What do You See in this Picture?

September 16, 2017 § 6 Comments

Vomit

“The gospel says that because of what Christ has done, he sees you as completely righteous. You are clothed in the righteousness of Christ…”

Raymond F. Cannata & Joshua D. Reitano, Rooted

So about three-and-a-half months ago we became first-time grandparents. Since then Max has turned us into a pitifully mushy couple that delights in dry drool, baby talk, and the smell of diapers that – how do I put this – bear inglorious evidence to the functionality of new life. We are over the moon over the guy. Oh, and by the way, he has parents too! Our daughter and son-in-law are precious in their new role.

Earlier this week I had a couple of hours with Max. Our conversation was spiritual, obviously.

A typical exchange:

Me: ‘It’s okay, Max, it’s okay.’

Max: Diminishing cries.

Me: ‘That’s a fan, Max. Do you like it?’

Max: Silence

Me: ‘That’s you in the mirror, Max!’

Max: Silence

Me: (sung) “I love you, a bushel and a peck…”

Max: Silence (with possible wincing detected)

Don’t get me wrong – there were whimpers, a few tears, smiles, and even some conversation – All in response to funny faces, peek-a-boo, chants of, ‘I’m going to get somebody,’ along with lots of ‘I love you’s’ and ‘Who’s the best boy?’ What a delight.

Max was appreciative, I could tell, because he rewarded me with what seemed like a gallon of hot puke on my shirt! Hey, what can I say? The kid trusts me. I put water on his head (baptism), and he put warm regurgitated, sour milk on my chest (the water smelled better).

Again, it’s all spiritual.

So what do you see in the picture?

Okay, so you know that he did the deed, but what you see appears to be a grown man who has just blown chow all over himself. The baby certainly isn’t indicating any guilt!

Well, there you have the gospel in a nutshell. God the Father vomited the full cup of His wrath on His own Son Jesus at the Cross, for us. We deserved it – Jesus endured it.

The apostle Paul puts it this way: “God made him [Jesus] to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God [in him]. 2 Corinthians 5:21

As Cannata and Reitano point out in their fine book on the Apostles’ Creed (Rooted), this is known as ‘the great exchange.’ Jesus took on our sin, shame and guilt, and we have been given His righteousness. It really is that simple.

This is our everyday reality, because shame and guilt feast on us like vultures on a carcass. And our natural response will always be to offer some form of our own righteousness. We are constantly tempted to fix our brokenness with broken resources, rather than to trust in Christ’s finished work on our behalf.

Here’s what I’ve discovered about shame and guilt. When they assault me, the first thing they aim for is my ego. Once that defense is broken through, I’m done. Because it isn’t humility that drives me to work out of my own flawed righteousness – it is pride. Rather than repent, and confess my inability to please God, in an arrogant denial of His love, I fight harder to force His approval.

But here is the problem, the inner condemnation doesn’t go away. My prideful resistance to admissions of weakness only weakens me, and haunts me with what I know to be true: That apart from God’s grace, I am hopelessly lost. Resisting this only cheats me out of the Father’s delight.

In the picture Max looks fine – because he is. Resting peacefully in the arms of his papa, he has no reason to believe that he should receive any condemnation, regardless of what comes out of his mouth – or goes into his diaper.

He is safe.

Friends, if you belong to Jesus, there is only one way the Father will ever see you.

Isn’t this our good news?

grace & peace.

Jesus & Irma

September 9, 2017 § 2 Comments

Irma

By the time you read this post, millions of displaced Floridians will be less than 24-hours away from Hurricane Irma’s landfall on the state. If the damage is anything close to what has been predicted, and in any proportion to the magnitude in size and strength of the storm, then it will be months, and possibly years, before the city recovers. Folks in Houston have only begun the cleanup from Hurricane Harvey’s assault on the city.

Frankly, it would be more convenient to restart this dormant blog after these cities have cleaned up and the subject matter a bit more digestible than what appears to be a senseless display of meteorological power on a helpless city. However this is the reality we live in. In a broken world, nothing is neatly packaged.

So my aim in this post is not to explain ‘why.’ In fact this will never be my aim. We are so limited by time and space, and the confines of our own finite thinking that our answers are never sufficient, and often hurtful. Our tendency is to package pain into bite-sized proportions in order to ease our own discomfort with another’s sorrow. But pain is pain and loss is loss.

Some Thoughts for Consideration:

Jesus is King and Irma is not Queen – This is in no way to minimize pain. It is to state a fact we rarely ‘feel’ in the midst of tragedy: Jesus is King. Immediately after he calmed the storm on the sea, the disciples rightly asked, “Who is this, that he commands even winds and water, and they obey him?” (Luke 8:25) Let’s face it, we are relatively small. We are minuscule compared to the Grand Canyon. We are drops in the ocean. We are dots on the map. And when life is hard, whether because of the weather or in some personal crisis, we feel unbearably small. In some way the forces of nature remind us that we are not as big or grand or in control as we sometimes tell ourselves.

The answer isn’t to assume we can somehow get bigger and rise above the storm, but to look to our big God. Because to Jesus the King Irma is minuscule and a drop in the ocean. Just as Satan was not his equal, so a hurricane, even of this magnitude, is nothing compared to the ‘ruler of the kings of the earth’ (Revelation 1:5).

God will not Shy Away from the Wreckage – Nicholas Wolterstorff, in his beautiful book, Lament for a Son, writes, “…great mystery: to redeem our brokenness and lovelessness the God who suffers with us did not strike some mighty blow of power but sent his beloved son to suffer like us, through his suffering to redeem us from suffering and evil… Instead of explaining our suffering God shares it.”

The first verse those who grew up in the Church memorized begins, “For God so loved the world, that he sent his one and only Son…” (John 3:16). The essential message of the gospel is that God did not wait for the world to clean up its act before sending Jesus. God would have it no other way. Suffering is the currency of brokenness, but it cannot determine an absent God.

God Invites our Questions – Asaph, the Psalmist, went before God and poured out his heart because he saw how the ‘wicked prospered,’ as he struggled. It made no sense to him. Attempting to make sense of our pain often leads to bad conclusions. Jesus’ disciples asked whether it was the father’s or mother’s sins that caused a young man to be born blind (John 9). Jesus graciously taught that they were looking at it all wrong, and then healed the man who glorified God.

It wasn’t until Asaph entered into “the sanctuary of God” (Psalm73:11) that he could see beyond the moment to their ‘end.’ This moved him beyond his bitterness, to conclude, “…it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all your works.” God invites our questions because when made to him, they are expressions of faith, uncertain, short-sighted and imperfect as they are.

Our Tears are never Wasted on the Father – Solomon writes, “Sorrow is better than laughter, for by the sadness of the countenance [face], the heart is made better.” (Ecclesiastes 7:3) Those unaffected by the events others have suffered sometimes offer insensitive platitudes rather than the solace of one’s presence, but God is a Father who hears the cries of his people. He is not indifferent to our pain, nor is he uninvolved. The same Jesus who wept at the graveside of his friend Lazarus, is present in our pain and tears.

Within days Floridians, like Texans, will return to their homes. To varying degrees they will discover the fate that awaits them. Some will be devastated, and others relieved. Tears will be shed. The physics of their lives will be altered.

But other things will happen too. People will come together. Priorities will be reestablished. ‘Stuff’ will be grieved over and then let go. Survivors will embrace. Relief teams will descend. Communities will be rebuilt. Stories will be told. Lives will be changed.

And God will be glorified.

What good news.

grace & peace.

Of Advent, Christmas Trees & Rocky

December 5, 2015 § 2 Comments

Trees“The Advent tension is a way of learning again that God is God: that between even our deepest and holiest longing and the reality of God is a gap which only grace can cross; otherwise we are alone again, incommunicado, our signals and symbols bounced back to us off the glassy walls of the universe.”

Rowan Williams, A Ray of Darkness

The other night Katherine and I saw Creed, the latest installment of the forty-year Rocky series. Without spoiling the story, it turned out to be arguably one of the top three of the series (but it would take a huge for-Rocky-fans-only conversation to explain). As we watched, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion throughout, and it dawned on me that it was because Rocky (played by Sylvester Stallone) is getting old, and he has been part of my entire adult life. Don’t laugh. In 1976 four of us were on a double date. We ate at a local favorite called LUMS on US-1 in Miami. LUMS was where I had my first beer with high school friend, Chris, after turning 18 (I can’t speak for Chris). On this night we planned on seeing King Kong, but dinner took too long and we ended up going to an unknown film (Rocky). And thus began the shared journey with this very down-to-earth boxer – until last night.

Okay the Christmas Tree thing. Two weeks ago I posted a pic of this year’s
tree. Another lifelong friend, Cookie, posted a comment that it was the same as last year. I was puzzled until I looked, and amazingly she was right! We basically decorated the tree exactly as we had a year ago.

And then there is Advent. Advent is about arrival, and it is accompanied by waiting and longing. We celebrate that Jesus has come, while longing for Him to return. Because the world isn’t right – all one has to do is read the headlines. The world is in torment and the fall is reflected in every violent, tragic and broken expression. So while we celebrate that Jesus has inaugurated God’s Kingdom by coming and has conquered the curse of the fall with His death, resurrection and ascension, we also anticipate that one day all Creation will be healed and heaven and earth be one.

Which leads to putting the three together…

In some sense, Advent too is always the same thing. Just as with our tree, each Christmas season is adorned with the same longing and decorated with the same songs of hope. It is supposed to be this way. As our storylines unfold the big story remains the same – and we need this. I need this. I need something that I can look to and find that it has not changed or the deep, unchanging consistency of God in my life – we all do.

So back to Rocky. You have to know that in the story he is old. Some say Rockythat Stallone should get an Academy Award for his performance (I’ve been screaming this for 40 years!). In nuanced ways, Creed, though a very unique movie, is beautifully and hauntingly similar to the first Rocky movie. And I think this is why I was emotional. Rocky got old. But the story didn’t.

So in a few weeks the ornaments will come down and get packed away until next year, one day after Thanksgiving when they are unpacked and put on a fresh tree for the new season.

It will be beautiful.

All over again.

And the story we have been invited into, though accented with fresh twists and turns, will still be about Jesus, who came and who is coming.

And this is good news, friends…

peace.

PS Friends, check out the Chapelgate website for a daily Advent Blog: https://cpcadvent.wordpress.com

the Beautiful Priesthood

July 11, 2015 § 1 Comment

Cirque d Soleil“My father was a priest in our butcher shop, and I was with him, doing priestly work. Our butcher shop was a place of blessing.”

Eugene H. Peterson, Leap Over a Wall

Katherine and I were blown away by an unexpected gift from a college friend who sent us front row tickets to a Cirque du Soleil performance of Verekai in Baltimore this past week. The athleticism, strength, beauty and choreography were stunning. The music was mesmerizing and the set and costumes were beautiful. This particular production follows two people from birth to marriage, and ends with the wedding, replete with triumphant music, spectacular gymnastics and the falling of rose petals.

It was breathtaking.

I was reminded of Frederick Buechner’s description (in his book The Longing for Home of a visit to Sea World in Orlando, and a confluence of nature, beasts and mankind, leaving Buechner (whose birthday is today) with a glimpse of what God had always intended.

And this took me to Eugene Peterson’s description of his dad, a local butcher, whom he came to see as more than a guy who cut meat, but in this capacity, also a priest to their community.

In Christian circles we speak of ‘the priesthood of believers,’ which is another way of saying that every Christ-follower is called to be to the world and one another what Jesus has been to us, a healing presence that sacrificially loves and serves for the sake of others, out of a vision of flourishing that will one day accompany the new heavens and new earth.

John the disciple takes this further by saying that we are “a kingdom of priests to his [speaking of Jesus] God and Father…”

When you put it all together (because it is all intended to be so) we find that our vocations, along with our natural surroundings and abilities are all woven into a larger mosaic of beauty that not only displays hope before a broken world, but one that also reaches the Father who is every bit as invested (and more) as we are in the promise of new things.

Friends, as stunning as Cirque du Soleil was, this is even more so…

peace.

Broken Tiles

June 6, 2015 § Leave a comment

Mural
“…there is something beautiful and concrete and well-proportioned about tending that size of a garden.David Brooks, The Small, Happy Life

Yesterday a mural mosaic was dedicated in a barely-conspicuous outdoor neighborhood service. The mural is visible to all who walk by the New Song Academy. It was constructed by the children of the Academy, under the guidance of a group called, Art with a Heart, a group that works in the City of Baltimore and teaches vulnerable children and adults through creativity. What makes the mosaic special is that the Academy resides in Sandtown, the neighborhood that was the flashpoint for the Baltimore riots in April. I have written about it here.

In a NYT OP-ED piece, David Brooks reported surprise at how many people responded to a survey, with the desire for what he termed, ‘the small, happy life,’ as opposed to what might seem to be more ambitious pursuits.

When I was in sixth grade, our teacher, Mrs. Hill, became weary with a group of us troublemakers. We happened to live in an area that was booming in development, and so she decided to take us around the community collecting tile for the purpose of making a mosaic for our elementary school, which we did. Over a period of months we stayed after school as she brilliantly channeled our energy into creativity. Eventually the completed project was erected at Coral Reef Elementary, like the one at New Song Academy.

One day, in response to His disciples’ request to increase their faith (because they were thinking big!), Jesus replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you” (Luke 17:6). Contrary to the claims of train wreck preachers who promise the moon and deliver disappointment, Jesus was simply saying, ‘Start small, because that is where we are.’ Put another way, ‘Start where you are, and offer what you have rather than what you don’t have.’

A cursory study of history will bear this out, whether with those who harbored Jews during the Holocaust, or others who have accomplished amazing feats of bravery, rescue, influence and impact. And there is always that ‘small step’ and ‘giant leap’ for mankind. Never do you hear braggadocio. Time and again we are introduced to humble people who merely did what they could in the moment. In the moment, the small was enormous.

Way back in 1960-something I learned that a mosaic is nothing more than a well-orchestrated outlay of broken tiles. It doesn’t take much for those seemingly worthless, jagged and often-dirty shards to become something wildly beautiful – like a scene from the coral reef, or a vision of a healed city. Every piece matters, and no tile is too damaged, in the same way that one simple mosaic on one part of one wall on one building in one neighborhood in a broken community can be that tiny piece that offers hope for something lovelier.

And it is for this reason that in Jesus God became small. Because we are small. Yet because we are adored by the Father, we are not insignificant.

What good news…

peace.

Let’s Stop and Remember

May 23, 2015 § Leave a comment

Arlington“At the heart of the cross is Christ’s stance of not letting the other remain an enemy and of creating space in himself for the offender to come in.”

Miroslav Volf, Exclusion & Embrace

It is Memorial Day weekend. As a Christ-follower it is not uncommon for me to find myself involved in a conversation over the merits and sadnesses of war. No one I know would argue that every war the US has been involved in was what the Church father Augustine would call ‘just.’ But this weekend is not about that. It is to remember that many made the ‘ultimate sacrifice’ for their country in giving their lives.

Through years and generations our Nation has found itself embroiled in warfare, whether in world wars, regional conflicts, or even a Civil War. Everyone knows the sick, heartbreaking feeling of watching flag-draped caskets unloaded from transport planes. A simple history lesson of Gettysburg is enough to elicit the deepest of emotions over lives lost. Sacrifice is nobel, but death is brutal.

Each time a friend’s child or spouse goes overseas to fight, we hold our collective breath for fear that the worst news will one day find its way home to their families. I hate that. WreathsWe all do.

But this weekend, let’s put the debate aside. Let’s thank God for those who gave ‘their last full measure of devotion.’ Let’s honor their sacrifices and long together for the day when all wars will end.

Let’s not get lost in political madness and philosophical diversions. Let’s not argue the merits of war versus pacifism. Let’s not be ‘Hawks’ or ‘Doves,’ Liberals or Conservatives. Let’s just stop and acknowledge that many have died. To their parents, their siblings and their children, loss is loss.

If you have ever visited the Viet Nam wall, then you know that one can hardly do so without discovering elderly parents or aging spouses and children – in tears – revisiting their grief and loss over the sacrifice of their loved ones.

MonumentSo let’s reflect on the fact our daughters and sons have given themselves for others, and let’s acknowledge that we are the beneficiaries of their sacrifices, and be thankful.

Together let’s believe that it wasn’t political posturing, or bloodlust that drew these precious individuals, but the sincere belief that even if they died, their sacrifice would have counted for something towards a more peaceful world.

And in remembering what has been given by men and women through the years in war and conflict, here in this broken, and often war-torn world, let’s consider Jesus, who ensures that one day all wars will cease, and because in Him, our war with the Father has been settled.

In His Sacrifice…

This is our good news.

Happy Memorial Day.

peace.

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Finding Our Way

May 16, 2015 § Leave a comment

Staffs “Terrors and plagues are not an answer…”

C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

As you know, we have been immersed in the aftermath of the events surrounding the death of Freddie Gray in Baltimore. Perhaps the most challenging thing for us has been to ignore the voices from ‘outside.’ This is not offered in disrespect, but to say that whenever a crisis comes to a city, such as the one we have experienced, politicians and media outlets alike descend to make the most of it for their own purposes.

For example, there have been five murders in the same area since Freddie Gray died a few weeks ago, but no one has heard this. Why? Because it isn’t the kind of news that sells air time.

Don’t get me wrong. My intention is not to vilify or sow seeds of bitterness. It is to say that regardless of the crisis, and whether or not they are citywide or deeply individual, solutions never come from the outside. They are always far more personal, the deep ‘insider’ work of God’s Spirit.

Earlier our Staff spent the day with the Staff at the New Song church in Sandtown (the Sandtown/Winchester neighborhood was the flashpoint for much of the riots). It was one of the more delightful and hopeful meetings I have ever enjoyed, and it promises to forge a bond of deep love and friendship. The week before, a couple of us met downtown with some of the New Song Staff, along with Freddie Gray’s cousin and some locals. In each case we laid aside our assumptions and simply listened, only to find that we are all the same – people who carry their sorrows, struggles and fears, all trying to figure out life and faith in our contexts.

We also acknowledged that programs, violence and projects are not the answer, but that love and ‘kinship’ (as one young man termed it), are.

The gospel is eminently human as it is divine, each captured in the incarnation, life and rule of Jesus. Doesn’t it amaze you that God didn’t save us by some edict, but instead by sending His Son to become one of us? It does me! The last thing I want is for God to walk in on my ugly humanness, but this is exactly what He has done – and it is our only hope.

Whenever I find myself looking for a silver bullet to cure my problems, struggles and messes, it is because I want an easy way out, some symbolic ‘fix’ that only exacerbates my pain, and drives me more deeply into sin.

For the unfinished, healing and peace never come apart from face-to-face encounters with Jesus. The Father will never allow His people to approach Him religiously. It will always be in the unedited reality of our brokenness, because this is who we are.

And this is who the Father loves.

Friends, what good news…

peace.

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