I lean toward the “grace and love” aspects of God as revealed in Scripture and in the way Jesus talked about God’s Realm. Give me eight “parables of the prodigal” for any one “judgment is coming” passage. Yet, as much as Jesus described the Kingdom as a place of unexpected mercy and reordered rankings, he did not shy away from the judgment to come. So he ends this teaching about taking up your cross with the reminder that there will be a reckoning:
“For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done."
That "repay everyone for what has been done” bit sounds ominous to me. I tend to assume, mostly for neurotic reasons, that the Judgment will go badly for me. Maybe you share that instinct; it is what I call “original shame.” It drives “Santa Claus” theology – “He’s makin’ a list, checkin’ it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty or nice…”
Only it’s not Santa who’s coming to town, but the Son of Man with his angels in the glory of his Father. Who of us can stand before such a entourage? Saint Paul didn’t think he could. “Wretched man that I am,” he wrote in Romans, “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” And then he answered his own question: “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
The great, audacious claim of Christianity is that the One who comes to judge is the same One who has delivered us from the power of sin and shame. United with Christ, we need fear no reckoning. As Paul goes on to say, “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Wow. No condemnation.
And as we breathe that in, and allow this union with Christ to be realized in us, we find ourselves making God-ward choices, moving with the power and love of the Holy Spirit. And then we start to be able to see where Christ is in the world around us.
Our passage ends on a cryptic note. Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” No one quite knows what that means – the next event in Matthew’s Gospel is the Transfiguration, where Peter, James and John see Jesus in his divine glory for a moment. Is that what he meant? Or did he mean the spiritual vision that allows us to see the Son of Man coming all the time?
How does that sentence, “He will repay everyone for what has been done” sit with you?
Do you assume blessing? Then you are already blessed.
Do you assume condemnation or trial? Then spend some time today with Paul’s promise of grace and love, let it work in.
And let’s pray to be so filled with the Holy Spirit that we have the spiritual vision to see what the world does not: the Son of Man coming in his glorious reign, once upon a time, for all time - and right now.
8-28-14 - Life-Savers
“For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”
The first image that the word “Life-Saver” brings to mind is that little round candy you suck on as it releases its flavor. It’s there until it’s gone. Of course, those candies were so named because they resemble life-savers, the large, inflated rings affixed to the sides of ships, meant to keep you buoyant should you find yourself in the water. Their saving utility is limited by the circumstances in which they are employed – they might save you from drowning in the short-term, but not from, say, sharks, storms or starvation. A more complete rescue is still needed.
Uh oh, I am straying into the Meadow of Metaphors here! But follow me – they just might lead us to some insight.
On the face of it, Jesus’ remark that those who want to save their life will lose it, and vice versa, seems all scrambled up. If we try to save our life, don’t we usually succeed? How could the very effort to do that guarantee defeat? It depends, I suppose, on what we call life.
If we consider “life” to be mere existence, Jesus’ words seem nonsensical. If we see life in a larger sense as the sum of our interactions in time and space, our bodies, minds and spirits, in relationship and in giftedness – then Jesus’ counter-intuitive words begin to harmonize. If we put our energy into preserving our existence, we might find ourselves, like those little candies, losing flavor and shape. Oh, sure, we might be alive, but are we living? A fixation on life-preservation, on security, might deliver us from the waves, but not from the more serious spiritual adversities that challenge us. As Jesus went on to say, “For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?”
When Jesus asks us to “lose our life for his sake,” I think he is inviting us to let go of the things we cling to, what my friend Linda used to call our “self-saving strategies” that we think will save us or get us affirmation. If we cling to things that are passing away, we’re not very secure anyway, are we? If you're at risk of drowning, struggling to stay alive only imperils you further. Calming down is key to surviving. When we invite Jesus to lead us into the Life He came to proclaim and demonstrate, we will find the Life he promises.
What do you grab onto when you feel threatened? Do you feel a pull to let go of something you’ve relied upon, that holds you back from giving yourself more fully to God? You might ask the Holy Spirit to show you what, and how.
Jesus kept circling back to this “dying to self” thing because he needed his followers free to be led by the Spirit. Our invitation is to stop trying to gain the whole world and open ourselves to the One who made it. After all, we live in a church system that symbolically drowns its initiates at the beginning of their life in Christ. Ultimately, the life-saver we need is the One who walked on water and is always here to give us a hand up.
The first image that the word “Life-Saver” brings to mind is that little round candy you suck on as it releases its flavor. It’s there until it’s gone. Of course, those candies were so named because they resemble life-savers, the large, inflated rings affixed to the sides of ships, meant to keep you buoyant should you find yourself in the water. Their saving utility is limited by the circumstances in which they are employed – they might save you from drowning in the short-term, but not from, say, sharks, storms or starvation. A more complete rescue is still needed.
Uh oh, I am straying into the Meadow of Metaphors here! But follow me – they just might lead us to some insight.
On the face of it, Jesus’ remark that those who want to save their life will lose it, and vice versa, seems all scrambled up. If we try to save our life, don’t we usually succeed? How could the very effort to do that guarantee defeat? It depends, I suppose, on what we call life.
If we consider “life” to be mere existence, Jesus’ words seem nonsensical. If we see life in a larger sense as the sum of our interactions in time and space, our bodies, minds and spirits, in relationship and in giftedness – then Jesus’ counter-intuitive words begin to harmonize. If we put our energy into preserving our existence, we might find ourselves, like those little candies, losing flavor and shape. Oh, sure, we might be alive, but are we living? A fixation on life-preservation, on security, might deliver us from the waves, but not from the more serious spiritual adversities that challenge us. As Jesus went on to say, “For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?”
When Jesus asks us to “lose our life for his sake,” I think he is inviting us to let go of the things we cling to, what my friend Linda used to call our “self-saving strategies” that we think will save us or get us affirmation. If we cling to things that are passing away, we’re not very secure anyway, are we? If you're at risk of drowning, struggling to stay alive only imperils you further. Calming down is key to surviving. When we invite Jesus to lead us into the Life He came to proclaim and demonstrate, we will find the Life he promises.
What do you grab onto when you feel threatened? Do you feel a pull to let go of something you’ve relied upon, that holds you back from giving yourself more fully to God? You might ask the Holy Spirit to show you what, and how.
Jesus kept circling back to this “dying to self” thing because he needed his followers free to be led by the Spirit. Our invitation is to stop trying to gain the whole world and open ourselves to the One who made it. After all, we live in a church system that symbolically drowns its initiates at the beginning of their life in Christ. Ultimately, the life-saver we need is the One who walked on water and is always here to give us a hand up.
8-27-14 - That Cross Again
The culture most of us live in is not high on self-denial, unless it’s in the service of health or beauty. Once upon a time in America, self-sacrifice and sharing one’s resources for the common good were high values.These days generosity is often sporadic, a reaction to emergency situations, and based on our perception of whether we have enough to share. (Witness the protests against helping young immigrants fleeing indescribable violence and poverty….)
The values of “Do we have enough?” are a stark contrast to Jesus’ core teachings – and one of his most hardcore teachings was this: “Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’”
Did Jesus meant “cross” in a general, “whatever-your-calling-from-God-is” way? Or did he mean a specific willingness to endure martyrdom? For him, the cross was a literal eventuality, but not for every follower. Since I hope never to be in a position of having to choose my faith in Jesus over my physical life, I look at this teaching more figuratively. Our “cross” might be anything that represents the way we are called to participate in the mission of God to make all things whole. It may or may not involve suffering; most often it will include inconvenience and even discomfort.
Maybe before we contend with the call to self-denial and taking up of crosses, we should look at the first part of Jesus’ sentence: “If any want to become my followers.”
Why would anyone today who did not know about Jesus want to follow him?
Do we consider ourselves his followers? Do we want to be? Why? Where is he going that we want to be? Or is hanging out with him reason enough for following the One who said he was the “way.”
So I have to ask myself, “Why am I a follower of Christ?” Partly, it’s habit and custom and a lifetime of choices. But why today? I guess I’d have to say it’s because I believe he is Life and Truth as well as Way. Because following him gives meaning to what might otherwise appear a meandering path through life. Because I believe his power to heal is still real and still with us. And because he says he loves me. I don’t know what that means, fully, but I know I want to find out.
How do you answer that question? Why are you a follower of Christ? Or if you’re not, do you want to be? However you answer those questions, you can talk to Jesus about it. If that feels impossible, talk to a person whose spiritual life you trust. (You’re welcome to talk to me…)
I believe that, when we decide that we want to be Christ’s followers, we’re more ready to lay down our privileges and prerogatives and take up our crosses. And, as we allow ourselves to be transformed in that relationship, we may also discover a stronger desire to introduce others to this way of Jesus, cross, self-denial and all.
The values of “Do we have enough?” are a stark contrast to Jesus’ core teachings – and one of his most hardcore teachings was this: “Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’”
Did Jesus meant “cross” in a general, “whatever-your-calling-from-God-is” way? Or did he mean a specific willingness to endure martyrdom? For him, the cross was a literal eventuality, but not for every follower. Since I hope never to be in a position of having to choose my faith in Jesus over my physical life, I look at this teaching more figuratively. Our “cross” might be anything that represents the way we are called to participate in the mission of God to make all things whole. It may or may not involve suffering; most often it will include inconvenience and even discomfort.
Maybe before we contend with the call to self-denial and taking up of crosses, we should look at the first part of Jesus’ sentence: “If any want to become my followers.”
Why would anyone today who did not know about Jesus want to follow him?
Do we consider ourselves his followers? Do we want to be? Why? Where is he going that we want to be? Or is hanging out with him reason enough for following the One who said he was the “way.”
So I have to ask myself, “Why am I a follower of Christ?” Partly, it’s habit and custom and a lifetime of choices. But why today? I guess I’d have to say it’s because I believe he is Life and Truth as well as Way. Because following him gives meaning to what might otherwise appear a meandering path through life. Because I believe his power to heal is still real and still with us. And because he says he loves me. I don’t know what that means, fully, but I know I want to find out.
How do you answer that question? Why are you a follower of Christ? Or if you’re not, do you want to be? However you answer those questions, you can talk to Jesus about it. If that feels impossible, talk to a person whose spiritual life you trust. (You’re welcome to talk to me…)
I believe that, when we decide that we want to be Christ’s followers, we’re more ready to lay down our privileges and prerogatives and take up our crosses. And, as we allow ourselves to be transformed in that relationship, we may also discover a stronger desire to introduce others to this way of Jesus, cross, self-denial and all.
8-26-14 - Safety Second
Teacher’s pet one minute, Satan’s mouthpiece the next?
“And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’ But he turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’
Peter probably thought, “What just happened here? What did I say? Look, Master, I left my family and my business to follow you. I jumped out of a boat and walked on water for you. I’ve recognized the truth about who you are – one minute I'm your Rock and the next I’m your stumbling block? How can you call me Satan? I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. This is me, Peter. Why are you being so harsh?”
How could Jesus be so harsh to such a devoted and beloved disciple and friend? For one thing, that’s how close a relationship he had with Peter – he didn’t have to be polite. And he really wanted his followers to find a new, more God-like way of thinking. “For my ways are not your ways, nor my thoughts your thoughts, says the Lord,” we hear from Isaiah, and from Jesus, “You do not have in mind the things of God but the things of men.”
Maybe Jesus this speaks fiercely because that’s how important it is that Peter get this right. If Peter is the “rock” on which Jesus hopes to build his community of Kingdom believers, then Peter of all people has to understand. He has to stop thinking in the world’s terms and start thinking in Kingdom terms. And in Kingdom terms, safety does not come first – faithfulness does.
I am very wired toward safety and security. Sometimes I wonder if and how that compromises my faithfulness to God’s call. Does it keep me from discerning God’s invitations? There’s nothing wrong with safety – God does not ask us to take risks for the heck of it. Sometimes, though, God wants to work through us in circumstances that are less than safe - after all, much of our world is less than safe.
When we know it’s God’s call, we might step into some risk, and that is a matter of discernment and of testing the call with others. The medical mission which Tom Furrer and his group just carried out in northern Nigeria (see Water Daily, 8-12-14) meant going to a part of the world with high levels of Muslim-Christian violence. But they felt God calling them to go, to be a witness to love; they surrounded themselves with prayer; and they went. They came back in one piece.
That doesn’t always happen. The mission to which Jesus was called was not going to be compatible with staying out of harm. We can see from the nightly news, watching religious persecution on the rise around the world, that such tests still come. Today in prayer we might ask the Spirit if she is inviting us to participate in her transforming work in some way that involves risk. Risk doesn’t have to mean bodily harm – it might mean risking relationships or financial security, or working with difficult people or in areas that aren’t so safe. Where are you being nudged to open yourself to God’s Spirit in ministry? How does that feel? Talk to Jesus about it.
In the end, our criterion should not be, “Will I be safe,” but “Is this God’s work that I’m being invited to participate in?” If it is, and we are, then we walk in faith, trusting in the God we cannot see, trusting in the future we have staked our lives on. God’s thoughts… how can we go wrong with those?
“And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’ But he turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’
Peter probably thought, “What just happened here? What did I say? Look, Master, I left my family and my business to follow you. I jumped out of a boat and walked on water for you. I’ve recognized the truth about who you are – one minute I'm your Rock and the next I’m your stumbling block? How can you call me Satan? I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. This is me, Peter. Why are you being so harsh?”
How could Jesus be so harsh to such a devoted and beloved disciple and friend? For one thing, that’s how close a relationship he had with Peter – he didn’t have to be polite. And he really wanted his followers to find a new, more God-like way of thinking. “For my ways are not your ways, nor my thoughts your thoughts, says the Lord,” we hear from Isaiah, and from Jesus, “You do not have in mind the things of God but the things of men.”
Maybe Jesus this speaks fiercely because that’s how important it is that Peter get this right. If Peter is the “rock” on which Jesus hopes to build his community of Kingdom believers, then Peter of all people has to understand. He has to stop thinking in the world’s terms and start thinking in Kingdom terms. And in Kingdom terms, safety does not come first – faithfulness does.
I am very wired toward safety and security. Sometimes I wonder if and how that compromises my faithfulness to God’s call. Does it keep me from discerning God’s invitations? There’s nothing wrong with safety – God does not ask us to take risks for the heck of it. Sometimes, though, God wants to work through us in circumstances that are less than safe - after all, much of our world is less than safe.
When we know it’s God’s call, we might step into some risk, and that is a matter of discernment and of testing the call with others. The medical mission which Tom Furrer and his group just carried out in northern Nigeria (see Water Daily, 8-12-14) meant going to a part of the world with high levels of Muslim-Christian violence. But they felt God calling them to go, to be a witness to love; they surrounded themselves with prayer; and they went. They came back in one piece.
That doesn’t always happen. The mission to which Jesus was called was not going to be compatible with staying out of harm. We can see from the nightly news, watching religious persecution on the rise around the world, that such tests still come. Today in prayer we might ask the Spirit if she is inviting us to participate in her transforming work in some way that involves risk. Risk doesn’t have to mean bodily harm – it might mean risking relationships or financial security, or working with difficult people or in areas that aren’t so safe. Where are you being nudged to open yourself to God’s Spirit in ministry? How does that feel? Talk to Jesus about it.
In the end, our criterion should not be, “Will I be safe,” but “Is this God’s work that I’m being invited to participate in?” If it is, and we are, then we walk in faith, trusting in the God we cannot see, trusting in the future we have staked our lives on. God’s thoughts… how can we go wrong with those?
8-25-14 - Dark Words
If Jesus were walking around in our day, saying the things he’s quoted with in this week’s gospel, would someone have gotten him a prescription for Wellbutrin? Suggested he take a little time off, see somebody for that paranoid streak?
“From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”
Peter certainly thought ill of this dark turn. “And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”’
It’s hard, when things seem to be on a roll – which they did for Jesus’ disciples – to envision it all going bad. Jesus is drawing huge crowds, performing amazing miracles, and Peter has just correctly ID’d him as the long-awaited Messiah. This is no time to talk of suffering and death, is it?
As I reflect on the contrast between the conversation Jesus has just been having with his closest followers about his messianic identity, and this dark prediction of his death, my mind is drawn to the recent suicide of actor Robin Williams and the seeming disparity between his high-octane brilliance and worldly success, on the one hand, and the chronic depression and deep psychic pain he reportedly suffered, held in check but never diminished. We live in a world of contrasts and sudden reversals of fortune, and it can be hard to navigate these turns with any kind of equilibrium.
The hindsight of faith tells us that Jesus was not being neurotically morose – he was telling truth to the people to whom he was closest in this world, truth he was going to have to tell them more than once and finally live through before they actually perceived it. But those listening to him that day didn’t know that – how could they tell a mood swing from a prediction? How can we?
I don’t think we can. We are called to live in hopeful balance, no matter what the circumstances. That means using the benefit of hindsight, which invites us to trust in the God who brings Life out of death, while we look forward to the gifts of God coming to us from our future. The dire events Jesus predicted came to pass – as did the one about his resurrection. We live because of all those events. Can that perspective help us with the feelings of foreboding that world events and our own lives can generate?
Are you anxious today about painful things that might be ahead? Can you invite God into conversation about them, seeking holy perspective? Might you reflect on what happened through Jesus’ suffering and rehearse God’s faithfulness to you in your life thus far? Does that help?
Having just completed an 11-hour car journey, I am in mind of the need to keep my eyes on the road ahead while frequently checking the rear view mirror. Somehow, that's the balance we are invited to live in faith.
“From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”
Peter certainly thought ill of this dark turn. “And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”’
It’s hard, when things seem to be on a roll – which they did for Jesus’ disciples – to envision it all going bad. Jesus is drawing huge crowds, performing amazing miracles, and Peter has just correctly ID’d him as the long-awaited Messiah. This is no time to talk of suffering and death, is it?
As I reflect on the contrast between the conversation Jesus has just been having with his closest followers about his messianic identity, and this dark prediction of his death, my mind is drawn to the recent suicide of actor Robin Williams and the seeming disparity between his high-octane brilliance and worldly success, on the one hand, and the chronic depression and deep psychic pain he reportedly suffered, held in check but never diminished. We live in a world of contrasts and sudden reversals of fortune, and it can be hard to navigate these turns with any kind of equilibrium.
The hindsight of faith tells us that Jesus was not being neurotically morose – he was telling truth to the people to whom he was closest in this world, truth he was going to have to tell them more than once and finally live through before they actually perceived it. But those listening to him that day didn’t know that – how could they tell a mood swing from a prediction? How can we?
I don’t think we can. We are called to live in hopeful balance, no matter what the circumstances. That means using the benefit of hindsight, which invites us to trust in the God who brings Life out of death, while we look forward to the gifts of God coming to us from our future. The dire events Jesus predicted came to pass – as did the one about his resurrection. We live because of all those events. Can that perspective help us with the feelings of foreboding that world events and our own lives can generate?
Are you anxious today about painful things that might be ahead? Can you invite God into conversation about them, seeking holy perspective? Might you reflect on what happened through Jesus’ suffering and rehearse God’s faithfulness to you in your life thus far? Does that help?
Having just completed an 11-hour car journey, I am in mind of the need to keep my eyes on the road ahead while frequently checking the rear view mirror. Somehow, that's the balance we are invited to live in faith.
8-22-14 - Shhhh...
I don’t know about you – I hate secrets. I don’t mind knowing them… that’s always a rush, to know something everyone else does not. But that feeling is short-lived, quickly replaced by the desire that everyone be on the same page, everyone committed to the same level of transparency. In families and in communities, secrets are toxic.
And if it’s good news, I especially hate having to keep it in! Only the awareness that everyone should get to tell their own good news holds me back and keeps me mum. Unless it’s my own good news, and then I can “spill” with abandon.
So I wonder how Jesus’ disciples felt when, after Peter has stated that Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus followed up with this: “Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.”
Was he concerned that the coming clash with the religious authorities would develop too quickly if everyone began using that kind of language about him? Did he want people to work it out for themselves? Were there other reasons at which I cannot guess? No doubt.
I wonder if they were able to keep quiet. How could they? If your whole community is yearning and waiting for the Anointed One of God who will deliver them from evil, and you’ve discovered that person, you pretty much want everyone to know. It’s not only Good News, it’s news!
Most of us, on the other hand, know this too well and for far too long to think of it as news, let alone particularly good. Few of us are oppressed by others; maybe by feelings or addictions, but we do not live in occupied lands. What is it that keeps us quiet, if we are? Do we keep our faith a secret from people around us? Or do we feel too unsure about our faith to go around discussing it openly?
I don’t think Jesus wants us to keep quiet about who he is. I believe he wants us to rediscover his love and feel the amazement that God would love us so much as to send his Son into the world to show us what that love looks like. This leads us back to familiar territory – relationship with God in Christ. There’s nothing all that new or all that good about our religious life, for the most part. But we are invited into a a relationship that delivers new gifts, new promises, new hopes every morning. That’s pretty amazing.
When we truly engage that relationship with Jesus in prayer, we find ourselves talking about it, as we talk about other relationships in our lives, as we say, “You know what my friend Susie is doing this summer? You know what my co-worker Joel was saying the other day?”
If you’re connected, talk about it. If you feel disconnected, tell Jesus you’re open to a deeper connection with him. If you feel funny talking to him, go talk to someone whom you think knows him and hang out with that person. Sooner or later, the Good News will dawn for us – and then we'll never stop sharing it.
And if it’s good news, I especially hate having to keep it in! Only the awareness that everyone should get to tell their own good news holds me back and keeps me mum. Unless it’s my own good news, and then I can “spill” with abandon.
So I wonder how Jesus’ disciples felt when, after Peter has stated that Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus followed up with this: “Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.”
Was he concerned that the coming clash with the religious authorities would develop too quickly if everyone began using that kind of language about him? Did he want people to work it out for themselves? Were there other reasons at which I cannot guess? No doubt.
I wonder if they were able to keep quiet. How could they? If your whole community is yearning and waiting for the Anointed One of God who will deliver them from evil, and you’ve discovered that person, you pretty much want everyone to know. It’s not only Good News, it’s news!
Most of us, on the other hand, know this too well and for far too long to think of it as news, let alone particularly good. Few of us are oppressed by others; maybe by feelings or addictions, but we do not live in occupied lands. What is it that keeps us quiet, if we are? Do we keep our faith a secret from people around us? Or do we feel too unsure about our faith to go around discussing it openly?
I don’t think Jesus wants us to keep quiet about who he is. I believe he wants us to rediscover his love and feel the amazement that God would love us so much as to send his Son into the world to show us what that love looks like. This leads us back to familiar territory – relationship with God in Christ. There’s nothing all that new or all that good about our religious life, for the most part. But we are invited into a a relationship that delivers new gifts, new promises, new hopes every morning. That’s pretty amazing.
When we truly engage that relationship with Jesus in prayer, we find ourselves talking about it, as we talk about other relationships in our lives, as we say, “You know what my friend Susie is doing this summer? You know what my co-worker Joel was saying the other day?”
If you’re connected, talk about it. If you feel disconnected, tell Jesus you’re open to a deeper connection with him. If you feel funny talking to him, go talk to someone whom you think knows him and hang out with that person. Sooner or later, the Good News will dawn for us – and then we'll never stop sharing it.
8-21-14 - Keys to the Kingdom
Talk about pressure: “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’”
That’s what Jesus says to Simon Peter, after calling him the “rock on which I will build my church.” The keys to the Kingdom. I’ve always thought of this sort of like giving someone the honorary Key to the City. I don’t think that’s what Jesus had in mind.
Of course, we can only guess at what he did mean. This is how theologians and biblical scholars make a living, after all. But we might get a hint of what he intended when we think about what keys do. They lock things, and they open them. They make them inaccessible and accessible.
The Kingdom of God is a reality that Jesus described through image and metaphor, and demonstrated through healing, teaching, and transformative actions that look to us like miracles. It is the realm of God, the reality of God, the Life of God as it unfolds in our own plane of reality. It is power and energy and boundless grace. To be given the “keys” to this reality is to be given power to unlock, release the energy of heaven – or to withhold it. Hence, “…whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’”
We are the heirs of this gift, this promise, this frightening spiritual authority. We can keep the realm of God, with all its power and promise and peace, locked up simply by not talking about it, or not exercising the power we’ve been given. Or we can use these keys to open it to everyone who is thirsty for God.
We can keep people bound by withholding forgiveness, and loosed by exercising grace. Jesus gave us these gifts not to be locked away in a safe deposit box, but to be spent, drawn down, exhausted… only so does the store get replenished.
In prayer today, you might imagine sitting with Jesus and having him hand you a set of keys. What do they look like? What do they open? What do you want to ask him about them? What does he answer?
There are some things that need to remain bound, I suppose. And so many more that need to be released, set free. I want us to be in the “loosing” business, one lock at a time. That's what the keys to the kingdom are for.
That’s what Jesus says to Simon Peter, after calling him the “rock on which I will build my church.” The keys to the Kingdom. I’ve always thought of this sort of like giving someone the honorary Key to the City. I don’t think that’s what Jesus had in mind.
Of course, we can only guess at what he did mean. This is how theologians and biblical scholars make a living, after all. But we might get a hint of what he intended when we think about what keys do. They lock things, and they open them. They make them inaccessible and accessible.
The Kingdom of God is a reality that Jesus described through image and metaphor, and demonstrated through healing, teaching, and transformative actions that look to us like miracles. It is the realm of God, the reality of God, the Life of God as it unfolds in our own plane of reality. It is power and energy and boundless grace. To be given the “keys” to this reality is to be given power to unlock, release the energy of heaven – or to withhold it. Hence, “…whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’”
We are the heirs of this gift, this promise, this frightening spiritual authority. We can keep the realm of God, with all its power and promise and peace, locked up simply by not talking about it, or not exercising the power we’ve been given. Or we can use these keys to open it to everyone who is thirsty for God.
We can keep people bound by withholding forgiveness, and loosed by exercising grace. Jesus gave us these gifts not to be locked away in a safe deposit box, but to be spent, drawn down, exhausted… only so does the store get replenished.
In prayer today, you might imagine sitting with Jesus and having him hand you a set of keys. What do they look like? What do they open? What do you want to ask him about them? What does he answer?
There are some things that need to remain bound, I suppose. And so many more that need to be released, set free. I want us to be in the “loosing” business, one lock at a time. That's what the keys to the kingdom are for.
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