Saturday - Easter Week

I am not looking for anything profound as I walk through these days of Holy Week. I simply want to pause, observe and notice the Spirit's movement as we celebrate this week of redemption.

Saturday

There are no mentions of this day in any of the four gospels. It is Sabbath, so the crowd from late in the day Friday would have dispersed before sundown, the start of Sabbath. That would have left Jesus, his disciples and the household of Lazarus free for the rest Sabbath should provide.

This had to be welcomed by Jesus. He is God, but he is also man. I don’t proclaim to understand incarnation, frankly, I am a bit suspicious of anyone who thinks they have this mystery figured out. As a man who also is God, I believe he knew what was coming but was experiencing this knowledge as a man at the same time. I think Jesus took this day and spent it with his Father, our Father. He had always drawn away to be alone with Abba throughout his years of earthly ministry. What better place for him to be on this last Sabbath before crucifixtion?

I am thinking that while we have no record of activity for this day, I can’t help but sense a hush in the heavenlies. A pause before the drama and battles of the coming week. Perhaps all of heaven fell silent. What might have been going through the mind of Abba as he observed his only begotten son rest in this Sabbath?

Things may have been stirring in the heavenlies that are against Jesus. Angelic beings have a perspective we do not have, but they don’t possess foreknowledge. I do wonder if our enemy was busy planning, stirring up plots in the hope of defeating this grand plan of redemption for the world. If redemption is completed, the enemy has lost, and I doubt he was sitting by on that Sabbath. Passover is coming and this just might be the opportunity to put down this grand plan of redemption for good.

Even on this day, some 2000 years later, I am resting in the silence. Resting, watching and waiting. It is a grand cosmic pause unlike any other.

First Friday of Holy Week

Because of the mandate we are living under, Easter is going to be very different from what we are accustomed to. I thought I might write something and perhaps start a conversation that would help us all focus this week on the events we will be celebrating in a more “intimate” way.

I have this graphic in my Bible that depicts the events of the Holy Week we are entering into. It is a good aid to see the chronology of the week and what was happening. I thought I’d take a look at the scriptures for each day and make some observations. Feel free to write back and let’s see what others may be thinking as we walk through this week together.

FRIDAY

The first notation in the graphic starts with this Friday. There is only one gospel that looks at this day, John 12:1-11.

The scene is Bethany, the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. It has been some short time since Jesus has brought his dear friend from the grave. As I think about the scene and Jesus’ desire to be in Bethany I realize this is exactly where Jesus wants to be. I think Bethany is as close to “home” as any place for him.

I am still working during these peculiar days. As many of you know, I work in an essential business, the grocery business. My role is supportive to the 126 stores in my company. Today has been a particularly hectic day. I could not wait to get the day behind me and get home, leaving the chaos behind.

Jesus is one week from hanging on a cross. I wonder if he just needed this time in his friend’s home. He knows what he is facing and this is the last time he will have to simply kick back with good friends. Things are going to start moving very quickly and he knows this. Maybe he simply needs a quiet evening.

I love the scene, I can see them around the table and Mary comes in with a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume, and pours it on Jesus’ feet, wiping them with her hair. It is an act of intimate devotion and worship. This is not just words spoken by Mary or a look exchanged between Jesus and her. This is hands-on, down on her knees love. I doubt at that moment Mary knew the significance of what she was doing, she simply was following some leading in her to do this, to show Jesus how much she loved him. We can see from this and from other accounts Mary has a deep connection to Jesus.

I wonder if that scent of nard will follow him through the events of the following week. Certainly, the scent stayed with Mary in her hair. What a bittersweet reminder it will become as the week unfolds.

We also learn something about someone else, Judas. I am a little startled by John’s words about Judas here as he explains Judas’ role through the years of ministry as the keeper of the money bag. How did John know Judas had been helping himself to money from time to time?

We read Judas objected to Mary’s act of devotion questioning, rather disingenuously, why such waste. Certainly, the poor could have benefited had the nard been sold and the money used for others.

We want a villain and Judas seems to fill the role. We know what role he is going to play. But let me just say, this character flaw is important to note and I will circle back to it with an observation later in the week. His true colors are showing here.

If you read Jesus’ response in verses 7 & 8, try to hear not reproof of Judas, but a gentle acknowledgement of what Mary had just done. She didn’t know until that moment that this lavish gift she’d just poured out was for Jesus imminent burial. What must have gone through her heart at that moment?

We then learn a large crowd had gathered. Here is where my hectic day comes in to play as I let this passage soak in. I suspect, as noted above, Jesus may have preferred a quiet evening with these dear ones, his disciples and Lazarus’ household. But evidently that was not to be. We don’t have a record of Jesus speaking to the crowd. I doubt he ignored them though. What could he have said? We may never know. Or perhaps we will when we are finally in our eternal home with some of those that gathered that night.

We also learn something else. Lazarus has a price on his head. He is the living embodiment of Jesus’ power over death. The short-sighted Pharisees can only believe if they kill Lazarus and make good on their plans to kill Jesus, they will finally be rid of this itinerate rabbi who has caused them so much trouble. I would imagine they may forget about Lazarus when finally confronted with Jesus’ resurrection in a little over a week.

So, that is just a little start to our journey through these days. Let this scene rest a little as a prelude to what is coming.

Rhythm

There is a rhythm to the exercise of our faith. For many of us, this rhythm is centered around weekly attendance at church. Flowing out of this weekly meeting are all sorts of ancillary activities: youth groups, life groups, Bible studies, men's and women's events, informal gatherings. All are designed around the hope of growth in our faith, in our relationship with God.

This rhythm is not a bad thing. It is our culture's response to "church" as spoken of in the New Testament. The writer of Hebrews tells us to "not forsake the gathering together", and our weekly rhythm of coming together is a good response to this prompt.

I am tempted to write here that this rhythm has been disrupted, but rather it has been stripped away through recent events and government mandates. Yes, we are attempting to maintain a semblance of the rhythm with streamed worship services. While I don't think there is anything wrong with this response to the mandate to shelter at home, I do wonder what God is up to.

A good friend, one who serves on the staff of my church, recently voiced this same wondered question. His question was centered around what "church" might look like after this period of forced separation. It is a good question to ponder in light of how technology has replaced physical building and face to face gathering. I too wonder if this disruption might cause larger churches to evaluate the time and resources committed to programmed ministries. It might be a good time to start fresh and see what might grow organically rather than simply picking up where we left off when we are once again allowed to freely gather.

But that is not my main thought. I am sensing something else, a wondered hope for hunger to arise within us. I am certain many are missing the presence of good friends, their faces, hugs and voices that are part of healthy fellowship. I certainly look forward to the day we can freely gather again, formally as well as spontaneously. Perhaps this desire for others is a shadow of a deeper desire. It just might be Abba wants us to lean deeper into this desire, let it grow to a hunger for Him.

Jesus made an incredible statement to His guys that last Passover. He said we are in Him and He is in us. None of these present events surprises God. Maybe some of this "down" time, away from the busy-ness of our culture, could be used to unpack a bit of this mystery Jesus spoke of. What does this really mean for us, this Christ in us, we in Christ? It can start with a bit of sacred hunger.

Jesus also told His guys the Spirit would come after He left. The Spirit was to be our comfort, our counselor and guide into all truth. This Spirit dwells in us. I can't help but think this peculiar territory we all find ourselves in, is very fertile territory, if we but take some time to be with Jesus.

Take a deep breath, open Scripture and let it breath into you. Let it read you! Let hunger for God have its way and lead you, your good heart, into something different, more personal. Perhaps this time can be the establishment of a new rhythm for us all, a rhythm of personal fellowship with the lover of our souls, a rhythm where we can fall more deeply in love with Jesus.

Stumble

We all stumble. When we find ourselves in that territory where we've stumbled I think we put Jesus distant, hazy, on the periphery, maybe even out of focus. He's there, just not closely there. This leads us to believe we need to get up from the stumble and make our way to Him. Two conclusions snake their way into our consciousness, you are on your own and you have to make your way to Jesus in the "there" of the familiar territory of your stumble and make a hasty departure. Your haste to get up and move away hopefully earns some "points" with Jesus. You don't realize it, but you are dancing a little around the idol of self-righteousness.

We place Jesus in the territory because we've been taught He will never leave us, but by placing Him distant, on the periphery, we are only paying a dutiful, religious nod to His presence, the fact He said He'd never leave us. This is really a subtle attack on the truth, Jesus in you, you in Jesus, but our guilt and shame won't allow us to see this.

Stumbling happens so quickly, one minute you are walking well, the next moment you are ungraciously flat in the dust. Maybe it was a word said to you that lit your fuse and anger took over with regretful words spewing out. It could have been a juicy piece of gossip you just couldn't keep to yourself. What about those few minutes on your computer at work to check a news feed that turned into three hours of surfing the web. You're brought up short with the realization you have essentially stolen from your employer. How about that single little glance at something momentarily arousing and off you go into the black hole of pornography.

Whatever it was, with lightening speed you stumble, fall flat in the dust of this familiar territory. You've been there many, many times before. Eyes closed, you feel consumed by guilt and shame. Maybe if you feel the full weight of this harsh, hard shame it will cure you of this easy stumble.

Finally, with the thought, "Here I am again, I've got to get myself back on my feet and out of here", you open your eyes and there is Jesus. No, you are not seeing His feet as He stands over you, He is laying in the dust, face to face looking straight into your eyes, your soul.

Startled, you stir to get up, but Jesus gently lays his hand on you, "Let's stay here awhile". You are stunned. He is right there kindly laying there in your dust, with you, in the territory of your failure. Slowly the guilt and shame begin to leak out of you as you stay still in His steady gaze.

Eventually the two of you rise to your feet and you see both of you are covered in your dust. The guilt and shame assault again and you begin to swat at the dust clinging to you. "No, let me do that", you hear Jesus say and He starts to swat clean the dust clinging to you. Then you notice with every swat at your clothing, the dust clinging to Jesus also falls away.

You take a step to leave the wreckage but He says, "Stay with me here for awhile". Everything in you wants to move away, but you want to stay with Jesus and He's not moving, so you remain. You're uncomfortable with having Him here in this familiar but unfortunate terrain. He appears entirely comfortable to remain. This place has no power over Him.

"Tell me about this place", He says. You take a deep breath and haltingly try to find words. Something in you breaks and you pour your heart out..

"Do you know why you stumble so easily?" You're a little frustrated. "Didn't I just pour out my heart about this place?" you think. After some silence while you try to unravel this horrible knot of sin you finally answer, "No. I hate that I do fall, but I can't stop this. I feel powerless".

"I am the cornerstone of your life. When you take your eyes off me, you stumble over the cornerstone. I don't cause the stumble, it is just the natural outcome of you losing sight of me." You've been listening with downcast eyes. Finally you look up, into His eyes finding nothing but love.

Reading your thoughts He goes on to say, "I know you want to get away from this place as quickly as possible, but I want us to stay here together so we can talk. In time we will move on. Just stay here with me".

So you stay and let Him minister healing, you learn more deeply His voice within.

Majesty

You recently reminded me of this word in my slow meander with You in Isaiah.

               Though grace is shown to the wicked,
               they do not learn righteousness,
               even in a land of uprightness they go on doing evil
               and regard not the majesty of the Lord.
                            Isaiah 26:10

Majesty. I love that word. The created world sings of majesty. From a sunrise to a sunset, from a thick forest to a lone tree, from Mt. Shasta to the Grand Canyon, from the roaring ocean to a single dew drop, from the tallest redwood to a single blade of grass, Your majesty is sung over the whole earth. The proliferation of interconnected life is majestic. And even this is a mere shadow of the majesty I may yet be shown in my eternal home.

How can one not see this? This awe and wonder has been stolen by our enemy who spews out the lie this all was not created by intelligent design but is mere happenstance of colliding atoms that accidentally came together to form something new. Our prolific earth, so precisely placed into space is an accident.

No, this cannot be so. Our little earth screams life, it can't help but sprout life. The awe and wonder at this, that so many have lost, leaves them bankrupt, empty of true life, a life abundant, offered by You, Jesus.

Again, I must say, if this world vibrates in the image of Your majesty, how much more glorious is Your true majesty? And yet Your grace shown to the wicked produces no righteousness. Evil continues, is actually sought after. This evil corrupts so that any real majesty is missed. Just missed, not overlooked, just missed.

Majesty, how I love this word. Maybe it is one of my favorite words, ranked up there with grace and mercy.

TENT

The circus has come to town. Several times a week, in the course of doing my job I drive by three huge tents, white with deep royal blue swirls cascading to the ground declare Cirque Du Soleil is in town here in Sacramento for the month of February. I'd like to go see this spectacle. A few years ago my mother gave us two tickets to see the circus when it was in San Francisco. It was a memorable experience, but the tent used back then was not as beautiful as the tents the troupe has erected here in Sacramento. Seeing those tents has caused me to revisit my love of tents.

Growing up we had a little 9' X 9' dark green heavy canvas tent. Every summer we would haul it up to our family's favorite campground along the Middle Fork of the Yuba here in northern California. It was where we spent our summer vacation weeks when my folks had time off from their jobs. It wasn't far from home, probably just less than 30 miles, but it always felt worlds away for me.

Dad always folded it up precisely into thirds, one side in a third, the other side on top then the oblong folded again into thirds leaving a folded square of canvas about 3' square. It seemed magical to me whenever we would site that square where it would finally reside for the couple of weeks we would camp. Dad would carefully unfold it, stake it down, then crawl inside with the umbrella-like frame that supported the tent when fully erected and work it into place popping the whole canvas creation into the little room that became home for us.

My older sister, Carla, and I rarely slept in the tent. We were allowed to take our camp cots and find our own spots we would sleep in, places that became our bedrooms under the stars, but the tent was always our "home base" where Mom and Dad, along with our baby sister when she came along, would sleep.

Tents today are much lighter and easier to put up today, but I remember fondly that dark green canvas tent we used for years.

Something about these memories stirs in me thoughts about how we inhabit our places now. We strive for permanence that tents do not offer. As I write this, I am sitting out front of my home. I really love our home. It is modest by western measurements, just under 2000 square feet, but it has been our home for over 22 years now. I don't think there is anything wrong with our pursuit of what we call the American dream, home ownership, but I don't want to forget, this world really is not my home.

John tells us in I John the second chapter that we should not love the world. I think I understand this to mean our deeper love needs to be for God's kingdom, a kingdom yet to come and our heavenly home we will enter when we pass from this life into the next. I don't want my love for my home here on earth to supplant the home my heart was truly made for.

I am also reminded that many of our spiritual fore-bearers lived out lives of pilgrimage following God in shelters of tents. I think of Abram, leaving all he knew into the uncertainty of following  God's leading. It was a "tent" existence that meant he was always ready to move when God spoke.

My cherished memories of that green tent calls me to wonder if I am following well the examples of so many who were willing to live out "tent" lives to follow closely the God of heaven and earth.

Advent 2019

My church has taken a very non-traditional approach to Advent this year. Starting with the Sunday just prior to Thanksgiving a partnership with Compassion International for sponsors in Ecuador was rolled out. It really has been very beautiful and a wonderful counter-balance to the consumerism that has engulfed this season here in the United States. The hope that Sunday was for 500 children to gain sponsors through those attending. Over 800 children now have sponsors that, hopefully, will impact the poverty these children live in.

The second Sunday of the series funds were raised to build a church/school in one of the cities where many of the sponsored children live. Again, the hoped for goal was surpassed by nearly double the hoped for amount.

The final Sunday folk were encouraged to consider joining a planned mission trip to Ecuador for next Fall. Again, the number of people expressing interest was exceeded by a large percentage. It really was beautiful to experience the willingness of our congregation to get behind this concerted effort to alter a cycle of poverty in one small part of our world, especially at this time of year when too much emphasis is on receiving.

Having said this, I must admit I missed the traditional approach and look at the familiar passages from Matthew and Luke that outline Jesus' birth. I picked up a great book of daily devotions that I've been using to help me focus more intentionally to this season. But I approached this last Sunday hungry to hear a traditional sermon regarding the cause for our celebration. I was not disappointed.

At the top of our sermon notes was the opening of John's gospel.

                                        The word became flesh
                                        Made His dwelling among us

                                        We have seen His glory
                                        Glory of the One and Only Son

                                        Came from the Father
                                        Full of Grace and Truth
                                                                                         John 1:14
                                                                                         (Editing and format mine)

I wrote words in my journal as I listened, listened to Phil, and to God's voice. I wrote this:

Incarnated in such a way that He can be missed; God in hiding, hiding not well if we search and seek with eyes of faith. Hidden nonetheless in human flesh, disrupting smug religion couched in "knowing secrets". He's out in the open, poured out for us to find, found through God-invited faith fueled by desire for truth and grace.

I know it seems odd to think of Incarnation as a form of hidden-ness, but the babe was missed until shepherds arrived having been prompted by an angelic visitation. It would take years before His true nature was recognized and even that was incomplete until resurrection.

I think that was the plan all along, hidden in flesh but out in the open, poured out for us in such a mysterious way. The mystery of Incarnation, fully God and fully man, is not something we can really grasp. It was the plan, a plan that invites us to accept by faith. Without faith we can never please God and it begins at the manger, a lowly birth, actually we can hardly imagine a more lowly birth among animals and in a feed trough. It is really scandalous when one thinks of it, yet that was the plan. He came in the dark of night, born to completely uproot our enemy and his stronghold.

It is this hidden-ness and this passage that has captured my thoughts and this short passage has now become my favorite nativity passage this season of Advent, 2019.