neighbors. 
Be compassionate with each other.
Don’t take advantage of widows, orphans, visitors and the poor.
Don’t plot and scheme against one another – that’s evil.
This kind of message is par for course for the past several weeks. But the reflection questions caught me:
1. If God were looking directly at you and saying these versus, what would He mean by “You’re into religion, I’m into people”?
2. Who do you know needing justice love and compassion?
3. Which of your religious activities do you think might merely be meeting your own selfish needs? Examine them. 
And suddenly some 9-year-old-boy drove by on his bicycle and chucked a stone at the house and hit me between the eyes!
At least, that’s how it felt. 
I can’t explain to you the frustration I feel in beginning to seek a church home for 362nd time. We just want to connect. To serve. To connect. 
But this passage squarely asked me to examine my motives and totally called me out that I can be serving, and loving, and fulfilling God’s call Monday – Saturday while we find our People. And perhaps Sunday has come to be a bit more for me than for Him
A church family is a non-negotiable for us. We need the practice of setting aside time. We need people around us. We need teaching. If I don’t surround myself with others, I may start to believe myself to the fullest extent when I say I’m always right. 
But a church family isn’t a pre-requisite for living with God’s purposes and will in mind. I don’t need the church secretary to create a sign-up sheet to love the widow across the street. I don’t need the youth director to create an event so that I can be friendly to the high school baseball player who watches our dog. 
A community is helpful for holding us accountable, but it’s not required to start today living and loving as God wishes we would. God’s not as interested in religion, the patterned acts of pseudo-devotion that makes us feel better about ourselves. He’s interested in people. And even a part-stay-at-home, part-work-at-home, my-van-never-leaves-the-house mom is surrounded by those. It’s not a matter of being equipped, it’s a matter of taking my eyes off of 2503 and looking down the entire Drive. 
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