Spectator or Witness

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Ascension of Jesus, Andrei Rublev (1408)

My sermon from yesterday. Text was Acts 1:1-11

Ascension is a difficult day to understand. It is the most overlooked feast day. After all, who wants to spend time in church remembering and celebrating when Jesus left his disciples?  It is difficult to understand because we wonder, why would Jesus leave his disciples? After all, they left their homes, their jobs, their livelihoods, and their families to follow him. They had been through an emotional roller coaster beginning with a unique and confusing Passover feast, a prayer session in Gethsemane so intense that Jesus sweat in thick drops, and a death, only to be followed by a resurrection, only to, forty days later, leave again.

The gospel writers record some of the appearances of Jesus with the disciples after his resurrection, but what did he do with them for those forty days?  We don’t exactly know. Perhaps he was teaching them how to carry on after he leaves. Of course, the disciples probably thought that he would never leave.

But sure enough, Jesus leads the eleven disciples (remember Judas was out of the fold) out of the city and into the suburbs, and onto a mountain called Olivet so that they could spend some time together. So they are on this mount together, and the disciples are all looking at one another, wondering together who will be the first one to ask the question that they are all thinking. Finally, one of the disciples musters up the courage to ask Jesus, “Teacher, is now the time when you are going to throw off the Roman Empire and gain freedom and liberation for Israel as God’s people?”

I can only imagine that Jesus would have done a facepalm, followed by a closed-eye head-shaking, followed by a “you still don’t get it.” You see, during his entire life and ministry, Jesus had been trying to teach them that God’s work is far broader and far more significant than simply one nation. The kingdom that Jesus was trying to point them to was and is not a kingdom with physical and visible sociopolitical boundaries, it is a kingdom which is a spiritual reality, a kingdom which transcends differences and divisions that we experience and continue. Calling this kingdom a spiritual reality does not make is something which is made up, it is very real, and it includes people from every race, language, and nation.

Jesus had been trying to teach them that military and political victories were not the things to look for, Jesus was trying to teach them that the way to victory was through humility, through service, and even through sacrifice, Jesus had been trying to teach them that not even death has the final word.

And here they are, asking Jesus if this was the time for him to stage his coup.

Perhaps Jesus sounded like a broken record, because the told them again, “The timing for all this — when everything will be made right — is not for you to know! But,” he said, “You’re not going to be left alone, the Holy Spirit will be with you, and I’m going to put you to work.”

“Work?” they may have asked, “What are we supposed to do?”

“You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem…” and the disciples nodded their heads. “…and in all Judea and Samaria…” And at this point their eyes widened as he just made their task that much bigger. It was like if Jesus said to us, “Tell people about me in Milwaukee.” Okay, big task, but manageable. Then Jesus says, “Not only in Milwaukee but in all of Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, Minnesota, and North Dakota.” That is a much bigger task. But Jesus still isn’t done. He finishes, “…and to the ends of the earth.”

There is this word, “witness.” We use the word witness most of the time in legal contexts.  Witnesses are called to testify in a trial. A witness is someone who has a personal knowledge or experience of something. So when Jesus tells the disciples that they will be his witnesses, he is not just telling them to tell others about him, he is telling them to share with others the experiences that they have had, the first hand knowledge that they had.

Now Jesus knows when to make an exit. After Jesus finishes giving them this seemingly impossible task and placing it in their laps, he goes up into the clouds. Then, it was thought that heaven was above us. It may or may not be up, it’s probably more just beyond. As Jesus ascends, the disciples view of him is obscured because a cloud moves in, and for a moment they can’t see him. However, as the cloud moves out of their way, they still don’t see him. Jesus is gone.

I can’t imagine what they were thinking or feeling. They were probably feeling a mixture of excitement and loss.  I’m sure you are probably familiar with the feeling. The kids grow up and the move out. You are excited for them to start their own lives, but you walk past the room where they used to stay, which used to be filled with life, and it now sits quiet, still, and fills with dust. It is the feeling when you move to a new home, either a house or apartment, and you may be excited about it because it is a good thing to move, but you walk past your old home and you see other people on your porch, other children in the yard. A home, regardless of whether you own or rent, a home which was filled with hopes and dreams, some of which had come true, others of which still remain as a goal.  I can imagine this was the mixture of feelings they would have experienced here.

Excitement while Jesus was being lifted up, as Luke tells us, and then he is swallowed up by a cloud. They can’t see him anymore, and they wouldn’t see him again. Absence. Loss.

So they stand there, looking up. What else was there to do? Scanning the sky. Looking for a sign, looking for a direction, trying to figure out what has happened and what to do next. So as they stood there, with their necks craned upwards, they did receive a message, not from the sky, but from right behind their backs.

Now Luke tells us that these men were in dazzling clothes, but I will bet anything that they were angels. “Guys, what are you doing?” the angels asked. “Why do you stand there and look up to the sky?  This Jesus who you saw taken up is not gone, he will be back in the same way that you saw him go!”

You see, Jesus wasn’t gone from the disciples, he is simply gone for now — and — the work of Jesus was not ending, it was just beginning. Luke breaks his narrative up into two books, the Gospel according to Luke, which tells the story of Jesus from his birth to the ascension, and the Acts of the Apostles where Luke tells the story of Jesus (and the community of Jesus) from the ascension and much of the early church.

We have the ability to see that the story of Jesus was not finished with Jesus’ ascension into heaven, and the story is not even over now. It is a story that we are a part of as well, a story that we can find ourselves in. This is a story that continues to grow when people tell others about the encounters that they have had with God, even if it was not some big deal with fireworks and all the special effects. When we gather together to worship God, when we come together to read from scriptures and the presence and action of the Triune God all through it, when we seek to follow the teachings and commands of Jesus, when we show people in loving ways that redemption and sanctification is offered through Christ, we continue in this story, and we help to continue this story. When we are active in being Christ’s witnesses we are involved in the work of the living Christ who is not gone, but will return in the same way that he left from us.

I’m sure the disciples thought that this was an impossible task, and we may think that it may be an impossible task. Indeed, if it was all up to us, it would be impossible. But it is not all up to us. We have the Holy Spirit, the third person of the trinity who was active in creation with God the Father and God the Son, and continues to comfort us and empower us. If this task that Jesus dropped into the laps of his disciples was completely up to them, it would be impossible. If this task that Jesus gives to us is completely up to us, it will be impossible. But we aren’t given an impossible task, and we aren’t expected to do it all on our own either.

So as we read about and consider the ascension, we have a choice here. We can be a spectator or a witness. We can be disobedient to Christ’s call, or we can be obedient. We can be passive and watch the story go by, or we can be participants in this story. We can stand there and just gaze up into an empty sky, or we can realize that our work is on earth.

It is a step of faith, no doubt. Gazing up at the sky is easy, it is pretty safe. We can spend our entire lives and do nothing just desiring to go to heaven and desiring nothing more. But we don’t take this step of faith alone. We always have God with us, granting us grace and strength to take that that step.

So just as so long ago, we have these angels asking the disciples, “Why do you stand there and look up to the sky?” We hear the same thing. After all, there’s work to do.

The Future Hope to Live Now

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Sermon from this past Sunday. The text was Revelation 21:1-10, 22-22:5

It was a difficult time for Christians. Nearly one hundred years after the birth of Jesus, a lot has changed. Christianity began as an off-shoot of Judaism, and many early Christians looked and acted a lot like Jews — because they were. However, as Paul and other missionaries continued to spread the message of Jesus to other areas of the world and to people who were not Jews — people like you and me — they came together not on Saturday, but on Sunday for worship. The Roman Empire did not seem to notice these people all that much when they fit in with the Jewish landscape, the Romans saw Judaism as a valid religion and they had relative peace with the Jews. However, once non-Jews began to follow the teachings of Jesus, Christianity was no longer a sect of Judaism and became something else to the Romans.

John was a very common name, just as it is now. John was a follower of Jesus who was living on the Greek island of Patmos. He is exiled there as a result of Christian persecution and has this vision. No doubt this vision includes some battles, after all, the Romans were a warrior people who put military strength above all else. So at the end of this strongly symbolic and metaphoric journey that is called the Revelation to John, we have this passage. This beautiful ending to his vision.

The Book of Revelation is to reveal the truth about the challenges the churches faced and about God’s presence with them. It is to give Christians hope, help them endure, and encourage them to resist complacency and accommodation with the religion and social practices of the empire around them.

These chapters make up some of my personal favorite passages in all of scripture. All of scripture presents a story of God seeking out God’s people, people trying to turn away from God, and God turning God’s people back toward God. But here in these passages, that struggle, that dance does not exist. There is no turning away from God. There is no having to experience, sometimes painfully, of God turning us back to Godself.

These chapters share a vision, a vision of what everything will look like when this is all finished. This is a future which is not ruled by the Roman Empire, but by the Kingdom of God. It is a future in which the supreme ruler is not Caesar, but by the Triune God. It is a city which is not protected by the strength of military might, but by the light of Christ that never goes out.

But there is something interesting to point out here. The image here is not of going to heaven, as we typically understand it. You see, many times Christians talk about “going to heaven” and we can sometimes be so preoccupied with going to heaven that we forget about living life here on earth, we disregard life here on earth. We do the bare minimum that we think is required to go to heaven. This, however, is not a biblical concept.

Here, heaven is not somewhere that we go, heaven is not another place, heaven is not separate from the world. Heaven is not somewhere we go, heaven is something that comes.

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God…and I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among [people], He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more…” (Rev. 21:2-4a, NRSV)

The whole narrative of faith consistently shows God claiming us, before we are able to claim God, God calls us before we are even listening. God comes to us first, and then we come to God. Similarly, we do not go to God, God comes to us. This is one of the most beautiful things about this.

So the city of God comes down to earth, but it is not like the earth that we live in. It is a redeemed earth, a renewed earth. It is a city with no crime, it is a city with no drugs. It is a city with no vacant industrial buildings. It is a city with no foreclosed homes, a city with no condemned homes. It is a city where not windows are broken, where no windows need to be boarded up.

This is a vision which brings the creation full circle. The book of Genesis, the first book of the Bible begins with a river, and two trees. A tree of life, and a tree of the knowledge of good and evil. What we see here is a river, with two trees. Only here there are two trees of life, it is even better than it was, and because there are two trees on either side of the river, no one in the city is blocked from the tree of life.

This is fantastic, it is wonderful, and this is the kind of thing that could help the early church continue to keep hope in the midst of a hopeless outlook.

You see the true joy and true wonder of this story is not that we go to heaven after we die, it is not that God will take care of us when all is said and done, it is not that we will trade streets of concrete and asphalt for streets of gold. The true joy and wonder of this story is that God was with them, and God is still with us, every step of the way.

When the earth was created, God was there and active. When people fell away from God, God was there. God was there during good times and bad times. God was there during times of faith and times of rebellion. God was there during times of famine and times of feast. God is there during times of peace and times of war, times of persecution and times of flourishing. In the same way, God will be there in the end.

This hope that Revelation brings is not just for the future — it is that, but not only that.  It is the hope that God also brings now. It is the hope that God not only will have God’s hands in things, but that God does have God’s hands in things. It is the hope that God is involved with our lives now, the hope that God is present with us here and now, and it is this presence which allows us to love God and love one another right now.

Curiosity on a Sunny Saturday Morning

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The sun is warm and the birds are chirping. It is finally a spring-like day during this unseasonably cold spring.

The front window is open and I hear a group of boys talking.

The city is doing utility work on our street and there is a square of concrete which is removed surrounded by sawhorse barricades so that unsuspecting motorists do not drive into the section of missing street.

This is all I see, a square of missing street.

What the boys see, however, seems to be something more than that.

The three of them stand around the missing segment and look down into it and they talk to one another. I cannot not hear what they are saying, but they appear to be interested in what lies before them.

One of them puts his foot out, as if to step into the void (although only about six inches deep), but backs away from doing so. Again and again they circle the void, looking into it and talking.

Finally, that same boy, again puts his foot out, and after pausing, takes a step into the hole. The other boys, seeing that this one was okay, also step into the hole as well. Shortly after this, they move to the porch on a house across the street. The whole experience was about twenty minutes.

I could not help but watch the event. Not because it was particularly exciting, but because I was enamored with how interested these boys were in a square of missing concrete. Something which I overlook, or if I do notice, it is seen as a nuisance — this is a source of investigation and curiosity for these boys.

Perhaps they were bored and this was the most interesting thing. Or, perhaps they were curious.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, as the adage goes, but it is the very thing that is life-giving for humans.

Hump Day Hymns: O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go

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Hymnal

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give the back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
-George Matheson (1842-1906)

I was helping a friend with yard work and his daughter, a toddler, was right with us greatly enjoying being a part of what we were doing. Suddenly the child turned and began to move, rather quickly, toward the street. My friend reached out and all he could grab was her shirt to stop her from making it there. For a brief moment she struggled against his desperate grasp as he gently tried to bring her closer to himself. She began to cry a little bit, seeing something in the road that she wanted to play with but unable to get there. What we both realized but she did not was that the most important thing is that she was not hurt.

My friend turns to me and says, “I probably look like a terrible parent.”

O Love that wilt not let me go…

My friend’s daughter, of course, did not quite understand the danger about running into the street. She did not understand that cars drive down the street and that up against a car, a toddler will always lose. She did not understand that her father, my friend, was simply looking out for her safety. All she knew was that there was something intriguing in the street that she wanted to explore and play with.

My friend turns to me and says, “I probably look like a terrible parent.”

He brought his daughter in for a hug and gently repeated one of the things that he is trying to teach her, not to run out into the street.

I turned to my friend and said, “No, if you were a terrible parent, you would have let her run out in the street without even caring.”

O Love that wilt not let me go…

The Simplest and Most Difficult Commandment

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Although we are in the Fifth Sunday after the resurrection, our gospel passage today comes from shortly before Jesus’ betrayal and execution. Jesus and the disciples are gathered together in an upper room that they rented to spend some time together and to observe the Passover.

During this time, Jesus took of his outer robe (like someone would take off their tie and roll up their sleeves to work) and wrapped a towel around himself. Jesus took a basin from the corner of the room and poured water into it. Jesus kneelt down onto the ground and asked the disciples to remove their sandals. One by one, Jesus took their feet into his hands and poured water over them. He then dried their feet with the towel that we put on his waist.

You see, in the ancient world, people walked everywhere and they would wear sandals. The roads were not paved, of course, unless you were in the big cities, and feet often became dirty and dusty. Hosts would provide water for washing feet and sometimes a servant to do it for them. It was a basic act of hospitality, of caring for those who God has brought to them.

So in this moment, Jesus humbles himself to serve his disciples — makes me think of what Jesus taught before that, “those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

One by one, Jesus took the feet of each of the disciples into his hands. Poured water over them, cleaned them, and then dried them, gently placing them back down.  When Jesus came to Peter, however, he protested, it was not right, therefore, for the Messiah, the anointed one of God, the savior and redeemer of the world to humble himself before the disciples. Finally, he allowed Jesus to wash his feet, and after Jesus finished washing the feet of all of the disciples, he put back on his outer robe (unrolls his sleeves and puts his tie back on), and sat down at the table with them again.

“Do you realize what just happened?” Jesus asked them.  Jesus was great at turning every moment into a symbolic and teachable moment.

“You call me Teacher and Lord,” Jesus continued, “and you are right, that is what I am. If I am your Teacher and your master, and I have washed your feet, then you must wash each other’s feet. I have been an example to you, and you must follow this example.”

Jesus was telling his disciples not simply to wash each other’s feet, but to care for one another, serve one another, take on humble tasks to help one another. Jesus was telling the disciples to submit to one another, not because one is lesser and one is greater, but because those who humble themselves will be exalted, but those who exalt themselves will be humbled.

You see, Jesus did not become lower than his disciples. Similarly, the disciples did not suddenly become higher or more important than Jesus, but still, Jesus stooped down, took their dirty feet, and cleaned them with his own hands.

The gospel writer now tells us that Jesus was troubled in spirit, as he told the disciples that one of them will betray him. Peter asked, “Who is it?” Jesus tells him that the one to whom he gives the bread that he dipped into the oil will be the one. Jesus takes the bread and hands it to Judas and we are told that Satan entered him, “Go quickly and do what you must do,” Jesus tells him.

The rest of the disciples don’t quite get what is going on. Now, Judas was the treasurer, and some thought that Jesus was telling him to buy the things that they needed for the festival, others thought that Jesus was telling Judas to give something to the poor. It seems simple to us, but in real life, it was a very enigmatic — mysterious, confusing — moment.

Judas, then, takes his piece of bread and goes his way.

This is where we enter the story, right as Judas is leaving the upper room with the disciples.

Jesus then tells them, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.”

One thing that I often think about, is why does Jesus call this a new commandment?  Love for one another has always been a commandment, way back in Leviticus we can read this, “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD” (Lev 19:18). So love for one another has always been a part of our faith all the way back to the beginning.

This commandment, then, is not so much new as in never before heard of but new as in renewed, enhanced. You know the line, “New and improved”? This is the commandment that Jesus gives to us. The commandment to love one another is new and improved, enhanced, strengthened. We are not just to love others like we do ourselves, we are to love one another as Jesus has loved us.  As Jesus loves us.

Jesus continues, “‘By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’”

Here Jesus lays down the simplest and and most difficult thing possible.  It is simple, love each other. But it is incredibly difficult, love each other.  You see, Jesus didn’t say, “love those who love you,” he didn’t say, “love those who are easy to love,” he didn’t even say, “love those who are kind to you.”  Jesus said, As I have loved you, love one another.

How many of you have someone in your life who you think is simply unlovable? How about this a bit closer to home. Look around the sanctuary, take a good look at everyone here. How many of you think that someone sitting in here is unlovable   See, if we cannot even love the 50 to 60 of us who gather here every week, we can see how difficult this command can be.

Jesus gives us this command not because it is easy, but because it important.  In fact, it is so important that Jesus tells them that the way that others will be able to recognize Jesus’ disciples is if they love one another. Not by wearing a cross, not by going to church, not by speaking religious language, but by love. Wearing a cross is fine, I do so. But that does not make me a follower of Jesus. Going to church is crucial, all Christians must gather together regularly, scripture is abundantly clear about this, but simply showing up to church does not make one a Christian. Speaking in the language of faith, talking about faith and Jesus is good, but simply speaking this language or knowing Bible verses does not make someone a Christian.  How do we know a Christian, a follower of Jesus?  We know them by their love for one another.

Surely not those who are unlovable right pastor?

I want to remind you that Jesus knew clearly what Judas was going to do. When Jesus washed the disciples feet, Judas was there. Shortly after Jesus gives this command to love one another, Jesus will demonstrate such love to die for people, even people who are unable to love Jesus on their own. Jesus could have said any number of things, but Jesus tells them to love one another.

But Jesus doesn’t just tell them to love however they feel like it, we are called to strive to love others as Jesus has loved (and loves) us. But how does Jesus love?

Theologian William Barclay notes four characteristics of Jesus’ love:

First, it is selfless. Jesus’ love for his disciples was so great that Jesus’ entire life was directed at them, not asking himself, “what do I get out of this?” So also must our love be focused on caring for the other person rather than what we can get out of the arrangement.

Second, it is sacrificial. Jesus will do whatever it takes to continue in love, even if it leads to a beating and a grotesque execution. Sometimes we may think that the goal of love is to give us happiness. But what Jesus shows us that sometimes love demands pain and a cross.

Third, it is understanding. Jesus knew his disciples. We often show up in the same building once a week at most, and many times we don’t really even get to know one another or know what is going on in one another’s lives. Jesus was deeply involved in the lives of the disciples not because he wanted to point out this thing or that thing that they did wrong, but because he wanted to know them, to understand them, so that he could love them better. Real love is not loving an ideal, but loving someone how they are.

Fourth, it is forgiving. Peter was going to deny Jesus at the very time when Jesus needed him most. Yet what did Jesus do?  Jesus reinstated him, forgave him, reached out to him, and welcomed him back into the fold. True love is based on forgiveness and always involves forgiveness.  Loving like Jesus requires that we can forgive even the most painful of betrayals, even when it hurts so badly to do so.

Just as I have loved you, you should love one another.

Loving is hard, and perfect love is something we will not attain, this side of redemption. But love is not something that is completely unattainable.  Think of a time in the past week, when you have chosen love. Think of a time when you could have acted in a number of ways, but you acted in a loving way. Perhaps you worked to be more understanding of another even when it was difficult, perhaps you sacrificed in some way to benefit another, perhaps you had a moment when you were thinking not of yourself, but fully of what is better for the other person. Perhaps there was a moment when someone wronged you and you really felt that you were in the right, but you offered forgiveness. These are all ways that we behave in love.

Take a moment to think about it. Think about what happened, think about what you were feeling and what you were thinking.

Now, I want you to think about a time in the past week or so when you found it hard to love. Perhaps you were simply not able (or willing) to try to truly understand the other person or where the other person was coming from. Perhaps you were not interested in thinking of the other over yourself, or you found it really hard to sacrifice. Perhaps you could not forgive someone for whatever reason.

Take a moment to think about it. Think about what happened, think about what you were feeling, and what you were thinking.

You see, we do love people, regularly, and we do fail, regularly. It is right for us to give thanks to God for allowing us those times when we have loved others, and we can pray to God to give us strength to be able to love others when we have not.

Remember this, loving someone else begins not with them, but with you. To truly love someone, the work is not that they need to make themselves lovable, but that we need to be more loving. If you can’t love those whom you don’t think deserve it, we can never truly love anyone. If we find ourselves unable to love we must first look in a mirror, we must look inside of ourselves, because the capacity to love others begins within.

Shortly after Jesus gives this command, Jesus goes on, not only to talk about love but to show love. To exhibit love. To redeem a world which rejected him, to bring true light into a world who loves darkness. Jesus lived, died, and was resurrected because “God so loved the world.” So even in those times when we fail to love, we can remember that God extends love to us, and God grants us grace to, little by little, grow in our capacities to love one another. After all, we love because God first loved us (1 Jn 4:19).

Speaking of Sin

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That Reformed Blog is a relatively new blog community begun by a group of friends and acquaintances who all try to live out what it means to be “Reformed” in daily life: Ministry, work, marriage, singleness, parenting, and just about everything else. It is a great collective of writers, and I am humbled to be a part of it. Today, I’m over at That Reformed Blog. But first, a little taste of my post:

I am the pastor of a church in the inner-city and a vast majority of my congregation are low-income, most are unemployed, and many struggle with addictions, broken relationships, poverty, hopelessness, and are aware that they are largely ignored by the majority of the city.

I also talk about sin. A lot. We have a Call to Confession, a Prayer of Confession, and an Assurance of Pardon each and every Sunday. I want people to remember that they — we — are sinful creatures who are in desperate need of redemption and restoration.

 Click here to finish reading this post.

Hump Day Hymns: O Thou from whom all goodness flows

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Hymnal

O Thou from whom all goodness flows,
I lift my heart to Thee;
In all my sorrows, conflicts, woes,
O Lord, remember me.

When with a broken, contrite heart,
I lift mine eyes to Thee;
Thy name proclaim, Thyself impart,
In love remember me.

In sore temptations, when no way
To shun the ill I see,
My strength proportion to my day,
And then remember me.

And when I tread the vale of death
And bow at Thy decree,
Then Saviour, with my latest breath,
I’ll cry, remember me.
-Thomas Haweis (1734-1820)

During difficult times, when I am in despair, I reach for hymns. I sing them to myself. The beauty of hymn meters, of course, is you can match up just about any text and tune which share the same meter. Many times when I don’t know the suggested tune, I will replace it with another tune.

So I sing hymns. I sing them when I’m doing dishes, or (quietly) when I’m on the bus, or when I’m pacing and overwhelmed with worry and unsure if I can make it through the day.

I sing hymns for two reasons. First, singing hymns, with the combination of words and music,  is distracting enough that I can momentarily gain relief from the nonstop tape of worry and fear playing in my mind, and second, it allows me to engage in something that can help me faithfully express my concerns and needs to God.

***

There are some that prize, above all else, spontaneity and extemporaneity of language of faith. While on a preaching assignment in seminary, one of my evaluations from the congregation included a critique of my use of written prayers. The evaluator noted that I should pray from the heart, not from the page. The assumption, then, is that only extemporaneous language is heart-felt.

On a day like today, however, I need to use the words of another — I need common words — to express myself. I am not able to form the right words. This is, of course, why we have the psalms. The psalms are a school of faith from which we never quite graduate.

So today, I am singing this hymn, a desperate plea that God remember me — us — but today, me. I love the simplicity of this hymn’s plea. “Lord, remember me.” The greatest good we could ever have and experience is not that God would eliminate all of our suffering, not that God would make everything better, not that God would do this or that, but that God would remember us. Remember us in our difficult state, remember us in our sufferings, in our conflict, in our trials, in our pains.

In this particular hymn, the hope and faith is deep and strong, yet in the subtext. Some hymns add a stanza or two at the end about the glorious deliverance that God will effect, but not this one. This one ends with a simple plea: Remember me.

I think that God appreciates it when we ask for specific things, specific actions, specific outcomes — all the while knowing that we do not really know what we want or need. However, there are times when we don’t see a way out, when we cannot imagine what peace and wholeness might look like, when a solution evades us, and all we can say is, “God, remember me!”

***

As a child, I never appreciated singing in worship. I thought hymns were boring and mundane. The organ seemed dated. I preferred an ever-changing repertoire of contemporary songs which mirrored the music to which I preferred to listen. But I am so grateful that I was able to grow up singing hymns. Congregational singing of hymns, psalms, and spiritual songs has such a wonderfully long and rich history, and for good reason.

Today, then, I am using this time-tested practice to attempt to express my concerns to God, and hopefully to allow my faith to be formed.

O Thou from whom all goodness flows,
I lift my heart to Thee;
In all my sorrows, conflicts, woes,
O Lord, remember me.

Waiting for the Mail Carrier

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There is nothing like the excitement of waiting for a package to arrive in the mail. Internet tracking allows me to see exactly when it is going to arrive, and it is a day which brings eager anticipation.

The items in the package are not that exciting, simply utilitarian items. I know what they are, after all, I ordered them. But the excitement is not about the items themselves, it is about the experience.

The experience of hearing the knock on the door, or arriving home and seeing the brown cardboard box leaned up against the door, is an exciting one. Although knowing what is on the inside, seeing the box — sealed, opaque — there are endless possibilities for what it could contain. There is something, at least somewhat unknown, that will likely contain something good, something exciting, something new and fresh. Something with potential, with possibilities, something that has yet to wear out or break — something which can offer a new future.

***

As I was waiting for my package, however, the mail was late, and I had to catch my bus. I walked down the stairs to the sidewalk, and over to the bus stop. After all, what I am truly waiting for — hoping for, longing for — won’t arrive in the mail.

Hump Day Hymns: If Christ is mine, then all is mine

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Hymnal

If Christ is mine, then all is mine,
And more than angels know;
Both present things and things to come,
And grace and glory too.

If Christ is mine, let friends forsake,
And earthly comforts flee;
He, the full source of every good,
Is more than all to me.

If Christ is mine, unharmed I pass
Through death’s dark dismal vale,
He’ll be my comfort and my Stay,
When heart and flesh shall fail.

O Christ, assure me Thou art mine;
I nothing want beside;
My soul shall at the Fountain live,
When all the streams are dried.
-Benjamin Beddome (1717-1795)

Last week, in Hump Day Hymns, I reflected on a question which is also pertinent for our hymn for today: Is God enough for me?

This is a question that is becoming increasingly more relevant.

We are witnessing the end of Christendom, and I think that this is a good thing. Our social fabric is becoming closer to that of the early church, when Christianity first flourished. After all, Christianity grew up in a the pluralistic culture of the ancient Roman Empire. It was only later that Christianity became a state religion, became synonymous with riches, power, authority, and empires.

In the days of the early church, Christ was all that they had to offer. Missionaries could not woo people with offering them status, power, or opportunity. There was no special status for Christians, in fact, for quite some time, it could actually work against them. All that they had to offer these people was Christ and the community of Christ.

I welcome the demise of Christendom because Christendom presented an idol. It presented power and strength, it attempted to present an alternative to the one whom we follow, who died naked on a cross.

This is what is so wonderfully formative about this hymn.

If Christ is mine, let friends forsake,
And earthly comforts flee;
He, the full source of every good,
Is more than all to me.

When it comes to my congregation, Christ is all I have to offer them. We are a poor church in a poor community. We aren’t a status church, our building isn’t beautiful, by being a part of our church community it will not give them anything to talk to their friends about (“Oh, well I go to the basilica down the street”). We don’t have a lot of programs for people, we can’t pay their rent. I still have people say to me, “I’ve been going to this church for x years…!” But we don’t have anything to offer, except for a deeper understanding of and relationship to the triune God.

This is a question that we wrestle with all the time: Is God enough?

Our ministry can offer nothing except for Christ, is that enough?

This is a very real question for me as well, as I see no stability or security for my own livelihood either.

Like many hymns, this also invites the singer into the famous line, and existence which we all inhabit, “I believe; help my unbelief!” At the same time that one sings, “If Christ is mine, then all is mine,” we pray, “God, help it be so!”

When we sing these words again, and again, they will begin to sink in.

O Christ, assure me Thou art mine;
I nothing want beside;
My soul shall at the Fountain live,
When all the streams are dried.

God, let it be so.

“Do you love me?” – Sunday’s Sermon

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Christ’s Charge to St. Peter by Raphael

It has been quite an emotionally exhausting few days for the disciples. The entry into Jerusalem was followed by extraordinary events in the temple, a Passover meal unlike any other, an intense experience in the Garden of Gethsemane, and unexpected betrayal from one of their own, an armed arrest, a series of denials, a pro forma trial, a jeering mob, and a bloody execution. This is followed by an immense feeling of defeat and disappointment, and perhaps even some shame, in the wake of what happened. Only a few days later they find out that Jesus didn’t stay dead, that the tomb was empty — not only that, but the alive-again Jesus even showed up a couple of times.

There are only so many emotional ups and downs, only so much emotional turmoil, only so many waves of such strong emotions that a human can take. They were overwhelmed, and likely not even sure what to make of the last few days.

“Let’s go fishing!” one of them says.

This is the sensible thing, after all. This was their trade, their career, before Jesus uttered those magical words, “follow me.”

Back to something they know, a semblance of routine, of order, of their past life. It was a life, which although not necessarily perfect, was theirs, it was a life that they had lost when they started following Jesus and it probably seemed as if it would finally be theirs again.

So they go out fishing. They are fishing at night, which is not unheard of. Fishing at night can be very productive. It is quiet and still. Standing up in the boat, and very still, so not as to cause too much motion to scare the fish. There is a torch which offers them light. The night is ending, and the day is breaking, the sun rising just above the horizon.

There was a man standing on the shore, who we know is Jesus but they didn’t know this — at least not yet. And this man yells out, “You don’t have any fish, do you?” The disciples reply back, “No, we don’t.”  The man yells back, “Cast your net on the other side of the boat,” perhaps seeing a grouping of fish.

So they cast their nets on the other side of the boat, and they found fish, just as the man had said. In fact, a lot of fish. The fish filled the nets, completely, but the nets don’t break, and they haul all of it into the boat. The disciple whom Jesus loved, a peculiar title only found in the Gospel of John, squints into the horizon at the man. “It’s the Lord!” he shouts to them.

Peter, then, scrambles to compose himself, to ensure that he is properly dressed, and he dives in the water. The other disciples row the boat in along with all of those fish.

When they get there, they see that Jesus has already started a barbeque grill — charcoal, they didn’t have gas then — and the coals are already heated and there are a few fish and some bread already on the grill.

“Bring some of the fish you caught,” Jesus tells them. So Peter goes to the boat and drags in all of those fish, and they place a few of them on the grill.

“Come and have breakfast,” Jesus invites them. Jesus then hands out bread and fish.

Now, this was the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised.  Notice, that all of these appearances include physical activities. Touching, eating, drinking, making a barbeque grill, giving them advice on where to throw their net. This is so that we can know that Jesus was not just a vision or a ghost — after all, ghosts don’t eat, and visions don’t know where the fish are. So Jesus is in all of these very real and very physical situations to prove to the disciples that he is real, and they are recorded in these stories so that the readers will know this as well.

They are eating, and they were likely conversing as well, sharing stories, sharing good times, talking about what has happened, all that has gone on, all that they have been through. As Jesus sat with them in the circle, perhaps he notices something…he only sees ten people in the circle, and that Peter is missing.

Perhaps Peter sat outside of the circle, his back against a tree while the other disciples gathered.  Remember Peter denied Jesus, just as Jesus had told him he would. He said that he didn’t know Jesus, he promised that he didn’t know Jesus, he even swore an oath that he didn’t know Jesus.  All of which were lies, though, lies because he wanted to save his own skin. Perhaps Peter thought that lying would afford him a sense of security or stability that he wouldn’t have had he told the truth and told him that he was a student, and even a friend, of this Nazarene who had just been arrested.

Chances are he wasn’t readily accepted back into the circle. You know what I’m talking about, perhaps they included him, but didn’t really and fully include him. They let him hang out with them, but they would all exchange glances with one another — each one knowing what they were thinking — but leaving Peter out of the real loop.

So perhaps Peter was on the outside, physically and literally as well as metaphorically, with what happened clearly burned on his conscience. You don’t usually forget those things. He didn’t know how to move past it, he didn’t know how he could continue. I would imagine that he was conflicted — wanting nothing more than to see Jesus, but not really knowing how to do so — he probably had a lot of shame internalized — not just guilt, but shame.

Jesus goes up to him, and as he approaches, Peter looks away, not really being able to look him in the eye.

Jesus says to him, “Simon Peter, son of John” (so that there could be no confusion at all about who Jesus was talking to), “do you love me more than these?”

We don’t know what Jesus was referring to as “these”, but perhaps Jesus was waving his arm over their fishing equipment, over the nets, the boat, everything that Peter uses in his trade (Barclay). Perhaps Jesus is saying, do you love me more than your trade, more than your boat and your nets, more than your sense of stability and success, more than your ability to feel secure, more than your ability to live your own life and do your own thing, do you love me more than this?

Peter looks up, tentatively, and says, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Jesus replies, “Feed my lambs.”

Jesus asks again, “Do you love me?”

Peter looks at him again, and says with even more passion, “Yes Lord, you know that I love you.”

Jesus replies, “Tend my sheep.”

Jesus asks yet again, “Do you love me?”

Peter is hurt because Jesus asked him yet again if he loves him. Perhaps Jesus didn’t believe him, perhaps Jesus was still angry about the denials. Perhaps he will never be included again.

Peter says even more earnestly and with even more passion, “Lord, you know everything, you know that I love you.”

Jesus replies, “Feed by sheep.”

Jesus then offers a familiar invitation, one that he heard a while ago, in what must have seemed to be a previous life, “follow me.”

I don’t know if Peter realized it or not, but something very important happened here. Perhaps you didn’t even notice it.

Just a few days before this, Peter was asked, a seemingly simple and innocent question, “Aren’t you one of his disciples?” a woman asked.  Peter looked around, seeing that she was talking to him, and he shook his head, “no, I am not.”

Two more times he was asked if he was a follower of Jesus, and two more times he said, “no.” It wasn’t until afterward that he realized what just happened.  Just as Jesus said, just as Peter himself said would never happen.

So here in our story today, Peter was asked three questions, “do you love me” and this time Peter was able to answer them all “Yes, I do.”  Peter was asked, “Do you love me?” for each time that Peter said, “I don’t know him.”

This is what is so interesting about this story, and what is so important about how God operates.  This is how God interacts with us. Peter could have just said, “sorry” and Jesus could have just said, “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”  But it was something, it was something to Peter, it was something that he couldn’t forget, it was something that he went over and over again in his mind.

Jesus, then, takes this horrible thing that he cannot get rid of, he takes this moment which is etched in his mind, and he turns it into something good. Jesus took denial and transformed it into a moment for a wonderful expression of love.

And then Jesus issues an invitation, an invitation that leads us all the way back to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry when he first called the disciples with these same words, “follow me.”

Jesus takes his shame, takes his less than stellar actions, and transforms them into something new, something good, something life giving.

But it wasn’t only then that this happened, this also speaks to us now.  I think that we are invited to see ourselves in Peter. We are invited to see ourselves in Peter’s unsteady faith, we are invited to see ourselves in Peter’s denials, when we find that the easiest way is just to say, “I do not know him.”  But we are also invited to see ourselves in this moment of Peter’s reinstatement, when Jesus takes the thing that likely bothers Peter the most, turns it around into something good, and then does something which Peter may never have expected, he issued an invitation to follow, again. Jesus was welcoming him back into the fold. Reinstating him as a disciple.

Jesus does the same with us. We too have denied Jesus in words and actions, we have lived like we don’t know Jesus, like we don’t follow Jesus. Sometimes we recognize when we do this, many times we do not. At some point we will realize it, and we will be overcome with guilt and sometimes even shame. I hear it all the time. “I’ll come to church when I get my life together,” “I need to work through some things before I come to God,” “I’ve done some really bad things in my life,” people have told me. I think that all of us can relate to these things in our past that hang heavy over our heads.

But Jesus comes up, and doesn’t say, “don’t worry about it,” Jesus doesn’t just say, “It’s okay…” Jesus comes to us and says, “Do you love me more than all of this?”  “Do you love me?”  “Do you love me?”  And just when we think that Jesus may never forgive us, when we think that Jesus doesn’t believe us, when we think that we will never find redemption, Jesus offers us an invitation, perhaps one that we have heard before, perhaps not, and he says, “follow me.”