Horizons (Day 23 of Lent)

For nearly sixteen years, I suffered from depression.  Very rarely would I wake up in the morning and be excited about facing the day.  On top of that, I drank dangerously.  It was my way of combating the depression, even though the alcohol was causing much more damage.  Eventually, I lost the ability to stay away from alcohol, much less figure out what was wrong with my mind.  Some of the things I experienced with depression were:  feeling very lonely regardless of how many people were around, not being able to be grateful, feeling like my problems were constantly piling up on me with no way to fix them, and feeling an extreme sense of doom and hopelessness.  I was convinced that life would be this way forever.  I tried to train myself to be okay with it, and just to keep floating along trying not to hurt myself or anybody else in the process.  The alcohol problem became so bad that it kind of took my mind off the depression.  It turned out I had much bigger fish to fry.  If depression wasn't going to kill me, alcohol surely was.  God knows I had enough close calls with the late night drunk driving and the blackouts.  
I was in a place where I couldn't imagine life with or without alcohol or depression.  I was stuck.  I had nowhere to turn, no hope, and especially no outlook on life that provided any sense of satisfaction.  
In John chapter eight, Jesus talks about how we live based off of what we see and touch, but he doesn't live that way.  He says he's in touch with things beyond what we can grasp, things beyond our horizons.  In closing, he says the oft quoted line, "If you live this way, you'll experience the truth for yourself, and the truth will set you free."  He is talking to the Jews, referring to the near future when they will "raise the Son of Man and know."  The audience had no idea what was coming.  All their systems and laws and ways of doing things were based on the belief that hope had not arrived yet, that the Messiah was yet to come.  If they could just follow the law as closely as possible, they would be okay when the Messiah did come.  Jesus wanted so badly for them to open their eyes to the truth, but lets just face it.  All they had was his word up to this point.  But, Jesus was foretelling their future.  If we skip forward to Jesus on the cross and the resurrection, we find that many Jews finally found the truth.  They saw Jesus die.  They saw the empty tomb.  They were freed from binding themselves with endless laws and self-constraint.  
If the truth sets us free, then how do we get it?  
I haven't taken a drink or any other mind-altering substance in over three years, and I haven't dealt with depression in over two years.  Something caused these changes of events.  Something was at work.  Something set me free.  The problem is I can't see the inner workings of my mind, the physical and mental effects of alcohol on the body and brain, and I can't see what kind of spiritual behind the scenes work is going on.  But, the truth is, what was true for so many years is not true anymore.  It has been replaced with the truth that I never have to take another drink again, and I never have to face depression again.  I have been set free from a seemingly hopeless and binding state of mind, body, and spirit.  
What does believing in Jesus have to do with any of this?  For me, shame was the number one contributor to why I ever took a drink in the first place and to why my mind told me that I was a waste of flesh.  It wasn't until I got to the end of me, that the only thing I had left was to believe that shame wasn't supposed to be the driving force in life.  Freedom was supposed to be, but how was I to attain this freedom?  Honestly, I wish I could lay out the answer, but I think the answer was embedded in the mess of despair.  It wasn't until I got so hopeless and so shameful and so desperate that I found the answer.  It was grace.  Somehow, I got a glimpse of the possibility that my mind was against me, and that it had convinced me that God was an angry loan shark waiting to break my leg for all the bad stuff I'd done.  Jesus was a good story and that was about it.  
It wasn't until I heard stories from people I had never met, who weren't you're average churchgoing folks.  They were putting words to what I was feeling and experiencing.  They were telling my story.  They were giving me hope.  They were telling of a God who wasn't a loan shark, but a compassionate, loving, and inclusive God.  This opened my eyes.  How had I been so closed off to this concept?  At this retreat, on the final day, a man giving a talk on a Sunday morning invited everyone to "leave your fear in the woods."  I did just that.  I walked out into the woods, crying and pitiful, and for the first time told God I wasn't afraid of him anymore.  My truth changed.  I left that wilderness with a new lease on life.  I experienced a new way of thinking, which affected what I did - truth.  The way I believed started affecting the way that I saw, touched, heard, and tasted.  I was set free, I am set free, and I will continue to chase after freedom.  

Media (Day 22 of Lent)

If you've followed any of the news sources lately, here are some topics that have been on the agenda:  drones are flying over the U.S., Hugo Chavez just died, $85 billion in spending cuts, gun control debates, uprisings in Syria, and a U.S. ambassador to Libya murdered.  The radio, television, and Internet provide us with this news, and any of us can turn on either of these media outlets to find out more.  There's just one problem though.  Even though I can see pictures of U.S. drones hovering somewhere out in the sky, and I can hear the president give condolences to the family of Hugo Chavez, and I can hear radio broadcasters talk about the scandal going on with Libya, how do I know this is all true?  

The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was turn off my alarm.  By sliding a button across the top, somehow the blaring broadcast of 740 turns off.  I hear and then I don't hear the voice of the morning radio personality.  

Then, I flip a switch on the wall.  Somehow, light fills up the room.  It was dark, but somehow the flip of a switch produced something that wasn't there before.  

Every moment of every day, we are bombarded with pictures and sounds pointing us to things that are beyond our physical presence and experience.  We are left to use our imagination and logical inference.  With these two combined, we make judgments based on the "facts."  If something seems true, then we call it true.  If the media tells us that drones are flying over the U.S. and might be used on American citizens, we use our logic and our imagination to make judgments based on what we hear.  

In today's passage for Lent, Jesus is talking with some Pharisees in the temple.  The conversation is very interesting because, it reminds me of how similar I am to them.  Jesus opens the speech with the claim that he is "the light of the world, and that no one who believes in him stumbles around in the darkness."  The Pharisees object.  All they have is Jesus's word on this.  In other words, how are they supposed to accept this as true if all they have is his word?  

In a response that makes perfect sense, Jesus tells them they're right.  All they have is his word.  And, all we have is his word.  Jesus reminds the Pharisees that they make judgments based off what they can see and touch.  However, Jesus says he doesn't make judgments out of the narrowness of his experience.  He makes judgments out of the "largeness of the Father who sent me."  

According to Jewish law, something is considered true when there is a testimony from two witnesses.  Jesus is claiming that he has the testimony of God to back up his word, and Jewish law takes verbal contracts just as seriously as written contracts.  The problem for the Pharisees is, they can't see the Father.  They don't see the second witness.  Then, Jesus says something very mysterious.  "You're looking right at me and you don't see me.  How do you expect to see the Father?  If you knew me, you would at the same time know the Father."  

If this was complicated for the Pharisees, then it's extremely complicated for us.  First of all, we don't even have the luxury as the Pharisees did that day to see Jesus.  They were talking with him face to face.  If they were looking right at him and not seeing him, then we are not looking right at him and not seeing him, right?  "How could we expect to see God if we can't see Jesus?  If we knew Jesus, we would at the same time know the Father."  

Now that Jesus has completely baffled us and basically told us that we have no chance of seeing the Father, we have to go back to the beginning.  "No one who follows me stumbles around in the darkness."  Of course, they're are actual people following him physically, just like we would if we were roadies with a band.  We would physically be present.  "I provide plenty of light to live in."  

If you're completely confused to this point, good.  I believe the whole point Jesus is trying to make with the Pharisees in this passage is that he's not asking anyone to prove anything.  He's not expecting the Pharisees to have tangible evidence for these claims that Jesus is making.  Just like we can't see, touch, or hear what's going on in order for the light to come on after the switch is moved, the Pharisees (or us) can't see, touch, or hear the light of Jesus.  The Pharisees could even see Jesus physically and his word wasn't enough.  So, what does it mean for us who have no physical qualities of Jesus to experience?  

I think Jesus is presenting the case that what we believe directly affects how we live.  He tells us that he is the light of the world, and that when we follow him we have plenty of light to live in.  I think often times we're much too hard on ourselves when it comes to "right belief."  And, how often do we consider something that we've heard from secondhand sources or seen in photographs as true?  

What Jesus is essentially saying in this passage is, "I know that you need to be able to touch something and see it to accept it as true.  That's okay.  I don't do it that way, but I've also got this Son of God thing going on.  What I want you to work on is believing in me.  I promise, believing is enough.  You will discover things that will blow your mind."  

Jesus invites us to believe his word, not to prove it.  He knows we can't prove it, and also knows that we would really like to enjoy some sensual experience with God.  Wouldn't that be nice?  

My opinion is that belief doesn't have to be right.  It just has to be honest.  Jesus invites us to be okay with not having the facts.  He invites us into the possibility of somehow experiencing "light" through believing in him.  All we have are words on a page.  Is that enough?  

Come (Day 21 of Lent)

During the Feast of Tabernacles, in which we find the context of today's passage for Lent, it is customary for a special priest to carry water in a gold pitcher from the pool of Siloam to be poured into a basin at the foot of the altar by the high priest.  It symbolizes prayer for rain, and on the "last great day" of the festival, the day in which Jesus speaks in this passage, the priests march around the altar seven times carrying willow branches.  On the seventh circuit around the altar the priests beat their willow branches until the leaves fall off. The high priest pours out the water while some priests blow gold trumpets, while others sing songs.  

It's at the climax of this ceremony that Jesus cries out, "If anyone is thirsty, come to me.  Anyone who believes in me will find rivers of living water brimming and spilling out from his heart."

As the Jewish people continued their centuries-long traditions, Jesus claims that he is the living water.  One of the aspects that the festival symbolizes is the need for rain in order for crops to grow.  It also symbolizes the water that flowed from the rock which Moses struck when the Israelites were begging for water in the wilderness.  Jesus's claim here is huge.  For the Jew, it means that he is claiming to be the provider of the rain, which would throw a wrench into the meaning of their festival that has been happening for centuries.  He is also claiming that the "rivers of living water" can be experienced now.  For the Jew, the phrase river of living water is equated to the "Holy Spirit."  It is believed that the Holy Spirit will be poured out to all who believed in Jesus at the end of the age.  Jesus is claiming that the rivers of living water can be experienced now.   

I find it hard to translate this to modern day, but I think it would be like walking into a mega church on a Sunday afternoon, making my way up to the pulpit (assuming no bodyguard slams me to the ground), and proclaiming, "No!  This is not what church is supposed to be!  We've got to get out of here and start being the church out in the world."

The teachings of Jesus in this passage are in such opposition to Jewish belief that it's no wonder the priests and Pharisees are constantly plotting attempts to arrest him.  If it happened today, there's no doubt Jesus would go to jail at the hands of religious leaders.  

The thing about Jesus is, even the police were amazed at the things he was saying.  They had never heard anyone speak like him.  In this passage, Jesus doesn't condemn the Jews for believing the way they do, but creatively draws a picture that makes sense to the audience.  They don't get the sense that he is revolting, but they get a sense of comfort - a sense that they can trust this guy.  

In the times that I am thirsty, I pray.  That's the only way I know of to "come to Jesus."  For the audience that Jesus was speaking to, it probably meant to come talk with him or have lunch or hang out.  I think the audience was very interested in the idea that believing in something would be like having rivers of living water flowing over the heart.  Are we tired?  We don't have to be.  Are we weary?  We don't have to be.  Are we hopeless?  We don't have to be.  

Jesus invites us to experience a joy that flows through trial and tribulation.  It's a river of life that flows through the arid soil of the heart, drenching it and producing sustenance that lasts.  When this river comes, it turns weariness into vitality, mourning into dancing, and sadness into gratitude.  Do we believe this is possible, or are we convinced that life is a veil of tears?  

Today's action:  Ask ourselves, "How hard is it to trust in Jesus?  What are the things that have happened in my life that make it hard to trust?  Do I think these things were God's will?  What advice would I have given God about these things?"  Talk through these questions with a friend today.

Megaphone (Day 20 of Lent)

Growing up in the Souther Baptist tradition, I accepted lots of information that I didn't test on my own.  Most of that was from being a child.  But, there came a time when I got smarter and had the ability to test what was going into my mind.  Religion is a funny thing though.  Instead of asking questions about what I believed or didn't believe, I just moved on with life and didn't give it a second thought.  I figured that everything I knew was true and non-debatable.  I would have never thought that some of my beliefs would actually do me more harm than good.  Why would I need to question my faith, since I had no other gauge by which I was willing to test what I thought I knew?  

I was first questioned about my faith in a dimly lit room in a club, sitting across the table from my sponsor.  I didn't know it at the time, but my faith was driven out of fear.  My sponsor could see it, and he knew from what I was telling him that my faith was not my own.  When he questioned my conceptions of God, I got very offended.  The one question he asked me that still rings inside my head is, "How can you worship a God that you're afraid of?"  

I threw aside his question as if he didn't know what he was talking about.  I wondered if he had a clue who God was or how firmly I believed in God.  That was the last time I ever sat with that sponsor because I thought he was full of crap and was trying to "lead me astray."  

What my sponsor actually did that day was crack open a door into my heart that would eventually turn into a full blown rearrangement of my beliefs in God, Jesus, and spirituality in general.  I had so much fear about God that I was living in denial of his love.  I had so many conceptions about God that I had blindly accepted from childhood, and had never experienced such "faith-shattering" opposition as I did that day with my sponsor.  

But really, "How could you worship a God who you're afraid of?"  

In today's passage, Jesus is teaching in the temple in Jerusalem.  The passage covers the whole week of the Feast of Tabernacles, and he is spending the week risking his life and popularity teaching people that he is the Messiah, even though the whole city is observing the feast that points to "the coming Messiah."  It'd kind of be like going into a Wal-Mart on Black Friday, getting a megaphone, and proclaiming, "This is all wrong!  We have to stop consuming all this crap, and start sharing our stuff with the needy!  This is not how it's supposed to be!"

The crowds were split on Jesus' proclamations.  One side was convinced, and one side was enraged.  The Jewish leaders got the police and they wanted to arrest Jesus for causing such a disruption.  However, "it wasn't God's time yet."  They would get their chance to take Jesus in, but it wasn't time.  

As Jesus is making his stand in the front of the temple he says, "What I teach comes from the One who sent me.  Anyone who wants to do his will can test this teaching and know whether it's from God or whether I'm making it up.  A person making things up tries to make himself look good.  But someone trying to honor the one who sent him sticks to the facts and doesn't tamper with reality."

Jesus invites everyone to test what we believe.  For the Jews, the test was against Jesus' claims that he was the Messiah.  The Jews had preconceived beliefs that told them the Messiah was coming way in the future.  Jesus opens the door for everyone to ask themselves, "Are my beliefs my own, or have I blindly accepted someone else's?"  

Religion is a blessing and a curse.  For me, I've learned about some beautiful practices like Communion and Advent.  The negative side is, if I don't know what I believe then I'm prone to take whatever comes my way and accept it as my own.  I believe this is dangerous for anybody.

Many of us have given up on anything that has to do with religion because we felt that somebody abused it or abused us.  Many of us have given up on God or Jesus because somebody condemned us using their names.  Many of us know deep inside that the principles found in Jesus are great principles to live by, but in the forefronts of our minds are those people.  Every time we think of God we see the faces of those people who tried to jam Jesus into our hearts.  It's kind of like this:

Imagine if all throughout high school English class, the teacher told you the meaning behind every line of "Hamlet."  You didn't have enough time to read the whole book because it was too dang long.  Or, you just weren't interested.  You assumed that if you just listened to the teacher's explanation you would get the gist of it.  Therefore, you never really needed to read the book as you had the summarized version.  Lets say you're in college now, and you're taking a class on Shakespeare.  This time, the whole semester is about Hamlet.  The first night you sit down to read, you have all these preconceived "truths" and they act as a lens as you read each passage.  You're actually reading it through the lens of that high school english teacher.  Lets say that two weeks later, the class is having a discussion on the book.  As you listen to the other classmates talk about what they think, your heart starts beating a little faster and you start getting anxious.  They're wrong!  They're way off.  What they're saying isn't even close to what you've been reading.  

Even though you took the time to "read" Hamlet, you were never really reading Hamlet.  You had never set aside the information the english teacher gave.  You had never even considered it.  It was accepted as truth, and there's no way there could possibly be another way of looking at the same book.  

Reading the Bible should be no different than reading our favorite novel.  Jesus invites us to read his teachings with an open mind and not preconceived notions of truth.  He invites us to test every single line that we read, and to not form the "right" answer, but an honest one.  

I think that if we were all completely honest with ourselves about the scriptures, we could admit that we know nothing but believe a lot of things.  I believe that looks very much like "child-like" faith.  Whether we're clothed in religion or struggling just to make some sense out of life, we're all invited to test the scriptures on our own - not by somebody else's opinion or belief, but our own.  If we are truly interested in doing this, I think we'll find that what we were so afraid of in the first place had no substance.  I believe Jesus invites every one of us to seek truth, not act like we own it.  

Today's action:  List five things that we believe are the most important guides for how to live our lives.  Then, share them with a friend.  

The Tormentors (Day 19 of Lent)

In today's passage, we're told that Jesus is stepping out of the boat he's been in.  Him and the disciples have reached the country of the Gesarenes.  This is a fishing village located on the shore of the lake of Galilee.  It's mostly Greeks who live here, and one of their main economic exports is pork (aside from fish).  So, it was common to see herds of pigs being tended by groups of men as they fed and rooted in the hilly country.  We're told that no sooner than Jesus stepped out of the boat, a "madman" ran up to him and the first thing he did was bow down and worship him.  We're not told why he was considered a madman, but we are told that his name was Mob, or Legion.  Evidently, this man was tormented by a team of evil spirits and some sources say there were possibly 9,000 of these spirits ruining this man.  We're not told that he went on murderous rampages in the town, but we are told that he roams the cemetery and grave sites.  "No chains or ropes can tie him down."  As I read the scripture, I saw a very conflicted man.  He obviously had a human side that wanted to worship Jesus.  But, he also had these spirits that were controlling him, causing him to do things that he had no desire to do.  

After a few minutes, or hours, Jesus commands the spirits that are tormenting the man to "get out!"  The man wants to worship Jesus.  The spirits want to torment the man.  After Jesus tells the spirits to leave, they enter a herd of pigs that are grazing on a nearby hill on the edge of the lake.  When the spirits enter the pigs, they become crazy and run the pigs over the cliff and into the lake.  As the herders look on, they can't believe their eyes, and they run back to the town to tell everyone what they've just witnessed. 

When the townspeople arrive on the scene, they see the man sitting there in decent clothes, and he's making sense when he talks.  He seems normal.  The man has been delivered from something that no chain or rope could tie down.  He begs to go with Jesus back across the lake, but Jesus tells him to "go back home and tell your people what has happened to you today.  Tell them how the Master rescued you and showed mercy on you.  You have a story to tell."  After Jesus left the shore, the man went around and started telling everyone what had happened to him.  

As I reflect on this passage, I can't help but relate to the madman.  My tormenting spirits of alcoholism drove me crazy.  I remember roaming the streets at night, under the cover of darkness, stumbling around in a drunken stupor.  Nothing could chain down my illness.  Changing the brand or type of alcohol didn't work.  I would always keep drinking.  Changing my environment didn't work.  I would move every year, sometimes twice a year to find a geographical cure for my ailment.  I would stay away from the bars or stay away from people who drank.  It was all futile.  Eventually, the chains I would use to tie my alcoholism down would break, and it would be off to the races one more time.  I would keep myself holed up in my apartment, hoping that if I just stayed away from it long enough it would go away.  That didn't work either.  I would try to use ministry to no avail.  No rope or chain could tie it down.  I would break out every time. 

I was a madman.  I would go to jail or the hospital one day, then go right back to the bar the next.  I could not bring to mind with sufficient force the suffering that I had experienced just the day or the week before.  I was tormented, living in a dark and hopeless cemetery.  There was no hope.  

This man, and nobody else, could chain away the spirits that were tormenting him.  No human power could relieve him.  He was doomed to a cemetery life.  And then Jesus showed up. 

Jesus sent the spirits away to drown in the sea of Galilee, and the man was restored.  The man who was once tormented and controlled by dominating spirits, was now able to sit and carry a conversation that made sense.  He had a story to tell, and now he had a driving force to let everyone in on what had happened to him.  He was known by the people.  They were witnesses to how he was.  And now they were witnesses to a completely changed man.  

There is no scarier thing to me than being driven by a desire to drink.  While normal people drink to enjoy fellowship with others, I can't stop and eventually enter into oblivion.  I knew there was no solution to my problems because nothing was working.  I gave up.  I let the tormenting spirits drive me, and take me to places I never wanted to go in the first place.  Being a madman was the only way I was going to be able to admit that I could not fix my problems, and that my life was out of control.  It was there, in that cemetery of life, that God rescued me and delivered me from an alcoholic obsession.  I was done, and God was just getting the party started.  Little did I know that my future would not just be a constant battle against taking a drink, but it would be a daily adventure of trying to follow my deepest desires and letting God restore me to sanity.  

Today, I have other things in my life that don't directly affect me in the way alcohol does, but they are harmful nonetheless.  The commonality between the ailment of alcoholism and my other "lesser" ailments is:  I can't chain them down.  The ropes will eventually snap.  Some of the things that I've tried to chain down are:  smoking cigarettes, watching pornography, the fear of giving compliments, the desire to control others, and the misuse of my time.  

In the paradox of the centuries, it's only when I stop trying to chain down these spirits, that God delivers me from them.  The chains and ropes are futile attempts to make myself feel powerful and manageable.  I convince myself that if I only . . . then . . .  

There's a very interesting line in the passage in which the man begs Jesus not to banish the spirits from the country.  The man who is being tormented day and night is asking Jesus not to banish his tormentors!  This makes so much sense to me.  The things that are driving me mad have become companions.  I've become so use to having them around that I can't imagine life without them!  I may talk about getting rid of them, but deep inside I know that life might be scarier without.  So, I verbally ask God to remove them, but inwardly I want them to stay.  

What are the things that are driving us mad?

Are we ready to stop trying to tie them down?

What's one thing we can do today to stop trying to tie down our "tormentors?"

What's one thing we can do today to let God handle our "tormentors?"  

Intersection (Day 18 of Lent)

In today's passage for Lent, we're told that it is the time of the Feast of Tabernacles.  Being very unknowledgeable about the symbolism for this feast, I will do my best to summarize.  During this feast, which is still celebrated by Jews across the world, individuals build a sukkah.  The sukkah is a small, three-sided shelter made out of organic materials.  Inside, there is enough room for one person and a table.  It is customary to decorate the sukkah with ornaments, popcorn wreaths, candles, and brightly-colored objects hanging from the ceiling.  For seven to nine days (depending on the custom of the individual), the person "lives" in this dwelling, celebrating the provision and shelter of God.  It points back to the time recorded in scripture in which the Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years, with shelter and provision from God.  

Another aspect of the Feast is the gathering of Jewish people at the temple, or synagogue.  Practicing Jews come together and celebrate God's past provision and His future restoration.  They reflect on the hope of the time when everything will be put back together again by the Lord God.  For the Jew, there is no Yeshua, or Jesus.  There has not been a liberation from physical, mental, and especially spiritual oppression.  It is a time of celebration, though, remembering God's provision and looking forward to the time of redemption.  

According to the passage in John chapter 7, Jesus has a family and they are all practicing Jews.  Jesus knows that the Jews in Judea (where the temple and the feast are held) are plotting to kill him for his claims that He has been sent from the Father.  For the Jews, this is absolute blasphemy.  The penalty for someone claiming this kind of thing is mostly ridicule, but if it goes too far, death.  Jesus is making His way to the latter penalty.  His brothers ask, "Why don't you go out to Judea?  Your disciples need to see the work you do.  No one who seeks to inform the public does so behind the scenes."  

It would have been a great marketing opportunity for Jesus to show up to the most important feast of the Jews.  He would have them all in one place, and it would make a great opportunity to have a platform.  But, he knows something that his brothers and family don't know.  The message he's carrying is the opposite of what they are believing.  His own family doesn't believe in what he's claiming.  Jesus tells his brothers "it isn't time yet."  He seems fearful that if he goes to Judea, he will create a lot of commotion.  

Nevertheless, Jesus still goes.  Knowing that he's the most wanted man in Jerusalem and that crowds of angry Jews have a price for his head, he goes in secret after his family.  His family doesn't even know he's going.  Maybe if they knew, word would get around and he would be captured.  But, it wasn't time yet.  

I imagine it was heartbreaking for Jesus, this whole process.  The one message he wanted to get out was that He was sent by the Father to be the temple - the restoration of the world.  Essentially, the Jews were celebrating the provision of God, but refused to accept the Provision of God standing right in front of them.  They were reflecting on the future coming of a Messiah, and refusing to believe the Messiah was already in there midst.  Who would blame them though?  Jesus didn't.  He had to have been in anguish about how focused the Jews were in their festivals, and at the same time staying humble enough to not get on a platform in public and try to win them over with moving speech and dazzling miracles.  He didn't give up.  He loved them so much that he didn't infringe on their traditions and practices, but was waiting for the right time - when the Father made it clear to him to act.  

This passage makes me wonder what Jesus would think if he were to observe us practicing Lent today. Would he see a people who are fasting out of their reflection of Him, or would he see a people who are fasting out of a refusal to believe that the kingdom has come and will come in its fullness?  

I believe that just as Jesus showed up and kept quiet during the Jewish holiday of Feast of Tabernacles, he loves us so much that he will not impede on our customary ways of doing things.  Unless, the time has come.  The phrase, "It's not time yet," keeps showing up in the gospel of Matthew.  Every time someone tries to persuade Jesus to do something, he says it's not time yet.  In this passage, it wasn't time for Jesus to show up to the festival and start preaching or building on his claims.  He respected the traditions of the Jews, knowing that there would be a time to interject.  

I believe there is a time, or many times, in which Jesus intersects with our lives.  Heaven meets earth, joy intersects with depression, self-hate intersects with unconditional love, bondage intersects with freedom.  Whatever heartache, sadness, hopelessness and despair we are experiencing currently comes with it the reality that in the right time, heaven will intersect earth.  I believe that everything and everyone is in the process of being restored to its intended perfection.  Along the way, however, are valleys of sadness and despair.  If we're trying to ritualize our way through these moments, it's okay.  If we're trying to make the best out of dire circumstances, it's okay.  We're wired to do so.  As Jesus watches, grieving and celebrating with us, he knows there's a time to intersect, and right now may not be the best time.  

Because sometimes, good is the enemy of better.  

As we go out today, do we understand that no matter how hard we try, we are not in control of time?

  

Do we see time as a thing that's running out, or a thing that is being used to restore?  

What's one way we could use our time today to bring restoration to the world, or to receive restoration for our weary bodies, minds, and hearts?  

On Assignment (Day 17 of Lent)

When I moved to Galveston about five years ago, I remember unloading my trailer with my roommate Ricky.  As we were unloading, the neighbor from across the street - Wayne - came over and started helping us.  Halfway through the load, he asked, "Why are ya'll moving here?  There's nothin' but niggers and spics over here."  It happened to be in an area where a lot of government subsidized housing was located.  

I tried to keep my composure the best I could.  Trying not to respond in a way belittled him, I stuck to what I believed.  I told him, "Well, Ricky and I don't think that we are any better than the folks you're talking about.  We're here to open our home to whoever needs one and to help out in any way we can."  

As I was taking a bed stand into the house, I overheard Wayne tell Ricky, "Your buddy is weird.  What's wrong with him?"  

Ricky expounded on what I had said, and from that day on we shared life with Wayne, saw his heart change toward the exact people he was degrading.  He even joined us in our worship services on Friday nights, crammed in our little duplex.  From hanging out with Wayne, I learned to be more tolerant of people who don't look at the world differently than I do.  We became really close friends, and spent a lot of time sitting on the porch and talking about life.  He taught me how to hunt for oysters in Galveston Bay, and how to grill them.  He showed me how to make some extra income collecting cans and taking them to the local recycling facility.  Most importantly, he showed me that I had just as many - if not more - prejudices as he did. 

In today's passage out of John chapter five, Jesus is explaining to the Jews that he has come with the authority from God.  He tells us that he's been given tasks by the Father to carry out.  The Jews have a problem though.  Although Jesus is standing right in front of them, they do not accept what he is saying or doing.  Although they have their heads in their Bibles constantly, they are missing out on the obvious - that the scriptures all point to him.  Jesus says that they follow Moses, but miss who Moses is writing about in the first place.  

Jesus tells them that he is being confirmed through the tasks that he's been given to carry out, and that God is the witness to those things.  Just like in my experience of moving to Galveston and carrying out something that I believed was confirmed by God, Jesus is carrying out the things he has been given by God.  When these things actually get carried out, Jesus is saying that the "greatest Witness of all" is confirming him.  

Unlike the Jews in the time of Jesus, we don't have the luxury of seeing and hearing Jesus or God.  Many of us use language that portrays a seeming audible communication or visible reality, but it is imagery.  It is how we try to connect with God and other people.  In my opinion, language doesn't confirm God.  We can talk all day long about how we believe in Jesus, and how God is working in our lives, but language just doesn't confirm anything more than knowledge and beliefs.   

Jesus is essentially saying that the only confirmation we have of God is the work that we do on this earth.  I have to say that in my move to Galveston, it was a mess.  I was at the low point of my life inwardly, but outwardly I was acting differently.  Alcohol was ruining me and my motives were all jacked up.  However, there was still action going on that made people like Wayne ask questions.  In spite of my own messy life, I was still somehow able to act upon my beliefs in a way that made people curious.  I was on a mission that I believed God had assigned to me.  

I haven't had anybody ask me any questions of why I do the things I do recently.  It makes me wonder if my life really looks any different, or if it truly is a light to the world.  If I have to ask these questions, it probably means that I am not living that brightly.  What happened to the childlike faith?  Whatever happened to throwing care to the wind, following what I thought was the voice of God?  Sure, I'm following my passions, but it just doesn't seem like my passions are doing any good for anybody else.  Sometimes, I wonder if I'm so far deep into the American Dream that I'm deluded into thinking that I'm "doing it right?"  Is it possible that I've gone so far deep that I no longer find the need to pay attention to the needs around me? 

If I really care about sharing the love of God with my neighbors, coworkers, friends, and family, then I'm going to have to stop thinking that language is my greatest tool.  I've got to pick up a shovel.  If people aren't inquiring as to why I'm doing what I'm doing, am I really putting the love of God on display in my life?  

As we go out today, may we do one thing that we don't normally do.  No matter how jacked up our motives are, may we carry out an assignment that we think God has commissioned us to do.