Category: brokenness

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Identity

I spoke to our school’s chapter of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes yesterday morning. The seats were filled. Well, one seat was filled. Anyway, as I was preparing what I wanted to say, I was reminded of some of what God has been teaching me over the past few years.

Like most folks, I have always gained my identity and my sense of worth from the things I did, or didn’t do in some cases. I was involved in sports at an early age, and by the time I entered high school I had turned into a pretty decent athlete. I had also been taught that, as a Christian, I was defined by what I did or didn’t do and where I went or didn’t go. As I entered my high school years, I more defined myself by the standards of my friends more than the standards of my church. Through college I was defined as a bit of a rebel, and also one who was training for “full time Christian work” (whatever that is). I began a career as a teacher and coach, and my identity became that. I was called “Coach,” and I loved it. I was also teacher, athletic director, bus driver, Sunday School teacher, worship leader, deacon, and elder through the years. Add to that son, husband and father, and you can see that my identity was tied up in  a lot of things.

A few years ago, God decided it was time to change my identity. My job went away, so I was no longer a lot of the things I had been previously. I spent a few months driving a shuttle bus at an army base. This job gave me a lot of time to read, think, and pray. I did get a job in another school as an instructional assistant. Both parents passed away. After a time we left the church we had been in for fourteen years to help start a new church. So now I was a “church planter,” so to speak. That lasted a couple of years and we formed a small fellowship with some folks out of that first group. In some ways, I was sort of a pastor, without the title. I was also a member of a community of faith. Those things became what I based my identity on. Within just a few months, that “church” crashed and burned, and with it went the idols I had set up. It was not a fun time.

Fast foward just over a year. We are now part of a community of faith where there is love and service that comes from hearts that have been changed by the Gospel. I am doing some teaching, and am coaching. I am still a husband and a father. But now, I realize that my identity, my self worth is not grounded in those things. The Father has taught me that my identity, the very core of who I am, is grounded in his love for me, and in what Christ has done for me. There are things I do. I teach a couple of Bible studies. I disciple others. I coach sports. I serve my wife as a husband, and I do what a father of grown up adults needs to do. However, that is not who I am.

I am a beloved child of the Ruler of all things. He is pleased with me. I am a co-heir with Christ of all the riches of eternity. As Paul wrote in his letter to the Galatians, I have died with Christ, but I live. It’s not me that lives though. It is Jesus Christ living in me. I don’t totally understand all the particulars of what that means theologically, but I do know that it means that my identity is in the King of Kings. No matter what happens, no matter what I do, that does not change. I can do all sorts of good things, or not. The fact remains that I am a child of God. Period. End of discussion.  

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Thursday

Tonight is the night that Jesus began to show us the full extent of his love. He gathered with his disciples and performed the work of a lowly household slave by washing their feet. He then served as the host of the Passover meal, reworking it to be something that would commemorate his sacrifice for us. After the supper, Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane, where he begged the Father to let the cup of suffering go on by him. I believe that in the garden, Jesus began to experience all the grief and agony that is common to those of  us who are human beings. Had he not been upheld by the Father, the grief would have been overwhelming. As it is, his sorrow is unfathomable to us.

As I think about that night, there are some things that I feel God wants me to learn. The first is the sacrificial love I am to show to others. As Jesus not only gave his life, but also humbled himself to do a dirty, abasing job, so I am called to do whatever it takes to show love to others, especially to my brothers and sisters in Christ. While I may not be called to host dinners, I am called to invite others into the presence of the One who gave his life. I can do this by proclaiming the Gospel to those who haven’t embraced it. I can also live out the Gospel as I relate to others and let them see Jesus in me by my love.

As I look at Jesus in the garden, I see a God who has gone through pain and suffering. I don’t believe that the Father intends for us to live a pain free life. Instead I believe that Jesus entered into our pain and grief while here on earth, and that he calls us to also enter into his suffering. I don’t like suffering at all, but it is a huge comfort to know that Jesus has experienced what I go through, and understands. I don’t belong to a god who tells me to buck up and take it like a man. I belong to a Father who understands, who is there to comfort me in my affliction, and who has redeemed, and is redeeming everything in my life. I am part of a kingdom whose history is a salvation history, a kingdom where all things will finally be made right, a kingdom whose King went through the worst that death and hell could muster and came out victorious. Because of this, there is nothing I need to fear.

May you find comfort and encouragement in remembering this night.

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Repost: Reflections on Lent

This was first posted on February 21, 2010 and has been edited to bring it up to date.

Wednesday, February 13 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 have not yet participated in, as I have only been observing Lent for the last three years. 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’m a bit late to the keeping of the church calendar, and 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. As a middle-aged man who has tried to compete in sports at the same level he did when he was in his twenties, I 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 that decay in every part of our world. Ash Wednesday and Lent are good reminders that we are broken and in need of a savior.

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 sinfulness 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.

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Bread and Life

Two weekends ago, Jan and I participated in a forum on food, creativity, and togetherness called A Place at the Table. The event was put on by a group of local artists called Friday Arts Project. We were blessed to be able to help, in a small way, our friends organize and put on this event. A Place at the Table brought together  nationally known speakers such as Molly O’Neill, Peter Reinhart, Tom Hanchett, and local barbeque provocateur Dan Huntley. We experienced a number of thought provoking talks, a film about food and community in New Orleans, and some absolutely fantastic food.

Peter Reinhart is a professor at Johnson & Wales University in Charlotte and is considered an expert on all things bread. On Saturday, he gave a talk on bread. That’s right. Bread. As Reinhart said, all writing about food is about something else, so his talk was about much more than just bread. The talk was titled, “The Leaven Factor: Bread as a Living Symbol of Who We Are as a People.” The theme was bread as a universal symbol of connectedness. I hope my thoughts here do his talk justice.

The word “companion” comes from two root words meaning “with” and “bread,” therefore a companion is “one with whom we break bread.” Breaking bread with a person means that you accept them. It also means that you are willing to share your life with them and make yourself vulnerable. As I wrote in Table As Truth, the masks come off around the table. Sharing food with another takes us out of ourselves, if only for a little while, and allows the other to get a peek behind the curtain.

The way we get bread is a metaphor for life, especially the life of faith. When the grain is ground into flour it dies. That is the first step. In leavened bread, yeast is then added. Yeast is a living thing that brings life to the flour. As the yeast works, the flour is transformed into dough. The dough rises and is kneaded into the shape the baker wants. Then the dough is placed into the oven to be baked. During the baking process there again is death. The yeast is killed by the heat of the oven so the bread can bake without growing anymore.

After the bread has baked, it is then ready to be a source of nourishment. The death in the baking process is necessary in order for the bread to be something that is good to eat. I don’t know too many people that eat dough on a regular basis. It just doesn’t seem to have the same appeal as a warm loaf of bread. Henri Nouwen, in Life of the Beloved, speaks of the bread used in communion and how it is taken, blessed, broken, and given. The bread must be broken before it can be given.

Life as a follower of Jesus is much the same. Jesus said that whoever wants to find their life must first lose it. We must die to our own ambitions, to our own way of living life, in order to be made alive in Christ. I don’t see much in Scripture that tells us to come to Christ so all our problems will be solved, with everything we ever wanted in this life there for the taking. Jesus simply says, “Follow me,” and then lets us know that doing so means we give everything else up. In dying to ourselves, we find that we have true, abundant life. It doesn’t stop there though. The dying process is not a one time thing. Jesus calls us to take up our cross every day. That’s more than just carrying a burden through life. As we go through our our day-to-day, we are called to die to what we want and do what our Lord wants. Like the dough in the oven, we die in order to be something that nourishes others. Like the communion bread, we are broken in order that we might be given. In the process, we are transformed, like the dough, into something that brings life to those who taste and glory to the One who shapes us and “bakes” us.

Let us not despise the grinding of the mill, the heat of the oven, or our brokenness. We can be assured that they are forming Christ within us and indeed making us bread for the world.

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The Larger Story

This past summer, when the wildfires hit Colorado, John Eldredge and a friend were having a meal together. They were discussing the fires and the possibility of being directly affected. They talked about what they thought Jesus was saying through everything. They both said, “Trust the Larger Story.”

This is a good thing to do throughout life in general. We live in a world that is broken, and we deal with broken people. Not only that, we are broken ourselves. Stuff happens in our day-to-day lives and all around the world. Not a day goes by that we don’t hear or read about tragedy and death. Sometimes we are the ones experiencing those things. We get sick, jobs are lost, friends disappoint. Sometimes we just struggle with living. But, that is not the whole story.

The story is not about us. We are not the heroes. We are living in God’s story, the story of a Kingdom and the restoration of all creation. It is a much larger story that spans eternity. We are in that story, and we all have a part to play, whether big or small. It is that story that gives us hope and encouragement.. The thing we need to do is take our eyes off ourselves and focus on Jesus and what he is doing. That’s the hard part. We tend to be so wrapped up in what is happening to us in that moment that we forget that there is more going on than what we can see with our limited vision.

A few weeks ago, Dan Edelen at Cerulean Sanctum wrote a good post about Romans 8:28. In this post he spoke of the good for which God works all things, and the fact that the things that happen to us don’t always seem to fit into this verse. Dan asks,

“What if the Creator’s intention for ‘those who love God’ isn’t primarily for the individual crushed by circumstance? What if the ‘those’ consists of the greater mass of Christendom?”

 What if the intention is for the overall good of the Kingdom? The early church believed that the Kingdom spread through their suffering, just as it had been inaugurated in Jesus’ suffering on the cross and his resurrection. Believers who have suffered for Christ through the centuries have understood this. Here in the West we have a hard time grasping this concept. Our vision of our faith is extremely personal.

Remember that the Larger Story began long before any of us arrived, and it will continue to be played out long after this life is over. It is a story that is about the Creator and the love he has for his creation. That story will come to its climax. Perhaps then, we will look back at our part in the play and say, “Now I understand.”

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Taken, Blessed, Broken, Given Part 4

In Life of the Beloved, Henri Nouwen writes about the four words that helped him identify the movements of the Spirit in his life. Those words are, taken, blessed, broken, and given. In previous posts I have looked at the first three. Today, I want to look at the fourth word.

As followers of Jesus, we are to be bread for the world. As such, we are taken (chosen) to be blessed. We are blessed so that we may be broken. We are broken so that we may then be given. The chosenness, blessedness, and brokenness are not just for our benefit, although we do gain from it. Theses things happen to us so that we might be a blessing to others. The communion bread is given for the benefit of others. It is to be the same with us. We do not live for ourselves, we live for others.

Jesus commanded us to love others as he loved us. That means we are to lay down our lives for others. We are to live lives of sacrificial love. Ephesians 5:1 & 2 calls us to imitate our Father by living a life that is characterized by the same love that he showed to us. The Father’s love for us is a giving love. Abba loves us simply because he loves us. He gives us his grace regardless of what we do. We are his beloved children and he is pleased with us. Therefore, he loves us.

We are called to the same love that gives. If I do something for someone with an expectation of something in return, I am not showing love. That is a lesson that can be very difficult to learn, but it is necessary. Nouwen states that we find our greatest fulfillment in giving our self to others. I think he is right. After the fulfillment we find only in God, our greatest sense of worth comes when we are able to show God’s love to another individual. We can see this sense of fulfillment in those who don’t know Christ yet give to others.

This giving must be a conscious, deliberate thing. It is not going to happen automatically. We must determine day by day to give ourselves away. We can do this as we embrace being chosen by the Father, being blessed by him, experiencing brokenness, and realizing that all of this is so that God can give us to others. Paul writes that it is Christ who lives in us. It is Jesus who empowers us to give ourselves.

The giving can take many forms. It can be helping someone move, or repairing something around their house. It can be having them over for a meal. It can be something as simple as just spending time with someone and really listening to them without judging or trying to “fix” things (That’s hard for some of us). It doesn’t matter what form the giving takes as long as it is done for the good of another without expecting anything in return, simply because we love the other person. Being in community with other believers and sharing our lives with them will teach us to give, and to receive, as we interact as brothers and sisters.

As we live a life of sacrificial love, we can even give to others in our death. Our legacy can inspire others to give themselves as they remember the love that God showed them through us. A few years ago, a commercial for a pizza brand asked, “What do you want on your Tombstone?” A good thing for a Christian to be able to have on their tombstone when they die would be, “He showed us Jesus.” That would sum up a life lived as one taken, blessed, broken, and given.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

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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.

Part 1
Part 2