A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day TWENTY-EIGHT

March 24, 2012 By
Exodus 2:23-3:15, Common English Bible 
Moses was taking care of the flock for his father-in-law Jethro, Midian’s priest. He led his flock out to the edge of the desert, and he came to God’s mountain called Horeb. The LORD’s messenger appeared to him in a flame of fire in the middle of a bush. Moses saw that the bush was in flames, but it didn’t burn up. Then Moses said to himself, Let me check out this amazing sight and find out why the bush isn’t burning up. 
When the LORD saw that he was coming to look, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!”
   Moses said, “I’m here.” 
Then the LORD said, “Don’t come any closer! Take off your sandals, because you are standing on holy ground.” He continued, “I am the God of your father, Abraham’s God, Isaac’s God, and Jacob’s God.” Moses hid his face because he was afraid to look at God. 
Then the LORD said, “I’ve clearly seen my people oppressed in Egypt. I’ve heard their cry of injustice because of their slave masters. I know about their pain. I’ve come down to rescue them from the Egyptians in order to take them out of that land and bring them to a good and broad land, a land that’s full of milk and honey, a place where the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites all live. Now the Israelites’ cries of injustice have reached me. I’ve seen just how much the Egyptians have oppressed them. So get going. I’m sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.”
But Moses said to God, “Who am I to go to Pharaoh and to bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
God said, “I’ll be with you. And this will show you that I’m the one who sent you. After you bring the people out of Egypt, you will come back here and worship God on this mountain.” 

But Moses said to God, “If I now come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ they are going to ask me, ‘What’s this God’s name?’ What am I supposed to say to them?”

God said to Moses, “I Am Who I Am. So say to the Israelites, ‘I Am has sent me to you.’” God continued, “Say to the Israelites, ‘The LORD, the God of your ancestors, Abraham’s God, Isaac’s God, and Jacob’s God, has sent me to you.’ This is my name forever; this is how all generations will remember me. 
_______
How wonderful that we should dive into the Exodus narrative these last two weeks of Lent. That great event of freedom and deliverance … and worship.

That word ‘exodus’ is used in the New Testament. Did you know that? In only 3 places and only once in a way not directly connected to the story we’ve just begun to read about.

It shows up in Luke 9:31 – in Luke’s version of the same Transfiguration scene we read yesterday in Mark. The heavenly visitors are said to have, “appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure (GK=exhodus) which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem…” The coming events in Jerusalem will tell this central story in an entirely new way – Jesus himself will be the ‘exodus’ for us all.

Here, in today’s reading, we are introduced to the whole concept of ‘departure,’ at its very beginning. We are told that God has listened to the cries of his people for help, for deliverance, for freedom.
And God has a plan to bring them exactly that.

And to do it, God enlists the help of an aging shepherd wandering with his sheep in the back of beyond.

Sometimes I think God is really, really strange. He chooses the most unlikely people, the most unexpected means of problem-solving. And so, in typical God-fashion, MOSES is selected. You remember Moses, right?

Moses – the Hebrew baby in the bulrushes.
Moses – the adopted grandson of the Pharoah.
Moses – the man who doesn’t know where he belongs – Egyptian or Hebrew? Hebrew or Egyptian?
Moses – the one who flees for his life after ‘choosing sides’ with an act of violence and murder.
Moses – the 40 year wanderer, lost in the shadows, content to stay there forever.
Yup, that’s the one. Captured by a bush that burns without being consumed, warned about holy ground, given a task that must have seemed next to impossible.
Are you kidding me? Just waltz up to Pharoah, who wanted to HANG me the last time I lived nearby, and say to him – Hey there, Pharoah, mind if I borrow my people for a while? No way, Jose!

This is, of course, a loose translation. 

But the conversation that follows is fascinating on multiple levels. First of all, this is a little tete-a-tete between an old man in the desert, looking after sheep – and Almighty God, Creator of the universe and everything in it. That in and of itself is surprising.

Then there’s the giving of the Name at the end of this chunk. The Name – that fluid, non-defining definition – reminding us that God will not be put into a box of our making but will always and only reveal Godself in bite-sized pieces.

But what’s really most interesting to me today comes just before that revelatory piece, in this part of the conversation:

God says, “Get going!”
Moses says, “Who, ME?” 

And then God makes this declaration: “I will go with you. And here’s how you’ll know it’s me. Once you’re out – you’ll all come right back to this here mountain – the one where you and I are conversing – and you all will worship me.”

Talk about a circular argument. Literally.

But here’s what I take from it – let me know what else you find as you reflect on this powerful and unusual interchange:
God is to be known first and foremost in worship.
God remembers that we need rescuing.
God will use anyone and everyone to make that rescue possible.
If we choose to step onto holy ground, perhaps we should be ready for…
     just about anything.
     Most especially, ready…
          for a challenge,
          for an unexpected journey,
          for an invitation to whole-life worship,
          for our own opportunity for exodus.

_______ 

You-Who-Are-What-You-Are, I have to admit that this whole story scares me. I want to be willing to take off my shoes and face into the mysteries of life, like burning bushes that are not consumed, like calls to move on out, like invitations to find rescue and deliverance. But I get so used to the way things are. I resist risk, I fear change. Help me to answer when you ask, to take you at your word, to trust that you go with me, wherever you may ask me to go. Embolden me, Lord God. Make me hungry for the fire that does not consume!


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

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day TWENTY-SEVEN

March 23, 2012 By
 I have chosen the gospel text for the 2nd day in a row – the first time I’ve done that since we started this journey together. I chose it because it is one of my all-time favorite gospel narratives, one of the ones I chose when Nancy Owens Franson asked us a while back to pick one or two narratives into which we wished we could insert ourselves as an eye witness. 
The top picture was taken just before a massive rainstorm hit southern CA, as we were leaving our wonderful desert hideaway for the trip home. These mountains and the ubiquitous presence of palm trees all around them always make me think of old Bible pictures of the Holy Land. (Of course, that would be minus the golf courses/casinos/resort hotels.) The 2nd picture is actually what I sort of imagine the transfigured body of Jesus to vaguely look like – radiant, sunshiny brightness against clouds and a blue, blue sky.
Mark 9:2-13, Common English Bible
Six days later Jesus took Peter, James, and John, and led them up a high mountain to be alone. As the men watched, Jesus’ appearance was transformed, and his clothes became dazzling white, far whiter than any earthly bleach could ever make them. Then Elijah and Moses appeared and began talking with Jesus. 
Peter exclaimed, “Rabbi, it’s wonderful for us to be here! Let’s make three shelters as memorials—one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He said this because he didn’t really know what else to say, for they were all terrified. 
Then a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my dearly loved Son. Listen to him.” Suddenly, when they looked around, Moses and Elijah were gone, and they saw only Jesus with them. 
As they went back down the mountain, he told them not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept it to themselves, but they often asked each other what he meant by “rising from the dead.” 
Then they asked him, “Why do the teachers of religious law insist that Elijah must return before the Messiah comes?” 
Jesus responded, “Elijah is indeed coming first to get everything ready. Yet why do the Scriptures say that the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be treated with utter contempt? But I tell you, Elijah has already come, and they chose to abuse him, just as the Scriptures predicted.” 
_______ 

Do you remember the closing words of yesterday’s passage? That promise that some of those gathered would not die before seeing the glory of God? 

Well, here it is. 

I find this dramatic vignette one of the most powerful in all the New Testament. It pictures for me two realities: the fullness of the divinity of Jesus – and the fullness of the humanity of Jesus. 

The first is perhaps a bit more immediately obvious: the transmogrification of Jesus’ clothing, the heavenly visitors, the covering cloud and the voice of love – all of it overwhelming in their capacity to stun and inspire awe. 

The second requires a little more work, some pondering, some placing of this incident on the time line of the narrative thus far. Think with me for a minute on this. 

Jesus has just asked that critical question: Who do you say that I am? 

He has answered it in completely unexpected ways and he has made sure that all those within hearing distance have listened. 

Yes, I am the Messiah. No, my role is not what you think it is, not even what you think it should be. 

He has had one of his closest friends deeply disappoint him, lecturing him about ‘stickin’ to the program.’ 

He is headed to Jerusalem and he has prayerfully figured out exactly what awaits him there: suffering and death. 

I can imagine that maybe – just maybe – our very human Savior needed some encouragement, some reminder that he was on the right track, some validation of his journey. 

And I cannot imagine a better one than this. 

At the very beginning of his active ministry life, Jesus heard the voice of love from heaven. And right here – on the way to the end of that ministry and that life – he hears it again. 

And so does Peter. 

Listen to him. 

And there’s the rub for all of us. Listening to what Jesus says about himself and his true identity, his role in the plan of salvation. 

Instead, we’d like to join with Peter when he asks to preserve this moment of glory – to build some garden sheds for each of the three radiant beings he sees before him. To fix-in-place the triumph of heaven. Ah, but this is something neither he nor we can ever do.

And just like that, it is all gone – the visitors have disappeared; Jesus looks like himself once again. 

Peter was given a glimpse of glory, yes, indeed. But only a glimpse. 

Now the hard part comes into focus. Jesus talks again about suffering. About dying. And about rising from the dead. 

And Peter and the others are mystified. What does it all mean? 

What does it all mean?



_______


Radiant Savior, how it gladdens my heart to read these words. To see how you found encouragement for the rest of the journey. To be reminded that even you needed help to make it to the cross. We’re walking this road with you, Jesus. Will you help us get there, with our hearts softened, our minds open, our hands ready to receive the gifts of Holy Week, Good Friday…and Easter Sunday? Thank you for making that walk for us. Thank you.




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

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

March 22, 2012 By
Mark 8:27-9:1, Today’s New International Version 
Jesus and his disciples went on to the villages around Caesarea Philippi. On the way he asked them, “Who do people say I am?” 
They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” 
“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?” 
Peter answered, “You are the Messiah.” 
Jesus warned them not to tell anyone about him. 
He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again. He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter. “Get behind me, Satan!” he said. “You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.” 
Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for you to gain the whole world, yet forfeit your soul? Or what can you give in exchange for your soul? If any of you are ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of you when he comes in his Father’s glory with the holy angels.” 
And he said to them, “Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see that the kingdom of God has come with power.”
_______ 
There are two really important things in these words that I have never really seen before this instant.

Jesus is walking with his disciples, not yet on his way to Jerusalem and Holy Week, but getting ever closer.

And he asks them a key question – probably the most important question in all of scripture:
     Who do you say that I am?
Peter jumps in with a blisteringly accurate and perceptive and even surprising response: “You are the MESSIAH!”

Peter? Is that really you?

Well, yes. It turns out it is. Peter the Blunderbuss is alive and well, as we shall very soon see.

Building on that answer, Jesus begins to teach his friends what it means to truly be the Messiah. And it doesn’t look at all like what Peter thought he meant.

Not.At.All.

So Peter takes it upon himself to lecture The Teacher – he rebukes him, the scripture tells us.

And catch it – right there, just a short little phrase – important thing number one:  
     But when Jesus turned and looked at the disciples… 

It matters to Jesus that his friends know the difference between the truth and a lie. 

     That’s when he rebukes Peter.
     That’s when he tells Satan to knock it off.
     That’s when he begins to talk about the cross-shaped life.
     That’s when he warns – 
          if you’re embarrassed by me now, in this life – 
          then I will be embarrassed by you when I come in glory.

Jesus sees right through to the heart of Peter’s critique, to the hard truth that Peter is embarrassed, and that he truly has no clue what the Jesus life looks like. And Jesus calls it like he sees it: Peter is talking lies…which is probably why he calls him Satan.

And important thing number two? 
All of these words about taking up the cross and losing your life to gain it –  they are said to an ever-larger group of people. Because right here in the narrative, Jesus opens wide the circle of listeners:
     “Then he called the crowd to him along with the disciples…”
I had always pictured this as a two-way conversation – between Peter and Jesus.

But Jesus….
But Jesus…
     does not will that ANY should be left out.
But Jesus…
     wants those who follow him to grasp the true nature of that following.
But Jesus…
     insists that the Kingdom life is the upside-down life, the back-to-front life, the are-you-sure-this-is-what-you-had-in-mind? life.
So…as we keep moving closer to that cross in our Lenten journeying, I wonder…
     what about Jesus embarrasses us? 
And….
     how quickly do we see and name the lie?
And…
     who else needs to be folded into the circle of good news?

_______

Not-always-so-gentle Savior, I thank you today for the fierceness I see in you here. For your determination to tell the truth, no matter the cost; for your desire that we should all hear it, name it, own it. Help me never to rebuke you out of embarrassment. Help me to embrace who you are and to welcome opportunities to participate in your upside-down invitation to give it all away.
    
Filed Under: biblical reflection, Lenten Journey, Wonderings in the Word

A Lenten Journey: Cllimbing to the Cross – Day TWENTY-FIVE

March 21, 2012 By
Genesis 50:15-26, Common English Bible 
When Joseph’s brothers realized that their father was now dead, they said, “What if Joseph bears a grudge against us, and wants to pay us back seriously for all of the terrible things we did to him?” So they approached Joseph and said, “Your father gave orders before he died, telling us, ‘This is what you should say to Joseph. “Please, forgive your brothers’ sins and misdeeds, for they did terrible things to you. Now, please forgive the sins of the servants of your father’s God.” ’ ” Joseph wept when they spoke to him. 
His brothers wept too, fell down in front of him, and said, “We’re here as your slaves.” 
But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I God? You planned something bad for me, but God produced something good from it, in order to save the lives of many people, just as he’s doing today. Now, don’t be afraid. I will take care of you and your children.” So he put them at ease and spoke reassuringly to them. 
Thus Joseph lived in Egypt, he and his father’s household. Joseph lived 110 years and saw Ephraim’s grandchildren. The children of Machir, Manasseh’s son, were also born on Joseph’s knees. Joseph said to his brothers, “I’m about to die. God will certainly take care of you and bring you out of this land to the land he promised to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.” Joseph made Israel’s sons promise, “When God takes care of you, you must bring up my bones out of here.” Joseph died when he was 110 years old. They embalmed him and placed him in a coffin in Egypt.
_______ 
The Joseph saga comes to an end with these verses. 
And they’re quite a mixed bag of verses, seems to me.
Once again, they are filled with the criss-crossing emotions and experiences of family life, marked by both tenderness and frustration.
Bounded by deaths – Jacob’s recent one at the beginning and Joseph’s projected one at the end – these 12 verses hold a lot of our story in them.

     We don’t quite trust the goodness of forgiveness a lot of the time.

     We sometimes weep tears of despair over the failure of those closest to us to understand who we truly are.

     We know – despite the many ways we try to deny this truth – that we are all in the process of dying.

     We want our bones to land in the right place, too, don’t you think? Someone to care enough about us to carry us home, wherever that is.
But here’s where I most want to find similarity, to see myself in this passage. In these words of Joseph to his tear-splotched brothers:  
     “Don’t be afraid. 
          Am I God?”
Because I want to know – 
     I want to know – way down deep in both head and heart – 
     that I am not God, 
     that my recurring desire to act like I am 
          is a twisting of the truth that bears only bitter fruit, 
               that judgment of others, or even of myself, is not up to me.

Some people say that Joseph is a kind of pre-Jesus Jesus figure. And I can see that in parts of this long story. Maybe nowhere more so than here, with these words:
     
“You planned something bad for me, but God produced something good from it, in order to save the lives of many people…”

What happened to Jesus was bad – very bad, ugly, painful, humiliating. But from it came the greatest good the world has ever experienced – the lives of many people – SAVED – to live as forgiven, healed, whole persons…forever.

And that just cries out for yet another alleluia, don’t you think?

_______
You are the God of lost causes – and lost people. Thank you for this story of Joseph, for the real-life issues it deals with and for the beautiful way in which you worked through the rotten intentions of a band of brothers to bring salvation to many. It wasn’t exactly a cake-walk for Joseph – at least for a while. But he was able to say, “It’s all GOOD,” at the end of the day. Help me to say that, too, Lord. Especially when I look at some of the hard stuff in my own story. Help me to trust you – to trust that you are already working good even in the middle of the muddle. Thank you.




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

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day TWENTY-FOUR

March 20, 2012 By
Just a few scenes from my part of this glorious world that make me want to jump and shout. Let’s make today a day for jumping and shouting (quietly, of course {smile})
Psalm 100, English Standard Version

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! 
Serve the Lord with gladness!
     Come into his presence with singing. 
Know that the Lord, he is God!
    It is he who made us, and we are his;
    we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.  Enter his gates with thanksgiving,
    and his courts with praise!
    Give thanks to him; bless his name! 
For the Lord is good;
    his steadfast love endures forever,
    and his faithfulness to all generations.

Psalm 100, The Message 
On your feet now—applaud God! Bring a gift of laughter,
      sing yourselves into his presence. 
Know this: GOD is God, and God, GOD.
      He made us; we didn’t make him.
      We’re his people, his well-tended sheep. 
Enter with the password: “Thank you!”
      Make yourselves at home, talking praise.
      Thank him. Worship him. 
For God is sheer beauty,
      all-generous in love,
      loyal always and ever.
_______
I have a confession to make.
At this point in Lent, I am tired of Lent.
There. I’ve said it. I’ve put it in black and white (or black on blue on this particular blog).
Lent is long.
It’s intentionally long.
And it needs to be long.
It’s just that…well, I don’t do long very well sometimes.

Which, of course, is EXACTLY why I need Lent in my life.
BUT…today, I’m breaking a ‘rule.’
Yes, I am. Proud of it, too. (Well, very humbly proud – in the true Lenten spirit.)
During the days of Lent – most especially the six Sundays of Lent – the church abstains from alleluia.
That’s what I said.
NO alleluias during this journey to Holy Week.
The idea behind it is a good one, I think.
We’re not supposed to be depressed during Lent (though sometimes I think that’s what people believe), but we are supposed to be thoughtful, quieter than usual and to reflect on the cost of the cross.
The joyful resounding praises are to be stowed carefully away, 
     put into safe-keeping – 
and then let loose with a loud AMEN on Easter Sunday morning.
And I LOVE Easter Sunday morning worship – with brass instruments, choirs (if you’ve got them), familiar hymns.
But…
right about now, I could really use a little bit of alleluia in my life.
How about you?
So today’s selection of devotional readings included Psalm 100 – one of my favorites for lots of reasons, not least of which is – ta da! – it’s short. 
Short enough to memorize. 
Or to put to song.
And many have done that over the centuries. 
“Old 100th” is the familiar doxology tune and that’s a setting for this psalm. 
“All People Who On Earth Do Dwell” is another familiar hymn with its roots in this psalm, to say nothing of a whole lot of praise choruses of the last 30 years or so.
But one of my very favorite settings is a choral one, for women’s voices, by Rene Clausen. 
And I’m putting in a YouTube version (with no video – go figure!) for your listening and rejoicing pleasure. 
It’s just FULL of alleluias. 
And they go by very fast in lots of moving parts. 
So, just for today, we’re going to let the alleluias out of their box and sing with the psalmist. 
Because some days, you just gotta sing.

_______

Let this song be your morning prayer today. Close your eyes and let your heart sing along. (And don’t be afraid to join the applause at the end of this particular version – that’s the way Professor Peterson begins his paraphrase of this beautiful gem of a psalm and I think he’s right on target):


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

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day TWENTY-THREE

March 19, 2012 By

Mark 7:24-37, Common English Bible 

Jesus left that place and went into the region of Tyre. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had entered a house, but he couldn’t hide. In fact, a woman whose young daughter was possessed by an unclean spirit heard about him right away. She came and fell at his feet. The woman was Greek, Syrophoenician by birth. She begged Jesus to throw the demon out of her daughter. He responded, “The children have to be fed first. It isn’t right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” But she answered, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 


“Good answer!” he said. “Go on home. The demon has already left your daughter.” When she returned to her house, she found the child lying on the bed and the demon gone.

After leaving the region of Tyre, Jesus went through Sidon toward the Galilee Sea through the region of the Ten Cities. Some people brought to him a man who was deaf and could hardly speak, and they begged him to place his hand on the man for healing. Jesus took him away from the crowd by himself and put his fingers in the man’s ears. Then he spit and touched the man’s tongue. Looking into heaven, Jesus sighed deeply and said, “Ephphatha,” which means, “Open up.” At once, his ears opened, his twisted tongue was released, and he began to speak clearly. 

Jesus gave the people strict orders not to tell anyone. But the more he tried to silence them, the more eagerly they shared the news. People were overcome with wonder, saying, “He does everything well! He even makes the deaf to hear and gives speech to those who can’t speak.”

_______ 
Like the prickly cactus flower in the picture above it, the first story in Mark’s gospel reading for this Monday is sometimes tough to appreciate.
What on earth is this one about? 
Try these ideas and see if anything grabs you:
     Jesus is tired, maybe even a little bit cranky, and he takes a very deliberate break – heading away from Galilee into Gentile territory. He is trying to find some alone time…and this woman tracks him down.
     The woman, even though a Gentile, is a True Believer, recognizing that even crumbs from the kingdom table contain richness, nourishment, indeed – the entire kit and caboodle.
     Even when exhausted and depleted, Jesus enjoys and responds to a little word play, especially if such play indicates that the Light has dawned.
     And even when he’s tired, spent, wrung out – even then – compassion rules in the heart and actions of Jesus.
Sometimes it is almost too easy to forget the humanity of Jesus, isn’t it? 
     ALL of the humanity of Jesus. 

The truth that he got tired, that he sometimes felt overwhelmed by the demands placed upon him, that he could speak sharply when he was displeased or depleted.

This time the sharpness is directed at an unnamed Gentile woman instead of at the Jewish religious establishment. And somehow, that makes this story harder to hear, doesn’t it?
What I hang onto are these true things:
     Jesus, like the God of the Old Testament, enjoys a good wrestle – this time with words.
     Jesus, also like the God of the Old Testament (and the New), can heal with a word. Just a word.
     Jesus, the Son of Man as well as the Son of God, knows our frame – he truly remembers that we are dust – and there is not one thing I feel that Jesus has not also felt.
And story number two?
Again, we’re in Gentile territory. 
Again, people are pushing up against him, asking for help – this time for a deaf and speechless friend.
There are two details that stand our for me in this account –
    * that Jesus took this man away from the crowd to interact with him individually, and 
    * that he looked to heaven and sighed deeply as he moved to the last stages of the healing process.

I’ve done my homework, in seminary and for the preaching process. So I’m fully aware that much of what is described in this small story is typical for ‘wonder-workers’ and ‘magicians’ in 1st century Palestine – the spitting, the incantation – taken together they constitute what might be called a magical formula by historians and sociologists.
But there are differences, too. Important ones, in my book. Jesus’ healing ministry is important – to him, to his followers, to those who are healed. 
But it is not all that he is, not all of what he does. 
These small details are part of what mark the difference:
     He is not a grand-stander, not out for the acclaim, the performance. 
     And he is visibly shaken and grief-stricken by the pain and suffering of the human beings he meets. The healing flows from who he is; it does not define him. 

Among so many other wonderful things, Jesus is a miracle-worker. And I believe in miracles. They may not always look like miracles to us and that’s part of the beauty of it.  

Sometimes they come as word play…
     and sometimes, they come with deep sighs.

______

I thank you, Lord Jesus, that you have dropped a few crumbs my way over the years. And I thank you for these reminders that you truly did live as one of us, your days full of people and pushing, of groans and sighs. Open my ears and loose my tongue that I might hear and speak your love, your grace, your power to heal and transform. And cause me to sigh over the suffering I see and to look for ways to be part of the miracles you want to work in this place, this time.
     
     
      



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

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – FOURTH SUNDAY

March 18, 2012 By
Ephesians 2:1-10, The Message 
It wasn’t so long ago that you were mired in that old stagnant life of sin. You let the world, which doesn’t know the first thing about living, tell you how to live. You filled your lungs with polluted unbelief, and then exhaled disobedience. We all did it, all of us doing what we felt like doing, when we felt like doing it, all of us in the same boat. It’s a wonder God didn’t lose his temper and do away with the whole lot of us. Instead, immense in mercy and with an incredible love, he embraced us. He took our sin-dead lives and made us alive in Christ. He did all this on his own, with no help from us! Then he picked us up and set us down in highest heaven in company with Jesus, our Messiah. 
Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.
_______
How many times in my life have I forgotten the powerful truth of this passage?
Too many to count. 
As a young Christian, busy with school, youth group, life – 
     I believed that somehow I could be my own savior… 
          if I just worked hard enough at it. 
As a young (and not-so-young) mom, 
     I tried really hard to be my children’s savior, 
          working to ‘fix’ their lives. 
As a sixty-something, 
     I’ve tried to fix my aging mom, 
          to figure out the next best thing to help her re-find  herself, the mom I’ve known all these years. 
And all the time, 
     I do battle with a deeply embedded works mentality 
          that shouts at me, 
     “DO more, serve more, read more, study more, pray more…” 
But if I’m reading these words of Paul correctly, 
     most of the time I get the cart before the horse. 
Ten verses here – and it’s only at the very last breath of them that anything at all is said about working. 
The whole rest of this prose-poem is 
     about being,
     about accepting the gift,
     about God going ahead and preparing the way,
     about the immensity of Love that sweeps away all my paltry efforts and says, 
     “Enough. 
          Relax. 
               See this beautiful package right here in my hands? I’ve picked it out especially for you, 
     wrapped it with beautiful human skin, 
          given it a heart big enough to hold the universe, 
               and here it is. 
Just.For.You.”
Yes, indeed, there is good work for me to do – and for you, too. 
But first comes the gift – 
     receiving it with humility,
          savoring it, 
               leaning into it, 
                    contemplating it, 
          saying thank you, thank you, thank you.
_______
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord God Almighty, for the gift of Jesus Christ, who came to rescue us from ourselves, to give us life and hope, and to strengthen us from the inside out for the good works you ask us to join you in doing. Oh, help me to keep things straight – gift first, work second. Remind me that Love comes first, always.  


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

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day TWENTY-TWO

March 17, 2012 By
 
Genesis 47:27-48:7, The Message

And so Israel settled down in Egypt in the region of Goshen. They acquired property and flourished. They became a large company of people. Jacob lived in Egypt for seventeen years. In all, he lived 147 years. 
When the time came for Israel to die, he called his son Joseph and said, “Do me this favor. Put your hand under my thigh, a sign that you’re loyal and true to me to the end. Don’t bury me in Egypt. When I lie down with my fathers, carry me out of Egypt and bury me alongside them.” 
“I will,” he said. “I’ll do what you’ve asked.”
 
Israel said, “Promise me.” Joseph promised. 
Israel bowed his head in submission and gratitude from his bed. 
Some time after this conversation, Joseph was told, “Your father is ill.” He took his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim, and went to Jacob. When Jacob was told, “Your son Joseph has come,” he roused himself and sat up in bed. 
Jacob said to Joseph, “The Strong God appeared to me at Luz in the land of Canaan and blessed me. He said, ‘I’m going to make you prosperous and numerous, turn you into a congregation of tribes; and I’ll turn this land over to your children coming after you as a permanent inheritance.’ I’m adopting your two sons who were born to you here in Egypt before I joined you; they have equal status with Reuben and Simeon. But any children born after them are yours; they will come after their brothers in matters of inheritance. I want it this way because, as I was returning from Paddan, your mother Rachel, to my deep sorrow, died as we were on our way through Canaan when we were only a short distance from Ephrath, now called Bethlehem.”
_______ 

Family life is nothing if not fascinating. It is in the midst of family that all of us are forged and shaped, for good and for ill. 

And one of the reasons I love our Holy Writ is that we get example after example of how true this is! 

All the mixed up messiness of it. 
All the glorious power of it. 

And the story before us on this Lenten Saturday is liberally laced with the complex family threads found in the last three dozen chapters of Genesis. 
The younger son getting the blessing rather than the elder 
…shades of Jacob and Esau. (Genesis 25:19-27:40) 
The deep sadness caused by the death of Rachel, the one true love of Jacob’s life 
…despite the other three women who fathered ten of his sons. (Genesis 29:15-30:24) 
The fact that Joseph is the recipient of Jacob’s dying wish, not one of the sons who has been with him all along 
…decades after the coat of many colors. (Genesis 37:1-11) 
The interchangeable use of the patriarch’s two names – Israel and Jacob 
…stirring memories of a wrestling match on the banks of the Peniel River, where the long-awaited blessing finally arrived, along with a new name. (Genesis 32:22-32) 
The re-counting of the promise of progeny and land 
 …the promise that came from the dreaming Jacob did on that stone pillow as he fled his brother’s anger. (Genesis 28:10-17) 
The almost primordial urgency to be buried in the land of his fathers, the land that was promised with these words, heard in that dream: 
     “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go and I will bring you back to this land…” (Genesis 28:15) 
Think about all that has happened during the lifetime of Jacob: 
     scheming for the birthright and blessing; 
     fleeing for his life; 
     dreaming of ladders and angels and promises; 
     falling for the beautiful younger daughter and ending up with both sisters; 
     losing the wife he loved; 
     favoring her son to the near destruction of his entire family system; 
     traveling in his elderly infirmity to a strange land;
     finding the loved son he thought was gone forever. 

And you think your family has problems? 

Yeah, your family probably does. 
That’s what happens in families – 
     great and wonderful and life-giving things…
     and hard and difficult and life-threatening things. 
And God’s word is not shy about showing it all to us – 
     over and over again. 
I don’t know about you, but that fact gives me a strange kind of hope – 
     hope that all is not lost, 
     no matter how bad it may look at any given moment in time. 
Hope that God is at work, 
     redeeming the broken bits, 
     helping us to tell our family stories well, 
          sometimes in spite of ourselves! 
_______ 
You have set us in families, Lord. And when they work well, families are such a great gift. Even when they don’t work well, though –  you can redeem them, you can redeem us, turning our mourning into dancing. Help us to seek you there – in the middle of all the mess that comes from living in close quarters, in all the tangled up emotions and connections, the hurt feelings, the mystifying emotional highs and lows. Because even there, you are. Thank you.



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

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

March 16, 2012 By

1 Corinthians 9:16-27, The Message 

Still, I want it made clear that I’ve never gotten anything out of this for myself, and that I’m not writing now to get something. I’d rather die than give anyone ammunition to discredit me or impugn my motives. If I proclaim the Message, it’s not to get something out of it for myself. I’m compelled to do it, and doomed if I don’t! If this was my own idea of just another way to make a living, I’d expect some pay. But since it’s not my idea but something solemnly entrusted to me, why would I expect to get paid? So am I getting anything out of it? Yes, as a matter of fact: the pleasure of proclaiming the Message at no cost to you. You don’t even have to pay my expenses! 

Even though I am free of the demands and expectations of everyone, I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people: religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose-living immoralists, the defeated, the demoralized—whoever. I didn’t take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ—but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I’ve become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life. I did all this because of the Message. I didn’t just want to talk about it; I wanted to be in on it! 

You’ve all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally. 

I don’t know about you, but I’m running hard for the finish line. I’m giving it everything I’ve got. No sloppy living for me! I’m staying alert and in top condition. I’m not going to get caught napping, telling everyone else all about it and then missing out myself.
_______
Nobody can call the apostle Paul a slouch.

The man worked HARD. Whatever he did, he put his shoulder to it. Before the blinding light and the pleading voice of the Savior on the road to Damascus, Paul put that shoulder to eliminating all the followers of The Way – those Jews who chose to follow after Jesus of Nazareth.

After his own encounter with the resurrected Christ, all that energy shifted –  
     to life, rather than death; 
     to hope, rather than despair; 
     to winning the confidence and the hearts
          of the people he met and mentored 
          rather than screaming accusations 
          at those he feared and mistrusted.
And this is what I love about the transforming work of Christ in the lives of those who choose to follow the Jesus Way: who we are is never lost; instead, we are deepened, enriched, stretched, and re-focused. 
Paul doesn’t become a mild-mannered, laid-back kinda guy. 
He is still Paul. 
But he becomes a richer Paul, 
     an other-focused Paul, 
          a mentoring, life-giving Paul. 
No more the bully, 
     the fear-mongerer, 
          the zealot with the murderous gleam in his eye.
Instead, he earnestly and passionately pursues people with the Good News, the message of hope and peace and joy that comes with Jesus alone. 

He is a deeply changed Paul – but he is…

     thanks be to God!…
          still PAUL – 
     that uniquely crafted, gifted human person 
          created first in the mind of God, 
               then molded by the Spirit of Jesus 
                    to look more and more like God’s original design.

Paul is willing 
     to go anywhere,
          to do anything,
              to become anyone
so that the life-changing Word can do its work in the lives of as many people as possible.
All of that drive, energy, intelligence, commitment, ability to work hard – all of it becomes a fine set of tools with which to ‘be all things to all people’ so that some might be saved. He runs the race well. Very well indeed.
_______
Sometimes, Lord, I think Paul has gotten a really bad rap. I see those rough edges, the ones that rub people the wrong way sometimes. But I also see so much heart, so much joy! Lord, I want to be wholehearted, I want to be a joy-bringer. As we wander through this Lenten wilderness, help me to trust that you’ll work with me – just exactly as I am at this moment. Encourage me to believe that you designed me, wacky as I am, and that your deepest desire is for ME TO BE ME, but a me that by some outrageous miracle, looks a whole lot like you, too. Wow. And thank you.
 



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

A Lenten Journey: Climbing to the Cross – Day TWENTY

March 15, 2012 By
Mark 6:30-46, Today’s New International Version
The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” 
So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things. 
By this time it was late in the day, so his disciples came to him. “This is a remote place,” they said, “and it’s already very late. Send the people away so that they can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.” 
But he answered, “You give them something to eat.”
 
They said to him, “That would take almost a year’s wages! Are we to go and spend that much on bread and give it to them to eat?” 
“How many loaves do you have?” he asked. “Go and see.”
 
When they found out, they said, “Five—and two fish.” 
Then Jesus directed them to have all the people sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups of hundreds and fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to his disciples to set before the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish. The number of the men who had eaten was five thousand. 
Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray. 
_______

It was just one of those days.

You know the kind. You’ve poured yourself out, doing something you love to do but something which requires a lot of focused attention and interaction.

And you’re dead on your feet when you’re done.
The twelve are feeling like that – and Jesus sees it and suggests a remedy – a getaway, someplace quiet and isolated.
So off they go, clambering into a nearby boat, pushing off, relieved and gratified to be heading on retreat.
Maybe they should have guessed at what happened. They are now pretty fully immersed in ministry life – and this is what it looks like an awful lot of the time: needy people, 24/7.
And Jesus takes pity on the pushing, bustling crowd of them.
Several hours of teaching later, the disciples begin to wonder. So they decide to tell Jesus what is best.
“Send them home, Lord. That’s the best plan. Let’s be done for the day, okay?“
And his response absolutely, positively flabbergasts them: 
Why should we send them away hungry? 
YOU feed them.
Say what?
WE’RE supposed to order in for this crowd??
No need for that, Jesus says. Look around.  All you need is right here.

And you know what?

He was right. 

There is enough. 
     There is more than enough. 
          There is an abundance.
               There is an extravagant abundance. 
                    There is more than they know what to do with.

Everyone is fed, everyone is full. 
     The sheep found their shepherd, 
          the apprentices learned an amazing lesson,
               and the shepherd?

He takes a hike. 
     Disciples – over there, in the boat. 
     Crowds – off you go, now it’s time to head home.
Jesus – up into the hills for prayer, refreshment, replenishment.

Everybody needs to be fed – even Jesus.

And there is always…always, more than enough.

_______

You are indeed our Shepherd, Jesus. You know us inside and out. You know when we need feeding – and you know exactly the kind of food we need and when we need it. Thank you that you don’t distinguish or compartmentalize or prioritize our hunger – whether it’s spiritual or physical, you care about it, you move to meet the need. Remind us that we, too, are to look around, to find the resources available to us, and to share them with the starving sheep we meet from day to day. Help us to remember that there is always, always… enough. Amen.
_______

And just because we are now at the halfway point on our Lenten Journey – and because I love these words so much, and because they fit today’s theme so very beautifully, I’m going to write them out for you in this space today. Because what we most deeply desire, what we need – is beyond our wants, beyond our fears. Oh, YES. We need a shepherd. Yes, indeed, we do. 

These are the lyrics from a lovely musical version of the Shepherd’s Psalm, #23, by Marty Haugen. (You can find a link to a sung version of this lovely call-and-response if you click here and head over to look at the bottom of this post.)

Refrain: (sung first and after every verse)
     
Shepherd me, O God, beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into life.  

God is my shepherd, so nothing shall I want, 
I rest in the meadows of faithfulness and love.
I walk by the quiet waters of peace.
Refrain
Gently you raise me and heal my weary soul,
you lead me by pathways of righteousness and truth,
my spirit shall sing the music of your Name.
Refrain
Though I should wander the valley of death, 
I fear no evil, for you are at my side,
your rod and your staff, my comfort and my hope.
Refrain
You have set me a banquet of love in the face of hatred,
crowning me with love beyond my pow’r to hold.
Refrain
Surely your kindness and mercy follow me all the days of my life;
I will dwell in the house of my God forevermore. 
Refrain 

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