Imaging God, Dominion as Stewardship

OK, at the outset of this reflection on Douglas John Hall's book, Imaging God, Dominion as Stewardship, I want to say two things. First, this guy is a "smarty pants". I say that with the utmost respect and in the best possible sense of that label - I mean I am seriously in awe of this guy's brain. It took me about a month to read his 200 pages and I found myself needing to parse each word of many sentences to uncover his intent. Second, once I did uncover it, I think I am now a converted tree hugger. A few years ago, I saw a guy in Tower Grove Park literally hugging a tree that was suffering from some form of disease. At the time I thought - "well...that's...just...whacky!" But now - while I don't anticipate such radical outworking of my new tree hugging sensibilities - I don't think he was all that crazy. Just...well...more responsible to creation than I ever have been and thus a better witness of what it means to be a human bearing the image of God.

Hall begins with a convincing and convicting evaluation of the typical evangelical mindset toward creation - one that I must confess I owned. Namely, that we fundamentally view creation and our relationship to it (as it comes through the narrative and so-called creation mandate in Genesis) as one of king and servant. In other words the creation's purpose was to serve us (and not vice versa). Along with this comes a belief that creation is inherently bad - needing to be subdued - or whipped into shape. And our job is to carry that whip. But Hall redefines this creation mandate as a call to stewardship which thrusts the emphasis decidedly into one of service/care for creation.

This is rooted first in the understanding of God's work in creating creation as well as his ongoing work to repair/renew creation through the work of Jesus. The telos of creation is not to be a sort of roadside stop for we humans on the way to some greater cosmic dimension called heaven, but rather it is the place that God is making new. We then are called into that process (working with God's sovereign hand) as stewards to that telos.

Also we must understand the fundamental relational aspect of our created order. As Hall puts it, we are not just human beings - we are human-being-with's (God, other humans AND nature) and that "does require...that we view all such capacities and endowments according to their function as attributes enabling us to become what we are intended to be: serving and representative creatures, stewards whose complexity of mental, spiritual, and volitional powers makes it possible for us, within the creation, to image the holy and suffering love of the Creator." (p 141)

So, if we are to be true image bearers of God, we must place the care for creation in the same priority as care for our fellow humans. And I don't know about you, but that's pretty convicting to me. Personally, I have lived like a tick on creation, and Hall's work has really helped me to see the vast - and very hypocritical testimony that I have been telling if my identity is that as image-bearer.

Hall sums it up well here: "We mirror the sovereignty of the divine love in our stewardship of earth. This lifts Christian stewardship well beyond the confines of a pragmatic ethic. The motivation for our stewardly acts of preservation, as Christians is not merely utilitarian (as when, for example, it is said that human beings need to preserve forests because we ourselves, or future generations of our kind, are going to need the forests). Rather, as preservers and conservers of all life, we have our commission as a sacred trust that inheres in our new identity - or more accurately, this old identity into which we are newly born through grace and repentance. We are preservers because the creation in intrinsically good, and we are being delivered from the kind of egotism that is able to find goodness only in what is useful to ourselves." (p 200)

A Concert of Worshippers

Concert: verb - to plan or act together.

I went to a concert last night. 56 thousand worshippers – old and young and black and white and rich and poor and gay and straight and extroverted and introverted and happy and sad and healthy and sick – 56 thousand worshippers together in a warm, airless cathedral donning their flip-flops and their fancies with every sense ready to engage in the sights and the sounds and the smells and the tastes of worship.

And did we ever worship.

Arms were held high in unison – waves of arms waving and clapping together – 56 thousand pairs of arms worshipping together. Eyes darting everywhere: taking in the color and strobes and smoke with wonder. Mouths chomped corn-dogs and cotton candy and beer. Ears winced at first and then settled into the thunderous rhythms. And voices sang – they sang liturgies – some 30 years old, some 3 – but all known by 56 thousand voices. Liturgies that cry out: “How long, how long must we sing this song!?!” and “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for”. That confess: “I can’t live with or without you,” and “I want to run, I want to hide, I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside”. That remember “One man come in the name of love,” that remind us that “It’s a beautiful day – don’t let it get away – it’s a beautiful day!”, and that call us to “carry each other, carry each other.”

56 thousand worshippers at the U2 concert at Busch Stadium last night.

What were they worshipping? Only each heart knows. I’m sure there were some that were worshipping the music, some pastor Bono, some the technology both on stage and in their hands as the whole arena was lit up by the light of smart phones. Perhaps some were worshipping their beer, some their nachos, some the stars. Maybe some were worshiping humankind and the concepts of freedom and justice and love and peace that came from so much of U2’s message. And yes, perhaps there were some, who were just worshipping God – who were reminded through the laments and the lights and the smiles and the wonder and the hope that He sits above it all – orchestrating it all – the author of beauty and grace and music and love.

Admittedly I’m not the biggest U2 fan. I grew up with the “Unforgettable Fire” and “Joshua Tree” albums during my high school years but haven’t really followed closely since. I went, mostly, for the experience. And I wasn’t disappointed. My senses were filled and amazed. But it was much deeper, wider, richer than I expected – so thoughtful – lights for the sake of wonder, sounds for the sake of joy, and the whole liturgical concert for the sake of the story: to tell the true story of life under the sun.

The truth about the way it is – both broken and beautiful. The truth about the way we want it to be – unified, free, honest. And the truth about the way it will be too. U2 drew 56 thousand worshippers into this story last night. And perhaps the church can learn a thing or two from them.

My Story in His

I grew up in the church the son of a Presbyterian (USA) pastor, and while I admired my father and felt his profession was most noble, I also never heard the gospel. I knew all the Bible stories, was the star pupil in catechism class and even sang a solo or two in front of the whole congregation. But when I was about 12, my Dad left the church amidst a bitter dispute and I followed right behind him. The lines between God and my Dad were so blurred and confused at that point that I had no real concept of the Christian life apart from Dad. Church, without Dad, was merely a place of rules and restrictions and construction paper and flannel-graphs – not the most compelling place to be. So after Dad left, I rarely went to church again. In fact, I can count on one hand the times I went in the 14 years that followed.

It was when I was 26 and working for an apparel manufacturer in the Southeast that I finally found my way back. I was living a relationship-less life as a traveling salesman and had immersed myself so much into my work that I spent only 17 days at home that year. I was so lonely, and Sunday’s were the worst because all the stores who I sold to were closed so I couldn’t work. It was during those Sunday mornings… completely alone…that I began to consider church again. At least I would be around people there. So I would drive down to main street USA and go into the first church I saw. I didn’t care (or know any better) what denomination it was…I just cared that there were people with smiles on their faces. Needless to say, God showed me a very wide variety of worship styles, sermons and liturgies…and smiles…and began, at that time, bringing me back to Himself.

Fast-forward 4 years. I had long-since quit my job as a traveling salesman and had moved out to California to chase a girl. God providentially moved me into a garage apartment of a wonderful Christian man, Buck Murphy, who had a ministry to alcoholic and homeless young men in the community. He would rescue them from the streets, move them into the guest bedroom of his home and help them find their way out of the gutter…and into the Bible. As I look back, I realize that I was just as desperate for a savior as each of the homeless men he helped. And while Buck wasn’t my savior…he led me to my savior, Jesus Christ. He invited me to a men’s retreat one weekend, and much to my chagrin, he made sure that I went. I had been attending his church since I had arrived in California (mostly to impress the girl), and while I definitely wanted a closer relationship with God, I still thought that the majority of Christian teaching functioned much like a cattle prod to get me acting in a righteous way. But then, that weekend, I heard…and saw…the gospel for the first time in my life.

The Friday night of the retreat weekend was the “Convict Them of Their Sin” night. And I was convicted…so much so, that I literally got physically ill over it. Then the following night they read the medical report of what Christ endured, physically, on the cross and then showed a fairly graphic video depiction of the crucifixion. For the first time I got it. I understood, for the first time, that he endured all that for me. Then Buck and I prayed together and immediately I felt the Holy Spirit come into my heart and make a dramatic overhaul. I walked out of that room, that night, a changed man forever. I knew, immediately, that I was a child of God and the lines that were once blurred between my earthly father and my Father in heaven became instantly distinguishable. Six months later, I was attending my first class at Covenant Theological Seminary here in St. Louis.

That was 11 years ago now. After meeting my amazing wife in 2002, getting married and graduating from seminary we began South City Church in 2005 (“particularlizing” in 2008). It has been a labor of amazing grace. We have had the privilege of walking alongside so many beautiful souls in these last few years, and while there are days when we are overwhelmed by the brokenness and pain in our city and in the lives of those we love, we are all-the-more encouraged to see how our savior has healed wounds, lifted chins and encouraged lives of great wonder and purpose. We are so thankful to God for bringing our lives into his Story, and for you – for sharing your stories with us in this glorious ruin called South City Church.

The Heavenly Good of Earthly Work

There’s a lovely and very meaningful spot in Estes Park, Colorado – a little mountain in the middle of a valley called, “Bible Point” where lots of people go to take in the view of the “Grandfathers” – the mighty snow-capped mountains of the Front Range which surround it. When reading Cosden’s work, I felt – much of the time – like I was on top of Bible Point – my senses filled with grandeur of God’s plan/purposes for creation. Cosden paints a beautiful and true picture of the nature of the cosmos as it fits in God's grand story which ought to inspire Christians to think more deeply and meaningfully about their callings in life and be excited about them!

But along the northern and western edge of Bible point is a pretty severe drop that the climber must be aware of, and I felt – at times – that Cosden was dangerously close to leading us off that ledge, especially as he unpacked Romans 8, saying that in Christ…

“we cannot be thought of as sub-workers with God. We are now, and forever will be, genuinely God’s co-workers (and co-heirs) with more freedom and more status than even the first Adam had. This passage suggests that, in Christ, the apprentices have now become full members of the guild, qualified masters in our own right”. (pp 121-122)

Yes, ok. I'm all about seeing and appreciating mankind as creatures created in the glorious image of God and Christians as those who are fully redeemed - given the righteousness of Christ. I have tried to grasp that glorious truth daily in my life and communicate that hope to our congregation. And admittedly I realize that my own struggle with the sin of cynicism often gets in the way of me seeing and tasting this glorious side of the Gospel! That said, there were times that I felt Cosden was neglecting other aspects of the Gospel (namely that we are sinners in desperate daily need of God's grace) and so giving us a bit of a lop-sided view.

To be fair, he does recognize that we will all still flub up our callings to image God in the world sometimes and that we still need Jesus. And he cautions the reader well (p. 108ff) that an elevated view of our work can easily undermine the Gospel. And I completely resonated with his emphasis that it’s the Gospel of Grace that enables us to have the freedom to see work not so much as part of our identity, but as part of our God-given purpose. But still I felt he was pushing to places that could be dangerously misunderstood and misappropriated. See, one of the greatest glories of Bible Point is not Bible Point in itself, though it is a pretty little mountain and beautiful in its own right. The main glory, in my opinion, of Bible Point is the view it gives you of the “Grandfathers”, and that is something I think Cosden downplays too much. I found myself wanting him to interact with Psalm 8, where David marvels at the glory God has given to mankind but then confesses that "you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings."

That critique aside, I loved Cosden’s wonderful question on p. 78: “Is there not, in God’s purposes, a reason for our existence in pertaining to us?” I think this is a question many (all?) are asking, and one we long to answer – or better, have God answer – with an unequivocal “YES!” Often I am asked if God loves us not just because of what Christ did for us but who we are in and of ourselves. And Cosden does an incredible job of helping us see not only our dignity but our God-given glory as image bearers.

Along those lines, I think this book would be an incredible encouragement to anyone who is in a vocation which seems petty or unimportant. He does a great job of exploding the sacred/secular delusion that says that if you really want to matter - become a preacher. No, changing diapers matters to God AND to the Kingdom so change them well!

I also very much appreciated his expansion of salvation to the whole of creation (p. 114), our need for community as image-bearers (p. 88), his encouragement and diagnostic questions for self-evaluation of our callings (pp. 116-119) and his exhortation to teaching a broader, more dignified view of all work (p. 130). His “New Kind of Missionary” application of the theology was sobering and wise (p. 135).

Overall it is a bold and much needed work and I am thankful to have read it.

Desiring the Kingdom

About 8 years ago one of my esteemed seminary professors was preaching at our church and he asked the congregation this question: “What is the central message of Jesus?” The answer: “The Kingdom of God.” I remember feeling about 6 inches tall in my pew that day, not because there was anything that rubbed me wrong about that true answer but because that would have not even been on my list of possible answers. The Kingdom of God? Really? That’s what Jesus is all about?

That day began a journey for me in trying to understand, see and live out my life in the Kingdom of God – with that as my ultimate vision or telos for life under the sun. I have had times over the last 8 years where I have grasped it in new ways and have been thrilled and motivated by it’s boundless revelation for this cosmos and my life. And then there have been times where I forget – where I seem to lose it all together – where life becomes so one dimensional and flat and shallow.

Also during this journey I have attempted to communicate the vision for the Kingdom of God to our church with decidedly mixed results. I’ve learned that it’s sometimes hard to communicate in concrete ways. It’s a nice thought but so what? How does the Kingdom motivate me when I’m so tired and overworked? How does the Kingdom help me when I’m stuck in this abusive relationship? How does the Kingdom matter when I’m stuck here changing diapers all day long?

“If only,” I have often bemoaned, “we had a stronger desire for the Kingdom! Then we might see its relevance and live our lives out of its grand and glorious vision!” And into that prayer comes James K.A. Smith’s book, Desiring the Kingdom: a book with the stated goal being “the formation of radical disciples who desire the kingdom of God.” (p. 19). Amen!

Foundational to Smith’s book is his thesis that “Being a disciple of Jesus is not primarily a matter of getting the right ideas and doctrines and beliefs into your head in order to guarantee proper behavior; rather, it’s a matter of being the kind of person who loves rightly – who loves God and neighbor and is oriented to the world by the primacy of that love.” (pp. 32-33) We are created as people who love, first and foremost (vs. people who think or believe first and foremost) and so what we love ultimately will be the thing that governs how we live our lives. And so if we love, ultimately, the Kingdom of God our lives will be oriented and directed by its grand vision for the redemption of the cosmos.

But how? Smith doesn’t stop at theory. The aim of this book is to give a practical pathway to a Kingdom driven life. So, he says, a desire for the Kingdom “becomes operative in us (motivating actions, decisions, etc.) by becoming an integral part of the fabric of our dispositions – our precognitive tendencies (aka habits) to act in certain ways toward certain ends.” (p. 55) So, when the Kingdom gets into our souls it begins to form habits of action which become part of our dispositions. Whew! OK, then but how does the Kingdom get into our souls? Ah – here is where the rubber meets the road. Smith’s take is that it happens through liturgies.

Let me explain (or at least try): The world is full of liturgies – these repeated stories, mantras, visions that fill our senses and drive us to love and worship. If these are things like the mantra that we need to be accepted (told to us by marketers of fashion, body image, etc…) we will worship the mall or the gym, etc... The more we feed our souls with these liturgies the more they will drive us to our ultimate love – acceptance – and then our lives will be oriented to that vision/telos. Conversely, if our lives are filled with the liturgies of the Kingdom, they will drive us toward that ultimate love – and then our lives will be oriented toward its vision. Smith then goes on to give practical help to educators/pastors on how to develop and deliver these liturgies to God’s people.

I was greatly helped by this book, so much so that I’m asking some of the leaders in our church to interact with Smith’s ideas and to think through integrating them into liturgies that make sense for us. Some of his directions – at the end – did seem like they came out of the Kingdom liturgies that make sense to him/that he likes and therefore didn’t leave much room for those who do church differently or in very different contexts (like ours). That said, though, the ideas are a very helpful launching pad for us to work through those contextualizing questions for ourselves.

DMin? Como - say - wha?

Well, yes - right - it snuck up on me a bit too! I have decided to enter into the Doctor of Ministry program at Covenant Theological Seminary for the sole reason that all my life I have wanted people to call me Dr. J. The thinking is that despite the fact that I can't dunk or even touch the rim (I might be able to catch a little net if I lost a few pounds), I could still pretend my way through that childhood fantasy.

OK, maybe not. But I will tell you that I began the program back in mid-May and it isn't until now that I can tell you why I'm really doing it. And those reasons, I'm pretty sure, will change multiple times along the way.

I went in thinking I had something to say. Typical freshman. Let - me - tell - you - what - I - know! And then I spent a week with with mentors Donald Guthrie and Steve Garber and fellow classmates Warren Mayer (an I.T. guy at Mizzou), Mike Hsu (Pastor Grace Chapel in NE), Richard Vise (RUF pastor at Auburn), Cristano DeSousa (Navy Chaplain) and Don Johnson (Pastor Hanna City Presbyterian Church in IL) and I realized - more than anything - how much I had to learn. How vast my blind spots are. And how probably I needed to just shut up and listen if that weren't a futile endeavor for real growth given the fact that I am a freakishly verbal processor and if I didn't blather on I would never come to any conclusions about anything other than the fact that if I don't blather I can't "integrate" very well which leads me to the uncomfortable reality that I'm just going to have to apologize often for saying stupid stuff in run-on sentences like this one.

Doctor Jay - oh yeah.

Here's why I'm doing it...as of today. First, I love the Gospel and I really, really want to understand it better - make it matter more in my life - and, hopefully, in the lives of those I serve and love in this world. This is really what this DMin is all about. The Gospel deeper, richer - more transforming - more glorious - more lovely. That's reason enough.

Second, because I love our church and as one of her leaders, I have been entrusted with the great and glorious responsibility of helping her navigate this crazy life and give her a vision of the beauty of God's love and purpose and glory available to her in the diapers and in the classroom and in the cubicles. Believe me, it's not like I came into this gig (a pastor) with everything figured out! If we as leaders don't continue to stretch and grow, we cannot lead our people in like manner.

Third (and in the same vein), we all need mentors to help us see our blind spots and to guide us out of them and this DMin gives me the opportunity to learn from two of the very best I could dream of - kindred spirits who are well on down the path of grace and Gospel integration into life and the church that I long to travel. In one short week they've already shown me so much - given me massive new perspectives - and glorious new dimensions of the Gospel.

Enough said on that for now. In the coming weeks/months/years, in addition to the infrequent blogs on real life and ministry I occasionally post, I will be using this space to talk about some of the books I'm reading on this Gospel journey.

Peace,
Jay

More!

Have you ever been so close to something glorious that you blush? Perhaps a brush with someone famous or a front row seat to a one-in-a-lifetime concert. You think to yourself: "Wow, really? Am I really experiencing this? Is this really this cool?"

I had one of those moments today.

I held little Jack McKenzie in my arms for a good 10 minutes, and it went by way too fast. I feel myself - even now some 9 hours later - wanting to hoist him up again - see his glorious, God-reflecting smile so close to mine. I just wanted more of him. That's all I can say. I wanted more of him because little Jack McKenzie gave me the gospel today in all its glory and in ways no ivory tower theologian could have. The whole time I was baptizing him, all I could think about was 2 Corinthians 12 when Paul says that "God's power is made perfect in weakness."

See, Jack has Downs Syndrome. But that's not what defines Jack McKenzie. What defines Jack McKenzie is what he showed us all today - in all his 2 year old glory: An ability to receive God's grace, and by doing so - by taking it in - by soaking it up - he showed us the way to be such bold recipients ourselves. There were, I know, lots of amazing witnesses to Christ's love across the globe on this Sabbath day, but I will put Jack's up to anyone - anywhere.

And I got to hold him for 10 minutes! Minutes I will never, ever forget.

Before the service we prayed that God would visit Jack, by His Spirit and break through his brokenness and somehow let him know that what we did today - in baptizing him - was not some religious exercise devoid of real meaning. Nor was it something he had to do to get saved. But I asked that God would - through it - bless Jack. "Whatever that means, however you do it, please God - please - just show this glorious kid your grace."

And he did. And Jack took it all in.

I sprinkled the water. The words were said. A prayer was prayed. And then we began to sing - as Jack's new Covenant family - the doxology over the act.

Jack's eyes were bright - he looked at me and his mama, Brandi. And then he communicated in the clearest way he knew how - via sign language - one word. "More!"

Yes, Jack, "more." God bless you little one. Thank you for showing your pastor and the church and your world the way today - the way to soaking in unmitigated grace. More is coming, little one. More is yours every day. I will pray that you will see it tomorrow. And I will pray that for myself too.

God Loves Blue

Written by my wife, Jen...

Yesterday, our dog Blue ran away. Jay was helping us get in the car amidst serious preschooler meltdown and I left the garage door open. Blue was off in search of adventure in no time. As Jay and I chased him down the alley (toward a busy Kingshighway), I knew the situation was bad. We were no match for his speed and he was not taking any breaks.
As I ran back to the garage I begged God for mercy. Story was bawling. “Girls, we need to help Daddy rescue Blue. We’ll drive while he runs.” I realized we might be driving to a scene that could traumatize our sensitive little 3 year old’s heart. “Let’s pray. We need Jesus to help Blue.” We begged God to help Blue stop running. For him to not run onto Kingshighway. For Daddy to catch him. Simple. Earnest. Desperate. Need.
He stopped. Unaccountably. Suddenly. Right as we prayed. One house short of Kingshighway he turned into someone’s yard. Walked right into Jay’s arms. Jay had almost decided to turn around and walk the other way rather than watch disaster happen.
We rejoiced and thanked Jesus profusely. Tears turned to laughter. As the close call was recalled throughout the day, I reminded Story how Jesus answered our prayers and rescued Blue. I knew I needed to enter in more myself, let it reach my own heart, but I didn’t want to take the risk. Risk believing what I was telling Story – that Jesus really cares about our little dog (Really? Have You heard his bark, Lord?!) and our little family and our little daily dramas. I acknowledged his rescue in my head and embraced the “teaching moment” as a parent.
But this morning as I took up my study of Paul Miller’s A Praying Life (ironic, right?), I couldn’t focus. I sensed the Lord saying, Just sit in it, Jen. Let your heart receive my involvement in your real life. Much easier to read a book on prayer than accept a tangible intervention on our behalf, an answered prayer. Concepts feel so much safer than real relationship with a God who acts in the world, in my world. Especially one I can’t control or predict outcomes, just cry out for mercy from His hand. But today, by the grace of God, I opened my heart. I believe; help my unbelief.

Lord's Supper for Lent - Baby Food

This morning I was feeding Annie (our 6 month old) and wondering what I would write for today’s meditation on the Lord’s Supper. And so I said a little prayer, asking God to feed our church with the knowledge of our need for His Son and His heart to meet that need. But Annie was hungry – really hungry – so I couldn’t tarry long in my prayer. As I buckled her into her high-chair she sat there like a baby bird with her beak open – so wanting the food that she knew was coming. That’s one of the daunting, yet wonderful things about having little ones: they really need you. She needed the food I had and we both knew it. And thankfully Annie really wants it too. Annie is an EATER! (Don’t know where she gets that from). She loved the Apple/Strawberry mush that I started with – gobbling up the first few bites as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She even giggled a little bit as it was going down which made me laugh. I think she’s really funny.

But of course only half of it got where it needed to go. Feeding a 6 month old can test one’s coordination skills I assure you! As usual, she was wearing as much as she was eating. And it got worse as her hunger began to ease. She became distracted by a balloon across the room and forgot all about the meal for a minute or two. I had to be patient with my spoon. Very patient. There was a lot to do today, but what was more important than making sure my little girl had the food she needed? Nothing, I guess – but I did feel the tension drawing me elsewhere – on to the next thing.

Well, when she finally did resume eating her bites were smaller and even more spilled out onto her bib because of her distraction. So, I decided to change things up a bit. I’d bring out the peas. And when the first bite hit her tongue she grimaced and spit it out. Blah! Oh well, that didn’t work. I admit I was a little frustrated with her as I wiped the green goo off my glasses. She’ll need to learn that there will be days where peas are the only option. But today she had a choice and so I busted out a fresh container of sweet potatoes – another healthy alternative – and she resumed eating. I know that about her. She likes sweet potatoes. Not as much as bananas and strawberry/apple mush, but she likes them still and so she ate until she was quite content.

She’ll be hungry again in a few hours. I know that about her too. And I’m thankful for the opportunity to feed her again, so long as I’m not too distracted to enjoy it as much as I did this morning.

Today I’m thankful. Maybe you are too. Thankful for a God who doesn’t think our neediness is daunting at all. Quite the contrary – he delights in it – never tires of it. I’m thankful for a God who knows what’s good for me – even if it tastes like peas. I’m thankful for a God who is patent and undistracted and eager feed me despite that fact that I am entirely impatient with him and so very distracted by the world that I rarely find joy in the food He spoons out. I’m thankful for a God who likes me…and yes…loves me too. And for a God who knows me…better than I know myself…whose very purpose in sending His son was to make me quite content in Him.

And so my prayer today – for myself and each of us – is that we will be EATERS, plain and simple. Giggly eaters of His grace. Amen.

Lord's Supper for Lent - The Father's Kiss

Did you all see the women’s downhill yesterday? It was CRAZY. The course was very challenging – icy and bumpy – “as hard as cement” one commentator said, “and so, so fast.” And it seemed like every other contestant had a major wipeout that appeared life-threatening. Thankfully no one was seriously injured, but as with other Olympic events, I found myself marveling at the courage of each of these women to even shove off up there at the top of the mountain. Rose Marie Miller, in her very helpful book, From Fear to Freedom, recounts a story where she found herself at the top of a mountain in Switzerland with a pair of skis strapped to her feet – looking down at a ski run that was – as she put it, “way out of my class.” She had no choice but to shove off and hope for the best, but within feet she found herself on her backside. Over and over again she tried and over and over again kept falling. She resorted to walking down the mountain, but she kept sinking in the snow. She then scooted down the mountain on her backside and then eventually – 3 HOURS later – freezing and pitiful she arrived at the ski station. All the while, she was angry at God – blaming him for allowing her to go up that mountain in the first place.



The following Sunday – still bitter – she listened to her husband (Jack Miller) preach on Exodus 17 where Moses strikes the rock which produces life-giving water. Jack likened this scene to Jesus who was smitten for us in the same manner thus providing us with a river of his righteousness that makes us forgiven for Jesus’ sake. This is what happened next:



I don’t remember much from the rest of the sermon, but when it came time for communion Jack said, “The Lord’s Supper is the Father’s kiss, assuring us of his love.” As the loaf of French bread was broken, it gave a crack. I saw with new eyes the spear of the soldiers breaking the body of Christ for my sins. My own heart broke as I remembered the ski incident of a few days before. It was as if God were saying to me, “Rose Marie, your whole life is like your slide down that mountain. You are full of presumption, self-righteousness, and pride. I let you go up there to show you about yourself.” There was no audible voice saying these words, but they were there, and directed at my heart. The Father had opened my eyes to grace, the caterpillar was being lifted out of the fire by his loving hand. But it was a most painful encounter. The fire seemed to have entered my heart, burning away my intense self-centered moralism.



During this Lenten season, God is calling all of us to this kind of transparency with ourselves. But that is only possible if we really understand how much we are loved by God – a love we see so clearly in the Lord’s Supper. As Miller says, I believe it is impossible to face your hurts and hidden sins without the knowledge that God loves you. The burden is too heavy. Up to this point, my lack of awareness of God’s unconditional love was the core reason I needed order and control. Grace to understand this truth must come to us on God’s terms, not ours. It only enters our lives when we stop trying and cry out to our Father genuinely for help.”



Today let’s all cry out to the God who kisses us to help us see our presumption, self-righteousness and pride and to work in us the amazing reality of His love that is altogether unconditional. Lord Jesus, open our eyes to your grace so that we can see our need for it. Lord Jesus, open our eyes to our need for grace so that we can see it is ours in the smitten rock and the broken bread – in You. Amen.

Lord's Supper for Lent - Stinky Feet

My sister just bought Story (our almost 3 year old) “The Jesus Storybook Bible” for her birthday. Story loves it – especially the Jonah and the “big fish that goes gulp” story. Here is the way the author – Sally Lloyd-Jones – tells the story of the Lord’s Supper. I hope it will be a blessing to you as it was to me…

It was Passover, the time when God’s people remembered how God had rescued them from being slaves in Egypt. Every year they killed a lamb and ate it. “The lamb died instead of us!” they would say. But this Passover, God was getting ready for an even Greater Rescue. Jesus and his friends were having the Passover meal together in an upstairs room. But Jesus’ friends were arguing. What about? They were arguing about stinky feet. Stinky feet? Yes, that’s right. Stinky feet.

(Now the thing about feet back then was that people didn’t wear shoes; they only wore sandals, which might not sound unusual, except that the streets in those days were dirty – and I don’t mean just dusty dirty – I mean really stinky dirty. With all those cows and horses everywhere, you can imagine the stuff on the street that ended up on their feet!)

So anyway, someone had to wash away the dirt, but it was a dreadful job. Who on earth would ever dream of volunteering to do it? Only the lowliest servant.

“I’m not the servant!” Peter said.

“Nor am I” said Matthew.

Quietly, Jesus got up from the table, took off his robe, picked up a basin of water, knelt down, and started to wash his friends’ feet.

“You can’t,” Peter said. He didn’t understand about Jesus being the Servant King.

“If you don’t let me wash away the dirt, Peter,” Jesus said, “you can’t be close to me.”

Jesus knew that what people needed most was to be clean on the inside. All the dirt on their feet was nothing compared to the sin in their hearts.

“Then wash me, Lord!” Peter said, tears filling his eyes, “All of me!”

One by one, Jesus washed everyone’s feet.

“I am doing this because I love you,” Jesus explained. “Do this for each other.”…

Then Jesus picked up some bread and broke it. He gave it to his friends. He picked up a cup of wine and thanked God for it. He poured it out and shared it.

“My body is like this bread. It will break,” Jesus told them. “This cup of wine is like my blood. It will pour out. But this is how God will rescue the whole world. My life will break and God’s broken world will mend. My heart will tear apart – and your hearts will heal. Just as the Passover lamb died, so now I will die instead of you. My blood will wash away all of your sins. And you’ll be clean on the inside – in your hearts. So whenever you eat and drink, remember,” Jesus said, “I’ve rescued you!”

Jesus knew it was nearly time for him to leave the world and to go back to God.

“I won’t be with you long,” he said. “You are going to be very sad. But God’s Helper will come. And then you’ll be filled up with a Forever Happiness that won’t ever leave. So don’t be afraid. You are my friends and I love you.”

Thank God that he is a God who not only doesn’t mind some stinky feet, but would die for them!

Grace,

Jay

Ash Wednesday Reflection

Fat Tuesday starts it off all wrong. No wonder there is a massive misunderstanding of what the Lenten season is all about. Apparently this is the idea: go and eat and drink as much as you can – like a Biggest Loser contestant going out for one last night of nacho’s and beer and justifying it by saying something like: “Starting tomorrow it’s all over. No more fun for 46 days. So I might as well get my fill now. After all, even if I gain 10 pounds tonight that’s just 10 more pounds I can be proud of losing (or rewarded for losing) over the coming weeks of misery.”
That’s how so many see Lent – as a time of miserable self-sacrifice, the only redeeming value of which is that we can be proud of ourselves at the end of it for giving up chocolate or smoking or cuss words. Is this the purpose of Lent? To be a time of dark foreboding strictness? Some sort of self-flagellating penance that makes us the hero of the Lenten story?
NO! A thousand times no. Yes, it is to be a time of sober reflection, no doubt about it. And yes, we should examine the sin that lies deep within each one of us during Lent. But not so that we can become more attractive or more competent or more heroic. On Ash Wednesday (and all 46 days of Lent for that matter) we ought to look much like we do when approaching the Lord’s Supper. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 11 in his instructions on the Lord’s Supper that those who do not “examine” themselves – who do not “discern” or “judge” themselves truly are not fit for the table. The whole season of Lent ought to be a time of honest reflection and confession of the darkness deep within. But that’s not where the story ends. After that we are to eat and drink – being filled with the glorious victory of Christ for us that the elements show forth.
See, friends, we are to get really honest about our sin during Lent simply so we can see our need for Good Friday and Easter – so that we can see how attractive and competent and heroic our Savior is. It’s not some marathon race that we get a T-shirt for competing in – that we can somehow take pride in. The Ash’s that some churches give out on Ash Wednesday have long been perverted into this kind of outward symbol that says that the recipient has done his duty – been a good Christian – and is seriously religious. They have lost their intended meaning to help the recipient realize that save from the work of Christ, he is nothing but ashes and dust.
So if you want to give up smoking for Lent – go for it! You will feel better! If you want to take up recycling for Lent – go for it! The planet will feel better too! But don’t do it under the guise of being a good Christian or of doing good penance or out of any sense of proving your worth to others or God. Instead – examine the real problems of your heart. Pray – today – that God would reveal your own nasty, pitiful condition to yourself – would reveal that you are indeed but dust without Him. But then eat and drink of the victory won for you anyway!
My hope is that these reflections will be helpful for all of us to see our need for Jesus’ death and resurrection. That we would be hungry and thirsty for His help like never before. But also that we would be filled with the victory won for us at the same time – the sweet taste of freedom and victory over that nasty dark stuff deep within each one of us that Jesus came to cure.
Thanks be to God – the hero of the story of all stories. Amen.

Resolved to Be

So on Friday I’m doing the New Years day thing (sitting on my rear-end flipping between college football games and “best of 2009” programs) and thinking about New Years resolutions. I’m thinking: “New Years resolutions are sorta passé, you know? They’re so 2009.” But then an interview of author Gore Vidal on the Charlie Rose show catches my attention. I appreciate and respect both Vidal and Rose very much – not for what they stand for per se, but for their large brains. Anyway, Vidal is now in his mid-80’s and Rose asked him if he had planned for his funeral – if he thought about death – if he was ready to die. Vidal’s response was interesting: “I know its over, and I think it’s really about time, you know. Eighty-four is not the beginning of a new page…(but) I don’t know if anybody’s ready,” he said hesitating, “I mean…if there were anything up ahead…”

Rose interrupted him and they traded jokes to break the inevitable tension that the “D-word” always brings, so I’m not sure what – specifically – Vidal was referring to. But it seemed to me that he was saying something to the effect that if there were still something left ahead of him in life – another major writing project, etc…then he would not be ready to die. But there was nothing left for him to do, so…he was, in fact, ready.

Isn’t this how we live? For the next thing that we are going to do. The next hobby, the next vacation, the next project, the next holiday, the next relationship, the next chapter…the next page. And by doing so, we miss today entirely. C.S. Lewis in his brilliant work, The Screwtape Letters, touches on the temptation to live in the future instead of the present (with all of its intimations of the eternal). This is the advice given by Screwtape (an experience agent in the bureaucracy of Hell) to an inexperienced tempter:

Our business is to get them away from the eternal, and from the Present…It is far better to make them live in the Future. Biological necessity makes all their passions point in that direction already, so that thought about the Future inflames hope and fear. Also, it is unknown to them, so that in making them think about it we make them think of unrealities. In a word, the Future is, of all things, the least like eternity. It is the most completely temporal part of time – for the Past is frozen and no longer flows, and the Present is all lit up with eternal rays…

In 2010, I want to live in the eternal rays of the Present. The eternal rays of my daughters – not the “when they grow older we can…” daughters but Story and Annie – right now. In all their 2 ½ and ½ year old glories. The eternal rays of my beautiful wife and our life now. The eternal rays of serving Christ’s church in these days and in this place. And most of all the eternal rays of Christ himself – who is in every day – every hard day, every sweaty day, every freezing day, every joyful day, every boring day, every single today. So, my 2010 resolution is this: To focus on being in today more than worrying about doing tomorrow. To experience the eternal rays of the present.

The Gospel through a Dog Named Dodger

In many ways, my dog and great friend Dodger, who died yesterday, saved my life. I got him a decade ago when I was lonely and self-absorbed and thought very little about anybody or anything other than myself. I knew I needed a change at that time in my life. And I knew I needed that change to come from outside of me because all of my internal motivations had failed to produce the needed movement in my life. I was stuck and unable to get myself unstuck it seemed, and so I got Dodger.

Dodger was a reject. I found him at a Schnauzer shelter, having been rejected by the Jack Russell shelter where he should have been and several previous owners who “couldn’t handle him.” And he was, indeed, a handful. But, then again, so was I. I understood Dodger and somehow knew that he understood me. And so we stuck it out the two of us. Dodger made me get out of the house – taking long, long, long walks – that not only relieved at least some of his Jack Russell energy but also got me out of my own head. There were no more excuses – rain, snow, heat – we had to go, and it was on those long walks that Dodger and I explored the world together and received the grace that only comes through caring for somebody, something other than self. We needed each other. And we both needed to be needed. He was my dog. I was his person.

Over the years, as our house became more crowded – first with my dear wife and her dog, Maggie, and then with our two daughters – life became complicated. The walks became less necessary and my time was radically divided. But Dodger went right along with it – happily I think – because he knew that he was still my dog and that I was still his person. He showed great patience – allowing our two year old to pull his ears and try to ride him without so much as a nip. He showed great compassion – often plopping himself into laps that were busy crying or working or being angry – reminding us – all of us – of the simple power of love in the midst of a crazy life.

Dodger exposed my weakness – day after day. My impatience with his curiosity and his desire to be in the middle of everything. My anger at his “honking” sounds that would arise – poor guy – upon any change of weather because of a collapsed trachea that he had received before we met. My laziness, my self-centeredness, my apathy. Yet every time. EVERY TIME – Dodger was ready to forgive in an instant – and come back and snuggle up next to my left leg on the couch and go back to being my dog. And letting me be his person.

Dodger was a great dog. In all his rejected glory. He was a great dog and we loved him so much and will miss him beyond imagination. In many ways our home will never be the same without him and that is something to be grieved deeply. But more than anything we are thankful to have had the gift of Dodger. We are thankful for the inconvenience of him. Love is not efficient or tidy. We are thankful for the laughter he gave us. We are thankful for the faithfulness he taught us. But more than anything – I am thankful that he will always be my dog. And I will always be his person.