A while back I heard a TED Radio Hour interview with Frank Warren, founder of Post Secret, the Community Mail Art Project. Warren founded the project in 2005. People mail Warren a postcard of their own artistic design that includes a secret that is absolutely true and has never been shared with anyone. Interestingly enough, new secrets are posted each week on Sundays… a sort of colloquial prayer of confession. As I’ve read some of the secrets and a little about the project itself, it has left these impressions with me… People have a lot of secrets. Down deep, they don’t want to keep them; they want to share them but fear rejection. As human creatures, we invest a great deal of energy into hiding those parts of ourselves that we think others would reject or judge as immoral, weak, ineffective, inappropriate, or just plain strange. One of the secrets Warren shared came from a woman who wrote that she still had saved on her phone the last voice mail ever received from her dead grandmother. Just before grandma died unexpectedly, she had called to wish her granddaughter a happy birthday. She sang a silly little song she made up. The granddaughter was embarrassed that she couldn’t bring herself to delete the message. As a pastor, can I just tell you how common that is?
If there is one thing I’ve learned in 22 years of ministry it is that people in churches are often just as reluctant to share our secrets with one another as is the general public; sometimes more so. Shame is a powerful thing and a destructive thing. Yet church, more than anywhere else, should be a place where we can be honest about who we are; a place where we can be honest about what we struggle with and be an encouragement and support to one another. God never intended for us to go it alone. It’s not how God built us. In Genesis, chapter 2, after God creates the man and places him in the garden, God evaluates: “It is not good that the human should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” (Genesis 2:18) It’s a shame that scripture is often restricted to wedding ceremonies because it has a broader, deeper meaning: as human creatures we were designed with an innate need for one another’s help and support.
In the month of August, I’ll be preaching a sermon series called “Tell Me a Secret.” I’ll be examining four “types” of secrets that are also struggles faced by bible characters. I’m not so sure it really does much good to share our deepest, darkest fears, misgivings, doubts, and shortcomings through an anonymous postcard. But I feel pretty confident that Christian communities are places where people should be able to open up to one another and be who they are and that – if we can do that with integrity and grace – we’ll really become the help to one another that God intended us to be from the very beginning, the genesis of time.
[May 1 I’ll begin a new sermon series – Built to Last: How the Church Can Thrive in Today’s Culture. “Call me Christian” begins the series.]
Did you have a nickname growing up? When I was in college, I wound up in the advanced Solfeggio class. [A musical scale… Think of the do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti- do song Julie Andrews taught the children in The Sound of Music.] I’m still not sure how I got put in that class. Lots of my fellow students had perfect pitch. I didn’t. I really struggled. It earned me a nickname through the entirety of my years in music school: “Ti-Fa Tracey.” So pervasive was its use that it became my email address: tifatracey.
Names mean a great deal to us. If we consider ourselves disciples of Jesus, we name ourselves Christians. Christian is a term put to extensive use in our country. It’s ironic that a label applied to people who worship a man put to death as an enemy of the state is so tremendously coveted by today’s politicians. In an increasingly diverse world, it seems there is enormous diversity of opinions as to what defines a Christian. In our post-modern American culture, it seems often wed to particular social or political positions.
The Greek form of the word Christian (Christianos) is only found three times in the New Testament and is always used in a negative or derogatory context. (If you’re a Methodist, you might recall that our denominational label was also applied to us by outsiders critical of our religious discipline!) Jesus never actually used the term; but he most certainly names the attitudes and behaviors of those who would define themselves in relation to him. A willingness to love, to serve and even to sacrifice for the good of others seems to be Jesus’ most consistent message. I wonder if that is still what we mean today when we say “Call me Christian.”
When Jesus had received the wine, he said, “It is finished.”
Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. – John 19:30
“Put your pencils down and pass your papers to the front.” Do you remember hearing those words when you took exams in school? It seemed to me that there were always at least a couple of questions on every test that I wasn’t quite sure about. After answering what I knew, I’d go back to those questions and turn them over in my mind. But any consideration, any deliberation was over when the teacher uttered those dreaded words, “Put your pencils down and pass your papers to the front.” It didn’t matter if your work was incomplete; you were finished. Tough luck.
In the gospel of John, Jesus’ final words (as they are translated in most of our English bibles) are: “It is finished.” But that’s not necessarily the best translation. After all, I may only be “finished” with something because time has run out; like it or no, “time’s up.” Put your pencil down.
In John’s gospel, Jesus refers to his ministry as “work.” In chapter 4, Jesus enters into conversation with a Samaritan woman while he is sitting by a well. In the course of their lengthy conversation, Jesus reveals his identity to her; it is the first time he has openly spoken to anyone about who he is. When the woman heads back into town to tell her neighbors about Jesus, Jesus’ disciples try to offer Jesus something to eat. Jesus’ answer is odd. He says to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work.”[i] It’s a statement that baffles the disciples. They may have only been concerned about his blood sugar dropping; but clearly Jesus has something else in mind when he speaks of food.
Jesus picks up this thread once again in chapter six. He had (most recently) miraculously provided food for a hungry crowd of 5,000. But Jesus tries to put things in proper perspective giving them a response that goes something like this (my paraphrase):[ii] You are hunting me down just to get another free meal. Forget about wasting your time working on that. Work on pursuing something that really matters. Work on putting your trust in me.
Jesus, throughout John’s gospel, makes clear that he is working God’s plan. Over the course of the gospel, Jesus explains that plan: he will lay down his life by being lifted up on a cross to die. That’s the plan and Jesus has been working it from the start; always aware of what lies at the finish line.
And so, when he reaches the cross, his work is finished. But it is more than finished; it is complete. In fact, that would be a better translation of the Greek word: It is complete. No loose ends; no unanswered questions. Jesus didn’t lay down his pencil; he laid down his life. And when he did, he did so knowing that his work was complete.
[i] John 4:34
[ii] John 6:25-40
John 19:28: After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture) “I am thirsty.” (NRSV)
I heard a curious story on NPR the other day. We are all aware that California has been experiencing a dreadful drought in recent years. But in recent weeks, they’ve received a good deal of rain… frankly, more than the scorched earth can handle. Anyway, who knows how long the rain will continue but finally, at long last, California’s reservoirs are… well, starting to look like reservoirs again. But here’s where the story takes an odd turn… A century and a half ago – long before our modern scientific weather forecasting capabilities – a law was passed in California. If reservoirs exceed 60% capacity, they are required to release their water and reduce it to 60%. Otherwise, if a major storm caught them unaware, the reservoirs could overflow and there’d be flooding. But right now, the law is useless. California would love to fill up its reservoirs, but no can do. What a paradox.
Likewise, it sounds so strange to hear Jesus, hanging on the cross, say “I am thirsty.” Back in chapter four of John’s gospel, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well and informs her that he is the source of living water. Later, in chapter seven, Jesus says, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.” And now on the cross, the self-proclaimed endless source of life-giving water, cries out “I am thirsty.”
Now without a doubt, Jesus would have been thirsty. All that his body underwent likely caused dehydration. John makes clear to us: this was no walk in the park for Jesus. He was fully divine; but he was also fully human and we human creatures suffer terribly when we’re deprived of water. It is excruciating. This “Word [that] became flesh and lived among us”[i] wasn’t any different from our flesh in that respect.
But Jesus is also divine and nowhere more so than in the gospel of John. In John, Jesus embraces his coming death. He is not running away from it. He is running toward it. They’ll be no “if it is possible, let this cup pass from me”[ii] for John’s Jesus. No, he takes that cup firmly in his hands. He is ready to drink from it.
In chapter ten of John’s gospel, Jesus likens himself to a Good Shepherd. He says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep…I lay down my life… No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord…”[iii] Later, in chapter 18, Jesus is praying in the garden when Judas brings the authorities there to arrest him. Peter responds in his usual impetuous fashion. He draws out his sword. But Jesus admonishes him, “Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?”[iv] You see what I mean?
Jesus has always known how this would end. He understands what he must do and he is ready to do it. And so, when he says he is thirsty, perhaps the meaning goes deeper than his parched lips, his dry mouth, and a yearning for fluid to assuage his dehydration. Perhaps, he is thirsty to complete his work. After all, his final word from that cross will be “It is complete.”[v] Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “’I am thirsty’ is what [Jesus] says, but what he means is, ‘I am ready.’”[vi]
The introduction to John’s gospel tells us that Jesus has made God known to us.[vii] So, here at the end of his earthly life, hanging from a dreadful cross, just what is he teaching us about God? Well, that God will suffer anything to draw you into the fold because that is just how much God loves you.
[i] John 1:14
[ii] Matthew 26:39.
[iii] John 10:11, 17-18.
[iv] John 18:11
[v] John 19:30
[vi] Thirsty for Heaven from Home By Another Way by Barbara Brown Taylor. Cowley Publications; 1999. Page 102.
[vii] John 1:18
[Sunday in worship I preached on Jesus’ first word from the cross. Today through Thursday I’ll blog on a word each day. Join me for a study on the Word of the Day at Star City Coffee House 210 Main St, Lafayette, IN Tuesday through Thursday at 12 noon.]
John 19:26: When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.”
We’ve all heard the cliché “blood is thicker than water.” Since the dawn of time, family has been the ones who keep us safe; who provide for us; who are there for us when the rest of the world turns its back. Family gives us our identity… for better or worse sometimes. As a pastor over the years, I’ve noticed that, even in the scrappiest of families, they’ll circle the wagons when an outside threat is perceived. Family is about loyalty.
Family was an even stronger bond in the ancient Middle Eastern world. And no family bond was as powerful as the one between mother and son. In that culture, couples didn’t fall in love and get married. Marriages were arranged. And the marriage wasn’t much about the bride and groom at all. It was about their families. Marriages forged family alliances. But, for the bride, it was – initially – a tenuous alliance because a woman was never really considered a part of her husband’s family until she gave birth to a son. A baby boy – so fragile and tiny, swaddled up in strips of cloth – held the power to guarantee security for the mother whose arms’ cradled him.
And so we should hardly be surprised that Jesus’ mother is standing there at the foot of his cross. Can you imagine how hard it must have been for her to see him like that? There he hung; stripped of his clothes, nearly as naked as the day he’d been born… and likely looking – to her, at least – just as delicate and vulnerable.
Nowadays families that are spread out across states come together, at the very least, for weddings and funerals. But, apparently, Jesus didn’t have it that lucky. His mother and one aunt; that was it. Joseph was likely deceased. But, the extended family must have surely been larger than mom and one aunt. Yet on the day that must have certainly been the hardest of his life, all the rest are a “no show.”
And so, Jesus, despite his own agony, is concerned for his mother’s future. She will need the security only family can give. In that culture, a woman without family had two options: begging or prostitution. So Jesus provides for her by inaugurating a new family. He redefines family when he entrusts her to one of his disciples; the one whom he loved… a rather odd description since he surely loved them all. But this one, in particular, was the only one to stick by Jesus to the bitter end. And so Jesus must have known he could be trusted to take care of mom; and scripture tells us he did.
The introduction to John’s gospel makes us a bold promise. By placing our trust in Jesus, we can become children of God… which has nothing to do with flesh and blood according to our gospel narrator.[i] But none of us is ever an only child. We come from a large family (called the Church) and hanging there from that cross, Jesus entrusted us to one another’s care.
[i] John 1:12-13
[Yesterday in worship I preached on Jesus’ first word from the cross. Today through Thursday I’ll blog on a word each day. Join me for a study on the Word of the Day at Star City Coffee House 210 Main St, Lafayette, IN Tuesday through Thursday at 12 noon.]
[Jesus] replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Luke 23:43
We are stardust, we are golden, we are billion year old carbon,
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.[i]
I confess to being envious of artists. In my family, all of the visual arts abilities traveled on the Y chromosome: my father, brother and one nephew. I don’t even do a good job with stick figures. I wish I could draw or paint because, let’s face it; there are some things that defy words; concepts or images so marvelous, words cannot do them justice. Paradise is one of those concepts, I think.
If you could draw “Paradise,” what might it look like for you? My guess is, regardless of artistic ability, we might all paint something different.
In the Greek version of the Old Testament, the word we translate as “garden” in the (Genesis, chapter 2) Creation Story is actually the word “paradise.” It is the same word Jesus speaks to the criminal on the cross. It is his promised destination. The Garden (or more literally, Paradise) of Eden must have been a beautiful place. In the description, it sounds so lush and fertile; a river flowed there continually. There were lots of fruit trees, including one called the Tree of Life.
In the last century or two before the birth of Jesus, many Jews began to believe in life after death and many imagined Paradise as the destination. That means long before the old rock band Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, those ancient Israelites believed that “we got to get ourselves back to the garden,”[ii] i.e. Paradise. Like a powerful homing instinct, we yearn for Paradise.
But here’s something curious… In Revelation, the final book in the bible, at the end of time we find ourselves not in a garden paradise. We find ourselves in a city, the New Jerusalem. A river flows through the middle of the city’s main street and on the river’s bank is the tree of life. It sounds like Eden. So, just as you and I might be apt to paint Paradise from diverse perspectives, apparently our bible writers did the same!
So where will we wind up? In a garden or a city? Well, as mysterious and tantalizing as the concept of “paradise” may be, perhaps the best part of Jesus’ promise to the repentant criminal is that he would wind up with Jesus. In other words, maybe when we read that sentence, we shouldn’t read “today you will be with me in Paradise;” but rather, “today you will be with me in Paradise.” Could there ever be any better place than with Jesus?
During the season of Lent, I’m preaching a sermon series entitled The Journey. Along with the weekly sermon, I’ll be blogging on my church’s website. So I’ve decided to put those posts on this – my personal blog – as well. Here’s the final week…
Scripture: Luke 13:22, 31-35
Most of us are familiar with the Robert Frost poem, “The Road Not Taken.” It ends with the poignant phrase,
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
In the Church, the Sunday before Easter is observed as Palm Sunday. It is the day we remember Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem at the start of what we call Holy Week, the last week of Jesus’ earthly life.
In the gospel of Luke, Jesus makes very clear to his disciples that he is journeying toward Jerusalem where he will be crucified. The writing is on the wall. Even a group of Pharisees (pretty unlikely allies) remind Jesus that Jerusalem is a dangerous place for him to frequent. If he’s wise, he’ll reverse course.
But Jesus forges ahead. He forges ahead because he has a clear understanding of the work God has called him to do. His ministry began in the 4th chapter of Luke when he gave a sermon in his hometown synagogue at Nazareth. Reading from the prophet Isaiah, he gave witness to God’s call on his life. Those words from Isaiah were his personal mission statement and he never wavered in his mission. From the start Jesus encountered resistant. But he still chose to travel to Jerusalem. He still chose to take the road that led him toward death because he knew that it was also the road that would lead to our salvation.
Our life’s journeys may not be as clear and discernible as we would like them to be. And we may struggle to find our way along life’s path. But, thanks be to God that Jesus knew the path his life should take and he was committed to the journey. He did not take the easy road or the coward’s way out. He gave his life for us. He took the “road less traveled by. And that has made all the difference”for us.
During the season of Lent, I’m preaching a sermon series entitled The Journey. Along with the weekly sermon, I’ll be blogging on my church’s website. So I’ve decided to put those posts on this – my personal blog – as well. Here’s the fourth week…
Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:30-37)
In Luke, chapter 10, Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan. It is a story that has left an indelible imprint on our culture. We have Good Samaritan Laws and Good Samaritan Hospitals. Jesus tells the story in response to a question posed by an expert in religious law. He wants to know what he must do to inherit eternal life. “Love” is Jesus’ initial answer: a very simple response; but much harder to achieve. It is hard to love because love requires genuine compassion. It’s hard to fake compassion. In the story of the Fisher King, the fool reveals what the king has been seeking his whole life. The fool has no special knowledge or training. He has compassion. Likewise, in the story of the Good Samaritan, the Samaritan is simply traveling along when he sees a wounded man. He feels compassion for him and, from that place of compassion, responds to his needs. So life is not found in the desperate, individualized pursuit for glory; eternal life is here and now if – as we travel the road of life – we respond with compassion to those who are in need. A fool and a Samaritan are the archetype of compassion. “Go and do likewise,” says Jesus.
During the season of Lent, I’m preaching a sermon series entitled The Journey. Along with the weekly sermon, I’ll be blogging on my church’s website. So I’ve decided to put those posts on this – my personal blog – as well. Here’s the third week…
For God so loved the world that he gave… John 3:16 a
I hate to waste things. I have this neurotic obsession with getting the last drop out of lotion and shampoo bottles. I also hate to waste food. I have been known to eat some really bizarre foods for breakfast if something is about to go bad and be wasted.
I don’t think I’m unique, though. Some of the thriftiest people I know are Christians. And unfortunately, sometimes our thriftiness can evolve into stinginess.
That’s in pretty stark contrast to the Jesus of our gospels – especially the gospel of John. Jesus appears to embrace and endorse extravagance. Before his ministry has even launched, Jesus attends a wedding in the town of Cana. Weddings were a big deal in the ancient Middle East. “Receptions” went on for days. At this one, they ran out of wine. At his mother’s request, Jesus turns water into wine. [i] But not just any wine; this wine is of impeccable quality. “Why?” I wonder. By then, the guests were pretty liquored up; likely, a little tipsy and undiscerning of the quality. Later on, Jesus is on a mountain with his disciples and 5,000 of his most adoring (and needy) fans.[ii] Jesus decides to feed them all with resources that amount to nothing more than two fish and five loaves of bread. It’s a miracle; but here’s the strange part: Jesus tells his disciples to collect the left overs and they fill twelve baskets! Why such excess? I’ve eaten leftover fish (refer to my first paragraph!) and it’s nothing to get excited about. Then there’s the story of Mary anointing Jesus.[iii] She anoints Jesus’ feet with some ointment made of pure spikenard. She uses an entire pound of the stuff and its value is the equivalent to a year’s salary for a 1st century Palestinian peasant. One website I checked listed the current average blue collar annual compensation in America as $32,000. Can you imagine dumping $32,000 out on someone’s feet!
Now I don’t mean to imply that Jesus condones waste for waste’s sake. But sometimes I wonder if our “thriftiness” isn’t really about fear… the fear of running out of something. Out of fear, sometimes we stockpile; we squirrel things away for a rainy day that might not ever come and we invest more in the dreadful future our imaginations construct than we invest in our present reality.
But the Jesus of John’s gospel appears to have lived with a constant awareness of abundance. The introduction to John’s gospel tells us that “From Jesus’ fullness [or abundance] we have all received grace [layered] upon grace.”[iv] What a beautiful image. We don’t need to be anxious; don’t need to ever worry about running out or falling short. Jesus came to offer us the abundance of God’s grace.
Today, show you love in an extravagant way to someone in your life. Reveal through your living and giving that you trust in the abundance of God’s grace.
[i] John 2:1-11
[ii] John 6:1-14
[iii] John 12:1-8
[iv] John 1:16
During the season of Lent, I’m preaching a sermon series entitled The Journey. Along with the weekly sermon, I’ll be blogging on my church’s website. So I’ve decided to put those posts on this – my personal blog – as well. Here’s the second week…
The Return Journey
see Luke 15:11-32
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul… Psalm 23:1-3a
The 23rd Psalm is, undoubtedly, one of the best known passages of scripture. Even those who are nominally religious know it. As dependable as death and taxes is the response when you ask a grieving family about scripture for their loved one’s funeral… the answer every time: the 23rd Psalm.
Another well-known scripture is the parable of the prodigal son in Luke’s gospel, chapter 15. Of all the metaphors for spiritual growth, the metaphor of a journey is the one I like the best. I always tell people that Christianity is not really so much a belief system as it is a relationship with a living God who came to us as a person, born in flesh in a particular time and place; who desires to walk with us along our life’s journey.
Long ago I read that sheep can get lost by grazing themselves away from the herd nibble by nibble… one blade at a time, wandering off. As a matter of fact, Caribou have been known to starve because they come to a cliff or a body of water that is impassible and, having exhausted all there is to graze upon around them, they don’t know how to find their way back to where they started.
The prophet Isaiah says “All we like sheep have gone astray…”[i] Certainly the prodigal son went astray. Life must have been pretty sweet living with his father. All of his needs were provided for. But he went off looking for greener pasture, so to speak. He went to a foreign land just looking to have fun and living for the moment. But when he ran out of cash, a severe famine happened in that land and he must have been a little like that hungry caribou at the edge of the cliff.
If our lives as Christian disciples are viewed as a journey, it’s clear that many of us go off course from time to time. Not necessarily as badly as the prodigal son did. But we do find ourselves in a place we don’t want to be. We find ourselves hungry for something more. Fortunately, like the prodigal son, we are able to process our options more effectively than the sheep and the caribou. We can weigh out our possibilities and know that no matter what we’ve done or how far we’ve strayed, God will always welcome us home. He is a Good Shepherd.
The journey of life is hard. But we never need to resign ourselves to feeling hungry or empty or lonely. God is there for us reassuring us that – no matter what we might think of ourselves – we are always precious children in the eyes of God.
If you would like to read the sermon connected to this devotion, just go to http://www.trinitylafayette.org/sermons
Join me for a lunchtime study of Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes that will take place during the Fridays of March, beginning March 4, at 12:15 p.m. at Sacred Grounds Coffee Shop in Lafayette.
[i] Isaiah 53:6a