(An Easter Sunrise Service devotion based on Matthew 28:1-10)
We use the word “stone” in various sayings. We say that something is just “a stone’s throw away.” We say that “sticks and stones may break my bones.” We say that a “rolling stone gathers no moss.” We say that “people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” They’re all helpful and rather vivid sayings.
Never, though, has a more important statement been made using the word “stone” than this one: “an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it” (v. 2). I’ll grant that more rock has been moved than the angel moved that morning. When you drive through mountains you can sometimes detect where holes were drilled and dynamite was placed to blow away large sections of rock to clear room for the highway. I’ll grant that there are more impressive rocks than the one that blocked the entrance to Jesus’ tomb. I drove by Stone Mountain the other day; I never cease to be amazed at the size of that rock. But I will not grant than any more significant stone than the one in front of Jesus’ tomb was ever moved. When that stone was moved by the angel, everything changed.
Why? Because when the stone was moved, Jesus was let out. I don’t mean to say that Jesus could not have gotten out of the tomb had the angel not moved the stone. Indeed, the resurrected Jesus is seen later in the gospel narrative as coming and going as he pleased from locked rooms. But the removal of the stone is a standard aspect of the gospel presentation of the resurrection. The stone was removed and Jesus came out of the tomb. When Jesus came out of that tomb, incredible things happened. Sin was defeated. Death was defeated. Meaninglessness was defeated. Those are the realities that we are celebrating on this Easter Sunday and that we celebrate every Lord’s Day.
As I said, Jesus could have gotten out of the tomb even had the stone not been moved. Perhaps one of the main reasons that the stone was removed was so that the followers of Jesus could see for themselves that his body was gone. The empty tomb has been a part of the Church’s witness for lo these 2000 years. But when someone is confronted with the empty tomb with its stone rolled away, she is confronted with a decision as to what she will do with it.
Some folks get laid out because of the stone. So it was for the guards who had been assigned to make sure that Jesus’ body was not stolen. When the angel rolled back the stone and sat down it, perhaps in a show of triumph, “for fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men” (v. 4). Later they were bribed to say that the disciples came and took Jesus’ body while the guards slept.
Some folks just get laid out by the rolled away stone and by the resurrected Christ. They become like dead people, too, in that they don’t do anything about what they have witnessed. They may even find reasons, like the guards, to deny that it happened at all. There have always been people who can’t believe. There have always been people who won’t believe. There always have been and there still are.
Of course, it is not finally the stone that was rolled away from the tomb over which people stumble. The stone over which they stumble is finally Jesus himself. The book of 1 Peter puts it this way:
Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in Scripture: “See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.” To you then who believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the very head of the corner,” and “A stone that makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them fall.” They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do. (1 Peter 2:4-8)
The resurrected Jesus is the stone over which people stumble. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Some folks get sent out because of the stone. They get sent out because of what they come looking for. The two Marys came to see the tomb. They were not looking for the resurrected Christ but they surely came in love and devotion. And because they came they met the risen Lord. What will we find if we come in expectation of meeting the risen Lord! How surely we will find him if we come looking for him. And those women got sent out to tell because they had come searching only God knew what and that’s what they found.
Such folks get sent out because what they experience just has to be told. The two Marys are presented in Matthew’s Gospel as the first two evangelists of the risen Christ. They were told by the angel and by Jesus himself to go and tell the disciples that he was alive. The stone that is no longer in front of the tomb gives us something to tell about. But even more than that, our encounter with the risen Lord gives us something to tell about. We are to tell with our words and with our lives and with our motives and with our actions. But we are to tell.
The stone is not there. Jesus is alive. We have met him. What will we now do about it?
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Friday, April 6, 2007
The Objects of Holy Week: Torches, Swords, and Nails
(A Good Friday devotion based on Isaiah 52:13-53:12 & John 18:1-19)
Now the hurtful objects come out.
There were the torches and lanterns that the Roman soldiers and the temple police and the chief priests and the Pharisees brought to help them find Jesus. It looks like a mob scene and the mob has come to find Jesus. They do so with the help of Judas, the traitor. Notice, though, that Jesus was not hard to find. He was not trying to hide. When the mob arrived, Jesus took control, stepping forward and identifying himself.
Let there be no mistake about what their torches revealed when their light flickered and shone upon Jesus. Perhaps the light was not clear and they could not see him well, but Jesus himself left no doubt as to who he was. When they said they were looking for Jesus of Nazareth, he said “I am he.” What he literally said was “I am,” which was a statement of divine revelation. When he said it, the mob had to step back and fall before him. He told them again who he was; it is almost as if he was ordering them to take him and to leave his disciples alone.
Did you bring your torch tonight? Are you looking for Jesus? If so, for what are you looking? The authorities were looking that night for a threat of which they wanted to rid themselves. Do you think that Jesus is a threat to you? He may be. He certainly can be a threat to our way of life, to our self-centeredness, to our illusions of control, and to our status of being “at ease in Zion.” Like those people who came to arrest Jesus, you may want to get Jesus out of your life. You can’t do that, though. They thought they could; they even briefly thought that they had succeeded. But they were wrong. As long as Jesus wants to be there as a challenge to you he will be there.
I hope you are not thinking of Jesus as a threat. I hope that you brought your torch because you are seeking him out of a deep sense of need. I hope that you brought your torch because you want to find him because of who he is and because of what he can do in your life. Regardless of why you are looking for him, you will find him. He is not hiding. He wants to be found. And once you find him he can and will do great things in your life.
There were the weapons that the members of the arresting mob brought with them. There is tremendous irony in this, because Jesus is consistently presented in the Gospels as being the Prince of Peace. He taught the way of peace both with his words and with his actions. When he was crucified, he would reveal just how literally and radically he meant it when he said that we should turn the other cheek and that we should love and forgive our enemies. So it was ironic that they would bring swords and other weapons. It was also unnecessary because Jesus, who was in control of the situation, would go with the mob because he wanted to, because it was part of the fulfillment of the journey on which had long ago embarked, not because he was forced to go.
Not all the weapons were in the hands of the mob. Simon Peter had a sword, too, and he used it. He drew it and cut off the ear of one Malchus, the high priest’s slave. Jesus, though, told him to put it away. “Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” he asked. Peter’s desire to protect his beloved Teacher is understandable, but his zeal was misplaced and inappropriate. I probably don’t even need to remind you that later, Peter’s courage was not so evident. Besides, Jesus was determined to go the sacrificial way that he was called to go and violence was very much out of place in his disciples’ response.
Did you bring your sword tonight? Did you come, like the mob, thinking that you somehow had it in your power to exercise some kind of control over Jesus? Then put it away, because you don’t. Jesus isn’t afraid of it. Did you come, like Peter, thinking that you needed to protect Jesus and maybe yourself? You don’t. Sometimes we have a misguided zeal. We want to protect Jesus from the perceived slings and arrows that our culture fires at him. Or maybe we are at least as interested in protecting ourselves as we are in protecting Jesus. If that’s you, then put your sword away. Live the kind of life that Jesus lived. Show his love, his grace, his peace, and his mercy to all of those around you. Put away your sword. Jesus doesn’t need it and he doesn’t want it.
There were the nails that fastened Jesus to the cross. Jesus was tried and sentenced to be crucified. He was taken out to Golgotha where he was crucified between two thieves. The nails tore his body. He shed his blood. He gave up his spirit.
Real human beings, real flesh-and-blood Roman soldiers, nailed Jesus to the cross. The crucifixion crew took their implements of death, their hammers and their nails, with them.
Did you bring your nails with you tonight? Yes, you certainly did. You did because all of us had a hand in the crucifixion of Jesus. You did because it is our sin that put him on that cross. You did because it was our guilt that hung with him there. You did because it was our death that he died.
Still, even though we are responsible, he willingly died for us. He loves us that much. It wasn’t finally the nails that held him to the cross; it was his love and grace that held him to the cross. And it is that same love and grace that can take away our sin, our guilt, and our death.
What did you bring with you tonight? Whatever you brought, you can take Jesus away with you. Will you?
Now the hurtful objects come out.
There were the torches and lanterns that the Roman soldiers and the temple police and the chief priests and the Pharisees brought to help them find Jesus. It looks like a mob scene and the mob has come to find Jesus. They do so with the help of Judas, the traitor. Notice, though, that Jesus was not hard to find. He was not trying to hide. When the mob arrived, Jesus took control, stepping forward and identifying himself.
Let there be no mistake about what their torches revealed when their light flickered and shone upon Jesus. Perhaps the light was not clear and they could not see him well, but Jesus himself left no doubt as to who he was. When they said they were looking for Jesus of Nazareth, he said “I am he.” What he literally said was “I am,” which was a statement of divine revelation. When he said it, the mob had to step back and fall before him. He told them again who he was; it is almost as if he was ordering them to take him and to leave his disciples alone.
Did you bring your torch tonight? Are you looking for Jesus? If so, for what are you looking? The authorities were looking that night for a threat of which they wanted to rid themselves. Do you think that Jesus is a threat to you? He may be. He certainly can be a threat to our way of life, to our self-centeredness, to our illusions of control, and to our status of being “at ease in Zion.” Like those people who came to arrest Jesus, you may want to get Jesus out of your life. You can’t do that, though. They thought they could; they even briefly thought that they had succeeded. But they were wrong. As long as Jesus wants to be there as a challenge to you he will be there.
I hope you are not thinking of Jesus as a threat. I hope that you brought your torch because you are seeking him out of a deep sense of need. I hope that you brought your torch because you want to find him because of who he is and because of what he can do in your life. Regardless of why you are looking for him, you will find him. He is not hiding. He wants to be found. And once you find him he can and will do great things in your life.
There were the weapons that the members of the arresting mob brought with them. There is tremendous irony in this, because Jesus is consistently presented in the Gospels as being the Prince of Peace. He taught the way of peace both with his words and with his actions. When he was crucified, he would reveal just how literally and radically he meant it when he said that we should turn the other cheek and that we should love and forgive our enemies. So it was ironic that they would bring swords and other weapons. It was also unnecessary because Jesus, who was in control of the situation, would go with the mob because he wanted to, because it was part of the fulfillment of the journey on which had long ago embarked, not because he was forced to go.
Not all the weapons were in the hands of the mob. Simon Peter had a sword, too, and he used it. He drew it and cut off the ear of one Malchus, the high priest’s slave. Jesus, though, told him to put it away. “Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” he asked. Peter’s desire to protect his beloved Teacher is understandable, but his zeal was misplaced and inappropriate. I probably don’t even need to remind you that later, Peter’s courage was not so evident. Besides, Jesus was determined to go the sacrificial way that he was called to go and violence was very much out of place in his disciples’ response.
Did you bring your sword tonight? Did you come, like the mob, thinking that you somehow had it in your power to exercise some kind of control over Jesus? Then put it away, because you don’t. Jesus isn’t afraid of it. Did you come, like Peter, thinking that you needed to protect Jesus and maybe yourself? You don’t. Sometimes we have a misguided zeal. We want to protect Jesus from the perceived slings and arrows that our culture fires at him. Or maybe we are at least as interested in protecting ourselves as we are in protecting Jesus. If that’s you, then put your sword away. Live the kind of life that Jesus lived. Show his love, his grace, his peace, and his mercy to all of those around you. Put away your sword. Jesus doesn’t need it and he doesn’t want it.
There were the nails that fastened Jesus to the cross. Jesus was tried and sentenced to be crucified. He was taken out to Golgotha where he was crucified between two thieves. The nails tore his body. He shed his blood. He gave up his spirit.
Real human beings, real flesh-and-blood Roman soldiers, nailed Jesus to the cross. The crucifixion crew took their implements of death, their hammers and their nails, with them.
Did you bring your nails with you tonight? Yes, you certainly did. You did because all of us had a hand in the crucifixion of Jesus. You did because it is our sin that put him on that cross. You did because it was our guilt that hung with him there. You did because it was our death that he died.
Still, even though we are responsible, he willingly died for us. He loves us that much. It wasn’t finally the nails that held him to the cross; it was his love and grace that held him to the cross. And it is that same love and grace that can take away our sin, our guilt, and our death.
What did you bring with you tonight? Whatever you brought, you can take Jesus away with you. Will you?
Thursday, April 5, 2007
The Objects of Holy Week: Bread, Cup, and Basin
(A Maundy Thursday devotion based on John 13:1-7, 31b-35; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26)
Some objects function as memory prompters. I look at my wedding ring and I remember the love and commitment that my wife and I share and I remember the vows that I took all those years ago. I look at the ordination certificate on my wall and I remember the fact that on a Sunday afternoon thirty-one years ago I was commissioned to do the Lord’s work. I look at the diplomas in my office and I recall the years of study that went into earning those degrees. I look at the photograph of Hank Aaron hanging in my study and I remember the pleasure and pain of following the Atlanta Braves for most of my life. Such objects are all memory prompters; you have yours, too. Notice this about those memory prompters: they remind me not only of the experiences of the past but also of my commitments in the present. I am still married to Debra, I am still a minister, I am still trying to learn, and I am still an Atlanta Braves fan.
Maundy Thursday worship is about memory prompters, too. On the Thursday night that he was betrayed, Jesus shared a meal with his disciples and after that meal he wrapped a towel around him, took a basin of water, and washed his disciples’ feet. After he had washed their feet, he said to them,
Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. (John 13:12b-15 NRSV)
When we see a basin, then, it can remind us of the call we have from our Lord to wash one another’s feet. That is, we are called by Jesus to follow his example of humbly serving one another.
It is funny how often we let ourselves think that we deserve to be the ones being served rather than the ones doing the serving. Yet we are disciples of Jesus Christ; he is our Lord and Teacher. Therefore, we are called to follow his example. If anyone deserved to be served rather than to serve, it is Jesus. He is the Son of God, after all. But he served. As he said elsewhere, he came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many. We who follow him are always to be looking for opportunities to serve others and then to take advantage of the opportunities; that is the Jesus way to live.
Perhaps the baptismal pool or font is also a kind of basin that can remind us of who Jesus is, of who we are, and of how we are to live. When Jesus knelt before Peter, the disciple protested, “You will never wash my feet.” When Jesus told him, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me,” Peter responded, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” While I know that this passage is not about baptism, it surely makes me think about it. When I participate in or witness a baptism, I am taken back to my baptism and I am inspired to remember the salvation I received and the commitments I made. I was baptized into Christ Jesus and so I am bound to follow him and to live like he lived.
The basin reminds us of the servant life and the servant death of Jesus. It also reminds us of the servant life that we are called to lead. It reminds us of what has happened in the past but also of who we are to be and what we are to do in the present.
It was also on Thursday night that Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper. As Paul reminds us, when Jesus broke the bread he said, “This is my body that is broken for you.” When Jesus took the cup he said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” Ever since that event the followers of Christ have taken the bread and the cup. Every time that we do it we are reminded of the death that Jesus died; we are reminded of the great suffering he went through in order to make possible our salvation.
But that is not all that is going on. Paul said, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Corinthians 11:26). We are declaring the ongoing effect of Jesus’ death and we will so until he comes again. The bread and the cup of the Lord’s Supper cause to remember what Jesus did for us but they also cause us to remember who we are to be and what we are to do here and now.
There is more to proclaiming the Lord’s death than partaking of the bread and cup of the Supper, of course. The context of Paul’s words here reminds us of that truth. He was giving the Corinthian Christians instructions regarding the Lord’s Supper because of abuses that were taking place there in relation to the Supper. In the early church the Eucharist was taken in the context of a fellowship meal. The more wealthy members who had more leisure time would get there early and eat the food and drink the wine and working folks who had to come when they could had to go without. Paul railed against those members of the Corinthian church who were doing their fellow Christians wrong. The Supper was about what the Church was about which was what Jesus was about: creating a family of faith in which everybody was treated the same way. No doubt is was this mistreatment and neglect of some church members by others in the fellowship meal to which Paul was referring when he talked about eating the bread and drinking the cup in an unworthy manner (11:27).
So we proclaim the Lord’s death when we partake of the bread and the cup in the context of treating each other with care and respect. We tell the world that we are Christians and we tell the world who Jesus Christ is when we treat each other like we should.
After Jesus had washed the disciples’ feet and after Judas had gone out to betray him, Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (13:34-35).
That’s what it all comes down to; that’s what the basin and the cup and the bread should remind us of and push us toward. We have been transformed by the servant life, the sacrificial death, and the amazing love of our Savior. Because we have been transformed, we are serve and to love one another. Thereby they will know we are Christians. Thereby they will see Christ in us. And thereby they may just come to know him.
Some objects function as memory prompters. I look at my wedding ring and I remember the love and commitment that my wife and I share and I remember the vows that I took all those years ago. I look at the ordination certificate on my wall and I remember the fact that on a Sunday afternoon thirty-one years ago I was commissioned to do the Lord’s work. I look at the diplomas in my office and I recall the years of study that went into earning those degrees. I look at the photograph of Hank Aaron hanging in my study and I remember the pleasure and pain of following the Atlanta Braves for most of my life. Such objects are all memory prompters; you have yours, too. Notice this about those memory prompters: they remind me not only of the experiences of the past but also of my commitments in the present. I am still married to Debra, I am still a minister, I am still trying to learn, and I am still an Atlanta Braves fan.
Maundy Thursday worship is about memory prompters, too. On the Thursday night that he was betrayed, Jesus shared a meal with his disciples and after that meal he wrapped a towel around him, took a basin of water, and washed his disciples’ feet. After he had washed their feet, he said to them,
Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. (John 13:12b-15 NRSV)
When we see a basin, then, it can remind us of the call we have from our Lord to wash one another’s feet. That is, we are called by Jesus to follow his example of humbly serving one another.
It is funny how often we let ourselves think that we deserve to be the ones being served rather than the ones doing the serving. Yet we are disciples of Jesus Christ; he is our Lord and Teacher. Therefore, we are called to follow his example. If anyone deserved to be served rather than to serve, it is Jesus. He is the Son of God, after all. But he served. As he said elsewhere, he came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many. We who follow him are always to be looking for opportunities to serve others and then to take advantage of the opportunities; that is the Jesus way to live.
Perhaps the baptismal pool or font is also a kind of basin that can remind us of who Jesus is, of who we are, and of how we are to live. When Jesus knelt before Peter, the disciple protested, “You will never wash my feet.” When Jesus told him, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me,” Peter responded, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” While I know that this passage is not about baptism, it surely makes me think about it. When I participate in or witness a baptism, I am taken back to my baptism and I am inspired to remember the salvation I received and the commitments I made. I was baptized into Christ Jesus and so I am bound to follow him and to live like he lived.
The basin reminds us of the servant life and the servant death of Jesus. It also reminds us of the servant life that we are called to lead. It reminds us of what has happened in the past but also of who we are to be and what we are to do in the present.
It was also on Thursday night that Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper. As Paul reminds us, when Jesus broke the bread he said, “This is my body that is broken for you.” When Jesus took the cup he said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” Ever since that event the followers of Christ have taken the bread and the cup. Every time that we do it we are reminded of the death that Jesus died; we are reminded of the great suffering he went through in order to make possible our salvation.
But that is not all that is going on. Paul said, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Corinthians 11:26). We are declaring the ongoing effect of Jesus’ death and we will so until he comes again. The bread and the cup of the Lord’s Supper cause to remember what Jesus did for us but they also cause us to remember who we are to be and what we are to do here and now.
There is more to proclaiming the Lord’s death than partaking of the bread and cup of the Supper, of course. The context of Paul’s words here reminds us of that truth. He was giving the Corinthian Christians instructions regarding the Lord’s Supper because of abuses that were taking place there in relation to the Supper. In the early church the Eucharist was taken in the context of a fellowship meal. The more wealthy members who had more leisure time would get there early and eat the food and drink the wine and working folks who had to come when they could had to go without. Paul railed against those members of the Corinthian church who were doing their fellow Christians wrong. The Supper was about what the Church was about which was what Jesus was about: creating a family of faith in which everybody was treated the same way. No doubt is was this mistreatment and neglect of some church members by others in the fellowship meal to which Paul was referring when he talked about eating the bread and drinking the cup in an unworthy manner (11:27).
So we proclaim the Lord’s death when we partake of the bread and the cup in the context of treating each other with care and respect. We tell the world that we are Christians and we tell the world who Jesus Christ is when we treat each other like we should.
After Jesus had washed the disciples’ feet and after Judas had gone out to betray him, Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (13:34-35).
That’s what it all comes down to; that’s what the basin and the cup and the bread should remind us of and push us toward. We have been transformed by the servant life, the sacrificial death, and the amazing love of our Savior. Because we have been transformed, we are serve and to love one another. Thereby they will know we are Christians. Thereby they will see Christ in us. And thereby they may just come to know him.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
More Chances to Read Josh Ruffin
Go here and you can read Josh's article "Stripping Down" on the Metro Spirit home page. While you're there, click on "Music" and look for "Music Feature" where you'll find his articles "The Angus Beef" and "Who do Voodoo?" And while you're at it, you can look under "CD Reviews" and read "Few High Notes from Lowe."
You can contact Josh at jlruthven84@yahoo.com.
You can contact Josh at jlruthven84@yahoo.com.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Progressing in a Negative Way
This is a big week, the biggest week of all, for Christians. It’s Holy Week, the time when we focus on the Passion of our Lord and hopefully make some strides in our relationship with him.
This is also a big week here in Augusta, Georgia. It’s Masters Week. The Masters Golf Tournament, which began life as the Augusta National Invitation Tournament, has been played at the Augusta National Golf Club every year since 1934 with the exception of three years during World War II. It is the only PGA event that is held at the same course every year. We have had the good fortune to attend the tournament each year since we moved to Augusta in 2003. I don’t play golf and I’m not even a big golf fan, but the Augusta National is one of the prettiest places on earth and I enjoy being there.
Each year the Fellowship of Christian Athletes hosts the Augusta Golf Breakfast at Warren Baptist Church. Debra and I attended the event this morning. The featured guest speaker was PGA Tour Player Fred Funk. In an interview format, he did a nice job of talking about his life in golf and the role of his faith in it. One of the points that came up was that this year Funk, who turned fifty in June 2006, became one of the few players to win a tournament both on the PGA Tour and on the Champions (Seniors) Tour in the same year.
As Funk was talking about the effects on his golf game of getting older, he used an interesting phrase. He said that his body was “progressing in a negative way.” I’ll be forty-nine in September, and I know what he’s talking about. As we progress in years, our bodies do have a way of experiencing some negative changes.
I couldn’t help but think about what the Apostle Paul said: “Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure…” (2 Corinthians 4:16b-17). While our bodies are progressing in a negative way as they move toward their inevitable return to dust, our spirits are progressing in a positive way as they move toward their eternal home with God. That positive progression is happening every moment of every day.
So, when we look in the mirror and see a few more wrinkles or a few more gray hairs or a few less hairs, let’s remember what is going on in our spirits. And let’s be encouraged!
This is also a big week here in Augusta, Georgia. It’s Masters Week. The Masters Golf Tournament, which began life as the Augusta National Invitation Tournament, has been played at the Augusta National Golf Club every year since 1934 with the exception of three years during World War II. It is the only PGA event that is held at the same course every year. We have had the good fortune to attend the tournament each year since we moved to Augusta in 2003. I don’t play golf and I’m not even a big golf fan, but the Augusta National is one of the prettiest places on earth and I enjoy being there.
Each year the Fellowship of Christian Athletes hosts the Augusta Golf Breakfast at Warren Baptist Church. Debra and I attended the event this morning. The featured guest speaker was PGA Tour Player Fred Funk. In an interview format, he did a nice job of talking about his life in golf and the role of his faith in it. One of the points that came up was that this year Funk, who turned fifty in June 2006, became one of the few players to win a tournament both on the PGA Tour and on the Champions (Seniors) Tour in the same year.
As Funk was talking about the effects on his golf game of getting older, he used an interesting phrase. He said that his body was “progressing in a negative way.” I’ll be forty-nine in September, and I know what he’s talking about. As we progress in years, our bodies do have a way of experiencing some negative changes.
I couldn’t help but think about what the Apostle Paul said: “Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure…” (2 Corinthians 4:16b-17). While our bodies are progressing in a negative way as they move toward their inevitable return to dust, our spirits are progressing in a positive way as they move toward their eternal home with God. That positive progression is happening every moment of every day.
So, when we look in the mirror and see a few more wrinkles or a few more gray hairs or a few less hairs, let’s remember what is going on in our spirits. And let’s be encouraged!
Monday, April 2, 2007
The Objects of Holy Week: Cloaks and Daggers
(A Palm Sunday sermon based on Luke 19:28-40)
[Note: this sermon is the first of five that I will preach and post during Holy Week. Look for one on Maundy Thursday, one on Good Friday, one on Easter Sunday, and one on the Monday after Easter.]
When we refer to something as being done in a “cloak and dagger” fashion, we mean that it is being done clandestinely or in secret. Adventures in the world of spying are sometimes called “cloak and dagger” operations, for example.
Sometimes we try to be “cloak and dagger” about our discipleship. The Bible tells us about at least one “secret disciple” of Jesus. Joseph of Arimathea, who asked Pilate for Jesus’ body, is referred to in that manner in John 19:38; we are told that he was a secret disciple because “of his fear of the Jews.” I don’t question the validity of Joseph’s discipleship and I certainly can’t judge him; I have to admire his courage in asking Pilate for the body of Jesus and burying the crucified rabbi in his tomb. Still, secret discipleship is surely not the best kind of discipleship because it does not bear public witness to Jesus in the daily life of the disciple.
Some of us sometimes try to keep our discipleship secret because we are afraid, too. We are afraid of what people will think. We think that they will think that we are strange or different—which is of course the truth if we are really living out our faith. Some of us may try to “hide our light under a bushel” because we really don’t want to have to deal with the very real demands of being a real disciple. Such hesitation may be a more troublesome motivation than fear.
At first glance, such efforts to hide devotion to Christ do not appear to be going on in the events of Palm Sunday about which we read in today’s text. The disciples of Jesus paraded him into Jerusalem. Some of them threw their cloaks over the back of the donkey before he mounted it. Many others spread their cloaks on the road in front of him as he approached the city. These were very public displays of devotion and adulation. Moreover, the multitude of the disciples shouted out words of welcome to Jesus, blessing him and declaring him king.
Nevertheless, I fear that when the disciples picked their cloaks up off the road and put them back on, they were harboring daggers under them. That’s not to say that they did not mean what they were doing when they spread their cloaks or that they did not mean what they were saying when they proclaimed Jesus king. It is to say, though, that they were lacking in the same ways that many of us are lacking—in understanding and in resolve. And their and our lack of understanding and resolve are daggers that strike at the heart of our Christian witness.
Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding. They did not understand who Jesus really was; they did not understand what he had come to be and to do. When they proclaimed him king, they likely had in their mind a different kind of king than Jesus came to be. They expected a king who would rule over a political kingdom; Jesus came to rule over a spiritual kingdom. They expected a king who would establish an earthly kingdom; Jesus came to establish a kingdom that, while it would have extraordinary influence in this world, would have its foundations and its fulfillment in another world. They expected a king who would gain authority by the exercise of power; Jesus would gain authority by living a servant life that would lead to a sacrificial death. Luke makes it clear that when Jesus spoke to his disciples about his coming death, they just didn’t get it (9:44-45; 18:31-35). Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding.
Really, though, their misunderstanding is to some degree understandable. After all, they had little evidence in their Scriptures to lead them to anticipate a crucified Messiah. The Suffering Servant passages of Isaiah pointed in that direction but frankly were much clearer in retrospect than in prospect. Also, the disciples were, like all people, blessed and cursed by their tradition; theirs taught them to expect a militarily powerful Messiah who would take Israel to a place of prominence in the world, not a Messiah hanging dead on a cross.
Our daggers of misunderstanding are much more difficult to comprehend and even to tolerate. If we have trusted our lives to Jesus and if we have committed our lives to following him, then it should be our aim to be true to him as he really is, not as we want him to be. We should know better than we sometimes show. Why? Because we have the New Testament, which is authoritative to us, and the New Testament consistently tells us that Jesus was a servant Messiah who willingly gave his life up as a sacrifice for our sins. He gave up his heavenly prerogatives to walk among us and to die as one of us for all of us. But is that how we think about Jesus? We may say that we do but do our lives reflect such thinking?
Remember, now, that how we think about Jesus shows in how we live because we disciples are to be modeling our lives after his. Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we show love even to our enemies? Do we forgive? Do we serve others with no thought of payback or reward? Do we focus on giving rather than taking?
We throw down our cloaks when we acknowledge Jesus as King. When we put them back on, are we concealing daggers of misunderstanding?
Under their cloaks the disciples also hid daggers of flagging resolve. On Palm Sunday, when spirits and expectations were high, they were singing the praises of Jesus. They were shouting and laughing and rejoicing. All was going well and they had reached the great city of Jerusalem for the great feast of Passover. They were committed disciples of the great rabbi Jesus. But where would they be four days hence when Jesus was arrested? Where would they be when he was being flogged and insulted? Where would they be five days hence when he was hanging on the cross? Where would they be six days hence while his body was lying in the tomb? They would be scattered, frightened, and hidden. When the going got tough, their resolve got going. The disciples celebrated who Jesus was by laying their cloaks in front of him as he rode triumphantly into Jerusalem, but when they put their cloaks back on, they hid daggers of flagging resolve.
Their resolve would return, though, after they encountered the resurrected Lord. Let me remind you that the resurrected Lord who restored their resolve is the only Lord that we know. We know him in the power of his resurrection or we know him not at all. The resurrected Lord who caused his disciples to go out and to risk their lives to proclaim him to the world is the same Lord whom we know in our lives today. Should not our desire and commitment to follow Jesus remain at a high level, given that we know all the time what the disciples knew only after the resurrection? They fled not only because they feared for their own lives but because all of their hopes were crushed. When their hopes were corrected and then resurrected along with Jesus, their resolve not only returned but multiplied.
The disciples’ resolve disappeared in the face of imminent danger. What causes our resolve to fade or disappear? In our culture it is surely not the threat of persecution. I’m afraid it’s something far worse. It’s complacency. It’s carelessness. It’s inattentiveness. It’s indifference. And it’s truly incredible. It’s incredible because of the great gulf that often exists between what we profess with our mouths and what we live with our lives. We say Jesus is King and Lord. We say that we serve a risen Savior. But how are those realities really impacting our lives? Does our resolve to follow him and to serve him stay at a high level? Or do our cloaks of commitment shelter a dagger of flagging resolve?
On Palm Sunday we join with disciples around the world in proclaiming that Jesus Christ is King. But he was a humble King. He was a compassionate King. He was a forgiving King. Five days from now we will recall that he was a crucified King. As we remember his life and death, we do well to examine our lives. How well do they reflect our following of such a Messiah? Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we exhibit the love of Christ? When someone hurts us, how do we respond—do we hold a grudge or do we forgive? When someone is hurting, how do we respond—by talking about him or by trying to help him? When someone is struggling, how do we respond—by turning away from them or by turning toward them?
As we pick up our cloaks and put them back on today, let’s be sure that we are not concealing daggers of misunderstanding and flagging resolve. They really do hurt our witness to our Lord and Savior.
[Note: this sermon is the first of five that I will preach and post during Holy Week. Look for one on Maundy Thursday, one on Good Friday, one on Easter Sunday, and one on the Monday after Easter.]
When we refer to something as being done in a “cloak and dagger” fashion, we mean that it is being done clandestinely or in secret. Adventures in the world of spying are sometimes called “cloak and dagger” operations, for example.
Sometimes we try to be “cloak and dagger” about our discipleship. The Bible tells us about at least one “secret disciple” of Jesus. Joseph of Arimathea, who asked Pilate for Jesus’ body, is referred to in that manner in John 19:38; we are told that he was a secret disciple because “of his fear of the Jews.” I don’t question the validity of Joseph’s discipleship and I certainly can’t judge him; I have to admire his courage in asking Pilate for the body of Jesus and burying the crucified rabbi in his tomb. Still, secret discipleship is surely not the best kind of discipleship because it does not bear public witness to Jesus in the daily life of the disciple.
Some of us sometimes try to keep our discipleship secret because we are afraid, too. We are afraid of what people will think. We think that they will think that we are strange or different—which is of course the truth if we are really living out our faith. Some of us may try to “hide our light under a bushel” because we really don’t want to have to deal with the very real demands of being a real disciple. Such hesitation may be a more troublesome motivation than fear.
At first glance, such efforts to hide devotion to Christ do not appear to be going on in the events of Palm Sunday about which we read in today’s text. The disciples of Jesus paraded him into Jerusalem. Some of them threw their cloaks over the back of the donkey before he mounted it. Many others spread their cloaks on the road in front of him as he approached the city. These were very public displays of devotion and adulation. Moreover, the multitude of the disciples shouted out words of welcome to Jesus, blessing him and declaring him king.
Nevertheless, I fear that when the disciples picked their cloaks up off the road and put them back on, they were harboring daggers under them. That’s not to say that they did not mean what they were doing when they spread their cloaks or that they did not mean what they were saying when they proclaimed Jesus king. It is to say, though, that they were lacking in the same ways that many of us are lacking—in understanding and in resolve. And their and our lack of understanding and resolve are daggers that strike at the heart of our Christian witness.
Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding. They did not understand who Jesus really was; they did not understand what he had come to be and to do. When they proclaimed him king, they likely had in their mind a different kind of king than Jesus came to be. They expected a king who would rule over a political kingdom; Jesus came to rule over a spiritual kingdom. They expected a king who would establish an earthly kingdom; Jesus came to establish a kingdom that, while it would have extraordinary influence in this world, would have its foundations and its fulfillment in another world. They expected a king who would gain authority by the exercise of power; Jesus would gain authority by living a servant life that would lead to a sacrificial death. Luke makes it clear that when Jesus spoke to his disciples about his coming death, they just didn’t get it (9:44-45; 18:31-35). Under their cloaks the disciples hid daggers of misunderstanding.
Really, though, their misunderstanding is to some degree understandable. After all, they had little evidence in their Scriptures to lead them to anticipate a crucified Messiah. The Suffering Servant passages of Isaiah pointed in that direction but frankly were much clearer in retrospect than in prospect. Also, the disciples were, like all people, blessed and cursed by their tradition; theirs taught them to expect a militarily powerful Messiah who would take Israel to a place of prominence in the world, not a Messiah hanging dead on a cross.
Our daggers of misunderstanding are much more difficult to comprehend and even to tolerate. If we have trusted our lives to Jesus and if we have committed our lives to following him, then it should be our aim to be true to him as he really is, not as we want him to be. We should know better than we sometimes show. Why? Because we have the New Testament, which is authoritative to us, and the New Testament consistently tells us that Jesus was a servant Messiah who willingly gave his life up as a sacrifice for our sins. He gave up his heavenly prerogatives to walk among us and to die as one of us for all of us. But is that how we think about Jesus? We may say that we do but do our lives reflect such thinking?
Remember, now, that how we think about Jesus shows in how we live because we disciples are to be modeling our lives after his. Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we show love even to our enemies? Do we forgive? Do we serve others with no thought of payback or reward? Do we focus on giving rather than taking?
We throw down our cloaks when we acknowledge Jesus as King. When we put them back on, are we concealing daggers of misunderstanding?
Under their cloaks the disciples also hid daggers of flagging resolve. On Palm Sunday, when spirits and expectations were high, they were singing the praises of Jesus. They were shouting and laughing and rejoicing. All was going well and they had reached the great city of Jerusalem for the great feast of Passover. They were committed disciples of the great rabbi Jesus. But where would they be four days hence when Jesus was arrested? Where would they be when he was being flogged and insulted? Where would they be five days hence when he was hanging on the cross? Where would they be six days hence while his body was lying in the tomb? They would be scattered, frightened, and hidden. When the going got tough, their resolve got going. The disciples celebrated who Jesus was by laying their cloaks in front of him as he rode triumphantly into Jerusalem, but when they put their cloaks back on, they hid daggers of flagging resolve.
Their resolve would return, though, after they encountered the resurrected Lord. Let me remind you that the resurrected Lord who restored their resolve is the only Lord that we know. We know him in the power of his resurrection or we know him not at all. The resurrected Lord who caused his disciples to go out and to risk their lives to proclaim him to the world is the same Lord whom we know in our lives today. Should not our desire and commitment to follow Jesus remain at a high level, given that we know all the time what the disciples knew only after the resurrection? They fled not only because they feared for their own lives but because all of their hopes were crushed. When their hopes were corrected and then resurrected along with Jesus, their resolve not only returned but multiplied.
The disciples’ resolve disappeared in the face of imminent danger. What causes our resolve to fade or disappear? In our culture it is surely not the threat of persecution. I’m afraid it’s something far worse. It’s complacency. It’s carelessness. It’s inattentiveness. It’s indifference. And it’s truly incredible. It’s incredible because of the great gulf that often exists between what we profess with our mouths and what we live with our lives. We say Jesus is King and Lord. We say that we serve a risen Savior. But how are those realities really impacting our lives? Does our resolve to follow him and to serve him stay at a high level? Or do our cloaks of commitment shelter a dagger of flagging resolve?
On Palm Sunday we join with disciples around the world in proclaiming that Jesus Christ is King. But he was a humble King. He was a compassionate King. He was a forgiving King. Five days from now we will recall that he was a crucified King. As we remember his life and death, we do well to examine our lives. How well do they reflect our following of such a Messiah? Do we have the mind of Christ? Do we exhibit the love of Christ? When someone hurts us, how do we respond—do we hold a grudge or do we forgive? When someone is hurting, how do we respond—by talking about him or by trying to help him? When someone is struggling, how do we respond—by turning away from them or by turning toward them?
As we pick up our cloaks and put them back on today, let’s be sure that we are not concealing daggers of misunderstanding and flagging resolve. They really do hurt our witness to our Lord and Savior.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
April Fools for Christ
(Sabbath Blog #11)
Today is April 1st and thus April Fool’s Day. The extensive research I did on the subject (five minutes looking at a web site or two) revealed that the origins of the day are uncertain. The roots of the day probably lie in various pagan observances that were marked by such jocularities as dressing in costumes and playing pranks. While some efforts have been made in the past to Christianize the day, there’s really no connection. And I’m not advocating for one.
Still, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that Almighty God did some mighty foolish things in carrying out his plan of salvation. They were foolish, that is, as the world reckons foolishness. He chose to have his Son come to earth to live as one of us. He had his Son leave his unrestricted existence to take on the limitations of human life. He had him leave his heavenly home where he was adored by angels to come to earth where he would be despised and rejected by people. He had him live a life in which he showed compassion and love and acceptance to the worst outcasts of the society in which he lived. The Father chose to have his Son give his life as a ransom for undeserving and largely ungrateful humanity. He chose the Cross as the way for his Son.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day to commemorate the foolish things that God did in Jesus to bring about his plan of salvation. Wait, we do have such a day and it’s coming later this week. It’s called Good Friday.
Also, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that we are called to be fools for Christ. I’m frankly not too sure that very many of us really live in the foolish ways that our Lord calls us to live.
Here is what Paul said as he reflected on what it meant for him and his companions to live as “fools for the sake of Christ”: “To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, we are poorly clothed and beaten and homeless, and we grow weary from the work of our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we speak kindly. We have become like the rubbish of the world, the dregs of all things, to this very day” (1 Corinthians 4:11-13 NRSV).
It is God’s “foolish” way for his followers that we live lives that don’t characteristically lead to comfort, to prestige, and even to success as the world reckons success. Our lives are to be so counter-cultural, so opposite from the ways of the world, that we are looked upon with suspicion and even with contempt by those whose lives are ruled by another ruler. In such living lies our witness, because in such living lies the kind of weakness in which God’s strength is made obvious. Obviously, though, we need to be reminded.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day on which we can be reminded of our call to be fools for Christ. Wait, we do have such a day. It’s coming this week and every week. It comes any time that we have the opportunity to experience the risen Christ in our lives, to read the Bible that teaches us of his way, to be inspired by people who have lived and who are living the Jesus kind of life, and to let God’s grace and our faith truly take hold so that we show his love in those powerfully foolish ways.
It’s the day called Every Day.
Today is April 1st and thus April Fool’s Day. The extensive research I did on the subject (five minutes looking at a web site or two) revealed that the origins of the day are uncertain. The roots of the day probably lie in various pagan observances that were marked by such jocularities as dressing in costumes and playing pranks. While some efforts have been made in the past to Christianize the day, there’s really no connection. And I’m not advocating for one.
Still, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that Almighty God did some mighty foolish things in carrying out his plan of salvation. They were foolish, that is, as the world reckons foolishness. He chose to have his Son come to earth to live as one of us. He had his Son leave his unrestricted existence to take on the limitations of human life. He had him leave his heavenly home where he was adored by angels to come to earth where he would be despised and rejected by people. He had him live a life in which he showed compassion and love and acceptance to the worst outcasts of the society in which he lived. The Father chose to have his Son give his life as a ransom for undeserving and largely ungrateful humanity. He chose the Cross as the way for his Son.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day to commemorate the foolish things that God did in Jesus to bring about his plan of salvation. Wait, we do have such a day and it’s coming later this week. It’s called Good Friday.
Also, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day when we remind ourselves that we are called to be fools for Christ. I’m frankly not too sure that very many of us really live in the foolish ways that our Lord calls us to live.
Here is what Paul said as he reflected on what it meant for him and his companions to live as “fools for the sake of Christ”: “To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, we are poorly clothed and beaten and homeless, and we grow weary from the work of our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we speak kindly. We have become like the rubbish of the world, the dregs of all things, to this very day” (1 Corinthians 4:11-13 NRSV).
It is God’s “foolish” way for his followers that we live lives that don’t characteristically lead to comfort, to prestige, and even to success as the world reckons success. Our lives are to be so counter-cultural, so opposite from the ways of the world, that we are looked upon with suspicion and even with contempt by those whose lives are ruled by another ruler. In such living lies our witness, because in such living lies the kind of weakness in which God’s strength is made obvious. Obviously, though, we need to be reminded.
So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a day on which we can be reminded of our call to be fools for Christ. Wait, we do have such a day. It’s coming this week and every week. It comes any time that we have the opportunity to experience the risen Christ in our lives, to read the Bible that teaches us of his way, to be inspired by people who have lived and who are living the Jesus kind of life, and to let God’s grace and our faith truly take hold so that we show his love in those powerfully foolish ways.
It’s the day called Every Day.
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