Faith

Passage: Luke 7:1-10

Ryan Bell has embarked on a radical experiment.  He’s decided to spend the year as an atheist.  Bell is a former pastor, seminary employee, and religion columnist for such news outlets as The Huffington Post.  In a recent blog post he writes,

“Since [I resigned my pastorate] I have been a religious nomad. I have struggled to relate to the church and, if I'm honest, God. I haven't attended church consistently; I struggle to relate to church people, preferring the company of skeptics and non-church-goers. I haven't prayed much and, without sermons to write on a regular basis, I haven't studied, or even really read, the Bible.

So, I'm making it official and embarking on a new journey. I will ‘try on’ atheism for a year.”

Bell’s post has sparked a flurry of online debate about whether or not you can “try on” either belief in God or an absence thereof.  A CNN post provides a sampling that includes the positive:

“Bell should be applauded for his attempt to ask the hard questions. Whether he'll be a theist or atheist on the other side of this journey, I don't know. But it is a good thing that he is wondering.”

And the skeptical:

“It’s not a set of superficial practices, it’s a mindset. What’s he going to do at the end of the year, erase his brain?"

At the heart of the debate is the question of what constitutes genuine faith in God.

This is precisely the question addressed in the three episodes recorded in Luke 7.

The first is the account of Jesus’ encounter with a Roman centurion.  In it the centurion sends a delegation of Jewish elders to appeal to Jesus for healing on behalf of the centurion’s servant.  Through his emissaries the centurion says both, “I am not worthy to have you come to me in person” and “If you only say the word, my servant will be healed.”  In response, we’re told, Jesus is “amazed at the centurion’s faith” (and obliges by healing the servant from a distance). 

In the second episode Jesus encounters the funeral procession of a widow’s only son.  He tells the mourners not to cry; then commands the dead man to rise.  He complies, returning to life.  Everyone who has seen it responds by declaring, “God has come to help his people.”

In the third episode Jesus has been invited to dinner by a Pharisee named Simon.  A woman known to have lived a sinful life crashes the party.  She proceeds to fall at Jesus’ feet weeping; she pours perfume on his feet; and then she wipes the mixture of tears and expensive fragrance from his feet with her hair.  Simon, a man of religious and social principle, disdains the woman, and disdains Jesus because he allows the shameful display.  Jesus confronts Simon.  He says, “You have failed to live up to your own standard for hospitality by refusing me the common courtesy of a handshake and a towel for my feet.  And you have betrayed your religious standards by putting yourself in a position to judge.”  He then turns to the woman and says, “Go. Your faith has saved you.” 

Faith, in each of these instances, is not an intellectual or religious exercise.  It’s a response.  These people meet Jesus, and see him for who he is.  He’s not a quick fix.  He’s not a spiritual guru.  He’s the embodiment of the power, and love, of the one true God.  

They respond with humility because, as CS Lewis says,

“In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. Unless you know God as that—and, therefore, know yourself as nothing in comparison— you do not know God at all.”

They respond with joy because in Jesus God is doing something new.  Jesus breaks the barriers of race, gender, and even religious observance that have kept people outside the circle of God’s grace.  And Jesus breaks the power of sin, disease, and even death.  Faith is seeing God at work, and recognizing that what you see is God at work.  You either see him or you don’t.  When people encounter Jesus in the Gospels, many are unable, or unwilling, to see.  But those who see him for who he is are changed forever as they are compelled both by his power and his by love.  True Faith isn't a religious addendum to your life.  It's a relationship at the center of your life.  It's like true love.  Either you have it or you don't.  If you can turn it on and off, it isn't the real thing.  

Come As You Are, Leave As You Aren't: Meeting Jesus in the Gospel of Luke

As a congregation, we spent last fall studying the Book of Acts.  We’ll spend the first part of 2014 studying a work by the same author, the Gospel of Luke.  Commentator Leon Morris notes that when you take both books into account, Luke is responsible for more of the New Testament than any other single author.  That said, we know little about Luke himself.  He was not one of Jesus’ disciples, and is unique from them in a few ways.  The most notable are that Luke is a Gentile, and that Luke exhibits extensive formal education.  Luke first encounters Jesus in the Spirit-filled ministry and teaching of the apostles.  Like many Gentile converts, Luke was undoubtedly drawn to the early church’s warm hospitality and rich community life, as well as the remarkable impact and miraculous power of the apostles' ministry.  Like many, Luke witnessed the crowds of people converting to faith in Jesus, as well as the amazing life transformation that accompanied the new faith, and wondered how it was that simple Galilean fisherman could generate such a movement.  When Luke reports in Acts 4,

When [the Sanhedrin] saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus. (Acts 4:13), he is no doubt recounting the astonishment he too experienced when he first encountered the apostles.  Yet herein lay the explanation: these men had been with Jesus.  It was not their innate character or ability but rather the transformative power of Jesus Christ and his Holy Spirit that inspired their teaching and empowered their ministry.  Luke can only conclude one thing: that Jesus is precisely who and what the apostles claim him to be: God in the flesh, and the Savior of the world.

This is why Luke writes his gospels.  To convince an unbelieving world that Jesus is real.  To introduce skeptics not to a new religion but to a life-changing relationship.  And to invite those who have always stood outside the circle of God’s grace to enter in through the new way of Jesus Christ.

In his commentary, Morris contrasts Luke with the other “synoptic” gospels of Matthew and Mark.  He concludes,

“The great thought Luke is expressing is surely that God is working out his purpose.  This purpose is seen clearly in the life and work of Jesus, but it did not finish with the earthly ministry of Jesus.  It carried right on into the life and witness of the church.

“Luke sees this divine purpose as intimately bound up with the love and mercy of God.  A feature of this Gospel is the way God’s love is portrayed as active in a variety of ways and among a variety of people.  This is not an occasional theme, but one which runs through the whole writing.” (Leon Morris, Luke, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries, Eerdmans, 2002. pp. 15-16)

The Gospel of Luke is a Gospel of love.  It is punctuated throughout with the stories of encounters with Jesus.  And the people whom Luke brings into contact with Jesus are outsiders – sinners; ethnic and economic outcasts; Gentiles like Luke himself – all of whom Jesus engages in conversation and invites into a new world.  Each one of these meetings results in transformation.  The person comes to Jesus as one thing and leaves as another.  Luke is the only one of the four Gospel writers to consistently call Jesus “Savior”.  Luke does so from personal experience because it was through Jesus that he was welcomed, once and for all, into the family of God.  But what Luke demonstrates again and again is that the effectiveness of Jesus’ salvation lies not only in accepting people as they are, but in leaving them as they are not.  Jesus changes people. 

Jesus still changes people.  The only way for the salvation of Jesus Christ to take effect in your life is to allow Jesus into your life.  Not as a spectator or one-time commentator.  Not as a renter or interloper.  But as the permanent inhabitant and owner.  Jesus challenges and conquers.  Jesus also heals and restores.  We can’t have one without the other.  So if you dare, read Luke’s Gospel.  Do so understanding that the Jesus Luke introduces is not a character in a story but a real and living person who invites you into a new world and a new kind of life.  Come as you are; leave as you aren’t.   

...and Beginnings

Passage: Revelation 21

A friend of mine had parents who lived in Johannesburg, South Africa.  On a visit to my friend’s home, he observed a certain behavior in his mother.  Whenever his kids were playing outside, she couldn’t relax in the house.  She kept jumping up and looking out the windows.  Periodically she would even, without warning, dart out the front door and walk around the house.  When he asked her about it, she said, “I just have to make sure the kids are safe.”  She was used to living in a place in which there was always the possibility of a home invasion, armed burglary, or kidnapping.  Her house had bars on the windows and an iron perimeter fence.  In her hometown, nobody’s kids played outside unattended.  It just wasn’t safe. 

When you live in place where violence, economic inequality, oppression and abuse are constant realities you develop certain instincts.  You become hyper-vigilant.  Suspicious.  Self-protective.  You stop being conscious that you’re even reacting to perceived threats.  You believe this is just normal life. 

We are so accustomed to living in a world shaped by the presence of corruption, evil and death that we are no longer aware of the way these realities have shaped us.  And we can’t imagine a world without them.  But deep down we long for better.  And imbedded in our collective memories is an awareness of a better reality.  The world for which we were created was one without tears, mourning, crying or death. 

And God’s promise has always been to bring us back into such a world.  The point of bringing this world and its history to an end is to bring about something new.  At the end of the Book of Revelation we’re given a glimpse of this new thing.  John writes,

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away…

The Greek word we’ve translated “new” is kainos, which means, “previously unknown”.  To a world full of people who have only ever known an existence lived in the shadow of death, God promises a completely new kind of existence.  One free of pain, tragedy, loss and fear.  One in which humans live in constant communion with God, their Creator and Father; and with Jesus Christ, their Savior and the lover of their souls.  John describes this second Advent, the New Creation, as a wedding.  The moment we’ve all been waiting for.  Our eternal union with the one for whom we were made; the one who makes us holy and whole. 

The New Heaven and New Earth are so far beyond what anyone has experienced that John describes them mainly in terms of what isn’t there:

no more death or mourning or crying or pain. 

But also:

I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple.

And:

The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp.

And finally this detail:

On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. 

In this New Creation there will be no need for locks; bars; motion sensors; Homeland Security.  There will be no adversaries; no terrorists; no thieves or abusers or murderers.  Only the constant presence of God.  And the company of all God’s children, gathered together from every time and every place. 

If the normal places you go for hope, love, joy and peace aren’t cutting it this year, look ahead.  Take in John’s testimony of the fresh, new, “previously unknown” thing God has in store for you.  Be willing to defer the fulfillment of your wishes and dreams just a little longer.  Jesus Christ, the one who makes all things new, is not slow in keeping his promises.  He is not far off.  He himself testifies,  Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done.  I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. (Revelation 22:12-14)

Endings...

Passage: Revelation 20

When our first daughter was about two, she developed a routine every time we were out running errands in the car.  We’d get to the point at which we’d completed all our business.  And we’d turn in the direction of home.  Although very young, our daughter would perceive our change of direction.  She’d ask, “Where are we going?”  We’d reply, “Home.”  And she would immediately say, “I don’t want to go home.”  She didn’t want our trip to end. 

The Book of Revelation traces the trajectory of human history.  In references to Creation and the Serpent, John brings us back to the beginning of our story.  Throughout the book John chronicles Creation’s struggle with the effects of human sin, as well as the history-long battle between God’s enemy, Satan, and God’s people.  And at the close of Revelation John brings the story arch to its conclusion.  Humanity’s traverse of this world is finite.  It will end.

John describes forces that don’t want the journey to end.  These forces include Satan, whose power is limited to this world, as well as those human individuals and systems that have derived their power from evil sources.  Revelation is full of violent and unsettling episodes – plagues; famines; earthquakes; wars.  John rightly identifies these as the demolition component of God’s master renovation plan.  In order for God’s new thing to come, the old has to go.  Completely.  The only way to pass securely, courageously, and peacefully into God’s new Creation is to trust God completely.  And our world is full of forces who will never trust God.  Who will insist on their way rather than his. 

In Revelation 16 John gives the account of God’s wrath being poured out on the earth in the form of seven bowls.  Three times in the chapter John states the response of the remnant of humanity – those who have resisted God’s anointed, Jesus Christ, and his way.  John says they, “cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they refused to repent of what they had done.”  In Revelation 20, John witnesses the natural end result of that posture toward God.  He says:

The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what they had done. Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. The lake of fire is the second death.  Anyone whose name was not found written in the book of life was thrown into the lake of fire. (Rev. 20:13-15)

We don’t like the idea that the end of history means a decisive end to certain people.  There is intuitive appeal to the Universalist idea that all people will be given new life in God’s new Creation.  What the Bible consistently maintains is that there are certain people who, no matter how many chances they’re given, will not repent.  That is, turn from their way and accept God’s way.  And ultimately, God insists on having his way.  It’s his prerogative.  He’s God. 

CS Lewis deals with the dilemma of unrepentance in The Problem of Pain.  He argues,

“In the long run the answer to all those who object to the doctrine of hell is itself a question: “What are you asking God to do?” To wipe out their past sins and, at all costs, to give them a fresh start, smoothing every difficulty and offering every miraculous help? But He has done so, on Calvary. To forgive them? They will not be forgiven. To leave them alone? Alas, I am afraid that is what He does.”

In the end God gives people what they want.  If they want life without him, they’ll get it. 

Our natural reaction to the end of this world is resistance.  We automatically think of everything we stand to lose.  And when we try to picture the future God has in store for us, we can’t.  We’re faced with the prospect of trading everything familiar and cherished for an unknown commodity.  But everything we know and love in this life is a refuge – a refuge from a world that is not the way we know it should be.  The unknown thing that God is bringing is, in fact, Creation the way it was meant to be.  As the end approaches, God poses us with this question: How much do you trust me?  Is it enough to go my way, even though you can’t see where we’re going?  Do you trust me to conclude this part of your story in a way that is ultimately good?  If you’ve never trusted God, you will never tolerate the end that God brings.  If you trust God, then when the inevitable end approaches, you will welcome it. 

Love Letter

Passage: Revelation 2:1-7

This Advent our church is working through Revelation.  We’re all about Christmas cheer.  It’s easy to lose sight of the message at the heart of this powerful love letter to the church.  All of our ham-handed attempts to parse out the book’s symbols and pin down its apocalyptic events distract us from its most important parts.  Revelation is a letter first and foremost to a group of first century congregations struggling to maintain their identity in a world that wants to extinguish their faith.  More broadly it’s a reminder to the church in every time and place of who we are and to whom we belong. 

Many commentators and casual readers have mistakenly imposed a chronological division between the first three chapters and the rest of Revelation.  It’s assumed that chapters 2 and 3 address specific congregations in John’s immediate historical context, while everything that follows takes place at the end of time.  In fact John’s vision pertains to the continuous advance of the Kingdom of God, which occurs over the whole course of human history.  Much of what John describes throughout the book is happening to the First Century church within the Roman Empire; much of it is happening now, and has happened in all the intervening centuries.  There isn’t a future moment at which the dragon will go war against the church.  He’s been at war with God’s people from the beginning of time.  There isn’t a future moment at which a beastly representative of evil will lie and blaspheme.  The Roman emperor was such a beast; and human powerbrokers have been agents of evil for all our history.  Christians in every time and place profess the Lordship of Jesus only at great cost.

And as we read through the Lord Jesus’ messages to each of the seven churches in Revelation 2 and 3, we can’t help but hear strains of his message to our churches, too – whether your church is a megachurch in an affluent suburb, or a small congregation in a struggling urban neighborhood.  Of the seven churches, the one I most identify with is the church in Ephesus.  Jesus addresses the Ephesians as a group of committed, hard-working Christians.  In spite of mounting social and political pressure, these believers have kept the faith.  They have proclaimed the name of Jesus Christ in their words and actions.  They have adhered to right doctrine and have rejected leaders who try to preach a gospel other than the one they received from the apostles.  This is a church that is doing everything by the books.

And yet somewhere along the line they exchanged their love for duty.  The passion of the gospel and the fire of the Holy Spirit have cooled as everyday life has taken over.  The hard work of learning the right answers and doing the right things has become the glue that holds them together and the fuel that drives their fidelity.  Somewhere along the line they’ve forgotten the real reason for all the risk and sacrifice: love.  God’s limitless love for them, embodied in Jesus Christ.  And their love for him, the one who gave up his life so that they might live.  At the heart of the Christian faith is not duty, but love.  Jesus urges his bride: Do not forsake your first love.  Return to the things you did at first. 

How did you spend the time with your husband when you were first dating?  What did you do for your wife when she was still your girlfriend?  What was your emotional response to your spouse's arrival back in the days when she or he was your future spouse?  Back when your passion was unbridled, how did you express it?

When the love of Jesus Christ first became real to you, what did you feel?  And how did you respond?  Think back, way back.  Past the years of dutiful service and anxious rule-keeping and passions cooled by the daily requirements of daily life.  Rediscover the delight of joy of being the apple of someone’s eye; the love of someone who’s committed their life to you; the peace of the embrace of someone who will never let you go; the hope of being reunited with the one you were meant for.  Come back to your first love. 

Advents

Christmas and Advent constitute the busiest season for just about everyone in the church business.  That said, I still agree with Andy Williams – it’s the most wonderful time of the year.  The ways we work to beautify our homes and neighborhoods; the generosity we demonstrate to friends, family members, and strangers in need; the potential for meaningful connection and even reconciliation with our closest loved ones.  Even at its worst, this season embodies our hearts’ longing and hope that the world can be made right – the possibility of life the way it’s meant to be.  Yet even at its best, this season cannot hold a candle to the ultimate peace and restoration God has in store.

During Advent we remember and celebrate God’s greatest gift thus far: the birth of a baby called Immanuel – “God with us”.  This baby embodied God’s promises: to reconcile the human race to himself; to once and for all atone for our careless and selfish actions; to heal our broken hearts and bodies and world.  In a word, to bring heaven to earth.  The baby grew up to be the man, Jesus – “The Lord saves”.  In his presence sick people were made well; insignificant people were given significance; and people on the margins were told unequivocally that God loved them.  Jesus equipped and inspired a group of followers to continue this work.  The disciples grew into a worldwide movement which, empowered by the Holy Spirit, continued to heal the broken, welcome the marginalized, and extend God’s love to everyone.  The church grew because it embodied hope and wholeness – a little taste of the way life is meant to be.  At its best, this is what the church continues to embody.

But we’re imperfect.  And the world is imperfect.  Which can only mean one thing: The work that God began at the first Advent isn’t done.  The God who comes to us in the person of Jesus Christ promises that one day he will make all things new.  One day heaven will come to earth.  This moment is predicted in the Book of Revelation.  Revelation – arguably the least accessible book of the New Testament – is a message to the church.  Both the church at the end of the 1^st century, which struggled under intense persecution and lamented the brokenness of a world torn by plagues, wars, and natural disasters.  And the church today, struggling to maintain a posture of hope and expectation when the best human efforts to provide peace and basic human flourishing have failed.  The message of Revelation is this: The God who governs the universe hasn’t given up on our world.  Even now God is moving human history toward the second Advent and the renewal of all things.  The Jesus who first appeared as a baby will come back to us as a King, claiming his victory over the forces of injustice, abuse, sickness and hunger and despair.  Let your celebration of first Advent anticipate the second by bringing a taste of this victory – hope, love, joy and peace – to the world around you.  

The Beginning of Wisdom

Passage: Psalm 111

If the Old Testament proverbs present the practical wisdom of God’s wisest people, the Psalms provide the theological foundation for that wisdom.  Walter Brueggemann identifies in the Psalms an overview of the order woven through our world and the character of the one who ordered it.  The Psalms argue, again and again, that the heart of wisdom lies in knowing the heart of God the Creator.  Brueggemann writes,

“[The psalms] are expressions of creation faith. They affirm that the world is a well-ordered, reliable, and life-giving system, because God has ordained it that way and continues to preside effectively over the process.  At the same time, there is a profound trust in the daily working of that system and profound gratitude to God for making it so.  Creation here is not a theory about how the world came to be. That is not how the Bible thinks about creation. It is rather an affirmation that God’s faithfulness and goodness are experienced as generosity, continuity, and regularity.  Life is experienced as protected space.  Chaos is not present to us and is not permitted a hearing in this well-ordered world.” (The Message of the Psalms, p.26)

As such, wisdom (from a biblical perspective) is not leveraging one’s strength or savvy to secure the best future for oneself. Instead it is living with a moment-by-moment awareness of one’s dependence on God; and submitting one’s every moment to God’s guidance and God’s provision.  This willingness to depend on God yields two results: first, an abiding sense of peace and gratitude based on the assurance of God’s presence and protection; second, a life focused not on individual priorities (personal prosperity and self-gratification) but on God’s priorities for all of creation.  Brueggemann adds:

“The Psalms assert that the creation finally is committed to and will serve the Creator.  The Psalms thus are anticipatory of what surely will be.  Strangely enough, they may serve as a point of criticism against the status quo, to assert that when the Creator’s way comes to fruition, the inadequate present arrangements will be overcome.” (Psalms, p.28)

The history and trajectory of American culture attests to the fact that a society governed primarily by self-interest eventually frays and unravels.  God persistently corrects his people’s worst instinct – namely, to live primarily for self.  And God compassionately redirects our attention to the needs of our families, communities, cities, and world.  True wisdom aligns our hearts with God's – a God whose priority is reconciliation; redemption; and restoration.  The author of Psalm 111 rightly places wisdom within a life that honors God and embraces God’s objectives.  As the author concludes, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom…”