Reflecting on the Unimaginable

I have a hard time writing about tragedies.  In fact, I have a hard time processing tragedies all together.  I am a dweller.  I sit with a tragedy for days and weeks and just keep thinking that maybe, just maybe there was a way to prevent it.  Maybe if we would have just changed one circumstance, this never would have happened.

I find myself dwelling days later on the Connecticut shooting.  The weekend was full of opportunities for me to try to blame one circumstance or another, hoping that in placing the blame there it would somehow make things better--perhaps change future situations like this.

I wanted to blame the guns.  Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a big fan of the 2nd amendment.  And when guns are used to kill, it reinforces my desire to blame them.  I desperately wanted to write a post on Saturday about the need for gun reform.

I wanted to blame mental illness.  I wanted to say that he just couldn't help it, that he had no control over his actions.  It would be unsettling, even if it were true, but it would still give me some sense of closure.  We could call for more money invested in money for those suffering from mental illness, and we could move on.

I even wanted to blame the society itself.  The video games, the violent movies.  These things numb us more than we realize.  Perhaps this was the time to call for change in how Hollywood makes money, and how we entertain ourselves.

I wanted to blame all those things, but ultimately I couldn't do it.  I couldn't do it because deep down I know a truth that cuts the legs under the blame game:

Just because we have a reason does not mean we have an excuse.

Just because we have dangerous guns available to us does not mean that it is an excuse for anyone to pull the trigger at another human being.

Just because someone has a mental illness does not mean that they have an excuse to act violently toward another.  (In fact, to suggest that this is an excuse is to insult the many mentally ill who live happy, peaceful lives).

Just because we have a culture captivated with violence does not mean that any of us have an excuse to absorb this violence and allow it to desensitize us to the precious nature of live.

We want to make excuses, but in reality we have just one thing:  sinfulness.

My preacher said it very well this Sunday:  Sin is simple.  To take life, just like having an affair or lying, comes down to a choice.  A choice to do wrong.  We see tragedies like this because we live in a sinful world, and this world is very sinful itself.

And the truth is that no amount of gun regulations will stop violence.

The truth is that no amount of money being pumped in to the study and treatment of mental illness will stop violence

The truth is that no change by Hollywood wills stop the violent acts of others.

The truth, when it comes down to it, is that only heart transformation through the Spirit of God will bring an end to violence.  Only when the world realizes the true nature of Jesus the Messiah and places their complete and total life in his hands will we see an end to tragedies like this.

It is in the Messiah that we see the promise that people will turn their swords into plowshares.  That in Christ people willingly lay down their weapons of violence and choose a life of peace.

It is in the Messiah that those of all all mental capacities find healing and love and community.  Jesus healed, loved, and communed with those that society rejected and marginalized.

It is in the Messiah that we lose our appetite for violence, as we become desperate for the peace and hope and unity that is found in His church alone.


I am slow to remember these truths when tragedy hits.  But once I remember, it leaves me wanting to simply call Christians into action.  Be the loving, peaceful, hope for the hopeless, light to the darkness,  good news bearers of Jesus.

The Dividing Wall Rebuilt

You told us that the wall of hostility was torn down.

Destroyed.

In Christ there was no enemy anymore.  In Christ there was just unity; just love.

In Christ we could all walk to you on equal ground, and there was no wall.

When you told Mr. Christ to tear down that wall, it was supposed to be permanent.

So why, God, do I see walls being built all around me?

I Was Nothing But An Outsider

It was my sin that held him there, until it was accomplished...

...but it was my adoration that placed him there.

It was two days before Passover, two days before the feast and festival of Unleavened Bread, Jesus was in Bethany--right outside of Jerusalem.  His death was certainly coming.  He knew it.  Those who wanted him dead knew it.  Jesus was a dead man walking.

Mark shares with us that the chief priests were set on arresting him, but not until after that Passover; he never made it that long.  The plan fell together quickly from this time two days before, actions were set in motion.  Judas would betray...

...but why?

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Lent is a season traditionally used to prepare the Christian for Holy Week (Good Friday and especially Easter).  It is typically a time of self-reflection, a time to remember who you were before you were in Christ.  It is time for repentance and self-denial.

All good things.

Whether you and your church participate in Lent or not, I would like to propose something to you.  Lent, like the rest of Christianity is more about discovering Jesus than examining yourself.

When you examine yourself...you know what you are going to find.

You know the sins, the shortcomings, and the inconsistencies in your life.

When you look at Jesus, however, you discover something much more important:

Identity.  Who I was without, and who I am with, the Son of God.

Lent reveals us as who we really were:  Outsiders.  We were no better or worse than the religious leaders, but we were not part of the "in crowd."  In fact, most of you reading this were Gentiles.  We were the sick, the sinful, the ceremonially unclean.

Our sin may have been removed on the cross, but it wasn't only our sin that put Christ on the cross.  It was our adoration.  It was his acceptance of outsiders like us that led to his betrayal and arrest.  It was his willingness to include us that led to the nails and death.

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In Bethany, Jesus went to eat at the house of Simon the Leper.

The Leper

Outsider.

While there a woman (outsider by gender) and poured an expensive jar of perfume upon Jesus head.  THis woman, the other gospels will tell us was a prostitute, an adulterer, a sinner.

An outsider.

They complained that the perfume was not sold for the benefit of the poor.  Jesus rebukes them, favoring her  desperate plea for love.  Jesus rebukes them telling them "you can help them (the poor) any time you want."  They rebuked her for something they did not do themselves.

Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus.

Judas went when he could stand it no longer.  Jesus love of the outsiders, his inclusion of those that should be excluded, was too much for him to bear.

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Jesus includes.  It was his inclusion of sinners and unclean and ungood that sent him to the cross.  Looking at Jesus, as we walk closer toward the cross and Easter once more, we realize that we are not the in, but the outsiders.

Jesus brought us in.

Who are we leaving out?

Rescuers

I live in the Midwest.  I live in a small town in the Midwest.

I live in a town where the sky is big, the hills are small, and the problems of the world are just not that concerning to us.

I sit this morning and read Galatians again, seeking again for the Spirit to shape in me the heart of Christ.  The Spirit strikes quickly:

"Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age."

Jesus was a rescuer.  He rescued from the evilness of the world in which he lived (and in which we still live.

But I live in a town where the sky is big, the hills are small, and the problems of the world are just not that concerning to us.


I think often of my friends and brothers around the world.  For those fighting to bring hope to those lost in the hopelessness of homelessness.  I think of those sharing good news to those bogged down by the legalism of Islam.  I think of the wonderful young man Abhijeet, sharing faith in his homeland India; sharing even though his best friend's wife was killed, his friend brutally beaten.  I think of those freeing slaves, ending sex trafficking, and bringing clean water...

...and I feel disconnected.

I can send money (and do).  I can help out with a note of encouragement or prayer (and I do).  I can cheer them on and encourage involvement and raise funds...

...but ultimately I live in a town where the sky is big, the hills are small, and the problems of the world are just not that concerning to us.

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The big lights of the conventions were burnt out of her eyes.  The excitement gone.  The only reality left was that she knew she was changed, but was already ready to go back.  It was easier in the present evil age, even if more damaging.  It was easier to live without hope than to taste hope and fight for it.

And the text says she is ready to give up.

And I pray with her.

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He is strong, strong like abused dog that lashes out because it is better to bite than to get beaten.  The walls around his heart seemed like steel.  He didn't need anyone, he doesn't need anybody.  He doesn't always start the fights, but he sure finishes them.

He comes to church, but refuses to share his life with ours.

Until he comes from school broken.  Hot tears breaking down his face like acid eroding the steel around his heart.  He yells and cusses because he wants to be loved.  He wants to be accepted.

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No, I cannot be actively involved in beating the slavery in Africa, or the oppression of Islam in the Middle East.

But here in the Midwest the sky isn't so big and the hills are not so small that they are insignificant.  The problems are real.  The evil is real.  The pain and hurt and hopelessness all lead us to one major need:

Rescue.

And this I can do.  This I will do.

Anticipation

Dear God,

As I gather with your church, within your sacred walls of flesh community.

I do not see you.

I am too busy.  I have to look for you afterword.  I am too busy doing, thinking, looking, sharing, caring, shaking, smiling, hugging, hand raising, singing, teaching....


And I forget that you are in it all.

The old ones, Paul and Peter and countless others, they anticipated

You.

They looked for you, sought you, worshiped you, praised your grace, waited for you.

And you were there.

And you sent them.

And they saw, they noticed.




...So let it be with me.

What I Am Learning--A Freedom Most Frightening

"Lord, renew my mind"

This faint whisper has become the battle cry.  As I focus on Romans 12:2 as my one verse, its primary purpose is to become my one prayer.  And so I pray that little phrase throughout my day:


Lord, renew my mind.

And I set to work at doing my part.  Renewal requires submission.  Renewal requires rules.  My mind needs restrictions and guidance and a set of yes's and no's

And in God's gracious answer to my prayer he led my rules to Galatians.

I sat up and read it front to back about 2 weeks ago.

I read it again front to back 2 nights ago.

It is intoxicating.

Paul, nay, God plants in Galatians a truth so scandalous it makes my heart race.


We are free.


Yes, we are free.


And I have read Galatians 5:1 before, about being set free for freedom sake, and all the time I praised God for my freedom from my sin (a freedom so real!)...


...but that is not the freedom talked about.


No, we are free from law.


No more does my effort count.  No more am I judged on my ability to be good enough, to be just enough.  No more am I required to align my life with the law of God.  NO!  It is for FREEDOM I have been set free.


Jesus did the work.  Jesus did the righteous living, Jesus did the sacrificial dying, Jesus did the death defying...




...and Jesus still does the sanctifying,  The Spirit, living within is doing the holy-making for me.


I just submit, and find myself lavished in freedom.


No more rules and regulations, just freedom that leads us to living like God.




And this freedom terrifies me.


I know it must be so.  The law, my law, has never kept me close to God before, and it never will.  But...but I just feel like it can't be this easy, this free.


Doesn't freedom naturally lead to anarchy?


Not this freedom.


This freedom dances in the perfection of grace.  It burrows down into the soil of Christ.  It is watered by Spirit...and fruit comes.


Good fruit from freedom.


Shudder my soul with expectancy.

Why I Can't Post A Post

Because I am not a self-help guru come to convince you that you can change.

No, nor a chicken-soup-soul lifter.

I am not the wit warrior cracking jokes, the courageous crusader for a cause, or the incorporated icon.

I am far worse than that.

I am a soul.

Mortally wounded soul.

I am the Lunatic crying from the street corner.

I am the one who cannot say it will all be OK.

IT WILL NOT.

The words float like acid in my stomach, burning to be unleashed and scorch my mouth and the nostrils of those around me.

I am the dying, who finally sees.

And the open-eyes of this sickened soul  looks at the world pretending to be well and just wants to grab his cardboard sign and yell:

YOU ARE NOT WELL YOUNG EARTH!

Why are you not looking for the doctor?


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God give us the strength to stand with the prophets of old and say the truth nobody wants to hear.  Amen.

Church: Home of the Homeless

I am blessed to be a part of a church that cares.  It really does.  Lowell Church of Christ has several missions and local outreach.

However, even when looking at my church, I am left wondering:  Is this all God desires for us?

Today I start discussing the issue of church and poverty, and the first thing we need to ask is simply:  What does God expect of us as Christians and as his Church?  Today I want to make three observations:

1. God desires his church to do more than give.  Luke 4 makes quite clear that we are to proclaim good news to the poor.  Proclamation of good news goes far beyond handing a check out to someone.  It means providing the means to lift someone into a better life (physically, emotionally, and spiritually).

2. God intends the church to be more than a support center.  The New Testament, including Luke 4, provides insight that the church will actually be filled with  the poor.  They will be part of us.  It should be our job to treat with equality those of lesser means, and hopefully bring them to equality.  We must stop looking at the impoverished around the world as "other" and start looking at them as "one of us."

3. God intends the church to be the standard-bearer for worldwide justice.  If you have not done it yet, read Luke 4.  God wants to make the world a place of justice.  He intends to use the Church, the hands and feet of Jesus, to be the leaders of this movement toward equality and hope.


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I have heard the many who worry about this so called "social gospel."  Somehow, by focusing our attention on the statements of Christ that challenge us to do, to act, to live with compassion, we challenge the grace alone gospel.  I do not agree.

Grace breeds grace. As we come into contact with the grace of God that forgives sins, it leads us to tangibly display this grace.  Grace begats worship that challenges the "who we are" with the "who we were created to be."  Grace begats love which leads to compassion.

Grace must be followed by more grace.  Grace leads us to care for the poor.

Sunday Thanks: Blindness

I couldn't imagine what it must be like to live in the dark.

However, we have an older gentlemen at our church whose tent of life is darkened until the glory of resurrection renews us. He can see next to nothing. He can read using a fancy machine. He has to use a walking stick to navigate through the church.

His eyes are only the beginning of his decrepitude. Liver problems, heart problems, diabetes all plague his old frame. His body makes him useless, at least that is what many may believe.

This old man teaches weekly, an AA type meeting with a Christian flare, sharing with others how to overcome the mistakes of his life. One of those great plagues of secret sin, drunken chains, are exposed with his grace and love.

In fact, a blind man may be the perfect person to work with those ashamed of the sins of their past.

And so as I pass the communion tray, and I hand an individual piece of bread and cup to him, I do not think of him as useless, but essential to the family God is forming all around me.

This week, I am thankful for:
1. Floating in a pool, holding hands with my wife.
2. Plot outlines that may or may not be bestseller material, but are absolutely filled with my heart and soul.
3. Teaching kids to rap the Bible
4. Secrets
5. High school students helping elementary students.
6. Flashes of lightening--marvelous display this week!

I Want To Be Lost

My pulse rose quickly. Not so anymore. Today I am no longer the panic stricken kid who can't find his mommy and daddy in the museum. I am no longer the dependent or the destitute. I am no longer the sick...and a hollowness rings within me as a state this truth.

I long to be lost.

I want to forget who I am.

When I was lost, unsure, inept I was desperate. Desperation drove my soul forward, searching for my place in the world, seeking Daddy, the Holder-Together-Of-All-Things that held me in the web of his life. I had no idea why I was here, what He would want with me, I just knew that I was here, and I desperately needed to be with Him.

Four years of theological training and I know have answers. Not all the answers, but answers. I have studied myself to a point of Know-It-Allness that I have forsaken my panic induced striving after the one Holy-Know-It-All (for he Made-It-All). I have become the doctor--the one bringing answers to those who are desperate.

In my learning of the answers, I lost my desperation. Loss of desperation kills.

...It means I no longer seek (how then can I find?)

...It means I am no longer sick (how can I be made well?)

...It means I am no longer fragmented (how can I be made whole?)

I know (thanks to my ever so great self-knowledge) that I am still reliant on the Source; that I am being made well and whole and complete and perfect according to His blueprints for my soul...

...but some days I miss the desperation of the start, the days when whine my prayers out into a tear stained pillow...

...for it was in the start that I felt the gentle God arms on my shoulder, not telling me where to go, but revealing that He Is.