Burning Coals

"When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, 'Bring some of the fish that you have just caught... Come and have breakfast.'"

- John 21:9-10, 12

When I was kid my family used to take trips to Northern Michigan every year. It was a welcomed change of pace, a time to connect with one another as a family, and some of my favorite memories from that time are sitting around a bonfire, sharing stories, smores, and looking up at the stars. There is just something basic and essential to the human experience in gathering around a fire. And it is that experience that captures my attention in this text.

In this story from John's Gospel, Jesus has been crucified, and has resurrected. At some point after the resurrection, the disciples choose to go out fishing. They go at night, working all through the night but they labor in vain. They don't catch a single fish. These skilled fishermen have run out of luck. Nothing works.
As the dawn breaks, the disciples notice a man standing on the shore who calls out to them, "Haven't you caught anything?"
One might think the disciples would respond sarcastically to this seeming taunt. But they simply say "No."
So Jesus tells them, throw your nets on the other side. When they do, their nets are so full that they can barely haul the fish in.
It begins to dawn on them who they're dealing with, so they make their way to shore.
When they land they find Jesus standing next to a charcoal fire, with fish and bread already cooking on it. So Jesus invites them to add what they've just caught and join him for breakfast.

So often in reading this scripture I've jumped directly into thoughts about resurrection, or the disciple's weird inability to catch any fish despite being fishermen by trade. But as I read this text again, I'm drawn to the charcoal fire, the burning coals and the invitation, "come and have breakfast."

More than anything I'm curious about the one detail present in this fire that makes it so special. In Greek, this fire is called ἀνθρακιά (anthrakia), which means "burning coals." It's a word used twice in the New Testament, both times in John's Gospel. It's different from any other fire, it specifically identifies a charcoal fire, made from wood. Here's what draws me in with this word:

The fire that Jesus creates for his disciples takes time to prepare.

The process of making charcoal out of wood is an ancient practice that dates back at least 30,000 years. It's a process that can take days but transforms the wood into nearly pure carbon. The result of this labor is a product that burns hotter, longer, more evenly, with less smoke, and fewer dangerous vapors than wood alone. In a sense, making a wood charcoal fire purifies the fire. But it takes time, skill and patience.

There can be moments in ministry where we might toil long through the night. Things we might otherwise assume we can do well produce no tangible results. But what if, even in those doubtful moments, even when we're looking at the end and are preparing to pack it in, Jesus has been working right along side us and we just haven't been able to perceive it yet?

To make this fire Jesus has to have been working at it for a while. Jesus has had to have worked through the night, keeping an eye on his disciples, laboring alongside them, anticipating where they'll be by morning. Jesus has been preparing for a feast. While the disciples believe they are stuck with nothing, in scarcity, Jesus plans for abundance.

I wonder if there is a lesson in patience here, in persistence, a call to wait for the dawn. Because even while we stumble along in the shadows of night, Jesus is anticipating a feast come dawn, and is actively making preparations for it.

As we enter into Lent, a season of preparation walking with Jesus toward the cross and in anticipation of resurrection at Easter, I will keep watch for the burning coals as I labor. I will trust that Jesus works alongside me, anticipating the conclusion to our shared labor and I will invite, just as I have been invited so many times before, to share in the bounty.

You see, the burning coals aren't just a minor detail, they show us Jesus' commitment to working with us, anticipating the fellowship to come, planning for a response of abundance.

Oak

A young couple shares their first meal in marriage and the crumbs of bread mingle with the blood red wine on a lacy white fabric, instilled with the memories of Saints long past.
A candle, unattended, burns long through its wax, forever leaving its own mark.
This once wild oak,
tamed by carpenters hands,
inscribed with an invitation to come and stay, taste and see, has been home not only to some of the greatest mysteries of grace,
but to Legos arranged with the imaginative energy of tiny hands,
tears rolled from weathered cheeks as a bell rings and the name on their heart echos through the rafters,
and small smears of oil transferred from glass,
to hand,
to head
and back again.
The ornamentation of tangled vines and ample ripe grapes is carefully tended,
watched whenever moved from back to front and down short steps.
Yet even when the plates are arranged,
the cloth ironed and cleaned,
the dressings all set,
it is the marks of feasts,
loves,
hands
and wine that stay,
calling through time sounding an invitation stronger than the words inscribed therein:
come and stay, taste and see.

Happy Good Friday?

I really do love this time of year. As the weather begins to warm up and hues of green start to return to the world I always get a boost of encouragement to get work done. It may be when I'm most productive. Which is good news for me, since this week is also Holy Week, the final days of Lent, which, I think, is the busiest time of year for clergy. That busyness may be a little self-induced, but for many this is a time of intense spiritual discipline.

This year we'll be worshiping on both Thursday and Friday leading up to Easter, and we're going to worship in new ways. Part of that means that I am building a cross for our Good Friday service. Something has struck me as I've worked in planning and building such an object. In some sense this is a spiritual discipline, connecting to the labor of love that God pours out on creation, both in the way of a "carpenter" and in the significance of God's action on the cross.
However, it is also very much an odd juxtaposition of emotions, much in the same way that Good Friday is.
As a "spiritual but not religious" friend of mine once asked:

"Happy Good Friday?"

Happy Good Friday about sums it up. As I make the first cuts in the wood beams, I am reminded that this is both a symbol of God's love for the universe and also an instrument of torture and death. Those are two realities that don't fit together. They never were really meant to. When I think about what happened on Friday, on Golgotha two thousand years ago, I realize that the cross isn't God making good out of a bad situation. It is the goodness of God destroying the futility of evil. Jesus' crucifixion was an attempt to do away with something holy, but what is revealed on Sunday is that in the worst of human actions, evil sows seeds against itself. At just the moment when the prosecution rests its case against humanity and all possible hope seems lost, the judge throws the book at the prosecution.

As I put the final nails in to secure the beams, I do so with the realization that I have just created a replica of something on which real people have bled and died. I do so with the realization that what I have now built is the same thing that many have built out of reverence and many for evil. I do so knowing the very real human cost that such a thing represents, and millions of people who were and are "crucified" in some form or another in our world. Ultimately I do so with the knowledge that this cross represents the power of God over the evil in our world. Over hatred and violence, oppression and demonization. Over the power of sin and death.

"The power of God over the power of sin and death."

On Friday we will gather at the foot of this cross and lay our burdens down before it. Because, in Jesus, God has taken all of the worst things we could possibly come up with and subverted them, undermined our worst intentions to make something good and whole and beautiful.
On Friday we will morn and we will repent.
But what makes Friday "Good" is that the story does not end on the cross, or in the tomb. What makes Friday "Good" is that Sunday comes, a new day dawns for all of creation and we hear the first words of the day: "Do not be afraid."

Hungry

Isaiah 58:6-12

Isn't this the fast I choose: releasing wicked restraints, untying the ropes of a yoke, setting free the mistreated, and breaking every yoke? Isn't it sharing your bread with the hungry and bringing the homeless poor into your house, covering the naked when you see them, and not hiding from your own family? Then your light will break out like he dawn, and you will be healed quickly. Your own righteousness will walk before you, and the Lord’s glory will be your rear guard. Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and God will say, “I’m here.” If you remove the yoke from among you, the finger-pointing, the wicked speech; if you open your heart to the hungry, and provide abundantly for those who are afflicted, your light will shine in the darkness, and your gloom will be like the noon. The Lord will guide you continually and provide for you, even in parched places. He will rescue your bones. You will be like a watered garden, like a spring of water that won’t run dry. They will rebuild ancient ruins on your account; the foundations of generations past you will restore. You will be called Mender of Broken Walls, Restorer of Livable Streets.

Matthew 25:44

“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and didn't do anything to help you?'" Then he will answer, ‘I assure you that when you haven’t done it for one of the least of these, you haven’t done it for me.’"

My brother put up a blog post earlier this week that was quite prophetic. He is a missionary serving in Albany, NY with the Albany United Methodist Society (AUMS). His post covered a growing crisis that AUMS is struggling to meet; the overwhelming number of hungry people in the U.S. Our government is currently embroiled in a budget crisis, where debt and spending are high. The argument is over what will be cut, to stem the rising debt and bring the government back to economic solvency. What was on the cutting room of the House this past week was the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). SNAP provides a maximum of $6.57 per day in food for individuals who make less than $1,211 a month (though the average for 2012 was $4.45 per day).

(For comparison one McDonald's Big Mac meal costs an average of $6.64 in the U.S.)

The House voted last week to cut $40 Billion out of the SNAP program. This change doesn't just affect the amount of SNAP benefits that are available to each individual, but also means that nearly 4 million American's who are currently benefiting from SNAP will be kicked out of the program. As my brother rightly points out, Non-profits, NGOs and religious organizations account for 1/24th of the total assistance currently provided to the hungry in the U.S. alone. As a nation we spent over $81 Billion in 2012 feeding the hungry and all non-government support accounted for only $4 Billion of that total. There are currently over 47.7 million people who benefit from SNAP nationally. 76% of SNAP households have children, elderly adults, or at least one person with a disability. Last year, SNAP accounted for less than 0.6% of the total GDP. However, for every dollar spent on SNAP, there is an estimated $1.79 return to the economy. On average people use SNAP for 9 months. This means that SNAP functions as a true safety net. People who cannot afford to eat are caught by the net and are stabilized enough so that they can make whatever change is necessary for them to live at or above subsistence.

"Over the past decade, the percentage of [SNAP] households with earned income has increased from 27 percent to 30 percent, whereas the share of households with unearned income has declined from 79 percent to 60 percent." This means that more and more SNAP recipients primary source of income is from a low paying job, where fewer and fewer are relying on unearned assistance such as child support, SSI, or unemployment. However, "the percentage of households with zero gross income has grown from 7 percent in fiscal year 1990 to 20 percent in fiscal year 2010. Similarly, the percentage of households with zero net income, after all applicable deductions, has doubled from 19 percent to 38 percent during the same time period." -USDA

Why am I writing this? Because there are very real people whose ability to survive is on the line. Last Sunday we talked about which societal practices truly scandalize God. Chief among them is neglect of the poor and the vulnerable. Our bible has a lot to say about those practices and with 79% of SNAP recipient households having children, elderly adults, or disabled persons, I think this more than qualifies.

Next month, my wife and I will be taking the SNAP challenge, one month of living off of the average equivalent SNAP food allowance for a two person household. I'll catalog our experience here. If you have any doubts about the difficulties faced by those benefiting from SNAP, I would encourage you to do the same. If you too believe that this scandalizes God, I would encourage you to talk to your congressional representatives and tell them.

The Pieces Left Over

This past week we held a celebration of the life and connection of our church in my backyard.
We made plans for food, games, seating.
We invited our friends, neighbors, and community to celebrate with us.
I spent a good amount of time preparing our home for the gathering, making sure that we could have a good flow of people in and out of the house if necessary, ensuring the bathrooms were clean and well stocked, and prepping the lawn for a big tent
and tables
and chairs
and feet.

What I hadn't anticipated was that the weather would drop 30 degrees the night before and everybody would have to bring out their jackets and blankets. But even still, our turn out was good, there was more than enough food for everyone and after all of the cleanup I still had time to put my feet up before passing out for the night.

I have found that I am eternally grateful for the responsiveness of dedicated people. When I first came in to this church I put this event on our calendar to usher in a new season. I knew that as I put it on the calendar the church had gathered for their church picnic only a month prior. I was worried that we would suffer from an over abundance of cookout related events and that there wouldn't be any enthusiasm for more.

What I found instead was a church willing to go back to it again. And as I prepared coffee in the kitchen, I looked out the window and saw a familiar sight:

Jesus said to his disciples, “Make them sit down in groups of about fifty each.” They did so and made them all sit down. And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.

The sharing of a meal is a sign to the world of who is included and who isn't. Meals play a huge role in the Gospel of Luke, they reveal to us the willingness of Christ to bring all people together to the table. So fitting it was to see some old friends, those who once broke bread together under the same roof, reunite and join together with new faces, new lives to be touched, transformed and loved.

Jan Richardson says that "It is part of the miracle: how Jesus, with such intention, cares for the fragments following the feast. He sees the abundance that persists, the feast that remains within the fragments."

When I looked out my window I saw long standing church members sitting down on property that they help maintain, that they labored over, that they helped build brick by brick, that they prepared for my wife and I before we came. They were joined by neighbors, some new, some that they remembered from way back when, some that had walked away long ago.

When I believed there was scarcity in our preparation, God found abundance. Where I believed that this was simply a community gathering, God saw the broken pieces that we leave through our lives and began to pick them up. Our churches share deep roots with their communities. Some of those roots will lead to greater growth through careful nurturing. Others may have been damaged along the way and are in need of Christ's patience to collect the broken pieces for replanting. But all are invited, all are gathered in, and all may find welcome rest here among the family of God.

Dear Philemon

Philemon

"Therefore, though I have enough confidence in Christ to command you to do the right thing, I would rather appeal to you through love. I, Paul—an old man, and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus— appeal to you for my child Onesimus. I became his father in the faith during my time in prison. He was useless to you before, but now he is useful to both of us. I’m sending him back to you, which is like sending you my own heart."

I've long struggled with Philemon, the shortest "book" in the bible, a personal letter between Paul and Philemon. It's a letter that is difficult to make sense of, mostly due to the nature of its writing. Paul is writing to Philemon on behalf of Philemon's slave, Onesimus. Paul appeals to Philemon's status as a Christian, as someone who has demonstrated their ability to "refresh the hearts of the saints," to give care to fellow Christians. Paul encourages Philemon, reminding him of what a great guy he is and what great authority Paul has but chooses not to use.

There is so much that I want Paul to say to Philemon, but he doesn't. I want Paul to tell Philemon that his treatment of Onesimus determines the very outcome of his relationship with God. I want Paul to tell Philemon that his salvation relies on how far he lets the love of Christ transform his life. I want Paul to tell Philemon that slavery, the system that has supported the growth of nearly every empire in history, is antithetical to the Gospel. However, I find Paul's exhortation silent, sheepish, appealing when I so want Paul to be loud, bold, and sharp.

I struggle with this passage because I think of how many people have laid down their lives to make the world a more just place. In particular I think of those who have laid down their lives for others out of their faithfulness to the kingdom of God. I think of people in the past 100 years like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Dorothy Day, Oscar Romero, Mother Theresa, Desmond Tutu, and Nelson Mandela. None who have laid down their lives for the sake of justice have been apologetic in their approach (this is primarily why some of them literally lost their lives). I think of people like Martin Luther King Jr. in his letter from a Birmingham jail. In this letter, like Paul, he too writes to fellow Christians, fellow preachers, those who have a pulpit and are responsible for the refreshing of the saints. Some of the most memorable quotes of Dr. King come from this letter: "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere," "We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny." At times Dr. King's letter is cordial but there is a tone in his letter that speaks to the harmful choices and beliefs of the clergy he writes.

My favorite quote from this letter is not one of the more famous ones, but consists of two paragraphs toward the end that addresses the tone Dr. King truly has taken with his fellow clergy:

"Never before have I written so long a letter. I'm afraid it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts and pray long prayers?
If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me."

It is that last paragraph that elevates Dr. King's position from one of morality to salvation. It is this last paragraph wherein Dr. King makes clear that the intent of this letter is not cordiality, or gentleness. This is a matter of the soul, where lives are at stake. To ask for anything less than absolute equality, as brothers and sisters, equality as children of God, would be to sin against God, would be antithetical to the saving grace of Jesus Christ. 

I'm so frustrated with Paul in his letter to Philemon because I want him to be clear that Onesimus' value is inherently derived from the will of God, that in Christ all are equal, all are of sacred worth. Paul spends so much time easing Philemon into the notion that this is the correct way of thinking that he leaves too much room for ambiguity. Perhaps I am more frustrated with never knowing Philemon's response. Does Philemon do the right thing? I would like to believe that Onesimus arrives at Philemon's home and Philemon drops to his knees, asks forgiveness and embraces Onesimus as a brother, as a fellow child of God. But I know the radical nature of this request. This one lesson that Paul attempts to gently teach would break down the very foundations of the Roman empire, would subvert every teaching from Roman philosophical thinking and would entirely reverse the social norms of his culture.

We find evidence of this subversion when we look at what Romans thought of the early church. The early church was derided by Roman authorities and thinkers because it was primarily made up of the poor, women, and slaves. The message of grace, equality and salvation spoke to the hearts of those who were "divinely" ordered at the bottom. 

Perhaps I'm being too harsh. After all, Paul gave his own life for the kingdom and this message, though gentle, is quite radical. I suspect that Paul gave no thought to the long reaching consequences of his words, that they would be considered scripture, or that they would be read in instruction across thousands of years.

Paul concludes his letter saying, "Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say."

I hope that Paul is right. I hope that we, as the church, would seek greater justice and reconciliation beyond what Paul has said. I hope that we will continue to recognize and uplift the brokenness of our world, those who bare crosses among us, whose lives are denied their inherent sacred worth. I pray that in our pursuit of a more just world, a world that more closely resembles the kingdom of God, that we never understate the truth, or indicate that we have patience that allows us to settle for anything less than all as beloved children of God. For if we do, I beg God to forgive us.

Cracked Cisterns

"For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water." Jeremiah 2:13

Nabatean cistern north of Makhtesh Ramon, southern Israel. Photo by Wilson44691

For those not familiar with water collection in the desert, a cistern gathers rain water so that it can be stored and used later. This water, because it is stored, is stagnate and prone to becoming polluted, which is not to say that the water wouldn't do the job of keeping someone alive, but there is better water to be had. A cistern also requires a great deal of work to maintain. In the arid climate of the middle east, cisterns are dug into the ground, created through many hours of intense and costly labor. Once the rain water is collected, people have to travel to the cistern and draw water from it, often having to carry the water for miles.

Portuguese cistern El Jadida in Morocco.
This image was originally posted to Flickr by Axel Rouvin

Cisterns are/were such an essential part of living in the desert that in some places, cisterns were built in extravagant fashion.









Cisterns are difficult to build, hard to maintain, prone to failure, contain stagnate water, but are necessary to the survival in the desert. Living water, on the other hand, is water that is mobile, flowing, free. Living water is also less likely to contain pollution as the water moves any contamination further downstream. There is no cost of labor or goods to capture flowing water, but it is quite rare in the desert. This contrast points us to the absurdity of the people to whom God is speaking in Jeremiah. Given the choice between a cistern and a source of living water, the choice should be living water every time. But the accusation that God levies against the people is that they have chosen a cracked cistern, a broken cistern, one that cannot hold water, cannot sustain life and will always run dry, over the guarantee of free flowing water.

It sounds like a stupid thing to do, but we do it quite often, maybe without even realizing it. This passage from Jeremiah connects back with a saying in v.5 "Thus says the Lord: What wrong did your ancestors find in me, and went after nothing, and became nothing themselves?" The temptation when interpreting this passage is to make a claim similar to "you are what you eat." If that were the case then the temptation to go after "nothing" or things that are "worthless" would be fairly easy to avoid. Anybody who has played facebook games knows this pattern resides in our hearts. We spend hours toiling over, and worrying about, empty promises, worthless actions and fruitless farming. What makes these actions of nothing so contagious is their promise of something more at every go. They are a moving target, something that continually draws us out for more, but never fills us up.

My wife has gotten into watching the seemingly unending number of shows about the paranormal on TV. They're interesting shows if you enjoy hearing the occasional ghost story, but we noticed a trend with many of the shows. For so many of the people who claim to be afflicted with paranormal activity, their experiences seem to stem from their own troubles or inability to relinquish their anxieties and fears about the world. There was one episode where a mother and daughter claimed to have had a traumatic ghost experience. For a while they had come to believe that they were being haunted. One night their paranormal activity escalated when they were awoken in the middle of the night by a loud banging noise and footsteps on the floor above them. They were so terrified by the sounds that they cowered in their beds, unable to move for the fear of the paranormal. The next morning, as the daylight flooded their windows, they walked upstairs to investigate. What they found was a broken window, their stuff flung all over the room and several items missing. They presented this story as an encounter with ghosts that were trying to scare them out of their home. The host of the show then worked to "rid" the house of the spirits, through some ritual and prayer.
What this mother/daughter team experienced looked a lot less like "ghosts" and a lot more like a break in. The problem was that they were so caught up in looking for something that wasn't there to explain their pain, that when something really did happen, they had no meaningful way of dealing with it. They had been trying to draw water from a cracked cistern, so that every bump in the night became a ghost, which only reinforced the "presence" of ghosts in their lives.

I have a friend who is an alcoholic. They have been sober for many years now, but when they were drinking, they would go to AA meetings and leave after a few minutes, frustrated that something didn't immediately happen to them. When they got frustrated, they would drink. When they drank, they would get frustrated with their drinking. The whole time they knew that drinking wouldn't solve their drunkenness, but they also did not know what else to do about it. Every time they reached for a bottle, they reached for a cracked cistern, frustrated that the water it contained was polluted, but they were also blinded by the pollution so that they couldn't see the living water that was always readily available for them.

When we, as people of faith, turn to cracked cisterns we neither worship a real God, nor worship with our real selves.1 We worship nothingness, our frustration, our anxiety, the holes that are missing in our lives. When we worship the nothingness we think that one more click, one more bump, one more drink might prove to be real, thirst quenching, life. This text from Jeremiah is God calling us out, out of our nothingness into something meaningful, into worship of the living God, from whom flows living water, even, most surprisingly, amid the deserts and the wildernesses of our lives.



Skinner, Prophecy & Religion, p.71

Uncommon Prayer

A few years ago a friend of mine handed me a mix-tape (more like a mix-CD), with the intention of it being used in worship. Scrawled on the front of the disc were the words "Uncommon Prayer." On the back of the sleeve that held the disc were names like Louis Armstrong, The Mountain Goats, Mason Jennings, The Flaming Lips, and Iron & Wine. As I held the disc in my hand I remember thinking, "but these aren't Christian groups." 

As I listened to the music, I began to see where my friend was coming from.

These were songs that conveyed beauty of God's creation, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, the challenge and experience of God's love.
They just didn't use the words I was familiar with and I realized that

God doesn't just use the words that carry an "official" Christian seal to convey truth or love. 

But then again, the words I was used to hearing don't guarantee some great ideal either. I was brought up in a Christian worship scene that was wrapped up in Veggie Tales and bands like Audio Adrenaline or Newsboys. I remember one song by the Newsboys that was quite popular at the concerts, lock-ins and youth gatherings I attended. It's called The Breakfast Song and it's a catchy little tune that I thought was about cereal, Jesus and faith. As I got older, I would think back to the lyrics with horror. It's a song clearly marketed toward children, where the primary message is a warning about Hell. The song describes a group of young cereal lovers (presumably children, due to the references to gym class) that are mourning the death of one of their friends. But their friend left them a reminder from his short lived life that "when the big one finds you/ may this song remind you/ they don't serve breakfast in hell."

I'm of the opinion that if you have to start off a conversation about the need for God in someone's life with warning on Hell, you've missed the point.

I also think that if you have to sell heaven (or hell) to children through sugary cereals, then you've missed every point along the way.

1

This is why I think that there's something captivating about authenticity, living the authentic life, that is just missed in the larger American Christian consumer culture. We sing songs about the lack of breakfast cereal in hell, when Jesus has provided a wonderful meal for us now, a simple meal of bread and wine. Furthermore the language of table in the Gospel feast is not one of warning, but of invitation. There's a reason why we all shake our heads at the folks standing on the street corner holding signs and shouting scripture warning of sin/death/the end. It feels cheap and unwelcome because we get that same message over and over but all it comes off as is a scare tactic. And a scare tactic is a terrible way to start a relationship founded on love. On the other side, there is an invitation to join in.

Read the words of Jesus that Luke provides:

Luke 22:15-20

"I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God." Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, "Take this and divide it among yourselves; for I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes." Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and give it to them, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me." And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying "This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood."

There is an earnest desire from Jesus to share in this meal with the disciples. 

When Jesus sits down with the disciples for the Passover meal, he does it with intention, because this may be the last meal he shares with them. What I love so much about this meal is that the people that Jesus so eagerly desires to share it with are broken, hopeless, poor, wandering, untrustworthy, fearful, unworthy.
In other words,

they look a lot like the people both inside and outside the church. 

They are the kind of folks that God desperately wants to be in a relationship with, and their brokenness, their failures, their anger, their mistrust, are all welcome to the table. Remember, at this point in the story these people that Jesus is so eager to love and eat with are about to betray him, run from him, pretend like they have no clue who he is. And still, he wants to be with them. They don't have to be perfect, polished, deserving. They don't have to fit the form. They don't have to look anything like what we might associate with "holy" or "good" because God has already said that they are.
What Jesus tells the disciples in this meal is not that they are damned if they don't shape up, Jesus doesn't warn them about the lack of Capt'n Crunch in hell, but demonstrates that God's love is so relentless that even after all they've done and all they're about to do, God will continue to pursue them. God actually likes these people.
I imagine that the disciples probably had some less than perfect thoughts and prayers after Jesus was killed. What would it look like for us to be honest about our prayer? What would we say to God if we were authentic about who we are and where we're at? What would people say about us if we let our guard down and showed off our less polished self to the world? (They probably wouldn't say much that was good) but what would they say about God? (Probably a lot of truth)

What would the world be like if Christians were common people who relate to God with "Uncommon" prayer.

1. Sugary Cereal photo from TheAtlantic.com

A New Spirit

"They came to Capernaum, and on the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue and began to teach. The people were spellbound by the teaching, because Jesus taught with an authority that was unlike their religious scholars. Suddenly a person with an unclean spirit appeared in their synagogue. It shrieked, 'What do you want from us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are the Holy One of God!' Jesus rebuked the spirit sharply: 'Be quiet! Come out of that person!' At that the unclean spirit convulsed the possessed one violently, and with a loud shriek it came out. All who looked on were amazed. They began to ask one another, 'What is this? A new teaching, and with such authority! This person even gives orders to unclean spirits and they obey!' Immediately news of Jesus spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee." - Mark 1:21-28

There is something about exorcism that has fascinated people for thousands of years. 
When I was growing up the one movie that my mother insisted that my brother and I never see was the 1973 film The Exorcist because it scared her so much. 
There have been plenty of exorcism themed films to come out since the original especially over the past decade.
To many of my friends, who were not very religious, one of the first questions that was on their mind after they find out that I was pursuing a life of ministry was “does this mean you’ll be doing exorcisms?” 
And really, that’s not an unfair question, 
especially when the first “work” that Jesus does in Mark’s Gospel is an exorcism. 
So if Christians are supposed to follow in the example of Christ, it makes sense that exorcism is something that I would do. 
However, as with most things, there are some stark differences between what's going on in our text and what pop culture has to say about exorcism.
Right before this passage in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is finding disciples and telling them he will make them fishers of men.
Now the first thing that Jesus does after recruiting his first disciples is take them to a town called Capernaum along the shores of Galilee. This is probably a town that the disciples are familiar with. 
And Jesus, being the disciple's Rabbi, brings them to worship on the Sabbath. 
The text says that Jesus showed up in the synagogue to teach.
In order for Jesus to be able to teach in the synagogue he has to be recognized as a Rabbi by more than the disciples, but by the community. 
We know from the Gospel of Luke that Jesus spent some time in the temple in Jerusalem studying under the Rabbis. So perhaps the people in Capernaum already know this and recognize Jesus as someone who has authority as Rabbi. 
At the very least it's clear that Jesus already has some authority to be able to stand up and teach. 


And there's a lot that could be said about what Jesus does with that. 


The Gospel writer makes a huge point out of the authority of Jesus in this teaching moment. 
Now, I could say that the sole purpose behind this authority is for us, the readers, to understand Jesus as the Christ.
Which I think is entirely valid, but if we're reading through the Gospel of Mark like a narrative, 
like it was written, 
then we already know of Jesus' relationship to God when the heavens part at his baptism. 
One of the themes that the Gospel writer Mark is all about is this idea of who is in the know and who isn't. 
Who understands what's going on and who doesn't.
Some would say that the question that Mark keeps asking us is: "do you get it?"
But there is also something else going on in our text today.
The way that the Gospel writer has written this story is what some commentators call bracketing.
Mark uses bracketing to 
1) make a claim, 
2) interject some information and 
3) come back to that claim to show how the interjected information supports the claim.
In our text bracketing is used to give us the idea is that the person with an unclean spirit is meant to appear while Jesus is teaching.
So the crowd's reaction is not only to the words that Jesus speaks, but also to the effects that they have.


So lets look at our story again. 


Jesus and a couple disciples come to worship, 
Jesus gets up to preach, 
but Jesus isn't some ordinary preacher. 
When he speaks to the text, 
the people recognize something, 
they hear something that they haven't gotten from any of the scribes, or religious authorities who have worshiped with them before. 
Then in the middle of Jesus' teaching, 
there comes this person with an unclean spirit. 
Jesus uses his authority to call out the unclean spirit and the people are amazed.
 The idea of an unclean spirit tells us something a little different than we're used to hearing when we think about exorcism.
A central practice in Jewish faith in the first century is the notion of purity. 
Ritual purity, 
Spiritual purity,
Physical purity.
Being pure, is the lens through which the scriptures have been interpreted for the people with whom Jesus is worshiping, and the lens through which they interpret what and who is socially acceptable.
So for someone to have an unclean spirit, means that they would be entirely unaccepted.
The fact that this person is even in the synagogue would come as shock.
Due to the bracketed story telling that Mark is engaged in, it would be safe to say that this person is already among the worshipers.
No one really seems to acknowledge that there's an unclean spirit among them until the truth comes out.
If all of this has been to prove to the people that Jesus is the Christ, then their affliction seems like little more than God using them. 
Why should anyone be burdened with an unclean spirit?
Why should anyone be rejected based on purity?


I was in Ghana in 2008 as a part of a team that had been working with a group of women who had been rejected from their community because they carried HIV/AIDS. 
Many of them had been abandoned by their husbands and families, or were too ashamed to return home. 
At that time Sub-Saharan Africa accounted for over 70% of the world's total HIV/AIDS population. 
But in many countries, the stigma and lack of education can be far worse than even the terrible stuff that happens here in the States. 
They came together after their leader Hagar was left in the hospital by her family and Hagar began to notice that there were a lot of other women in her same situation. 
So Hagar brought them together and formed a group that they called "Women Living Positively with HIV/AIDS." 
They started out as a support group, they would survive as long as they could. 
But, as their group began to grow it became increasingly apparent that there was more they could do. 
So they reached out to my home church. 
They didn't want to just survive, they wanted to live. 
Eventually they got the idea to start up a business to generate revenue so they could buy medicine and provide for each other. 
They had pooled what little money they had and began working. 
They created fabrics and clothing, and they changed their name to First United Women because no one would buy their product if they were associated with HIV/AIDS. 
In order to keep the business running, they were going to need more funding then what they had. 
Part of the reason my group was there was to help facilitate a series of micro-loans and to provide a market in the states for them to sell more of their product. 
On the second to last night that we were in Ghana, we had invited our new business partners to celebrate with us at the small hotel we had been staying at in Kumasi. 
We got the music going, 
people were dancing, 
playing games, 
we had this big dinner, 
and other people began to notice. 
Some of the other folks staying at the hotel came out and began to party with us. 
Then the hotel staff slowly took up the invitation to join in. 
At the end of the night, after the First United Women had left, 
some of the staff approached our pastor and asked who all of those women were. 
They were asking because they had had a pretty good time and thought that they had made some new friends. 
So our pastor told them, and the look the staff had was utter confusion. 
Someone said "But they looked so... alive."

Dancing with and revealing the First United Women did the same thing for some of the hotel staff, as the exorcism did for the community in Capernaum. 
The problem is not with the person with the unclean spirit.
Jesus continually challenges the religious authorities who would claim that sickness and possessions are the fault and punishment of the sick and possessed.
I don't believe that, Jesus doesn't believe that.
What Jesus is doing is speaking truth to power.
By removing the unclean spirit Jesus frees the community to see one another in a new light.
Suddenly purity is less important if there is someone with the authority of God who can say that the impure is now pure.
In the understanding of the religious leaders, only the clean could come to God.
However, by the example of Jesus, God comes to the "unclean," bringing them into wholeness and life.


There is a commentary that looks at the sociological understanding of what Jesus has done here.
They say that in an honor & shame society, the shared information about one's status would be the basis upon which an individual would be judged.
So there are two big changes that happen in our text.
One is that Jesus of Nazareth, is elevated in status to someone who teaches with unique authority, the authority of God.
The other is that the person who was possessed, 
has been restored to their community.
I think there's also a third change that happens.
When Jesus removes the unclean spirit, he reveals the brokenness of the community.
The community, in coming to recognize the depth to which God desires for us to be whole,
to go out and be in the presence of the "unclean,"
to touch someone who is sick,
to love someone who doesn't look like you,
or think like you do,
the community becomes open to a new Spirit, to the new thing that God is doing.

When one of the hotel staff in Ghana had the revelation that the women he had met was alive,
God was at work,
calling out the "unclean spirit" and revealing the depths of God's love, that even a woman with HIV/AIDS can have life, 
be whole,
be worthy of love.
The work that Jesus is involved in with this exorcism is exactly that same work.
Jesus is calling out the unclean revealing to the Capernaum community that even the person they've tried to ignore can have life,
be whole,
be worthy of love.
And most importantly,
when they get that,
when we get that,
we become open to what the Spirit of God can do,
and we're made whole as well.
And if that is what exorcism is all about,
then I guess I would do that too.

The Risks We Take

One issue that has weighed heavily on my heart recently is that of accountability.
What do we require?
What is required of us?
In the priesthood of all believers we are all called to be representatives for Christ in the world.
So what does God require?

So often it seems as though we are unwilling to deal with the difficult tasks before us.
We try to push the problem off,
onto someone else,
further down the road,
away from where we are.
More often than not we use our religion as a crutch.
We use our churches as barricades,
walling ourselves in
and actively working to keep those who do not resemble us

Out.

The other day I was reading an article that described the business practices of the bulk goods store: Costco.
The purpose of the article was to talk about the stark difference in business practices between Costco and their largest competitor, Walmart.
Apparently, Costco has become known as a company that is significantly more friendly to its employees than most other big chains.
Their average pay is higher,
their health insurance plans are generally better,
and their average worker turn-over is significantly lower.
What surprised me about the article was what some analysts have begrudgingly said about their business practices:

It's better to be an employee than a shareholder.

Now I don't know who the analyst is that made that statement,
nor do I know their convictions or their faith.
So my thoughts about it are not directed at them.
However,
it does make me wonder what the Christian response should be.
What the response of the priesthood of all believers should be.

That one analysts's statement brings to mind a few others:
Proverbs 16:19
Better to be lowly in spirit along with the oppressed than to share plunder with the proud.
Psalm 84:10b
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

This is the disconnect for me. Something about that analysts's statement doesn't sit right in the light of these texts. It doesn't fit.
The message coming from the biblical texts is one that subverts our understanding of what positions of honor or respect look like. These biblical texts subvert what we might think is owed to us.


James Cone, in his work "Risks of Faith" asks an important question:
"Whose Earth Is It, Anyway?"
His response is Psalm 24: "The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it."
All of creation belongs to God.
That means that everything from the air we breath,
to the molten core of the planet,
to the germs that inhabit our bodies,
to the very next person we meet,
and even we belong to God.
Cone argues that we are held accountable by God in what we do with that.
Do we really listen to our sisters and brothers who look different from us?
Who think differently?
Who were brought up on the other side of town?
In my denomination there are people of many backgrounds,
from countries around the world.
And yet,
in the U.S. 93% of the church is white.
Do we really know our sisters and brothers who are different?
In talking about the Youth Lounge program at Broadway United Methodist Church in Chicago, Pastor Lois McCullen Parr describes what it's like to run a program that feeds and provides a "hang-out" space  in the church for 50-70 LGBTQ youth, many of who are without a home, two Saturdays a month.
When asked why other organizations aren't running the same program she says:

"The way we operate is, some people would say, risky. We don't have rules published at the door. We don't make people show us an ID or leave their bags anywhere. Some people would say: You're asking for trouble."-1 Windy City Times

But she also says that taking that risk is worth it because, "when you treat people with love and respect, they respond, and they rise to the occasion."-2 Windy City Times 


Rudy Rasmus outlines the Apostle Paul's understanding of accountability in his book "Touch."
He says there are three big points for Paul:
Attitude,
Activism,
And Authority.
Attitude is exemplified in Paul's instruction to be humble as modeled after the life of Jesus.
Humility is the surrendering of oneself in belonging to God.
Humility is coming to be committed to belonging to God.
Activism comes from the actual work of Jesus, in loving all that we encounter.
Activism is what we choose to do with our faith, how we live into our belonging to God.
Authority is what comes from the Holy Spirit.
The Spirit of God gives us the power that is necessary to be servants,
to care more for another than our own profit.

Rasmus says: "I warn people that following Christ might make their lives more complicated--at least for a while."(p.121)
There are risks to following Jesus,
because in doing so we render ourselves accountable to God and to all of creation.
When creation groans, we groan.
When we shut out others, we shut out ourselves.
When we put our profit margins above creation, we put wealth above God.
Following Christ is not easy because following Christ isn't about "me",
or what "I" want.
Following Christ is not easy because it doesn't fit neatly into a market or a government.
Following Christ requires taking risk,
being bold.
Following Christ is giving more than we've got,
receiving more than we can handle,
loving when we don't feel it,
hoping when we can't see it,
praying when there are no words,
and speaking truth even when it comes at a great personal cost.
What does God require of you?

Who will you actively love?
What pain will you heal?
How much will you surrender to follow Christ?


What risks will you take?



1 & 2. Erica Demarest. "Lakeview pastor talks 'love work' LGBTQ Youth Series from Windy City Times" Windy City Times 11 Nov. 2012

The Things God is Terrible At (And Why That’s Good News for Us.): POTUS

My brother posted an interesting comment that he had read concerning the current political race in these United States. The poster had declared that the incumbent president was practicing love for "the (the U.S.) enemies" and that the poster prayed to God that the incumbent president would not see a second term. To which my brother noted was "invoking God to go against the teachings of Jesus."

That, I think, is very interesting.

A while back I had started (and admittedly did not finish) a series of posts call "The things that God is terrible at, and why that's good for us."

POTUS is one of those things that I think fits into that series.

While the owner of the subject comment was likely unaware of the implications of the scenario that they conjured up, they do raise an interesting point.

God/Jesus would be a terrible POTUS.

All of the things that we generally cherish in this country concerning our "rights" or "freedoms" or order of governance would come to question under the presidency of Jesus.

How would candidate Jesus fair when it comes to questions of international policy?
What about Iran?
or better yet, Al Qaida/Osama bin Laden?

Seems a policy that reflected "loving one's enemies" (Matthew 5:43-44) would the answer, but certainly not the one that would be popular among the U.S. populace.

What about Gun Control? Second Amendment rights?

Swords in Plowshares? (Isaiah 2:4, Micah 4:3)
That leaves us a little defenseless, doesn't it candidate Jesus?

What about the judiciary system? or the death penalty?

You've been through that and aren't a fan eh? (Luke 23:34, Romans 2:1-4)

What about nationalism? Love for one's country?

The people of God are called to be unlike the other nations? To not have a system of governance or to have interests for self over God? (1 Samuel 8)

The reality is this, there is no candidate that appropriately reflects the teachings of Jesus/God in their governance or their life. There is no "Christian" candidate, in the sense that there is no Christ-like candidate.
So while the commentator's assertion about the POTUS would be radical and Christ-like, it just isn't true. Heck, the incumbent president ordered and celebrated the execution of one of "our" enemies.

But the most disturbing part about the conversation is the hypothetical implication: That followers of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Messiah, the True Life, The King of Kings, would never elect Jesus for president because that guy would just be way too radical to follow.

Jesus would make a "terrible" president and, honestly, I'm okay with that.

The Things God is Terrible At (And Why That’s Good News for Us.) Part 1

As I was listening to the sermon in church the other Sunday, I was moved by the absolute truth of the mercy and grace that God gives. The scripture came from the Gospel of Matthew 13:1-8, 18-23; The parable of the sower. This parable is not new to me and the connection between unbelievable grace and God was certainly not new. But this is sort of how the sermon went and where my thoughts have gone:

The parable of the sower has a farmer sowing seed in a field. Some of the seed falls onto good soil, some falls onto rocky soil, some falls onto the path, and some more falls into some thorny bushes.  

Once the seeds mature and start to grow, the type of soil they’ve been sown into affects their growth. 

The seed on the path is immediately eaten by birds. 

The seed in the thorny bushes grows a little but is choked out by the thorns. 

The seed in the rocky soil begins to grow but the roots can’t dig in and they die. 

The seed in the good soil grows up good and strong. 

The thing about parables is that they always have some sort of hook. There is something not quite right in a parable and that is meant to challenge the listener’s outlook. In the Gospels, the disciples are often left scratching their heads at the parables Jesus tells. However, that does not mean that their content was completely foreign to the audience, just the connection between the story and God. 

So in this parable, the disciples convince Jesus to reveal to them the true meaning behind it.

Jesus explains that God is the farmer sowing seeds.

The plants are people who hear the message about God.

The types of soil are their faith.

But the thing to note about this parable is not really about the fate of the seeds. 

Anybody who has done any farming would automatically know that seeds sown into anything but good soil don’t really have great odds at making it as a fully grown plant.

That fact comes as no surprise to the people to whom Jesus is speaking. 

What does come off as a bit shocking is the farmer’s actions.

This is our hook.

This is where we learn something about the nature of God.

This is where the audience discovers that God is a terrible farmer.

Now wait a minute.

That can’t be right.

Isn’t there some philosophical quandary about God and a rock so large that God couldn’t lift it, to help us demonstrate that the only real limits on God are the ones God chooses?

So how can God be terrible at something?

Well lets think about this parable.

Like I said, ANYONE who has ever farmed before would know not to throw seeds willy-nilly.

And here we inexplicably find God seeming to care for his seed like a happily careless child.

God doesn’t really seem concerned with growth models, harvest quotas, or the statistical advantages of the good soil.

God just throws caution to the wind and sows seed into every patch of soil around.

Now that is absolutely crazy.

That makes no sense.

Those numbers don’t add up, those odds are terrible.

Farmer God wastes energy, time and resources caring for seeds that have almost no chance of maturing.

And here’s the absolutely wonderful thing about God.

God isn’t us.

God doesn’t care about numbers,

or quotas

or growth models

or rates of efficiency.

God cares about creation,

for the chance of life,

for the beauty in overcoming the odds,

for the least of these.

When it comes to giving people a chance to be in relationship with God, God throws caution to the wind and sows like a careless child.

God doesn’t care where you’re coming from, what circumstances you’ve grown up in, the pressures of the world that surround you.

God loves you where you are.

God gives you a chance to grow.

God wants you to grow and mature.

God wants everyone to grow.

But here’s the thing.

Not everybody is in good soil.

Not everybody is ready.

But God knows that without the chance, 

Without that seed being sown in the rocky soil, 

No one would grow there anyway. 

So this was the central point of the sermon: What if we gave out the kind of grace that God gives out?

What if we threw caution to the wind and stopped caring about the right people to come along in order for us to show God’s grace and love?

What if we looked at everybody as a child of God,

A God that gives grace.

A God that sows seed like a child.

This all got me thinking, what else is God really terrible at?

Because odds are,

Whatever God is terrible at,

Is really good for us.

Critiquing Rob Bell

“In Bell’s theology, God is love, a love that never burns hot with anger and a love that cannot distinguish or discriminate. “Jesus’ story,” Bell says, “is first and foremost about the love of God for every single one of us. It is a stunning, beautiful, expansive love and it is for everybody, everywhere” (vii). Therefore, he reasons, “we cannot claim him to be ours any more than he’s anybody else’s” (152). This is tragic. It’s as if Bell wants every earthly father to love every child in the world in the exact same way. If you rob a father of his unique, specific, not-for-everyone love, you rob the children of their greatest treasure. It reminds me of the T-shirt, “Jesus Loves You. Then Again He Loves Everybody.” There’s no good news in announcing that God loves everyone in the same way just because he wants to. The good news is that in love God sent his Son to live for our lives and die for our deaths, suffering the God-forsakenness we deserved so that we might call God our God and we who trust in Christ might be his children. The sad irony is that while Bell would very much like us to know the love of God, he has taken away the very thing in which God’s love is chiefly known: “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10).” (16)

This is exactly the argument that Bell is writing against. You can take issue with his exegesis, you can take issue with his understanding of heaven and hell, and you can even take issue with how he portrays sin. All of that I understand and there is room to develop discussion around those issues. However, this argument, this belief, is incredible to me.

The above paragraph comes from Kevin DeYoung, out of East Lansing. He is writing an exhaustive critique of Love Wins from the perspective of “Evangelicals.” Kevin writes in his critique, that “Bell’s god is a small god, so bound by notions of radical free will that I wonder how Bell can be so confident God’s love will melt the hardest heart.” (17) 

DeYoung says that “Bell’s god” is small.

“Bell’s god” is bound.

And yet here I am reading this critique and the point that really sticks for me, is what he says right before that, that God CAN NOT love everyone. God is INCAPABLE of loving everyone. God HAS NOT THE HEART to care for everyone.

He says that “There’s no good news in announcing that God loves everyone in the same way just because he wants to.” 

That isn’t Good News?

That isn’t The Good News?

I guess I’m a little confused at this point. This is the part where DeYoung is ramping up to show how Bell’s view of the Cross and of God are perverted and weak. 

And the message I get is that God CAN’T.

Not only is God INCAPABLE here, but the message seems to be that Christians SHOULD NOT share.

After all, if the message of salvation in Christ was spread to the entire world, and accepted by the entire world, then God would be INCAPABLE of loving all the Christians.

So the Good News of Christ is that we can horde our faith.

We can hide out from the world.

God’s love is ours.

Not theirs.

This is what is disheartening to me. When I hear Christians proclaim like a spoiled child that God is not available, even for all who would wish to receive God.

I recommend that you read both Bell’s book and the critique by DeYoung, because they both have good points within them. What I have written here is not an exhaustive critique of any writing. 

I’m just pointing out where I see someone missing the point.

Here's a link to DeYoung's critique, courtesy of the GospelCoalition: Love Wins Review

Dying is Dangerous

A while ago I was sitting in my class on worship and we were talking about the images of Baptism. One of those images is death. In the original Baptism practice, full submersion, the baptized go from one state of being; as they were, to submerged, to coming out of the water anew. That practice of going under the water is meant to convey being put into the ground, the “final” act in life. However, the person is brought out of the water and back into life as something different. As we talked about this the sentence, “Dying is Dangerous” came up, and this got me thinking.

Regrettably, one of the biggest and earliest failures in my Christian understanding was to fail to answer a question from a classmate of mine. This person, seeking to challenge my faith and to explain her own problems with Christianity, asked how I could accept a faith that was bent on the concept of death. Paul clearly says, as recorded in the book of Romans: 

“We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been set free from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.” (Romans 6:4-8)

To her these words seemed particularly negative and reminiscent of modern “cult” experiences like those in Waco, Texas during the 90’s. I hadn’t considered myself particularly knowledgeable about scripture or matters of faith when she asked, and my response was empty. I simply said that that wasn’t what was meant. Paul had been talking about something else. Christianity didn’t require its members to die. How could it? I thought of all of the church folk that I knew; they all lived fairly comfortable lives, in suburbs, in the U.S., and had been like that for a while. There was little that was actually dangerous about the faith.

Now that I revisit this conversation later in life, I come slightly more prepared. I think about what the life of a Christian was like as Paul is writing the letter to the Roman churches. 

This letter is his last. 

He is seeking help in pushing his evangelistic ministry further West. 

He is captured.

He is executed.

He never makes it West of Rome.

The church is not merely a building or a space where people gather to worship. It is literally the flesh and blood of a small group of Jews and Gentiles who have become convinced that there was something greater than a man in a carpenter that was executed in Jerusalem. 

This church is desperately trying to survive.

They are persecuted.

They are executed.

They are kicked out of their communities.

They are small.

They are weak.

There is little that is comfortable for the church during the first century and up until Constantine, when the church becomes the official religion of the state. Professing faith in Jesus of Nazareth was akin to treason. The choice for the early church was Caesar or God. Choosing Caesar meant some form of marginal existence under the empire. So what did choosing God leave someone with?

Death.

Paul goes on in Romans 6: “For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness. For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace.” (Romans 6:9-14)

For the life that Jesus lived, a life that didn’t work with the first century understanding of law, he was executed. That life was so outside of the norm of the day that it didn’t sit right with those in power.

Not the Pharisees

and later,

Not Caesar.

To be a Christian is to follow the life of Jesus, which means accepting the earthly consequences of that life. However, the story of Jesus doesn’t end there.

Not on the Cross.

Not in the Grave.

There is one thing that Jesus and Caesar have in common. They are both conquerers. Caesar had conquered life, possessing the ability to end life on a massive scale. The story of Jesus reveals that Jesus has conquered death, possessing the ability to make death obsolete. When Paul says that we have been united with Christ in death, he is talking about being united in true life. 

Life that cannot be destroyed.

Life that cannot be conquered.

Life that Caesar does not control.

That which has separated God’s creation from God no longer has any power. God’s ultimate gift to humanity is the freedom from bondage. The first Christians were willing to put away the things that they had been doing, which had separated them from God, because those things could no longer persuade them that they were free. They were willing to follow God because they believed that while Caesar could end their immediate life, he could not have final victory. God had already claimed that prize.

Perhaps this all seems too foreign to so many today because the church in the U.S. is no longer persecuted. I believe that God’s vision for the church is one filled with things upside-down. The church is at its best when its members truly believe that professing their faith, that choosing to follow God, is a sacrifice.

When comfort is no longer found.

When flesh and blood are the church.

When we leave 99 for 1.

When we rejoice for the lost.

When we learn from the foolish.

When we embrace our enemy.

When we give all we have.

When dying is dangerous

and living is impossible.