Jesus said, “This is my body…” speaking of the bread he blessed and broke at his last supper with his closest disciples. He also said, “This is my blood…” speaking of the wine they would drink at that same meal.
Both the bread and the wine are made from individual pieces or items – individual grains of wheat for the bread and individual grapes for the wine – that need to be crushed in order to be joined with the other crushed pieces to make the products of bread and wine. The bread can be made only after the wheat is crushed together. The wine can be made only after the grapes are crushed together. If the wheat and the grapes are not crushed, loosing their individuality in the process, they remain only wheat and grapes. And it is only after the wheat is crushed and made into bread that the bread can become the body of Christ; only after the grapes are crushed and made into wine can that wine become the blood of Christ.
I have to wonder if there is not a lesson here for us – for Christians and for the Church. God takes the wheat of our lives to make our lives bread and then as Christ himself. However, we must first be “crushed.” In the hands of God, we become the Body of Christ – both in an individual sense and in a corporate sense – but not apart from first being crushed.
We work so hard at avoiding being crushed. Does anyone imagine being crushed to be a pleasant experience? It really destroys us! Perhaps, however, that is precisely the point. We must be destroyed, in a sense. Perhaps this is the thing Jesus is trying to tell us: “The one who tries to save his life will lose it but the one who loses his life for my sake will save it.” We must embrace those things that would into our lives that would crush us and allow ourselves to be crushed. Perhaps it is even more than just allowing ourselves to be crushed. Perhaps it is even that we need to be intentional – not that we crush ourselves but that we both keep from stepping back from those “crushing experiences” and even stepping right into them… deliberately!
But this is so counterintuitive. It is not our first inclination. (At least, it’s not my first inclination.) We want to defend and protect ourselves. The paradox is that, if we give ourselves to a defensive and protective life, we die. What Jesus teaches and demonstrates to us, however, is that, if we both refuse to defend ourselves and even step directly under the weight that would crush us, even though we die, it is only then that we live with and in his life.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Paradox
Each week I lead a vespers service at our church. Originally, the senior pastor had started this, leading this weekly vespers service. There were approximately 8-12 people, including myself but other than the pastor, who joined in this prayer time. Sometimes we’d have 15 or 16 people attend, sometimes only 6 or 7. When the pastor couldn’t be there for whatever reason, he usually called on me to lead the service which I was glad to do. The pastor has since retired from this church and I have taken the lead role.
Since the pastor’s retirement, the “regular” people to join in the vespers service has dwindled down to two others plus myself. Frequently, however, I am there praying alone as the two “regulars” are periodically away on various service oriented projects. While I would certainly love to have more people regularly join me for this prayer time (one that I think is invaluable for both the Church as well as the church), I have found these solo prayer times to be quite marvelous in their own way.
I have four “times” of prayer that I had adhere to fairly consistently each day. These are most often “solo” times although I am often aware that there is “heavenly host” that is also attendant – both angels and the saints who have gone on before me. I am usually conscious of the Holy Spirit’s presence and participation (although this isn’t nearly as much a feeling as it is of an understanding of the scripture’s information about how the Spirit helps us in our prayers). All that to say this: Personal/Solo prayer time is something with which I am quite comfortable and “practiced,” although certainly not perfect.
The point I’m getting to, however, is that it is particularly during those times of weekly vespers/evening prayers at the church that is unique for me, even though what I’m doing, technically, is no different than what I do during my other prayer times. It is especially during vespers – and even more so when I am alone during that time – that I become sharply aware that I am not at all alone as I pray. I become aware of praying with the Church. It’s not just praying in the church or offering prayers and praise to God as probably many Christians are doing at that moment but I become very much aware of being part of something much larger, joining with the Church of the ages and of eternity, joining with that “great cloud of witnesses” spoken of in Hebrews, being aware of them also interceding on my behalf and interceding with me for others and for God’s glory in ways that they now understand far better than they did when they walked this earth, far better than I could possibly grasp, now. I become aware that there are angels who strain to understand the mystery in which I am engaged but cannot fathom but are sent by God as ministering spirits to help me in that moment.
I find it fascinating, this, the paradox – it is in earthly solitude that I discover myself among the heavenly multitude.
Since the pastor’s retirement, the “regular” people to join in the vespers service has dwindled down to two others plus myself. Frequently, however, I am there praying alone as the two “regulars” are periodically away on various service oriented projects. While I would certainly love to have more people regularly join me for this prayer time (one that I think is invaluable for both the Church as well as the church), I have found these solo prayer times to be quite marvelous in their own way.
I have four “times” of prayer that I had adhere to fairly consistently each day. These are most often “solo” times although I am often aware that there is “heavenly host” that is also attendant – both angels and the saints who have gone on before me. I am usually conscious of the Holy Spirit’s presence and participation (although this isn’t nearly as much a feeling as it is of an understanding of the scripture’s information about how the Spirit helps us in our prayers). All that to say this: Personal/Solo prayer time is something with which I am quite comfortable and “practiced,” although certainly not perfect.
The point I’m getting to, however, is that it is particularly during those times of weekly vespers/evening prayers at the church that is unique for me, even though what I’m doing, technically, is no different than what I do during my other prayer times. It is especially during vespers – and even more so when I am alone during that time – that I become sharply aware that I am not at all alone as I pray. I become aware of praying with the Church. It’s not just praying in the church or offering prayers and praise to God as probably many Christians are doing at that moment but I become very much aware of being part of something much larger, joining with the Church of the ages and of eternity, joining with that “great cloud of witnesses” spoken of in Hebrews, being aware of them also interceding on my behalf and interceding with me for others and for God’s glory in ways that they now understand far better than they did when they walked this earth, far better than I could possibly grasp, now. I become aware that there are angels who strain to understand the mystery in which I am engaged but cannot fathom but are sent by God as ministering spirits to help me in that moment.
I find it fascinating, this, the paradox – it is in earthly solitude that I discover myself among the heavenly multitude.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Safety
It's been quite a long time since I've posted anything, here... even though I have three or four posts started waiting to be finished. This one, however, is short enough to post now.
After having read God's Will - My Will at the Heart for God blog, I was prompted to post what i wrote in my journal this morning (with slight emendations):
Show me your mercy, Lord, and keep me safe.
As I prayed that antiphon this morning, I looked up at the crucifix that hangs on the wall in the study. (I’m usually facing the crucifix during prayer in the morning.) Safety, for Jesus, was not the avoidance of the cross but the arrival at the destination - the resurrection.
So often I think of being safe in terms of being able to avoid pain, threat of death and even conflict. But, at least in this moment, it seems to me that here is another area in which I need a radical “re-learning.” I need to understand that being kept safe is not about avoiding the cross (any cross!) but arriving at the destination – life with Jesus!
A heart to follow Jesus is God's mercy. It is far safer to follow Jesus even when it leads through flood, fire, famine or even fatality than to follow anyone else... even, and perhaps especially, our own self-serving inclinations.
As Wayne Watson put it in song: I'd rather walk in the darkness with Jesus than to walk in the light on my own.
Or as Jesus put it: Take up your cross and follow me.
After having read God's Will - My Will at the Heart for God blog, I was prompted to post what i wrote in my journal this morning (with slight emendations):
Show me your mercy, Lord, and keep me safe.
As I prayed that antiphon this morning, I looked up at the crucifix that hangs on the wall in the study. (I’m usually facing the crucifix during prayer in the morning.) Safety, for Jesus, was not the avoidance of the cross but the arrival at the destination - the resurrection.
So often I think of being safe in terms of being able to avoid pain, threat of death and even conflict. But, at least in this moment, it seems to me that here is another area in which I need a radical “re-learning.” I need to understand that being kept safe is not about avoiding the cross (any cross!) but arriving at the destination – life with Jesus!
A heart to follow Jesus is God's mercy. It is far safer to follow Jesus even when it leads through flood, fire, famine or even fatality than to follow anyone else... even, and perhaps especially, our own self-serving inclinations.
As Wayne Watson put it in song: I'd rather walk in the darkness with Jesus than to walk in the light on my own.
Or as Jesus put it: Take up your cross and follow me.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Those Who Mock Jesus
Those mockers of Jesus, they're so cruel, so self-righteous, so arrogant. At best, those who mock Jesus are ignorant. From the cross, though, Jesus prays for them: Father, forgive them. They just don't know what they're doing. Those soldiers who mocked Jesus couldn't have understood what they were doing let alone to whom they were doing it.
Throughout a good bit of my day I frequently pray, "Lord, have mercy on me." What has occurred to me of late, however, is that behind that prayer is a heart that is really asking God to make my day easier, more comfortable. I'm not dealing with issues of disease or broken relationships. just "old man" problems and people who irritate me. Most of my daily problems are really rather benign. I don't have enemies waiting to attack me. Just people who think I drive too slow... or too fast. I'm not in financial poverty. I just wish I had a little more money. I want comfort, ease, pleasantness and pleasure. It's not as if my life is lacking these things at all. What I really want is for my life to be easier, more comfortable, more pleasant, and much more pleasurable. I claim to be a Christian but the interests of my heart betray me. Jesus never pursued comfort, ease or pleasure. Oh yes... just before he went to the cross he did ask God if He might remove the painful ordeal he was bound to face. But there was a caveat, a condition Jesus included: More than anything else, Father, I want what you want. Whenever Jesus prayed, it was always for the sake of the desire of the Father to be fulfilled.
To be a Christian means to be a Christ follower, someone who seeks and strives to live his/her life in a way that is consistent with the teachings and model Christ offered. In reading the gospels it seems pretty obvious that the pursuit of ease, comfort or pleasure (or even happiness) was not the practice of Jesus. His agenda was to love his Heavenly Father with all his heart, soul, mind and strength. Whatever the Father wanted was the most important purpose of any moment for Jesus - regardless of the apparent and immediate cost to himself.
And then I look at myself, again. Is my life lived in imitation of the life of Christ? Do I strive for each moment of my life to be lived as if consumed with a passion for the one whom I call my Lord? Or is my life more a mockery of His? Do I justify selfish pursuits - even for just a moment? Do I live as ignorantly as those soldiers spoke?
Maybe I am among those who mock Jesus.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Throughout a good bit of my day I frequently pray, "Lord, have mercy on me." What has occurred to me of late, however, is that behind that prayer is a heart that is really asking God to make my day easier, more comfortable. I'm not dealing with issues of disease or broken relationships. just "old man" problems and people who irritate me. Most of my daily problems are really rather benign. I don't have enemies waiting to attack me. Just people who think I drive too slow... or too fast. I'm not in financial poverty. I just wish I had a little more money. I want comfort, ease, pleasantness and pleasure. It's not as if my life is lacking these things at all. What I really want is for my life to be easier, more comfortable, more pleasant, and much more pleasurable. I claim to be a Christian but the interests of my heart betray me. Jesus never pursued comfort, ease or pleasure. Oh yes... just before he went to the cross he did ask God if He might remove the painful ordeal he was bound to face. But there was a caveat, a condition Jesus included: More than anything else, Father, I want what you want. Whenever Jesus prayed, it was always for the sake of the desire of the Father to be fulfilled.
To be a Christian means to be a Christ follower, someone who seeks and strives to live his/her life in a way that is consistent with the teachings and model Christ offered. In reading the gospels it seems pretty obvious that the pursuit of ease, comfort or pleasure (or even happiness) was not the practice of Jesus. His agenda was to love his Heavenly Father with all his heart, soul, mind and strength. Whatever the Father wanted was the most important purpose of any moment for Jesus - regardless of the apparent and immediate cost to himself.
And then I look at myself, again. Is my life lived in imitation of the life of Christ? Do I strive for each moment of my life to be lived as if consumed with a passion for the one whom I call my Lord? Or is my life more a mockery of His? Do I justify selfish pursuits - even for just a moment? Do I live as ignorantly as those soldiers spoke?
Maybe I am among those who mock Jesus.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Friday, February 01, 2008
What Did He Mean?
Here's the statement Jesus made:
I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. (John 6:53-56)
Here's how some of Jesus' disciples responded:
From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. (John 6:66)
Here's how Jesus reacts to that:
You do not want to leave too, do you? (John 6:67)
And here is one disciple's reply (apparently speaking for others as well as himself):
Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God. (John 6:68-69)
Now here's the question I ask: What did Jesus mean when he said eat my flesh and drink my blood? If he didn't mean that literally, why were the disciples bothered by that? If they misunderstood Jesus (thinking he meant it literally when he didn't) then why don't we have record of Jesus saying something like, Wait, let me explain what I mean. Why did Jesus let them walk away?
I realize arguing from silence is, at best, tricky if not dangerous. But we do that with other passages of scripture - like the time Jesus tells the rich young ruler that he would have to sell everything he owned, give it all to the poor, then come and follow me. When the fellow hears that, he walks away quite sad. Why? Because he knew Jesus meant what he said literally. If he misunderstood Jesus, wouldn't we have record of Jesus trying to explain what he really wanted him to do? Or at least some commentary from the writer explaining what Jesus meant? (After all, that's exactly what we have when Jesus talked about tearing down "this temple" and he would rebuild it in three days - the gospel writer explains that Jesus wasn't talking about the human built temple but the temple of his body.)
Aaah... I know. Someone might say, "But he was speaking in hyperbole." We know Jesus used hyperbole as a teaching tool. He said, "If your right eye causes you to sin - gauge it out. If your right hand causes you to sin - cut it off." Well, maybe it was hyperbole... or maybe not. After all, is it really the eye or the hand that actually causes a person to sin? Or is it actually something else that is the "cause". Maybe this example really isn't hyperbole.
So back to my question. What did he mean about eating his flesh and drinking his blood... if he didn't mean it literally? I'm open to explanation...
I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. (John 6:53-56)
Here's how some of Jesus' disciples responded:
From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. (John 6:66)
Here's how Jesus reacts to that:
You do not want to leave too, do you? (John 6:67)
And here is one disciple's reply (apparently speaking for others as well as himself):
Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God. (John 6:68-69)
Now here's the question I ask: What did Jesus mean when he said eat my flesh and drink my blood? If he didn't mean that literally, why were the disciples bothered by that? If they misunderstood Jesus (thinking he meant it literally when he didn't) then why don't we have record of Jesus saying something like, Wait, let me explain what I mean. Why did Jesus let them walk away?
I realize arguing from silence is, at best, tricky if not dangerous. But we do that with other passages of scripture - like the time Jesus tells the rich young ruler that he would have to sell everything he owned, give it all to the poor, then come and follow me. When the fellow hears that, he walks away quite sad. Why? Because he knew Jesus meant what he said literally. If he misunderstood Jesus, wouldn't we have record of Jesus trying to explain what he really wanted him to do? Or at least some commentary from the writer explaining what Jesus meant? (After all, that's exactly what we have when Jesus talked about tearing down "this temple" and he would rebuild it in three days - the gospel writer explains that Jesus wasn't talking about the human built temple but the temple of his body.)
Aaah... I know. Someone might say, "But he was speaking in hyperbole." We know Jesus used hyperbole as a teaching tool. He said, "If your right eye causes you to sin - gauge it out. If your right hand causes you to sin - cut it off." Well, maybe it was hyperbole... or maybe not. After all, is it really the eye or the hand that actually causes a person to sin? Or is it actually something else that is the "cause". Maybe this example really isn't hyperbole.
So back to my question. What did he mean about eating his flesh and drinking his blood... if he didn't mean it literally? I'm open to explanation...
Monday, January 28, 2008
Heart for God
A dear friend of mine (except for my wife, he is my closest friend) "crossed the Tiber" last year when he and his wife were received into the Catholic Church. David (along with his wife, Libby) had been in pastoral ministry in what most would call the Evangelical Church for the past 30 years, made a bold step of faith in obedience to the Spirit's call by leaving a Brethren in Christ congregation he had pastored for 18 years. God gave David a vision for a ministry dubbed Heart for God. He appeared on EWTN a couple weeks ago on "The Journey Home" and, as a result of viewer response to that appearance, has launched a web log by the same name, Heart for God.
David hasn't posted much of his story (yet) but I expect it will come out in bits and pieces over time. What he shares and has written to date, however, is insightful and something the Church - in all its current permutations - very much needs.
David hasn't posted much of his story (yet) but I expect it will come out in bits and pieces over time. What he shares and has written to date, however, is insightful and something the Church - in all its current permutations - very much needs.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Epiphany and the Evangelical Church
I've discovered Epiphany - the season and celebration of that season. Oh, I've known about Epiphany for many years... that it had something to do with the end of the Christmas season and the visit of the magi to the Christ child (which, if you notice in the scriptural text, took place at a house Mary, Joseph and Jesus were staying at and not in the manger where he was born). But I never paid close attention to it. After all, I AM a proud (but pious) Evangelical Anabaptist - or, at least I was.
Epiphany is about what the word means - a revealing. In the liturgical calendar, Epiphany is about the revealing of God to the world, and, more specifically the message that God's revelation is for all the world - not just "God's chosen people" but for all. The Magi, men considered to be gifted in wisdom from a culture and custom totally outside of the Jewish faith; men who, possibly, were steeped in Zoroastrianism and astrology, and were moved by their own customs to seek out a unique person - one whom they understood to be a "new king." And they were guided, according to their own understanding and wisdom (as flawed as it may be as a reliable guide for making life decisions), to discover this "new king." Little did they know he was "new" not only chronologically but also in kind - a king who rules not simply by decree but by humble service to all.
Epiphany is a reminder to the Church of her mission in the world - that just as Jesus was sent into the world to reveal himself as the light of the world (represented by the magi), so is the Church to go into all the world to reveal Jesus. It's not just about the words the Church speaks but the life the Church demonstrates - just like Jesus.
Epiphany has got to be at least as important to the Church as Christmas and Easter (and, I would include, Pentecost). It seems to me that Epiphany is perfect for the Church in terms of its emphasis (and, for some, its hyper-emphasis) on evangelism, outreach and missions.
So how come so much of the Evangelical Church skips over Epiphany?
Epiphany is about what the word means - a revealing. In the liturgical calendar, Epiphany is about the revealing of God to the world, and, more specifically the message that God's revelation is for all the world - not just "God's chosen people" but for all. The Magi, men considered to be gifted in wisdom from a culture and custom totally outside of the Jewish faith; men who, possibly, were steeped in Zoroastrianism and astrology, and were moved by their own customs to seek out a unique person - one whom they understood to be a "new king." And they were guided, according to their own understanding and wisdom (as flawed as it may be as a reliable guide for making life decisions), to discover this "new king." Little did they know he was "new" not only chronologically but also in kind - a king who rules not simply by decree but by humble service to all.
Epiphany is a reminder to the Church of her mission in the world - that just as Jesus was sent into the world to reveal himself as the light of the world (represented by the magi), so is the Church to go into all the world to reveal Jesus. It's not just about the words the Church speaks but the life the Church demonstrates - just like Jesus.
Epiphany has got to be at least as important to the Church as Christmas and Easter (and, I would include, Pentecost). It seems to me that Epiphany is perfect for the Church in terms of its emphasis (and, for some, its hyper-emphasis) on evangelism, outreach and missions.
So how come so much of the Evangelical Church skips over Epiphany?
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