Maundy Thursday: The King Prepares His Followers

On this night, some two thousand years ago, Jesus sat down with his disciples for a meal. It was Passover, and it was time to commemorate the time when the nation was rescued from their bondage in Egypt. Per God’s command, they had been keeping this meal for a long long time. Things would be a bit different at this Passover meal. This was the final one that Jesus would have with his followers and he added a couple of things to fit what this particular Passover would mean to them.

During the meal, Jesus added a little something. He took some bread, broke it, and passed it around, telling the disciples that this represented his body which was going to be given for them. He then passed  them a cup of wine that represented his blood which would be shed for them. After supper, Jesus got up, took off his outer garment, and wrapped a towel around his waist. He then poured some water into a basin, and began to wash his disciples’ feet. This was no ordinary task. Washing the feet of guests was a job that was usually reserved for the lowest servant in the house, and for good reason. First Century Palestine didn’t have paved roads and sidewalks. It was all dirt, and mixed in with the dirt were any number of nasty things. So, a person’s feet would be quite filthy after walking around for a few hours.

It’s interesting that none of the disciples offered to wash the feet of Jesus or their friends. Remember, this is the group who argued over which one of them would have the highest positions in the Kingdom. To be fair, I doubt that I would have been the first one to jump up and offer either. It’s comforting to know that those closest to Jesus could be just as selfish as me.

When Jesus finished the job of washing their feet, he told his disciples that they were do do the same for their fellow disciples. Over the centuries, people have had different opinions as to whether Jesus really wanted his followers to literally wash each other’s feet. I don’t hold to that, but I do believe that Jesus calls us to be willing to take the lowest position and serve others. When the disciples were arguing over who should be highest, Jesus told them that they were not to be like the people of this world, who climb up by treading on others, and then use their position to control them. He said that is what the rulers of this world do, but that we are not to be like that. In his Kingdom, those who are the lowest will be brought up and those who are the highest will be brought low.

As followers of the King, we are commanded to love others as we love ourselves, and to seek to serve rather than to be served. Even further, we are commanded to love fellow Christians as Jesus loved us. In case you haven’t paid attention, Jesus laid down his life for us. That means we are to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters in Christ and love others (even the “sinners”) as we love ourselves.

As I look around at the Christian world, whether on social media or in real life, I don’t see a whole lot of self-sacrificial love or desire to serve others (I know, “pot, meet kettle”. I struggle with that too). If we are going to call ourselves followers of the Prince of Peace, should we be so quick to attack those who may disagree with us, whether verbally or physically? As subjects and representatives of the upside down Kingdom, the way we do things should look radically different from the kingdoms of this world, i.e. Babylon. Those who would have power and influence in Babylon must prove themselves to be stronger, more capable of defeating others. Babylon operates by using a sword. Those who would be first in the Kingdom of God must be servants who willingly lay down their rights, privileges, their lives in sacrificial love for others. The Kingdom of Jesus comes with a basin and a towel.

I fear there will be some who will stand before the King and say, “In your name, we beat our political foes. In your name we passed laws that made people act right. In your name we built a great country,” and he will say, “Depart from me. I never knew you.” May we be those who hear, “Well done. Because you loved the least of these, you loved me.”

Blast From the Past: Reflections on Lent

This was first posted in 2010. It has been edited to bring it more up to date.

Yesterday was the first day of Lent. Ash Wednesday is celebrated by Christians around the world with a service that includes the placing of ashes on the forehead of the worshippers. The ashes are to remind that we are made from dust, and to dust we will return. That is one part of the Lenten observance that I had not, until a few years ago, participated in. In the tradition in which I grew up, Lent (like most of the church calendar) was not even on our radar. We celebrated Christmas, Palm Sunday, and Easter. I had a vague notion that other days were observed in other traditions, but we were taught that those days were not important. So, I was a bit late to the keeping of the church calendar, and I am still learning.

As I go through the Lenten period, I am struck by the fact that our bodies are formed from the dust of the ground, and to that dust they will return. Because of the brokenness of Creation, we face the inevitable decay of our physical selves. Any middle-aged man who has tried to compete in sports at the same level he did when he was in his twenties can attest to that. At some point our bodies will wear out and no longer be useful to us. When they are then placed in the ground, they will return to the dust from which they came. As we look around us, we see decay in every part of our world. Ash Wednesday and Lent are good reminders that we are broken and in need of a savior. This past year has been a vivid picture that death is a part of our lives, and intrudes when it is least expected or welcome.

Thankfully, that is not the end of the story. During this time, we take a good hard look at our humanity and our brokenness, but we also look ahead to the time when our Savior will return and will restore Creation. We look forward to the resurrection and the Kingdom of God coming in all its fullness. When I think about Ash Wednesday, and the symbolism of the ashes on the forehead, I think of the song, “Beauty Will Rise.” In that song Steven Curtis Chapman sings,

“Out of these ashes… beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of these ashes…beauty will rise
For we know, joy is coming in the morning…
in the morning

…This is our hope.
This is the promise.
That it would take our breath away
to see the beauty that’s been made
out of the ashes…”

As we go through this season of Lent, contemplating our brokenness, the brokenness that we see around us, and our need of a redeemer, let us remember that we do have a Savior who has made us a new creation, and who will one day make all things new.
Maranatha!

A New Bend in the Road

A little over twenty seven years ago, we moved from Cincinnati to Rock Hill, South Carolina. At that time we said that we were never moving again. Famous last words! We have just moved into a new house. The house and yard had become more than we could handle and we decided we needed a smaller place. Added to that were some repair issues that had become expensive due to a plumbing mishap. Did I mention that I hate plumbing?

After a few months of sort of looking, but sort of not, we got serious and put our house on the market. Knowing that we were looking for a smaller place meant that we had to let a lot of things go. We began to look at all the stuff that had accumulated over the years. I had inherited the “maybe I can use this someday” gene from my father, so there was quite a bit. The challenge was to pare the things from a 1500 square foot, three bedroom. two bath home with a dining room, garage, back patio, shed and a half acre yard down to where they would fit into an 850 square foot, two bedroom, one bath house with less than a quarter acre lot.

I made numerous trips to charitable organizations and to our county’s waste/recycling center. Facebook Messenger became our friend. It was hard to let go of many of the things, especially furniture. Fortunately, we made some money from selling much of the furniture and a great deal of it went to people who would get good use of it. One couple bought a dresser and were going to donate it to a local women’s shelter, and we sold a rocker and footstool to a couple that was expecting their first child. That was a blessing to us. Our son and daughter-in-law, and daughter and son-in-law have been an amazing help with the purging and the planning.

We moved into the house the week after Thanksgiving. I have again made numerous trips to recycling and charitable places. As it turned out, we used a lot of cardboard boxes and also had to do more downsizing. It’s been a busy week and a half, and there is still furniture to put together and positioned, art to hang, and stuff to put away. I’m going to hold off on the yard until the spring.

It was hard to leave a place where we made so many good memories. Fortunately we can carry those memories with us and we will make new ones. We are closer to our church community, and to many other places and activities we have been a part of. The move has been stressful at times, and there were even a few times when I wondered if it was worth it. At those times, I could sense the Father saying, “I got this.” Jan and I are looking forward to getting to know our neighbors and learning to love them well, and to what lies ahead of us on this part of the journey.

We’re not moving again. I guess I shouldn’t be saying that should I?

On Autumn

Autumn, or Fall, is one my two most favorite seasons, the other being Spring. I enjoy the cooler temperatures and the smell of smoke that often hangs in the air. In some way, even the decay of the leaves and the bare branches are beautiful and speak of the renewal that is to come.

The thing I like best about Fall is the beauty of the leaves as they change from green to different shades of red, yellow, and orange. The other day, Jan and I took a trip up into the high country of North Carolina and visited Banner Elk and Blowing Rock. The drive up was beautiful, as we saw the hues change from green with a bit of other colors to almost completely the colors of fall. As we drove from Banner Elk to Blowing Rock in the late afternoon, I was struck by the beauty of the fading sunlight as it filtered through the yellow and orange leaves.

The image that came to my mind was that of the elven realm of Lothlorien and the golden leaves of the Mallorn trees. As i continued to drive, I could imagine that place as a place where only beauty dwelt and where no evil could enter. I could have continued on that drive for much longer than we did. At some point we had to get off the road and return to the world as we know it, much as the ringbearers had to leave the realm of the Elves and continue on their journey.

Autumn reminds me that, as I go through this life that is often filled with decay, I can know that the golden hued forest we passed through is a picture of the time when all of creation will be renewed, and when there will be a land where no evil will enter, and only good will reign. It will be a land of unspeakable beauty and love that the best tales of humans can only allude to. It will be the realm of the True King, where there is no night, no pain or sickness, and no death. All tears will be wiped away, and everything sad will become untrue.

I look forward to seeing that renewal come to pass.

Blast From the Past: Taken, Blessed, Broken, Given Part 3

This is part three of a four part series.

As we are able to claim our blessedness, we can then, “face our own and others’ brokenness with open eyes.” Henri Nouwen ends his chapter on blessedness with these words. The next chapter is on the third word that Nouwen found useful in identifying the movements of the Spirit in our lives. That word is broken.

“Broken” is a term that most of us in the church don’t like to hear or think about. We do love hearing about the “broken body of Christ,” because it speaks to us of what Jesus did for us on the cross. We love to hear about the power of sin being broken, even though we sometimes live as if we were still under its sway. What we don’t like to think about is the idea that we have been, are, and will be broken. But, it is true.

We live in a broken world. All anyone needs to do is look around them or watch the evening news. The creation is broken. It is being restored, but it is still broken. Take a look at the folks around us. They are broken people, and much of the heartache and misery in the world is caused by broken people breaking other people. No one escapes being broken. Nouwen puts it this way,

“Instinctively we know that the joy of life comes from the ways in which we live together and that the pain of life comes from the many ways we fail to do that well.”  

I think Nouwen is correct when he states that, just as we claim our chosenness and blessedness, we must claim our brokenness. We must own up the fact that we have been hurt in the past, may be hurt in the present, and will be hurt in the future. That’s part of the job description. After owning up to our brokenness, we then can respond to it. We do that in two ways, by befriending it and by bringing it under the  blessing.

Our first response to our brokenness is to befriend it. That seems counterintuitive to us. Our first, and sometimes only response is usually to run away, to avoid that which is causing us pain and convince ourselves that if we ignore it it will go away. The problem with that approach is that it doesn’t bring healing. I believe that our tendency to run from pain is a contributing factor to some of the mental health problems in society, and to many, if not most of our relationship problems. We are afraid of pain, of heartbreak, of suffering. If we do find the courage to embrace our pain we then find that we have started down the road of healing. Nouwen writes,

“The deep truth is that our human suffering need not be an obstacle to the joy and peace we so desire, but can become, instead, the means to it.”

Everything in our lives, good or bad, joyful or painful, can be part of the path we take to being fully human. This is a hard concept to grasp. We can easily see how the good in our lives brings us to glory, but it’s another thing entirely to see our suffering in the same light.

The second response to suffering is to put it under the blessing. Like the first century disciples who asked Jesus if the man’s blindness was a result of his sin or his parents’, we usually look at suffering as an indication that we’re bad people. There are many voices out there that tell us that if we just do things the right way, or  if we are really God’s child, then we won’t have to suffer. I wonder what the apostle Paul, or the Christians being martyred for their faith today would say to that. Suffering does not necessarily mean that we are bad people. It does not mean that the negative voices in our lives are right. We must listen the voice that calls us beloved children, the voice of our Father. Our brokenness does not cause God to love us any less, it does not cause him to see us in a negative light.

As we live in our blessedness and take our brokenness there and put it in the proper perspective, we find that the burden becomes lighter and the way becomes clearer. We can then see the suffering as a means of  purifying us. Ask a grape vine if pruning is something it enjoys. If the vine could feel and talk, it would tell you that pruning is painful. I mean, how would you like to have a limb hacked off? The vine would also tell you that the suffering of pruning is worth it because it produces the abundant harvest of grapes that allows us to share wine with our friends. Sometimes there are things in our lives that need to be pruned away. While it is a painful process, it is also an indication that our Abba loves us, and is forming us into the people he wants us to be.

As the bread in the Communion, we are taken in order to be blessed. We are blessed so that we can be broken. As the bread cannot be distributed unless it is broken, so with us. We are broken so that we might be given.

It’s Friday, And Yet, There is Hope

About fifteen months ago, I wrote this post. In the time since then, my friend was diagnosed with cancer and went to her rest with the Father last month, the mother of the other friend has recovered from the stroke, the stresses of the faith community continue, and Jan’s HD continues to progress. On top of that, in the fall, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and have been receiving radiation for the past six weeks, finishing yesterday.

On what we call Good Friday, the followers of Jesus in first century Palestine didn’t feel hopeful. The man they thought was going to bring deliverance from the Roman oppressors and set up his kingdom was being forced to carry his cross outside of the city of Jerusalem to the hill on which he would be crucified. The crowd that had chanted Hosanna earlier in the week, had largely forgotten him. Some had even turned on him and called for his death at the hands of the Romans, stating that Caesar was their king rather than the man from Nazareth.

Most of his disciples were in hiding, and the ones that followed him to the cross were the women who had been with him. Whether hiding or openly at the cross, the disciples must have felt hopeless. All of their dreams of the past three years seem to have been shattered by the whips that flogged their teacher and the nails that were pounded into his hands and feet. He was going to die, and it seemed as if the promised kingdom was a myth. All that was left for them was to go back to their old lives, pick up as many of the pieces as they could, and try to carry on.

Roughly two thousand years later, we know the rest of the story. Jesus came out of that tomb, and commisioned his followers to spread his teachings and his kingdom throughout the world. Their hope was not only renewed, but it was expanded to a hope beyond this earthly existence. The King promised that he would return and set everything right. That hope is what has carried the followers of King Jesus through the centuries, and what carries us today.

We have hope. Hope that creation will be restored and will have a glory even greater than in the beginning. Hope that we will one day be reunited with loved ones who have gone before. Hope that our frail bodies will be resurrected and made completely whole, without all the problems we deal with now, including having to eat gluten free (inside joke). Hope that we will no longer have to deal with the struggles with temptation and sin. We have hope that everything sad will come untrue.

Christ is risen! This is where you say, “He is risen indeed!” This Eastertide, rejoice that, because Christ is risen we too shall be raised. We will be like him because we will see him as he is.

Hallelujah!