As for you, if you will walk before Me as your father David walked, in integrity of heart and uprightness . . . then I will establish the throne of your kingdom over Israel forever . . . (1 Kings 9:4-5).
Sometimes God confuses me. Like in this text, for example. As I read it, my memory took me back to the 11th chapter of 2 Samuel which records David’s adultery with Bathsheba, and his murder of her husband Uriah.
That’s why God’s message to Solomon here in First Kings is confusing. And – now that I think about it more carefully – maybe also comforting.
It’s confusing because although God gave David great wealth, power, and authority – and David repaid God by choosing to follow his own lusts instead of obeying God – the Lord nonetheless called David a man of integrity and uprightness.
God’s comment can also be comforting because it reveals the incomprehensible willingness of God to forgive everyone who confesses and repents of his or her sins. Regardless of the enormity of those sins.
Here is part of David’s confession after the Bathsheba and Uriah incident:
Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness; According to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against You, You only, I have sinned and done what is evil in Your sight, so that You are justified when You speak and blameless when You judge . . . Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. . . . Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from Your presence and do not take Your Holy Spirit from me (Psalm 51:1-11).
It is true that David suffered temporal punishment for his sins. You can read about it in the next several chapters of 2 Samuel. But because of his repentance, God removed from David the eternal consequences of his sin -- which would have been unimaginably worse.
What better comfort could there be for those of us who want to do right but so often do wrong, who think we’re beyond hope for forgiveness from a holy God? Temporal discipline in this life? Yes. Forgiveness, reconciliation and eternal life with our holy God? Of course.
The good news in this text is God doesn’t define “integrity of heart and uprightness” as sinless perfection, but rather as a willingness to repent, turn from sin and throw ourselves on God’s mercy.
And so, God says to us through the length and breadth of Scripture, Come now, and let us reason together. . . Though your sins are as scarlet, They will be as white as snow . . . (Isaiah 1:18); and, If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9).
Monday, July 26, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
It is Good To Remember
. . . the Lord Jesus in the night in which He was betrayed took bread; and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, "This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me." In the same way He took the cup also after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in My blood; do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me (1 Corinthians 11:23-25).
Then [they] . . . will remember Me . . . how I have been hurt by their adulterous hearts which turned away from Me . . . and they will loathe themselves in their own sight for the evils which they have committed, for all their abominations (Ezekiel 6:8-9).
As I receive Holy Communion each week,
I try to quiet my mind and remember what Jesus did –
the whip
the blood
the cross
the nails
the thorns
the spear.
But I don’t so often take time to remember
why He did it;
And therefore I miss
the richness
of the
mercy
of God.
But when I recently read St. Paul’s words to the church at Corinth,
I took a moment to remember
the darkness I was before Christ –
and the darkness
I am without Him.
I remember the baby I slaughtered in the womb.
The young women I turned into whores and adulteresses.
The lies I told to gain advantage over others.
The robberies I committed to get what I didn’t earn.
The fledgling faith of friends I destroyed by my arrogant, self-justifying philosophies.
The memories – when I allow them to surface – hurt.
Very much.
And I loathe myself,
I grieve,
for the wickedness in my past.
But the memories also prove –
they undeniably demonstrate –
the wholly incomprehensible
grace of God,
love of God,
mercy of God,
who sent His only Son
to carry the full weight,
the full punishment,
the full and horrible penalty that I –
that I –
so richly deserve
for my sins,
so God could grant me forgiveness.
And with it,
eternal life.
It is good
to remember.
Then [they] . . . will remember Me . . . how I have been hurt by their adulterous hearts which turned away from Me . . . and they will loathe themselves in their own sight for the evils which they have committed, for all their abominations (Ezekiel 6:8-9).
As I receive Holy Communion each week,
I try to quiet my mind and remember what Jesus did –
the whip
the blood
the cross
the nails
the thorns
the spear.
But I don’t so often take time to remember
why He did it;
And therefore I miss
the richness
of the
mercy
of God.
But when I recently read St. Paul’s words to the church at Corinth,
I took a moment to remember
the darkness I was before Christ –
and the darkness
I am without Him.
I remember the baby I slaughtered in the womb.
The young women I turned into whores and adulteresses.
The lies I told to gain advantage over others.
The robberies I committed to get what I didn’t earn.
The fledgling faith of friends I destroyed by my arrogant, self-justifying philosophies.
The memories – when I allow them to surface – hurt.
Very much.
And I loathe myself,
I grieve,
for the wickedness in my past.
But the memories also prove –
they undeniably demonstrate –
the wholly incomprehensible
grace of God,
love of God,
mercy of God,
who sent His only Son
to carry the full weight,
the full punishment,
the full and horrible penalty that I –
that I –
so richly deserve
for my sins,
so God could grant me forgiveness.
And with it,
eternal life.
It is good
to remember.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Not So Successful
If someone, without being aware of it, commits such a sin . . . . the priest shall then make atonement for the fault which was unwittingly committed, and it will be forgiven (Leviticus 5:17-18).
As I read this passage in Leviticus, my thoughts raced back to 1972. I came to Christ in my early twenties after a life steeped in immorality, and from the moment of my conversion, I determined to avoid even the near-occasion of sin.
And at first, I thought myself successful.
However, a few months later I asked God to show me any sin still lingering in my life. I expected a clean report. At worst, perhaps a minor sin or two. But what He unveiled was so dramatic, so disturbing, so disillusioning, I still remember it thirty-eight years later.
Attitudes and thoughts, words and behaviors surged through my memory. Wave after wave, the images ebbed and flowed. I slumped from my knees prostrate before God, ashamed and bewildered at how many things I’d done wrong – just within the past twenty-four hours.
I think people have an uncanny ability of self-deception, to stand in a sewer convinced it‘s clover, to look at darkness believing it is sunlight. The prophet Jeremiah knew the phenomenon: “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). The Psalmist asked God, “Probe me, God, know my heart . . . see if my way is crooked, then lead me in the ancient paths” (Psalm 139:23-24). And St. Augustine confessed, “I had known [my iniquity] but deceived myself, refused to admit it, and pushed it out of my mind” (Confessions, book VIII).
With slippery ease, we convince ourselves of the clover or the light, never recognizing our true condition. That is why we are prudent to regularly ask the Holy Spirit to show us our sins – especially those hidden from our eyes.
And prepare to fall prostrate.
As I read this passage in Leviticus, my thoughts raced back to 1972. I came to Christ in my early twenties after a life steeped in immorality, and from the moment of my conversion, I determined to avoid even the near-occasion of sin.
And at first, I thought myself successful.
However, a few months later I asked God to show me any sin still lingering in my life. I expected a clean report. At worst, perhaps a minor sin or two. But what He unveiled was so dramatic, so disturbing, so disillusioning, I still remember it thirty-eight years later.
Attitudes and thoughts, words and behaviors surged through my memory. Wave after wave, the images ebbed and flowed. I slumped from my knees prostrate before God, ashamed and bewildered at how many things I’d done wrong – just within the past twenty-four hours.
I think people have an uncanny ability of self-deception, to stand in a sewer convinced it‘s clover, to look at darkness believing it is sunlight. The prophet Jeremiah knew the phenomenon: “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). The Psalmist asked God, “Probe me, God, know my heart . . . see if my way is crooked, then lead me in the ancient paths” (Psalm 139:23-24). And St. Augustine confessed, “I had known [my iniquity] but deceived myself, refused to admit it, and pushed it out of my mind” (Confessions, book VIII).
With slippery ease, we convince ourselves of the clover or the light, never recognizing our true condition. That is why we are prudent to regularly ask the Holy Spirit to show us our sins – especially those hidden from our eyes.
And prepare to fall prostrate.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Would Be Nice to Find Out
And [God] said, “ . . . . Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?" The man said, "The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me from the tree, and I ate." Then the LORD God said to the woman, "What is this you have done?" And the woman said, "The serpent deceived me, and I ate" Genesis 3:11 13 (NASB).
Why is it so difficult for so many of us to admit our guilt to God? What is so hard about saying to Him, "I’ve sinned"?
Maybe pride stands in our way. We refuse to accept the notion that we are as bad as Scripture says we are. So we rationalize our disobedience with well-thought-out excuses and rehearse them so often we begin to believe our own stories.
Or perhaps fear keeps us aloof. We think if we do confess our sins, His discipline won’t be tempered by His mercy. So we hide the depth of our sins even from ourselves – hoping that maybe God Himself won’t notice them.
I wonder if things would have been different for our original parents if they had been certain of God’s love for them. If they had they known in their inner core that nothing they could do would separate them from His deep affection for them, would they have tried to hide from God – and then when He found them, shift the blame for their sins to another?
It’s a rhetorical question, I know.
But . . . is it?
I wonder how my relationship with God would change if I was convinced of His mercy which is rooted in Christ’s blood. How would my relationship change if I really trusted in His unconditional love for me – and that His discipline was simply an extension of His compassion? Would I be as quick to rationalize my sins or blame others for them?
I don’t know.
But it would be nice to find out.
Why is it so difficult for so many of us to admit our guilt to God? What is so hard about saying to Him, "I’ve sinned"?
Maybe pride stands in our way. We refuse to accept the notion that we are as bad as Scripture says we are. So we rationalize our disobedience with well-thought-out excuses and rehearse them so often we begin to believe our own stories.
Or perhaps fear keeps us aloof. We think if we do confess our sins, His discipline won’t be tempered by His mercy. So we hide the depth of our sins even from ourselves – hoping that maybe God Himself won’t notice them.
I wonder if things would have been different for our original parents if they had been certain of God’s love for them. If they had they known in their inner core that nothing they could do would separate them from His deep affection for them, would they have tried to hide from God – and then when He found them, shift the blame for their sins to another?
It’s a rhetorical question, I know.
But . . . is it?
I wonder how my relationship with God would change if I was convinced of His mercy which is rooted in Christ’s blood. How would my relationship change if I really trusted in His unconditional love for me – and that His discipline was simply an extension of His compassion? Would I be as quick to rationalize my sins or blame others for them?
I don’t know.
But it would be nice to find out.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Only Christ
For it is I, the LORD, your God, who brought you out of the land of the Egyptians and freed you from their slavery, breaking the yoke they had laid upon you and letting you walk erect. (Lev 26:13)
Sin is a merciless master.
It binds us with chains
tighter than titanium.
It takes us
where we do not want to go,
keeps us
longer than we want to stay,
costs us more
than we want to pay.
And only Christ –
not our virtue
Only Christ –
not our character,
Only Christ –
not our works.
Only Christ –
with His blood,
can rescue the penitent
from sin’s mastery,
break its chains,
and set us erect.
Only Christ.
And only to the penitent.
Sin is a merciless master.
It binds us with chains
tighter than titanium.
It takes us
where we do not want to go,
keeps us
longer than we want to stay,
costs us more
than we want to pay.
And only Christ –
not our virtue
Only Christ –
not our character,
Only Christ –
not our works.
Only Christ –
with His blood,
can rescue the penitent
from sin’s mastery,
break its chains,
and set us erect.
Only Christ.
And only to the penitent.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Throwing Jesus Over a Cliff
The other day I read a passage in Luke 4 that got me thinking of an essay published in my book, Lessons Along the Journey. I thought it might be good to adapt the essay for this blog.
--------------
Whom would you compare me with, as an equal, or match me against, as though we were alike? . . . I am God, there is no other; I am God, there is none like me. At the beginning I foretell the outcome; in advance, things not yet done. I say that my plan shall stand, I accomplish my every purpose (Isaiah 46:5-10).
As I sat one morning on my couch and pondered the idea of God’s absolute control over our every circumstance, a question slipped into my mind: Is God, who is in control of all things, good all the time and in all circumstances?
And I remembered a passage from St. Luke’s gospel about the Lord’s visit to Nazareth. The people in Jesus’ hometown challenged Him to work miracles for them as He’d done in other cities.
I could understand their argument. Jesus grew up in Nazareth. The people asking for miracles were His childhood friends and neighbors. He’d been in their homes, and they’d been in His. Why shouldn’t they expect Him to heal their sick and touch their hurting as He’d done in other cities?
But they learned, as I’ve learned – and have had to relearn time without number – God doesn’t always do what we want Him to do.
“Indeed, I tell you,” Jesus answered, “there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years and a severe famine spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian" (Luke 4:25-27).
In other words, God does what He chooses and for whom He chooses. And no one – not even Jesus’ neighbors and childhood friends – has a right to expect or demand He do otherwise.
But Jesus’ remark infuriated them. In a flood of passion, the crowd “rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill . . . to hurl him down headlong” (Luke 4:28-29).
Seems to me, people haven’t changed much since that day centuries ago in Nazareth. Many still grow bitter toward God over withered dreams and crushed hopes. They rail against Him because an accident took someone they love, or their marriage crumbled, or their child wasn’t healed, or . . . .
And so, unable to throw the Lord over a cliff, they throw away their faith instead.
It’s a danger we all face.
Like Martha who wept at the Lord’s feet over her brother Lazarus’ death, I often wonder why God is silent when I need Him to speak to my heart. I wonder why He says no when I need so much for Him to say yes. Why does He work miracles for others, but not for me?
In my many years of walking with Christ, I’ve come to recognize these questions are critical questions of faith -- and I don’t think God will let any of us gloss over them. Our maturity as Christians depends on how we answer those questions, because each time we don’t receive what we ask, each time we get knocked to the ground, we face two choices: throw Christ over the cliff, or persevere in our faith that God will work grace into our circumstances – regardless of how things look or feel.
In her short life – she was only twenty-four when she died – St. Therese of Lisieux discovered, “Everything is a grace. Everything is the direct effect of our Father's love – difficulties, contradictions, humiliations, all the soul's miseries, her burdens, her needs – everything. Because through them she learns humility, realizes her weakness. Everything is a grace because everything is God's gift. Whatever be the character of life or its unexpected events, to the heart that loves, all is well.”
The answer to the question, Is God good all the time and in all circumstances? is rooted in what St. Therese can teach those who listen. When doubts hammer our heart into the ground – God is good. When tragedy explodes through our life – God is good. When all of hell itself rises against our soul and overwhelms our strength – in all circumstances and at all times, God is good.
We come to that conclusion because it is simply not possible for Him to be anything else.
--------------
Whom would you compare me with, as an equal, or match me against, as though we were alike? . . . I am God, there is no other; I am God, there is none like me. At the beginning I foretell the outcome; in advance, things not yet done. I say that my plan shall stand, I accomplish my every purpose (Isaiah 46:5-10).
As I sat one morning on my couch and pondered the idea of God’s absolute control over our every circumstance, a question slipped into my mind: Is God, who is in control of all things, good all the time and in all circumstances?
And I remembered a passage from St. Luke’s gospel about the Lord’s visit to Nazareth. The people in Jesus’ hometown challenged Him to work miracles for them as He’d done in other cities.
I could understand their argument. Jesus grew up in Nazareth. The people asking for miracles were His childhood friends and neighbors. He’d been in their homes, and they’d been in His. Why shouldn’t they expect Him to heal their sick and touch their hurting as He’d done in other cities?
But they learned, as I’ve learned – and have had to relearn time without number – God doesn’t always do what we want Him to do.
“Indeed, I tell you,” Jesus answered, “there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years and a severe famine spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian" (Luke 4:25-27).
In other words, God does what He chooses and for whom He chooses. And no one – not even Jesus’ neighbors and childhood friends – has a right to expect or demand He do otherwise.
But Jesus’ remark infuriated them. In a flood of passion, the crowd “rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill . . . to hurl him down headlong” (Luke 4:28-29).
Seems to me, people haven’t changed much since that day centuries ago in Nazareth. Many still grow bitter toward God over withered dreams and crushed hopes. They rail against Him because an accident took someone they love, or their marriage crumbled, or their child wasn’t healed, or . . . .
And so, unable to throw the Lord over a cliff, they throw away their faith instead.
It’s a danger we all face.
Like Martha who wept at the Lord’s feet over her brother Lazarus’ death, I often wonder why God is silent when I need Him to speak to my heart. I wonder why He says no when I need so much for Him to say yes. Why does He work miracles for others, but not for me?
In my many years of walking with Christ, I’ve come to recognize these questions are critical questions of faith -- and I don’t think God will let any of us gloss over them. Our maturity as Christians depends on how we answer those questions, because each time we don’t receive what we ask, each time we get knocked to the ground, we face two choices: throw Christ over the cliff, or persevere in our faith that God will work grace into our circumstances – regardless of how things look or feel.
In her short life – she was only twenty-four when she died – St. Therese of Lisieux discovered, “Everything is a grace. Everything is the direct effect of our Father's love – difficulties, contradictions, humiliations, all the soul's miseries, her burdens, her needs – everything. Because through them she learns humility, realizes her weakness. Everything is a grace because everything is God's gift. Whatever be the character of life or its unexpected events, to the heart that loves, all is well.”
The answer to the question, Is God good all the time and in all circumstances? is rooted in what St. Therese can teach those who listen. When doubts hammer our heart into the ground – God is good. When tragedy explodes through our life – God is good. When all of hell itself rises against our soul and overwhelms our strength – in all circumstances and at all times, God is good.
We come to that conclusion because it is simply not possible for Him to be anything else.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
De Jure, De Facto
They claim to know God, but by their deeds they deny him . . . (Titus 1:16).
I recently relearned a couple of Latin phrases: de jure and de facto.
De jure refers to what a rule or law actually states, while de facto refers to how that rule or law is actually practiced. For example, there is a highway in the middle of nowhere in Montana where the speed limit is – de jure – 70 mph. But sit by the side of the road a while and you'd realize the speed limit is – de facto – 85.
I think Baptism is a good example of theological de jure and de facto in the Church. Catholics know Baptism brings a person into the salvation of Christ. We become God’s child. We are sealed by the Holy Spirit to live holy lives.
That’s the de jure position of Scripture and the Church.
For some Catholics, the de facto practice of their baptismal faith is, however, quite different. To hear and to watch them, one might conclude they believe because they are baptized and sealed by the Holy Spirit, they are eternally secure. They are forever God’s child – and so can do as they wish, believe as they wish, even if so doing and believing contradicts the clear teaching of Scripture and the Church.
In other words, they believe de jure they are Christians by their baptism, but they live de facto in sin as atheists.
But is that why God sent His Son to a torturous death, so we could live as we wish? Is that what God meant when He commanded, “Be holy even as I am holy”?
If our world ever needed Christians to unite their de facto to God’s de jure, it is now.
And we would all do well to heed the warning of Scripture, If we sin deliberately after receiving knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains sacrifice for sins but a fearful prospect of judgment and a flaming fire that is going to consume the adversaries. . . It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God (Hebrews 10:26-31).
I recently relearned a couple of Latin phrases: de jure and de facto.
De jure refers to what a rule or law actually states, while de facto refers to how that rule or law is actually practiced. For example, there is a highway in the middle of nowhere in Montana where the speed limit is – de jure – 70 mph. But sit by the side of the road a while and you'd realize the speed limit is – de facto – 85.
I think Baptism is a good example of theological de jure and de facto in the Church. Catholics know Baptism brings a person into the salvation of Christ. We become God’s child. We are sealed by the Holy Spirit to live holy lives.
That’s the de jure position of Scripture and the Church.
For some Catholics, the de facto practice of their baptismal faith is, however, quite different. To hear and to watch them, one might conclude they believe because they are baptized and sealed by the Holy Spirit, they are eternally secure. They are forever God’s child – and so can do as they wish, believe as they wish, even if so doing and believing contradicts the clear teaching of Scripture and the Church.
In other words, they believe de jure they are Christians by their baptism, but they live de facto in sin as atheists.
But is that why God sent His Son to a torturous death, so we could live as we wish? Is that what God meant when He commanded, “Be holy even as I am holy”?
If our world ever needed Christians to unite their de facto to God’s de jure, it is now.
And we would all do well to heed the warning of Scripture, If we sin deliberately after receiving knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains sacrifice for sins but a fearful prospect of judgment and a flaming fire that is going to consume the adversaries. . . It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God (Hebrews 10:26-31).
Monday, June 28, 2010
No Turning Back
And to another [Jesus] said, “Follow me.” But he replied . . . “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell to my family at home.” To him Jesus said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:59-62).
In the years – decades, actually – I’ve been a Christian, I’ve often pondered what it really means to follow Jesus.
I’ve learned through those years that no one can follow Christ without God’s grace to enable a person to even desire to follow. That’s why Jesus said, “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him” (John 6:44).
But I’ve also learned through those years that once drawn, following Christ means actively growing in our obedience to His commandments. After all, can I honestly say I follow Christ if I don’t steadily work at doing as He did and speaking as He spoke?
Following Jesus means living as separated to God as possible within the limitations of my sinful nature. Following Him means developing a habit and pattern of prayer, Scripture study and service to others.
But this past weekend our parochial vicar preached a homily that, I think, gets to the root of the question about following Jesus. That root centers around a heart-change brought about by a personal – and ongoing – decision to commit oneself to the journey of following Christ.
Our vicar said it this way: How can I follow? How must I follow? Before you know how or why, decide today to do it and not look back.
The uncommitted heart can know nothing.
The committed heart will find every door opened, every secret revealed, every grace supplied. For it is only by following the King of Kings and Lord of Lords with an undivided heart that you will find true and lasting peace in this life, and bliss beyond compare in the life to come.
Our priest’s words resonated with me, and remind me -- even as I write this – of Elijah’s challenge to the people on Mount Carmel: “How long will you hesitate between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow Him; but if Baal, follow him” (1 Kings 18:21). The vicar’s words also remind me of a worship chorus I've sung for many years: I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back. Though none go with me, still I will follow. No turning back. No turning back.
Lists of how-tos and how-nots are good and necessary things to help people learn how to follow Christ. But without an underpinning, an undergirding . . . a foundation built upon a decision and growing commitment to follow Him, all our lists will eventually fade into lifeless routine.
Oh, Lord, grant us grace to fully commit to follow you.
In the years – decades, actually – I’ve been a Christian, I’ve often pondered what it really means to follow Jesus.
I’ve learned through those years that no one can follow Christ without God’s grace to enable a person to even desire to follow. That’s why Jesus said, “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him” (John 6:44).
But I’ve also learned through those years that once drawn, following Christ means actively growing in our obedience to His commandments. After all, can I honestly say I follow Christ if I don’t steadily work at doing as He did and speaking as He spoke?
Following Jesus means living as separated to God as possible within the limitations of my sinful nature. Following Him means developing a habit and pattern of prayer, Scripture study and service to others.
But this past weekend our parochial vicar preached a homily that, I think, gets to the root of the question about following Jesus. That root centers around a heart-change brought about by a personal – and ongoing – decision to commit oneself to the journey of following Christ.
Our vicar said it this way: How can I follow? How must I follow? Before you know how or why, decide today to do it and not look back.
The uncommitted heart can know nothing.
The committed heart will find every door opened, every secret revealed, every grace supplied. For it is only by following the King of Kings and Lord of Lords with an undivided heart that you will find true and lasting peace in this life, and bliss beyond compare in the life to come.
Our priest’s words resonated with me, and remind me -- even as I write this – of Elijah’s challenge to the people on Mount Carmel: “How long will you hesitate between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow Him; but if Baal, follow him” (1 Kings 18:21). The vicar’s words also remind me of a worship chorus I've sung for many years: I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back. Though none go with me, still I will follow. No turning back. No turning back.
Lists of how-tos and how-nots are good and necessary things to help people learn how to follow Christ. But without an underpinning, an undergirding . . . a foundation built upon a decision and growing commitment to follow Him, all our lists will eventually fade into lifeless routine.
Oh, Lord, grant us grace to fully commit to follow you.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Act Accordingly
So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom (Psalm 90:12).
I received an email yesterday from our youngest son, Nathan. He’s 26.
---------
“Today is the most important day of your life,” he wrote. “That sounds right. It sounds conventional and wise. It sounds like something I've been told hundreds of times . . . .”
“Consider the following scenario: Suppose that through some act of science or sorcery you had perfect foreknowledge that the day you would die is precisely 100 days from today. Knowing that, it is likely you would compile a list of things to accomplish, sort them by priority and then proceed diligently. As you progressed through each passing day a sense of urgency would no doubt arise – now only 90 days left – now only 80. 70. 10. 9. 8. Each passing day becoming more and more pivotal, each hour cherished with a deeper and greater jealousy until at last you came to the climactic final day. Could you find words to describe the value that day would have or what you would give for one more?”
“The truth is, while we may not know the number of our days, it is inexorable that our days are numbered. Tomorrow will be one less day than today . . . . [So,] act accordingly.”
--------
As I read what I consider profound wisdom for someone so young – (I know people in their 70s who still haven't gotten it right) – as I read his email, Psalm 90:12 (above) dropped into my mind. And then my thoughts took me to another text of Scripture. This one in the New Testament. About the barn builder. You might remember the parable about him in St. Luke 12:16-21:
"The land of a rich man was very productive. And he began reasoning to himself, saying, 'What shall I do, since I have no place to store my crops?' Then he said, '. . . I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, "Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years to come; take your ease, eat, drink and be merry."' But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your soul is required of you; and now who will own what you have prepared?'”
Jesus then closed the parable with this warning: “So is the man who stores up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God."
I suppose the Lord could just as easily have added: So, act accordingly.
I received an email yesterday from our youngest son, Nathan. He’s 26.
---------
“Today is the most important day of your life,” he wrote. “That sounds right. It sounds conventional and wise. It sounds like something I've been told hundreds of times . . . .”
“Consider the following scenario: Suppose that through some act of science or sorcery you had perfect foreknowledge that the day you would die is precisely 100 days from today. Knowing that, it is likely you would compile a list of things to accomplish, sort them by priority and then proceed diligently. As you progressed through each passing day a sense of urgency would no doubt arise – now only 90 days left – now only 80. 70. 10. 9. 8. Each passing day becoming more and more pivotal, each hour cherished with a deeper and greater jealousy until at last you came to the climactic final day. Could you find words to describe the value that day would have or what you would give for one more?”
“The truth is, while we may not know the number of our days, it is inexorable that our days are numbered. Tomorrow will be one less day than today . . . . [So,] act accordingly.”
--------
As I read what I consider profound wisdom for someone so young – (I know people in their 70s who still haven't gotten it right) – as I read his email, Psalm 90:12 (above) dropped into my mind. And then my thoughts took me to another text of Scripture. This one in the New Testament. About the barn builder. You might remember the parable about him in St. Luke 12:16-21:
"The land of a rich man was very productive. And he began reasoning to himself, saying, 'What shall I do, since I have no place to store my crops?' Then he said, '. . . I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, "Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years to come; take your ease, eat, drink and be merry."' But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your soul is required of you; and now who will own what you have prepared?'”
Jesus then closed the parable with this warning: “So is the man who stores up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God."
I suppose the Lord could just as easily have added: So, act accordingly.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
What Was He Thinking?
“Solomon also made a palace . . . for Pharaoh's daughter, whom he had married” (1 Kings 7:8).
So, I’m reading again in 1 Kings and came across this verse. And I wondered what was Solomon thinking? God graced him with magnificent wealth, unsurpassed wisdom and extensive political power.
So why didn’t he get it right about obedience?
It’s not like Solomon didn’t know better about taking foreign wives. He did. All Israelites knew what Moses taught about marrying outside the faith (e.g. Exodus 34:12-16).
Did Solomon ignore God’s law so he could form political alliances with surrounding nations? Or did he turn aside from God’s rule for a pretty face? Whatever the reason, he made a very wrong choice and compromised his obedience.
Of course, Solomon was no different than we are. Who hasn’t turned left or right when he or she should have walked straight? Who hasn’t rationalized disobedience to God to form social, political or work-related alliances?
Kings or servants, managers or laborers -- if we really believe the cost of compromise was more than we would want to pay, no one would disobey Him. In Solomon’s case, disobedience led to the kingdom’s division and tragedy in his home.
God has not changed. If you and I divert from His path, we can expect to pay for our compromises.
But, now that I think about it, what Christian would want it any other way?
So, I’m reading again in 1 Kings and came across this verse. And I wondered what was Solomon thinking? God graced him with magnificent wealth, unsurpassed wisdom and extensive political power.
So why didn’t he get it right about obedience?
It’s not like Solomon didn’t know better about taking foreign wives. He did. All Israelites knew what Moses taught about marrying outside the faith (e.g. Exodus 34:12-16).
Did Solomon ignore God’s law so he could form political alliances with surrounding nations? Or did he turn aside from God’s rule for a pretty face? Whatever the reason, he made a very wrong choice and compromised his obedience.
Of course, Solomon was no different than we are. Who hasn’t turned left or right when he or she should have walked straight? Who hasn’t rationalized disobedience to God to form social, political or work-related alliances?
Kings or servants, managers or laborers -- if we really believe the cost of compromise was more than we would want to pay, no one would disobey Him. In Solomon’s case, disobedience led to the kingdom’s division and tragedy in his home.
God has not changed. If you and I divert from His path, we can expect to pay for our compromises.
But, now that I think about it, what Christian would want it any other way?
Saturday, June 19, 2010
I Think I Know
. . . the things which the Gentiles sacrifice, they sacrifice to demons and not to God; and I do not want you to become sharers in demons. You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons; you cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons (1 Corinthians 10:20-21).
And any man from the house of Israel, or from the aliens who sojourn among them, who eats any blood, I will set My face against that person who eats blood and will cut him off from among his people. For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you on the altar to make atonement for your souls; for it is the blood by reason of the life that makes atonement (Leviticus 17:10-11).
So Jesus said to them, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in yourselves. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him (John 6:53-56).
And any man from the house of Israel, or from the aliens who sojourn among them, who eats any blood, I will set My face against that person who eats blood and will cut him off from among his people. For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you on the altar to make atonement for your souls; for it is the blood by reason of the life that makes atonement (Leviticus 17:10-11).
So Jesus said to them, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in yourselves. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him (John 6:53-56).
I think I know
Why St. Paul told Christians at Corinth,
“Don’t participate in pagan communion.”
For somehow,
in some mysterious,
in some mysterious,
mystical way
their communion
joined them
with demons.
I think I know
why Moses warned Israel,
“Don’t drink sacrificial blood.”
For somehow,
in some mysterious,
in some mysterious,
mystical way
the life of the flesh
is in the blood,
and God did not want
His people
joined with animals.
I think I know
why Jesus commands us,
“Eat My flesh,
drink My blood.”
For somehow,
in some mysterious,
in some mysterious,
mystical way
Holy Communion joins the Christian
with Christ’s divinity.
It joins us with Christ’s
It joins us with Christ’s
eternal life.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Elijah -- and Me
Now Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, "So may the gods do to me and even more, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by tomorrow about this time." And [Elijah] was afraid and arose and ran for his life . . . and he requested for himself that he might die, and said, "It is enough; now, O Lord, take my life . . . (1 Kings 19:1-4).
There is not a time that I read this vignette when I don’t wonder what got into Elijah. After all, the guy had just witnessed a stunning display of God’s power in the previous chapter.
Why did Elijah, after watching fire fall from the sky to lap up the water, stones and offering – why didn’t Jezebel’s threat elicit little more than a disdainful smirk from the prophet? I’d have thought he would have mocked the queen and said something like, “You know my address. Come and take your best shot.”
But that’s not how it happened. Instead, Elijah ran for his life.
I suppose we shouldn’t be too hard on Elijah. While it’s true most of us haven’t seen fire fall from heaven, many of us have seen the unmistakable hand of God in our lives and yet, when the next storm threatens, we cry out, “Lord, I’m the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too" (see 1 Kings 19:10).
I do that all the time.
I’m glad this story of Elijah’s dismal failure is recorded in Scripture. Without it, I’d think he was super-human, and I would give up trying to attain the relationship with God that he had.
St. James tells us in the New Testament, “Elijah was a man with a nature just like ours” (James 5:17), and these chapters in 1 Kings illustrate for us just how human Elijah really was. Perhaps more important, they illustrate just how accessible God really is.
“God knows our frame,” the Psalmist reminds us. “He is mindful that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14). That promise in the Psalms, and the compassion of God toward Elijah in 1 Kings, are beacons in our fear – beacons to assure us God watches over us, protects us, draws us near, even when we forget He is there, and the power He exercises on our behalf.
There is not a time that I read this vignette when I don’t wonder what got into Elijah. After all, the guy had just witnessed a stunning display of God’s power in the previous chapter.
Why did Elijah, after watching fire fall from the sky to lap up the water, stones and offering – why didn’t Jezebel’s threat elicit little more than a disdainful smirk from the prophet? I’d have thought he would have mocked the queen and said something like, “You know my address. Come and take your best shot.”
But that’s not how it happened. Instead, Elijah ran for his life.
I suppose we shouldn’t be too hard on Elijah. While it’s true most of us haven’t seen fire fall from heaven, many of us have seen the unmistakable hand of God in our lives and yet, when the next storm threatens, we cry out, “Lord, I’m the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too" (see 1 Kings 19:10).
I do that all the time.
I’m glad this story of Elijah’s dismal failure is recorded in Scripture. Without it, I’d think he was super-human, and I would give up trying to attain the relationship with God that he had.
St. James tells us in the New Testament, “Elijah was a man with a nature just like ours” (James 5:17), and these chapters in 1 Kings illustrate for us just how human Elijah really was. Perhaps more important, they illustrate just how accessible God really is.
“God knows our frame,” the Psalmist reminds us. “He is mindful that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14). That promise in the Psalms, and the compassion of God toward Elijah in 1 Kings, are beacons in our fear – beacons to assure us God watches over us, protects us, draws us near, even when we forget He is there, and the power He exercises on our behalf.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Some Sure-Fire Ways to Get Little (or Nothing) From Mass
I was glad when they said to me, "Let us go to the house of the LORD" (Psalm 122:1).
Most anyone who sits under the preaching of God's word will tell you the gospel message can make people uncomfortable. The reason is quite simple. God often requires us to change, and let's face it, living within the status quo is easier.
But what can a person do who, for reasons such as family tradition or social pressures, regularly attends Mass, but doesn't want to change? This is not simply an academic question. Ask someone in this unenviable position and you'll hear a sad story of warfare between the conscience and self-centered rebellion.
I have good news for those waging this battle. Just because you sit in church doesn't mean you have to come under conviction! You can attend church and still be insulated from the message. Apply the following suggestions and you'll find yourself adequately protected from the gentle (and not so gentle) urging of the Holy Spirit.
1. Go to bed late Saturday evening -- the later the better. And get out of bed early the next morning. Getting only a few hours sleep will guarantee fatigue during the Liturgy. And there's nothing like a fuzzy head to run interference for you when the homily gets too personal.
2. Time your arrival at the church to minutes before Mass begins. And be ready to leave as soon as the Liturgy of the Eucharist is over. Spending as little time as possible in God’s presence will greatly enhance your ability to avoid hearing from Him.
3. Find a seat as close to the back of the sanctuary as you can. It's much easier to play the role of spectator than participant in the back corner.
4. Don't open the Missal during the readings. And find fault with the way the readers pronounce certain words, or their accent, or their inflection. If you leave the missal closed, and you spend your time silently criticizing the readers, you won’t be able to pay attention to God’s word. If you don't pay attention, it's easier to avoid the Holy Spirit's whisper in your ear.
5. Don't participate in congregational prayer, recitation of the Creed, or song. Those three forms of worship have a nasty way of softening one's heart to the Holy Spirit. You may have to go through the motions of participating in order to avoid being rude, but you will discover the mind can be a wonderful ally. While faking your participation, you can plan the week's menu or your wardrobe for the coming work week. Be careful not to sing or recite too loudly because the mind might become momentarily confused and you may suddenly hear yourself singing about pizza. That would be embarrassing.
6. During the homily, take mental note of your surroundings. For example: What is the ratio of men to women in the service? How many guys are wearing suits? How many women are wearing dresses? Compare the ratio of those wearing glasses to those who do not. Think of the statistical data you can develop from these observations.
7. When you run out of things to note about the congregation, turn your attention to the matters awaiting you at home. When does that TV show start? Did you program the DVD to begin at the right time and on the correct channel? Shall you eat the left-over spaghetti for lunch, or just have sandwiches?
8. Bring a small notebook to Mass and jot down a grocery list or some other "to-do" items during the homily. This will help keep your mind off the message. Don't worry about what others might think if they notice you scribbling away. They will assume you're taking notes on what the pastor is saying.
Unfortunately, because of God's great love for you, even meticulous observation of these suggestions does not guarantee successful flight from Him. Despite the best intentions, you may succumb to His love.
Of course, worse things can happen.
Most anyone who sits under the preaching of God's word will tell you the gospel message can make people uncomfortable. The reason is quite simple. God often requires us to change, and let's face it, living within the status quo is easier.
But what can a person do who, for reasons such as family tradition or social pressures, regularly attends Mass, but doesn't want to change? This is not simply an academic question. Ask someone in this unenviable position and you'll hear a sad story of warfare between the conscience and self-centered rebellion.
I have good news for those waging this battle. Just because you sit in church doesn't mean you have to come under conviction! You can attend church and still be insulated from the message. Apply the following suggestions and you'll find yourself adequately protected from the gentle (and not so gentle) urging of the Holy Spirit.
1. Go to bed late Saturday evening -- the later the better. And get out of bed early the next morning. Getting only a few hours sleep will guarantee fatigue during the Liturgy. And there's nothing like a fuzzy head to run interference for you when the homily gets too personal.
2. Time your arrival at the church to minutes before Mass begins. And be ready to leave as soon as the Liturgy of the Eucharist is over. Spending as little time as possible in God’s presence will greatly enhance your ability to avoid hearing from Him.
3. Find a seat as close to the back of the sanctuary as you can. It's much easier to play the role of spectator than participant in the back corner.
4. Don't open the Missal during the readings. And find fault with the way the readers pronounce certain words, or their accent, or their inflection. If you leave the missal closed, and you spend your time silently criticizing the readers, you won’t be able to pay attention to God’s word. If you don't pay attention, it's easier to avoid the Holy Spirit's whisper in your ear.
5. Don't participate in congregational prayer, recitation of the Creed, or song. Those three forms of worship have a nasty way of softening one's heart to the Holy Spirit. You may have to go through the motions of participating in order to avoid being rude, but you will discover the mind can be a wonderful ally. While faking your participation, you can plan the week's menu or your wardrobe for the coming work week. Be careful not to sing or recite too loudly because the mind might become momentarily confused and you may suddenly hear yourself singing about pizza. That would be embarrassing.
6. During the homily, take mental note of your surroundings. For example: What is the ratio of men to women in the service? How many guys are wearing suits? How many women are wearing dresses? Compare the ratio of those wearing glasses to those who do not. Think of the statistical data you can develop from these observations.
7. When you run out of things to note about the congregation, turn your attention to the matters awaiting you at home. When does that TV show start? Did you program the DVD to begin at the right time and on the correct channel? Shall you eat the left-over spaghetti for lunch, or just have sandwiches?
8. Bring a small notebook to Mass and jot down a grocery list or some other "to-do" items during the homily. This will help keep your mind off the message. Don't worry about what others might think if they notice you scribbling away. They will assume you're taking notes on what the pastor is saying.
Unfortunately, because of God's great love for you, even meticulous observation of these suggestions does not guarantee successful flight from Him. Despite the best intentions, you may succumb to His love.
Of course, worse things can happen.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Here I Am. Send Me.
They did not require an accounting from those to whom they gave the money . . . because they acted with complete honesty (2 Kings 12:15).
I don’t know how many times I’ve read right past this verse as it if were merely part of the landscape. But this time in my journey through 2 Kings the significance of this extraordinary testimony captured my attention.
"Because they acted with complete honesty" pulsates with hope in the midst of chapters 9 through 14 that describe deception, decadence, immorality and desolation. That phrase offers light in a quagmire of darkness, harmony in the midst of discordant cacophony. Apparently, there was still a remnant of God’s people who chose to maintain their integrity and obey God at all costs, even while so many in their culture had turned to follow their own way.
Flash forward to today. What has changed? Deception, dishonesty and immorality stain the fabric of our society. Government, the media, entertainment . . . we can’t scan the news and not find a plethora of voices in our culture who insist that what was once considered darkness is really light, and what was once considered light is really darkness. Even within the church, dishonesty, hypocrisy, sexual perversions and intrigue hit the front pages with all-too frequent regularity. It is no wonder that so many ask why they should walk straight while multitudes zigzag. And it is fair to ask where is the one who lives to serve God in Spirit and truth?
Where, indeed.
The longer I serve Christ the more convinced I become that at the Great Judgment God will not ask me how well my society, or even my Church community lived. He will instead ask how I lived. Did I decide to follow Jesus? Though none went with me, did I still follow Him, wherever He led and whatever it cost? God has always looked for a chaste remnant in the midst of perversion and disobedience. He has always sought those who yearn to be lights in the lengthening shadows, men and women who stand with truth in opposition to those who stand with falsehood.
He has always looked for those who will respond daily to His call and say: “Here I am. Send me.”
Oh, Lord. Help us follow you, despite the cost.
I don’t know how many times I’ve read right past this verse as it if were merely part of the landscape. But this time in my journey through 2 Kings the significance of this extraordinary testimony captured my attention.
"Because they acted with complete honesty" pulsates with hope in the midst of chapters 9 through 14 that describe deception, decadence, immorality and desolation. That phrase offers light in a quagmire of darkness, harmony in the midst of discordant cacophony. Apparently, there was still a remnant of God’s people who chose to maintain their integrity and obey God at all costs, even while so many in their culture had turned to follow their own way.
Flash forward to today. What has changed? Deception, dishonesty and immorality stain the fabric of our society. Government, the media, entertainment . . . we can’t scan the news and not find a plethora of voices in our culture who insist that what was once considered darkness is really light, and what was once considered light is really darkness. Even within the church, dishonesty, hypocrisy, sexual perversions and intrigue hit the front pages with all-too frequent regularity. It is no wonder that so many ask why they should walk straight while multitudes zigzag. And it is fair to ask where is the one who lives to serve God in Spirit and truth?
Where, indeed.
The longer I serve Christ the more convinced I become that at the Great Judgment God will not ask me how well my society, or even my Church community lived. He will instead ask how I lived. Did I decide to follow Jesus? Though none went with me, did I still follow Him, wherever He led and whatever it cost? God has always looked for a chaste remnant in the midst of perversion and disobedience. He has always sought those who yearn to be lights in the lengthening shadows, men and women who stand with truth in opposition to those who stand with falsehood.
He has always looked for those who will respond daily to His call and say: “Here I am. Send me.”
Oh, Lord. Help us follow you, despite the cost.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Contemplating the Mystery of Christ Through Art
Usually the things I post here have to do with my own contemplations of Christ. Today, however, I want to share with you the contemplations of another.
As Nancy (my wife of 35 years) contemplates the mysteries and majesty of Jesus, her thoughts move in the direction of color, nuance and pattern. Log onto the link I provided and take a quiet, unhurried look at her expressions of faith: http://tinyurl.com/2a5tyqf
Here is a copy of the Press Release:
Artist NANCY MAFFEO of GIG HARBOR, WASHINGTON has received two Special Recognition Merit Awards for artwork in the "12th Annual Collage, Digital & Mixed Media Juried Online International Art Exhibition" hosted by Upstream People Gallery.
This international exhibition received approximately 200 entries from around the world and 40 artists were selected by the juror Laurence Bradshaw, Professor of Art at the University of Nebraska at Omaha, U. S. A. Professor Bradshaw states this about this specially recognized work:
"'NANCY MAFFEO of GIG HARBOR, WASHINGTON presents works of faith in her works as seen in the assemblage “Jesus I Trust In You” with text helping to discern the message. And in her piece “The Eternal Wound” she shows a kind of monstrance with the host indicating that it is truly the Body and Blood of the Lord."'
The exhibition will be featured online at http://www.upstreampeoplegallery.com/ and continue for 12 months, closing May 31, 2011.
The artist has provided a commentary about this specially awarded work:
“The Eternal Wound” came out of a need to express concepts and issues I had been exploring for several years: the eternal glory of Christ, and His body broken for us all. Initially, I was only interested in creating a raised place on the canvas and using that area as a starting place for a torso. The more I worked on the flesh tones, the more I wanted to isolate the image of an open wound. I had a circular frame which was a perfect fit. Its shape and decorative curves complimented the edges of the sculpted paint on the canvas. I liked the idea of a framed image. It was a natural outflow of my exploration of “frame” as a relief platform for assemblage, or as layers that are in themselves part of the over-all image. I added gold trim to the frame much in the same manner as a halo or monstrance. The result was gratifying and consistent with my desire to offer images that provoke and allow a starting place for reflective thought.
“Jesus I Trust In You” began as an exploration of the traditional image of the Divine Mercy painting. I narrowed my focus to the area of the heart. Then I coupled that image with one of the Sacred Heart, which I had been exploring for several months. The words, as a collage element, were a staring point for me. I was also exploring draping material and how I might make use of shear material over an entire surface. I worked on this piece for several weeks, but in the end decided it was a failed attempt. But I do not ever toss anything. A year later, I began using thick acrylic paint and gel embedded with various materials. I discovered a particular piece that was a perfect shape and color to compliment my “failed attempt” of a draped heart. That addition, and an infusion of a mixed red glaze seeping through the material, finally created the perfect contrast for the words, “Jesus I Trust In You.” I have found this piece personally satisfying and reflective."'
Further information about the work can be found by clicking on the virus-free links below:
http://www.upstreampeoplegallery.com/gallery/view.asp?RN=16696&XD=6/1/2010&AN=Lazorko%2C+Anthony&PREV=16606&NEXT=
As Nancy (my wife of 35 years) contemplates the mysteries and majesty of Jesus, her thoughts move in the direction of color, nuance and pattern. Log onto the link I provided and take a quiet, unhurried look at her expressions of faith: http://tinyurl.com/2a5tyqf
Here is a copy of the Press Release:
Artist NANCY MAFFEO of GIG HARBOR, WASHINGTON has received two Special Recognition Merit Awards for artwork in the "12th Annual Collage, Digital & Mixed Media Juried Online International Art Exhibition" hosted by Upstream People Gallery.
This international exhibition received approximately 200 entries from around the world and 40 artists were selected by the juror Laurence Bradshaw, Professor of Art at the University of Nebraska at Omaha, U. S. A. Professor Bradshaw states this about this specially recognized work:
"'NANCY MAFFEO of GIG HARBOR, WASHINGTON presents works of faith in her works as seen in the assemblage “Jesus I Trust In You” with text helping to discern the message. And in her piece “The Eternal Wound” she shows a kind of monstrance with the host indicating that it is truly the Body and Blood of the Lord."'
The exhibition will be featured online at http://www.upstreampeoplegallery.com/ and continue for 12 months, closing May 31, 2011.
The artist has provided a commentary about this specially awarded work:
“The Eternal Wound” came out of a need to express concepts and issues I had been exploring for several years: the eternal glory of Christ, and His body broken for us all. Initially, I was only interested in creating a raised place on the canvas and using that area as a starting place for a torso. The more I worked on the flesh tones, the more I wanted to isolate the image of an open wound. I had a circular frame which was a perfect fit. Its shape and decorative curves complimented the edges of the sculpted paint on the canvas. I liked the idea of a framed image. It was a natural outflow of my exploration of “frame” as a relief platform for assemblage, or as layers that are in themselves part of the over-all image. I added gold trim to the frame much in the same manner as a halo or monstrance. The result was gratifying and consistent with my desire to offer images that provoke and allow a starting place for reflective thought.
“Jesus I Trust In You” began as an exploration of the traditional image of the Divine Mercy painting. I narrowed my focus to the area of the heart. Then I coupled that image with one of the Sacred Heart, which I had been exploring for several months. The words, as a collage element, were a staring point for me. I was also exploring draping material and how I might make use of shear material over an entire surface. I worked on this piece for several weeks, but in the end decided it was a failed attempt. But I do not ever toss anything. A year later, I began using thick acrylic paint and gel embedded with various materials. I discovered a particular piece that was a perfect shape and color to compliment my “failed attempt” of a draped heart. That addition, and an infusion of a mixed red glaze seeping through the material, finally created the perfect contrast for the words, “Jesus I Trust In You.” I have found this piece personally satisfying and reflective."'
Further information about the work can be found by clicking on the virus-free links below:
http://www.upstreampeoplegallery.com/gallery/view.asp?RN=16696&XD=6/1/2010&AN=Lazorko%2C+Anthony&PREV=16606&NEXT=
Monday, May 31, 2010
He Delights In Us
[Jesus said to his disciples]: I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. But when He comes, the Spirit of truth, He will guide you to all truth (John 16:12-13a).
[The Holy Spirit says of Himself] . . . then was I beside Him as his craftsman, and I was His delight day by day, playing before Him all the while, playing on the surface of His earth; and I found delight in the human race (Proverbs 8:30-31).
[Brothers and sisters]: Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ . . . because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us (Romans 5:1-5).
This past Sunday’s Scripture readings have played in my mind since I heard them during the Mass. The more they played, the more I contemplated their interconnectedness. And the more I contemplated their connectedness, the more relaxed my spirit grew.
Jesus tells us through the reading in John that the Holy Spirit guides us into all truth. That was not new information to me. I’ve known the Holy Spirit’s guidance through Scripture for nearly forty years. But I wondered what He was trying to teach me – if anything – through these particular readings.
And then I realized what it was.
God delights in us. More to the point, the Holy Spirit reminded me through the Proverbs text that while God delights in us, He also takes delight in me.
He considers me of great value. Even while I was shaking my fist in His face during my younger years, God loved me nonetheless. He loved me so much that He gave His Son to die for me (Romans 5:8).
And for you, too.
And because He takes delight in us, St. Paul could write the words of our second reading: All who have placed their faith in Christ stand before God justified (from a Greek word meaning “to be declared without guilt”).
Think of it for a moment. Those who approach God in humble faith through the sacrifice of Christ are justified – declared by God to be without guilt.
God’s not mad at us. He’s not looking to get even with us. To whip us into conformity. To teach us who’s boss. To throw us into hell.
The Holy Spirit took the time this weekend to remind me through these texts that He really, really delights in me. He loves me. Without condition. Without permutation. He delights in me. He loves me – even as much as He loves Jesus (John 17:23).
And He feels the same way about you, too.
Oh, if only I – if only we – can mature in our faith to the point where that promise takes root – and blossoms – we will finally experience the confidence of heart that the Word of God offers us.
Oh, Holy Spirit. Please make it so.
[The Holy Spirit says of Himself] . . . then was I beside Him as his craftsman, and I was His delight day by day, playing before Him all the while, playing on the surface of His earth; and I found delight in the human race (Proverbs 8:30-31).
[Brothers and sisters]: Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ . . . because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us (Romans 5:1-5).
This past Sunday’s Scripture readings have played in my mind since I heard them during the Mass. The more they played, the more I contemplated their interconnectedness. And the more I contemplated their connectedness, the more relaxed my spirit grew.
Jesus tells us through the reading in John that the Holy Spirit guides us into all truth. That was not new information to me. I’ve known the Holy Spirit’s guidance through Scripture for nearly forty years. But I wondered what He was trying to teach me – if anything – through these particular readings.
And then I realized what it was.
God delights in us. More to the point, the Holy Spirit reminded me through the Proverbs text that while God delights in us, He also takes delight in me.
He considers me of great value. Even while I was shaking my fist in His face during my younger years, God loved me nonetheless. He loved me so much that He gave His Son to die for me (Romans 5:8).
And for you, too.
And because He takes delight in us, St. Paul could write the words of our second reading: All who have placed their faith in Christ stand before God justified (from a Greek word meaning “to be declared without guilt”).
Think of it for a moment. Those who approach God in humble faith through the sacrifice of Christ are justified – declared by God to be without guilt.
God’s not mad at us. He’s not looking to get even with us. To whip us into conformity. To teach us who’s boss. To throw us into hell.
The Holy Spirit took the time this weekend to remind me through these texts that He really, really delights in me. He loves me. Without condition. Without permutation. He delights in me. He loves me – even as much as He loves Jesus (John 17:23).
And He feels the same way about you, too.
Oh, if only I – if only we – can mature in our faith to the point where that promise takes root – and blossoms – we will finally experience the confidence of heart that the Word of God offers us.
Oh, Holy Spirit. Please make it so.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Mutually Exclusive Choices
Then his disciples approached and said to Him, "Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?" (Matthew 15:10).
As I read this text, a memory resurfaced of a Bible class I taught a few months ago. During the discussion the subject of abortion came up and so we talked about the Catholic Church’s teaching on abortion, how it is viewed as a grave mortal sin. A short time later someone asked about Islam, and I shared a passage from Isaiah 19:18-25 which prophesies about the eventual salvation of Egypt, Israel and Assyria (modern day Iran).
The class ended about an hour later and many of the participants thanked me for teaching the class.
A few weeks later I received a call from the person who assigned the class to me. She reprimanded me for discussing what she said were “divisive” subjects about abortion and Islam. Although I explained I was simply teaching the Church’s position on abortion, and what Scripture teaches about the salvation of Egyptians, Jews and Iranians, she ordered me to refrain from talking in future classroom assignments about those particular “offensive” topics.
I hung up the phone feeling a mixture of anger, confusion and disappointment over what I considered -- and still consider -- such inexplicable leadership compromise.
And so my thoughts returned to the disciples in this text from Matthew: "Lord, do you not know that you offended the religious leaders by what you said?" And I imagined Jesus' response in modern paraphrase sounded something like this: “Ummm. And your point is?”
Before that phone conversation, I liked to believe Church leadership was more concerned about speaking truth than making people feel comfortable. After all, when has it ever been the Church's position to compromise or avoid telling the truth for fear of offending others? Was it not the Lord Jesus Himself who said He did not come to bring peace, but a sword, to set even family members against each other (Matthew 10:35-36)? Was it not St. Paul who said if he were more concerned about pleasing people than God, he could not call himself a bond-servant of Christ (Galatians 1:9-11)?
Bond-servants of Christ or People Pleasers. Proclaimers of truth, or compromisers. One or the other, but not both.
They each are mutually exclusive choices.
I wish I could say this kind of compromise and capitulation is limited only to a few. But it is not. In my nearly 40 years of worshiping in a variety of Protestant, Evangelical and now Catholic churches, I’ve seen, and continue to see across the Body of Christ, the same kind of political correctness infect congregations and leadership alike. It is stunning to see it over and over -- and equally as incomprehensible, especially in light of Jesus' uncompromising mandate to teach the whole world to obey His word (Matthew 28:20).
No wonder our nation is in a moral mess with so many Christians silent – silent – in the face of evil and sin. As King David said long ago: The wicked strut about on every side when vileness is exalted among the sons of men (Psalm 12:8).
And yet, despite it all, there is reason for hope. 2 Chronicles 7:14 holds this promise: If My people (i.e., the Church), who are called by my name, humble themselves, and pray, and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and forgive their sins and heal their land.
May God have mercy on us, forgive our moral cowardice and compromise, and give us another chance to make it right . . . another chance to seek Him and no other. Mother Mary, pray for us. St. Paul the Apostle, pray for us. St. Peter, first earthly head of the Church, pray for us.
As I read this text, a memory resurfaced of a Bible class I taught a few months ago. During the discussion the subject of abortion came up and so we talked about the Catholic Church’s teaching on abortion, how it is viewed as a grave mortal sin. A short time later someone asked about Islam, and I shared a passage from Isaiah 19:18-25 which prophesies about the eventual salvation of Egypt, Israel and Assyria (modern day Iran).
The class ended about an hour later and many of the participants thanked me for teaching the class.
A few weeks later I received a call from the person who assigned the class to me. She reprimanded me for discussing what she said were “divisive” subjects about abortion and Islam. Although I explained I was simply teaching the Church’s position on abortion, and what Scripture teaches about the salvation of Egyptians, Jews and Iranians, she ordered me to refrain from talking in future classroom assignments about those particular “offensive” topics.
I hung up the phone feeling a mixture of anger, confusion and disappointment over what I considered -- and still consider -- such inexplicable leadership compromise.
And so my thoughts returned to the disciples in this text from Matthew: "Lord, do you not know that you offended the religious leaders by what you said?" And I imagined Jesus' response in modern paraphrase sounded something like this: “Ummm. And your point is?”
Before that phone conversation, I liked to believe Church leadership was more concerned about speaking truth than making people feel comfortable. After all, when has it ever been the Church's position to compromise or avoid telling the truth for fear of offending others? Was it not the Lord Jesus Himself who said He did not come to bring peace, but a sword, to set even family members against each other (Matthew 10:35-36)? Was it not St. Paul who said if he were more concerned about pleasing people than God, he could not call himself a bond-servant of Christ (Galatians 1:9-11)?
Bond-servants of Christ or People Pleasers. Proclaimers of truth, or compromisers. One or the other, but not both.
They each are mutually exclusive choices.
I wish I could say this kind of compromise and capitulation is limited only to a few. But it is not. In my nearly 40 years of worshiping in a variety of Protestant, Evangelical and now Catholic churches, I’ve seen, and continue to see across the Body of Christ, the same kind of political correctness infect congregations and leadership alike. It is stunning to see it over and over -- and equally as incomprehensible, especially in light of Jesus' uncompromising mandate to teach the whole world to obey His word (Matthew 28:20).
No wonder our nation is in a moral mess with so many Christians silent – silent – in the face of evil and sin. As King David said long ago: The wicked strut about on every side when vileness is exalted among the sons of men (Psalm 12:8).
And yet, despite it all, there is reason for hope. 2 Chronicles 7:14 holds this promise: If My people (i.e., the Church), who are called by my name, humble themselves, and pray, and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and forgive their sins and heal their land.
May God have mercy on us, forgive our moral cowardice and compromise, and give us another chance to make it right . . . another chance to seek Him and no other. Mother Mary, pray for us. St. Paul the Apostle, pray for us. St. Peter, first earthly head of the Church, pray for us.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Giving God First and Best
Now this is the law of the guilt offering: it is most holy” (Leviticus 7:1).
In my journey through Leviticus I relearned an important principle of worship and reverence -- one which I still too often forget. For example, in the seventh chapter we read of God's specific requirements for Israel’s offerings: They should be without defect, be the best the person had to offer, and should be the first fruits – not the second fruits – but the first and finest of the flock and harvest. And finally, the offerings were to be set apart specially and specifically for God.
And so I got to contemplating, if God commanded His people to set apart animals and plants as holy, how much more should Jesus Christ -- the Lamb of God -- be treated by God’s children as holy?
Scripture often refers to Christians as God’s children and Christ's friends. But perhaps because of the comfortable images those words generate, some of us might be tempted to blur the distinction between sacred and ordinary. God is “the man upstairs” instead of “our Father in heaven.” Jesus’ name becomes a marketing tool instead of a road map to salvation. Mass attendance becomes an opportunity to keep on God’s “good side” than to worship Him.
The Old Testament laws related to sacrifices and offerings illustrate God’s impeccable sacredness and holiness. And, of course, God has not changed. Angels still cover their eyes in His presence, and how much more should we who are reconciled to God by Christ’s blood, speak His name reverently, treat each other preferentially, and live our lives in as holy, blameless and as sacred a way as possible?
In my journey through Leviticus I relearned an important principle of worship and reverence -- one which I still too often forget. For example, in the seventh chapter we read of God's specific requirements for Israel’s offerings: They should be without defect, be the best the person had to offer, and should be the first fruits – not the second fruits – but the first and finest of the flock and harvest. And finally, the offerings were to be set apart specially and specifically for God.
And so I got to contemplating, if God commanded His people to set apart animals and plants as holy, how much more should Jesus Christ -- the Lamb of God -- be treated by God’s children as holy?
Scripture often refers to Christians as God’s children and Christ's friends. But perhaps because of the comfortable images those words generate, some of us might be tempted to blur the distinction between sacred and ordinary. God is “the man upstairs” instead of “our Father in heaven.” Jesus’ name becomes a marketing tool instead of a road map to salvation. Mass attendance becomes an opportunity to keep on God’s “good side” than to worship Him.
The Old Testament laws related to sacrifices and offerings illustrate God’s impeccable sacredness and holiness. And, of course, God has not changed. Angels still cover their eyes in His presence, and how much more should we who are reconciled to God by Christ’s blood, speak His name reverently, treat each other preferentially, and live our lives in as holy, blameless and as sacred a way as possible?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
On Holy Ground
“God called out to [Moses] from the bush, "Moses! Moses! . . . Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground” (Exodus 3:4, 5).
From a distance, mountains stand majestically against the horizon. Walk on those same mountains and they appear unremarkable – layered with rocks, shrubs, trees, grasses and wild flowers.
From a distance, I'm sure the mountain mentioned here in Exodus appeared majestic. Up close, as Moses shepherded his sheep, I'm equally sure the mountainside appeared as unremarkable as any other.
But then God entered the unremarkable -- and His presence transformed it into a holy place. And Moses "hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God” (Exodus 3:6).
Fear is a good starting place when it comes to being in God’s presence.
Fear.
And reverence.
All Christians have the privilege to meet God in prayer and through the Scriptures. However, Catholic Christians recognize we also meet God physically, as Moses did – not in a burning bush, but in the consecrated bread and cup. “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?” St. Paul reminded the Corinthians. “The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?” (1 Corinthians 10:16).
When we approach Christ in the bread, it is appropriate to bow in reverence before Him. And when we approach, or pass by Christ in the cup, He is no less present.
And we are still on holy ground.
From a distance, mountains stand majestically against the horizon. Walk on those same mountains and they appear unremarkable – layered with rocks, shrubs, trees, grasses and wild flowers.
From a distance, I'm sure the mountain mentioned here in Exodus appeared majestic. Up close, as Moses shepherded his sheep, I'm equally sure the mountainside appeared as unremarkable as any other.
But then God entered the unremarkable -- and His presence transformed it into a holy place. And Moses "hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God” (Exodus 3:6).
Fear is a good starting place when it comes to being in God’s presence.
Fear.
And reverence.
All Christians have the privilege to meet God in prayer and through the Scriptures. However, Catholic Christians recognize we also meet God physically, as Moses did – not in a burning bush, but in the consecrated bread and cup. “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?” St. Paul reminded the Corinthians. “The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?” (1 Corinthians 10:16).
When we approach Christ in the bread, it is appropriate to bow in reverence before Him. And when we approach, or pass by Christ in the cup, He is no less present.
And we are still on holy ground.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Come and See
Philip found Nathanael and said to him, "We have found Him of whom Moses in the Law and also the Prophets wrote--Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph." Nathanael said to him, "Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" Philip said to him, "Come and see" (John 1:45-46).
Little has changed in twenty centuries,
Little has changed in twenty centuries,
and still we ask,
“Can anything good come from Nazareth?”
And still the answer is,
“Come and see.”
Can Jesus renew my dreams,
And still the answer is,
“Come and see.”
Can Jesus renew my dreams,
forgive my past,
and restore my future?
“Come and see.”
Can the One from Nazareth bring joy to my despair?
“Come and see.”
Can He deliver from addiction?
“Come and see.”
Can He heal my home? My marriage?
“Come and see.”
Can He remove my anger?
Bitterness?
Shame?
“Come and see.”
“Come and see.”
Can the One from Nazareth bring joy to my despair?
“Come and see.”
Can He deliver from addiction?
“Come and see.”
Can He heal my home? My marriage?
“Come and see.”
Can He remove my anger?
Bitterness?
Shame?
“Come and see.”
Can He -- will He --
make me new,
wipe clean my slate,
wrap me in His arms
and whisper,
I love you with an everlasting love?
"Come and see."
"Come and see."
For every doubt or fear,
chain of sin, or
sickness,
for every loneliness,
or guilt –
the final answer
has always been,
“Come and see . . .
Yes, come and see
what the Lord will do.”
“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light"
– Jesus (Matthew 11:28-30)
Sunday, May 9, 2010
My Response
It is I who have chosen the Levites from the Israelites in place of every first-born that opens the womb among the Israelites. The Levites, therefore, are mine . . . (Numbers 3:12).
Of Israel’s twelve tribes,
why did God choose the Levites as priests?
We don’t know.
Of all the Levite families,
why did God choose Aaron as high priest?
We don’t know.
And --
I suppose --
more to the point –
It’s none of our business.
Oh! That makes me bristle.
Not my business.
Bristle, until I remember God’s message through Isaiah:
Shall the pot say to the potter, Why? *
Or Christ’s words to Peter:
What is that to you? **
Or Paul’s to the Romans:
Who are you to answer back to God? ***
My response to God’s choice
to use another
instead of me,
to promote another
instead of me
to call another
instead of me
ought simply be,
Lord,
I am Thy servant.
* Isaiah 45:9
** St. John 21:22
*** Romans 9:20
Of Israel’s twelve tribes,
why did God choose the Levites as priests?
We don’t know.
Of all the Levite families,
why did God choose Aaron as high priest?
We don’t know.
And --
I suppose --
more to the point –
It’s none of our business.
Oh! That makes me bristle.
Not my business.
Bristle, until I remember God’s message through Isaiah:
Shall the pot say to the potter, Why? *
Or Christ’s words to Peter:
What is that to you? **
Or Paul’s to the Romans:
Who are you to answer back to God? ***
My response to God’s choice
to use another
instead of me,
to promote another
instead of me
to call another
instead of me
ought simply be,
Lord,
I am Thy servant.
* Isaiah 45:9
** St. John 21:22
*** Romans 9:20
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
If Only They Had Done it Differently
Now the sons of Eli were wicked; they had respect neither for the Lord, nor for the priests' duties toward the people . . . . When Eli was very old, he heard repeatedly how his sons were treating all Israel (and that they were having relations with the women serving at the entry of the meeting tent) . . . So he said to them: ". . . it is not a good report that I hear the people of the Lord spreading about you (1 Samuel 2:12-22).
Eli’s sons, priests themselves, scandalized the Jewish congregation with their sins. And Eli did little to stop them. So God took the discipline into His own hands, and in a very short time, Eli and his sons were dead.
As I once again read this story I wondered why the great prophet Samuel, who’d been raised in Eli’s home and witnessed the scandals – as well as God’s judgment – did not discipline his own sons when they, too, “turned aside after dishonest gain and took bribes and perverted justice” (1 Samuel 8:3).
And so, I suppose it should be no surprise that the Jewish people, scandalized by their religious leaders, sought something new. No longer satisfied with a theocracy, they clamored for a monarchy. No longer wanting – perhaps no longer trusting – their priests or prophets to lead them, they demanded instead a political leader to guide them (1 Samuel 8:6).
I wonder what Israel’s history would have looked like if Eli – and later, Samuel – had disciplined their sons when they persisted in their sins, if they had removed them from their positions of title and office. Would the congregation have sought others to lead them? Would Israel’s history been less pock-marked by loss of faith? Would the nation have suffered the devastating division that struck them within only two generations?
If only the religious leaders had done it differently.
Eli’s sons, priests themselves, scandalized the Jewish congregation with their sins. And Eli did little to stop them. So God took the discipline into His own hands, and in a very short time, Eli and his sons were dead.
As I once again read this story I wondered why the great prophet Samuel, who’d been raised in Eli’s home and witnessed the scandals – as well as God’s judgment – did not discipline his own sons when they, too, “turned aside after dishonest gain and took bribes and perverted justice” (1 Samuel 8:3).
And so, I suppose it should be no surprise that the Jewish people, scandalized by their religious leaders, sought something new. No longer satisfied with a theocracy, they clamored for a monarchy. No longer wanting – perhaps no longer trusting – their priests or prophets to lead them, they demanded instead a political leader to guide them (1 Samuel 8:6).
I wonder what Israel’s history would have looked like if Eli – and later, Samuel – had disciplined their sons when they persisted in their sins, if they had removed them from their positions of title and office. Would the congregation have sought others to lead them? Would Israel’s history been less pock-marked by loss of faith? Would the nation have suffered the devastating division that struck them within only two generations?
If only the religious leaders had done it differently.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
A Cloud and a Fire, Then and Now
It was always so: during the day the Dwelling was covered by the cloud, which at night had the appearance of fire. Whenever the cloud rose from the tent, the Israelites would break camp; wherever the cloud came to rest, they would pitch camp. At the bidding of the LORD the Israelites moved on, and at his bidding they encamped . . . (Numbers 9:16-18).
Israel didn’t know how easy they had it.
God told them
when to go,
and stay,
and for how long.
I often look to God
for guidance.
Some sign
to stay
or go –
to leave
or linger.
But at times
all I sense
is silence.
So I seek counsel of others,
pray,
make my best guess –
and envy Israel’s
cloud
and
fire.
Yet looking back
through the lens of time
I do see His guidance
in a song,
a scripture,
a thought,
a circumstance . . .
Each a cloud
or fire.
Each a sign to
go or linger.
I simply didn't
and still don't
recognize it
at the time.
Israel didn’t know how easy they had it.
God told them
when to go,
and stay,
and for how long.
I often look to God
for guidance.
Some sign
to stay
or go –
to leave
or linger.
But at times
all I sense
is silence.
So I seek counsel of others,
pray,
make my best guess –
and envy Israel’s
cloud
and
fire.
Yet looking back
through the lens of time
I do see His guidance
in a song,
a scripture,
a thought,
a circumstance . . .
Each a cloud
or fire.
Each a sign to
go or linger.
I simply didn't
and still don't
recognize it
at the time.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Mincing Words?
In those days John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea (and) saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said: "A voice of one crying out in the desert, 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.'" . . . At that time Jerusalem, all Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins. When he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance. (Matthew 3:1-7)
John the Baptist strikes me as a no-nonsense kind of a guy, not one to mince words, and certainly not one to retreat from speaking truth, even to powerful religious leaders and politicians. But what further interests me in this account of the Lord’s baptism is Jesus’ silence about John’s rhetoric. Nowhere in the gospel accounts of Jesus’ baptism does the Lord tell John to tone down his rhetoric.
When John called the religious leaders a “brood of vipers” Jesus didn’t suggest John be more tolerant. More pluralistic. Less divisive. Yet, Jesus was quick to rebuke His disciples many times when they said or did something wrong. For example, He rebuffed them when they tried to stop parents from bringing their children to Him (Mark 10:13-15); and when they wanted to call fire from heaven to consume the Samaritans (Luke 9:53-55); and when Peter chastened the Lord because of Jesus’ comment of His impending death (Matthew 16:21-23).
But with John the Baptist, we have no record of such a rebuke by the Lord. Not even when John warned Herod against adultery do we find Jesus warning him to moderate his words.
We haven’t any record because Jesus obviously approved of John’s faithful proclamation of truth – even though He knew the Baptist would soon be imprisoned for his truth-telling, and would lose his life because of it.
As I mused over this Jordan scene, my mind switched to recent news events surrounding the upcoming May 2010 National Day of Prayer. A well-known Christian, son of another well-known Christian, has been like a voice crying in America’s growing spiritual and moral wilderness. And it seems some people objected to Franklin Graham’s rhetoric -- and had him removed from the list of invited speakers to pray at the Pentagon.
Thankfully, Graham is not the only one calling America to make straight paths for the Lord. Others like Chuck Colson, Archbishop Chaput of Colorado, Fr. John Corapi, Fr. Frank Pavone, James Dobson – and hundreds of thousands of lesser-known men and women who, without fanfare or notoriety -- in their workplaces, schools, neighborhoods -- faithfully proclaim their Christian faith every day, refusing to mince words when speaking of sin or evil. They are Christians who stand boldly for Christ and His Church’s moral imperatives, even if doing so labels them intolerant and divisive and offends social activists, politicians, government officials, or other religions.
We can thank God every day for gracing America with such resolute and passionate modern-day obedient servants of Jesus Christ.
Jesus spoke well of John the Baptist, whose life illustrated a person whose heart stayed fixed on serving God (Matthew 11:11). Surely, too, the Lord speaks well of every Christian who is daily fixed on the gospel of holiness and fearlessly proclaims Christ as humanity’s only means of salvation (see Romans 1:16).
Jesus did not mince words when He warned, "For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels" (Mark 8:38). And it would not surprise me if, while recognizing the imperative of obedience to Christ – when it would be easier to capitulate to fear or compromise – Pope Pius XI wrote this prayer:
O most benign Jesus . . . [grant] by that great gift of final perseverance, to keep us most faithful until death in our duty and in Thy service, so that at length we may all come to that fatherland, where Thou with the Father and the Holy Ghost live and reign with God for ever and ever. Amen.
John the Baptist strikes me as a no-nonsense kind of a guy, not one to mince words, and certainly not one to retreat from speaking truth, even to powerful religious leaders and politicians. But what further interests me in this account of the Lord’s baptism is Jesus’ silence about John’s rhetoric. Nowhere in the gospel accounts of Jesus’ baptism does the Lord tell John to tone down his rhetoric.
When John called the religious leaders a “brood of vipers” Jesus didn’t suggest John be more tolerant. More pluralistic. Less divisive. Yet, Jesus was quick to rebuke His disciples many times when they said or did something wrong. For example, He rebuffed them when they tried to stop parents from bringing their children to Him (Mark 10:13-15); and when they wanted to call fire from heaven to consume the Samaritans (Luke 9:53-55); and when Peter chastened the Lord because of Jesus’ comment of His impending death (Matthew 16:21-23).
But with John the Baptist, we have no record of such a rebuke by the Lord. Not even when John warned Herod against adultery do we find Jesus warning him to moderate his words.
We haven’t any record because Jesus obviously approved of John’s faithful proclamation of truth – even though He knew the Baptist would soon be imprisoned for his truth-telling, and would lose his life because of it.
As I mused over this Jordan scene, my mind switched to recent news events surrounding the upcoming May 2010 National Day of Prayer. A well-known Christian, son of another well-known Christian, has been like a voice crying in America’s growing spiritual and moral wilderness. And it seems some people objected to Franklin Graham’s rhetoric -- and had him removed from the list of invited speakers to pray at the Pentagon.
Thankfully, Graham is not the only one calling America to make straight paths for the Lord. Others like Chuck Colson, Archbishop Chaput of Colorado, Fr. John Corapi, Fr. Frank Pavone, James Dobson – and hundreds of thousands of lesser-known men and women who, without fanfare or notoriety -- in their workplaces, schools, neighborhoods -- faithfully proclaim their Christian faith every day, refusing to mince words when speaking of sin or evil. They are Christians who stand boldly for Christ and His Church’s moral imperatives, even if doing so labels them intolerant and divisive and offends social activists, politicians, government officials, or other religions.
We can thank God every day for gracing America with such resolute and passionate modern-day obedient servants of Jesus Christ.
Jesus spoke well of John the Baptist, whose life illustrated a person whose heart stayed fixed on serving God (Matthew 11:11). Surely, too, the Lord speaks well of every Christian who is daily fixed on the gospel of holiness and fearlessly proclaims Christ as humanity’s only means of salvation (see Romans 1:16).
Jesus did not mince words when He warned, "For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels" (Mark 8:38). And it would not surprise me if, while recognizing the imperative of obedience to Christ – when it would be easier to capitulate to fear or compromise – Pope Pius XI wrote this prayer:
O most benign Jesus . . . [grant] by that great gift of final perseverance, to keep us most faithful until death in our duty and in Thy service, so that at length we may all come to that fatherland, where Thou with the Father and the Holy Ghost live and reign with God for ever and ever. Amen.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
How Much More Ought We?
Only after Aaron and his sons have finished covering the sacred objects and all their utensils on breaking camp, shall the Kohathites enter to carry them. But they shall not touch the sacred objects; if they do they will die . . . [T]he Kohathites shall not go in to look upon the sacred objects, even for an instant; if they do, they will die (Numbers 4:15-20).
Only the priestly family of Aaron
could look at –
or touch –
the sacred vessels
and furniture
of the Tabernacle.
The priestly family of Kohath
carried other holy objects,
but would die
if they so much as
touched –
or even glimpsed –
those sacred things
reserved only to Aaron's house.
If Tabernacle articles
were holy,
how much more is the One
who tabernacles *
among us?
If only Aaron's house
was privileged
to see and wrap
the holy objects,
much more are we
privileged
who not only gaze at the Holy One
and touch Him --
but are invited to also
eat His flesh
and drink His blood.
If Priests consecrated themselves
to serve in the Tabernacle,
how much more ought we,
who consume Christ’s Body and Blood,
consecrate ourselves
before we approach
His table?
* St. John 1:14 (Greek)
Only the priestly family of Aaron
could look at –
or touch –
the sacred vessels
and furniture
of the Tabernacle.
The priestly family of Kohath
carried other holy objects,
but would die
if they so much as
touched –
or even glimpsed –
those sacred things
reserved only to Aaron's house.
If Tabernacle articles
were holy,
how much more is the One
who tabernacles *
among us?
If only Aaron's house
was privileged
to see and wrap
the holy objects,
much more are we
privileged
who not only gaze at the Holy One
and touch Him --
but are invited to also
eat His flesh
and drink His blood.
If Priests consecrated themselves
to serve in the Tabernacle,
how much more ought we,
who consume Christ’s Body and Blood,
consecrate ourselves
before we approach
His table?
* St. John 1:14 (Greek)
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
His Banner Still Covers
The Lord said to Moses: "Speak to Aaron and his sons and tell them:
This is how you shall bless the Israelites. Say to them:
The Lord bless you and keep you!
The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you!
The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace!
So shall they invoke my name upon the Israelites,
and I will bless them.”
(Numbers 6:22-27)
It must have seemed obscene
to people wandering the desert
for 40 years
to think God blessed them,
kept them,
and let His face
It must have seemed obscene
to people wandering the desert
for 40 years
to think God blessed them,
kept them,
and let His face
shine on them.
But He had.
Despite their grumbling,
whining,
and pining
But He had.
Despite their grumbling,
whining,
and pining
after Egypt,
God was gracious to them,
looked kindly on them
and gave them –
at least,
God was gracious to them,
looked kindly on them
and gave them –
at least,
those who accepted it –
His peace.
And so with us,
regardless of our desert
or the reason we wander there,
God has not forgotten
His peace.
And so with us,
regardless of our desert
or the reason we wander there,
God has not forgotten
or forsaken us.
Trust Him.
His banner over you is love.
Trust Him.
His banner over you is love.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Who Are You?
On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? (Romans 9:20)
Last night I dreamed a dream so real it startled me awake. I couldn’t go back to sleep.
I saw myself waiting at a traffic light on a street I didn’t recognize. Through the open window I heard strangers on the corner call to each other: “Roger is dead.”
Somehow I knew who they were talking about, and the news stunned me. I couldn’t believe it.
I wouldn’t believe it.
I pushed the gas pedal and raced toward the funeral home. In moments I burst into the viewing room and stood by my friend's open casket.
He was lying on his left side, curled almost in a fetal position. And the blood. It was everywhere. On his chest. At the bottom of the casket. It covered his abdomen. His hands. His clothing.
I fell across him and wept – a deep, visceral sobbing.
I rarely have dreams in which I weep.
“Roger!” I shouted. “What are you doing here? What happened?”
My groans knew no balm as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed him to myself.
Then, in the corner of my eye I saw a man beside me. Late thirties. Five-ten, or so. Clean-shaved. Light colored short-sleeved shirt. Dark, thick hair.
I knew it was Jesus.
I stood and turned to Him, “You can’t let him die!”
It was not a request. It was an order.
“You just can’t.”
I didn’t try to choke down my grief.
“You can’t.”
Jesus looked into my eyes. I can still see his gaze hours later as I write this. His expression unmistakable. It said: “Who are you to tell Me what to do?”
And then, as suddenly as His expression rebuked, it softened. And again, without a word His eyes said:
“Trust Me.”
Then I awakened. The image of my friend and the coffin stayed with me. But so, too, did the Lord’s words.
When I realized I had only dreamed it, I prayed a while for Roger. And then I sought to understand if the dream might mean something more. Perhaps a message for me.
After a time, I concluded: In the grip of even the deepest tragedy, or grief, despair, or heartache, Jesus always asks: “Who are you to tell Me what to do?”
And then He says:
“Trust Me.”
Last night I dreamed a dream so real it startled me awake. I couldn’t go back to sleep.
I saw myself waiting at a traffic light on a street I didn’t recognize. Through the open window I heard strangers on the corner call to each other: “Roger is dead.”
Somehow I knew who they were talking about, and the news stunned me. I couldn’t believe it.
I wouldn’t believe it.
I pushed the gas pedal and raced toward the funeral home. In moments I burst into the viewing room and stood by my friend's open casket.
He was lying on his left side, curled almost in a fetal position. And the blood. It was everywhere. On his chest. At the bottom of the casket. It covered his abdomen. His hands. His clothing.
I fell across him and wept – a deep, visceral sobbing.
I rarely have dreams in which I weep.
“Roger!” I shouted. “What are you doing here? What happened?”
My groans knew no balm as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed him to myself.
Then, in the corner of my eye I saw a man beside me. Late thirties. Five-ten, or so. Clean-shaved. Light colored short-sleeved shirt. Dark, thick hair.
I knew it was Jesus.
I stood and turned to Him, “You can’t let him die!”
It was not a request. It was an order.
“You just can’t.”
I didn’t try to choke down my grief.
“You can’t.”
Jesus looked into my eyes. I can still see his gaze hours later as I write this. His expression unmistakable. It said: “Who are you to tell Me what to do?”
And then, as suddenly as His expression rebuked, it softened. And again, without a word His eyes said:
“Trust Me.”
Then I awakened. The image of my friend and the coffin stayed with me. But so, too, did the Lord’s words.
When I realized I had only dreamed it, I prayed a while for Roger. And then I sought to understand if the dream might mean something more. Perhaps a message for me.
After a time, I concluded: In the grip of even the deepest tragedy, or grief, despair, or heartache, Jesus always asks: “Who are you to tell Me what to do?”
And then He says:
“Trust Me.”
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Seeking to be Holy
For I, the Lord, am your God;
and you shall make and keep yourselves holy,
because I am holy.
(Leviticus 11:44)
Some seek to be holy because
God commands it,
and because they
fear Him.
Some seek to be holy because
God commands it,
and because they
love Him.
Fear
is a good reason
to seek.
Love
is better.
Learn to love God,
and you will become
holy.
For the love of God is this, that we keep his commandments.
And his commandments are not burdensome.
– St. John the Apostle
and you shall make and keep yourselves holy,
because I am holy.
(Leviticus 11:44)
Some seek to be holy because
God commands it,
and because they
fear Him.
Some seek to be holy because
God commands it,
and because they
love Him.
Fear
is a good reason
to seek.
Love
is better.
Learn to love God,
and you will become
holy.
For the love of God is this, that we keep his commandments.
And his commandments are not burdensome.
– St. John the Apostle
Thursday, April 8, 2010
God in the Shadows
Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the older was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. And Leah's eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful of form and face. Now Jacob loved Rachel, so he said, "I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel." (Genesis 29:16-18)
I’m reading again through Genesis, and again -- at the story of Jacob, Leah and Rachel -- I let my mind wander into the scene.
If you’ve read my second book, you will recognize this is excerpted from it. I’m posting it here because the story is so very beautiful and illustrative of God’s overarching presence, power and influence in our lives – even when we don’t sense it.
------------------
Leah lived in the shadow of her younger sister's beauty (see Genesis 29-30). When Jacob visited the family, Rachel's beauty captured him. Her beauty consumed him – so much so, he agreed to work her family's farm for seven years as payment to marry her. But on the eve of the seventh anniversary, Rachel's family pulled a bait and switch. When the new groom awakened the next morning, he found himself lying next to Leah. If Jacob still wanted Rachel, he'd have to work another seven years.
He agreed to do so, but it's not difficult to imagine how Leah felt – unloved, unattractive, unwanted, knowing her family had to trick Jacob into her marriage bed.
Yet, the story grows more poignant. Scripture tells us: “When the Lord saw that Leah was not loved, he opened her womb . . . and (she) gave birth to a son. She named him Reuben, for she said, ‘It is because the Lord has seen my misery. Surely my husband will love me now’" (Genesis 29:31-32).
I can almost hear the wistful yearning in her voice, "Now my husband will love me."
Leah was not the first woman to hope, "If I have his child, he will love me." But that's not the way love works.
Yet ever the optimist, Leah conceived again. And then again. "Now at last my husband will become attached to me," she said, "because I have borne him three sons."
But even after six sons, Rachel remained the proverbial light in Jacob's eyes while Leah hungered for her husband's embrace. She longed for his touch, for a kind word and to know in the core of her being she was loved. And Jacob remained deaf to her heartache and blind to her sorrow.
God, however, knew it all – and that is the wonderful message of this story.
I've read this chapter in Genesis dozens of times, but now my eyes froze at the list of Leah's sons, and then refocused on two.
Levi and Judah.
Not only was Leah unaware God was with her in Rachel's shadow, she also didn't know eternity would measure life and death through her offspring – and not Rachel's.
Levi and Judah: ancestors of Moses, Aaron, David, Solomon, Ezra, Ezekiel, Zechariah. All of Israel's religious and political leaders would spring from her womb.
Including Jesus the Messiah.
"For I know the plans that I have for you," God tells us through Jeremiah, another of Leah's descendants, "plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope" (Jeremiah 29:11).
Hope.
St. Paul tells us the things written in Scripture are for our benefit, and through the encouragement of God's word we can have hope (Romans 15:4). That's what Leah's story is all about – great, ineffable hope. It’s about God in our shadows, about God who loves us, and who knows our deepest hurts.
And it’s the story of how God can turn the rejection of others into something of immeasurable value for those who yearn to be touched by God's love.
Oh, Lord. Grant that we may yearn deeply for your love.
I’m reading again through Genesis, and again -- at the story of Jacob, Leah and Rachel -- I let my mind wander into the scene.
If you’ve read my second book, you will recognize this is excerpted from it. I’m posting it here because the story is so very beautiful and illustrative of God’s overarching presence, power and influence in our lives – even when we don’t sense it.
------------------
Leah lived in the shadow of her younger sister's beauty (see Genesis 29-30). When Jacob visited the family, Rachel's beauty captured him. Her beauty consumed him – so much so, he agreed to work her family's farm for seven years as payment to marry her. But on the eve of the seventh anniversary, Rachel's family pulled a bait and switch. When the new groom awakened the next morning, he found himself lying next to Leah. If Jacob still wanted Rachel, he'd have to work another seven years.
He agreed to do so, but it's not difficult to imagine how Leah felt – unloved, unattractive, unwanted, knowing her family had to trick Jacob into her marriage bed.
Yet, the story grows more poignant. Scripture tells us: “When the Lord saw that Leah was not loved, he opened her womb . . . and (she) gave birth to a son. She named him Reuben, for she said, ‘It is because the Lord has seen my misery. Surely my husband will love me now’" (Genesis 29:31-32).
I can almost hear the wistful yearning in her voice, "Now my husband will love me."
Leah was not the first woman to hope, "If I have his child, he will love me." But that's not the way love works.
Yet ever the optimist, Leah conceived again. And then again. "Now at last my husband will become attached to me," she said, "because I have borne him three sons."
But even after six sons, Rachel remained the proverbial light in Jacob's eyes while Leah hungered for her husband's embrace. She longed for his touch, for a kind word and to know in the core of her being she was loved. And Jacob remained deaf to her heartache and blind to her sorrow.
God, however, knew it all – and that is the wonderful message of this story.
I've read this chapter in Genesis dozens of times, but now my eyes froze at the list of Leah's sons, and then refocused on two.
Levi and Judah.
Not only was Leah unaware God was with her in Rachel's shadow, she also didn't know eternity would measure life and death through her offspring – and not Rachel's.
Levi and Judah: ancestors of Moses, Aaron, David, Solomon, Ezra, Ezekiel, Zechariah. All of Israel's religious and political leaders would spring from her womb.
Including Jesus the Messiah.
"For I know the plans that I have for you," God tells us through Jeremiah, another of Leah's descendants, "plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope" (Jeremiah 29:11).
Hope.
St. Paul tells us the things written in Scripture are for our benefit, and through the encouragement of God's word we can have hope (Romans 15:4). That's what Leah's story is all about – great, ineffable hope. It’s about God in our shadows, about God who loves us, and who knows our deepest hurts.
And it’s the story of how God can turn the rejection of others into something of immeasurable value for those who yearn to be touched by God's love.
Oh, Lord. Grant that we may yearn deeply for your love.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
He Is Risen!
I posted this in October when I first saw the image in my mind. I don't often repeat posts or previously published essays, but I like this one so much, and it is so appropriate for the Holy Day, I decided to repeat it. Feel free to share it with others:
---------------
Having bought a linen cloth, [Joseph of Arimathea] took him down, wrapped him in the linen cloth and laid him in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance to the tomb (Mark 15:46).
My imagination took me this morning to the tomb. I sat against a tree and looked at the massive stone covering the cave's entrance. Several yards in front of me four guards sat around a fire. They joked. Told stories. Passed the time as they waited for the sunrise, and with it another squad of soldiers who would take over the watch so they could get some sleep.
I glanced at the sky. Lots of stars. I pulled a blanket tighter around my shoulders and looked back at the stone.
Then -- all at once, like an explosion -- light burst from around the edges of the boulder and shattered the darkness. The guards scrambled to their feet. One quickly grabbed his sword and held it at the ready. The others grabbed theirs.
And then with my mind's eye I watched the stone slowly roll to the right. I felt the ground groan and shudder under its weight. And I stood up in anticipation.
But as quickly as the light appeared, it vanished. And I watched a man, dressed in a robe -- its glow fading even as I watched -- the man walked from within the cave and stood a few feet beyond the opening. He looked at the guards, and they fell back in terror. They flung their weapons aside and fled toward the trees.
When they were gone, Jesus looked at me. His expression hadn't changed. I could see His face. Still Calm. Gentle. His eyes soft. I wondered why the guards fled.
I watched myself hesitate, and then walk toward Him. As I drew near, I bowed on my knees. It was then I saw His feet beneath the robe. And the scars. I sat on the dirt and stared at them.
And that was when I realized the Lord was bending toward me. In a moment He sat in the dirt in front of me. He took me into His arms, and held me.
And He held me.
And He held me.
Squeezing me into His chest, He held me.
I rested my head on His shoulder, and looked down His back. I could see the scars from the whip that sliced His skin at the whipping post. They covered His neck, shoulders and back as far as I could see down His robe.
Scars that should have been mine.
And I whispered, Jesus, please. Help me love You always.
---------------
Having bought a linen cloth, [Joseph of Arimathea] took him down, wrapped him in the linen cloth and laid him in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance to the tomb (Mark 15:46).
My imagination took me this morning to the tomb. I sat against a tree and looked at the massive stone covering the cave's entrance. Several yards in front of me four guards sat around a fire. They joked. Told stories. Passed the time as they waited for the sunrise, and with it another squad of soldiers who would take over the watch so they could get some sleep.
I glanced at the sky. Lots of stars. I pulled a blanket tighter around my shoulders and looked back at the stone.
Then -- all at once, like an explosion -- light burst from around the edges of the boulder and shattered the darkness. The guards scrambled to their feet. One quickly grabbed his sword and held it at the ready. The others grabbed theirs.
And then with my mind's eye I watched the stone slowly roll to the right. I felt the ground groan and shudder under its weight. And I stood up in anticipation.
But as quickly as the light appeared, it vanished. And I watched a man, dressed in a robe -- its glow fading even as I watched -- the man walked from within the cave and stood a few feet beyond the opening. He looked at the guards, and they fell back in terror. They flung their weapons aside and fled toward the trees.
When they were gone, Jesus looked at me. His expression hadn't changed. I could see His face. Still Calm. Gentle. His eyes soft. I wondered why the guards fled.
I watched myself hesitate, and then walk toward Him. As I drew near, I bowed on my knees. It was then I saw His feet beneath the robe. And the scars. I sat on the dirt and stared at them.
And that was when I realized the Lord was bending toward me. In a moment He sat in the dirt in front of me. He took me into His arms, and held me.
And He held me.
And He held me.
Squeezing me into His chest, He held me.
I rested my head on His shoulder, and looked down His back. I could see the scars from the whip that sliced His skin at the whipping post. They covered His neck, shoulders and back as far as I could see down His robe.
Scars that should have been mine.
And I whispered, Jesus, please. Help me love You always.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
What's So Good About Good Friday?
I wrote this several years ago. This seemed a good time to revisit it.
-------------
This was not simply disappointment. It was gut-wrenching tragedy.
Their hopes, like precious china, lay shattered. Their dreams hung limp on a splintered cross. Glancing over their shoulders in fear with each step, the disciples wondered who would be next. For those who loved Him, darkness smothered Friday like a cold, damp woolen blanket.
And what was that Friday like for Christ?
It began with flogging. Roman soldiers fashioned a leather whip, studded with small rocks and bone. Every blow against Jesus’ back ripped open new strips of skin. His muscles and tendons quickly turned into a mass of quivering, bleeding flesh. Many prisoners died of shock and blood loss long before being nailed to the cross.
After the beating, Jesus dragged his cross to the execution site where soldiers dropped it on the ground and threw Him onto it. The spikes hammered through His wrists and feet tore through exquisitely sensitive nerves. Electrifying pain exploded along His limbs.
As He hung between heaven and earth, breathing became an all-consuming struggle. Gravity pulled inexorably on His diaphram, forcing Jesus to repeatedly push against His feet and flex His arms just to breathe. Yet, every movement heightened the strain on His ravaged nerves, and each breath forced His back against the splintered wood, reopening the raw wounds.
Every breath, every movement, every moment on the cross inflamed His torture.
For Jesus, for His disciples -- for anyone standing at the foot of the cross, Good Friday seemed anything but good.
What, then, is so good about that Friday 2000 years ago?
That Friday proved God’s faithfulness. As early as Genesis 3, the Lord promised the human family a redeemer, someone to set us free from the Serpent’s grasp, someone to take “captivity captive” to Himself.
On that Friday, Satan bruised God’s heel. But through Christ's cross, God crushed Satan’s head. The Serpent forever lost the authority to enslave anyone who wants to be free. His power is nullified by the blood of Christ (Revelation 12:11).
That Friday tore through sin’s impenetrable barrier between us and God. As the prophet Isaiah wrote, “Your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God and your sins have hid His face from you, so that He does not hear” (59:2). But that Friday, God shattered the barrier. He rescued the prisoners. Laying our sins on Christ’s shoulders (Isaiah 53:5,6), the Father threw open the gates of reconciliation between us and Himself (2 Corinthians 5:19).
That Friday proved God’s love for us. It is easy to read quickly over John 3:16 and not sense the searing emotions the Father suffered as He watched His Son agonize on that cross. But when we meditate on the Roman scourging, the spikes in His limbs, the flesh wounds -- perhaps we can better understand the personal nature of that verse -- “God so loved me . . that He gave.”
That Friday clothed us with Christ’s righteousness. The harlot, the thief, the murderer, the adulterer . . . think of it! There is no sin that cannot be cleansed by Christ’s blood. There is no sinner who cannot be made as righteous before God’s eyes as Jesus Himself (2 Corinthians 5:21).
Finally -- if there can be a final point about Good Friday -- that Friday challenges us to repentance. When the crowds in Jerusalem learned it was their sins that nailed Jesus to the cross, “they were pieced to the heart.” In unison they cried out, ‘Brethren, what shall we do?” St. Peter responded, “Repent,” and three thousand were born into the kingdom (Acts 2:22-41).
Standing at the foot of Christ’s cross, nothing about Friday looked good. But no one knew Resurrection Sunday was coming . . . and with it, God’s redemptive plan conceived before the foundation of planet earth.
Good Friday? It was the best!
-------------
This was not simply disappointment. It was gut-wrenching tragedy.
Their hopes, like precious china, lay shattered. Their dreams hung limp on a splintered cross. Glancing over their shoulders in fear with each step, the disciples wondered who would be next. For those who loved Him, darkness smothered Friday like a cold, damp woolen blanket.
And what was that Friday like for Christ?
It began with flogging. Roman soldiers fashioned a leather whip, studded with small rocks and bone. Every blow against Jesus’ back ripped open new strips of skin. His muscles and tendons quickly turned into a mass of quivering, bleeding flesh. Many prisoners died of shock and blood loss long before being nailed to the cross.
After the beating, Jesus dragged his cross to the execution site where soldiers dropped it on the ground and threw Him onto it. The spikes hammered through His wrists and feet tore through exquisitely sensitive nerves. Electrifying pain exploded along His limbs.
As He hung between heaven and earth, breathing became an all-consuming struggle. Gravity pulled inexorably on His diaphram, forcing Jesus to repeatedly push against His feet and flex His arms just to breathe. Yet, every movement heightened the strain on His ravaged nerves, and each breath forced His back against the splintered wood, reopening the raw wounds.
Every breath, every movement, every moment on the cross inflamed His torture.
For Jesus, for His disciples -- for anyone standing at the foot of the cross, Good Friday seemed anything but good.
What, then, is so good about that Friday 2000 years ago?
That Friday proved God’s faithfulness. As early as Genesis 3, the Lord promised the human family a redeemer, someone to set us free from the Serpent’s grasp, someone to take “captivity captive” to Himself.
On that Friday, Satan bruised God’s heel. But through Christ's cross, God crushed Satan’s head. The Serpent forever lost the authority to enslave anyone who wants to be free. His power is nullified by the blood of Christ (Revelation 12:11).
That Friday tore through sin’s impenetrable barrier between us and God. As the prophet Isaiah wrote, “Your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God and your sins have hid His face from you, so that He does not hear” (59:2). But that Friday, God shattered the barrier. He rescued the prisoners. Laying our sins on Christ’s shoulders (Isaiah 53:5,6), the Father threw open the gates of reconciliation between us and Himself (2 Corinthians 5:19).
That Friday proved God’s love for us. It is easy to read quickly over John 3:16 and not sense the searing emotions the Father suffered as He watched His Son agonize on that cross. But when we meditate on the Roman scourging, the spikes in His limbs, the flesh wounds -- perhaps we can better understand the personal nature of that verse -- “God so loved me . . that He gave.”
That Friday clothed us with Christ’s righteousness. The harlot, the thief, the murderer, the adulterer . . . think of it! There is no sin that cannot be cleansed by Christ’s blood. There is no sinner who cannot be made as righteous before God’s eyes as Jesus Himself (2 Corinthians 5:21).
Finally -- if there can be a final point about Good Friday -- that Friday challenges us to repentance. When the crowds in Jerusalem learned it was their sins that nailed Jesus to the cross, “they were pieced to the heart.” In unison they cried out, ‘Brethren, what shall we do?” St. Peter responded, “Repent,” and three thousand were born into the kingdom (Acts 2:22-41).
Standing at the foot of Christ’s cross, nothing about Friday looked good. But no one knew Resurrection Sunday was coming . . . and with it, God’s redemptive plan conceived before the foundation of planet earth.
Good Friday? It was the best!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
What Does He Require?
. . . what does the Lord your God require from you,
but to fear the Lord your God,
to walk in all His ways and love Him,
and to serve the Lord your God with all your heart
and with all your soul,
and to keep the Lord's commandments and His statutes . . .
(Deuteronomy 10:12-13)
There is great danger
in calling Jesus
Messiah and Lord,
and not living as He lived,
walking as He walked,
serving as He served.
There is danger to others
who,
watching us,
turn from light
because of our darkness.
And danger to ourselves
who,
causing others to stumble,
will hear Him say
“Depart from Me,
workers of iniquity,
I never knew you.”*
God
is not mocked.
What we sow
we will
reap.**
in calling Jesus
Messiah and Lord,
and not living as He lived,
walking as He walked,
serving as He served.
There is danger to others
who,
watching us,
turn from light
because of our darkness.
And danger to ourselves
who,
causing others to stumble,
will hear Him say
“Depart from Me,
workers of iniquity,
I never knew you.”*
God
is not mocked.
What we sow
we will
reap.**
*Matthew 7:21-23
** Galatians 6:7
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
If . . . Then
The Holy Spirit rightly spoke through Isaiah the prophet to your fathers saying,
'Go to this people and say,
"You will keep on hearing, but will not understand;
and you will keep on seeing, but will not perceive;
for the heart of this people has become dull,
and with their ears they scarcely hear,
and they have closed their eyes;
otherwise they might see with their eyes,
and hear with their ears,
and understand with their heart
and return,
and I would heal them."
(Acts 28:25-27)
From time to time,
like this time,
I stand bewildered
at the erosion of freedoms
known in our nation
'Go to this people and say,
"You will keep on hearing, but will not understand;
and you will keep on seeing, but will not perceive;
for the heart of this people has become dull,
and with their ears they scarcely hear,
and they have closed their eyes;
otherwise they might see with their eyes,
and hear with their ears,
and understand with their heart
and return,
and I would heal them."
(Acts 28:25-27)
From time to time,
like this time,
I stand bewildered
at the erosion of freedoms
known in our nation
since its birth
on bloody fields like
Bunker Hill
Yorktown
Concord and Lexington
Cowpens
and
Oriskany.
And people now
on bloody fields like
Bunker Hill
Yorktown
Concord and Lexington
Cowpens
and
Oriskany.
And people now
wring their hands
as leaders capitulate
to deals
and threats
and promises
and power.
And I remember Isaiah
and Israel,
and St. Paul
and America.
Could it be
our loss began
in the bloody hands
across our land
in which millions
of innocents
as leaders capitulate
to deals
and threats
and promises
and power.
And I remember Isaiah
and Israel,
and St. Paul
and America.
Could it be
our loss began
in the bloody hands
across our land
in which millions
of innocents
were dismembered
and suctioned
into vacu-tainers
in the name of freedom
and choice?
Fifty million . . .
while few
among those who call Jesus
Savior
Lord
who saw without perceiving
who heard without understanding
whose hearts became dull
who said little
did little
did little
to stop the incredible
wickedness.
And we wonder
God is deaf
to our prayers
for restoration
of freedom
and independence.
Yet
wickedness.
And we wonder
God is deaf
to our prayers
for restoration
of freedom
and independence.
Yet
and only because of God's
incredible
grace
it remains true:
If . . . My people who are called by My name
humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways,
then I will hear from heaven,
will forgive their sin
and will heal their land.
(2 Chronicles 7:13-14)
it remains true:
If . . . My people who are called by My name
humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways,
then I will hear from heaven,
will forgive their sin
and will heal their land.
(2 Chronicles 7:13-14)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Your Graying Years
You who have been borne by Me from birth and have been carried from the womb; Even to your old age I will be the same, and even to your graying years I will bear you! I have done it, and I will carry you; and I will bear you and I will deliver you (Isaiah 46:3-4).
I recently received an email from an old friend. He’d found some photos he’d taken of me more than 36 years ago. I’d forgotten how young I once looked. Or how much hair I used to have.
I thought about those photos this morning as I read through Isaiah. As I read, I let my mind wander back over the nearly four decades of my walk with Christ. I’ve seen many answers to prayer during those decades. Recovered health. Marriages mended. Children reconciled. Lost, found. Embittered given hope.
And I’ve seen many prayers go unanswered - or at least, not answered in the way I’d asked. Illness brought death to family and friends despite my fervent prayers for healing. People I love lost their jobs, their marriages, their children . . . and not a few lost their faith.
I confess God confuses me.
Actually, that is too tame a statement. And not entirely true.
More than confuses, sometimes God angers me. Sometimes I feel as if I’m in a boat tossed by heavy seas, swamped by mountainous waves and I cry out, “Lord, don’t you see? Don’t you hear? Don’t you care?”
After thirty-eight years of this journey with God, I know He sees. I know He hears. And of course, I know He cares.
I know these things, despite the prayers that still go unanswered. I know it because . . . well – now that I deliberately think about it – I suppose it’s because He has granted me faith in the face of the waves. He has graced me with trust despite my confusion – and my anger. He has nurtured in me confidence even when it seems I have no reason to be confident. Not that I am anyone special that He would grace me in such ways. Instead, I think He helps my faith, trust and confidence simply because I need His help so badly.
I looked at myself again in those early photos and, from the perspective of my graying years, I realize God was with me all the time, in each sorrow, through each storm, through doubt, and anger, and unanswered prayer.
That I couldn’t see Him, or hear Him, doesn’t mean He was absent.
I still, to this day, do not know why people for whom I beg God for mercy die, or why families shatter, or spouses leave the Church, or . . . or . . . or.
All I do know . . . all I choose to know . . . is this granite-like promise: Even to your graying years I will bear you! I have done it, and I will carry you; and I will bear you and I will deliver you.
I recently received an email from an old friend. He’d found some photos he’d taken of me more than 36 years ago. I’d forgotten how young I once looked. Or how much hair I used to have.
I thought about those photos this morning as I read through Isaiah. As I read, I let my mind wander back over the nearly four decades of my walk with Christ. I’ve seen many answers to prayer during those decades. Recovered health. Marriages mended. Children reconciled. Lost, found. Embittered given hope.
And I’ve seen many prayers go unanswered - or at least, not answered in the way I’d asked. Illness brought death to family and friends despite my fervent prayers for healing. People I love lost their jobs, their marriages, their children . . . and not a few lost their faith.
I confess God confuses me.
Actually, that is too tame a statement. And not entirely true.
More than confuses, sometimes God angers me. Sometimes I feel as if I’m in a boat tossed by heavy seas, swamped by mountainous waves and I cry out, “Lord, don’t you see? Don’t you hear? Don’t you care?”
After thirty-eight years of this journey with God, I know He sees. I know He hears. And of course, I know He cares.
I know these things, despite the prayers that still go unanswered. I know it because . . . well – now that I deliberately think about it – I suppose it’s because He has granted me faith in the face of the waves. He has graced me with trust despite my confusion – and my anger. He has nurtured in me confidence even when it seems I have no reason to be confident. Not that I am anyone special that He would grace me in such ways. Instead, I think He helps my faith, trust and confidence simply because I need His help so badly.
I looked at myself again in those early photos and, from the perspective of my graying years, I realize God was with me all the time, in each sorrow, through each storm, through doubt, and anger, and unanswered prayer.
That I couldn’t see Him, or hear Him, doesn’t mean He was absent.
I still, to this day, do not know why people for whom I beg God for mercy die, or why families shatter, or spouses leave the Church, or . . . or . . . or.
All I do know . . . all I choose to know . . . is this granite-like promise: Even to your graying years I will bear you! I have done it, and I will carry you; and I will bear you and I will deliver you.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Engraved In His Hands
Abraham breathed his last and died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people. Then his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah . . . (Genesis 25:8-9).
I know how Ishmael must have felt as he stood over that grave. Seventy-five years earlier, his father, Abraham, exiled him and his mother, Hagar, from their home. Ishmael was only thirteen. His mother and Abraham’s wife, Sarah, had a confrontation, and Sarah demanded Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away.
It seems from the biblical record’s silence that Abraham never spoke with his son again.
Now, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Genesis, the thirteen-year-old turned eighty-eight stands at his father’s graveside. I believe Ishmael wept – wept for a relationship he never had with his father, for an intimacy he always longed for, but pushed from his mind so he could maintain some degree of emotional peace.
I remember how I felt when I learned my father had died. I was fifty-five when I heard the news. It was too late to attend his funeral. He’d already been dead several years.
Although I hadn't seen him for decades and decades, I grieved over his death and the relationship I never had with him. Dad hadn’t exiled me and Mom. He exiled himself. He left us for another woman. I was five when it happened. Yet, even now, nearly six years after I learned of his death, when I see elderly men who resemble the man in the photos taken shortly before he died, a sense of sorrow – and loss -- hovers above me.
I’ve met many men like myself and Ishmael during my adult life, men who wonder what it would have been like to have been held in their daddy’s arms. Men gripped by the memory that their fathers never loved them.
It’s a hard realization.
But it needn’t be a hopeless one.
I hope Ishmael discovered before his own death what I discovered about my God – that He never leaves His children. He never forsakes them. He never exiles them from His home. Earthly fathers and mothers might cast us aside – but our heavenly Father vowed He would never do that. He promised, “Behold, I have inscribed you in my hands; your walls are always before my eyes” (Isaiah 49:16); and, “Even if my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me in” (Psalm 27:10).
And because of that eternal promise, our lives need never be hopeless.
I know how Ishmael must have felt as he stood over that grave. Seventy-five years earlier, his father, Abraham, exiled him and his mother, Hagar, from their home. Ishmael was only thirteen. His mother and Abraham’s wife, Sarah, had a confrontation, and Sarah demanded Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away.
It seems from the biblical record’s silence that Abraham never spoke with his son again.
Now, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Genesis, the thirteen-year-old turned eighty-eight stands at his father’s graveside. I believe Ishmael wept – wept for a relationship he never had with his father, for an intimacy he always longed for, but pushed from his mind so he could maintain some degree of emotional peace.
I remember how I felt when I learned my father had died. I was fifty-five when I heard the news. It was too late to attend his funeral. He’d already been dead several years.
Although I hadn't seen him for decades and decades, I grieved over his death and the relationship I never had with him. Dad hadn’t exiled me and Mom. He exiled himself. He left us for another woman. I was five when it happened. Yet, even now, nearly six years after I learned of his death, when I see elderly men who resemble the man in the photos taken shortly before he died, a sense of sorrow – and loss -- hovers above me.
I’ve met many men like myself and Ishmael during my adult life, men who wonder what it would have been like to have been held in their daddy’s arms. Men gripped by the memory that their fathers never loved them.
It’s a hard realization.
But it needn’t be a hopeless one.
I hope Ishmael discovered before his own death what I discovered about my God – that He never leaves His children. He never forsakes them. He never exiles them from His home. Earthly fathers and mothers might cast us aside – but our heavenly Father vowed He would never do that. He promised, “Behold, I have inscribed you in my hands; your walls are always before my eyes” (Isaiah 49:16); and, “Even if my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me in” (Psalm 27:10).
And because of that eternal promise, our lives need never be hopeless.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Tragic Mistake
I built houses for myself, I planted vineyards for myself; I made gardens and parks for myself . . . I collected for myself silver and gold and the treasure of kings and provinces. I provided for myself male and female singers and the pleasures of men--many concubines . . . All that my eyes desired I did not refuse them . . . and behold all was vanity and striving after wind . . . . (Ecclesiastes 2:4-11)
Joel was only 45 when he died. I remember thinking he had what many men only dream of having: a loving wife and family, a good job, and well-liked in his community.
And yet, on a Tuesday evening after work he put a gun to his head -- and pulled the trigger.
In the few years I'd known him, he had the outward appearance of happiness. But outward appearances often belie the emptiness of the heart.
I wonder if long before the bullet shattered his skull, Joel had emptied his heart of what he'd learned as a child of God's love. As he grew older, did he try to fill that emptiness with things that promised fulfillment . . . things that ultimately left him empty?
To this day, no one knows why Joel took his life that Tuesday. But I wonder if, like Solomon, he realized wealth, position, and reputation are not enough to fill the God-created void St. Augustine spoke of in his Confessions: "Thou hast made us for thyself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee."
Who is not tempted at times to misorder life’s priorities, to choose the seductive allure of popularity, position or wealth to the sacrifices God requires of time, wealth and talent -- and not infrequently -- friendships, freedom, or even our very lives?
Decisions like that never occur overnight. They begin, and are nurtured, at the heart’s altar where, in time, they blossom into a mind-set of faith or faithlessness, trust or scorn, obedience or rebellion.
Turning from God's call on our lives doesn’t mean we’ll end up putting a gun to our head. But I’ve seen so often the results of running from Him, I think it’s a spiritual law: Those who persist in choosing their will over God’s reach the same conclusion Solomon reached before his conversion: “Vanity of vanities. All is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2).
What a tragic mistake it is to end a life like that.
Joel was only 45 when he died. I remember thinking he had what many men only dream of having: a loving wife and family, a good job, and well-liked in his community.
And yet, on a Tuesday evening after work he put a gun to his head -- and pulled the trigger.
In the few years I'd known him, he had the outward appearance of happiness. But outward appearances often belie the emptiness of the heart.
I wonder if long before the bullet shattered his skull, Joel had emptied his heart of what he'd learned as a child of God's love. As he grew older, did he try to fill that emptiness with things that promised fulfillment . . . things that ultimately left him empty?
To this day, no one knows why Joel took his life that Tuesday. But I wonder if, like Solomon, he realized wealth, position, and reputation are not enough to fill the God-created void St. Augustine spoke of in his Confessions: "Thou hast made us for thyself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee."
Who is not tempted at times to misorder life’s priorities, to choose the seductive allure of popularity, position or wealth to the sacrifices God requires of time, wealth and talent -- and not infrequently -- friendships, freedom, or even our very lives?
Decisions like that never occur overnight. They begin, and are nurtured, at the heart’s altar where, in time, they blossom into a mind-set of faith or faithlessness, trust or scorn, obedience or rebellion.
Turning from God's call on our lives doesn’t mean we’ll end up putting a gun to our head. But I’ve seen so often the results of running from Him, I think it’s a spiritual law: Those who persist in choosing their will over God’s reach the same conclusion Solomon reached before his conversion: “Vanity of vanities. All is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2).
What a tragic mistake it is to end a life like that.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Promise
"Do I have any pleasure in the death of the wicked," declares the Lord GOD, "rather than that he should turn from his ways and live?” . . . . For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone who dies," declares the Lord GOD. "Therefore, repent and live." (Ezekiel 18:23, 32)
Every now and again
I think of the thief
dying next to Jesus.
I wonder if his mother
wept at the cross
for her wayward son . . .
or did she learn
of his death
days later
after strangers
buried him,
and she grieved by his grave
without knowing
of her son’s repentance
or of Christ’s promise:
Today
you will be with Me
in paradise.
I wonder too
of the many moms
and dads today
who grieve
at the grave
of their wayward son
or daughter
unaware
of their child’s
repentance
or of Christ’s
promise
Today
you will be with Me
in paradise.
Every now and again
I think of the thief
dying next to Jesus.
I wonder if his mother
wept at the cross
for her wayward son . . .
or did she learn
of his death
days later
after strangers
buried him,
and she grieved by his grave
without knowing
of her son’s repentance
or of Christ’s promise:
Today
you will be with Me
in paradise.
I wonder too
of the many moms
and dads today
who grieve
at the grave
of their wayward son
or daughter
unaware
of their child’s
repentance
or of Christ’s
promise
Today
you will be with Me
in paradise.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Arise My Darling, and Come Along
Prefiguring Christ and His Church, Solomon wrote:
[My beloved groom] . . . . says to me,"Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! For see, the winter is past, the rains are over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of pruning the vines has come, and the song of the dove is heard in our land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines in bloom give forth fragrance. Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! (Song of Songs 2:9b-13).
I'd read this passage dozens of times during the past 35 years of my journey with Christ. But only recently did its message nearly overwhelm my emotions as I connected it with others I'd memorized.
Jesus said, In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be (John 14:2-3).
St. Paul added, Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will surely not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself, with a [shout], with the voice of an archangel and with the trumpet of God, will come down from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus we shall always be with the Lord (1 Thessalonians 4:15-17).
Sometimes, when I read promises like these -- and especially like that from the Song of Songs in which my Groom calls me His "beloved," His "beautiful one" -- I can almost hear the Lord shout. I can almost hear the trumpet. I can almost see myself in His presence, His arms drawing me to Himself as He whispers: Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come with Me. The vines in blossom are giving off their sweet fragrance. Winter is past. Come with Me to the place I've prepared for you. A place without tears, or fear, or sorrow. A place without separation, or death.
[My beloved groom] . . . . says to me,"Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! For see, the winter is past, the rains are over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of pruning the vines has come, and the song of the dove is heard in our land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines in bloom give forth fragrance. Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! (Song of Songs 2:9b-13).
I'd read this passage dozens of times during the past 35 years of my journey with Christ. But only recently did its message nearly overwhelm my emotions as I connected it with others I'd memorized.
Jesus said, In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be (John 14:2-3).
St. Paul added, Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will surely not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself, with a [shout], with the voice of an archangel and with the trumpet of God, will come down from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus we shall always be with the Lord (1 Thessalonians 4:15-17).
Sometimes, when I read promises like these -- and especially like that from the Song of Songs in which my Groom calls me His "beloved," His "beautiful one" -- I can almost hear the Lord shout. I can almost hear the trumpet. I can almost see myself in His presence, His arms drawing me to Himself as He whispers: Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come with Me. The vines in blossom are giving off their sweet fragrance. Winter is past. Come with Me to the place I've prepared for you. A place without tears, or fear, or sorrow. A place without separation, or death.
Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come along.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Citizenship -- Rights and Responsibilities
The jailer reported the words to Paul, "The magistrates have sent orders that you be released. Now, then, come out and go in peace." But Paul said to them, "They have beaten us publicly, even though we are Roman citizens and have not been tried, and have thrown us into prison. And now, are they going to release us secretly? By no means. Let them come themselves and lead us out (Acts 16:36-37).
I often stop at this section in my reading through Acts and mull this scene over and over in my mind -- especially because this incident has close application to the time in which we live.
Roman citizens of the 1st century enjoyed special rights not granted to non-Romans. One of those privileges was exemption from beating and imprisonment without due process of law. No wonder the city leaders became alarmed when they learned the status of their two latest prisoners.
We find also in this text St. Paul used his Roman citizenship to force a public apology from the magistrates. In so doing he guaranteed the new believers he and Silas had won for Christ would receive civil protection from political and religious harassment.
That is why St. Paul’s use of his citizenship rights provides us an important lesson.
Many today try to intimidate God's children into silence with regard to public policies and morality. They say our religious views have no place in government, in schools, in courts – even in the marketplace.
But that’s not at all what the apostles believed, nor what the Church teaches. Christian citizens not only have a right to actively participate in our government by speaking (and voting) against immorality and injustice, but we have an obligation to do so. Thus the Catechism of the Catholic Church states: (paragraph 2239) It is the duty of citizens to contribute along with the civil authorities to the good of society in a spirit of truth, justice, solidarity, and freedom . . . .
Then again, (paragraph 2242) The citizen is obliged in conscience not to follow the directives of civil authorities when they are contrary to the demands of the moral order, to the fundamental rights of persons or the teachings of the Gospel. . . . "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." “We must obey God rather than men . . . .”
From the standpoint of evangelism, Saints Paul and Silas teach us that by wise use of our rights as citizens, new converts won to Christ will find protection from religious harassment at the hands of civil authorities.
And just as important, our boldness in the face of social, political and cultural intimidation will enable not-yet-converts to hear the gospel presented without fear of reprisal.
Saints Paul and Silas, pray for us.
I often stop at this section in my reading through Acts and mull this scene over and over in my mind -- especially because this incident has close application to the time in which we live.
Roman citizens of the 1st century enjoyed special rights not granted to non-Romans. One of those privileges was exemption from beating and imprisonment without due process of law. No wonder the city leaders became alarmed when they learned the status of their two latest prisoners.
We find also in this text St. Paul used his Roman citizenship to force a public apology from the magistrates. In so doing he guaranteed the new believers he and Silas had won for Christ would receive civil protection from political and religious harassment.
That is why St. Paul’s use of his citizenship rights provides us an important lesson.
Many today try to intimidate God's children into silence with regard to public policies and morality. They say our religious views have no place in government, in schools, in courts – even in the marketplace.
But that’s not at all what the apostles believed, nor what the Church teaches. Christian citizens not only have a right to actively participate in our government by speaking (and voting) against immorality and injustice, but we have an obligation to do so. Thus the Catechism of the Catholic Church states: (paragraph 2239) It is the duty of citizens to contribute along with the civil authorities to the good of society in a spirit of truth, justice, solidarity, and freedom . . . .
Then again, (paragraph 2242) The citizen is obliged in conscience not to follow the directives of civil authorities when they are contrary to the demands of the moral order, to the fundamental rights of persons or the teachings of the Gospel. . . . "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." “We must obey God rather than men . . . .”
From the standpoint of evangelism, Saints Paul and Silas teach us that by wise use of our rights as citizens, new converts won to Christ will find protection from religious harassment at the hands of civil authorities.
And just as important, our boldness in the face of social, political and cultural intimidation will enable not-yet-converts to hear the gospel presented without fear of reprisal.
Saints Paul and Silas, pray for us.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Knowing Who We Are and Why We Are Here
Therefore be imitators of God as beloved children . . . . (Ephesians 5:1)
How does a person learn to imitate God?
As I laid my Bible down and pondered that idea, I remembered another text, this one in St. John’s gospel. Jesus said to His disciples, He who abides in Me, and I in him, he bears much fruit (John 15:5). Then St. Paul’s words dropped into my mind, I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live but Christ lives in me (Galatians 2:20).
As I mulled over those texts, I realized again (I say again because the Holy Spirit often has to remind me of things He has repeatedly shown me over the years . . . things I quickly forget), we learn to imitate Christ by abiding – remaining close to – Him. The closer we abide, the better we imitate.
It’s really that simple.
Jesus in His humanity abided so well in His Father that at no time in all of Scripture did He ever question who He was or what was His purpose on earth.
Even at the age of twelve, when Mary and Joseph found Him in the Temple, Jesus already knew His purpose. Didn’t you know I had to be about My Father’s things? He asked His parents. During His adult ministry, the Lord repeatedly and without hesitation declared His divine mission and origin. When St. Peter said to Jesus, You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God, Jesus answered, Flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, but My Father who is in heaven (Matthew 16:16-17) To a grieving Martha and Mary, He said, I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live even if he dies. And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die (John 11:25-26); To the Pharisees, He declared, Before Abraham was born, I Am (John 8:58), and, My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work (John 4:34); And yet again, I and the father are one (John 10:30).
The Church, which St. Paul calls the “pillar and support of the truth” (1 Timothy 3:15) adds her guidance about the Lord’s confidence and knowledge of His origin and purpose. For example, we find in the Catechism:
Paragraph 536: The baptism of Jesus is on his part the acceptance and inauguration of his mission as God's suffering Servant. He allows himself to be numbered among sinners; he is already "the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world". Already he is anticipating the "baptism" of his bloody death. Already he is coming to "fulfill all righteousness", that is, he is submitting himself entirely to his Father's will: out of love he consents to this baptism of death for the remission of our sins. The Father's voice responds to the Son's acceptance, proclaiming his entire delight in his Son.
Paragraph 440: Jesus accepted Peter's profession of faith, which acknowledged him to be the Messiah . . . . He unveiled the authentic content of his messianic kingship both in the transcendent identity of the Son of Man "who came down from heaven", and in his redemptive mission as the suffering Servant . . . .
Paragraphy 442 [When] Simon Peter . . . confesses Jesus as "the Christ, the Son of the living God", for Jesus responds solemnly: "Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven” . . . .
Scores of additional such passages thread their way through the Gospels and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Each illustrates without equivocation or nuance that Jesus never doubted his origin, role, or mission.
So what does that mean for us?
It is this: We do not have to stumble through life wondering who we are and why we are here. When we abide with Christ and learn to imitate His obedience to the Father, then who we are becomes clear -- we are a child of God. And life’s real purpose -- that being to serve Christ, to serve others and bring them the gospel of truth --becomes our passion.
After all, if it were not so, the Holy Spirit would not have guided St. Paul to write: Be imitators of God, as beloved children.
How does a person learn to imitate God?
As I laid my Bible down and pondered that idea, I remembered another text, this one in St. John’s gospel. Jesus said to His disciples, He who abides in Me, and I in him, he bears much fruit (John 15:5). Then St. Paul’s words dropped into my mind, I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live but Christ lives in me (Galatians 2:20).
As I mulled over those texts, I realized again (I say again because the Holy Spirit often has to remind me of things He has repeatedly shown me over the years . . . things I quickly forget), we learn to imitate Christ by abiding – remaining close to – Him. The closer we abide, the better we imitate.
It’s really that simple.
Jesus in His humanity abided so well in His Father that at no time in all of Scripture did He ever question who He was or what was His purpose on earth.
Even at the age of twelve, when Mary and Joseph found Him in the Temple, Jesus already knew His purpose. Didn’t you know I had to be about My Father’s things? He asked His parents. During His adult ministry, the Lord repeatedly and without hesitation declared His divine mission and origin. When St. Peter said to Jesus, You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God, Jesus answered, Flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, but My Father who is in heaven (Matthew 16:16-17) To a grieving Martha and Mary, He said, I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live even if he dies. And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die (John 11:25-26); To the Pharisees, He declared, Before Abraham was born, I Am (John 8:58), and, My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work (John 4:34); And yet again, I and the father are one (John 10:30).
The Church, which St. Paul calls the “pillar and support of the truth” (1 Timothy 3:15) adds her guidance about the Lord’s confidence and knowledge of His origin and purpose. For example, we find in the Catechism:
Paragraph 536: The baptism of Jesus is on his part the acceptance and inauguration of his mission as God's suffering Servant. He allows himself to be numbered among sinners; he is already "the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world". Already he is anticipating the "baptism" of his bloody death. Already he is coming to "fulfill all righteousness", that is, he is submitting himself entirely to his Father's will: out of love he consents to this baptism of death for the remission of our sins. The Father's voice responds to the Son's acceptance, proclaiming his entire delight in his Son.
Paragraph 440: Jesus accepted Peter's profession of faith, which acknowledged him to be the Messiah . . . . He unveiled the authentic content of his messianic kingship both in the transcendent identity of the Son of Man "who came down from heaven", and in his redemptive mission as the suffering Servant . . . .
Paragraphy 442 [When] Simon Peter . . . confesses Jesus as "the Christ, the Son of the living God", for Jesus responds solemnly: "Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven” . . . .
Scores of additional such passages thread their way through the Gospels and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Each illustrates without equivocation or nuance that Jesus never doubted his origin, role, or mission.
So what does that mean for us?
It is this: We do not have to stumble through life wondering who we are and why we are here. When we abide with Christ and learn to imitate His obedience to the Father, then who we are becomes clear -- we are a child of God. And life’s real purpose -- that being to serve Christ, to serve others and bring them the gospel of truth --becomes our passion.
After all, if it were not so, the Holy Spirit would not have guided St. Paul to write: Be imitators of God, as beloved children.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
