"When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”
Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.” Matthew 11:2-6
I am so glad that the gospels show John the Baptist from two such contrasting angles. You see him, earlier, meeting Jesus with awe and humility, expressing that he should not be baptizing Jesus, because Jesus is the Messiah. And here, after imprisonment and suffering, he has lost this assurance and confidence. He needs reassurance.
There have been so many times in my life, where after many stumbles and falls, I begin to doubt God's faithfulness, or the things I clearly heard in prayer months or years before. I often think that if there is not immediate reassurance from God, or if His answers are not forthcoming, that I was wrong - I didn't hear Him, He didn't speak.
I can imagine how John the Baptist felt - had Jesus really been the Son of God, how did he come to be imprisoned, abandoned? Wasn't Jesus supposed to be the King of the Jews? Shouldn't He have some sway over the evils that led John the Bapist to this point?
And I do the same thing - God, if You are really there, why haven't You answered? Why did You allow _________ (insert terrible thing) to happen?
One of the hardest things about having an authentic faith is that I am a human being. I see the world (and God) from the ground. My faith is affected by gravity, the 3-dimensional nature of my vision, and the reality of death. What I see as good outcomes of my prayer, or proofs of God hearing me, are often very human answers. What I can imagine as a realistic "King of the Jews," "Son of God," is much different from who Jesus is. I would never imagine a King of the Jews who would be so hated in the end, so stripped of power in the world. I would never imagine this because I am human, and to some extent, I still see death as the end, and still look for the great goodness of God to be supremely evident in how He is received and manifested in the world.
Seeing from the ground, seeing from the world, is like not having the entire story, but expecting the fragmented story that I see to be enough. I imagine what it would be like only to watch half of a favorite movie, like The Lord of the Rings. Let's say that the movie ended right at the point when Frodo is in the middle of the journey, and nothing makes sense. The story appears meaningless - the bad things that are happening don't seem to be leading anywhere. Frodo is losing hope that his mission matters. I feel that this is where John the Baptist was at the time that he asked this question - searching for the answer that would make everything okay - searching for an answer to complete the story. And yet, we know what happened next - he was put to death for a very silly reason.
When we are going through a "middle-of-the-story" time, a dark time when answers are not clear, it is so tempting to look for God to answer our distress in an immediate, tangible, (easy), way. Think of what would have happened to the story if Frodo was given immediate relief in his "middle-of-the-story" time, when it appeared that evil had won. Wouldn't the overall story be compromised? Wouldn't it lose part of its value? Wouldn't it also lose its power?
Having an authentic faith means putting trust in the completion of the story "somewhere over the rainbow"; past our vision, past our limitations, past death. That is the great challenge, and I believe the greatest figures in the Bible encountered it - Peter, when he said that Jesus must not undergo death, Abraham, when he had to wait decades to see the descendants God had promised him; and John, challenged to believe in Jesus as the Messiah as he faced the end of his earthly story.
We can trust that the answer God gives will always be good; but the answer I am coming to today is that we may need a larger vision to see good in what appears bad.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
They forced him to carry the cross
"A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross. " Mark 15:21
Today when I read this verse, I realized that Mark must have included that Simon was the father of Alexander and Rufus because these men were known to the early Christians, possibly even members of the early Church.
And yet, their father had just been "passing by on his way." Not only that, "they forced him to carry the cross."
What about this gruesome duty may have turned Simon's heart to Christ? Unlike many others in the Gospel, he was not invited to catch men, to be given sight, to be made to walk, to pour oil on Jesus' head, or any generally hopeful vocation. Simon was invited to suffer with Jesus.
Poor Simon.
It occurs to me that while Simon was "passing by on his way," Jesus met him with the invitation to Simon: 'Join Me on My way... the way of the cross.'
Would you accept this invitation eagerly? It doesn't sound that appealing. Maybe that is why "they forced him to carry the cross." No one walks glibly into a cross.
Maybe that's why times of suffering often meet us unaware, when we are not looking for them, and when they are least convenient. Like Simon, we are "forced" to carry the cross. Maybe it's a sudden death in the family, a crisis, an accident, a miscarriage, a breakup. The pain is extreme, the pain is immediate, and excruciating ("excruciating" bears some resemblance to "crucifition")
And as we are feeling this pain, usually this is where we encounter Christ. We look over in the darkness, where we have been stripped of all the human comforts, and we see Him.
I remember, once, when going through a time of suffering, that it consoled me to imagine a grain of wheat's actual experience as it transitions to become a stalk of wheat. It has to die to its original nature, and is forced to be pulled apart, stripped, so that it can grow into its full "glory." Looking from outside a grain of wheat, we can see quite easily that it is in the grain's nature to suffer. But it is also in the grain's nature to grow and flourish. And yet, before it can grow and flourish, it must be forced to suffer "death."
Simon was invited, or forced, to suffer with Jesus. But the words reveal a hint of the gift hidden within such suffering. Simon's name is known in the Gospels, as are his sons'. The suffering he was forced to that day was a great gift to him in his life. When he carried the cross with Jesus, he found a treasure that he passed down to his children.
Today when I read this verse, I realized that Mark must have included that Simon was the father of Alexander and Rufus because these men were known to the early Christians, possibly even members of the early Church.
And yet, their father had just been "passing by on his way." Not only that, "they forced him to carry the cross."
What about this gruesome duty may have turned Simon's heart to Christ? Unlike many others in the Gospel, he was not invited to catch men, to be given sight, to be made to walk, to pour oil on Jesus' head, or any generally hopeful vocation. Simon was invited to suffer with Jesus.
Poor Simon.
It occurs to me that while Simon was "passing by on his way," Jesus met him with the invitation to Simon: 'Join Me on My way... the way of the cross.'
Would you accept this invitation eagerly? It doesn't sound that appealing. Maybe that is why "they forced him to carry the cross." No one walks glibly into a cross.
Maybe that's why times of suffering often meet us unaware, when we are not looking for them, and when they are least convenient. Like Simon, we are "forced" to carry the cross. Maybe it's a sudden death in the family, a crisis, an accident, a miscarriage, a breakup. The pain is extreme, the pain is immediate, and excruciating ("excruciating" bears some resemblance to "crucifition")
And as we are feeling this pain, usually this is where we encounter Christ. We look over in the darkness, where we have been stripped of all the human comforts, and we see Him.
I remember, once, when going through a time of suffering, that it consoled me to imagine a grain of wheat's actual experience as it transitions to become a stalk of wheat. It has to die to its original nature, and is forced to be pulled apart, stripped, so that it can grow into its full "glory." Looking from outside a grain of wheat, we can see quite easily that it is in the grain's nature to suffer. But it is also in the grain's nature to grow and flourish. And yet, before it can grow and flourish, it must be forced to suffer "death."
Simon was invited, or forced, to suffer with Jesus. But the words reveal a hint of the gift hidden within such suffering. Simon's name is known in the Gospels, as are his sons'. The suffering he was forced to that day was a great gift to him in his life. When he carried the cross with Jesus, he found a treasure that he passed down to his children.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Why this waste?
"While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head. Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, 'Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.' And they rebuked her harshly.
'Leave her alone,” said Jesus. 'Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.'" Mark 14:3-9
Jesus' response has always surprised me. He seems to be making light of poverty here, whereas at other times, He is full of things to say about "selling all you have to give to the poor." If I were a disciple in this room, I would be very confused, even ashamed, as in, 'Here I thought I was just speaking up for the spirit of Jesus' teachings, and he rebukes me. He's always throwing me a curveball when I think I finally get it.'
I heard once that Mother Theresa, confronted by increasing numbers of people in Calcutta who needed help, responded by insisting that her sisters spend extra time in prayer each day. Why this waste? Some people said. Why sit and pray more when the poor need help?
What did Mother Theresa see that is not apparent to me? After all, the vision that sent her on her mission in the first place was of Jesus saying, "I thirst." She knew that He wanted her to help the poor. And yet, she was determined to waste time in prayer. Surprisingly, as the amount of prayer increased, the needed help came, and the greater numbers were taken care of.
Jesus responds similarly to Martha and Mary elsewhere in the gospels... He applauds Mary for sitting and listening, while redirecting Martha's resentment at her lone servitude.
What is Jesus trying to say?
I think He is saying, "Waste yourself on Me."
There is pride in my plans of personal action. True, God gave me many resources - money, health, strength, talents, time. I believe that He wants me to use these resources to help others, and not for my own selfish gain.
But, if I take those resources without wasting them before the Lord first, and find human ways, with human vision, to spend them, it can easily become MY good that I am doing, rather than God's good. The jar of perfume, in human eyes, was to be exchanged for money for the poor, and yet, when wasted before God, He had another purpouse for the jar, which might not suit the same vision.
I wonder if, once the Sisters of Charity brought their concerns before the Lord, He was able to manage and shift the available resources in a better way to help the poor, other than the ways that would naturally occur to the Sisters without His help. From a larger vision, a view of the whole, God alone has the vision to bring about the miracle of resources used in the best possible way. Our good intentions for their use, when placed totally in His hands, are given a power they cannot possibly have in our own.
Why this waste? From a first glance, wasting ourselves in God appears foolish. But from His perspective, maybe it is the only wise way.
'Leave her alone,” said Jesus. 'Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.'" Mark 14:3-9
Jesus' response has always surprised me. He seems to be making light of poverty here, whereas at other times, He is full of things to say about "selling all you have to give to the poor." If I were a disciple in this room, I would be very confused, even ashamed, as in, 'Here I thought I was just speaking up for the spirit of Jesus' teachings, and he rebukes me. He's always throwing me a curveball when I think I finally get it.'
I heard once that Mother Theresa, confronted by increasing numbers of people in Calcutta who needed help, responded by insisting that her sisters spend extra time in prayer each day. Why this waste? Some people said. Why sit and pray more when the poor need help?
What did Mother Theresa see that is not apparent to me? After all, the vision that sent her on her mission in the first place was of Jesus saying, "I thirst." She knew that He wanted her to help the poor. And yet, she was determined to waste time in prayer. Surprisingly, as the amount of prayer increased, the needed help came, and the greater numbers were taken care of.
Jesus responds similarly to Martha and Mary elsewhere in the gospels... He applauds Mary for sitting and listening, while redirecting Martha's resentment at her lone servitude.
What is Jesus trying to say?
I think He is saying, "Waste yourself on Me."
There is pride in my plans of personal action. True, God gave me many resources - money, health, strength, talents, time. I believe that He wants me to use these resources to help others, and not for my own selfish gain.
But, if I take those resources without wasting them before the Lord first, and find human ways, with human vision, to spend them, it can easily become MY good that I am doing, rather than God's good. The jar of perfume, in human eyes, was to be exchanged for money for the poor, and yet, when wasted before God, He had another purpouse for the jar, which might not suit the same vision.
I wonder if, once the Sisters of Charity brought their concerns before the Lord, He was able to manage and shift the available resources in a better way to help the poor, other than the ways that would naturally occur to the Sisters without His help. From a larger vision, a view of the whole, God alone has the vision to bring about the miracle of resources used in the best possible way. Our good intentions for their use, when placed totally in His hands, are given a power they cannot possibly have in our own.
Why this waste? From a first glance, wasting ourselves in God appears foolish. But from His perspective, maybe it is the only wise way.
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