Desperate Jesus - I don't get it

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.  John 3:16

My Uncle sent me a recording of his sermon from this past Sunday.  Beyond the fact that he is a gifted orator (Harold, insert cutting jokes here!), the content of his messages so often hit home.  This particular sermon was about, well – man’s total depravity.  The idea, nay – fact, that man, at the very core of being, is wicked.  But the interesting take on this concept was Harold’s focus on how desperately wicked people are.  Not just wicked – desperately wicked.

And it’s true.  Thirty minutes of the eleven o’clock news illustrates man’s wickedness every night.  A quick glance at my blog alone demonstrates the wickedness of a man who posed as a Christian for a large portion of his life (that would be me).  I’m not going to spend a lot of time here re-preaching Harold’s message, I’d probably just mess it up.  But I have been thinking about that message. 

I’ve been thinking about how desperately wicked I have been.  Oh, I’ve done some nice things in my life, but these are external works so-to-speak.  They were simply me living within social norms, treating people kinda well.  I say “kinda” because ultimately there is nothing I could have done to “be good” in the eyes of God.  I realize that.  Desperately wicked.  That phrase is crushing.

But then I started thinking today:  if we are desperately wicked, then just how desperate was Jesus?  It blows my mind to think about it.  God creates humans.  God gives one “Thou shalt not”.  Man does it anyway.  And it all goes downhill from there.

Caine kills Abel.  Lot’s daughter gets him drunk…Sodom and Gomorrah.  Floods.  Plagues.  A riot in Ephesus because some merchants are losing money due to Paul preaching Christ.  The Mongul Hoardes.  Crusades.  Hitler.  Nagasaki and Hiroshima.  9/11.  The Middle East.  America.  You.  Me. 

Good grief, there’s not been a whole lot in the history of mankind to make the Creator look at His creation and think – Hmm, I think I’ll die for them.  What!!??  Really???  I don’t really understand the Trinity (and if you do – please stop fooling yourself), but I wonder if the three-part Godhead actually discussed this?

Did the Father simply say he regretted even starting this whole thing, and maybe it would be better to just forget about it?  Did the Holy Spirit offer to move among us and see if something could be done? 

And what about Jesus…how desperately must He have loved us!  Did He say to the Father – I know you’re disgusted but please don’t do this thing.  I can fix this.  I can save 'em.  I know – I'll die for them. No more goats, lambs, bulls, feasts - no more.  I will go and live among them and let them kill me.  Whatever you need, I'll do it.  Daddy, just don't do this thing. Please.  

I can’t even continue with this line of thought. 

I know this post doesn’t make much sense.  I am not a talented enough writer to express my thoughts on this, but Harold’s sermon haunts me with the thought of how desperately Jesus must love us.  

The Fullness of Joy!

These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.  John 15:11

Some days I drive a lot for work, and as it turns out I spent several hours on the road today.  Idle time for me can be a fun or should I say – bizarre time.  I wonder if everyone does it – this whole flight of ideas kinda thing…start out with a snippet of a thought that takes you down the rabbit hole and leads to all kinds of things.  Today I started thinking about my childhood, actually, one particular day in my childhood.

I must have been ten or eleven years old and it was the first snow day off from school for that particular winter.  Anthony and I decided to make some cash, grabbed shovels and headed over to the motherlode – Euclid Ave.  I have no idea what those people on that street did for a living, as a matter-of-fact I don’t think I ever knew a single soul that lived there, but that street had the nicest houses in town.  There were big Victorians, Tudors and styles that I don’t even know the names of, all of which had the biggest, nicest yards with grand old trees and boxwood hedges.  But the best thing of all, to a couple of snot-nosed kids on the first snow day of the year, was these rich folks had long sidewalks and big driveways!

So on this particular day we headed down Euclid and found a corner house, talked to the lady inside and contracted for the whole sidewalk.  I don’t know how long it took us to finish the shoveling, it seemed like hours, of course half that time was filled with snow angels and snowball fights.  When we were finished we showed the rich lady the completed job and she paid us five dollars!  Let me say that again – five dollars!  In those days that was huge!  We felt like the richest kids in town, so much so that we decided that with this single job we had done a day’s work!

Anthony and I were just elbows and teeth as we ran, whooped and hollered the few blocks from Euclid Ave to Cozy Corner, the little general store-wanna-be-diner down on Johnson and Washington.  I might be wrong, but this may have been the most money we ever had and the only thing on our minds was - candy! 

Cozy Corner was one of those general stores you expect to see in the Andy Griffith Show – I think I remember wide planked wood floors and a counter with that huge glass front with all the candy behind it.  Anthony and I stood there gawking at all the goodies trying to decide what to get when the lady (would it be too much to say she had a beehive hairdo and horn-rimmed glasses?  I really think she did) told us to hurry up and decide.  Now-and-Laters (all three flavors), Chunky chocolate bars, Cowtails, Chick-O-Stix, and a quart bottle of Coca Cola in a big glass bottle that needed an opener to pop the top.  I don't remember how much we payed, or if we had any money left over, but I do remember that DING! the old cash register made as we handed over our cash.  

But the best part of the day, my favorite memory, is of Anthony and me…sitting in the cold with our snow pants on, a light snow still falling, and the two of us just sitting on the stoop outside the old bakery a couple doors down from Cozy Corner.  In my mind’s eye I am still ten or eleven and when I think of that moment, even today, I smile.  I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So that’s where my thinking today started.  That moment some 35 years ago.  Then I started wondering…how much of my adult life have I spent trying to get back to that moment?  What have I been looking for?  The Youth?  The innocence of a couple of goofy kids sitting on a concrete stoop in the snow eating candy?  I don’t know.  I wracked my brain for several miles, then it came to me:  what I’ve been looking for is the joy.  That youthful, innocent, stress-free, goofy joy of childhood.

I don’t know if I’ve found it yet, but it occurred to me that in the last several weeks I certainly do sense a change.  I don’t know if it’s simply the idea of casting all my cares on Jesus, or maybe it's because my new yoke is light.  Maybe I’ll never have that same joy, it might be kinda creepy if I did, but I am learning…one moment at a time…to find the fullness of the joy of Jesus.

Thank You

But I will sacrifice unto thee with the voice of thanksgiving; I will pay that that I have vowed. Salvation is of the LORD.  Jonah 2:9

I’m sick.  No – not that way!  I have a cold.  I hate colds, they seem like such a waste of time.  The upside is…I’m spending a little time doing nothing.  Doing nothing is kinda hard for me, but alas – I haven’t a choice.  So tonight I took a little time to look over some of my blog postings, just remembering what things were like, seeing from where this journey has come.    

One thing I noticed though…I haven’t been very thankful, and I have A LOT to be thankful for!  I won’t even attempt to go through the list of people by name to whom I owe a debt of gratitude for their thoughts and prayers.  Thoughts and prayers for me through the beginnings of this journey, and even more so – thoughts and prayers for Ashley.  You know who you are (as do I for the most part) and from the depths of my heart – thank you so very much, you’ll probably never know how much I appreciate everything.

And then there’s God.  How do I even begin to thank God for what He has done?  You know how, when someone really goes out of their way to do something really special for you, you have to think and search and consider how to really show your appreciation?  Know how hard that is?  I realize right now...ugh!  How much harder is it to think of something for, for, for...GOD.  Really!  God!  You know - creator of the universe!  Talk about the ultimate man who has everything!  What could I possibly do to sincerely show my appreciation to the Being who spoke all into existence?  

I looked through the Bible for some examples.  I don’t have any lambs, and I don’t think God is calling Linus (my beagle) to the altar of thanksgiving.  But I do see several examples of people singing praises to God.  Now, I’m not much of a singer, but if that would do it…

But how would singing a song be enough?  Seems like anything I could sing, say or do would be the ultimate in understatements!  So I guess I am left with thanking God in this way:

Father,

Thank you for what you have done on so many levels and in so many ways, and to, and for so many people.  Thank you for what you are doing for me.  Teach me and guide me, help me to learn how to thank you by offering myself as a living sacrifice. 

A Response to "Dirty Laundry"

I muddle a lot.  Sometimes I scratch, and hunt and dig for words to try to get a thought out.  Then someone else writes something and I think - wow!  That's exactly what I wanted to say!  This is one of those occasions.  In reply to my previous post, Harold Burrell (Uncle Harold to me) wrote the following.  I originally posted it in the "comments" of this blog, but thought it so much clearer than what I was trying to say, that I thought its own post was more appropriate.  Thanks so much Harold!

 I'm sure you are familiar with this passage:

2Co 11:3-4 But I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtilty, so your minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ. For if he that cometh preacheth another Jesus, whom we have not preached, or if ye receive another spirit, which ye have not received, or another gospel, which ye have not accepted, ye might well bear with him.

"Another Jesus..."  I wonder about the exact details of the circumstances to which Paul was addressing this warning.  I wonder what was being preached specifically...and who was preaching it.  I wonder what fruits it produced...specifically...in the church itself.  And I wonder how this warning effected the hearers, when it was first read in the church.

In other words...I wonder if they "got it" right away.

But I really wonder how the other apostles took it when first they read it.

"Another Jesus..."

Judas was all about that.  It was about the time of the "alabastor box" incident that the Jesus that Judas had created and the Jesus that stood before him were revealed in contrast to such an extreme that Judas was forced to make a choice.

He did.  And we all know what happened.

Yeah...Judas was all about that.

But, wait...what about Peter?  All the times he tried to rebuke Jesus in regards to His plans.  "No, Lord.  You've got it all wrong.  Let me tell You what You're supposed to do.  How YOU are supposed to act."

You see, even Peter's ideal Jesus...and the Jesus of the Scriptures...occassionally stood in contrast.  To the place where...on the eve of the crucifixion...standing before an otherwise harmless maiden...he chose which one he wished to follow.

And really...in that sense...is that not what all of the disciples did?  One by one.  In their own way.  As they forsook Him and fled.

They all were faced with a choice between their ideal Jesus and the Jesus that they did not...and could not...understand.

But did that negate their initial call?  Oh, no.  Not at all.  Was it another Jesus that spoke to the 12 one by one and challenged them to "follow Me"?  Of course not.  And who was that Jesus whom they sat under for over 3 years?  Some imposter?  Don't be silly.

Then what was the problem?

Namely this (IMHO)...though they followed Him for all that time...and watched Him walk, talk, eat, sleep, pray, teach, preach, perform miracles, help people, sigh, cry and die...they never really knew Him.

Oh, they knew plenty about Him.  But they did not really know Him.  Personally.  Intimately.  Practically.  Nor could they...

Until they first knew themselves.

"Lord, I will die for you."

"Will you Peter?  I tell you that this night will not pass before you have denied me..."

"Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven?"

"James...John...you know not what spirit you are of..."

Kind of adds another perspective as to the how and why the Peter of Passover was so vastly different from the Peter of Pentecost, doesn't it?

And it also adds a certain sense of urgency and desperation to those 10 days in the upper room.  Because they had caught a glimpse of who they were.

And only then could Jesus reveal Who HE was.

Dirty Laundry

Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.  Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.  For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.  Psalm 51:1-3

Ashley looks great!  To look at her you wouldn’t know that anything had ever happened.  Her mind is sharp and her body gets stronger by the day.  Miracle (a word I definitely don’t bandy about lightly) is the only word to describe it.

I ended up speaking at my Uncle’s church today.  It was an experience.  Beyond those things that I will not describe here, are the things that were hinted at, and some…simply thought but not spoken.  I guess that’s why I have this silly blog – it’s a forum to say those things I wouldn’t otherwise say.

Standing in Harold’s church brought back a flood of memories, an overwhelming flood for that matter.  Looking at Ashley sitting not 15 feet away, facing the shortcomings in my life, made me think of this verse in Psalms.  It seems that no matter where I turn, my sin stands before me.  There’s a constant reminder, but I guess maybe that’s part of the cross I bear in being a disciple of the Christ. 

I’m guessing the whole of my Christian life will not revolve around my unworthiness and wrangling with myself to come to terms with what my life has been up to this point.  I’m guessing that this is a cathartic phase if you will, although the realization of my worm-ness will likely never leave me. 

So, what’s the problem here?  What have I done that’s so horrible?  Well, this is definitely not the forum for those details, but if you’re reading this (and I don’t mean to be snarky here), simply think of the things you have done and who you have been and my list is probably very similar.  But there is one thing worth discussing here.  One thing that has defined my life, one thing that, because of its ubiquity in my life, needs to be addressed here…today…now.  I kinda hinted at it at Harold’s church today, beyond the fact that I have no idea how to make Jesus plural, the problem is this:

Two Jesus’s. 

I was thinking about Harold’s comment to an earlier post where he said, “I believe all of your "callings" were of God. Does not the Bible tell us that there are none that seek God? And did not Jesus say that no one can come to Him except the Father draw him? That  tells me that any inclination that we have toward Christ is from God.”  I suppose that’s all true, but what if it wasn’t really Jesus I was drawn to before? 

Looking back at my life, I’ve come to realize that the Jesus I was drawn to before was nothing more than an idol, the very graven image that we are so often warned against.  You see, in previous times my attraction to Jesus wasn’t Jesus at all.  Rather, it was the trappings that we set up around Jesus that drew me.  The opportunity to, in some heinous way, make opportunity for myself.  As a child, it was the approval of my family that came with appearing to love God.  Let’s be real for a minute.  Mom, if you’re reading this I’m sorry, but you may want to skip this part.  I really don’t remember ever loving God in any real way.  I don’t know, maybe I did – but looking back it seems like it was all just make-believe.

Bible college and ministry.  Man!  What a farce that was!  I can honestly say that that whole part of my life was about how I could be a star – the size of the stage didn’t matter nearly as much as the idea that I would be “the guy”!  The Youth Pastor, the Assistant Pastor, Pastor, the wanna-be theologian.  NONE of it was about Jesus.

So.  Was I drawn to Jesus by the God who sent Him?  Did Jesus, being lifted up, draw me to himself?  No.  Not at that time.  I was drawn to an idol called Jesus.  And that explains, at least to me, why I never found peace or comfort in Christ.  I was worshipping the idea of church.  Really, I was worshipping me.  It some ways, my whole life had been a fraud, hollow.  And it makes sense.  Isaiah 44:9 says, “They that make a graven image are all of them vanity; and their delectable things shall not profit; and they are their own witnesses; they see not, nor know; that they may be ashamed.”  I didn’t stand a chance!

So what’s different this time?  Jesus #2.  Jesus.  That’s what’s different, or rather – that’s who is different.  I don’t know how or when, but at some point in the last several months, I died.  There is, in some miraculous, mysterious way – a new creature.  Jesus somehow became real, not merely an idol.  Jesus is no longer the trappings of church.  Jesus no longer is - me!  The best part is that I realize now that it IS God who draws me, it IS Christ, having been lifted up, who draws me to himself.  Now, that doesn’t mean that I won’t once again try to weasel my way in to make something of myself.  But now that I am aware of who I am, (like the scorpion who stung the frog – it’s my nature) perhaps I will hear the voice of God when He reminds me that it’s not about me and to ‘Knock it off!’ 

My sin will always be before me.  Also my nature.  I’m just one of those guys who thinks, over thinks, then exceedingly abundantly over thinks.  But there’s this really cool passage in Hebrews that gives me hope: 

This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, saith the Lord, I will put my laws into their hearts, and in their minds will I write them; And their sins and iniquities will I remember no more.  Now where remission of these is, there is no more offering for sin.  Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh; and having an high priest over the house of God; let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.  Hebrews 10:16-22 

Yes? Who's Calling Please?

…and called Mary her sister secretly, saying, The Master is come, and calleth for thee.  John 11:28 (KJV)

Sometimes I just want to write.  Very often I come across a thought while I’m reading and I just want to write about it.  There may be no particular lesson or deep, personal experience with it, but it hits me and I just want to write.  The downside is that this often happens late in the evening and if I don’t jot down some thoughts, it’ll keep me awake…sometimes for hours.  This is one of those times.  Not sure where this is gonna go, but settle in and let’s see…

The thing that grabbed me about this particular verse was how lucky Mary was to have Jesus, the very Christ – asking for her!!!  I started thinking how thrilling that must have been.  I wondered if Mary thought about it for a second; did she have the presence of mind to savor the thought?  She certainly didn’t think long about it because the next verse says that “as soon as she heard that, she arose quickly, and came unto him.”

I suppose there’s a lot here.  I’ve heard the call, felt the draw of Jesus several times in my life.  Not much appreciation there.  I usually answered the call with my thoughts and intentions elsewhere.  Other times I simply didn’t listen to that call, it went ignored even shunned.

Another thing that struck me was that the story isn’t about Mary seeking Jesus.  She didn’t just wake up one day and decide that…oh, I think I have time, or – maybe I’ll meet with Jesus today.  No.  Jesus called her, and she responded.  How many times have I, as the result of a certain nausea toward life, just decided that maybe Jesus would be the panacea, a hobby, a means to an end?  Each of those times ended in either more loneliness, disappointment, discontent or simply loss of interest.

I’m always fretting over the thought that maybe this go-round is more of the same.  But it doesn’t seem that way. Sure, in the beginning there were certainly some events that might make it seem the same, but…I don’t know – somehow this time it’s different.  I guess I simply have to have faith that this time it was Jesus calling and not George looking for some opiate to relieve the dead wall reverie of life, or looking for a means to an end.  I struggle with that.  But if it is Jesus calling – oh that I would be like Mary and run quickly!

Indeed!

But Jesus answered and said, Ye know not what ye ask. Are ye able to drink of the cup that I shall drink of, and to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?...   Matthew 20:22 (KJV)

He is risen!!  From a Christian perspective this is indeed great news!  If Jesus stayed in the tomb, well – I don’t know what we’d be talking about right now.  If the Jews of Jesus’ time and shortly thereafter became evangelistic after the diaspora, then I suppose we’d be celebrating Passover and looking for the Messiah.  But He did.

Jesus rose from the grave – great, awesome, incredible news!  Jesus rose from the grave – uh, oh boy…what does that mean for me?  Oh I know it means that the debt of sin has been paid.  I realize the justification, sanctification, and …  But I have that feeling that it means even more (or am I looking for additionally?) right here, right now.  I guess I’m considering what it means in my every-single-day life.

I find it hard to believe that Jesus died on a cross and rose from the dead just so I could go to church on Sundays, give a bit in the offering plate, sing some songs and maybe even now-and-then do good things for other people, although these certainly seem to be part of the big picture.  But if that is all there is to being a Christian, then I would have to agree with Bonhoeffer when he called that kind of Christianity “cheap grace”.  The kind of grace where my life remains unchanged, I could continue in sin, no worries because ‘He is risen!’

I have no interest in a cheap grace Christianity.  My desire is for Christ to be real, substantive in my life.  It is, in Bonhoeffer’s words once again, a “costly grace”.  For this grace cost Jesus more than I could even begin to express here.  And it is a grace that will cost me…what?  My life?  Maybe that’s what it is – I surrender my life to the will of God.  I haven’t a clue how to do that.  The best I can do is offer it daily, maybe even sometimes moment-to-moment.

I suppose I should be careful what I wish for.  Costly grace.  Drinking from the same cup.  A baptism in which Jesus surely was not referring to water.   But cheap grace is too similar to what my life has always been, and frankly – I don’t want it, it’s hollow, empty, sad.  I don’t know what a costly grace will look like in my life.  I don’t know what the resurrection, His and mine, will do to my life, but I have already been crucified with Christ, now it’ll be interesting to see what my life will be with Christ living in me. 

He is risen!  And so am I!