The Trouble We Need--September 9, 2024

The Trouble We Need--September 9, 2024

"My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, 'Have a seat here, please,' while to the one who is poor you say, 'Stand there,' or 'Sit at my feet,' have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?" [James 2:1-4]

My former preaching professor back in seminary used to say that a good sermon has to trouble you enough to make you squirm, as well as speak grace strong enough to make you weep. Everybody likes the second half of that. Rarely do we recognize how much we need the first. James is here to trouble us, but in a good way.  And that's because the way of Jesus calls us to be troubled when our head-knowledge about God doesn't line up with our actions in God's name.

James is an honest fella, and he knows how to trouble us enough to make us squirm... and then some. Just listen to his pull-no-punches approach in this passage, which many of us heard read in worship this past Sunday, and you know it. He tells the truths we would rather ignore, and he does it out of a deep place of love for the folks who are getting stepped on by that very same willful ignorance of ours. Like the prophets of ancient Israel, who were willing to call out the wealthy and the powerful for their mistreatment of those most in need, James cares about the actual lives of those who are being pushed aside in the community of Jesus. And he won't stand for it. 

For James, this isn't about some abstract principle of "fairness" or whether the Christians in his community have the "right" to treat others however they want in the name of "freedom." For James this is about the very real, very particular lives of neighbors, who are being made second-class within the church itself, and James sees that such discrimination runs counter to the heart of Jesus. This is about embodying love and embodying the way of Jesus.  And the way of Jesus is about more than the facts about God we believe with our minds or recite from a creed.  The way of Jesus is about how we live out our whole lives as whole people.

The way James phrases his question here gets me every time. He just comes out swinging and says, "Do you really even believe in Jesus if you are discriminating against people because they are poorer than you?" I think for a long time, that question made me bristle, because I didn't like the idea of somebody (never mind it was somebody speaking with the weight of the Bible's own authority!) questioning the sincerity of my faith because of some issue I saw as "secondary."

And that's just it: I think for a lot of us (certainly in my own experience) we learned Christianity as a set of correct facts about God to be believed, memorized, repeated, and organized into a system. We called this "theology," and were told that questions about how we treat other people were called "ethics," and that these were really secondary, or bonus, matters compared with "what the Gospel is REALLY about." After all, growing up in a tradition that emphasized that we are "justified by grace through faith apart from works," it only seemed logical that we should spend all our time making sure fellow Christians believed the correct facts about God in order to be saved (which, it turns out, is not really what "justified by grace through faith" means anyhow). Discussion about how we treat other people seemed like we were saying that doing good deeds could save you, and we were CERTAINLY not going to say that! And after all, if we started meddling in talk about how we treat other people, that could very quickly become political (gasp!) or affect the way we actually lived our lives, gave our time, and spent our money (double gasp!). It was so much easier to treat Christianity as a set of religious facts and dogmas one had to believe correctly in order to be "justified by faith" rather than say that following Jesus demanded a certain way of treating other people.

The trouble is (and already I find myself squirming again), James reminds us that we don't get to separate how we act from how we think and believe. Saying "I'm saved by good theology so we never have to talk about ethics" is nonsense two times over--for one, because it assumes we are saved by our good theology in the first place, and secondly because it assumes you can split what we believe about Jesus from how we live our lives as his disciples. And we can't--they are two sides of the same coin.  They are both part of the same reality--the same way of life, which is Jesus' way.

James questions how we can believe in Jesus if we are disregarding the poor among us because Jesus is so clear in his concern and love for those same faces. Saying that being a follower of Jesus is compatible with looking down on the poor is like saying you support shooting sprees in Jesus' name or nuclear war for the sake of the gospel, or that your devotion to Christ is the source for your racial bigotry. You simply cannot.   This is not a matter up for debate to James, but has to do with the very heart of the Jesus we say we believe in. Jesus, after all, has a particular set of commitments and a particular character--he chooses love over hatred, healing over hurting, self-giving over domination, liberation over oppression, and sharing abundance with the poor rather than hoarding wealth for oneself. Over against all the voices of celebrity preachers of the "prosperity gospel" Jesus clearly takes sides with the have-nots of the world, announcing "Blessed are you who are poor," and "Woe to you who are rich" in Luke's gospel, and lifting up the ones regarded as nobodies by the well-heeled and wealthy. For James, this is such an obvious and essential piece of who Jesus is that to miss this is to misunderstand what Jesus is all about.

Like the theologian and biblical scholar N. T. Wright puts it, “Justice is what love looks like when it’s facing the problems that its neighbor is dealing with. And, if we can’t translate our love into justice then I think Jesus himself would say ‘Have you actually understood what the word love means in the first place?’”  James is simply make the same point: the way of Jesus is not merely a matter of things we believe about God, but about a certain perspective on the world that leads us to care about the most vulnerable--because Jesus cares about them. Showing favoritism for the well-heeled in the name of Jesus is like having a Pig Roast for Vegetarians or a Fight Club for Pacifists--it runs completely counter to Jesus' agenda and entire way of life.

To say we believe in Jesus--especially to give him our allegiance as "Lord"--means we seek more and more fully to align our hearts with his, and to let our lives embody his character. And because Jesus' heart is oriented toward honoring the poor and lifting up those the world treats as disposable, we are called to do the same. That's a part of who Jesus is... and therefore who we are, as people who confess Jesus as Lord.

And so, if we are going to be people whose lives embody the way of Jesus, then our actions and attitudes need to reflect Jesus' priorities, too. So James doesn't let us get away with just having the intellectual belief that "God cares for the poor," but insists that our actions embody that care, too. We don't get the right to look down on people who are on public assistance or rely on school lunch programs to feed their kids, or to dismiss people struggling to make ends meet as "lazy" or "unintelligent." We don't get to assume that people who live in low-income housing are going to use any money they have for drugs or alcohol or some other vice--not even when it is politically fashionable to do so. And James calls us out on giving positions of privilege and honor to the people from wealthier backgrounds, too--he insists we show respect and love to the ones most in need.

That means getting to know one another, too--rather than just treating anybody as part of some faceless collective we dismiss as "the poor," we are called to get to know each other's stories, to honor people with the gift of our time, to show respect to the folks who can't do anything for us in return, and if anything, to give preference and advantage to those who have less than you or I do. As Gustavo Gutierrez put the challenge to us, "So you say you love the poor? Name them." It's easy to remember the names of those who can do you a favor or are well-connected. But love calls us to get to know the stories of the people right down the street, the folks across town, the people who walk past our church buildings but wonder if they will find a welcome if they walk through the door because they have nothing to put in the offering. James won't let us off the hook for making those things a priority, because he knows they are a priority for Jesus.

Today, then, let's do the hard work James calls us to do. Let's have an honest look at ourselves, even if it makes us squirm, to spot the places we are still harboring prejudices and assumptions about people. Let's be done with belittling anybody's job or treating it as "unskilled"--let's be done with cracking jokes about "flipping burgers" or "entry-level" work. Before writing someone off as lazy or lacking motivation, let's commit to getting to know someone's story, and seeing their faces. Rather than using "blessed" as a code-word for "rich," maybe it's time to dismantle once and for all the anti-Jesus notion that having more money is a sign of God's favor. And then finally, for today, James challenges us to use what we do have--our own wealth, our influence (yes, including our votes), our time, our energy, and our love--to seek the benefit of the ones the rest of the world treats as disposable, regardless of where they are from, what they look like, how they dress, or what they do. For James, those are all signs that we really believe in Jesus, because those are all things that reflect the heart of the Jesus we say we confess as Lord.

And if all of that makes us uncomfortable, fine--it's ok if we are troubled. Maybe it's the sort of trouble we need. Because along with that trouble comes this grace enough to make us weep: ours is a Lord who is always looking out for the welfare of those the world treats as nobodies, because ours is the Lord who sees everyone as somebody. Following that Lord just means we'll take it seriously enough to live it out in our own choices as well.

Lord Jesus, align our priorities with yours. Let us love our neighbors around us with your kind of priority for those treated as nobodies by the world.

On Passing the Potatoes--September 6, 2024

On Passing the Potatoes--September 6, 2024

[Jesus said:] "So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you." [Matthew 6:2-4]

Jesus takes it for granted that his followers will be generous. That by itself is saying something.  But more importantly, Jesus he teaches his apprentices a particular way of being generous--one that keeps the well-being of others in focus, rather than centering our own egos.  And in a world full of Big Deal Donors who get their names put on signs or engraved in stone for their sizeable contributions to the cause-of-the-day, that really is counter-cultural.  Jesus calls for his community to practice stealthy generosity, to give in ways that don't draw attention to ourselves but respect the dignity of those with whom we share our abundance, and to care about the needs of others rather than the credit we could get for giving.

Underneath Jesus' teaching about almsgiving (that is, charitable giving to people in need--not the same as our offerings to church or our contributions to the local art museum or high school sports boosters) is a vital question: Am I giving to another person because I care about their well-being as a fellow human being made in God's image, or am I centering myself to get attention when I give?  If it's the first, then giving is an act of neighborliness that flows from recognizing God's generous care for me.  If it's the second, then I'm just using another person to be a prop so that I can "do good deeds" or try to placate my guilt.  One is about loving a neighbor, which Jesus insists is inextricably tied to how I love God, and the other is about trying to score points.  And Jesus has always insisted that God does not run the universe on an economy of merit, transaction, or points-scoring--but always on an economy of grace.

Sure, there are other times in our lives when we can give and get the credit.  If you contribute to your local public television or radio station, go ahead and get the tote bag or the coffee mug as a prize (and if you do support your local public broadcaster, thank you very much!). If I donate to the art museum or the band boosters or the soccer team candy bar fundraiser, go ahead and let them put your name on the list of supporters.  But let's be honest: those are basically transactions which you will get something out of--your membership at the museum helps to ensure that there is a local art museum at all, or your contribution allows your kid to be in the band or play on the soccer team.  By contrast, when I give of my abundance to help a neighbor, whether with food or help with a utility bill or to help with their housing or emergency shelter, it's simply because I recognize in them their own fundamental dignity and worthiness of having food, shelter, and respect.  And when I see in them my own worth as a fellow human being made in God's image, then I no longer want to use another person as a prop or a means to get more attention for myself, or to make them feel pitied or infantilized.  I simply want for others the same basic necessities I have been given already myself.  It's not about credit or glory or attention, but about treating others with love, the way I have been shown love by God already.

This is how Jesus intends for us to see one another--not as useful tools we can manipulate for our own purposes or agendas, but as human beings of infinite worth because we are all made in God's image.  And when we see one another as fellow members of God's big household, then we know the same rule applies that holds at each of our family dinner tables: in God's family, everybody gets to eat.  Jesus reminds us that giving is not about getting extra credit with God, but about practicing the same kind of unconditional generosity God has already shown to us.  And once we realize that all of our possessions--including our time, talent, and money--are gifts of God in the first place, then sharing these for the benefit of someone else who belongs at God's table flows naturally as well.  We share generously--and without needing to get credit for it--when we realize that all we have to share was first given to us by God.  Living the Jesus way of life is rooted in recognizing that everything we have, and everything we are, is a gift of God first, and not ultimately "mine" to hoard.

So on this day, our calling is to be generous in a way that doesn't need to draw attention to ourselves, because at most we are only ever sharing what has first been given to us.  When I was a kid passing the mashed potatoes around the table at dinner, I didn't need to make a big to-do about it, because I was not the one who cooked them, much less bought or grew them.  I was only ever just passing what someone else prepared and happened to have placed on the table near me, but which was always meant for all of us to share. Jesus says that our acts of generosity toward one another are never any more complicated than passing the potatoes--these are good gifts that happen to have been set nearest to us at the table, but which are meant for a common sharing so that all can be fed.  Once I realize that, I don't need to get attention for giving to someone else--I can only give thanks to God who has set a table with enough for all.

Lord Jesus, teach us and train us to give generously and without the need for recognition, instead only recognizing what you have first given us.

Like No One Is Watching--September 5, 2024

Like No One Is Watching--September 5, 2024

[Jesus said:] “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him." [Matthew 6:5-8]

This might seem strange to say, but Christians are not generically just "pro-prayer." At least not if we take Jesus seriously.  We're called to be people who pray, to be sure--and Jesus assumes as much here in these words from the Sermon on the Mount.  But Jesus calls us to a particular way of praying, which itself is a part of the particular way of life Jesus into which leads us. In fact, to hear Jesus tell it, prayer that is just a big public show is emptied of its power.

Let me say that again: as Jesus puts it here, when our practice of prayer is conducted like a public spectacle, with a "Lookie here, world!  We're praying!  Don't you notice?  Haven't we caught your attention?" sense of performance to it, we have missed the point of prayer, and we've turned it into a show.  And God does not need a religious show--never has, never will.

As Jesus understands it (and I think Jesus gets to be the teacher on this one, and we get to be his apprentices), praying is about connecting with the living God, who already knows what we need, and who, like a good and generous parent, is already committed to attending to our needs.  God doesn't need to be persuaded, cajoled, bargained with, or even informed, according to Jesus!  And God certainly cannot be impressed or bedazzled by the eloquence or proper formulas in our prayers--that suggests either that God is some pedantic teacher of etiquette berating us for not saying "Please" appropriately, or that praying is something of a magic spell that requires proper incantations (like Hermione in the Harry Potter books, correcting her classmates, "It's Wingardium levi-OH-sa, not Wingardium levi-oh-SA!").  And in Jesus' way of praying, it's not about getting the words right, or having enough feeling in the delivery, or in the poetry of our phrasing.  It's much more like the conversation you have with a good soul-friend where you vent your frustrations and share your hopes, or the urgent cry of a child who has just skinned a knee and needs help from a parent who already is on the way with band-aids and hugs.  And none of those kinds of communication are for show; they are utterly honest and authentic.

What Jesus invites us into is a way of relating to God that is free of pretense, free of play-acting (which is what the word "hypocrite" originally meant), and free of self-consciousness.  That kind of prayer doesn't need an audience--in fact, it would feel bizarre and inappropriate to have other people watching or overhearing with that kind of prayer.  So then let me ask--how much energy or time do you think Jesus would have us spend (or waste?) on arranging big demonstrations of prayer in public places to get headlines or draw attention to ourselves?  How interested do you think Jesus is in arranging student gatherings around flagpoles or "prayer breakfasts" for politicians to pander to churchgoers who watch the news coverage? Or for that matter, how much do you think Jesus worries about prayer being "taken out of the public schools" as an official teacher-led part of the school day?  Because the more I actually listen to Jesus, the more I think these are not real concerns for him--rather, he would warn us that any of those can very easily become a mere publicity stunt meant to get other people's attention or to impress a God who does not need to be impressed.  And as we've seen in this passage from Matthew, Jesus wants our prayer lives to be centered in genuine connection to God, not a performance for an audience, whether we think that audience is other people or God.

My point in all of this is to say that Jesus isn't merely interested in just having his disciples pray "more." He certainly presumes we will and should pray, but he isn't looking for us to orchestrate a rally in the name of prayer or to times of prayer in school. He would rather have us find a moment when nobody else is looking ("in secret," as he says) and to pour out whatever is on our heart and mind without worrying about getting attention for it.  Like Emilie Griffin put it, "The goal of prayer is simply to give oneself away." That doesn't happen if I'm using prayer as a photo op or turning public demonstrations of piety into a fight in someone's culture war.  

Today, then, as we continue exploring and stepping further along into the way of Jesus, let's take up Jesus way of praying--which turns out to be less about getting anybody's attention, and more about practicing the presence of God wherever we happen to be at the moment.  We have all learned from pop culture that now cliche line about "dancing like no one is watching." Maybe that's the invitation from Jesus, too--to pray unabashedly, authentically, and unpretentiously, like we are in a conversation with God and without any need at all for anybody else to watch or overhear.

Lord God, help us to let go of our need for attention and simply find ourselves in communion with you--in this day, in this moment, in this breath.

What God Says We Are--September 4, 2024

What God Says We Are--September 4, 2024

"But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing." [James 1:22-25]

There's a beautiful line of Nikos Kazantzakis that goes like this: "I said to the almond tree, 'Friend, speak to me of God,' and the almond tree blossomed."  And I think what I love in particular about that poetic insight is the notion that the almond tree only does exactly what almond trees are meant to: they blossom.  It doesn't have to start glowing, levitating six inches off the ground, or writing Shakespearean sonnets--it just does what an almond tree does from its most essential being.  In other words, an almond tree (and I would suspect, anything or anyone else in creation) doesn't need to do something extraordinary or beyond the nature of what it is made for in order to reflect God's glory and goodness.  It simply needs to be what it is meant to be.  Nobody complains that almond trees don't produce enough Broadway musicals or make enough money in the stock market; they aren't made for that.  But when you see an almond tree in full blossom, you do get a sense that it is effortlessly giving glory to God.

I am reminded, too, of the famous saying attributed to Saint Catherine of Siena: "Be who you are meant to be and you will set the whole world on fire." I think she's on to something there, and it's on the same wavelength as Kazantzakis and his almond tree.  And both of them, along with the almond blossoms, are saying the same thing as James in these verses that many of us heard this past Sunday.  We are called, James says, to be doers of the word and not merely hearers.  After all, James points out, if we just hear what God says to us but don't live it out, it's like we have forgotten who and what we are meant to be.  We become like almond trees afraid or unwilling to put forth flowers, even though it is precisely what we are meant for.  It's like we are stuck in a rut rather than walking in the way of life that is set before us.

I want to ask us to stay with this passage here for a minute and consider the inner workings of James' train of thought.  When he talks about being doers of the word, he doesn't have in mind some impossible commandments, but rather God's creative call to each of us, as at creation, to be what we are made to be.  When God says, "Let there be light" at the beginning of the Genesis story, the light doesn't have to strain or strive or sweat to come into existence, and it doesn't worry with constant fears of inadequacy about whether it is shining "well enough."  It just does what it cannot help doing--by being what God has called it to be.  The light never forgets what God has called it to be, and it never frets with fears of inadequacy. It is the freest thing in the world for light to shine--that is precisely its nature, after all.  In a similar way, James calls us simply to be what God has made us to be, rather than to forget over and over again.  When God says to us, "You are my beloved... you are salt and light for the world... you are signposts of the Kingdom..." the only question is whether or not we will take seriously what God says we already are and will live out of that identity.  It's like an almond tree blossoming precisely because that is what is in its nature to do.  It's not about trying to be something we're not, but about embodying fully what God says we already are.

In other words, we are called into a way of life, not to do a handful of assorted "religious deeds" or "pious actions." I think sometimes that's how we mishear James--we hear this talk about being "doers of the word" and think it means that we have so many merit badges or service projects we have to complete if we want to earn the rank of being "children of God."  But it's really the other way around: we are already new creations by God's say-so (James has already said that God has "given us a new birth" by God's own "word of truth" earlier in this chapter), and all James is calling us to do is to be what God says we already are--to live out of the identity God has already given.    God is not holding auditions for limited spots on the all-star team; God is calling us into being like light from the darkness at creation.  The only question is whether we will be what God says we already are.

For too long, an awful lot of us have been sold some version of Christianity that sounds like we are supposed to keep working at impossible tasks (like Sisyphus and his uphill boulder) in order to try to earn God's approval.  And when we accept that picture, we set ourselves up for endless disappointment and failure, and on top of that we'll never really understand what James has been saying.  He has never been daring us to work hard enough to impress God, but simply to take seriously God's "Let there be light" calling to each of us.  We are, each one of us, almond trees simply being called to blossom, which is what we were made to do in the first place.

What could it look like today for us to live out of the identity God has already given us? What if we didn't have to keep running back to the mirror to remember who we were, but could take it as a given and live like the people God has called us to be?  That's the invitation of this day, as we walk in the ways of Jesus.

Lord God, enable us to be today what you say we already are.

A Particular Way of Life--September 3, 2024

A Particular Way of Life--September 3, 2024

"If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world." [James 1:26-27]

You know, it's funny. You won't find anybody in the New Testament sporting a fish bumper sticker or a gold cross necklace as their way of advertising their faith--but you will hear them being careful not to let hateful or crude words come out of their mouths.  You won't find Christians setting up billboards spouting ominous warnings of hellfire to scare up new converts, but you will find them honestly evaluating themselves and working on their own struggles with sin.  You won't find the first generation of the church complaining about having to help the needy or complaining that they are lazy, but you will find them prioritizing the needs of the most vulnerable as the best expression of their devotion to God.

All of this is to say, the New Testament era church, as exemplified here by these verses from James that many of us heard this past Sunday, was not nearly so occupied with the kinds of things many folks associate with "religion" today... and they were much more committed to a particular way of life.  Reading these words and taking them to heart is going to mean something of an overhaul of our faith, because we are so saturated in a culture where religion is about public performance of piety, rather than the often-unseen practices that make up the fabric of our daily lives.

James here identifies three broad areas as examples of what this could look like: our way of speaking, our care for those on the margins, and our distinctiveness from what is rotten in the world around us.  And it's startling to me just how often folks who name the name of Jesus today seem almost intentionally to miss James' point. For starters, I'm often appalled how often I read the most vile, crude, and flat-out false comments on social media (usually aimed at people with whom they disagree) coming from users who have "Christian" in their profile descriptions.  We live in a time when an awful lot of supposed "leaders" in Christian communities have modeled by their own language or their support for others who are crude in their language that it doesn't matter how we speak or conduct ourselves in the wider world.  Even worse still, it seems a great many people think that by being rude and hateful in their speaking toward others, they are somehow aiding the cause of Christ by making themselves look "strong" or like "winners."  James, however, an early leader in the New Testament-era church, says the opposite: he says if you can't control your tongue, your "religion is worthless."  Not only does the real and living God not need our help "defending" or "fighting" for our faith, but we actually empty our faith of any worth by being crude and careless in our speech.  In the age of the would-be "Christian" internet troll, that's pretty countercultural.  And that's what James has in mind.

You also hear from James here that the Christian way of life is meant to be directed at caring especially for those who are without other support in wider society.  James uses the familiar phrase from the Torah about "caring for orphans and widows in their distress" as a sort of shorthand for our calling to be focused on those most on the margins, who do not have other safety nets to provide for them.  And again, it's startling to me how often folks who are proud to call themselves "Christian" in public spaces are predisposed against helping hungry kids or single parents trying to provide for their families.  James, of course, is hardly the only voice making this point in the Bible--he's echoing a longstanding tradition in the Scriptures that calls us to center our care on "the widow, the orphan, and the foreigner," precisely because these groups typified the ones in society who didn't have anyone else looking out for them.  But you wouldn't know it from how often folks sitting dutifully in pews on Sunday mornings are complaining by Monday about how they don't want to have any of their money used to feed somebody else, or how those who are hungry must be lazy.  When we act like that we show yet again that we have missed the point--it says to the world that we are trying to project the impression we care about God when our actions and priorities reveal that we don't. 

James also says, finally, in these verses that authentic "religion" is going to make us stand out from the world.  In other words, our whole way of life will reflect a different set of priorities, rather than being just as crude, self-centered, or arrogant as the loud voices around us. And once again, we seem to get that backwards.  All too often, I see fellow Christians point to the greed and consumerism on proud display all around us, and the way it is so often lauded as "success," and they conclude, "See?  This is ok--this must be what I am supposed to seek after, too!"  Rather than questioning the constant drive for "more" and "bigger" that we see modeled for us, rather than saying "That's not how we do things!" when we hear public figures tell lies or speak crudely, all too often we take those instances as permission for us to be dishonest or mean-spirited, rather than refusing to sink to their level.  James keeps telling us that we are called to a way of life--one that is inseparable from the way and example of Jesus.

So the right question for us is never, "Can I get away with this in the current state of public discourse?" or "Did some other public figure, demagogue, or pundit do this, and thereby make it OK for me to do the same?" but rather, "Does this fit with the way and character of Jesus?"  That applies for what we say, who we care about, and what we value.  In other words, it's not just a Sunday morning show or a religiously-themed set of fashion accessories--it's a way of life.

That's what we have been called into.  That's what it is to follow Jesus.

Lord Jesus, keep us on your way, in every dimension of ourselves--our words, our priorities, and our influences.

Before We Were A Religion--September 2, 2024

 

Before We Were A Religion--September 2, 2024

[Paul said:] "But this I admit to you, that according to the Way, which they call a sect, I worship the God of our ancestors, believing everything laid down according to the law or written in the prophets. I have a hope in God--a hope that they themselves also accept--that there will be a resurrection of both the righteous and the unrighteous. Therefore I do my best always to have a clear conscient toward God and all people..." [Acts 22:14-16]

Before they called us "Christians," and before even the books of the New Testament were written down, we used to be known as "followers of the Way."  And while the name "Christian" also made sense as a name when it arose, I also think we lost something important when that name change came along, something vital from the time before we were a religion.

Throughout the book of Acts there are references to the followers of Jesus as "the Way," as both a reference to Jesus himself and the community of disciples who practiced the Jesus-Way of life together.  Of course, the title for Jesus hearkens back in the church's memory to Jesus' saying in John's Gospel, "I am the way and the truth and the life." But it's fascinating--and really significant--that the community of followers were known by that name, too, at least for a while.  It suggests a movement, a trajectory, and a shared way of life.  It points back to a time before we had buildings with steeples and stained glass, before we had fights about the color of the carpet in the parlor or the "style" of our worship services.   It calls to mind the stories of Jesus, the itinerant rabbi, as his circle of apprentices followed him down the roads and streets of Galilee, learning his unexpected table-fellowship with outcasts and his example of foot-washing.  Calling the disciple-community "the Way" suggests that those first followers weren't stuck in place waiting for people to come to them, but knew they were sent into the world.  And maybe most of all, when we were known as people "who belonged to the Way" (Acts 9:2), it was clear that followers of Jesus were learning to live like Jesus... to act like Jesus... and to love like Jesus.

I mention this because it has been easy to lose sight of Jesus and his own peculiar way of being in the world now that we see ourselves as "church members" or "practitioners of a religion called Christianity."  It is easy now to believe that "being a Christian" is a matter of singing particular songs out of a hymnal (or on a screen), celebrating a certain set of holidays, and owning a Bible.  But it has been terribly unpopular in some circles (yes, some explicitly "Christian" circles!) to focus on how Jesus actually engaged with people as a pattern for our own way of life.  "We can't 'love our enemies'--that will make us look WEAK!" you'll hear folks say.  Or it will be things like, "Washing feet is for WIMPS--we have to plan to take back the reins of power!" Or even, "We have to get them before they get us--we can't repay evil with good, or else we'll be LOSERS!" And all too often, those kinds of sentiments are held by folks who think they are defending Christianity, when in truth they are betraying the way of Jesus.

Before we were a religion, it was clearer that the community called "church" was committed to a certain way of life, shaped by and led forward by Jesus himself.  And while I know we can't un-ring the bell and go back to a time when we didn't have organs and candles and robes and church committees or constitutions, it is worth remembering what those first disciples still held at the forefront of their minds: we are learning a way of life, not merely participating in a Sunday-morning hobby.  We cannot turn Jesus into our mascot who endorses our agendas, but rather we are gathered to learn Jesus' way of being in the world, even when (or especially when!) that means letting go of our old way of being in the world.

Today, what would it look like to see ourselves as part of a movement, rather than paying customers or an audience of a religious pageant? What if we allowed Jesus' way of being in the world... to become our way of being in the world?

Lord Jesus, break free from all our attempts to make you into our mascot, and equip us for walking in your ways.

Beggars For Sure--August 30, 2024

Beggars For Sure--August 30, 2024

"Then Jesus looked up at his disciples and said:
     'Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.

      Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.

      Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh...'" [Luke 6:20-21]

In the Reign of God, the one condition for being fed... is being hungry.

That's what this all boils down to.  That's what we've been discovering all throughout this month's focus on The Table of Jesus.  It's the recurring theme that God provides for us, not on the basis of what we have earned or how much we have impressed God, but simply on the basis of our need.  

Hungry people need to eat.  Food is not a prize for being "good enough" or "holy enough"; it is a gift given by grace simply because we need it.  This is how God runs the universe, according to Jesus: by providing to us all what we need, rather than doling out a limited number of prizes only to the "winners."  If anything, Jesus says that God has a particular concern for the ones the world labels "losers." 

Taking Jesus seriously here may take a long time, maybe even a lifetime of discipleship.  That's because so many of us have the opposite deeply ingrained in our minds.  We are used to thinking that God's job is primarily to hand out rewards for the worthy or heavenly paychecks for those who have worked hard enough.  We are used to picturing life as a competition for the top spots and told to climb over and step on whomever we have to in order to make ourselves King of the Hill.  We are used to hearing Christianity peddled as a deal where I do something for God (believing the correct theological propositions, or doing enough good deeds, or inviting Jesus into my heart, or praying fervently enough, or voting for the party that claims to be "God's choice," or whatever), and then in return, God has to give me the good things in life (going to heaven, success in my work, provision for my family, etc.).  That's sort of the plot of Respectable Religion, in all its variations.  But it is decidedly not how Jesus teaches us to see things.  Jesus shows us a God who doesn't make deals, but who gives out meals.

That contrast--between what conventional wisdom thinks and what Jesus shows us of God--is clear to me every day I listen to the news.  Especially in these late days of an election cycle, it seems that there is relentless coverage of which politicians have the lead, or how the latest turn of events gives an advantage to one side or another.  We are engrossed with the horse-race dynamics of who has an edge in the polls, who has raised more money, whose most recent publicity stunt got the most views on social media, or whose endorsements will give their side a boost.  But what I find desperately lacking so often--especially from would-be followers of Jesus!--are the kinds of questions Jesus seems concerned with: how are we embodying God's priorities that everybody gets to eat?  How do our values and platforms reflect God's concern in particular for those who are "poor," those who are "hungry," and those who "weep"?  Do the people we choose to lead us reflect the character of a God who feeds the hungry, simply because they are hungry, or do they give us role models and examples to justify our selfishness?  Do we accept the voices who tell us that everything is a deal or a transaction where we only do something for someone else if they will repay us with something to our benefit, or do we listen to the voice of Jesus who says that God does not operate that way? Every day we are presented with the choice of which voices we will allow to shape us.  The open question is whose we will give our attention to.

Today, then, is an opportunity to let Jesus reset our vision.  Today is a chance, like each new day is as well, to see ourselves (and the whole world) rightly--as people with empty hands seeking daily bread from a faithful Giver, rather than as competitors in an unending struggle to get to be on top.  Today is a day to consider what our older brother in the faith Martin Luther meant with his last written words, "We are beggars; this is true."  I think his insight, even in his last hours, was that this whole life has never been about needing to cast ourselves as "winners" who therefore deserve to eat, but as people who are reliant to our last breath on God to give by grace what we cannot buy or earn.  To take Jesus' blessing on the hungry seriously helps us to see what we are acknowledging about ourselves when we pray, as Jesus also taught us to ask, "Give us this day our daily bread," namely, that we are dependent on God to be a generous provider, rather than seeing daily bread as a prize for being a success. We are beggars for sure in that sense. We are children at the table, who have been given a place there not because of our politeness or good grades but simply because we are hungry.  And we are learning to see the world from that perspective, too--the view from our seat at God's table.

Lord Jesus, for all who hunger, feed us.