Modern-day Mystic

Name:
Location: Fredericksburg, Texas, United States

Monday, February 26, 2007

Inconvenient

(the butler) "Did you just find God, sir?"
(William) "No, I think he found me (a dramatic pause) ...do you know how inconvenient that is?"

Watching Amazing Grace this weekend with several other seminary students was fun. When this line was shared early in the movie we all laughed with a "yeah, we do" kind of laugh. Most of the stories I've heard from people here begin with how God coaxed, cajoled, coerced, and other wise connived to get us to seminary. This was not in the plan for most of us. Yet here the Lord of Everything has seen fit to interrupt whatever plans we might have had. For me that involved moving halfway across the country, leaving everything that was home for me, especially my church, not to mention the student loans for tuition. Now my whole life is centered around God's will. Inconvenient barely covers it.

Yet I think about it and I marvel at the truly amazing Grace that would call me to ministry. At the Grace that saw my own plans for my life and said "I've got something better for you, if you want it." When I realize that I am humbled and honored at the same time. I think John Newton (the author of Amazing Grace) said it most eloquently, "I remember that I am a great sinner and that Christ is a great savior." I would wish to make one slight modification, "I remember that I am a great sinner and that Christ is a greater Savior."

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Lent

Philippians 2:5-8

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
But made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death --
even death on a cross!"


This season of Lent dawned yesterday. It's strange to say dawned when we talk of a season focused on repentance, mourning, fasting and confession, where the liturgical color that adorns the altar and covers the windows is black (or dark purple), and it's begun by the imposition of ashes to our foreheads. Not the most cheerful of sunrises. But Lent is amazing for two main purposes, the first is that it points us to Easter. To that great Son rise. The second is that it is a season of rest. Or at least that is how God has revealed it to me.

We are a society of strivers, over achievers, manipulators, controls and perfectionists, and Seminarians are the worst of them all most of the time. But Lent reminds us that we are frail. The woman who marked me yesterday told me as she placed the ashes on my head, "Remember dear one, you are frail, believe in Jesus."

Lent is a time to remember that we are fallen, as individuals and as the human race in its entirety. A time to remember that no amount of striving can grant us the forgiveness our hearts cry out for, that doing good does not undo evil. Lent is a time that reminds us we are helpless when we are faced with our sin. But Lent also reminds us that though we are helpless, we are not hopeless. The ashes are mixed with anointing oil, a reminder of Isaiah 61:3. They are marked in the form of a cross, proclaiming to ourselves and each other that this miraculous exchange takes place under the cross. As Christians we confess that we cannot save ourselves, and instead we have thrown ourselves upon the mercy of the cross.

This Lent God has gently asked me for one thing. He has asked me to abide in him. I'm careful to distinguish "in him" and "with him". As long as I abide with him, I have refused to surrender my will, I continue to struggle and strive and fail. When I learn to find my whole identity consumed by Christ, to literally find my life "now hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3), I will be at peace. The irony of Lent is that for me to obtain the humility of Christ I must first confess that I cannot obtain it on my own. That I must depend on God to give it to me, which implies a faith that he will, and a risk that he won't.

So this Lent is an invitation to rest. To put aside your striving and struggling and find yourself concealed in the arms of a God that loves you enough to die for you the most horrific death. It is an invitation to call upon the abundant and extravagant mercy of our Savior.

"May the Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen" (Numbers 6:24-26)

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

I lost the Cross

Somewhere along my journey
Through these hollowed halls
Amid the discussions
In towers with ivory walls

I lost the cross
It slipped from view
A little at a time

Hidden under discourses
Of soteriology
And chiastic charts
The shame of it ceased to burn my heart

I lost the cross
It slipped from view
A little at a time

It’s only by God’s grace
I realize now
That he has never
Let me slip from his view

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Abiding

Striving,
straining
never obtaining

exhausting,
despairing,
surrender refusing

controlling,
clutching,
still losing.

Abiding,
resting,
beloved by heaven.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

"As We Forgive"

"And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors."

~ Matthew 6:12 (NRSV)

I figure it's about time to put some of this seminary learning to actual use.
Disclaimer * Keep in mind that I've only been in IBS Matthew and Concise Greek for 2 class periods, so take things with a grain or two of salt. *

How many of us have prayed "The Lord's Prayer"? How many of us have actually taught on it? I know I have taught it at least twice. Both times (not to mention every time I've read it or prayed it) I've managed to miss this subtly. The second statement in this verse is in the past tense (in both the NRSV and the original Greek). Read it carefully, "as we also have forgiven." Yup it's something that has already been done by the petitioner (that'd be the person praying it). I'm not sure if that revelation unsettles anyone else, but it sure does bother me. Maybe because I realize that there are people that I haven't forgiven yet, people I know I should have forgiven long ago. Or people I say I've forgiven when in my heart I haven't. It's scary because when I pray this prayer I'm asking God to forgive me the same way I already have forgiven people, which translates into half-heartedly at best. *gulp*

This idea of forgiveness is so important that as soon as Jesus ends his prayer he launches into an elaboration of the concept. He makes sure to carefully spell out what he expects from his disciples. This is one of the few conditional demands Jesus places on his followers, "God will forgive you, if you forgive others". I'm not sure how that jives with the theology that has been preached to me all my life. Most of it runs more along the lines of Luke 7 (the sinful woman who anoints Jesus) which is the idea that we can only forgive people after we've been forgiven.

I think the harmony of these two ideas lies in realizing the state of the person involved. The sinful woman can't forgive others until she comes to God to receive his forgiveness for herself, whereas the prayerer in Matthew 6 addresses God as Father. Clearly the use of such an intimate term indicates that the child of God has already received the initial salvation of forgiveness. As such it is part of the responsibility, truly the privilege, to extend that same forgiveness to others. To withhold our forgiveness from others doesn't mirror Christ, nor does it follow the lines from earlier in the prayer which talk about doing God's will.

I fear that the Church as a whole, and believers as individuals are sorely lacking in the ability to forgive, to ask for forgiveness, and also to accept forgiveness when it's extended. It's a flaw that is continuing to cripple the Church. The churches that still use the liturgy of a "high church" (think Anglican, Episcopals, Lutherans) get the words right at least. At every service there is a time of corporate confession and forgiveness, the celebrant offers forgiveness to the congregation on behalf of Christ, and then in an amazing act of leveling the field of believers, the congregation turns around and forgives the celebrant with the same grace of Christ. Accepting that forgiveness is a whole other issue, because it means we have to come clean with ourselves before our Savior and admit that we need forgiveness because we aren't perfect. I'm still learning how to do this gracefully, and I'm learning how to offer forgiveness (true forgiveness, not just a stubborn child muttering "I'm sorry." and "It's ok"). It's a process. But one that needs to be done. In closing I would like to leave you with some pretty powerful words, and I hope you let them sink deep into your soul.

"In the Name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven."