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.

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

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.