Category: discipleship

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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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Look Into Jesus

Back in 1972, one of the pioneers of “Christian Rock,” Larry Norman, sang a song titled, “Why Don’t You Look Into Jesus.” The lyrics speak of people who are trapped in an unending cycle of drunkenness, drug abuse, sexual hookups, and such. Then the lyrics say, “Why don’t you look into Jesus. He’s got the answer.” A simple message, and at the time this song was written, a message that seemed to resonate with many who were looking for answers and realized that they were not to be found in drugs, drunkenness, or promiscuity.

I wonder if we here, fifty years later, might do well to heed the message of this song from the heyday of the Jesus Movement, and look into Jesus in a fresh way. Have we moved from what is really the simple message of the gospel, and if so how do we get back?

In Revelation Chapter 2, Jesus tells John to write to the church in Ephesus. The message is that, for the most part, they are doing well. Their deeds, hard work, and perseverance are known. They do not tolerate wicked people, and have tested and rejected false teachers. They have endured hardship and have not grown weary. I think most of us would appreciate those words said about us. But, there is more. There’s something else that Jesus has to say to this church.

“I have something that I hold against you.” Things are not all well and good. In spite of their good works, their perseverance, and their doctrinal purity, Jesus has a problem with them. The problem is that they have forsaken their first love. They are told to look and see how far they have fallen. They have “moved on,” and have “matured” in their doctrine and everything else, but their love for their King has grown cold.

In Matthew 22, Jesus is asked what the greatest commandment in the Law is. His reply is in two parts. He states that the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind. Then he says that the second commandment is like the first: Love our neighbor as we love ourselves. Jesus then goes on to say that the entire Law and Prophets hang on these two commandments. In other words, all of God’s commands boil down to two things. We are to love God and love others. To the extent we obey those two things, we obey every command God has for us.

I believe that the Church here in the West, especially in the United States, has left her first love. We used to proclaim the Gospel, and the result was awakenings which shaped the culture. Even though America has never been a “Christian nation,” it was a kingdom of this world that was, in part, influenced by the Church. Much has changed over the years.

Historians may disagree on the beginning of the decline of the Church in the United States. I believe that the present issues that we see are the result of the Church forgetting that we are part of the Kingdom of God. In the history of the American Church, there have been times when the spiritual climate has not been healthy. Hence the need for revival. In the last half of the 20th Century, many in the Church began to see themselves as agents of change in the political system and in the culture, rather than citizens of a greater kingdom. On both the right and the left, people began to equate electing certain people to public office and enacting certain legislation with following Jesus. This has continued into the current century.

When there are proclaimers of the gospel spending their time pushing a partisan agenda or stating that a certain candidate is going to “save America,” we have lost our first love. When we separate with fellow Christians because of the political or social views, we have lost our first love. When we proclaim that the Constitution is equal to Scripture by our words and action, we have left our first love. When we care more about our “freedom” than about loving and serving others, we have lost our first love. When we see Jesus’ commands in the Sermon on the Mount as something for a future time and not really for us today, we have lost our first love. When we tell people that all they have to do is say a prayer to be sure of a “home in heaven when they die” and neglect to teach them what it means to follow the King of Kings, we have lost our first love.

We need to regain our first love, the love for the King that causes us to take seriously his words about loving others as we love ourselves, about putting the interests of the Kingdom ahead of our own, and about dying to our own self interest. The stakes are high for those of us in the Church. In Revelation 2, Jesus tells the church that if they don’t repent and do the works which they did at first (the works done out of love for their Lord) he will remove them from their place. I believe the Church in America is in danger of being removed. Whether that will take the form of persecution and oppression or just a growing irrelevance, I don’t know. I do believe that the next chapter in the history of the Church in the West will be similar to the first century, as the culture becomes more and more like that of the Roman Empire. Our question may well be whether we will give our allegiance to the True King or to the empire.

May God bring us back to our first love.

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Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – Becoming the Father

In The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen writes that the challenge for him is to become the father. It is a challenge that is full of difficulties. When we look again at the Father in our own stories, we can see how daunting it is.

Our Father is gracious and loving without condition. He gives us many good gifts, but the most important gift he gives is himself. The Father is reckless in giving himself to us. Jesus, who is the image of the Father, gave his very life for us, pouring out his blood for our salvation. We are granted grace and mercy without measure from an eternal, inexhaustible love. There is nothing our Father wouldn’t do for our good.

As children of God, we are called to be like him. When I look in a mirror, I see my dad. The eyes, the facial features, the hair (or lack thereof), the voice, all show whose son I am. The same is to be true of those who are children of the heavenly Father. As God is loving and compassionate, so we are to be loving and compassionate. As God is gracious and merciful, so we are to be gracious and merciful. As God gives himself, so we are to give ourselves. You get the idea.

In my late twenties my life changed as I became a father. Even though I was still a son, I was now a person with a child. That brought a change in responsibilities, and a change in perspective. As we mature in Christ, we are to leave both the prodigal and the elder son behind. We are still in need of fathering from God, but our vocation changes. We are now called to be the father. As I look at the father in the story, I see some things that will be true as we become the father. Nouwen states that the three ways to compassionate fatherhood are grief, forgiveness, and generosity.  

We grieve over those who have left home, we grieve over the injustice and abuse in the world, and we grieve over our own weakness. One aspect of grieving is realizing that we cannot save the one who has wandered away. The father in the story didn’t go after his son, but he watched and waited for him to return. So it is with us. Many times, all we can do is pray that God will turn the prodigal around. We can not go into the far country and drag them back. All we can do is wait and be ready to welcome them home.

This grieving makes us sensitive to others who are hurting, and the sensitivity leads us to forgive those who wrong us. As the father did, we forgive without question any and all who return. As Jesus said, we forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and so on. True forgiveness also reconciles. The father didn’t say to the prodigal, “I forgive you, but I think I’ll just keep you on as a servant.” He accepted him back as his beloved son. No strings attached.

The third way to compassionate fatherhood is generosity. The father spared nothing to celebrate his son’s return. He gave the best of everything, including himself. We are called to give ourselves to others in the same way. Yes, we may get hurt. I’m sure the father was hurt when the elder son refused to join the party, and I would guess the younger son wasn’t perfect after he was restored. He may well have cause his father more pain. We are to remember the hurt we have caused our Father and the grace he gives us regardless, and do the same for others.

May the Father enable us to be as gracious, loving, and compassionate to others as he is to us.

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

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

Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Father

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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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What Kind of Kingdom?

It’s a few days before what we call Palm Sunday, the day Jesus came in to Jerusalem to the loud aclaim of the crowds of people. Jesus has told his disciples that the time for him to go to Jerusalem and die was drawing near. Judging by some of the things they said and did, they seem to have forgotten the part about dying. As the week goes on, Jesus continues to teach about the kingdom of God. He has raised Lazarus from the dead, further solidifying in the minds of many that he was the promised Messiah. Because of all this, the Jewish leaders are plotting to kill him.

I can imagine the excitement building in the disciples as they draw nearer to the city. It’s almost time for Passover, the annual celebration of Israel’s deliverance from bondage in Egypt. Some had been saying that when the Messiah came, he would lead a new Exodus and deliver Israel from theit bondage from the pagan Roman oppressors. This may have been at the forefront of the minds of some of the disciples. We know that some of them were zealots who would have gladly taken part in an armed revolt if Jesus gave the word.

Perhaps the feeling was similar to that of some of those who gathered at the U.S. Capitol on January 6. Many of those folks seemd to equate the United States, and the rule of a particular person, with the kingdom of God. Some of the loudest voices in the rally that day were preachers, and many of the symbols carried by those in the crowd were Christian symbols. “Prophets” abounded, each one assuring their listeners that God had ordained what they said was going to happen and that these things were necessary for God to bless America.

I wonder if there were those in the crowd following Jesus who proclaimed to those around them that this Jesus was going to lead them in a great battle in which the hated Romans would be destroyed and that they would “make Israel great again.” There were those who were quite willing to kill Romans, Jewish ‘traitors,” or anyone else who stood in their way. Perhaps this Jesus was going to begin the revolution.

As we study the New Testament, and at least the first 300 years of church history, we quickly notice that those who thought the kingdom of God would come in by force were way off. The kingdom was established, but it was established by the King submitting himself to the powers that be, letting them kill him in the most shameful, horrific way known at the time, and then overcoming them by rising from the dead.

Over the centuries, many who call themselves followers of Jesus seem to have forgotten that he taught that his kingdom is not a kingdom of this world, that it does not come by human strength or force. This is true in the United States today. Many of those with the loudest voices on January 6 were part of a group that believes that Christians should be in charge, and that the government should enact laws and policies that favor Christians above all others. Some would even go so far as to enforce Old Covenant law. The problem with this kind of thinking is simple. It has nothing to do with the Gospel or any of the teachings of Jesus.

Jesus taught that we are to first love God with every fiber of our being. We can easily say that we love God, but do we really? The second greatest commandment, according to Jesus, is to love others as we love ourselves. The Apostle John tells us that if we don’t love another, who is made in God’s image, how can we say we love God? If you were to read through or listen to the speeches that have been made regarding the political state of this country, I seriously doubt you would find much, if anything, that shows love to God or love to others. Instead you would find much vitriol and anger toward others.

If we going to call ourselves Christians (“Christ ones”), wouldn’t it make sense to look at what he taught, and what his disciples continued to teach, and follow that? The thrust of much of what the apostles wrote was to tell their readers to live like who they were. They weren’t citizens of this world anymore, they were citizens of a heavenly kingdom. The old had gone. The new had come. We too, need to live like who we are. We are no longer citizens of this world and its kingdoms. We are citizens and heirs of the unshakeable kingdom of God.

May our lives reflect who we are and whose we are.