Authority is often heard as a dirty word in our day. Those in authority are the ones who take from the poor and give to themselves; or the ones who manipulate systems for their own advantage; or the ones who write laws for those who funded their seats in government; and the list goes on. When we see authority abused, we are often inspired to rebel against such evil-- even our nation has its origin in such struggle.
But corruption of what is good, does not abolish the goodness of the original, any more than a bad marriage condemns all marriages. Authority is originally conceived as good, by God who gives it for the good of those under it, and we see reflections of that good, even in our broken world.
Here we see the police officer, who surrenders his own body to save a child. Here we see a fire fighter give his body to the flames in order to save a trapped family. Here we see soldiers place themselves between our nation and the evil intentions of others, trading their lives that we may retain our own.
And there are many others. Fathers and mothers who sacrifice for their children through daily labor and patient teaching; siblings who suffer and sacrifice for each other; public servants who despite scorn do their duties well; even pastors and servants in the church, who lay aside earthly acclaim for the good of their people, while their peers pursue money and numbers and novelty.
Knowing that our sinful eyes in a sinful world, would be conflicted by the corruption we would see, Christ our Savior comes, and shows us what Authority really is. While we, when we have been given authority, rarely use it well, Christ shows us how God envisions the use of divine authority.
In Jesus, we see God, imbued with all authority in heaven and on earth, choosing to take the form and role of a servant. In Jesus, the eternal Son of God made flesh, we see authority exercised in love and compassion, driving out tormenting demons and withering disease. In Jesus, we see the Author of Life submitting Himself to the pains of death, that He might both lay down His life, and take it up again. In Jesus, we see the Victor over sin, death, and the devil, giving freely of what He has won, to we who so desperately need His gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation.
Here, my brothers and sisters, is real Authority, exercised in true faith, hope, and love. Jesus never gives up on us, nor the plan of salvation He and the Father and the Spirit set in motion from the early days of creation. Jesus does not use His authority for His own benefit, but rather that He might give His name among men, so that all who believe in Him might live with Him forever. Jesus indeed reigns over all, and through His exercise of authority, life and love and grace are multiplied to the children of men.
May our eyes ever see beyond the pale reflections and corruptions of authority that plague our world, to the wondrous authority of Jesus our Savior, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, One God, now and forever. Amen.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
A Good Confession: Meditations on Acts 4
When I survey the world in which we live, I often appreciate why there is so much fear out there. People are afraid of the food they eat, the cars they drive, the neighborhoods they live in, the governments they elect, the companies they work for, the people they work with, the dog down the street, the cell phone attached to their head, or the germs crawling on their desks. Folks are afraid of almost everything and anything, attempting to structure their lives in such a way as to minimize their risks and exposure to those things they fear. Our society and economics seem almost to be based on fear. Advertisements promise drugs and therapies to save you from the illness you fear; politicians promise to save you from policies you fear; stores and merchants promise to save you from the technology you fear; the endless 24 hour news cycle promises to scare you into insanity, then provide a commentator who will soothe you for a few minutes, before the titillation of fear comes on again. Fear drives commerce and investments, Wall Street and the world bond markets. Fear is a powerful force, and one that the world is well acquainted with.
And it’s worth noting, that not only the world, but the Church, is often driven by fear. There are those pastors, theologians, and arm-chair prophets, who are motivated by fear to “grow” or “change” the Church. They would tell us that the Church must “change or die,” and that the Church needs to be constantly conforming itself to the images and patterns of culture, so that is does not disappear. They chase the right worship teams, the right bands, the right music, the right atmosphere, the right message, the right 12-step plan, to attract more people into Church membership. When the Church is driven by fear, it does all kinds of crazy things… almost everything other than what Christ told them to do.
Examined, though, fear is a paper tiger, and points to something else. All the fears one can list eventually boil down to a single fear—a fear of death. We want to be popular, prosperous, intelligent, educated, medicated, and so forth, really in an effort to stave off death. Losing their grip on life is really what most people are afraid of, because down deep, they know their life is fleeting. As many have observed, life is a terminal condition—no one gets out of this world alive. The wages of sin in our fallen world is death, and the sinful flesh we live in, will eventually bear the weight of that curse, as our body is laid in the earth. But fear of anything, especially of death, is fear of something already conquered.
While the world might be ignorant of the victory Christ has made over the grave, the Church should never forget what her Chief Shepherd has won for His people. We are liberated from sin, death, and the devil. We are liberated from the grave, such that we know what lies beyond it for those who live in the love of God. Death for the Christian is merely a laying down of this sinful flesh, an escort into the presence of Jesus, and a waiting for the resurrection of all flesh unto a new life in a new creation, undefiled by the sin and death of this world. We who live in Christ, have our lives hidden in Christ, such that they can never be taken away by the wicked powers of this world. Our lives are as surely protected and kept in Jesus, as Jesus’ life is kept by His immortal and omnipotent power. No one takes His life from Him—He lays it down, and He takes it up again, according to His good and gracious will. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end—and if He is for us, who cares what stands against us?
In this faith which overcomes fear, we see St. Peter and St. John, make their bold confession before the Sanhedrin. Sure, the council had power, and the ability to inflict torment on those they desired to harm. But the Apostles knew that their very lives were kept with the Risen Christ, and no power of man or demon could change that. They stood and made a good confession of Christ, not only before the religious and political powers of their day, but before the people who sat in their own fear and lack of understanding. In the face of that which the people feared, the Apostles stood fearless. It was a marvelous thing to behold—men whose faith cast out fear, raised a lame man to walk, and turned Jerusalem upside down, in the Name of Jesus Christ. The Apostles had no fear for their own lives, because they knew Jesus kept their lives forever with Him.
And the result of their good witness to the Chief Shepherd, was that upon that one moment of conflict, 5000 souls were added to Christ. 5000 men were born from above by Water and Spirit, plus their wives and children, harkening back to the momentous conversions at Pentecost. Two men stood before the power of their age, bore witness by faith without fear for their own lives, and through their witness, the Holy Spirit worked faith in the hearts of the people. More than 5000 people, previously sitting in darkness and fear, found faith which cast out fear, liberated by the blood of Christ.
Here lies the Church’s power in every age. We have a Good Shepherd who has laid down His life for the sheep, and taken it back up again, because death could not hold the Author of Life. Our Good Shepherd has sent us out, as He sent the blessed Apostles, to bear witness to the world without fear, knowing that He has our lives firmly in His nail-pierced hands. All the fury of the devil and the world and sinful man could not keep Jesus in the grave, and we who live in Him, have that same promise. Let the nations rage, and the rulers of this world imagine vain things; let the evil ones murmur their threats and loathing; let the devil howl as he will, and his faithless minions cower and flail. We belong to Christ. We are born from above, living by His grace, through faith in His Name, in the power of His Spirit. We have nothing to fear, in this world or the next, because Christ is Risen, and has defeated every power, placing all things under His feet. We are the Church of Christ, sent to bear witness to the Lord of Life, who grants these gifts of forgiveness and life to all who will repent and believe.
We are His, and there is nothing to fear. He is risen, and we too, shall rise. Let the kingdom of darkness tremble at the witness of the Saints—Christ is Risen, Alleluia!
And it’s worth noting, that not only the world, but the Church, is often driven by fear. There are those pastors, theologians, and arm-chair prophets, who are motivated by fear to “grow” or “change” the Church. They would tell us that the Church must “change or die,” and that the Church needs to be constantly conforming itself to the images and patterns of culture, so that is does not disappear. They chase the right worship teams, the right bands, the right music, the right atmosphere, the right message, the right 12-step plan, to attract more people into Church membership. When the Church is driven by fear, it does all kinds of crazy things… almost everything other than what Christ told them to do.
Examined, though, fear is a paper tiger, and points to something else. All the fears one can list eventually boil down to a single fear—a fear of death. We want to be popular, prosperous, intelligent, educated, medicated, and so forth, really in an effort to stave off death. Losing their grip on life is really what most people are afraid of, because down deep, they know their life is fleeting. As many have observed, life is a terminal condition—no one gets out of this world alive. The wages of sin in our fallen world is death, and the sinful flesh we live in, will eventually bear the weight of that curse, as our body is laid in the earth. But fear of anything, especially of death, is fear of something already conquered.
While the world might be ignorant of the victory Christ has made over the grave, the Church should never forget what her Chief Shepherd has won for His people. We are liberated from sin, death, and the devil. We are liberated from the grave, such that we know what lies beyond it for those who live in the love of God. Death for the Christian is merely a laying down of this sinful flesh, an escort into the presence of Jesus, and a waiting for the resurrection of all flesh unto a new life in a new creation, undefiled by the sin and death of this world. We who live in Christ, have our lives hidden in Christ, such that they can never be taken away by the wicked powers of this world. Our lives are as surely protected and kept in Jesus, as Jesus’ life is kept by His immortal and omnipotent power. No one takes His life from Him—He lays it down, and He takes it up again, according to His good and gracious will. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end—and if He is for us, who cares what stands against us?
In this faith which overcomes fear, we see St. Peter and St. John, make their bold confession before the Sanhedrin. Sure, the council had power, and the ability to inflict torment on those they desired to harm. But the Apostles knew that their very lives were kept with the Risen Christ, and no power of man or demon could change that. They stood and made a good confession of Christ, not only before the religious and political powers of their day, but before the people who sat in their own fear and lack of understanding. In the face of that which the people feared, the Apostles stood fearless. It was a marvelous thing to behold—men whose faith cast out fear, raised a lame man to walk, and turned Jerusalem upside down, in the Name of Jesus Christ. The Apostles had no fear for their own lives, because they knew Jesus kept their lives forever with Him.
And the result of their good witness to the Chief Shepherd, was that upon that one moment of conflict, 5000 souls were added to Christ. 5000 men were born from above by Water and Spirit, plus their wives and children, harkening back to the momentous conversions at Pentecost. Two men stood before the power of their age, bore witness by faith without fear for their own lives, and through their witness, the Holy Spirit worked faith in the hearts of the people. More than 5000 people, previously sitting in darkness and fear, found faith which cast out fear, liberated by the blood of Christ.
Here lies the Church’s power in every age. We have a Good Shepherd who has laid down His life for the sheep, and taken it back up again, because death could not hold the Author of Life. Our Good Shepherd has sent us out, as He sent the blessed Apostles, to bear witness to the world without fear, knowing that He has our lives firmly in His nail-pierced hands. All the fury of the devil and the world and sinful man could not keep Jesus in the grave, and we who live in Him, have that same promise. Let the nations rage, and the rulers of this world imagine vain things; let the evil ones murmur their threats and loathing; let the devil howl as he will, and his faithless minions cower and flail. We belong to Christ. We are born from above, living by His grace, through faith in His Name, in the power of His Spirit. We have nothing to fear, in this world or the next, because Christ is Risen, and has defeated every power, placing all things under His feet. We are the Church of Christ, sent to bear witness to the Lord of Life, who grants these gifts of forgiveness and life to all who will repent and believe.
We are His, and there is nothing to fear. He is risen, and we too, shall rise. Let the kingdom of darkness tremble at the witness of the Saints—Christ is Risen, Alleluia!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Why do we marvel? Meditations on Acts 3
That sense of marveling is common when we encounter things we don’t expect, and sometimes when we see things we can’t believe. Like the last painting you saw with ridiculously beautiful colors, or the gymnast you saw do things with her body that you didn’t think possible. I recall sitting with family recently, as we watched some of the best ice skaters in the world do their routines—and I marveled that someone could launch themselves in the air with such grace, and land with the fluidity of an artist’s brush stroke. Remarkable things often make us marvel, because we can hardly believe what we have seen or heard. While we may not want to believe it at the moment, whether it’s the portrait of a great artist, or the grace of a dancer, or the speed and strength of an athlete, our marveling is often a reflection of ourselves.
When I see a power lifter throw ridiculous amounts of weight over his head, I am incredulous, because I know I can’t do that… and because I can’t do that, I assume others can’t do it, either. When an artist paints a lovely landscape, I marvel, because I know I can’t do that, either… and it seems incredible that someone else can. I marvel, because my eyes are normally on myself, worshipping myself, and esteeming myself as an idol. And when my eyes get torn away from myself, the ridiculousness of my idolatry is obvious—why in the world would I ever think that I, in my sinful weakness, should be a measure of anything? Why would I be surprised to find things in God’s creation far more sublime than I? Only because I have forgotten the magnificence and glory of God, who truly is the measure of all things.
In the reading from Acts, Peter and John encounter a beggar, lame from birth. His lot in life was to be placed at the entrance of the Temple, and beg for money so that he might eat that day. Lots of people knew him—they passed him often on their way to the Temple. Peter paused as he went through that gate, and looked at him. Noticing that the beggar was not paying much attention, he called to him, and insisted that the beggar pause and look at him. In that moment, Peter used the power given Him by Christ through the Holy Spirit, to heal him. It was an astonishing moment, and the people who had passed by this beggar all the years of his miserable life, now saw him leaping and dancing and praising God for his restoration. I bet you and I would marvel, too, and for the same reason—with our eyes firmly on ourselves, we know we don’t have power to do such things, and our delusions of self idolatry are stripped bare. Something greater than ourselves is at work before our eyes.
And that’s what Peter and John have to explain to the marveling people. First they ask why they are marveling in the first place—a rhetorical question, designed to shake them out of themselves, and to get them to pay attention to the real actor at work in their midst. Next, they correct the crowd’s mistaken assumption, that somehow either of them has this power within themselves—Peter and John do not present themselves as new idols to the people, as if to take the place of their self idolatry. Rather, Peter guides them to Jesus, who is the One at work in the Apostles—Peter never points to himself, or glorifies himself, but only and always sets forth Christ. Instead of giving the people another worthless idol, he directs their eyes to the Crucified and Risen Christ, who is God Almighty—the One for Whom nothing is difficult, nothing out of reach.
While the healing of the lame man was certainly a great work of God in the presence of the people, such healing of the flesh is small potatoes in the sight of God. The sinful flesh we all dwell in is destined for the grave, and whether He heals us of today’s infirmity or not, we’re still doing to die. The real work He wants to show us, is how He conquered death and the grave, and cures that evil poison which courses through our veins. He wants to show us His own Beloved Son, who took on our flesh, and in our place suffered the curse of sin for all people, of all time, and all places. Through His death and resurrection, He has turned the tables on the evil one, cast down Satan our accurser out of heaven, and reconciled us to our Holy God. Jesus has done the real work that God wants us to see and believe, because He knows that as we look at ourselves, we can only despair in the face of death. On our own, of our own power, we cannot escape the grave, nor the hell which lies beyond it. But through Jesus and His magnificent sacrifice, we have peace with God, and the Kingdom of Heaven awaits us beyond that same grave. By faith in the Son of God, the grave is no longer a portal to hell, but simply a passage from death to life, together with Jesus forever. Death and the grave have lost their sting—they are no longer to be feared. Jesus has defeated them, just as He defeated the evil one.
Does Jesus work wonders among the people, even today? Indeed! In every age of the Church, we have seen miraculous works of God. Through the power of prayer, the sick have been healed, and those on death’s door restored to life. Through the annals of Church History, the stories of the saints (which are only the tip of the iceberg,) and the experiences of Christians everywhere, we know that our God is alive, and works wonders of all sorts and kinds. But the great wonder that He is always guiding us toward, is His work of forgiveness, eternal life, and salvation, accomplished through Jesus Christ. That resurrection of dead sinners by grace through faith in the Son of God, is the greatest work we could be witness to—our God, triumphant over death and hell, saving us forever.
And why should we marvel? We know our Lord Jesus Christ to be alive, and at work amongst His people. He is alive, and thus we live, forevermore in Him. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed—Alleluia!
When I see a power lifter throw ridiculous amounts of weight over his head, I am incredulous, because I know I can’t do that… and because I can’t do that, I assume others can’t do it, either. When an artist paints a lovely landscape, I marvel, because I know I can’t do that, either… and it seems incredible that someone else can. I marvel, because my eyes are normally on myself, worshipping myself, and esteeming myself as an idol. And when my eyes get torn away from myself, the ridiculousness of my idolatry is obvious—why in the world would I ever think that I, in my sinful weakness, should be a measure of anything? Why would I be surprised to find things in God’s creation far more sublime than I? Only because I have forgotten the magnificence and glory of God, who truly is the measure of all things.
In the reading from Acts, Peter and John encounter a beggar, lame from birth. His lot in life was to be placed at the entrance of the Temple, and beg for money so that he might eat that day. Lots of people knew him—they passed him often on their way to the Temple. Peter paused as he went through that gate, and looked at him. Noticing that the beggar was not paying much attention, he called to him, and insisted that the beggar pause and look at him. In that moment, Peter used the power given Him by Christ through the Holy Spirit, to heal him. It was an astonishing moment, and the people who had passed by this beggar all the years of his miserable life, now saw him leaping and dancing and praising God for his restoration. I bet you and I would marvel, too, and for the same reason—with our eyes firmly on ourselves, we know we don’t have power to do such things, and our delusions of self idolatry are stripped bare. Something greater than ourselves is at work before our eyes.
And that’s what Peter and John have to explain to the marveling people. First they ask why they are marveling in the first place—a rhetorical question, designed to shake them out of themselves, and to get them to pay attention to the real actor at work in their midst. Next, they correct the crowd’s mistaken assumption, that somehow either of them has this power within themselves—Peter and John do not present themselves as new idols to the people, as if to take the place of their self idolatry. Rather, Peter guides them to Jesus, who is the One at work in the Apostles—Peter never points to himself, or glorifies himself, but only and always sets forth Christ. Instead of giving the people another worthless idol, he directs their eyes to the Crucified and Risen Christ, who is God Almighty—the One for Whom nothing is difficult, nothing out of reach.
While the healing of the lame man was certainly a great work of God in the presence of the people, such healing of the flesh is small potatoes in the sight of God. The sinful flesh we all dwell in is destined for the grave, and whether He heals us of today’s infirmity or not, we’re still doing to die. The real work He wants to show us, is how He conquered death and the grave, and cures that evil poison which courses through our veins. He wants to show us His own Beloved Son, who took on our flesh, and in our place suffered the curse of sin for all people, of all time, and all places. Through His death and resurrection, He has turned the tables on the evil one, cast down Satan our accurser out of heaven, and reconciled us to our Holy God. Jesus has done the real work that God wants us to see and believe, because He knows that as we look at ourselves, we can only despair in the face of death. On our own, of our own power, we cannot escape the grave, nor the hell which lies beyond it. But through Jesus and His magnificent sacrifice, we have peace with God, and the Kingdom of Heaven awaits us beyond that same grave. By faith in the Son of God, the grave is no longer a portal to hell, but simply a passage from death to life, together with Jesus forever. Death and the grave have lost their sting—they are no longer to be feared. Jesus has defeated them, just as He defeated the evil one.
Does Jesus work wonders among the people, even today? Indeed! In every age of the Church, we have seen miraculous works of God. Through the power of prayer, the sick have been healed, and those on death’s door restored to life. Through the annals of Church History, the stories of the saints (which are only the tip of the iceberg,) and the experiences of Christians everywhere, we know that our God is alive, and works wonders of all sorts and kinds. But the great wonder that He is always guiding us toward, is His work of forgiveness, eternal life, and salvation, accomplished through Jesus Christ. That resurrection of dead sinners by grace through faith in the Son of God, is the greatest work we could be witness to—our God, triumphant over death and hell, saving us forever.
And why should we marvel? We know our Lord Jesus Christ to be alive, and at work amongst His people. He is alive, and thus we live, forevermore in Him. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed—Alleluia!
Friday, April 6, 2012
Meditations on Holy Week, 2012
There’s a lot going on in the churches these days. Besides the ruckus going on with various church bodies over matters of doctrine and practice, or over litigation and schism, or over power and plunder, or even over the issues that cause friction between the churches and the states in which they operate, there’s a lot going on inside the various congregations that has little to do with these more public spectacles. The churches are busy this time of year, with the labors of Holy Week.
For those of us who remember the ancient forms of the church’s pattern of worship, handed down for nearly 2000 years, Holy Week begins on the Sunday before Easter, marking Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem amidst the accolades and waving palms of the crowds. From the moment of Jesus’ incarnation at Christmas, He has been moving toward this monumental week, and He is neither distracted nor deflected from His path by these cries of “Hosanna!” He knows what is in the heart of man—a sinful disease that has no human cure, which only His spilled blood can wash away. He knows that these fickle hearts who clamor to make Him king this day, will call out for Him to be crucified only a few days later.
Then the season turns to the days of teaching and prophecy that Jesus gave His disciples in those last days before His Passion. Holy Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday bear witness to Jesus’ not having lost sight of His mission to the cross… of His mission to save the world from sin, death, and the devil. He continues to call people to walk with Him, because He is the light of the world, and without His light, people only stumble and fall in the blackness of despair. As He has kept His disciples through His three years of ministry, He keeps them to the end.
On Maundy Thursday, our Lord celebrates the Passover feast with His disciples—something He says He has very much wanted to do. He knows, as He is celebrating this ancient feast which pointed to the deliverance of Israel from Egypt, that its true purpose would be revealed in Him. There is a deliverance greater than the release from oppression of an earthly tyrant, and Jesus is about to work that miracle of our redemption from an unholy adversary. His very Body and Blood which will be given up and shed for the sins of the world, He now gives to His disciples as the perpetual Remembrance of Him. Christians in every century have heard our Lord’s words here, and taken them to heart. Jesus has given us the means to remember Him and what He has done for us, and we keep His word together with the bread and the wine.
On that very night, which passes into Good Friday, our Lord enters His Passion. Betrayed by a disciple, and abandoned by the others. Handed over by his own countrymen, to be tortured and crucified by foreign oppressors. Stripped bare of his clothing, and His flesh laid open by the scourge. Taunted and spat upon, even as He carried His own cross to the place of His execution. Nailed through hands and feet to the coarse wood of the cross, crowned with thorns, and the accusation of his mocked kingship placed over His wounded head. Lifted up for all to see, having the sins of the whole world laid upon Him, suffering the worst that the devil could muster against Him. Even in His agony, He ministers to the penitent thief dying next to Him, assuring Him that he would be with Him in paradise. And when all was complete, when every prophecy was fulfilled and every ounce of the Father’s wrath against sin and evil was poured out, He cried out with a loud voice, and yielded up His spirit. The Son of God, the Messiah promised to Eve in the Garden, heralded by the prophets of Israel for centuries as the hope of the nation and the hope of the whole world, hung dead on a Roman cross.
With Jesus in the tomb, the church waits silently through Holy Saturday, in communion with the disciples who huddled together, pondering what it meant for the Light of the World to have died at the hands of sinful men. Waiting, the church meditates on the price paid for the sins of every man, woman, and child who ever walked the earth since the beginning, and who will ever walk the earth until its end. Waiting, the church remembers that our Savior has suffered all, endured all, for the salvation of His people. The church waits with Jesus in the tomb, but not without hope.
For death cannot hold the Lord of Life, and Easter Sunday explodes forth in shouts of triumph from the people of God. Christ is risen, with healing in His wings. Christ is alive, and death is overthrown. Christ is living, and we who live in Him, shall live forever more. Christ reigns, and the devil shall never show His face in heaven again. Christ is our High Priest and Intercessor with the Father, and the accuser of the brethren is cast down. Sin, death, and the devil are defeated foes, because Christ lives!
Here is the heart of Holy Week—it is the eternally beating heart of our Crucified and Risen Lord, Jesus Christ. Here is the treasure the church has been given, that Christ has paid all, and that through His blood, we have reconciliation with God, forgiveness, and life forever more. Here is the miracle of this blessed season, that we who sat in darkness, have seen a Great Light—a Light no darkness can overcome. Christ is risen, and we who have been baptized into His death, are alive with Him forever. Christ is risen—let the kingdom of darkness quake and cower. Christ is risen—let the earth hear His voice, preached loud and clear in His eternal Gospel of salvation for all who will believe. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed—Alleluia!
For those of us who remember the ancient forms of the church’s pattern of worship, handed down for nearly 2000 years, Holy Week begins on the Sunday before Easter, marking Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem amidst the accolades and waving palms of the crowds. From the moment of Jesus’ incarnation at Christmas, He has been moving toward this monumental week, and He is neither distracted nor deflected from His path by these cries of “Hosanna!” He knows what is in the heart of man—a sinful disease that has no human cure, which only His spilled blood can wash away. He knows that these fickle hearts who clamor to make Him king this day, will call out for Him to be crucified only a few days later.
Then the season turns to the days of teaching and prophecy that Jesus gave His disciples in those last days before His Passion. Holy Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday bear witness to Jesus’ not having lost sight of His mission to the cross… of His mission to save the world from sin, death, and the devil. He continues to call people to walk with Him, because He is the light of the world, and without His light, people only stumble and fall in the blackness of despair. As He has kept His disciples through His three years of ministry, He keeps them to the end.
On Maundy Thursday, our Lord celebrates the Passover feast with His disciples—something He says He has very much wanted to do. He knows, as He is celebrating this ancient feast which pointed to the deliverance of Israel from Egypt, that its true purpose would be revealed in Him. There is a deliverance greater than the release from oppression of an earthly tyrant, and Jesus is about to work that miracle of our redemption from an unholy adversary. His very Body and Blood which will be given up and shed for the sins of the world, He now gives to His disciples as the perpetual Remembrance of Him. Christians in every century have heard our Lord’s words here, and taken them to heart. Jesus has given us the means to remember Him and what He has done for us, and we keep His word together with the bread and the wine.
On that very night, which passes into Good Friday, our Lord enters His Passion. Betrayed by a disciple, and abandoned by the others. Handed over by his own countrymen, to be tortured and crucified by foreign oppressors. Stripped bare of his clothing, and His flesh laid open by the scourge. Taunted and spat upon, even as He carried His own cross to the place of His execution. Nailed through hands and feet to the coarse wood of the cross, crowned with thorns, and the accusation of his mocked kingship placed over His wounded head. Lifted up for all to see, having the sins of the whole world laid upon Him, suffering the worst that the devil could muster against Him. Even in His agony, He ministers to the penitent thief dying next to Him, assuring Him that he would be with Him in paradise. And when all was complete, when every prophecy was fulfilled and every ounce of the Father’s wrath against sin and evil was poured out, He cried out with a loud voice, and yielded up His spirit. The Son of God, the Messiah promised to Eve in the Garden, heralded by the prophets of Israel for centuries as the hope of the nation and the hope of the whole world, hung dead on a Roman cross.
With Jesus in the tomb, the church waits silently through Holy Saturday, in communion with the disciples who huddled together, pondering what it meant for the Light of the World to have died at the hands of sinful men. Waiting, the church meditates on the price paid for the sins of every man, woman, and child who ever walked the earth since the beginning, and who will ever walk the earth until its end. Waiting, the church remembers that our Savior has suffered all, endured all, for the salvation of His people. The church waits with Jesus in the tomb, but not without hope.
For death cannot hold the Lord of Life, and Easter Sunday explodes forth in shouts of triumph from the people of God. Christ is risen, with healing in His wings. Christ is alive, and death is overthrown. Christ is living, and we who live in Him, shall live forever more. Christ reigns, and the devil shall never show His face in heaven again. Christ is our High Priest and Intercessor with the Father, and the accuser of the brethren is cast down. Sin, death, and the devil are defeated foes, because Christ lives!
Here is the heart of Holy Week—it is the eternally beating heart of our Crucified and Risen Lord, Jesus Christ. Here is the treasure the church has been given, that Christ has paid all, and that through His blood, we have reconciliation with God, forgiveness, and life forever more. Here is the miracle of this blessed season, that we who sat in darkness, have seen a Great Light—a Light no darkness can overcome. Christ is risen, and we who have been baptized into His death, are alive with Him forever. Christ is risen—let the kingdom of darkness quake and cower. Christ is risen—let the earth hear His voice, preached loud and clear in His eternal Gospel of salvation for all who will believe. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed—Alleluia!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Humility: Reflections on Philippians 2
What do you think of, when you contemplate humility? If you’re like me, you probably don’t ponder it enough to even ask that question… but we certainly should be thinking about it as Christians. Humility is something spoken of throughout Holy Scripture, and a theme taken up by the prophets (cf. Micah 6, among others.) St. Paul would draw us into such a consideration, by pointing us to Christ—His incarnation, passion, and resurrection. What do we learn from meditating on the image of Christ’s humility?
For starters, we learn the absurdity of our own pride. I don’t care how many degrees you’ve earned, or positions you’ve held, or money you’ve made, or trophies you’ve mounted on your wall—your pride isn’t worth squat. You can rack up all the awards and honors and trinkets that your “I-love-me” wall will hold, but at the end of the day, you’re just another damned sinner waiting for your day to die. You didn’t decide when to enter the world, and chances are you won’t decide when to leave it. Truth be told, you’re not even in control of much of what happens between those two pivotal events, as the wisp of your life’s few short years dissipate in the breeze of eternity, to be forgotten entirely by your own progeny within a couple generations. When we step back and look at ourselves for who and what we really are, pride should be the farthest thing from our minds.
But Jesus, on the other hand, has everything to be proud of. He is the eternally begotten Son of the Father, uncreated and never-ending. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. He is the Light of the World, which no darkness can overcome. He is the Wisdom and Word of God, through whom all things were made. He is perfect, and in perfect harmony and unity with the Father and the Spirit—the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity. If there was ever anyone who had reason to be prideful, it is Jesus.
And beyond His eternal attributes of deity, out of love and compassion for us, He took upon Himself our created flesh, deigning to be born of the lowly Virgin, receiving from her his humanity. He condescended to live amongst us in our fallen world, made subject to the authority of human parents whom He created and sustained. And for the sake of the whole of humanity, from the dawn of time to the end of time, He submitted Himself to torture and death, that through His wounds we might be healed. He descended to the dead, and after three days in the tomb, rose, never to die again.
For all His unfathomable greatness, Jesus demonstrated humility and submission, for the good of His creation. And we, who by grace through faith in Him alone, inherit the wonders of His magnificent merit, live grafted into Him—His life becoming our life, conquering our sin, death, and the devil. We live because He lives, and gives His life for us. We no longer stand on our own blighted and deformed merits, but upon the solid rock of His eternal grace. We, who could not stand on our own, are made to stand, in and through Him.
So, when St. Paul calls us to have the mind of Christ, he not asking of us anything unreasonable. He is calling us to look to Christ our Savior, and see how He has come to serve rather than be served, and to give His life as a ransom for many. He calls us to surrender our false pride, and trade it for the humility of the Son of God, who has promised that none who believe in Him shall ever be put to shame. We, who have been given life in our Savior, are to be reflections of our Savior, even as He works out His will in and through us. This is humility—not that we work out our humbleness so that we might brag of it later—but that Christ’s humility be worked out in His people, through His own power moved through us, such that He is lifted up for all the world to see.
And He has said, as He is lifted up, He will draw all men to Himself. Amen—so may it be.
For starters, we learn the absurdity of our own pride. I don’t care how many degrees you’ve earned, or positions you’ve held, or money you’ve made, or trophies you’ve mounted on your wall—your pride isn’t worth squat. You can rack up all the awards and honors and trinkets that your “I-love-me” wall will hold, but at the end of the day, you’re just another damned sinner waiting for your day to die. You didn’t decide when to enter the world, and chances are you won’t decide when to leave it. Truth be told, you’re not even in control of much of what happens between those two pivotal events, as the wisp of your life’s few short years dissipate in the breeze of eternity, to be forgotten entirely by your own progeny within a couple generations. When we step back and look at ourselves for who and what we really are, pride should be the farthest thing from our minds.
But Jesus, on the other hand, has everything to be proud of. He is the eternally begotten Son of the Father, uncreated and never-ending. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. He is the Light of the World, which no darkness can overcome. He is the Wisdom and Word of God, through whom all things were made. He is perfect, and in perfect harmony and unity with the Father and the Spirit—the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity. If there was ever anyone who had reason to be prideful, it is Jesus.
And beyond His eternal attributes of deity, out of love and compassion for us, He took upon Himself our created flesh, deigning to be born of the lowly Virgin, receiving from her his humanity. He condescended to live amongst us in our fallen world, made subject to the authority of human parents whom He created and sustained. And for the sake of the whole of humanity, from the dawn of time to the end of time, He submitted Himself to torture and death, that through His wounds we might be healed. He descended to the dead, and after three days in the tomb, rose, never to die again.
For all His unfathomable greatness, Jesus demonstrated humility and submission, for the good of His creation. And we, who by grace through faith in Him alone, inherit the wonders of His magnificent merit, live grafted into Him—His life becoming our life, conquering our sin, death, and the devil. We live because He lives, and gives His life for us. We no longer stand on our own blighted and deformed merits, but upon the solid rock of His eternal grace. We, who could not stand on our own, are made to stand, in and through Him.
So, when St. Paul calls us to have the mind of Christ, he not asking of us anything unreasonable. He is calling us to look to Christ our Savior, and see how He has come to serve rather than be served, and to give His life as a ransom for many. He calls us to surrender our false pride, and trade it for the humility of the Son of God, who has promised that none who believe in Him shall ever be put to shame. We, who have been given life in our Savior, are to be reflections of our Savior, even as He works out His will in and through us. This is humility—not that we work out our humbleness so that we might brag of it later—but that Christ’s humility be worked out in His people, through His own power moved through us, such that He is lifted up for all the world to see.
And He has said, as He is lifted up, He will draw all men to Himself. Amen—so may it be.
Friday, March 23, 2012
The Word is Everything: Psalm 119:9-16
How can a young man cleanse his way?
By taking heed according to Your word.
With my whole heart I have sought You;
Oh, let me not wander from Your commandments!
Your word I have hidden in my heart,
That I might not sin against You.
Blessed are You, O LORD!
Teach me Your statutes.
With my lips I have declared
All the judgments of Your mouth.
I have rejoiced in the way of Your testimonies,
As much as in all riches.
I will meditate on Your precepts,
And contemplate Your ways.
I will delight myself in Your statutes;
I will not forget Your word.
Of all the things we have a hard time believing in our modern era, the Word of God seems to be at the center of our angst. As a society, having inherited the principles of the Enlightenment, summed up well in the famous state motto of “Show me,” we’re not well inclined to believe much of anything. In order to win my trust, you have the obligation to “show” what it is you are saying to “me” in such a way, that you win my approval and acceptance. I am the measure of all things, including whatever words fall out of your mouth, or off the printed page. I am the judge, and I am the measure. Whatever word may exist out there, it has the obligation of convincing me of its validity, and why my sovereign brain should give it any thought at all. I am king, after all—at least inside my own head.
As much as that individual practice of judging all things and ideas may be helpful between purely human conversations, where each of the human actors is equally flawed and prone to error, it is a horrible way to approach the Word of God. God is not obliged to convince us of anything—frankly, He’s not even obliged to speak to us in the first place. While we’re busy convincing ourselves of our own magisterial merit, God sits enthroned over the whole of creation, with none to challenge Him. He is the beginning of all things, and He will be the end of all things. Eternally before all things came to be, and eternally after all things cease to be, He is. We might like think of ourselves as the measure of all things, but in reality, we’re the measure of just about nothing… we can’t even measure ourselves without a reference point. (As a sidebar, try measuring yourself sometime, without any external reference point; no other people, no watch, no scale, no measuring tape, no GPA, no GPS, no history; when you’ve finished the exercise of your own inherent incompetence, keep reading…)
At the end of the day, without the objective Word of God, given by the One who stands eternally as the objective standard by which all things are measured, judged, and even rationally comprehended, we’re lost. We need His Word to tell us up from down, left from right, good from evil. His Word is written in the very fabric of the universe He created, so that we can understand cause and effect, time and energy and mass, and even life and death. His Word pierces our darkness and confusion with the blinding light of His eternal Law, so that we might know the difference between His majesty and holiness, versus our own wretchedness and evil. His Word that brought all things to be, sustains them through His good and gracious will, and provides us the light we need to enlighten our reason, orienting ourselves in all things. The further we get from His Word, the more confused, irrational, and incoherent we become.
Most importantly, though, we need His Word which was made flesh and dwelt among us—a Word beheld by the Apostles full of grace and truth, as the Only Son of the Father. This Word we need most of all, because after the Word of His Law reveals the hopelessness of our fallen human condition, this Word Made Flesh reveals to us to resolution of our troubles. The very Word of God, Jesus Christ, who took on our flesh, our sin, our death, reveals to us not only the extent of sin’s curse, but the unfathomable richness of God’s love for each and every human being. The love of God is made known to us, in His Word Made Flesh, the very image of the invisible God. It is the Word of God which was nailed to the tree, suffered death at the hands of the sinful creatures He came to save, and rose victoriously from the grave. It is the Word of God which speaks to us, that life and forgiveness is found in Him alone—for no one comes to the Father but through the Son, by the working of the Holy Spirit.
When we come to the end of ourselves, we find that it really is all about the Word. The Word does not come to us to justify itself, but to give us Justification, where we have only death and hopelessness on our own. The Word need not present itself before us, yet it comes to every person, that we might know the love of God for us all. The King of the Universe has spoken in words of Law and Gospel, that we might hear, repent, believe, and live. The Word—His Word—is everything to us. May Jesus Christ, the Word of God made flesh, ever be at the center of our meditations and contemplations, burning and hidden in our hearts, that we may never wonder from Him. Amen.
By taking heed according to Your word.
With my whole heart I have sought You;
Oh, let me not wander from Your commandments!
Your word I have hidden in my heart,
That I might not sin against You.
Blessed are You, O LORD!
Teach me Your statutes.
With my lips I have declared
All the judgments of Your mouth.
I have rejoiced in the way of Your testimonies,
As much as in all riches.
I will meditate on Your precepts,
And contemplate Your ways.
I will delight myself in Your statutes;
I will not forget Your word.
Of all the things we have a hard time believing in our modern era, the Word of God seems to be at the center of our angst. As a society, having inherited the principles of the Enlightenment, summed up well in the famous state motto of “Show me,” we’re not well inclined to believe much of anything. In order to win my trust, you have the obligation to “show” what it is you are saying to “me” in such a way, that you win my approval and acceptance. I am the measure of all things, including whatever words fall out of your mouth, or off the printed page. I am the judge, and I am the measure. Whatever word may exist out there, it has the obligation of convincing me of its validity, and why my sovereign brain should give it any thought at all. I am king, after all—at least inside my own head.
As much as that individual practice of judging all things and ideas may be helpful between purely human conversations, where each of the human actors is equally flawed and prone to error, it is a horrible way to approach the Word of God. God is not obliged to convince us of anything—frankly, He’s not even obliged to speak to us in the first place. While we’re busy convincing ourselves of our own magisterial merit, God sits enthroned over the whole of creation, with none to challenge Him. He is the beginning of all things, and He will be the end of all things. Eternally before all things came to be, and eternally after all things cease to be, He is. We might like think of ourselves as the measure of all things, but in reality, we’re the measure of just about nothing… we can’t even measure ourselves without a reference point. (As a sidebar, try measuring yourself sometime, without any external reference point; no other people, no watch, no scale, no measuring tape, no GPA, no GPS, no history; when you’ve finished the exercise of your own inherent incompetence, keep reading…)
At the end of the day, without the objective Word of God, given by the One who stands eternally as the objective standard by which all things are measured, judged, and even rationally comprehended, we’re lost. We need His Word to tell us up from down, left from right, good from evil. His Word is written in the very fabric of the universe He created, so that we can understand cause and effect, time and energy and mass, and even life and death. His Word pierces our darkness and confusion with the blinding light of His eternal Law, so that we might know the difference between His majesty and holiness, versus our own wretchedness and evil. His Word that brought all things to be, sustains them through His good and gracious will, and provides us the light we need to enlighten our reason, orienting ourselves in all things. The further we get from His Word, the more confused, irrational, and incoherent we become.
Most importantly, though, we need His Word which was made flesh and dwelt among us—a Word beheld by the Apostles full of grace and truth, as the Only Son of the Father. This Word we need most of all, because after the Word of His Law reveals the hopelessness of our fallen human condition, this Word Made Flesh reveals to us to resolution of our troubles. The very Word of God, Jesus Christ, who took on our flesh, our sin, our death, reveals to us not only the extent of sin’s curse, but the unfathomable richness of God’s love for each and every human being. The love of God is made known to us, in His Word Made Flesh, the very image of the invisible God. It is the Word of God which was nailed to the tree, suffered death at the hands of the sinful creatures He came to save, and rose victoriously from the grave. It is the Word of God which speaks to us, that life and forgiveness is found in Him alone—for no one comes to the Father but through the Son, by the working of the Holy Spirit.
When we come to the end of ourselves, we find that it really is all about the Word. The Word does not come to us to justify itself, but to give us Justification, where we have only death and hopelessness on our own. The Word need not present itself before us, yet it comes to every person, that we might know the love of God for us all. The King of the Universe has spoken in words of Law and Gospel, that we might hear, repent, believe, and live. The Word—His Word—is everything to us. May Jesus Christ, the Word of God made flesh, ever be at the center of our meditations and contemplations, burning and hidden in our hearts, that we may never wonder from Him. Amen.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Meditations on Grace: Psalm 107
“Let them thank the LORD for His steadfast love, for His wondrous works to the children of men.”Psalm 107
The readings for this coming 4th Sunday in Lent, strike me as a great opportunity to meditate on what grace really is. In our confirmation classes we usually start out with basic definitions such as “an undeserved gift,” and work our way out from there. But as many Christians have put quite a few years under the bridge since middle school or high school confirmation studies, it might be time to revisit this concept again for a broader audience. Just what is grace, anyway?
In our psalm for this week, numerous human events are juxtaposed with God’s deliverance. People wander from God’s Word, and thus from God Himself, finding themselves in calamity and danger. Each time they return to God, calling out to Him in faith, He delivers them. The peoples’ weakness in faith, hope, and love, is met by their Creator with a steadfast love and wondrous works of salvation. What is unsure with people, becomes sure with God.
We can be deceived by the notion, that because God promises to deliver us when we call on him in faith, that somehow He owes this to us. After all, if God promised to deliver us, and we fulfill our end of the bargain, God is bound to keep up His end, right? We just do our wandering and self serving, keeping an eye on the horizon to ensure we don’t get too far away from God, and when it looks like the consequences of our evil are about to whack us, we run back to God and say, “save me!” That’s the old error we often refer to as “cheap grace,” which in the end, really isn’t grace at all. It’s a way of trying to exact wages from God—and believe me, you don’t want God giving you what you earned.
Grace being something undeserved, we can’t turn it into a work we initiate. We can’t manage God’s economy, play the derivatives market, and hope to profit at the end. The first of God’s gracious gifts is to bless us with His Law, which reveals our true situation—in the face of a holy God, we can only despair of our unfaithfulness and evil. But, in despairing of our own works, we are left with our eyes on Him as our only hope of salvation, as there is none left in all creation who can deliver us from our wages earned under sin. Those eyes which despair of the self and plead for mercy from above, are given the greater gift: forgiveness, life, and salvation in Christ.
This is why grace can only be received by faith—a faith that trusts in Christ alone. There is nothing in ourselves we can hope to cling to, no plan we can hope to devise, no deal we can hope to cut. Our saving faith of trust and love is either in our Savior, or it is not. God is not bound to offer us anything other than judgment for the sake of our sins, but in Jesus Christ, we are clothed in His righteousness and healed by His wounds. Here, the repentant heart calls out in faith, “Lord, save me!” And here, our gracious and loving God reaches out to us just like He did to St. Peter on the raging waters, and taking our hand, asks us, “Why did you doubt?”
A good question for us to ponder during Lent—why do we doubt? Why do we leave the steadfast love of God, and go chasing idols made in our own image? Why do we tempt God by sleeping with the devil, and planning to hold God to account for saving us when our debauchery finds us out? Any willful sin is mortal and deadly, revealing our lack of faith, and hope, and trust in our saving God—and to those in mortal sin, they remain in mortal danger of the judgment of God, for apart from faith, there is no grace. But for those who believe, who have been given the Spirit’s gift of faith and trust in our Lord Jesus Christ, there is no calamity or danger He will not rescue us from—no peril or enemy He will abandon us to. Living by grace, forgiven and free through faith in the Son of God, even the pains of death do not destroy us. Sin, death, and the devil are conquered, and we are left as inheritors of eternal life, through cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Let the devil rage, and the world chase their folly. We have Christ crucified for us, poor and miserable sinners though we be, and His gift of grace which He brings to our hearts of faith. There is no terror of the night or day which can harm us, no wickedness nor evil which can undo us. We live by grace through faith in Christ, who alone is the victor over every evil foe—who alone is the author and finisher of our faith. He calls to us, bidding us to repent, believe, and live. Hear Him. Amen.
The readings for this coming 4th Sunday in Lent, strike me as a great opportunity to meditate on what grace really is. In our confirmation classes we usually start out with basic definitions such as “an undeserved gift,” and work our way out from there. But as many Christians have put quite a few years under the bridge since middle school or high school confirmation studies, it might be time to revisit this concept again for a broader audience. Just what is grace, anyway?
In our psalm for this week, numerous human events are juxtaposed with God’s deliverance. People wander from God’s Word, and thus from God Himself, finding themselves in calamity and danger. Each time they return to God, calling out to Him in faith, He delivers them. The peoples’ weakness in faith, hope, and love, is met by their Creator with a steadfast love and wondrous works of salvation. What is unsure with people, becomes sure with God.
We can be deceived by the notion, that because God promises to deliver us when we call on him in faith, that somehow He owes this to us. After all, if God promised to deliver us, and we fulfill our end of the bargain, God is bound to keep up His end, right? We just do our wandering and self serving, keeping an eye on the horizon to ensure we don’t get too far away from God, and when it looks like the consequences of our evil are about to whack us, we run back to God and say, “save me!” That’s the old error we often refer to as “cheap grace,” which in the end, really isn’t grace at all. It’s a way of trying to exact wages from God—and believe me, you don’t want God giving you what you earned.
Grace being something undeserved, we can’t turn it into a work we initiate. We can’t manage God’s economy, play the derivatives market, and hope to profit at the end. The first of God’s gracious gifts is to bless us with His Law, which reveals our true situation—in the face of a holy God, we can only despair of our unfaithfulness and evil. But, in despairing of our own works, we are left with our eyes on Him as our only hope of salvation, as there is none left in all creation who can deliver us from our wages earned under sin. Those eyes which despair of the self and plead for mercy from above, are given the greater gift: forgiveness, life, and salvation in Christ.
This is why grace can only be received by faith—a faith that trusts in Christ alone. There is nothing in ourselves we can hope to cling to, no plan we can hope to devise, no deal we can hope to cut. Our saving faith of trust and love is either in our Savior, or it is not. God is not bound to offer us anything other than judgment for the sake of our sins, but in Jesus Christ, we are clothed in His righteousness and healed by His wounds. Here, the repentant heart calls out in faith, “Lord, save me!” And here, our gracious and loving God reaches out to us just like He did to St. Peter on the raging waters, and taking our hand, asks us, “Why did you doubt?”
A good question for us to ponder during Lent—why do we doubt? Why do we leave the steadfast love of God, and go chasing idols made in our own image? Why do we tempt God by sleeping with the devil, and planning to hold God to account for saving us when our debauchery finds us out? Any willful sin is mortal and deadly, revealing our lack of faith, and hope, and trust in our saving God—and to those in mortal sin, they remain in mortal danger of the judgment of God, for apart from faith, there is no grace. But for those who believe, who have been given the Spirit’s gift of faith and trust in our Lord Jesus Christ, there is no calamity or danger He will not rescue us from—no peril or enemy He will abandon us to. Living by grace, forgiven and free through faith in the Son of God, even the pains of death do not destroy us. Sin, death, and the devil are conquered, and we are left as inheritors of eternal life, through cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Let the devil rage, and the world chase their folly. We have Christ crucified for us, poor and miserable sinners though we be, and His gift of grace which He brings to our hearts of faith. There is no terror of the night or day which can harm us, no wickedness nor evil which can undo us. We live by grace through faith in Christ, who alone is the victor over every evil foe—who alone is the author and finisher of our faith. He calls to us, bidding us to repent, believe, and live. Hear Him. Amen.
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