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Entries from June 1, 2011 - June 30, 2011

Lazarus Quenby and the Reasonable Dinner Party

Lazarus Quenby, bored with the reasonable and respectable conversation at dinner, discreetly glanced at his pocket watch at the very moment the dinner party at Waddesford Manor came to an unexpected end. The ninth-century floor support beam gave way, plunging the dinner party deep into the caverns beneath the manor. There, buried beneath the rubble and Tudor-style furniture, six people found themselves under the banquet table which had served twelve generations of Waddesfords by holding their dinner. The table’s last service to the family was to hold the debris at bay while the six dinners scrambled toward the cavern and took inventory of their injuries and each other.
“Is everyone all right?”
“Charles? Is that you? I’m well, my dear,” answered Victoria. “But I seem to have someone’s limb in my face.”
“That would be me, Vickie.”
“Good God, David!” barked Sir Charles Waddesford, who always felt the need to take charge. “Remove your limb from my wife at once.”
“Yes, thank you, Charles. I’m all right.” said David, “What of Eleanore, Mary and Lazarus?”
“We are fine,” said Lazarus. “Eleanore, Mary and I are over here--and we’ve accounted for our limbs as well.”
Beneath the Manor were ancient caverns discovered when builders laid foundations for the main hall at Waddesford ten centuries before. They very reasonably sank foundations into the bedrock forty feet below. They failed to reason that both the cavern and the Manor were living things in their own right, and that a thousand years of even the subtlest movements would cause the disruption of soups served a millennium hence.
Perhaps more distressing than the interruption of the meal was the darkness of their present situation: the six diners were unharmed but found themselves accosted by deep darkness. Not the kind of darkness to which one could become accustomed after a few moments. Pitch darkness, the sort of which one could not see a hand six inches in front of one’s face. The kind of darkness that removes all other sense of place and time: there remains only a dread blackness.
“Everyone remain calm,” ordered Sir Charles, though no one had shown the slightest inclination toward panic. “Surely six reasonable adults can find our way back up to the Manor.”
“Reason’s not the thing, Charlie,” said Lazarus. “What we need is a damned bit of light.”

Lazarus Quenby was correct. If they were ever to get back to soups and finally see the main course, the dinner party needed light, not reason. Their greatest need was to have their situation illuminated, so they could make wise decisions based upon what they saw . . . 
From the distress of our aristocratic friends we can learn the difference between reason and revelation, which are in no way opposed to one another.

Reason is what we use once we seen things for what they are; revelation enables us to see what we would not be able to see otherwise. A little bit of light goes a long way. Forever, in fact. Perhaps light comes first in the order of creation because it is of first importance.
Some people suppose that revelation and faith are the same thing. Hardly. The Biblical notion of faith springs from trust. Revelation is to see things at last as they really are--with a clarity so vivid that trust is no longer an issue. When the two met on the road to Damascus, the Apostle Paul did not need faith to know that Jesus was real. Jesus settled the question of his resurrected reality with a blinding light. Paul did require, however, faith to trust in the goodness and kindness of Jesus.
To those living in darkness--including many who claim to have faith in Christ--the in breaking of light reveals powerfully the need to change course, to re-prioritize, or to re-order our lives around what is clearly true.
The light is not always convenient to those who have learned to navigate the shadowlands of self-sufficiency. The light is seldom welcomed amidst religious tradition because they believe they have ordered their world properly, and so have been unable to see the changes in the new landscape. The light always presents a challenge to those trust in their own intelligence. Not because their intelligence is invalid but because in the darkness they have launched out in the wrong direction, and if you’re lost no amount of reason can show you the right path.

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen,” said C.S. Lewis. “Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” That’s why Christianity begins with revelation. After we see things clearly God encourages us to use the rational mind to order our affairs in light of his revelation.
“How will we find our way out?” asked Victoria.
“It only stands to reason we should feel our way along, and follow any path that leads upward,” commanded Charles.
Just then Lazarus remembered the penlight attached to his key chain. Its dim beam was bright enough to cause the party to blink and shield their eyes.
“There appears to be something of a worn path in this direction,” he observed. “but it leads slightly down.” Charles remained adamant: the smart way out was up. He didn’t need the light to work his way back to the Manor. He turned and felt his way along the walls.
The rest of the dinner party quickly decided to follow Lazarus Quenby, who discovered a path that lead down and out to the place where a subterranean stream broke into an open field.
Even though the survivors sent search parties back underground, Sir Charles was never heard from again. Quenby married the widow Victoria and inherited the estate.

Monday's Meditation: Grace for Birth, Grace for Life

A parable: two students each received scholarships to Harvard University. Full rides, every possible expense paid. Both were bright kids, and both felt intimidated by the reputation of such a great college. They each thought, “I don’t deserve to be here.”
One student studied day and night. She gave it all she had. The other student began to enjoy the thrill of college life: parties, the big-city and the freedom of being on his own for the very first time. By mid term the first student was still working hard, earning C’s and B’s in her classes. The other was failing every class and placed on academic probation. By Christmas the first student had earned a 3.0 GPA, but the second had flunked out of Harvard. Which of these two students laid hold of the opportunity given to them?
Of course the answer is the first student, humble and hard working. The gossips wagged their heads over the second: “How could he throw away an opportunity like that?” 
The scholarship to Harvard was a gift of grace, but the truth was the work was just beginning. God’s grace does for us what we could not possibly do for ourselves. What is beyond our reach is joyfully paid in full by Jesus Christ, but the work is just beginning. The new birth is by grace, but what lies ahead is growth in Christ. God’s grace stands ready to supply the energy needed to navigate new life in Jesus, yet we must sadly acknowledge that there are many who squander the possibilities of new life in him.
Some people might object to the close association between grace and work. God’s grace comes with no strings attached, doesn’t it? No amount of effort on our part could win his pardon. True enough—it’s just not the whole story.
Consider another young man who received a full ride from Jesus:  “For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.” (I Corinthians 15: 9-10) The Apostle Paul had no trouble seeing the connections between grace and work.
The grace of God is a calling to a new life. The only reasonable response to such grace is gratitude that moves us to action.

When We Expect God to do His Job

Poor, sickly Heinrich Heine

Heinrich Heine lay on his deathbed in 1856. The German poet called his bed “the mattress grave” because he had been confined there for eight years. Born Jewish, converted to Christianity, living in Paris with his wife and mistress, he spoke his last words: “Of course God will forgive me, it’s his job.”
Sometimes I just want forgiveness. I want to be sure I won’t be hit by a lightning bolt. I want assurance there is a way out of the mess I’ve made. I want a system I can depend on, one that guarantees the outcome: forgiven. 
I can find the Bible passage I need: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and send us away with the feeling that he has done his job.” (1 John 1:9, kind of) We want a God who is in the forgiveness business the way WalMart is in the cheap junk business: always open, ubiquitous, and always the low price. Always. We want the Jerusalem Temple system of sacrifice, except with as many locations as Starbucks, or more. 
The book of Hebrews describes the Old Testament system of sacrifice for sin. Hebrews explains there was a High Priest who represented all the people of Israel. Once a year this priest performed his duties and gained forgiveness for all the people--for one more year. The next year he would do it again. And again. And so on. The High Priest followed the Old Testament instructions to the letter, and the people of the nation found them selves forgiven. Again. And again.
I like to try to imagine the High Priest sitting down with the people one-on-one after the annual ritual of sacrifice:
“Look,” the High Priest asks the busy Jerusalem businessman. “Aren’t you tired of doing the same thing every year? Don’t you ever want to learn how to live a better life? To grow so close to God that we don’t have to do this again and again?”
“Not really,” answers the man. “I’m a sinner. It’s what I do. You’re the Priest--you cleanse me--it’s what you do. Why don’t we both just do our jobs? See you next year.”
The Old Testament system provided atonement but was incapable of changing the heart. Forget about a change of heart: I just need forgiveness. I suspect many Christians see Jesus as a WalMart version the High Priest. We’ve found a Savior who forgives and forgives, and forgives again.
It’s true: in Jesus there are springs of forgiveness without end. But there’s more. If we want more. There’s relationship, empowerment, wisdom, insight, guidance, and strength to break the pattern of sin-and-forgiveness, sin-and-forgiveness. To see the work of Jesus as only an endless offering for sin is to consign him to the Old Testament priesthood, which may have provided atonement but was incapable of pulling us up from our lives of selfishness, foolishness, and the folly of our own way.
But Jesus is of a greater priesthood, capable of altering us at the very core. Hebrews tells us that Jesus wasn’t even an Old Testament priest in the sense of those who worked at the Temple. Hebrews points us to the shadowy figure named Melchidedek, from the book of Genesis:
This Melchizedek was king of Salem and priest of God Most High. He met Abraham returning from the defeat of the kings and blessed him, and Abraham gave him a tenth of everything. First, the name Melchizedek means “king of righteousness”; then also, “king of Salem” means “king of peace.” Without father or mother, without genealogy, without beginning of days or end of life, resembling the Son of God, he remains a priest forever. Hebrews 7:1-3)
This means Jesus offers something more than forgiveness. He offers right relationship and peace as well. In part, the message of Hebrews is about finding a way to break the sin-and-forgiveness cycle. What good is forgiveness if we remain the kind of people who are deeply broken in the center of our being? Who needs a priest who fixes up the outside of a person without repairing the inside? 
Many believers have come to expect nothing but forgiveness from Jesus. All the while he stands ready to make us a new creation. He is the kind of priest who wants to work from the inside out. He’s the best kind of Savior, then kind who can transform us from habitual sinners into sons and daughters of the Most High.
The Old Testament prophets tried again and again to warn the people of Israel not to trust in religious formulas or systems. They pointed to a personal God who wanted children of his own.
  • I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; (Ezekiel 36:26)
  • “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. (Jeremiah 31:33)
  • Wait! There are too many examples to cite. You can trust me on this.
Over and over the prophets urged the people of Israel not to turn their relationship with God into a transaction. They cried out on God’s behalf, “I want relationship, not ritual.”
The powerful inclination of men, however, is to reduce the offer of new birth, new creation, new life and new relationship into nothing more than, “you do your job, and I’ll do mine.” How many of us do the same with Jesus? It’s the difference between getting what we want out of him, or whether he gets what he wants from us--a loving relationship built to last forever. 
If I can find my way out of WalMart, I’ll choose the relationship. How about you?

Monday's Meditation: Riotous Faith

From: "La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc"
N.T. Wright is fond of quoting an Anglican bishop from the last century: “Everywhere St. Paul went, there was a riot; everywhere I go, they serve tea.” It’s a great laugh-line, yet beneath the laughs lies a dangerous question: Do I have riotous faith?

It’s a worthy meditation for the week, and altogether appropriate for a Monday-mood: what is threatening about my faith? Acts chapter 19 details the story of Paul’s three years in Ephesus. During that time Paul took off his apostle robe and wore instead the garb of a pastor. Under his direction the church in Ephesus impacted the city socially and economically as well as spiritually. There was plenty at stake. Ephesus was no small city. The growing Christian community began to change the behavior patterns associated with the town--think of New Orleans gaining a new reputation as the city of holy living.

When their way of life was threatened the ruling powers in Ephesus manifested violence and anger toward Jesus and his followers. In fact, Ephesus was not the exception: consider Jerusalem, Thessalonica, Berea, or Rome.

Do I have riotous faith? Do we? Is there anything about the way we follow Jesus capable of threatening those around us?

  • Does our faith threaten our family?
  • Does our faith threaten the economy?
  • Does our faith threaten the powers and principalities about us?
The earliest communities of faith were not politically organized, they threatened political organizations of every persuasion. The first followers of Jesus were not tied to home, they left everything to follow him. The early church caused the gates of Hell to tremble. Do I have riotous faith? Is there anything about my devotion to Jesus that makes anyone nervous?

I have no death wish. Believe me. I’m also allergic to pain because, well, pain hurts. Yet today’s meditation is about the kind of faith that leads to pain, or even death. It's about beligerent faith.

Finally, consider this worship song from the house churches in China. When our Chinese brothers and sisters gather, this is one of the songs they sing:

To be a martyr for the Lord, to be a martyr for the Lord

I am willing to die gloriously for the Lord

Those apostles who loved the Lord to the end


Willingly followed the Lord down the path of suffering

John was exiled to the lonely isle of Patmos

Stephen was stoned to death by an angry crowd

Matthew was stabbed to death in Persia by a mob


Mark died as horses pulled his two legs apart

Doctor Luke was cruelly hanged

Peter, Philip and Simon were crucified on a cross

Bartholoew was skinned alive by the heathen


Thomas died in India as five horses pulled his body apart

The apostle James was beheaded by King Herod

Little James was cut in half by a sharp saw

James the brother of the Lord was stoned to death


Judas was tied to a pillar and shot by arrows

Matthias had his head cut off in Jerusalem

Paul was a martyr under Emperor Nero

I am willing to take up the cross and go forward


To follow the apostles down the road to sacrifice

That tens of thousands of precious souls can be saved

I am willing to leave all and be a martyr for the Lord.

Perhaps we could sing with our Asian brothers and sisters? Imagine using those lyrics as an act of worship!

Freely Received, Freely Given

There’s only a small difference between the words, “Give what you have,” and “Give what you’ve received,” but it’s the difference between two kingdoms.

Jesus commissioned his disciples on their very first assignment with these words: “As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.”

The North American church has been big on the “go, proclaim” part of his instructions: so big, in fact, that in our haste we’ve sometimes failed to grasp his words, “Freely you have received; freely give.” One of the secrets to ministry lies in discovering what you have received before you rush off to give.

These words come from Matthew, chapter 10. It was the first time Jesus sent his disciples out into the field of ministry. Apparently, the Lord considered them prepared--or prepared enough to begin to put their lessons into practice. The disciples had left everything behind to follow Jesus: their businesses as fishermen, their roles as tax collectors, zealots, or whatever had occupied their time before they heard the call, “Come, follow me.”

The difference between giving what you have and giving what you’ve received is the difference between the kingdoms of this world and the Kingdom of the age to come. What the disciples received from Jesus was a new way of life. It was the vision of God’s Kingdom breaking into the here and now. Consider these three points:

“Give what you have” focuses on our talents, our abilities, and our wealth. The starting point is what we have. We bring our not only our resources to the party but also our understanding, our methods and our values. One of the telltales of lifeless religion is people working hard to serve God, bringing the sacrifice of their time, energy and money. A sign of the Kingdom is people who joyfully share what they’ve received.

The disciples listened in amazement when Jesus suggested that a rich young ruler should “sell everything you have . . . then come, follow me.” The logic of the world would suggest that a rich man is already poised to serve the King: he need only redirect his wealth toward God, as if God would benefit from deep pockets. In my imagination I see the rich young ruler walking away, shaking his head, thinking, “Jesus missed the boat. I have a lot to offer.” Meanwhile Peter speaks up: “we’ve left everything to follow you.” Jesus tells Peter that those who serve him will receive “many times over” what they have given up. I’ve learned that we not only receive more, but we receive resurrected relationships, resurrected perspective, and resurrected resources.

“Give what you’ve received” focuses on what God does in us and through us instead of our own abilities. Jesus’ instructions to the disciples were simple, and simply impossible: “Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons.” Easy, right? In reality, Jesus gave them a commission that required them to figure out a way to take the Master’s presence and power along with them, even when Jesus stayed behind.

A parable: Jesus sent out the twelve to heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. When they returned the first ten said, “Master, in your name we established hospitals, consoled the grieving, developed a leprosy research institute, and a psychiatric hospital.” The other two returned and Jesus asked, “Where are the buildings? How did the fund-raising go?” They answered, “Master, we have none, but we healed the sick, raised the dead, cleansed the lepers, and drove out demons. But we have nothing to show for it.”

What have we received? Some will dismiss these words as simplistic yearning for signs and wonders, for flash and dazzle. But no: the essence of our calling is to first receive from him--whatever he has to give--and then share his life with others.

Have we ever taken time to sit in silence and reflect on what he has given us? What abilities, insights, anointings or empowerments can we confidently say we have received from Jesus? The passage from Matthew 10 highlights the supernatural, but Jesus has more to give than we imagine. For example, he also said to his friends, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27) Is this a reality for any of us? Then we should share the peace of Jesus with others.

Can you imagine yourself standing next to someone filled with fear, placing your hands upon them, and imparting the peace of Christ? If you’ve received any measure of peace from him, then it’s yours to give. He is the giver of supernatural gifts. He also gives us the fruit of the Spirit: do we have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control? Then these, too, we should give.

Let’s use our imagination one more time: what if each follower of Jesus determined to receive from him each morning, and returned home empty each night. What would the Master say when we returned?