What are the 'Stations of the Cross'?

BROWN BAG LENT 2014
For the next four weeks at Peachtree Presbyterian Church we will gather at lunchtime on Thursdays to explore the 'Stations of the Cross.' You're encouraged to bring a lunch and a Bible.

The Details: 
Thursdays from 12:00 - 1:00 pm in room 2315
May 20, 27, April 3, 10

The Focus:
Many non-Catholic Christians are not familar wih the Stations of the Cross. This series will look at the background of the 14 stations, but the real focus will be on learning what it means to meditate or pray with the Biblical texts that tell the story of Christ's passion.

Questions: Call 404-842-3172   

Our Predicament

They themselves did not enter the governor’s headquarters, so that they would not be defiled . . . (John 18:28)

Everything was happening according to plan.

Jesus had been arrested in the dark of night, out of sight, away from the crowds with whom he was popular. After the arrest he had been taken to Annas and questioned. From there he had been marched to the house of Caiaphas, the high priest.

Plenty of scholars have carefully unpacked the trial of Jesus, following its sequence as narrated by the gospel writers and noting how it violated Jewish law. While all of that is interesting none of it changes the outcome. The Jerusalem religious establishment wanted Jesus dead and the only man with the authority to make that happen was Pilate. An appearance before him was the logical and necessary next step.

But there was a problem. To enter the headquarters of Pilate would render these Torah-observant accusers unclean. They would not be able to eat the Passover meal. In John’s gospel there is a remarkable moment in which those who are seeking to be rid of Jesus are suddenly very careful of being obedient to the law lest they be ceremonially unclean. In his excellent (and very thorough) commentary on John’s gospel, Dale Bruner notes the irony of staying pure for the Passover meal while handing over the true Passover lamb who would be slain for the sins of the world.

Perhaps this can’t be said often enough. Christianity is not the same thing as moral purity. Christianity is not the same thing as being attentive to religious practices. Being a Christian is about Jesus and the grace that is ours because of his death on the cross. None of us will stand before God with confidence because we carefully observed the practices of our religion. Our confidence is in Jesus, nothing else.

This week as we reflect on Jesus’s appearance before Pilate we will note how Pilate stood between the person of Jesus, the demands of some very religious people, the clamoring crowds in Jerusalem, and the power of Rome. He can’t find any fault or wrongdoing in Jesus, but he can’t please the crowds without giving him over.

We may look back on Pilate as a man who lack courage and conviction. But before we sit back and rest on some long-held conclusions, let’s face our own Pilate-like predicaments.

We too are often caught between the culture that surrounds us and the Christ that stands before us. We work hard to please people and meet the demands and expectations that come at us from all sides, while responding to what we know to be true in Jesus.

You may be standing in a Pilate-like predicament today. What voices in your life make it hard for you to deal seriously and honestly with who Jesus is?

Prayer:
We know how easy it is, O God, to work hard at being good rather than trusting in the grace that comes through the cross. And we know how hard it is to deal with Jesus in the midst of a clamoring culture. Help us to turn from empty religion and empty noise as we look to your son and him alone, the one in whose name we pray. Amen.

A Plentiful Harvest

The harvest is plentiful . . . (Matthew 9:37)

Everything I know about crops and harvests I learned in the great state of North Carolina. Let me hasten to add, I know very little.

I learned mainly by watching and listening. As I recall, the most common crop in western Wake County at that time was tobacco, but the tobacco fields were beginning to disappear. Growers were having a harder time making money with that particular crop and developers were poised to buy the land.

On one occasion Marnie and I offered to help with the work of harvesting, or ‘priming’ tobacco. We lasted less than an hour. We were so slow and inept at the task that we were hindering the crew that actually knew what they were doing. It didn’t take long to learn that harvesting tobacco is not for the faint of heart or soft of hands.

Summers were not always kind to tobacco crops. When the skies were stingy with rain and the sun was brutal with its heat, the tobacco would wither and turn brown in the fields. An older member of my church told me that there was a time when the church held specially called prayer meetings to ask God for rain. She said they would come to those prayer meetings bringing their umbrellas – a bold act of faith. You didn’t need an agriculture degree from NC State to spot a bad crop, and there was something heartbreaking about the sight of an entire field of pale drooping plants.

Watching that annual rhythm of ‘setting out’ and ‘putting in’ tobacco comes to my mind when I read Jesus’s words about the harvest that God is bringing in.

Jesus used harvest language as he looked at crowds of people, crowds that were harassed and helpless, suffering with every disease and every affliction. But in the eyes of Jesus those afflicted masses of people were not expansive acres of a failed crop. Jesus looked upon them and saw a plentiful and healthy harvest.

So what do you see when you look at the world?

You don’t have to look too hard to be discouraged. Harassed and helpless masses along with every kind of affliction – economic, political, and social – are seen all over the globe. But Jesus tells us the fields are ‘white unto harvest.’ They are ripe and ready. I recently heard someone make the point that the harvest is just fine. God has long been at work in the world and the harvest is plentiful, ready to be gathered. What is needed are laborers.

But before the laborers are sent there are people praying. “Ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest” (Matt. 9:38).

Bringing in the harvest requires people in the fields and people on their knees. Ideally, those who are in the fields are also on their knees and those who are on their knees get up and head to the fields. Either way, whether by praying or going, all of us are involved in bringing in this harvest.

God is at work in this world and the fields are ready. The harvest is healthy. Two questions remain: What do you see when you look at the world, and what will you do about what you see?

Prayer:
We ask you, O God, to send out laborers into the harvest. And help us to listen closely enough to know when you are sending us. Use us as you will, whether praying or going, and give us eyes to see a plentiful harvest in this world, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Exemplary in Affliction

. . . for you received the word in much affliction with the joy of the Holy Spirit, so that you became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia (1 Thess. 1:6-7).

While people will applaud your triumphs, they are far more likely to be helped by your troubles.

Our triumphs, however, get all the good press. We want people to know about the win. We’re quick to speak of the favorable circumstances, the success, the blessing that unexpectedly comes our way or the achievement that follows our hard work.

This is not to say that we’re prone to obnoxious boasting. That our triumphs are so easily shared is no surprise. We naturally delight in good news, and even if we’re selective in how we share it we want others to get in on the celebration. Our joy is heightened when others are around ‘in-joy’ it with us.

Not so with our troubles. As easily and as often as our triumphs are shared, our troubles are quietly tucked away, relegated to some remote corner of the soul.

There is a familiar proverb that says a companion can double your joys and halve your sorrows. Of course this assumes that that our sorrows are shared in the first place. That we too often keep them too ourselves is both a detriment to us and a loss to others. While people will look at our successes with admiration and sometimes envy, they are far more helped by seeing our afflictions and how we deal with them.

When Paul wrote to the Christians in Thessalonica he remarked on how they had become an exemplary church for the region. Their reputation had spread quickly not because of their power or wealth or great numbers. Rather, they were exemplary because of their troubles. They had borne up under pressure and endured affliction in a spirit of confident joy.

For this very reason the global church is exemplary for us today.

They are a model community for the affluent and technologized church in the western world. They model for us courage in the face of suffering. They evidence joy in the simple gift of community because they often do not possess the things in which we take joy. When we look around the world, especially today in places like Syria and Iran, we see Christians who know what it is to be afflicted. And we see Christians who are joyful nevertheless.

What was true of the Thessalonians, what is true today of the persecuted church, is true of your life. Your most powerful witness to the goodness and grace of God will not likely be seen in your wealth or your perfect family or your latest triathlon or your recent promotion. All of these things are wonderful and worthy of celebration. But people are most deeply impacted when they see affliction with joy.

Whatever affliction you’re carrying today, someone else is sharing that same struggle or one very much like it. You need not loudly flaunt your miseries – but don’t mask your troubles behind your triumphs.

Your affliction, mingled with the grace of confident hope and joy, is a powerful witness that others need to see. This is true in our world, and it is true where you live.

Prayer:
Grant us grace, O God, to bear affliction with a spirit of confident joy. Comfort us in trouble so that we can comfort others. And use our troubles as a powerful witness to your faithfulness and love, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Threads

For we are God’s workmanship . . . (Ephesians 2:10)

What is it about kneeling that we do it so rarely?

A middle ground is hard to find. Some churches expect people to kneel often and provide a kneeler on every pew. Other churches pray every week without ever bending the knee.

Pastor and author Calvin Miller once quipped that God never looks bigger than when you’re on your knees. So in our church’s prayer room there is kneeling bench. On the bench there is a cushion. The bench is there because sometimes the weight that drives us to prayer can only be borne by kneeling.

For that reason a small group gathered a couple of months ago to ask God’s blessing on the prayer bench. The real focus of this gathering was the completion of the needlepoint cushion on which people would kneel.

The needlepoint work involved fourteen people and roughly nine-hundred hours of labor that spanned a year and a half. This doesn’t include the time required for an artist to create a sketch for the design that became a painted canvass that then became a stitch guide. The panels of the cushion were passed from one careful stitcher to the next. Each of them focused on a piece of the design until finally the stitching was completed, the panels of the cushion were assembled, and the cushion was mounted to the prayer bench.

On the day we gathered for our service of blessing and dedication several of the people who had worked on the cushion were present. Any one of them could have easily pointed to the section of the cushion they had helped bring to life with color. Without a doubt they remembered the meticulous labor, patiently pressing a thread into the design, pulling it through, practicing their art in precise repeated motions. One might safely say that an attention deficit disorder of any degree would make it nearly impossible to enjoy the craft of needlepoint.

What I noticed as I listened to this group of artisans admiring the finished cushion was that none of them spoke of the section they had done. They could have told if you’d asked – but nobody pointed at their own work. Instead, they all took pleasure in the whole.

Had a single thread stood out it probably would have been regarded as a flaw. No one boasted in a single thread. What they took delight in was the totality of thousands of threads, whether their own hands had pulled the needle or not.

God is a master craftsman. His work in the world is a great design and our lives become meaningful and beautiful when we belong to that design. Life is distorted and tiresome when we insist on calling attention to the one thread that is ‘me.’

For a couple of weeks we’ll be thinking about God’s mission in this world, his great design for all people, all nations. What does that design look like, and what would it mean for you to be a thread in God’s hand, woven into the work he is doing?

Maybe the best way to find out would be to ask; and as you ask, you might consider kneeling.

Prayer:
Gracious God, help us to see the larger picture, the great design of your work in this world. Bring us in on what you’re doing, pulling us into the fabric of your mission by the power of your Spirit, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Telling Time

. . . but why do you not know how to interpret the present time (Luke 12:56).

“I am the town clock-winder for Island Pond, Vermont.”

So wrote Garret Keizer in his fine memoir, A Dresser of Sycamore Trees. In his book Keizer reflects on his life as an Episcopal lay-pastor in a rural New England town. As the church’s solo pastor one of his duties was to climb into the steeple twice every week to wind the clock. This involved cranking two large spools of cable – one for the face of the clock and one for the bell that marked the hour.

Far from resenting such a mundane task, Keizer seems to delight in the insights he gleans from being the town’s clock-winder. One of his observations resonated with me as a very helpful picture of what we mean when we speak of a post-Christian world. He rescues the phrase from the academicians when he writes

The public keeping of time has passed from the church and possibly the municipal building to the branch bank. In most towns of any size that is the place to look for a digital display of the right time . . . It was logical for a church to tell people the time when one of the things they needed to know time for was when to pray, and when church feasts and holy days colored the calendar. Equally logical is it that a bank should tell the hours to a populace for whom time is not liturgical but financial, who inhabit a fiscal year broken into quarters and the maturation periods of certificates of deposit (p. 86).

Keizer seems to be saying that when the church steeple rang the hour it declared that time was sacred. The digital display in front of the bank declares that time is money.

Of greater significance than how we tell time is the shifting locus of authority in our world. Whether the hour is displayed at a bank or city hall or on a cell phone, the church has lost its voice in the ordering of the day, perhaps in the ordering of life.

I’ll go one step further with Keizer’s insight. Not only does the church no longer have voice in the ordering of time, the church’s organizational life now finds itself smothered in competition for the hours that belong to its own members. A persistent and insidious barrier to meaningful spiritual growth is the busy-ness of life, what John Ortberg has named ‘hurry sickness.’

Earlier today I heard the carillon bells in the steeple of the church where I serve ring the noon hour. I love hearing that sound from my office or from within our sanctuary. Sadly, the hundreds of cars blistering the asphalt on Roswell Road didn’t hear what I heard. The hearing requires some measure of stillness.

This is not to suggest that the only activities of the day that have spiritual significance are activities that happen inside a church building. Rather, what Keizer invites us to ponder is the way that faith is squeezed and choked in the post-Christian world’s use of time.

The question for all of us is not about how much time you spend at church – but how the church’s message shapes what you do with time.

How might you take your schedule for this day and make it holy offering unto the Lord?

Prayer:
Gracious God, “my times are in your hand” (Ps. 31:15). And not only my times but my time – the hours and minutes of this day that you’ve placed before me. Order my steps, making every minute yours, lived thankfully and for your glory through Christ our Lord. Amen.

A Spiritual 'Polar Vortex'

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering . . . (Hebrews 10:23).

I’ve added a new phrase to my vocabulary this week: ‘Polar Vortex’

I’m writing this on a day when I woke up to a temperature reading of 8 degrees. Some have said it was actually colder than that. The culprit: ‘Polar vortex’ – a system of strong counterclockwise winds that typically surround the northern pole. Somehow that mass of frigid air got lost and wandered down to Georgia.

Once things get this cold down here the actual temperature hardly matters. The simple truth is that we’re not equipped to deal with this kind of thing. As I write the skies are sunny and the roads, for the most part, are clear and dry – but area schools are closed. Our neighbors to the north mock this. But school administrators, not to mention parents, are not going to have kids waiting on busses in single digit temps. Said another way, few of us are dressed for the occasion.

But occasions like this are rare in these parts, and that’s the good news. This kind of weather is an anomaly. The polar vortex will soon make its way back where it belongs and the Sunbelt will get back to its comfortably ‘chilly’ winter.

I wish the same could be said for the spiritual climate in which we’re living these days.

A ‘religio-cultural’ polar vortex has moved into North America and Europe. Just as much of the country is in the grip on an arctic air mass, North America and Europe are in the grip of ‘Post-Christendom.’

There is however one significant difference. Post-Christendom is not going away. We will not soon be returning to a more familiar and Christianized culture in America and Europe. The climate has changed – and we had better learn how to dress for the occasion.

In his book Exiles, author and Professor Michael Frost says it like this:

There is barely a congregation or Christian organization that has not bemoaned the waning impact of the Christian story upon American or Western society. And although many Christian voices are calling us back to the days when the church occupied a position of power and influence over Western society, nobody with any real sense of history believes we can save Christendom . . . The Christendom era, like Rome, has fallen (pp. 6-7).

So what does this have to do with you? Given the climate we’re living in, there are two mistakes we need to avoid. One of those mistakes is to stay indoors. In the current climate there are Christians who dig in and hunker down. Their posture is protective and defensive. Their demeanor is anxious.

The second mistake is to try desperately to accommodate the climate. We humans can live with arctic air, but we can’t live in it – at least not for long. Well intentioned efforts to live in a post- Christian world can sometimes lead us to stop being truly Christian.

Following Jesus is an uncomfortable calling. It means living in tension – faithful to the gospel while loving our world. That’s what we want to be learning more about in the days to come.

So how are you doing in the current climate? Which of these two mistakes are you most likely to make?

Prayer: 
We ask you, O God, to make us equal to the times in which we live. Keep us faithful to the gospel and fill us with compassion for this world. Remind us daily that you are alive and well in every climate, in every place. Sustain our hope, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Back through the Wardrobe

. . . they departed to their own country by another way (Matthew 2:12)

They no longer recognized the lamppost that had marked their point of entry into Narnia.

In Narnian time, years had passed. The main characters – Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy – had been ruling as Kings and Queens in Narnia. The White Witch and the land’s deep freeze were a distant memory.

So when the four rulers came upon the lamppost it looked to them like a “pillar of iron with a lantern set on the top.” As they investigated the unfamiliar sight they entered the woods where the lamppost stood. Almost immediately they no longer felt the scratching of tree branches, but rather the fabric of coats. Within a few steps they had tumbled out of a wardrobe and back into an empty room.

Back in England, it was the same day as when the Wardrobe had first led them to Narnia. Only minutes had passed. They were no longer Kings and Queens. They were children again.

Trying to explain why some coats were missing from the wardrobe, the children told the Professor (their caretaker and the owner of the wardrobe) about their adventure. He did not scoff or rebuke them, but believed the whole story. And then he spoke these words to them:

“I don’t think it will be any good trying to go back through the wardrobe door to get the coats. You won’t get into Narnia again by that route . . . of course, you will get back to Narnia someday. But don’t go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don’t try to get there at all. It’ll happen when you’re not looking for it.”

Don’t miss the treasures of this Christmas Eve by trying to re-create a Christmas from another time. Almost all of us can look back on a Christmas that was just right – or at least it seems that way to us now. Maybe we look back on years when death had not yet touched the family, the children and grandchildren were much smaller, the money was more abundant, the relatives were not too far away.

Things might be different now. By comparison, this Christmas doesn’t measure up.

Perhaps what C. S. Lewis wrote about getting back to Narnia is also true of finding the joy of Christmas. The same route that worked back then will not get you there now. Maybe we observe a true Christmas not by recapturing what was, but by embracing the presence of God with us in the life we have right now. Indeed, the treasures of Christmas may come to us unplanned and unannounced. Like finding Narnia again, it happens when you aren’t looking for it.

There are signs of God’s grace all around you on this Christmas Eve. God is with us. That’s the good news of this season. In the words of C. S. Lewis as spoken by a wise Professor, “Keep your eyes open.”

Prayer:
Gracious God, on this Christmas Eve help us to keep our eyes open for signs of your grace that surround us in the life we have right now. Guard us from finding the joy of Christmas only in our memory. Reveal your presence to us today, and in doing so draw us close to you in a fresh way this Christmas. We ask this in the name of your Son Jesus. Amen.

Exactly What We Needed

“She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins” (Matt. 1:21).

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his son . . . to redeem those who were under the law (Galatians 4:4-5)

The good news was that the Atlanta Police car turned left from Habersham onto Valley Rd. within minutes after my call. The bad news was that the Atlanta Police car turned left from Habersham onto Valley Rd. within minutes after my call.

I would have preferred not to call at all. But after the fender-bender collision I had at Habersham and Valley it seemed like the right thing to do.

As it turned out the damage was so slight that there was really nothing for the APD to do. Still, I’m thankful for the timely response. And I’m also aware that what comes to us as good news (a timely response from police) often points to something gone wrong (the wreck).

A tumor is benign . . . but it’s there and it needs to come out. You are told you will not be laid off . . . but the company is in trouble and others still have to be let go. To us a savior is born . . . which means we need saving. We are not well. And what isn’t well is beyond our own capacity to make right.

‘Jesus’ is the Greek form of the Hebrew name ‘Joshua’ which means ‘the Lord saves.’ At Christmas time we hear this as a “glad tiding.” The angel’s announcement is good news; it reason for great joy and thanksgiving and glory to God for his favor to us.

But these glad tidings carry with them a quiet implication – a verdict on the condition of the human race. The announcement of a savior being born is only good news to those who need saving.

If I’m sitting in my house watching TV and eating Oreos and an ambulance randomly pulls into my driveway I will not be relieved. I might be confused and alarmed, but not relieved and thankful. But after too many years of watching TV and eating Oreos a day may come when I am not well. Something goes wrong. Maybe, by God’s grace, someone can call 911 and the ambulance will come. And when it does there will be relief and gratitude.

Christmas is not truly good news unless we understand that there’s bad news. Not surprisingly, that message doesn’t get much press in December. But it’s definitely there, plain as day, in the words of the angel. “You are to give him the name ‘Jesus,’ because he will save his people from their sins” (Matt. 1:21).

Jesus came to save us from our sins. We couldn’t save ourselves, so God did it for us in sending his son. And in doing so, God gave us exactly what we needed.

Prayer:
Before the season ends, O God, we need to get honest and make our confession to you. Our world is not well. We are not well. We need a savior. Thank you for sending your son. Thank you for loving the world so much that you sent Jesus to save us – to do what we could not do by our own efforts. May this Christmas bring us news that is truly good, because we have faced the truth about ourselves and turned to your grace through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Shepherds and a Shoeshine

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field . . . (Luke 2:8)

His commute to work took an hour and a half and involved catching more than one bus.

For more than 30 years Albert Lexie made this journey twice each week, leaving his home in Monessen, Pennsylvania, and making the journey to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh. Arriving early in the morning he would begin his work for the day. For 30 years Albert has served the Children’s Hospital community by shining shoes.

This week Albert Lexie is retiring at age 71. Having faithfully tended his post for 30 years, he is being celebrated by a grateful hospital staff. In this modest role he has engendered the affections of the people who work at Children’s as well as many patients and their families.

A number of factors might explain his popularity: his long tenure there, the quality of his work, his likeable demeanor that endears him to others. All of those things could be said of Albert Lexie. But what is truly admirable is his generosity. Since 1981 Lexie has given $200,000 of his personal income to the hospital’s Free Care Fund.

For three decades the task of shining shoes has been incidental to Lexie’s true work: Making children well. His job was about shoes. His vocation was about changing lives.

Shining shoes and shepherding are nothing alike, but they share this in common: neither of them are careers to which we aspire. We don’t dream of seeing our kids shine shoes, and when Jesus was born no one thought very highly of shepherding.

At Christmas we tend to romanticize and sentimentalize the shepherds. When Luke tells us that “there were shepherds abiding in the fields at night” we could easily substitute “there was a DOT worker standing in a toll booth during the night shift.” The shepherds were working – and working a very mundane job at that.

Interestingly, once the shepherds had gone to Bethlehem and seen the Christ child we are told that “they returned praising and glorifying God.” Returned to what? They went back to same job, same flock, same fields – but they went back with more than a task. They had a vocation. They had good news to tell.

Some of you, perhaps many of you, are reading this as you get ready for a day of work. You might even be at work. As we reflect on the shepherds at Christmas and a man who shines shoes, this question comes up: What are you working for today? This is different than asking what your job is, or who your boss is. A better and deeper question is what is your work about?

The significance of what you do is not defined by a title you have or a position you hold in the organization. You don’t find a vocation by earning advanced degrees. Albert Lexi shows us that the most ordinary work can make a difference in the lives of people.

As you go back to work, return like the shepherds. Work like Albert Lexi. Even the smallest and most ordinary tasks have meaning when done by people who know they are called.

Prayer:
Be glorified in my work today, O God. And help me to find meaning in your call – more than title or position or income. Work through me to accomplish your work in this world, I ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

A Way Through

. . . though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel (Micah 5:1-5).

Few things are more painful than hitting a wall – over and over again – in a relationship that we care deeply about. Were it not for our desire to ‘get through’ to someone, we would just stop and walk away.

But walking away isn’t an option. And so our collision with the wall continues.

Maybe you know about this. The wall may stand between you and one of your children; they simply won’t listen to your counsel or believe that what you say you say out of love. Quite often the wall stands between spouses, built brick by brick with years of hurt; now it stands there high and insurmountable. Walls like this are found between managers and employees, teachers and students. What all of these walls share in common is their foundation in this nagging question: What will it take to get through?

We are prone to use direct assault against those walls. We argue, insist, plead, promise. Nothing gives. The direct assault proves useless, leaving us with tears and sleepless nights.

C. S. Lewis, the man behind the Chronicles of Narnia, is known to most of us as an articulate defender of the Christian faith. If he wasn’t defending the faith, he was often explaining it intelligently to its critics. Lewis was skilled and powerful in argument. He gained a reputation at Oxford for being ruthless in debate. The book most closely associated with his name is Mere Christianity, a volume that remains widely used in presenting the faith to sceptics.

Given Lewis’s legacy as an apologist and his gifts for razor sharp reasoning and argumentation, it is somewhat surprising that he openly cautioned others against theological debate and argument. Lewis once wrote, “No doctrine of the Faith seems to me so spectral, so unreal as one that I have just successfully defended in public debate . . . we apologists take our lives in our hands and can be saved only falling back continually . . . from apologetics to Christ himself.”

Thus Lewis, toward the end of his life, set aside the task of writing arguments for the Christian faith and turned to stories. In a 1954 letter Lewis stated that “the imaginative man in me is older.” The poet in Lewis was there long before the books of apologetics. And the poet was never entirely absent from him, even in those works.

Lewis was drawn to a vision of the Christian life, not simply arguments for it.

So what does this have to do with you and your desire to ‘get through’ to someone you love? Maybe Lewis teaches us that whatever it is we want to say or tell to someone must also be lived and shown. Sometimes the way through is indirect, quietly lived rather than shouted, shown rather than explained. It is left-handed power.

What is your vision of how things would look if you could get through to the person you love? How can you begin living that vision today?

Prayer:
Merciful God, grant me grace to show what I’ve tried hard to say; to demonstrate what I’ve sought to explain. Grant to me a vision and help me to live it, I ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

The 'Rat'

. . . though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel (Micah 5:1-5).

Pat Conroy’s book, My Losing Season, is a memoir built around the story of Conroy’s senior year on the Citadel basketball team.

A minor character who appears throughout the book is the team trainer, Joe Eubanks. Everyone on the team called him the ‘Rat.’ One of the most moving chapters of the book is the story of the Citadel’s game against in VMI in 1967. This grueling contest went into four overtimes before the Citadel secured a victory. When Conroy made it back to the locker room his body was so exhausted that he couldn’t undress himself. The Rat pulled the sweat soaked shirt over Conroy’s head and unlaced his shoes. He pulled off his rancid socks and helped him stand up from the bench to walk to the showers.

Just a few years later, the Rat was killed in Vietnam.

At the end of that chapter Conroy tells of visiting the Vietnam Veterans memorial in Washington. With his finger he traced the names that are etched in the wall, names of boys he knew. With each visit to the memorial the last name he touches is the name of his trainer, Joe Eubanks. At this point in the book Conroy writes:

“It is always here at this name that the Vietnam Veterans Memorial unhinges me and I weep as though I will never be able to stop. My weeping is so public and visceral that I always draw the attention of other visitors, and they put their arms around me and try to console me. Veterans ask if Joe was a member of my unit and I shake my head no. Women ask me if I lost a brother. The sons and daughters of men whose names are on the wall want to know why Joe Eubanks meant so much to me, and they all look disappointed, even dismayed, when I blurt out in a tear- strangled voice, “He gave me towels. The Rat gave me towels.” (p. 302)

The high impact moments of your day are probably not on your calendar. Your mental and emotional energy may be directed to the meeting you need to attend and the holiday tasks that still aren’t done. You may be facing a deadline or packing to catch a flight. All of those things matter – but the high impact moments of this day are moments you haven’t planned because they are small and ordinary.

Do not despise the small things: Getting your kids to school, conversation in the kitchen, interactions with co-workers, a compliment or affirmation, holding hands, a kiss on the forehead. Christmas reminds us that sacred things come in small ways.

Pay attention to small things today. What you do without a thought may last a long time in someone else’s memory.

Prayer:
Gracious and loving God, throughout this day grant to me the gift of your Spirit that I might embrace the small things, the unapplauded tasks, the people on the margins. Work through me to refresh the heart of someone else, in the name and strength of Jesus our Lord. Amen.

A Shadow over Bethlehem

And a sword will pierce your own soul too (Luke 2:35).

Simeon had been dead for decades – but what he had spoken to Mary had lived on.

Mary had heard and seen many things about her son that she treasured in her heart, silently pondering and praying over them through the years. Time and time again the words of Simeon had echoed in her mind.

“This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” (Luke 2:34-35)

On this day, Simeon long dead, Mary remembered him. She saw again his wrinkled hands reaching for her son. She saw again his weathered face raised to heaven in gratitude. She remembered his peculiar and ominous words. “And a sword will piece your own soul too.”

On this day, standing on a hill not far from that Jerusalem temple, watching the agony of her child, she felt the sword pierce deep.

At this season of the year we love stories of the Christ child: Mangers and livestock, shepherds with their flocks and magi with their gifts, angelic hosts announcing the birth in David’s city. This is the story we love. This is what we gather to celebrate.

Simeon, however, reminds us where all of this is going. This child is the dividing line of history. Some will rise to new life because of him. Others will stumble and fall. He will be adored and spoken against, believed or rejected. Over the manger and the child the cross looms large. We cannot separate the incarnation from the crucifixion.

But we try. We much prefer a cross-less Christmas. We had rather not have that shadow lingering over our happy holidays. Nevertheless, all who are invited to adore the Christ child will also be invited to follow Jesus of Nazareth. And to follow Jesus is to take up a cross.

The same Isaiah who said that a child was born unto us also spoke of a man acquainted with sorrow, one by whose stripes we are healed.

This week, we’ve pondered the darker side of the Christmas story. If you’ve ever been inclined to think of Simeon as a sweet old man, benign and harmless, think again. Simeon speaks to us about a sword and stumbling and our hearts being exposed. Simeon readies us for the cross.

Like Mary, we would do well to treasure these things in our hearts.

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we often celebrate your birth without the soul piercing reality of the cross. Remind us today of why you came, and give us power in this season of the year to be people who love sacrificially. Teach us what it means to take up a cross and follow you at Christmas time. And as we follow, make us truly joyful people, we pray. Amen.

For all who 'Struggle' During Christmas

Now war arose in heaven . . . (Revelation 12:7).

In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe there is a scene in which Father Christmas makes an appearance, bringing gifts to the main characters of the story: Peter, Susan, and Lucy. As we saw earlier this week, younger brother Edmund has become cozy with the white Witch – only to become her captive.

The gifts were not what we typically think of as Christmas presents: For Peter, a sword and shield; for Susan, a bow and arrows; for Lucy, a healing potion and a dagger. These gifts are designed for warfare. As Father Christmas begins to present them to the children he cautions them, “These are tools, not toys.”

When most of us think of the Christmas story we hear in our minds the words of Luke’s gospel. Whether we are consciously aware of it or not, these phrases capture the drama of Christmas: Shepherds abiding in the fields, no room in the inn, a babe in swaddling clothes.

There is, however, another and very different nativity story at the end of the Bible. In Revelation 12 there is a story of a woman who gives birth to a baby. A great red dragon awaits the birth of the child, intending to devour it. When the child is born he is taken up to heaven. His birth instigates warfare between the dragon and his angels, and the Angel Michael with his angel army.

The dragon is thrown down to earth. He is defeated but not finished. Knowing that he will not overcome the child who is born to rule all nations, the dragon wages a war against humankind. The scene is bizarre to us, but it is not hard to understand. In his book, Reversed Thunder, Eugene Peterson adds this helpful comment.

It is St. John’s genius to take Jesus in the manger, attended by shepherds and wisemen, and put him in the cosmos attacked by a dragon. The consequence for our faith is that we are fortified against intimidation. Our response to the Nativity cannot be reduced to shutting the door against a wintry world, drinking hot chocolate, and singing carols. Rather we are ready to walk out the door with, a one Psalmist put it, high praises of Gods in our throats and two-edged swords in our hands (Ps. 149:6).

Revelation 12 is without question the most overlooked Christmas story in scripture. There is nothing cuddly in John’s nativity scene. This Christmas story tells us that in the birth of Jesus the devil is defeated. He is defeated, but not done. He thrashes about even now wreaking havoc among humankind – and we are in a fight.

We can hardly be surprised the John’s visions are ignored in December. We don’t like talk of warfare. But all of us know people who “struggle” at Christmas. You may be one of those people. The ‘dragon’ takes the form of loneliness, illness, alienation, depression. The struggle may be silent, but it is real.

In Jesus, however, you are equipped. By the Spirit we receive what we need for the fight, “tools not toys,” as Lewis wrote. God gives what you need for this time, this season.

Where do you see someone struggling at this time of year? What gift or ‘blessing’ can you give to them today?

Prayer:
We pray today, O God, for all who struggle in this season of the year. Grant them what they need in the fight, and fill them with confidence in your victory through the child born in the manger. We ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

God on the Offensive

The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil (1 John 3:8).

Though their numbers are shrinking, there are still plenty of people around who remember December 7, 1941.

This past weekend marked 72 years since the attack on Pearl Harbor. The phrase “a day that will live in infamy” is widely known even by those who have no memory of the infamous day. The infamy does indeed remain, rooted in the stunning act of aggression aimed at our nation. Over the weekend we remembered those who lost their lives at Pearl Harbor. Moreover, we remembered how that day, that act, changed our history as a people.

The opening chapters of the Bible tell us about an act of aggression. The biblical story begins with a good God and a good creation. We don’t get very far before an enemy appears to drive a wedge between humankind and the creator who provides all things for their good. Manipulative and cunning, this enemy attacks what God has done, changing the course of human history. The rest of the Bible is the story of God’s restoration project. God has long been at work to mend what the devil wrecked.

At this time of year we are often encouraged to remember the “Reason for the Season.” What we rarely hear is the very specific reason stated in 1 John 3:8. “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil.”

Most of what we see and hear in this season belies that truth. The sights are idyllic: Starlight spilling from a cloudless winter sky, snow fall that never seems to cause traffic problems or power outages. All of this is enhanced with the display of lights.

The vocabulary of love and blessing shapes our language. We speak of God’s love for the world and how we share that love by loving our neighbor. Words like ‘peace’ and ‘joy’ give expression to our deepest Christmas wishes.

All of this is wonderful and I’d be the last person to dismiss any of it. But let’s not forget the combative edge that Christmas represents. The scriptures are clear that we have an enemy who actively seeks to diminish or destroy our faith. Jesus said that this enemy is a liar who will stop at nothing to ruin what is good and beautiful in this life (see John 10:10).

If you want to know the reason for the season, take a moment and look closely and what most of us try to ignore at Christmas. The devil’s work is seen in broken homes, addictions, violence in streets and schools, abuse behind the closed doors in our own neighborhoods, estrangement between races and nations. All of this is why Jesus came. He came to destroy the devil’s work.

Christmas is an act of aggression. It is God on the offensive. Jesus came to destroy the devil’s works, and this is why we must never separate the manger from the cross.

Where are you most aware of the ‘devil’s works?’ Is there anything you can do this Christmas to undo what the enemy is doing?

Prayer:
“Come thou long-expected Jesus, born to set thy people free; From our fears and sins release us, Let us find our rest in thee; Israel’s strength and consolation, hope of all the earth thou art; Dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart.” Amen (Charles Wesley, 1744)

Staying Awake at Christmas

 Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you (Ephesians 5:11-17).

I still shudder at the words “some assembly required.” But there was a time when they sounded especially onerous to me at Christmas.

One year when my children were very small I nearly renounced the faith over my labors with a ‘Playskool’ kitchenette set for my daughter. While I’m not very adept with tools, it wasn’t so much the actual task of building the kitchenette that caused me to wonder whether God is a benevolent being. What really did it was being up late on Christmas Eve night, after Christmas Eve worship, after the bedtime routine, after waiting for children to fall asleep. As the night wore on the more it seemed like the instructions for assembly required an advanced degree from Georgia Tech.

That stage of life was a time when the preparations for Christmas morning kept you up late on Christmas Eve night when all you wanted to do was go to sleep. And then, almost immediately, the eagerness of young children woke you up early on Christmas morning when you would have loved sleeping in. Being fully “awake” at Christmas in those years was often a challenge.

C. S. Lewis loved the image of being “awake” as way of understanding the life of faith. To be far from God was to be asleep, walking through life unaware, senseless. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, one of the four main characters becomes friendly with the White Witch only to soon discover she isn’t friendly at all. He soon realizes that he is in fact her prisoner, not her friend. As his misery grows he reaches a point where “the only way to comfort himself now was trying to believe that the whole thing was a dream and that he might wake up at any moment.”

Lewis biographer Alan Jacobs quotes Lewis as having written, “We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade the presence of God. The world is crowded with him. He walks everywhere incognito. And the incognito is not always hard to penetrate. The real labor is to remember, to attend. In fact, to come awake. Still more, to remain awake.”

Our struggle to stay awake at Christmas goes far deeper than late nights with gifts that require assembly, or early mornings with children whose excitement cannot be contained one moment longer. We sleep through the season as we go through the motions of ‘the holidays’ dull to the stunning realities of a true Christmas.

As Lewis wrote, the world is crowded with God. To us – especially in malls and in traffic – the world just seems crowded. We make our way through it as best we can. As we do, we may ignore God’s presence, but we cannot evade it. Our task is to pay attention. To wake up and to stay awake. One of the effects of sin in this world is not to make people bad, but to make them groggy.

What will it mean for you to stay awake this Christmas? As you go through this day, where and how will you attend to the incognito presence of God?

Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, that while we may sometimes ignore you, we can never evade you. Wherever we look or go, you are there. Wake us up today to your presence. As we learn to see it, grant us grace to point others to it as well, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

The Thaw

For the creation was subjected to futility . . . (Romans 8:18-25)

Almost a year ago, for my son’s 15th birthday, Marnie had planned to make a special meal featuring fried chicken - something she ventures to cook only for the most special of occasions.

Planning ahead, she gathered everything she would need to make this meal. The following day she would get home from the office and go straight to work on her culinary birthday gift. That was the plan. Until I stepped in. She had asked me to take the chicken and put it in the refrigerator we have in the basement. Without thinking things through I simply assumed that chicken belonged in the ‘freezer’ part of what she was calling the ‘refrigerator.’

The following evening Marnie came home ready to cook only to find the center-piece of the much anticipated meal frozen solid. She was forced to come up with a back-up plan (which was still very good). We’ve all heard of jumping from the frying pan into the fire. But there’s just no way to go from the freezer to the frying pan.

A true thaw takes time.

In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis introduces us to the land of Narnia. It is a land held captive by a tyrannical ruler, the oppression visibly portrayed in a deep freeze that has Narnia in its grip – “always winter but never Christmas,” we’re told.

But we’re also told that Narnia has a true King and this true King has not abdicated his rule. “Aslan is on the move.” As the magisterial Lion Aslan makes his presence known in the drama we see Narnia slowly thawing. Rivers begin to flow full as ice becomes water; green grass penetrates the white shell of ice and snow.

None of this happens quickly. A true thaw takes time, and the land of Narnia has been waiting for a very long time for the day when its lifeless freeze would yield to the warmth of its true King.

There is a line in O Holy Night that says “long lay the world in sin and error pining.” These words capture the deep freeze of Narnia. They describe the world we see around us. They may even say something about the coldness of your own heart during this Advent season.

Aside from the rogue 70 degree day we had last week in Atlanta, December typically arrives with a chill. For many people that chill goes beyond the weather conditions. Our hearts are cold: the pain of grief is exacerbated, money pressures feel intensified, relational fissures can be pushed to the breaking point. By itself, the annual arrival of December does little to mend the broken places of life.

Next week we’ll look more at how the breath of God gives life to what is frozen solid. But for today be encouraged by this. A true thaw takes time. Be patient with what seems cold and lifeless within you. Advent tells us that there is a true King who is on the move.

Where is the deep freeze in your life these days? Pray. Wait. Watch.

Prayer:
“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel; who mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear.” We ask this in the name of the long awaited one, Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Things are going to Change

In the past he humbled the land . . . but in the future he will honor Galilee . . . (Isaiah 9:1).

At its core, Advent is a restless season.

This restlessness is characteristic of a life that is neither here nor there; it cannot be content with what is, but what will be has yet to fully take shape. This restlessness is stirred in that disconnect between our seasonal vocabulary of peace and joy and good will, and the undeniable absence of those things in our world. Advent restlessness is rooted in the conviction that something has to change, and that someday it will.

To those who had been brought low, Isaiah promised a future exaltation, a coming honor. In their past God had humbled them. Isaiah’s hope-filled message announced that God would not leave them that way. The darkness in which they walked would yield to the gift of God’s light. He spoke his message, however, to a people living between the times, between yesterday’s humiliation and tomorrow’s coming honor.

If this time of year finds you between the times, looking back on something that brought you low and waiting on something that will lift you up – then you’re in the true spirit of the season, whether it feels that way or not.

Maybe the economy has already done its worst to you. The job you loved isn’t there anymore and now you’re wondering about what will come next. Maybe the relationship that seemed to hold so much promise never came to fruition in something that would last. Maybe your suspicions about the persistent fatigue you’ve lived with have been confirmed. Test results have revealed what you’re up against.

Advent is the in-between season. It is a restlessness that refuses to draw conclusions about life too soon, too quickly. Advent people live between the humbling past and the future with honor, confident that things are going to change. That confidence is not mere positive thinking. It is grounded in God’s character. Things are going to change, and the zeal of the Lord will do it.

God is zealous for his glory and for your good. That might sound strange to you, but it’s true. Isaiah makes repeated references to God’s zeal. This is a part of God’s very nature, God’s personhood. God burns with zeal.

We survive the waiting season because God’s determination is far stronger than our own.

The zeal of the Lord will bring about all that the prophet sees: lifted burdens, ended wars, bourgeoning hope. God will do this in his zeal. It is his work to do, not yours. And that zeal is how you can know that things are going to change.

So don’t draw conclusions about your life right now. Wait. Wait on what our zealous God will do. Love between the times . . . and enter the spirit of the season.

Prayer:
Grant us grace, O God, to live between the times. Sustain us in that place between being brought low and being lifted up again. We yearn for things to change. We yearn for light, and we look to you to bring it to us. Rise up in your zeal and do for us what we could never do for ourselves, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

One Road, Two Ways to Travel

A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side . . . (Luke 10:31)

If I leave my house to go to Charlotte, NC I’m probably going to end up driving north on I-85. There may be some alternative routes, but around here it is widely understood that the best way to get from Atlanta to Charlotte is on 85. That’s the road for all points north and east.

In the place where Jesus lived the same kind of thinking was at work when it came to making a journey from Jerusalem to Jericho. The primary route, perhaps the only route, was a seventeen mile stretch of road that snaked through a gorge known today as the Wadi Kelt. From Jerusalem it was a downhill journey, taking you from 2500 feet above sea level in Jerusalem to 800 feet below sea level in Jericho. The craggy landscape provided good cover for criminals. It was a risky trip – especially if you were alone.

But if you wanted to get to Jericho, that’s the way you went. It didn’t matter who you were. Very religious people walked this road. Thieves walked this road. Samaritans, despised by Jews, made use of this same road. Business travelers also navigated the Jericho road.

For all of them it was the same road. But in Jesus’s story the Religious types and the Samaritan walked that road in very different ways.

All of them came upon a man who had been beaten, robbed, and left for dead. The Priest and the Levite “passed by on the other side.” That phrase is used in the story twice. Fearing they would be made unclean they kept their distance.

The Samaritan traveled the road by holding his own plans loosely. When he comes upon the beaten and half-dead man he responds with both emotion and action. He feels compassion and draws near.

Passing by on the other side, and drawing near with compassion are two very different ways of traversing the same piece of earth. Which way will you choose today?

“Passing by” is what we do when we refuse to be interrupted. We’re in a hurry. We’ve got so much to get done. Quite often, we accept passing by as the best we can do when it comes to sharing our world with people we don’t understand. Since it is not overtly hostile, passing by can appear to be polite.

But being polite is not the same thing as being merciful. Mercy must respond to the wreckage it sees. There is an inner response of compassion coupled with the outer response of action.

How will you move through your world today? There’s a good chance you share office space or a neighborhood or a grocery store or a school with people you do not understand or do not like. You may find it easiest to steer clear of them; you’ll stay out of their way and they’ll stay out of yours. But there is a better way to live in this world.

See who is broken. Feel compassion. Draw near. Start a conversation. Invite a story and stick around to hear it. In other words, show mercy. Be a neighbor.

Prayer:
Walk with me through this day, O God, and make me ready for interruptions. Help me to grow dissatisfied with keeping a polite distance from those around me – especially those least like me. Fill me with mercy and help me to love my neighbor, I ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Avoidance Strategy

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 26 "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" 27 He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" 28 "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." 29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"  (Luke 10:25-29)

Sometimes we make things harder than they have to be.

We complicate things that ought to be simple. We delay and procrastinate. We overthink, mentally gnawing on every possibility and every consequence. You could be doing this today with a relationship that hasn’t been right for while or a decision that has serious implications for your career. Maybe at some level, deep within yourself, you know what needs to be done. For now, however, you’re finding ways not to do it.

In most areas of life careful deliberation is wise. Knee-jerk responses are rarely a good way to handle things that matter most to us. But sometimes our careful deliberations are a mask for dragging our feet. Next thing we know, we’re not moving at all. We’re stuck.

An expert Bible scholar sought to engage Jesus in a discussion about ‘eternal life’ and how to get it. He did this by posing a question, the answer to which he already knew. God’s law was fairly straightforward as to the way that leads to life: Love God. Love neighbor.

Love God with all that you are, every aspect of your being: your thoughts, your emotion, your will. Yield yourself entirely to God. and along with that – actually, because of that – you are to love your neighbor with the same kind of love you show to yourself.

End of discussion. Do this and you will live.

But the Bible scholar couldn’t leave it at that. He had a follow-up question. He wanted to split hairs, pressing Jesus for precision on the word ‘neighbor.’ And this set the stage for one of the greatest stories Jesus ever told. A story about mercy.

This week we’ll be thinking about Jesus’s story and what it means to live as people who show mercy to those around us. Let’s not make this harder than it is. Showing mercy doesn’t demand that you make a journey around the globe or get a piece of legislation through congress. The neighbor is close at hand and the needs are there to be seen if we’ll pay attention.

Is there anything in your life today that you’ve complicated to the point of doing nothing at all? Don’t let careful deliberations or thoughtful questions become a strategy for avoidance.

Prayer:
Very often, O God, your word is clear. You guide our steps but we are hesitant to go where you lead. Forgive our tendency to make things hard, to overthink and under act. Grant us grace to live a merciful people in the places you lead us this day, by the power of your Spirit, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.