“Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child. Children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. Everyone will hate you because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved." Mark 13:12-13
Jesus is describing the end times, and today I am finding these two verses very uncomfortble. Two questions come to mind:
1. Is my being hated an evidence that I am a true follower of Jesus? So if I am facing someone's anger, can I automatically assume it is just because I am speaking the truth from the Holy Spirit?
2. If I am not provoking others' hatred because of Christ, does this mean I am not living my faith as vibrantly as I might?
Question 1:
-I notice that my anger and hatred is sometimes sparked when someone inadvertently convicts me of an inner flaw or failing. A good example: often in college, I would respond to people who needed assistance with a point in the right direction, and a basic "good luck!" My best friend, on the other hand, tended to respond to the same situations with more generosity, helping people in need to feel truly comfortable and listening to them longer than I would. By watching her example, I was convicted of an inner stinginess, which at first made me feel angry with her. As I allowed the conviction to take root in my actions, however, those initial feelings of anger faded, and I resolved to become more generous. My friend in this case was an example of someone who was "being hated" because of her witness to Christ. She was a constant reminder to me of a better way, which was sometimes painful to me because I had not yet chosen that way myself.
-On the other hand, sometimes our own self-righteousness, pride and poor timing can provoke the world's anger, too. This is different, and we should not be hasty in concluding that it is our expert modeling of Christ that is responsible for others' wrath. Sometimes we are quick to offer a judgment before we truly know the person or circumstances we are judging This is the whole "take the wooden beam out of your own eye before you try to remove the splinter from your brother's eye" argument.
It takes good self-knowledge to distinguish between the two kinds of hatred we might encounter in living our faith.
Quesion 2:
-Often I live in fear of being hated for my faith in Jesus. Sometimes I show this fear by remaining silent about faith convictions so as not to be construed as self-righteous, Pharisaical, judgmental or hateful. This is really tough. When I know I have the choir to back me up, I preach to it. Alone, I often lack the courage.
-Pontius Pilate also shared this struggle. He didn't believe it was right to put Jesus to death, but he also didn't want to stand alone in that conviction against an angry mob.
-On the other hand, I also try to be tactful about how to make my beliefs known. I don't believe that sparking heated debates on facebook is effective, as it breeds contentiousness. I believe that relationship is the best way to share the Christian faith, not first by arguments with strangers. I also think that an effective witnessing of the Gospel in action is more eloquent than using words, and harder to do.
-I don't remember any great quotes by St. Maximillian Kolbe, but I do know that what he lived in the concentration camps did much to bring the Gospel to the world.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
On the roller coaster with Jesus
"They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to happen to him. 'We are going up to Jerusalem,' he said, 'and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him. Three days later he will rise.' Mark 10:32-34.
It strikes me that, just as the disciples are about to enter Jerusalem and hear hundreds of people shouting "Hosanna to the Son of David," - Jesus is telling them that death lies ahead. Jesus has a vision that looks somewhat like a roller coaster - a trip up to the heights of human glory, followed by a plunge to the utmost darkness of his passion and death, to be topped off by his greatest glory - rising from the dead. He sees all of this, but the discples do not share his vision or understanding. They hear him predict his death, but they see before them only signs that the King of the Jews has come - worldly glory and fame, adulation of their Rabbi. If they really knew where they were headed, what would it feel like? Would they have the courage to follow Jesus through the parades and the palms? If they knew what was ahead, would they have the courge to celebrate the present moment? I don't know. Probably not. Only God, seeing the full vision, could have the courage to walk all of it and live it as it came.
I hear moms say sometimes, "If I had known what labor was like, I would have rethought the whole idea of getting pregnant!" But then, the baby is born, and they somehow forget the pains of childbirth. In fact, going through the process of having a baby kind of mirrors the type of experience Jesus underwent. Finding out that you are expecting a baby carries joy and hope with it, probably like the hope the disciples experienced on entering Jerusalem. The passion and death of Jesus is like labor pains - meaningless if not for the actual birth that it coming. Jesus' resurrection and ascension ameliorate the pains of the cross just as the birth of a baby can numb the pains of childbirth.
For first-time moms, it is necessary to experience every stage of the journey: joyful, sorrowful and glorious alike. And for us, it is necessary not to know the entire experience beforehand. Like the disciples, we might know from others' experiences, rumors or predictions, that the coming time will be hard, but we are saved from the full knowledge of the difficulties maybe because we wouldn't be willing to walk into them otherwise. And, if we don't have the joy to lead us into a time of trial and testing, we will not be prepared for the greater glory following the trial.
Jesus knew, I am sure, how important it was for the disciples to experience joy and hope before the coming difficulties. I am reminded of the times of great joy in my life that helped me enter into experiences that caused growth, sometimes through pain: enrolling in grad school was a time of excitement, but the process of working through my degree was often grueling. However, the hard work led to the even greater joy of graduating!
This chapter reminds me not to live in dread of possible future pain. There is "a purpose to every season under heaven." Alone, the hardships mean nothing, but taken as a whole, joyful and sorrowful experiences can offer us a profound understanding of life's meaning and purpose, and can point us to God. I remember a character in "War and Peace" who is always giving thanks to God, even as he is a hungry, cold, prisoner of war. Thinking about that always reminds me that the times of suffering are a gift because there is a reward to come. We need to fully experience each leg of the journey as it is, trusting that there is an overarching purpose and a glory to be revealed in the entirety.
It strikes me that, just as the disciples are about to enter Jerusalem and hear hundreds of people shouting "Hosanna to the Son of David," - Jesus is telling them that death lies ahead. Jesus has a vision that looks somewhat like a roller coaster - a trip up to the heights of human glory, followed by a plunge to the utmost darkness of his passion and death, to be topped off by his greatest glory - rising from the dead. He sees all of this, but the discples do not share his vision or understanding. They hear him predict his death, but they see before them only signs that the King of the Jews has come - worldly glory and fame, adulation of their Rabbi. If they really knew where they were headed, what would it feel like? Would they have the courage to follow Jesus through the parades and the palms? If they knew what was ahead, would they have the courge to celebrate the present moment? I don't know. Probably not. Only God, seeing the full vision, could have the courage to walk all of it and live it as it came.
I hear moms say sometimes, "If I had known what labor was like, I would have rethought the whole idea of getting pregnant!" But then, the baby is born, and they somehow forget the pains of childbirth. In fact, going through the process of having a baby kind of mirrors the type of experience Jesus underwent. Finding out that you are expecting a baby carries joy and hope with it, probably like the hope the disciples experienced on entering Jerusalem. The passion and death of Jesus is like labor pains - meaningless if not for the actual birth that it coming. Jesus' resurrection and ascension ameliorate the pains of the cross just as the birth of a baby can numb the pains of childbirth.
For first-time moms, it is necessary to experience every stage of the journey: joyful, sorrowful and glorious alike. And for us, it is necessary not to know the entire experience beforehand. Like the disciples, we might know from others' experiences, rumors or predictions, that the coming time will be hard, but we are saved from the full knowledge of the difficulties maybe because we wouldn't be willing to walk into them otherwise. And, if we don't have the joy to lead us into a time of trial and testing, we will not be prepared for the greater glory following the trial.
Jesus knew, I am sure, how important it was for the disciples to experience joy and hope before the coming difficulties. I am reminded of the times of great joy in my life that helped me enter into experiences that caused growth, sometimes through pain: enrolling in grad school was a time of excitement, but the process of working through my degree was often grueling. However, the hard work led to the even greater joy of graduating!
This chapter reminds me not to live in dread of possible future pain. There is "a purpose to every season under heaven." Alone, the hardships mean nothing, but taken as a whole, joyful and sorrowful experiences can offer us a profound understanding of life's meaning and purpose, and can point us to God. I remember a character in "War and Peace" who is always giving thanks to God, even as he is a hungry, cold, prisoner of war. Thinking about that always reminds me that the times of suffering are a gift because there is a reward to come. We need to fully experience each leg of the journey as it is, trusting that there is an overarching purpose and a glory to be revealed in the entirety.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Delivering us from evil
"A man in the crowd answered, 'Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth and becomes rigid.'
Jesus asked the boy's father, 'How long has he been like this?'
'From childhood,' he answered...'if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.'
'If you can?' said Jesus. 'Everything is possible for him who believes.'
'Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, 'I do believe; help my unbelief!'"
Mark 9:17-18, 21-24
What is this spirit, for me? Is it the spirit of self-condemnation, that inner critical voice that "throws me to the ground" whenever I try to speak? Is it the spirit of perfectionism? The spirit of fear or worry? The spirit of dismal forebodings? The spirit of envy and self-comparison?
The effects may not be physical. But I am thankful that this verse shares the physical manifestations of these inward evil spirits, to show how dangerous, how crippling, they are.
How long have I been like this, Jesus asks? How long have I been carrying this spirit of __(insert one of the above)___.
The man answers, "from childhood," and, reflecting that his son has been afflicted for almost his entire life, it seems that his next words reveal a faltering hope - If you CAN, take pity on us and help us."
Sometimes it feels that we have been carrying that evil spirit for so long that if Jesus were able to heal it, He could have done so by now. Sometimes the length of time itself causes us to lose hope of a cure, or true, deep, real healing.
I wonder if Jesus was sort of joking when he repeats, "If you CAN?" He is calling the man out on his hopelessness. He is revealing to the man that he is afraid to hope.
And then, that great response of the man, so honest: "I do believe, help my unbelief."
Jesus brings about the required healing, but with seemingly disastrous results. The evil spirit comes out of the boy, but now the boy also appears to be dead.
Sometimes I wonder if I carry my evil spirits because I don't know how to live without them. If I don't criticize myself, maybe someone else will see my mistakes and I will fail in the world's eyes. If I don't take the time to worry about possible things going wrong, maybe I will be unprepared for bad occurences. If Jesus were to heal me, could I survive without these little crutches that I have depended on for so long?
That is where Jesus comes in and answers the question I cannot answer. Although the boy appears dead without his evil spirit, Jesus comes and takes him by the hand, and brings him to his feet.
Sometimes our own healing cannot happen in moments, as in this story. Perhaps we are being healed slowly, in degrees, and Jesus is lifting us up, slowly by degrees, helping us stand up without our evil spirits. Sometimes the delivering part is the work of a lifetime, and that's okay.
Jesus asked the boy's father, 'How long has he been like this?'
'From childhood,' he answered...'if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.'
'If you can?' said Jesus. 'Everything is possible for him who believes.'
'Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, 'I do believe; help my unbelief!'"
Mark 9:17-18, 21-24
What is this spirit, for me? Is it the spirit of self-condemnation, that inner critical voice that "throws me to the ground" whenever I try to speak? Is it the spirit of perfectionism? The spirit of fear or worry? The spirit of dismal forebodings? The spirit of envy and self-comparison?
The effects may not be physical. But I am thankful that this verse shares the physical manifestations of these inward evil spirits, to show how dangerous, how crippling, they are.
How long have I been like this, Jesus asks? How long have I been carrying this spirit of __(insert one of the above)___.
The man answers, "from childhood," and, reflecting that his son has been afflicted for almost his entire life, it seems that his next words reveal a faltering hope - If you CAN, take pity on us and help us."
Sometimes it feels that we have been carrying that evil spirit for so long that if Jesus were able to heal it, He could have done so by now. Sometimes the length of time itself causes us to lose hope of a cure, or true, deep, real healing.
I wonder if Jesus was sort of joking when he repeats, "If you CAN?" He is calling the man out on his hopelessness. He is revealing to the man that he is afraid to hope.
And then, that great response of the man, so honest: "I do believe, help my unbelief."
Jesus brings about the required healing, but with seemingly disastrous results. The evil spirit comes out of the boy, but now the boy also appears to be dead.
Sometimes I wonder if I carry my evil spirits because I don't know how to live without them. If I don't criticize myself, maybe someone else will see my mistakes and I will fail in the world's eyes. If I don't take the time to worry about possible things going wrong, maybe I will be unprepared for bad occurences. If Jesus were to heal me, could I survive without these little crutches that I have depended on for so long?
That is where Jesus comes in and answers the question I cannot answer. Although the boy appears dead without his evil spirit, Jesus comes and takes him by the hand, and brings him to his feet.
Sometimes our own healing cannot happen in moments, as in this story. Perhaps we are being healed slowly, in degrees, and Jesus is lifting us up, slowly by degrees, helping us stand up without our evil spirits. Sometimes the delivering part is the work of a lifetime, and that's okay.
Monday, February 18, 2013
He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak
"He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it; yet he could not keep his presence secret. In fact, as soon as she heard about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an evil spirit came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, born in Syrian Phoenicia. She begged Jesus to drive the demon out of her daughter." Mark 7: 24-26.
This is the story in which Jesus tells the woman that the children have not yet had their fill, and is it really right to give the children's food to the dogs? The woman persists and says that even the dogs eat the crumbs from the children's table.
The story that follows this is about a man who is deaf and mute, and how Jesus "even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak." Mark 7:37.
I was thinking about this - about deafness and muteness, both physical and spiritual. Is there a message here for me?
When we need something, our ears are opened to the help available. When my car is broken down, I am alert to all the possible repair shops nearby. Suddenly I see things that before, I was not attuned to. In a similar way, the woman's daughter is possessed by a demon, and the woman keenly felt the need for healing. Was she then more attuned to Jesus's presence? Maybe she thought, "Ah! Here is someone who can help!" Even if the chances are slim that He will notice, or be what people are claiming He is. Her need causes her to see Him. Her need causes her to hope in Him. If she was unaware of her need, maybe she would not seize upon His arrival in Tyre in exactly this way.
Secondly, her need gives her courage. I have been in circumstances where needing something will make me a little more persistent than at other times. Say it has been a hard month financially, and a new expense comes up. Ordinarily, I pay expenses without trying to bargain for something more reasonable. But when I am in need, I persist. I ask the questions I ordinarily don't have the courage to ask.
Maybe this woman's need offers her the courage to persist with Jesus, and it seems this is the answer He is pleased with. "No, Jesus, don't you get it? I might not be a Jew, but even as a Gentile, I need You too!" I can imagine Jesus thinking, "Exactly. This is exactly what I want you to see. You need me, because I didn't just come for the Jews, I came for everyone. It is necessary for you to feel the need of Me too."
So I wonder:
Is it possible that our needs are a gift to us?
I wonder if sometimes Jesus brings us (or life brings us) to a time of need, precisely so that Jesus can draw us into the awareness that He is the answer.
And in a different way, maybe this is how he makes the deaf hear and the mute speak. Our need causes us to hear Him. Our need causes us to speak out to Him.
This is the story in which Jesus tells the woman that the children have not yet had their fill, and is it really right to give the children's food to the dogs? The woman persists and says that even the dogs eat the crumbs from the children's table.
The story that follows this is about a man who is deaf and mute, and how Jesus "even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak." Mark 7:37.
I was thinking about this - about deafness and muteness, both physical and spiritual. Is there a message here for me?
When we need something, our ears are opened to the help available. When my car is broken down, I am alert to all the possible repair shops nearby. Suddenly I see things that before, I was not attuned to. In a similar way, the woman's daughter is possessed by a demon, and the woman keenly felt the need for healing. Was she then more attuned to Jesus's presence? Maybe she thought, "Ah! Here is someone who can help!" Even if the chances are slim that He will notice, or be what people are claiming He is. Her need causes her to see Him. Her need causes her to hope in Him. If she was unaware of her need, maybe she would not seize upon His arrival in Tyre in exactly this way.
Secondly, her need gives her courage. I have been in circumstances where needing something will make me a little more persistent than at other times. Say it has been a hard month financially, and a new expense comes up. Ordinarily, I pay expenses without trying to bargain for something more reasonable. But when I am in need, I persist. I ask the questions I ordinarily don't have the courage to ask.
Maybe this woman's need offers her the courage to persist with Jesus, and it seems this is the answer He is pleased with. "No, Jesus, don't you get it? I might not be a Jew, but even as a Gentile, I need You too!" I can imagine Jesus thinking, "Exactly. This is exactly what I want you to see. You need me, because I didn't just come for the Jews, I came for everyone. It is necessary for you to feel the need of Me too."
So I wonder:
Is it possible that our needs are a gift to us?
I wonder if sometimes Jesus brings us (or life brings us) to a time of need, precisely so that Jesus can draw us into the awareness that He is the answer.
And in a different way, maybe this is how he makes the deaf hear and the mute speak. Our need causes us to hear Him. Our need causes us to speak out to Him.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Holier than God
Mark 3: 1-6
"Another time he went into the synagogue, and a man with a shriveled hand was there. Some of them were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched him closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath. Jesus said to the man with the shriveled hand, "Stand up in front of everyone." Then Jesus asked them, "Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?" But they remained silent. He looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored. Then the Pharisees went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus."
For Lent this year, I am going to try to read a chapter of the Gospels each day. I have heard that Mark is the "God in action" Gospel, and I personally really need to grow in understanding of how God is in action in my own life. My plan is to share any thoughts that come from reading. Here are a few for today:
*The Pharisees are apparently holier than God Himself. They have rules which even God Himself will not impose on others. Okay, wait a minute, is that really possible? My gut reaction to this idea scares me a bit. What? My own rules for how to be holy are more stringent than God's? God's ways are not as difficult, severe, or scary as my own? Then: (erroneous conclusion): If my own personal law for attaining holiness is more intimidating than God's, how can I respect His?
As a piano teacher, this happens a lot. A student comes in and plays a piece for me that has a few errors, but which is incredibly musical and moving. Angry and seeing only the mistakes, the student apologizes or expresses disapproval. At this point, I express the goodness of the music which I perceived. The student looks at me in disbelief and sometimes, it seems, mistrust. If the student saw problems with his playing that I do not see in as great a proportion, am I really qualified to be the teacher?
Yes, I am.
The rules of the Pharisees are that no work of any kind should happen on the Sabbath out of respect for God. And then, Jesus "works" a miracle of healing. I can just imagine the Pharisees' thoughts, because they would be similar to mine. "Wait a minute. He broke the rules. He just cancelled out this long list of things that I have been holding myself accountable to for all these years in order to climb the ladder of holiness. Now what am I going to do? What am I going to do if I can't check this item off on my list? What am I going to do if attaining holiness means some "relationship" with God that is not about how many checks are checked in the right boxes? How will I measure my success? How will I measure my improvement?.......... Forget it! He's the one breaking the rules!"
I don't think the Pharisees were evil. Just, prideful, like me. Fearful, like me. A list offers you personal satisfaction, the sense that upon your own merits, you are climbing. Achieving. A list offers you the sense of rightness.
And, this thirst for rightness is not wholly bad. It just needs to be redeemed, expanded and transformed to a thirst for righteousness. Can I trust Jesus when He breaks my rules, especially rules that I have believed were keeping me holy? The rules which have offered me so much consolation, so much satisfaction? Can I trust Jesus when His work happens outside of the box of my expectations, including expectations of timing?
I think, yes. I have to look through the lens of the piano teacher for this one. My student, whose critique of his playing can only admit to the evils of his music, sees not more, but less than what I see. I see goodness in the act of music making itself. I see mistakes as necessary stumbles. I see him as he really is - human, and therefore imperfect. Even with a checkbox nearby, I know that he is not capable of the kind of perfection which might satisfy the thirst for rightness.
Sometimes relaxing our inner rule-master, our inner Pharisee, in trusting obedience to God, is righteousness. Even if it feels easier than the kind of "holiness" we are accustomed to.
"Another time he went into the synagogue, and a man with a shriveled hand was there. Some of them were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched him closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath. Jesus said to the man with the shriveled hand, "Stand up in front of everyone." Then Jesus asked them, "Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?" But they remained silent. He looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored. Then the Pharisees went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus."
For Lent this year, I am going to try to read a chapter of the Gospels each day. I have heard that Mark is the "God in action" Gospel, and I personally really need to grow in understanding of how God is in action in my own life. My plan is to share any thoughts that come from reading. Here are a few for today:
*The Pharisees are apparently holier than God Himself. They have rules which even God Himself will not impose on others. Okay, wait a minute, is that really possible? My gut reaction to this idea scares me a bit. What? My own rules for how to be holy are more stringent than God's? God's ways are not as difficult, severe, or scary as my own? Then: (erroneous conclusion): If my own personal law for attaining holiness is more intimidating than God's, how can I respect His?
As a piano teacher, this happens a lot. A student comes in and plays a piece for me that has a few errors, but which is incredibly musical and moving. Angry and seeing only the mistakes, the student apologizes or expresses disapproval. At this point, I express the goodness of the music which I perceived. The student looks at me in disbelief and sometimes, it seems, mistrust. If the student saw problems with his playing that I do not see in as great a proportion, am I really qualified to be the teacher?
Yes, I am.
The rules of the Pharisees are that no work of any kind should happen on the Sabbath out of respect for God. And then, Jesus "works" a miracle of healing. I can just imagine the Pharisees' thoughts, because they would be similar to mine. "Wait a minute. He broke the rules. He just cancelled out this long list of things that I have been holding myself accountable to for all these years in order to climb the ladder of holiness. Now what am I going to do? What am I going to do if I can't check this item off on my list? What am I going to do if attaining holiness means some "relationship" with God that is not about how many checks are checked in the right boxes? How will I measure my success? How will I measure my improvement?.......... Forget it! He's the one breaking the rules!"
I don't think the Pharisees were evil. Just, prideful, like me. Fearful, like me. A list offers you personal satisfaction, the sense that upon your own merits, you are climbing. Achieving. A list offers you the sense of rightness.
And, this thirst for rightness is not wholly bad. It just needs to be redeemed, expanded and transformed to a thirst for righteousness. Can I trust Jesus when He breaks my rules, especially rules that I have believed were keeping me holy? The rules which have offered me so much consolation, so much satisfaction? Can I trust Jesus when His work happens outside of the box of my expectations, including expectations of timing?
I think, yes. I have to look through the lens of the piano teacher for this one. My student, whose critique of his playing can only admit to the evils of his music, sees not more, but less than what I see. I see goodness in the act of music making itself. I see mistakes as necessary stumbles. I see him as he really is - human, and therefore imperfect. Even with a checkbox nearby, I know that he is not capable of the kind of perfection which might satisfy the thirst for rightness.
Sometimes relaxing our inner rule-master, our inner Pharisee, in trusting obedience to God, is righteousness. Even if it feels easier than the kind of "holiness" we are accustomed to.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)