This morning my spiritual mentor and I were chatting. I was pontificating (like I do...and like you don't have to be a pontiff to do) on a few things and that's when she dropped Matthew 7:22 and further on me. The separation of the sheep and the goats is what it gets expanded out to elsewhere.
The context of our original conversation isn't important but suffice to say that we were talking about the parts of the Bible that Christians tend to want to ignore. Like...Sin. We have to be honest and say that American Christianity overall hates sin and not in the way God hates sin. What I mean to say is that we hate talking about it, preaching about it, admitting it exists, and especially hate admitting that it even exists within our selves. But, what is the power of the Gospel at all if we don't fully recognize that we are a fallen creature who has done this to themselves, continues to do it to themselves, and justifies it almost as much as we poo poo it in our own circles. "You disrespected your spouse? Oh, honey/dude everybody does that. It's no big deal. Heck, I did it four times on my way over here. Now, if you cheated that would be totally different." Uh...actually it's not except by our own fallen creature standards. But if I continue down this route I'll be putting the miter back on my cabeza and get all pontiff on a subject I've already established it's not crucial for the sake of this post to illuminate. #MaybeTooLate
I'm going to come right out and say what I may have already stated in previous episodes... Matthew 7:22 and following scares me. It scares me right out of a dead sleep some nights. Why? Because it's Jesus talking. It being Jesus talking mean's it's GOD talking and what GOD is saying we have zero right or ability to worm our way around. It's foundational which means it's been true since the foundation of the world, in a land before time (not a kid's movie reference, thank you) whether we want to admit it or not.
There are a lot of things that can and have been said about what the sheep and the goat separation, mostly regarding what it "doesn't" mean. Often focusing on what it "doesn't" mean leads us to not pay attention to what it "does" say (Thank You, Alistair Begg) and that is a road that leads to ruin.
So, as I believe the LORD tells me from time to time, buckle up, buttercup. This is going to get rough. You're not going to like it. I don't even like it. But most things that heal us are not likeable...potent medicine, resetting bones, the application of tourniquets, cancer surgery...none of these are holiday options. So, lets take this line by line instead of scanning through.
"Many will say to me in that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?'" vs 22
Now here's the thing that pushed this blog post. It's a little thing. It's that first word. It's one of the scariest words in the whole of the scriptures because of its context.
Many.
It brings me absolutely not comfort and it shouldn't bring you any comfort either. Jesus isn't saying that a few, some, a goodly amount, but MANY are going to say to Him on the day of judgement, "but...but...but...we did stuff!"
These are people who clearly recognize Jesus as "Lord" and have dedicated themselves in some way to Him and His service. Barney down on the beach doesn't just prophesy for Jesus in between whiling his time away praying to Buddha and meditating on the Sutras. These "many" are for the home team. These are people swinging and fielding for Jesus, progressing to the point where they are actually prophesying, actually doing miracles, driving out DEMONS in His name, with His authority and His power. They call Him the Lord of their lives. Given this resume is it a huge leap to believe that they may have written books, taught Bible studies, headed up churches? Preached in arenas?
This is heavy. The very definition of heavy. These individuals believe they are Christians, believe they are saved, believe they are on His good side. They expected to be greeted with open arms and told, "Well done, good and faithful servant" or they wouldn't be protesting, they wouldn't be pleading their case before the judge of the living and the dead, the righteous and the wicked.
The message is compacted in the way only Jesus could, "Hey...this could be you. Look out. Don't make excuses. Don't tell me what I'm not saying. This is the deal. Guard your heart. Know your motivations. Make sure what is meant to be first is first in your life, and don't screw around with matters of your soul." We see this in His response.
"I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!" v23 b
I. Never. Knew you.
That's some cold words from someone everyone sees as loving, forgiving, and all embracing. That condemns them to Hell and that doesn't even come close to the depiction of Jesus as just a "good teacher" that the World and some in the Church want to think of Him as. There's going to come a time when He is going to tell people that the miracles they performed, the demons they drove out, and the prophesies they spoke count for nothing.
Do you know Him? Seriously, there is a vast difference between knowing about someone and knowing someone. I could read about Winston Churchill, I can read his own words, but I could never say that I know him only that I know about him. I can feel like I know him, to be sure, but that's not the same as knowing him. Interestingly the Greek word for "know" here (ginosko) is the same Greek word used for the Jewish idiom for "knowing" someone...sex. The suggestion is a deep deep intimacy with Him. "I never knew you" isn't him saying they didn't show up to church or pray. It's not a casual acquaintance "know" and in my life that's the level I used to be at with Him.
My encouragement, meager as it may be, is this: Don't take this lightly. And by "this" I mean knowing Him. We can do all the great and mighty works of God and still not know Him. I venture to say that we can even feed the poor, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and it still wouldn't count if we did not deeply intimately know Him.
Knowing you and being known by you is very high on God's list of things He wants. There are many out there who say that you can't experience God and my response is now and always, "Then WHY does He tell us to?" "Taste and See", "If I answer the door I will come in to him and sup with him", and I could go on and on. Knowing about Him isn't enough, and He says it right there in Matthew. Stop being consumed by the distractions of the world though they call to you, though you are addicted to them, though they make you so blissfully happy (and you already know which ones I'm talking about) because they are distracting you from REAL LIFE. And by REAL LIFE I mean HIM, because He says "I am the way, the truth and the life". He's not just A way or A truth. We say that all the time leaving off there and betraying our hearts. He is not A life. He is THE life. He is by His very own definition REAL LIFE. And that's heavy because I didn't realize that until right now so I'm going to pause, close the Facebook window in the background and let that sink in.
.
.
.
Wow. I've still not fully absorbed that.
It's a massive alteration which takes time. Though I'm sure my beloved Pastor is thinking, "BOOM! Yes! Got one!" because he's been trying to teach that to his congregation for YEARS and I thought I had it before, but now my vision cracked just a little bit and all that light is pouring through causing a kind of spiritual pupil constriction making me shield my spirit peepers and utter a full on Neo from the Matrix, "Woah..." It'll be a while before I can utter, "I know Kung Fu..." on this one to which I'm sure my mentor will pull the Morpheus response of a skeptical appraising look followed by the line, "Show me."
The point, in so much as I can full articulate one, is to stop your distractions. Focus on what connects to Him. He says that this very act has eternal consequences. We nod our heads along when someone quotes "...and there is no life apart from Him..." then get in our SUVs, turn on the game of the week, while playing games on our phones sitting next to our loved ones who are doing the same, and we say "Where's God?" Clear the field. Seek Him and you will find Him. How do I know? No other reason than because He says so and He is not a man that He should lie.
Pax,
Will
Showing posts with label Sin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sin. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
Sunday, March 20, 2016
On Lent: Palm Sunday
It has been an interesting past few days here, going though Lent. In many ways I feel like this is the week I've been waiting for, and not because Resurrection Sunday comes and I'll be able to have sugar. On the contrary, in these final few days the personal spiritual revelations have started coming that I expected. There is a certain maturity that comes in giving up something you hold dear, something that controls you or at least moves you. One or two weeks without that thing is a fad or a lark. The third week tests your resolve. The fourth week tests your reasons, and if you get beyond that there really is quite something to be learned about yourself.
I'm starting to see the Sunday School haze fall away from my eyes more rapidly. Like many I grew up attending Sunday School in the morning and then Children's Church after worship service. Now, I respect the people who do such things and make those programs available. I don't mean to criticize them, but things get lost in the translation. Whether it was my wholly owned ignorance that is being exposed to the light of day or their desire to make good "behavioral lessons" out of common Bible tales I'm not certain.
For instance, it just occurred to me today that Luke, the doctor and gospel writer, wasn't one of the 12 Disciples. For that matter fellow gospel writer Mark wasn't either. Luke was likely Greek, never met the Lord in person and began as a pupil of Paul. Odds are he was a gentile. Mark, it is believed, was one of the outer disciples and tradition holds that he was one who departed when Jesus declared that in order to follow Him one had to drink of his blood and eat of his flesh. Superficial, some of the most learned among my readership might suppose, but it alters how one sees the things in front of him. The words and impact of their gospels are still the same, there's just a little something different in the perception.
This last week I was reading in Luke where Jesus tells about the wise man who built his house upon the rock an the foolish man who built his house upon the sand (Luke 6:48). And the rains came down, and the floods came up, (you may be singing along now...) and the foolish man's house went SPLAT! When we were little we knew that song was about Christians and Non-Christians. Oh, look at those foolish non-Christians building there lives on hedonism, humanism, evolution. It's only on the rock of Jesus and his principals, doing things his way, that we can expect to live stable, secure lives.
I grew up, went to college, started a family and for a long time it was very rare that I ever felt stable and secure. Heck, I didn't even know anyone who said they felt stable and secure. So, the old wise man foolish man parable must be wrong, right? I'm a Christian, this shouldn't be how I feel, right? I said the prayer, I did the getting dunked in water thing. So how can I feel this way?
There are whole sections in Christian book stores about how to feel good about yourself, how you're a winner and an overcomer, how you should just change your perception and you'll have self esteem just because you did the prayer and the water dunky thingy. I've always had a natural aversion to those sort of books because they feel...sickeningly sweet, like drinking soda syrup straight. (What? Oh, like I'm the only one who has ever...OK...maybe I am...snorted pixie sticks? Anyone?) I can't take the perma-grins of the authors on the cover, their wide mouthed, way too reassuring smiles highlighted with unnaturally white teeth. (If you hear laughter as you read that part it's probably my sister. She knows exactly who I'm talking about there). The whole thing of "think positive, that's all you need" has always seemed counter-intuitive to the gospel...and now I know why...well...OK...I have a better understanding.
The wise man and foolish man of Luke's 6th chapter has nothing to do with non-believers, but rather everything to do with believers. Look at verse 46 : "Why do you call Me, 'Lord, Lord," and do not do what I say?..." and then He launches in to the parable. It is those who call Him, "Lord, Lord,", those who proclaim Him as their teacher or, more appropriately, Master (according to the Greek) and yet don't do what He says to do. That would be like me learning under chef's in culinary school, telling everyone how proud I am to be learning under them, attending daily classes, then decide I know better than them how to make a souffle, and just start guessing at what goes in it. What's going to happen? It might be barely edible but it's not a souffle. Why call him Lord, Lord if you aren't going to do things as he says to do them? Why waste the time if you aren't going to follow him and make up your own life recipe?
Now, I can't and won't judge you, but I'm more than happy to judge myself.
Until about a year ago I was doing the same thing. Well, that's not completely accurate. It is probably best to say that I have spent the past six years going through a process that has gradually brought me more in line with Jesus as my true Master that became very obvious within the past year or so.
In the past year I've gone on a self induced/guided journey through the New Testament chapter by chapter wondering what the "commandments" of the New Testament are. I know the word "commandments" freaks us people of God's Grace out a bit, but they are actually there. "Do this. Don't do this," can be found in every book of the New Testament and yet we ignore them. Let's just take this classic, "Let there be no divisions among you," from twice in 1 Corinthians. In our modern times many people find identity in their divisions with other denominations. "But, come on, that's Paul. That's his opinion." Jesus' words are even harder, "Be anxious for nothing,". That's it. Don't do it. What is the antidote? Prayer. Making your requests known to God.
So, long story short, I started to do the things Jesus and the Apostles said to do. Then, and only then, was when I started to feel peace and stability. When I reject divisions among the Body of Christ then it follows that chaos within my life at church will be minimized. When I squash pride and foolish talk (yes, the last one is an eternal work in progress) then my relationships are protected and enhanced. When I refuse to be anxious about something and instead give it to the Lord and leave it there, naturally I will have peace. When I choose to study His word and be in regular contact through prayer then, surprise, I feel not only stability but His presence.
This morning I got all dressed up to attend my church's Palm Sunday service. It was a little bittersweet in a few ways. I wore one of my Hawaiian style button up shirts to the service because that's about as dressy as I get. The church doesn't quite feel like home yet. I was reminded of this because I know if I was at my home church more than one, at the VERY least the pastor, would have commented on how appropriate my shirt was because..ya know...Palm Sunday, palm trees on the shirt.
For the entire season of Lent the question that the Reverend has been asking as our theme is: "What does it mean to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ?" I find that I'm not alone in my preference of over-intellectualizing that question. When it comes down to it, it is not calling Him "Lord, Lord". It is all to do with doing the things He tells us to do...even if it means loving your enemies...which...I'm glad I get along with a lot of people because that one's rough.
Pax,
W
I'm starting to see the Sunday School haze fall away from my eyes more rapidly. Like many I grew up attending Sunday School in the morning and then Children's Church after worship service. Now, I respect the people who do such things and make those programs available. I don't mean to criticize them, but things get lost in the translation. Whether it was my wholly owned ignorance that is being exposed to the light of day or their desire to make good "behavioral lessons" out of common Bible tales I'm not certain.
For instance, it just occurred to me today that Luke, the doctor and gospel writer, wasn't one of the 12 Disciples. For that matter fellow gospel writer Mark wasn't either. Luke was likely Greek, never met the Lord in person and began as a pupil of Paul. Odds are he was a gentile. Mark, it is believed, was one of the outer disciples and tradition holds that he was one who departed when Jesus declared that in order to follow Him one had to drink of his blood and eat of his flesh. Superficial, some of the most learned among my readership might suppose, but it alters how one sees the things in front of him. The words and impact of their gospels are still the same, there's just a little something different in the perception.
This last week I was reading in Luke where Jesus tells about the wise man who built his house upon the rock an the foolish man who built his house upon the sand (Luke 6:48). And the rains came down, and the floods came up, (you may be singing along now...) and the foolish man's house went SPLAT! When we were little we knew that song was about Christians and Non-Christians. Oh, look at those foolish non-Christians building there lives on hedonism, humanism, evolution. It's only on the rock of Jesus and his principals, doing things his way, that we can expect to live stable, secure lives.
I grew up, went to college, started a family and for a long time it was very rare that I ever felt stable and secure. Heck, I didn't even know anyone who said they felt stable and secure. So, the old wise man foolish man parable must be wrong, right? I'm a Christian, this shouldn't be how I feel, right? I said the prayer, I did the getting dunked in water thing. So how can I feel this way?
There are whole sections in Christian book stores about how to feel good about yourself, how you're a winner and an overcomer, how you should just change your perception and you'll have self esteem just because you did the prayer and the water dunky thingy. I've always had a natural aversion to those sort of books because they feel...sickeningly sweet, like drinking soda syrup straight. (What? Oh, like I'm the only one who has ever...OK...maybe I am...snorted pixie sticks? Anyone?) I can't take the perma-grins of the authors on the cover, their wide mouthed, way too reassuring smiles highlighted with unnaturally white teeth. (If you hear laughter as you read that part it's probably my sister. She knows exactly who I'm talking about there). The whole thing of "think positive, that's all you need" has always seemed counter-intuitive to the gospel...and now I know why...well...OK...I have a better understanding.
The wise man and foolish man of Luke's 6th chapter has nothing to do with non-believers, but rather everything to do with believers. Look at verse 46 : "Why do you call Me, 'Lord, Lord," and do not do what I say?..." and then He launches in to the parable. It is those who call Him, "Lord, Lord,", those who proclaim Him as their teacher or, more appropriately, Master (according to the Greek) and yet don't do what He says to do. That would be like me learning under chef's in culinary school, telling everyone how proud I am to be learning under them, attending daily classes, then decide I know better than them how to make a souffle, and just start guessing at what goes in it. What's going to happen? It might be barely edible but it's not a souffle. Why call him Lord, Lord if you aren't going to do things as he says to do them? Why waste the time if you aren't going to follow him and make up your own life recipe?
Now, I can't and won't judge you, but I'm more than happy to judge myself.
Until about a year ago I was doing the same thing. Well, that's not completely accurate. It is probably best to say that I have spent the past six years going through a process that has gradually brought me more in line with Jesus as my true Master that became very obvious within the past year or so.
In the past year I've gone on a self induced/guided journey through the New Testament chapter by chapter wondering what the "commandments" of the New Testament are. I know the word "commandments" freaks us people of God's Grace out a bit, but they are actually there. "Do this. Don't do this," can be found in every book of the New Testament and yet we ignore them. Let's just take this classic, "Let there be no divisions among you," from twice in 1 Corinthians. In our modern times many people find identity in their divisions with other denominations. "But, come on, that's Paul. That's his opinion." Jesus' words are even harder, "Be anxious for nothing,". That's it. Don't do it. What is the antidote? Prayer. Making your requests known to God.
So, long story short, I started to do the things Jesus and the Apostles said to do. Then, and only then, was when I started to feel peace and stability. When I reject divisions among the Body of Christ then it follows that chaos within my life at church will be minimized. When I squash pride and foolish talk (yes, the last one is an eternal work in progress) then my relationships are protected and enhanced. When I refuse to be anxious about something and instead give it to the Lord and leave it there, naturally I will have peace. When I choose to study His word and be in regular contact through prayer then, surprise, I feel not only stability but His presence.
This morning I got all dressed up to attend my church's Palm Sunday service. It was a little bittersweet in a few ways. I wore one of my Hawaiian style button up shirts to the service because that's about as dressy as I get. The church doesn't quite feel like home yet. I was reminded of this because I know if I was at my home church more than one, at the VERY least the pastor, would have commented on how appropriate my shirt was because..ya know...Palm Sunday, palm trees on the shirt.
For the entire season of Lent the question that the Reverend has been asking as our theme is: "What does it mean to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ?" I find that I'm not alone in my preference of over-intellectualizing that question. When it comes down to it, it is not calling Him "Lord, Lord". It is all to do with doing the things He tells us to do...even if it means loving your enemies...which...I'm glad I get along with a lot of people because that one's rough.
Pax,
W
Saturday, February 27, 2016
On Lent: An Update
The sugar addiction fog has cleared a bit, praise Jesus. Literally. I have.
It is amazing how we cling to things. I have marveled at my own inability to let go. When Paul talks about beating his flesh into submission in 1 Corinthians 9, he ain't joking. It is insanely difficult to just give up sugar let alone the pet sins in our lives.
I find that Lent can be a master class in letting these things go. You get to the end of yourself and have to rely on God because there is no more of yourself to rely on. If it was up to me I'd have that maple bar. I'd dig deep into that creme brulee or indulge in my greatest temptation...Pepsi.
I had a really big moment in my Lenten journey. It might sound like I am making an excuse or being a bit of a hypocrite, and I considered that. But something changed in me. I was at my favorite coffee shop (seriously, the best latte I've ever had and it was without a flavored syrup) and the owner recognized me from a Google review I put online. Without a word he came over and put a personal sized (not full slice) blackberry cheesecake in front of me. I said, "Wow" and thanked him. It sat there for a few minutes while I kept writing my new novel. I looked from my laptop screen to the cheesecake and I realized that there was a complete absence of compulsion. My mouth didn't salivate. I didn't feel any longing or like if I pushed it away, said no thank you or something, that I would have missed out. It was just a thing. Just a piece of food. And if you've seen me, I'm 291 pounds (down from 298 on Ash Wednesday, woohoo). I'm a man who has eaten his fair share of cheese cake, cheese, and cake. Not feeling anything was kind of a big deal.
The man, I knew from overhearing a conversation from last time, is an artisan. He makes 98% of the menu on site. "Everything but the coffee beans, and we don't churn the butter," he said with a laugh. I'm not an artisan, but I am a professionally trained cook and when I present somebody with something I've worked on, and am proud of and they refuse it hurts. A lot. He takes great pride in his work, and I realized (again, as much of an excuse as it sounds like) that it was about doing something to not offend. Paul, of course, talks about this in being a Jew to the Jewish, Greek to the Greek, etc. Was it a sin to partake during Lent? If I was Catholic enough I might say that, but I'm not. Grace is extreme and I wasn't violating the actual purpose of Lent in my heart. Had it been earlier when I was really struggling I might have said something, but no. Had I eaten the cheesecake and then felt horrible about it then maybe I would have written a different post. And this is where the analogy of our little addictions being the same as sins breaks down. It's instructive, illustrative in fact, but not equal to. It was enough that during the first two weeks of Lent the Lord broke a major stronghold and after ingesting the artisan, hand crafted, blackberry cheesecake the craving was still not there. At least not in the sanity clawing, soul shredding intensity it was before.
On the interesting but not necessarily spiritually relevant side, I have spent years suffering from acid reflux type symptoms. For ages it did not matter if I ate acidic stuff or not, I would be popping the antacids. At first it was kind of a "Huh...I wonder if sugar is responsible..." and then I ate the cheesecake. The evening and all the next morning I had such acid attacks. I am pretty certain I will not going back to sugar anymore after Lent is finished. It will mean no diabetes, which I'm sure has been a concern of a few family and close friends.
Pax,
W
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Ash Wednesday
My family has recently begun attending the local Presbyterian "Mega Church" as I call it. (Seriously, it's the biggest Presbyterian church I've ever seen. It doesn't seat thousands but it does have three services). The church we had been attending decided to move twenty minutes away so we'd been churchless for a while. The Presbyterian church is where we've sent our kids to AWANA so we had a pretty good feel of the people or at least the place so social anxiety was minimal. I had some other qualifications I felt I needed in a church (I can't remember if I've written about that. I'll have to look. That was an...interesting...process...) and the Presby satisfied them all. We started attending the Saturday evening service which, let me tell you, is a great thing for a church to have.
Anyway, the point is that, as my wife states, Presby is kind of like Catholic light...all the ritual without the Latin, the guilt, and they let the leaders be married. I'm not sure that's an official description, but suffice to say they celebrate things like Ash Wednesday.
I'd never been to an Ash Wednesday service before given that I had the typical FEC sensibilities of "It ain't in the Bible, so we ain't doin' it". Maybe it's my age creeping up on me and sentimentality creeping in, but I felt like I really wanted to go and experience it. I'd done Lent before and was committed to doing it again this year by giving up sugar. Well, sugar in overt forms. I know bread has some sugar in it as do fruits but I'm not giving them up. The sugar in my coffee, cookies, candy, soda, etc. however are verboten. It's the indulgences I'm limiting. (Day two is going on right now for me and...the withdrawals are pretty bad right now. My body is less than happy with me.)
There was a soup and bread meal before the service that we also attended in order that we might get to know the congregation a little better. I say "might" because I'm a little strange when it comes to meeting people. My wife is the more daring one when it comes to conversation. I'm always busy thinking, double thinking, and triple thinking what I'm going to say, how it will be received, how they might respond, and by the time that process is over I start wondering if the length of time I've spent thinking it through has been too long so as to make it not just awkward but super awkward. It's a vicious cycle.
The time came and we all filed into the sizeable sanctuary which filled up very quickly. That was probably my first shock. At all the churches I've been a part of before it was hit or miss that even a quarter of the congregation showed up for an event that wasn't on Sunday morning.
My nine year old daughter nudged me a bit and asked me where the ashes were and if they actually were the burned palm branches from last palm Sunday. My little nerdling had researched it before we left the house. I replied that I didn't know and that wasn't necessarily a for sure thing. She then asked what it was all about. Apparently the things she retained from her research were more along the lines of interesting trivia.
I explained about ashes as a symbol of mourning and how we come to Lent as a recognition of our sins; that our sins have offended God, that we are from dust and to dust we will return.
She asked if she had to get that stuff on her forehead if she went up and I assured her that it's only for the will, completely voluntary. My daughter gave a confession of faith in Jesus last year and still hadn't even gone forward for her first communion so I didn't expect that she would even entertain the idea
One of the things people in FEC circles get hung up on connected to Ash Wednesday and, by extension, Lent is the focus on the "sin" component. I was struck by this when my sister had called me earlier in the day to relate her experience attending the event at a Catholic church. The priest apparently went on about our sin, how sinful we are, how it offends God, and so on until she had to leave. Naturally my Smart Ass (tm) reply was, "Did you check the denomination before you went through the door" and she said yes, of course but...what about Grace? Naturally my brain kicked into overdrive and started obsessing on the differences. I came to a few conclusions and notions.
It was best said by the pastor at the Presby service that night. He said that we cannot understand the full value of that grace until we understand the depths of our depravity and the offensiveness of our sin.
Jesus' sacrifice has little value to those who don't think they did much of anything wrong in the first place. Amazing Grace is only such a sweet song when we realize we are a wretch. I look reflect and find that I can easily live my life thinking that my sins are minor things because I'm keeping the Big Ten with little to no problem. I'm really not bowing down at idols, disrespecting my parents in word or deed, haven't come close to murdering, and I can't even remember the last time I coveted my neighbor's donkey. But God says my heart is corrupt and full of deceit. I sin. I sin all the time. Not a day goes by that I do not sin. It's a modern numbing that tells me "Oh, well, ya know He's going to forgive you so shrug it off and don't give it a second thought." Just because I know that the Judge with find me innocent doesn't mean that I should feel nothing when finding that I've committed a crime. Should I feel condemned? No. However, should I feel nothing? Sin is a cancer and there's not a cancer patient in this world that hears the diagnosis and goes, "Oh, sure. Ok, Doc. Thanks," with a casual air like I can tend to do with my sins.
After an invocation prayer they had someone play and sing Phil Wickham's song Mercy and I nearly wept in my pew. We forget that we need mercy. It's so easy to fall prey to Behavioral Christianity that believes Grace covers everything so don't think on it or let it prick your conscience. We become quite happily numb to our wretchedness. I'm not at all saying that we should consider, as I was told as a child, that every sin we commit is another thorn in the brow or a twist of the nail in Jesus' hand. But it does us well to remember on occasion lest we become like the Ungrateful Servant.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder that our sins have offended God. Lent is all about giving up our little idols, our comforts, and mourning that we tend to lavish them with more adoration and attention than we do the Jesus who saved us. In the end we are our own idols, as it turns out. The things we give up seem to make room for us to hold on to more of the LORD.
I had prepped for the occasion. I wasn't about to be caught off guard again by the Non-FEC style communion where they actually say things to you. "This is the body of Christ broken for you." "Uh....thank you?" (Direct quote from our first visit). I wondered if they would go with the oh so Catholic, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." or the slightly more modernly palatable, "Repent and believe the gospel."
The pastor looked into my eyes and said, "Dust you are and to dust you shall return. Repent, believe the gospel and follow after Jesus."
For the second time that evening I nearly lost it.
I don't believe that there is a power inherent in the rituals themselves. It would be easy to confuse the issue there. I had always seen the rituals as empty expressions without power and meaning. I was likely half right. They are without power. However I do believe that when we use them to draw nigh unto the LORD he is faithful to show up and draw night unto us. Just going through the motions without a fully engage heart is not enough. Believe that the ritual has any power in and of itself is not enough. It's such a fine hair's breadth line that it can be difficult to put into language.
God showed up for me there, that is for sure, just like He has faithfully shown up in my "ritual" of praying three times a day, and reading my Bible first thing in the morning.
Something snagged my attention out of the corner of my eye. The pastor was rising from a bent position and I wondered why since I believed that it was my wife right behind me and she's short but not that short. A familiar bashful and half afraid face appeared belonging to my daughter as the pastor moved out of the way to put an ash cross on my wife's forehead. I could not help but beam at my daughter. I had wondered if she would ever take the next step in her faith walk by taking communion, and here she was participating in Ash Wednesday. She followed me through the communion elements accidentally grabbing the crust of the loaf she was presented with and had an adorable little tug of war with the deacon who held it. Dipping it in the cup of wine she walked faster to catch up with me and ask in a loud whisper, "Do I eat it now or do I wait 'til we're in our seats?". I smiled and told her either was OK, but I eat it right away because it can drip on your hands.
We walked back to our seats, sang a hymn, received the Benediction, and were asked to exit in silence.
Exiting in silence was one of the strangest experiences of my life. It was unsettling, and that was the point. Ash Wednesday is not about rejoicing. The rejoicing comes at the end, on Easter Sunday. We were to feel unsettled, as if something was wrong, because something is wrong. Sin broke the world. Again, I like to think of it as a minor inconvenience, but sin is a terrible, horrible thing that has shattered lives, destroyed man's relationship with God and I wonder how many times I look at my sinning brother and I shrug in the same way I do with it in my life. I couldn't help but think of my previous pastor and the Solemn Assembly he holds every year in October as an "Ash Wednesday" for another season of fasting. I think we could stand to take sin seriously more than once a year.
Pax,
W
Anyway, the point is that, as my wife states, Presby is kind of like Catholic light...all the ritual without the Latin, the guilt, and they let the leaders be married. I'm not sure that's an official description, but suffice to say they celebrate things like Ash Wednesday.
I'd never been to an Ash Wednesday service before given that I had the typical FEC sensibilities of "It ain't in the Bible, so we ain't doin' it". Maybe it's my age creeping up on me and sentimentality creeping in, but I felt like I really wanted to go and experience it. I'd done Lent before and was committed to doing it again this year by giving up sugar. Well, sugar in overt forms. I know bread has some sugar in it as do fruits but I'm not giving them up. The sugar in my coffee, cookies, candy, soda, etc. however are verboten. It's the indulgences I'm limiting. (Day two is going on right now for me and...the withdrawals are pretty bad right now. My body is less than happy with me.)
There was a soup and bread meal before the service that we also attended in order that we might get to know the congregation a little better. I say "might" because I'm a little strange when it comes to meeting people. My wife is the more daring one when it comes to conversation. I'm always busy thinking, double thinking, and triple thinking what I'm going to say, how it will be received, how they might respond, and by the time that process is over I start wondering if the length of time I've spent thinking it through has been too long so as to make it not just awkward but super awkward. It's a vicious cycle.
The time came and we all filed into the sizeable sanctuary which filled up very quickly. That was probably my first shock. At all the churches I've been a part of before it was hit or miss that even a quarter of the congregation showed up for an event that wasn't on Sunday morning.
My nine year old daughter nudged me a bit and asked me where the ashes were and if they actually were the burned palm branches from last palm Sunday. My little nerdling had researched it before we left the house. I replied that I didn't know and that wasn't necessarily a for sure thing. She then asked what it was all about. Apparently the things she retained from her research were more along the lines of interesting trivia.
I explained about ashes as a symbol of mourning and how we come to Lent as a recognition of our sins; that our sins have offended God, that we are from dust and to dust we will return.
She asked if she had to get that stuff on her forehead if she went up and I assured her that it's only for the will, completely voluntary. My daughter gave a confession of faith in Jesus last year and still hadn't even gone forward for her first communion so I didn't expect that she would even entertain the idea
One of the things people in FEC circles get hung up on connected to Ash Wednesday and, by extension, Lent is the focus on the "sin" component. I was struck by this when my sister had called me earlier in the day to relate her experience attending the event at a Catholic church. The priest apparently went on about our sin, how sinful we are, how it offends God, and so on until she had to leave. Naturally my Smart Ass (tm) reply was, "Did you check the denomination before you went through the door" and she said yes, of course but...what about Grace? Naturally my brain kicked into overdrive and started obsessing on the differences. I came to a few conclusions and notions.
It was best said by the pastor at the Presby service that night. He said that we cannot understand the full value of that grace until we understand the depths of our depravity and the offensiveness of our sin.
Jesus' sacrifice has little value to those who don't think they did much of anything wrong in the first place. Amazing Grace is only such a sweet song when we realize we are a wretch. I look reflect and find that I can easily live my life thinking that my sins are minor things because I'm keeping the Big Ten with little to no problem. I'm really not bowing down at idols, disrespecting my parents in word or deed, haven't come close to murdering, and I can't even remember the last time I coveted my neighbor's donkey. But God says my heart is corrupt and full of deceit. I sin. I sin all the time. Not a day goes by that I do not sin. It's a modern numbing that tells me "Oh, well, ya know He's going to forgive you so shrug it off and don't give it a second thought." Just because I know that the Judge with find me innocent doesn't mean that I should feel nothing when finding that I've committed a crime. Should I feel condemned? No. However, should I feel nothing? Sin is a cancer and there's not a cancer patient in this world that hears the diagnosis and goes, "Oh, sure. Ok, Doc. Thanks," with a casual air like I can tend to do with my sins.
After an invocation prayer they had someone play and sing Phil Wickham's song Mercy and I nearly wept in my pew. We forget that we need mercy. It's so easy to fall prey to Behavioral Christianity that believes Grace covers everything so don't think on it or let it prick your conscience. We become quite happily numb to our wretchedness. I'm not at all saying that we should consider, as I was told as a child, that every sin we commit is another thorn in the brow or a twist of the nail in Jesus' hand. But it does us well to remember on occasion lest we become like the Ungrateful Servant.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder that our sins have offended God. Lent is all about giving up our little idols, our comforts, and mourning that we tend to lavish them with more adoration and attention than we do the Jesus who saved us. In the end we are our own idols, as it turns out. The things we give up seem to make room for us to hold on to more of the LORD.
I had prepped for the occasion. I wasn't about to be caught off guard again by the Non-FEC style communion where they actually say things to you. "This is the body of Christ broken for you." "Uh....thank you?" (Direct quote from our first visit). I wondered if they would go with the oh so Catholic, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." or the slightly more modernly palatable, "Repent and believe the gospel."
The pastor looked into my eyes and said, "Dust you are and to dust you shall return. Repent, believe the gospel and follow after Jesus."
For the second time that evening I nearly lost it.
I don't believe that there is a power inherent in the rituals themselves. It would be easy to confuse the issue there. I had always seen the rituals as empty expressions without power and meaning. I was likely half right. They are without power. However I do believe that when we use them to draw nigh unto the LORD he is faithful to show up and draw night unto us. Just going through the motions without a fully engage heart is not enough. Believe that the ritual has any power in and of itself is not enough. It's such a fine hair's breadth line that it can be difficult to put into language.
God showed up for me there, that is for sure, just like He has faithfully shown up in my "ritual" of praying three times a day, and reading my Bible first thing in the morning.
Something snagged my attention out of the corner of my eye. The pastor was rising from a bent position and I wondered why since I believed that it was my wife right behind me and she's short but not that short. A familiar bashful and half afraid face appeared belonging to my daughter as the pastor moved out of the way to put an ash cross on my wife's forehead. I could not help but beam at my daughter. I had wondered if she would ever take the next step in her faith walk by taking communion, and here she was participating in Ash Wednesday. She followed me through the communion elements accidentally grabbing the crust of the loaf she was presented with and had an adorable little tug of war with the deacon who held it. Dipping it in the cup of wine she walked faster to catch up with me and ask in a loud whisper, "Do I eat it now or do I wait 'til we're in our seats?". I smiled and told her either was OK, but I eat it right away because it can drip on your hands.
We walked back to our seats, sang a hymn, received the Benediction, and were asked to exit in silence.
Exiting in silence was one of the strangest experiences of my life. It was unsettling, and that was the point. Ash Wednesday is not about rejoicing. The rejoicing comes at the end, on Easter Sunday. We were to feel unsettled, as if something was wrong, because something is wrong. Sin broke the world. Again, I like to think of it as a minor inconvenience, but sin is a terrible, horrible thing that has shattered lives, destroyed man's relationship with God and I wonder how many times I look at my sinning brother and I shrug in the same way I do with it in my life. I couldn't help but think of my previous pastor and the Solemn Assembly he holds every year in October as an "Ash Wednesday" for another season of fasting. I think we could stand to take sin seriously more than once a year.
Pax,
W
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