Comforter

 © Marie-Lan Nguyen / Wikimedia Commons

 

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.                                                                                                1 Corinthians 15:55-57 KJV                                     

Death is everywhere. 

Innocent babies that die before they are ready to be born or mere hours after they make their appearance. Beloved animal companions whose age shows, and cancer grows. Dear friends whose bodies fail even while the spirit is present. In a grotesque war where civilians are targeted as political means. We live in the valley where the shadows of death grow long as the sun quietly slips out of view. 

I believe in Christ's resurrection. I believe in the resurrection of the dead. At this moment, those events seem so long ago and so far off. Death still stings. It breaks my heart. It weighs my spirit down. It catches in my throat attempting to take me as well. 

Death is a reality of this world. Christians say it is because the world fell from perfection when Adam sinned. Since I know no other world, this is irrelevant. No life support or cryogenics or even technological implants can prevent the inevitability of death. Death comes for us all. The worst is when death comes to our spirits before our bodies. 

After a recent and devastating loss of a beautifully, perfectly formed, knit together by God baby, I was given the honor to care for the child and her mother. While her mother rested, I washed the baby in the sweet smell that causes everyone to inhale deeply, swaddled her in nice blankets, took pictures of her tiny feet and her long eye lashes, clipped a lock of hair, and made the most realistic plaster casts of her hands and feet. Her mother will not be able to take her child home, but I gave her as many memories as I could. 

For me, I took home the gratitude that I was able to care for her mother, and I also took home the visual picture of a lifeless and cold newborn. I began to think about the sibling who came into the world "sleeping." How I was told that she was perfect as well, but of course she wasn't perfect since there was no life breath in her. I see, eyes blurred with tears, that death is not a natural stage of life. There is nothing natural about these deaths, of any death or decay. It is evil at work-breaking physical bodies and breaking hearts.

Railing against the evil in death is senseless since it comes for us all and simply hardens the heart until grieving is impossible. Instead, I look back at what the psalmist says, "I will not fear evil because You [all Power, all Compassionate Heart, all Mercy, all Goodness] are with [as a presence, on the side of] me." 

What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, 

who can be against us? Romans 8:31

Sometimes I struggle to remind myself that God is on my side and with me, I struggle to remind myself that God even cares some moments. When I consider how protective I am over people that have let me down and been unkind to me, if even I can do that, how much more would a God who is all Power, all Good, and all Love care and protect me? Through this time, as I walk this valley of shadows, I will not despair. I trust that my God walks with me and comforts the heart that aches from as evil works in our world. 

Armchair QB-Pharisee or Sinner

 This week we talked abour Luke 5: 27-31.  You can read the passage here. 

Do you know that feeling of being picked last for a team in gym class?  Or maybe you know the feeling of being talked about because you had more than the others? Or how about just being misunderstood? I am sure that Levi dealt with feelings like this. Tax collectors were employed by the people in charge, could rat you out or extort you. Tax collectors were known to pocket some of your money, but to whom could you plead your case? No one. Levi was a scoundrel, not liked and hated, seen by others as a traitor to his people. Why would Jesus to speak to a person like this? Did you see what he said to Levi?

"Follow me."

I doubt Jesus was just trying to get out of paying taxes. Jesus offered to share his life with Levi, the Hebrew name of the apostle that we come to know as Matthew. A tax collector appears to have it all-money and power. Only Jesus saw his need for a leader, for belonging. Levi responded as we would like to: he just left everything and followed him. Let's face it, we often don't. We work Jesus into our lives rather than work a life around Jesus. This tax collector had money and power, things many people think will soothe them, and he found them inadequate enough to leave them to follow Jesus. 

The best part is that Levi is so excited, he has a dinner party to introduce his friends to Jesus. Of course, the judgmental church people end up there too. Maybe simple nosiness, maybe to antagonize their enemy, who is not satan or evil by the way but instead, a God that is too loving, too forgiving, too inclusive. 

I always wonder am I a Pharisee or a sinner. Not in the way that I don't need salvation, but do I criticize and try to micromanage God, or do I gratefully welcome Jesus into my life and drop things to follow him? Then I think about the Church and wonder who are we? I want to be Jesus. I want to include people in my life that need love more than lectures. When I speak, I want my words to be full of the Truth but Grace-filled too. I know this can work on the heart because it worked on mine. Unlikely friends, we became extended family if you will. We were invited to do life with them. Sometime during the life of camping and meals and long talks, I could sense my heart softening until I chose my path to follow Jesus, even as imperfectly as I do. 

There are outcasts all around the Church-Christ's body in this world. Do we love them like Jesus did or just convict them like the Pharisees? Are we so desirous to be like Jesus that we are willing to leave our expectations and agendas to sit down and eat dinner with people who might never see themselves in a gathering of a church? Are we willing to speak truthfully about grace rather than simply instruct them to "go and sin no more" after dessert? Are we really just one beggar showing another where to get bread or are we a storekeeper now?

When I think about how Jesus approached outcasts the qualities that I see are gentleness, humility, protectiveness, compassionate, and honest. As I desire to be like Jesus, I try to develop these characteristics, which, are the opposite of the Pharisees, and some of the Church. I am grateful for my church community that embraces outcasts and welcomes them to their feasts. I also want to become as gracious and welcoming as they are. Until I do, I will still invite people to eat. I will stumble in attempts to speak truth gracefully. I will fail in boldness, but I will not give up. Jesus called out to my heart, "Follow me," and I was, and am, given such grace that I need to share it. I don't deserve it anymore than Levi did, and in our amazement, we invite others to come and meet Jesus as well. It's just what we outcasts do. 

Armchair QB : Dead - Not Lost

 

This past Sunday we looked at the parables in Luke 15. You can read them for yourself here.

  

When my friendly neighborhood pastor began to unpack these stories, he challenged us to look at the stories to see what was similar and what was different. Of course, we have three things that are lost: a sheep, a coin, and then a son. Two are looked for and one is not. What I did not see then is that two are lost while the third is dead.

Have you seen this on social media-"Jesus leaving the 99 to find the 1 seems crazy until that 1 is you"?
It is a nice little thought. But is it accurate?

I have been gnawing on these ideassince Sunday, and I have no answers. Just more questions, which is not unlike me.

Why would the coin and sheep be sought but the son would not?

If the father is God the Father, why would He just wait for repentance? Of course, this might not be a sinner per se, what if this is a person who trusted God as their Father only to leave because it wasn’t very much fun. I still want a parent that will come after me-not to shame me or lecture me, but to remind me that I am loved and valued, and that the pigpen is not meant for me.

I always thought that the eldest brother was the boring and “better than” person in church. The one who changed all those bad behaviors and looks like the perfect Christian, only to discover a lack of love and a hardened heart. What if the youngest was just a picture of a rebellious child of God? We know where our home is, but we want to experience things and to see the world because home isn’t all we dreamt life was about?

Drifting away isn’t too hard. We spend less and less time at home, miss family dinners, don’t bother talking with our father since he doesn’t get it anyway. The world offers answers, easy relationships without expectations, and luxuries. The more our heart is away from home and in the world, the less we want to go back home.

Unfortunately, we often end up in a pigpen of some sort. When the shiny excitement has worn off, when the relationships aren’t just easy but empty, when the answers ring hollow and don’t sit well, then we are reminded of home. Home with a father who loved us enough to give us most anything we requested, with our needs all met and most of our wants, with comfort and security. We begin to ask ourselves what are we doing out here, cold, hungry, alone, and miserable?

Is it as easy as turning around, confessing how we hurt the person, and resuming our life?

For some perhaps, but I am with the son in the parable. Grace is hard.  Grace is humbling. Grace is difficult to accept when you feel so unworthy. I would be fine sleeping on the floor in simple clothes as a servant. I would be fine never being called a son again if I were safe and cared for. Knowing that my father is willing to care for me is more than I deserve.

So it is with God the Father. I don’t know what to do with His love and His grace. It is hard to accept because I know who I was, who I can still be. It is humbling because it is a gift that doesn’t right to refuse, even if I wanted to. It is difficult because I am unworthy, and I am ashamed since I cannot imagine that I ever will be. What do we do with this? Grace is such a small word for a concept that is so loaded.

When we finally crawl out of our pigpen, the father’s first action is to greet with affection and joy. There is no judgement of how you smell or shaming that you obviously did not find what you were looking for or even judgement that you left. He brings out the best clothing to cover the filth and wounds. He has rich food brought to nourish the broken-down body. He demonstrates the value of the son in both word and action. The text never tells us how the son takes all these gifts. Though I imagine he struggled. Perhaps when he woke the next morning or in month, he remembered the time in the world as a bad dream. Maybe in time his cheeks no longer become hot, and his eyes no longer seek the floor when he remembers. I hope that he was able to hear his father call him son and not flinch in his shame. I hope this for all of us.