And they cast lots to divide his clothing. The people stood by, watching Jesus on the cross; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!"
Jesus was used to that mocking question, “If you are…” In his time of testing in the desert, the three big temptations were prefaced with, “If you are the Son of God…” During his earthly ministry, Jesus was a king in disguise, like royals in fairy tales who wander their realm as commoners to find out what’s really going on. And he had a really good cover, “plain old human.” All through his public life, people questioned his heavenly identity because of his earthly markers – how could someone who came from Galilee be the Messiah? How could someone whose family we know be the Holy One?
And here, on the cross, stripped of his humanity, even his clothing, Jesus looks nothing like the Anointed One. The onlookers mock him; his own followers ache for him to show himself at last, for his sake, and for theirs. "It’s time for the phone booth, Clark – we know you’re Superman. Show yourself!” And Jesus does nothing. Nothing, that is, but forgive his executioners, pray to his heavenly Father, extend salvation to a thief dying with him. Nothing much.
A few weeks ago, I discussed Martin Luther’s notion of the Glorious Exchange, in which Christ takes on our threadbare beggar’s rags and gives us his royal robes to wear. Here is that moment. As his persecutors cast lots for his cloak, Jesus puts on our raggedness, our self-centeredness, our capacity for cruelty, and allows it to die with him.
But no one can tell that’s what’s going on. Paul wrote, “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation…” The problem is, even as image he is invisible. He just looks like a poor sap who shot for more than he could pull off and is paying the ultimate price.
Are there times when you’ve joined that chorus? “Come on, Jesus, I’m believing in your almighty power to transform all things, to make us all whole. Now would be a great time to show yourself…” I’ve prayed that more than once. In fact, that prayer probably haunts a lot of our doubt and despair. And even so, we are invited to persist in praying, in believing, in claiming, in rejoicing.
So think of a really challenging situation you are faced with right now. Invite Jesus to show up in it and reveal power and life. Is it more impossible than what Jesus did on the cross? Sure, it looked like death had won. Took a few days to find out something deeper had happened.
It might take more than three days for us to see what God is up to in our prayers. And some things we will never understand in this life. That doesn’t mean Superman is gone or defeated. It’s just that, for some strange reason, God has chosen to make us the phone booths in which Clark becomes Superman. So, give the man some space.
Showing posts with label Luther. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luther. Show all posts
10-24-13 - Justified
“I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other…”
That's how Jesus ends his story. What does he mean by “justified?” What does it mean that the more “sinful” tax collector is justified and the self-righteous Pharisee is not?
Justification is a key term for understanding what it means to be saved by God’s grace. Justification has to do with being “set right.” We can get a clue from how we format our documents – left, right- or center-justified. We often use the word as a defense – “Well, I was justified in saying that…” The law even has a category called “justifiable homicide.”
As a theological term, though, it goes even deeper– it means to be made righteous, aligned. It is not something we can do for ourselves – it is God’s work. And it is Christ’s righteousness that is conferred upon us, not our own. That’s why the “sinful” man was justified – in his humility he was able to receive, where the contemptuous "righteous" man could not.
Martin Luther had a wonderful image for this – he called it the “The Glorious Exchange,” in which Christ, the King and Lord of all, left his glory and took on our beggars’ clothes, our sin and self-orientation. But in this Exchange Christ does more than take on our lowly status – he gives us his. He takes our rags and dresses us instead in his royal robes of silk and velvet, his perfect righteousness. We get clothed in his holiness; it covers us, redefines us. That’s how God sees us, through Christ, as already holy.
How does it feel to put on a royal robe – or the finest clothing you can think of? Imagine it, in prayer.
How might you walk differently today, knowing you are secretly royalty? How might you talk differently?
What do you pray about, knowing you have handed off everything that mars your inner beauty and received a cosmic make-over? What would it take to believe we have received such a gift?
We are not recipients of a hand-out, but beloved children of God, reclaimed and redeemed at great cost. God didn’t send a check for us – He sent a Son, whom we know as Jesus the Christ; who came so that we might know Life. As we receive the gift, we get to be Christ, his Body, his hands and feet and eyes and voice bearing light to a world that needs it.
We can’t earn this gift, or repay it – we can only receive it. Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, theologian and Sufi mystic, wrote: “God accepts counterfeit money.”
And God exchanges it for gold: You. Me. Infinitely precious, forever justified.
That's how Jesus ends his story. What does he mean by “justified?” What does it mean that the more “sinful” tax collector is justified and the self-righteous Pharisee is not?
Justification is a key term for understanding what it means to be saved by God’s grace. Justification has to do with being “set right.” We can get a clue from how we format our documents – left, right- or center-justified. We often use the word as a defense – “Well, I was justified in saying that…” The law even has a category called “justifiable homicide.”
As a theological term, though, it goes even deeper– it means to be made righteous, aligned. It is not something we can do for ourselves – it is God’s work. And it is Christ’s righteousness that is conferred upon us, not our own. That’s why the “sinful” man was justified – in his humility he was able to receive, where the contemptuous "righteous" man could not.
Martin Luther had a wonderful image for this – he called it the “The Glorious Exchange,” in which Christ, the King and Lord of all, left his glory and took on our beggars’ clothes, our sin and self-orientation. But in this Exchange Christ does more than take on our lowly status – he gives us his. He takes our rags and dresses us instead in his royal robes of silk and velvet, his perfect righteousness. We get clothed in his holiness; it covers us, redefines us. That’s how God sees us, through Christ, as already holy.
How does it feel to put on a royal robe – or the finest clothing you can think of? Imagine it, in prayer.
How might you walk differently today, knowing you are secretly royalty? How might you talk differently?
What do you pray about, knowing you have handed off everything that mars your inner beauty and received a cosmic make-over? What would it take to believe we have received such a gift?
We are not recipients of a hand-out, but beloved children of God, reclaimed and redeemed at great cost. God didn’t send a check for us – He sent a Son, whom we know as Jesus the Christ; who came so that we might know Life. As we receive the gift, we get to be Christ, his Body, his hands and feet and eyes and voice bearing light to a world that needs it.
We can’t earn this gift, or repay it – we can only receive it. Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, theologian and Sufi mystic, wrote: “God accepts counterfeit money.”
And God exchanges it for gold: You. Me. Infinitely precious, forever justified.
10-23-13 - Sin and Self-Esteem
“God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” This is what the tax-collector in Jesus’ parable prays. It forms the heart of what has become known as the Jesus Prayer, practiced by hesychasts striving to pray without ceasing. (Should I make you look it up? Naah – I’ll tell you: hesychasm is the “prayer of the heart,” a spiritual discipline that seeks to make prayer constant, internalized on the breath and beneath daily activity. It is what Franny was attempting in J.D. Salinger’s classic Franny and Zooey, a favorite of mine.)
The fuller Jesus Prayer is “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a [miserable] sinner.” It is short and clearly evokes the differential between us and Christ. To our ears, though, it can smack of low self-esteem and guilt and shame and all those icky feelings that have made Christianity so unappealing to so many. What happened to “You are so precious?” Is Jesus really commending self-degradation?
I think Jesus commends self-appraisal. This is a prayer from the gut at a moment of self-realization. It represents one stage of repentance, well-described by another theological term: compunction. Compunction is so often accompanied by its buddy, “dread,” that I think of them in tandem, a sort of cabaret act of the soul – “And now, let’s welcome to our spotlight, ‘Compunction and Dread!’”
Compunction is that sick feeling in our gut when we realize we’ve hurt someone, or something we’ve done or said has been exposed, or we feel inwardly convicted. It is not fun – which is why dread comes swimming up close behind it, bringing the fear of consequences to the surface. At such moments we are most keenly aware of our need for mercy.
That’s the heart of repentance, or – look out, here comes another theological term – “metanoia, ” literally, turning. We turn from patterns and behaviors and thinking that lead to pain and separation from God, ourselves, and others. We turn toward the source of mercy, grace and truth. In some ancient baptismal liturgies, the candidates actually faced west while renouncing their past and turned toward the east in affirming Christ as Lord, to embody this turning toward the light.
Repentance does not mean labeling ourselves unworthy or usurping God’s role as judge. It is truth-telling, house-cleaning, pointing out places of pain or self-reliance, inviting the Holy Physician to heal what is diseased in our spirits. Because we are able to call ourselves sinners, we can also call ourselves beloved, saints of God. There’s another great nightclub duo, “Sinners and Saints.” Simul justus et peccator, Luther said, “At once justified (or, righteous) and sinner.”
In prayer today, ask the Spirit to show you where you feel shameful, guilty or scared. Sometimes these are irrational, not tied to any real areas of sin in us; sometimes they’re legit and we need to own them. There is something bracing and energizing about facing ourselves and inviting God into the shadow places. If that sense of compunction comes up – ask God to lift it, to fill you with love and grace.
“Sinner” is not the last word on who we are. It’s just a step along the way to transparency.
God has the last word, and it is “beloved.”
The fuller Jesus Prayer is “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a [miserable] sinner.” It is short and clearly evokes the differential between us and Christ. To our ears, though, it can smack of low self-esteem and guilt and shame and all those icky feelings that have made Christianity so unappealing to so many. What happened to “You are so precious?” Is Jesus really commending self-degradation?
I think Jesus commends self-appraisal. This is a prayer from the gut at a moment of self-realization. It represents one stage of repentance, well-described by another theological term: compunction. Compunction is so often accompanied by its buddy, “dread,” that I think of them in tandem, a sort of cabaret act of the soul – “And now, let’s welcome to our spotlight, ‘Compunction and Dread!’”
Compunction is that sick feeling in our gut when we realize we’ve hurt someone, or something we’ve done or said has been exposed, or we feel inwardly convicted. It is not fun – which is why dread comes swimming up close behind it, bringing the fear of consequences to the surface. At such moments we are most keenly aware of our need for mercy.
That’s the heart of repentance, or – look out, here comes another theological term – “metanoia, ” literally, turning. We turn from patterns and behaviors and thinking that lead to pain and separation from God, ourselves, and others. We turn toward the source of mercy, grace and truth. In some ancient baptismal liturgies, the candidates actually faced west while renouncing their past and turned toward the east in affirming Christ as Lord, to embody this turning toward the light.
Repentance does not mean labeling ourselves unworthy or usurping God’s role as judge. It is truth-telling, house-cleaning, pointing out places of pain or self-reliance, inviting the Holy Physician to heal what is diseased in our spirits. Because we are able to call ourselves sinners, we can also call ourselves beloved, saints of God. There’s another great nightclub duo, “Sinners and Saints.” Simul justus et peccator, Luther said, “At once justified (or, righteous) and sinner.”
In prayer today, ask the Spirit to show you where you feel shameful, guilty or scared. Sometimes these are irrational, not tied to any real areas of sin in us; sometimes they’re legit and we need to own them. There is something bracing and energizing about facing ourselves and inviting God into the shadow places. If that sense of compunction comes up – ask God to lift it, to fill you with love and grace.
“Sinner” is not the last word on who we are. It’s just a step along the way to transparency.
God has the last word, and it is “beloved.”
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