Holy Week Wednesday Meditation "Face Like Flint"

 Tomorrow it begins in earnest. Wednesday is the last day of waiting, of planning, of summoning courageous faith. Today then, is a day of crafting the words that will begin the end.

 The morning begins using prayer and praise to find strength as Jesus’ body displays the usual signs of nervous anxiety. “I am poor and needy; hasten to me, O God! You are my help and my deliverer; O LORD, do not delay!” (Read Psalm 70)

 By the time his prayers are finished, as the sun rises on his last Wednesday in this pre-glorified body, Jesus has heard the Father speak. So, he declares, “The LORD God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame….It is the LORD God who helps me; who will declare me guilty?”  (Read Isaiah 50:4-9)

 There is no verdict which the Roman government nor the religious leaders can now give which will overcome the confident knowledge which Jesus’ flint-faced determination reveals: he is the innocent Lamb, carrying out the Father’s perfect will. Jesus is now ready, mind, body, and spirit, to finish the task of being the “pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame.” (Read Hebrews 12:1-3)

 How then shall he begin the final chapter? What words will he use to release Judas from the table at which he will eat his last supper with his friends? Jesus knows what Judas is plotting. He knows that if he allows the plot to succeed, he will surely die, and quickly.

 Simplest is best. Let Judas know that he knows; “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me….It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” Then, Jesus plans, he will quietly hand his friend the damning evidence, the piece of bread, while looking him straight in the eye,  “Do quickly what you are going to do.” (Read John 13:21-32)

 Yes, that will do. That is how it will begin. His face like flint, his faith like a rock, he sleeps well. One last night.

Holy Week Tuesday Meditation "Jesus Remembers Mother"

 I have seen it often. People as they near death remember their parents, speak of their mothers. After Jesus revealed himself as the light, as the Son of Man, as the Messiah, Jesus went into hiding. (Read John 12:20-36)

 What does the Son of Man think about in the week of death as he hides from those who would kill him, because it is not yet his time? No doubt he thinks about how frustrating it is for God the Father to see that the people who hear about, even meet Jesus, cannot get past fact the that in the calculus of human wisdom, what Jesus is about to do is foolishness. Who would arrange for their own son’s death, even if it is to save the world from itself? (Read I Corinthians 1:18-31) Jesus in hiding shakes his head, and perhaps even his fists. Why do people still not know the boundless love of God, after all this time?

 But then his thoughts turn to the inevitability of his mission, the very reason he was born. Which, of course, makes him think of his mother. Does he wish she was with him now? Is he hoping she will understand the mystery of his existence in some greater detail by the end of the week?

 He knows it was the LORD who formed him in his mother’s womb to be the LORD’s servant, to become the Redeemer for the tribes of Jacob, the survivors of Israel, yes, but also to bring salvation that reaches the ends of the earth.  From his mother’s womb, where his mother cared for him like mothers throughout the ages, dreaming of their children’s future. (Read Isaiah 49:1-7)

 Jesus sings himself to sleep this Tuesday night. “Upon you have I leaned from by birth; it was you who took me from my mother’s womb.” (Read Psalm 71:1-14)

 “O God, do not be far from me; O my God, make haste to help me.”  Hiding. Resting. Waiting. Sleep well,  Son of Man, son of Mary, for soon there will be sleep no more.

Holy Week Monday Meditation "Dinner Conversation"

On this Monday night, six days before the Resurrection, Jesus dined with his friends. Imagine Jesus is dining at your house this evening. (Read John 12:1-11)

 What are you serving? Who will fill the seats around your table? What will you discuss?

 Perhaps you will discuss the Prophets, asking Jesus what it means when it says that the Messiah, ‘a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.’ (Read Isaiah 42:1-9) Are these not some of the most wonderful words we can draw upon when we discuss the future of our lives and the lives of those whom we love, those who are perhaps not yet fully accepting that Jesus is the promised servant, the LORD’s chosen, in whom the LORD delights?

 Perhaps you will discuss the Passover Lamb, the shedding of blood which covers the people who believe. Will Jesus give you a glimpse of what is to come on Friday, when his own blood is to be shed? (Read Hebrews 9:11-15) What will you be thinking if Jesus says that he is sealing a new covenant with God for all people later this week? Behold the mystery.

 And following dinner, because Jesus loves to sing the Psalms, someone will suggest one. (Read Psalm 36:5-11)“You save humans and animal alike, O LORD.”  All of the voices blend in praise to the Father as you sing together, “How precious is your steadfast love, O God! All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.”

 And then, it being a work night, everyone heads home to get some sleep. Because it is going to be a long week. A Holy Week. A long, holy walk with Jesus. 

 Enjoy your dinner, pilgrims.

You're Not Perfect. That's OK.

I live for getting good grades. So, I was fascinated to learn when I was being graded ‘on a curve.’ Grading on the curve means that the teacher adjusts the grades on a test so that she achieves a desired distribution of grades within the class, 20% ‘A’,  for example.  This approach gave me a fighting chance to score above my natural ability, to appear smarter than I really am.

 And then I became a pastor.  What I learned by listening to many people is that we sort of have this idea that God is the ‘Teacher in the Sky’ who grades on the curve. We think of ourselves, and those we love, in the context of ‘I am pretty good, good enough to get a passing grade from God, especially if you compare my life to his!’

 That is a false view of God, I believe. I do not believe God is keeping score on our lives as a teacher grades a paper. Because God only knows one passing score: perfection.  And last I checked, neither I nor anyone I know is perfect. No matter how much I try, no matter how big the curve, I will never get a perfect score if life is a test graded by God.

 What is a true view of God? God not only isn’t grading our lives; God has forgotten our performance (at least the bad parts.) God says, “I will forgive their wickedness and I will remember their sins no more.” (Jeremiah 31:34) How can this be true? Because Jesus lived the perfect life. And then Jesus sacrificed his perfect life for our sins.

 That is the Good News. Lent reminds us we are sinners. Holy Week reminds us that Jesus was not, and that on the Cross, Jesus made it possible for God to forgive and forget our sins. And that means that God looks at us through Christ, raising us up to be alive in Christ, today and forever.

 God is not grading on the curve of humanity’s performance. God evaluates our lives based on the life and death of one person, Jesus Christ.

 You are not perfect. That’s OK. This is why next Friday is Good; why Easter Sunday deserves our Alleluias. You don’t need to be perfect because Jesus is.

 

 

Jesus Wants You to Get Vaccinated

 

If you speak to enough people who are not well you eventually learn that some unwell people first need to be asked, ‘Do you want to get well? Do you truly want to be healed?’

Jesus met a man who for 38 year had been waiting to be healed of his disability. When Jesus heard this man’s story, we are told that the first question he asked him was, ‘Do you want to get well?’ When the man answered that he did, but that he was unable to do so because of his disability, Jesus told him, ‘Get up!’ Healing required the man’s desire to be healed and Jesus’ power to be heal. (John 5:1-8)

If you have become spiritually or emotionally paralyzed by a year of isolation and arguing over masks and social distancing and political rhetoric, Jesus might be asking you today, ‘Do you want to get well?’  Do you prefer to wallow in your misery and spend another year complaining and arguing with your neighbors, or do you want to be healed as a community?

Jesus is offering us what seems as close as you can get to a modern-day miracle of science and medicine: a shot in the arm. A vaccine to give us more freedom to move about in society again.

There are some who cannot or will refuse to receive the vaccine for a variety of reasons. But the beauty of God’s creation is that the ‘herd’ can create immunity for all, the vaccinated and the non-vaccinated. Jesus is asking us if we really to be healed, if we, as a society, as a community, really want to get well.

When your turn to get in the healing waters comes, are you willing to respond to Jesus’ invitation to receive healing, ‘Get the shot?’

For some the answer is ‘no.’ But I am praying that 80% of our communities will respond to Jesus’ invitation with a resounding ‘Yes Jesus, we want to get well, to get the shot, to start living again.’

Oh, What a Year

Oh, what a year. Think of what we have learned. How to pronounce ‘Fauci.’ What it means to ‘livestream’. How simple concepts like ‘follow the science’ or ‘wear a mask’ can start a family fight and divide a nation. And how to use public health statistics to find glimmers of hope instead of yet another reason to argue.

We will remember how churches which hoped to open by Easter 2020, will be only partially opened (or still closed) on Easter 2021. We will remember braving outdoor gatherings in the summer and fall of 2020, because it was that or we become hermits and drive each other stark raving mad.  We will remember Thanksgiving and Christmas family meals held via screen light instead of candlelight.  We will remember how ‘Zoom Fatigue’ became a thing.

 Oh, what a year.  What will we do with these lessons about our ability to adapt (or not), to co-exist (or not), to be patient (or not)?

 Perhaps we will see that, if we as individuals and a society can make it through the mess of the last twelve months, then we can make it through anything. I hope we will see that despite our foibles and frailties, the majority have the capability to care for each other most of the time. I hope we will see that despite all the very real differences of opinion about social and political policies which this year has laid bare, we have survived as a people. Institutions have been challenged and even altered, but they remain. We really did ‘bend but not break.’

 I pray that if I am still writing in March 2022, that I will be able to write “Oh, what a year” and it will have a whole new meaning, a meaning that reflects how we became healthy as a nation, as a people, as church, because we were given the ability to understand that the cloud before us, that the fire that burns ahead, these are the light of God leading us safely through to 2022.

 “By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night.” Exodus 13.21 (3.13.21)

Why We Still Need to Gather Together

Martha had been ill, but not this sick.  Sister Joyce was surprised when she received the call: Martha is in the hospital. Then a second call: hurry in.  And then she was there, Joyce looking at Martha as she prepared to take her last breath.  Joyce, wanting to offer words of comfort, hunted for the Bible and turned to Psalm 23. Realizing that she left her glasses at home, she reached out her arm as far as she could, but the words were just a gray blob. So, Joyce summoned up old Sunday School memorization lessons and she started reciting Psalm 23, “The Lord is my shepherd…”  She surprised herself at how well it came back to her. She could see the expression on Martha’s face change as the familiar words were repeated.  Joyce asked Martha if she would like to pray. Martha somehow managed to nod in assent, so the sisters bowed their heads, folded their hands, and Martha started the “Our Father…”. And then Martha saw Jesus.

I thought of the teachers and pastors who taught Martha and Joyce where to find Psalm 23; of those formative leaders who coaxed Joyce into memorizing “the whole thing.”  At the funeral, I saw the children, assembled there to watch and learn how to mourn for their aunt, a lesson they will need to use often in their lives.

 Why will people return to church post-COVID?  I hope it is to hear the Psalms read and sung. So that children will learn where to find Psalm 23, and a few will learn it ‘by heart’. So that as a people we remember how to pray together as Jesus taught us. I hope it is to learn words which will comfort our own ‘Aunt Martha’ in death. I hope it is to learn songs which will help us celebrate Jesus’ life and ‘Aunt Martha’s’ life, past, present and future.

Lent is a time to learn why we belong to Christ, why we need each other, why we still need to gather together.

Why will people return to church post-COVID? Because ‘church’ teaches us how God gives us the power to live well, to die well,  and to live again.

Because we all have an Aunt Martha. And someday ‘Aunt Martha’ will be us.