A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day THIRTY-SIX

April 3, 2012 By

 Cathedral in Haarlem, The Netherlands
Perhaps reminiscent of the Temple? Perhaps not…

Mark 11:27-33, The Message

   Then when they were back in Jerusalem once again, as they were walking through the Temple, the high priests, religion scholars, and leaders came up and demanded, “Show us your credentials. Who authorized you to speak and act like this?” 
   Jesus responded, “First let me ask you a question. Answer my question and then I’ll present my credentials. About the baptism of John—who authorized it: heaven or humans? Tell me.” 
   They were on the spot, and knew it. They pulled back into a huddle and whispered, “If we say ‘heaven,’ he’ll ask us why we didn’t believe John; if we say ‘humans,’ we’ll be up against it with the people because they all hold John up as a prophet.” They decided to concede that round to Jesus. “We don’t know,” they said.
   Jesus replied, “Then I won’t answer your question either.” 
_______ 
Day Three of Holy Week – and score one for Jesus. 

Perhaps the last ‘score’ of this kind that Jesus will make until Easter Sunday morning. 

It’s a very good thing that Jesus is not really playing the same game as the religious leaders during this momentous week.

Not at all. 

He is not into word games. 

He is not into power struggles. 

He is not into self-defense, 
     self-aggrandizement, 
          self-promotion. 

He is also not into answering questions that border on insult,       
     that seek to quibble and quaver over fine points,           
          that imply he is out of turn, 
                                       out of place, 
                                       out of his element.

Because he most definitely is not. 

Jesus is very intentionally – 
     and most especially in John’s gospel – 
          very confidently 
     striding to his final triumph, 
          his complete and utter victory over all those forces which seek to 
     delay, 
          derail, 
               detract, or 
                    deny who he is and why he has come. 

He will not be swayed. 
     He will not be used. 
          He will not be distracted. 
               He will not be anyone but who he is. 

Thanks be to God. 

_______

Striding Savior, help us to keep step with you, to keep up with you, to keep company with you…right to the end of this journey of yours, this journey of ours. Thank you for your devastatingly adroit response to those who sought to trap you in your own words. And help us – oh, help us! – to never make that mistake. Help us to remain open to the whole truth of who you are and to bow in adoration and gratitude for your humble magnificence. Even though those two words seems oddly juxtaposed – they are so, SO true. Thank you that they are true – that YOU are true.
Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to Calvary – Day THIRTY-FIVE

April 2, 2012 By

2 Corinthians 1:1-7, New Living Translation

   Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and Timothy our brother,
   To the church of God in Corinth, together with all his holy people throughout Achaia: 
   Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 
   Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. 
_______
Nine times. 

Nine times Paul uses some form of the word ‘comfort,’ both noun and verb. 

That’s a lotta times in seven short verses, don’t you think? Maybe, just maybe, this is an important idea. 

Maybe, just maybe, Paul knows that the church in Corinth – and the church anywhere, anytime – needs to see that word printed out a whole lotta times. 

And seeing it here reminds me of that verse in the Shepherd’s Psalm – “thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me…” 

The same word – but used in a way that makes me stop for a minute. Stop and wonder if maybe some of the ideas in that psalm might be applied to Paul’s writing – and to our own lives. 

Most of us probably have a picture that springs to mind when we think of the word ‘comfort’: 

     a favorite spot/blanket/person;
     a particular kind of food;
     an activity that makes us feel better, inside and out;
     a word or phrase that stills and centers us;
     a hug – a pat on the back – a sympathetic face. 

But I’m guessing our go-to picture probably does not include a ‘rod’ or a ‘staff.’ 

So that got me thinking. Maybe I’m stuck in my oh-so-comfortable rut when it comes to understanding just what this whole idea means. Maybe there are ways to be comforted that I’ve never dreamed of or experienced. Or maybe I have experienced them – but in a way I did not immediately recognize as comfort. 

Maybe Paul is talking about things like: 

     a friend/spouse/mentor who can say to us, ‘enough’ – encouraging us to set a boundary/say ‘no’/stop for a while;
     a verse/book/poem/video/movie/song/blog post that catches our eye, our ear and then our heart, reminding us there is ‘more to life than increasing its speed;’ 
     a skilled listener, who can – just by sitting quietly and asking a careful question or two – help us to realize where we have taken a misstep and offer us the gentlest of course corrections. 

Because sometimes I think we get so caught up in our own spinning wheels that we lose touch with the truth that we NEED comfort, we need someone to truly see us, to help us step out of the dis-comfort we’re drowning in without realizing it. 

Sometimes we need the breath of the Spirit – often delivered to us through the presence of another human person – to blow fiercely enough to stop us in our tracks, to remind us that we’re creating a regular lifestyle addiction to overdoing everything. 

Because sometimes the ‘trouble’ we find ourselves in is the result of… 
     our own driven-ness, 
     our inability to know our yeses well enough to say ‘no’ when we need to, 
     our eternal need to be needed. 

Maybe that’s when we need the comfort of a rod and staff. Maybe that’s when we need a different way of experiencing the ‘comfort that abounds in Christ.’ 

_______ 

God of All Comfort, help us to keep our eyes open, our hearts pliable, our spirits willing to be comforted in exactly the way you desire us to be. And empower us, by the gracious breath of your Spirit, to be open to providing comfort – in all its permutations and colors – to others in need. For Jesus’ sake.
     




    

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to Calvary – PALM / SIXTH Sunday

April 1, 2012 By

John 12:12-16, New Living Translation

The next day, the news that Jesus was on the way to Jerusalem swept through the city. A large crowd of Passover visitors took palm branches and went down the road to meet him. They shouted,
“Praise God!
Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hail to the King of Israel!” 

Jesus found a young donkey and rode on it, fulfilling the prophecy that said:

   “Don’t be afraid, people of Jerusalem.
Look, your King is coming,
    riding on a donkey’s colt.”

His disciples didn’t understand at the time that this was a fulfillment of prophecy. But after Jesus entered into his glory, they remembered what had happened and realized that these things had been written about him. 
_______ 

This opening to Holy Week has always made me feel a little bit queasy inside.

Such a welcome – a royal welcome. Well-deserved, but SO not understood by those who are offering it. 

They really want to see a King – a king like they were used to, a king like they prayed for, a king who would swoop in and rout out those Romans and restore the honor of Israel. And for a few brief moments, they thought they had found just the guy for the job. 

But we already know, from readings earlier on our journey, that Jesus has no intention of fulfilling any of those dreams. 

None.


We know, from our vantage point on this side of Calvary and the empty tomb, that Jesus is indeed a king – and that he came to bring in the kingdom of God. 

But…
But…it surely doesn’t look like any kingdom anyone has ever seen before. No, it does not. 

Just a few days away from the waving palm branches and the shouts of “Hosanna!” this same crowd of people will be shouting again. But it will sound dramatically different, it will be dramatically different. By Friday, the cheers will be jeers and Jesus’ very life will be demanded to satisfy their anger. 

Because everything in us resists the truth about Jesus. 

We all want a Super-Hero, complete with white charger, swooping in to save the day, to make life easier for us, to solve our problems and make us look good. 

What we get is an up-country carpenter on a donkey, slowly walking across the city gate near Bethany, an itinerant rabbi determined to show us what the Kingdom of God really looks like. 

Really looks like.


And it does not look like political victories. 
     It has not one thing to do with power. 
          It’s not about taking anything by force. 

Instead, it’s about dying. 
     It’s about the first becoming last. 
          It’s about the littlest, the least, the lost and the lonely. 
          It’s about reconciliation between God and humans. 
     It’s about wholeness,
          and healing,
               and learning to do the hard, hard work of love. 
     It’s about life with meaning, life with joy – despite the hardships that come our way – 
          and it’s about life with hope. 

I want to get this right. I want to get this. I want to be this. 

Do you? 

_______ 

We’re almost here, Lord. We’re almost at the end of this particular Lenten road. Some days we’ve struggled to keep in step; some days we’ve wondered if this was such a good idea. And as we move through this week, I’m sure we’re going to wonder about that a lot. A lot. So as we stand on the sidelines, gently waving our own palm branches, grant us grace to see you, to walk with you, every step of this last week. Every.Single.Step. No matter what.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to Calvary – Day THIRTY-FOUR

March 31, 2012 By

Mark 10:46-52, The Kingdom New Testament,
                                a contemporary translation by N.T. Wright

They came to Jericho. As Jesus, his disciples, and a substantial crowd were leaving the town, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the side of the road. When he heard it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out, “Son of David! Jesus! Take pity on me!”

Lots of people told him crossly to be quiet. But he shouted out all the louder, “Son of David – take pity on me.” 

Jesus came to a stop. “Call him,” he said. 

So they called the blind man. 

“Cheer up,” they said, “and get up. He’s calling you.” 

He flung his cloak aside, jumped up and came to Jesus. 

Jesus saw him coming. “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. 

“Teacher,” the blind man said, “let me see again.” 

“Off you go,” said Jesus. “Your faith has saved you.” And immediately he saw again, and he followed him on the way. 

_______

It is a motley crew making its way up the road to Jericho. Very soon, they will be on the very outskirts of Jerusalem.

And we will, too.

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, the last week of our journey through Lent. 

And I can’t think of a better story to mark this important transition time than the one we’ve got right here, the one about Bartimaeus. 

Who is kind of a hero of mine. I really like this dude. He is bold to the point of pushiness and he definitely knows what he wants and goes for it.

And he wants Jesus. 

He wants Jesus to see him so that he can see Jesus. 

That’s how deep and real his faith is, his belief that Jesus of Nazareth is the one who can rescue him from darkness. 

Even Jesus acknowledges this truth, declaring him ‘saved,’ or healed, without so much as a touch. No mud. No saliva. No special word. Just a declaration, a fait accompli.

Maybe that’s why the early church adapted this man’s prayer and offered it as a balm, an ever-ready invitation into the very presence of God: the Jesus Prayer. 

It is my go-to prayer every single day, usually several times a day. The words are so true, so calming, so immediate. 

And it goes like this:
    Big breath in:    “Lord Jesus Christ”
    Big breath out:  “Son of God”
    Big breath in:     “Have mercy on me”
    Big breath out:   “a sinner.”

Or it can be shortened to the simple words, “Lord, have mercy.” There is something calming and centering about these words, this intentional focus on the Savior and our overwhelming need for mercy. 

Bartimaeus received that and more. His answered prayer changed his life forever; he picked up his beggar’s bowl and threw in his lot with the carpenter-teacher from the north. For he followed him on the way, the scripture tells us. 

He followed him on the way.

_______ 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. That says it all, Lord, all that I want and need to say today. You are the Lord, I am the sinner, and mercy is what brings us together. Touch my eyes today, and walk with me that I might offer the mercy I have received to all those I meet, in Jesus’ name and for Jesus’ sake. Amen. 

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to Calvary – Day THIRTY-THREE

March 30, 2012 By
The storm is comin’, can you see it?

Exodus 9:13-35, The Message

God said to Moses, “Get up early in the morning and confront Pharaoh. Tell him, ‘God, the God of the Hebrews, says: Release my people so they can worship me. This time I am going to strike you and your servants and your people with the full force of my power so you’ll get it into your head that there’s no one like me anywhere in all the Earth. You know that by now I could have struck you and your people with deadly disease and there would be nothing left of you, not a trace. But for one reason only I’ve kept you on your feet: To make you recognize my power so that my reputation spreads in all the Earth. You are still building yourself up at my people’s expense. You are not letting them go. So here’s what’s going to happen: At this time tomorrow I’m sending a terrific hailstorm—there’s never been a storm like this in Egypt from the day of its founding until now. So get your livestock under roof—everything exposed in the open fields, people and animals, will die when the hail comes down.'”
All of Pharaoh’s servants who had respect for God‘s word got their workers and animals under cover as fast as they could, but those who didn’t take God‘s word seriously left their workers and animals out in the field.
God said to Moses: “Stretch your hands to the skies. Signal the hail to fall all over Egypt on people and animals and crops exposed in the fields of Egypt.”
Moses lifted his staff to the skies and God sent peals of thunder and hail shot through with lightning strikes. God rained hail down on the land of Egypt. The hail came, hail and lightning—a fierce hailstorm. There had been nothing like it in Egypt in its entire history. The hail hit hard all over Egypt. Everything exposed out in the fields, people and animals and crops, was smashed. Even the trees in the fields were shattered. Except for Goshen where the Israelites lived; there was no hail in Goshen.
Pharaoh summoned Moses and Aaron. He said, “I’ve sinned for sure this time—God is in the right and I and my people are in the wrong. Pray to God. We’ve had enough of God‘s thunder and hail. I’ll let you go. The sooner you’re out of here the better.”
Moses said, “As soon as I’m out of the city, I’ll stretch out my arms to God. The thunder will stop and the hail end so you’ll know that the land is God‘s land. Still, I know that you and your servants have no respect for God.”
(The flax and the barley were ruined, for they were just ripening, but the wheat and spelt weren’t hurt—they ripen later.)

Moses left Pharaoh and the city and stretched out his arms to God. The thunder and hail stopped; the storm cleared.

But when Pharaoh saw that the rain and hail and thunder had stopped, he kept right on sinning, stubborn as ever, both he and his servants. Pharaoh’s heart turned rock-hard. He refused to release the Israelites, as God had ordered through Moses. 
_______

The battle of wills between God and Pharaoh is positively epic. 

And we know who wins.

But, man alive – that Egyptian big shot is one tough cookie. With his stubborn refusal to acknowledge the God of Moses, he has already brought down sorrows untold for his own people:
     water turned to blood,
          frogs up the yin-yang,
               gnats in every crevice,
                    flies beyond belief,
               livestock laid waste by disease,
          boils by the bucketload on the skin of humans and animals,
     and now…a ginormous hail storm is promised/threatened.

Will he never learn?

… You know, I’d like to go on and on, railing against the stupidity and stubbornness of the guy, but I just can’t get there today.

Because I am too often a pharaoh (small ‘p’) all on my own, too often resisting the word of the Lord – even when I know it might get me in a heap of trouble.

     I too often say one thing – and do the opposite.

     I too often nod my head in agreement and at the same time determine in my spirit not to agree, not at all.

     I too often put my need to be the one in charge, the one ‘to whom attention must be paid’ ahead of my stated belief that God is God and not me myself.

     I can only imagine the amount of thunder/lightening/hail I’ve brought down on myself and innocent bystanders because I have gotten in the way of my own best interests and defied the call of God.

Not that I believe God sends all of that as particular punishment for my lack of faith and shortsightedness. But I do believe (and know) that the consequences of my own thoughtlessness and selfishness do rain down on me, all on their own. Oh my, yes.

So, I see myself in this reading today, brought up short and made painfully aware of my penchant for willfulness. 

And all I can do is fall on the mercy of God and cry out for forgiveness. 

And beg for a serious course correction!


How about you? Need a little time for confession as this day begins?

_______ 

Mighty God, Author of Life and Redeemer of our souls, I confess to you my own pharaoh-like willful streak. I acknowledge my bent for choosing too often to go my own way rather than to seek the way of grace and freedom. As a result, I deal with storms of all kinds, storms that could have been avoided. I rely on your forgiveness, on your kindness and the work of your transformational Spirit to become a softer,  more pliable child of yours, willing to submit, willing to admit dependence. In my own strength, I’m going nowhere fast. But centered in your goodness – there is freedom, there is release, there is a way through the messes I create. Thank you, thank you.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to Calvary – Day THIRTY-TWO

March 29, 2012 By

Some places, moments and people in my life where I see the glory of God.
What about you?

2 Corinthians 3:7-18, New Living Translation


The old way, with laws etched in stone, led to death, though it began with such glory that the people of Israel could not bear to look at Moses’ face. For his face shone with the glory of God, even though the brightness was already fading away. Shouldn’t we expect far greater glory under the new way, now that the Holy Spirit is giving life? If the old way, which brings condemnation, was glorious, how much more glorious is the new way, which makes us right with God! In fact, that first glory was not glorious at all compared with the overwhelming glory of the new way. So if the old way, which has been replaced, was glorious, how much more glorious is the new, which remains forever! 

Since this new way gives us such confidence, we can be very bold. We are not like Moses, who put a veil over his face so the people of Israel would not see the glory, even though it was destined to fade away. But the people’s minds were hardened, and to this day whenever the old covenant is being read, the same veil covers their minds so they cannot understand the truth. And this veil can be removed only by believing in Christ. Yes, even today when they read Moses’ writings, their hearts are covered with that veil, and they do not understand. 

But whenever someone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. So all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord. And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image. 

_______

“So all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord.”
We can SEE it.
And we can REFLECT it.

The glory of the Lord is all around us, and it shines out of us – if we open our hearts to see, to receive, and to release it. 
My goodness gracious sakes alive.
That is fantastic. 
Amazing. 
Wondrous. 
And just the teensiest bit overwhelming on some days. 
Usually on the days when I’ve closed my eyes,
     when I cannot see the glory,
          when I’ve forgotten about the glory,
               when I try to make it on my own steam,
          forgetting to stop.look.listen.rejoice.
So, look through some old photos of your own.
Walk in your neighborhood.
Look at your family, especially those older saints you know.
Or the tiny ones.
And celebrate the glory around you.
And in you, too.
_______
The veil is gone because of you, Jesus. Thank you. Remind us, even before our feet hit the floor each day, to use the ‘eyes of our eyes’ to see your glory, the ‘ears of our ears’ to hear your glory. And then empower us to live it, from one minute to the next, one task to the next, one person to the next. Because you’re there – waiting for us to notice.   
Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day THIRTY-ONE

March 28, 2012 By
Watching for the morning on the island of Kauai, July 2008

Psalm 130 – A Psalm of Ascents – 
Today’s New International Version 
Out of the depths I cry to you, LORD; 
Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
   to my cry for mercy. 
If you, LORD, kept a record of sins,
   Lord, who could stand? 
 But with you there is forgiveness,
   so that we can, with reverence, serve you. 
I wait for the LORD, my whole being waits,
   and in his word I put my hope. 
 I wait for the Lord
   more than watchmen wait for the morning,
   more than watchmen wait for the morning. 
Israel, put your hope in the LORD,
   for with the LORD is unfailing love
   and with him is full redemption. 
 He himself will redeem Israel
   from all their sins. 
_______ 

Waiting.

That’s my word for this year.

Waiting.

I don’t wait very well. That’s a fact. I am a restless person by nature and learning to be still, to live in patience –
    this is extraordinarily difficult for me.

Which is probably why this is the word that came when I asked God about it near the end of 2011.

Waiting.

But what I don’t think I’ve thought about very much is that this song about waiting…
     waiting for God,
          waiting for mercy,
               waiting for forgiveness,

…is also a song about moving.

This is a pilgrimage song, not a sitting under the palm tree song. 

This is a song of hope, not resignation.

This is a song of long-term relationship, 
     of hope borne of history, 
          of promises fulfilled over time.

“For with the Lord is unfailing love,
     and with him is full redemption.”
So…Israel…
     So…follower of Jesus…
          PUT YOUR HOPE IN THE LORD.

Can I do that today? Can you?
Just for today.

And then we can sing this song again tomorrow.

_______

God of the morning, I am thankful beyond words for signs of your mercy, your forgiveness, your faithfulness over time. Help me to stand with confidence on the foundation of your loving-kindness, to trust that today will be okay because you are in it with me. Thank you for all my yesterdays in which this has been so very true, even when I couldn’t quite see you ‘in the moment.’ Thank you for all my tomorrows, in which this will continue to be true. But most of all, thank you for today, in which this IS true. Help me to wait for you all day through, to wait while I follow this road to Calvary. Just for today. Amen.
Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day THIRTY

March 27, 2012 By

Psalm 126 – A Song of Ascents – Today’s New International Version
When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion,
   we were like those who dreamed.
Our mouths were filled with laughter,
   our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
   “The LORD has done great things for them.” 
 The LORD has done great things for us,
   and we are filled with joy.
Restore our fortunes, LORD,
   like streams in the Negev.
Those who sow with tears
   will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
   carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
   carrying sheaves with them. 
_______

I love this song.

And I think it’s a perfect song for climbing.

That’s what it is, you know. It’s a song to be sung while climbing the steep hill road to Jerusalem.

One of fifteen psalms sung at the time of each festival celebration, sung as the pilgrims returned to Zion for feasting and worshiping and remembering.

So this is a perfect song for us, at day thirty on our climb to Calvary. We’re heading into the home stretch, nearer and nearer to the heart of the city and to the heart of our story.

And it’s feeling like a climb about now, isn’t it?

Walking along with Jesus as he takes his friends to the end of the road, as he prepares for his own exodus – we can get weary in this walking. Unsure as to whether or not we really want to make that last steep ascent up the hill.

But take heart!

We do not go alone. 

We join with hundreds and thousands and millions of others – around the world and across time. 

And we go with Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, the divine/human one who bent low that we might be brought high. 


But it’s true that there is weeping along the way, isn’t it? The journey we take is fraught with danger, toil and tears – no doubt about that.

But always – always – amidst the tears and the struggle, there are these kernels,  these seeds of hope. 
And we know that as those seeds are planted – we will return singing songs of joy. Yes, we will.

Yes. We. Will.

_______

Lord of the Road – this road of life, and this road to Calvary and the empty tomb – we join our voices to the throng, to the voices of the faithful over the centuries and all around this world. And we sing of hope, of promise, of dreams, of committed connection to our story and to you, the Author of that story. Give us courage to make this final stretch; steady our feet on the rocky road and lead us into life.
Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to Calvary – Day TWENTY-NINE

March 26, 2012 By
Mark 9:30-37, New Living Translation

Leaving that region, they traveled through Galilee. Jesus didn’t want anyone to know he was there, for he wanted to spend more time with his disciples and teach them. He said to them, “The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of his enemies. He will be killed, but three days later he will rise from the dead. They didn’t understand what he was saying, however, and they were afraid to ask him what he meant.
After they arrived at Capernaum and settled in a house, Jesus asked his disciples, “What were you discussing out on the road?” But they didn’t answer, because they had been arguing about which of them was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve disciples over to him, and said, “Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else.”
Then he put a little child among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, “Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but also my Father who sent me.” 

_______ 

They are NOT getting it…

…these disciples, these friends of Jesus, the ones who’ve left home and livelihood to join him on the road.  

They’re moving ever closer to Jerusalem and Jesus is intent on teaching them the true meaning of the Kingdom of God. 

But…they’re clueless.

For example: when they’re out there on the road walking and talking and missing the point… 

…they seem to be spending the bulk of their time pushing and shoving and jostling, getting themselves into a heated discussion about who among them will be ‘the greatest.’

Ahem. NOTHING whatever to do with the message that Jesus is preaching here. Nothing.
Which is precisely when Jesus pulls a small child into the circle – into his arms, to be exact – and says, “THIS is what you’re supposed to look like, friends. This is whom you are to welcome as if you are welcoming me.” 
It seems you don’t get to be the greatest by pushing your way there. 

                  You get to be first by…being last. 

And in that time and place, there was no one more ‘last’ than
…a child. 
Bottom of the heap, 
     no legal standing, 
          no status, 
               no authority, 
                    no ‘leadership skills,’ 
               no priority seating, 
          no head-of-the-line,
     no pick-of-the-litter,
no nothin’. 
 
But…
there is this – 
     a small child who is welcomed, 
          received with love, 
               hosted graciously, 
                    cared for, fed and sheltered – 
     such a one is exactly where Jesus can be found.

Not just ‘angels unaware,’ 
     but Jesus himself  
just might show up on our doorstep,  
     grimy and mischievous, 
     laughing or sobbing, 
     looking up at us with those eyes. 
Oh, those eyes. 


So, my friends, here is the big, BIG takeaway for today:

Any investment we make into the lives of small children is the single most important work we can do on this planet. 

So all you parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, teachers – oh, please – welcome the child.  
Welcome the child. 
For this is the work of the kingdom – to see Jesus in the least of these. 
_______ 

Give us eyes to see you, Gentle Shepherd. To see you in the little ones we meet, the little ones we read about, the little ones we worry about, the little ones who still live and breathe inside of us, the little ones everywhere. For to such belong the kingdom of God. Oh, my.

Linking up with Michelle and Jen for this one – I think this is the first time I’ve linked up one of these daily posts – not sure why. But hey, there’s always a first time, right?



 
Filed Under: biblical reflection, family, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – FIFTH Sunday

March 25, 2012 By
Hebrews 5:5-10, The Message

No one elects himself to this honored position. He’s called to it by God, as Aaron was. Neither did Christ presume to set himself up as high priest, but was set apart by the One who said to him, “You’re my Son; today I celebrate you!” In another place God declares, “You’re a priest forever in the royal order of Melchizedek.” 
While he lived on earth, anticipating death, Jesus cried out in pain and wept in sorrow as he offered up priestly prayers to God. Because he honored God, God answered him. Though he was God’s Son, he learned trusting-obedience by what he suffered, just as we do. Then, having arrived at the full stature of his maturity and having been announced by God as high priest in the order of Melchizedek, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who believingly obey him. 
_______ 

When you read the word ‘obedience’ in this passage, what picture comes to your mind? What kind of freight does obedience – the idea, the word, the process – what weight does it carry in your spirit? 

I’m guessing that you’re a lot like me, that the word ‘obedience’ connotes a list of do’s and don’t’s with some pretty hefty legalistic overtones. 
     Do this – or else. 
          Shape up or ship out. 
               Do the ‘right’ thing. 
                    Don’t disappoint anyone’s expectations.
                         Be good, now! 

And then couple those ideas with the idea of learning-through-suffering – and the whole concept becomes positively frightening.

But take a deep breath and think about this with me for a minute. Jesus came to be one of us, right? And we believe that he was exactly that – one of us…with one major difference: Jesus did not sin.

Yet these six verses describe something quite different than a moralistic list of things to do or things to avoid doing. These verses describe both a developmental process and a relationship of mutuality. 

First – Jesus learned obedience – over time and through suffering – ‘just as we do.’ And Jesus ‘arrived at the full stature of his maturity,’ in perfect time to become the source of ‘eternal salvation to all who believingly obey him.’ 
And second, Jesus lived his life in a relationship of mutual care and concern shared with God the Father –
     Christ ‘did not presume,’
          God ‘set him apart,’
               God celebrated Jesus,
                    Jesus cried out to God, openly and honestly,
               Jesus honored God and was answered. 

All of that in six short verses.

What it reminds me of, just the teensiest bit, is Adam and Eve before the apple and the snake. Complete openness between Creator and creature and a natural inclination toward both being and doing what we were designed to be and do.

In fact, I would argue that Jesus did successfully what Adam and Eve did not do, what we cannot do on our own. He remained in completely open communion with God. So much so that obedience was a natural and comfortable outpouring of that communion.

Jesus did not succumb to the lie, Jesus did not desire to usurp God’s role in his life, Jesus did what came naturally to him and no longer comes naturally to us: he lived in obedience, with no sense of coercion, legalism, overbearing moral coaching, or anything else that might carry negative valence. Like the birds of the air, Jesus did what he was designed to do.
And because he did, we can, too. Not perfectly. Not always. But often. And increasingly often as we learn to walk with God – minute by minute, day by day.

It’s a developmental process – and it happens in a relationship of mutuality. Thanks be to God!

_______

Sometimes, Lord, we really distort things, you know? If we can learn, over time and with lots of grace, to live in you, with you, open to you – then obedience is no longer burdensome. It just happens. We learn to want what you want, we learn to see with your eyes, we learn to live with joy – in the middle of good times and tough times. Teach us to listen, teach us to still ourselves regularly so that we can truly hear your voice of love, singing over us. Such a sweet song! Thank you.
         

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word
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