Category: Christian Living

Less of Me

Background Passages: John 15:1-3; Matthew 28:18-20; Galatians 5:22-23

Auxano.

Until the past month, this was not a familiar word to me. Greek in its etymology, Auxano means “to grow” or “to increase.” You’ll find the word scattered in verses throughout the New Testament.

When Paul used the word in Ephesians 4:15 or when Peter used “auxano” in I Peter 2:2 and 2 Peter 3:18, it speaks to how Christians are to grow or mature in the faith.

“Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ.” (Ephesians 4:15)

“Like newborn babies crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.” (I Peter 2:2)

“But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” (2 Peter 3:18)

Couple those concepts with how Luke used the word when he shared the results of the Holy Spirit’s work in the days after Pentecost in Acts 6:7.

“So the word of God spread. the number of disciples in Jerusalem increased rapidly, and a large number of priests became obedient to the faith.”

Auxano, then, speaks to our ability as God’s people to grow in our faith, to live as followers or disciples of Christ, so that we, in turn, can bring more people to Christ and help them grow as disciples.

I first heard the word used this month as our new pastor introduced a Wednesday night initiative we call “Auxano,” designed to build disciples of Christ…to grow deeper in our understanding of what it means to be his disciple and to equip us, then, to share our faith in a relational way with those who do not yet know God’s saving grace.

For me, it’s gut check time. What does being a disciple of Christ mean to me and how well am I fulfilling the promise I made to him when I made my profession of faith as a nine-year-old? I have to admit, my growth as a disciple has been punctuated by a few seasons of drought amid the life-giving rain.

Zach Williams wrote and sings a song on Christian radio these days called Less Like Me. The chorus, I think, points to the goal of discipleship. the lyrics read,

“A little more like mercy, a little more like grace.
A little more like kindness, goodness, love and faith.
A little more like patience, a little more like peace.
A little more like Jesus, a little less like me.”

Being a disciple of Christ does not forfeit the uniqueness of a God-created me. Being me, being you, is still important because he gifted each of us differently and wonderfully for the work he called us to do individually. It does demand, however, that I become a little less like me and a little more like Jesus by growing in his example…a life that exemplifies mercy, kindness, goodness, love, patience and peace. If those words sound familiar it’s because they echo Paul’s words in Galatians.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

As amazing as those God-given gifts may be, you’re only more like Jesus when you use his gifts to produce the spiritual fruit. These are the attitudes, behaviors and traits that someone who believes in Jesus and longs to be his disciple should demonstrate every day. Being a disciple of Christ means that we mature continually to be more like Christ.

Obedience to the teachings of Christ seems to be the key to discipleship. Everything he taught his disciples during his ministry on earth, he taught so they might be equipped to live as he lived. If you sit as a fly on the wall in the upper room, you’ll hear Jesus get serious with his closest followers.

As they finished eating together in the upper room on the night he was arrested, Jesus drew his disciples into a a deep conversation. He spoke of betrayal. He offered words of comfort when they seemed lost and confused. He promised the Holy Spirit as their constant companion in his absence. Then, he laid out the expectations he had for them to continue the work.

Drawing upon the familiar, he talked about the vine, its branches and the fruit it should bear.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You have already been prepared to bear fruit because of the teaching I have given to you. (John 15:1-3)

Within the imagery Jesus used, the vine is pruned to produce more fruit. A grower will prune extraneous branches that can siphon off the nutrients the plant needs. The main branches then grow stronger and produce more and better fruit. As we grow as Christians, we can let extraneous actions and attitudes sap the life out of our spiritual life. Jesus wants us to rid ourselves of those things that pull us away from living the life he has called us to live. To focus our lives on that which is important for us to do to further the kingdom of God. To be obedient to his teaching. To be his follower. His disciple.

We can’t begin to make that happen without spending time in his word. Paul reminded Timothy as he pastored the church in Ephesus that God’s word is the greatest teacher.

“All scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right. God uses it to prepare and equip his people to do every good work. (2 Timothy 3:16-17)

In her Christian blog, Butterflly Living, Mary Rooney Armand talked about eight elements of spiritual growth and discipleship. She said, “When we understand and practice elements of spiritual growth, it helps us move in the right direction.” The critical elements to discipleship, she says, are to:

Become more selfless.
Adjust how we spend our time.
Be more generous with our resources.
Pursue peace rather than chaos.
Choose to forgive.
Build deeper relationships.
Spend more time with God in prayer and worship.
Focus on the eternal rather than the temporal.

Armand’s list aligns closely to that which Jesus taught in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-10) because it makes us more Christlike…more like a disciple of Christ.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German Lutheran pastor and theologian, wrote extensively about a Christian’s role in a secular world at a time when Hitler was on the rise in Nazi Germany. His resistance to Hitler’s rule cost him his life.

Bonhoeffer wrote Nachfolge in 1937. The book title’s literal English translation is “Following” or “The Act of Following.” English publishers gave it a more dramatic title, translating Nachfolge as The Cost of Discipleship. In this seminal work, Bonhoeffer uses Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount as a call to faithful discipleship in the face of the Nazi’s reign of terror. It’s teaching still resonates well in today’s world when the Christian faith needs to stand for something beyond politics.

Bonhoeffer wrote that “Cheap grace is the mortal enemy of the church. Our struggle today is for costly grace.” Bonhoeffer goes on to define cheap grace.

“Cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, communion without confession…Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”

Part of the struggle of being a disciple of Christ is recognizing that we are made for more than just salvation. That marvelous grace gift is of eternal significance, but it is not the end of God’s work in us. Our gratitude for what God did for us through Jesus Christ should compel us to walk as he walked. Talk as he talked. Grow in our role as disciple. Share the love, grace and purpose of Christ to a lost world.

It is making a conscious decision to auxano…to grow, in grace and knowledge of our Lord and auxano…to increase the number of those entering the kingdom of God.

Being a disciple of Christ should catapult us toward fulfilling every part of the Great Commission, making new disciples and teaching them all those things he is still teaching us.

Auxano.

Grow. Increase.

It seems like a good word to embrace.

Finding Your Mephibosheth

Background Passages: 2 Samuel 9:1-7 and Galatians 5:22-23, 25

Small acts of kindness can make a huge impact. A smile, a thoughtful word, a warm muffin found on a desk, or a hug can make the sun shine brighter and the day seem better. That’s the premise behind the idea of Random Acts of Kindness.

Started in Denver, Colorado, in 1995, the idea behind Random Acts is to somehow make the world a better place by making kindness a part of our everyday lives. It’s a nice sentiment. The world needs to be a kinder, gentler place.

As one who has received these random gifts of kindness throughout my life, I understand the impact. To limit kindness to a blueberry muffin, however, diminishes its impact.

Those who study words tell us that “kindness” has its origin in the Middle Ages. In the language of that period “kind” and “kin” were the same. It seems to suggest that to demonstrate kindness was to treat someone like kin…like family. That presents the term in ways that can hardly be random.

As often happens, the idea of kindness has bounced around my brain for a couple of weeks. I was recently asked by my church to share a thought on the character of David at our Wednesday night Bible study. In the course of preparation, I rediscovered the story of David’s interaction with Jonathan’s disabled son, Mephibosheth. The story reveals much more about kindness than any random act.

For years the schizophrenic and paranoid King Saul chased after David to eliminate the one whom God had chosen to take his place. He saw David as a threat. Despite numerous opportunities to do so, David could not raise a hand against Saul or his family because of the deep bond of love and friendship David developed through the years with Saul’s son, Jonathan.

In a particularly difficult time in David’s life, Jonathan went behind his father’s back and told David of Saul’s plan to kill him. David pledged to always look after the family of Saul and Jonathan. Years later, Saul and Jonathan are killed in battle. It now appears that all of Saul’s male descendants have died.

Now king of Israel, David felt the emptiness in his life without Jonathan. Hear David’s heartfelt plea in 2 Samuel 9:1.

“David asked, ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I may show the kindness of God?’”

“The kindness of God.”

The choice of those words struck me. Why not just, “Is there anyone left of the house of Saul to whom I may show kindness.” David’s kindness. A random act of kindness. Instead, the phrase reads, “kindness of God.”

Let’s go back to the definition. In her book The Kindness of God, Catholic theologian Janet Soskice made the link between “kind” and “kin.” She wrote, “To say that Christ is ’our kind Lord’ is not to say that Christ is tender or gentle, although that may be implied, but to say that he is kin…our kind.”

It’s an interesting twist if indeed to be kind meant to be kin. The kindness of God within this context means that God became my kin…my family…my father. Through Jesus’ sacrifice and my faith commitment, I become part of the family of God.

David’s desire to show the kindness of God indicates his wish to find someone whom he could love and treat as family. As the story unfolds in 2 Samuel 9, David finds a sole survivor…Mephibosheth, a young disabled boy, hiding in fright in a remote village on the other side of the Jordan River.

David had the authority, power and historical permission as the victorious king to put Mephibosheth to death. He didn’t do that. When he found Mephibosheth he called him to Jerusalem, not to enslave him or kill him, but to extend God’s kindness to him.

“Do not be afraid for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.” (2 Samuel 9:7)

David did not extend a token gesture. His offer was extravagant. He gave Mephibosheth all that once belong to Saul and a place in his household. What an extreme act of kindness and grace!

What he did demonstrated love toward someone who did not deserve it, could never earn it and would never be able to repay it. His kindness or kin-ness made Mephibosheth a part of David’s family…someone invited to sit at the king’s table.

If this idea of kin-ness is at the heart of kindness, then it seems to require us to see others in the image of God, worthy of our honest connection, regardless of life’s circumstance. It seems the ultimate act of kindness and kin-ness is to invite people to be a part of God’s family…to welcome them to the table.

Kindness, then, is more than a random act. It is that thread of unfailing love that ought to be the lifestyle of any child of God seeking to live as the image of God in a cruel world.

The amazing thing is that God, through his indwelling Spirit, gives us the capacity for exactly that kind of godly kindness. Paul points out that the life of a Christian ought to reflect the character and nature of God as revealed by his Spirit.

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control…Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” (Galatians 5:22-23, 25)

The thing about the fruit of the spirit is that, unlike the gifts of the spirit which are given to each of us uniquely and individually, God doesn’t give us different fruit based on our personalities. He does not allow us to pick and choose which fruit we get to live out. He expects us to live out each one…each day…in every circumstance of life…to live by the spirit and keep step with the spirit.

Sadly, we live within a cultural pandemic of condemnation and judgment, characterized by a lack of kindness. Those who live a life of kindness, of kinship, look every day for the next Mephibosheth. They look for someone to show “the kindness of God,” not just as some random act, but as an intentional choice to let someone sit at your table. To build relationships. Meaningful connections. To create opportunities to show the love of Christ in the things we think, say and do for them. To be kind, to be kin, is to love as Christ loved.

Don’t you see, God is kind because he cannot be otherwise. It is his nature. When we give our lives to Jesus and open our hearts to God’s spirit, kindness becomes a part of our new nature. It is the make-up of that “new creation” that Paul talks about in 2 Corinthians 5:17, a reflection of God in us.

The English poet Roberts Burns said, “It is the heart benevolent and kind that most resembles God.” David’s innate and God-inspired kindness was one of the reasons he was called a “man after God’s own heart,” God’s choice to be Israel’s king. His kindness made him a great ruler.

According to Mark Twain, “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” I suspect it is a language that will make even those who find it hard to walk in the presence of the King leap for joy.

What about you? Is there anyone out there to whom you can show the kindness of God? If you keep asking the question, God will bring you one Mephibosheth after another who needs your kindness…your kin-ness.

God simply asks that when we find our Mephibosheths, we invite them to eat at our table.

We’d Best Get On With It

Background Passages: Luke 9:28-36, 2 Peter I:16-19; Matthew 28:18-20

I am a J. R. R. Tolkien fan. Unabashed.

Since first introduced to The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy over 40 years ago, I’ve read and re-read those books several times. The movies, the first of which was released in 2001, remain among my favorite movies.

Tolkien, a Christian from England, embedded biblical imagery throughout his books. In the Lord of the Rings, a hobbit named Frodo is chosen to destroy a certain ring that gives evil its power by casting it into the fires of Mordor. At one point stop along the way, Frodo believes he delivered the ring into more capable hands and can now go back home to his quiet shire.

It was not to be. Gandalf tells Frodo, “We have reached Rivendell, but the ring is not yet at rest.” Despite his desire to return to home and safety, Frodo realizes it is his responsibility to finish what he started.

As he struggles with that decision, Frodo’s best friend and companion on the journey, sums up the situation. He says, “I’ve never heard of a better land than this. It’s like being at home and on holiday at the same time, if you understand me. I don’t want to leave. All the same, I’m beginning to feel if we’ve got to go on, then we’d best get on with it.”

Sam and Frodo both realized as comfortable and glorious as it was, Rivendell was not their final destination.

Jesus must have felt something akin to that as he stood on the mountaintop during his transfiguration. As comfortable and glorious as it must have been to talk with Moses and Elijah, Jesus knew the ring was not at rest. There was still so much more to do. The most difficult part lay ahead. This glimpse of heaven was not the final destination.

It was certainly a message Peter and James and John needed to see and hear.

Jesus and his disciples retreated to Caesarea Philippi where Jesus could escape the crowds and teach them about the critical nature of his mission without interruption. The conversation about Jesus’ identity culminated with Peter’s declaration that Jesus was the anointed Messiah, the Son of God. Jesus used that confession to begin teaching about the suffering and death that lay ahead of him.

Peter especially didn’t like the implications of that which Jesus shared. Mark’s gospel tells us he pulled Jesus aside and “rebuked” him. Peter had the temerity to tell Jesus to quit talking like that. Despite his confession and all that Jesus shared with them, Peter and the others still failed to grasp exactly who Jesus was.

I have to think that conversation weighed heavily on Jesus’ mind as they journeyed back into Galilee. When he reached a certain point, Jesus left most of his disciples at the foot of a mountain. The Bible tells us what happened next.

“…he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray. As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem.

“Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and two men standing with him. As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, ‘Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ (He did not know what he was saying.)

“While he was speaking, a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. A voice came from the cloud, saying, ‘this is my son, whom I have chosen: listen to him. When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves and told no one at that time what they had seen.” (Luke 9:28-36)

I’m not sure any of us truly know exactly what happened to Jesus during the transfiguration. By definition, he was changed. It’s not that bright spotlight from heaven lit him up like a rock star on stage. Jesus’ transformation came from within. One commentary said Jesus’ divine nature “broke through the limits of his humanity.” The light of glory shone from within causing the radiance appearance of his clothes. Don’t you love that interpretation?

I don’t know that Jesus needed the transfiguration to finish his task. The conversation surely meant something to him, however. From his words in Gethsemane, we know the human side of Jesus dreaded the suffering to come. I’ve read this passage many times, but this is the only time I realized what Moses and Elijah came to say. Did you see the topic of their conversation?

“They spoke to Jesus about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment in Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:31)

With his eyes fixed on the cross to come, Moses and Elijah came to encourage and urge Jesus to finish what he started. To keep moving forward to the purpose for which he was sent. To stay on the mountain as life passed by below would condemn the world to ruin. I suspect even Jesus needed to feel the encouragement of others.

It seems the real reason for the transfiguration had its roots in the conversation at Caesarea Philippi. It’s one thing to proclaim Jesus as Lord. It’s altogether a different thing to understand it…to have it transform your thinking and change your life.

When Jesus asked the disciples, “But you? Who do you say I am?” They recognized him for who he was, but still wanted to fit him into a familiar box…to have him behave as they needed him to behave within the social and political turmoil of the day.

“You are the Christ,” Peter declared while visions of victory parades danced in his head. “You are the Christ,” declared James and John while they held out hope for ruling seats of power within his kingdom.

So what did the transfiguration mean to these disciples?

Perhaps the things Jesus tried to explain to them since Caesarea Philippi took an emotional toll on the disciples. By the time they reached the top of the mountain, they grew weary. While Jesus went off to pray, his disciples took a nap.

When the transfiguration occurred, they were awakened by the sight of Jesus shining like a bolt of lightning, blinding in his radiance. I suspect I would have been a lot like Peter in that moment…a man not fully understanding what he had just seen and heard, but knowing it was significant.

Riveted in awe and wonder, he reacted with unbridled enthusiasm. Compared to the wonder of what they experienced the world below was just too harsh. The future Jesus shared…too unsettling.

Leave it to Peter to try to memorialize the moment. “Let’s set up a tabernacle for each of you. We don’t want to leave this place. Let’s stay right here.”

As those words escaped his mouth, a mist enveloped them. They trembled in fear. God’s voice cut through the cloud…a command that was also a plea.

“This is my son whom I have chosen. Listen to him.”

Hear God telling these critically important disciples, “You’ve seen who he is. You know it in your heart. You’ve said as much. Change your frame of reference about the Messiah. He is my Son. He’s telling you how it must be. For once in your life, listen to him…really listen.”

There on the mountaintop, God reminded those disciples, the ring is not at rest. The end game must play out before the world can be set right.

At the transfiguration, this inner circle of disciples who struggled to fully grasp who Jesus was, caught a glimpse of his heavenly glory. Jesus underwent a dramatic change in appearance so the disciples could see just a fraction of his heavenly glory.

Up to that point, the disciples knew him only by his human touch, the sound of his voice and the power of his miracles. Now, they came to a greater realization of the deity of Christ. God offered desperately needed reassurance in the form of a blinding light.

Even then, they didn’t always get it right. After the resurrection, however, that moment on the mountain made perfect sense. That’s why Peter could write with such certainty as one transformed by the transfiguration experience.

“We did not follow cleverly invented stories we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty… We ourselves heard this voice that came from heaven when we were with him on the sacred mountain. (2 Peter 1:16-18)

So, the transfiguration reinforced in Jesus the purpose for which he had been sent into the world. It gave his disciples a chance to see beyond the human Jesus to the divine. To start listening, to pay attention to what Jesus was telling them about who he was and what he had to do.

What does the transfiguration mean to you and me?

It’s just as easy today to build a box in which to keep Jesus. He’s the genie I call on when I want something. He’s my excuse for taking a certain political stand. He is the author of pithy sayings that I quote to express my piety. We still too often make the mistake of failing to understand what his death on the cross and resurrection from the tomb means in a 21st century world.

We describe those times we have grown closest to Christ as our “mountaintop experiences.” We bask in the warmth of that feeling. Take a few selfies. Build a few tents and say, “I just want to stay here where it’s amazing and safe.”

That’s not our role any more than it was the disciples’ role. We follow a Christ who puts us in unbelieving world to be its transfiguring light, blazing bright enough from within so the world can see him in us.

The Christian church as a whole has stayed too long on the mountaintop. Stayed within the fellowship of believers. Celebrating the majesty of God and building our share of tents…all with a slightly distorted view of who he is. With this world struggling as it is, now is not the time to marvel. Jesus’ work through us is not finished. Maybe it’s time we “Listen to him.”

At the end of his earthly presence, Jesus commissioned those of us who now clearly understood who he is and what he did.

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely, I am with you, always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 18-20)

I’m probably reading too much into Tolkien’s writings. I think he understood that God’s work in us is not yet finished. “The ring is not yet at rest.”

Read Tolkien’s words again. “I’ve never heard of a better land than this. It’s like being at home and on holiday at the same time, if you understand me. I don’t want to leave. All the same, I’m beginning to feel if we’ve got to go on, then we’d best get it on with it.”

Get on with it. Not with a sense of reluctance, but with the excitement born from a transfiguring and transforming experience with God’s son.

There is work to be done. We’d best get on with it.

Can These Dry Bones Live?

Background Passages: Ezekiel 37:1-10; John 4:13-14, Isaiah 42:5

When my sons were children, we enjoyed visiting my parents on the 1,000 acres Dad farmed for much of his life. My boys loved going to the farm to visit their grandparents and to go on their “explores.”

Once they were old enough to be on their own, we told them they could wander the farm wherever they wanted to go as long as they could still see the house. In the broad reaches of the Texas South Plains, that gives two boys a fair amount of freedom.

My Dad kept about 20 head of cattle on a 30-acre grassland pasture, sloping down a modest hill. At the far end of the pasture was a playa lake. For those not accustomed to West Texas, a playa lake is a low spot in the surrounding countryside, typically dry, that collects run-off from those occasional West Texas rains. Most of them were formed when vast herds of buffalo that once grazed the grassland would wallow in the mud to cool down from the oppressive heat.

My boys would walk the pasture in search of artifacts they could collect. Usually, they would come back to the house with an odd collection of bolts, tin cans and rocks.

It was an exciting day, indeed, when they uncovered the dried bones of some long-dead rabbit, skunk or snake. They were most proud the day they returned with a cow’s skull that probably belong to poor Bessie who died at some point during my childhood.

If you spent any time at all walking in that dry playa lake, you could spot the bleached-out cow bones strewn across the dried lakebed by rain or coyote. A graveyard of white, dry, dusty bones.

Think Ezekiel.

For over 100 years, the Jews, the chosen people of God, endured captivity in Egypt. Through a series of miraculous events, God brought them into the Promised Land and gave them a home and a king. He made them a nation again. As they always seemed to do, Israel rebelled, turning against their heavenly father.

As a result, God allowed them to be conquered again. Nebuchadnezzar and his Babylonian horde invaded Israel. They defeated its army, reduced Solomon’s Temple to ashes, and took many of the Jewish people back to Babylon as captives.

The nation of Israel was dead, a valley of dried bones. God did not want them to stay that way. When our spiritual marrow is dry, God doesn’t want us to stay that way either. There is a lesson to be learned from Ezekiel’s experience.

“The hand of the Lord was one me and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and sat me in the middle of a valley. And it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great number of bones in the valley, bones that were very dry.

“He asked me, ‘Son of Man, can these bones live?’

“I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.’

“Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!’

“This is what the Sovereign Lord says to them, ‘I will make breath enter you and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin. I will put breath into you and you will come to life. Then you will know I am Lord.’

“So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked and the tendons and flesh appeared upon them and skin covered them, but there was no breath among them.’

“Then, he said to me, ‘Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, Son of Man and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says, ‘Come breath, from the four winds, and breathe into these slain, that they may live. So I prophesied the way he told me, and breath entered them, and they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.’” (Ezekiel 37:1-10)

The valley of dry bones in Ezekiel’s vision reflected the spiritual condition of God’s people. Their defeat at the hands of the Babylonians left them discouraged, down and defeated. In verse 11, they cried out to God saying,

“Our bones are dry. Our hope is lost and we ourselves are cut off!”

The hopelessness grew less from their current condition and more from the fact that they long ago lost their passion for the things of God. They were at the end of their rope, blind to the possibilities of what God could do for them. There was no future. Only a today, filled with misery and hopelessness.

Once so full of vitality and vigor, a picture of God’s presence and power, they took their focus off God. Did their own thing. Drifted away from the father. Their bones were dry.

It’s not unusual as God’s people to find ourselves in what feels like an endless spiritual desert…our faith feeling dry and lifeless. Most of the time, these dry spells don’t come out of nowhere. Circumstances beyond our control dry our bones, leave our faith parched. Choices we make that lead us into the desert, sap our souls of strength, making our trust in God waver and wither.

Sometimes, we get so busy doing things, even good things, that our worship becomes rote and routine, half-hearted and half-felt. Complacency overtakes us, leaving us thirsting for what we’ve lost. In times like these our prayers never seem to rise above the roof. We stare blankly at the pages of our Bible, if we open the pages at all. Our spiritual lives gather dust as the moisture is sucked from our marrow and our bones lay drying in the wilderness.

How closely does this match your life experiences? You look into your life and it’s messy. Every outcome you can see just adds to the confusion and hopelessness. Each wrong step leads to another. Whether caused by random chance or personal choice, it feels like everything has gone wrong. Now, you find yourself blind to the possibilities of what God can do. Your bones are dry.

When you look at your circumstance and all you see is an arid valley of dead, dry bones, it’s hard to imagine life beyond the desert. Hear God ask you the same question he asked Ezekiel. “Can these bones live again?”

What is your answer?

Ezekiel’s response was an honest one. “I don’t see how, but if there is any hope at all, it comes from you, God.” And, that’s as much as God needs to turn things around…just a glimmer of faith in his compassion and love. In the middle of the turmoil in our lives, can we say, “Lord, it’s up to you. I put my life in your hands.”

It is an act of surrender to the will of God. Easier said than done, I know.

God tells Ezekiel to preach a message to the dry bones…our dry bones. The first thing he asks the prophet to tell them…to tell us…is to “Hear the word of God.”

When we’re struggling, when our faith seems dry and stale, we need only to hear the word of God. I don’t mean just sit in the sanctuary while the preacher preaches. I mean really hearing what God is telling you. Listen and obey. When we’re spiritually thirsty, we need to swim in the water of God’s word.

“So then, faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” (Romans 10:17)

Jesus sat by a well in the heart of Samaria in deep conversation with a woman in need of living water. He told her,

“Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13-14)

God’s word gives life. It gives clarity. It gives peace. All we must do is listen and obey the will of the one who loves us enough to die in our place. Drink it in. Refresh our bones.

Ezekiel gives us one more thought to consider. Beyond hearing the full word of God, he tells us to allow the Holy Spirit to work in our lives. It is the spirit of God who gives our dry bones breath. Listening to God’s word is a great start at bringing our bones together, but we need the spirit within us to bring us to life. It is the Holy Spirit who takes the word of God and gives it the power to give life to a broken heart and a struggling soul.

Allowing the spirit to live within us, lets God give us the chance to be a living instrument to share is grace and to be his hands at work in a hurting world. To be an oasis in a desert of dry bones.

“Thus says God, the Lord, ‘the creator of the heavens and stretched them out, who spreads out the earth and all that springs from it, who gives breath to its people and spirit to those who walk on it: I have called you to righteousness…” (Isaiah 42:5)

Breathe it in. Be right with God. Maybe it’s time to begin living again.

I believe that is a great word of encouragement for those who are struggling today to live out the life God has planned for them. Whether that person is you, me or someone you know. The answers lie in God’s word and in the presence of his spirit in the heart of those who believe and trust in Jesus.

Can these dry bones live?

I believe they can. I’m living proof.

Lukewarm Isn’t Good Enough

Background Passages: Revelation 3:14-22; Colossians 4:16-17

An old German joke tells of a young couple who adopted a baby. For the first five years of his life the little boy never said a word. Doctors told them there was no physical reason for his silence. Taking him to the psychotherapist also proved fruitless.

On his eighth birthday, the mother baked a lasagna, his favorite meal. After taking a bite, the boy said in perfect German, “Mother, this lasagna is a tad lukewarm.”

The parents were, of course, shocked that he suddenly spoke. “Why have you never said anything before?” they asked.

The boy replied, “Up to now, everything had been fine.”

I tend to agree with the boy. There is nothing fine about being lukewarm. Lukewarm food just isn’t as flavorful. Lukewarm water isn’t as refreshing. Even more seriously, being a lukewarm in our Christian walk is an affront to God.

This week’s Bible study is the last in my study of the seven churches in Revelation. The previous six of those seven churches did some things well. Each of the six fell short in one way or another. Jesus praised them for that which they did well and encouraged them to fix what was broken in their faith walk with God.

It seems clear that the Apostle Paul spent some time in ministry at Laodicea. Whether he founded it or not, a church grew in the thriving community. He wrote letters to the churches in Colossae and Laodicea asking them to exchange the communication they each received with one another. While we have the letter to the Colossians in our Bibles, the letter to the Laodiceans was lost to time.

Christian tradition says that the church in Laodicea flourished and grew initially, both in faith and numbers, drawing its members from the wealthy citizens of the city. However, the church that once prospered apparently lost its zeal.

Paul seemed to see the beginning of this downward slide when he asked the church in Colossae to remind Archippus, who some scholars say had pastoral ties to Laodicea, to “See to it that you complete the ministry you have received from the Lord.” (Colossians 4:16-17) Evidently, the minister and members had grown complacent amid their success.

Now, 30 years later in John’s writing of Revelation, Jesus offered a stern rebuke to the Laodicean church for failing to live up to the standard asked of them. They were lukewarm Christians in need of a wake up call.

“These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.

“You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.

“Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” (Revelation 3:14-20)

By his words, Jesus quickly establishes himself as the one with the authority to judge their behavior. He calls himself “the Amen, the faithful and true witness.” When we used “amen” at the end of a prayer, we’re saying, “let it be so,” “let it be truth.” Jesus is telling the Laodiceans, the word I am about to share with you is truth. I am witness to your behavior. What I say is beyond dispute.

His word is a harsh indictment of the vitality of their faith and the sincerity of their work.

“I know your deeds.”

The “ruler of God’s creation” as he is described in verse 14, knows exactly where their hearts are. He sees the work they are doing and finds nothing refreshing in their relationships with others… nothing comforting in their deeds. He says, “…you are neither cold nor hot.”

It was a phrase the Laodiceans would have clearly understood. The city was built on a plateau. As such it had no natural water source. Because of the importance of the city along major trade routes, the Romans supplied the city with water via a series of aqueducts from hot springs of Hierapolis, just across the Lycea River, and the cold springs of Colossae about six miles away.

By the time the water arrived from these two cities, the hot water became tepid. The cold water grew lukewarm. The hot water was no longer physically soothing. The cold water no longer refreshing.

Such was the nature of the Laodicean church. Their service to their community brought no comfort to others. Their words lacked meaning and no longer refreshed the hearts of those who were hurting.

Though he wishes they were hot or cold, Jesus finds them a disgusting lukewarm at best. Tepid in their love for others and their service to those in need.

“Because you are lukewarm, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

The problem in the church might have been born from the independence of the city itself. Laodicea was among the wealthiest and most self-sufficient cities in the Roman world. In AD 60, an earthquake devastated Laodicea and the region surrounding it. When the Caesar’s government offered financial assistance to rebuild the city, Laodicea refused the help. Wealthy enough to rebuild on their own, they wanted no help from anyone else.

Jesus alluded to as much in his condemnation of the church when he quoted their own words. “You say ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’”

Perhaps the early success of the church, its growth in numbers and prosperity, cause it to trust its own ability rather than to depend upon God. As a result, they went through the motions of being God’s church, but they did not make God a part of their work. There was no passion for sharing the gospel. No desire to comfort the hurting. They grew comfortable in their own fellowship, content to stay behind their own walls rather than share the good news of Christ’s love.

Laodicea was noted for its financial institutions, its textile manufacturing and for its medicinal eye salve it produced. Jesus alludes to all three of these things in his words of advice.

“Buy from me gold refined in the fire so you will become rich. Buy white clothes to wear so you can cover your shameful nakedness. Buy salve to put on your eyes so you can see.”

The self-sufficient church in Laodicea lost its way. It lost its faith and needed it to be refined in purity again, placing their trust in God alone. The spiritually naked church needed to cloth itself in righteousness, taking on the character of Christ. The church in Laodicea grew blind to its own spiritual poverty and shame. They could not see their own sin nor did they wish to open their eyes to the possibility that they were not doing what God required of them. They needed to treat their eyes so they could see again the work God had for them.

As Shakespeare would say, “There’s the rub.” I look at the Laodicea church and see myself as a member. Proudly self-sufficient. Believing I can do all things on my own. Thinking that I’ll save God for the major things in life, times when I need him most. I can handle the rest without his help.

We are told throughout scripture that we are to become more like Christ every day. That God desires us to be in right relationship with him. Righteous in our character and our actions. It’s not something I do well every day.

Though there is always a part of me that knows I’m growing distant from God and not living the life he asks of me, I sometimes prefer being blind to that truth. When I refuse to see my own sin as that big a deal, it erodes the very foundation upon which my faith in Christ is built.

Like the folks in the church in Laodicea, I go through the motions of my faith without passion for Christ and without really touching anyone’s life for Christ.

Biblical scholar William Barclay wrote, “The one attitude the Risen Christ unsparingly condemns is indifference.” When Christ matters to us less than our pocketbooks, when the hurts of others matter less to us than our own needs, our faith becomes irrelevant…a lukewarm manifestation of God in us with little ability to restore or refresh.

The Old Testament prophet Hosea used several colorful comments to point out the unhealthy state of Israel’s relationship with God during the reign of Jeroboam II. In Hosea 7:8 he said, “Ephraim is a cake not turned.” In other words, Israel’s faith is half-baked. Lukewarm.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be seen by God or anyone else as a half-baked, lukewarm Christian. So, I look at the words Jesus shared with the church at Laodicea and take note. He told them, “Be earnest and repent.”

When I find myself lacking passion for my faith, when my life is anything but refreshing and restoring, I need to earnestly approach the throne of grace seeking forgiveness for relying on my own wisdom rather than the wisdom of “the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the rule of God’s creation.” I must turn from my own self-sufficiency and put my trust in his will and way. While that’s easier said than done, it is the only way to get back to living in right relationship with him and with others.

The really neat thing is that even if my indifference and apathy drives Jesus to the point of wanting to vomit me from his mouth, he will never give up on me. He will convict me of my sin because he loves me. He will allow me to suffer the consequences of my sin as his loving discipline…to teach me how he wants me to live. And when I am honest in my desire to turn back to him, he stands ready to forgive my failings and put me on the right path.

“Here I am!” Jesus told the Laodiceans as he tells me. “I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and he with me.”

Forgiveness. Grace. Relationship. That’s what he offers everyone. All I must do is open the door and yield my life complete to him.

Ezra Taft Benson, the secretary of the United States Department of Agriculture during the Eisenhower administration, once spoke about the Bible’s greatest commandment. He said, “To love God with all your heart, all your mind, all your soul and all your strength is all-consuming and all-encompassing. It is no lukewarm endeavor.”

I don’t know where you are in your walk with Christ. All I know is that sitting comfortably in the tepid waters of a lukewarm faith, does nothing for you and nothing for the kingdom of God. My desire for you is the same as what I desire for myself…That our faith be hot enough to heal those who are hurting spiritually and cold enough to refresh the thirstiest of those whom God loves so deeply.

Beware the Slippery Slope

Background Passage: Revelation 2:12-17; John 6:48-50

I knew I was in trouble the minute I saw those Girl Scouts standing by the exit to Lowe’s. I just bought some random piece of hardware needed for a home project. As the glass doors slid open, I read the lips of the older one as she whispered to her friend, “Here’s an easy mark!” She had me pegged from the moment she saw me glance at the table.

“Could we interest you in some Thin Mints, Peanut Butter or Samoa cookies,” she asked as they launched into some pre-rehearsed sales pitch about the virtues of helping her troop get to some distant camp in Iowa. I held my palm up to silence them and reached for my wallet. “You had me at Thin Mints,” I replied as I bought three boxes.

Thin mints and orange juice. It just doesn’t get any more sinful than that.

Satan inspired Thin Mints, as devil disks designed to break one’s will to lose weight and live a healthier lifestyle. I buy them knowing I’m perched at the top of a slippery slope. Once I open that first sleeve…taste that perfect blend of minty freshness and chocolate covering infusing that delectable morsel of pure crunch…I kiss all restraint goodbye. One cookie leads to the whole sleeve. One sleeve leads to one box. It is a slippery slope.

I know eating that first Thin Mint has fewer consequences than other poor life choices I’ve made. It is, however, a nice metaphor for the allure and temptation of sin. Taking that first bite out of sin’s apple is a quick ticket out of the garden of grace. Rarely do I jump in to sin with both feet. More often than not I make a subtle compromise with sin that begins my slide down that slippery slope of disobedience. I think Jesus had this in mind when he spoke through John to the early church in Pergamum.

A slippery slope is an idea or course of action which will eventually lead to additional actions until some undesirable consequence inevitably follows. One domino falls causing another to fall and then another and then another.

John, in the Book of Revelation, heard the voice of Jesus sharing a word with seven churches in what is now modern-day Turkey. Though obedient in doing good, the church in Ephesus forgot their love of Christ and their love for one another. They acted out of a sense of obligation rather than love. In Smyrna, Jesus simply encouraged the church to persevere in the face of the coming persecution. To keep the faith despite the hostility around them.

The church in Pergamum found itself flirting with disaster, standing on a slippery slope of compromise…giving in to the subtle sins that opened the door to deeper depravity. The first domino had already fallen as a few had been led astray. One by one others believers succumbed to their influence.

“These are the words of him who has the sharp, double-edged sword. I know where you live—where Satan has his throne. Yet, you remain true to my name. You did not renounce your faith in men, even in the days of Antipas, my faithful witness, who was put to death in our city—where Satan lives.

“Nevertheless, I have a few things against you: You have people there who hold to the teaching of Balaam, who taught Balak to entice the Israelites to sin by eating food sacrificed to idols and by committing sexual immorality. Likewise, you also have those who hold to the teaching of the Nicolaitans.

“Repent, therefore! Otherwise, I will soon come to you and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth.

“He who has an ear to hear let him hear what the spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” (Revelation 2:12-17)

Jesus introduced himself to this church as the one with a sharp, double-edged sword, presenting himself as qualified to serve as their judge and jury. The believers in Pergamum did so many things well, despite the harsh culture around them. Jesus praised them for being an oasis of faith surrounding by hostile desert. A light in a dark world.

An historic capital of Asia, Pergamum served as the intellectual center of the region, surpassed in influence only by Athens and Alexandria. The city stood as a religious center with temples, shrines and altars dedicated to Zeus and other Greek gods, including Asklepios, the god of healing. As a result of this particular god, one might consider Pergamum the Mayo Clinic of its day.

To make matters worse for the church, Pergamum embraced the idea of the imperial cult even before Rome did. Its citizens built the first temple to Caesar Augustus in AD 29, proclaiming him a living god. Pergamum became the birthplace of emperor worship. Failure to worship the emperor was a crime punishable by death. Antipas, one of the early church leaders in Pergamum, refused to bow before the emperor and was martyred for his faith.

“I know where you live,” Jesus said. He knew their circumstances. He knew they lived in the shadow of Satan’s throne. Jesus was empathetic to their situation. Temptations and pressure to sublimate their faith for the sake of self-preservation were intensely felt. Surely Antipas was not the sole believer killed by the emperor’s sense of self-importance. One must assume that other Christians lost their lives.

Their faithfulness unto death caught Jesus’ attention. You face death every day, he said, “Yet you remain true to my name.” Despite the ever-present danger to their lives, they would not forsake the name of Jesus.

What a spectacular testimony. Nothing could persuade them to renounce Jesus. Jesus lifted up the church in Pergamum for being faithful in that which mattered most. Sadly, the story doesn’t end there.

Despite their insistence on not bowing down to the emperor, some of them stood on that slippery slope. Some people in the church had, in fact, already taken the plunge. If you’ve just received a word of praise from heaven, the last word you want to hear next is “Nevertheless.” The tone of the passage changes dramatically from one of commendation to condemnation.

“Nevertheless, I have a few things against you.”

Though they were faithful in the big thing, they let the little things seduce them. Some of the folks could not stop at one Thin Mint. They ate one, then ate another and another.

Sin wraps itself in attractive packaging. Covers its hideousness. Disguises its affects. Surrounded by the allure of sin, some of the Christians at Pergamum yielded to temptation. Jesus’ reference to Balaam is an Old Testament Jewish moral tale warning against listening to the siren songs of those who would forget to whom they belonged. Scripture tells us Balaam found a way to seduce Israel away from God, not in some explosive act of disobedience, but by inching step by step toward disobedience until sin’s dominos started to fall one right after another.

In ancient Israel’s case they violated God’s laws by eating meat offered to idols and embraced the sexual immorality prevalent in their culture. I don’t know if these were the specific sins of the Pergamum Christians, but they began to be disobedient in the little things. They confessed a faith in Christ, but didn’t live like it on a daily basis.

In addition, some among the congregation In Pergamum fell victim to false teaching. The Nicolaitans taught a twisted distortion of the gospel. Subtle deviations from gospel that made disobedience permissible. What they practiced was what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.” Grace that only emphasizes the good or easy parts of the gospel without the truth regarding the more difficult aspects of true discipleship.

Jesus reminded them there is only one solution to sin. He called these wayward Christians to repent. To turn away from the little things they’ve been doing wrong and get their life right with God. Get off that slippery slope and live again the life in Christ to which they had been called.

There are certainly times in my life where I feel like a citizen of Pergamum. To my recollection, I’ve never denied my relationship to Jesus. Never renounced my faith in him. Though challenged from time to time, I can say with Antipas, “He is my Lord.” I am faithful in the BIG thing.

Man, can I identify with those men and women in Pergamum who found themselves on the slippery slope to sin. It’s just so easy to take the first wrong step and find yourself on a path you never intended to take. What we focus on or fret over become or idols, substituting for our dependence on God. It feels easier to walk the well-travelled road of convenience than the narrow path of righteousness. Faith, we feel, just shouldn’t be this hard. So, we compromise. We give in.

Even a cursory look at the actions and beliefs of many Christians yields evidence that they swallowed the lies of the world hook, line and sinker. Sadly, every foray into the shadow is another step down a slippery slope that leads to additional actions until some undesirable consequence inevitably follows. I know. I’ve been there.

Jesus closed his letter to the church in Pergamum with a series of promises to those who overcome the slippery slope despite having to claw their way back up the muddy hillside into the arms of Jesus.

To those overcomers, he offers bread, a stone and a name. I love this metaphor as explained by a pastor friend of mine.

John likely remembered the conversation Jesus had with a crowd he had just miraculously fed. Awed by the miracle and wanting more, they followed Jesus around the Sea of Galilee asking for more. He told them this.

“I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. ” (John 6:48-50)

Jesus is the bread of life. The all-sustaining, eternal manna from heaven. In him we have all we need. We don’t need what the world offers.

He also offered a white stone. The meaning may be less clear, but most commentaries point to the judicial courts that may have handed a white stone to those declared innocent. Other scholars suggested that the white stone may have signified an invitation to a wedding.

Either idea fits within the context of this passage. God’s grace declares the repentant heart innocent of falling down that slippery slope, wiping the slate clean by the forgiveness purchased at the cross. It could be that those who repent find themselves invited again to the feast, to rejoice in a renewed relationship with Jesus.

I like that thought because the stone has my name written on it. It has your name written on it. When we present that stone to Jesus, he knows our name. It stands as a personal invitation to share an intimacy with Jesus that we might otherwise miss.

The symbolism is powerful. Eternal provision and divine satisfaction. A permanent transformation from guilt to innocence. Individual intimacy with the Father.

Those with an ear to hear are told to listen to what Jesus was telling the Christians in Pergamum. He calls us to stand firm. Most of us don’t struggle too much with the faith confession. We struggle with daily conduct, the seduction of compromise.

A look at the church in Pergamum begs the question. Are we also susceptible to the same spiritual schizophrenia? Willing to defend the faith, but failing to see the moral compromises we make?

Let’s pray it is not so. Put the Thin Mints away. Avoid the slippery slope.

To every overcomer, eat a little manna, take hold of that white stone with your name on it and accept the invitation to live in right relationship to the one who loves you so much that he gave his life to compensate for every time you skated that slippery slope.

Who Are You Looking For?

Background Passages: Matthew 16:13-23; John 18:3-8, John 20:11-16

It is an essential question for Resurrection Sunday. One that demands an answer.

Jesus had been crucified and buried. The heavy slab of granite rolled into the dugout trench, locked his body inside. From Friday until early Sunday morning, those who followed Jesus lived in a state of shock, numb with fear.

Not knowing anything else to do, the women who were closest to him, returned to his tomb to finish preparing the body for burial. Something Sabbath laws had not allowed them to do when he died. When they arrived, they found the stone rolled away, the burial cloth neatly folded and the body of their teacher nowhere to be seen. In a panic, they ran back to tell Jesus’ disciples.

As the sun burned away the morning dew, Mary Magdalene, compelled by grief and overcome with sadness, returned to the empty tomb. She failed to recognize the supernatural aura of the day. Two angels sat inside the tomb their identity lost in her confusion. Still clutching the burial ointments she had brought with her that morning, they asked her…

“Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”

Mary heard the rustle of robes behind her. Jesus stood before her, but again in her misery, she failed to recognize the one she loved. Echoing the angels, Jesus asked…

“Woman, why are your crying?”

Then, he got to the heart of the matter.

“Who is it you are looking for?” (John 20:11-15)

There it is. Jesus cuts the soul of everyone who would believe in him as savior and Lord. The fundamental question of Easter. “Who is it you are looking for?”

Easter is the most revered of all Christian Holidays. According to the Pew Research Center, 45 percent of Christians worldwide say they attend worship services on a monthly basis. That number typically increases to about 70 percent on Resurrection Sunday. So, if your church averages about 500 people in attendance every Sunday, you might expect 675-700 people in attendance for Easter services.

Whether you attend church every Sunday or whether your church experience is limited to Christmas and Easter, this is the critical question of we need to ask ourselves. When you walk through the doors of the church, for whom are you searching? Who do you seek?

Just for a moment cast yourself in this story as the thirteenth disciple. Where they go, you go. What they see and hear, you see and hear. What they feel, you feel.

I’m not sure if Peter and the other disciples could have answered that critical question with 100 percent certainty on that first Easter morning so long ago. They had just seen their teacher, their Lord crucified. Their worlds turned inside out and upside down. Little made sense that day. Things had certainly not turned out the way they expected.

It was just a few weeks earlier that Jesus walked his disciples north out of Galilee and into heartbeat of Roman worship. Caesarea Philippi, a Roman city north of the Sea of Galilee, served as the home of a temple to the Roman god Pan.

Needing to get away from the crowds to teach his disciples what would be an unsettling truth, Jesus ventured into a place most Jews would never go.

Can you see them? Jesus and his disciples sat on the side of a hill overlooking Caesarea Philippi, cooking a few fish over the glowing embers of their campfire. Looming below them were pagan temples carved out of the solid sandstone cliff. Torches cast tall, eerie shadows upon the cliffside as the pagan priests scurried to deliver their burnt offerings to the gods.

The muted but friendly conversation of companions fell silent when Jesus, staring down at the temples, asked a simple question.

“Who do men say that the Son of Man is?”

“They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’”

They waited for Jesus to react, the moment growing more uncomfortable for them as Jesus stared into the distance. Then, Jesus turned to face his dearest friends and in a quiet voice and with eyes that bore into their souls, he asked,

“But what about you? Who do you say I am?”

(Do you recognize it? It’s that Easter question in another form. “Who is it you are looking for?”)

The Jewish crowds considered Jesus a new prophet, perhaps John the Baptist, Elijah or Jeremiah returning to set their people free. Jesus needed to know that his disciples understood the truth. “Who am I to you? Who are you looking for?”

With all the pride he could muster, Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”

Jesus offered a word of measured praise and a prophecy.

“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hell will not overcome it.“ (Matthew 16:13-18)

To his credit Peter knew who Jesus was. He was the Messiah. God’s anointed one. God’s son. To his shame, he still didn’t fully understand.

Scripture tells us in the next passage that Jesus, in the quietness of that evening, began to tell the disciples that he would travel to Jerusalem and suffer a great deal at the hands of the religious elite. He told them he would be killed and raised again on the third day.

Slightly horrified, Peter, the one who just declared Jesus the Messiah, tugged on his master’s sleeve, pulled him to the side to rebuke him. This was not a casual “tsk-tsk.” This was a strongly worded criticism, expressing Peter’s sharp disapproval of the content of Jesus’ lesson.

“Never, Lord! This shall never happen!”

Jesus narrowed his gaze into Peter’s eyes raised his voice so all the disciples could hear, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.” (Matthew 16:22-23)

The Jews desperately pined for the Messiah to come as a conquering king to drive the occupying Romans from their lands. Peter and the others had a hard time getting past the old narrative. He recognized that Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah, but fail to understand the nature of God’s redeeming work. He viewed Jesus in political and personal terms. He got the identity right, but not the intent.

Who are you looking for? Jesus asked. Peter was looking for someone different. The wrong kind of Messiah. Looking for the wrong kind of savior.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Travel now to the Garden of Gethsemane. The hour is late. The disciples are bone tired and weary. Not just from the tiring journey from Caesarea Philippi to Jerusalem, but from the troubling events of the night. The supper shared in the upper room went from celebratory to somber. Jesus’ actions unsettled everyone. Washing the feet. Calling out a betrayer. Launching into a heavy conversation about death at the hands of the civil and religious authorities.

Amid the olive trees, the disciples struggled to stay awake. Jesus knelt farther up the hillside, in fervent prayer. The disciples faded in and out of a sleep induced haze, until they heard the stomp of marching feet. The clatter of sword against shield cutting through the midnight hour. Wide awake now, the disciples form a protective ring around Jesus as a band of soldiers being led by no other but Judas surrounds them, swords drawn.

Jesus gently pushes his way to the front and stands face to face with Judas and the Roman centurion.

“Who is it you want?”

(There it is again. The same probing question. “Who is it you are looking for?”)

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they said.

Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. If you are looking for me, then let these men go…Then, the detachment of soldiers with its commander and the Jewish officials arrested Jesus. They bound him and brought him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jewish leaders that it would be good if one man died for the people. (John 18:3-8)

Other passages of scripture tell us that Judas greeted his master with a kiss. Judas joined the disciples, attracted by the message of inclusion and freedom. He heard the words, but never quite got the message. Growing increasingly disillusioned by Jesus’ passive approach, he felt compelled to act. Still believing that Jesus was the man who would start the revolution, Judas tried to force his hand.

The kiss. Perhaps a wink and a slight nod of his head. A lift of the eyebrows. Judas had just created the opportunity to light the fire of rebellion if only Jesus would comply with his wishes.

“Who is it you want?” Judas recognize Jesus’ power. He had seen it in action. He knew Jesus, but he didn’t know his heart. Judas wanted a savior he could manipulate to do his bidding. He wanted to unleash that miraculous power to meet his own desires. Judas didn’t want a savior. He wanted someone he could control.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Now, let’s go back to the tomb. Hours later in the timeline of Jesus’ life on earth. In the garden outside the tomb, a distraught Mary mistook Jesus for the gardener. Unable to recognize the one she loved so dearly, she heard him ask,

“Who are you looking for?”

In the brief conversation that ensued, Mary’s grieving heart took her the only place her distress could go. With a heart burdened and disoriented, she cried out to him,

“Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him.”

At some point in this conversation, Jesus sought to reassure her. He called her name,

“Mary.”

Something in the sound of his voice broke through the despair and the heartbreak. In that moment of clarity, Mary found the one for whom she was looking.

She fell at his feet and cried.

“Rabboni.”

This Hebrew form of the word is personal, informal and intimate.

“My Teacher.” (John 20:15-16)

Mary understands who he is and acknowledges him as her risen Lord.

You see, when Mary Magdalene ran to tell the disciples that the tomb was empty, she had all the facts right, but she jumped to the wrong conclusion. Peter had done the same in Caesarea Philippi. Judas the same at Gethsemane. Her facts were right. The tomb was empty. She just drew to the wrong conclusion.

We often do the same thing. When faced with troubles and unexplainable tragedy, we mourn. If we understood who we were looking for, we wouldn’t weep at all. Consider this. If Mary had gotten her wish and she found a body in the tomb, we would have no reason to celebrate. There would be no Easter.

The truth of Easter demands an answer from each of us.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Maybe you’re one of those believers like Peter who initially put your faith and trust in Jesus at an early age. When you think of Jesus, you think of him as savior. You have his identity right, but not his intent. Being saved is more than a point in time reality. Salvation is so much more than that moment in time decision to follow Christ. It’s more than that initial decision you made to trust him. Being saved is knowing Christ daily. Growing in him daily. Making every effort to live a more Christ-like life every day. Letting him be the boss of your life today and always.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus and make him Lord of your life. Every day.

Maybe your understanding is similar to Judas’ “genie in a lantern” concept of God. Rub the lantern and get three wishes. God is there to answer my prayer. Give me what I want when I want it. There are those who try to mold God into their own image rather than letting God mold them into his. When we try to make God into our own image, he will always disappoint us. Why would we trust a God who is no more perfect than us?

God’s plan for your life is far better than anything you can dream on your own. He wants the best for us. Thank God for the unanswered prayers because he knows what’s best. Thank God when God makes us wait on him because his timing is best.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus and trust him to meet your needs. Every day.

Maybe this Easter celebration will be meaningful because you get it. Jesus died on a cross as a willing sacrifice for your sins. He rose again. A living Lord. In difficult times, he is your strength. When you don’t know which way to turn, he is your guide. You’ve embraced his presence in your life and recognize that he is still your Rabboni. Personal and Intimate. Your Teacher. Those closest to Christ know that he is still teaching you daily how to live like him.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus, your strength. Your companion. Your teacher.

Statistics tell us Easter Sunday will draw many to worship. That is my hope and prayer. Every person who walks in the door should be blessed.

I pray that everyone who walks through the sanctuary doors will look for Jesus in all his fullness. It is a choice each of us can make, but it won’t happen unless we come with that question on our hearts.

It won’t happen, unless I am willing to ask the question as I enter to his presence in worship.

“Who is it I am looking for?”

Shine Like Stars

Background Passages: Philippians 2:12-18; Philippians 1:9-11; Romans 12:1-2; 2 Corinthians 4:5-6

The eye-opening clarity of images from space captured by the Hubble telescope fascinate me. Every new image of a star cluster or galaxy speaks to the wonder of God’s creation.

On Christmas Day last month, NASA launched the long-anticipated James Webb Telescope which is 100 times more powerful than the Hubble. I watched its launch and subsequent deployment with rapt attention. Larger than a tennis court, the Webb had to be folded in upon itself in multiple layers in order to fit inside the spacecraft fairing.

Once on its way to its orbital position one million miles from earth, the telescope began to unfold. NASA officials said that there were more than 344 single points of failure, any one of which would cripple and render useless the $10 billion project.

This week, the last of those 344 points unfurled successfully. All that remains is for the spacecraft to settle into its orbit.

Once the telescope is carefully calibrated, the infrared telescope will enable us to see more deeply into the universe than we’ve ever seen before. Collecting light from the infrared spectrum, the telescope will see the formation of stars and galaxies almost as old as the universe itself. It promises to teach us much about the universe God created.

Watching the deployment over the past few weeks reminded me of how stunning it was to see the night sky on our farm when I was growing up. On those nights when there was no moon in the sky, the vast number of distant stars making up the Milky Way staggered the mind.

Scientists tell us the Milky Way is 120,000 light years from end to end with more than 200 billion stars. On those clear nights, I wanted to count every star.

I came across a passage of scripture this week in Philippians that encouraged believers in Christ to “shine like stars in the universe.” With that thought, I spent some time looking into what Paul was trying to tell us.

The Apostle Paul found himself under house arrest in Rome. While detained, he received a love offering from the believers in Philippi. Paul took the time to write a letter thanking them for their financial support and give an update on his situation. Then, despite his personal circumstances, he encouraged them to stand firm in their faith in the face of persecution. To rejoice regardless of the circumstances in which they may find themselves.

“Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. Do everything without complaining or arguing so that you may become blameless and pure children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life…” (Philippians 2:12-18)

I wonder today how well do I shine? Is my light strong enough to be seen in the darkness that is our world today?

The focal passage begins with one of my favorite biblical words. “Therefore…” If you read the Bible enough, you begin to understand that anytime you see the word therefore it’s time to sit up and pay attention. You’re about to read a word you need to heed.

Our therefore in this passage refers to the preceding verses.

“God exalted him (Jesus) and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 1:9-11)

“Therefore…“Paul begins this passage by reminding the Philippian church that because they obeyed the call of salvation and placed their faith and trust in Christ and because they confessed him as Lord of their lives, they must keep on working out their salvation.

To be clear, this does not mean they are to earn their salvation strictly by continued obedience…by works. Rather, it means that the expression of that confession and belief in Christ must be a process of continuous spiritual growth.

Though salvation is a grace gift freely given, a once and forever decision that cannot be stripped away, it should express itself through our lives as an ongoing learning process toward spiritual maturity. To “continue to work out your salvation” is an encouragement to work until our faith is complete…to bring your salvation to fruition.

The Chinese philosopher said every journey begins with the first step. That moment when we give our lives to Christ is the first step of salvation. Paul reminds the believers that salvation is a continuous process of growing in spirit and truth, daily putting into practice all that Jesus taught us through his words and his deeds.

No Christian should remain unchanged by his or her salvation experience. You cannot accept Christ, making no effort to be obedient to his commands, and shine as you ought. Life abundant comes in learning and doing God’s will and “good purpose” for your life each and every day.

In another time and place, Paul said it this way:

“Walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called. (Ephesians 4:1)

That thought which Paul expressed to the church in Ephesus dovetails well with his thoughts in verse 12. Paul praised the Philippians for their faith and steadfast obedience even when Paul was no longer with them.

Their spiritual growth would enable them to withstand the pressures and persecutions of a “crooked and depraved generation.” Lest we get too high on our own horse, our generation is no better. The world around us is just as crooked and depraved.

The words he spoke to Timothy ring true today.

“For a time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.” (2 Timothy 4:2-5)

Paul’s encouragement to Timothy and to those first century believers is no less of an encouragement to believers today.

When confronted by the wickedness and twisted and convenient doctrine of our world, we must arm ourselves with greater knowledge and understanding of God’s word. Keep working out our salvation. Keep on growing in his word. Keep moving toward spiritual maturity. Keep shining like the stars.

How do we shine like stars to a crooked and depraved generation living in our world? What does living as a child of God look like?

Paul was clear. Look at what he says to the Philippians.

“Do everything without complaining or arguing.”

Paul always chooses his words carefully. The word he uses to express complaining is a word used to describe the people of Israel who murmured against Moses while wondering in the wilderness. It is the utterance of a discontented mob, unhappy with life’s circumstance. When he speaks of arguing, Paul describes useless debates and a life of doubt.

When the world is filled with such discontent, the Christian ought to stand out from the crowd, filled with peace and serenity regardless of life’s circumstance. Trust in the presence of God removes debilitating doubt and useless conversation.

And Paul’s encouragement extends to every activity of life. Note the words, “Do everything…” Every act. Every word. Every relationship. In every circumstance of life Paul says, be at peace with God, with others and with yourself. Be like Christ.

“Be pure and blameless.”

Paul also extends a call to purity. To be above reproach. The Greek word for pure in this passage suggests being unmixed or unadulterated. It was used in Paul’s day to talk about wine or milk that had not been diluted with water. In people, it implies sincerity and honest motives. An absence of guile or deceit. To be blameless in this context is not as much a reference to how others see us, but to how God sees us.

In the Old Testament, it spoke to the quality of the sacrifices offered to God; that they were without blemish, spotless. So, Paul is saying to the believers be an unblemished sacrifice (holy and set apart) in the eyes of God, a word he also spoke to the Romans.

“I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:1-2)

The reason for God calling us to a higher standard of living is the idea behind the old hymn:

“Let others see Jesus in you.
Keep telling the story.
Be faithful and true.
Let others see Jesus in you.”

In other words, be like Christ.

That is how we shine like stars in a darkened world. that is how we live a holy and distinctive life of witness to the saving grace of God to a wicked and depraved generation. This is how we “hold out the word of life.”

The call of God to live differently, to shine like stars, isn’t just to bask in the glow of each other’s light as a body of believers. It is a call to missions. Paul wants the lives of all believers, in word and deed, to draw men and women to him. To draw the world to the abundant life he offers all who believe. It is a missional experience.

In this I hear the words of Paul again directing the Corinthian church to live distinctive lives that point toward Christ…

“For what we preach is not ourselves, but Christ Jesus our Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God who said, ‘Let light shine in the darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.” (2 Corinthians 4:5-6)

Live your life differently than the world around lives. Stand out in the crowd for your positive and loving attitude. Quit fighting. Speak in love. Treat others equitably. Don’t give anyone a reason to dispute your motives or your methods. Be a light in the darkness.

Again, be like Christ.

Wherever you are tonight, walk outside. Turn your face to the heavens and count the stars. Let them serve as a reminder that God has called us to be like Christ…a light in the darkness.

May the joy and peace that God gives his children light the flame within us so we can help but shine like the stars.

 

Distinctive Living

Background Passages: Matthew 5:13-16, Romans 12:2, Galatians 5:22-23

It’s still one of the most impressive devotionals I ever heard. Standing before the deacons at our regular monthly meeting, Dan Cain began speaking, without reading, without notes. Words he not only memorized but internalized.

“Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on the mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him and he began to teach them…” (Matthew 5:1)

What followed was beautiful recitation of the Sermon on the Mount as recorded in Matthew. Word for word. As if we were sitting on the hillside, hearing our Lord speak.

That’s the way to read and hear scripture. Not in the dull monotone of the mind, without life or feeling, but as if you were present in the moment, hearing the words…just as the disciples heard them. That’s when the words jump off the page with meaning that changes everything.

I read that passage of scripture again this week. When I did, I heard those words in the voice of Jesus…who suddenly sounded remarkably similar to Dan Cain’s Texas twang.

Let’s take a look at one thought from Jesus’ greatest sermon. I find it as relevant today as it was 2,000 years ago.

_____

During the first year of his ministry, Jesus moved from village to village in Galilee teaching in the synagogues and preaching wherever he found an audience to listen. We don’t know a lot about the content of those early teachings except Jesus seemed to pick up where John the Baptist left off. The gospel writer tells us in Matthew 4:17…

“From that time on, Jesus began to preach, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

At some point in this time frame, he called his first disciples, taking them with him as he taught and healed. So popular were his teachings and so miraculous his healing that large crowds began to follow wherever he went. The people came, not just from Galilee, but from Jerusalem, Judea and the land east of the Jordan River to hear his voice.

At one point, Luke tells us that Jesus drew criticism from the Pharisees for healing a man with a deformed hand. After that rather heated debate, Jesus left Capernaum and went up the hillside to pray. The following morning as he and his closest disciples walked back toward the town, they encountered a large crowd eager to hear his message. Desperate to be healed.

Jesus found a spot on the hill and began to preach.

Taken as a whole, the Sermon on the Mount is the nearest thing to a manifesto that Jesus ever shared. He described what he wanted his followers to be and do. It is an explanation of kingdom living at its best. Writer John Stott said the teachings within this sermon “describe what human life and human community look like when they come under the gracious rule of God.

“And what do they look like? Different! Jesus emphasized that his true followers, the citizens of God’s kingdom, were to be entirely different from others.”

The Sermon on the Mount then is a call to be distinctive, drawing a constant contrast between the life lived by those of the Word and the life lived by those of the world. Jesus simply said,

“…do not be like them…” (Matthew 6:8)

You hear a similar word of caution from God to the Israelites in Leviticus 18:3 as he spoke about the pagan practices of the Egyptians and the Canaanites.

“You must not do as they do.”

An echo of the idea reverberated in Paul’s admonition to the church in Rome.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…” (Romans 12:2)

God calls us to live differently than those who do not know him. To relate to one another differently than those who don’t know him. To testify by the way we live to the transformative power of a life committed to Christ.

A pastor said recently that God’s church once existed as the heart and soul of every community. The church and its people defined the culture of the community. The pastor lamented that God’s church today no longer serves as the driver of our culture. Instead, it surrendered its responsibility as the conscience of the community and found itself pushed to the periphery. Its influence marginal at best.

Decades ago, someone once asked Methodist missionary and author E. Stanley Jones to name the biggest problem of the church. His answer short and to the point. “Irrelevance,” he said. “Three-fourths of the opposition to the church stems from disappointment. We promise to make men different, but the promise goes largely unfulfilled.”

Some 50 years later, the pandemic dealt another blow to the church’s relevance. Before we blame the church as an institution, we need to remember that we are the church. You and I, as individuals, are the church. We must ask ourselves the tough question. Is the church less relevant because its people are no longer different enough from the world around us? I suspect there is more truth to that than any of us would care to admit.

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount speaks to kingdom living. About living the life God calls us to live. Jesus expects us to have a profound influence on the culture of the world. Yet, we have become less different, less distinctive.

Jesus spoke words to us that still echo off the waters of the Sea of Galilee. These words tell us what we ought to be.

“You are the salt of the earth! But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:13-16)

Jesus finds truth in the simplicity of ordinary living. He offers no cryptic parable that demands explanation. If you’re sitting with Jesus on the hillside in the first century, you get it. It’s just as clear today.

Salt flavors and preserves. So, what you’re saying Jesus is that we must live in such a way that we don’t leave a bitter taste in someone’s mouth. We are to preserve in our culture that which is holy and sacred and pure and right so that it still sustains those who will partake of it. When we lose our saltiness, our testimony and witness fade. Our lifestyle begins to look the same as our unchurched neighbors. Our influence in the community gets trampled underfoot and lost to society.

If you’re sitting with Jesus on the hillside in the first century, you get it. Another easily understood illustration that made as much sense to a Galilean as it does to a Texan. Light serves as a beacon to the lost, drawing them to safety. Light makes clear the path of righteous living that seeks to serve rather than condemn.

To be salt and light is the calling, but they are not the purpose. Allow me to paraphrase:

“Let your salt flavor all of life with the sweet taste of God’s love and your light illuminate his teachings…so that…they, the world beyond the walls of the church, will see the difference in the way you live and embrace and exalt the God of salvation who is our Father in heaven.”

That’s a huge “so that.” We live the life God calls us to live every day, not so we can stand on the street corner and express openly our gratitude that we are “not like other men.” A holier than thou attitude that drives a wedge between the church and those we are called to serve.

We live the life God called us to live so what we say and do points the lost to Jesus. For when we flavor life with the sweet taste of his love and the clear light of his goodness and grace…when we are truly different…all humanity will be drawn to him.

What does that look like?

Being salt and light is the byproduct of kingdom living. Paul described it to the Galatian church.

“…the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

Such traits are rare and precious commodities in our world today. When Christians decide to be salt and light, to demonstrate love, peace, patience…the world feels our presence. When we demonstration kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, the world pays closer attention to what we say and do. That distinctiveness makes a difference. The church, our faith, becomes relevant again.

How do we get there?

Those glow-in-the-dark toys only glow in the dark when they are held next to the light for an extended period. We get to the point of distinctiveness when we stay close to the Light of the World. Spending time in his word and having those deep, rich, prayerful conversations with the one who takes joy in hearing from us. We get there by making a conscious effort to be different.

Our faith cannot be timid nor secret. We cannot hide our light beneath a bowl or bushel. The light must shine. Let us work to make our faith both vocal and visible. Only then will the church find its place again in the center of the community.

God calls us to influence the world. Imagine what human life and human community look like when they come under the gracious rule of God led by those who are both salt and light. It’s time to make a difference. That’s what being salt and light is all about.

Enter His Gates

Background Passages: Mark 11:15-17; Psalm 100:4

If we aren’t careful, reading scripture can become too common place. We hear or read a story enough times and Jesus becomes a two-dimensional character we place on the felt board of our lives as the story unfolds.

When we’re able to make Christ real, the story fleshes itself out in colorful, three dimensions that gives us a new way of looking at God’s truth and inspires us to live life more abundantly.

Three verses in Mark. Four quick sentences. These 78 words tell the story of Jesus physically clearing the temple in a moment of righteous anger. It is an intense passage. I don’t know that it happened exactly like I envision it, but you don’t know it didn’t. Read with the intent of learning what it means to make his house a house of prayer and inclusion.

She shuffled inside the temple through its eastern gate,
caught in a stream of
hurrying humanity.
Pressing.
Pushing.
Prodding
An exhausting effort to
pass through the portal.

The massive crowd created an instant bottleneck.
at the narrow opening
Hundreds tried to enter
like sheep herded into a pen.

The petite, elderly woman.
Jostled.
Jolted.
Jammed through the gateway.
Once inside,
some hurried soul shoved her to the side.
Knocked her off balance,
scraping her wrist of the rough, stone wall.

She scanned the courtyard of the women,
rubbing the abrasion on her hand.
Blaring noise.
Braying animals.
Barked insults.
Smells and sounds stunned her senses.
Every face that passed reflected a patience worn thin
by long lines.
Angry haggling.
Inhospitable hearts.

Slowly she meandered through the booths,
handing over her temple tax to a scowling priest.
Paying her pennies
for a sacrificial dove.
Exorbitant fees left two coins in her bag.

A Jewish convert from Syria.
A trip of a lifetime.
A demanding and dangerous
journey to Jerusalem.
In her heart,
worth every toilsome step to pray
to the living God.
In His home.
His temple.

Pictured this moment in her heart for years, but
she never expected such…
unholiness
in this most holy place.

Passed through the masses
deeper into the Court of the Gentiles.
Seeking a quieter place to pray.
Hawkish vendors pawed at her arms.
Plying their wares.
When she did not buy,
they pushed her away.
Cursed her family.
Cruel words.
Contemptuous sneers.

She moved again,
longing to feel God’s presence in
his temple.

Once…
Someone arguing at an elder of the temple
broke her reverent conversation.

Twice…
Someone yelled at her
as she settled to her knees.

Three times…
Someone shoved her against the wall
as they jockeyed for position.

Tears flowed down her wrinkled face.
Tired.
Traumatized.

Disillusioned.
Disheartened.

*****

A few minutes before,
Jesus and his disciples entered the temple court
through the same eastern gate.
A long journey from Capernaum
in obedience to the call of Passover.
The last Passover
before the passion
of the cross.

Jesus steeled himself against the revulsion he felt
every time he entered the unruly atmosphere.
Particularly rowdy and quarrelsome this year.

Muttered to his disciples
“How can anyone worship like this?”

Worked his way through the crowd
Brushing aside the moneychangers and sellers.
Hearing the relentless haggling over
price and
product.
Anger boiled with each passing moment.

Jesus’ head snapped to a commotion on his left.
An elder in the Temple.
Shouted and shamed
a man who refused to pay the asking price for a
blemished lamb.
A lamb unsuitable for sacrifice.
Unworthy of God’s blessing.

Too late Jesus stepped to intervene.
The elder drove the man back
with fisted rebuke,
pushing him into and over an elderly woman
kneeling at the wall,
offering her prayers amid the
chaos and confusion.

The master could tolerate no more.
Grabbed two cords from a vendor’s stand.
Wrapped them around his wrist.
Held tightly in his calloused hand.
A crack of the improvised whip.
A shout that bounced off the temple walls,
Jesus cried out,

“Enough!”

People spun around.
Stared.
Shocked.

The old Syrian woman backed against the wall.
Avoided the man in the dusty robe as he charged by.
She watched in awe as he…
Moved quickly to a moneychanger’s table,
tossing it aside as if it were made of papyrus.
Scattered a bag full of coins
across the dusty ground.
Pushed over a nearby fence holding a small herd of sheep.
Drove them toward the gate and
outside the temple

People scattered.
Ran from the man with furious eyes.

Above the din,
she heard again…

“Enough!”

Picking up an armful of cages holding the doves,
the man shoved them forcefully
into the arms of a temple guard.

“Take them and go!
Now!”

The elderly woman startled in fright.
A burly merchant jumped in front of the man.
Beefy hands stretched out to stop him.
Eyes intent on malice.

The man with the whip froze.
Held the index finger of his right hand
inches from the merchant’s face.
Dark eyes glared at the storekeeper.
An explicit,
unspoken
message.

“Don’t even think about it!”

The merchant cowered.
Grabbed his possessions.
Fled toward the gate without looking back.

The woman stood with her mouth agape.
Fascinated by the
presence and power
on display.

As he encountered each Gentile worshipper,
he looked intently into their eyes.
Urged them,

“Please wait.”

Then, in a whirlwind of God’s wrath,
He turned to another merchant,
driving them from the temple.

A swirl of dust.
The man stretched out his arms.
Grabbed the edge of the heavy wooden gates.
Watched the mass of fleeing humanity.

“My Father’s house is for all nations a house of prayer.
You have turned it into a den of thieves!”

“Enough!”

Slammed shut the doors.
Sealed the ensuing silence
into the courtyard of God’s temple.

The elderly woman and dozens of desiring worshippers
Stood still.
Shaken.
Silent.

*****

Jesus stood still at the entrance
breathing heavily.
Head bowed.
Tears of sadness stained dusty cheeks.
Rubbed his eyes and face
as he calmed his emotions.

Troubled worshippers…
Clung tightly to one another.
Clustered in tiny groups,
gathered across the courtyard.

Shocked priests…
Huddled in the far corner.
Trembling in a mixture of
terror and temper.

Stunned disciples…
Stood slack-jawed amid the overturned tables.
Astonished at the demonstration of physical power
never seen from their Lord.

Jesus looked at his closest friends.
Exhaled deeply.
Puffed out his reddened cheeks.
Shook his head slightly and…
with visible relief, winked.
“I’m okay.”

Jesus scanned the silent assembly.
Looked intently for the elderly woman caught in the middle.
He found her.
Crouched in a corner.
Leaning against the wall.
Knees pulled tightly to her chest.

He sat down beside her.
Smiled a self-conscious grin.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,
but I know you came to worship our God.”

They sat for a moment in silence. Jesus breathed deeply.

He pushed himself upward,
pressing his back against the stone wall.
He took her hands.
Led her to the center of the courtyard,
calling for the others to join him.
In the stillness of that moment,
Jesus led them in quiet prayer.

He motioned to the frightened priests.
Signaled them to quietly accept the offered sacrifices.
One by one.
The worshippers relinquished their tribute.
Moved to a quiet place.
Offering private praise
to the Lord Almighty.

Jesus watched the prayerful pass.
Spoke quiet words of encouragement.

The old, Syrian woman
moved slowly in the line of worshippers.
Waited for her moment to offer her dove to the priest.
As the line moved slowly forward, she
stopped in front of the man who cleared the temple.
With a look of gratitude
she raised a shaking hand, translucent with age,
placed it delicately on his cheek.
Patted it twice.
Inner joy bursting forth in a near toothless smile,
erasing 20 years from her elderly features.

Laughing quietly,
Jesus offered his arm.
They shuffled to a quiet corner.
Knelt together in the dust.
Offered more words of praise and worship to the Father.

What made this Passover different? The same chaotic scene played out every year upon Jesus’ arrival for Passover. The crowds. The clamor. The irreverence.

Every time he came to the temple, Jesus surely winced. Overwhelmed by the cacophony within the courtyard. Sickened by the difficulty of worshipping amid the clamor.

Yet, he never reacted outwardly to his inner revulsion…never yielded to the rising bile of anger in his throat.

The disturbance this time triggered a different response. This time he would enter Jerusalem’s temple for the last time…on his way to the cross. Jesus chose this time to make a bold statement about worship so seriously misunderstood and misrepresented by the myopic temple authorities.

In a graphic way Jesus reminded them that God’s house is a place of reverence.

In a graphic way Jesus confirmed that personal prayer lies at the heart of worship.

In a graphic way Jesus warned against attitudes and behaviors that impede the worship of another.

In a graphic way Jesus insisted that God’s house would be an inviting place of prayer…for all nations. For all people.

Imagine a church today with no distractions. No dissension. No disdain for the different.

A church with no elitism. No exclusivity.

A church with no arrogance. No attitude that shuns the seeker. No action that serves as a stumbling block to real worship.

Imagine a church with its doors and hearts wide open. Ready for worship.

A church for whom God’s house echoes with prayer and praise…for all people.

Just imagine.

Then…

Make it so.

“Enter his gates with Thanksgiving; His courts with praise, Give thanks to Him and Praise His name.” (Psalm 100:4)

Author’s Note: The article above is a chapter pulled from one of my books, The Chase: Our Passionate Pursuit of Life Worth Living. If you’re interested in purchasing a copy of the book, leave a message on the comment section below.