Prayer As Engagement, Not Escape

I’ve always imagined when I’m praying that my spirit is transferred up to the throne room of God in that moment. That while my body is kneeling beside my bed or driving in my car, my spirit is raptured into the holy of holies, into the presence of God…who is there, but not necessarily here. 

For several years now, however, I’ve been increasingly convinced that the biblical idea of “Kingdom of Heaven” is a very this worldly reality. That the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus in this world means that the Kingdom of Heaven is not elsewhere, but present and active here. 

It’s funny how paradigm shifts tend to take a while to apply.

The implications of the hereness of the Kingdom of Heaven immediately convinced me that a place called Heaven is not the ultimate goal of the Christian life. But up until recently my imagination in prayer still took me up to a remote, distant, heavenly throne room.

Reading this morning in the Sermon on the Mount (Jesus’ most explicit delineation of the Kingdom of Heaven!), I saw the error of my praying ways. Jesus prays for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.

The implication here is that prayer, like church gatherings, aren’t mini Christian vacations into heaven. They are not temporary forays into the next life or another world. Prayer, like church gatherings, are a full engagement with this world. Prayer takes place within and for this world. It does not long for a time to escape, it is an expression of a soul already fully engage in God’s redemptive purposes for this world. I love how Eugene Peterson says it, “Prayer is not an escape from what is going on around us. It is gutsy participation in every earthly detail.”

If heaven is God’s throne, then earth is his footstool. And I can pray at His footstool because that’s where God’s feet touch our ground.

When Light and Life are Extingished, Love Must Ignite.

I’m working on my sermon on Jesus washing the disciple’s feet in John 13. Structurally, it’s the opening scene that leads to the cross, in John’s gospel.

And I’ve come across some interesting verbage stats…

For the first 12 chapters, the words light and life appear in John’s gospel a combined 82 times.

But from chapter 13 on, the words occur a combined 6 times.

So the light and life are being extinguished as the story moves toward the cross.

BUT

 

In the first 12 chapters, the word love occurs only 6 times. But in chapters 13-17, alone, he uses the term 31 times.

So even as light and life are being extinguished, John’s emphasis on love grows.

Tell me there’s not some awesome spiritual realities happening there! This  Jesus who washes the feet of a man about to betray him to death, is saying in word and deed that even as our enemies extinguish our life and light, our love should be ignited!

Isn’t it Ironic? Don’t You Think?

As I reflect on the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, I’m reminded that the larger theme of the section within which Luke places this parable is that of great reversals that occur between this life and the next. In particular, the great reversal of, in this life, the rich “receiving good things” and the poor “receiving bad things,” while in the next life the rich “are in agony” and the poor “are comforted.” (Luke 16:25)

The theme, so glaring in this parable, was actually subtly hinted at in the parable of the Shrewd Manager, where the message was, if you, in welcome to the poor, leverage your social status in this life, in the eschatological future, when your social status/wealth mean nothing, the poor will welcome you into eternal bliss.

This is what makes the Shrewd Manager so shrewd.

And this is exactly what makes the Rich Man in this parable foolish.

The two parables/characters are sort of foils or contrasts to one another. I love how my friend Caleb said it in yesterday’s comment section, “This rich man had a great chance during his time on earth to “make friends” with Lazarus by means of his wealth, resulting in the rich man’s being “welcomed into the eternal homes” by Lazarus. Instead, it appears he merely squandered his wealth on himself, leaving Lazarus only the crumbs.”

In the Rich Man and Lazarus, the Rich Man fails to act shrewdly (gain the friendship of Lazarus) with his worldly wealth by leaving the sick, poor, and crippled Lazarus at his very gates. He watches this man day after day get eaten alive by dogs. He watches this man’s life slip away.

And he does nothing about it.

Therefore, when the day comes that they both find themselves in the afterlife, Lazarus is unable to help the Rich Man.

Isn’t it ironic that in life, the Rich Man was able to help Lazarus if he was only willing to show hospitality, but in the next life, Lazarus is unable to help the Rich Man, even if he wanted, because of the Rich Man’s refusal of hospitality while he was living? 

Isn’t it ironic that the gate protecting the Rich Man from outsiders was the very gate that held the possibility of opening to welcome Lazarus to life, but now, the chasm that separates the two men has no possibility of being closed to welcome the Rich Man to life?

Friends, in this life, we have gate, after gate, after gate that creates potential relationships of welcome and humanization. In this life, that gate can remain closed or it can remain open. It’s really our choice now, but it will not be our choice in the next life. Welcome now equates to being welcomed then. That’s the irony of it all. 

Your Money is Worthless Here: Winning Friends and Losing Social Status Pt. 2

The other day I came across Luke 16:9: “I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”

I’d never noticed that text before and it kind of threw me for a loop. I wrote a blog piece on how the larger structure of Luke’s last few chapters inform how this verse is to be read. Namely, I said, that the point Jesus is making here is about how one uses their wealth – namely to invite persons to the table who are excluded from “proper” society.

As I’ve been reflecting more on the passage and doing some reading on it, it’s come to my attention (props to Joel Green) that vs. 9 actually has a structural parallel with vs. 4: “I know what I’ll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.”

The parallelism helps establish the foundation of Jesus’ point. Jesus is not primarily concerned with just inviting excluding persons to the table (important as that is to the larger context), but he goes a step further. The larger problem here is one of long term hospitality. The Shrewd Manager will have no where to live, so he reduces the debt these others persons owe so that when the time comes they will view him in a positive light and offer him a place to live.

When Jesus interprets the parable in vs. 9, then, he isn’t jus saying “invite outsiders to your table.” He is saying, “Use your money now to help people who can’t reciprocate, so that when the day comes that your money is worthless (the next age) you will have long term (i.e. eternal!) hospitality extended to you by those who cannot reciprocate now.

Notice who will be doing the welcoming, offering the long term hospitality in eternity. It is those very people who were excluded, marginalized, oppressed, and forgotten by “proper” society.

In eternity, it will not just be God who hosts. Tax collectors, sinners, the forgotten, and the broken will be saying, “Your money is worthless here. You befriended us before. Our tables are always open to you.”

*Thank you to Bryne for making the observation that called me deeper into the passage.

Musings on the Message #7: Pastoral Preaching

Preaching cannot be separated from pastoral ministry. Pastoral ministry establishes the preacher’s ethos, refines his/her character, and affords him/her the opportunity to understand the struggles, victories, and sins of him/herself and congregation. The modernistic dichotomy between theory and practice, between the preacher and the pastor, is obliterated in Christian preaching.

While the pastor may be gifted (and therefore spend more time) in one of these areas, he cannot do one without the other. But the moment the pastor thinks he can preach without also participating in the leadership, relationship building, care, and suffering of his congregation, that is the minute his preaching suffers because it will never itch where his audience is scratching.

It should be noted, again, that this is really an extension of Trinitarian theology. Pastoral ministry and the calling of the church to her God through speech empowered by the Holy Spirit is the outpouring of Trinitarian love. The humble God has chosen to speak through lowly ministers, using their voice combined with His, to minister to the deepest needs and brokenness within the human community. Pastoral preaching is God’s means of extending his Triune love.

Why Tim Tebow’s Life is a Tragedy: a Song of Goats, Gators, Broncos, and Jets

Everyone’s life is a story, especially the lives of celebrities.

But the way our stories get told is often what distinguishes us common folk from celebrities, mostly because celebrities have the media following them around creating a narrative, or drama, that always takes a predictable path.

Generally the media creates two kinds of stories* – the first is Comedy. A comedy is a type of story where a person on the bottom goes through a series difficult events whereby he succeeds in the end and comes out on top - often symbolized by a ceremony, an honor, award, wedding, etc.

In short, the comedic narrative moves from despair to victory. Perfect examples of this are all those “rags to riches” stories you’ve heard. The NBA player who came out of the ghetto to make millions of dollars. The kid born to parents without a college education grows up to get a PhD. and change the world with his medical discovery. This is comedy, a story that moves from despair to victory.

The other kind of story the media plays with is Tragedy. A tragedy moves in the opposite direction of comedy. In tragedy a person on top experiences chaos in her life and ends up at the bottom – often death, but “death” can also be metaphorical (i.e. poverty, brokeness, addiction, etc.).

In short, tragedy moves from victory to despair. The perfect example of this is Princess Diana, who the media placed on a pedestal when she originally married Charles. Over time, however, she became of a victim of her very media makers – eventually, and literally, dying at the hands of the very people who created her story.

Tiger Woods is also a good example. Here is the poster boy, the hero of the American Dream, the belief that everyone, of any color, can succeed, come out on top, in our world. But no one can live up to that standard of perfect hero. And while adultery and addiction are common in America today, they are only tragic (in the narrative sense) when a celebrity is going through it and a pre-existing narrative of victory (he’s our hero!) exists. In other words, for Tiger Woods, starting on the top only meant his story could go one direction in the media’s narrative – down. 

This, I maintain, is exactly what is going to happen to Tim Tebow. 

From his time at UF, the media has written Tebow’s story as a tragedy. His story begins with him as the hero – he has what, 2 or 3 National Championships? He’s the poster boy. The hero. The example of the all-American kid. And on top of that, he apparently has no moral flaws. 

And this last point is important. For this is why the tabloids follow him around. This is why the news people are always looking at him from a different angle. In the tragic narrative they are creating there is only one direction to take a hero. They are looking for a way to construct his narrative after the pre-existent model, like that of Princess Diana and Tiger Woods. And if they can’t find it in his morality, they will keep pushing until they find a different flaw. (I maintain that, while I don’t think Tebow’s a great NFL QB, the reason the media pays so much attention to how he responds negatively to being asked to run the Wildcat offense is a weak, but predictable, attempt to show him as less than heroic. It shows the desperation they feel trying to destroy the very hero they’ve created.)

So let me make a bold prediction: The way the media has framed Tebow’s story is a tragedy. And currently he is the hero. But because a tragedy must end in death (literal or metaphorical), Tebow’s story can only lead to Tebow’s death. 

Tim Tebow is not a perfect man – even if he is a wonderful Christian. And this means that they will find a flaw in him if they snoop enough. In other words, the media will kill their hero. They have to. 

I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I know it’s coming. If you are a praying person, pray for him that when it does happen, his Christian faith will carry him on to resurrection life.

So you tell me – What other celebrities have you seen go through the media’s Tragedy cycle? What are some other good examples of this? What are other aspects of Tragedy that you’d highlight in the Tebow story? 

*My analysis of comedy and tragedy is admittedly very surface. I don’t want to write a 3,000 word blog to explain the details. You can always read a good book on the subject if you’re that interested.

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Musings on the Message #6: The Nature of Preaching: Holistic and Exegetical

Christian preaching finds its sole authority, foundation, and energy from the text of Scripture. The New York Times, the latest celebrity trend, and the next political agenda have a supplementary, but not preeminent, space within Christian preaching. In modern preaching these things have been reversed, making the latest trends the subject of preaching instead of Scripture.

Christian preaching uses the text of Scripture in two ways. First, it uses the entirety of the Bible. This comment is specifically about those who use the NT exclusively and never venture into to OT. Not only does this often lead to heresy (see Marcion), but it also leads to a lack of understanding of the NT because one cannot understand the symbolism, metaphors, and subtleties of the NT because they are so deeply ingrained in the OT. So truly Christian preaching is not exclusively grounded in the NT. The preaching must venture into the other 2/3 of redemptive history as a necessary background to understanding the God of Israel revealed in Jesus Christ.

Second, Christian preaching is decidedly exegetical. The preacher does not go to the text as a springboard for what s/he already wanted to say. The preacher begins with the text of Scripture, itself, examining the structure, the word usages, the nuances of the grammar, and the genre of the book being studied. This is a spiritual discipline that needs to be recovered in the modern pastorate.

Topical preaching has its place (I use it!), but all good theology and practice are grounded in fully developed hermeneutical and exegetical discipline. In fact, I think I could make a pretty good case that even topical preaching ought to be primarily exegetical.

I suppose the strength with which I say this is grounded in the fact that I’ve heard too many sermons piecemeal scripture, citing texts out of their contexts in order to support some pre-established opinion, agenda, or topic. This kind of preaching does an injustice to the Scriptures, to our hearers, and, of course, the God who breathed the text. Too few of us do the exegetical work necessary to preach truly great sermons.

 

Musings on the Message #5: Revelation and Accessibility

 

Preaching is fundamentally about revealing the person of God in a way that is accessible to the audience. In the modern context preaching has been reduced to jokes, therapy, and self-help. While some of these may naturally occur in a sermon, they are not the telos of Christian preaching. Christian preaching begins and ends with the proclamation of the God who spoke creation into existence and in the incarnation makes himself accessible to that which he created.

This too is an extension of the Trinitarian nature of preaching. In the Trinity, both the Son and the Spirit reveal that their purpose is not to point to themselves but to point to the Father. In every role they take on in creation and redemption, their intention is to point to the Father. Indeed, they are the self-revelation of the Father. They are how He is known. It is necessary, therefore, to see Christian preaching and the preacher as primarily concerned with revealing the Father.  Preaching that fails to point to the Father’s creative and redemptive purposes or His very character as revealed through the Son and the Spirit, is not truly Christian preaching at all. Self-help and therapy are not the primary agenda of preaching; God and His gospel are the sole subject (and object) of Christian preaching.

But preaching that fails to embody the incarnation, to show how accessible God is, also fails. I’m often struck be the frequency with which preachers like to use language, quotes, and ideas that go over their audience’s head. There’s certainly something to be said for asking your people to reach a little – after all, we’re not in the business of spoon feeding spirituality.

But the question has to be asked, “Is this word, quote, or idea so far beyond my audience that it will more distract than attract them from God?”  Because at the end of the day, a sermon that reveals God cannot be inaccessible to the audience. Accessibility is part and parcel of revelation. Accessibility doesn’t always mean the sermon has to appeal to the lowest common denominator or sit on the bottom shelf. But it must not be so over the audience’s head that only a select few can intellectually attain to it. Would that not be homiletical Gnosticism at its worst?

A Radical Review: The Bad, Pt. 4 (False Dichotomy 5 – God’s Love for Us vs. God’s Love for His Glory)

God’s Love for Us vs. God’s Love for His Glory: 

Platt really shows his Reformed cards throughout the book when he discusses his understanding of God’s motivations for saving the world. After citing Ezekiel 36, Platt goes on to say, “What a statement! God goes so far as to say that when he acts among his people, he doesn’t show his grace, mercy, and justice for their sake but for the sake of his holy name among the nations.” (68). 

There is much to be said about this, but one of the conclusions one must come to when Platt’s words are traced throughout his book is that the God he worships is a God who is self-centered and self-serving – He’s a God who seeks his own glory above everything else and is self-referenced in all of His actions. Indeed, Platt even says this, “God centers on himself.” (71) 

The problem is, when I look at Jesus on the cross, I see there a God who took on shame, not glory. I see a God who acted in love for sinners. I see a God who gave up his own glory for death.

Platt would criticize my understanding of Jesus’ death, to be sure. Beginning on page 70, pay attention here(!), Platt argues that, “‘God loves me’ is not the essence of biblical Christianity. Because if ‘God loves me’ is the message of Christianity, then who is the object of Christianity?….me.” 

Now, here’s the thing: First of all, I understand that we have a very self-referenced understanding of Christianity. And this self-referenced understanding needs to be criticized and we need to repent of our “me” focused religion. But this is much different than what Platt is arguing. 

For when I say, “God loves me,” who cares if I’m the object? Because God is the subject! It doesn’t take glory away from God for him to love me. It doesn’t take away his centrality to the gospel story for him to love me! Rather, it magnifies it! I didn’t love him first, he loved me first! I didn’t make the move toward knowing him, he made the move toward saving me! Yes, I am the object of God’s affection! But God is the subject of the sentence and the subject of creation and redemption! Let’s stop laying this either/or game. God is both glorious and great. And God loves me enough to give up that glory for me and you and all of creation. That’s what love means – it is self-giving and finds glory in the ‘other’!  

In the end, Platt wants to argue that God is the object of God’s affection and love, not me. 

This is a really complicated discussion that I will take up in the final section of my review. But in the end, it’s just another one of his false dichotomies. God loving me and God seeking to make his name great among the nations are not antithetical. In fact, quite the opposite, it is through his great love for me/us that he makes his name great among the nations…so that he might love them too, and they might love him! His love for us does not put the focus on us. His love for us puts the focus on his self-giving (not self-serving!) nature! There’s no theological reason for Platt to separate God’s love and His glory. Neither his love nor his glory end with us; they are always to be offered to the world for the sake of His great name and love being given to all people. (Please see my final section, “What was missing” for further reflections on this subject. 

Bieber and Bonhoeffer…

I saw this pairing of books at the Christian bookstore last night. I not only almost threw up in my own mouth, but I realized how very misguided we are about what real Christianity is – So misguided we will celebrate a 12 year old sex-symbol for little girls everywhere right next to a man who gave his life to training pastors to love Christ, suffering, and justice in the midst of Nazi Germany. I’m speechless.