Pilgrim Notes

Reflections along the way.

Author: dougfloyd (page 5 of 65)

Jesus Opens Blind Eyes, Deaf Ears and Mute Lips

March 28, 2011 / / 3 Comments

Jesus Opens Blind Eyes, Deaf Ears and Mute Lips
Lent 3, 2010 – Luke 11:14-28, Ephesians 5:1-14
Doug Floyd

This is a teaching from Lent 3.

In our Ephesians reading today, Paul exhorts us to “Be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

Christ loved us. Gave Himself up for us. Gave us His Spirit to make us lovers in His Image.

We are images of God, and we are on a journey toward the fullness of love.

We are on festal journey. We travel toward a great feast, in fact, the greatest feast of all. But first, we pass through the desert. In some ways, Lent may likened to the journey through the valley of the shadow of death on the way to the feast of feasts. We follow in the steps of Christ Jesus, who for the joy before him endured the cross.

He calls us. “Take up your cross and follow me.”

During Lent, we pay particular attention to this command that always resounds before and within us. We meditate upon the desert places. We reflect upon the wilderness temptation, and the fight with the evil one. The Spirit led our sweet Lord into the wilderness to be tested. He leads us into wilderness places to test us, to teach us, to perfect us, and to glorify us. Today, some of us are truly immersed in a wilderness passages and times of great struggle. Others in our company are enjoying fullness of soul and times of great victory.

We enter the Lenten journey from different places. Some know first hand a barrenness of soul, the ache of God’s refining fire. Others know first hand the sweet bliss of God’s renewing love.

From our different places, we come together on Lenten journey. Paying heed to the rhythm of descent and ascent. There is a time to break down, a time to weep, a time to mourn, there is a time to die. During Lent, we pay heed to these times and to our weakness and desperate need for a Savior.

Like the Children of Israel, we are learning that “man does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the Lord.” We are all catechumens. We all stand before the Lord, waiting, listening, trusting His Spirit to “sound down” His Word into our hearts.

Today as we wait and watch and listen, we meet Jesus casting out a demon. Verse 14 of Luke 11 reads, “Now he was casting out a demon that was mute. When the demon had gone out, the mute man spoke, and the people marveled.”

This verse captures the heart of our story.

Jesus speaks, the demon flees, the mute talks, the crowd marvels.

Jesus speaks,
the demon flees,
the mute talks,
the crowd marvels.

Even as the crowd marvels, there are voices of dissent. Some people cry out, “He casts out demons by Beelzebul!” Others cry out, “Show us a sign that you are truly from heaven.”

Even as the people behold Jesus casting out the mute demon, they do not see. They cannot see. They are blind. Blind to the Sign in their midst. Jesus Himself is all the Sign needed. Jesus Himself is YHWH in the midst. But they are blind.

So very blind. They call the Lord of Glory, the servant of Beelzebul. The intoxication of sin has blinded them, and they cannot see.

They cannot hear. The Word of God is fully enfleshed in their midst. But they cannot hear him.

He declares, “The kingdom of heaven has come upon you.”

For centuries, their people waited and watched and longed for the coming of the kingdom. For centuries, they cried aloud, they called out, they looked for the Messiah. Now the one and only King has come, but they cannot see, will not see. They cannot hear, will not hear.

They even fail to speak. For as Jesus casts out the mute demon, they do not open their lips and offer praise to the Most High. Instead, they curse and challenge. Their words fall like dead letters to the ground.

Jesus, the strong man, has come to drive out the demons and take his spoil. Jesus, the strong man has come to gather His people unto Himself, but these people want to scatter.

He warns them of their own perilous condition. Their houses, their lives, their souls may appear to be swept clean, may appear to be righteous, may appear to be holy and true, but in fact, they are in utter peril. Without the strong man to protect, deliver, restore and heal them, their law-keeping cannot protect them from the evil one who comes to ravage their souls.

Earlier Jesus exhorted His listeners to ask, seek, knock. Earlier Jesus encouraged His listeners to ask the Father to send the Spirit. But these people choose to heed the serpent instead. They’ve waged a war of words with the only Lover of their souls.

Even those who are sympathetic to the work of Christ, fail to see. A woman cries out, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts at which you nursed!”

Jesus replies, “Blessed rather are those who hear the Word of God and keep it!”

The Word of God is true meat, true drink, and true life for the soul. But the blind cannot see this bounty. The deaf cannot hear of this treasure. The mute fail to ask and fail offer thanks for these good gifts of God.

Like their ancient ancestors, many in this crowd will die wandering at the border of God’s Promised Land.

Lord Jesus, have mercy, come and save us your sinners as we trod these dry and dusty paths. Have mercy as we ourselves fail to see, fail to hear, fail to speak. Have mercy and save us from dying of thirst before the fountain of life. For You alone have the words of eternal life.

When Jesus speaks all creation stands in rapt attention. His Word cannot, will not return void. For all things are created in and through Him. And in Him alone we live and move and have our being. His Word is the water that springs from the Rock, quenching our thirsty hearts. His Word is the sweet milk and honey fattening our souls. His Word is the wine of comfort and wisdom in our hour of need.

When Jesus speaks, the demon flees. The church has often understood desert wastelands as places where the demons inhabit. These are the places outside of God’s promised land. Again and again, God’s people cross these fierce landscapes on their way to the holy city.

In these wild places, they face temptation. They face struggle. They face trial. In these forsaken haunts, they find solace and strength only in the True Bread and True Wine flowing out from the Word of the Lord. In these desert valleys, they also discover their own blindness, deafness, muteness.

Jesus meets his people in these desert valleys and opens blind eyes, deaf ears and mute lips.

Jesus gave Pearl Fryar eyes to see. He gave him eyes to see the wonder of the world all around him. Mr. Fryar lives in Bishopville, NC. He’s a simple man. He worked at a soda can factory for most of his life. One day in the 1980s, he began to see. As he passed the local nursery, he saw a pile a dying plants being thrown away.

He saw something else. He saw that these plants could live. The nursery allowed him to take home the plants they threw away. Mr. Fryar wasn’t trained in Horticulture, but he could see. He could what these plants could be, might be, would be. With his loving care, over many years, these plants would not only live but thrive and become glorious.

This man saw the goodness of our Lord’s creation and planted a garden of Love, Peace and Goodness. He literally planted these words at the heart of his garden. He created shapes out of plants like hearts and squares and circles and swirls. He created a garden of wonder, of playfulness, of joy.

His vision changed his lawn, his city, his state and has even impacted his nation. Newspapers and television stations from across the country came to behold this wonder. Art museums, schools, churches and families came to walk through his garden of love.

Mr. Pearl began see and now many people travel from around the world to come and see a simple garden through his loving, worshipful eyes.

Jesus gave St Anthony ears to hear. Walking past the open door of a church, he heard the voice of the preacher repeating the words of Jesus to the rich young ruler, “Sell all you have, give to the poor, and come follow me.”

So he did.

He walked away from the comforts of the city and followed Jesus into the dangers of the desert. He was not running away, but running to. He was running to the voice of the Lord. And the Lord called him into the wastelands of the world.

So Anthony went into to the heart of darkness, feasting only upon the Word of the Lord.

If you’ve read the tales, you know the story. He faced all sorts of evil spirits and torments. But our Lord was faithful. Our Lord sustained Him, strengthened and gave him the victory.

Anthony heard the Lord and followed. Generations of men and women continue to follow Anthony into the wilderness, planting communities of faith in the wasteland.

Jesus gave the ancient Celts lips to praise God. They trained their tongues to praise the Lord, using the Psalms of God’s people. When they wrote a poem, they began by writing a psalm of praise unto the Lord.

Then they praised the birds of the air, the water below, and the tree before. All the time, the praise of God echoed through every poem. They praised the king, the warrior, the farmer and the mother.

In every word of praise, a double sound went forth: praise to the creation and the creatures as well as praise to the Lord Most High. They are still singing.

Bobi Jones, a 20th century poet, began to praise every person and place around him. He looked at a dreary bus conductor and wondered how can I praise this almost lifeless man? And then he did. Bobi writes,

A Bus Conductor

There’s no mystery in him: I put my hand
In his heart,—knock: I saw how sickly
Living was. Black-framed glasses, jaunty, shallow,
As grey-faced as a shop’s passion.
……………………………………………….
He knows nothing but a bus. “Tickets please.”
To death, to sweetheart, to agony.
A person’s a shilling, and two pence change.
“Tickets please” to the springtime, to autumn—
Stop. Oh Christ-where-there’s-no-field-without-scar,
Red-without-blood, trees-without-roots! Nothing but a bus!

Under slate-coloured brows, his eyes are dust
Lacking the explosion of seeing, lacking the taste of looking,
lacking.
Is God to be found in them?
……………………………………………….
Oh God: bus, pools, food, pint, boys, cash, grave.
What shall we love in him? Unless love the lack.
The lack that anchors everyone. Since we all give loaves
And fishes to Christ, and He turns them into an immense creation.

Pearl Fryar had eyes to see the glory of the Lord in the plants around Him. St Anthony had ears to hear the call of Christ in the desert places. Bobi Jones had a song to sing to world around him.

Oh that we might see, might hear, might speak.

During this Lenten journey, we focus on the Lord’s calling into the wilderness. The Spirit is leading, guiding us through the perils of the desert. He leads us through the valley of the shadow of death.

This deadly valley saps our strength. The deserts and struggles of our lives humble us, expose us, defeat us.

We grow weary. We lose heart. He is not faithless. He will not forsake.

The desert reveals our blind eyes. We no longer see the wonder of the Lord all round us. We fail to see his goodness and see only our losses, our needs, our disappointments.

The desert reveals our deaf ears. We no longer hear the vital life of His Word. We think it has grown dull. It is we who have grown dull and fail to hear the Power of God that booms out from His Word.

The desert reveals our mute tongues. We have no praise to bring Him. Instead of new songs, we sing old songs of complaint and despair.

In the midst of our struggles, Jesus speaks. He speaks to you. He speaks to me. He frees us from the power of the evil one.

He calls out,

“Awake, O sleeper
Arise from the dead
Christ will shine on you!”

In our weariness, He comes. In our struggle, He comes. In our lack, He comes. In our faithlessness, He comes.

He comes with healing in His wings.

Come Lord Jesus open eyes to behold you, to behold your glory in all creation, to behold your Image in the people around us.

Come Lord Jesus open our ears to hear. To hear your voice in the Word, in liturgy, and in the path you’ve called us to walk.

Come Lord Jesus open our lips to praise.

O for a thousand tongues to sing our Great Redeemer’s praise!
O come let us worship God our King.
O come let us worship and fall down before Christ our King and God.
O come let us worship and fall down before Christ Himself, our King and God.

In the name of Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Bearing the Name in Babylon Pt 3

March 11, 2011 / / 1 Comment

The LORD spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, Thus you shall bless the people of Israel: you shall say to them,
The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
The LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.
“So shall they put my name upon the people of Israel, and I will bless them.”
(Numbers 6:22-27 ESV)

Becoming the Blessed Peace
In this blessed assurance we rest in the midst of wild animals encircling the wasteland, then we hear yet another blessing, “the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.” Even as God’s people stand face to face with the enemies of God, they are enveloped in the favor and peace of God.

Daniel faces the cold, cruelty of Babylonian rule as he falls into a den of Lions. But he can Sabbath while surrounded by vicious animals. They are at peace for the Shalom of God is in their midst.

Daniel reminds of us of yet one more mystery concerning those who bear the Name. The Name Bearers, the Children of God, the Favored Ones, bear the Name on behalf of the enemies of God. Just as Jesus fully bears the Name before the enemies of God, thus removing the enmity between God and man, Daniel bears the Name before those who oppose the Holy One and removes the enmity between them and God. Nebuchadnezzar repents. Darius calls out to Daniel and then to the Lord Most High.

When the faithful fall into Babylon, the Glory of the Lord does not depart from them. Instead, they bear the Glory as Shining Lights in the midst of a dark land. When God’s people are dispersed and driven into the desert places, they build a city of refuge. The Lord sends them out to bear His Name in dark places, and they become peacemakers, joymakers, lovemakers.

Think of the woman Jesus meets at the well. He speaks the word of life, convicting her while restoring her. She immediately runs to her village “bearing” good news. She becomes a joymaker, a peacemaker, a true lovemaker, revealing the Good, Good News of Jesus Christ.

Like this blessed woman, like the faithful shining out in Babylon, we realize that we shine out in place where we are standing. In Christ, we bear the weight of the Holy Name, we behold the Shining Face, we become the Blessed Peace. Living in and through His blessing, we become His blessing in the midst of wasted and warring places.

Bearing the Name in Babylon Pt 2

March 10, 2011 / / 3 Comments

Beholding the Shining Face
The Lord also promises to “make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.” Even as the faithful fall into Babylon, the promise of His Shining Face remains. Ezekiel beholds this Shining Glory on the banks of the Chebar canal. Standing alongside the captives, in the midst of the dark land, Ezekiel beholds the glory of the Lord.

This is the glory of the holy mountain coming down into the valley of the shadow of death. Moses is called up the mountain to behold the glory. It is from this place of beholding the Lord that Moses speaks the Law and proclaims the Word of the Lord to the Children of Israel.

In obedience to the Lord, Israel builds a Tabernacle and later a Temple where the glory of the Lord will dwell among His people. This glory is His favor, His intimacy, His presence. The Tabernacle and later the Temple serve as Mountains of the Lord. In fact, the Temple is built on Mt Zion. For the mountain is the place where man ascends between heaven and earth to behold the glory of the Lord.

This is the Aaronic blessing that the LORD “make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.” Long after the Temple burns and the mountain is far, far away, Ezekiel beholds the Shining Face. The blessing of the Name,the burden of the Name is the promise of God’s faithful presence even in the place of judgment. His people may enter into judgment of captivity, but He will join them in the land of the alien gods.

His Ever-Shining Face glorifies His people even as they suffer in the land of darkness. Paul knows the glory of the Shining Face in persecution, in suffering, in prison and even in despair. In 2 Corinthians, he expounds the depths of his suffering and wasting away while at the same exalting in the glory of the Shining Face that grows ever brighter even as Paul is growing ever weaker.

The desert, the prison, the dark places cannot extinguish the promise of His Shining Face, his gracious love that covers us, sustains us, renews us, and glorifies us. Though we face death all the day long nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ.

Bearing the Name in Babylon, Part 1

March 9, 2011 / / 2 Comments

Deserted (used by permission via Flickr)

When Jerusalem falls, the faithful fall alongside her. Their homes are burned, their treasures are lost, their families are taken into captivity. Those who heeded the words of the prophets stumble alongside those who ignored the words of the prophets. They bear the judgment together.

They bear the Name of the Lord on the banks in Babylon. They carry the weight of His Glory even as while stumbling into the wilderness. The Name of the Lord is not a magic talisman to ward off suffering and pain. It is the gift of Covenant with the Most High even in the midst of the desert waste places. Over 1,000 years earlier, as the Children of Israel crossed the wilderness into the Land of Future Promise, the sons of Aaron were instructed to put the Name of the Lord upon the people.

The LORD spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, Thus you shall bless the people of Israel: you shall say to them,
The LORD bless you and keep you;
the LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.
“So shall they put my name upon the people of Israel, and I will bless them.”
(Numbers 6:22-27 ESV)

A dark day comes when the faithful few must leave the Land of Future Promise behind. They walk by way of the wilderness into captivity. Jesus also walks by way of the wilderness into captivity. The Spirit leads Him into the wasteland to be tempted. The Spirit leads Him into the captivity of the tomb.

When Jesus invites His disciples to “follow Me,” He invites them and us to follow Him to the cross. He calls us to follow even when the sky darkens, the land trembles and the future promise fades.

He calls us to follow where we do not want to go. I think back the faithful few walking into the jaws of Babylon. They carry the weight of God’s three-fold blessing:

The LORD bless you and keep you;
the LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Bearing the Holy Name
The Hebrew word for bless carries the idea of the kneeling. The blessing is much like the giving of a name. The people kneel and receive a blessing, a naming. The good parent names their child with the hopes of seeing the child grow into that name. The name is a word of praise, a word of goodness, a call.

In one sense, our names call us forward into the future. My parents called me, Douglas. When I hear the name called, I respond. The name calls me. And in the end of my life, the name will be filled with the content of my life.

At the same time, my father also recognized me as his son, and gave me his family name Floyd. Thus I am part of a family that reaches across time. Douglas Floyd bears both the particularity of my own life and the connection to a greater whole, a people who preceded me and will live after me.

In much the same way, the Children of Israel bear a particular name as well as the Name of the Lord.

In Egypt, the ancient Hebrews are slaves. Nameless ones. Fatherless children. The Lord names them, “Children of Israel.” His naming is a blessing. His blessing is a calling. His calling is so effectual that no power can resist, not even the god Pharaoh can stand in the way. In fact, those who try to stop the call or prevent the call (including Pharaoh) are destroyed in the process.

This is the power of the Name. The Lord “calls out” His people, Israel. Over the centuries, they will fill out this Name and give it content.

At the same, the Lord gives this people His Covenant Name. They are part of a greater whole, the “called out” family of faith across time and space called to bear His Name. They have no image of the Lord. Only the Name. They bear the Name as His children.

When Jesus comes, He bears the Name completely. He fulfills the name of Israel and the Name of the LORD in His life, death and resurrection. This royal name of Israel can finally be understood in light of Jesus.

Jesus also calls out a nameless people. These people are not slaves in Egypt, but they are slaves to evil and corruption. He calls them out from every tribe and nation. They are the “ekklesia,” the called out ones. He names them as his own, as his friends, as his chosen ones:

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.
(John 15:16 ESV)

His disciples then and now are blessed with every spiritual blessing in Christ. They are named as His own and He will keep them–even through the baptism of fire. Those who bear the Name of the Lord bear it into the midst of a world that is out of order, bear into the heart of struggle and suffering, bear in the face of the enemies of God. But the ever faithful Lord promises to keep them. He will guard them, seal them, protect them and lead them into glory.

Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.
(Jude 1:24-25 ESV)

Encountering Jesus Christ

January 20, 2011 / / 3 Comments

Encountering Jesus Christ
Doug Floyd
January 20, 2011 @ Knox Academy

To study Christ, to hear Christ, to learn Christ, begins with Christ coming, speaking, acting. Let us listen to the teachers who taught us to follow Christ. Let us look to the people whose lives and words are witnesses to Jesus Christ. Let us look back and listen to the first disciples.

On one occasion, while the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he was standing by the lake of Gennesaret, and he saw two boats by the lake, but the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat. And when he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” And when they had done this, they enclosed a large number of fish, and their nets were breaking. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” For he and all who were with him were astonished at the catch of fish that they had taken, and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. And Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.” And when they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed him.
(Luke 5:1-11 ESV)

Listen to the opening words of our passage, “On one occasion.”

On one occasion, Jesus climbed a mountain.

On one occasion, he gave water to the woman at the well.

On one occasion, he ate with Zacchaeus.

On one occasion, he stepped onto Peter’s boat.

In the life of Jesus, we behold God entering and transforming people on each occasion.

Tonight is one occasion. And Christ has stepped into our lives to change them forever.

Our story opens with a sense of contingency. In other words, this story didn’t have to happen. Jesus freely chooses to step onto boat. Jesus freely speaks the Word of God. Jesus freely breaks in to Peter’s world.

The crowds are pressing in on Jesus. He’s standing by the lake. He sees two boats. He gets in one boat. Did he have to get in that boat? The text doesn’t indicate that. Were the disciples begging him to climb in the boat? Were the disciples holding a prayer meeting, seeking for Jesus to climb on their boat?

No. They’ve finished a fruitless night of fishing. They’re cleaning their nets. And on one occasion Jesus steps onto one boat. He didn’t have to step onto that boat. But he did.

On one occasion, he entered the life of Simon. And Peter was forever changed.

Now before we continue, let’s go back to the first line of our story. The passage opens, “On one occasion, while the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God…” Jesus is preaching. Jesus is teaching. Jesus is surrounded.

They press in to hear the Word of God.

….man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.
(Deuteronomy 8:3 ESV)

Israel is literally in the desert. The children of the children who wandered across the wilderness, are wandering across the wilderness. They live under subjection to Rome. The once glorious kingdom, the hope of the nations, lies in a desert.

These tired, thirsty people press in to hear the Word of God.

the poor and needy seek water,
and there is none,
and their tongue is parched with thirst, (Isaiah 41:17 ESV)

The world was created, ordered and is sustained through the Word of God.

All creation is pressing in to hear the Word of God.

Humans were created in the image of God. His Word is the Breath that enlivens our clay forms.

All humanity is pressing in to hear the Word of God.

Even in our rebellion, we cannot live outside the Life giving Word of God. In His lovingkindess, our Father sustains all living things. He gives Breath even to the human who curse Him with that very breath.

Once we’ve tasted the sweetness of that Living Water. We thirst. We thirst. We thirst.

So we press in to hear the Word of God.

Even now, even hear, we are pressing in to hear the Word of God.

In our story, we see the Lord answer His people. The God of Israel does not forsake them. Jesus speaks, and when he speaks, they hear “the Word of God.” This is the first time Luke uses, the phrase “Word of God.” He uses the phrase in the way of the prophets, in the way of Moses. Moses speaks the “Word of God” to the people. In speaking, he creates the nation.

His creating and sustaining Word calls them out of Egypt. He calls them out of death. He calls them out of slavery. He speaks the “Word of God” and the nation of Israel is formed. The land, the people, and the heart are created and sustained by the Word of God.

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
(Isaiah 55:10-11 ESV)

Jesus speaks the Word of God, and it does not return void. The people hear water for their thirsty souls. They press in for more. Pressed in by an ocean of thirsty people, Jesus steps onto the boat, finishes speaking to the crowd and then turns to Simon Peter,

“Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”

It’s the light of day. His command makes no sense. You cannot catch fish in the light day. And yet, he turns to Simon Peter,

“Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”

They’ve fished all night. They’re cleaning the nets. They’re getting ready to go home. And yet he turns to Simon Peter and says,

“Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”

The fish are not biting. Peter explains the situation to Jesus, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! And yet, he turns to Simon Peter and says,

“Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”

The only response to the command of Christ is obedience.

Jesus speaks. Peter obeys. The nets burst. The boats almost sink.

Peter falls to his knees.

The weight of God’s glory breaks forth in Peter’s life. In his humiliation, he hears the word of consolation.

“Fear not!”

Like Isaiah, like Zechariah, like the Shepherds, like Mary, like Joseph, like a long history of saints before and after, he hears, “Fear not!” from the Lord.

This encounter with the Lord, with Jesus is sheer surprise. One moment Peter is cleaning his nets, the next moment he is falling before the face of Christ. He does not grasp this mystery. But in this mystery Christ grasps him.

Christ gathers Peter, James and John to himself. Our Lord is a gatherer. He gathered Abraham to himself, calling him to leave everything behind and follow. He gathers the Hebrews slaves to himself. He promises to gather all nations to himself.

The church, the ekklesia literally means the “called out ones” or the gathered ones. We are here tonight because Christ has gathered us. He has called us. He is present.

How do we study Jesus Christ? By His Grace alone. We cannot grasp our Lord. But he can grasp us. He can teach us. And like the disciples we can respond.

Peter, James and John leave everything behind and follow him.

Tonight is one occasion.

Even as we proclaim Christ, He is breaking in to our lives.

Let us press in to hear the Word of God.

Let us obey the call of Christ.

Let us, “Leave everything behind and follow him.”

Groaning Under the Glory (Epiphany)

January 6, 2011 / / 2 Comments

The Miraculous Draught of Fish - James Tissot

The first glimmer of dawn ripples across the sea. Night is fading. The rising sun exposes an empty boat full of weary fishermen. The people working in darkness have seen a great light. And it only reminds them of failure.

We know their story all too well. A long night’s struggle gives way to the light of our own weaknesses. Heaven breaks in all around us, we behold the darkness in our own hearts. We don’t measure up. We fall short. We glare dimly in the light of glory.

The light shines out in the darkness, and it appears that the darkness is moments away from putting it out.

On this Epiphany, we celebrate the wise men bowing before the baby Jesus. This infant king was supposed to usher in the Kingdom of justice, peace, righteousness and truth. But the story is far stranger than we expect. This Nativity story immediately cuts to Herod’s slaughtering sword killing the innocent babes in Bethlehem while the baby Jesus is whisked to the safety of Egypt. In the moment when God breaks into our world, he is revealed amidst struggle and strife and more suffering.

Today, the celebration of Epiphany breaks into our cold hearted world, but everyone has already forgotten the miraculous birth. Back at work. Immersed in projects and meetings and deadlines, we have no time to linger over the troublesome story of God’s unveiling in the midst of a world that reels in anguish.

And yet, this is Gospel.

Jesus is raised as a carpenter. He’ll have to get his hands dirty. When God comes to dwell among His people, he enters into the grime and messiness of life on earth. He enters into the darkness and at times, it appears the darkness will swallow him alive.

In fact, it does swallow him alive.

I’m not so comfortable with the messiness of this spirituality revealed in the Gospels. I want to live on the Mount of Transfiguration, far from the smells and sounds and struggles of our broken world. I want my faith and spiritual life to grow and flourish in a place free from conflict. Like a child hiding from shouts of an angry parent, I want to hide from the problems of life. I seek a sanitized spirituality. Not the messy wonder of Jesus stepping onto the boat of a few weary fisherman.

They needed him during their night of futile fishing. They needed him in their hour of darkness. But he didn’t come. Then they gave up. They started cleaning their nets and docking their boats, then he suddenly stepped into their story.

We sometimes think God has to appear like a Geni from a bottle when we face conflict, indecision, life challenges. He doesn’t have to appear. In fact, he didn’t even have to do anything. He didn’t have to create us. He didn’t have to create our world. He doesn’t have to create or sustain anything. Rather, He is free to create. He is free to sustain. He is free from our closed world of cause and effect. He is free to enter our stories as he chooses.

Jesus freely steps onto a boat of weary fisherman. After teaching the crowds of people, he turns to Peter and issues a command, “Drop your nets in the deep.”

While the command appears nonsensical in the full light of day, a puzzled Peter obeys. A moment later the boat almost sinks under the weight of the all the squirming, smelly fish. Peter falls to his knees and cries out to Jesus, “Depart from me a sinner.”

When the glory of the Lord appears, we fall down like Peter groaning under its weight. Oddly enough, it doesn’t make us feel more spiritual, but less so. The failures of our words and actions shine ever so clearly in the light of Jesus unveiling. When Augustine beholds the Glory of the Lord, he realizes the terrible darkness of his own unrighteousness.

Some people, like myself, scramble to retreats, to prayer summits, to quiet places, hoping for that transcendent encounter. I am drawn to a spiritual life where I rise like the morning mist floating up toward the sun. Instead, I’m flung back to the earth to behold a life less spiritual than I imagined. Spirituality is neither the heavenly bliss of ecstatic joy nor the endless groveling of self-excoriation. Rather, it is the freedom of Christ to enter into the boat, to enter the story.

He enters Peter’s story in the freedom of his own time and place. Moments later, Peter is overwhelmed by the Light of Glory. In Peter’s exposure and confession of sinfulness, Jesus doesn’t leave. Rather, he says, “Don’t be afraid.”

Encountering the Glory of His Light often means encountering the terror of our weaknesses. Jesus looks at us and says, “Do not fear.” He is present. He calls us to follow.

He calls Peter into a life of fishing for living people. Peter, James and John leave everything behind and follow Him.

This is the life of faith. Leaving everything behind and following Jesus. And later, leaving everything behind and following Jesus. And still later, leaving everything behind and following Jesus. Like Paul on the Damascus road, He steps into our success. Like Nicodemus in the dark of night, He steps into our ideologies. Like the woman at the well, He steps into our shame. Like Peter on the boat, He steps into our exhaustion, our weariness, our failure. He steps in the utter messiness of our world and says, “Leave everything behind and follow me.”

On this wondrous day of Epiphany, open your eyes. For Jesus is coming, Jesus is calling. Whether you’re basking in the light of your own glory or drowning in the darkness of despair, leave everything behind and follow Jesus. He will take you where you don’t want to go. But don’t fear. He loves you. And He will love you into glory, into glory and into ever-increasing glory.

The Strange Delight of the Christmas Story

December 24, 2010 / / 4 Comments


Year after year, I continue standing in astonishment before the strange delight of the Christmas story. The days grow shorter. The nights grow longer. The bleak midwinter chills the heart. The world slumps back into darkness. When darkness should be the strongest and dreariest, the Light of Life breaks into our world.

GK Chesterton once said, “Any one thinking of the Holy Child as born in December would mean by it exactly what we mean by it; that Christ is not merely a summer sun of the prosperous but a winter fire for the unfortunate” (The New Jerusalem, chap 5). He acknowledged the symbolic power of celebrating the birth of Jesus during the coldest, darkest season.

The cold days and long nights only serve to magnify the clash of impossibilities bursting out from this ancient tale. Shepherds hear angels sing. Wise men follow a star. A virgin gives birth. Light overcomes darkness. Good conquers evil.

The broken fragments of a world gone wrong are bound in the babe in the manger. Jesus, God with us, arrives under the song, “Peace on earth. Goodwill to man.”

As we hear the story, sing the songs and give the gifts, we may wonder if this story is simply too good to be true. Did God really bring peace and goodwill? If we’re really honest, we begin by questioning our own life in our own little world. Darkness and defeat often seem to thrive.

Hatred flourishes. People ache. Children suffer. We struggle to understand why. Dostevsky speaks to the heart of our questions in Ivan Karamazov’s response to his brother Alyosha as he considers faith in God in light of children suffering.

“It’s not God that I don’t accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return him the ticket.”

Some of us may also have been tempted to “return the ticket” in the face of our own suffering or the suffering all around us. Evil invades everything, corrupting the world and blocking the light of God’s love.

Searching the dense fog of darkness enveloping our news, our culture and often our lives, we seek answers to the problem of evil. TF Torrance once suggested that our search for answers even in Scripture may find limited results. The evil of evil is so pervasive that it infects everything–even our thoughts.

Scripture never offers a comprehensive theory of evil or an exhaustive defense of God in the face of evil. Rather, it acknowledges the presence of evil. In the paradise of Eden, evil appears. It even shows up at the Nativity.

Right after the miraculous birth of Jesus, we encounter the troubling story of Herod’s slaughter of innocent babes. Evil appears at the very beginning of Jesus’ life. We could almost tell the whole story of Incarnation through the lens of evil. From his birth to his death, Jesus is attacked, threatened, sought and eventually killed by evil humans.

Now pause and think about that for one moment. Throughout the whole story of Emmanuel, God with us, evil is present. God comes to us in the person of Jesus. He suffers from evil attacks and eventually is killed by evil.

While the Bible doesn’t completely explain the presence of evil, it does reveal a God who enters into the struggle against evil in this world. He never, never, never abandons us in evil. From the suffering children to the despairing saints, He is present.

He is present in our brokeness. He is present in our suffering. He is present in our dying. He is present in our death.

In the wondrous Nativity story, we behold the baby Jesus. We behold the Lord who has entered into the evil and pain and struggle of a world bent back upon itself. Even in the joy and promise of peace, we see the threat of a darkness coming to destroy Him.

And yet, the light shines out brightly. The angels rejoice. The shepherds kneel. The wise worship. We behold the glory of light overcoming darkness. From birth through life to death, every moment of Jesus’ life is act of redemption. He is redeeming all human existence. He is redeeming all creation.

He enters into our fragmentation and takes that division into His love, redeeming and reconciling the world to the Father. He dies under the power of evil and rises again defeat the power of evil, defeating death and taking our humanity into the glory of the Godhead.

So even as he enters our struggles and suffering and evil, by His grace we enter His righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. In Him and through Him we incarnate the light of glory in all this world.

It has not fully been revealed what we will be or what this earth will be, but we know death and evil and all darkness will be completely eliminated and love and hope and faith will prevail.

So we rejoice in this wondrous birth that reconciles the opposites and reveals the Father. We rest in His faithfulness in the midst of our messy world, our messy lives. We bring our opposites to the stable, to the cross, to the throne.

There we discover a Savior who is at the right hand of the Father praying for us! In Him and by His Spirit, we can rejoice even in the midst of suffering, we can know love even in the midst of struggle, we shine out as lights in the midst of dark universe.

So let us rejoice in the birth of the baby while we worship the Lord who will bring all things into submission–even death.

The Surprise We Cannot Grasp

December 20, 2010 / / 2 Comments

This image by an unknown Fleming artist (circa 1515) captures the common medieval theme of Jesus born in the ruins of Solomon's palace, the fallen House of David.

The lover surprises his beloved with a ring and question. The friends shout, “Happy Birthday” to their unsuspecting companion. The parent transforms their home into a Christmas wonderland for the waking child.

Surprise breaks into our world and opens us to something deeper, something richer, some wonder that is just beyond our grasp. In this moment of surprise, of love expressed, of celebration, we are raptured into a brief moment of sheer joy. The glory, the beauty, the delight of this passing moment wounds us with longing to experience yet again.

Recreating a moment of surprise is almost impossible.

Chesterton once suggested that at Christmas we seek to recreate that first Christmas experience when the wonder of the day captured the heart of the child. But that wonder so often eludes us. How do you create a wonder-filled surprise?

As we approach Christmas morning, as we step toward the birth of the baby Jesus, as we anticipate relaxing and rejoicing with family, we long for this surprise, and yet we are already preparing for disappointment. The hopes of Christmas so often disappoint and even repel.

Thus for many, Christmas is just another day, or worse, it’s a time a depression and loneliness, when our own lack is magnified. If the Christ child really did come, if peace on earth really is true, why do we still live in the dark?
As that question resounds within me, I think of the prayers of the church from yesterday and today. Last night the church sang out the “O Antiphons” chant,

O Flower of Jesse’s stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming.

And tonight the church cries out,

O Key of David, O royal Power of Israel, controlling at your will the gate of heaven: Come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; and lead your captive people into freedom.

Both prayers focus on different aspects of the House of David. The kingdom of David came as a promised hope to the people of Israel. This small Palestinian nation looked to King David and his descendants as the promise of God in their midst to protect them and extend their rule and fulfill the hope of Abraham to become a blessing for all nations.

Israel’s prophets saw kings of the earth flocking to Mount Zion for wisdom. David’s house would grow up as tree or vine of Jesse that would extend to all nations, bringing the rule of the Lord, the order of the Lord, the fulness of the Lord to a world in desperate need.

But the tree fell, the vine was burned. When Babylon burned Jerusalem to the ground, the fall of the House of David was not simply the crumbling of a great dynasty, it was death of hope for Israel and ultimately for the world. It was the disappointment with no respite.

Imagine the agony of Isaiah, Jeremy or Ezekiel when they behold the plans of the Lord. Is God abandoning His people? Is God abandoning this earth? By allowing the fall of the House of David, He has forsaken His plan of redemption for all creation. The darkness that resides where the Temple once glowed will eventually quench all light.

Darkness, darkness and more darkness.

Then by sheer surprise, the Spirit of God prompts Isaiah to write the following song:
There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse,
and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit.
(Isaiah 11:1 ESV)

In his song, he sees a stump. The tree has long since been chopped down. The stump is the very image of death. The House of David is dead. The stump of Jesse cannot grow, cannot shelter the earth, cannot provide. It is dead.
But suddenly a tiny green shoot springs forth from the dead stump. This tiny shoot changes everything. Life grows up in the place of death? How can this be? The Lord resurrects the House of David. Hope is not lost.

And by unspeakable wonder, He comes down; He enters history; He establishes a throne that cannot, will not be overturned. Not even death can stop His rule.

As we look toward the babe in the manger, we are beholding the shoot springing forth from the stump of Jesse. This tiny babe, this frail babe, this dependent babe who rests in the arms of Mary and Joseph, is “God with us.”

He will restore the throne in unexpected, surprising ways. He will rule in life and death. No foe is beyond his rule, not even death. In His rule, Jesus enters into the tombs, takes hold of dead humanity and raises us up into the life-giving presence of the Father.

This is the surprise that we still do not grasp. But every time we catch but a glimmer, we are overwhelmed. It is the surprise that cannot be contained in our Nativities, our Christmas songs, our Santa games. It is the surprise that keeps breaking out of all the ways we try to share it and contain it and grasp it.

It is the surprise we simply cannot grasp. Christ has come and in coming, he enters into our low estate and even into our death and has raised up to life and life and life.

So we return again and again and again to the wonder of this birth, this babe, this light that penetrates all darkness. If you know the darkness of depression, of disappointment, of death. If you know the darkness of this anguished earth, come with me to the Nativity.

Come rehearse, retell, remember the story that is not old but newer and more vital than we ourselves. Let us look, listen and wait for the Good News of God. In our darkness, we will be surprised again and again by a glory that is beyond all we can grasp. We will be overwhelmed by a wonder that cannot be exhausted because it flows out from the one who is Life Unconquerable.

Our Christmas celebrations, our gift giving, our songs and stories are but ways of remembering, rehearsing, revisiting the surprise of His life that sustains. Open your eyes and look out with hope, for He is coming and in Him, you will discover the longing of your weary soul.

We Long for Justice

December 18, 2010 / / 1 Comment

Tonight the church will chant:

O Sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain: Come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.

The Lord delivered His people from the false lord Pharaoh. Not a true father, this Egyptian lord used laws to oppress and control the people. Instead of fathering the people like a true leader, he enslaved them like most leaders.

The true Lord, the true Father, the truly Just One came. He set His people free. He revealed His law to them and called them to walk in His way. The people did not walk in His way, but turned again and again to other ways that enslaved. Even Moses, the great prophet that spoke the Laws of the Lord failed to keep the whole law and could not enter the Promised Land.

Like the ancient Hebrews, we too walk in ways that enslave. We may rightly cry out and even act for justice in this world, but true justice, true freedom, true Shalom flows from the Just One.

Today, we are watching and waiting for the coming of the One who Just and Righteous and True.

And his delight shall be in the fear of the LORD.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see,
or decide disputes by what his ears hear,
but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,
and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;
and he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
Righteousness shall be the belt of his waist,
and faithfulness the belt of his loins.
(Isaiah 11:3-5 ESV)

As we watch and wait for the coming of the Just One, let us confess our frustrations, our own tendencies to question God’s goodness, God’s faithfulness, God’s justice. Denise Levertov’s poem, Psalm Fragments, may help us give voice to our own anguished longing:

Psalm Fragment

This clinging to a God
for whom one does
nothing.
A loyalty
without deeds.

*

Tyrant God.
Cruel God.
Heartless God.

God who permits
the endless outrage we call
History.

Deaf God.
Blind God.
Idiot God.

(Scapegoat god. Finally
running out of accusations
we deny Your existence.)

*
I don’t forget
that downhill street
of spilled garbage and beat up cars,
the gray faces
looking up, all color
gone with the sun–

disconsolate. prosaic twilight
at midday. And the fear
of blindness.

It’s harder to recall
the relief when plain
daylight returned

subtly, softly,
without the fuss
of trumpets.
Yet
our faces had been upturned
like those of gazers
into a sky of angels
at Birth or Ascension.

*
Lord, I curl in Thy grey
gossamer hammock
that swings by one
elastic threat to thin
twigs that could, that should
break but don’t.

*

I do nothing, I give You
nothing. Yet You hold me

minute by minute
from falling.

Lord You provide.

(From The Stream & the Sapphire, Denise Levertov, 21-23)

O Sapientia

December 17, 2010 / / 7 Comments

Today the church shifts from looking forward to remembering the coming of Christ into the world, into a family, into a manger. Over the next seven nights, the church across the ages joins in the “O Antiphons” prayers and chants, longing for and looking toward the birth of Christ. (For those unfamiliar with O Antiphons, the hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” follows the seven chant rhythm in its seven verses. Read more about them at Wikipedia – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_antiphon)

So we look and long toward Christmas Day. In one sense we hold in tension a longing for the coming of the Lord in three tenses, present, past and future. Bernard of Clairvaux spoke of three Advents: the coming of Christ in Bethlehem, the second coming of Christ at the end of this age, and the middle coming of Christ in this present moment.

We are waiting for His coming. We join with the Shepherds, waiting in the darkness of ignorance. We join with the Wise Men, waiting in the light of heavenly star. We join with the Church, waiting in the fog of a glass darkly.

Tonight the church sings out,

O Wisdom, O holy Word of God,
you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care:
Come and show your people the way to salvation.

We are waiting for the Creator of all things to come and dwell in the midst of His Creation. The Gospel of John opens declaring the coming of the Creator into His creation:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
(John 1:1-5 ESV)

We are waiting for the coming of the Word, for the coming of the One through whom all things were made, we are waiting for the Life and Light of men.

Yet, we wait in the dark.

We deny the darkness of the prisons we’ve built all around us. Surrounded by prisons of affluence, prisons of self-satisfaction, prisons of impatience. These prisons constructed by corrupt human hands are designed to keep out the light.

And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.
(John 3:19 ESV)

We can plan Christmas celebrations in these prisons of darkness. We can sing Christmas songs in these prisons of darkness. We can attend Christmas services in these prisons of darkness. We can celebrate Christ while hiding our eyes from Christ.

Beneath the ring of Christmas bells and dancing elves, we may hear a tin sound, a hollow echo, an empty refrain. By His Grace, we may realize that our mansions of affluence are dilapidated shantytowns, built by the truly homeless who blind to their eyes to poverty, sickness and depravation in their own lives and in the world.

We are dying in the dark and only the Wisdom of God can recreate our discarded images into echoes of glory. During the music and mayhem of the next week, you may hear something that bursts a ray of light into your prison of darkness. Perhaps an offhand comment. Maybe a penetrating story. You might hear an unsettling song.

These gentle nudges are but a whisper on the wind, carrying “the distant sound of the angels’ song praising God and promising peace on earth.”* If you hear this sound, be careful.

In fact, be cautious. Whatever you do be cautious.

For He is coming with Light into your prison of darkness. And His coming is risky.

The babe in the manger died on a cross.

Only the desperate should turn toward Him in His coming. The self-satisfied must run.

For He is coming with Light into our prisons of darkness. And His coming is risky.

His coming unsettles everything. His Light exposes our impoverishment. His Life reveals our deathly paler. His Love manifests the hatred choking our soul.

He is coming with healing in His Wings, but His healing may feel like death.

Don’t ever think Advent is a safe little season of reflection. It stands on the very edge of the creation and destruction of all things.

As we wait and watch for the coming of Wisdom, for the coming of the One through whom all things, all people, all existence is created, let us be wary.

Our days are numbered. We stand at the edge of the end of all things. We stand at the edge of the beginning of all things. It is a thing of dread. It is a thing of glory.

If you are world-weary, battle worn, sick of the stench of your own selfishness, give up. Call off your war against God. Let’s bow before the Lord Creator of Heaven and Earth.

Even now He breathes into our clay forms. Nothing will ever be the same again.

* This phrase comes from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Advent sermon on December 2, 1928.

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2024 Pilgrim Notes

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑