Category: openness

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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.”

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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?

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Palm Sunday and Expectations

Tomorrow, we celebrate the day that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, surrounded by people hailing him as the Messiah. Evidently this procession was not the only one making it’s way into the city that day. The Roman governor, Pilate, was also entering Jerusalem with his forces. This was something that happened before every Jewish holiday. After all, the Romans had to remind the Jews who really was in charge.

So, you have an imperial Roman procession on one side of the city and a subversive, Messianic parade on the other side. The people shouting, “Hosanna!” as Jesus made his way along the road thought they understood what was going on. As they saw it, this man who had performed so many miracles was the promised king who would drive out the hated Gentile oppressors and restore the glory of Israel. Unfortunately, as the week unfolded, some of these same people, now disillusioned, would join in the calls for his crucifixion by those same oppressors.

Those folks were partially right. Jesus was the promised Messiah. He had come to set up a kingdom and free them from their oppression. What they didn’t realize was the nature of the kingdom. Even the disciples didn’t completely understand what this kingdom was all about. It was a kingdom that is not of this world, a kingdom that came in, not by way of overthrowing the present empire, but by the king dying at the hands of that empire. The Jews were expecting God to do things the way they expected. They didn’t understand that God rarely works that way.

I thought of how many times I pray for things and think that God is going to answer those prayers in a certain way, either because I jump through a certain number of hoops to “earn” God’s blessing, or because I can’t think of any other way God could act. I trust in God for the things I think he will (or should) do. Like the Jews, I sometimes follow Jesus for what I can get out of it. The funny thing is, God often seems to not do the things that I expect, yet things turn out in such a way that I know the Father is taking care of me. Things have not been all sweetness and light, and sometimes I question God about what he is doing. But I can look back on days gone by and see that God was there, and that he was working.

I am learning that God is not predictable. He is not someone who can be counted on to always do things a certain way. God relates to people in all kinds of ways, and we cannot tie him down to a particular plan of action. None of us can figure God out, yet he calls us into relationship with him. In that relationship we learn to trust God simply for who he is rather than for what we think he can do for us.

Be encouraged. Your Father loves you more than you know. He has given you his life and his glory. Trust the Father, even when the parade of Palm Sunday turns into the darkness of Friday.

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A Little Update

This morning I had my tenth radiation treatment for my prostate cancer. I have nineteen more to go. As I was sitting in the waiting room, a young woman came in and sat down. She looked like she was in her late teens, early twenties. I thought, “She’s far too young to have to undergo radiation for cancer.” At the same time I thought of a dear friend who is in her last hours on this earth due to cancer, and how she is also too young.

These thoughts, combined with the fact that I was sitting in a waiting room waiting to receive radiation for cancer, made me quite aware again of the fact that none of us gets out of here alive, barring the return of Jesus to set all things right. The past year or so, I have been doing a bit of downsizing, housecleaning, whatever you want to call it with my personal posessions. I have also been doing the same in the ways I approach life and those around me.

The buzz word (or dirty word, depending on your point of view) among Christians, is “deconstructing.” It means different things for different people. I am doing some deconstructing, or maybe decluttering might be a better word. I am realizing that many of the things we allow ourselves to get all worked up about aren’t realy worth the mental or emotional energy. I care and less about national and world politics, although I will still speak about things that I think are important to my faith. I am learning to care less and less about what people think, although there is still a large part of me that wants to be liked.

My theology, like Karl Barth’s, is becoming more and more summed up in the words of the children’s song; “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so,” and my rule for living has become “Love God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind. And, love your neighbor as yourself.” I firmly believe that if those of us who claim to follow Jesus would practice those two commands, the church and the world would be better for it.

Life is short. Macbeth said that it is “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” I heartily disagree. Life is a precious gift from our Creator, and we are to live in a way that gives back to him a bit of the love he has shown us, and that extends that love to those in our lives. Love the people around you, while there is still time.

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New Year: New Twists and Turns in the Road

2020 was a year that many would like to forget, and 2021 didn’t’ seem to be much better. As the Covid pandemic hit in March 2020, I was in the hospital with a minor heart attack. I recovered completely and made it through the rest of that year and most of 2021. Most, but not all.

First, a bit of background. My father had prostate cancer. Because of that, my family doctor has been keeping an eye on my PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen). In many areas of my life I am just like my father. Well, it turns out that this is one of them. My PSA levels went up to the point that my urologist wanted to have things checked out further. The first step was an MRI, which showed some small spots in one area.

Next came a biopsy, after a couple months wait, which seemed to me to indicate that the doctor was not overly concerned. The biopsy was performed in early December, and the day before my sixty sixth birthday, I was informed that I had joined the club. I was following my father’s footsteps and had prostate cancer. Happy birthday to me. The good news is that it is stage 2; which means it is confined to one certain area.

At the end of 2021, I underwent a bone scan and today I had a CT scan, along with a chest X-ray to check out a spot found on a rib. The spot may be from an old injury. I remember getting kicked in the ribs a few times playing soccer goalkeeper in high school and college. Hopefully that is the case. The CT scan looked good. The next step is to schedule radiation treatment beginning the third week of this month. This should last about two months or so.

I am learning a few things from this. First, I am learning to not take anything for granted, because you never know when things are going to change. I am also learning that good treatment in American healthcare is extremely expensive. Even with excellent insurance, the costs are still very high. I am learning how to empathize with those who have cancer. Hopefully I am learning to trust my heavenly Father and rest in his love for me.

The five year survival rate for this prostate cancer is pretty much 100%. After that, it’s a matter of keeping an eye on things, much like before. The outlook is good and my urologist is pretty positive, so I think I’m going to be okay. So we shall see how the road ahead goes and where this journey is going to take me this year.

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Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Younger Son

This was first posted back in 2011. There are a couple of minor edits.

Today, I’m starting a four part series on the story of the Prodigal Son. The story of the prodigal is a story of God’s grace to his wayward children when they come home. It is also a story with a number of layers that speak to us in different ways at different times in our lives. Henri Nouwen wrote a book titled, The Return of the Prodigal Son, based on his reflections on a painting by Rembrandt. My ramblings come largely from reading this book.

The first person we encounter in the story is the younger son. This son comes to his father and asks for his part of the inheritance that would come to him after his father dies. This is more than just a request to get money due him earlier than he would normally receive it. The ones who heard this story would have been outraged at the attitude of the younger son. In effect, he was saying to his father, “I reject you and everything you stand for, your culture, your religion, everything. I wish you were dead!” In a culture where rebellious children could be stoned to death, this was a dangerous and devastating statement for the son to make and for the father to hear. The father however, decided to give his son what he asked for. He handed over the money and said goodbye. As a father, I can imagine the heartbreak he went through as one of his sons turned his back on everything and left.

The younger son went off to a “distant country,” where he squandered his inheritance on parties and whores. He was completely deaf to the voice that would have reminded him of his father’s love and of what he had been taught. In short, he forgot who he was. I would imagine that most of us can see ourselves in the younger son in some way. Some may have wandered into a life of dissipation and come out of it. Others may have experimented with some things but not gone all the way in. In my own life, I was drawn in to things that were not good for me, although I never wandered completely away. Of course, there are some out there who would consider me a prodigal today.

There is another way to be the younger son, a way that many, many more have fallen into. That is the way of forgetting whose child we are and trying to get our identity from other things or other people. That is the way I most identify with the prodigal. Whether it’s from a job, a skill, a style, or a group of people, we try to prove our worth by other things than what our Father says. Our culture says that what is important is how you dress, what job you have, what kind of car you drive, how much money you make, or what group you hang out with. Unfortunately, those things become like the husks the prodigal wished to eat while feeding the pigs. Trying to find our worth and identity in any thing of this world is a futile exercise, leading to emptiness.

Fortunately for the prodigal, he did come to his senses and remember who he was. I can see him slapping himself on the forehead, and saying, “What am I doing here? I’m not a pig farmer! I’m a son of a father who has a lot of money and food! Why am I starving here?” So, after coming to his senses he returned home. He still didn’t completely remember who we was though. Or better, he didn’t understand completely the kind of person his father was. His plan was to go home and convince his father to give him a job. He didn’t believe his father would accept him back as a son. We sometimes also forget who we are dealing with when we go to our Father. We believe the lies that we can’t be his child if we do certain things, or that we have to do something to get ourselves back into his good graces. We feel we have to “get right with God.” We forget that our Father loves us and always accepts us.

The son returns and finds himself in the midst of a homecoming better than he could have imagined. He can’t get his prepared speech out before his father welcomes him back and throws the biggest party the neighborhood has ever seen. So it is when we come to our senses and remember who we are. We are beloved children of the Creator of the universe. He is pleased with us, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to cause his love to decrease, and nothing we can do to increase his love. He holds us in his hands and nothing can pull us out. Period.

Remember who you are. If you’ve forgotten, your Father is looking for your return so he can lavish his grace and love on you.

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Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday. In many church traditions, the day is marked by putting ashes in the sign of the cross on one’s forehead. The Church of England is even making it possible to digitally put ashes on the forehead. Today marks the beginning of Lent, a season of remembering and lamenting our brokenness and the brokenness of this world in which we live. This time leads us to the time we remember what Jesus went through on the cross, because of our sin. During Lent, many fast by giving up food, drink, television, social media, or any other pleasurable thing. Others add items of service or charity to their schedule.

Lent is a time to lament, something we here in the West don’t do a very good job of. I know I can easily look at the negative, but I don’t do a very good job of living in the moment and allowing myself space to lament. I prefer to try to quickly look for the positive, to look at the glass as half full. That doesn’t always work. The past twelve months have seemed like an extended season of Lent, and we all have had to give up things as the time has dragged on. There has been a lot of lamenting over what has been lost. Many of those losses don’t lend themselves easily to a positive spin.

Lament and sorrow is not a bad thing. Scripture is full of lament. There is even a book in the Bible titled Lamentations. The Psalms are full of people mourning over this or that. Job lamented his condition and God did not call him out for it. Holding in grief can cause mental and physical problems, and can stunt our emotional and spiritual growth. It’s okay to sorrow and grieve. It’s okay to give voice to that grief.

Give yourself permission to grieve and lament. This past year has been hard. We have all lost, some more than others. Some of those things that have been lost will never be reclaimed. We will never get back those days, weeks, and months. Because we do live in a broken world, there will be more losses ahead.

As followers of Jesus, we have something that can help us in our lamenting. We can be assured that nothing is completely hopeless because our Savior experienced what seemed like the most hopeless of situations and came out the other side, having defeated the one who wields the sword of hopelessness. Jesus conquered death and we need not fear it. We need not fear anything life has to throw at us because we have a loving Father who has it all in his hands. He has promised to turn our mourning into dancing. We can grieve, but we grieve with hope. Hope that one day all tears will be wiped away, and everything sad will become untrue.

In the book Tales of the Kingdom, the signal cry of the Rangers says, “How goes the world?” “The world goes not well! But the Kingdom comes!” Grieve, but grieve well. Lament with the knowledge that it all will be well.