tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-816619603281316102024-03-12T17:57:52.398-06:00the sagely blogAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.comBlogger185125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-55367869460915288782015-08-03T15:02:00.001-06:002015-08-03T15:02:08.363-06:00Highlighting<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Timely words from Tim Gombis, <I>The Drama of Ephesians</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0E04ul5jJNWnK0O4f4oqssDErjYXYN8YWhnTniNBLgHGu8Pk4I-YUiembatdFDQyYbmNkqu1cZ8Uln1lEAVbrv32jBG0D9gAQ3H_RJxJaYo1NyFeFfB7rxLgBR8WmBQ2TWBk6u2aSHhx/s640/blogger-image--937455416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0E04ul5jJNWnK0O4f4oqssDErjYXYN8YWhnTniNBLgHGu8Pk4I-YUiembatdFDQyYbmNkqu1cZ8Uln1lEAVbrv32jBG0D9gAQ3H_RJxJaYo1NyFeFfB7rxLgBR8WmBQ2TWBk6u2aSHhx/s640/blogger-image--937455416.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-16252508746461424942015-02-09T13:21:00.001-07:002015-02-09T13:21:54.603-07:00Highlighting"In Christian history, however, some of the most significant heresies have been conservative rather than radical--the tendency to hold on to old theological answers when new questions have caused the main body of Christians to move on to new answer.<div><br></div><div>"[regarding Athanasius contr Arianism] the new answers he proposed were true <i>to the direction</i> of the Scriptures. 'Orthodoxy,' then, is not always the possession of those who try to hold on to the past. One may find a truer criterion in the direction toward which Christian thought has been tending."</div><div><br></div><div>Raymond Brown, <i>The Comminity of the Beloved Disciple</i>, 80-81.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm not willing to establish this as a dictate of theological or pastoral method. However, this insight definitely offers a big intellectual bite to chew on.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-14807874882818725782015-01-06T15:53:00.000-07:002015-01-06T15:53:05.579-07:00HighlightingMore from Richard Hays' <i>Moral Vision of the New Testament</i>, this time on Matthew:<br />
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"When we compare [Matthew's] teachings to the halakic rulings of the Mishnah or the detailed regulations for community life codified in the Community Rule of the Qumran covenanters (1QS), we can hardly help noticing the rather broad and incomplete character of Matthew's programmatic presentation [in the Sermon on the Mount]. As Wayne Meeks observers,<br />
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... [W]e have here no system of commandments. The rules are exemplary not comprehensive, pointers to the kind of life expected in the community, but not a map of acceptable behavior. Still less does Matthew's Jesus state philosophical principles from which guidelines for behavior could be rationally derived. We are left with the puzzle that while Jesus plays the role of a conventional sage in Matthew, his teachings recorded here do not add up to an ethical system. It is not in such a program of teaching, apparently, that Matthew understands the will of God to be discovered.</blockquote>
Matthew's rigorous summons to moral perfection cannot be rightly understood as a call to obey a comprehensive system of rules. Despite his emphasis on the church's commission to teach obedience to Jesus' commandments, Matthew sees such teaching as instrumental to a deeper goal: the transformation of character and of the heart." (98)<br />
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Really, I could quote most of Hays' chapter on Matthew. Each succeeding section unfolds another aspect of the ethics constructed by Matthew's narrative world so foundational, so basic to Matthew's vision, that I wonder why I've never seen it before.<br />
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For instance, the next section on the "hermeneutic of mercy" and the twice repeated (!) citation of Hosea 6.6 (Mt 9.13; 12.7) bowls over some of my gut-assumptions about Matthew. The high obedience ethic of the Gospel and the paltry character of "mercy not sacrifice" appeals in much contemporary literature.<br />
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Another money quote:<br />
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"In these passages [Mt 9.13 and 12.7] we see the outworking of Matthew's earlier claim in the Sermon on the Mount that Jesus fulfils rather than negates the Law. When that formula is applied to test cases, such as eating with sinners and harvesting grain on the Sabbath, we see that the Law is understood to bear witness to what Matthew elsewhere calls 'the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith' (22:23). Jesus' teaching provides a dramatic new hermeneutical filter that necessitates a rereading of everything in the Law in light of the dominant imperative of mercy." (100)<br />
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This is a beautiful chapter.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-29559661543589607132015-01-04T15:33:00.001-07:002015-01-04T15:33:44.094-07:00HighlightingFrom Richard Hays, <i>The Moral Vision of the New Testament</i>, 90.<div><br></div><div>"If God's self-disclosure takes the form of riddle and enigma, there can be no place for smugness or dogmatism in ethical matters. Those who think they have the rules firmly in hand are those who suffer from hardness of heart (Mark 3:1-6, 7:1-23). [Mark's] story's notorious lack of closure should engender openness in the readers. If our sensibilities are formed by this narrative, we will learn not to take ourselves too seriously; we will be self-critical and receptive to unexpected manifestations of God's love and power."</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-1673624116604500472014-12-22T14:09:00.001-07:002014-12-22T14:09:23.881-07:00HighlightingFrom the 2009 Antioch Gathering..,<div>
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<p><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'; font-weight: 700">"Abandon false gospels and re-embrace the Gospel of the Kingdom. </span><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'">The Kingdom is an invisible but
very real political space ruled by Jesus the King that encompasses the entire created world – except the
human race which is given a choice under whose rule to live life, Mammon or Jesus (Matth 6:24). Those
humans that join and populate the Kingdom are the ones that are saved by grace, say farewell to
Mammon and decide to place themselves voluntarily under his kingship in loving obedience, not merely
saying “Lord, Lord” but doing what their King says. The Kingdom is essentially the domain of God’s
uncontested rule. As such it is a </span><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'; font-style: italic">disposition</span><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'">, not a </span><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'; font-style: italic">destination</span><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'">. “The gospel” was originally the news that
there is a new king; the main message of Jesus was exactly that: he is our new King and we are all invited to
live in the Kingdom, not any longer under the domain of darkness. This is the essence of the Gospel of the
Kingdom. In the history of the Church three false while incomplete gospels have gradually replaced the
Gospel of the Kingdom: a) the evangelistic gospel of “come ye and be saved”; b) the pastoral gospel of
“come ye and be safe” by joining our church or group; and c) the gospel of the teachers and theologians
that created doctrinal systems of truths that can be correct, but lifeless. It is of ultimate importance that
The Gospel of The Kingdom is rescued from its historic obscurity and re-embraced and resonated by all
that belong to Christ.
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<p><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'; font-weight: 700">If the Kingdom of God is to come, ours has to go. </span><span style="font-size: 10.000000pt; font-family: 'MyriadPro'">The three kingdoms that most violently fight against
the Kingdom of God is a) the kingdom of self, our own drivenness by selffish ambition, a career mindset
and the idea “what is in it for me”; b) our primary identity in the “kingdoms of we”, groups, labels,
organizations or denominations that displaces everything else, including the Kingdom of God, to a rank of
secondary priority; and c) the kingdom of nationalism, tribalism and patriotism, where our sworn or felt
allegiance to an ethnic group, a political expression or a political preference stands in the way of our
primary citizenship in the Kingdom." </span></p>
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</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-71796604392979280762014-12-15T07:09:00.001-07:002014-12-17T06:00:07.890-07:00Just Love?... reading a lot about sex lately. Well, about sexuality. A lot.<div><br></div><div>Our congregation is grappling with questions about our response and attitude toward LGBT Christians. I'm grasping for whatever handholds</div><div>might help us negotiate this pass with grace, justice, and fidelity.<br><div><br></div><div>One volume that's come into my hands is Margaret Farley's <i>Just Love: A Framework for Christian Sexual Ethics.</i></div></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><div class="separator" style="font-style: italic; clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUh2NE2HqVK0LPQz3RFicXHcl_Zb2qW4QcMfBTB7wZKfJibtneQYjByLdLNawpbPIoMMqaujm1E_HihlzHP_2cB1pMnZmcwThL044kiVVFZ0_iwnu-wWggZq7q0SlvJyX7wrvwgnGa16Kl/s640/blogger-image--755629953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUh2NE2HqVK0LPQz3RFicXHcl_Zb2qW4QcMfBTB7wZKfJibtneQYjByLdLNawpbPIoMMqaujm1E_HihlzHP_2cB1pMnZmcwThL044kiVVFZ0_iwnu-wWggZq7q0SlvJyX7wrvwgnGa16Kl/s640/blogger-image--755629953.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="font-style: italic; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>JL</i> does not take Christian LGBT sex ethics as its sole or even primary focus. Instead Farley takes on sexuality broadly.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I found the first three chs quite helpful. Farley provides a very readable yet in depth introduction to the last century of discourse surrounding sexuality. She next provides a historical overview of sex from the preSocrarics to Freud and beyond. Chapter 3 views sexuality cross culturally (though with the colonial character of our gaze always in mind). This introductory helpfully offers, at the least, one way of coming to grips with questions surrounding sexuality.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One hundred fifty pages further into <i>JL</i>'s constructive project, I find Farley less helpful and less than compelling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's not that I disagree with key components of her framework. In fact, I find it hard to imagine an adequate ethics that does not include like <i>Do no unjust harm, Free consent of partners, Mutualiy, Equality, Commitment, Fruitfulness, Social justice.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">For Farley these components grow from the twin core assumptions of <i>autonomy </i>and <i>relationality. </i>Again, this core resonates with something in my gut about the appropriate starting point for sex ethics.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But... But that's where <i>JL</i> loses its persuasive and illuminating power for me. Farley fails to develop here, even in thumbnail scale, any justification for the basic-ness of autonomy and relationality, either on philosophical or theological grounds. In reading <i>JL</i> I'm left with the reasonable suspicion that my cultural prejudices are being valorized as ethically basic, that my 21st century, USAmerican, middle class gut is somehow tuned most basically to justice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I wish and hope that's the case (at least in these terms), but I need some further explanation to show me why it might be. So far <i>JL </i>has not mustered this sort of argument. But we'll see what develops in the final hundred or so pages.</div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-89138797499773473192013-07-10T08:59:00.002-06:002013-07-10T08:59:55.196-06:00The story of a Promise, a Prophet, and a Passion, Part 3A bit of drama is good for a church's heart. I've read a few places that any good worship service should be dramatic, in one sense or another. Worship should tell a story--<i>the</i> story, if worship is good. And worship should tell this story in such a way that the events become present, after a manner, once more to those gathered. It's participatory theatre (or is it simply eucharistic?).<br />
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I believe scripture itself works a bit "eucharistically" or <i>re</i>-<i>present</i>-ationally. The latter stories of scripture retell or recapitulate the former.<br />
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So after weeks of <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-story-of-promise-prophet-and.html">retelling the Hebrew Bible's narrative of promise and purpose</a> and another four weeks with <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-story-of-promise-prophet-and.html">that story enacted by the prophet Jonah</a>, we told the story one more time (the final time? the ultimate time?) through a staged reading of John 18-19 on Good Friday.<br />
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I wasn't sure if the drama would get the enthusiastic participation telling the Good Friday story (= telling the promise & purpose story) would meet. But as our worship committee dove right in. One man built a rough-hewn, life-size cross out of cherry beams. Another woman dug through the dusty costumes in the church basement and her own sewing pile, while another collected various props. A contractor erected a beautiful empty door-frame. (Doors are very important in John's story!)<br />
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By rehearsal on Wednesday of Holy Week, our cast included nearly twenty people, ranging from their early seventies down to some girls in grade 3. We all were wrapped in bathrobes or old pillow cases. Some of us were comfortable with our lines. Some folks' hands and knees were shaking, nervous. As default director, I ran and jumped and shouted and waved my hands around, helping folks figure out when to enter, where to stand, or what my typo-ridden script was trying to communicate.<br />
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The performance on Friday morning was beautiful and appropriately tragic. Jesus was betrayed by friends and buried with strangers.<br />
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Beginning on the third day, we'd tell stories of resurrection (John offers plenty!). But on Friday morning, we left Jesus lying in the tomb while we went off to family gatherings or fasts.<br />
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The Bible begins with a promise. God says, "I love you and I will be with you." Jesus came restating that promise in his own words: "God's kingdom is arriving" and "a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth."<br />
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Along with that promise, humanity received a purpose. We were to image God, to care for everything that had been created just as God did. We refused that task, in the Garden and ever since. Jesus called us back to that purpose: "Repent and believe the Good News" and "whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst; indeed, the water I give him will become in a him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."<br />
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At Golgotha we rejected that promise, that purpose once more. But at Golgotha, Jesus accepted it for us all. I think it was Karl Barth who first got me thinking about how even while Jesus is God-with-us, Jesus is also us-with-God. Jesus is the perfect human, the first person to receive God's promise in complete joy and to cooperate wholly with God's purpose.<br />
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Jesus' obedience unto death, even death on a cross, gives us one concrete point in history to point to and say, "That's what working with God looks like." The cross surely shows us the extent of God's love for a lost and sin-sick humanity. It also shows what one person's love for God looks like when it is really true.<br />
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At our Good Friday service I didn't sermonize. We simply performed the story and sang a few songs. I trust that the Spirit-inspired story preaches much better than I do. I'm not sure what people took away from that morning. I trust though that God was at work there, speaking God's good promise to us and directing us out into mission.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-76660623070615185612013-07-02T15:32:00.000-06:002013-07-02T15:32:56.052-06:00Forays in Civic ReligionWhen Jesus appeared in Galilee announcing the Good News, he said, "Believe the gospel: God's reign is arriving!" (see Mk 1.15)<br />
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When Peter outlined the same gospel after the Holy Spirit arrived during Pentecost, its heart was that the one who was crucified and resurrected has been made "both Lord and Messiah" (Act 2.36). Years later, when a vision directs him to the residence of a Roman centurion (the equivalent of an US Army captain), Peter states the gospel again: "God preached peace to the Israelites through Jesus Christ--this one is Lord of all" (Acts 10.36).<br />
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Paul has the same thing to say when he meets an overwhelmed Roman jailor after an earthquake in Philippi: "Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved" (Acts 16.31). In his later letter to the house churches in Rome, he wrote, "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe with your heart that God raised him from the dead, then you will be saved" (Ro 10.9).<div>
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The Good News has a great deal to do with Jesus being <i>Lord</i> (a title the Roman emperor like to claim, meaning master or ruler). The generations of believers that followed the NT saints often were penalized life itself for holding steadfastly to this claim. They wouldn't offer the incense to the emperor, because their allegiance was to another.</div>
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I believe the gospel still boils down to this bold assertion: that in every single area of human existence, God has made his Son and Messiah Lord and Ruler, and there is no other. Not President Obama. Not Prime Minister Harper. Not any part of the government or economy or culture of the Land of the Free or the True North, Strong and Free. My allegiance isn't to job creation or economic growth or security. Nor is my obedience commanded by advertising or brand loyalty. My allegiance, my obedience is to Jesus alone. No one else, nothing else has the right to make me pull out my credit card or take up arms. Jesus is Lord.</div>
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So when our local ministerial decided to host a Canada Day service in the park, I was a bit nervous. So often our public church service, especially during seasons of national enthusiasm, are nothing more than civic religion. (We burn incense to our Caesars in our own ways.) God's name gets inserted into blessings for us, against them, that reflect nothing of the divine heart we meet in Jesus. We praise the godliness of our leaders, living or dead, and attribute every good thing in our lives to the good moral quality and good deeds of our neighbors, in a tit-for-tat divine economy.</div>
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After talking with folks in our congregation, I went forward with participating in the service. One way to love our town is to be present for our group celebrations. I scrambled to put together a musical number for the morning. </div>
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Then I sat down before a blank page, praying for the right words to say. </div>
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You can read below what I came up with. I'm not sure I hit the mark, struck the proper balance between honest thanksgiving and prophetic reminder.</div>
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I can say that I'm thankful for how many of the other churches and pastors handled the morning. Civic religion dominated the morning, but at points speakers sounded through the noisy "Hail Caesars!" with words about Jesus and his call to generosity, care for the refugee, and prayer.</div>
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I'm curious to hear your stories about negotiating the sketchy terrain of religious ceremonies on national holidays. Let me know in the comments.</div>
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<i>Check out my short talk after the jump.</i></div>
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<br />We’re here today to thank God for what’s best in this nation. We’re also here to pray for its needs. I enjoy a good party, especially one with good food. I also know it’s important to pray for a world beset and broken by so many problems, injustices, tragedies. <br /><br /> As I got ready for this morning, I happened across a passage from one of the Hebrew Bible Prophets, one of those Old Testament truth-tellers. The prophet’s name was Micah. He lived in times of great economic prosperity and military success and also in times of some devastating setbacks for the Israelites. (This doesn’t sound too different from the world we’ve known over the last ten years, ups-and-downs, down-and ups.) Some of the political leaders of his day handled these changes well, and others not so well. <br /><br /> God gave Micah a vision of what an ideal nation would look like, what kind of nation meets every one of God’s hopes and dreams for a society. Listen to a bit of Mic ch 4 to hear God’s picture of this nation-to-come: <br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i> In the last days, the mountain of the LORD’s house will be established as the most important of all the mountains; it will be raised up above the other hills, and people from all over the world will stream to it.<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i> Many nations will come and say, “Let us go to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of Jacob’s God. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.”<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i> For the LORD’s instructions will go out from Zion; his word will go out from Jerusalem. He will mediate between many nations and will settle disputes for strong nations far and wide. They will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will no longer take up arms against nation, nor train for war anymore. </i></blockquote>
That’s God’s idea of a good nation, a good country. We need to thank God for every way we see that kingdom-of-God reality, even if for only a moment, in some of the social and economic realities in Canada, in Saskatchewan, in Warman. When we feel secure in our homes and in our ability to pay for them and stock their kitchen’s with food, that’s a taste of God’s blessing. When Jesus comes again as true king, as true prime minister or president or premier, we know that safe and satisfied homes are part of what he’s bringing. We could say the same thing about some of the social safety nets in place in this country. Surely when Jesus comes no person in need will be left to fend for themselves. <br /><br /> However, when we listen to Micah’s prophecy about good government, there are certain places, many places where this nation and every nation falls short. Jesus is the only true Prince of Peace. When we feel that gap, that longing for more, for a more just society, for a more compassionate society, we must turn to prayer. We must pray that our leaders look to God’s vision for the justice system, for trade practices, for peacemaking, for care for our environment. God has wisdom and compassion to share with our leaders if they will ask him for it. <br /><br /> As we pray and work for a nation, a society, a city that lives up to God’s dreams, I think another passage from Micah offers us some guidance. Micah, ch 6, v 8, says, <i>He has shown you, O man, what is good and what the LORD expects from you: to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. </i><br /><br /> These are simple instructions. If we followed them, I’m sure we’d be on the path to living out God’s dreams, for our nation, for our province, for our city. </div>
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But notice that they aren’t addressed to an entire kingdom, or even to a town or village. No, God is speaking to each of us, women, men, and children, personally. This is what God wants for us. Justice, mercy, and to walk with God. <br /><br /> I pray that we each continue to walk down this path. Amen. <br /><br /> Thank you for your letting me share with you some during this celebration.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-38499085741290366772013-05-22T16:32:00.000-06:002013-05-22T16:32:06.805-06:00The story of a Promise, a Prophet, and a Passion, Part 2I enjoy flying, even with all the restrictions and even without much leg room. I enjoy flying because I get to look at the world from a new perspective. Through the airplane windows, I see the prairies or the mountains or the countless lakes spread out in every direction. (I like flying best when I get a window seat; otherwise, all my enjoyment leaves a crick in my neck.)<div>
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<a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/04/the-story-of-promise-prophet-and.html">Our three-week overview</a> of the Hebrew Bible was like the view from a plane. We were able to see the topography of God's promise, our purpose, and our rebellion from our altitude. But to really know the story, you need to travel through it at a walking pace, maybe even more slowly. Only then do your surroundings become more than postcard-potential scenery. Only then does the dirt cling to your skin and the events seep into your blood.</div>
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So for the next four weeks, we slowed down. We camped out with a prophet. We journeyed with Jonah.</div>
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If you grew up in churches like I did, you heard the story of Jonah from early on. It's a story made for children's books: wonderful illustrations, a good moral (especially if we only mind the first three chapters). I think the moral my Sunday School teachers drew from the prophet's story was usually along the lines of "Obey God" or "Don't run away from God." These are fine takes on the story as far as they go, but if we listen a bit more closely, we'll find the story is much, much richer.</div>
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A lot of people get hung up on whether Jonah is a true story or not. Was the prophet actually swallowed by a huge fish? Did an Assyrian emperor ever reign from Nineveh? I think there are good, <i>biblical</i> cases to be made for both sides: Jonah, the book, may be a prophetic biography or a prophetic parable. Either way, it's true to what God intends it to be.</div>
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(There are also <i>bad</i> cases made for both sides. For example, the fact that being swallowed by a fish alive is unlikely or even impossible is <i>not</i> a good reason to reject the story as historically reliable. If God can raise a dead man to life, certainly God can preserve the life of a prophet within a fish. On the other hand, just because a book is in the canon, it doesn't mean it's a history book. No one looks askance at Jesus' parables because they're fictitious.)</div>
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I think Jonah's story parallels the story of the kingdom of Israel (where he worked, see 2 Ki 14.25) to an uncanny degree. Just like the Israelites corporately, Jonah was given a purpose by God (Jnh 1.2), and just like the Israelites, he rejected it because he thought he knew better than God. </div>
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Jonah, as we learn in 4.2, believed he knew more about who deserved punishment and blessing than God did. In 2 Ki 14.23-27, we hear that in Jonah's days, Israel was sitting pretty on the international scene because of God's blessing. A bit of historical digging (shout out to <a href="http://divinity.tiu.edu/academics/faculty/k-lawson-younger-jr-phd/">K. Lawson Younger</a>, who taught me a lot about Jonah's context) turns up the fact that the world empire, Assyria, was in something of political recession. The kingdom of Urartu to the mountainous north of Nineveh, one of Assyria's powerhouse cities, was distracting the Assyrian emperor's empire-building troops from the backwaters of Israel and Judah. My guess is that Jonah the prophet interpreted these events as blessings for God's chosen and punishment on their oppressors. So when God's message came to warn Nineveh about it's impending judgment, Jonah thought God must be confused.</div>
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The Israelites made the same kind of high-handed judgments about God's purpose for them over and over again in their history. Even before the tribes split into competing kingdoms, David interpreted blessing on his reign as license to throw around kingly weight (skim the progression of events form 2 Sam ch 5 to ch 12; see also 2 Sam 24). It was this same ego/ethno-centric outlook that led to the split of the kingdoms. Rehoboam saw his father Solomon's wealth as proof that oppressive taxation, forced labor, and imperial aspirations were the way to go. With his announcement in 1 Ki 12.13-14 leads to mass rebellion and civil war. Similarly (and key to the northern Israel-ite Jonah's story), when the tribes of the agriculturally-rich north chose Jeroboam as rebel leader, fulfiling God's promise (1 Ki 11.26-40; 12.2, 20), Jeroboam took it as justification to shore up his political position by displacing the Jerusalem temple with two golden bulls as sites to worship Yahweh.</div>
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Everywhere in the Israelites' story we have see people thinking their plans are better than God's. And that's what Jonah does. Rather than traveling east to preach repentance to the Assyrians, he boards a ship headed west to the end of the earth.</div>
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But God doesn't simply let him go. Nor does God wipe him out. God sends a furious storm, but the storm never sinks the boat. Surely the God who split the Red Sea would have no trouble capsizing a ship.</div>
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No, instead God sends the storm as discipline, as a painful and costly reminder of Jonah's purpose in God's plans. This is a tactic we watch God employing over and over again, beginning in Judges. In Jdg 2.13-14, we hear,</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>[The Israelites] aroused Yahweh's anger because they forsook him and served Baal and the Ashtoreths. In his anger against Israel Yahweh gave them into the hands of raiders who plundered them. He sold them into the hands of their enemies all around, whom they were no longer able to resist.</i></blockquote>
But as Heb 12.4-11 explains, discipline is not destruction. Discipline is the way a loving God calls us back to our senses. The letter to the Hebrews quotes Prov 3.11-12 in this passage: <i>My son, do not despise Yahweh's discipline, and do not resent his rebuke, because Yahweh disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in. </i>Discipline for the Israelites was a sign of God's devotion to them, of God's refusal to let them walk away from their purpose. The storm, as surely as the fish, was a means of salvation for Jonah.<br />
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If we remember Jonah's story at all, we know that Jonah eventually admits his miscalculation (But does he admit his fault?) and is thrown into the raging waters. If the storm is one picture of God's ferocious love for us, the great fish is another. The fish saves Jonah from drowning.<br />
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The hymn Jonah sings in the fish shows that Jonah still understands himself to be part of God's chosen people. Even though Jonah rebels against God's reason for choosing a people, Jonah is still part of it. Yahweh is the God he calls to for help (Jnh 2.2). In the same way, even though Jeroboam set up idols to replace God's temple, he still understood the northern Israelites to be worshiping Yahweh.<br />
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(There's a lesson in this for us today: We worship Jesus in name, but is our worship the kind of worship God desires, the kind that Jesus lived and died and rose again to make possible, see Jn 4.21-24. There's a difference betweens sing about Jesus and singing with Jesus on the way.)<br />
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In ch 3, Jonah knows he can't escape God. He puts his hand over his mouth and complies with God's (wrong-headed, in his opinion) desire to warn the Assyrians about divine punishment. Jonah travels the 500 plus miles to Nineveh. When he preaches, the people amazingly repent.<br />
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This is perhaps the most profound wonder in the story! Why should the great and powerful Assyrians fear the wrath of a god who was once their vassal? Yet they do, with a fervor that sets them up as a model of repentance even for God's people. (Jonah is read in the afternoon prayer service in some synagogues on Yom Kippur.)<br />
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Jonah disappears from the story for a while. Strangely enough, when Jesus talks about the sign of Jonah in Lk 11.29-32, he singles out the repentance of the people of Nineveh. I've often heard that passage taught as drawing a parallel between Jonah's three days in the fish and Jesus' days in the tomb (which Jesus does mention in Mt 12). But here, the lesson for the sign-seekers seems lies in the repentance of the people of Nineveh. Whatever the Ninevehites learned from Jonah, that is what people in Jesus' day and in our day need to learn from Jesus.<br />
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Back in Jnh 4, the focus shifts to what Jonah failed to learn from Nineveh (and also from the storm, the sailors, and the fish). This is a lesson about God's mercy--something Jonah confesses quite orthodoxly in 4.2. Yahweh<i>, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity</i>, is something of a creedal statement in the Hebrew Bible (see Ex 34.6-7, Ps 145.8, Joel 2.13). Jonah gets his theology right, but he misunderstands his place in that theology.<br />
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If the OT is about God calling (anointing?) a chosen few to help God keep the original promise despite our rebellion, then Jonah stands as a foil, a counterexample that shows how we, then and now, so often misunderstand God's plans. God called and commissioned Abraham to be blessed and to be a blessing, that through his and Sarah's family, all the families of the world would be blessed. By the time we hear Jonah's story, the prophetic representative of the people balks at God's question, "<i>Should I not have concern for the great city Nineveh, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left--and also many animals?"</i> (4.11).<br />
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The question for our band of believers whether we'll follow Jonah or Jesus. Jesus is the first shining narrative example in scripture of someone giving away every blessing they receive for the benefit of others. The Spirit is poured into Jesus as baptism, and after resurrection, he pours the Spirit out on his followers, telling them to pour out that same Spirit on <i>all flesh</i> (see Jn 20 and Acts 2). Jonah understood salvation and election to be a matter of personal gain; Jesus shows it to be one first and foremost of generosity and love, even love unto death.<br />
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That's where our fellowship went next: to Jesus's death and glorious reward.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-658210541613402792013-04-15T11:34:00.001-06:002013-04-15T11:34:23.868-06:00The story of a Promise, a Prophet, and a Passion, Part 1It's been a few silent months since Prayer Week! Life in our fellowship has been full, very full. Here's an update:<br />
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Weeks spent in prayer <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/01/on-weeks-of-prayer-communion-and.html">prayer</a>, <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/01/on-weeks-of-prayer-communion-and_30.html">communion</a>, and <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/03/on-weeks-of-prayer-communion-and.html">fasting</a> brought me to one question: "How is God asking us to share in Christ’s self-sacrifice in order that we can share his love with our sisters, brothers, and neighbors?"<br />
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It's a question of purpose, a question about the mission God gave Jesus and Jesus passed on to us.<br />
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What better to begin looking for an answer than to return to the Scriptures that revealed Jesus' purpose. Starting in Genesis, our fellowship spent three weeks tracing out God's purpose for God's partner people in the Hebrew Bible.<br />
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(<a href="http://danielerlander.com/manna.html">Daniel Erlander's</a> <i><a href="http://www.mannaandmercy.org/">Manna and Mercy</a></i> offers a great starting point for a mission- or purpose-oriented way of reading the Israelites' story. I'm also thankful for the gift of Leslie Newbigin's <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/190357.The_Open_Secret">The Open Secret</a> </i>from a dear friend in Chicago. Newbigin offers a second, fuller perspective on this question of purpose and scripture--though <i>The Open Secret </i>focuses much more on the New Testament.)<br />
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This story, in my view, begins with a promise: God promises to be with the world God created by means of the God's image in humanity (see Gen 1.26-28). God's instructions to rule/care for creation fill out the way imaging God mediates God's presence and love to all the world. (After our great rebellion, this mediating function gets passed first to a family/nation then to a tent/temple and finally to an individual person and, through him, back to a renewed humanity; where and when these transitions occur is difficult to pin down, but the dynamic is clearly present.)<br />
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As you can see, you can't talk about God's promise for any length of time without beginning to talk about the purpose for humanity that accompanies it. Right relationship with God always seems to be partnership.<br />
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We traced out what happened when humanity rebelled, disregarding God's project for the lure of choosing our own. ("You shall be like God. . ." said the snake.) Rejecting our role in God's good rule, we found out that there are other forces eager to hold sway over us: death, conflict, fear, sin, Satan. The first story after our exit from the Garden is about fear, jealousy, and death rupturing the relationship between brother and brother (see Gen 4). If we read on through to Gen 11, we hear story after story of the good things God gave us--like technology, dignity, sex, language--one by one turning against us, seeking to snuff out our life. God's good world has been turned upside-down!<br />
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Quickly it becomes clear that if God means to keep the promise about being with us and caring for us, God is going to need first to rescue us from the mess we've made. I suppose that God might of done this in a flash from the sky--a happier version of Noah's thunderstorm. But in the story that we have, God continues to work with the creation story logic of mediation: He calls a family, Abraham's family, to bring God's blessing back to the world. They will pick up and dust off the forgotten image of God, so to speak. They sign back on to the role of being God's partners, God's co-workers.<br />
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The story is long and complicated. The partner people themselves are soon overcome, first by famine and then by Egyptian slave-masters and warlords, always by their weak hearts. Abraham's descendants, the Israelites, are slaves to the false-god Pharaoh and the Egyptian pantheon.<br />
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God again sends a mediator of God's care, concern, and, now, salvation: Moses. Moses brings God's deliverance to the Israelites; now they're free to do God's will. God leads them to the holy mountain to give them instructions about how to live as a freedom people, as God's co-workers in liberation and love.<br />
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But, it turns out, the rebellious spirit of Adam and Eve is still alive and well in the hearts of even the partner people. While Moses takes down God's how-to manual, the people rebel and begin living by the old Egyptian logic of slave and master, greedy for power, bowing down to whatever so-called god would give them a leg up on the surrounding nations. (I think of the golden calf debacle, but Ex through Num is full of stories of rebellions and hankerings for the old Egyptian way of living.)<br />
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Unfortunately things don't get any better once the people finally make it Canaan. It could have been freedom land, but the Israelites reject God's plans and maintain it as the gameboard of competing (Canaanite then Israelite) warlords' power plays. We can already trace the pattern in Judges--the cycle of giving up God's ways for those of the warlord nations, God's discipline by invasion, the appeal for God's help, God's loving mercy to send yet another deliver, and a season of peace before again walking away. The cycle keeps spinning all the way through Samuel and Kings, even the lives of rulers who start out godly, like David, but end up taking wives and killing off competitors and amassing wealth and weapons just like any other warlord.<br />
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Through this all, God remains committed to God's promise and purpose. This shows up as discipline--the invasion of Philistines, the split of the Israelite kingdom, the conquest by Assyria and finally by Babylon. God is not willing to let the partner people walk away. God keeps calling them back to Godself. (Read Habakkuk.)<br />
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Over we three weeks I told this story to our fellowship, pausing to recount the tales of Bible characters who put tragic flesh on this skeleton of God's purpose and our rebellion. It's a rich story, full of sub-plots and foreshadowing and surprising reversals. It's a story that produced some beautiful poetry and sagely reflection in the Wisdom books. The Prophets often help point out the bones of God's promise and purpose, but they introduce their own complications as well. Telling this story is the work of lifetime; I had to skip a lot to condense it to three weeks.<br />
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To offer a taste of the richness of the story, we spent the next four weeks meditating on one character's story within this grand story, the story of a prophet. More on that next time . . .Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-40351332145980811812013-03-09T19:51:00.000-07:002013-03-09T19:51:05.386-07:00On Weeks of Prayer, Communion, and Fasting, Part 3<div class="tr_bq">
This if the final installment, Part 3, of my reflections on beginning this year with prayer, communion, and fasting. (You may also be interested in <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/01/on-weeks-of-prayer-communion-and.html">Part 1</a> or<a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/01/on-weeks-of-prayer-communion-and_30.html"> Part 2</a>.)</div>
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Prayer Week is apparently a Canadian Mennonite tradition; fasting is not. When I first floated the idea of inviting folks in our fellowship to join me in daytime fasting during Prayer Week, I met with quizzical expressions. This would be something new. On the first Sunday I suggested that maybe someday soon I'd do a bit more substantial teaching on the topic. Frankly, I didn't expect anyone to actually join me in this discipline. I thought about foregoing the fast.<br />
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I'm glad I didn't, for two reasons. First, people joined me in fasting. I think this was a bit of an experiment for some of them. I heard good reports back--God met them in their fast. Alongside this fellowship and growth among those who kept the fast, a number of good discussions cropped up about fasting when I was visiting folks who didn't opt to try out this discipline (ironically, those conversations consistently happened around dinner tables).<br />
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My second reason is that it was in my fast--more than in prayer alone or even at the communion table--that <i>I </i>encountered God during Prayer Week.<br />
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My hope for our fellowship during this week was that God would illumine the path forward for us in 2013: What relationships, what sacrifices, what celebrations is God leading us to as we witness to God's kingdom? I didn't walk away from this week with a clear and distinct vision or game plan, but in my hunger and, especially, in my fellowship with other fasting folks, I felt the seeds of a vision being pushed down into our hearts. We're still waiting for them to sprout. They're germinating now. They're still just an intuition too fragile for words. But I they are there, hopefully in good soil, waiting on God's time to waken them.<br />
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On the third Sunday I followed through on my promise to teach on fasting. This was a difficult decision. Like I've said, fasting is not a Mennonite practice. Also, preaching on fasting would mean sharing a lot of my own practice of fasting. I'm slow to draw attention to myself in this way. After all, Jesus said<i> </i>that it's what's done in secret that will be reward by the Father who sees into the secret places (Mt 6.18).<br />
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In the end I did, to some degree, preach on fasting. And, yes, my own fasting journey featured front and center (personal stories, after all, make for good introductions). But this sermon grew to be about something more than fasting.<br />
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So a bit of my story: I first personally encountered the practice of fasting when my high school youth group took on WorldVision's <a href="http://www.30hourfamine.org/">30 Hour Famine</a>. (It's a great project; I highly recommend trying it out!) My initial approach was more or less mercenary: if I give up food I can raise money so hungry people can eat. But in the wee hours midway through a youth group all-nighter, my fast became something spiritual for me. I'm not sure if it was my youth pastor's meditations on Jesus' forty day fast in the desert or simply the Spirit at work. Either way, by the time we all broke our fast with a simple beans 'n' rice meal at six p.m. the next day, I knew that I had met with God in a new way.<br />
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At that same time I was a student leader with <a href="http://yausa.com/">Youth Alive</a>, a student led Christian organization in my high school. Every now and again we'd hold evangelistic rallies like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/See_You_at_the_Pole">See You at the Pole</a>. I thought it was a small step from fasting for people's material needs to fasting for their "spiritual needs." (I wouldn't make the same distinctions today, but I still believe my heart was on the right track.) I would make all sorts of sacrifices, takes all sorts of risks to talk with my friends about Jesus. Giving up food for a day or two didn't didn't seem like much of a sacrifice if it brought my friends closer to God.<br />
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A few years at university challenged my understandings of fasting, evangelism, all sort of things. Reading a few chapters of medieval or colonial church history will sour you on all sorts of things. I saw the abuses, the legalism, the way fasting (or evangelism or Bible reading) became a <i>shibboleth </i>on occasion. Still, something kept drawing me back to fasting. On my evangelical college campus, evangelism wasn't my prime purpose. Rather, I began to find that when I fasted, things would take on a certain clarity, they would bear a heightened urgency. I'm sure some of this was manipulatively self-produced, but I'm equally sure that at points God used a fast to clear away my collegiate haze of textbooks, flirting, coffee cups, and too many video games.<br />
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As I was preparing, revisiting my history, I kept stumbling into a bit of scripture that was very important to me then but that I probably haven't run into in six or seven years: 2 Cor 1.3-7<i>.</i><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>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.</i></blockquote>
During late high school and throughout college, this was something of a life verse for me. Open your eyes to the pain of the world, the pain of your peers, and then bring God's solace. Bind up wounds, listen to hurts, dry tears--all with the gospel of Jesus.<br />
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A quote by Peter Holmes in <i><a href="http://www.operationworld.org/files/The%20Fasting%20Journey%20sample.pdf">The Fasting Journey</a></i> also shed some unexpected light. He writes, "Throughout a fast you need to see your life as prayer."<br />
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On Sunday morning I talked through the basics of fasting: what it is (<i>choosing to refrain from certain things</i>), what can we fast (<i>anything that reveals our dependency on God</i>), who should fast (<i>only those who are medically able</i>).<br />
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But when we got to the Why of fasting, I had to slow down. Why fast--the inner logic of fasting, its spiritual dynamics--felt like the heart of what God has to say to our fellowship in this season.<br />
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Another quote from Holmes' <i>The Fasting Journey</i> offered a bit of jumping off point:<br />
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"The purpose of fasting must be considered from two perspectives. One is the benefit it brings to us personally in our relationship with God. But the other is the wider benefit it brings to the Kingdom of God. Sometimes the latter does not directly profit us. Fasting is often a way of paying the price in order that others may benefit."</blockquote>
<i>Paying the price that others may benefit.</i> This idea resonates deeply with Paul's explanation that <i>if we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation. </i><br />
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There's a kind of messianic, Suffering Servant logic to fasting.<br />
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Sure, giving up food (or Facebook or television or our morning coffee) peels back the layers of creature comforts that insulate us and distract us from God's voice. Self-restraint helps our spiritual sensitivity grow. At times we need this desperately, like when we repent.<br />
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But for our fellowship, it's the messianic aspect of fasting that whispers of where God is leading us.<br />
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Truth be told, this messianic kind of suffering is at work in much more than just fasting. The practice of fasting, it turns out, is shorthand for, a symbol of the missional character of Christian discipleship. Jesus has called us together to witness to God's kingdom. God sees the world's suffering, and, rather than turn a blind eye, God chooses to take that suffering on himself in Jesus so that God can renew all things, replacing suffering with comfort. Our witness to this has the same shape as Jesus' witness--we take suffering on ourselves to bring others comfort. Every bit of our lives ought to be caught up in this witness work. When we forget that, fasting reminds us that chosen suffering for the good of others is the way of love.<br />
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I'll end this post with the words I ended with on Sunday morning. Here's my conclusion:<br />
<blockquote>
Fasting is one way--a very intimate way--to share Jesus’ physical hardship: his own fasting in the desert, the late nights and early mornings he spent preparing for ministry, the days when healing the sick and casting out demons kept him so busy he couldn’t eat, even the suffering he faced as he walked toward Golgotha and then hung on a tree. There are other ways to deny ourselves to take part in his work.<br /> <br />But we must never forget that the purpose of Christ’s self-sacrifice as well as our own is so that we can give away God’s love more freely to those around us. That is the broader picture. Without that in view, our fasting or spiritual practices are no better than those of the Pharisees which God detested.<br /> <br />This is the question I want you to contemplate this week: How is God asking you to share in Christ’s self-sacrifice in order that you can share his love with your sisters, brothers, and neighbors? This is a question I put to you personally. It is also a question for our church fellowship: How is God asking us to deny ourselves for the sake of sharing his love with our neighbors here in our town and those around the world?<br /> <br />Pray on this. Pray with me.</blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-11997366440596129132013-01-31T11:57:00.000-07:002013-01-31T11:57:00.222-07:00Notes from the Corner - Prayer Week - Prayer at the Table<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmvj3_5p35eEM5oiHpUH3Xb97U8gIaW8hIdUoDPOJROZU2M5HcjRLERYxSeB9FIG5Kcs5WgwoFcNeoGqIdWOYy4t1W1SWRPmWXJ-VNHa0rfg086nMy-gAK661VtVLhOTK01i_y66iXKAL/s1600/IMG_7355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmvj3_5p35eEM5oiHpUH3Xb97U8gIaW8hIdUoDPOJROZU2M5HcjRLERYxSeB9FIG5Kcs5WgwoFcNeoGqIdWOYy4t1W1SWRPmWXJ-VNHa0rfg086nMy-gAK661VtVLhOTK01i_y66iXKAL/s320/IMG_7355.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
One of the most common places I’ve heard prayer is around the dinner table. Even in fairly secular households, I’ve watched people pause for a moment before starting a meal.<br /><br /><div>
I’m not sure why praying and eating tend to go together. It’s not a Bible command (though we do have examples of Jesus and others thanking God for food). My best guess is that sitting down together at the table reminds us again of the many good things in our lives. Prayer is a natural expression of gratitude.<br /></div>
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An old name for the Lord’s Supper is eucharist (Catholics, Anglicans, and others still call it that). Eucharist is simply the Greek word for “thanksgiving.” Communion, like our mealtime prayers, is a way of saying “Thank you” to God.<br /></div>
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When we come to this Table together, we have much to be thankful for. We are thankful that God’s thrown open his arms to welcome us back into God’s family. We’re thankful for the spilt blood and broken body of Jesus that made us a Way home. We’re thankful that we’re here together, brothers and sisters sharing a meal. We take this bread, take this cup, as joyful acts of praise and thanksgiving.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-16466450826149598912013-01-30T17:45:00.000-07:002013-01-30T17:45:00.363-07:00On Weeks of Prayer, Communion, and Fasting, Part 2<br />
This is Part 2 in a three-part series on my experience of Prayer Week 2013. (See <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/01/on-weeks-of-prayer-communion-and.html">Part 1</a> for more details.)<br />
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Prayer Week in our fellowship involved increased times of gathered and personal or household prayer, some folks trying out fasting, and a concluding communion service the follow Sunday. These practices pushed me into some deep reflection on love, ours for God, God's for us, and our love together for the world.<br />
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I talked about this love and these practices on three consecutive Sundays. Here I'm returning to these topics, rehashing what I said and pushing deeper into each topic.<br />
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<b>Week Two: Meeting Jesus in Prayer and at the Table</b><br />
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Something seemed right about ending a week of praying together with a Sunday morning eating together in memory of Jesus. As I prayed through the week, my conviction grew stronger and stronger that prayer and communion should go together in the life of our fellowship right now.<br />
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My mind also kept returning to the story of Jesus, now resurrected, surprising his listless disciples on the beach with hot breakfast on the beach. This passage isn't quite a communion story (though it echoes the eucharist in many ways), and prayer certainly isn't its main concern. Perhaps because my heart was in the last chapters of Jn for Prayer Week or perhaps because the Spirit had something important to say, but this story became the center of my meditations on prayer and communion for Sunday morning.<br />
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Praying over the passage, over the communion liturgy (which circled around 1 Cor 11, Jn 14, and Lk 15), and over the circumstances and hearts of our fellowship, I began to see that prayer and communion overlap in three significant ways.<br />
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<i>1. In both prayer and communion, we encounter Jesus. </i>Believers have long debated how exactly we meet Jesus at God's dinner table. But whatever the encounter's mechanics or metaphysics, we can't deny that in sharing in this bread, this cup, we encounter Jesus.<br />
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Prayer, too, whether we're conscious of it or not, is always in Jesus' name. We seek God's face, and we find the Incarnate Son. We seek God's goodness to heal our diseases, God's wisdom to direct our steps, God's justice for the oppressed, God's forgiveness for our guilty hearts, and we find that all these things come to us in the person of Jesus. (See Jn 14.6-9)<br />
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(We could also say that when we go to God in thanksgiving, the very things we're giving thanks for have already faced us with Jesus. Both John and Paul say that Jesus is the order, the wisdom, the <i>logos</i> that secures goodness, order, <i>shalom</i> in the universe--whether that goodness be a warm dinner or a miraculous healing.)<br />
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<i>2. Both prayer and communion strengthen our love for fellow believers.</i> I saw this firsthand as our fellowship gathered in small groups to pray for one another on Wednesday night. (Thank you, <a href="http://lafleurepuisee.blogspot.com/">Cindy</a>, for leading us in that exercise.) Text messages, emails, actual face-to-face conversations followed up these shared prayer requests. Prayer increases our stake in other people's lives.<br />
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I find this morning by morning as my <a href="http://commonprayer.net/">book of <i>Common Prayer</i></a> asks me to voice "Prayers for Others" before reciting the <i>Our Father</i>. Those I pray for work their way into my heart, and I find myself calling them up or sending an email to them.<br />
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Paul told the Corinthians that their eucharistic fellowship should reflect their true heart-felt fellowship with one another. For this lack of "discerning the body of Christ" to be present in those sisters and brothers eating with them, Paul said some were sick, even dead. Remember, Paul's teaching on the Lord's table in 1 Cor 11.17-34 comes only two or three paragraphs before his instruction about the church being one body made up of many members in 12.12-31.<br />
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If we are to eat this meal as a true testimony to the Messiah who submitted even to crucifixion to reconcile us to God (and one another), we must no longer be wrapped up in our own concerns but begin to privilege more the concerns of others (Phil 2.1-11).<br />
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<i>3. Both prayer and communion send us out to love and serve the world.</i> We share with one another at the communion table to<i> proclaim the Lord's death until he comes</i> (1 Cor 11.26). This meal is a witness to one who has begun to renew all things and who will return to complete that project. If we share with him at table, we must also share with him in life. He cared for the lonely, healed the sick, cast out evil. If we eat his food and look forward to enjoying the shelter of the homes he is preparing for us, we must live by his rules, after his example.<br />
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More fundamentally for me, communion is about a renewal, a recommitment to our discipleship. Every time I stand receive this bread and wine, I remember the promise I made with baptism. Jesus said, "Follow me," and I got up and followed.<br />
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Among the things that the example of the New Testament teaches us about prayer, perhaps one is that prayer is as much listening for God to speak as it is talking to God. Think of the the pre-Pentecost prayer meeting (Acts 2). Think of the one in Antioch (Acts 13): <i>As they were worshiping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, "Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I've called them." So after they </i>prayed <i>and fasted, they placed their hands on them and sent them off.</i><br />
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Praying to God means, in part, being ready for God to use us to answer our prayers.<br />
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All three of these dynamics are at work in Jn 21, even though neither prayer nor communion show up in the story. The disciples <b>encounter</b> Jesus on the shore. (Picking up <a href="http://thesagelyblog.blogspot.ca/2013/01/on-weeks-of-prayer-communion-and.html">week one's themes</a>, Jesus shows them his goodness by filling their nets and bellies, even while there are deeper needs that won't be addressed until after they've finished eating.)<br />
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After the breakfast meeting, Jesus calls Peter aside. Peter needs relational repair work with Jesus. While Jesus was on trial, Peter had sworn by heaven and earth that he didn't even know who Jesus was. Jesus addresses that by asking Peter three times if he loves him. Jesus pushes Peter to a <b>stronger love</b>. (Although Jesus is the fellow believer in question here, the principle holds that an encounter with Jesus results in stronger commitment to right relationships within God's family.)<br />
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This encounter not only offers reconciliation; it also gives Peter a <b>task</b>: "Care for my flock." We think of Peter's commission primarily in terms of pastoral care of believers (a strong love), but this task had a strong missionary aspect. Jesus predicts at the end of the chapter how Peter will die: a martyr in Rome, far, far away from the shores of Galilee. Earlier, he was a guest in the first Gentile convert's house in Caesarea and a minister to the fledgling congregation in Antioch. Jesus sent him out to the nations.<br />
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In my view, Jn 21 opens the shared dynamics of prayer and communion beyond Prayer Week, church services, or focused times of prayer. Paul says, "Pray continually." It seem that we could continually, at any moment, meet Jesus, find him calling forth more love, hear him sending us to do something new. The spiritual and sacramental practices train us for a spiritual and sacramental awareness of all of life. Jesus may be standing on the shore, if only we have eyes to see him.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-27442593381406155012013-01-29T17:10:00.001-07:002013-01-29T17:13:23.829-07:00On Weeks of Prayer, Communion, and Fasting, Part 1I am three Sundays into 2013. Between the first and the second Sunday (from 06 to 13 January) our fellowship devoted itself to prayer. Some fasted during those days. We ended the week by eating a communion meal together.<br />
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A January "Prayer Week," as it's called, is something of a Canadian Mennonite tradition, I'm told. It was new to me. The impulse seems to be (1) to give to God the first portion of the year and (2) to seek God's blessing and direction for the new year. [If you have more information on this tradition, I'd love to hear; share it in the Comments.]</div>
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Both these motivations are well and good. I know that our fellowship needs God's direction. We have hard work ahead of us, first discerning personally and corporately where the frontiers of God's reign are in our context and, second, going and doing whatever God shows us.</div>
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But I worry that the stated motivations for Prayer Week encourage us toward a tit-for-tat take on spiritual disciplines. It's not long before we're thinking, "Okay, God, I'll spend time praying to you so that you will bless/guide/protect me and mine."</div>
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So when we've met up for worship and encouragement on the last three Sunday, I've explored our reasons for praying, for eating the Lord's communion meal together, for fasting. I'm trying to preach more and more from notes (and less and less from manuscript), so I won't be posting sermons whole-text regularly (unless my attempts at note-preaching crash and burn). But here's a summary of where my heart has been as I've wrestled with these issues:</div>
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<b>Week One: Why Should We Pray?</b></div>
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My home passage was Jn 17.1-5. (Others, including <a href="http://lafleurepuisee.blogspot.ca/">Cindy</a>, led us in reflection on vv 6-19 and 20-26 at prayer meetings later in the week.)</div>
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Jesus uses "glory" language over and over in this paragraph. He "brought [his Father] gory on earth" and was glorified "with [his Father] before the world existed." At the same time, Jesus asks that his Father "glorify [his] Son, that [his] Son may glorify [him.]" The question is, What is <i>glory</i>?</div>
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My answer: Jesus glorifies his Father by revealing his Father's character, bringing his Father's presence, <i>ha-shekinah</i>, present on earth. What do we see when Jesus reveals his Father? My answer: love. John, in his first letter, states this plainly: "God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him" (1 Jn 4.8-9). Or, in the Gospel's paraphrase of Ex 34.6-7 in Jn 1.18, "We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of <i>chesed</i> and <i>`emet</i>."</div>
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Understanding glory as the revelation of God's loving and faithful character, I came up with two basic motivations for prayer as I listened to Jn 17.1-5.</div>
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<i>1. We pray because Jesus has already glorified his Father. </i>We have experienced God's lovingkindness and faithfulness, in ways small and big. There are the common blessings that God pours out on the wicked and the good, the <i>shalom</i> we experience now, fractured and bent up as it may be. Ultimately, these are all reflections of the God's greatest act of love, the compassion and obedience that carried Jesus to a cross.</div>
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<i>2. We pray because we ourselves, our neighbors, and our world still need God's glorious love to be revealed here and now for us. </i>Having "tasted and seen that the Lord is good" heightens our awareness of how much is not yet good. Experiencing God's love turns up the contrast. Suddenly the ills, the violence we might have off-handedly chalked up to "that's just the way things are" become an aching hole, a wound in the otherwise infinite goodness, love, faithfulness, <i>glory</i> of God. With Jesus, we pray, "You have been glorified on earth, now glorify yourself again" (cf. Jn 17.1, 4 and 10.27-28)<br />
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<i>(Watch for reflections on the next two weeks over the next few days)</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-12667230591890773582013-01-06T09:56:00.000-07:002013-01-11T09:56:35.323-07:00Notes from the Corner - Prayer Week - Teach Us to Pray<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sojo.net/sites/default/files/mainimages/blog/IMG_0515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://sojo.net/sites/default/files/mainimages/blog/IMG_0515.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eugene Peterson<br />Source:<a href="http://is.gd/v70AAI">http://is.gd/v70AAI</a></td></tr>
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In <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tell-Slant-Conversation-Language-Stories/dp/080286886X/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1357923338&sr=1-3&keywords=tell+it+slant">Tell It Slant</a></i>, Eugene Peterson says, “The classic set prayers for Christians and Jews are the Psalms.” For Christians, he adds, this collection of prayers also includes Jesus’ prayers. <br /><br /><div>
<i>Set prayers</i>, as Peterson calls them, are words others have prayed that we can use to guide our own prayers. He says, “It is a common and widespread practice in the Christian community to apprentice ourselves to the prayers that Jesus prayed.” Just like we learn to form our letters and numbers by copying those of others, so we can learn to pray by echoing Jesus’ prayers.<br /></div>
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So, if you’d like learn to pray more honestly, more consistently, more powerfully, more like Jesus, begin with his prayers. They include the Lord’s Prayer (Mt 6:9-13/Lk 11:2-4), a prayer of thanksgiving (Mt 11:25-26/Lk 10:21), a prayer at a friend’s tomb (Jn 11:41-42), a few prayers as Jesus contemplates the cross (Jn 12:27-28; Mt 25.36-44/Mk 14:32-39/Lk 22:46), a prayer for his followers (Jn 17), and Jesus’ final words from the cross (Mt 27:46/Mk 15:34; Lk 23:34, 46; Jn 20:30).</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-77984717811816706872012-12-23T10:51:00.000-07:002012-12-24T10:52:26.452-07:00Notes from the Corner - Advent IV - Love for the Shepherds<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSFCsOOmDppydWYv1nJyThtVyBOOY0hRmeT1-18DK4F5G2lvxh8SW8OITuIufVbFpTgsAZFCUGUg66c0hG5y__4Uzb1SNq5VqxEqGBBBeOX7kiCXHB_IIg6NYunq94ow4MxTQ2wUuhU10/s1600/Gypsy_Sheperds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSFCsOOmDppydWYv1nJyThtVyBOOY0hRmeT1-18DK4F5G2lvxh8SW8OITuIufVbFpTgsAZFCUGUg66c0hG5y__4Uzb1SNq5VqxEqGBBBeOX7kiCXHB_IIg6NYunq94ow4MxTQ2wUuhU10/s320/Gypsy_Sheperds.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gypsy Shepherds<br /><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gypsy_Sheperds.jpg">Source: Wikimedia Commons</a></td></tr>
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The shepherds camped with their flocks outside Bethlehem were unloved men. No mother, no bride worried for them during the long nights. Perhaps they had a few shepherd buddies that they might trade stories with or meet at the tavern. But society in general overlooked these men. They were the ancient equivalent of today’s retail clerks or gas bar attendants: not faces or names most would remember.<br /><br /><div>
But then the angel appeared to these men, announcing, “Today a Savior has been born for you” (Luke 2:10-12). The angel said this news would bring “great joy to all the people.” Joy for all the people must include those often forgotten or overlooked, folks like the shepherds.<br /></div>
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We believe that Christmas means love, and we show that love when we share meals, cards, and gifts with family and friends. However, the true spirit of Christmas love is to love those whom nobody else loves, people like the shepherds. That’s the kind of love God shows at Christmas.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-26971300558970287632012-12-23T10:43:00.000-07:002012-12-24T10:44:28.634-07:00Snippet from Sunday - Christmas Means Love - December 23This season is all about love. We could add the love we have for friends, the camaraderie we share with co-workers, the cookies we carry next door to neighbors, the warm handshakes and hugs and cards we give and receive after a church service. <br /><br /> As believers and followers of Jesus, we suspect that this strong holiday feeling of love must in some way spring from the birth of our Savior. But we’re left a bit puzzled when we have to explain exactly what the child born in Bethlehem has to do with young couples holding hands while they skate or pretty packages piled underneath a pine tree. How do we trace the connections down from the virgin mother and the angels and shepherds and wise men all the way to the joy we feel as we bake butter tarts and peppernuts and other Christmas sweets to share with loved ones? <br /><br /> Here’s the truth about love and Christmas: Jesus was born because of love and for love. Jesus was born because God loves us, and Jesus was born for the purpose of bringing God’s love to us. The good news of Christmastime doesn’t get any more simple than that. “God loved us and sent his Son” (Jn 3.16). <br /><br /> Every act of love in this season, and in every season, has the potential to echo or to reflect God’s greatest expression of love toward us. Sometimes our expressions of love mirror God’s love with a joyful holiness; sometimes what we think of love is barely a pale reflection, something in which we can recognize a trace resemblance to God’s love only with a lot of hard work and imagination. . .<br /><br />What we often call love is a strange alloy. It’s part love--the kind of love God shows--and in large part something else. We mix in lust or fear or self-congratulatory pride. Sure, there are trace amounts of real love there, but mostly it’s our desire for possession or pleasure. There’s a bit of true love there, but it’s overshadowed by our fear of being alone, our fear that the other person will leave us. It’s polluted by how good we feel about ourselves for loving others so extravagantly. <br /><br /> What we need is some refining fire to purify our love. We need some North Star to set the compass of our love by.<div>
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<i>(Check out the whole sermon after the jump . . .)<a name='more'></a>======================================</i></div>
I was driving to a meeting in Saskatoon on Tuesday. I had just dropped C off at the university. I was listening to the radio, to CBC Radio 2, and a new version of an old Sam Cooke song started to play. The soul singer sang, “It was then, the 12th month, on the 25th day, / A little child was born, yes, and brightened up our day. / And I’m so glad he came to show us what true love is; / Now I know, Christmas means love.” <br /><br /> Pop music may not be eloquent, nor often is it profound, but it definitely gives a good reading on widespread cultural sensibilities. And if it was true in 1968 when Sam Cooke first sang these words, it’s just as true today when Jarvis Church covers the tune on CBC Radio 2: Whatever we think about the holidays, most of us agree that the season is somehow about love. <br /><br /> Sometimes it’s romantic love--“falling in love.” I can’t count how many holiday films have this as part of their plot. Something in the holiday air causes romantic feelings to blossom and people to fall in love. <br /><br /> But the season is also about love at home, parents for children, grandparents for grandkids, aunts and uncles and cousins, brothers, sisters, and babies. We have big holiday meals around decorated dining room tables. Sometimes the kids have to sit at a folding card table or down in the basement. Maybe we get together to tell stories or to watch a holiday movie like <i>How the Grinch Stole Christmas</i> or<i> Miracle on 34th Street</i> or, my personal favorite, <i>The Muppet Christmas Carol</i>. And, at the best of times, it’s our love for one another (and not a sense of obligation) that motivates us to buy gifts for one another. <br /><br /> This season is all about love. We could add the love we have for friends, the camaraderie we share with co-workers, the cookies we carry next door to neighbors, the warm handshakes and hugs and cards we give and receive after a church service. <br /><br /> As believers and followers of Jesus, we suspect that this strong holiday feeling of love must in some way spring from the birth of our Savior. But we’re left a bit puzzled when we have to explain exactly what the child born in Bethlehem has to do with young couples holding hands while they skate or pretty packages piled underneath a pine tree. How do we trace the connections down from the virgin mother and the angels and shepherds and wise men all the way to the joy we feel as we bake butter tarts and peppernuts and other Christmas sweets to share with loved ones? <br /><br /> Here’s the truth about love and Christmas: Jesus was born because of love and for love. Jesus was born because God loves us, and Jesus was born for the purpose of bringing God’s love to us. The good news of Christmastime doesn’t get any more simple than that. “God loved us and sent his Son” (Jn 3.16). <br /><br /> Every act of love in this season, and in every season, has the potential to echo or to reflect God’s greatest expression of love toward us. Sometimes our expressions of love mirror God’s love with a joyful holiness; sometimes what we think of love is barely a pale reflection, something in which we can recognize a trace resemblance to God’s love only with a lot of hard work and imagination. <br /><br /> It’s not hard to see a picture of God’s love in a story like the one O. Henry told about the poor, newlywed couple who each sacrifice what they hold most dear to give a good gift to the other. <br /><br /> As I remember it, the story goes that woman had less than nothing, no beautiful dresses, no jewelry, no fine hats or fur coats. The only beauty she could claim was her long, dark hair. The man, too, had nothing fine or fancy about him. His treasure was a pocket watch given him by his father. <br /><br /> As Christmas approached, the money barely covered rent and heat. There was nothing left to buy a turkey for Christmas dinner, pretty packages for under the tree, or even a tree, for that matter. The young man dreaded the thought of meeting his bride empty-handed on Christmas morning. So late on Christmas Eve, after a long shift at the factory, he went to the pawn shop, and traded his treasured pocket watch for a few dollars. He then went and bought beautiful, ornate hair combs that his wife could place in her lovely hair. He got home late, placed the brown paper package on the table, and crawled into bed beside his bride. <br /><br /> The next morning as he woke, he could smell coffee brewing--how she had scrimped and saved for the luxury of coffee he didn’t know. He came out to the kitchen. His wife was still in a bathrobe, with a towel wrapped around her head. He pulled her to the table to give her the package he’d placed on it. As she untied the twine and unwrapped the gift, her eyes began to fill with tears. Her husband’s eyes were smiling. “Two beautiful combs to adorn the hair of a beautiful lady,” he said. Dabbing her eyes, she said quietly, “I got you something as well.” She handed a wrapped gift to him. He undid the paper and found an intricate gold chain. “It’s a chain for that pocket watch,” she said. She unwrapped the towel from her head. “I cut off all my hair and sold it to the wig-maker so that I could give you this.” <br /><br /> In O. Henry’s story, each sacrifices what is precious to them to give something precious to the other. Their gifts shine brightly a reflection of the gift God gave us. Maybe you have received a gift like that, perhaps a quilt hand-stitched over long hours or a delicious cake baked with patience and love. Perhaps family or friends drove long hours or bought expensive plane tickets to surprise you on Christmas Eve. Maybe a stranger stopped to help push your car out when you were stuck in the snow. Maybe the clerk at the pharmacy asked how your day was and really wanted an answer. <br /><br /> But our love doesn’t always mirror God’s free gift, God’s desire to set us free and bless us with joy and peace. Sometimes what we call love amounts to a one-night fling after the work holiday party. Sometime we think love means buying the most presents, or the most-expensive presents, for the grandkids. Sometimes we believe it’s loving to make excuses for a spouse or friend who mistreats us, who indulges in habits that harm them or others, who neglects us. It’s hard to see the outline of God’s true love in these circumstances. That’s because love here has been twisted, bent by our sin and a sin-sick world, so that it points in the wrong direction. Our compass is broken; it no longer points to true north, no longer points toward true love. <br /><br /> What we often call love is a strange alloy. It’s part love--the kind of love God shows--and in large part something else. We mix in lust or fear or self-congratulatory pride. Sure, there are trace amounts of real love there, but mostly it’s our desire for possession or pleasure. There’s a bit of true love there, but it’s overshadowed by our fear of being alone, our fear that the other person will leave us. It’s polluted by how good we feel about ourselves for loving others so extravagantly. <br /><br /> What we need is some refining fire to purify our love. We need some North Star to set the compass of our love by. <br /><br /> This is precisely what God gives us at Christmas. As Sam Cooke sang, in “the 12th month, on the 25th day, / A little child was born, yes . . . / . . . he came to show us what true love is.” Jesus is love’s North Star. He shows us what true love is, what true love looks like. When we look at him, when he comes to us, we can set the compass of our hearts right. <br /><br /> Earlier this morning we heard Mary’s Advent song. While Cindy read Mary’s song, candles were lit and candles were snuffed out. Mary’s song is about as far from a pop song as a song can possibly be. There’s a new pop song on the radio every three and a half minutes. Mary’s song is two thousand years old. Pop songs are written for market appeal, to move records and CDs and mp3s from retailers’ inventory. Scripture says Mary’s song comes from a pure heart of praise. But despite this distance, I think Mary was singing the same message that Sam Cooke or Jarvis Church sings today: Christmas means love. <br /><br /> Do you remember Mary’s story? She was a young woman from an out-of-the-way town up north in Galilee. When the story begins, her parents have just finished arranging her marriage to a good man from town, Joseph the carpenter. I’m sure Mary was excited, though perhaps a bit nervous, to begin to make a life and a home with him, to raise children together, to meet the neighbors as the new Mrs. Joseph the carpenter. <br /><br /> But then Mary gets a message from God. The angel Gabriel appears with news that Mary will soon become mother to a special child. The angel said, <br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>“Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Listen: You will become pregnant and give birth to a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of his father David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and his kingdom will never end”</i> (Lk 1.30-33). </blockquote>
The angel’s words emphasize what a special baby this would be: “Son of god” was a title that emperors claimed for themselves, especially Caesar Augustus who was then ruling in Rome. An “eternal kingdom” was also a claim that Roman rulers like to make for themselves. Throughout Rome’s empire, even in far-flung Galilee, shrines were set up, and the populace was expected to offer incense to the “divine and eternal emperor Caesar.” Joseph was a good carpenter, but he was no emperor. No son of his would inherit a kingdom, Roman, Jewish, or otherwise. It’s no wonder Mary asked him, “But how can this be?” <br /><br /> Listen to the angel’s answer: “<i>The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to born will be holy; he will be called the Son of God”</i> (35). Caesar Augustus can say that he is the son of god all day long; it won’t make it any more true. Other human rulers and kings can shout as loudly as they want that their kingdom will endure for the ages; but every one of them crumbles into the dust of history. The baby Mary would bear, however, he would truly be God’s offspring; God’s Holy Spirit would father him. The angel Gabriel emphasized again that this baby would be <i>“called the Son of God.” </i><br /><br /> Mary listened to this news. I can only imagine what went through her mind, what was happening in her heart in the silent moment before she responded to God’s messenger. What of her hopes with Joseph? What would he say? What would her family and neighbors think? What sort of child would this baby be? <br /><br /> Mary looked to the angel. “Behold, I am the Lord’s servant,” she said. “Let this happen to me just as you’ve said” (38). Bold words from a young girl. Brave words from a young woman who trusted God with everything. In this phrase she gave away all that was most precious to her, her dreams and hopes for a simple life with Joseph, for a normal family, because she loved her God. Mary acted out true love for God. She surrendered all of herself and became God’s servant. <br /><br /> Mary also acted in response to God’s love. As the apostle of love says in 1 Jn 4.19, <i>We love because [God] first loved us.</i> Christmas is the story of the birth of a child, and the birth of a child is wonderful picture of love as a reciprocal action, as a response. A mom does some very difficult work to bring a baby into the world. And after all that work, the baby doesn’t even think to say thank you. The kid only wants to eat, to be held, to sleep, to be cleaned up. For months and even years after birth, moms and dads make all sorts of sacrifices to act out their love for their child. And only very gradually, impartially, in developmental stage by developmental stage, does the child learn how to truly love her parents in return. Mom and dad have to show their children what true love looks like. <br /><br /> God loves us first. God shows us what true love looks like. God showed Mary what true love looks like. Mary praised God for this in the song she sang a few weeks later. This is the passage we heard read at the beginning of the sermon. Her song is often called The Magnificat, after its first words in the Latin translation used by the Roman Catholic church for centuries. <br /><br /> Mary’s song is a song about God’s love. When Mary said “Yes” to God’s message, we saw one picture of what love looks like. Love that is pure and unpolluted involves surrender. It involves sacrifice. We give away something good to someone else rather than clutching it close for ourselves. When Mary sings her song, we see another picture of love. <br /><br /> She begins in v 46 of Luke ch 1, praising God for remembering God’s people. She says, <br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>“My soul exalts the Lord,<br /> </i><i> and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,<br /> </i><i>for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.<br /> </i><i> From now on all generations will call me blessed,<br /> </i><i>because He Who Is Able has done great things for me--<br /> </i><i> holy is his name.<br /> </i><i>From generation to generation he shows mercy<br /> </i><i> to those who fear him”</i> (46-49). </blockquote>
Mary saw God’s love in this baby that was only weeks old within her. This baby, while it upset every part of her life, throwing her hopes in plans in disarray--this baby in her womb was evidence that God had not abandoned or forgotten the people he’d chosen for himself. <br /><br /> Mary says that God has “been mindful of the humble state of his servant.” God pays attention. Love means paying attention. God’s love, true love, perseveres. God loves us with an everlasting love, a patient love, a committed love. Mary’s baby--this one-day king--brings us that kind of love. <br /><br /> Mary keeps singing. Picking up in v 51, she says, <br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>“He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;<br /> he has scattered those who are proud in their inner thoughts.<br /> He has brought down rulers from their thrones<br /> but has lifted up the humble.<br /> He has filled the hungry with good things<br /> but has sent the rich away empty”</i> (51-53). </blockquote>
God pays attention to us, but God is not content just to stand back and watch. God’s compassion overflows into action. When God sees the humble state of his servant, love compels him to become involved. God comes to deliver them from the warlords, the emperors and empires who leave them feeling humiliated and living on humble means. God steps into break open the storehouses and bank accounts that the well-off have hoarded for themselves in order that everyone gets enough to eat. <br /><br /> There’s a quote by an American philosopher and activist Cornel West that sticks with me. He said, “Justice is what love looks like in public.” God take his love for us public. We often feel that love is entirely personal, a feeling that lives in our hearts. But God’s love is public love. It’s a love that works justice and deliverance--beginning from when God brought the Israelites out of Egypt all the way to Jesus’ public ministry and death and resurrection and down to our world today. <br /><br /> In fact, in the final verse of her song, Mary roots God’s loving commitment to deliverance and justice for all further back, all the way back in the story of Abraham and Sarah. She says, <br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>“[God] has helped his servant Israel,<br /> remembering his mercy,<br /> just as he promised to our ancestors,<br /> to Abraham and to his descendants forever”</i> (54-55). </blockquote>
At Christmas we hear the story of the birth of a baby, a baby who would be our Messiah. That baby was God come to us, come to us as servant and come to us as king ready to dethrone all the people and powers and things that leaves billions of humans hungry, homeless, unloved and lonely, guilty and far from God. <br /><br /> In Mary’s song, we hear that this story is a love story. In this story, in this baby we meet and get to know and, hopefully, fall in love with and surrender all of our lives to God’s love. We see love that sacrifices, that pays patient attention and perseveres. We meet a love that brims over with compassion and overflows here and now with action to make things right. At its heart, we encounter a love, encounter a God and a baby, whose deepest commitment is to our deliverance, our salvation.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-46120270664470356482012-12-17T11:39:00.000-07:002012-12-17T11:39:11.875-07:00Reflections on a Christmas Pageant - December 16Kids bring us together. The tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, leaves us all strongly aware of this. Yesterday our congregation joined with folks around the globe, believers and non-believers alike, in praying for comfort and peace, an end to such violence, for the families in Newtown.<div>
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I feel almost a duty to write about the horror of school shootings, the absolute horror of a shooting in an elementary school. This violence, with an altogether new terror and repulsion, tugs at a deep place in my heart. I remember walking my high school hallways in the days after Columbine. I cannot fully tell my own story without recounting how the televised news of that violence changed me.</div>
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But these stories and laments were in part displaced yesterday by the implacable church calendar: The Sunday School Christmas pageant was scheduled for yesterday morning. We had given the hour of our worship service to the kids to tell us the good news story of Jesus' birth.</div>
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Part of me sees a difficult irony in this. Kids sharing good news in the midst of so much tragic news about children. But hope often sounds difficult and ironic in our ears (no one foregrounds the interplay of hope and irony better than John the Evangelist). </div>
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The kids of our congregation toddled in their homemade shepherd's costumes, some with stuffed lambs clutched in one hand. Mary and Joseph stood silent and wide-eyed before their grandparents and parents in the pews, uttering a barely audible "Oh, okay" when the angel delivered news of Jesus' impending birth. King (or, in our case, Queen) Herod gave directions to magi who were not quite on stage yet. </div>
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In short, their Christmas program had all the dear details, the amateur earnestness, that fill adults' hearts with comfort and joy during this season. When we sang our closing hymn, "Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus," I was certain those in the pews had heard good news as surely as if the angel Gabriel himself had appeared in our midst. Parents beamed, directors and stagehands laughed with relief, children jumped up and down in excitement as they received their Christmas treat bags from their Sunday School teachers.</div>
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I stood back and smiled. The kids had brought good news to us: "A savior is born to bring peace to all people."</div>
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But, Oh, that we lived in that peace now. Through Advent we've sang a simple song, "Come, Lord, and Bring Hope." Each verse substitutes a new word for hope: peace, joy, love, life. In some ways, our God has already answered our congregational prayer: Jesus has come, Jesus was born, Jesus lived and loved, healed and taught, Jesus submitted to death, Jesus has even risen once more to life! Like the more traditional Advent carol, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel," our songs in this season are in no small part a re-enactment, a remembering of longings our God has already filled.</div>
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But as I watched the kids' program from the sound booth, I had the dark realization that we do not have more than twenty kids in our Sunday School program. Most of the kids are elementary-aged. Peace is still far from us. So are hope, joy, love, and life.</div>
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I gave my closing thoughts to the congregation after the program. Throughout the weeks and even months leading up to Advent, I've felt strong conviction that this worship service was one in which to be forthrightly evangelistic. I prepared my reflection early in the week, before any of us would or could have imagined such tragedy would occur so near to us. (You can read my thoughts posted below, if you'd like.)</div>
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I delivered my closing message as I'd prepared it, unsure how to speak on tragedy without robbing the kids of their joyous presentation. But I'm not confident that I made the right decision. Perhaps, I think, I should have spoken more directly to the tragic irony of proclaiming hope and peace in violent times. I'd value your input. </div>
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Let us pray and act for peace.</div>
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<i>(You can read the full text of what I said after the jump . . .)<a name='more'></a></i><div>
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My favorite characters in the Christmas story--beside Jesus, of course--may be the shepherds who lived on the open range around Bethlehem. I’m also a big fan of Mary, the teenage girl who became Jesus’ mom. But the shepherds hold my attention because they are the people in this story to whom I can most relate. <br /><br /> They were normal folks, people working hard to make a living. They weren’t as wise as the wise men or as holy as Mary, but neither were they as wicked as King Herod or Caesar. I doubt that chasing off hungry predators and sheep rustlers was the job these men had always dreamed of as children. I bet they didn’t like sitting out in the cold on “A Midnight Clear.” I’d guess that helping ewes lamb wasn’t their favorite part of the year. But being hired on to watch this flock for their owners meant an income, silver in their pocket. <br /><br /> Maybe you can too can imagine yourself among the shepherds. Life is complicated. You’re a mix of emotions. You’re optimistic enough to hope that life gets better but you’ve lived long enough to know that’s not often how the story goes. You’re thankful that you have what you have, whatever it is--a job, a relationship, family, hope, peace, joy. But, still, you have to stretch it pretty thin sometimes in order to make ends meet. <br /><br /> Listen to how scripture describes what happened to these folks like you and me. Luke says in ch 2, vv 8-14. . . <br /><br /> God’s messenger brought the shepherds good news, the best news, in fact: God has come to save us! And then the legions of heaven appeared, praising God for sending a savior, someone to bring peace, hope, joy to God’s people. They sing, “Glory to God in high heaven, for peace has finally come on earth for the people God loves!” After this magnificent chorus, the angels faded back into the starry night. <br /><br /> Here in the story the shepherds face a choice. What will they do now? We face a similar choice this morning. We’ve just witnessed the beginning of the glorious gospel story acted out for us this morning. We’ve just heard the news once more--or, maybe for some of us, for the first time. God can speak to us through the Sunday School kids’ play just as much as God once spoke through the angels of heaven. This morning, the good news has been proclaimed to you, wherever you are--sinful or holy, happy or grieving, exhilarated by the season or exhausted by it. Right in the mess of our lives, this morning, God has announced good news to us again. <br /><br /> So what will you do with it? Listen to what the shepherds did (vv 15-18, 20). . . <br /><br /> After the angels told the shepherds the good news, the shepherds decided to go and investigate. They hurried to Bethlehem to find out about this baby. And when they found him wrapped in a blanket and lying in a feed trough, they couldn’t keep quiet about what they’d heard and seen. God really had come to save them, to bring joy back to the heartbroken world. <br /><br /> The question this morning is what you are going to do now that you’ve heard this good news. Are you ready to go, like the shepherds, to find out more about this baby, this Messiah? Or, if you were there that first night, would you sit back in the fading glory, and say, “Wow, what good singing! Now it’s time to check on those sheep.” <br /><br /> A savior has been born for us. His name is Jesus. He was born to bring us salvation, to bring peace and hope and joy to the world once more. Christmas night, with its stinky stable and its glorious angels, is just the beginning of this good news story. I pray that you will join me, join the shepherds, join with believers down the ages, in searching out this Savior.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-75528460807425757892012-12-16T11:51:00.000-07:002012-12-17T11:52:03.162-07:00Notes from the Corner - Advent III - Joy for the Shepherds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The third Advent candle is pink instead of purple. The purple candles that burn on weeks one, two, and four remind us to prepare the way. The candle lit this week, however, reminds us to rejoice!<br /><br />God’s Son comes to bring life, justice, peace, and plenty to the world. He heals the sick, comforts the sorrowful, provides for the hungry, and forgives the sinful. I can’t think of a better reason for a season of celebration.<div>
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Most renditiosn I’ve heard of the angels’ chorus for the shephed sets it to regal music, full of fanfare fit for a king. George Frideric Handel’s magnificent Messiah is one beautiful example. But I wonder if the joy of the angel’s message might be better set to a tune the shepherds might have danced to. “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to people whom God favors” is a lyric that should make our hearts laugh and our toes tap.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-32255676829382099022012-12-09T16:01:00.000-07:002012-12-11T16:02:54.557-07:00Snippet from Sunday - December 9 - Roadblocks to PeaceEvery year I look forward to unwrapping the simple wooden characters from their newspaper and reenacting the Christmas story with them. The angel will stand over an empty manger near the tree. Mary, Joseph, and a donkey will begin their long journey toward Bethlehem, probably on a bookshelf across the room. The shepherds will be watching their sheep on a windowsill, and the wise men will be off in another room, looking for their star. Step by step, all will make their way across the room toward the manger scene where the Christ Child will be born. <br /><br /> One figure whom I never find in nativity scenes is John the Baptist. True enough, John didn’t gather with Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds in that Bethlehem stable. But neither did the three kings, and still they always manage to make an appearance in our miniature re-creations. <br /><br /> Without fail, however, John shows up in our Scripture readings for Advent. All four Gospels--Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John--begin the story of Jesus’ life and ministry by telling us about this baptizing prophet who was sent to prepare the way for Jesus. Luke, who is our guide for this year’s Advent season, doubles the emphasis on John’s importance by telling John’s birth story alongside that of Jesus. We hear almost as much about Elizabeth, Zechariah, and their miracle baby John as we do about Mary, Joseph, and the truly miraculous birth of Jesus. We can’t read and hear all these stories without getting the feeling that there must be something important about John’s ministry of preparation for those of us who follow Jesus.<div>
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<i>(Check out the whole sermon after the jump . . .)<a name='more'></a>=====================================</i><br /><br /> This evening C and I plan to set up our Christmas tree. We might hang some Christmas lights up in the window. We definitely will take out the shoebox that holds our Nativity Set. <br /><br /> Every year I look forward to unwrapping the simple wooden characters from their newspaper and reenacting the Christmas story with them. The angel will stand over an empty manger near the tree. Mary, Joseph, and a donkey will begin their long journey toward Bethlehem, probably on a bookshelf across the room. The shepherds will be watching their sheep on a windowsill, and the wise men will be off in another room, looking for their star. Step by step, all will make their way across the room toward the manger scene where the Christ Child will be born. <br /><br /> One figure whom I never find in nativity scenes is John the Baptist. True enough, John didn’t gather with Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds in that Bethlehem stable. But neither did the three kings, and still they always manage to make an appearance in our miniature re-creations. <br /><br /> Without fail, however, John shows up in our Scripture readings for Advent. All four Gospels--Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John--begin the story of Jesus’ life and ministry by telling us about this baptizing prophet who was sent to prepare the way for Jesus. Luke, who is our guide for this year’s Advent season, doubles the emphasis on John’s importance by telling John’s birth story alongside that of Jesus. We hear almost as much about Elizabeth, Zechariah, and their miracle baby John as we do about Mary, Joseph, and the truly miraculous birth of Jesus. We can’t read and hear all these stories without getting the feeling that there must be something important about John’s ministry of preparation for those of us who follow Jesus. <br /><br /> Last week C told us that the very act of waiting for something with hope changes and transforms us. The message for us today, I believe, is that we need to change: we need to change in order to be ready to receive Jesus and all he brings to us at Christmas. <br /><br /> The message that we need to change, that we need to prepare, may not immediately strike us as keeping with Christmas spirit. Christmas is supposed to be a time of gift-giving. Some of us will go to all sorts of extremes to find just the right gift for the people we love. We’ll face crowds and long lines, sometimes multiple trips to different stores, not to mention crazy driving. At our best, our motivation in this isn’t a sense of obligation; it’s not that people have earned the right to expect a gift from us. No, when things are at their best, we give gifts out of the sheer joy of giving something nice to someone we love. <br /><br /> God gives in the same way. Every good gift God gives us--especially Jesus--comes from God’s eternally loving heart. God delights in watching us unwrap and try out the good things God gives us. God is like a parent or a grandparent or an aunt or uncle, smiling laughing as a child or grandchild or niece or nephew tears the holiday paper off the package to find the toy or treat waiting inside. In fact, in the original Greek of the New Testament, the word for “grace” is also one of the words for “gift.” God gives away grace with joy simply because God loves us, never because we’ve earned it. <br /><br /> Nevertheless scripture tells us we need to prepare to receive the gift, the grace that God’s given us. This isn’t a message that we need to somehow win God’s blessings by leading sinless lives or by performing heroic good deeds. John the Baptist in our passage today doesn’t say, “Be good and say your prayers, and then maybe God will come down the chimney and fill your stockings and leave presents underneath the Christmas tree.” He doesn’t say God gives presents only to the good boys and girls. <br /><br /> No, God isn’t like that. Instead, John’s message is something like this: Christmas is coming, whether you’re ready for it or not. So best get ready. <br /><br /> Now if I’m honest, this season often catches me by surprise. While some stores have been selling Christmas decorations since September, I always find myself struggling to get the decorations up by Christmas Eve and to get gifts for my family members to the post office in time. I remember many Christmas Eves spent racing against the stores’ closing times to find gifts for my sisters and brother and parents. Some families have a tradition of decorating the tree on Christmas Eve. My family didn’t. But still we always seemed only to get around to trimming the tree on the night before Christmas. <br /><br /> I wasn’t prepared for Christmas. The house wasn’t set up for a celebration. The stockings were not hung by the fire care. Busy schedules, full of Christmas plays, band concerts, and work parties, kept me running too fast to prepare a place to celebrate Jesus’ arrival. <br /><br /> The first passage I want us to meditate on this morning is from Luke, ch 3, vv 1-6. Here John the Baptist appears twenty-five or thirty years after that first Christmas night. He is an adult, but his message remains an Advent message: Prepare for Jesus’ arrival. Listen to how Luke introduces his message in these verses. <br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip was tetrarch of the region of Iturea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias was tetrarch of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan River, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i> As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet, “The voice of one shouting in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley will be filled, and every mountain and hill will be brought low, and the crooked will be made straight, and the rough places will be made smooth, and all humanity will see the salvation of God.’” </i></blockquote>
God gave John a message. It was a message about repentance, about sins that needed to be forgiven. Luke tells us that when John began preaching this message, he somehow fulfilled Isaiah’s prophecy about a messenger preparing the way for God to come and save God’s people from everyone and everything that afflicted them. You can read the entire prophecy in Isaiah ch 40. <br /><br /> Salvation is a pretty good gift. In fact, I can’t think of a better present to unwrap. You’d think that everyone would be ready to get this kind of gift. But that’s not the case. Sometimes things get in the way, they keep us from recognizing God’s gift as something we’d want. To use the Isaiah language Luke quotes, we run into roadblocks and detours, flat tires and engine trouble and maps with bad directions. For one reason or another, the highway to salvation sometimes is impassable for us. <br /><br /> John’s response to these various roadblocks to salvation is to call people to repent. It turns out there are two kinds of obstacles that come between us and God’s good gift. The first kind of obstacle is internal, its the sort of barrier we construct for ourselves. <br /><br /> Let’s say God was coming over for Christmas dinner, bringing all the blessings of salvation with him. We get the phone call, open the email, find the note in our mailbox. Sometimes we make ourselves so busy with other activities and responsibilities that we aren’t home when God knocks on the door. Our hears, as well as our schedules, become so cluttered with concerns about making a living, with Christmas shopping, with our personal goals and fears, grudges and desires, that there’s no room for God to bring us salvation. In parable you might remember, Jesus says that our hearts can be like a garden overgrown thorns and weeds that leave no room for the gospel of salvation to take root and bear fruit. <br /><br /> “Repent!” John says. Repentance means changing our behavior. Instead of building more barriers between us and God’s salvation, we need to begin tearing them down. If we were to read on to vv 7 through 18, we hear some of the very specific actions John prescribed for those who heard him. To the tax collectors, for example, he said repentance would mean that they no longer cheat people out of their money. Cheating people was a roadblock they had set between themselves and God’s salvation. If God were to get through to them to deliver this great gift, they’d have to stop making the way so difficult. John’s good news is that if we begin this demolition process, God forgives us. God loves us so much that God still wants to come to us and bring us salvation. <br /><br /> But there’s a second kind of roadblock. It’s not one we set up; it’s one other people throw in our path. To use our Christmas dinner analogy, sometimes things come between us and a good Christmas that we have no control over. God let’s us know that he plans to stop by on Christmas day, but sickness shows up first, and here it’s Christmas and we’re in the hospital. It’s Christmas day, and our employer won’t give us the day off. It’s Christmas, but we live in Damascus in Syria, and artillery shells and stray bullets and a civil war rule out any celebration. Perhaps we’re held hostage by grief at the loss of a spouse, a parent, a child. Or maybe Christmas dinner is ruined by strained family relations, a bitter cousin or an abusive father. <br /><br /> I use Christmas illustrations this morning, but John’s message is for all seasons of the year. Both in July as well as in December, we run into habits, events, and situations that work to shut God out of our lives. When it’s something we have some measure, let’s say a secret bitterness or personal grudge that we hang on to, we need to heed John’s prophetic command: “Salvation is coming! Repent! Get ready for it to arrive!” <br /><br /> But what are we to do when the barriers are completely beyond our control? How are we supposed to get ready for salvation when the cancer comes back, when our friend is in the hospital, when our hours are reduced at work, when the money barely stretches to cover heat and food, let alone Christmas celebrations? All these things seem to come between God and us; they keep us from truly enjoying the great gift that Jesus was born to bring us. <br /><br /> I tend to talk about salvation in rather expansive terms. This is a change for me. When I was younger, being saved by Jesus meant being saved from the eternal consequences of my sins. Jesus was born to one day die on a cross so I could get out of hell. To a certain extent, I had the right idea: Jesus did come to save me from my sins. But this is like looking at salvation through a pinhole. It’s one small snippet of a much greater story. Jesus was born on Christmas morning to save us all from much more than hell. <br /><br /> Earlier this morning we heard another passage from Luke that looked at salvation through a different lens. The Bible gives us many ways to look at how God saves us through Jesus and what God is saving us from and what God is saving us for. The Bible gives us many reasons why Jesus was born, why he lived and died and rose again. <br /><br /> Many of us are probably familiar with Bible passages that describe Jesus as a sacrifice offered to God to atone for humanity’s many sins. That God accepts Jesus perfect sacrifice and then gives us forgiveness. But the Bible also tells other stories about Jesus. Sometimes he’s described as a warrior, vanquishing Satan, death, sickness, and oppression. Other times, Jesus is described as a peacemaker, a reconciler. He gets people separated by long histories of bitter disagreement and injury to sit down at the same table, to forgive each other and love each other once again. That’s what Jesus did for God and humans, but he also worked peace between humans who used to be at odds with one another, both at cultural and national levels as well as in our families and homes. <br /><br /> We could go on and on. The Bible richly describes from all sorts of angles the good gift that God gives to us through Jesus. Salvation is freedom from sin, freedom from death; it’s the life of God given back to humanity after Adam gave it up in the Garden; it’s Jesus’ teaching about how to lead holy lives before God. Salvation is a gift that keeps on giving. <br /><br /> In Luke 1, vv 68 through 79, the Bible says that Jesus came to save God’s people from the enemies and overlords who made their lives barely livable. In this passage, John’s father, Zechariah praises God with a beautiful song in this passage. John has just been born, and full of the Holy Spirit, Zechariah sees that John will help prepare the way for God’s salvation. Listen to how his praise song begins: <br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,<br /> </i><i></i><i> for he has visited his people and redeemed them.<br /> </i><i></i><i>He has raised up a horn of salvation for us<br /> </i><i></i><i> in the house of his servant David<br /> </i><i></i><i>(just as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets long ago),<br /> </i><i></i><i> salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us,<br /> </i><i></i><i>to show mercy to our ancestors<br /> </i><i></i><i> and to remember his holy covenant,<br /> </i><i></i><i> the oath he swore to our ancestor Abraham:<br /> </i><i></i><i>namely that, having been delivered from the hands and fear of our enemies,<br /> </i><i></i><i> we would serve in piety and righteousness before him all of our days.</i> (68-75) </blockquote>
Zechariah praises God because salvation means that God’s people won’t need to fear their enemies any longer. In the first half of his song you hear the words “salvation” and “enemies” as well as the theme of deliverance over and over again. Salvation, according to this bit of scripture, means being rescued from one’s enemies so that one can serve God. Salvation means freedom and peace. <br /><br /> Zechariah’s people had enemies. John’s father Zechariah was a Jewish priest. The Jewish people were an occupied people. The Romans, under Tiberius Caesar, were the most recent in a long series of empires that conquered their land, dethroned their leaders, and taxed them and terrorized them. Periodically their conquerors would reassert their power and right as rulers with demonstrations of senseless violence, making very clear to the common people who was in charge. The Jewish people needed God to deliver them once again; they needed salvation. <br /><br /> Enemies and oppressors are the second kind of roadblock; they are barriers that other people and institutions construct between us and God. There not a lot we can do to clear them out of the way on our own. <br /><br /> Some people in Zechariah’s day thought that maybe they could bulldoze their Roman oppressors out of the way through armed rebellions and civil wars. They’d put all their hope in this or that new revolutionary leader. They’d dress up their cause in rhetoric about purifying their temple of the influence of the pagan overlords. These attempts to work salvation for themselves, to win peace on their own, inevitably ended up in a mass graves of would-be revolutionaries and bodies hung on Roman crosses along the roadways as a warning to others about what happens when you mess with Rome. <br /><br /> Zechariah doesn’t place his hope in a new freedom fighter. No, he sings this song as he looks down on his eight-day old infant son. Listen to how his song ends: <br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High,<br /> </i><i></i><i> For you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,<br /> </i><i></i><i> to give his people knowledge of salvation through forgiveness of their sins.<br /> </i><i></i><i>Through the tender compassion of our God,</i><i></i><i> the rising Sun will visit us from highest heaven,<br /> </i><i></i><i>to shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death,<br /> </i><i></i><i> to guide our feet in the way of peace. </i>(76-79). </blockquote>
His newborn son would be the prophet who would prepare the way for God to come to them, for God to bring the gift of salvation, the gift of peace from enemies. Zechariah prophesied that the Sun of God’s salvation was rising. We might say, “Christmas is coming.” <br /><br /> When we run into roadblocks that we ourselves have set up on the highway to salvation, we need to repent. We need to take out our crowbars and sledgehammers and clear the way for God to come to us. We need to bulldoze away the bitterness or the fears that the block road between God and us. They spoil relationships and rob us of joy anyway. They aren’t doing us any good. We need to knock out the foundations of our cherished bad habits. If our drinking or hours spent at the office or anger is out of control, it’s time to repent, it’s time to change. Ask friends to keep you accountable. Tell them to get after you about your bad habits. <br /><br /> But when we find the second kind of barrier blocking the way, that’s when we should trust God as Zechariah did. There’s not much, if anything, we can do about these on our own. They’re too big for us to move all by ourselves. We need someone bigger, someone stronger to come and pull them out of the way. Thank God that the mighty Sunrise from on high is breaking upon us; thank God that God’s Son is coming to visit us with peace, healing, freedom, justice, joy, and salvation. <br /><br /> The traditional theme of the second Sunday in Advent is peace. Seen from some angles, the end goal of salvation is peace: peace with God, peace in our personal relationships, peace in our hearts, peace between all the nations on earth. <br /><br /> Zechariah tells us that this peace is coming as sure as the sunrise. John tells us that we must prepare for its arrival. God’s salvation can do away with every war. It can put an end to every act of violence. But if our hearts continue to stoke the fires of anger, to fan into flame the embers of selfishness, to shelter the glowing coals of fear or bitterness, God’s peace cannot enter into them. We must prepare our hearts to accept God’s peace. <br /><br /> So what keeps you from God? I challenge you to prepare the way for Jesus’ arrival this Christmas. Join me in a quiet moment right now. Ask God to help you name those things which block the road between you and God. Confess the barriers that you’re still building. Ask God to show you how to clear others out of the way--to fill in the valleys, to smooth out the crooked and rough places of your life. <br /><br /> Now ask God to help you name those things that are beyond your control, those things you need God to save you from. Pray for God to come and bring peace, healing, deliverance. God promised to answer this kind of prayer. Jesus is God’s “Yes” and “Amen” to these kind of requests. Ask God to help you trust like Zechariah, to trust that salvation is coming for all of us. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-52739771329287770952012-12-09T15:53:00.000-07:002012-12-11T15:54:53.746-07:00Notes from the Corner - Advent II - Peace for the Shepherds<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oe1TMdygOIS9fFJy9ie1WVcpyrrDltvgR7DUJI6c62xbI6-FSfzyZwNmHS_q0jrTe6uTRlVTGpL4S9nASUzba9IFTJGbGHz5l0F5cK0TblUKmdA1Fp6k9LG6BjqWpyOvFxbOpXjPUxLr/s1600/411px-Goya_Forge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oe1TMdygOIS9fFJy9ie1WVcpyrrDltvgR7DUJI6c62xbI6-FSfzyZwNmHS_q0jrTe6uTRlVTGpL4S9nASUzba9IFTJGbGHz5l0F5cK0TblUKmdA1Fp6k9LG6BjqWpyOvFxbOpXjPUxLr/s320/411px-Goya_Forge.jpg" width="219" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Forge</i>, Francisco de Goya (c. 1819)<br /><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Goya_Forge.jpg">Source: Wikimedia Commons</a></td></tr>
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Peace is the theme of the second Sunday in Advent. When the angelic armies appeared on that starry night outside Bethlehem, they proclaimed to the shepherds, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to people whom God favors” (Lk 2:14).<br /><br /><div>
What sort of peace did God bring those sheep herders? What sort of peace could a newborn, still learning to cry and suckle, bring to these hard-working, wind-burned men?<br /></div>
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True enough, their fists, staffs, and slings weren’t strangers to doling out an open range kind of violence to sheep rustlers. These shepherds probably bore the scars of a few scuffles with wolves or wild dogs. But, like us, they weren’t soldiers in anybody’s army. What peace does Baby Jesus bring for those of us whose most violent battles happen at work or at home or in the silence of our hearts?<br /></div>
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Peace is not only about beating our swords into plowshares; it also means hammering our fear into love. The early morning cry of the infant Jesus was God putting on his blacksmith’s apron and saying, “It’s time for me to get to work.”</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-56684262962476807432012-12-04T11:54:00.003-07:002012-12-04T11:54:56.205-07:00Pastor At vs. Pastor Of vs. Pastor ForYesterday I had a good time sharing a Christmas message for the Warman Mennonite Special Care Home's Christmas banquet. These sort of engagements are side-perks to being a pastor in a city that's still a bit of a small town in its heart.<br />
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After two musicians ended their fun, old-timey carols and Christmas favorites, I walked up to the microphone to introduced myself, "Hi, I'm Josh Wallace. I'm pastor of Warman Mennonite Church just down the road."<br />
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As I said those words, something caught in my mind. It was a preposition. "I'm pastor <i>of</i> . . ." I could have said "pastor <i>at" </i>or "pastor <i>for</i>" or even "a pastor <i>in</i>," and the whole sense of what I said would have changed.<br />
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Many of us grew up with a pastor-at mentality. A pastor is a pastor because she or he goes to an office in a particular kind of building. Insurance agents work at insurance offices, doctors work in medical clinics, fast food employees work in fast food chains. Pastors just happen to work in a church building. They are employees of a particularly religious kind of business.<br />
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I grew up more with a pastor-of mindset. A pastor is an official or caretaker for a specific grew up of people. The pastor is the "shepherd of a flock." He (only men were pastors in my world at that point) comforted and counseled. He confronted us with God's Word on Sunday mornings. He chaired elder board meetings. Pastor-of parallels the role of a principal in the school system.<br />
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Pastor-for came to mind only a bit later. While "for" might imply the same role outlined under "of," I can hear missional overtones in "for." If I'm pastor <i>for</i> my church, they have set me aside or commissioned me to do the work of pastoring for them. Perhaps a bit like a missionary or a social worker, I go out into the community and pastor any and all who need pastoring. In episcopal models of church, this might be reflected in the diocese paying a stipend so the minister can pastor a parish, whatever the parish's financial ability or inability to provide for the minister's needs. I like this idea, but if I begin to introduce myself this way, I'm not sure people will understand me. Besides, this seems to be a call the church-community needs to make (in our congregationalist polity), not one I can make for them.<br />
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The last prepositional option I'll mention is "a pastor in such-and-such a church." Truth be told, there are many pastors in this congregation. I'm not the only one caring for the hurting, instructing in discipleship, or praying for these people's lives and souls. Paul says to the Ephesians that when Jesus ascended to the Father, he gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be shepherds and teachers. Whether the others want to own up to it or not, I am one among many pastors in this congregation. I just happen to have a sign on an office door that points out the way I've been given to the community.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-73895155135171108672012-12-03T15:35:00.000-07:002012-12-11T15:40:22.839-07:00A Snippet for the Seniors - December 3 - The Hopes and Fears of All the YearsAdvent is the season of sermons for a working pastor. I mentioned that the local Mennonite Care Home welcomed me to bring a short message for their Christmas banquet. You can find the full text of that talk after the jump. Here's a snippet:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
This afternoon I want us to think about how Mary’s baby boy is God’s answer to every one of our hopes and all of our fears.</blockquote>
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Think about that. When we whisper to God in prayer those things we are secretly most afraid of or when we pray and tell God what we wish for so desperately, God’s answer is Jesus. Jesus, the baby in the manger; Jesus, the man on the cross; Jesus, the risen Lamb.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Jesus’ mother Mary had many reasons to be afraid. She was young and not yet married when an angel came to tell her that she would give birth to God’s Son. . . . </blockquote>
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When God speaks to us, we often feel unsure about what God’s message will mean for our lives. God spoke to Mary through the angel Gabriel. We often hear God’s voice through scripture or through hymns or Christian fellowship. God’s message meets in us all our fears and hopes. We don’t know if God’s message will calm our fears or if it will frustrate our hopes.</blockquote>
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The folks at the Care Home were mostly born before 1930, mostly ethnically Mennonite, and mostly from of fairly conservative or even fundamentalist persuasion.<br />
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Normally I preach from my own remixed version the TNIV. I like that it errs on the side of gender inclusivity when translating, and I like that it speaks in a direct, understandable way. When it strays too far from the Hebrew or Greek, I take license to emend it.<br />
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But in light of my audience, I opted to quote the KJV. This is a contextualization issue, I think. I'm curious about your thoughts. <a href="https://twitter.com/sagelytwit/status/274540254634061825">I tweeted this question a week or two ago</a>. But I'm still waiting for feedback.<br />
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<i>(Check out the whole sermon after the jump . . .)</i><br />
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There is an old Christmas hymn that I love to sing. Maybe you know it too. It begins<br />
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O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!<br />Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.<br />But in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light;<br />the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight. </blockquote>
This afternoon I want us to think about how Mary’s baby boy is God’s answer to every one of our hopes and all of our fears.<br />
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Think about that. When we whisper to God in prayer those things we are secretly most afraid of or when we pray and tell God what we wish for so desperately, God’s answer is Jesus. Jesus, the baby in the manger; Jesus, the man on the cross; Jesus, the risen Lamb. <br />
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Jesus’ mother Mary had many reasons to be afraid. She was young and not yet married when an angel came to tell her that she would give birth to God’s Son. Listen to the story as the Gospel of Luke tells it. This story is found in Luke chapter 1, verses 26 through 38: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>The angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And the angel came in unto her, and said, “Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women.”</i><i><br /></i><i>And when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should be.<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i>And the angel said unto her, “Fear not, Mary; for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David. And he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end.”<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i>Then said Mary unto the angel, “How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?”<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i>And again the angel answered and said unto her, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee. Therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. And, behold, thy cousin Elisabeth, she hath also conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her, who was called barren. For with God nothing shall be impossible.”<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i>And Mary said, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.” And the angel departed from her. </i></blockquote>
Mary was a young woman--a girl, really, probably not yet sixteen. She was a girl from a small village. Her family probably farmed. They probably hoped for good weather and a good harvest. They had loans for seed money to pay back as well as taxes to the Jewish temple and to the Roman government. Mary was a godly young lady from a godly family, but she and her family were not strangers to the worries and fears about money and harvest that are so familiar to us. She also would have known the sorrow that comes when accident or sickness stole away the life of an uncle or an aunt, a cousin or a brother.<br />
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I imagine that Mary’s family was very happy when Joseph came to call. He was interested in making this godly young woman his wife. Joseph was a godly man; plus, Joseph was a carpenter. He had a good trade, a steady income that didn’t worry over whether the rains came at the right time. Mary would be well-cared for as his wife. Maybe she would even send some money home during hard years. <br />
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I imagine that when Mary heard the news about Joseph her suitor she was very happy. I bet her heart was filled with hopes for the home they would make together. I bet she began to think of names for the babies she would bear. I bet she even looked forward to when her sons and daughters would have their own children. I also imagine that she was a little afraid. What if Joseph was not as kind in private as he seemed in public? What if his work as a carpenter took her far away from her mother and father and family in Nazareth? <br />
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Each of us this afternoon has his or her own collection of hopes and fears. Maybe we can remember our own days on the farm, worrying about the weather or the harvest. Or maybe you found another trade, driving truck or repairing car engines; maybe you remember your hopes of a steady income. Maybe we remember our own hopes for marriage and family or our own fears for the health and safety of parents, sisters and brothers, or sons and daughters. <br />
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Today our fears and concerns may center on our health or the health of our spouse or friend. We worry about catching pneumonia or that the pain will be worse tomorrow than it was yesterday. We dread the possibility that a stroke might take every last bit of our independence. We fear that our loved ones will pass on ahead of us, leaving us alone. <br />
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But we are also full of hope today. We look forward to visiting with friends, children, grandchildren--perhaps even great-grandchildren for some of you. We enjoy good music and good conversations and good meals, like the one this afternoon. Each of these things bring us joy and the hope that tomorrow will bring us even more joy. <br />
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The Gospel says that when the angel Gabriel came to Mary, his news left her troubled and confused. Verses 28 and 29 say, <i>The angel came in unto [Mary], and said, “Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee.” And when she saw [the angel], she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind what manner of greeting this should be. </i><br />
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When God speaks to us, we often feel unsure about what God’s message will mean for our lives. God spoke to Mary through the angel Gabriel. We often hear God’s voice through scripture or through hymns or Christian fellowship. God’s message meets in us all our fears and hopes. We don’t know if God’s message will calm our fears or if it will frustrate our hopes. <br />
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Think of Mary: Perhaps on the morning when Gabriel appeared to her she had been daydreaming about how life with Joseph would be while she was milking the goats or maybe she had been embroidering curtains for their new home. But when an angel, flaming with heaven’s glory, appeared in her kitchen, all those plans and dreams were suddenly put into question. Maybe God had sent her a message to bless all her hopes and dreams for her marriage to Joseph. Or, on the other hand, maybe God’s message would upset all of them. <br />
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Listen to how the angel Gabriel responds to Mary’s worry and uncertainty in verses 30 and 31: <i>And the angel said unto her, “Fear not, Mary; for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus.”</i> First, the angel told Mary that she has found “favor with God,” that God looks on her kindly and lovingly. When we wonder what God thinks of our fears and hopes, we must remember that, like Mary, we have found favor with God. Listen to what Paul the Apostle says in Romans, chapter 8, verses 31 and 32: <i>What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?</i> Surely our God looks on us with kindness and compassion. <br />
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But pay attention to what the angel tells Mary next: <i>“Behold, thous shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus”</i> (1.31). The proof of God’s favor toward Mary and toward us is this baby that she will conceive and bear. Jesus is God’s answer to every one of our fears. Jesus is our true hope. All of our hopes are only echoes of this true hope. When Mary sat daydreaming about a family with Joseph, all those things she hoped and longed for were only shadows or reflections of the good gift, the great hope that God would give her and us in Jesus. <br />
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God’s good gift comes at a price. For God, this price was the Father being parted with his only Son, the Son submitting to the pains and frustrations of human life, and, in the end, dying on a shameful cross. But Mary would also bear a price. When the angel delivered God’s message, she didn’t know how Joseph would respond. Surely she would be seen as an unwed mother. The traditional married life she hoped for was unraveling before her eyes. Her first child would not have Joseph as his father. Not to mention the fears she surely had as a new mother, the nausea and exhaustion of pregnancy, the fear of a risky first-time childbirth. God’s good gift comes at a price. <br />
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At some point, every Christian feels this cost. Jesus brings us the promise that God shows us favor, that God loves us. This is all grace. Sinners that we are, there is nothing we can do to win God’s favor. This is a gift. But Jesus is also the one who said, <i>“If anyone will come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily, and follow me”</i> (Lk 9.23). <br />
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I suspect that sometimes we are tempted to give up hope, to give in to fear. When we wake up in pain or when its weeks or months between visits with family or friends, we are tempted to doubt whether God really loves us. A sinister voice inside us begins to whisper that maybe God really has not shown us his kindness and favor. Life can be hard and discouraging; it’s easy to lose sight of God’s good gift. <br />
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When I begin to feel this way, Mary’s words are an encouragement and a comfort to me. She told the angel,<i> “Behold, [I am] the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word”</i> (1.38). Surely all of Mary’s hopes and fears swam through her mind when the angel met her in Nazareth or, nine months later, when she delivered a baby in horse barn in Bethlehem. Mary knew that in order to accept this great gift from God and become the mother of the Savior of the world, she would have to trust God with every one of her hopes and all of her fear. <br />
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When God speaks to me, I want to echo Mary’s response: “Behold, I too am the servant of the Lord; be it unto me according to your word.” I want to lift up all of my fears and hopes to the God who loves me and saves me. I want to give them away to the God I trust. I want to be his servant, bearing whatever cross I must to follow him. <br />
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The Christmas carol says that of Bethlehem’s manger that “the hopes and fears of all the years are met in you tonight.” As we come to the Christmas season this year, we can again give up to God all of our hopes and fears. We can trade them in for the great hope God offers us in his newborn Son, Jesus. We can pray, “Lord, you know what I desire and what I fear. I trust that you are good. Your Son Jesus shows me that you are good. I trust you to take care of all those things I fear and all those things I wish for.” <br />
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Trust Jesus. Trust that God loves you. Trust as Mary trusted, even when it cost her so much. Trust, because Jesus was born in Bethlehem to bring God’s love to you and me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-72870111871422790292012-12-02T11:02:00.000-07:002012-12-04T11:03:53.189-07:00Notes from the Corner - Advent I - Hope for the Shepherds<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJg9JuPZltXpa9X1KYRMO6uutRUl5kN9fNM46p7C2q3ExOqExTkr849hiCyzvNUmCZmXXejIgmrCVtBllH_nhBsycShJMsYRNHrYWOCDLR-RHQX1RJm9PyMjCi6mVewVWq6UJ0OxWTvyBr/s1600/Ernst_Meissner_Scha%CC%88fer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJg9JuPZltXpa9X1KYRMO6uutRUl5kN9fNM46p7C2q3ExOqExTkr849hiCyzvNUmCZmXXejIgmrCVtBllH_nhBsycShJMsYRNHrYWOCDLR-RHQX1RJm9PyMjCi6mVewVWq6UJ0OxWTvyBr/s320/Ernst_Meissner_Scha%CC%88fer.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ernst_Meissner_Sch%C3%A4fer.jpg"><i>Schäfer mit seinen Schafen im Schnee</i>, Ernst Meissner (1902)</a></div>
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Source: Wikimedia Commons</div>
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I have been thinking about shepherds as we begin this Advent. Each of the four weeks of Advent has a traditional theme: hope, then peace, joy, and love. This first week, I wonder what those sheep herders in the hill country around Bethlehem would have hoped for.<br />
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Shepherds weren’t well-off, well-groomed, or well-respected. No child said, “I want to be a shepherd when I grow up.” They were the smelly, rowdy cowhands of ancient Palestine.<br />
What did these men hope for? Did they dream of a different life--one with more security and fewer cold nights on look out for wild animals and sheep rustlers? Or did they simply wish for a better paycheck to spend at the Bethlehem saloon? My biggest question is how Mary’s newborn baby would meet those hopes, fulfilling some and dashing others.</div>
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What do we hope for--when we’re on the job, when we’re caring for our sick kids, when we wake up in the wee hours and are unable to get back to sleep? How does Jesus meet or challenge these day-to-day dreams and desires?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09294950067610494194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81661960328131610.post-83553872715439213612012-12-02T09:17:00.000-07:002012-12-07T09:18:55.154-07:00December 2 - A Link to Sunday - Guest Preacher :: Lift Up Your Heads<div class="tr_bq">
I spent this Sunday listening rather than speaking. Listening is a good way to hear God's message for us. True enough, I often am surprised to find God speaking to me while I'm trying to give God's message to the people from behind a pulpit (I bet you other pastors and preachers can vouch for that experience). But listening is so much better.</div>
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The whole congregation had the rich opportunity to hear my partner and companion reflect on the scripture readings for Advent I. These were some difficult texts: a section of the Little Apocalypse (Lk 21.25-36), a few short lines of Jeremiah, and Ps 25. She did beautifully.</div>
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<a href="http://lafleurepuisee.blogspot.ca/2012/12/advent-sermon-lift-up-your-heads.html">You can read her sermon over on her blog, la fleur épuisée.</a> I encourage you too. It's a valuable </div>
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Here are two snippets from her thoughts. First her thesis statement:</div>
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The message I think the Spirit wants all of us to hear is this: <i>the very act of expecting something transforms us; waiting with hope changes who we are in the meantime.</i></blockquote>
And then my favorite paragraphs:<br />
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But Jesus says, “When these things--when these signs of a falling-to-pieces world--begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”<br /><i>Stand up</i>, he says. <i>Lift up your heads. Your redemption is drawing near.<br /> </i><br />Don’t cower in the basement or the bomb shelter; don’t fight for the last gallons of milk at the grocery store; don’t sit with your eyes glued to the TV, bemoaning the fate of civilization as we’ve known it. Do not fear. Do not worry. Stand and lift up your head: open your eyes with hope, because the kingdom of God is nearby. Watch for it, even now. Notice the signs of God’s commonwealth--sparks of justice and peace and kindness and abundance--even as you also see the anguish of this planet and its people.</blockquote>
<a href="http://lafleurepuisee.blogspot.ca/2012/12/advent-sermon-lift-up-your-heads.html"> Check it the rest at her blog.</a><br />
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