Every spring, millions of people in America
stop what they are doing to set
apart multiple times a week to
be shaped by a story.
The story is one of a journey,
and of conflict--of cosmic
proportions--the story is
celebrated by gatherings of
thousands, participation led
by trained professionals who
encourage active vocal praise
and exhortation, and broadcasts
that share the communal experience
with those who are homebound for
a variety of reasons.
There is intense loss and suffering
involved--felt and expressed in tears
and cries of anguish by the thousands
of participants--surprisingly, a majority
of which are men (or at least that's the
stereotype). There is also unbounded
rejoicing--especially at the final victory,
which lies at the end of the long, arduous
journey that leads through countless trials
of suffering and hardship. Much self-sacrifice
is required of the main characters in this story--
as well as those who follow it, allowing it the space
needed to shape their life--multiple gatherings
centering the story's text, actively participating
in the spirit of the story, praying for the ultimate
victory--for they have made the story their story--
most have chosen sides in the conflict, and have
vested vast amounts of emotional energy in the long
journey towards overcoming the final enemy.
At first there seems to be multiple competing parties
or camps vying with the hero for the victory, but towards
the end it becomes clear there is only one foe to vanquish.
When the victory is won and the musicians blare the hero's
hymn, grown men fall to their knees crying tears of
thankfulness and praise to the victor. Or they might dance
a dance of exultation or raise their voice as one in celebration:
the fight has been won, the battle is over!
Grown men and women, who teach their sons and daughters
that one of the most important things in life is the annual celebration
of the story, and how wonderful it is to talk about it all the time:
when you rise up, when you lie down, and when you walk in the way.
The victor has overcome.
Or victors, I could say.
Because the victor, or mascot, is actually a symbol of the team
of victorious basketball players who have completed the long,
arduous journey to the Final Four playoffs.
This victor isn't Christ, and the followers aren't the Church of Christ.
This isn't Lent, and we're not headed towards Good Friday and Easter.
This is March Madness, and it's Final Four or bust, baby.
So get your game on.
Yea.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday, 2011
From Psalm 103, the eighth through the fourtheenth verse:
"The LORD is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.
He will not always chide:
neither will he keep his anger for ever.
He hath not dealt with us after our sins;
nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
For as the heaven is high above the earth,
so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
As far as the east is from the west,
so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
Like as a father pitieth his children,
so the LORD pitieth them that fear him.
For he knoweth our frame;
he remembereth that we are dust."
God remembers that we are dust.
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" are the words from the imposition of the ashes in the Ash Wednesday Liturgy.
The connection between these two texts was impressed upon me tonight.
Just something to think about.
"The LORD is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.
He will not always chide:
neither will he keep his anger for ever.
He hath not dealt with us after our sins;
nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
For as the heaven is high above the earth,
so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
As far as the east is from the west,
so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
Like as a father pitieth his children,
so the LORD pitieth them that fear him.
For he knoweth our frame;
he remembereth that we are dust."
God remembers that we are dust.
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" are the words from the imposition of the ashes in the Ash Wednesday Liturgy.
The connection between these two texts was impressed upon me tonight.
Just something to think about.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Fifth Week of the Epiphany: An Advent Devotion
So it is in this fifth week after the Epiphany that an advent devotion I wrote for the GWU Advent Guide 2010 is finally revealed to the blogging world. Or, more accurately, to those who follow my blog:
***************************
The First Tuesday in Advent, Year One (BCP):
Psalm 5
Isaiah 1:21-31
1 Thessalonians 2:1-12
Luke 20:9-18
*You really need to read the Scriptures before you read my devotional commentary. I suggest reading the Psalm between the Isaiah and the 1 Thessalonians reading.
The parable of the vineyard is one of those parables
I just don’t get. I don’t come away from it with a
simple “The kingdom of God is…” statement. But,
Jesus didn’t spell it out for us like that; he wrapped
up the Truth in a story – a story that is very
unsettling. For instance, why do the vine-growers
act the way they do? Who, in their right mind,
murders their boss’s “beloved son” and then
expects to get the boss’s inheritance? Regardless of
their reasoning, the way they are living reveals their
belief: the Owner is not a force to be reckoned
with. He’s gone “on a journey for a long time” (Luke 20:9).
Isaiah’s prophecy is strikingly parallel to the Gospel
parable: the righteous-city-turned-harlot is suffering
the consequences of its own sin. Its “silver has
become dross;” once the home of “righteousness,”
now its citizens murder and are completely without
concern for the helpless among them.
The psalmist praises: “You are not a God who takes
pleasure in wickedness” (Psalm 5:4). Those who
choose to turn away from God choose selfdestruction.
But the psalmist concludes Psalm 5
with rejoicing – rejoicing in the shelter the LORD
gives those who will look to God as their refuge in
the time of trouble.
Paul and company know all about trouble. They’ve
been evangelizing and have suffered persecution.
They’ve endured their trials – I imagine them
singing Psalm 5 along the way – and are able to live
and preach the Gospel “amid much opposition” (1
Thessalonians 2:2). They stick to their calling,
proclaiming the Gospel of God amongst the church
in Thessalonica by kingdom-living and kingdomspeaking.
Their purpose: “so that [the
Thessalonians] would walk in a manner worthy
of the God who calls [them] into His own
kingdom and glory” (I Thessalonians 2:12).
Maybe Paul and company need to visit the
vineyard in Jesus’ parable, or the harlot-city
described in Isaiah.
Or maybe they need to visit us.
Too often I share in the sinful attitude of those
vine-growers: forgetfulness – or willful
ignorance – of the Owner of the vineyard. Too
often my silver turns to dross; I grow oblivious
to the cry of the helpless and to the still, small
voice of God’s Spirit. Too often my walk is far
from worthy of the God who calls me. What
about you?
During Advent, we are invited to realize the
darkness of our slavery to sin, but also to hear
prophecies of the way things should, and will,
be: “Zion will be redeemed with justice and her
repentant ones with righteousness” (Isaiah
1:27).
God, make us repentant, redeem us, and make
us to walk in the Way worthy of You. Sing with
your Spirit a song of rejoicing in our hearts, and
shelter us even as You are consuming our
sinfulness with holy fire. Remind us that You
will come back after Your long journey, and
give us the Hope we have in our Christ: Jesus,
by whose suffering all bad is made good, and
all wrongs, right. Through Him we pray, Amen.
***************************
The First Tuesday in Advent, Year One (BCP):
Psalm 5
Isaiah 1:21-31
1 Thessalonians 2:1-12
Luke 20:9-18
*You really need to read the Scriptures before you read my devotional commentary. I suggest reading the Psalm between the Isaiah and the 1 Thessalonians reading.
The parable of the vineyard is one of those parables
I just don’t get. I don’t come away from it with a
simple “The kingdom of God is…” statement. But,
Jesus didn’t spell it out for us like that; he wrapped
up the Truth in a story – a story that is very
unsettling. For instance, why do the vine-growers
act the way they do? Who, in their right mind,
murders their boss’s “beloved son” and then
expects to get the boss’s inheritance? Regardless of
their reasoning, the way they are living reveals their
belief: the Owner is not a force to be reckoned
with. He’s gone “on a journey for a long time” (Luke 20:9).
Isaiah’s prophecy is strikingly parallel to the Gospel
parable: the righteous-city-turned-harlot is suffering
the consequences of its own sin. Its “silver has
become dross;” once the home of “righteousness,”
now its citizens murder and are completely without
concern for the helpless among them.
The psalmist praises: “You are not a God who takes
pleasure in wickedness” (Psalm 5:4). Those who
choose to turn away from God choose selfdestruction.
But the psalmist concludes Psalm 5
with rejoicing – rejoicing in the shelter the LORD
gives those who will look to God as their refuge in
the time of trouble.
Paul and company know all about trouble. They’ve
been evangelizing and have suffered persecution.
They’ve endured their trials – I imagine them
singing Psalm 5 along the way – and are able to live
and preach the Gospel “amid much opposition” (1
Thessalonians 2:2). They stick to their calling,
proclaiming the Gospel of God amongst the church
in Thessalonica by kingdom-living and kingdomspeaking.
Their purpose: “so that [the
Thessalonians] would walk in a manner worthy
of the God who calls [them] into His own
kingdom and glory” (I Thessalonians 2:12).
Maybe Paul and company need to visit the
vineyard in Jesus’ parable, or the harlot-city
described in Isaiah.
Or maybe they need to visit us.
Too often I share in the sinful attitude of those
vine-growers: forgetfulness – or willful
ignorance – of the Owner of the vineyard. Too
often my silver turns to dross; I grow oblivious
to the cry of the helpless and to the still, small
voice of God’s Spirit. Too often my walk is far
from worthy of the God who calls me. What
about you?
During Advent, we are invited to realize the
darkness of our slavery to sin, but also to hear
prophecies of the way things should, and will,
be: “Zion will be redeemed with justice and her
repentant ones with righteousness” (Isaiah
1:27).
God, make us repentant, redeem us, and make
us to walk in the Way worthy of You. Sing with
your Spirit a song of rejoicing in our hearts, and
shelter us even as You are consuming our
sinfulness with holy fire. Remind us that You
will come back after Your long journey, and
give us the Hope we have in our Christ: Jesus,
by whose suffering all bad is made good, and
all wrongs, right. Through Him we pray, Amen.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The First Monday after the Epiphany: A belated Christmas "meditation"
This blog post is the result of a "meditation" I wrote to share with my church, the First Baptist Church of Morganton, NC, on Sunday morning, January 2, 2011. The worship service was led by college students, and the text for my "meditation" was Jeremiah 29:10-11, although I reference more of the surrounding text in order to clarify context. Okay. I've already explained too much. I'm trying to work against that tendency. Oh wait, one more thing: we celebrated communion that morning as well, hence the reference that you will see. Here it is:
***
Israel has been exported. They are in a foreign land. They are hopeless.
They get this message from God:
"For thus says the Lord: Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfil to you my promise and bring you back to this place. For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." Jeremiah 29:10-11
Did you hear that? "I will visit you."
God will visit the people who are hopeless.
Isn't that what we are celebrating right now? [God in a manger?]
Isn't that what we are getting ready to celebrate in communion? That God will come...that God has come...that "The Lord IS come?"
But...so what? That's the question we are faced with when we proclaim this message to the world. God really IS one of us! The Word is made flesh!
So what?
Maybe that's what Israel in exile said. Great. Another message from the LORD. Doesn't God see that we are actually here in this place thousands of miles from home, strangers in a foreign land, with all hope gone?
Maybe that's what the world says: God was born into a manger and a bunch of shepherds came and did this thing called "worship," all the while angels were flitting around singing in some dead language that nobody speaks anymore.
Maybe that's what we say. Not explicitly. But think about it. Do our everyday lives reflect a belief that God's incarnation...the Word made flesh...has any impact on the way we live, the way we act, the way we speak, the way we work, the way we play, and the way we rest?
Do we believe that this story we proclaim matters? God says, "I will visit."
God has visited. So what? We're still here in the 21st century dealing with school, jobs, money, vacations, problems at work, sickness, death, and all the rest. When we strip away the distractions of ipods, phones, computers, and other media, and reflect on where our lives are going, the result can be pretty depressing. We can find out that we're a long way from where God wants us to be. We're a long way from any meaning in our lives. As an individual, as a church, and as a world. We could find that we're a long way from home.
But...God will come. Just as promised. Just as already fulfilled. "Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in."
Or in the words of the prophecy given to Jeremiah:
"When when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile." (29:12-14)
God will bring us back home.
***
"Where meek souls..." The Christmas carol referenced is "O Little Town of Bethlehem," written by Phillips Brooks (1835-1903).
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
An Advent Tonsillitis: The Second Tuesday of Advent
So...I'm sick (in light of that fact, be aware that this post will probably ramble or at times seem incohesive...possibly).
Tonsillitis, to be exact. Not strep...checked that out this morning. I'm having to put a lot of things on hold. A term paper. Piano juries. An exam.
My "daily office," or daily work, so to speak, has consisted mostly of sleeping since this past Saturday. That's five days of mostly sleeping.
How unproductive. But then again, I did pray for healing, now didn't I?
I think too often we want healing, or anything else, and we want it now. From my experience, that's not always how God works. It is sometimes. About a month ago, my throat started acting up, and I prayed, took medicine, ate apples, took a hot shower, meditated, etc. And it cleared up in the same afternoon. Not so this time. After getting back to Gardner-Webb campus on Friday night after caroling at a Hospice House, my throat started acting up again.
"Great", I thought. "Here we go again. Time for the checklist. Sleep in for a long time in the morning. Eat like a vegetarian tomorrow, pray for healing, take some medicine. It should be cleared up by the morning."
Wrong.
By the end of a sleep-filled Sunday (I did go to an 8:30 service, after which I promptly crawled back into bed), I was starting to realize that this illness was going to have a big effect on the end of my semester.
my semester. Did you hear that? Let me repeat just in case you didn't get it: my.
This sickness is interferring with my plans. I don't think I've slept this much in...well...since I was an infant. This is actually not that much of a wait. I'm assuming I'll be up and running by at least Saturday, which will be a week. A week is not that long to wait. But it has and will seem like an eternity of waiting. All the while, reminders of what should be happening keep dancing around in my head. You should be practicing. You should be working on that paper due Friday. You should be catching up on the Advent devotional guide readings. Ha. The last one is humorous. But it's the truth. But I believe. I believe that at the end of this long, dark, hellish night, there will be a bright, shining, cool, irritation-free, white-stuff-on-my-pharynx-gone, morning. And I will be healed. Healed from what ails me. For the meantime, I'm going to have to learn to give thanks in all situations. Meditating on the Trinity and the work of Jesus on the cross helps. Saying a Psalm or two helps. While rolling around all night with a fever, I thought of--once again, quite humorously--"Christ Jesus lay in death's strong bonds," a chorale harmonized by Bach. And the morning did come. And the fever was gone (I did take some nyquil).
This week of Peace has been a forced week of peace for me. I've had to let go of many things and just be content with being, as I allow healing to happen. It's nothing I can do of my own work...I just have to let the dr.'s wisdom, the medicine, the rest, and ultimately, the Holy Spirit of God, heal me.
I'm going to finish tonight's Advent devotional guide readings (available at www.gardner-webb.edu/advent), eat some salad and chicken soup, take a full dose of nyquil, and go to sleep. God willing. And just before I sleep, I will pray the song of Simeon:
"Lord, you now have set your servant free
to go in peace as you have promised.
for these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
whom you have prepared for all the world to see.
A light to enlighten the nations,
and the glory of your people, Israel."
Because, I have seen Christ today. In the midst of my Advent tonsillitis, I have seen the Savior. And then, I will imagine Revelation 7:9-17 (KJV), as I have every other night this semester, and fall asleep resting in the promise of a new heaven, a new earth, and a new pharynx. All under the reign of Christ, who is coming.
Amen.
Tonsillitis, to be exact. Not strep...checked that out this morning. I'm having to put a lot of things on hold. A term paper. Piano juries. An exam.
My "daily office," or daily work, so to speak, has consisted mostly of sleeping since this past Saturday. That's five days of mostly sleeping.
How unproductive. But then again, I did pray for healing, now didn't I?
I think too often we want healing, or anything else, and we want it now. From my experience, that's not always how God works. It is sometimes. About a month ago, my throat started acting up, and I prayed, took medicine, ate apples, took a hot shower, meditated, etc. And it cleared up in the same afternoon. Not so this time. After getting back to Gardner-Webb campus on Friday night after caroling at a Hospice House, my throat started acting up again.
"Great", I thought. "Here we go again. Time for the checklist. Sleep in for a long time in the morning. Eat like a vegetarian tomorrow, pray for healing, take some medicine. It should be cleared up by the morning."
Wrong.
By the end of a sleep-filled Sunday (I did go to an 8:30 service, after which I promptly crawled back into bed), I was starting to realize that this illness was going to have a big effect on the end of my semester.
my semester. Did you hear that? Let me repeat just in case you didn't get it: my.
This sickness is interferring with my plans. I don't think I've slept this much in...well...since I was an infant. This is actually not that much of a wait. I'm assuming I'll be up and running by at least Saturday, which will be a week. A week is not that long to wait. But it has and will seem like an eternity of waiting. All the while, reminders of what should be happening keep dancing around in my head. You should be practicing. You should be working on that paper due Friday. You should be catching up on the Advent devotional guide readings. Ha. The last one is humorous. But it's the truth. But I believe. I believe that at the end of this long, dark, hellish night, there will be a bright, shining, cool, irritation-free, white-stuff-on-my-pharynx-gone, morning. And I will be healed. Healed from what ails me. For the meantime, I'm going to have to learn to give thanks in all situations. Meditating on the Trinity and the work of Jesus on the cross helps. Saying a Psalm or two helps. While rolling around all night with a fever, I thought of--once again, quite humorously--"Christ Jesus lay in death's strong bonds," a chorale harmonized by Bach. And the morning did come. And the fever was gone (I did take some nyquil).
This week of Peace has been a forced week of peace for me. I've had to let go of many things and just be content with being, as I allow healing to happen. It's nothing I can do of my own work...I just have to let the dr.'s wisdom, the medicine, the rest, and ultimately, the Holy Spirit of God, heal me.
I'm going to finish tonight's Advent devotional guide readings (available at www.gardner-webb.edu/advent), eat some salad and chicken soup, take a full dose of nyquil, and go to sleep. God willing. And just before I sleep, I will pray the song of Simeon:
"Lord, you now have set your servant free
to go in peace as you have promised.
for these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
whom you have prepared for all the world to see.
A light to enlighten the nations,
and the glory of your people, Israel."
Because, I have seen Christ today. In the midst of my Advent tonsillitis, I have seen the Savior. And then, I will imagine Revelation 7:9-17 (KJV), as I have every other night this semester, and fall asleep resting in the promise of a new heaven, a new earth, and a new pharynx. All under the reign of Christ, who is coming.
Amen.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
First Sunday of Advent, 2010
A prayer written in the season after Pentecost, 2010.
You Who have called us out of sin and darkness into new Life:
stir Your church
with great power come among us
Imbue with power!
Enable disciples to choose
discipline.
May the Baptist people
truly be "people of the Book,"
and worship You in spirit and truth.
Forgive when we try to sell You and Your Gospel with gimmicks,
confusing evangelism with sales mangagement.
Forgive when we treat people as consumers,
and not as those made in Your Image.
Form us to be
your people;
Help us to "Repent,
for the Kingdom of God is at hand."
May souls be saved,
and systems be redeemed.
May your Word be preached,
and be present with those who need You the most.
All of this we ask through +Jesus Christ our Lord,
who, with you and the Holy Ghost lives and reigns,
one God,
for ever and ever.
Amen.
A prayer on the eve of the first Sunday of Advent, 2010.
Shine on us,
we who sit waiting in darkness.
But before you shine on us,
help us to see that
darkness is not dark to you...
in fact, darkness and light to you are just alike.
Make us to see you in the darkness--
we who sit waiting in the darkness.
Shine on us!
Through the Light of Life we pray:
Amen.
You Who have called us out of sin and darkness into new Life:
stir Your church
with great power come among us
Imbue with power!
Enable disciples to choose
discipline.
May the Baptist people
truly be "people of the Book,"
and worship You in spirit and truth.
Forgive when we try to sell You and Your Gospel with gimmicks,
confusing evangelism with sales mangagement.
Forgive when we treat people as consumers,
and not as those made in Your Image.
Form us to be
your people;
Help us to "Repent,
for the Kingdom of God is at hand."
May souls be saved,
and systems be redeemed.
May your Word be preached,
and be present with those who need You the most.
All of this we ask through +Jesus Christ our Lord,
who, with you and the Holy Ghost lives and reigns,
one God,
for ever and ever.
Amen.
A prayer on the eve of the first Sunday of Advent, 2010.
Shine on us,
we who sit waiting in darkness.
But before you shine on us,
help us to see that
darkness is not dark to you...
in fact, darkness and light to you are just alike.
Make us to see you in the darkness--
we who sit waiting in the darkness.
Shine on us!
Through the Light of Life we pray:
Amen.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Twentieth Monday after Pentecost: Minding the Gap and the Corpus Christi
The following is a two-part excerpt (a scarcely edited excerpt) from my personal journal, recorded during a recent trip to England, which was a four-week study abroad class I took through Gardner-Webb University.
***
04 June 2010, Friday 7:55 AM
Last night, ... I went to a "simple Celtic celebration of Holy Communion" at St. Andrew's in Hove (Church of England). It was a wonderful experience. The entire service, the door to the street was open, allowing sounds of cars and people walking down and up the street in Hove to be a constant reminder of Mission. Several times I felt distracted from the "worship," but then embraced the outside noise of the "world" as a constant reminder of the mission of the church, the Church, and my mission. I became aware of the role of each Christian and Christian community as intercessors--standing in the gap between unreconciled man and God, pleading the case of the former, worshiping the latter, or holding out the way of the latter to the former--and as I shared in God's body, I painfully yearned for those outside of the walls to be a part as well.
At one point I thought, "We just need to drop all of this silly Celtic meditative stuff and go out there and start talking to those people."
But that's not standing in the gap. "Minding the gap," as the British rail service constantly reminds you [and you would be wise to follow the advise, lest you fall into the gap, between the boarding platform and the train, to an uncertain fate!].
It's not enough to go out into the world and talk to people. But maybe it is, if you are "talking," and sharing God, and your experience of being transformed in His constant presence.
It's not enough to spend all of one's days in the courts of the Lord, marveling at the "beauty of holiness." But maybe it is, if you are receptive to God's Gospel, and as a part of your response are intentionally "minding the gap" between God and the objects of God's reconciliatory work of salvation.
This is, possibly, the two-fold work of evangelism, which is to be undertaken both individually and corporately, within the context of both human- and God- community, holding out the God-way: the Gospel.
Mind the Gap.
***
Another insight I gained during the Celtic service started developing (developing more, I should say) at the priest's words of, paraphrased, something about our search for truth coming to an end in the Corpus Christi--the body of Christ, the person and presence of Christ. I am reminded of the Apostle Paul's (Colossians 1:17) words: "[Christ] is before all things, and in him all things consist." I find an end to my search for Truth in Jesus Christ. This doesn't mean that I believe I know everything with absolute certainty. It means that "my faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed," but in the person and office of Jesus Christ (Eliza Hewitt, 1891). I still have not, and will never, figure out all of the implications, truth claims, and imports into faith and practice that the person of Jesus makes in my life and the life of the world, but that's not the point. Many would misunderstand and call this position a "cop-out," or "way out." It is a way out...and in. Out of meaninglessness and despair and into the constant Joy of being reconciled to God and the world. Constant Joy, not necessarily happiness.
It is not a resting place of blissful ignorance. Many days are anything but blissful, and I wish I was ignorant of many hurts that are a direct result of my following Christ. The Christian worldview is logically consistent, but this coherence doesn't preclude tension. In fact, I find faith to be a constant exercise in the acknowledgment of tension. Part of my Christian faith teaches me that my understanding of the world and of God, although important, does not affect the Truth that I can or cannot perceive, but that I worship in spirit and truth regardless. I realize that while there are diverse ways of understanding the Divine Mystery, there are better ways of understanding; I believe those ways which are, in my estimation, the closest to the Truth as it has been revealed to humanity by its Creator.
Back to the words of the priest. In Christ--in His Real Presence, particularly within the context of communion--we [can] find an end to our search for truth.
I think that here, in this context, it is wise to consider the meaning of the word end. Not necessarily the end, as in the end of a race, but a "telos." An end as in a shaping force, the purpose, the goal, the thing toward which everything moves and around which everything is focused and centered. Possibly, an end as in a "resting place"--a ceasing from worry and strife and doubt--not doubt in claims or things, but a ceasing of doubt in the person of Jesus. More of a handing over of my doubts in trust. Like Thomas, who doubted, shared those doubts, then declared, "My Lord and My God" after encountering the Corpus Christi: the presence and person of the crucified and risen Christ, who invited Thomas to a very hands-on encounter.
Maybe Holy Communion is the closest thing we can get to an invitation to place our fingers in the Lord's wounds--as we consume reminders and icons of body and blood, and partake-as a community that is the Corpus Christi on Earth, that has its very real wounds-in an encounter with the crucified and risen Lord, and with Thomas, find our resting place, our end, our "telos," in the person of "[Our] Lord and [our] God."
-8:45 AM
6 June 2010
Sussex, UK
Day after Corpus Christi
***
04 June 2010, Friday 7:55 AM
Last night, ... I went to a "simple Celtic celebration of Holy Communion" at St. Andrew's in Hove (Church of England). It was a wonderful experience. The entire service, the door to the street was open, allowing sounds of cars and people walking down and up the street in Hove to be a constant reminder of Mission. Several times I felt distracted from the "worship," but then embraced the outside noise of the "world" as a constant reminder of the mission of the church, the Church, and my mission. I became aware of the role of each Christian and Christian community as intercessors--standing in the gap between unreconciled man and God, pleading the case of the former, worshiping the latter, or holding out the way of the latter to the former--and as I shared in God's body, I painfully yearned for those outside of the walls to be a part as well.
At one point I thought, "We just need to drop all of this silly Celtic meditative stuff and go out there and start talking to those people."
But that's not standing in the gap. "Minding the gap," as the British rail service constantly reminds you [and you would be wise to follow the advise, lest you fall into the gap, between the boarding platform and the train, to an uncertain fate!].
It's not enough to go out into the world and talk to people. But maybe it is, if you are "talking," and sharing God, and your experience of being transformed in His constant presence.
It's not enough to spend all of one's days in the courts of the Lord, marveling at the "beauty of holiness." But maybe it is, if you are receptive to God's Gospel, and as a part of your response are intentionally "minding the gap" between God and the objects of God's reconciliatory work of salvation.
This is, possibly, the two-fold work of evangelism, which is to be undertaken both individually and corporately, within the context of both human- and God- community, holding out the God-way: the Gospel.
Mind the Gap.
***
Another insight I gained during the Celtic service started developing (developing more, I should say) at the priest's words of, paraphrased, something about our search for truth coming to an end in the Corpus Christi--the body of Christ, the person and presence of Christ. I am reminded of the Apostle Paul's (Colossians 1:17) words: "[Christ] is before all things, and in him all things consist." I find an end to my search for Truth in Jesus Christ. This doesn't mean that I believe I know everything with absolute certainty. It means that "my faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed," but in the person and office of Jesus Christ (Eliza Hewitt, 1891). I still have not, and will never, figure out all of the implications, truth claims, and imports into faith and practice that the person of Jesus makes in my life and the life of the world, but that's not the point. Many would misunderstand and call this position a "cop-out," or "way out." It is a way out...and in. Out of meaninglessness and despair and into the constant Joy of being reconciled to God and the world. Constant Joy, not necessarily happiness.
It is not a resting place of blissful ignorance. Many days are anything but blissful, and I wish I was ignorant of many hurts that are a direct result of my following Christ. The Christian worldview is logically consistent, but this coherence doesn't preclude tension. In fact, I find faith to be a constant exercise in the acknowledgment of tension. Part of my Christian faith teaches me that my understanding of the world and of God, although important, does not affect the Truth that I can or cannot perceive, but that I worship in spirit and truth regardless. I realize that while there are diverse ways of understanding the Divine Mystery, there are better ways of understanding; I believe those ways which are, in my estimation, the closest to the Truth as it has been revealed to humanity by its Creator.
Back to the words of the priest. In Christ--in His Real Presence, particularly within the context of communion--we [can] find an end to our search for truth.
I think that here, in this context, it is wise to consider the meaning of the word end. Not necessarily the end, as in the end of a race, but a "telos." An end as in a shaping force, the purpose, the goal, the thing toward which everything moves and around which everything is focused and centered. Possibly, an end as in a "resting place"--a ceasing from worry and strife and doubt--not doubt in claims or things, but a ceasing of doubt in the person of Jesus. More of a handing over of my doubts in trust. Like Thomas, who doubted, shared those doubts, then declared, "My Lord and My God" after encountering the Corpus Christi: the presence and person of the crucified and risen Christ, who invited Thomas to a very hands-on encounter.
Maybe Holy Communion is the closest thing we can get to an invitation to place our fingers in the Lord's wounds--as we consume reminders and icons of body and blood, and partake-as a community that is the Corpus Christi on Earth, that has its very real wounds-in an encounter with the crucified and risen Lord, and with Thomas, find our resting place, our end, our "telos," in the person of "[Our] Lord and [our] God."
-8:45 AM
6 June 2010
Sussex, UK
Day after Corpus Christi
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