The Important Work of Suffering

I sit in relative comfort and ease as I wait. Only mildly inconvenienced. I miss my church, the youth group I get to hang out with twice a week, my little friends at school. I don’t miss a 5:30 wake up alarm, or hectic schedule! Simple works for me.

Still, I feel edgy. The collective energy of the world seems to have gathered in the atmosphere. What is it we’re waiting for? Doom? Leadership? Catastrophe? Societal collapse? Financial collapse? Sickness? It seems an unseen enemy is stalking us. Every sneeze or sore throat makes my heart jump, for just a second. Fear has sunk its teeth in deep, the poison of its bite spreading all around us.

No doubt there is real reason for concern. My husband is in a high risk category. There are two cases of Covid-19 in our little town. Sober minded judgement is appropriate.

In all reality though, nothing substantial has changed. We are stalked everyday by an unseen enemy. From the moment Adam and Eve opened the door for sin, humanity has been dodging death. This moment just pulls back the curtain to reveal the truth.

We are fragile. 

“Shout that people are like the grass.
Their beauty fades as quickly
as the flowers in a field.
The grass withers and the flowers fade
beneath the breath of the Lord.
And so it is with people.
The grass withers and the flowers fade,
but the word of our God stands forever.” Isaiah 40:6b-8

We’re far less secure than we think we are. Seasons of calm and prosperity stupefy us into believing we’re masters of our destiny. A global pandemic is a powerful reminder that life is fragile and fleeting. We desperately need that reminder.

We also need this reminder.

“Who else has held the oceans in his hand?
Who has measured off the heavens with his fingers?
Who else knows the weight of the earth
or has weighed the mountains and hills on a scale?
 Who is able to advise the Spirit of the Lord?
Who knows enough to give him advice or teach him?” Isaiah 40:12-13

It’s against our nature to embrace our humble position before the God of the universe. We want to flex our power, our self sufficiency. In moments of war, famine, or disease it’s harder to maintain that posture. Suffering has been a part of this world since the beginning. We’ve resented it. Understandably so. But what if suffering has a good work to accomplish? Re-calibrating our perspective. Allowing God to be God and us to be his creation.

“To whom will you compare me?
Who is my equal?” asks the Holy One.
“Look up into the heavens.
Who created all the stars?
He brings them out like an army, one after another,
calling each by its name.
Because of his great power and incomparable strength,
not a single one is missing.
O Jacob, how can you say the Lord does not see your troubles?
O Israel, how can you say God ignores your rights?
Have you never heard?
Have you never understood?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of all the earth.
He never grows weak or weary.
No one can measure the depths of his understanding.
He gives power to the weak
and strength to the powerless.
Even youths will become weak and tired,
and young men will fall in exhaustion.
But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.
They will soar high on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary.
They will walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:25-31

Suffering was not a part of God’s original plan for his creation. He grieves the effects of sin, and sacrificed his own Son to reverse it. As his people we should grieve sin and suffering too, doing all we can to reflect our Father’s heart of loving kindness. And yet suffering has an important job to do. It turns our eyes off of the kingdoms we have built and to the everlasting God who has eternal power.

I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that in this life we are perpetually dying. Our bodies get sick, we age, the whole cosmos is decaying. Can you feel it? That won’t be the case when God does away with the old, breaks the curse, and makes all things new. On the new earth we will be perpetually living! No more sickness or death. No more separation or sin. Only continuous, glorious, living! If we recognize God’s authority over creation, and over our hearts.

 

There are more questions than there are answers in the news today. This pandemic is an opportunity for God’s people to hold out life to a world that is groaning. Will we be people of influence and let suffering doing a good work, an eternal work, in our lives?

 

Advent Week 4 – An Invitation

I struggle with the word Christian. When Jesus started his earthly ministry he didn’t invite people to a new religious order. He didn’t come as a spiritual leader in the traditional sense.

He came as the way back to the Father. When he began his ministry he simply asked people to “follow me”.

Jesus extended an invitation.

The first disciples, Peter, James, John, and the rest, weren’t Christians. They were Jesus followers. Disciples.

When Jesus was born, the people inhabiting his world, up close and far away, received an invitation. The first invitation was to come and see. The shepherds were invited, and they invited others. The wise strangers were invited. We can only presume they carried stories of their wonderful meeting home with them. As Jesus grew he continued the invitation.

As is typical of humans we’ve added policies, traditions, systems, and formula to the act of following Jesus. It’s in our nature to do. I fall into that habit and live inside the framework too. But sometimes when I take a good look at Jesus I find him at odds with the framework we’ve created.

Jesus didn’t come to establish a new religion. He came to extend an invitation. To lead us home to the Father. 

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it?” Luke 14:26-28

Strange verses for an advent reflection, perhaps. But even at the moment of his conception Jesus was asking people to lay down their lives in response to his invitation. Mary had to despise her own reputation and risk estrangement from her family to welcome Jesus. Joseph risked being laughed at for accepting Marry’s story and raising a baby that wasn’t his. The shepherds were unclean, and often unwelcome in polite society. They risked showing up. The magi risked a long, costly, dangerous journey in response to their invitation.

Jesus will always invite us to lay down our lives, our rights, our possessions, our status, even our relationships to embrace the superior worth of himself. He invites us to count the cost of the journey, a lifelong pursuit of him. Ultimately, Jesus invites us to die.

I’ve often wrestled with this reality. I told my husband recently, “He’s always asking me to die! It seems like all I’m ever doing is dying!”

That’s what discipleship is. A death to our own rights, agenda, preferences, fears, opinions, timing, and even needs. All in order to pick up Jesus’ worth, agenda, values, strength, understanding, and character. Who wouldn’t want that?! To have access to such a valuable thing as God’s nature! But pride’s the enemy. Humbling ourselves, submitting, yielding – it’s not in our human nature.

A heart that counts the cost, dies to self, and responds to the invitation of Jesus – that is absolutely the greatest miracle of all time.

There is nothing sweet about Jesus in the manger. His humility was fierce. It set a precedent for the way we are to live. Personally I’m still figuring out what that looks like. I will be until my last breath.

This week I didn’t choose humility. I didn’t die to my rights or my flesh. I shared an opinion I didn’t need to share in a place I didn’t need to share it. Life presents continual opportunities to practice humility, to join Jesus in laying down our life. Life seems to be one big practice session, exercising our faith muscles, trimming away the fat of self! At each step Jesus invites us, come, keep following.

Maybe Jesus follower is a better descriptor than Christian for what I want to be. The word Christian has picked up a lot of baggage over the centuries. Baggage I want to be rid of. To be honest, I wouldn’t die for the sake of Christianity. Jesus on the other hand, I’ll die for him.

How will you respond to the invitation? Is Jesus worth dying for?

Let’s pray: Jesus, thank you for your example of humility. Thank you for calling us to something better than a life of allegiance to ourselves. When you ask us to give up our rights, possessions, and comfort help us to see what we gain, not what we lose. And forgive us, please, for the times we haven’t responded to your invitation to follow with lives of humility. Thank you for the humility of the manger, we love you for it. Amen.

Looking for feet

I’ve been engaged in an internal wrestling match for quite some time. And it’s only gotten more intense in recent months. Ambition, education, preparation, leadership, calling – I have no idea how to sort these things out in my life. I observe women pursuing career, vocation, degrees, training, knowledge and I want to follow suit. However, when conversation with my husband heads in that direction, things turn ugly and my heart does not bear good fruit. Instead, I find myself sullen and demanding.

I’m not saying education is bad, or pursuing training and leadership opportunities is wrong, for men or women, but for some reason I don’t feel released to walk that path right now. I don’t know if that will always be the case. Seasons change. For now God has something different for me. And it’s time I stop fighting him.

If I was free, with no restrictions, limitations, or expectations, I would finish my degree, pursue leadership experience, and seek a job with a church or nonprofit. Eventually I’d end up in Eastern Europe, no question about it. I itch to be on a team that addresses cultural issues, that empowers young people to live on mission with Jesus, that has an eye toward the vulnerable and marries resources with need, that works to restore people to God and extend his kingdom.

Secretly, I long to preach. Sometimes, when I listen to a sermon I think about how I would have taught that passage or concept, I re-preach it in my head, adding personal stories, bringing in pertinent verses, adding clarity to points. It’s not criticism. That’s different. I just love communication. I actually write, rewrite, and deliver sermons in my head. Regularly. (I’ve become comfortable with being quirky, for the most part.)

Unrealized hopes have been tinged with the bitter taste of resentment lately. Life is good, for sure. The problem is, I’ve dreamed of more. I am by nature a dreamer. Nevertheless, I desperately reject the bitterness and reach for joy. Mostly, I look at Jesus, and find illumination there. He understands me. He wooes me. He re-frames my perspective, and gives me new dreams.

Lately, I’ve been reminded of Jesus’ supreme calling, to live in God’s kingdom. An upside-down kingdom with a value system drastically different than the worlds. A kingdom where the first and last change place. I hear the words of Jesus in my head over and over – when I’m discontent, feel overlooked, question, get distracted. He says:

“Wash feet.”

That’s it. Just Jesus telling me to, “look for feet to wash.” I don’t need a degree, permission, an invitation, position, or title to wash another person’s dirty feet. I do need a heart like Jesus, though. And that takes far more than an education. That takes supernatural reliance on the Holy Spirit. Every day.

I really don’t like the call to wash feet. Feet are gross. It’s the janitor job of the spiritual world. It is not glamorous! And it’s exactly what I need – to look like Jesus, to make disciples, to combat pride. It’s the best sermon I could ever preach. And it will absolutely kill me. Which, of course, is what it’s supposed to do.

So, death to my ambition! Death to inadequacy, pride, my kingdom, reputation, man’s esteem, a queasy stomach, self protection, self in general. And welcome to Jesus. Welcome to his kingdom, a basin of dirty foot water, servant leadership, compassion, forgiveness, mercy, hidden moments, obscure service, God’s character, a bad seat at the party, anonymity, and love.

I’m sorry to say, this dance – dying to myself and living for Christ, seeking his kingdom and not my own, is not very pretty. I am not at all graceful when it comes to laying down my rights and desires, and living for his. But it will have to do. It’s all I have to offer. And I trust he will help me.

If you see me scowling, or throwing a pity party, please, give me a moment, say a prayer for spiritual victory, and forgive my toddler tendencies, I’m working on it, and I so deeply appreciate your grace. It’s the least we can do for each other, when we have to die to self. Dying is, after all, a painful process.

“You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and you are right, because that’s what I am. And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.” John 13:13-15

What has Jesus asked you to lay down so that you can walk in step with him, in his upside down kingdom? He will topple idols, so that we can be healed by worshiping him. Not one of us is immune.

Humility is a good posture for the 4th of July

Nationalism, even patriotism, makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I’m a reluctant participant in all things red, white, and blue. I own it reflects my own personal journey. I’m stitching together an understanding of my family’s relationship with America.

Before our nation was even born, during the struggle for independence, my mom’s family settled in South Carolina. Scottish Presbyterians. On my dad’s side Jewish refugees, resettling in America to escape Russian pogroms, came long before World War II. I’ve seen the census paper listing members of households and their property, black humans reduced to household goods. I cried when I saw it, because it’s one thing to suspect and another to know the bones of your family’s past.

Loud, pompous displays of “Liberty and Justice for all,” of military might, of heritage, stick in my throat. Even while the first settlers in America were seeking freedom from a king they were taking freedom from a people group who hadn’t invited them here. Our country has had a strange relationship with freedom. Our history deserves an honest look.

When you line up the injustices committed on American soil against Native Americans, African Americans, Japanese Americans, the Irish, Chinese and Jews it’s hard to stomach. Not to mention some of the policies people with disabilities have had to endure.

It is impossible to speak in generic sweeping terms about racism or white privilege. Each relationship is unique and complex. But I know in my life I can hide my past behind my skin. I am the product of white, western, education, and religious majority. I haven’t felt the sting some of my ancestors did. Haven’t lived with a glaringly Jewish name, or accent. I have the privilege of education and voting rights women in my family never had.

All I know is that when a country cuts a swath through history as ours has, with some fine moments and just as many shameful, humility is the only acceptable posture. Not bravado.

Our posture reflects our hearts. Sometimes I’m uncomfortable to see so many Christians assuming an aggressively nationalistic posture. When the posture we should seek to emulate is Jesus’. He was never found caught up in the nationalistic fervor of his day. He was bent in the unpopular position of a servant in the dust, with outcasts, teaching his disciples the way of servitude, forgiveness, and mercy.

I reject the American city on a hill notion. Many of our first settlers were here for mercenary reasons as much as religious, and I personally have no desire to go back to the puritanical hell many of our forefathers (and especially mothers) endured.

I will go with my family and eat a hot dog and watch fireworks. Bucking the system gets exhausting. The status quo so often wins. But on the inside I will remember that our modern revelry was purchased on the backs of humans. I fear we’ve learned very little in the two centuries since we’ve been here. Humans, it appears, are still expendable, and we’re still comfortable with an elite citizenship unwilling to stick their neck out for their fellow-man. It will always be that way.

But I choose to see. To look into the red rimmed eyes of slave and jew, haunting us from history, and refugees from around the world striving for a breath of justice. Our current state of affairs, nationally and internationally, only seeks to highlight my dissatisfaction with any kingdom other than a heavenly one. Perhaps, instead of star-spangled colors I will wear black. It seems fitting.

{I certainly have no desire for my post to offend you. It is simply me processing the reality of my experience and perspective. Life is full of paradoxes, we have to live in the tension between them. I don’t expect everyone to share my point of view. I do, however, hope we can share a dialogue and seek a greater understanding.}

It’s Not About The Cucumber

I lost it with my daughter this week at dinner. Over cucumbers. She ate them the wrong way. At least I thought she did. To be fair we’ve been working on manners. Mostly it feels like a losing battle. And then, when my insistence that there is actually a right and a wrong way to eat cucumbers was met with a preteen smirk, it didn’t help matters.

Still, it was cucumbers. Perspective, it’s all perspective. My kids are good kids, all three of them. They make mistakes, but they are learning to be kind, are mostly helpful, get along really well, want to please, and have tender hearts towards Jesus. Seriously, you’d think I would have let the cucumber go.

It was a pride thing. An “I’m the mom!,” thing. As humans, whenever our authority, validity, or worth is questioned sparks often fly.

That’s the difference between me and Jesus. I have something to prove, or so I think – him, not so much. He’s the image of the invisible God, the one who holds everything together, worthy of worship, perfect (Col. 1). If anyone had a reason to get testy when sniveling little runts punked up and questioned his authority, it was Jesus.

But he didn’t.

The disciples jockeyed for position regularly in their years following him, even on their last night together no one was willing to budge an inch and humble himself to a servants job. So Jesus did. He showed the way and washed all their grimy feet.

Jesus knew that the Father had given him authority over everything and that he had come from God and would return to God. So he got up from the table, took off his robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured water into a basin. Then he began to wash the disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel he had around him. John 13:3-5

Even ol’ betraying Judas. Because Jesus didn’t have anything to prove, just love. He was convinced of his authority, sure of it. He didn’t have to grasp it or demand it. Bending low, loving well, forgiving mistakes far worse than bad table manners, was no big thing to him.

Unlike me. I was ready to take on my preteen. “Oh, yeah, I’ll see you your eye roll and raise you a sarcastic comment.” There were no winners. Until I took a long walk. And she took a shower. And we calmed down. She apologized for getting sassy and I apologized for being harsh.

I explained to her that sometimes mamas overreact to stupid stuff because we’re afraid. We’re afraid bad table manners will lead to laziness, which might lead to dropping out of school, or even being an unpleasant person no one wants to be with, because after all how you eat your cucumber can affect your social standing… And then what will people think of us if we raise  kids who eat their cucumbers weird or have bad manners. Mostly we just want to know we’re doing a good job and our kids listen to and respect us. And really we’re just learning still too. I think she got the gist of it.

I didn’t have to worry. Kids are quick to forgive, and for the most part want to please their parents. She forgave me.

Maybe you’ve been in that place too. Not necessarily loosing it over a cucumber or bad table manners, maybe it was the sock in the middle of the floor or the unfinished homework or the dog that hadn’t been fed, or maybe the sassy response or rude comment. Or maybe it’s not your kids that push your buttons, maybe it’s your husband or co-worker or that irritating lady you always get at the McDonald’s window.

If we can just remember that we don’t have anything to prove, our time will be much better spent. It’s not about the cucumber. Or the wrong McDonald’s order. It’s about the confidence to serve with gentle words and kind eyes. To teach and discipline with perseverance and good humor. To hope, always hope, that the outcome is going to be good!

Jesus is such a beautiful example of the power of knowing who we are. When we are confident we matter, confident we’re loved, confident we’re worthy, things like cucumbers won’t shake us. We’ll have the power to stoop low and serve, one more time.