God's Love (for you and everyone else) poured Into Your Heart and My Heart

Many have noticed that in the narratives of Jesus' resurrection appearances to his disciples, Jesus never says that, because he is risen, we also will rise. Jesus says this elsewhere (see, for example, John 11:25-26), as does St Paul. (See Romans 8:1; 1Corinthians 15:12-23) But the resurrection appearances in the Gospels are focused on mission. For instance, after appearing to his disciples and offering his peace to them, Jesus says to them, "As the Father has sent me, so I send you." (John 20:21) And at the conclusion of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus commands his disciples to, "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." (Matthew 28:19-20) 

We read of this mission in the Book of Acts, following a pattern repeated time and again. The Gospel of repentance and forgiveness is spread through face-to-face encounters. Not with an air of superiority, but in humility, requiring the evangelist to open their heart to their neighbour as the good news of God’s love is spread. 

 It is a beautiful culmination of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. God sent the Son into the world to save the world. For no other reason than love. And through the love of God we see in the crucified Jesus, we are invited to fall in love with God. To let God’s love re-fashion our hearts and minds, so that we can know the height and depth of God’s love for us. That is part of what it means for us to have God's love poured into our hearts (through the Holy Spirit). The height, breadth, and depth of God's love for you poured into your heart. And with God's love for each of us in our hearts - refashioning who we are - we also have God's love for every other person poured into our hearts. And whatever else we do as we spread the good news of Jesus, all of it is based on us opening the door of our heart to our neighbour as we share with them (and live with them) God’s love for us all.

Luke 17:5-10

How is it that ‘faith’ has come to mean believing something unwarranted, as though faith is intellectual acceptance of a proposition with no proof? This kind of view tends toward seeing faith as irrational. But faith is not groundless. Faith might look at the world differently than those without faith, but that doesn’t make faith groundless. I find Christian faith more rational than atheism. Not only does faith allow me to put reality together differently, it also allows me to have a greater, broader, and deeper view of reality. Faith, in the best sense of the word, is entirely rational. In my opinion, those who think otherwise have shortened their reality.

The other strange thing that has happened to faith is its reduction down to intellectual assent. Human intellect is a beautiful thing, and faith includes intellectual assent, but faith is more than intellectual assent. Take today’s reading about faith (the size of a mustard seed). The disciples aren’t asking for an increase in assent of intellectual propositions. Faith includes the mind, but also the heart; and it includes hope, and love, gracefulness, joy, peace, self-restraint, and duty. I think of faith as more like a way of being human: seeking to become the image of Jesus.

Immediately preceding Luke 17:5-10 (verses 1-4) Jesus tells the disciples that there will be interpersonal trouble in their community, so beware.  (vv. 1-3) And, if in this trouble amongst us, another disciple offends us, we can rebuke that person. And if that person repents, we must forgive. Even seven times daily, we must forgive. (vv. 3-4). And it is then, after this teaching from Jesus, that the apostles ask Jesus to increase their faith. Is this a response to the command to forgive rather than an unrelated saying of Jesus on a new topic of teaching? My reaction to the teaching of Jesus about forgiveness is to feel inadequate to the task. So, it is not that far a stretch to think that the disciples are asking for an increase in faith so as to be able to forgive their brothers and sisters in Christ. Faith is more than intellectual assent. It also about having the strength, humility, and grace to forgive consistently.

And what are we to make of Jesus’ response to the request of an increase in faith? “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed …”  Is his response to be read as affirming that, although the disciples’ faith is minute, it is ample to obey his command to forgive? Probably. Or is Jesus agreeing that the disciples don’t have the faith to forgive others as he commands? (They don’t even have faith the size of a mustard seed!) That is, they do indeed need an increase of faith. Possibly. If we read Jesus’ answer this way, it points beyond the disciples’ current lack of faith to a time when they and their faith will transform them and the world around. And that transformation will come via the cross and resurrection of Jesus. 

Either way, the narrative continues in our reading to the teaching about slaves and their master. What should we make of this? It is almost like Jesus is telling his disciples not to be puffed up with pride when their faith is able to do great things. “If you do end up doing extraordinary things through your faith, don’t expect a reward. You are doing what is expected of you.” In other words, faith is not our doing, something we can take credit for and should be rewarded for by God. Faith, even the size of a mustard seed, is a gift, and as a gift we use it as our master directs.

And finally, the narrative continues on with the story of Jesus healing ten lepers. Of the ten, only one returns to give thanks, and he was a Samaritan. There is, perhaps, a thread of meaning appearing in these consecutive chunks in the story of Jesus. It could go something like this:

 

Luke 17:1-3 

Beware of trouble in the community of faith.

 

Luke 17:3-4

 And remember, forgiveness, even excessive forgiveness is the way of discipleship.

 

Luke 17:5-6

The disciples: “We need more faith to do that Jesus!”

 

Luke 17:7-10

 And when our faith does transform and change the world, don’t expect a greater reward as though God owes you something. Faith is a gift, not a possession.

 

Luke 17: 11-19

A better response when we find ourselves with faith, or are the recipients of the transformation of faith, be thankful.

Hebrews 11:29-12:4

The Book of Hebrews was written for a community of faith that was clinging to faith in Jesus, but only just. They were being persecuted by the world around them. That is always hard, but there is also always the discipline of being a Christian. Following the humble road of Jesus, and giving up life options because it is contrary to Jesus are part of the cross we carry like Jesus to share in his resurrection. Not to mention the hard work of forgiving those we don’t really want to forgive. Loving our enemies, maintaining the bonds of mutual affection with those who think in polar opposite ways to us. And this community was losing its faith. The joy set before them was waning.

 

An alternative was to look to angels for transcendent help. (See Hebrews 1 which is all about the superiority of Jesus over angels.) They could see Jesus. He was like them. And he endured the cross, as were they. But their faith that he would lead them to heaven was waning. (Looking for transcendence is not unusual; think of the popularity of western intellectual buddhism or the irrationality of crystals.)

 

The author reminds them that in Jesus they have the promise of God’s rest. God has declared this, they have ‘heard it’, and this voice should lift their eyes in faith to heaven. They aren’t being asked to ignore their suffering, but to look to Jesus who suffered the agony and shame of the cross, and he gives us a better hope than anything else people are tempted to follow or believe in. (Jesus is a better hope, provides a better covenant, is better than angels, provides a better sacrifice, and in him we can hope for a better resurrection, because he is the better high priest, the Son made perfect forever.)

 

In Hebrews 11 we are told of the great figures of faith of the past like Abel, Noah, Abraham and Sarah. They endured. They won the race. We could switch metaphors and think of them as a great rope of faith. All these figures are holding the rope, and Christ – the pioneer and perfector of our faith - has anchored this rope in God’s final rest, the heavenly Jerusalem. We don’t need to get out the proverbial machete and cut our way through the wilderness to the promised land. Jesus, the pioneer, has done that for us. We follow him.

 

So, let’s stay connected to the rope for the sake of the joy set before us. Despite all that has happened, and all that will happen, nurture the hope that is to come.  Christ is a greater hope than anything we can hope for in this life that is bound to this life only. 

 

But then comes the really audacious part. All these great figures of faith who have gone before us, who won the race, for our sake have not received what was promised. Their perfection awaits our arrival, so that we will all be made perfect together in Christ. The whole Body (of Christ), together. That’s audacious. We all understand that we might need the witnesses who have gone before us to encourage us in our faith. And we all need Jesus. But they need us to receive their final reward? What, generation after generation, waiting … for us? Yes, for all the people of God.

 

Salvation isn’t only about us, those we know or know of, those we love, or those we remember. Salvation is for all the people of God, and our perfection is found in Christ as one, his Body, together. This is why Jesus, the true Son, was sent: to bring home the full number of the children of God. So, keep hold of the rope. Help others whose faith is wavering. When your faith wavers, there is no shame in this. Everyone grasping the rope of faith has moments. But when our faith wavers, let’s seek out help so we can help each other nurture faith wherever it is that we gather together. And let’s gather in those called to join us in grasping the rope of faith.

 

The Day of Resurrection (Mustard Seeds 8)

 Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. 

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 19 April, 2025.

 

The Day of Resurrection

The death and resurrection

of Jesus together changed everything.

Jesus died an outcast,

rejected by all, judged a sinner

and worthy of execution.

Without the resurrection,

lost to history - just one more failure,

one more criminal, one more statistic,

lost amongst the dead of history.

 

The resurrection changed this -

If the 'Jesus thing' is only

about the resurrection,

why does the risen Jesus have nail holes?

The cross and its meaning cannot

be divorced from the resurrection -

God's "Yes!“ against human sin,

the nail holes in the body of Jesus,

part of the Christian revolution,

forgiveness through repentance.

 

Jesus died out of love for us,

death initiated, ended in love.

Human failure is judged -

It is love that judges, love that saves us.

The constancy of love demands

nothing more, or less than love,

disciples of that constancy.

The Resurrection of Jesus (Mustard Seeds Poetry 4)

 Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the fourth of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 27 April, 2008.

 

 

The Resurrection of Jesus

 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is a unique event, 

without precedent in history. 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is not to be justified 

by historical precedent, 

as though to be ordered to the past 

to gain credibility. 

 

It is the other way round – 

In the Christian scheme of things 

History is ordered to the resurrected Jesus. 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is the future come to meet us. 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is God's action in breaking us out 

of the cul-de-sac of history, 

why faith in the resurrected Christ 

is liberating.

Resurrrection: A Reflection on Love, Judgment, and Obedience (Part 3)

 The Day of Resurrection

The cultural artefacts produced in the West because of the death on a cross of a Jewish man 2000 years ago is astounding. Art, poetry, literature, sculpture, Cathedrals, the rules of war, human rights, freedom of speech, secular space, the rise of Western science, and not to mention the Christian religion itself, are products of faith in Jesus of Nazareth, crucified and risen. It's easy to forget how much we stand on this legacy of Christianity in Western culture. And we forget what the Christian revolution meant to the pagan world around it. It was a revolution. And that is part of why the fading of Christianity - with its dead, pathetic, crucified Lord on a cross - is not recognised as the civilisational catastrophe that it is by very many people. (Although we'll have to wait and see what happens in the West - something is afoot, and I'm not being nostalgic here.) The general contemporary atheist of the West (e.g. the "New" Atheists of not that very long ago) seems ignorant of the original revolution and its continuing benefits and cultural richness. You probably have to go back to Nietzsche to find the atheist who understood that with the cultural death of God (and he meant Christianity) everything people assumed morally would vanish. There would be no reason to continue the accepted moral standards of the West, and instead, all would be negotiated by power (i.e. down the barrel of a gun).

The death and resurrection of Jesus together changed everything. Jesus died an outcast, rejected by all, judged a sinner and worthy of execution. And without the resurrection this is how he would have been lost to history: just one more failure, one more criminal, one more statistic, and then lost amongst all the other dead of history. But the resurrection of Jesus changed this. The resurrection is God's 'Yes!' to the sin that crucified Jesus. And although the resurrection of Jesus is about life after death, on its own this is too narrow an understanding. If the 'Jesus thing' is only about the resurrection, why does the risen body of Jesus still have nail holes? It's because the cross and its meaning cannot be divorced from the resurrection. The death is rolled up into his resurrection. These two features of the death and resurrection of Jesus - God's "Yes!' against human sin and the nail holes in the resurrected body of Jesus - were significant facets of the Christian revolution. However, why didn't Christianity end up a religion of revenge? That is, a movement of God's revenge for crucifying the Lord, directed at all sinners? Instead, Christianity is a movement (from its inception) of forgiveness opening up a way for forgiveness through repentance. Why forgiveness? Revenge is the usual human way.

 The reason is because Jesus died out of love, for us, without the self-righteous anger of the movements of change peppering all of human history. And he died in obedience to the one he called Father. And the Father sent the Son into the world out of love for us. And in this death initiated and ended in love, human failure (sin) is judged. It is love that judges us. And it is love that saves us. To follow the well worn path of revenge would be to betray the very reason for Jesus and deny the God who sent him. That is why Christianity is not a religion of revenge. The constancy of love (see Parts 1 & 2) demands nothing more (or less) than love. And we are disciples of that constancy of love.

Let Us Love One Another: A Reflection on Love, Judgement, and Obedience (Part 1)

 Here is the first of three reflections used at Easter with a theme of love, judgement, and obedience. (Using John's Gospel as the prism to refract the light revealed to us in the cross and resurrection of Jesus.)

Maundy Thursday 

"Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end." (Jn 13:1)

 Jesus' walk to the cross wasn't a misjudgement on his part, or a miscalculation on the part of the Father, or the act of someone stuck between self-giving and self-flagellation. It wasn't the result of despair or frustration. The death of Jesus was the result of love. (Love on the part of Jesus - malignant violence on our part.) Jesus loved his own to the end. His death was for us and our good. 

 

And the death of Jesus was also because of his love for the Father. Jesus' love of the Father, shown in his obedience to the divine will, took him to the cross. (Jn 14:31; 15:9-10 ) But the cross was not only the result of Jesus' love of us and his love of the Father. The Father's love for the cosmos was the source of the Father's sending of the Son for our sake. ("For God so loved the world ..." Jn 3:16) And because of this constancy of love we know that God is love (1Jn 4:7-12, 16), the light of love. And although the darkness tried to overcome the light (Jn 1:5), we know that God is light in whom there is no darkness. (1Jn 1:5) 

 

Jesus symbolised his act of love and service on the cross in the washing of the disciples' feet at the Last Supper. Footwashing, the work of a slave, parallels the Son who emptied himself, taking the form of a humble slave, being obedient even to the point of death on the cross. (Phil 2:5-11)

 

But the footwashing is also about being washed by Jesus.  Peter could not conceive of his Teacher and Lord washing his feet. But it is because Jesus washes our feet/is crucified for us that he is our Lord and Teacher. (See Luke 23:35-38) And in this 'washing' we find the way to salvation. (Jn 6:68; 13:8; 14:6)

 

And our response? Jesus invites us into the constancy of the love of the Father and the Son through faith in him. (Jn 1:12; 11:25-26; 20:30-31) And we abide in this love of Father and Son through obedience to Jesus' command - to love one another. (Jn 13:34-35; 15:12-17) In this love we will know the Father's love, just as we will know the love of Jesus, the Son, and abide in their love. (Jn 14:21-24; 17:20-24) And with the presence of the Paraclete - another Advocate - within us, we will testify to the truth (of this constancy of love) and  receive all that the Father and the Son share. (Jn 16:13-15) And in this testimony we know the future: the glory of the love of Father and Son, abiding with us now, and eternally. (Jn 16:13) 

So let us love one another. To love one another is the master key to unlock the mystery of the cross and resurrection of Jesus. To love one another is the fruit of the cross and resurrection of Jesus. To love one another is to love Jesus and share in his love of the Father, and to enjoy their mutual presence of love in our lives. So, let us love one another.

Lazarus (Mustard Seeds Poetry 1)

Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the first of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem is from an original post on 28th March 2020 that was written at the beginning of COVID-19.

 Lazarus, a figure of conversion 

life of discipleship, moves 

from life to death to a life given back. 

So too, we move deeper 

into God’s love - movement 

from life to death to a life renewed 

in daily dying and rising with Christ. 

We die to the false self, in Christ 

receive a renewed sense of self. 

Imagine Lazarus smelling the roses 

after he was raised, living the gift 

of life despite the dark times. 

We too are called to smell the roses 

for we have gained our lives, 

not lost them. 

 

Whatever cross you bear 

there is a flower on your path 

just waiting to be noticed. 

Live the gift of life given back, 

live it as the gift it is.

A Certain Ruler (Luke 18:18-30)

 This certain ruler must have been quite excited when Jesus said, "There is still one thing lacking." Great, only one thing! After a life of disciplined obedience to the commandments, maybe the ruler might be able to work himself into eternal life?

This passage reminds me of Luke 17:5-6.  "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed ... (you could do the miraculous). Just that little bit of faith is all we need? Really? Surely we can do that. No, that's the point. We can't manufacture even that little bit of faith ourselves. It's a gift.  The 'one thing lacking' (Lk 18:22) in our passage also seems impossible. Yes, that's right. It is impossible for mortals ... but possible for God. It is a gift. Peter and the others have received the gift. (18:28-30) The ruler leaves despondent because he doesn't get it. An impossibility for him but not for God. (18:27)

The God of the impossible. By Luke 18, we are late in the Gospel of Luke, and Jesus is nearing his journey to Jerusalem, where he will be rejected and killed. And raised. The impossible is possible for God. In other words, it is all grace. Or, to use the language of the death and resurrection of Jesus, it is resurrection all the way through. God doesn't meet the little bit we have done (the mustard seed, the one thing) and top it up. It's grace through and through.

In Jesus we see that God is not a monster of our imaginations

When bad things happen it is easy to say something like, "What did I do to deserve this?" Probably nothing in the sense of the question above. God isn't punishing us when bad things happen. Of course, if we play with fire we get burnt, that is true. But that is not the same as saying that God is the author when bad things happen. This is so important. 'The gods' did bad things, just read Greek mythology! God does not. God dies on a cross for us, we did the crucifying, God did the rising. On the cross God judges human sin by being a victim of sin and raising the innocent Jesus from the dead. The risen Jesus sends out his disciples to preach repentance and forgiveness of sins, not vengeance. It would be wildly inconsistent for the Father of the Lord Jesus to then bring disaster down on our heads. 

People can also have a tendency to misinterpret history in a similar way. An earthquake is not God's punishment. We shouldn't impute to God the disaster that follows the earthquake. People seem to have been (and still are) infatuated with end-of-the-world scenarios. Whether divinely inspired or human-induced, people continue to guess the meaning of events and interpret them as coming from a malevolent or angry god (even secularised people have their own versions of this). In the past people have been obsessed with dating 'the end', and dates still figure prominently in all kinds of secular future dooms. Jesus tells us not to misinterpret the events of history. He knew people would say all kinds of things in his name, and make all kinds of claims. So he explicitly says, don't be fooled by false messiahs, and don't see God as the author of disasters. Disasters, whether human-inspired or not, will come, but don't make God out to be a monster. (See Mark 13:1-8) 

The event to correctly interpret is Jesus, his birth, ministry, death, and resurrection. God's response to suffering, evil, and death is not to make more of it. God’s response is to overcome suffering, evil, and death by surrendering to its power. Jesus, born in a stable, crucified and raised, interprets our history. We are loved, and in Christ our future is secure, even if it doesn't feel that way at times.

Who is this? Mark 4:35-41

 Without the cross, the answer to the question (about Jesus) "Who is this?" pops out wrong. But with the cross and the resurrection of the crucified, the answer is Christianity. Because of the cross and the resurrection of the crucified:

1. Christianity has a sensitivity to the voice of the victim and the human tendency to scapegoat. Where Christianity has taken root in a culture so too has the moral high ground of victimhood. (Look at the West now and the place of the voice of the victim. But this sensitivity is meant to be coupled with conversion to Jesus and his way of forgiveness to prevent making new victims.)

2. Christianity teaches of a God who is sympathetic to the human condition, for in Jesus God has suffered with us in the flesh. And it is through this suffering and death as a victim of human sin that God has brought about union with us. A union with us at our lowest point, i.e. as sinners.  (See Rom 5:6-11) One can never get to this spiritual insight without the cross (and resurrection) of Jesus.

3. And then, this crucified Jesus, now risen, offers forgiveness, not vengeance or 'justice'. (John 20:19-23) There is no line in the sand that to step over brings destruction. Instead, we discover the patience of God and space for human freedom, and the means to be transformed through repentance and forgiveness.  (2Peter 3:8-9) 

4. And in the space (to sin) that we see in the cross of Jesus, we see also a model of what creation is like. As Creator God does not transgress our freedom but gives creation space and its own integrity to be who we are, and in that space to be transformed by love. (1John 4:7-12)

5. To be Christian is to know God's love revealed in Christ and his cross and resurrection. And to be judged by this love, not the judgment of others or the judgment of self-loathing. This love that has given all and reaches the depths of who we are, asks of us everything. For it is in the spiritual renunciation of all that we believe we are that we transcend the boundaries of our current humanity, bringing to light that which is hidden. In other words, we learn to be loved and to love.

Satan Casting Out Satan

 When the opponents of Jesus turn up accusing him of being in league with Satan (Mark 3:22) he doesn't so much as deny it as play with it. It is not the ones we humans expel as evil/immoral/ etc who are in league with Satan, but the accusers (who believe themselves to be righteously casting out Satan) who are in league with Satan, the great accuser: Satan casting out Satan. (3:23)

This dynamic of expulsion is played out among us and through human history. It seems good and right, even necessary to expel. And its effects of a temporary peace (by expelling the supposed source of conflict/sin) reinforce and support the sense of virtue retained/regained. But this peace is temporary, for a house divided is inherently unstable. (3:24-26)

And Jesus will ransack the strong man's house by first disarming him, like a thief. (Mark 3:27; compare Matt 24:43, 1Thess 5:2, 2Pet 3:10, Rev 16:15) The strong man is Satan, and he will do this on the cross. Satan will cast out Satan, and Jesus, in the disguise of a criminal and immoral person rightly crucified, the lie of accusation will be unmasked and God's vindication of Jesus in the resurrection will give us eyes to see.

This is scapegoating, Satan casting out Satan. When we participate in scapegoating we are in league with the diabolical. Of course, we all think we would never do such a thing. No one ever does think that, we always think we are innocently and righteously identifying the problem (someone else). All kinds of self-righteousness accrue.  Social causes are vulnerable to being pulled into the diabolical. (Its why someone always ends up against the wall when the revolution comes.) Whatever you think of the righteousness of a pet cause (to say this should immediately give pause), the conditions for just such scapegoating are visible around us. 

The lie that allows humans to be content in self-righteousness is best maintained if the scapegoat is guilty of something. That way the fiction of their (whoever they are) guilt can have at least an air of credibility. Scapegoating pops up as sides and causes are taken, and as victims (of evil) and perpetrators (of evil) are discovered and denounced. Satan casting out Satan. As mentioned, it is best if there is some element of guilt present and some element of ostensible (self-)righteousness. But the guilt need not be related directly to the 'crime', only tangentially. But when the invective rises and continues to rise, when we are all forced to take a side, or when to not take a side is to be accused of being on the wrong side of history (siding with evil), Satan is casting out Satan.

Following Jesus asks us to be sensitive to the victims of the diabolical who are innocent of the crimes heaped on them (not necessarily innocent). To be a follower of Jesus is to renounce the false peace and feelings of righteousness that flow from Satan casting out Satan. At a minimum, to be Christian and part of a Christian community is to find our communion in love and forgiveness, not in expulsion.

Glorified Wounds

 Jesus is the Lord who came to save us by dying for us on the cross. The wounds in Jesus' glorified body remind us of the way in which we are saved. But they also remind us that our own wounds are much more than roadblocks on our way to God. They show us our own unique way to follow the suffering Christ, and they are destined to become glorified in our resurrected life. Just as Jesus was identified by his wounds, so are we. (Henri Nouwen)

The Wounds of Jesus are Not an Embarrassment

 The wounds of the Risen One are neither an embarrassment nor inconvenient.  The cross was not a mistake that needed Plan B to correct. If the wounds of Jesus were an embarrassment or an inconvenience we would not have an account of a Christophany of the Wounded-Risen One.  It is almost like Jesus wants his disciples to see his wounds.

In popular culture the afterlife is portrayed in ethereal terms with at least the world of suffering and death a past memory, or perhaps even ignored. Think of Dumbledore and Harry P speaking near the end of the movie series in a railway station of sorts. Like an escape from reality, a dualism with the unreal afterlife wholly disconnected from the evil world from which he has escaped. Not so the resurrected Jesus. He is no bodyless spirit or vision. The resurrection takes all that we are, and our histories, into God's future and transforms us. Resurrection has nail holes.

We should be rattled. Imagine seeing a dead man who is so visibly alive as the risen Christ yet has all the wounds of death. The kind of wounds that kill. It isn't enough to say that such a person is alive. It would be better to say that a dead man is alive. And that doesn't make any sense, or at least not in the way we ordinarily think of life and death. It wasn't just a matter of God reversing the death of Jesus, as though death was banished. It is more like God gave life to a dead man who remains dead, except that death has lost its sting, its meaning, and its power. Life and death, as two sides of the one coin as we experience life and death, no longer mean what we think they mean. Christ is risen!

I like that little bit in Colossians where we are told God made a public example of the rulers and authorities, triumphing over them in the cross. (2:15) When the risen Jesus flashes his wounds to his disciples (John 20:20; Luke 24:39-40) he is making a public example of his victory over death and the power of death. Not the public example of a Roman general in a Triumph. Indeed, the evidence of the triumph of God in Christ is exactly what Rome would see as signs of defeat. But, because Christ is raised (not just alive again instead of being dead), death has lost its sting, death has lost its meaning and power, the wounds of Christ are his Triumph.

The Joseph Story

 The Joseph story is one of my favourites in scripture. It doesn't get much more real (except perhaps the cross!). A husband and his two wives ("And it was Leah!), favoured sons, bitter rivalry and envy, betrayal, forgiveness, conversion, and through and in all this God's presence.

I have posted some material before on Joseph. Check out this post on the conversion that Joseph leads his brothers to, and the way in which God's response to evil is not a moralistic separation of the good and bad, neither is God's response a gnostic ignoring of evil, but joining the story and putting the evil on a broader canvas of God's purposes. ("God intended it for good.") Or this post, a short reflection on how Christ is feels no envy toward us, and that through his Spirit we need not be envious of him, for everything that we can receive has been given to us.

Sinner: Changing How We see God, Ourselves, and Others.

Someone recently commented that, in the Victorian Stage 4 lockdown,  churches and brothels fall into the same category of activity and therefore restriction. Someone else quipped that both accept sinners! (Here.)I like that. Although it is a bit too easy to say compared to its practice. Contemporary society, allegedly, has moved beyond 'sinner' and the judgementalism that follows. However, using the word 'sinner' isn't necessarily judgemental. If you think it is necessarily judgemental then read on because I suggest you might still be stuck in the tight little circle of judgementalism that you are trying to leave. Scared that it might be true, we reject it. Protesting too much, so to speak.

These last few Sundays we have been reading the stories from Genesis about Abraham and Sarah and their descendants. The stories are about their schemes to make God's promise to them come true. (For the original promise, reiterated over and over throughout Genesis, see Genesis 12:1-3.) God doesn't need their schemes to bring about the promise, although God is free to use the schemes. (For example God doesn't need the scheming that brings about Abraham's firstborn son, Ishmael. See Genesis 17:15-22. But God uses the scheming of Joseph's brothers to ensure the survival of the people of Israel during the great famine. See Genesis 37-46:7.) The stories show us a God who is accommodating of all kinds of human shenanigans and failures. The fulfilment of God's promise to Abraham and Sarah, fulfilled in Jesus, is no cause for human pride. God's plan is not accomplished by human (self-)righteousness. It is God who brings about what God promises. But this is more than God just putting a brave face on a hidden resentment toward us. This is not the God of projected human self-righteousness and self-criticism. This is the God who can teach us how to relate to human failure (sin), both our own and the inadequacy and failure of others. This is what God is really like, through and through. God is with the people in promise and fulfilment, in covenant and law, with them, carrying them, loving them, making space for them, and ultimately saving us.

We see this in Jesus, intensely in his crucifixion and resurrection. God with us. Victim of human sin, literally carrying the instrument (symbol) of human sin, a cross. And from within the experience of bearing that sin bringing life and forgiveness. It is this God, with us (Matt 1:22-23; 28:16-20) truly walking our human life with us in the flesh: the life and death of Jesus, the God who makes space for sinners because God is love, it is this God to whom we relate as sinners. But that is not how most people think of the term 'sinner'. James Alison (here) says our language has a different tone than what people might think. (Words like God commands, desire, will, law. And, as I am saying here, a word like sinner.)

But not just our language changes. We are changed. "Sinner" isn't a term to demean, but when uttered in the Christian context, by a God who knows us and loves us, who truly empathises with us in Jesus, sinner becomes a term of grace. Sinner: I don't need to be perfect, I don't need to save myself, I am loved, known even in my human failure. There is nowhere left to fall away from God in Christ. 

The Raising of Lazarus

In the season of Lent we are in preparation mode for Easter.

No wonder we get this set of readings. From life to death, to life.

The story of the raising of Lazarus is often referred to as the resurrection of Lazarus. It wasn’t a resurrection, Jesus is the resurrection, not Lazarus. But the so-called resurrection of Lazarus is a figure of what was to come. Lazarus’ raising is more like a kind of resuscitation because Lazarus will die again. Jesus’s resurrection is an utter transformation that takes who he is and all that he is into God. Including the human failure that crucified him, evidenced in his wounds. Even sin finds its end in resurrection. We call it forgiveness.

But the resurrection of Lazarus is also a figure of our conversion and life of discipleship. Lazarus moves from life to death to a life given back. So too our movement as we move deeper into God’s love: a movement from life to death and then back to a life renewed, life given back to us. In our daily dying and rising with Christ we die to the false self in Christ to receive back a renewed self, and renewed sense of self.

Imagine Lazarus. Who better to appreciate the gift of life than the dead, or the dead given back their lives. Lazarus must have really been smelling the roses (so to speak) after he was raised. Consciously living the gift of life as a gift despite the dark times of life. (This reminds me of that cartoon from Michael Leunig that has Jesus carrying the cross and because he is bent over he notices a flower on the path.) We too are called to smell the roses for we have gained our lives, not lost them. Whatever cross you bear there is a flower on your path just waiting to be noticed.

And part of our discipleship is to help others leave behind the barriers to living life more fully.

 The raising of Lazarus also speaks to us now as our personal and communal lives change, perhaps for ever, because of COVID-19.  Many of us are feeling once again the fragility of the human project, the project to continually make ourselves individually and communally. This self-made person and society is so fragile. Most of the time we wander around as though our projects are here to stay.  But the potter’s wheel of life has a tendency to pull the illusion down. It is tempting to live the illusion and rebuild the project. I most likely will. But I won’t do it with quite the same blithe arrogance that ignores the reality of our fragility and our dependence on God. When we are allowed to resume our former lives, I, like Lazarus, might live the gift of life given back, but more consciously live it as the gift it is.

Mary and Martha

On a recent Sunday in church, we read the story of Mary and Martha in the Gospel according to Luke. (Luke 10:38-42) The story focuses on the interaction between Mary, Martha, and Jesus. I am sure many sermons have been preached on the complementarity of Mary and Martha, urging us to unite active and contemplative, inner and outer, either within us or within our communities of faith. Other sermons will try to reconcile Jesus' rebuke of Martha, or perhaps be offended by it.  (See further helpful comments on the text from Ian Paul.)

But an aspect of the story possibly overlooked is Martha's resentment of Mary. She is resentful that Mary is not helping, or perhaps that Jesus favours her slack sister, or that she, Martha, is not receiving the recognition from Jesus that her service is meant to receive. A universal experience. Resentment makes the world go around.

St Paul says that without love all we do is worthless. (1Cor 13:2-3) It might seem a bit extreme, but he is right. At root, an act of service might also be about convincing ourselves that we are ‘good’ people, or perhaps a search for recognition. And when I say ‘convince’ I don’t mean in an explicit, conscious way. More like playing a subterfuge on ourselves, not just the world around. Hidden motivations lead to resentment very easily.

It has struck many people that whatever resentments Jesus may have held during his life and early ministry they have been refined out as he makes his way to the cross so that his death and resurrection are without resentment. ("Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing," and "Peace be with you.") He dies and lives for us.

In the story of Mary and Martha the latter’s resentment is disclosed. She wanted more than to be a servant. Jesus, on the other hand, in the time of his public ministry is satisfied to be Jesus, beloved of God, servant of humankind, without resentment even when crucified by those he loves.

The Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds

There are times to make judgements, about ourselves and others. Decisions need to be made, actions undertaken, help to be given. However, I’ve learnt that once we make the judgement (this is who they are, this is what they are like, etc.) we stop learning about ourselves/others. The conversation ends. This is who they are … So, although judgements are necessary at times, I find it helpful to make the judgement temporary and to once again open up the conversation of learning about others and myself.

The parable of the wheat and the weeds (Matt 13:24-30, 36-43) appears, at first glance, to be a parable of judgement. But it is a parable asking us to delay judgement. It is God who judges and God’s envoy who will sift at the end of the age. We are not asked to judge. (cf. Matt 7:1-5)

The death and resurrection of Jesus bear the mark of this eschatological judgement. (Rom 6:10; 8:1; 2Cor 5:19; Heb 7:27) God, in Christ, is delaying judgement. (2Pet 3:8-10)

The above reading of the parable of the wheat and weeds might provide a way in for some people who struggle with the language of Christ bearing our sin. Without touching on how the death of Jesus delays judgement, the language of the graceful delay of judgement on God’s part in the death and resurrection of Jesus is important to recognise.

The Martyrdom of Stephen

A short reflection on the martyrdom of Stephen here.