When I those bitter nails embraced,
Your sins made Mine, God's wrath replaced
To My own head, My Father's face
Turned 'way from Me to give you grace.
I swear, I did not die in vain
Nor risk My pure and holy Name
To leave your wasting life the same
Or let the stench of death remain.
I'm not willing to give you up
To any man or devil foe.
I'm not willing to let you go
To waste your life, to lose your soul.
I chose you by My love and grace
Before the world, before your race.
I've called you My beloved choice
To sing and be My glory's voice.
(November 2008)
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Monday, November 21, 2011
Stewardship (Part 2): The Master's Heart
What was the problem with the "wicked, lazy slave" of Matthew 25?
Well, duh. He was "wicked" and "lazy."
Ok. But . . .
What's so wicked about him? He is given fifteen years' wages to hang onto while his master is out of town--about $300,000 give or take. And he doesn't steal a penny of it! What is so lazy about him? He is entrusted with $300,00, and he doesn't lose any of it; he gives his master $300,000 upon his return. It could have been a lot worse, right?
Well, not according to the master. "Cast into outer darkness" to spend his days in "weeping and gnashing of teeth" does not sound like acceptance or even toleration of that safe deposit box servant. So what's the big deal? Is this an overreaction?
No.
Here's why: He's called a slave (NASB) or servant (ESV), but he's treated as a steward. That's the most exalted position for a servant. That gives him discretion and some degree of authority with a great deal of responsibility. It also portends a great reward if he is a "good and faithful steward."
Now notice: the first two slaves both do the exact same thing with the master's money. And they both do it "immediately." As if they don't even think about it. How is that? Well, ironically, the wicked slave offers us an explanation. He claims, "Master, I knew you . . ." to which the master replies in confirmation, "You wicked, lazy slave, you knew that I . . ." The point here is that the slaves "know" their master, and their master expects them to act according to their knowledge of him. That is, they are expected to do what he would do.
That's what makes a "good and faithful" steward.
The first two slaves act immediately because they know their master intimately; they know his heart. They do the exact same thing (although they are two different people) because they are acting according to their master's desires, not their own.The wicked slave seems to know his master only in part. He has observed his practices, but not his heart. He believes his master to be "a hard man" (although the master proves otherwise in the way he rewards his good slaves) and acts accordingly--in fear.
Unfortunately, we as the modern, American Church often read this parable and can't get past the principles of western finacial practices we see modeled by the first two slaves. We seem to think the money, the bank is the point of the parable.
Or, if we do apply it more broadly, as in using our "talents" (we always intend a pun here, too) for God's glory instead of just sitting on the couch (or the pew), we don't go deep enough. We usually throw out suggestions like singing in the choir, being willing to usher and take the offering, help your church with accounting or teach Sunday School (all good things, by the way). But is that what this parable is all about? The master's wrath poured out if we sit in the pew on Sundays instead of the choir loft?
I realize I'm oversimplifying this, but I want to jar us out of a sleepy, false view of "church" and "the Kingdom" that we've dozed into. Church is not the event we put on for a few hours every Sunday. And if we think the kingdom looks like merely a bunch of people standing around Jesus' throne all saying the same creed, we're wrong there too.
Confession of Christ with the tongue (or some kind of sign language?) is an essential part of the Gospel, and the New Testament pattern of Sunday worship celebrations gives us a joyous time together each week. But if those two items are the sum of our faith, of our vision of the Kingdom, of Church, then it may be that we don't really know our Master's heart as we should.
In Matthew 25:14-30, Jesus is teaching us what a true steward looks like. Then, in verses 31-46, our Master shows us his heart:
Well, duh. He was "wicked" and "lazy."
Ok. But . . .
What's so wicked about him? He is given fifteen years' wages to hang onto while his master is out of town--about $300,000 give or take. And he doesn't steal a penny of it! What is so lazy about him? He is entrusted with $300,00, and he doesn't lose any of it; he gives his master $300,000 upon his return. It could have been a lot worse, right?
Well, not according to the master. "Cast into outer darkness" to spend his days in "weeping and gnashing of teeth" does not sound like acceptance or even toleration of that safe deposit box servant. So what's the big deal? Is this an overreaction?
No.
Here's why: He's called a slave (NASB) or servant (ESV), but he's treated as a steward. That's the most exalted position for a servant. That gives him discretion and some degree of authority with a great deal of responsibility. It also portends a great reward if he is a "good and faithful steward."
Now notice: the first two slaves both do the exact same thing with the master's money. And they both do it "immediately." As if they don't even think about it. How is that? Well, ironically, the wicked slave offers us an explanation. He claims, "Master, I knew you . . ." to which the master replies in confirmation, "You wicked, lazy slave, you knew that I . . ." The point here is that the slaves "know" their master, and their master expects them to act according to their knowledge of him. That is, they are expected to do what he would do.
That's what makes a "good and faithful" steward.
The first two slaves act immediately because they know their master intimately; they know his heart. They do the exact same thing (although they are two different people) because they are acting according to their master's desires, not their own.The wicked slave seems to know his master only in part. He has observed his practices, but not his heart. He believes his master to be "a hard man" (although the master proves otherwise in the way he rewards his good slaves) and acts accordingly--in fear.
Unfortunately, we as the modern, American Church often read this parable and can't get past the principles of western finacial practices we see modeled by the first two slaves. We seem to think the money, the bank is the point of the parable.
Or, if we do apply it more broadly, as in using our "talents" (we always intend a pun here, too) for God's glory instead of just sitting on the couch (or the pew), we don't go deep enough. We usually throw out suggestions like singing in the choir, being willing to usher and take the offering, help your church with accounting or teach Sunday School (all good things, by the way). But is that what this parable is all about? The master's wrath poured out if we sit in the pew on Sundays instead of the choir loft?
I realize I'm oversimplifying this, but I want to jar us out of a sleepy, false view of "church" and "the Kingdom" that we've dozed into. Church is not the event we put on for a few hours every Sunday. And if we think the kingdom looks like merely a bunch of people standing around Jesus' throne all saying the same creed, we're wrong there too.
Confession of Christ with the tongue (or some kind of sign language?) is an essential part of the Gospel, and the New Testament pattern of Sunday worship celebrations gives us a joyous time together each week. But if those two items are the sum of our faith, of our vision of the Kingdom, of Church, then it may be that we don't really know our Master's heart as we should.
In Matthew 25:14-30, Jesus is teaching us what a true steward looks like. Then, in verses 31-46, our Master shows us his heart:
'Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 35For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.' 37Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? 38And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? 39And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?' 40And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'
So my question is: Knowing the Master's heart above, how are we spending the resources he's put into our hands? Are we pouring our money and time and "talents" into giving food and drink, welcoming and visiting and clothing the destitute? Or are we driven by Fear as the "wicked, lazy" servant? So driven by fear that we have poured all of our time and our money into "providing" for our family's American lifestyle that we don't have time or money "left over" to fulfill our Master's deepest desires? It is HIS money after all. It is HIS time. Your life is HIS life after all.
I guess how we want to answer that question depends on if we believe truly good stewardship, as defined by Christ, is optional or not. And I guess we have to figure out if it's optional by deciding whether we should allow "cast into outer darkness" with "weeping and gnashing of teeth" as a legitimate option.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
"Don't Run with Knives!"
"Don't run with knives!" Love, Mother.
"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Love, Mother.
When it comes to satire, one of these is good advice. The other is not.
We have a little problem here. Somewhere way back in mankind's illustrious linguistic history somebody found out that the big, ugly playground bullies with their lethally aimed "sticks and stones" aren't the only pain-inflicting villains to be wary of. "Words will never hurt me!" has always been a defense mechanism. And a lie. We've learned that a quick cut from a knife blade can hurt much worse and for far longer than a couple of good whacks from a bully's stick.
A word is a knife. Or can be. Consider the word "Sarcasm." It's Greek. Means "flesh cutting." Pretty picture, yes? And most of us know the biting feel of sarcasm's blade. In literary circles it's called satire. Same thing, just people started making money off of it in the early 18th century. Alexander Pope, Jonathan Swift, Dryden, Defoe--everyone was doing it! But it didn't make people any less mad then.
Since then, we've come a long ways. We've civilized ourselves and set up walls against those cutting words. The most ostensibly moralistic one is a nice little--no, fairly good-sized two-word phrase: "politically correct." (This phrase is actually intellectual-ese for "lying through my teeth.") Because we can't say anything that might offend someone. So we just try to change people by keeping a "good Christian testimony" or something like that.
Well, recently there seems to be a rediscovering of the fact that--gasp!--Jesus said offensive things! Not just offensive, but funny too! So they cut the flesh--and made people laugh! It's not just Jesus, either. God does it in other places of Scripture to. He makes fun of idol worshipers who chop down a tree and, very economically, use one half out of which to carve their idol and the other part of the tree for firewood!
Here's what scares me (and you satirists can satirize me for my unease): sarcasm has always been fun. At least for the one holding the knife. (The one getting his flesh mutilated, eh, not so fun.) And now with this rediscovery of satire, it's like being given a gift (and satire requires a degree of wit that really is a gift) at Christmas--one you really like! So you run around showing it off to everyone. Or trying it out on everyone--hey, it's fun!
Not the thing to do with knives. This is not the same thing as having the gift of encouragement. While there are things you should not encourage, by and large, encouragement is pretty safe for anyone to use and to use in almost any conversation. My father-in-law is known as "the nicest person you will ever meet" because of his constantly encouraging attitude. That's ok. He hasn't ruined his kids. He knows when to put his "frowny face" on. But he can be confident in random words of encouragement--it's ok to run with that.
But with sarcasm we must be more strategic. Driscoll says, "Feed the sheep; shoot the wolves; rebuke the swine; bark at the dogs." This means that the words we choose (literarily: our mode) must be determined by our audience--not by what mood we're in, not by whether those words are fun or not. I fear we've pulled out our newly found, Biblical wittiness from its sheath and (rather unlike a deliberate surgeon) taken off at a sprint, perhaps tripping and stumbling and cutting some of the sheep where there was no need for surgery at all. This is not good. This is sad.
I'm not trying to be the Holy Spirit telling you when to be "nice" and when to be cutting. Just this: Be careful, my witty brothers and sisters; please listen to your mother: "Don't run with knives!"
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Stewardship: With the Master out of town
Stewardship is one of those Christianese words I've heard in church all my life. I can remember sitting bored on those fiery-orange upholstered pews (which were significantly more comfortable than the new pews with their rather non-descript, hotel curtains-esque pattern and hard wooden backs) leaning my head on the flat, sticky headrail on the back of the pew before me and staring aimlessly down to the same color of glaring orange in the carpet. Trying to stretch my toes to snag the little wooden footstool from in front of my brother, I remember words falling all around me--words like "budget" and "good steward" and "planning for the future" and "wise, careful use of money" and "financial stability." These were usually part of a sermon bearing some form of the word "Stewardship" in its title. The parable of the good stewards and bad steward was always present to some degree, affirming the stability and godliness of western banking practices, and the Proverbs were an inexhaustible source of back-up material for denegrating wasteful spending and advancing financial investing. Of course, tithing was touched on--usually with some awkwardness because the one teaching the pew-sitters to tithe was the most direct beneficiary of the tithe. Thus was formed my understanding of "good, Christian stewardship," meaning, "Don't get into debt; if you do, pay it back; do your homework to invest your money wisely; tithe and thereby show your gratitude for God's having blessed us with so much wealth."
However, also throughout my life, I've been taught a different kind of stewardship. General life choices stewardship, stemming from the verse in I Corinthians 6 about my life not being my own but having been "bought with a price" by Someone else. Therefore, of course, it was not my prerogative what to do with my life; I had to follow the will of God. He is my Master, I merely His steward.
None of this that I've related is false teaching. It's all true, but is it complete? Are these teachings, in fact, central to an essential understanding of "stewardship," whether financial or otherwise? And why do they look different? Why is the basis for wise financial stewardship the generation of wealth and the obviation of risk (i.e. stability), while the basis for stewardship in the rest of my life is the mysterious "will of God" and avoidance of worldly influences?
I am currently living in a situation that very closely parallels these New Testament teachings about a master and a steward. I live on a piece of property adjacent to my landlord's own dwelling, and I and my wife work for our rent. I do whatever Travis tells me to do. I use his tools, spend his money, and tend to his land. None of it's mine. And so whenever he gives me a project to work on, I do it. Even if I would do nothing of the sort were it my own money and property. People have asked me: Why are you cleaning out those woods? Why are you burning that stuff? Why do you mow that entire field? Sometimes I understand Travis's thinking, other times not. The bottom line is: Travis desires it; it's his money, not mine; I'm going to do it. That's stewardship. Taking care of what is not yours in the way the owner desires. So if Travis hands me $200 and tells me to buy $200 worth of bubble-blowing soap and set up a continuously-fed bubble loop in front of the industrial-size fan in his barn, even though no one will ever see the bubbles, I do it. Wasteful? I don't worry about it. I do it, and that's good stewardship on my part.
Good stewardship, you see, is not necessarily using money in a way that merits the approval of the gurus on Wall Street. Good stewardship is doing with "your" money whatever God (whose it is) tells you to do with that money--even if it looks absolutely foolish to the world at large. Of course, I do not ignore the financial principles given in the Proverbs and other passages. I have bank accounts; I budget; I work to feed my family.
But that is not all that Jesus tells us to do with money. His money. Read the New Testament looking for a theme in its treatment of money. There is one. It goes like this: Give, even to the point of hazarding your livelihood. Then, when you've found yourself in a hazardous place financially--"do not be anxious, for your Father knows what you need. Seek the Kingdom of God first and foremost, thrive on His righteousness, and everything you need will be added to you." If this were not so, Christ would have disparaged the widow who gave her last two pennies of livelihood. He would have denounced (as Judas Iscariot did) the woman that annointed him with a year's wages worth of perfume a week before his death. He would have stopped his disciples from leaving their nets. He would never have told many to sell all they have and give to the poor. And the church in Acts and II Corinthians 9-10 would not have held all things in common or given "liberally out of their extreme poverty."
Let's admit it, if some of Christ's teachings seem like poor stewardship to us, it's because we're so saturated with Wall Street's view of money. Christ's value system prizes love above money, and so money subserves to make much of love. Good stewardship doesn't have to make sense to the other stewards. It's the Master's mission anyways.
Speaking of the Master's mission . . .
However, also throughout my life, I've been taught a different kind of stewardship. General life choices stewardship, stemming from the verse in I Corinthians 6 about my life not being my own but having been "bought with a price" by Someone else. Therefore, of course, it was not my prerogative what to do with my life; I had to follow the will of God. He is my Master, I merely His steward.
None of this that I've related is false teaching. It's all true, but is it complete? Are these teachings, in fact, central to an essential understanding of "stewardship," whether financial or otherwise? And why do they look different? Why is the basis for wise financial stewardship the generation of wealth and the obviation of risk (i.e. stability), while the basis for stewardship in the rest of my life is the mysterious "will of God" and avoidance of worldly influences?
I am currently living in a situation that very closely parallels these New Testament teachings about a master and a steward. I live on a piece of property adjacent to my landlord's own dwelling, and I and my wife work for our rent. I do whatever Travis tells me to do. I use his tools, spend his money, and tend to his land. None of it's mine. And so whenever he gives me a project to work on, I do it. Even if I would do nothing of the sort were it my own money and property. People have asked me: Why are you cleaning out those woods? Why are you burning that stuff? Why do you mow that entire field? Sometimes I understand Travis's thinking, other times not. The bottom line is: Travis desires it; it's his money, not mine; I'm going to do it. That's stewardship. Taking care of what is not yours in the way the owner desires. So if Travis hands me $200 and tells me to buy $200 worth of bubble-blowing soap and set up a continuously-fed bubble loop in front of the industrial-size fan in his barn, even though no one will ever see the bubbles, I do it. Wasteful? I don't worry about it. I do it, and that's good stewardship on my part.
Good stewardship, you see, is not necessarily using money in a way that merits the approval of the gurus on Wall Street. Good stewardship is doing with "your" money whatever God (whose it is) tells you to do with that money--even if it looks absolutely foolish to the world at large. Of course, I do not ignore the financial principles given in the Proverbs and other passages. I have bank accounts; I budget; I work to feed my family.
But that is not all that Jesus tells us to do with money. His money. Read the New Testament looking for a theme in its treatment of money. There is one. It goes like this: Give, even to the point of hazarding your livelihood. Then, when you've found yourself in a hazardous place financially--"do not be anxious, for your Father knows what you need. Seek the Kingdom of God first and foremost, thrive on His righteousness, and everything you need will be added to you." If this were not so, Christ would have disparaged the widow who gave her last two pennies of livelihood. He would have denounced (as Judas Iscariot did) the woman that annointed him with a year's wages worth of perfume a week before his death. He would have stopped his disciples from leaving their nets. He would never have told many to sell all they have and give to the poor. And the church in Acts and II Corinthians 9-10 would not have held all things in common or given "liberally out of their extreme poverty."
Let's admit it, if some of Christ's teachings seem like poor stewardship to us, it's because we're so saturated with Wall Street's view of money. Christ's value system prizes love above money, and so money subserves to make much of love. Good stewardship doesn't have to make sense to the other stewards. It's the Master's mission anyways.
Speaking of the Master's mission . . .
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Once a Blessing; Now a Curse?
Over the last few weeks, Cassie and I have become acquainted with a new facial gesture. It's a sort of uncertain, consoling thing people do with their eyebrows, usually accompanied by the thought of a smile. Uncertain because they're not sure how to respond to what we've just told them. There is something in their brain that says, "Oh no! I'm sorry--" but there is something in our faces that says, "Isn't this great!"
See the thing we tell them is: "We're having a baby!"
And Cassie and I couldn't be happier (this side of heaven, at this point in our lives)! We are expecting our first child, and I begin to identify with Mary (though not half so ambitious in the promised results of our primogenitor) at her own annunciation. It's a time of incomprehensible anticipation-- joyous anticipation!
So why? Why is it that some raise their eyebrows? Why is it that some outrightly say, "You're too young, too newly wed"? Why is it that our non-use of birth control in the first nuptial year is so out-of-the-ordinary in our society--even in our churches? It is almost as if there runs an insane line of thinking (though mainly subconscious, it is basically pervasive) which goes thusly:
Yes, children are nice once we grow bored with life being just the two of us (sanitized: once we've had a number of years to just get to know each other) and have exhausted the pleasure of complete and absolute privacy--maybe a couple of progeny would be nice then, to carry on the family name at least. Children can be cute after all--in small quantities, of course. But thank God we now have the technology to obviate that burden that used to inevitably accompany marriage! Now, we can be free--to build our careers and our bank accounts (I mean, to be responsible stewards), to get to know each other without ubiquitous interruptions (I mean, besides the never-sleeping TV, the husband's video games, etc. Now we can "control" the interruptions.).
Some even seem to think: It is YOUR responsibility to avail yourself of this newly en vogued vivial-sovereignty. After all, your marriage will suffer if you have children right away, and God MIGHT cease to meet your needs if you embrace parenthood while you're still stuck at that low standard of living in which newlyweds usually find themselves. God, after all, does not condescend to those who are foolish with the gifts he gives: God helps those who help themselves.
Now, this is not a rant against birth control. Most adamantly not. There are, I believe, some very good reasons for birth control. But, friends, we've gone too far! We make newlyweds to feel awkward and foolish, strange--as if they've got two heads (or three or four, to make it truly strange) or as if something slipped--when children come along in the first year of marriage.
When the Creator of our earth and race and the Inspirator of Scripture calls something a "blessing" and "an inheritance from the LORD" we ought to be more careful not to call that into question. I fear that we in the West have become so enamored with a certain standard of living that anything that could keep us from that life is viewed as a curse. And anyone who decides to raise a family at a significantly lower standard of living is a poor steward, maybe even "worse than an infidel" like the one condemned in I Timothy 5:8 (which, by the way, was written in a cultural context when the average person did not even have electricity, running water, indoor plumbing, more than four sets of clothes and many other things we consider just the bare essentials. Let's be careful how we apply that verse.).
It seems we've got lots of kinks in our thinks; most of those will take many other sessions to straighten out. But can we start with one thing, please? When someone tells you they're pregnant, be excited for them! I understand, it makes life more difficult, but when God calls something "a blessing," trust Him enough not to call it a curse!
See the thing we tell them is: "We're having a baby!"
And Cassie and I couldn't be happier (this side of heaven, at this point in our lives)! We are expecting our first child, and I begin to identify with Mary (though not half so ambitious in the promised results of our primogenitor) at her own annunciation. It's a time of incomprehensible anticipation-- joyous anticipation!
So why? Why is it that some raise their eyebrows? Why is it that some outrightly say, "You're too young, too newly wed"? Why is it that our non-use of birth control in the first nuptial year is so out-of-the-ordinary in our society--even in our churches? It is almost as if there runs an insane line of thinking (though mainly subconscious, it is basically pervasive) which goes thusly:
Yes, children are nice once we grow bored with life being just the two of us (sanitized: once we've had a number of years to just get to know each other) and have exhausted the pleasure of complete and absolute privacy--maybe a couple of progeny would be nice then, to carry on the family name at least. Children can be cute after all--in small quantities, of course. But thank God we now have the technology to obviate that burden that used to inevitably accompany marriage! Now, we can be free--to build our careers and our bank accounts (I mean, to be responsible stewards), to get to know each other without ubiquitous interruptions (I mean, besides the never-sleeping TV, the husband's video games, etc. Now we can "control" the interruptions.).
Some even seem to think: It is YOUR responsibility to avail yourself of this newly en vogued vivial-sovereignty. After all, your marriage will suffer if you have children right away, and God MIGHT cease to meet your needs if you embrace parenthood while you're still stuck at that low standard of living in which newlyweds usually find themselves. God, after all, does not condescend to those who are foolish with the gifts he gives: God helps those who help themselves.
Now, this is not a rant against birth control. Most adamantly not. There are, I believe, some very good reasons for birth control. But, friends, we've gone too far! We make newlyweds to feel awkward and foolish, strange--as if they've got two heads (or three or four, to make it truly strange) or as if something slipped--when children come along in the first year of marriage.
When the Creator of our earth and race and the Inspirator of Scripture calls something a "blessing" and "an inheritance from the LORD" we ought to be more careful not to call that into question. I fear that we in the West have become so enamored with a certain standard of living that anything that could keep us from that life is viewed as a curse. And anyone who decides to raise a family at a significantly lower standard of living is a poor steward, maybe even "worse than an infidel" like the one condemned in I Timothy 5:8 (which, by the way, was written in a cultural context when the average person did not even have electricity, running water, indoor plumbing, more than four sets of clothes and many other things we consider just the bare essentials. Let's be careful how we apply that verse.).
It seems we've got lots of kinks in our thinks; most of those will take many other sessions to straighten out. But can we start with one thing, please? When someone tells you they're pregnant, be excited for them! I understand, it makes life more difficult, but when God calls something "a blessing," trust Him enough not to call it a curse!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
"Be Jesus to them."
This is a motto I've heard (and read) a lot the past three years. From Shane Claiborne or Mother Teresa or Francis Chan or Philip Yancey, it seems many Christians are trying to take a fresh look at the Jesus of the Gospels. "The Jesus I never knew," as Yancey puts it, seems to be calling out to American Christians in our generation to remember his concern for "the least of these, My brothers," and to open our eyes to the needs that lie in our cities' gutters or a forgotten ocean away. What does it mean to "take up your cross?" What does Jesus have in mind for us when he calls us Americans two thousand years removed from those first net-forsaking fishermen to also "Follow Me?" What does it mean to imitate the Son of God and "be Jesus to them?"
I came across this list of Jesus impostors with a simple Google search (the quickest way to get the facts!). While Jesus was certainly an eyebrow-raiser and a radical in the eyes of many, somehow I don't think these anomalies have quite got what it means to "be conformed to the image of [Christ]." And yet, if we are content to simply sit back and perform our religious rituals and favorite Christo-American pastimes-- attending church, talking about theology, listening to Christian music, reading Christian books by Christian authors writing about Christian things to do or think about, going to Bible study to sing and to do all the above activities with people who are just like us-- we are also missing something essential in our reflections of the Messiah who gathered to himself lepers and prostitutes. All of those rituals that I listed, those are very nourishing for a vibrant Christian life-- but there's more!
"Good things come when Jesus comes!" was the jubilant song echoing from lungs of Africans in the film I just watched. As we watched an American well-driller and an African evangelist carry good news-- clean drinking water and eternal living water-- into village after village, our friend Liz turned to Dustan and said, "The Gospel brings social reform!" And I was thinking in my mind, The Gospel brings better life! That's what real good social reform is-- better life. In many different ways, physical and spiritual.
My own first trip to Africa lent me an awareness of the physical needs of those on the poorer sides of the tracks-- or the ocean-- three years ago. Since then I've wrestled long and strenuously with my role as a bringer of "better life"-- both spiritually and physically. I have been given great gifts as an American: freedom of travel, discretionary finances, educational depth and breadth-- to name just a few. How should I use them? What quickly became the heaviest motivator on my heart was, How can I use this wealth on myself when Christ cries out to me from the teary eyes and open hands of the poor and needy all over the world-- in Greenville and in Africa? But, as I saw needs I had never noticed before exponentially multiplied before my burdened soul and as I eagerly reached into my middle-class American pockets and reached out to calloused, dirty, drug-plagued hands, I soon realized that I could easily spend all my time and resources dishing out my valued American dream into needy hands and never bring my hungry fellow man to the feast that my Father has prepared with the broken body and spilt blood of His Son. A feast to which he bids me compel the hedge and highway dwellers come!
So over the past three years my thinking has developed to the question, How can I best use these resources made available through a worldly citizenship from an unprecedentedly wealthy and free country to further a Kingdom whose King conquers through love rather than swords and bombs, by sacrifice rather than with Roman denarii or American dollars? I've had to learn that God directs the path of each member of his body uniquely, that I cannot judge my brother who drives a Mercedes anymore than he ought judge me for the color of my shirt. The wallet that opened for the purchase of the $50,000 luxury sedan is also the wallet that feeds my pastor and donates generously to my enormous school bill-- and that wallet is filled by the same Father whose love compels me to "sell everything [I] have" and follow his Son to the poor and illiterate.
But understanding that liquidating my meager assets and showing up at the rescue mission food line with a backpack full of cash to hand out with the chicken soup and stale bread is probably not what will shake the gates of Hell most, how do I sacrifice it ALL for the Kingdom of Heaven?
Live in a shed? Drive a $500 car? Shop at Goodwill, SOS, Safe Harbor, Miracle Hill? Live off Raisin Bran and charity? Type this post up on a 10-year-old Toshiba? Leave it all for China, Albania, Africa? Sure. That's for me, and I'm sure there's more to pursue, there's a heavier, more rugged, more fatal cross awaiting me. For Roland the Well-driller it is a life in Africa far, far away from his American homeland. For Dennis the Evangelist it is a headlong, do-or-die assault on the Hell-tended gates of a demon-worshiping village in West Africa. For you it could be walking to school, providing care for your aging parents or grandparents, giving your summers to the mentally impaired or the foreign mission field, walking to the fringes of downtown to find blank-eyed homeless wanderers and to be a friend-- a true friend. It could be to take that guy out to lunch-- you know, the guy that just has no clue how to hold a conversation and leaves Sunday School as fast as he can because he doesn't want to feel awkward standing around with no one to not-be-able-to talk to? It could be to sell everything you own and give the money to an orphanage. To go and live in that orphanage.
Whatever the cross, whatever the reflection of Jesus that you will be called to be, it will be your own, but you will not be alone. You will find the body of Christ more ever-pervasive than you have ever imagined. You will share in the sufferings of Christ and find out what it really means to "be Jesus to them."
I came across this list of Jesus impostors with a simple Google search (the quickest way to get the facts!). While Jesus was certainly an eyebrow-raiser and a radical in the eyes of many, somehow I don't think these anomalies have quite got what it means to "be conformed to the image of [Christ]." And yet, if we are content to simply sit back and perform our religious rituals and favorite Christo-American pastimes-- attending church, talking about theology, listening to Christian music, reading Christian books by Christian authors writing about Christian things to do or think about, going to Bible study to sing and to do all the above activities with people who are just like us-- we are also missing something essential in our reflections of the Messiah who gathered to himself lepers and prostitutes. All of those rituals that I listed, those are very nourishing for a vibrant Christian life-- but there's more!
"Good things come when Jesus comes!" was the jubilant song echoing from lungs of Africans in the film I just watched. As we watched an American well-driller and an African evangelist carry good news-- clean drinking water and eternal living water-- into village after village, our friend Liz turned to Dustan and said, "The Gospel brings social reform!" And I was thinking in my mind, The Gospel brings better life! That's what real good social reform is-- better life. In many different ways, physical and spiritual.
My own first trip to Africa lent me an awareness of the physical needs of those on the poorer sides of the tracks-- or the ocean-- three years ago. Since then I've wrestled long and strenuously with my role as a bringer of "better life"-- both spiritually and physically. I have been given great gifts as an American: freedom of travel, discretionary finances, educational depth and breadth-- to name just a few. How should I use them? What quickly became the heaviest motivator on my heart was, How can I use this wealth on myself when Christ cries out to me from the teary eyes and open hands of the poor and needy all over the world-- in Greenville and in Africa? But, as I saw needs I had never noticed before exponentially multiplied before my burdened soul and as I eagerly reached into my middle-class American pockets and reached out to calloused, dirty, drug-plagued hands, I soon realized that I could easily spend all my time and resources dishing out my valued American dream into needy hands and never bring my hungry fellow man to the feast that my Father has prepared with the broken body and spilt blood of His Son. A feast to which he bids me compel the hedge and highway dwellers come!
So over the past three years my thinking has developed to the question, How can I best use these resources made available through a worldly citizenship from an unprecedentedly wealthy and free country to further a Kingdom whose King conquers through love rather than swords and bombs, by sacrifice rather than with Roman denarii or American dollars? I've had to learn that God directs the path of each member of his body uniquely, that I cannot judge my brother who drives a Mercedes anymore than he ought judge me for the color of my shirt. The wallet that opened for the purchase of the $50,000 luxury sedan is also the wallet that feeds my pastor and donates generously to my enormous school bill-- and that wallet is filled by the same Father whose love compels me to "sell everything [I] have" and follow his Son to the poor and illiterate.
But understanding that liquidating my meager assets and showing up at the rescue mission food line with a backpack full of cash to hand out with the chicken soup and stale bread is probably not what will shake the gates of Hell most, how do I sacrifice it ALL for the Kingdom of Heaven?
Live in a shed? Drive a $500 car? Shop at Goodwill, SOS, Safe Harbor, Miracle Hill? Live off Raisin Bran and charity? Type this post up on a 10-year-old Toshiba? Leave it all for China, Albania, Africa? Sure. That's for me, and I'm sure there's more to pursue, there's a heavier, more rugged, more fatal cross awaiting me. For Roland the Well-driller it is a life in Africa far, far away from his American homeland. For Dennis the Evangelist it is a headlong, do-or-die assault on the Hell-tended gates of a demon-worshiping village in West Africa. For you it could be walking to school, providing care for your aging parents or grandparents, giving your summers to the mentally impaired or the foreign mission field, walking to the fringes of downtown to find blank-eyed homeless wanderers and to be a friend-- a true friend. It could be to take that guy out to lunch-- you know, the guy that just has no clue how to hold a conversation and leaves Sunday School as fast as he can because he doesn't want to feel awkward standing around with no one to not-be-able-to talk to? It could be to sell everything you own and give the money to an orphanage. To go and live in that orphanage.
Whatever the cross, whatever the reflection of Jesus that you will be called to be, it will be your own, but you will not be alone. You will find the body of Christ more ever-pervasive than you have ever imagined. You will share in the sufferings of Christ and find out what it really means to "be Jesus to them."
Episode 3: I Once Was Blind from Dispatches From The Front on Vimeo.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
When I die . . .
"When I go, don't cry for me;
In my Father's arms I'll be.
Wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed, and I'll be whole.
It don't matter where you bury me,
'Cause I'll be home, and I'll be free.
It don't matter where I lay;
All my tears'll be washed away."
--Mary McLaughlin
Please don't spend money on a coffin I'll never actually be inside of to enjoy.
Please don't paint me as a perfect Christian at my memorial-- I'm not.
Please do celebrate at my memorial-- bubbles, good food, good memories, high hopes.
Please let Cassie "preach" at my memorial.
Please let those who need the closure see my deceased body, but please not everyone-- I won't be in it at the moment, and so it won't really be me. It's just not a good representation of me anyways-- since when did I ever lay that still?!
Please do invite everyone I know to the memorial: friends, enemies (especially enemies), co-workers past and present, random dudes off the street; go through my contacts, my emails, my facebook friends, my receipts-- the works!-- it'll be the biggest day of my life!
Please do go through my journals; there are things I've written in there that I want preached or told at my memorial-- but I'd better good and dead before you touch them!!!
Please do cry if you need to, but remember, I want you all to go on-- not just "move on" but to push ahead with a renewed vengeance, raging against the gates of Hell with a triumphant smile through your tears. Know that though Hell succeeded in bringing me to a physical death, it is a very temporal success and eventually will be robbed of even that physical death. When you see this physical body succumb to that accursed Death, please rage all the fiercer against those black and awful gates and snatch many others from Hell's grip.
Please, if I am martyred for the Gospel's sake, please forgive my enemies and love them as God loved me when I was his enemy and murdered his Son.
Please sing lots of songs celebrating my Saviour and my HOME! (Because whereever I live forever, it will be with God, and that is home.) I have a playlist on my computer (WMP) that has some good suggestions; it's called, "Created for a place I've never known."
And remember, there's a good chance I might be able to watch the proceedings, so I'll know whether or not your honor these wishes, and if I'm allowed I will come haunt you . . .
This is the happiest time in my life. I've never been happier, and I expect the coming years here in this life to bring an even deeper happiness (along with sorrows deeper than I've yet experienced). I have a great life here with many inspiring dreams and beloved people (esp. Cass) seemingly worth living for. But none of this (no, not even my bride-to-be) can compare to what awaits me when I finally leave "Jordan's stormy banks" and come to that "fair and happy land where my possessions lie." That's why I'm excited to die-- I hope it happens tonight! I mean, I feel bad for those to whom God has given a love for me, those of you that have to stay behind with my dust, but try to be happy for me! And we'll meet again . . . soon.
"It is not death to die . . . "
In my Father's arms I'll be.
Wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed, and I'll be whole.
It don't matter where you bury me,
'Cause I'll be home, and I'll be free.
It don't matter where I lay;
All my tears'll be washed away."
--Mary McLaughlin
Please don't spend money on a coffin I'll never actually be inside of to enjoy.
Please don't paint me as a perfect Christian at my memorial-- I'm not.
Please do celebrate at my memorial-- bubbles, good food, good memories, high hopes.
Please let Cassie "preach" at my memorial.
Please let those who need the closure see my deceased body, but please not everyone-- I won't be in it at the moment, and so it won't really be me. It's just not a good representation of me anyways-- since when did I ever lay that still?!
Please do invite everyone I know to the memorial: friends, enemies (especially enemies), co-workers past and present, random dudes off the street; go through my contacts, my emails, my facebook friends, my receipts-- the works!-- it'll be the biggest day of my life!
Please do go through my journals; there are things I've written in there that I want preached or told at my memorial-- but I'd better good and dead before you touch them!!!
Please do cry if you need to, but remember, I want you all to go on-- not just "move on" but to push ahead with a renewed vengeance, raging against the gates of Hell with a triumphant smile through your tears. Know that though Hell succeeded in bringing me to a physical death, it is a very temporal success and eventually will be robbed of even that physical death. When you see this physical body succumb to that accursed Death, please rage all the fiercer against those black and awful gates and snatch many others from Hell's grip.
Please, if I am martyred for the Gospel's sake, please forgive my enemies and love them as God loved me when I was his enemy and murdered his Son.
Please sing lots of songs celebrating my Saviour and my HOME! (Because whereever I live forever, it will be with God, and that is home.) I have a playlist on my computer (WMP) that has some good suggestions; it's called, "Created for a place I've never known."
And remember, there's a good chance I might be able to watch the proceedings, so I'll know whether or not your honor these wishes, and if I'm allowed I will come haunt you . . .
This is the happiest time in my life. I've never been happier, and I expect the coming years here in this life to bring an even deeper happiness (along with sorrows deeper than I've yet experienced). I have a great life here with many inspiring dreams and beloved people (esp. Cass) seemingly worth living for. But none of this (no, not even my bride-to-be) can compare to what awaits me when I finally leave "Jordan's stormy banks" and come to that "fair and happy land where my possessions lie." That's why I'm excited to die-- I hope it happens tonight! I mean, I feel bad for those to whom God has given a love for me, those of you that have to stay behind with my dust, but try to be happy for me! And we'll meet again . . . soon.
"It is not death to die . . . "
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