TGIF

Thank God It’s Friday!


Shows like Family Matters and Full House get a lot of the credit for the success of ABC’s TGIF lineup, but for my money, it was all Perfect Strangers, all the time.

It’s funny how often we say that phrase and its famous acronym on the other 51 Fridays of the year, and how rarely we apply it to today, the Friday for which we ought to be most thankful.

Not a criticism, merely a curiosity. I’m definitely a TGIF kind of guy, and always have been.

I think we love Fridays because they’re dripping with potential.  On Friday, the weekend is just beginning, and anything can happen.

Dinner out. Movies. Beer and wings. Clubbing. Weekend getaways. Sports. Relaxation. Hangovers. Sleeping in. Repeat.

Whatever’s going to happen, we can say with certainty it’ll be better than the previous few days, because at least we’re not at work!

Contrast that with Sunday, the last day of the weekend, which usually brings with it a certain amount of dread. Sure, the weekend’s not over yet, but it’s getting close. Factor in church in the morning and the evening’s lunch-making and going-to-bed-early activities, and we’re reduced to just a few hours of freedom on Sunday afternoon.

I worked with a woman a few years ago who preferred taking Fridays off over Mondays because she’d rather her weekend have two Saturdays than two Sundays. She wasn’t wrong…

In some ways, Friday is exalted even above than Saturday, because by Saturday night, the weekend’s half over and, frankly, hasn’t lived up to the unrealistic hype we packed it with on Friday. Consider Verse 3 of Leonard Cohen’s epic 1992 hit, Closing Time:

‘We’re drinkin’ and we’re dancin’ but there’s nothing really happenin’, ’cause the place is dead as heaven on a Saturday night.’

When we’ve squandered our Saturday, we’re reminded all the more emphatically that drab, dull Sunday is around the corner, and that makes our Saturday Night Blues all the bluesier.

That’s why I’m often perplexed when I hear a preacher offer the ‘encouragement’, It’s Friday… But Sunday’s comin’!

Tony Campolo used this phrase repeatedly in a Mars Hill Bible Church sermon I’ve talked about before, and while I loved the sermon overall, this phrase didn’t resonate with me.

It’s Friday … But Sunday’s comin’. 

‘You bragging or complaining, Tony?’ my five-day-work-week-oriented self wanted to ask the podcast.

I’ve since realized, though, that even though I’ve been a Christian for nearly two decades, I still have my head on crooked about Friday and Sunday.

In case some of you do too, here are some thoughts:

Good Friday, when viewed from the other side of the cross, is the worst day in human history. What a misnomer!

God became flesh, moved into our neighborhood, and loved us. He taught us, walked on water for us, turned water into wine for us, healed hundreds of us, fed thousands of us and even brought a few of us back from the dead – and in response, we killed Him.
As Jesus said on the cross, ‘Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing.

We sure didn’t.

Three of the four Gospels tell us that for the three hours while Jesus was on the cross, a darkness covered the land.

It must have also been the darkest of days, emotionally, for Jesus’ friends and followers. All the joy and hope of Palm Sunday, just five days earlier, was obliterated when Jesus was arrested, tried and crucified. As the disciples’ leader hung on the cross, they were too scared to stay with Him, let alone lift a finger to help Him.

Sadness. Disbelief. Confusion. Shame. Regret. Despondency.

That was Friday for them.

Their thoughts must also have turned to Jesus Himself. The charges brought against him were pretty flimsy, and Pilate was itching for an excuse to turn Jesus loose. Why didn’t He help Himself? ‘Jesus Christ, do you have a death wish or something?’ I bet some of them wanted to ask Him.

You were the chosen one! … You were to bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness!

Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. It’s Friday … but Sunday’s comin’.

Assuming that time has any meaning at all in heaven, what was it like in Paradise while Jesus was in the grave?

Were heaven’s praises silent in those hours of darkness? Your Holy Spirit brooding ’round that empty throne?

Don’t worry, Robin Mark.

It’s Friday … but Sunday’s comin’.

But on this side of the cross, we know that Good Friday wasn’t ironically named. As the day Jesus paid the debt for all humanity, instantly providing access to the Father for every sinner who ever lived and ever will live, Good Friday paved the way for the greatest day in human history – Easter Sunday.

Thanks to the Jesus’ actions on Good Friday, death is beaten, sin is dead and we stand redeemed and victorious.

“It is finished,” Jesus says in one of his last breaths in John 19:30.

Hallelujah, amen and hallelujah again!

… So why doesn’t it feel like it?

Maybe because, in a sense, it’s still Friday.

As Lectiocast host Daniel Kirk pointed out in at least one podcast last year – quoting 20th-century Jewish philosopher Martin Buber – ‘to the Jew, the Christian is the incomprehensibly daring man, who affirms in an unredeemed world that its redemption has been accomplished.’

We celebrate the redemption of the world as we stand in a world that doesn’t look like it’s been redeemed – from our perspective, sin is alive and well (and arguably stronger than ever), 2,000 years after it was reportedly defeated on the cross.

If sin is defeated, why is there still hunger in the world? Why is there still bigotry? Rape? Murder? War? Genocide?

Because it’s Friday … but Sunday’s comin’.

… someday.

‘The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.’  – 2 Peter 3:9

The fact that the world doesn’t look redeemed, and yet we’re invited to celebrate its redemption, is precisely the point, isn’t it? If the world went straight from the Empty Tomb to the New Heaven and New Earth, we wouldn’t need faith.

God exists outside time, so from Jesus’ perspective it is finished. From ours, it’s still in progress, but we know how things will turn out.

It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’.

Not ‘might be’, is.

What we’re invited into is a relationship with a Redeemer whose work is both done and in progress. Now and not yet, as Christians are fond of saying.

And we get to help Him accomplish that work. We get to receive Him, little by little, as much as we can handle – and then share Him as faithfully and skilfully as we’re able – with the people in our lives.

It’s hard and it’s messy and it’s frustrating and it feels futile at times. But while we struggle and falter and botch our assignments, we can also know – know – that it will all work out in the end.

We can either participate in Christ’s victory or miss out on out chance to be part of nothing less than the redemption of the universe!

As Mordecai said to Queen Esther:

‘For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” -‭‭Esther‬ ‭4:14‬

Who knows but that you have come to your position for such a time as this, reader?

It’s Friday … but Sunday’s comin’.

Thanks be to God.

Peace be with you.

Posted in Christianity, Easter, Faith, God, Grace, Gratitude, Holy Week, Martyr, Mercy of God, New Testament, Sacrifice | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Seven

Seven is a number that seems to pop up a lot in the Bible. And according to George Costanza, it’s also a great name for a baby…


 

SUSAN: It’s not a name. It’s a number.
GEORGE: I know. It’s Mickey Mantle‘s number. So not only is it an all around beautiful name, it is also a living tribute.
SUSAN: It’s awful. I hate it!
GEORGE: (angry) Well, that’s the name!
SUSAN: (also angry) Oh no it is not! No child of mine is ever going to be named Seven!
GEORGE: (yelling) Awright, let’s just stay calm here! Don’t get all crazy on me!

Yes, George. Susan is the one who’s getting all crazy in that exchange, which is from the 1996 Seinfeld episode entitled The Seven.

George has clearly gotten a little carried away in his zeal for The Mick, he’s not wrong about the awesomeness of the number seven. Mantle is one of several notable jocks to don this digit – others included John Elway, Phil Esposito and Ted Lindsay. And when people talk about lucky numbers, seven is usually near the top of the list.

Even more important than the number’s notability in sports and gambling is its significance in the Bible. It occurs in the Good Book 860 times, according to this commentary sometimes in utilitarian references, to be sure – but often its uses are packed with meaning.

Seven is described as the number of completeness and perfection, both physical and spiritual, thanks in part to its prominence in the creation story: God created the universe and fit in the perfect amount of rest in a seven-day period, so seven’s connection with perfection is not subject to objection.

In light of that, it’s not surprising how many times this number is used in the Bible. Here are but a few:

Seven clean animals in Noah’s Ark. Seven years of plenty and seven years of famine in Pharaoh’s dreams. Seven brothers for King David. Seven sneezes after Elisha raised a boy from the dead. Seven loaves to feed a multitude. Seven demons expelled from Mary Magdalene. Seven spirits for seven churches. Seven seals.

Seven sacraments. Seven Deadly Sins. Seven Virtues. Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Our faith might even have more sevens than it has threes.

But today, I want to focus on two specific sets of sevens – inspired to be sure by two of my favorite podcast preachers: A.J. Sherrill of Mars Hill Bible Church in Michigan, who recently covered the Seven ‘I am’ Statements in the Gospel of John during the Season of Epiphany, and Steven Furtick of Elevation Church in North Carolina, who’s currently working through the Seven Last Sayings of Jesus on the cross, as a build-up to Easter.

The ‘I am’ statements provide real insight into Jesus’ life and ministry, and the sayings on the cross provide significant insight into his death and mission. And as we stand on the precipice of Holy Week, it feels like a fitting moment to pause and look back on the one, and look ahead to the other. (I’m not going to try to unpack any of these iconic passages; my purpose here is to post them all in one place for you, and leave the analysis to you and God.)

So here goes:

The Seven I Am Statements

  1. Then Jesus declared, I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” – John 6:35
  2. When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, I am the light of the world.” Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” – John 8:12
  3.  Therefore Jesus said again, “Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture.” – John 10:7,9
  4. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. …  I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me” – John 10:11, 14
  5. Jesus said to her, I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die…” – John 11:25 
  6. Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” – John 14:6
  7. I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. … I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” – John 15:1,5

These statements are startling, amazing and profound – but my favorite ‘I am’ statement in John isn’t even on this list:

Very truly I tell you, Jesus answered, before Abraham was born, I am!” – John 8:58

In these few words – spoken calmly, quietly and humbly when I imagine the scene – Jesus is using this form of the verb to be to declare Himself to be God. The same God who created the universe, covenanted with Abraham and spoke to Moses in the Burning Bush.

It’s an outlandish, scandalous claim, and the Jewish leaders’ response to it accelerates His journey to the cross.

And yet, as Han Solo (Harrison Ford) says in Star Wars, Episode VIII: The Force Awakens, “Crazy thing is… it’s true. The Force. The Jedi… All of it… It’s all true.”

And the truth of Jesus’ words in John 8:58 is precisely what makes His crucifixion so important. It’s not one of thousands of unjust executions of so-called ‘criminals’ in the distant past, it’s the single most important event in human history.

What a gift and a blessing that we have, in the Gospels, a record of what was said in these final hours of our Saviour’s life:

The Seven Sayings on the Cross

  1. Jesus said, Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots. – Luke 23:34
  2. Jesus answered him, Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” – Luke 23:43
  3. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, Here is your mother. From that time on, this disciple took her into his home. – John 19:26-27
  4.  And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani? (which means My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?). – Mark 15:34
  5. Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, I am thirsty.” – John 19:28
  6. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, It is finished. With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. – John 19:30
  7. Jesus called out with a loud voice, Father, into your hands I commit my spirit. When he had said this, he breathed his last. – Luke 23:46

Peace be with you.

Posted in Bible, Christianity, Easter, Faith, Gospel, Grace, Gratitude, Holy Week, Lent, New Testament, Palm Sunday, Sacrifice | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Lot of Trouble

Aside from Jesus, which biblical character do you think of when you hear the word ‘obedient’?


Plenty of names probably come to mind, but I’m fairly certain that near the top of this list for most people is an Old Testament father figure named Abraham.

Near the end of his story, Abraham demonstrated unimaginable obedience, when he was prepared to sacrifice his favorite son, Isaac, on Mount Moriah – just because God told him to. But rewind back to the very start of his story, and the decision by Abram (as he was known at that time) to leave everything he knew and travel to a yet-to-be-identified location on God’s instruction shows a similar level of unconditional obedience.

Or does it?

The Lectionary recently gave us the start of that story, with the passage Genesis 12:1-4a, which begins with the sentence, ‘The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.’ and ends with the sentence, ‘So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him.’

Lot went with him.

As Bible scholar Daniel Kirk noted in that week’s LectioCast, there’s room to wonder if Lot’s presence on the journey represents a speck of disobedience in Abraham’s actions.

After all, the instruction here is to ‘go from your people and your father’s household‘, not ‘most of your people and your father’s household’.

Really, Baldy? Seems like a stretch.

Yeah, it kinda does – from one angle.

After all, Abram clearly wasn’t expected to make the trip by himself. He was allowed to take his wife Sarai, their livestock and servants, etc. Perhaps, in good faith, Abram saw Lot as an extended member of his household, and it didn’t occur to him that his favorite nephew needed to stay behind as well.

But notice that it wasn’t until Lot and Abram parted ways in Genesis 13 that God made a covenant with Abram in Genesis 15.

And there’s no denying that Lot’s presence on the journey stirred up a lot of trouble.

In Genesis 14, Abram has to rescue Lot, after he’s captured by the four kings. In Genesis 19, Lot’s presence in Sodom decidedly complicates and makes for significant tension in the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. There’s that tragic business about Lot’s wife being turned into a pillar of salt after she turned to see what was happening behind her, as well.

And Lot’s willingness to offer his own two daughters to a rape gang in order to spare two strangers who were guests in his home has to be one of the top 10 ugliest scenes in the whole Bible.

All this could have been avoided, had Abraham not let Lot tag along on his journey to Canaan. How sad.

†     †     †

If Kirk and I are right, Lot’s presence on Abraham’s journeys is an example of what could be called partial obedience – but it’s by no means the only one – particularly in the Old Testament.

Moses strikes the rock to provide water to the Israelites, instead of just speaking to it. Saul defeats, but doesn’t destroy, the Amalekites. King Jehoash strikes the ground as he’s commanded, but only three times.

And so on.

Because of partial obedience, Moses isn’t allowed to enter the Promised Land. Saul loses his throne. Jehoash defeats the Arameans, but isn’t able to destroy them.

The consequences of Abraham’s partial obedience don’t seem as dire as these examples – not for Abraham, anyway – but fast forward a few generations, and his descendants probably would’ve preferred he left Lot back in Mesopotamia.

You see, after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, there’s the sordid story in Genesis 19:30-38 of when Lot holes up in a cave with his two daughters – the same daughters he offered to the Sodomites earlier in the chapter. With their marriage prospects dimming due to their family’s reversal of fortune, the girls decide to get their dad drunk and seduce him so they can have children.

The text says those children were the ancestors of the Moabites and Ammonites – two people groups that caused enormous problems for the Israelites in generations to come.

A Lot of trouble indeed.

I wonder how the story of Israel would’ve been different if Abram had left all of his people and his father’s household back in Harran.

†     †     †

Now, you can’t really blame Abraham for the existence of Moab and Ammon – there’s obviously no way he could have known that letting Lot tag along on his epic journey to an unknown destination would spawn two of Israel’s most contentious enemies.

But maybe that’s precisely the point.

We don’t know what will happen when we stray from God’s plan for us – but God does, and that’s why we need to do what She says. Because God is the boss of us, yes. But also because God knows what’s best for us – far better than we do.

It’s not God’s job to talk us into doing things His way by filling in all of the details of what will happen if we don’t fully obey – that’s not authority in action, it’s persuasion.

As many a Bible commentator has noted, partial obedience is an oxymoron – like somewhat pregnant or alternative facts. Partial obedience is disobedience. Any thoughts to the contrary are delusions.

And in light of what I noted earlier about it arguably never having occurred to Abram that Lot’s presence wasn’t part of God’s plan, it seems all the more vital that we pay close attention to the marching orders we’re given, and make sure we don’t inadvertently – or advertently – exceed them.

Peace be with you.

Posted in Bible, Faith, Family, Gratitude, Old Testament, Relationship, Torah | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The H-Word

Get your hallelujahs out while you can, folks: Lent is almost upon us.


In the Anglican Church, and probably in some other liturgical denominations, we conclude many of our services with the phrase, ‘Thanks be to God. Alleluia!’ But for the six Sundays of Lent, we refrain from saying the final word in that phrase – because alleluia/hallelujah smacks a little too much of celebration for the sombre and reflective season of Lent.

Speaking of ‘Hallelujah’, have you listened lately to the classic Leonard Cohen song by that name? Chances are the answer is ‘yes’, because the track is probably one of the most covered tunes of the 20th Century. Everyone from k.d. lang and Rufus Wainwright to Bob Dylan and Susan Boyle has sung the song at one time or another. It’s almost become a cliche.

My church music team has sung the Christmas version of the song popularized on YouTube by Christian music group Cloverton a few times, and who can forget the video of an Irish priest singing an adapted version of the song during a wedding a few years back?

I thought the song had lost all its power to move me, but a few months ago, a preacher named Travis Eades took me to church, once again, on the power of Cohen’s Hallelujah.

Eades is one of the pastors at Oak Hills Church in San Antonio, Texas, and he was preaching on November 26/27 as part of a year-long journey his church is taking through The Story – a chronological Bible of sorts, adapted by his more famous Oak Hills colleagues, Max Lucado and Randy Frazee.

His topic that week was King David, in the sermon called Trials of the King and he kept cleverly dropping words from the song into the sermon – I thought he was merely doing subtle shout-outs as Easter eggs for fellow Cohen fans to find. But at the apex of the talk, he switched seamlessly from preacher to singer and belted out a gorgeous version of Cohen’s Hallelujah.

Goosebumps-arooni-dooni for Baldy. (The song is no longer part of the sermon recording, but trust me, it was great.)

Since then, I’ve wanted to share similar insights from the song into the life of David – the King, the sinner, the man after God’s own heart – in my blog, and I figure the pre-Lent period (our last kick at the H-word for a while) is as good a time as any.

So here goes:

I've been a Cohen fan since 1993, but the first version of Hallelujah I ever heard was Rufus Wainwright's on the Shrek soundtrack. My kids still refer to the song as 'the Shrek Song'.

I’ve been a Cohen fan since 1993, but the first version of Hallelujah I ever heard was Rufus Wainwright’s on the Shrek soundtrack. My kids still refer to the song as ‘the Shrek Song’.

If you’ve ever compared different artists’ recordings of Cohen’s Hallelujah, you might have noticed that they don’t all contain the same verses. My good friend Mr. Google tells me that seven verses have been recorded over the years, and that it’s unusual that all seven verses appear in the same rendition of the tune.

Since it seems to be kosher for artists to choose their favorite Hallelujah stanzas when they perform or record the song, and in keeping with Eades’ approach, I’ve chosen four verses for this blog post that I think shed interesting light on Israel’s shining king – and can be helpful for us as well.

Let’s begin with the traditional first verse:

(Is it possible to finish a banjo song without that cornball ending? I don’t know; I’ve never tried.)

I’ve heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth; the minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

David in this verse is writing Psalms to the Lord. So far, so good. But what leaps out to me is the word ‘baffled’.

It’s as if David doesn’t even really understanding where these songs are coming from – probably because this work is divinely inspired.

Hallelujah indeed!

(There’s no such thing as a sad song if it’s played on a ukulele.)

Your faith was strong but you needed proof, You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair, She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

This is the verse where David really starts to get into trouble. He’s tempted when he sees Bathsheba bathing on the roof and her beauty and the moonlight overthrow his better judgment and he falls from grace.

Now, the second half of the verse seems to be about Samson and Delilah, rather than David and Bathsheba, but a similar ‘He’s God’s anointed doing God’s will, until he lets his hormones run his life, and then his conduct with a woman is his undoing’ vibe, so I like how the stories of David and Samson intertwine here – it underscores the universality of the human condition, and reminds us that in a sense, David’s story is our story, too.

(This thing is harder to play than it looks.)

Maybe there’s a God above, But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it’s not a cry that you hear at night, It’s not somebody who’s seen the light,
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

This one is a bit more abstract, but I like how even when he’s not somebody who’s seen the light, he still offers a hallelujahcold and broken though it is – because that’s all he knows how to do. Even when we’re far from God, the ‘motions‘ of our faith linger, and it’s sometimes by ‘going through the motions’ even when we don’t feel it that our faith is reignited and we return.

And finally…

(Cheer up, Baldy!)

I did my best, it wasn’t much; I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong, I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!

chalkboardThis verse feels to me like a poetic exploration of David’s repentance – not only about about his adultery with Bathsheba and his murder of Uriah, but also about the totality of his life, in which he often missed the mark – even when he was trying to be righteous. Here we have David standing before the Lord of Song, knowing that it all went wrong, confessing that although he did his best, it wasn’t much – but also knowing that God’s grace is always bigger than man’s failure. God still loves and forgives and accepts him.

In the face of that, knowing that God will still have him, he’s so humbled and ashamed and grateful that he’s got no words to offer – there’s nothing on my tongue but hallelujah.

Amen.

Peace be with you.

Posted in Bible, Faith, Old Testament, Prayer, Psalms, Relationship, Words, Wrath of God, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Perfect: Is that All?

Bless me, reader(s), for I have sinned: it has been more than two months since my last blog post.


confessionI suspect that few of you are particularly upset by the long dearth of content – surely there are other places on the World Wide Web where you can turn for half-baked, wishy-washy, pollyanna, obvious and sometimes borderline heretical spiritual reflections, aren’t there?

And to be honest, I’m not terribly upset about this extended hiatus either, because the reason I haven’t done much writing about Disciplehood lately is that I’ve been too busy living out my Disciplehood.

RdDeColoresRoosterI’ve been asked to serve as the Lay Director for the upcoming Men’s Spring Cursillo weekend here in the Anglican Diocese of Calgary, and the discernment process that’s exploring whether I’m called to ordained ministry is gathering steam – so I’ve been too busy with those two items (plus work and family, of course) to spend much time in the ol’ Blog Factory.

But I thought I’d take some time today to get back in the sweatshop, in light of a momentous milestone in my own journey: my first sermon.

That’s right – my pastor (The Ven. Stephen Hambidge of Holy Trinity Anglican Church in Calgary) invited me to step into the pulpit and share some thoughts on the day’s readings, just like a real preacherman.

My first sermon is titled, ‘An Ultimatum … or an Invitation’.

In case you’re interested, here it is:

And here’s a link to the questions that accompany the sermon.

And I gotta say, preparing and delivering the sermon was tougher than I expected. I’ve been writing wanna-be sermons in this blog for more than six years now, and through Cursillo and my role as Music Director at HTACC, public speaking about spiritual topics is fairly familiar territory – but being the actual Sermon Guy on a Sunday morning is something quite different.

Coming up with something to say that’s insightful, helpful and relevant to the day’s Lectionary readings – and then presenting it in a way that’s engaging but not gimmicky – is a bigger challenge than I expected.

And I’ve got to tell you: that ‘not gimmicky’ thing was tough for me. I had a long (but not all that funny) Superman joke and a Kenny Rogers song written into a draft of the sermon at one point – as well as plans to have the congregation shout back to me key words in the sermon as we came to them.

But I decided to approach the sermon a little more conventionally than I do my Cursillo talks and my blog posts, to make sure that the substance had center stage, rather than style – partly out of respect for people’s time.

Speaking of respecting people’s time, I could easily have written a 45-minute sermon and not picked all of the low-hanging fruit in Leviticus 19:1-2; 9-18 and Matthew 5:38-48 – our readings for February 19. Deciding which great bits – all of which supported the general message and theme of the sermon – to save for another day, and which ones to preach on Sunday, was tougher than I expected.

It was a great reminder for me of how much wisdom and insight is waiting in these texts, just waiting for us to dive in, wrestle with it and dare to apply it to our lives. Not that there’s anything humdrum in the Sermon on the Mount, but it’s also well-trodden territory. Still, I’ve discovered (and will continue to discover) that even if you’ve heard five-thousand sermons on the Feeding of the Five-Thousand, there’s always room for one more.

Now, in light of the fact we won’t get back to Matthew 5 again in the Lectionary until 2020, I thought I’d share some of what didn’t make the cut from today’s sermon, in this blog post. It’s probably best to listen to the recording before reading on, so if you haven’t done so yet, please do. And then read on:

†     †     †

Our Leviticus reading begins with the phrase, ‘Be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy.’ And our Matthew text ends with the phrase, ‘Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Perfect.

perfectAnd at first glance, I’m really not sure what we’re supposed to do with that. So I took took a look at some other English translations of the Bible, just in case other translations of the Bible use a different word for ‘perfect’ than the NIV does.

No such luck. This Greek word translated as ‘perfect’ in this verse – teleioi – is sometimes used to mean ‘complete’ or ‘mature’ in other places in the New Testament, but every English translation available in Bible Gateway uses the word ‘perfect’ in Matthew 5:48. So it’s pretty clear that scholars agree that ‘perfect’ is the right word.

And let’s be clear about what the word ‘perfect’ means. It’s an absolute. There aren’t degrees of ‘perfect’. You can’t be partly perfect. You can’t be a little bit perfect. ‘Perfect’ is like ‘pregnant’: you either are or you’re not. And Jesus is telling us here to ‘Be perfect.’

Not to ‘become perfect over time’. Not to ‘aspire to be perfect’. But to be perfect – right now, and all at once – or else.

An UltimatumIt almost feels like an ultimatum, doesn’t it?

But, Jesus, nobody’s perfect! And You, of all people, should know that!

After all, Scripture tells us that Jesus was the only perfect human who ever lived. Jesus never looked too long at a pretty girl. He never had one meatball too many. And He never said a cuss word after hitting his thumb with a hammer. (I guess He probably never hit His thumb with a hammer, either: if He was perfect, he must’ve had perfect aim, too!)

And Scripture also tells us that the very reason Perfect Jesus came and became one of us is specifically because we’re not capable of being perfect!

What on earth could Jesus have been up to here?

(Listen to the sermon for some thoughts, if you haven’t already…)

†     †     †

Did you notice that Matthew 5:43 sounds a little like Leviticus 19:18?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ – Matthew 5:43

Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord. – Leviticus 19:18

Not only are these verses similar, but according to the footnotes in my Bible, Jesus is quoting Leviticus 19:18 in Matthew 5:43. Or more accurately, He’s misquoting that verse.

never-hate-copyIt doesn’t say anything about hating your enemy in Leviticus 19:18 – or anywhere else in the Bible, for that matter. Did Jesus get it wrong? He couldn’t have – He’s perfect, remember?!?

But take a close look at the way the New International Version translates it: ‘You have heard that it was said: Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ He didn’t say ‘It is written,’ or even ‘You have heard it said…’, but ‘You have heard that it was said…’

It almost sounds like Jesus is subtly accusing His listeners of accepting hearsay, doesn’t it?

Maybe that’s because in many ways, the people of Jesus’ time were living as though they thought it was encouraged, or at least OK, to hate their enemies. And I think a lot of us today, maybe without realizing it, are living as though we think it’s OK to hate our enemies, too.

Jesus wants to set us straight on this, but rather than confronting us about how we’ve read it wrong and getting bogged down in an ‘am not-are too’ argument, our practical, patient and gracious teacher meets us where we are, and starts there. (He does that a lot, doesn’t He?)

He seems to say, ‘Regardless of how you’ve understood this concept before now, I’m telling you what God really wants for (not from) you in this area: to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.’

Now, in our civilized, polite society, we might be inclined to think this word isn’t for us: we don’t have any enemies. But if Jesus were to visit your social media channels, would He be quick to agree you don’t have any enemies? And would He be pleased at how you’re doing when it comes to showing love to them?

Similarly, most of us who grew up in Canada probably don’t know what real persecution feels like, either. But everybody knows what it’s like to be treated unfairly.

Your boss is unreasonable. Your landlord is unforgiving. Your taxman makes mountains out of molehills. There’s a bully in your middle school locker room. Your boyfriend plays mind games. Your girlfriend cheated on you with your best friend.

Jesus wants us to pray for the people who hurt us.

Not to pray that they’ll ‘get what’s coming to them’. Not even just to pray that God would change their hearts and show them the error of their ways so they’d stop hurting us and start blessing us.

I think we’re called to pray that God would bless our persecutors, even if they will use that blessing to continue to persecute us. Look at the rest of the verse and the ones that follow:

‘But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.’ – Matthew 5:44-48

Bless IndiscriminatelyGod isn’t stingy with his blessings; he blesses indiscriminately, and I think Jesus is calling us here to get in step with that – in our prayers, and in our actions. To pray indiscriminately and to bless indiscriminately. To love indiscriminately – and to love creatively.

And as we strive to put that into practice, in our messy and imperfect lives, I suspect we’ll increasingly understand what it means to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect.

Peace be with you.

Posted in Bible, Christianity, Faith, Forgiveness, Gospel, Grace, Holiness, New Testament, Old Testament, Torah | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The M-Word

Prepare to be scandalized, fellow Liturgicals: My church follows the Revised Common Lectionary, but we don’t normally read the Psalm – just the Gospel and either the Old or New Testament reading designated for that week.


In my opinion, two full readings still provides us with more Scripture than the average pew warmer can receive, digest, retain and implement in a given week. It also provides plenty of material for the preacher to unpack in the sermon – and frees up more time for the pastor to dig a little deeper in the two texts we do get. So there are some definite advantages to skipping the Psalm.

And if we Bible Geeks want to spend some time in the Psalm, there’s nothing stopping us from doing so on our own, foreign as the concept may seem to many of us (New Year’s Resolution alert!).

The Bible only has one Magnificat, but my family has two: Angel and Shadow.

The Bible only has one Magnificat, but my family has two: Angel and Shadow.

But you might not want to wait until January to try it out. The Lectionary gives churches a choice for today’s Psalm reading: either Psalm 146:5-10 or Luke 1:46b-55 – the latter of which is known as Mary’s Song, or the Magnificat. (That’s right: in some seasons, the Psalm reading isn’t taken from the Psalter. Who knew!)

The Magnificat is the song that pregnant-with-Jesus Mary sings after entering the house of Elizabeth and Zechariah, immediately after Elizabeth’s own baby (John the Baptist) leaps in her womb, after hearing Mary’s voice.

 In a loud voice she [Elizabeth] exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! 43 But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? 44 As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. 45 Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” – Luke 1:42-45

gabriel-and-maryNow, imagine you’re Mary. Not long ago, an angel burst in on you and announced that you’re pregnant with the Son of God, despite the fact you’re a virgin. After an entirely understandable bit of hesitation, you accept the idea and in the holiest, scariest moment of your young life, you hear yourself say, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”

Then, the angel leaves you and everything returns to normal. Your house looks the same, your town, your neighbors – they’re all the same. And yet everything’s different for you.

Or is it?

Was that really an angel, or something else? Did it even really happen, or did I dream it somehow? Whatever it was, did it speak the truth? Am I really pregnant? I don’t feel pregnant. But how would I know what pregnant even feels like? And if I am pregnant, am I really carrying God’s Son? How can this be so? And yet, after that experience with the angel – which was either the most unreal or the most real experience of my life – how can it not be so?

Overcome with fear, indecision and anxiety about how her family and community will react when she reveals the news that she’s pregnant and Who the Father is, she does what any teenage girl would want to do: she escapes. She decides to get out of Dodge, and go visit her cousin Elizabeth.

Wise Elizabeth. Kindly Elizabeth. Godly Elizabeth. She won’t judge me, and she might even have some good advice. At the very least, she makes the best cookies…

After making the journey, Mary tentatively, hesitantly enters her cousin’s home, expecting the usual hugs and pleasantries: how’s your family, how was the trip, what’s kooky Uncle Herschel up to these days. And instead, as soon as she crosses the threshold, she’s immediately flattened by what she really came for (probably without realizing it): confirmation that she’s not crazy, she didn’t imagine it, her encounter with the angel was real and the message he delivered was true.

Whew!

That’s what I would have said. But according to Luke in the New King James Version, Mary put it a bit more poetically…

magnificat“My soul magnifies the Lord,
47 And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.
48 For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant;
For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed.
49 For He who is mighty has done great things for me,
And holy is His name.
50 And His mercy is on those who fear Him
From generation to generation.
51 He has shown strength with His arm;
He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
52 He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
And exalted the lowly.
53 He has filled the hungry with good things,
And the rich He has sent away empty.
54 He has helped His servant Israel,
In remembrance of His mercy,
55 As He spoke to our fathers,
To Abraham and to his seed forever.”

Amen, Sister … I mean Mother.

†     †     

m-wordAs I mentioned before, Mary’s Song is sometimes referred to as the Magnificat, because it begins with the phrase ‘My soul magnifies the Lord’.

Magnify.

We Anglicans use this word quite a bit in our liturgy, and it pops up fairly often in Christian worship songs as well. (A quick search of the word in CCLI’s SongSelect tool produced about 1,000 hits.)

And as is often the case with words you see a lot in Christian contexts, the M-Word has a special, churchy meaning. It means to praise or glorify. (In fact, the New International Version of Mary’s Song begins ‘My soul glorifies the Lord’ – but I don’t think they’ve started calling the song the Glorificat just yet).

And, obviously, we should praise and give God glory at every opportunity; indeed our entire lives should serve to laud and magnify Thy glorious name, e-he-hever praising Thee-ee and say-ay-ing…

But I think we need to be careful when we talk about magnifying God in our lives, that we don’t drift and default to using the more common definition of the M-Word: to make something look bigger.

microscopeWe don’t want God to look bigger in our lives, we want Her to be bigger.

And since God is always everywhere, we don’t need a crude, clumsy magnifying glass, telescope or microscope to get a good look at Him.

liftWe simply need to lift up our eyes, or in some cases, to turn around (which is what it means to repent) and realize that the God of the Universe is, and has always been, right there beside us.

Ready, waiting and eager to connect with us and bless us. Anytime and anywhere.

Wow.

Or to put it more poetically…

My soul magnifies the Lord…

Thanks be to God.

Peace be with you.

Posted in Advent, Bible, Christmas, Faith, Gratitude, Holiness, New Testament, Worship | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Truth or Duh

 

What’s the difference between truth and fact?


This question came up recently at my Bible Study group meeting, and it prompted an interesting discussion: one person put forward the idea that facts change, but the truth is constant. Another attendee suggested that facts are fixed, but truth is in the eye of the beholder.

‘But what is truth? Not easy to define. We both have truths … are yours the same as mine?’ – Pilate to Christ in Jesus Christ Superstar

The discussion quickly moved on to other topics, so we didn’t explore the truth-fact dichotomy much more than that. Still, the question has been at the back of my mind ever since, so I thought I might share some thoughts here – and thus end the debate for all time.

Sure, Baldy.

When I use these words, both truth and facts are constant and unalterable.

  • Our interpretation of the truth may vary, but that doesn’t mean the truth itself changes depending on our perspective. Truth is truth. Period.
  • Similarly, our perception of facts may change, but the facts themselves continue to be genuine regardless of how many people acknowledge them. Fact is fact. Period.

Truth vs FactBut just because truth and fact are both constant and unalterable, doesn’t mean they’re the same thing.

For my money, facts are mere data; bits of information that can be recorded in a series of ones and zeroes on a computer. Truth is knowledge and wisdom that couldn’t be fully captured in a thousand libraries. Facts are neutral. Truth takes sides. Facts can save a man, but truth makes him worth saving.

That’s why I find Indiana Jones‘ speech to an introductory archeology class so illuminating, and quoted it in my 2010 blog post, Truth:

“Archeology is the search for fact … not truth. If it’s truth you’re looking for, Dr. Tyree’s philosophy class is right down the hall.”
– Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

I also find the Wiktionary definitions helpful in distinguishing between these similar concepts:

  • The definitions for fact include the phrases ‘something actual as opposed to invented‘ and ‘something which is real‘.
  • The entry for truth, on the other hand, includes words like ‘fidelity‘, ‘conformity to reality‘ and my personal favorite, ‘That which is real, in a deeper sense; spiritual or “genuine” reality‘.

i-am-the-wayIs it any wonder that in John 14:6, Jesus tells us He is the way, the truth and the life?

He didn’t say He’s the path, the facts and the metabolism, and for my money, the nuances that separate these synonyms are vital here.

But while this notion of Christ as Truth is prominent in Christianity, it’s easy to get bogged down in questions of fact about the actual life of the actual person called Jesus of Nazareth:

  • Was He really born of a virgin in a stable in Bethlehem?
  • Did He really walk on water and feed more than 5,000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish?
  • Was He really transfigured into a heavenly version of Himself on a hill with Moses and Elijah in the presence of three of His disciples?
  • Did he really die on a cross and literally experience a bodily resurrection two days later?

What if the answer to any of those questions (especially the last one) turned out to be no – that some of these ‘facts’ about Jesus are exaggerated, misremembered or not meant to be taken literally?

Does that change Who Jesus was and is for you?

If the answer is ‘yes’; if your connection with Jesus is dependent on the veracity of the ‘facts’ reported in the Gospels, are you limiting who God is, what She can do and how? If human science and scrutiny were to manage to knock down one or two of these trees, would the forest that is the Gospel no longer stand tall for you? Is there no room for transcendence in your spirituality?

galileogalilei136976And if the answer is ‘no’; if the Truth of the Gospel for you is completely detached from the facts of the Gospels; if your connection with Christ is independent of the accuracy of the stories about the person called Jesus of Nazareth, what is the basis by which you tether yourself to this Christ being in the first place? If you are prepared to view the events recorded in the four Gospels as little more than fable and legend, what is to stop you from viewing their depiction of the Sin Nature as poetic rather than literal, and their calls to action as mere suggestions? Do your spirituality give enough credence to the concrete?

The truth (and fact) is that it’s unlikely that any of the details of the Gospel story will be proven or disproven as fact in our lifetime, so the storm I’ve just whipped up with those questions is purely an academic exercise – a tempest in a teapot, as it were.

duhBut this discussion does serve as an interesting reminder – for me, at least – that when it comes to faith, truth and fact may not be fully coterminous, but they definitely overlap, and both are vitally important. The trouble, for me, is to make sure I don’t hold either (or both) of them too tightly, or too loosely.

Which, in hindsight, is pretty bleating obvious.

In other words, Duh.

Peace be with you.

Posted in Bible, Christianity, God, New Testament, Saturday Night Live, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments