Passage: Philippians 3:12-21
In a recent conversation it occurred to me that we reach a turning point at which we do more looking back than looking forward. We spend much of our lives looking forward to milestones, new adventures, and uncharted territory. But then we have moments in which we realize we've experienced all the stuff we were looking forward to. Youth and energy and vitality fade. Activities that were a source of fulfillment and joy become difficult. We begin to look back with more frequency; more regret; and more longing. If we aren’t intentional we buy in to the widely held misconception that our best years have passed.
In Philippians 3 Paul says, essentially, “Don’t waste your time.” Paul isn’t talking about reminiscing, per se. He’s warning against concluding what Bryan Adams does in “The Summer of ‘69”: Those were the best days of my life. Paul says, “They weren’t!” It doesn’t matter how good your life was in the past. It doesn’t matter how bad your life feels now. If you are a believer in Christ, then you live with the promise that the best of what God has to offer is yet to come.
This is why Paul is able to write his letter to the Philippians – arguably the most positive book of the New Testament – from death row. He is free from despair in spite of his present; he is free of nostalgia and self-pity as he reflects on his past. Why? His citizenship is in heaven. And he knows that he will one day go the way of Christ. He will pass through death into an amazing new life. A life free of the suffering and sadness and struggle of this one. Paul speaks for all of us: Our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.
This could be a consolation prize. Or it could be the ultimate prize. It could be our motivation for weathering life’s inevitable disappointments and losses with grace and with hope. This isn’t all there is. This isn’t your one shot at happiness, success, fulfillment or true love. There is something so much better ahead. Wait for it. Hope in it. Strain for it.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Living Stones
Passage: 1 Peter 2:4-10
Based on what we know of Peter’s story, this section of his first letter can be considered autobiographical. Peter is the disciple who, in spite of his flaws and failures, Jesus chose as the foundation of the church. When Peter calls the members of the church “living stones – rejected by people but chose by God and precious to him”, he’s speaking from experience. Peter isn’t the kind of guy anyone would single out as a natural leader. He’s exceptional only for his tendency to put his foot in his mouth. His actions leading up to Christ’s death mark him as anything but reliable. He knows this and yet finds himself in the remarkable position of being chosen by the Son of God to represent him to the world. To lead the world-transforming movement of Christ's followers. “Like me,” says Peter, “you’ve been chosen by God. You are precious to him. And even now he is making you into his dwelling place. A nation of priests called to be his meeting place with the world.”
God doesn’t choose us because we’re good. God chooses us because he’s good. He’s in the business of using reclaimed and flawed materials in his construction projects. You and me. This is the church. A perfect, “spiritual house” made of imperfect building blocks. It’s a work in progress. And even as God works on the whole, he’s working on each stone - stones like you and me - smoothing edges; shoring up cracks; setting us in such a way that we won’t slide out of place. Each of us is precious to God and integral to Christ’s church. Don’t underestimate the value of every living stone.
Based on what we know of Peter’s story, this section of his first letter can be considered autobiographical. Peter is the disciple who, in spite of his flaws and failures, Jesus chose as the foundation of the church. When Peter calls the members of the church “living stones – rejected by people but chose by God and precious to him”, he’s speaking from experience. Peter isn’t the kind of guy anyone would single out as a natural leader. He’s exceptional only for his tendency to put his foot in his mouth. His actions leading up to Christ’s death mark him as anything but reliable. He knows this and yet finds himself in the remarkable position of being chosen by the Son of God to represent him to the world. To lead the world-transforming movement of Christ's followers. “Like me,” says Peter, “you’ve been chosen by God. You are precious to him. And even now he is making you into his dwelling place. A nation of priests called to be his meeting place with the world.”
God doesn’t choose us because we’re good. God chooses us because he’s good. He’s in the business of using reclaimed and flawed materials in his construction projects. You and me. This is the church. A perfect, “spiritual house” made of imperfect building blocks. It’s a work in progress. And even as God works on the whole, he’s working on each stone - stones like you and me - smoothing edges; shoring up cracks; setting us in such a way that we won’t slide out of place. Each of us is precious to God and integral to Christ’s church. Don’t underestimate the value of every living stone.
Monday, May 23, 2011
On this Rock
Passage: Matthew 16:13-20; John 21:15-19
As usual, Peter has no idea what he’s getting himself into. He is a simple man from a small town in a backwater of the Roman Empire. He’s never been the kind of guy to think things through. He tends to jump first, ask questions later. His brain is often playing catchup with his mouth. Peter’s impulsivity has always gotten him into trouble. But he’s not always wrong.
Peter signed on with Jesus without really thinking about it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Peter’s had this feeling about Jesus right from the start. There’s something about Jesus that makes Peter immediately willing to give everything up to follow him. And the more time he spends with Jesus, the more he’s convinced.
One day Jesus is walking with the disciples, and he asks one of his questions. A seemingly innocent question that opens the door to an infinite conversation. “Who,” he asks, “do people say I am?” The other disciples offer up the theories they’ve heard murmured through the crowds and in the coffee shops of the towns they’ve passed through. Elijah; Moses; Jeremiah; John the Baptist. Prophet. With a twinkle in his eye Jesus says, “That’s what everyone else is saying. What about you?” Peter can’t contain himself. “You’re the Christ! Messiah! Son of the living God!” He doesn’t know why, but he’s never been more certain anything else his whole life. Jesus turns to him. “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. You didn’t figure this out on your own, did you? It’s actually been revealed to you by my Father – by God himself. I think I’ll start calling you Peter – the Rock! On this rock I will build my church!” The other disciples laugh. Peter himself doesn’t know what to make of this.
Jesus smiles, but he’s not joking. As he says it, his eyes glisten and there’s a hint of sadness in his voice. Jesus knows the structural flaws in this foundation he’s chosen. He knows the ways this rock will shift and buckle before the building even begins. Jesus also knows what it will cost his friend to become the foundation of his church.Everything.
And what was Jesus thinking? Didn’t he know that when you build on a lopsided and shaky foundation you get a lopsided and shaky building? Why Peter? And what does it say about the church Jesus built that Peter was the first stone?
The church is infused with the character of the Rock. We aren’t always much to look at. We’re rough around the edges. We speak and act without always thinking everything through, and it gets us into trouble. But the Spirit has spoken to depths of our hearts and testifies again and again: He is the Christ, the Son of God. Follow him because no matter the cost, it's worth it!
We follow, never knowing where he will lead. We follow because we know that it’s true and that he is the hope of the world. Like Peter we are set in place side by side with a Rock that will not move and that cannot be shaken. The church is such a beautiful thing. Imperfect building materials somehow set perfectly in place by a master builder. Designed to stand for eternity and withstand the very powers of death and hell. Let yourself be shaped and molded and set in place by its builder and Lord.
As usual, Peter has no idea what he’s getting himself into. He is a simple man from a small town in a backwater of the Roman Empire. He’s never been the kind of guy to think things through. He tends to jump first, ask questions later. His brain is often playing catchup with his mouth. Peter’s impulsivity has always gotten him into trouble. But he’s not always wrong.
Peter signed on with Jesus without really thinking about it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Peter’s had this feeling about Jesus right from the start. There’s something about Jesus that makes Peter immediately willing to give everything up to follow him. And the more time he spends with Jesus, the more he’s convinced.
One day Jesus is walking with the disciples, and he asks one of his questions. A seemingly innocent question that opens the door to an infinite conversation. “Who,” he asks, “do people say I am?” The other disciples offer up the theories they’ve heard murmured through the crowds and in the coffee shops of the towns they’ve passed through. Elijah; Moses; Jeremiah; John the Baptist. Prophet. With a twinkle in his eye Jesus says, “That’s what everyone else is saying. What about you?” Peter can’t contain himself. “You’re the Christ! Messiah! Son of the living God!” He doesn’t know why, but he’s never been more certain anything else his whole life. Jesus turns to him. “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. You didn’t figure this out on your own, did you? It’s actually been revealed to you by my Father – by God himself. I think I’ll start calling you Peter – the Rock! On this rock I will build my church!” The other disciples laugh. Peter himself doesn’t know what to make of this.
Jesus smiles, but he’s not joking. As he says it, his eyes glisten and there’s a hint of sadness in his voice. Jesus knows the structural flaws in this foundation he’s chosen. He knows the ways this rock will shift and buckle before the building even begins. Jesus also knows what it will cost his friend to become the foundation of his church.Everything.
And what was Jesus thinking? Didn’t he know that when you build on a lopsided and shaky foundation you get a lopsided and shaky building? Why Peter? And what does it say about the church Jesus built that Peter was the first stone?
The church is infused with the character of the Rock. We aren’t always much to look at. We’re rough around the edges. We speak and act without always thinking everything through, and it gets us into trouble. But the Spirit has spoken to depths of our hearts and testifies again and again: He is the Christ, the Son of God. Follow him because no matter the cost, it's worth it!
We follow, never knowing where he will lead. We follow because we know that it’s true and that he is the hope of the world. Like Peter we are set in place side by side with a Rock that will not move and that cannot be shaken. The church is such a beautiful thing. Imperfect building materials somehow set perfectly in place by a master builder. Designed to stand for eternity and withstand the very powers of death and hell. Let yourself be shaped and molded and set in place by its builder and Lord.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
...That the LORD's People Were All Prophets
Passage: Numbers 11:16-29
Is the Holy Spirit a New Testament phenomenon? Christians often assume that the biblical underpinnings of our doctrine of the Trinity – that is, our conviction that the God of the Bible is one God in three persons (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) – are found exclusively in the New Testament. There’s no Jesus in the Old Testament, is there? Certainly there’s no distinction amongst the persons of God revealed in the Old Testament. Is there?
As a matter of fact there are references to all three persons of the Trinity throughout the Old Testament. The God of the Bible is a God who is eternally one in three. The difference is that when Jesus the Son enters the world he paints a more complete picture of the God of whom people had only caught glimpses before. Jesus is the complete picture of God the Son; and Jesus teaches explicitly about God the Spirit. The Spirit, in turn, becomes an experienced reality for Jesus’ disciples at Pentecost and following. Veiled references to the three persons of the Trinity become clear when viewed through the lens of God's revelation through Jesus Christ.
There are Old Testament passages, like Numbers 11, that describe the reality of the Spirit in nearly Pentecostal terms. In this passage, God commands Moses to set aside a special group of people who will help bear the burden of leading the Israelites. When these “seventy elders” are selected, “the power of [God’s] Spirit rests on them” and they “prophesy”. They experience something very similar to that which the apostles experience at Pentecost. There are two significant differences. First, the Spirit doesn’t remain with them in a lasting capacity; Second, the Spirit is given only to this select group within God’s people. When Joshua, Moses’ right-hand man expresses concern about the selective nature of the Spirit’s manifestation, Moses says this remarkable thing:
“Are you jealous for my sake? I wish that all the LORD’s people were prophets and that the LORD would put his Spirit on them!”
It’s as though Moses foresees that which God has in mind all along: the day on which God’s Spirit is given to all his people. The day on which they all become prophets; priests; kings. In fact that day has come. The Spirit that descends and indwells in moderation pre-Christ is poured out in abundance at Pentecost. All who believe in God the Son are inhabited by God the Spirit. By the Spirit we are given, as Peter puts it, “the words of life.” Moses’ wish came true: the Lord’s people are all prophets. What a responsibility…and what a gift.
Is the Holy Spirit a New Testament phenomenon? Christians often assume that the biblical underpinnings of our doctrine of the Trinity – that is, our conviction that the God of the Bible is one God in three persons (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) – are found exclusively in the New Testament. There’s no Jesus in the Old Testament, is there? Certainly there’s no distinction amongst the persons of God revealed in the Old Testament. Is there?
As a matter of fact there are references to all three persons of the Trinity throughout the Old Testament. The God of the Bible is a God who is eternally one in three. The difference is that when Jesus the Son enters the world he paints a more complete picture of the God of whom people had only caught glimpses before. Jesus is the complete picture of God the Son; and Jesus teaches explicitly about God the Spirit. The Spirit, in turn, becomes an experienced reality for Jesus’ disciples at Pentecost and following. Veiled references to the three persons of the Trinity become clear when viewed through the lens of God's revelation through Jesus Christ.
There are Old Testament passages, like Numbers 11, that describe the reality of the Spirit in nearly Pentecostal terms. In this passage, God commands Moses to set aside a special group of people who will help bear the burden of leading the Israelites. When these “seventy elders” are selected, “the power of [God’s] Spirit rests on them” and they “prophesy”. They experience something very similar to that which the apostles experience at Pentecost. There are two significant differences. First, the Spirit doesn’t remain with them in a lasting capacity; Second, the Spirit is given only to this select group within God’s people. When Joshua, Moses’ right-hand man expresses concern about the selective nature of the Spirit’s manifestation, Moses says this remarkable thing:
“Are you jealous for my sake? I wish that all the LORD’s people were prophets and that the LORD would put his Spirit on them!”
It’s as though Moses foresees that which God has in mind all along: the day on which God’s Spirit is given to all his people. The day on which they all become prophets; priests; kings. In fact that day has come. The Spirit that descends and indwells in moderation pre-Christ is poured out in abundance at Pentecost. All who believe in God the Son are inhabited by God the Spirit. By the Spirit we are given, as Peter puts it, “the words of life.” Moses’ wish came true: the Lord’s people are all prophets. What a responsibility…and what a gift.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
You Who Are Blessed By My Father
Passage: Matthew 25:31-46
Jesus’ treatment of Judgment Day in Matthew 25 follows closely on the heels of his explanation of the Kingdom of Heaven in Matthew 22. As discussed here, Jesus uses the Parable of the Wedding Banquet to teach that the Kingdom of Heaven has a distinct ethic. Part of accepting God’s invitation to join the celebration that is his Kingdom is embracing the clothing, or ethic, of that Kingdom. In Matthew 25 Jesus fleshes out that ethic.
To our surprise, it’s not primarily an ethic of religious observance or moral purity. It’s the ethic of generosity. The ethic of a lifelong commitment to communing with people in need and sharing that which you’ve been given in abundance. Jesus identifies six kinds of people: the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the inadequately clothed, the sick, and the imprisoned. These types represent those who, due to their need or class, have been pushed to the margins of his culture. In this teaching Jesus confronts Old Testament-style injustice – that is, the dehumanization of some people due to the uneven distribution of the necessities of life. In a manner consistent with God’s commands to the nation of Israel, Jesus addresses far more than economic inequity. He more broadly invites his listeners to participate in shalom – life the way it was meant to be. God didn’t create a world in which some people have enough to eat and others don’t. In which some people have safe, comfortable homes and others don’t. In which some are isolated by cells or broken bodies. In which some spend their days and nights alone and unknown. Jesus addresses a world that has fallen out of order. And he invites people to begin to impose God’s good order on their disordered world– a relationship; a household; a neighborhood; a city at a time. Jesus invites us to start right now.
In fact, Jesus tells us that if we want to be part of what he’s about, we have to start living shalom. This is an inextricable part of his Gospel – for us and for the world. Jesus saves us from an eternity without God. But that eternity starts now. Jesus says, “No one comes to the Father except through me.” And then he adds, “No one comes to me except through them.” Open your eyes and ears. Look for people who need the food, shelter, security, friendship and love you have in overabundance. Share it. Invite them into the abundant life you enjoy. When you do you will meet the Savior. And you, and they, will learn what it is to be blessed by the Father.
Jesus’ treatment of Judgment Day in Matthew 25 follows closely on the heels of his explanation of the Kingdom of Heaven in Matthew 22. As discussed here, Jesus uses the Parable of the Wedding Banquet to teach that the Kingdom of Heaven has a distinct ethic. Part of accepting God’s invitation to join the celebration that is his Kingdom is embracing the clothing, or ethic, of that Kingdom. In Matthew 25 Jesus fleshes out that ethic.
To our surprise, it’s not primarily an ethic of religious observance or moral purity. It’s the ethic of generosity. The ethic of a lifelong commitment to communing with people in need and sharing that which you’ve been given in abundance. Jesus identifies six kinds of people: the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the inadequately clothed, the sick, and the imprisoned. These types represent those who, due to their need or class, have been pushed to the margins of his culture. In this teaching Jesus confronts Old Testament-style injustice – that is, the dehumanization of some people due to the uneven distribution of the necessities of life. In a manner consistent with God’s commands to the nation of Israel, Jesus addresses far more than economic inequity. He more broadly invites his listeners to participate in shalom – life the way it was meant to be. God didn’t create a world in which some people have enough to eat and others don’t. In which some people have safe, comfortable homes and others don’t. In which some are isolated by cells or broken bodies. In which some spend their days and nights alone and unknown. Jesus addresses a world that has fallen out of order. And he invites people to begin to impose God’s good order on their disordered world– a relationship; a household; a neighborhood; a city at a time. Jesus invites us to start right now.
In fact, Jesus tells us that if we want to be part of what he’s about, we have to start living shalom. This is an inextricable part of his Gospel – for us and for the world. Jesus saves us from an eternity without God. But that eternity starts now. Jesus says, “No one comes to the Father except through me.” And then he adds, “No one comes to me except through them.” Open your eyes and ears. Look for people who need the food, shelter, security, friendship and love you have in overabundance. Share it. Invite them into the abundant life you enjoy. When you do you will meet the Savior. And you, and they, will learn what it is to be blessed by the Father.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Am I Invited or Not?
Passage: Matthew 22:1-14
A photo from one of my older sister’s childhood birthdays includes a kid who wasn’t invited. When one of my sister’s friends was being dropped off, the girl’s older sister was so upset that a party was going on without her that she threw a tantrum. I assume my parents, wanting to spare the other parents any extra grief, said it was okay to leave both daughters. I don’t remember many of the details; just the tantrum and the uninvited guest, smiling brightly in all the pictures. In Matthew 22 Jesus compares the Kingdom of Heaven to a party. And according to the story, the host of this party has the opposite problem my sister did. His guests don’t show up. The wedding day rolls around. The reception begins. And the tables are empty. The host is creative, however. He sends his servants out and they haul in anyone and everyone they find. They pack the reception hall, and it’s a party.
Jesus’ parable is compelling. It’s nice to think of Heaven as a party rather than an ethereal choir rehearsal (no offense to those of us who like choir rehearsals). It’s refreshing to think of God filling Heaven in creative and persistent ways. And it’s gratifying to know that there might be a place at God’s eternal party for ordinary people like you and me.
However, the Heavenly DJ’s needle comes to a screeching halt at the conclusion of the parable. The party’s in full swing when the host (a.k.a. God the Father – bear in mind, this is the host who just went to great lengths to pull people in from the bus stops and alleys to join his party) encounters a guest who is inappropriately dressed. He collars this guest and says, “How’d you get in looking like that?” The guest stammers something incoherent, to which the host responds, “Tie him up and throw him out.” A shocking about-face for someone who seemed so eager to get people to show up in the first place. If the whole story is about how people end up in Heaven, how do we interpret this last twist that Matthew includes?
It seems as though Jesus is saying that even after the final, “Judgment Day” cut there are still those who are going to get weeded out. This isn’t inconceivable, though it’s inconsistent with Jesus’ other teachings about the ultimate separation of the righteous and the wicked (see Matthew 25:31-46). Another way to read it is thus: When Jesus talks about the Kingdom of Heaven, he’s referring to a reality that is present as well as future. He addresses an audience that has entrenched ways of thinking about who belongs in the company of God and who doesn’t. Jesus debunks the idea that religious piety and moral purity are prerequisites for God’s invitation. God even now sends his servants to the “highways and byways” inviting people in.
That being said, responding to God’s invitation means accepting a new set of clothes. Removing the trappings of your life before, and putting on party clothes. This is a metaphor that wouldn’t have been lost on Jesus’ first century audience, who were familiar with the custom of wedding hosts providing garments for those coming in to the banquet. Offered the new clothes, it would only be fitting to put them on. It would be an offense to one’s host to refuse. Jesus points out that not everyone responds to God’s invitation in the first place. Then he adds that there are many who, though compelled by the buffet table, don’t care for the party clothes. Many who want God’s love and mercy don’t want their lives to be reshaped in response to them. The way people respond to God’s Kingdom ethics now is indicative of the way they will posture themselves toward God for eternity. Life in the Kingdom follows an ethic. Our relationship with God, like any other intimate relationship, is shaped by rules. If you want to join the party, you put on the clothes.
A photo from one of my older sister’s childhood birthdays includes a kid who wasn’t invited. When one of my sister’s friends was being dropped off, the girl’s older sister was so upset that a party was going on without her that she threw a tantrum. I assume my parents, wanting to spare the other parents any extra grief, said it was okay to leave both daughters. I don’t remember many of the details; just the tantrum and the uninvited guest, smiling brightly in all the pictures. In Matthew 22 Jesus compares the Kingdom of Heaven to a party. And according to the story, the host of this party has the opposite problem my sister did. His guests don’t show up. The wedding day rolls around. The reception begins. And the tables are empty. The host is creative, however. He sends his servants out and they haul in anyone and everyone they find. They pack the reception hall, and it’s a party.
Jesus’ parable is compelling. It’s nice to think of Heaven as a party rather than an ethereal choir rehearsal (no offense to those of us who like choir rehearsals). It’s refreshing to think of God filling Heaven in creative and persistent ways. And it’s gratifying to know that there might be a place at God’s eternal party for ordinary people like you and me.
However, the Heavenly DJ’s needle comes to a screeching halt at the conclusion of the parable. The party’s in full swing when the host (a.k.a. God the Father – bear in mind, this is the host who just went to great lengths to pull people in from the bus stops and alleys to join his party) encounters a guest who is inappropriately dressed. He collars this guest and says, “How’d you get in looking like that?” The guest stammers something incoherent, to which the host responds, “Tie him up and throw him out.” A shocking about-face for someone who seemed so eager to get people to show up in the first place. If the whole story is about how people end up in Heaven, how do we interpret this last twist that Matthew includes?
It seems as though Jesus is saying that even after the final, “Judgment Day” cut there are still those who are going to get weeded out. This isn’t inconceivable, though it’s inconsistent with Jesus’ other teachings about the ultimate separation of the righteous and the wicked (see Matthew 25:31-46). Another way to read it is thus: When Jesus talks about the Kingdom of Heaven, he’s referring to a reality that is present as well as future. He addresses an audience that has entrenched ways of thinking about who belongs in the company of God and who doesn’t. Jesus debunks the idea that religious piety and moral purity are prerequisites for God’s invitation. God even now sends his servants to the “highways and byways” inviting people in.
That being said, responding to God’s invitation means accepting a new set of clothes. Removing the trappings of your life before, and putting on party clothes. This is a metaphor that wouldn’t have been lost on Jesus’ first century audience, who were familiar with the custom of wedding hosts providing garments for those coming in to the banquet. Offered the new clothes, it would only be fitting to put them on. It would be an offense to one’s host to refuse. Jesus points out that not everyone responds to God’s invitation in the first place. Then he adds that there are many who, though compelled by the buffet table, don’t care for the party clothes. Many who want God’s love and mercy don’t want their lives to be reshaped in response to them. The way people respond to God’s Kingdom ethics now is indicative of the way they will posture themselves toward God for eternity. Life in the Kingdom follows an ethic. Our relationship with God, like any other intimate relationship, is shaped by rules. If you want to join the party, you put on the clothes.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Flesh and Bones
Passage: Luke 24:36-53
The film Ghost tells the story of a man who is stuck on earth as a disembodied spirit. He has been murdered, and because his life ended prematurely he is unable to “move on.” He lingers over his home and his wife until he finds closure.
This impression of the afterlife has been repeated so often in human art and literature that it is imbedded in our minds and we take it for granted as true. Even Bible-believing Christians think that when we die we become disembodied spirits; some even think we come back as ghosts. In fact, none of this is supported by the truth of Scripture.
We are provided a preview of the afterlife in Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension. Luke’s descriptions of both are helpful. In Luke 24 the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples. They, like many today might be, are initially terrified because they think Jesus is a ghost. Jesus says, “I don’t believe in ghosts, and neither should you. Here, touch me! Here, give me that filet-o-fish!” He takes a bite. He is, it turns out, not a ghost. Jesus then proceeds to pass from earth to heaven not as a disembodied spirit, but in his very flesh. Earlier Jesus told his disciples that he is going ahead to prepare a place for them (John 14:1-4). The Apostles, most notably Paul, go on to recognize that Jesus is the “firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20). In other words, where Christ went first, all those who are in Christ will follow. Our future is not to linger over the earth as ghosts, nor is it to float around in a cloudy heaven as disembodied spirits. We will enter glory as robustly embodied human beings. And, raised to life in a “new heaven and a new earth,” we can expect to enjoy in eternity the kind of existence we were meant to live here. A life of unimpeded communion with each other and with God; a life of exploring and learning, creating and stewarding; an abundant life to which the richness of this life can’t begin to compare. Jesus’ Ascension is the guarantee of that glorious passage awaiting each of us.
The film Ghost tells the story of a man who is stuck on earth as a disembodied spirit. He has been murdered, and because his life ended prematurely he is unable to “move on.” He lingers over his home and his wife until he finds closure.
This impression of the afterlife has been repeated so often in human art and literature that it is imbedded in our minds and we take it for granted as true. Even Bible-believing Christians think that when we die we become disembodied spirits; some even think we come back as ghosts. In fact, none of this is supported by the truth of Scripture.
We are provided a preview of the afterlife in Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension. Luke’s descriptions of both are helpful. In Luke 24 the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples. They, like many today might be, are initially terrified because they think Jesus is a ghost. Jesus says, “I don’t believe in ghosts, and neither should you. Here, touch me! Here, give me that filet-o-fish!” He takes a bite. He is, it turns out, not a ghost. Jesus then proceeds to pass from earth to heaven not as a disembodied spirit, but in his very flesh. Earlier Jesus told his disciples that he is going ahead to prepare a place for them (John 14:1-4). The Apostles, most notably Paul, go on to recognize that Jesus is the “firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20). In other words, where Christ went first, all those who are in Christ will follow. Our future is not to linger over the earth as ghosts, nor is it to float around in a cloudy heaven as disembodied spirits. We will enter glory as robustly embodied human beings. And, raised to life in a “new heaven and a new earth,” we can expect to enjoy in eternity the kind of existence we were meant to live here. A life of unimpeded communion with each other and with God; a life of exploring and learning, creating and stewarding; an abundant life to which the richness of this life can’t begin to compare. Jesus’ Ascension is the guarantee of that glorious passage awaiting each of us.
The God of All Comfort
Passage: 2 Corinthians 1:3-11; Heidelberg Catechism, Lord’s Day 1
This week a lot of press has been devoted to Osama Bin Laden’s death. American Christians have engaged in debate about the significance of this event and, in particular, the appropriateness of celebrating it. Many have joined friends and neighbors as they dance in the streets. Many have thanked God that “justice has been done”; “that we’re finally safe.” Many others have cautioned against celebrating any human death, even that of a political enemy. Who’s right?
Perhaps we should start by dealing with another question – the question at the very heart of the Christian faith. It’s articulated at the very beginning of the Heidelberg Catechism: What is your only comfort in life and in death?
Your reaction to the threat of Osama Bin Laden, and the removal thereof, says something about your response to this question. If you find your comfort in military might, you lose sleep knowing there’s an Osama running in free in the world. If you find your comfort in political stability, you lose sleep knowing there are human organizations bent on destabilizing your government. If you find your comfort in wealth and prosperity, you lose sleep thinking knowing another attack could level an already faltering economy. If these are the places you find comfort, you demand and celebrate the elimination of any human being that represents a threat.
But what if your comfort is found in someone else? Someone from whose love and abiding presence you can never be separated? The Apostle Paul begins his second letter to the Corinthians with this statement:
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.
We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many. (2 Corinthians 1:3-11, NIV)
We belong, body and soul, in life and in death to our faithful Savior Jesus Christ. Because of him we live with the assurance that God is always with us and for us. God is our protector and provider. We also acknowledge that even now we’re living not for the fleeting stuff of this broken world, but the enduring promise of life in eternity with God. The stuff we fight and kill to protect is stuff we will eventually lose anyway. The stuff that matters most can never be taken from us. Not by any terrorist attack, natural disaster, or financial meltdown. We can, right now, stop living in fear. We need not fear the next Bin Laden; the next earthquake; the next recession. Why? Because we belong to the God of all comfort.
This week a lot of press has been devoted to Osama Bin Laden’s death. American Christians have engaged in debate about the significance of this event and, in particular, the appropriateness of celebrating it. Many have joined friends and neighbors as they dance in the streets. Many have thanked God that “justice has been done”; “that we’re finally safe.” Many others have cautioned against celebrating any human death, even that of a political enemy. Who’s right?
Perhaps we should start by dealing with another question – the question at the very heart of the Christian faith. It’s articulated at the very beginning of the Heidelberg Catechism: What is your only comfort in life and in death?
Your reaction to the threat of Osama Bin Laden, and the removal thereof, says something about your response to this question. If you find your comfort in military might, you lose sleep knowing there’s an Osama running in free in the world. If you find your comfort in political stability, you lose sleep knowing there are human organizations bent on destabilizing your government. If you find your comfort in wealth and prosperity, you lose sleep thinking knowing another attack could level an already faltering economy. If these are the places you find comfort, you demand and celebrate the elimination of any human being that represents a threat.
But what if your comfort is found in someone else? Someone from whose love and abiding presence you can never be separated? The Apostle Paul begins his second letter to the Corinthians with this statement:
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.
We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many. (2 Corinthians 1:3-11, NIV)
We belong, body and soul, in life and in death to our faithful Savior Jesus Christ. Because of him we live with the assurance that God is always with us and for us. God is our protector and provider. We also acknowledge that even now we’re living not for the fleeting stuff of this broken world, but the enduring promise of life in eternity with God. The stuff we fight and kill to protect is stuff we will eventually lose anyway. The stuff that matters most can never be taken from us. Not by any terrorist attack, natural disaster, or financial meltdown. We can, right now, stop living in fear. We need not fear the next Bin Laden; the next earthquake; the next recession. Why? Because we belong to the God of all comfort.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
The Ascension
Passage: John 14:15-31; John 16:5-16
In The Good News We Almost Forgot, Kevin deYoung points out that the Ascension is one of those doctrines we ignore most of the time. Even though we have an annual service devoted to the Ascension, it’s rarely enough to drive home the meaning and significance thereof. We just don’t give it much thought.
There are good reasons why both the Gospel writer Luke, the authors of the earliest Christian creeds, and the writers of the Catechism highlight the Ascension along with every other aspect of Jesus’ life and ministry. It is as essential to our understanding of God’s redemptive work in Christ as anything else Jesus says and does on our behalf.
Here’s Luke’s account of the Ascension from Acts:
He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight. They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.” (Acts 1:7-11)
From these few sentences we derive a wealth of information. We learn:
-That Jesus is bodily in heaven;
-That in exchange for Jesus’ bodily presence his disciples will receive his Spirit;
-That Jesus will one day return from heaven.
It is significant that Jesus himself predicts this event in two passages from John’s Gospel. In John 14 Jesus tells the disciples that he is leaving, but that he will not “leave them as orphans” – that he will send them the “Counselor” (Greek parakletos), the Holy Spirit. In John 16 Jesus says that unless he leaves, the Holy Spirit won’t come to the disciples. This is a trade they’ll have to live with. Jesus also says that he is “going to the Father” and that “in a little while” the disciples won’t see him, but then “after a little while” they will. This is what the heavenly messengers in Acts are talking about. Jesus has returned to heaven, just as he said he would; that being said, he will one day come back from heaven, too.
What this all means is that while Jesus, our God in the flesh, is in heaven, God the Spirit is with us all the time. We have the gift of his constant presence here and now. We have the gift of a human advocate in the throne room of heaven. And we have the promise of a reunion with our Savior, who will one day welcome us into the very presence of God. Jesus’ ministry of reconciliation is a ministry of going with us and going before us. Jesus takes on flesh and enters our world to be with us. Jesus passes through death for us. Jesus rises to new life and enters heaven ahead of us, paving the way for us to follow. The Ascension is one more inevitable, essential step in the process by which Jesus reconciles us to God.
In The Good News We Almost Forgot, Kevin deYoung points out that the Ascension is one of those doctrines we ignore most of the time. Even though we have an annual service devoted to the Ascension, it’s rarely enough to drive home the meaning and significance thereof. We just don’t give it much thought.
There are good reasons why both the Gospel writer Luke, the authors of the earliest Christian creeds, and the writers of the Catechism highlight the Ascension along with every other aspect of Jesus’ life and ministry. It is as essential to our understanding of God’s redemptive work in Christ as anything else Jesus says and does on our behalf.
Here’s Luke’s account of the Ascension from Acts:
He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight. They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.” (Acts 1:7-11)
From these few sentences we derive a wealth of information. We learn:
-That Jesus is bodily in heaven;
-That in exchange for Jesus’ bodily presence his disciples will receive his Spirit;
-That Jesus will one day return from heaven.
It is significant that Jesus himself predicts this event in two passages from John’s Gospel. In John 14 Jesus tells the disciples that he is leaving, but that he will not “leave them as orphans” – that he will send them the “Counselor” (Greek parakletos), the Holy Spirit. In John 16 Jesus says that unless he leaves, the Holy Spirit won’t come to the disciples. This is a trade they’ll have to live with. Jesus also says that he is “going to the Father” and that “in a little while” the disciples won’t see him, but then “after a little while” they will. This is what the heavenly messengers in Acts are talking about. Jesus has returned to heaven, just as he said he would; that being said, he will one day come back from heaven, too.
What this all means is that while Jesus, our God in the flesh, is in heaven, God the Spirit is with us all the time. We have the gift of his constant presence here and now. We have the gift of a human advocate in the throne room of heaven. And we have the promise of a reunion with our Savior, who will one day welcome us into the very presence of God. Jesus’ ministry of reconciliation is a ministry of going with us and going before us. Jesus takes on flesh and enters our world to be with us. Jesus passes through death for us. Jesus rises to new life and enters heaven ahead of us, paving the way for us to follow. The Ascension is one more inevitable, essential step in the process by which Jesus reconciles us to God.
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