There is a song we have sung many times in many places. It is a song that meant a lot to some dear saints I have known. Some of them sang it from the day that it first was sung in our churches:
I’ll Fly Away
Albert E. Brumley
Some glad morning when this life is o’er,
I’ll fly away;
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away.
When the shadows of this life have grown,
I’ll fly away;
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I’ll fly away.
Just a few more weary days and then,
I’ll fly away;
To a land where joys shall never end,
I’ll fly away.
I’ll fly away, O glory, I’ll fly away;
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I’ll fly away.
Now, I have to tell you that I have always been fond of this song because of the people with whom I have sung it, and the places where we sang it. But lately, that fondness is more for sentimental feelings than theological reasons. What’s the problem?
Life seemed pretty grim nearly everywhere in 1932, the year that Albert wrote this song. There was a Depression, and it seemed to people that the efforts of humanity were futile. The Modern future that seemed so bright just a couple of decades previously had taken a severe beating from a World War, and then came a world-wide economic disaster. Over the next decade, things would get much worse before getting any better. If there was any hope, it didn’t appear to be on this planet, but in the next world.
Consequently, this world became something to endure: life, shadows, prison bars, and weary days. Even in pain or poverty, is this how God means for us to see this world? Are these the feelings that we are meant to experience in these difficult days and circumstances? Is our hope merely for the final coming of Jesus? I think not.
Our future is not when this life is over, it is not when the shadows have lengthened into those of the Psalmist’s valley, it is not after a few more weary days. Our future is our next instant, our next moment in time. The future is not however many days, months or years from now that God takes us to heaven, but the end of this paragraph.
Our hope is that the power of God working through his people can make the world a little better today so that tomorrow starts off from a better place. Such a place will require constant tending, but hope tells us that there is a way for things to be better. It may not be better everywhere, but with our hope and action, and God’s approval and providence, it is possible for it to be better here, soon.
Yes, the kingdom of God has come, and the church is the vanguard of it. But it is not yet completely here. We are called to be co-workers in that kingdom, not spectators. It is our job to bring a little more of the kingdom into this world day by day. We will never complete the job in our lifetime, but surely redeeming humanity and this planet is something that was intended to be our lives’ work, and not a mess to be left entirely for God to clean up in the “end times.”
Yes, I believe that God has a home on his celestial shore, but I also believe that he has one in Hollis, Oklahoma. It may not seem like heaven all of the time to all of its inhabitants, but our job is to make it the closest approximation that we can with the time and the resources that God has given to us. Heaven won’t have prison bars, but neither does this; we have the free will to choose ways to be a people who love and nurture needy children for the glory of God. He has given us freedom to work, and worship, and yes, even to play so as to delight in that freedom and glorify him with it. Yes, joys will never end in heaven, but we ought to find plenty of them here. We should be doing a little more than taste-testing the delights of paradise.
O, I’ll fly away one of these days, but that means that I had better learn how to spread my wings now. I don’t want to wait until I’m shoved out of the nest to see what they feel like.
Grace and peace,
Ron
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Very fierce that day ...
In the time after Saul and Jonathan had died, and before David had consolidated his kingdom, there was war between the forces of David and those of Ishbosheth. Abner led the forces of Ishbosheth, and Joab led David’s men.
Abner the son of Ner, and the servants of Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, went out from Mahanaim to Gibeon. And Joab the son of Zeruiah and the servants of David went out and met them at the pool of Gibeon. And they sat down, the one on the one side of the pool, and the other on the other side of the pool. And Abner said to Joab, "Let the young men arise and compete before us." And Joab said, "Let them arise." Then they arose and passed over by number, twelve for Benjamin and Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, and twelve of the servants of David. And each caught his opponent by the head and thrust his sword in his opponent's side, so they fell down together. Therefore that place was called Helkath-hazzurim, which is at Gibeon. And the battle was very fierce that day. And Abner and the men of Israel were beaten before the servants of David.
The two armies come together; Joab’s men are not numerous, but they are hardened by dozens of battles under Joab and David’s leadership. Abner’s men may very well be more numerous, but the loss of many men in the same battle that ended the life of Saul and Jonathan has weakened both their experience and number. Both leaders feel compelled to fight, but neither can afford large losses. So they come up with a plan. They will engage in representative combat, much like what had happened with David and Goliath. Here though, they counted off every so many men until they had picked twelve for each side (perhaps representative of the twelve tribes, now divided and fighting a civil war here). The young men are to arise and “play” before Joab and Abner. This “play” is actually gladiatorial combat. Archeology confirms accounts of similar outcomes in similar contests in other places: all of the combatants die. Because the victor is not clear, general fighting breaks out, and things don’t go well for Abner.
And the three sons of Zeruiah were there, Joab, Abishai, and Asahel. Now Asahel was as swift of foot as a wild gazelle. And Asahel pursued Abner, and as he went, he turned neither to the right hand nor to the left from following Abner. Then Abner looked behind him and said, "Is it you, Asahel?" And he answered, "It is I." Abner said to him, "Turn aside to your right hand or to your left, and seize one of the young men and take his spoil." But Asahel would not turn aside from following him. And Abner said again to Asahel, "Turn aside from following me. Why should I strike you to the ground? How then could I lift up my face to your brother Joab?"
Asahel doesn’t get Abner’s point. Asahel is caught up in the moment. He is not thinking about the past, not remembering the history of Abner’s many victories, not seeing that Abner has survived 100% of the battles that he has fought, win or lose. He has forgotten that Abner is a very dangerous old man. Asahel is not thinking about the future either; at best, by discounting Abner’s skill and experience, he has a 33% chance of surviving this contest (Joab could die, Asahel could die, or they both could die). Even if Asahel wins, he invites revenge from Abner’s clan. Abner is in the moment, too, but he wisely accesses his past experience with this young man and decides to dissuade him from combat. When Abner looks to the future, he sees that anything but Asahel’s turning aside will lead to a lose-lose situation: either Abner will die or face vendetta from his two brothers, and perhaps Asahel’s uncle David as well. Abner wants to live tomorrow, but Asahel wants glory today.
But [Asahel] refused to turn aside. Therefore Abner struck him in the stomach with the butt of his spear, so that the spear came out at his back. And he fell there and died where he was. And all who came to the place where Asahel had fallen and died, stood still.
Such is the ambition and energy of Asahel’s pursuit that he skewers himself on the sandy end of Abner’s spear. Asahel couldn’t leave the moment to consider the past or the future, and now he will never leave this moment at all. Twenty-four bodies in a bloody pile do not have the power to stop an army the way that Asahel’s stricken body does. And Abner turns out to be right; killing Asahel has allowed him to survive one threat, but relief is brief. Now two brothers pursue with a vengeance, literally a vendetta. Abner’s savvy allows him to survive to fight another day, but eventually his analysis proves to be correct; he will lose his life over this battle.
How are we doing in keeping our present connected with our past and our future? Failure to do this may mean failure altogether. Success at this doesn’t guarantee that we’ll always have victory, but it does hold out promise that we’ll live to work on our lives tomorrow.
May God bless us with the wisdom to use the time of our life well.
Ron
2 Samuel 2:12-23 – ESV
Abner the son of Ner, and the servants of Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, went out from Mahanaim to Gibeon. And Joab the son of Zeruiah and the servants of David went out and met them at the pool of Gibeon. And they sat down, the one on the one side of the pool, and the other on the other side of the pool. And Abner said to Joab, "Let the young men arise and compete before us." And Joab said, "Let them arise." Then they arose and passed over by number, twelve for Benjamin and Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, and twelve of the servants of David. And each caught his opponent by the head and thrust his sword in his opponent's side, so they fell down together. Therefore that place was called Helkath-hazzurim, which is at Gibeon. And the battle was very fierce that day. And Abner and the men of Israel were beaten before the servants of David.
The two armies come together; Joab’s men are not numerous, but they are hardened by dozens of battles under Joab and David’s leadership. Abner’s men may very well be more numerous, but the loss of many men in the same battle that ended the life of Saul and Jonathan has weakened both their experience and number. Both leaders feel compelled to fight, but neither can afford large losses. So they come up with a plan. They will engage in representative combat, much like what had happened with David and Goliath. Here though, they counted off every so many men until they had picked twelve for each side (perhaps representative of the twelve tribes, now divided and fighting a civil war here). The young men are to arise and “play” before Joab and Abner. This “play” is actually gladiatorial combat. Archeology confirms accounts of similar outcomes in similar contests in other places: all of the combatants die. Because the victor is not clear, general fighting breaks out, and things don’t go well for Abner.
And the three sons of Zeruiah were there, Joab, Abishai, and Asahel. Now Asahel was as swift of foot as a wild gazelle. And Asahel pursued Abner, and as he went, he turned neither to the right hand nor to the left from following Abner. Then Abner looked behind him and said, "Is it you, Asahel?" And he answered, "It is I." Abner said to him, "Turn aside to your right hand or to your left, and seize one of the young men and take his spoil." But Asahel would not turn aside from following him. And Abner said again to Asahel, "Turn aside from following me. Why should I strike you to the ground? How then could I lift up my face to your brother Joab?"
Asahel doesn’t get Abner’s point. Asahel is caught up in the moment. He is not thinking about the past, not remembering the history of Abner’s many victories, not seeing that Abner has survived 100% of the battles that he has fought, win or lose. He has forgotten that Abner is a very dangerous old man. Asahel is not thinking about the future either; at best, by discounting Abner’s skill and experience, he has a 33% chance of surviving this contest (Joab could die, Asahel could die, or they both could die). Even if Asahel wins, he invites revenge from Abner’s clan. Abner is in the moment, too, but he wisely accesses his past experience with this young man and decides to dissuade him from combat. When Abner looks to the future, he sees that anything but Asahel’s turning aside will lead to a lose-lose situation: either Abner will die or face vendetta from his two brothers, and perhaps Asahel’s uncle David as well. Abner wants to live tomorrow, but Asahel wants glory today.
But [Asahel] refused to turn aside. Therefore Abner struck him in the stomach with the butt of his spear, so that the spear came out at his back. And he fell there and died where he was. And all who came to the place where Asahel had fallen and died, stood still.
Such is the ambition and energy of Asahel’s pursuit that he skewers himself on the sandy end of Abner’s spear. Asahel couldn’t leave the moment to consider the past or the future, and now he will never leave this moment at all. Twenty-four bodies in a bloody pile do not have the power to stop an army the way that Asahel’s stricken body does. And Abner turns out to be right; killing Asahel has allowed him to survive one threat, but relief is brief. Now two brothers pursue with a vengeance, literally a vendetta. Abner’s savvy allows him to survive to fight another day, but eventually his analysis proves to be correct; he will lose his life over this battle.
How are we doing in keeping our present connected with our past and our future? Failure to do this may mean failure altogether. Success at this doesn’t guarantee that we’ll always have victory, but it does hold out promise that we’ll live to work on our lives tomorrow.
May God bless us with the wisdom to use the time of our life well.
Ron
2 Samuel 2:12-23 – ESV
Monday, December 29, 2008
There a long time ...
Today, a look a few days back.
December 26
A poem by Kenn Nesbitt
A BB gun.
A model plane.
A basketball.
A ’lectric train.
A bicycle.
A cowboy hat.
A comic book.
A baseball bat.
A deck of cards.
A science kit.
A racing car.
A catcher’s mitt.
So that’s my list
of everything
that Santa Claus
forgot to bring.
Have we ever been so disappointed by some event or chain of events in the past that we have become unable to enjoy the present? Or, as in the poet’s case, unable to enjoy our presents? I don’t think that this is an uncommon human problem. Hear the words of the John’s gospel:
Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids — blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, "Do you want to be made well? The sick man answered him, "Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me." Jesus said to him, "Stand up, take your mat and walk." At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.
Now that day was a sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been cured, "It is the sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your mat." But he answered them, "The man who made me well said to me, 'Take up your mat and walk.' " They asked him, "Who is the man who said to you, 'Take it up and walk'?" Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had disappeared in the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, "See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you." The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well.
John 5:2-16 – NRSV
Have you ever wondered what sin Jesus warns this man about? After all, wisdom literature and Jesus (wisdom incarnate) both tend to disconnect sin and sickness. They can be related, but not as often as people used to think. So what sin prompts the warning? I think perhaps that the sin of despair kept this man from healing physically, and has the potential to keep this man from healing spiritually. How so?
The legend is, that when the surface of this pool stirs, the first person to enter the water receives healing. And so, typically, many people wait alongside the pool, vigilant for their opportunity. John tells us that this man had been ill for thirty-eight years, and implies that he had lived much of his life by this pool.
Thirty-eight years of failure.
Thirty-eight years of watching someone else succeed.
Thirty-eight years of blaming others for not helping.
Thirty-eight years of dejection, then depression, then despair.
Is the problem that this man can’t make it down to the waters in time, or that he has stopped believing that he could? It sounds as if the memories of failures in the past are so oppressive that he has stopped trying. Oh, he will be at the pool alright. There are always people there. People who might listen to his complaint about his past. Sad songs about a sad life. Do those people ever have to listen to him blame God for this struggle?
Jesus cuts through the complaints and calls the man to the present. “Pick up your mat and walk.” Do something. Do something now. And yes, as a matter of fact it is the Sabbath, but don’t wait until tomorrow, act now! The man lets go of his past, and now his hands are open to pick up his present; he takes up his mat and starts walking.
Time passes, and the man meets Jesus again at the temple. This time Jesus starts the man from a fresh marker in the past, gives him instructions for his present, and points him toward the future: "See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you." In other words, Jesus says:
I have changed the course of your history.
Don't live in the past; instead do the good that is before you today.
Work toward a better future.
I don’t think that it is difficult for us to see how these three sentences apply to us. Jesus acts powerfully in our lives, too. He has changed the course of our history, and he calls us to an active and noble life in the present that will make for a world (even if it is only our corner of it) that will be different, that will, in the near future, be more like the kingdom of God.
May God grant us the courage to live this way.
Blessings,
Ron
December 26
A poem by Kenn Nesbitt
A BB gun.
A model plane.
A basketball.
A ’lectric train.
A bicycle.
A cowboy hat.
A comic book.
A baseball bat.
A deck of cards.
A science kit.
A racing car.
A catcher’s mitt.
So that’s my list
of everything
that Santa Claus
forgot to bring.
Have we ever been so disappointed by some event or chain of events in the past that we have become unable to enjoy the present? Or, as in the poet’s case, unable to enjoy our presents? I don’t think that this is an uncommon human problem. Hear the words of the John’s gospel:
Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids — blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, "Do you want to be made well? The sick man answered him, "Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me." Jesus said to him, "Stand up, take your mat and walk." At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.
Now that day was a sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been cured, "It is the sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your mat." But he answered them, "The man who made me well said to me, 'Take up your mat and walk.' " They asked him, "Who is the man who said to you, 'Take it up and walk'?" Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had disappeared in the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, "See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you." The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well.
John 5:2-16 – NRSV
Have you ever wondered what sin Jesus warns this man about? After all, wisdom literature and Jesus (wisdom incarnate) both tend to disconnect sin and sickness. They can be related, but not as often as people used to think. So what sin prompts the warning? I think perhaps that the sin of despair kept this man from healing physically, and has the potential to keep this man from healing spiritually. How so?
The legend is, that when the surface of this pool stirs, the first person to enter the water receives healing. And so, typically, many people wait alongside the pool, vigilant for their opportunity. John tells us that this man had been ill for thirty-eight years, and implies that he had lived much of his life by this pool.
Thirty-eight years of failure.
Thirty-eight years of watching someone else succeed.
Thirty-eight years of blaming others for not helping.
Thirty-eight years of dejection, then depression, then despair.
Is the problem that this man can’t make it down to the waters in time, or that he has stopped believing that he could? It sounds as if the memories of failures in the past are so oppressive that he has stopped trying. Oh, he will be at the pool alright. There are always people there. People who might listen to his complaint about his past. Sad songs about a sad life. Do those people ever have to listen to him blame God for this struggle?
Jesus cuts through the complaints and calls the man to the present. “Pick up your mat and walk.” Do something. Do something now. And yes, as a matter of fact it is the Sabbath, but don’t wait until tomorrow, act now! The man lets go of his past, and now his hands are open to pick up his present; he takes up his mat and starts walking.
Time passes, and the man meets Jesus again at the temple. This time Jesus starts the man from a fresh marker in the past, gives him instructions for his present, and points him toward the future: "See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you." In other words, Jesus says:
I have changed the course of your history.
Don't live in the past; instead do the good that is before you today.
Work toward a better future.
I don’t think that it is difficult for us to see how these three sentences apply to us. Jesus acts powerfully in our lives, too. He has changed the course of our history, and he calls us to an active and noble life in the present that will make for a world (even if it is only our corner of it) that will be different, that will, in the near future, be more like the kingdom of God.
May God grant us the courage to live this way.
Blessings,
Ron
Thursday, December 25, 2008
The revealed mystery ...
Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing o'er the plains,
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strains.
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Shepherds, why this jubilee?
Why your joyous strains prolong?
What the gladsome tidings be
Which inspire your heavenly song?
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Come to Bethlehem and see
Christ Whose birth the angels sing;
Come, adore on bended knee,
Christ the Lord, the newborn King.
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
See Him in a manger laid,
Whom the choirs of angels praise;
Mary, Joseph, lend your aid,
While our hearts in love we raise.
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Sweetly singing o'er the plains,
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strains.
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Shepherds, why this jubilee?
Why your joyous strains prolong?
What the gladsome tidings be
Which inspire your heavenly song?
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Come to Bethlehem and see
Christ Whose birth the angels sing;
Come, adore on bended knee,
Christ the Lord, the newborn King.
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
See Him in a manger laid,
Whom the choirs of angels praise;
Mary, Joseph, lend your aid,
While our hearts in love we raise.
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Why so silent, Night?
Not everyone can sing, yet this song is so lovely that almost anyone can sing it. Hear the music as you read the words:
Silent Night
Joseph Mohr
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Silent night, holy night,
Shepherds quake at the sight;
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!
Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love’s pure light;
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth,
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth.
Silent night, holy night
Wondrous star, lend thy light;
With the angels let us sing,
Alleluia to our King;
Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!
Praise God for the silence, and the angels, and the Christ child. I am thankful for this song, and the contemplative mood to which it leads me whenever I hear it. Silent night. Holy night.
Meditation on these words leads me to a question: Have you ever wondered why the night was silent?
There are all sorts of possibilities, but I have an explanation. I believe that this is the pause before the message. Watch a good speaker. There is an introduction, a description of this person and their personal attributes, education, and experience which make what the speaker might say relevant. There is the celebration of applause as the one making the introduction vacates the podium and the speaker arrives. Then there is the quiet moment where the speaker looks out, knowing what must be said, and waits for the audience to be ready to hear it.
For centuries, God's messengers have been preparing the people for this moment. They have described this person, this person's attributes, and this person's life. The introductions cease, and then the angels celebrate, praising the name of God in heaven and on earth. Now, just before the voice of the speaker is heard, there is silence. Deep, abiding quiet.
Under the light of a still star, the people of God hear the voice of God for the first time since Sinai. Not the deep, richly timbered voice that we might expect. It is, rather, the voice of a newborn clearing his throat for the first time. Is there anything more joyous than to hear the first, strong cries of a newborn baby? Perhaps not, but this is not exactly the voice we might have expected, is it?
What kind of message is this supposed to be? That will become clearer later in the story, but for the moment, this is the message: God is with us. Immanuel.
The word of God is profitable for much, but this child, the living Word of God, will eventually make clear what words fail to describe adequately. Jesus will fully show us who God really is, and at the same time, he will fully submit to the process of being human. Experiencing birth. Discovering food and drink. Learning to walk and talk. Going through growth spurts and life's hurts. Following his calling. Crying out at the feelings of abandonment and pain. Experiencing death.
But for the moment the message is: "I am with you. Being human is so important that I am not going to miss a single part of it, first breath to the last. I am with you, just as I always have been, but now you know just exactly what I'm willing to go through in order to have a relationship with you. I, the Creator who spoke the universe into existence, do not have words tonight. I, the possessor of the mighty arm that so long protected David, cannot control either my arms and legs tonight. Instead, I am wrapped tight in a blanket, cuddled in the arms of a mother still in her teens, experiencing for the first time the responsibility of being a parent. I have emptied myself of my power and made myself helpless, dependent upon humanity for nurture and nourishment. For you, to be with you, to understand you fully, I have stripped myself of titles and power and things that you cannot even begin to understand."
Sometime in your night tonight, find a moment of silence and hear the message once again: "I love you and I am with you forever."
Grace and peace through our Lord Jesus Christ,
Ron
Silent Night
Joseph Mohr
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Silent night, holy night,
Shepherds quake at the sight;
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!
Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love’s pure light;
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth,
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth.
Silent night, holy night
Wondrous star, lend thy light;
With the angels let us sing,
Alleluia to our King;
Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born!
Praise God for the silence, and the angels, and the Christ child. I am thankful for this song, and the contemplative mood to which it leads me whenever I hear it. Silent night. Holy night.
Meditation on these words leads me to a question: Have you ever wondered why the night was silent?
There are all sorts of possibilities, but I have an explanation. I believe that this is the pause before the message. Watch a good speaker. There is an introduction, a description of this person and their personal attributes, education, and experience which make what the speaker might say relevant. There is the celebration of applause as the one making the introduction vacates the podium and the speaker arrives. Then there is the quiet moment where the speaker looks out, knowing what must be said, and waits for the audience to be ready to hear it.
For centuries, God's messengers have been preparing the people for this moment. They have described this person, this person's attributes, and this person's life. The introductions cease, and then the angels celebrate, praising the name of God in heaven and on earth. Now, just before the voice of the speaker is heard, there is silence. Deep, abiding quiet.
Under the light of a still star, the people of God hear the voice of God for the first time since Sinai. Not the deep, richly timbered voice that we might expect. It is, rather, the voice of a newborn clearing his throat for the first time. Is there anything more joyous than to hear the first, strong cries of a newborn baby? Perhaps not, but this is not exactly the voice we might have expected, is it?
What kind of message is this supposed to be? That will become clearer later in the story, but for the moment, this is the message: God is with us. Immanuel.
The word of God is profitable for much, but this child, the living Word of God, will eventually make clear what words fail to describe adequately. Jesus will fully show us who God really is, and at the same time, he will fully submit to the process of being human. Experiencing birth. Discovering food and drink. Learning to walk and talk. Going through growth spurts and life's hurts. Following his calling. Crying out at the feelings of abandonment and pain. Experiencing death.
But for the moment the message is: "I am with you. Being human is so important that I am not going to miss a single part of it, first breath to the last. I am with you, just as I always have been, but now you know just exactly what I'm willing to go through in order to have a relationship with you. I, the Creator who spoke the universe into existence, do not have words tonight. I, the possessor of the mighty arm that so long protected David, cannot control either my arms and legs tonight. Instead, I am wrapped tight in a blanket, cuddled in the arms of a mother still in her teens, experiencing for the first time the responsibility of being a parent. I have emptied myself of my power and made myself helpless, dependent upon humanity for nurture and nourishment. For you, to be with you, to understand you fully, I have stripped myself of titles and power and things that you cannot even begin to understand."
Sometime in your night tonight, find a moment of silence and hear the message once again: "I love you and I am with you forever."
Grace and peace through our Lord Jesus Christ,
Ron
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Angels we have heard on low ...
It has been a while, as far as we know, since any of the “sent out” have been sent out. Angels haven’t appeared to much of anybody for quite a while, and then all of a sudden they are popping up everywhere. Not just any angels; the legendary ones. The angel of the Lord appears to Zechariah in the temple in Jerusalem. Gabriel shows up at Nazareth to see Mary. And then the angel of the Lord makes another appearance to Joseph.
These angelic visitors have amazing credentials, impressive resumes, and direct access to God, and yet God sends them to unknown people, living insignificant lives in insignificant towns with insignificant assets and insignificant political power. Although they come from families with interesting histories, nothing in any of their stories sets them apart. They are unknowns. Nobodies. Nearly invisible.
Hear the word of God describe one of these visits:
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you."
But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.
The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."
Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?"
The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God."
Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.
With this knowledge, can we imagine how Mary took care of herself during this pregnancy? Do we understand the care with which these humble people delivered these God-promised children, John and Jesus, into this world? Have we ever thought about how these called-out parents measured every word that they used to comfort, nurture, direct, and discipline these babies with such huge destinies? If it were our calling, how would we raise the prophet and herald of the King, and the King himself?
That is a sobering question, isn’t it? And yet it is not as irrelevant as it might seem at first. No, in fact, we have not been called to raise John or Jesus in our homes. Yet, despite the fact that we may be nobodies, too, might God have placed a child with an extraordinary calling in our care? Who knows? We might have a Sarah or a Samuel, a Mary or a Micaiah, an Elizabeth or an Elijah, an Abigail or an Amos, a Joanna or a Josiah or a Joshua … mightn’t we?
Remember the words of Jesus? “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.”
Because of the amount of time that God may choose for our children to be in this world, they have, according to Jesus, the potential to lay at the feet of Jesus a larger body of work than that which Jesus had time to do. More significant? Certainly not. Important in the eyes of Jesus Christ? Absolutely. Through the power of Jesus? That’s what he said.
Every one of the children born to our care, and every one of the young men placed in our care, has this kind of potential. If God made a good creation when he made humanity, if Jesus spoke the truth, if we can trust his promises, then that potential belongs to all of these children. We can take the “if” out of all of those phrases, can’t we, because they’re all true. Now the “Ifs” are all in our court: if we will teach our children when we rise up and lie down, if we will show a child the way that is right when they are young, if we will not provoke a child to wrath, then we will have the possibilities that go with those practices. Will we take the “if” out of those? Will we try?
If we’re raising our children differently than we would Jesus, why?
Blessings,
Ron
Luke 1:26-38; John 14:12-14 – NRSV
These angelic visitors have amazing credentials, impressive resumes, and direct access to God, and yet God sends them to unknown people, living insignificant lives in insignificant towns with insignificant assets and insignificant political power. Although they come from families with interesting histories, nothing in any of their stories sets them apart. They are unknowns. Nobodies. Nearly invisible.
Hear the word of God describe one of these visits:
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you."
But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.
The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."
Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?"
The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God."
Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.
With this knowledge, can we imagine how Mary took care of herself during this pregnancy? Do we understand the care with which these humble people delivered these God-promised children, John and Jesus, into this world? Have we ever thought about how these called-out parents measured every word that they used to comfort, nurture, direct, and discipline these babies with such huge destinies? If it were our calling, how would we raise the prophet and herald of the King, and the King himself?
That is a sobering question, isn’t it? And yet it is not as irrelevant as it might seem at first. No, in fact, we have not been called to raise John or Jesus in our homes. Yet, despite the fact that we may be nobodies, too, might God have placed a child with an extraordinary calling in our care? Who knows? We might have a Sarah or a Samuel, a Mary or a Micaiah, an Elizabeth or an Elijah, an Abigail or an Amos, a Joanna or a Josiah or a Joshua … mightn’t we?
Remember the words of Jesus? “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.”
Because of the amount of time that God may choose for our children to be in this world, they have, according to Jesus, the potential to lay at the feet of Jesus a larger body of work than that which Jesus had time to do. More significant? Certainly not. Important in the eyes of Jesus Christ? Absolutely. Through the power of Jesus? That’s what he said.
Every one of the children born to our care, and every one of the young men placed in our care, has this kind of potential. If God made a good creation when he made humanity, if Jesus spoke the truth, if we can trust his promises, then that potential belongs to all of these children. We can take the “if” out of all of those phrases, can’t we, because they’re all true. Now the “Ifs” are all in our court: if we will teach our children when we rise up and lie down, if we will show a child the way that is right when they are young, if we will not provoke a child to wrath, then we will have the possibilities that go with those practices. Will we take the “if” out of those? Will we try?
If we’re raising our children differently than we would Jesus, why?
Blessings,
Ron
Luke 1:26-38; John 14:12-14 – NRSV
Monday, December 22, 2008
Being found in human form ...
Today, scripture and prayer for our meditations.
If then there is any encouragement in Christ,
any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit,
any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete:
be of the same mind, having the same love,
being in full accord and of one mind.
Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit,
but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.
Let each of you look not to your own interests,
but to the interests of others.
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
Who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death —
even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
Philippians 2:1-11 - NRSV
Prayers
Søren Kierkegaard
Our Father, you called us and saved us in order to make us like your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Change us, day by day, by the work of your Holy Spirit so that we may grow more like him in all that we think and say and do, to his glory. Amen
Yes, Lord Jesus Christ, whether we be far off or near, far away from you in the human swarm, in business, in early cares, in temporal joys, in merely human highness, or far from all this, forsaken, unappreciated in lowliness, and with this the nearer to you, do you draw us entirely to yourself.
Peace,
Ron
If then there is any encouragement in Christ,
any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit,
any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete:
be of the same mind, having the same love,
being in full accord and of one mind.
Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit,
but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.
Let each of you look not to your own interests,
but to the interests of others.
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
Who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death —
even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
Philippians 2:1-11 - NRSV
Prayers
Søren Kierkegaard
Our Father, you called us and saved us in order to make us like your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Change us, day by day, by the work of your Holy Spirit so that we may grow more like him in all that we think and say and do, to his glory. Amen
Yes, Lord Jesus Christ, whether we be far off or near, far away from you in the human swarm, in business, in early cares, in temporal joys, in merely human highness, or far from all this, forsaken, unappreciated in lowliness, and with this the nearer to you, do you draw us entirely to yourself.
Peace,
Ron
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The glory of the Lord shone around them ...
As is our custom, a scripture for Saturday:
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see — I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
Luke 2:1-20 – NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see — I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
Luke 2:1-20 – NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
Friday, December 19, 2008
A star that does what stars do not ...
This is no natural phenomenon.
These men know and understand nature.
They have traced the arcs of the stars.
They have searched out the eccentricities of the
bright and orbiting planets.
If they were to see a comet,
it would not be their first.
Yet what they see shakes them,
it moves them to leave their ivory towers
to seek out the remarkable person marked
by this bright portent, this luminous omen.
It is a star; a star where once there was none.
A star that does what stars do not:
Stand still.
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
'And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
who is to shepherd my people Israel.'"
Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
Matthew 2:1-12 – NRSV
These learned and wise ones come bringing gifts,
Offering tribute to what must be a great and mighty king.
Somehow the starry signal is so clear,
somehow the child seems so extraordinary,
that the simple shepherds and the simple surroundings
do not distract from the message or its power, but,
instead, make clear just what kind of message
God is sending through this child.
These wise ones come bringing gifts, yet
They leave feeling that they have been out-given.
Now, it is true that wisdom can lead to despair,
much learning can make one too timid to act,
and scholarship too frequently provokes cynicism,
but these wise ones have been given hope.
And courage.
And faith.
A Prayer
Kim Kwan Suk
Give us hope
To look forward
To happy tomorrows.
Give us courage
To face hardships
Without losing hope.
Give us faith
So that the joy of receiving Christ
Will lead us to serve our fellow [human].
Give us appreciation
For the gifts we have received
That we might use them responsibly
Daring to give
Friendship, service, and love.
Give us Christmas throughout the year
Blessings,
Ron
These men know and understand nature.
They have traced the arcs of the stars.
They have searched out the eccentricities of the
bright and orbiting planets.
If they were to see a comet,
it would not be their first.
Yet what they see shakes them,
it moves them to leave their ivory towers
to seek out the remarkable person marked
by this bright portent, this luminous omen.
It is a star; a star where once there was none.
A star that does what stars do not:
Stand still.
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
'And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
who is to shepherd my people Israel.'"
Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
Matthew 2:1-12 – NRSV
These learned and wise ones come bringing gifts,
Offering tribute to what must be a great and mighty king.
Somehow the starry signal is so clear,
somehow the child seems so extraordinary,
that the simple shepherds and the simple surroundings
do not distract from the message or its power, but,
instead, make clear just what kind of message
God is sending through this child.
These wise ones come bringing gifts, yet
They leave feeling that they have been out-given.
Now, it is true that wisdom can lead to despair,
much learning can make one too timid to act,
and scholarship too frequently provokes cynicism,
but these wise ones have been given hope.
And courage.
And faith.
A Prayer
Kim Kwan Suk
Give us hope
To look forward
To happy tomorrows.
Give us courage
To face hardships
Without losing hope.
Give us faith
So that the joy of receiving Christ
Will lead us to serve our fellow [human].
Give us appreciation
For the gifts we have received
That we might use them responsibly
Daring to give
Friendship, service, and love.
Give us Christmas throughout the year
Blessings,
Ron
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Can I have a picture?
The Torah is truth. Its words are sublime, wise, and empowering. But even with this divine revelation, the chosen people continue to struggle to understand what it means to be the community of God. Yes, the written word is a lamp unto our feet, but is it enough? What does it mean to be the people of God? What does it mean to be a blessing to all nations? What does it mean to really enact the kingdom of God?
Like many people picking up a book, we start looking for a picture or two to help us out. And if there are no pictures, can I have a diagram? Or maybe a map?
Jesus is our picture.
“If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.”
“I am the Word.”
“I am the Way.”
“I am the Light.”
The life of Jesus is a complete portfolio,
visualizing the “word of God” becoming the “Word of God”.
Consider the words of Rodney Clapp:
God’s Word is not first and foremost abstract belief, propositionalized truth. So it is that Jesus – a person, not a proposition – is presented as the supreme and the unique embodiment of the Word (John 2:11; 20:30). And he is constantly about embodying the words of life. He speaks of the bread of life and miraculously feeds over five thousand with edible, actual bread (John 6). He speaks of the light of the world and heals the blind (John 8:12, 9:1-11). He speaks of the resurrection and the life and raises Lazarus from the dead (John 11). He speaks of servanthood and washes the disciples feet (John 13). And John seems to expect that this speaking and its embodiment will continue, for Jesus says to his followers, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21). To recognize the church as the body of Christ is to recognize that the church exists as a continual, ongoing embodiment of God’s Word.
What Jesus is, is what we, his church, are called to be.
What Jesus does, is what we, his body, are called to do.
Even though the entire church does not have the giftedness or power
to match what Jesus could do, it is our calling to try.
To try to talk honestly with the one struggling for answers,
To try to engage the pain of the broken and hurting,
To try to live openly before the babes learning the godly life,
To try to point to sanity and salvation for a world desperate for both,
To try to speak out loud the truth that is more and more subversive
to the powers and principalities in our world every day.
Then, having tried, to examine the truth of our failings,
to listen to the voice of the truth-speaking prophets,
and try to do better tomorrow.
As we celebrate the coming of Jesus among us in the flesh,
May we have the courage to enact Jesus living among us in the flesh,
Until the day that he appears in person, triumphant and eternal.
Amen.
Grace and peace,
Ron
Quote from Rodney Clapp, A Peculiar People, p. 136.
Like many people picking up a book, we start looking for a picture or two to help us out. And if there are no pictures, can I have a diagram? Or maybe a map?
Jesus is our picture.
“If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.”
“I am the Word.”
“I am the Way.”
“I am the Light.”
The life of Jesus is a complete portfolio,
visualizing the “word of God” becoming the “Word of God”.
Consider the words of Rodney Clapp:
God’s Word is not first and foremost abstract belief, propositionalized truth. So it is that Jesus – a person, not a proposition – is presented as the supreme and the unique embodiment of the Word (John 2:11; 20:30). And he is constantly about embodying the words of life. He speaks of the bread of life and miraculously feeds over five thousand with edible, actual bread (John 6). He speaks of the light of the world and heals the blind (John 8:12, 9:1-11). He speaks of the resurrection and the life and raises Lazarus from the dead (John 11). He speaks of servanthood and washes the disciples feet (John 13). And John seems to expect that this speaking and its embodiment will continue, for Jesus says to his followers, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21). To recognize the church as the body of Christ is to recognize that the church exists as a continual, ongoing embodiment of God’s Word.
What Jesus is, is what we, his church, are called to be.
What Jesus does, is what we, his body, are called to do.
Even though the entire church does not have the giftedness or power
to match what Jesus could do, it is our calling to try.
To try to talk honestly with the one struggling for answers,
To try to engage the pain of the broken and hurting,
To try to live openly before the babes learning the godly life,
To try to point to sanity and salvation for a world desperate for both,
To try to speak out loud the truth that is more and more subversive
to the powers and principalities in our world every day.
Then, having tried, to examine the truth of our failings,
to listen to the voice of the truth-speaking prophets,
and try to do better tomorrow.
As we celebrate the coming of Jesus among us in the flesh,
May we have the courage to enact Jesus living among us in the flesh,
Until the day that he appears in person, triumphant and eternal.
Amen.
Grace and peace,
Ron
Quote from Rodney Clapp, A Peculiar People, p. 136.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
God is with us ...
We have asked for God to be with us,
And he has answered our prayers in a way
very different than that which we expected.
"Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel,"
which means, "God is with us."
God does not arrive as a mighty king,
riding a snorting, raring charger.
He is delivered as the precious, helpless child
of a teenage mother whose own people
do not believe her incredible story.
This child is an outcast, not the patron,
not the host, but one needing
hospitality on even his first night
In our world.
A Prayer for Emmanuel
Ruth Duck
Come, Christ Jesus, be our guest,
And may our lives by you be blest.
Come, God-is-with-us,
And free us from the false claims
Of the empires of the world.
We are lonely for you and your peace.
Come, Emmanuel, and dwell with us.
Make us your people indeed,
The people through whom you bring
Love and justice to the world.
Come, Jesus, and reign;
Claim your rightful place within our hearts
And in the midst of our community.
Plant the seeds of hope amongst us.
Establish God’s reign on earth.
For we pray as you taught us
That God’s reign might come in fullness on earth.
Ruth’s prayer calls us to remember.
Remember, God has not come and then deserted us.
He said, “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
Remember, this presence is not vague or distant;
he is with us, up close and within our community:
“For where two or three are gathered in my name,
I am there among them."
Remember, we are his body – some of us his hands,
some of us his feet – and he lives and works
in us and through us, not as individuals,
but as a people.
May God in his grace, help us receive
the grace of his presence,
and enact the power of that presence
in our lives today.
Ron
(Matthew 1:23-24; Matthew 28:20: Matthew 18:20 – NRSV)
And he has answered our prayers in a way
very different than that which we expected.
"Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel,"
which means, "God is with us."
God does not arrive as a mighty king,
riding a snorting, raring charger.
He is delivered as the precious, helpless child
of a teenage mother whose own people
do not believe her incredible story.
This child is an outcast, not the patron,
not the host, but one needing
hospitality on even his first night
In our world.
A Prayer for Emmanuel
Ruth Duck
Come, Christ Jesus, be our guest,
And may our lives by you be blest.
Come, God-is-with-us,
And free us from the false claims
Of the empires of the world.
We are lonely for you and your peace.
Come, Emmanuel, and dwell with us.
Make us your people indeed,
The people through whom you bring
Love and justice to the world.
Come, Jesus, and reign;
Claim your rightful place within our hearts
And in the midst of our community.
Plant the seeds of hope amongst us.
Establish God’s reign on earth.
For we pray as you taught us
That God’s reign might come in fullness on earth.
Ruth’s prayer calls us to remember.
Remember, God has not come and then deserted us.
He said, “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
Remember, this presence is not vague or distant;
he is with us, up close and within our community:
“For where two or three are gathered in my name,
I am there among them."
Remember, we are his body – some of us his hands,
some of us his feet – and he lives and works
in us and through us, not as individuals,
but as a people.
May God in his grace, help us receive
the grace of his presence,
and enact the power of that presence
in our lives today.
Ron
(Matthew 1:23-24; Matthew 28:20: Matthew 18:20 – NRSV)
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I will rescue ...
The restless wind is cold and merciless as it blows over the land. It stirs the blanket of snow covering the landscape without moving or melting it. The snow would be beautiful if it were new and if it had not been there for a long time, a time which seemed to approach forever in the memories of the inhabitants of the land. The snow, beautiful once, has now become hateful and oppressive. Even with that snow, the land has become cloudy and dark.
If not for the hardiness of its citizens, the land of Narnia would appear to be near death, the last of its life oozing away as it writhes in the talons of the witch. Yet something remains that cold, brutality, wickedness, and oppression cannot seem to destroy: Hope. Hope stirs the hearts of the faithful, and it gives them the strength to go on as if the oppression were only temporary, as if the world might be different somehow, as if it made sense to live counter-cultural lives.
What stirs these hearts? What moves as a threat to this wasteland of white? What keeps this hope alive? Three little words. Three little words that are the beginning of a narrative subversive to the hate and the oppression and the waste holding the land and its population captive. The words? Aslan is coming. People who do not even know who Aslan might be are moved by these words. The way that the words are spoken, you know that Aslan must be a savior or king. It seems obvious that Aslan is bringing something vital: rescue, light, and life. Three words bring all of this good news and more. Aslan is coming.
Since C. S. Lewis writes this story for children, he does not conceal too carefully the metaphoric connection between Aslan and Jesus. One does not need a PhD in Composition and Rhetoric to see that feelings experienced in the anticipation of Aslan are parallel to the emotions stirred at the coming of Christ. But his story does make us think. It makes us think about how things were just before Jesus.
It makes us think
of the many failed efforts at human government.
It reminds us about
humanity’s struggle with faithfulness before a faithful God.
It brings to mind
the tendency for people with power to abuse power,
turning it to their own purposes
instead of those of God or his people.
Misgovernment, unfaithfulness, and abuse of power
always lead to poverty, despair, and oppression.
But God will not leave us there.
For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness.
Ezekiel 34:11-13 – NRSV
Yet for God’s people in captivity, a short sentence reveals the belief that Yahweh is not about judgment, but about salvation. His Torah was not meant to bring condemnation but peace. His Word is intended to bring the opposite of despair; it stirs hope. The Messiah is coming. Have we become callous to the power of that brief sentence? Surely we still see the need? Surely the cold winds of life have not snuffed out this hope in our heart?
Yes, Jesus came to us nearly 2,000 years ago. But the people of this planet are still looking for him. If we are truly the body of Christ, if each of us can enact our part within that body, he will come here today, too. His presence in his people can still save, can still heal, can still comfort. But we have to believe. We have to remember to believe, and behave as if we really do believe. Faith. Hope. Love. Faith will stir hope, and hope will empower love. That kind of love is more than wishful thinking; it is hopeful living.
Learn to do good;
seek justice,
rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
plead for the widow.
Isaiah 1:17 – NRSV
Grace and peace,
Ron
*C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, The Chronicles of Narnia
If not for the hardiness of its citizens, the land of Narnia would appear to be near death, the last of its life oozing away as it writhes in the talons of the witch. Yet something remains that cold, brutality, wickedness, and oppression cannot seem to destroy: Hope. Hope stirs the hearts of the faithful, and it gives them the strength to go on as if the oppression were only temporary, as if the world might be different somehow, as if it made sense to live counter-cultural lives.
What stirs these hearts? What moves as a threat to this wasteland of white? What keeps this hope alive? Three little words. Three little words that are the beginning of a narrative subversive to the hate and the oppression and the waste holding the land and its population captive. The words? Aslan is coming. People who do not even know who Aslan might be are moved by these words. The way that the words are spoken, you know that Aslan must be a savior or king. It seems obvious that Aslan is bringing something vital: rescue, light, and life. Three words bring all of this good news and more. Aslan is coming.
Since C. S. Lewis writes this story for children, he does not conceal too carefully the metaphoric connection between Aslan and Jesus. One does not need a PhD in Composition and Rhetoric to see that feelings experienced in the anticipation of Aslan are parallel to the emotions stirred at the coming of Christ. But his story does make us think. It makes us think about how things were just before Jesus.
It makes us think
of the many failed efforts at human government.
It reminds us about
humanity’s struggle with faithfulness before a faithful God.
It brings to mind
the tendency for people with power to abuse power,
turning it to their own purposes
instead of those of God or his people.
Misgovernment, unfaithfulness, and abuse of power
always lead to poverty, despair, and oppression.
But God will not leave us there.
For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness.
Ezekiel 34:11-13 – NRSV
Yet for God’s people in captivity, a short sentence reveals the belief that Yahweh is not about judgment, but about salvation. His Torah was not meant to bring condemnation but peace. His Word is intended to bring the opposite of despair; it stirs hope. The Messiah is coming. Have we become callous to the power of that brief sentence? Surely we still see the need? Surely the cold winds of life have not snuffed out this hope in our heart?
Yes, Jesus came to us nearly 2,000 years ago. But the people of this planet are still looking for him. If we are truly the body of Christ, if each of us can enact our part within that body, he will come here today, too. His presence in his people can still save, can still heal, can still comfort. But we have to believe. We have to remember to believe, and behave as if we really do believe. Faith. Hope. Love. Faith will stir hope, and hope will empower love. That kind of love is more than wishful thinking; it is hopeful living.
Learn to do good;
seek justice,
rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
plead for the widow.
Isaiah 1:17 – NRSV
Grace and peace,
Ron
*C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, The Chronicles of Narnia
Monday, December 15, 2008
What Child is this?
Let us consider the wise words to this beautiful song:
What Child is This?
William C. Dix
What Child is this who, laid to rest
On Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you.
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
So bring Him incense, gold and myrrh,
Come peasant, king to own Him;
The King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
Raise, raise a song on high,
The virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy, joy for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
Let the words of that song echo in our hearts as we listen isten to the sage counsel of Eric Milner-White:
Beloved in Christ, at this Christmas-tide, let it be our care and delight to hear again the message of the angels, and in heart and mind to go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass, and the Babe lying in a manger. Therefore let us read and mark in Holy Scripture the tale of the loving purposes of God from the first days of our disobedience unto the glorious redemption brought to us by this Holy Child.
But first, let us pray for the needs of the whole world;
for peace on earth and goodwill among all of his people;
for unity and brotherhood within the Church he came to build,
and especially in this our [congregation].
And because this would rejoice his heart, let us remember, in his name, the poor and helpless, the cold, the hungry, and the oppressed;
the sick and them that mourn,
the lonely and the unloved,
the aged and the little children;
all those who know not the Lord Jesus,
or who love him not,
or who by sin have grieved his heart of love.
Lastly, let us remember before God all those who rejoice with us, but upon another shore, and in a greater light, the multitude which no man can number, whose hope was in the Word made flesh, and with whom in the Lord Jesus we are one forevermore. These prayers and praises let us humbly offer up to the Throne of Heaven, in words which Christ himself has taught us, “Our Father …”
Grace and peace,
Ron
What Child is This?
William C. Dix
What Child is this who, laid to rest
On Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you.
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
So bring Him incense, gold and myrrh,
Come peasant, king to own Him;
The King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
Raise, raise a song on high,
The virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy, joy for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
Let the words of that song echo in our hearts as we listen isten to the sage counsel of Eric Milner-White:
Beloved in Christ, at this Christmas-tide, let it be our care and delight to hear again the message of the angels, and in heart and mind to go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass, and the Babe lying in a manger. Therefore let us read and mark in Holy Scripture the tale of the loving purposes of God from the first days of our disobedience unto the glorious redemption brought to us by this Holy Child.
But first, let us pray for the needs of the whole world;
for peace on earth and goodwill among all of his people;
for unity and brotherhood within the Church he came to build,
and especially in this our [congregation].
And because this would rejoice his heart, let us remember, in his name, the poor and helpless, the cold, the hungry, and the oppressed;
the sick and them that mourn,
the lonely and the unloved,
the aged and the little children;
all those who know not the Lord Jesus,
or who love him not,
or who by sin have grieved his heart of love.
Lastly, let us remember before God all those who rejoice with us, but upon another shore, and in a greater light, the multitude which no man can number, whose hope was in the Word made flesh, and with whom in the Lord Jesus we are one forevermore. These prayers and praises let us humbly offer up to the Throne of Heaven, in words which Christ himself has taught us, “Our Father …”
Grace and peace,
Ron
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Break forth like the dawn ...
Saturday's scripture is worthy of careful meditation:
Isa 58:6-9
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.
NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
Isa 58:6-9
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.
NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
Friday, December 12, 2008
Darkness is not dark ...
On Thursday, we observed that the Light was in the beginning with God:
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came into being through him,
and without him not one thing came into being.
What has come into being in him was life,
and the life was the light of all people.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.
John 1:2-5 – NRSV
That Light is something worth singing about:
Father and Friend, Thy Light, Thy Love
John Bowring
Father and friend, thy light, thy love,
Beaming though all thy works we see;
Thy glory gilds the heav’ns above,
And all the earth is full of thee.
Thy voice we hear, thy presence feel
While thou, too pure for mortal sight,
Enrapt in clouds, invisible,
Reignest the Lord of life and light.
Thy children shall not faint nor fear,
Sustained by this delightful tho’t;
Since though, their God, art ev’rywhere,
They cannot be where thou are not.
Can this Light really go anywhere? Didn’t the Creator separate light and darkness in the very beginning? According to the Psalmist, that Light can go wherever it wills …
Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
Ps 139:7-12 – NRSV
All is known to God, whether in his light or out of it. And eventually, everything will be revealed by his Light.
May God help us be prepared for the revelation that comes with the arrival of his Light.
Blessings,
Ron
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came into being through him,
and without him not one thing came into being.
What has come into being in him was life,
and the life was the light of all people.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.
John 1:2-5 – NRSV
That Light is something worth singing about:
Father and Friend, Thy Light, Thy Love
John Bowring
Father and friend, thy light, thy love,
Beaming though all thy works we see;
Thy glory gilds the heav’ns above,
And all the earth is full of thee.
Thy voice we hear, thy presence feel
While thou, too pure for mortal sight,
Enrapt in clouds, invisible,
Reignest the Lord of life and light.
Thy children shall not faint nor fear,
Sustained by this delightful tho’t;
Since though, their God, art ev’rywhere,
They cannot be where thou are not.
Can this Light really go anywhere? Didn’t the Creator separate light and darkness in the very beginning? According to the Psalmist, that Light can go wherever it wills …
Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
Ps 139:7-12 – NRSV
All is known to God, whether in his light or out of it. And eventually, everything will be revealed by his Light.
May God help us be prepared for the revelation that comes with the arrival of his Light.
Blessings,
Ron
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The enlightening light ...
Today, a scripture and prayer to celebrate our Creator:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
John 1 – NRSV
Your world-forming speech
Walter Brueggemann
Light from light
Creation from chaos
Life from death
Joy from sorrow
Hope from despair
Peace from hate
All your gifts, all your love, all your power.
All from your word, fresh from your word,
all gifts of your speech.
We give thanks for your world-forming speech.
Thanks as well for our speech back to you,
the speech of mothers and fathers
who dared to speak
in faith and unfaith
in trust and distrust
in grateful memory and in high hurt.
We cherish this speech as we cherish yours.
Listen this day for the groans and yearnings of your world,
listen to our own songs of joy and our drudges of death,
and in the midst of our stammering
speak your clear word of life
in the name of your word come flesh.
Amen
Blessings,
Ron
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
John 1 – NRSV
Your world-forming speech
Walter Brueggemann
Light from light
Creation from chaos
Life from death
Joy from sorrow
Hope from despair
Peace from hate
All your gifts, all your love, all your power.
All from your word, fresh from your word,
all gifts of your speech.
We give thanks for your world-forming speech.
Thanks as well for our speech back to you,
the speech of mothers and fathers
who dared to speak
in faith and unfaith
in trust and distrust
in grateful memory and in high hurt.
We cherish this speech as we cherish yours.
Listen this day for the groans and yearnings of your world,
listen to our own songs of joy and our drudges of death,
and in the midst of our stammering
speak your clear word of life
in the name of your word come flesh.
Amen
Blessings,
Ron
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Away from home ...
Today’s text is full of great lessons, but we will only focus on a few. The kingdom of God is divided, and it is the time of the prophets and the kings. The prophet of the day is Elisha:
Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman's wife. She said to her mistress, "If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy."
Naaman is a powerful and successful general. The God of Israel has given a series of great victories to him, even victories over God’s people. Yet Naaman remains unaware of the true source of his power. Whether he believes his power to come from his king, or from his god Rimmon is not clear. What is clear to Yahweh is that Naaman does not know him.
Remember that Naaman is not oppressed, he is the oppressor. Naaman is not weak, but powerful, both in battle and politics. Naaman is not the stranger, but the hero of his king and his people. Yet there comes into his life a problem that makes him an outsider. An issue that marginalizes him socially. Leprosy. This is a leprosy that the physicians, the priests, and even the king of Aram cannot heal.
So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, "Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel." He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, "When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy." When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, "Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me."
We need to see right through the notion that this is a hospitable exchange. The kings of Israel and Aram are not playing by the same rules. There is a real power differential here. On the surface, the request appears to be a reasonable request for hospitality; “We have heard of the healing power within your nation; heal my servant.” Yet there is a thinly veiled threat behind the written message which can be found in the person of the messenger. It reads something like this: “Heal this great and terrible warrior or it will amuse me to turn him loose on you and your people.” Believe me, the king of Israel gets the message. And he is desperate in his search for a way out of his dilemma.
But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, "Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel." So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha's house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, "Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean." But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, "I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?" He turned and went away in a rage.
Elisha does the hospitable thing: he issues an invitation to Naaman. This invitation relieves the pressure from Israel’s king and promises healing for Naaman. Yet when the general arrives at his tent, the prophet does not follow the normal course of hospitality and invite him in. Since Naaman is a leper, he might have expected that. Yet Elisha does not even come out of his tent to greet Naaman; he sends a messenger. Naaman takes this apparent social faux pas as an insult.
Why does Elisha do this? Is he afraid of Naaman? This doesn’t seem likely in view of the fact that he issued the invitation, and in light of the way that Elisha deals with an entire army around his tent (2 Kings 6). Is Elisha an introvert? Perhaps; there are some indications that he is socially hypersensitive (2 Kings 2:23-25). What seems more likely is the idea that Elisha is setting boundaries here. Elisha is willing to meet with Naaman (it does happen later in this story). But first Elisha must get it out of Naaman’s head that Naaman is in control of this situation. Without seizing power himself, Elisha manages to disarm Naaman of his power so that he can encounter the power of God. Naaman is not the one in power here.
Yet Naaman comes with all sorts of expectations, doesn’t he? Naaman likes it back home, yet he leaves there to come to this strange place because he grudgingly admits that he is not finding healing back home. He has clearly imagined, though, what this healing experience is going to be like, and he is greatly disappointed. Samaria is not what he expected. His host is not what he expected. The rules are not what he expected. He is not being allowed to be in control and rule his life the way that he is used to ruling his life. The fact that his experience is not meeting his expectation inevitably brings on anger. Deep seated anger. Does this story sound familiar to a community that welcomes hurting and outcast young men who are separated from their homes?
How does the story go? Everything is better back home: the rivers; the king, who is like a father to him; you name it. Things are better back in Aram. Yet the reality remains in his face. Literally. Leprosy. However good things appear to be back home, he could not find healing there.
But his servants approached and said to him, "Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, 'Wash, and be clean'?" So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.
Then he returned to the man of God, he and all his company; he came and stood before him and said, "Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel; please accept a present from your servant." But he said, "As the Lord lives, whom I serve, I will accept nothing!" He urged him to accept, but he refused. Then Naaman said, "If not, please let two mule-loads of earth be given to your servant; for your servant will no longer offer burnt offering or sacrifice to any god except the Lord. But may the Lord pardon your servant on one count: when my master goes into the house of Rimmon to worship there, leaning on my arm, and I bow down in the house of Rimmon, when I do bow down in the house of Rimmon, may the Lord pardon your servant on this one count." He said to him, "Go in peace."
The healing is not so much about the water as it is about obedience. The healing is not so much about physical location as it being in the right location with the God of Israel. Submissive.
Once Naaman is convicted of the power of God, he is converted into a believer in God. Once he steps into a right relationship with God, all of his other relationships start to fall into their proper places. He now respects the man of God enough to be able to stand in his presence and have a conversation free from power plays. Yet at the same time, he maintains a real respect for his master, the king of Aram, so as to be able to serve him faithfully without serving Aram’s false god and Yahweh’s rival, Rimmon. And because these relationships are right, Naaman, the great warrior, can leave in peace.
Is there is a lesson in this for those of us who work with people, both young and old? Yes. As long as people plow through life unaware of the power that makes their life possible, sharing time and space with them can be difficult. But as people come to understand who they are, and who God is, things change. Relationships change. The ability to have hospitable relationships change. So we can work on relationship skills between human beings, and so we ought. But the real breakthrough happens when a human being truly discovers their right relationship with God. This cannot be forced, but relies upon the faithful action of God in the face of the free will of his children. Not everyone is as quick of a student as is Naaman.
May God give us insight into the ways that we use power, boundaries, and hospitality in our relationships today.
Grace and peace,
Ron
Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman's wife. She said to her mistress, "If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy."
Naaman is a powerful and successful general. The God of Israel has given a series of great victories to him, even victories over God’s people. Yet Naaman remains unaware of the true source of his power. Whether he believes his power to come from his king, or from his god Rimmon is not clear. What is clear to Yahweh is that Naaman does not know him.
Remember that Naaman is not oppressed, he is the oppressor. Naaman is not weak, but powerful, both in battle and politics. Naaman is not the stranger, but the hero of his king and his people. Yet there comes into his life a problem that makes him an outsider. An issue that marginalizes him socially. Leprosy. This is a leprosy that the physicians, the priests, and even the king of Aram cannot heal.
So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, "Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel." He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, "When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy." When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, "Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me."
We need to see right through the notion that this is a hospitable exchange. The kings of Israel and Aram are not playing by the same rules. There is a real power differential here. On the surface, the request appears to be a reasonable request for hospitality; “We have heard of the healing power within your nation; heal my servant.” Yet there is a thinly veiled threat behind the written message which can be found in the person of the messenger. It reads something like this: “Heal this great and terrible warrior or it will amuse me to turn him loose on you and your people.” Believe me, the king of Israel gets the message. And he is desperate in his search for a way out of his dilemma.
But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, "Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel." So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha's house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, "Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean." But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, "I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?" He turned and went away in a rage.
Elisha does the hospitable thing: he issues an invitation to Naaman. This invitation relieves the pressure from Israel’s king and promises healing for Naaman. Yet when the general arrives at his tent, the prophet does not follow the normal course of hospitality and invite him in. Since Naaman is a leper, he might have expected that. Yet Elisha does not even come out of his tent to greet Naaman; he sends a messenger. Naaman takes this apparent social faux pas as an insult.
Why does Elisha do this? Is he afraid of Naaman? This doesn’t seem likely in view of the fact that he issued the invitation, and in light of the way that Elisha deals with an entire army around his tent (2 Kings 6). Is Elisha an introvert? Perhaps; there are some indications that he is socially hypersensitive (2 Kings 2:23-25). What seems more likely is the idea that Elisha is setting boundaries here. Elisha is willing to meet with Naaman (it does happen later in this story). But first Elisha must get it out of Naaman’s head that Naaman is in control of this situation. Without seizing power himself, Elisha manages to disarm Naaman of his power so that he can encounter the power of God. Naaman is not the one in power here.
Yet Naaman comes with all sorts of expectations, doesn’t he? Naaman likes it back home, yet he leaves there to come to this strange place because he grudgingly admits that he is not finding healing back home. He has clearly imagined, though, what this healing experience is going to be like, and he is greatly disappointed. Samaria is not what he expected. His host is not what he expected. The rules are not what he expected. He is not being allowed to be in control and rule his life the way that he is used to ruling his life. The fact that his experience is not meeting his expectation inevitably brings on anger. Deep seated anger. Does this story sound familiar to a community that welcomes hurting and outcast young men who are separated from their homes?
How does the story go? Everything is better back home: the rivers; the king, who is like a father to him; you name it. Things are better back in Aram. Yet the reality remains in his face. Literally. Leprosy. However good things appear to be back home, he could not find healing there.
But his servants approached and said to him, "Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, 'Wash, and be clean'?" So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.
Then he returned to the man of God, he and all his company; he came and stood before him and said, "Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel; please accept a present from your servant." But he said, "As the Lord lives, whom I serve, I will accept nothing!" He urged him to accept, but he refused. Then Naaman said, "If not, please let two mule-loads of earth be given to your servant; for your servant will no longer offer burnt offering or sacrifice to any god except the Lord. But may the Lord pardon your servant on one count: when my master goes into the house of Rimmon to worship there, leaning on my arm, and I bow down in the house of Rimmon, when I do bow down in the house of Rimmon, may the Lord pardon your servant on this one count." He said to him, "Go in peace."
The healing is not so much about the water as it is about obedience. The healing is not so much about physical location as it being in the right location with the God of Israel. Submissive.
Once Naaman is convicted of the power of God, he is converted into a believer in God. Once he steps into a right relationship with God, all of his other relationships start to fall into their proper places. He now respects the man of God enough to be able to stand in his presence and have a conversation free from power plays. Yet at the same time, he maintains a real respect for his master, the king of Aram, so as to be able to serve him faithfully without serving Aram’s false god and Yahweh’s rival, Rimmon. And because these relationships are right, Naaman, the great warrior, can leave in peace.
Is there is a lesson in this for those of us who work with people, both young and old? Yes. As long as people plow through life unaware of the power that makes their life possible, sharing time and space with them can be difficult. But as people come to understand who they are, and who God is, things change. Relationships change. The ability to have hospitable relationships change. So we can work on relationship skills between human beings, and so we ought. But the real breakthrough happens when a human being truly discovers their right relationship with God. This cannot be forced, but relies upon the faithful action of God in the face of the free will of his children. Not everyone is as quick of a student as is Naaman.
May God give us insight into the ways that we use power, boundaries, and hospitality in our relationships today.
Grace and peace,
Ron
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
A smooth threshold ...
Consider these two prayers.
One is a prayer of confession.
The other is a prayer of blessing.
They speak of value, acceptance, wealth,
welcome, and hospitality.
May we use them as our situation requires.
A Prayer of Confession
Father, in your creation you have made us rich,
And yet we have made ourselves poor
In our reluctance to credit others with value;
In our failure to look beyond the material and accepted
standards of our day;
In our deafness to hear only the sounds that are pleasant
to our ears;
In our noise and busyness, failing to listen to the unuttered
cries of hurt and pain;
In our lifestyle, putting pleasure of palate before the real
cost to individuals in another part of the world.
We live as though our well-being matters most
And because of that, the rest of creation suffers.
Father, forgive us.
Help us to visualize your values,
To appreciate your resources,
But above all to credit all humankind as members of the family,
Valuable and indispensable.
- Rosemary Wass
A Prayer of Blessing
O God, make the door of this house wide enough
to receive all who need human love and fellowship,
and a heavenly Father’s care;
and narrow enough to shut out all envy, pride, and hate.
Make its threshold smooth enough
to be no stumbling block to children or to straying feet,
but rugged enough to turn back the tempter’s power;
make it a gate to thine eternal kingdom.
- Thomas Ken, written at the door of a Christian hospital
Grace and peace,
Ron
One is a prayer of confession.
The other is a prayer of blessing.
They speak of value, acceptance, wealth,
welcome, and hospitality.
May we use them as our situation requires.
A Prayer of Confession
Father, in your creation you have made us rich,
And yet we have made ourselves poor
In our reluctance to credit others with value;
In our failure to look beyond the material and accepted
standards of our day;
In our deafness to hear only the sounds that are pleasant
to our ears;
In our noise and busyness, failing to listen to the unuttered
cries of hurt and pain;
In our lifestyle, putting pleasure of palate before the real
cost to individuals in another part of the world.
We live as though our well-being matters most
And because of that, the rest of creation suffers.
Father, forgive us.
Help us to visualize your values,
To appreciate your resources,
But above all to credit all humankind as members of the family,
Valuable and indispensable.
- Rosemary Wass
A Prayer of Blessing
O God, make the door of this house wide enough
to receive all who need human love and fellowship,
and a heavenly Father’s care;
and narrow enough to shut out all envy, pride, and hate.
Make its threshold smooth enough
to be no stumbling block to children or to straying feet,
but rugged enough to turn back the tempter’s power;
make it a gate to thine eternal kingdom.
- Thomas Ken, written at the door of a Christian hospital
Grace and peace,
Ron
Monday, December 8, 2008
A sign of contradiction ...
The words of Christine Pohl have been formative in my thinking about what it means to be a community. As we meditate on what it means to be God’s people in this world, in our ministry, hear her words of wisdom:
The contemporary church hungers for models of a more authentic Christian life in which glimpses of the Kingdom can be seen and the promise of the Kingdom is embodied. More than words and ideas, the world needs living pictures of what a life of hospitality could look like. Over sixty years ago, Peter Maurin wrote that “we need Houses of Hospitality to show what idealism looks like when it is practiced.” Communities of hospitality combine in daily experience the rigor and sacrifice, joy and empowerment, of faithful living. Many of those interviewed commented that living in a community of hospitality was the hardest and best thing they had ever done.
A community which embodies hospitality to strangers is “a sign of contradiction, a place where joy and pain, crises and peace are closely interwoven.” Friendships forged in hospitality contradict contemporary messages about who is valuable and “good to be with,” who can “give life to others.” Such communities are also sign of hope “that love is possible, that the world is not condemned to a struggle of oppressors and oppressed, that class and racial warfare is not inevitable.” The gift of hope embedded in these communities of hospitality nourishes, challenges, and transforms guests, hosts, and sometimes, the larger community.
Not every church member would choose the substantial life-style changes that community living requires. However, there is much to be learned about hospitality from these intentional and intense community settings that can be applied to more conventionally structured households and churches. These communities have found ways to cope with the awkwardness, risk, and high demands associated with hospitality to strangers. They have developed structures that allow an ancient practice to thrive in the postmodern world. None set out to be an exemplar of Christian hospitality, but because of their long-term viability and vitality, a number of them do offer a model to which others are drawn.
I believe that the faith community at Westview is one such exemplar of Christian hospitality. Like our ancestors in the first century church, and in congregations in the second and third centuries, together we are discovering what it means to live sacrificially and counterculturally so as to shelter the stranger and open our doors to the outcast.
May our hearts be lifted up today as we see the ways that we boldly embody the hospitality of the Kingdom. May we be challenged to be better and do better as we encounter the places where we still struggle.
Grace and peace,
Ron
*Christine Pohl, Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition, pp. 10-11.
The contemporary church hungers for models of a more authentic Christian life in which glimpses of the Kingdom can be seen and the promise of the Kingdom is embodied. More than words and ideas, the world needs living pictures of what a life of hospitality could look like. Over sixty years ago, Peter Maurin wrote that “we need Houses of Hospitality to show what idealism looks like when it is practiced.” Communities of hospitality combine in daily experience the rigor and sacrifice, joy and empowerment, of faithful living. Many of those interviewed commented that living in a community of hospitality was the hardest and best thing they had ever done.
A community which embodies hospitality to strangers is “a sign of contradiction, a place where joy and pain, crises and peace are closely interwoven.” Friendships forged in hospitality contradict contemporary messages about who is valuable and “good to be with,” who can “give life to others.” Such communities are also sign of hope “that love is possible, that the world is not condemned to a struggle of oppressors and oppressed, that class and racial warfare is not inevitable.” The gift of hope embedded in these communities of hospitality nourishes, challenges, and transforms guests, hosts, and sometimes, the larger community.
Not every church member would choose the substantial life-style changes that community living requires. However, there is much to be learned about hospitality from these intentional and intense community settings that can be applied to more conventionally structured households and churches. These communities have found ways to cope with the awkwardness, risk, and high demands associated with hospitality to strangers. They have developed structures that allow an ancient practice to thrive in the postmodern world. None set out to be an exemplar of Christian hospitality, but because of their long-term viability and vitality, a number of them do offer a model to which others are drawn.
I believe that the faith community at Westview is one such exemplar of Christian hospitality. Like our ancestors in the first century church, and in congregations in the second and third centuries, together we are discovering what it means to live sacrificially and counterculturally so as to shelter the stranger and open our doors to the outcast.
May our hearts be lifted up today as we see the ways that we boldly embody the hospitality of the Kingdom. May we be challenged to be better and do better as we encounter the places where we still struggle.
Grace and peace,
Ron
*Christine Pohl, Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition, pp. 10-11.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Blessed if you do them ...
Today’s devotional is a reading about a very memorable evening of hospitality:
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him.
And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?"
Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand."
Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet."
Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me."
Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!"
Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean."
After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord — and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, 'The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.' I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe that I am he. Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me; and whoever receives me receives him who sent me."
John 13:1-20 – NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him.
And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?"
Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand."
Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet."
Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me."
Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!"
Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean."
After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord — and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, 'The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.' I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe that I am he. Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me; and whoever receives me receives him who sent me."
John 13:1-20 – NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
Friday, December 5, 2008
You call us ...
Today’s devotional connects our past and present identities in a scripture and a prayer:
So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision" — a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands — remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father.
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.
Ephesians 2:11-22 – NRSV
Our right names
Walter Brueggemann
You God toward whom we pray and
about whom we sing, and
from whom we claim our very life.
In your presence, in our seasons of ache and yearning and honesty,
we know our right names.
In your presence we know ourselves to be aliens and strangers.
We gasp in recognition, taken by surprise at this disclosure,
because we had nearly settled in
and taken up residence in the wrong place.
For all of that, we turn out to be
we strangers, unfamiliar with your covenant,
remote from your people,
at odds too much with sisters and brothers,
we aliens, with no hope
without promise
with very little sense of belonging or knowing
or risking or trusting,
It is in your presence that we come face to face with our beset
beleaguered existence in the world.
BUT
You are the one who by your odd power
calls us by new names that we can
receive only from you and
relish only in your company.
You call us now,
citizens … with all the rights and privileges and
responsibilities pertaining to life in your commonwealth.
You call us now saints, not because we are good or gentle,
or perfect,
but because you have spotted us and marked us
and claimed us for yourself and your purposes.
You call us members … and we dare imagine that we belong
and may finally come home.
So with daring and freedom,
we move from our old names known too well
to the new names you speak over us,
and in the very utterance we are transformed.
In the moment of utterance and transformation, we look past
ourselves and past our sisters and brothers here present. And
we notice so many other siblings broken, estranged, consumed
in rage and shame and loneliness, much born of wretched
economics. We bid powerfully that you name afresh all your
creatures this day, even as you name us afresh. We pray for
nothing more and nothing less than your name for us all,
utterly new, restored heaven and earth.
And we will take our new names with us when we leave this place,
treasuring them all day long,
citizen,
saint,
member,
even as we take with us the odd name of Jesus. Amen.
May God bless you with an awareness of your identity
and acceptance in him
and in his welcoming community.
Ron
So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision" — a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands — remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father.
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.
Ephesians 2:11-22 – NRSV
Our right names
Walter Brueggemann
You God toward whom we pray and
about whom we sing, and
from whom we claim our very life.
In your presence, in our seasons of ache and yearning and honesty,
we know our right names.
In your presence we know ourselves to be aliens and strangers.
We gasp in recognition, taken by surprise at this disclosure,
because we had nearly settled in
and taken up residence in the wrong place.
For all of that, we turn out to be
we strangers, unfamiliar with your covenant,
remote from your people,
at odds too much with sisters and brothers,
we aliens, with no hope
without promise
with very little sense of belonging or knowing
or risking or trusting,
It is in your presence that we come face to face with our beset
beleaguered existence in the world.
BUT
You are the one who by your odd power
calls us by new names that we can
receive only from you and
relish only in your company.
You call us now,
citizens … with all the rights and privileges and
responsibilities pertaining to life in your commonwealth.
You call us now saints, not because we are good or gentle,
or perfect,
but because you have spotted us and marked us
and claimed us for yourself and your purposes.
You call us members … and we dare imagine that we belong
and may finally come home.
So with daring and freedom,
we move from our old names known too well
to the new names you speak over us,
and in the very utterance we are transformed.
In the moment of utterance and transformation, we look past
ourselves and past our sisters and brothers here present. And
we notice so many other siblings broken, estranged, consumed
in rage and shame and loneliness, much born of wretched
economics. We bid powerfully that you name afresh all your
creatures this day, even as you name us afresh. We pray for
nothing more and nothing less than your name for us all,
utterly new, restored heaven and earth.
And we will take our new names with us when we leave this place,
treasuring them all day long,
citizen,
saint,
member,
even as we take with us the odd name of Jesus. Amen.
May God bless you with an awareness of your identity
and acceptance in him
and in his welcoming community.
Ron
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Welcoming gifts ...
Today’s devotional thought is wrapped up in a story. Be patient until the end; this story is not about parsing Hebrew, but about an important practice for all of us.
By 2003, I had finished one graduate degree at OC, and had what I needed to maintain my position at the Home, and at most other ministries. I was still hungry to learn, though, and sought to keep growing as a person, even as a soul that was nearly twice as old as most of my peers. So I decided to do work on an MDiv.
Abilene has a larger campus than OC, and its Graduate School of Theology is much larger as well. In my first class on campus, on the very first day, there are thirty to forty graduate students present. Dr. Douglas Foster is the professor, and the class is titled “Advanced Restoration History.” For an introvert being around forty people, none of whom you know, is a stressful experience. Being at a new university is stressful. Starting a new enterprise is stressful. Being nearly fifty years old doesn’t help as much as you might think. That’s because you’re much closer to the age of the professor than any of the other students, than even the “non-traditional” students. Probably 80% of these other students have done bachelors or masters work together. I am an outsider, and, because of the knowledge of these realities, and the emotions percolating inside of me, I feel it. I don't yet feel that this is a safe place for me.
The first day is not unusual in many ways. Dr. Foster takes the class members through a series of brief self-introductions. He walks us through the syllabus. He talks about his expectations for our conduct and our work. He gives an overview of the content of the class. And he instructs us to have a proposal for our research paper ready for him by the next class meeting. A full day one.
Because of my long-term interest in children and youth, I already have an idea for my paper. At the end of class, I approach Dr. Foster to discuss my proposal. He greets me and then listens intently, ignoring the chaos of the other departing students. He then responds, “I’d like to talk with you about this further; can you walk with me? I need to put something in my office before graduate chapel.”
Surprised at his warmth, I answer, “Sure,” and we walk and talk all the way up to his office. As we work our way through the Hall of Servants, we discuss the possibilities of my idea, and, without my having to ask, he gives two or three leads on sources that might be useful for my work. Then he accompanies me through the door where we enter into the “inner sanctum” of the graduate professors to finish our talk.
“Come to graduate chapel with me,” Dr. Foster invites. And I go, because he asked.
As we enter the chapel, he introduces me to a few people, and we sit down to worship God together. Not as professor and student, but as brothers in Christ. In this beautiful space, there is a strong call to worship. One feels drawn into the singing by its beauty and power. Jack Reese then issues a wise call to the students and faculty to glorify God and serve the church through their scholarship, instead of glorifying or serving anyone or anything else, including their own egos. From that day forward, I will never miss the opportunity to be a part of that worshipping community if at all possible, even on the days when it might be good to read one more chapter, or to memorize one more conjugation.
This is the way that hospitality works.
Making people feel welcome is more than a cup of coffee, more even than a meal. It is a collection of small moments, apparently insignificant in logical terms at the time, but huge emotionally nonetheless. These moments are pivotal because the feelings of safety or danger, of warmth or coolness, or of closeness or distance, start to frame the emotional aspects of the relationship from the very first moment two people, or a person and a community meet. People immediately sense through the hospitality of a person whether the door is open or closed. The momentum of attraction to, or repulsion from, that relationship accumulates instantaneously.
What are the verbs that describe the nature of hospitality in this ten-minute window one Wednesday morning? Greeting, listening, walking, conversing, giving, accompanying, entering, inviting, introducing, worshipping.
What are the gifts enacted by those verbs of hospitality? Welcome, voice, time, dialogue, knowledge, companionship, entrée, acceptance, relationship, community. The bonus gift, perhaps the sum of them, is the feeling of safety found in this environment.
A very brief slice of time. Powerful hospitality. Reshaping a small part of a person’s view of the world, forming an enduring relationship between two people, and connecting an outsider to a community. Not a thing to do with food or drink. Yet not all refreshment enters one’s stomach. When hospitality is done well, it refreshes both the body and spirit of the host and guest (John 4).
Today, move through your world aware of your roles as guest and host; be a blessing to outsiders and community however that is possible for you.
Blessings,
Ron
By 2003, I had finished one graduate degree at OC, and had what I needed to maintain my position at the Home, and at most other ministries. I was still hungry to learn, though, and sought to keep growing as a person, even as a soul that was nearly twice as old as most of my peers. So I decided to do work on an MDiv.
Abilene has a larger campus than OC, and its Graduate School of Theology is much larger as well. In my first class on campus, on the very first day, there are thirty to forty graduate students present. Dr. Douglas Foster is the professor, and the class is titled “Advanced Restoration History.” For an introvert being around forty people, none of whom you know, is a stressful experience. Being at a new university is stressful. Starting a new enterprise is stressful. Being nearly fifty years old doesn’t help as much as you might think. That’s because you’re much closer to the age of the professor than any of the other students, than even the “non-traditional” students. Probably 80% of these other students have done bachelors or masters work together. I am an outsider, and, because of the knowledge of these realities, and the emotions percolating inside of me, I feel it. I don't yet feel that this is a safe place for me.
The first day is not unusual in many ways. Dr. Foster takes the class members through a series of brief self-introductions. He walks us through the syllabus. He talks about his expectations for our conduct and our work. He gives an overview of the content of the class. And he instructs us to have a proposal for our research paper ready for him by the next class meeting. A full day one.
Because of my long-term interest in children and youth, I already have an idea for my paper. At the end of class, I approach Dr. Foster to discuss my proposal. He greets me and then listens intently, ignoring the chaos of the other departing students. He then responds, “I’d like to talk with you about this further; can you walk with me? I need to put something in my office before graduate chapel.”
Surprised at his warmth, I answer, “Sure,” and we walk and talk all the way up to his office. As we work our way through the Hall of Servants, we discuss the possibilities of my idea, and, without my having to ask, he gives two or three leads on sources that might be useful for my work. Then he accompanies me through the door where we enter into the “inner sanctum” of the graduate professors to finish our talk.
“Come to graduate chapel with me,” Dr. Foster invites. And I go, because he asked.
As we enter the chapel, he introduces me to a few people, and we sit down to worship God together. Not as professor and student, but as brothers in Christ. In this beautiful space, there is a strong call to worship. One feels drawn into the singing by its beauty and power. Jack Reese then issues a wise call to the students and faculty to glorify God and serve the church through their scholarship, instead of glorifying or serving anyone or anything else, including their own egos. From that day forward, I will never miss the opportunity to be a part of that worshipping community if at all possible, even on the days when it might be good to read one more chapter, or to memorize one more conjugation.
This is the way that hospitality works.
Making people feel welcome is more than a cup of coffee, more even than a meal. It is a collection of small moments, apparently insignificant in logical terms at the time, but huge emotionally nonetheless. These moments are pivotal because the feelings of safety or danger, of warmth or coolness, or of closeness or distance, start to frame the emotional aspects of the relationship from the very first moment two people, or a person and a community meet. People immediately sense through the hospitality of a person whether the door is open or closed. The momentum of attraction to, or repulsion from, that relationship accumulates instantaneously.
What are the verbs that describe the nature of hospitality in this ten-minute window one Wednesday morning? Greeting, listening, walking, conversing, giving, accompanying, entering, inviting, introducing, worshipping.
What are the gifts enacted by those verbs of hospitality? Welcome, voice, time, dialogue, knowledge, companionship, entrée, acceptance, relationship, community. The bonus gift, perhaps the sum of them, is the feeling of safety found in this environment.
A very brief slice of time. Powerful hospitality. Reshaping a small part of a person’s view of the world, forming an enduring relationship between two people, and connecting an outsider to a community. Not a thing to do with food or drink. Yet not all refreshment enters one’s stomach. When hospitality is done well, it refreshes both the body and spirit of the host and guest (John 4).
Today, move through your world aware of your roles as guest and host; be a blessing to outsiders and community however that is possible for you.
Blessings,
Ron
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Give them something ...
Sometimes the demands that we face in taking care of children seem overpowering. How do we get enough time? Where do we get enough resources? Hospitality for these children can be overwhelming when either the need of the individual, or the number of individuals is too great. Care at its extremes is neither cheap nor easy. This is a reality that the apostles soon discovered in their ministry:
On their return the apostles told Jesus all they had done. He took them with him and withdrew privately to a city called Bethsaida. When the crowds found out about it, they followed him; and he welcomed them, and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed to be cured.
The day was drawing to a close, and the twelve came to him and said, "Send the crowd away, so that they may go into the surrounding villages and countryside, to lodge and get provisions; for we are here in a deserted place."
The number of hungry, needy people is overwhelming. The apostles know full-well how much food that they have; they’re hungry, too. So they choose to punt; we can’t handle this much neediness, so send these people away. Let them get their meals from the professional hospitality industry. Which is problematic. There really is no professional hospitality industry to speak of in the first century. However much there is, it’s certainly not large enough to accommodate this many needy people.
But he said to them, "You give them something to eat."
Notice what Jesus doesn’t do: he doesn’t say, “Who put you in charge?” Neither does he assert his own power in a way demeaning to the apostles. He acknowledges that they see the need (which is something that many people would have missed), and he redirects them toward a more appropriate response. Jesus assumes neither the position of power nor that of the host. He guides his apostles toward a risky hospitality - there may not be enough for a feast, but give them something …
They said, "We have no more than five loaves and two fish — unless we are to go and buy food for all these people." For there were about five thousand men.
And he said to his disciples, "Make them sit down in groups of about fifty each." They did so and made them all sit down. And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.
Jesus knows that hospitality, in this case a meal, is not just about sharing resources; it is about sharing relationships as well. He divides the people into smaller groups, and maintains the apostles as hosts of these groups. Can we see the power of godly hospitality here? If we will sit down to share a meal together, somehow there will be enough for everyone. Not just food, but relationship, and status, and power as well. May we have the courage, not only to be a community of hospitality, but to help our children discover how they can be empowered to serve through hospitality themselves.
Grace, and peace,
Ron
Luke 9:10-17 – NRSV
On their return the apostles told Jesus all they had done. He took them with him and withdrew privately to a city called Bethsaida. When the crowds found out about it, they followed him; and he welcomed them, and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed to be cured.
The day was drawing to a close, and the twelve came to him and said, "Send the crowd away, so that they may go into the surrounding villages and countryside, to lodge and get provisions; for we are here in a deserted place."
The number of hungry, needy people is overwhelming. The apostles know full-well how much food that they have; they’re hungry, too. So they choose to punt; we can’t handle this much neediness, so send these people away. Let them get their meals from the professional hospitality industry. Which is problematic. There really is no professional hospitality industry to speak of in the first century. However much there is, it’s certainly not large enough to accommodate this many needy people.
But he said to them, "You give them something to eat."
Notice what Jesus doesn’t do: he doesn’t say, “Who put you in charge?” Neither does he assert his own power in a way demeaning to the apostles. He acknowledges that they see the need (which is something that many people would have missed), and he redirects them toward a more appropriate response. Jesus assumes neither the position of power nor that of the host. He guides his apostles toward a risky hospitality - there may not be enough for a feast, but give them something …
They said, "We have no more than five loaves and two fish — unless we are to go and buy food for all these people." For there were about five thousand men.
And he said to his disciples, "Make them sit down in groups of about fifty each." They did so and made them all sit down. And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.
Jesus knows that hospitality, in this case a meal, is not just about sharing resources; it is about sharing relationships as well. He divides the people into smaller groups, and maintains the apostles as hosts of these groups. Can we see the power of godly hospitality here? If we will sit down to share a meal together, somehow there will be enough for everyone. Not just food, but relationship, and status, and power as well. May we have the courage, not only to be a community of hospitality, but to help our children discover how they can be empowered to serve through hospitality themselves.
Grace, and peace,
Ron
Luke 9:10-17 – NRSV
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Power to the little people ...
We all know the story of Zacchaeus. His encounter with Jesus is more than a silly children’s song; it is a narrative full of penitence, hope and grace. Remember?
[Jesus] entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.
Being rich doesn’t mean that one necessarily belongs, that one is an insider. The fact that Zacchaeus had accumulated his wealth as a tax collector kept the wealthy insiders at a remote distance, and pushed the poor away as a consequence of his oppressive work. His extreme slightness of stature reduced him to a comic figure whom both the rich and poor could easily ridicule. Zacchaeus was the worst kind of outcast – a self-made outcast. So what are we to do with outcasts? Doesn’t the Bible call us to bring them within the bounds of our hospitality, under our protection as host? What does Jesus do?
When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.
All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."
Zacchaeus would do whatever Jesus asks; he would have followed him to a table that Jesus hosted, or he would have joined him as a guest at a table to which Jesus had been invited. Yet Jesus yields the place of “status”, he gives up the position of power. Jesus elevates Zacchaeus to the role of host. At the same time, Jesus humbles himself to be the guest of one of low stature – a “sinner”.
Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much."
Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."
You have to say this about Zacchaeus; when he grasps the situation, he does his best to make it right. He may not have worldly status, nor may it be possible for him to ever gain it. So instead Zacchaeus does what it takes to move toward righteous kingdom behavior, and thus be a more fitting host to a guest, this extraordinary teacher, Jesus. And once again, the guest will not be out-given. “Salvation has come to this house!”
So what shape does this take in our world? Do we always force children into the role of guest, while we stand entrenched in the more powerful place as host? How tempting is it to tell a child, “This is my house, these are my rules …” Which is ironic when the child may have lived in this house as long as we have. Is there not a time to yield the position of power in hospitality so as to empower those with a lesser place? Think about it. May God help us to deal with hospitality in a godly way.
Blessings,
Ron
Luke 19:1-10 – NRSV
[Jesus] entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.
Being rich doesn’t mean that one necessarily belongs, that one is an insider. The fact that Zacchaeus had accumulated his wealth as a tax collector kept the wealthy insiders at a remote distance, and pushed the poor away as a consequence of his oppressive work. His extreme slightness of stature reduced him to a comic figure whom both the rich and poor could easily ridicule. Zacchaeus was the worst kind of outcast – a self-made outcast. So what are we to do with outcasts? Doesn’t the Bible call us to bring them within the bounds of our hospitality, under our protection as host? What does Jesus do?
When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.
All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."
Zacchaeus would do whatever Jesus asks; he would have followed him to a table that Jesus hosted, or he would have joined him as a guest at a table to which Jesus had been invited. Yet Jesus yields the place of “status”, he gives up the position of power. Jesus elevates Zacchaeus to the role of host. At the same time, Jesus humbles himself to be the guest of one of low stature – a “sinner”.
Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much."
Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."
You have to say this about Zacchaeus; when he grasps the situation, he does his best to make it right. He may not have worldly status, nor may it be possible for him to ever gain it. So instead Zacchaeus does what it takes to move toward righteous kingdom behavior, and thus be a more fitting host to a guest, this extraordinary teacher, Jesus. And once again, the guest will not be out-given. “Salvation has come to this house!”
So what shape does this take in our world? Do we always force children into the role of guest, while we stand entrenched in the more powerful place as host? How tempting is it to tell a child, “This is my house, these are my rules …” Which is ironic when the child may have lived in this house as long as we have. Is there not a time to yield the position of power in hospitality so as to empower those with a lesser place? Think about it. May God help us to deal with hospitality in a godly way.
Blessings,
Ron
Luke 19:1-10 – NRSV
Monday, December 1, 2008
Mighty fine wine ...
Jesus easily proves that he is the kind of guest that any hospitable host would want:
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine."
And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come."
His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."
Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it.
When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
John 2:1-11 – NRSV
All of us have been to a wedding where there was not enough to eat or to drink; it’s an uncomfortable moment, isn’t it? The lack of food or drink hovers over the party as an unspoken critique of the hospitality of the host. Yet the society in which Jesus lived put much more pressure on the host – the wedding meal was supposed to be a feast that indicated the unbridled joy of the groom and his new wife; there was no other meal for the guests that evening. Yet at the precise moment that the host is most likely to be embarrassed by a failure to provide properly for his guests, Jesus intervenes. He does not wave his hand over one more pint of punch. Jesus makes about 150 gallons of the very finest wine, a commodity in a quantity that could easily cost $15,000 in today’s economy. Evidently it was quite a wedding! How grand did this host and his bride appear to be!
As John tells us the story, the host remains oblivious to the blessing given by his guest. He may very well have been surrounded by the presents of so many other guests: promptly delivered in person, carefully listed by a servant, and lavishly thanked by the couple. Yet the grandest gift of them all, one of immense monetary value, one of immeasurable social value, was given with no “From: Jesus” card attached. Only the servants and the disciples of Jesus knew.
How many times is Jesus the silent guest at our table? How often does his power provide the embarrassment of riches that we serve? The blessings which prevent our embarrassment before our guests? I don’t suppose that we could count the ways that he enriches our hospitality, could we? Because in truth, all blessings come from God.
We might easily respond, “I’ve never had Jesus physically at my table.” Yet since Jesus challenged us to be hospitable to even “the least of these,” because in doing so we minister to Jesus, we ought to believe that in feeding, clothing, or sheltering an outcast soul, and thus comforting Jesus, that this outcast soul may very well be able to bless us as Jesus is able to bless us. Not as compensation or appreciation, but in some other category of blessing altogether.
Think about it. Pray about it. Try practicing it with these wonderful blessings of outcast children in our care today.
Blessings,
Ron
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine."
And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come."
His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."
Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it.
When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
John 2:1-11 – NRSV
All of us have been to a wedding where there was not enough to eat or to drink; it’s an uncomfortable moment, isn’t it? The lack of food or drink hovers over the party as an unspoken critique of the hospitality of the host. Yet the society in which Jesus lived put much more pressure on the host – the wedding meal was supposed to be a feast that indicated the unbridled joy of the groom and his new wife; there was no other meal for the guests that evening. Yet at the precise moment that the host is most likely to be embarrassed by a failure to provide properly for his guests, Jesus intervenes. He does not wave his hand over one more pint of punch. Jesus makes about 150 gallons of the very finest wine, a commodity in a quantity that could easily cost $15,000 in today’s economy. Evidently it was quite a wedding! How grand did this host and his bride appear to be!
As John tells us the story, the host remains oblivious to the blessing given by his guest. He may very well have been surrounded by the presents of so many other guests: promptly delivered in person, carefully listed by a servant, and lavishly thanked by the couple. Yet the grandest gift of them all, one of immense monetary value, one of immeasurable social value, was given with no “From: Jesus” card attached. Only the servants and the disciples of Jesus knew.
How many times is Jesus the silent guest at our table? How often does his power provide the embarrassment of riches that we serve? The blessings which prevent our embarrassment before our guests? I don’t suppose that we could count the ways that he enriches our hospitality, could we? Because in truth, all blessings come from God.
We might easily respond, “I’ve never had Jesus physically at my table.” Yet since Jesus challenged us to be hospitable to even “the least of these,” because in doing so we minister to Jesus, we ought to believe that in feeding, clothing, or sheltering an outcast soul, and thus comforting Jesus, that this outcast soul may very well be able to bless us as Jesus is able to bless us. Not as compensation or appreciation, but in some other category of blessing altogether.
Think about it. Pray about it. Try practicing it with these wonderful blessings of outcast children in our care today.
Blessings,
Ron
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Make a small biscuit ...
Mark Hamilton thinks that God is an unusual travel agent.
Elijah needs a little time out of town because the stresses of being a prophet have become too much. God gives him directions, and tells him to hurry if he is going to make his connections. Once he has arrived at Kerith Canyon on the far side of the Jordan, he camps out there alongside the brook. The dining arrangements are unique, to say the least. At mealtime, birds bring Elijah’s breakfast, or supper, as he needs them and Elijah drinks from the brook. But, like some hotels that you and I have stayed at overseas, there are water problems so Elijah has to go.
God then gives Elijah the rest of his itinerary. Hear the story:
Then God spoke to him: "Get up and go to Zarephath in Sidon and live there. I've instructed a woman who lives there, a widow, to feed you."
So he got up and went to Zarephath. As he came to the entrance of the village he met a woman, a widow, gathering firewood. He asked her, "Please, would you bring me a little water in a jug? I need a drink." As she went to get it, he called out, "And while you're at it, would you bring me something to eat?"
She said, "I swear, as surely as your God lives, I don't have so much as a biscuit. I have a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a bottle; you found me scratching together just enough firewood to make a last meal for my son and me. After we eat it, we'll die."
Elijah said to her, "Don't worry about a thing. Go ahead and do what you've said. But first make a small biscuit for me and bring it back here. Then go ahead and make a meal from what's left for you and your son. This is the word of the God of Israel: 'The jar of flour will not run out and the bottle of oil will not become empty before God sends rain on the land and ends this drought.'"
And she went right off and did it, did just as Elijah asked. And it turned out as he said — daily food for her and her family. The jar of meal didn't run out and the bottle of oil didn't become empty: God's promise fulfilled to the letter, exactly as Elijah had delivered it!
Later on the woman's son became sick. The sickness took a turn for the worse — and then he stopped breathing.
The woman said to Elijah, "Why did you ever show up here in the first place — a holy man barging in, exposing my sins, and killing my son?"
Elijah said, "Hand me your son."
He then took him from her bosom, carried him up to the loft where he was staying, and laid him on his bed. Then he prayed, "O God, my God, why have you brought this terrible thing on this widow who has opened her home to me? Why have you killed her son?"
Three times he stretched himself out full-length on the boy, praying with all his might, "God, my God, put breath back into this boy's body!" God listened to Elijah's prayer and put breath back into his body — he was alive! Elijah picked the boy up, carried him downstairs from the loft, and gave him to his mother. "Here's your son," said Elijah, "alive!"
The woman said to Elijah, "I see it all now — you are a holy man. When you speak, God speaks — a true word!"
1 Kings 17:8-24 (from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)
What are the issues that mark hospitality in this story?
First, we shouldn’t be quick to judge who is able to offer hospitality. Elijah was hosted by a flock of birds! And later, he is cared for by a widow trying to support her son at a time when there was no Social Security or welfare system as we know it. Yet hospitality provided everything that Elijah needed.
That is because, second, hospitality involves simplicity. It is not that the gifts of the host are necessarily lavish; that may not be possible. But the love and the care involved in hospitality are lavish because they go well beyond self-interest.
Third, the real provider of sustenance in hospitality is God. God provided the food for the birds to bring to Elijah, and he kept the jar and bottle full of flour and oil as well. Because of the widow’s willingness to share in hospitality, God provided even more for the host than she would have had otherwise.
Finally, we see once again that in true hospitality, the guest blesses the host at least as much as the host blesses the guest. Yes, Elijah is fed, but the wherewithal to do that is a blessing that God gives through Elijah. And what would the widow have done to heal her son if not for her extraordinary guest? The healing is hardly repayment in kind (Luke 14:12-14), but a blessing from God of another kind altogether.
Today, as we are about the ministry of hospitality, providing a safe place for needy children or the other important tasks of our day, let’s think about these four markers of hospitality and how we can be better hosts and guests. Even more, let us be thankful to God, the true provider, for the ways that he shows hospitality to us in this, his world.
Blessings,
Ron
Elijah needs a little time out of town because the stresses of being a prophet have become too much. God gives him directions, and tells him to hurry if he is going to make his connections. Once he has arrived at Kerith Canyon on the far side of the Jordan, he camps out there alongside the brook. The dining arrangements are unique, to say the least. At mealtime, birds bring Elijah’s breakfast, or supper, as he needs them and Elijah drinks from the brook. But, like some hotels that you and I have stayed at overseas, there are water problems so Elijah has to go.
God then gives Elijah the rest of his itinerary. Hear the story:
Then God spoke to him: "Get up and go to Zarephath in Sidon and live there. I've instructed a woman who lives there, a widow, to feed you."
So he got up and went to Zarephath. As he came to the entrance of the village he met a woman, a widow, gathering firewood. He asked her, "Please, would you bring me a little water in a jug? I need a drink." As she went to get it, he called out, "And while you're at it, would you bring me something to eat?"
She said, "I swear, as surely as your God lives, I don't have so much as a biscuit. I have a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a bottle; you found me scratching together just enough firewood to make a last meal for my son and me. After we eat it, we'll die."
Elijah said to her, "Don't worry about a thing. Go ahead and do what you've said. But first make a small biscuit for me and bring it back here. Then go ahead and make a meal from what's left for you and your son. This is the word of the God of Israel: 'The jar of flour will not run out and the bottle of oil will not become empty before God sends rain on the land and ends this drought.'"
And she went right off and did it, did just as Elijah asked. And it turned out as he said — daily food for her and her family. The jar of meal didn't run out and the bottle of oil didn't become empty: God's promise fulfilled to the letter, exactly as Elijah had delivered it!
Later on the woman's son became sick. The sickness took a turn for the worse — and then he stopped breathing.
The woman said to Elijah, "Why did you ever show up here in the first place — a holy man barging in, exposing my sins, and killing my son?"
Elijah said, "Hand me your son."
He then took him from her bosom, carried him up to the loft where he was staying, and laid him on his bed. Then he prayed, "O God, my God, why have you brought this terrible thing on this widow who has opened her home to me? Why have you killed her son?"
Three times he stretched himself out full-length on the boy, praying with all his might, "God, my God, put breath back into this boy's body!" God listened to Elijah's prayer and put breath back into his body — he was alive! Elijah picked the boy up, carried him downstairs from the loft, and gave him to his mother. "Here's your son," said Elijah, "alive!"
The woman said to Elijah, "I see it all now — you are a holy man. When you speak, God speaks — a true word!"
1 Kings 17:8-24 (from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)
What are the issues that mark hospitality in this story?
First, we shouldn’t be quick to judge who is able to offer hospitality. Elijah was hosted by a flock of birds! And later, he is cared for by a widow trying to support her son at a time when there was no Social Security or welfare system as we know it. Yet hospitality provided everything that Elijah needed.
That is because, second, hospitality involves simplicity. It is not that the gifts of the host are necessarily lavish; that may not be possible. But the love and the care involved in hospitality are lavish because they go well beyond self-interest.
Third, the real provider of sustenance in hospitality is God. God provided the food for the birds to bring to Elijah, and he kept the jar and bottle full of flour and oil as well. Because of the widow’s willingness to share in hospitality, God provided even more for the host than she would have had otherwise.
Finally, we see once again that in true hospitality, the guest blesses the host at least as much as the host blesses the guest. Yes, Elijah is fed, but the wherewithal to do that is a blessing that God gives through Elijah. And what would the widow have done to heal her son if not for her extraordinary guest? The healing is hardly repayment in kind (Luke 14:12-14), but a blessing from God of another kind altogether.
Today, as we are about the ministry of hospitality, providing a safe place for needy children or the other important tasks of our day, let’s think about these four markers of hospitality and how we can be better hosts and guests. Even more, let us be thankful to God, the true provider, for the ways that he shows hospitality to us in this, his world.
Blessings,
Ron
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Who's that knocking at the door?
Someone knocks at the door.
You go to see who it is, and as you open the door, you see two men standing there. Black suit coats. Black pants. Black hats. Ray Bans. If you were to ask, one of them would tell you that he has $23.07 in his pocket. But there is no luggage, and no car, not even a car “with a cop motor, a 440 cubic inch plant, … cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks.” Not even “a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas.”
You’re admittedly a little stunned, so you stand there speechless. The two men look at each other, then look at you and say together, “We’re on a mission from God.”
Would you let them in?
Before you answer “no”, consider the task that Jesus gave to the seventy that he sent out in pairs:
The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house!' And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.' But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.' I tell you, on that day it will be more tolerable for Sodom than for that town.
Luke 10:2-12 – NRSV
When Jesus sent forth his workers, he deliberately sent them with so few resources that they would be dependent upon the hospitality of others. They could not purchase room, board, or replacement sandals; others would have to provide them with these blessings.
Yet, who blessed whom?
Did the people who provided shelter and food give a greater blessing, or the guests who delivered the living water? Sometimes we see ourselves as the benefactors when we invite guests into our homes, yet who blesses whom?
Just as the hosts of Jesus’ messengers were blessed by their hospitality, so are we. This is generally true, but it is especially when we show hospitality to children. Don’t expect the blessing, and don’t ask for it either. But watch and see if they do not bring more into your life than you can put into theirs. Perhaps this awareness will allow us to burn bright, instead of burn out.
May God bless your hospitality today.
Ron
You go to see who it is, and as you open the door, you see two men standing there. Black suit coats. Black pants. Black hats. Ray Bans. If you were to ask, one of them would tell you that he has $23.07 in his pocket. But there is no luggage, and no car, not even a car “with a cop motor, a 440 cubic inch plant, … cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks.” Not even “a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas.”
You’re admittedly a little stunned, so you stand there speechless. The two men look at each other, then look at you and say together, “We’re on a mission from God.”
Would you let them in?
Before you answer “no”, consider the task that Jesus gave to the seventy that he sent out in pairs:
The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house!' And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.' But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.' I tell you, on that day it will be more tolerable for Sodom than for that town.
Luke 10:2-12 – NRSV
When Jesus sent forth his workers, he deliberately sent them with so few resources that they would be dependent upon the hospitality of others. They could not purchase room, board, or replacement sandals; others would have to provide them with these blessings.
Yet, who blessed whom?
Did the people who provided shelter and food give a greater blessing, or the guests who delivered the living water? Sometimes we see ourselves as the benefactors when we invite guests into our homes, yet who blesses whom?
Just as the hosts of Jesus’ messengers were blessed by their hospitality, so are we. This is generally true, but it is especially when we show hospitality to children. Don’t expect the blessing, and don’t ask for it either. But watch and see if they do not bring more into your life than you can put into theirs. Perhaps this awareness will allow us to burn bright, instead of burn out.
May God bless your hospitality today.
Ron
Monday, November 24, 2008
Repaid at the resurrecton ...
The modern world has many differences from the first century, but one of most extreme differences is the concept of hospitality. In our world, hospitality is an industry. For business people, vacationers, or pilgrims, there is a vast network of hotels and restaurants to care for the needs of the weary traveler. For very sick or injured people, there are modern hospitals (the world hospital comes from the world hospitality, but we rarely make that connection today).
Yet despite the widespread availability of these institutions, not everyone can access them. Even though I am hardly a poor person, there are some hotels, for example, that are so expensive I could hardly justify the cost of staying there. Some are so extravagant that I could not even afford them if I wanted to stay there. And for the poor person, how much more limited might their choices be? Or, consider the case of hospitals. In principle, they are open to everyone, but the reality is that many people, even in our affluent country, cannot afford the cost of medical care in these institutions. In almost every hotel or hospital, despite our insistence that all Americans are equal, a person with a lot of resources (money, connections, power) can obtain significantly better care than can someone of moderate or poor means.
Which is a lot like the first century Greco-Roman world. In that world, you extended hospitality to someone who could repay, either by reciprocating with meals or shelter, or by exerting their power or influence on your behalf. Patrons hosted their clients as one way of showing their “generosity” and power. Ambitious hosts would invite people of wealth and power to their homes trying to get a toehold on the social ladder. Does this seem consistent with biblical values?
Enter Jesus. He presents a view of hospitality that is more in keeping with the notion of Jewish hospitality. The outsider, the pilgrim, the poverty-stricken, the widow, and the orphan are to be cared for and not allowed to be destitute. Hear the words of Jesus about hospitality:
He said also to the one who had invited him, "When you give a luncheon or a dinner,
do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors,
in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid.
But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.
And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you,
for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."
Luke 14:12-14 - NRSV
Jesus turns the Greco-Roman and the American world views on their heads. Christian hospitality is shown to those need resources, not those who already have them in abundance. Food, shelter, and clothing are available to everyone, regardless of social, economic, or political standing. Hospitality is for the poor and the powerless.
In our world, who are the weak, the marginalized and the poor? In my book, children are at the top of that list.
Do we see our work as hospitality? Hospitality is probably not a word that we would normally use, but biblical hospitality is precisely what Westview is all about.
As we begin our week, let's spend our devotional time thinking about about the concept of hospitality and how it applies to our ministry. What insight does this notion bring to our thinking and to our practices?
Blessings,
Ron
Yet despite the widespread availability of these institutions, not everyone can access them. Even though I am hardly a poor person, there are some hotels, for example, that are so expensive I could hardly justify the cost of staying there. Some are so extravagant that I could not even afford them if I wanted to stay there. And for the poor person, how much more limited might their choices be? Or, consider the case of hospitals. In principle, they are open to everyone, but the reality is that many people, even in our affluent country, cannot afford the cost of medical care in these institutions. In almost every hotel or hospital, despite our insistence that all Americans are equal, a person with a lot of resources (money, connections, power) can obtain significantly better care than can someone of moderate or poor means.
Which is a lot like the first century Greco-Roman world. In that world, you extended hospitality to someone who could repay, either by reciprocating with meals or shelter, or by exerting their power or influence on your behalf. Patrons hosted their clients as one way of showing their “generosity” and power. Ambitious hosts would invite people of wealth and power to their homes trying to get a toehold on the social ladder. Does this seem consistent with biblical values?
Enter Jesus. He presents a view of hospitality that is more in keeping with the notion of Jewish hospitality. The outsider, the pilgrim, the poverty-stricken, the widow, and the orphan are to be cared for and not allowed to be destitute. Hear the words of Jesus about hospitality:
He said also to the one who had invited him, "When you give a luncheon or a dinner,
do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors,
in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid.
But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.
And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you,
for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."
Luke 14:12-14 - NRSV
Jesus turns the Greco-Roman and the American world views on their heads. Christian hospitality is shown to those need resources, not those who already have them in abundance. Food, shelter, and clothing are available to everyone, regardless of social, economic, or political standing. Hospitality is for the poor and the powerless.
In our world, who are the weak, the marginalized and the poor? In my book, children are at the top of that list.
Do we see our work as hospitality? Hospitality is probably not a word that we would normally use, but biblical hospitality is precisely what Westview is all about.
As we begin our week, let's spend our devotional time thinking about about the concept of hospitality and how it applies to our ministry. What insight does this notion bring to our thinking and to our practices?
Blessings,
Ron
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)