Author: firstdelray

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Religious

Undefeated

“We know that God works all things together for good for the ones who love God, 
for those who are called according to his purpose.”
Romans 8:28 (Common English Bible)
              Recently, the captain of the Ruby Princess, of the Princess Cruise Line, made this disembarkation announcement to the crew who were leaving the ship due to the disruption of cruising by the COVID-19 virus: “This invisible virus has incredible power. We can’t see it but we see the results of what it is doing. One thing, though, this virus cannot do; one thing in this virus that makes it imperfect. This virus can’t break us. This virus actually has one design flaw. It makes us stronger.” From our struggle and pain with this pandemic, communities are coming together, great resilience is emerging, and people are experiencing strength unnoticed before. We are becoming the kind of people and the kind of world that the power and goodness of God has set out to make from the beginning of time.
              A disruption is underway – a disruption that is deeper and more profound than the economic and political narratives that receive nearly uninterrupted coverage in the news. The sheer magnitude of this crisis is forcing a personal and cultural “repentance” or reexamination of those things that have ultimate worth and value in our lives. A strong economy failed to protect us from the ravages of this unseen virus.  Political ideology is powerless to turn back the pain, suffering, and death left in its path. Misplaced priorities and values are exposed as having insufficient value for adding richness and depth to life. What remains are the questions as old as the scriptures – questions of purpose and meaning and love.
              First responders have brought fresh clarity to the values of compassion, cooperation, and confidence in an unseen power and strength to change lives and communities. New Yorkers, and other municipalities, celebrate these values each day by stepping onto balconies and the street to applaud the new heroes among us as they struggle to save lives impacted by this virus. This crisis presents an opportunity to build a different life moving forward, a life where we immerse ourselves more deeply into the lives of our spouses and children, a life where we seek opportunities to help vulnerable people in need of support and love, a life that is less about placing self first and more about caring for our neighbor.
              A pastor of another generation, Phillips Brooks, wrote that we should not pray for easy times. Rather, pray for strength, courage, and grace enough to meet hard times and come off victorious. If we long for a return to the normal that was prior to this virus we are already defeated. The apostle Paul would urge, rather, that we keep our eyes fixed upon the living God who is at work in the midst of this pandemic, working for our good. This pandemic is not a good thing by any measure. Nor is it the work or will of God. But scripture bears witness that God was always present in the very center of crisis, working to bring God’s people through stronger, more confident, and with a new appreciation for what really matters in life.
Joy,

Categories
Religious

How Shall We Rebuild?

The following meditation was written by Doug Hood’s son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University
“Isn’t this the fast I choose – releasing wicked restraints, untying the ropes of a yoke, 
setting free the mistreated, and breaking every yoke?  
Isn’t it sharing your bread with the hungry and bringing the homeless poor into your house, 
covering the naked when you see them, and not hiding from your own family?”
(Isaiah 58:6,7 Common English Bible)
Their bonds broken and shackles shattered, the ancient Judeans returned from their Babylonian captivity to find Jerusalem a wasted ruin.  The city of the Davidic kings, Solomon’s Temple, and the Ark of the Covenant, the refugees found this former center of Jewish religious, political, and social life a shell of its former self, destroyed, depopulated, profaned.  The Holiest of the Holies violated, the treasuries looted, the buildings smashed, life could never go back to normal for the Jewish people.  And indeed the exile permanently changed the face of their religion.  Once a faith that acknowledged the existence of other gods, this new Judaism was doggedly monotheistic.  Once a people ruled by kings, now they were led by scribes, sages, and priests.  And where once the thought of a religion without a central temple was unthinkable, now they praised a God who faithfully followed his children throughout the world.  As prominent Israeli scholar Yehezkel Kaufmann once wrote: “With the exile, the religion of Israel comes to an end and Judaism begins.”
The fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah offers us a glimpse into the metamorphosis of post-exilic Judaism.  While the entire book is traditionally attributed to the 8th-century BCE prophet, the last ten chapters are now believed by scholars to be a collection of anonymous oracles recorded three hundred years later during the reconstruction of Jerusalem.  The portrait they paint is not always comforting.  Much like the Pharisees of Jesus’ time who competed to see who could pray the loudest in public, this chapter depicts the wealthy ostentatiously mourning and praying for restoration while ignoring the poor and needy among them.  Specifically, the wealthy are shown to brag about their extravagant ritualistic fasting where they starve themselves in sackcloth and ashes.  To which the oracles respond with a simple and direct how dare you?  Isn’t the fast that God demands the salvation of the helpless among them?  The literal feeding of the hungry, the literal housing of the homeless, the literal clothing of the naked?  The God of this new Judaism cared not for their theatrics.  Instead, this new god who was God demanded concrete, literal solutions to economic and social injustice among his children.  Only then could Jerusalem truly be rebuilt.
Almost two and half thousand years have passed since the time of Isaiah, and the world finds itself again in a time of devastating crisis.  As the Coronavirus pandemic forces the international community into a global quarantine, it feels like things will never be the same again.  The wealth and prosperity we assumed would protect us have proved worthless as even the richest countries with the best medical resources have been devastated.  The stories we hear in the news are horrific: farmers forced to let food rot in their fields; doctors and nurses forced to care for the diseased without Personal Protective Equipment (PPE); millions – including this writer – being forced into unemployment with no lasting economic safety net.  We hear of the homeless in Las Vegas being made to sleep in parking spaces in parking lots so they won’t infect each other.  We hear of the government wasting millions on Blue Angels flyovers to honor the very healthcare workers they refuse to properly fund.  And we hear of people like Leilani Jordan, a 27-year-old grocery store clerk in Maryland who died after being forced to work without gloves or hand sanitizer.  When her family received their daughter’s last paycheck – literal blood money – they found that they’d lost their little girl for only $20.64.
Much like the post-exile Judeans, we find ourselves on the threshold of total societal transformation.  Things won’t go back to normal because things can’t go back to normal.  Too many systems have been proven ineffective, too many laws have been proven useless, too many people have been proven expendable.  Not only can’t things go back to normal, things shouldn’t go back to normal.  Not, at least, if we want to honor God, the God who demanded the end of useless fasting and the implementation of social and economic reforms in the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah.  How do we rebuild after the quarantine ends?  By working to ensure there are no homeless to stuff into parking lots, by fighting to properly equip healthcare professionals and first responders, by tearing down the systems of old to make sure nobody dies for a $20.64 paycheck ever again.
Joy,

Categories
Religious

The Continuing Work of the Resurrection

“May the God of peace, who brought back the great shepherd of the sheep, our Lord Jesus, 
from the dead by the blood of the eternal covenant, 
equip you with every good thing to do his will, 
by developing in us what pleases him through Jesus Christ. 
To him be the glory forever and always. Amen.”
Hebrews 13:20, 21 (Common English Bible)

            The first Christians never preached the resurrection simply as a once and done miracle, as Jesus’ defeat of death and his return to his disciples. They always proclaimed the resurrection as the work of a living God that continues to work in the lives of women and men in each generation. The same creative energy that raised Jesus from the tomb remains available for each of us, not only to raise us to new life following our death, but grants us a divine purpose to pursue and equips us with talent and strength to accomplish it. As the author of Hebrews states, God is continually “developing in us what pleases him through Jesus Christ.” We are God’s continuing work of the resurrection.
            What this announces is that there is no present darkness that can extinguish the light of the resurrection, no despair that isn’t answered with sudden hope. The celebration of Easter is more expansive that the remembrance of new breath filling the nostrils of Jesus one morning two thousand years ago. The celebration of Easter is claiming God’s active presence today that calls to us, equips us, and sends us into a broken world to complete God’s redemptive purposes. Once estranged from God by our rebellious nature, God wrestles with us until we once again embody and reflect God’s perfect love and makes us apprentices with God redeeming and restoring all of creation.
            Frederic Henry is the protagonist in Ernest Hemingway’s novel, A Farewell to Arms. An American ambulance driver in Italy in 1915, Frederic wrestles with belief and doubt in a living, active God. During one poignant conversation with a Roman Catholic priest, Frederic questions what it means to love – to love God or anyone. The answer sparkles on the page, “When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.”[i] Easter is an invitation to look closely again at God’s love for us – demonstrated on the cross of Jesus – that we might return that love with a “wish to do things for, to sacrifice for, to serve.” Our own immediate resurrection is from the death of selfishness to a life of selflessness and generosity.
            These are tumultuous days. Covid-19 haunts each of us as we tremble in our quarantine spaces. We fear that the power of darkness may ultimately defeat our dreams. Doubt paralyzes and frantically we seek hope from any quarter. However, Easter reminds us that God has already faced evil at its worst, met its challenge, and destroyed its claim on us. Life never again has to be lived in helplessness, maimed, impoverished, and defeated. That is why the author of Hebrews is able to say, with a sturdy conviction, “To him be the glory forever and always. Amen.”

Joy,

[i]Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms(London: The Folio Society, 2015), 68.

Categories
Religious

When God Seems Distant

The following meditation is from Doug Hood\’s book,
Nurture Faith: Five Minute Meditations to Strengthen Your Walk with Christ,

“I’m convinced that nothing can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans 8:38a (Common English Bible)
Tommy Lasorda, former manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers, tells about an experience he had in church. One Sunday he was in Cincinnati for a ball game against the Reds. That morning he went to early morning Mass and happened to see the Red’s manger there. They were old friends and sat beside each other during Mass. Afterward, the Red’s manager said, “Tommy, I’ll see you at the ballpark. I’m going to hang around a little.” Lasorda said that when he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. He noticed that his friend was praying at the altar and lighting a candle. He said, “I thought about that for a few moments. Then, since we needed a win very badly, I doubled back and blew out his candle.”i Though misguided, what a powerful demonstration of faith in God’s presence and activity!
Countless people today long for that deep confidence in God’s presence and activity in their lives. God seems distant to them. They plod through each day, fearful, anxious, and burdened with uncertainty. Some may remember once having a close relationship with God but that was a long time ago. Prayers seem to never rise higher than the ceiling – and that is when we even feel like praying! The good news is that this is not an uncommon experience in the Christian faith. Just as people can grow apart in relationships with one another, so we can drift away from God. As Thomas Tewell once said to me, the difference is that in human relationships, both parties contribute to the distance. But, in a relationship with God, the reality is that we drift away from God. God never drifts away from us.
In those moments when God seems distant, what are we to do? Perhaps an experience I had this past week will help. My daughter, Rachael, is in Norway – a studio photographer for the Holland America Cruise Lines. It’s not uncommon for Rachael to work twelve and fourteen hour days. Wi-Fi is limited and with her long hours it is difficult to “connect” with her by telephone or by other means in real time. Just this week, Rachael reached-out to me via Facebook Messenger. She said that for a limited time she was available to receive a phone call from me and that she really would like me to call. Immediately, I moved something that was already on my calendar to another time and placed the call. Do you see what happened? Suddenly, my greatest desire was to speak with my daughter. To do so, I had to make the time.
We reconnect with God the same way. We move beyond our desire to be close with God and carve-out time from our busy lives to simply be still in God’s presence. We open the Bible and read expectantly, asking God to speak powerfully through the words that we read on the page. We learn from our reading more about God, about God’s good desires for us, and we learn what God requires of us. We spend time together with God. And we listen; we listen deeply in the silence following our reading to the hunches, the promptings, and the direction we sense from God. As we respond positively, the distance we once felt from God begins to close. 

Joy,  
____________________
i William R. Bouknight, The Authoritative Word: Preaching Truth In A Skeptical Age. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2001) 30.

Categories
Religious

Little Giovanni

The following meditation was written by Doug Hood\’s son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University
\”There is neither Jew nor Greek: there is neither slave nor free;
nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.\”
Galatians 3:28 (Common English Bible)
Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone was born into a life of splendor, ease, and refinement.  The son of a rich silk merchant and a French noblewoman, little Giovanni had an easy and lavish a life one could want in twelfth century Italy.  While peasants toiled in the fields for their daily bread, Giovanni feasted with the best of high society; while workers suffered and died in poverty, he threw away money on fine clothes and fast living.  When his town declared war on a nearby neighbor, he joined up as a night, thirsty for glory.  The result was catastrophic – his unit was butchered and he was captured and imprisoned for a year while his captors negotiated his ransom.  But was Giovanni phased?  Hardly.  After he was freed the call for knights went out for the Fourth Crusade, and one again he found himself riding off to battle, this time with a new horse and a suit of armor decorated with gold.
But Giovanni never made it to the Holy Land.  In fact, he scarcely made it further than a day\’s ride from his home.  That first night he had a strange dream in which God commanded him to return home.  From that day forward an odd transformation began in Giovanni\’s life.  He began to pray regularly and intensely.  He came to cherish the presence of the poor, sick, and ugly, rejecting the companionship of the rich, healthy, and beautiful.  Finally, he was caught by his father taking fabric from his hope to sell for money to help repair a nearby church.  Accusing him of theft, he dragged Giovanni in front of the local bishop to publicly shame him and force him to return the money.  It was the decisive moment in Giovanni\’s life – he must choose between the church of his savior or the world of his father\’s finances.
His choice has been remembered throughout the history of Christendom: he stripped naked before his father and renounced the world.  That was the day Giovanni the wealthy troubadour became Francis the impoverished preacher, and within a few decades young Francis from Assisi would become one of the most significant leaders in church history, being canonized as Saint Francis a mere two years after his death.  Few people have shaped the world quite like Saint Francis; he reinvigorated the largest religion in the world has ever known with a renewed call towards charity and social justice for the poor and disenfranchised.  And, crucially, it all began with a deliberate abnegation of his wealth, his power, and his privilege.  To aid the poor, it wasn\’t enough to donate time or money – he needed to become like them and live like them.
This passage from the third chapter of Galatians is one of the most beloved theological statements in the New Testament.  But beyond its promise of equality for all people in God\’s Kingdom is subtler implication that many choose to ignore: in the leveling of all peoples before the Almighty the powerful must abandon their power.  What good are riches of the ancient Greeks when they share a kingdom with impoverished Jews?  What good is the political power of slaveholders when they live side by side in  eternity with the people they held as slaves?  And what good are the privileges of patriarchy in a promised land where women are equal?  If we are to live as living witnesses of the Gospel, we must help realize these truths in the world right now, and for many of us that requires an honest evaluation of the power and wealth we have in life.  And perhaps some of us might do well to do as young Giovanni did all those centuries ago.
Joy,
Categories
Religious

Christ\’s Own Denial

“Jesus replied, ‘My kingdom doesn’t originate from this world. If it did, my guards would fight so that I wouldn’t have been arrested by the Jewish leaders. My kingdom isn’t from here.’”
John 18:36 (Common English Bible)

              This is a remarkable passage of scripture! Captured here is Jesus’ own denial; Jesus’ denial of sovereign territory, “My kingdom isn’t from here.” From inside the governor’s house, a center of power for a defined territory, Jesus disclaims royal territory. Certainly, Jesus’ denial is on the geographical level, his royal authority lies elsewhere. This confuses Pilate. For Pilate – and for us – sovereignty implies a specific place, such as the British Empire. That empire has clearly defined borders, though the contours have changed over history. Christ denies any claim to this kind of power or rule. Incredibly, Christ seems to be placing his credibility on the line.
              Many are well familiar with Peter’s denial. On the night of Jesus’ arrest, Peter denies three times ever knowing the man, Jesus. Yet, that same night, Jesus is also making a denial. The difference between Peter’s denial and Jesus’ own denial is not subtle. Peter’s denial is about self-preservation; Peter fears arrest if he is honest about his relationship with Jesus. Jesus’ denial is something much deeper than self-preservation. Jesus is pointing from the physical world to the spiritual. The exchange between Pilate and Jesus becomes a struggle between political power and spiritual power. Political power exerts its influence on people’s outward behavior. Spiritual power changes people from the inside.
              One Easter morning a couple spoke to me following the first service. They said they had lived only a few blocks from the church for years and had never worshipped with us before that morning. They continued by sharing that though they had not worshipped before they were always grateful that the church was here. Politely and carefully, I asked, “Why?” “Why were they grateful that the church was here?” Their answer, “Each day the church reminds us that there is something more.” They promised to return and then proceeded to walk down the street – presumably to their home. Spiritual power is about something more than the eye can see, “My kingdom isn’t from here.”
              Jesus’ denial is all about lifting our eyes above political alliances, carefully defined and defended borders, and self-preservation. Jesus wants, “something more” for each of us. Political power bends a people to the will of the state. Spiritual power molds and shapes a people to the wholeness God once fashioned at creation, but lost through rebellion and estrangement from God. Jesus confrontation with our political systems, in the form of Pilate, suggests that his kingship not only challenges the political state, it judges and calls into question the ability of the state to provide the life God desires for us. It would appear in the crucifixion of Jesus that Pilate won, that the political systems of the day have the upper hand. Nevertheless, the resurrection remains only a few days away.
Joy,

Categories
Religious

200 Robes

The following meditation was written by Doug Hood\’s son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University

“Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.” Colossians 3:16, New International Version (NIV)
One night after playing a show at the Silver Dollar Lounge in Frederick, Maryland, a white man came up to black blues musician Daryl Davis and complimented his playing. Such compliments weren’t unusual for Davis—the man had led an industrious and illustrious career playing alongside some of the greatest blues artists of all time. (You don’t play backup for Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, and B.B. King without developing some serious chops.) However, it was the white man’s next compliment that caught him completely off-guard. Shaking Davis’ hand, the man said: “You know this is the first time I ever heard a black man play piano like Jerry Lee Lewis.” Taken somewhat aback, Davis asked him where he thought Lewis had learned to play piano like that in the first place. The white man smiled and answered that Lewis had invented the style himself. Davis—who had actually known and played with Lewis—knew quite differently: he, along with the other white pioneers of rock music like Elvis Presley, had learned their playing from blues, rockabilly, and boogie-woogie. You know, Davis said, black music. 
Their conversation continued on into the night, Davis politely yet firmly correcting the white man’s faulty musical knowledge. Abruptly, the man paused and said: “You know, this is the first time I ever sat down and had a drink with a black man?” For the second time that night, Davis was caught off-guard. How could that conceivably be possible? When he asked him why, the man responded: “I’m a member of the Ku Klux Klan.” Davis’ response wasn’t to scream or run away, but to laugh. This was Maryland, for crying out loud, not the Deep South in the 1950s. But the man pulled out his wallet and drew out his Klan membership card, proving without a doubt that this oblivious lover of black music was indeed a faithful member of the Invisible Empire. Davis stopped laughing. But before he could react, the Klansman told him that he wanted him to call his number whenever he was in town so he could hear him play. And that gave Davis an idea.
What happened next is the stuff of legend, something so improbable, so seemingly contrived that it defies belief: Davis started going out of his way to befriend Klansmen. He’d find and strike up dialogues with them, interrogating their White Supremacist beliefs. How could you hate me, he’d frequently ask, when you know nothing about me? More often than not Davis learned that their hatred came from misconceptions about black people planted during their youth. But by forcing them to confront a black man who went against every prejudice they’d been brainwashed into believing, their racism crumbled. His methods were startlingly effective. Davis didn’t just befriend numerous Klansmen, he single-handedly convinced over 200 of them to leave the Klan, including Roger Kelly, the Imperial Wizard for the State of Maryland. Davis became such good friends with Kelly that not only did he leave the Klan, he asked Davis to be his daughter’s godfather. His former KKK robe now hangs in Davis’ closet alongside the 200 other robes of all the former Klansmen he’s saved.
Davis has been explicit about the role his Christian faith has played in his decision to engage Klansmen on a human level, and indeed his life is a living testament to the highest aspirations of the church and the teachings of Jesus. But make no mistake, he converted nobody by simply loving them enough. His road was a difficult and sometimes dangerous one that took him not only into the heart of institutionalized racism but Christian hypocrisy. Despite their abhorrent teachings, the Klan has always fancied itself a Christian organization (as long as said Christians weren’t Catholic). So it’s almost certain that some of the 200 Klansmen Davis befriended thought of themselves as good and faithful Christians who saw no contradictions between their racism and the Gospel. Here is where we must remember the words of the Apostle Paul in Colossians that Christians must teach and admonish each other. Note those words: “teach and admonish” not “love and ignore.” Sometimes our brothers and sisters in Christ need to be called out and corrected when their lives are in direct, violent contradiction with the Gospel. But notice the rest of the verse; we must do it by including them in our lives, in our churches, in our worship, not by rejecting and excluding them. We must teach and admonish like an old blues artist telling a Klansmen that, no, Jerry Lee Lewis didn’t invent black music. But also like Davis, we must teach and admonish through love.

Joy,

Categories
Religious

Fast Food Religion

The following meditation was written by Doug Hood’s son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University
  
“Look! I’m standing at the door and knocking. If any hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to be with them, and will have dinner with them, and they will have dinner with me.”
Revelation 3:20 (Common English Bible)

We live in a world of fast food religion. In the breathless hustle and bustle of modern life, we all too often find ourselves without the time, without the means, or without the energy to devote ourselves fully to belief, so we settle for bite-sized servings of faith, prepackaged, precooked, pre-delivered. Difficult concepts and truths get chopped, frozen, and flash-fried into simple aphorisms and decontextualized verses to give ourselves a warm, fuzzy feeling of comfort. Consider Revelation 3:20, a favorite of fast food religion, one that promises that Jesus is at the door to our lives knocking, waiting for us to let him in. Go to any store that sells religious tchotchkes and you’ll inevitably find a refrigerator magnet or painting referencing this verse, usually featuring a barefoot, white-robed Jesus expectantly knocking on a literal door, eager to be let inside. The message is simple: Jesus is always there, waiting to be let into our lives if only we’d listen. And yes, Jesus is always at the door of our lives, knocking to be let inside. But much like a fast food cheeseburger, slightly cold and greasy, it only provides so much nutrition, and one certainly can’t sustain a healthy diet eating it every day. The truth, the deeper meaning, is much more complicated and difficult. But much like a proper home-cooked meal, prepared with love and careful attention, the results are worth the effort.
The key to understanding this verse is its larger context within the book of Revelation. To most, the last book of the Bible is a wellspring of apocalyptic visions and awe-full imagery—multi-headed dragons and multi-colored horsemen wreaking havoc on a doomed world of unrepentant sinners. But the book itself was actually a letter written to the “Seven Churches of Asia” located in modern day Turkey that made up much of early Christendom. As such, the first several chapters of Revelation are highly specific messages admonishing and encouraging them. Revelation 3:20 is part of the larger message to the church in Laodicea, the easternmost of the seven and also one of the wealthiest, an ancient banking hub and manufacturer of medicinal eye salve and a luxurious black wool used for expensive black clothing. Such was their wealth that within the span of a few decades they managed to completely rebuild their city not once but twice following a series of deadly earthquakes—and all without imperial aid. And what does John of Patmos, the author of Revelation, say to this city of wealth and luxury? “You don’t realize that you are miserable, pathetic, poor, blind, and naked.” (Revelation 3:17 CEB)
Take a closer look at 3:20, specifically what John writes after the over-digested bit about God knocking at their door. I will come in and have dinner with them, he writes, and they will have dinner with me. Biblical scholars believe that John wasn’t being metaphorical here but literal—the meal is the sacrament of communion, and Christ is asking to be let in to share it. All this begs the question: how were the Laodiceans eating? The answer, again according to biblical scholars, was probably at the tables of their Roman neighbors, feasting on the sacred meat sacrificed to pagan gods, the consumption of which ensured upward financial mobility and consolidated class status. The Laodiceans church may have been Christians, but they were lukewarm ones who compromised their faith with foreign rituals to increase and protect their wealth.
Suddenly Revelation 3:20 doesn’t fit the mold of fast food religion anymore. It’s no pithy reminder of God’s omnipotence, but a call to reject the world of its sinful trappings and to embrace the true community of Christ. Turn away from the meat of the Romans and partake of the bread of Christ, it commands; drink from the living water promised to the Samaritan woman at the well in the Gospel of John from which none ever thirst again. To sit at this table, to eat of this meal is to set oneself apart from the world and all its alluring trappings. It’s a difficult order, particularly for those accustomed to luxury and easy living. But it’s a necessary one. Only then can the banquet—home-cooked and piping hot—truly begin.

Joy,

Categories
Religious

Copper Kettle Christians

“There will be signs in the sun, moon, and stars. On the earth, there will be dismay among nations in their confusion over the roaring of the sea and surging waves. The planets and other heavenly bodies will be shaken, causing people to faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world. Then they will see the Human One coming on a cloud with power and great splendor.”
Luke 21:25-27 (Common English Bible)
            When Abraham Lincoln stood to deliver the Gettysburg Address, he added two words that were not in the address as originally written. Written on the pages before him were the words, “That this nation shall have a new birth of freedom…” However, when Lincoln actually delivered that line, what he spoke was, “That this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom…” Those two words have now become a rich part of our national vocabulary. However, when Lincoln added those two words, unplanned and freely, it was unusual. What Lincoln sought to do is declare his deep and abiding conviction that the destinies of all people and their governments, including this one, are not beyond the reach and activity of God. It is precisely this conviction that Luke’s Gospel declares. When the unusual appears in the sky and upon the earth it will not be a phenomenon apart from God. It will be an intentional act of God, God “coming on a cloud with power and great splendor.”
            Occasionally, there emerges a fascination and speculation of when the end of the world is drawing near. Some will make observations that seem to suggest that the end is imminent. Luke’s Gospel is not critical of such contemplation of the end – Jesus himself engaging in such contemplation. However, Jesus’ contemplation is not for the sake of marking a date on the calendar. Its purpose is for sanctifying the present moment. Rather than concern for a specific date when the world will end, this teaching has to do with discipleship, what it means to follow Christ both in our behavior and in relationship with others. The “Human One” is returning to earth. Life will not go on forever, day after day, year after year, without some conclusion. All of history is moving toward an end. That knowledge is for positively influencing the decisions made today, decisions of the manner in which we live.
            A significant shift of thought appears at the thirty-sixth verse, “Stay alert at all times.” What does that look like in the lives of disciples today? What spiritual practices or disciplines are available that will keep our eyes focused upon God’s presence and work today? This is a call to intentional activity, not a passive waiting for the end. Here is a summons that we live purposefully, deriving our strength for living faithfully from the exercise of prayer. Spiritual disciplines, such as worshipping regularly, praying daily, learning and applying God’s word, participating in a ministry, and giving financially to the work of the church are means by which we begin to imitate Jesus. They are the means by which we give ourselves over to the work of the Holy Spirit in such a manner that we see the image of God increase in our heart. Simply, such spiritual disciplines are how we take responsibility for our own growth, how we honor Christ’s call to “Stay alert.”
            Richard Gribble tells a helpful story of a woman who made a discovery quite accidentally in her basement. One day she noticed some forgotten potatoes had sprouted in the darkest corner of the room. At first, she could not figure out how they had received any light to grow. Then she noticed that she had hung a copper kettle from a rafter near the cellar window. She kept the kettle so brightly polished that it reflected the rays of the sun from the small window onto the potatoes. She would later say to a friend that when she saw that reflection, and the growth that it nurtured, she realized that she can be a “copper kettle Christian” – she can catch the rays of the Son of God and reflect his light to some dark corner of life. This teaching of Jesus announces that in that last day, each of us will “stand before the Human One.” Perhaps there is no better preparation for that future day than learning to reflect his light in the present.
Joy,

Categories
Religious

A Life Unnoticed

“One poor widow came forward and put in two small copper coins worth a penny. Jesus called his disciples to him and said, ‘I assure you that this poor widow has put in more than everyone who’s been putting money in the treasury.’”
Mark 12:42, 43 (Common English Bible)

              Tom Tewell once shared with me that the deepest brokenness experienced by the homeless is that they go unnoticed. The desire that others see them and acknowledge them, the longing that others acknowledge them as people who share this earth with them, is deeper than the hunger of an empty stomach or the fear for personal safety. Every person longs for a sense of value, for love, and for recognition. The homeless are no different. Nor are the homeless alone in this struggle. People who are older and single, those who struggle with addiction, and the under-resourced all experience the fear of remaining unnoticed. We do not live in the most compassionate of times, and such people join the great shuffle – where our communities move them out of sight and mind. Our full and frantic lives may be partly to blame. We simply do not have the time or emotional energy to acknowledge these people and be available to them.
              Here, in Mark’s Gospel, there are two stories at play, each unfolding simultaneously. The legal experts comprise that cast for the first narrative, a poor widow in a solo performance for the second narrative. In the first story, the legal experts go to considerable effort that others see them for their devotion and sacrifice. In the second story, a widow has probably abandoned any hope that anyone will ever notice her again. There is no attempt by this woman to ensure that people see her. She simply makes her gift to the temple treasury from an impulse of faith, an impulse that discloses her quiet gratitude and trust in God. Jesus notices both, the legal experts and the woman. Yet, what is remarkable in this text is that those who desired an audience received Jesus’ displeasure. The one who did not seek any notice is held-up by Jesus as an honorable example of authentic discipleship.
              The poor widow is invisible – that is, invisible to everyone except Jesus. Moreover, what Jesus sees is that the woman is contributing – however small – to a cause that is larger than her own life. There are “invisible” people in our communities who feel unattractive, have little to offer anyone, and are lonely. The despair that they experience makes moving through each day unbearable. Each invisible person in our orbit presents an opportunity to share the companionship and compassion of Christ. An invitation to dinner, to family celebrations, and even acknowledging their birthdays, proclaims that they are people with dignity and worth. We are the children of a God who notices and protects the unnoticed, and therefore, we are to be agents of Gods’ protecting and providing grace. Additionally, we are to recall that the woman’s gift reminds us that each person has something to contribute to the work of the church.
              Perhaps the deepest impact any church can have on a community is to invest in the lives of persons who may go unnoticed where we live. There is a story in Jewish tradition of a rabbi who was so holy that the rumor developed that on Sabbath afternoons he ascended into heaven to personally commune with God. The rumor grew from the observation that this rabbi simply seemed to disappear from sight in the local community until the end of day. Several boys decided to follow, in secret, the rabbi. Throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, they saw the rabbi go into the homes of the elderly, the sick, and the poor. He cooked meals, cleaned homes, and read scripture to the lonely. The next day the people inquired of the boys; did the rabbi really ascend into heaven? The boys answered, “No. He went much higher.”
Joy,