Fountain of Life

Posted on April 6, 2021 by salooper57

Scot McKnight describes 1 Peter 1:3-9 as a “chain reaction” of blessing. Another way pf putting it is to say the fountain of life surges through the opening made by the resurrection of Jesus, flows over into every aspect of our lives now, and carries us into the age to come.

The first of those blessings is a new birth. God knows that we can never make our old lives right, so in his mercy, he has given us new ones. Verse 3: “He has given us new birth into a living hope.”

“Man is born to trouble,” Job said,[1] but he is reborn to glory. This second birth engenders a new kind of life within us, and that life comes with hope pre-installed. The believer in Jesus, whether he is 18 or 81, has hope, and the 81-year-old’s hope is frequently more vibrant than the 18-year-old’s!

Contrast that with Woody Allen, who once said about getting older: “The only thing you can do (because you’re always walking with an abyss right under your feet) is what you did when you were 20 … distract yourself …”

The abyss over which Allen was walking is hopelessness and hopeless people are desperate for distraction. They don’t know how to live without it. For the psalmist, God was an ever-present help in time of trouble. For us, the cell phone and TV are ever-present distractions in time of hopelessness. The more dependent people are on distractions, the more serious is their hope deficiency, which does not bode well for America. And here’s the thing: over time, hopelessness becomes distraction-resistant.

Hopelessness is a spiritual condition that requires a spiritual cure: a new birth, a new life, in which hope is already integrated. The merciful God has given us the cure. “he has given us new birth into a living hope…”

It is not only a living hope that pulses through this new life; it is also a lasting hope. Look at verse 4: It is “into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade.” Peter describes it rhythmically – even musically – in Greek, with each word starting with what’s called an alpha-privitive, which is like our prefix un. It could be translated it, “Un-perishable (if we can put it that way), undefiled and unfading.” F.W. Beare captured it well: “the inheritance is untouched by death, unstained by evil, unimpaired by time.”[2]

[1] Job 5:7

[2] Quote in Scot McKnight, NIV Application Commentary: First Peter, op.cit.

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RISE (a narrative sermon on Jesus’s Resurrection)

Posted on April 4, 2021 by salooper57

On a Sunday morning just like this – in fact, it was this week, approximately 1990 years ago – a small group of men sat quietly on chairs and benches scattered around a large upstairs room. Their faces were dark, their clothing disheveled, and most looked like they had not slept for days. The few who tried to speak eventually fell silent, their words swallowed up in the gloom.

Just a week ago, things were completely different. Their eyes danced and their faces were bright. There was a constant din, and the clamor was unmistakably joyous. People were saying things like, “This is it.” At last!” “It will just be a few days now.”

They were happy, giddy even. And Jesus—they had never seen him like this – was magisterial, kingly, intimidating. Determination was written all over his face. They had entered the city at the head of a parade, with Jesus riding on a donkey’s colt. That was no accident! He had borrowed the colt to fulfill Zechariah’s prophecy: “See, your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.” Jesus was announcing his intentions to rule God’s people.

And the next day was just as amazing. They had returned to the city in the morning and had gone to the temple. They’d done that a hundred times but this time was different. Previously, they had gone to worship or so that Jesus could teach in the temple courts. This time they went to take the temple back. Jesus made a whip out of cords and drove all the merchandisers right out of the Court of the Gentiles.

He was like a lion. No one could withstand him. He and his men took over the temple. No one came or went without his permission. The temple! The heart of Judaism on earth, and Jesus owned it.

They thought the revolution was beginning right then, that people would gather to them by the thousands, and Jesus would send them out to rout their oppressors and drive them from Israel. But, instead, he taught and, when evening came, he quietly left. It was as if he handed the keys back to the same old corrupt leaders. The disciples couldn’t figure out what Jesus was up to.

The next couple of days were filled with opposition. Jesus was confronted by the authorities at every turn, but he was too much for them. The disciples were so proud of him. And the people—the people flocked to him.

But again, Jesus did not take advantage of his momentum. In the evening, he left the city once more. Why didn’t he make his move, the disciples wondered. Someone suggested, “He’s waiting for the Passover. After Passover, we’ll make our move – just like Moses did. He’s the new Moses. This is the new exodus – only this time it will be our enemies who leave, not us!

Then came the day of the feast. Jesus had not yet said anything about where they would eat the Passover, so they asked him: “Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?” Judas, who was standing nearby, leaned in eagerly to hear the answer.

But instead of giving them a name or an address, Jesus gave them cryptic, cloak and dagger instructions. He told Peter and John to go through the gate into the City and look for a man carrying a jar of water – usually, men didn’t carry water; women did, so they would be able to pick this guy out.

But they weren’t supposed to say anything to him. They were to follow him to the house he would enter. There they would meet someone else – the owner of the house and they were say: “The Teacher asks: ‘Where is my guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’” They would be shown to a large upstairs room, furnished and ready. That is where they were to prepare for the meal.

Judas glowered but didn’t say anything, and no one noticed. Except, perhaps, Jesus.

That day (it was Thursday), Jesus and his disciples waited until the afternoon had worn itself away before they entered the city. Even then, Jesus wouldn’t tell them where they were going. The other disciples may have wondered about that, but it didn’t occur to them that they had a traitor in their group. They never connected the secrecy it to Judas.

When they arrived, Jesus waited for everyone else to enter, including Judas, who was itching for an excuse to get away and alert the authorities. He was worried. The thought occurred to him –panicked him – that Jesus knew: knew the whole thing; knew about the money, the secret rendezvous, the agreement he had made. He began fidgeting, sweating; he was worried.

The Passover meal – if that’s what you’d call it – was the strangest one ever. Everything was off, right from the beginning. Where was the slave who served? There was none. What about water for washing feet? That was an essential part of hospitality?

After they started the meal, Jesus got up, stripped down to his loincloth, wrapped a long towel around him – just like the lowliest slave – poured water into a basin and started going around the tables, washing everyone’s feet. No one knew what to think. Here was the future king of Israel, doing menial, slave work.

No one said anything but everyone thought: “This isn’t right; he shouldn’t be doing this.” But when Jesus came to where Peter was sitting, he spoke: “You aren’t going to wash my feet, are you?”

Jesus said, “You don’t understand what I’m doing now, but later you will.” But Peter was as stubborn as an old donkey. He said, “Un-uh. You will never wash my feet – not now, not ever.”

Jesus looked him right in the eye and said, “If I don’t wash you, you have no part with me.” Peter, who had been uncertain about his place in the group ever since he’d got back from a leave of absence, caved in on the spot, and Jesus washed his feet.

The meal itself was the strangest ever. Instead of the traditional words of the Seder, Jesus kept inserting his own. But when the cup was passed, he said: “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.”

Here is how that sounded to the 12 men sitting around the table: “Next Passover, the war will be over, we will have won, and the kingdom of God will be established.” Their hearts soared. But they also felt the reality of it like they had not felt it before. This was happening. Tomorrow, the Great Battle would be joined. Would they survive? Who would come out on the other side? It was exciting and scary.

And confusing. Because not long after that, Jesus said, “One of you is going to betray me.” They hadn’t seen that coming. They looked around at each other. Who would do it? Who would slip up? Even then, it never occurred to them that one of them would intentionally betray him. They thought one of them would do something careless – would mess up – and each one said, “It’s not me, is it?”

Judas sat there stunned. How did he know? Did he know? Judas hardly heard the others asking their question, but then he realized that he was the only one who hadn’t. So he screwed up his courage and said, “It’s not me, is it?”

Did he look Jesus in the eye when he asked that? I don’t this so. He was too afraid of what he might see—or what Jesus might see in him. He was desperate now. He didn’t know what to do. He had already taken the money. Maybe he could give it back. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

And then an opportunity appeared out of nowhere. Jesus looked right at him and said, “Do it quickly, won’t you?” Do what quickly? Judas didn’t dare ask. Did he know? Of course he knew. But maybe he didn’t. Judas’s mind raced from one to the other, but he got up and went quietly out.

Now, Jesus knew how long it would take Judas to reach the authorities, how long it would take them to assemble a crew, and then get back. As soon as Judas was gone, he immediately began telling the others what was on his heart.

And it wasn’t what they expected. A few minutes earlier, they were roused by the thought of celebrating next year’s Passover in the Kingdom of God! But now Jesus was talking about leaving them, going away. He tells them they won’t be able to follow. He tells them he won’t be in the world much longer. He says they’re going to have to love each other – that’s the main thing; they need to love each other.

Jesus is aware of the time, even as he speaks. He stops suddenly, begins singing a hymn, and then says: “We need to go. Everybody out.”

They are hardly away before the house is surrounded. A group of men quietly ascends the stairs. They try the door. It is unlocked. They burst in to find … no one. The place is abandoned. Their leader is angry. Judas has deceived them. Judas swears they were here when he left. The leader says, “They’re not here now. If we don’t take him in tonight, we’ll be taking you instead.”

Judas wracks his brain over where Jesus might go. There is Bethany – they can try there.

Between the city and Bethany, midway up the Mount of Olives, is an olive press for making oil, and a little grove of trees – a garden of sorts – a place called Gethsemane. It is to this place that Jesus heads. He has shared the covenant meal with his disciples and talked with them about the things they need to know. Now it is time for him to talk to his Father.

What happened next was a blur for the disciples. They were dozing while Jesus prayed. They woke to see a gang of roughnecks coming, some with clubs and lanterns, some with swords. They think. “So this is what Jesus was talking about when he said to Judas, ‘Do it quickly, won’t you?’ He sent Judas to round up troops. It is beginning right now.”

But then reality collided with fantasy. Swords were drawn. Jesus was taken and the disciples scattered into the night.

But Peter doubled-back and followed them at a distance, his short sword hidden under his cloak. Jesus was being interrogated at the palace of Annas and Peter managed to get onto the grounds. He had no plan, just a crazy idea of rescuing Jesus. But that was just another fantasy and he failed miserably – never even had an opportunity. Humiliated and broken, with nowhere to go, he wound up back in that upstairs room. The other guys were already there.

Eleven broken men sat there that day and the next, the two darkest days in their lives – in earth’s history. The only break in their misery was when they heard footfalls outside or on the steps, and panic coursed through them. Panic was almost preferable to this bottomless despair.

When Sunday morning dawned it brought no hope. Nothing made sense. They had been so sure of Jesus. They knew he was God’s messiah! But would God let his messiah die? Of course not. They must have been mistaken. But how could they be mistaken! Dejected, confused, and hopeless, they waited … but for what? Nothing mattered anymore.

Early that Sunday morning they had a fright. Footsteps, coming up the stairs. A bang on the door. A voice. But it was a woman’s voice—Mary Magdalen’s voice. Someone unbolted the door and she nearly fell in. She was breathless. Her head was uncovered, her hair blown wildly over her face. She managed to say: “They’ve taken … the Lord …out of the tomb.”

Somehow this was the worst thing yet. They’d taken his body. Did their hatred know no bounds? They were probably doing something right now to defile and desecrate it. Without a word, Peter walked out the door and down the steps. After a moment, John followed.

Even as he went, Peter thought, “What’s the use? I can’t do anything. I’ve already proved I’m a coward.” But even as he belittled himself, he began to run.

John, who knew the city better than any of the other disciples, also ran, but he went by a shorter way and beat Peter to the tomb. When Peter arrived, breathless, John was bending over, looking in. Peter shoved past him, got down on his hands and knees and crawled inside. John followed.

The stone slab was there, but Mary was right: the body was gone. Strangely, the strips of burial cloth were lying there and the shroud that covered his face was folded and laid neatly where his head had been. Why would grave robbers remove the graveclothes before taking the body? Unless they wanted to perpetrate some further humiliation on him. Peter turned, went down on hands and knees, and clambered out of the tomb.

John followed, thinking they were going back to the upstairs room. Perhaps he said, “Hey, Peter. This way is faster.” But Peter said, “You go on. I’m not going back yet. I’ll see you later.”

When John got back, there were people there, talking loudly, even arguing. Some of the Galilean women – family and friends – were saying that Jesus was alive – that they’d seen him. But the men – Thomas and the others – were saying, “You’re delusional. You’re out of your minds.”

A little while later, Mary came back. She said the same thing. “He’s alive! He called me by name.” Thomas said, “You’re crazy,” and angrily walked out the door. Hours later, Peter came back and everyone could see that something had changed. They stopped talking and looked at him.

“It’s true.” He said quietly. “It’s all true.”

Later, Cleopas and his wife came rapping on the door. They told the same story. He had walked with them. He had talked to them, and their hearts had burned like fire. It was him. Somehow, they didn’t recognize him at first, but…

While they were still talking, it happened. There was a change, like a fresh wind had blown through the room. It was like the sun had come up – but inside, not outside the room. And then a voice. The voice they all knew—and it was full of mirth and joy. When they saw him, they all recoiled, like they’d seen a ghost. But he laughed. “Shalom,” he said, and their turbulent thoughts were stilled.

It was their friend, their Lord, yet he was changed. Power flowed from him. Joy radiated from him like light from the sun. They had been utterly hopeless. Now hope welled up within them. He was not just alive: he was the living one. He had been dead but here he was alive with a vitality that took their breath away. And the strangest thing was that he was happy. How could he be happy? He was … dead – or at least he was killed. Humiliated. Tortured. But now even his scars were not sad. They were glorious.

Now, learn the lesson those men and women learned that day. They awoke that morning without hope, without purpose, in a world that made no sense, where God had gone missing. In the evening, their joy was too full for words. What made the difference? The terror they had lived through was real. The corruption was foul. The malice was sickening. The betrayal of a friend was monstrous. Yet hope surged. Life pulsed in their breasts. Laughter came to their lips.

What made the difference? God raised Jesus from the dead. That makes all the difference. God raised Jesus from the dead. The apostles repeated those words – they never tired of hearing them – or saying them: Acts 2:24, 32; 3:15; 4:10; 5:30; a decade later in 10:40; in another country in 13:30; 34; in the heart of the empire,  Romans 4:24; 8:11; in the center of commerce, 1 Corinthians 6:14; 15:20—and ten thousand times besides.

They knew that “By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also.” Death, whether by cross (Peter) or sword (Paul) or stoning (Stephen) wasn’t going to stop them any more than it stopped their friend and master. Nor will death – whether by heart disease or cancer or car accident or COVID – stop us who believe in Jesus.

The laughter in the voice of earth’s greatest sufferer, the happiness on his face, the joy that exuded from his whole body, would be theirs and nothing – conflict, sadness, loneliness, pain, not even death – could change that.

So, here is one lesson of Easter: Those who have faith in Jesus will not simply rise but RISE, flooded with joy and filled with power. The sorrows of the past – think of Jesus, just hours away from sorrows we cannot begin to understand and could never carry – the sorrows of the past will hurt us no more. We will be whole. We will be happy. We will be strong to the glory of God and of our great savior Jesus Christ, who undid death and brought life and immortality to light.

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Easter: So Much Bigger Than You Think

Posted on April 3, 2021 by salooper57

At Easter, Christians commemorate the resurrection of Jesus from the dead and celebrate what his rising means for people and for the world. Too often, though, this vast hope has been so closely cropped that the only thing left is an expectation of a soulish celestial existence following death.

This is far too narrow a view, which is theologically unsupported and biblically unsound. Resurrection is not just about getting into heaven. It is the pivotal event in God’s plan to save creation. It is not simply a way for humans to live again after they die, but to live for the first time as God intended: joyously, vigorously, lovingly, justly, unendingly.

In the Bible, resurrection is viewed as the doorway into the age to come. Most people in first century Israel assumed this to be true. What surprised them was the Christian claim that the resurrection had already begun in Jesus. Their astonishing news was not just that people go on living after they die – most everyone in the first century already believed that – but that the new age had arrived when Jesus rose from the dead.

Christianity followed Judaism in dividing time into two ages: The present age and the age to come. The present age was seen as a time of injustice and conflict—who would say otherwise? The Apostle Paul referred to it as “the present evil age,” a time of suffering and growing corruption, from which people need to be rescued.

The age to come, on the other hand, was seen as the time of God’s undisputed rule, characterized by peace, justice, and human flourishing – a time of prosperity, reconciliation, and joy. And it was taken for granted that the line between this present age and the age to come was the resurrection. When Christians began “announcing in Jesus the resurrection,” they were heralding the arrival of the age to come.

But if Jesus’s resurrection means the new age has arrived, why is there still injustice and conflict? Because this is the period of overlap. The sorrows, sins, and corruption of the present age are still here, yet it is already possible to access the joy and peace and freedom of the age to come. The winds of that age are blowing across the borders of our time, and we can lean into them. We can experience what St. Paul called “the power of the resurrection” and begin living the future in the present.

The early Christians recognized that the two ages meet and overlap around the death and resurrection of Jesus. According to Paul, Jesus’s resurrection was not a one-off miracle that affected only him. It was the inaugural event of the new creation, which will fully arrive with the resurrection of “those who belong to him.”

Behind all biblical teaching on resurrection stands the idea that God is restoring creation. This explains why echoes from the Genesis creation account reverberate throughout St. Paul’s treatment of the subject in 1 Corinthians 15. We hear of seeds and plants, men and animals, birds and fish, the sun, the moon, and the stars. And, in case we still haven’t made the connection, Adam himself joins the chorus. This is about creation … and recreation.

The first creation floundered upon Adam’s rebellion and then fell. The new creation was established on Jesus’s obedience and is ready to rise. Paul makes it explicit: “For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.”

Christ’s resurrection was not simply proof that people continue to live in some form after they die. It was not just evidence that death has been defeated, though it certainly was that. It was proof that the new age had dawned and that God’s ancient promises – of a kingdom, a restoration, and a renewal – were being fulfilled. It was proof to the disciples, as G. K. Chesterton once put it, that the world had died in the night and that “what they were looking at was the first day of a new creation…”

(First published by Gannet.)

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Stumbling Block or Steppingstone?

Posted on April 1, 2021 by salooper57

St. Paul, writing to ordinary church members, said: “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God—even as I try to please everyone in every way. For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved. Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ” (Corinthians 10:31-11:1 NIV).

“Follow my example,” he says. “Live the way I do. Be ready to make personal sacrifices in order to help people come over to Jesus’s side. Everything you do, religious or otherwise, must make God look good – that is, “do it all for the glory of God.”

Living for the glory of God involves both a negative (what we should not do) and a positive (what we should do). We engage in certain things and not in others based (in part) on the impact our actions will have on people who have not yet come over to Jesus’s side.

Paul states what we should not do first (verse 32): “Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks, or the church of God.” Stumbling here and throughout the New Testament, is not just about falling down but about falling away—from God. Our attitudes, actions, and words can make it harder for people to believe in God and confess Jesus Lord. We can cause them to stumble.

I have talked to many people over the years who do not trust God and won’t even think about being involved in his church because of people who are (or were) in the church. Some church-goer did or said something that caused them to stumble away from God. Sometimes it wasn’t what they said or did; it was the attitude they held (usually the self-righteous, “better than others” attitude) that caused someone to stumble.

And sometimes, that someone who stumbled was a child and (tragically) the church-goer that caused them to stumble was a parent – a mom or dad. The combination of self-righteousness and hypocrisy in a church-going parent is almost too big an obstacle to get around.

Our attitudes and actions can make us stumbling blocks that cause people to fall away from God or they can make us steppingstones that lead people to him. Of course, being a steppingstone will sometimes mean getting walked on. We will be called on to forfeit our rights and sacrifice our time and goods so that people will come to Jesus and live for him.

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Getting Saved: An Old-fashioned Idea?

Posted on March 29, 2021 by salooper57

St. Paul was radically committed to the world. His commitment was based, in part, on a belief he held that not everyone shares. That belief underlies 1 Corinthians 9:22, where Paul explains the reason behind his way of life: “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.” Paul believed that people need to be saved.

Isn’t that old fashioned? Nowadays, when someone starts talking about being saved, people cringe. Maybe it’s not racist or sexist but it sounds religionist—and that’s just as bad. Who are you to tell me I need to be saved? For that matter, who are you to tell me I’m not already saved? You are being discriminatory and narrow-minded.

Some people are offended by the idea – not to mention the assertion – that they need to be saved. And they’re offended even though they don’t know what it means to be “saved,” aren’t sure they want to be saved, and have no intention of finding out. They do have a vague idea that being saved is about getting into heaven and they have heard that not everyone is going to get in – and that offends them too. It is a cosmic violation of the Fair Housing Act!

But when Paul used the word “saved,” he had more in mind than just going to heaven. He knew that heaven’s king is coming here to put an end to evil and get his plan for creation back on track. For Paul, to be saved was to escape the coming extermination of evil and share in creation’s rescue. The true king is coming; anyone can join him; but no one can stand against him.  

But there is more. To be saved (and this is one of the primary meanings of the word in the New Testament) is to be healed of hurts, both those done to us and those done by us, including the ultimate hurt of death. To be saved is not just to live again after we die. It is to live for the first time as God intended: joyously, vigorously, lovingly, worshipfully, unendingly.

Paul understood that people’s most pressing need cannot be met by economical or psychological means, as important as those are. We need to be saved by a power outside ourselves, saved in the richest, fullest sense of the word. We need a salvation that changes our relationship to God, to others, and to ourselves; that remakes us and turns us lose to reach the mind-boggling potential with which God created us.

Everywhere the apostle looked, he saw people wasting their lives, awaiting wrath, heading for ruin. God did not create us for this: for hatred, greed, despair, and distraction. Christ did not die so that we could fall further into such lives but rather to give us new ones.

Paul longed for people to have those lives. He wept at the thought of them being caught up in the terrible annihilation of evil. He was always looking for ways to be an instrument of God’s salvation in people’s lives. To that end, he was willing to sacrifice his rights – or make use of them if that’s what it took – in order to persuade people to come over to God’s side. What’s more (and this is relevant to our situation), he expected the rest of us to do the same.

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Pass it on to the Next Generation

Posted on March 27, 2021 by salooper57

I sit in the same chair each morning, a cup of coffee on the table next to me, the Book of Common Prayer on the chair arm, and a Bible in my lap. I spend a considerable time reading, thinking, and praying.

Whenever I look up, I see a plaque opposite me on the wall. It is an odd decoration. Affixed to the plaque, which cost a couple of dollars, is a tin can bounded on either end by hose clamps. Right below the can are the words, “My God shall supply all your needs,” taken from the fourth chapter of St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians.

I placed it there, where I will see it every day, as a helpful reminder of how God has taken care of my family in the past and an encouragement to trust God in the future. But I had another reason for putting it there: I wanted to use it to help our grandchildren learn what God is like.

Our grandchildren are still young. But I expect that one of these days our oldest, now six years old, will say: “Grandpa, why is there a can on the wall in your study?” And I will say, “I don’t think you’re ready for that story yet. I’ll tell you when you are older.” And each time they see the tin can mounted on the wall, it will arouse their curiosity about the story behind it.

Someday I will tell them the story. The can reminds me of a time when I was pastoring in a mission-like church in a rustbelt city. When I was sent there, the average Sunday attendance was 19. Three months after we arrived, the biggest giver in the church died. Then began years of financial struggle. There were times when we had no money and no groceries.

One day, the pipe between the catalytic converter and the muffler on my old Buick rusted through, and I had no money to pay for repairs. So, I rescued a tin can from the trash, cut it lengthwise into a metal sleeve, then clamped the sleeve around both ends of the broken pipe. To my surprise, it worked.

I was driving downtown a week or two later and stopped at the post office. When I went to get out of the car, the driver’s side door would not open. I slid over and tried the passenger door. It would not open either. It was like a scene in a comedy as I climbed over the bench seat – in jacket and tie – to escape out the back door.

Later, on my way back to the church, my makeshift repair burned through, the pipe dropped to the pavement, and the car roared so loudly it could be heard for blocks. In frustration I cried to God: “I need a new car!”

That evening, five people came to our home in two cars. They left in one, after they had given us the other. The interesting thing is that we never told anyone about any of our financial needs—except God, who had already taken care of our needs in many remarkable ways.

I want to tell that story to my grandchildren. More than that, I want to impart to them a knowledge of God’s goodness and a confidence in his care. In the words of the ancient psalm, I desire to “declare [God’s] power to the next generation, [his] might to all who are to come.”

It is incumbent upon us to relate what we know about God to the next generation. One of the best ways to do this is through stories. Years of pastoral work have taught me that people have stories that are important for them to share. Teaching children doctrine is necessary, but without stories, they will have no hooks on which to hang their doctrines.

It is good to find creative ways to share the stories that display, as the psalmist put it, “the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done … so the next generation would know them.” Such stories are among the richest treasures we can give the next generation.

(First published by Gannett.)

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A Three-Point Sermon (in Nine Words)

Posted on March 24, 2021 by salooper57

In Romans 12:12, the Apostle Paul writes: “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” There is a wonderful three-point sermon in those nine words.[1] Point one: there is a great future ahead of us, so be joyful in hope. Point two: there are great difficulties surrounding us, so be patient in affliction. And point three: there is a great God above us, so be faithful in prayer.

Though each point in this nine-word sermon is important, I want to focus on the final one: “faithful in prayer.” This is one way that our commitment to each other works itself out: we pray for each other. We pray for each other when we are alone. We pray for each other when we are together. And we are hopeful in our prayers, even in the worst of times.

We pray with hope because we know who is listening. This kind of hope does not come in the absence of affliction but in the midst of it. The affliction is real and painful, but it is not permanent. We know that and so we are hopeful.

The Greek word translated as “affliction” has the idea of something that puts pressure on us, that squeezes us. Money troubles, relationship troubles, health troubles all squeeze us. They leave us feeling like the walls are closing in and there’s no way out.

When our people (that is, the people of Jesus, especially those in our own church family) are going through tough times, our commitment to them expresses itself in prayer. We pray earnestly and repeatedly. And if ideas come to us as we pray, we act on them in hope. When our friend’s hope is lagging, we hope for them.

The phrase “faithful in prayer” means something like, “always on call for…” We are on call 24-7 to pray for each other. One of the most loving – and love-engendering – things we can do is to pour out our heart in prayer for another person.

[1] Ten words in the NIV but nine words in Greek.

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Climate Change in a Desert of Disrespect

Posted on March 22, 2021 by salooper57

St. Paul wrote: “Honor one another above yourselves” (Romans 12:10). This was written to people living in a rigidly hierarchical society. They were forced to honor those people above them on the social ladder but taught not to honor those below them. But things were different in the church. Masters honored slaves, merchants honored peasants, and everyone honored everyone.

That seemed baffling – and dangerous – to the outside world. If you were a citizen, you didn’t honor slaves. And if you were an equestrian, you didn’t honor citizens. So imagine being a wealthy equestrian sitting in a church service for the very first time. The speaker is obviously a slave. “Well, that’s weird,” you think. But when the friend who invited you and shares your social rank stands to praise the slave and honor him for his wisdom, you are appalled.

The social order can’t hold if this kind of thing continues. Slaves will disrespect their masters. Citizens will be telling senators what to do. The whole thing will come crashing down.

Outside the church, people rationed respect (and still do). Inside the church, there was an abundance of it. James Dunn translates this phrase, “Showing the way to one another in respect.” In other words, in the church we are not to wait for others to show respect. We are to go first.

Now, wait a minute! Why should I go first? I’ll show you respect … as soon as you show it to me. I’ve heard husbands say, “As soon as she starts showing me some respect, I’ll start being more loving.” I’ve heard parents say, “My kids aren’t getting anything from me until they start showing me the respect I deserve.”

We think that honor is a zero sum game: giving it to someone else diminishes our own. How will we ever go first when that is what we think? But going first is just what Paul expects us to do.

We’re all saying: “You first!” “No. You first.” And instead of a climate where people thrive, we have a desert of dishonor, where people wither. And going first becomes more difficult by the day.

Paul understood this dynamic perfectly—and issued the instruction anyway. It is because society is a desert of disrespect that showing honor to one another is so important. He urges us to take the lead, to go first. He dares us to walk point.

But how can we honor people who do not honor us? Harder yet, how can we honor people who dishonor us? If we give honor without receiving it, won’t it diminish our supply – and our souls need this stuff. Only if we see how God has honored us, we’ll be able to take the lead in honoring others.

The noun rendered “honor” in this verse is sometimes translated differently. It is rendered “price.” To honor a thing is to set a high price on it. To dishonor a thing is to set a low price on it, that is, to treat it as if it has no value. The connection between “price” and “honor” shines through in Matthew 27:9.

In telling the story of the blood money the Sandhedrin paid Judas to betray Jesus, St. Matthew quotes the prophet Jeremiah: “They took the thirty silver coins, the price set on him by the people of Israel…” In Greek that reads, “They took the thirty silver coins, the price of the one whose price the sons of Israel priced.” But it could be translated, “the honor of the one whose honor the sons of Israel honored” – or, rather, dishonored at the insulting price of thirty pieces of silver.

When you honor something, you set a price on it; you value it at a certain amount. Jesus was dishonored by Judas and the sons of Israel when they set so low a price on his life.

Now here is what we need to understand. We are rich in honor because God set so high a price on our lives: “For,” St. Peter says, “you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious [that is the adjective form of the same word] blood of Christ…” (1 Peter 1:18-19).

Whether others honor us or not, God himself has bestowed on us the spectacular honor of ransoming us at the highest price ever paid. We need to remember who we are – the highly honored, dearly bought children of God. If we keep that in mind, we can honor others whether or not they honor us.

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The Case of the Displaced Yard Signs: How We Gather Evidence Is Important

Posted on March 20, 2021 by salooper57
Photo by American Public Power Association on Unsplash

In our already splintered America, the last thing we needed was something else to divide us, but that is what we got. Solar power has come to our rural neighborhood. Or rather, solar power wants to come to our neighborhood.

Some of us in the neighborhood want solar power and some of us do not. More precisely, some of us want it and some of us want very much not to have it. Signs have appeared up and down our road, most opposing the massive solar farm but others supporting it.

My wife and I take a two-mile walk each morning along our country roads, so we walk by many signs. On a recent walk, I noticed that the signs opposing solar power were all standing where they had been placed, but more than half of the pro-solar signs were lying on the ground. It appeared that there was some mischief at work.

But then I remembered the strong winds we’d had. Perhaps it was the wind that knocked the signs down. But why, reason countered, would it knock down only the pro-solar signs and leave the rest standing?

I could imagine teenage boys from families that rail against solar paneled farm fields, driving down the road late at night, plucking up the opposition’s signs. That would explain why more than half of the pro-solar signs were down while all the anti-solar signs remained standing.

I was sure I had found the solution to the mystery. But, as in almost every Agatha Christie novel I have ever read, there was something I had overlooked. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the wire-framed base on one of the pro-solar signs was squared at the bottom. That is, rather than two wire stakes pushed deeply into the ground, the wire was bent at 90-degree angles to form a box-like bottom.

I have never seen a yard sign constructed like this. My guess is that a provider attached the signboard to the wrong end of the frame, placing it over the wire stakes that were meant to be pushed into the ground. That would explain why only these signs were upended by the strong winds of the past week.

This may or may not be the solution to the mystery. There could easily be other details I have overlooked. This is always the situation, not only in the case of the displaced yard signs but in all of life’s mysteries.

Evidence gathering is therefore of great importance. But it is possible to gather only the evidence that reinforces a view already held and disregard all the rest. This has certainly happened in America’s politics and in its response to the pandemic. The fact that search engines like Google prioritize results based on previous searches only exacerbates the problem.

Gathering evidence to learn the truth rather than to reinforce a position requires humility, which is why pride militates against real learning and therefore against truth. Humility is the key to learning, which may explain why children are so much better at it than adults.

It is not only politics and pandemics that require careful, humble thinking. So do relationships. Relationships are often derailed by assumptions that become convictions based on faulty evidence. How many friendships have floundered and marriages failed because one person looked, and of course found, evidence to support a flawed conclusion.

This is also true in matters of faith. I have spent my adult life studying the Bible. After decades of insight and even delight, one of the most important things I have learned is that there is much more to learn. Professor N. T. Wright, one of the world’s best known biblical scholars, routinely tells his students, “Ten percent of what I am about to tell you is wrong. I just don’t know which ten percent that is.” That kind of attitude – treasuring what we have learned yet eager to learn more – is crucial. Research conducted by the Canadian Bible Society reveals that, for many people, Bible reading only reinforces already-held positions. Something more is needed: an inquiring mind, a humble attitude, conversations with others and, most importantly, a willingness to act on what one learns.

(First published by Gannett.)

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Spiritual Formation: Anything but Boring

Posted on March 19, 2021 by salooper57

God, according to the Bible, intends to conform humans to the image of his Son. We might think it would be boring to have a world full of people who were all the same, even if they were like Jesus. But that is to think wrongly. If everyone were like me, the world would be a boring place. In becoming like me, so many of the things that make people interesting would be lost. But in becoming like Jesus, nothing that is good is lost. Boring? It’s just the opposite. The world goes from black and white to living color – colors we have not yet imagined – as we become like Christ.

But wait a minute. If I become like Jesus – so different from what I am now – won’t I cease to be me? No. It is quite the opposite. The more I become like Jesus, the more I become myself. In fact, I can only be me to the degree that I become like him. If I refuse to be like him, I will inevitably lose myself and everything that makes me me.

Here is a mystery. If you become more like Jesus and I become more like Jesus (which, remember is God’s plan), we won’t become more like each other in a way that makes one of us superfluous. Instead, as each of us becomes more like Christ, our uniqueness becomes more apparent, not less. The good but undeveloped possibilities within each of us spring to life. Every one of us is designed to express some glory of the Infinite Christ more delightfully than anyone else can.

The more I become like Jesus, the more clearly I see Jesus in you in ways that are totally unlike me – see them and bless God for them with gratitude overflowing in my heart.

Maybe this sounds like something you want. I must warn you that wanting it is not enough. You must decide that you will have it. You must pursue it with such determination that if something gets in your way, you will move it out of your way. If something weakens your desire, you will forsake it. If something is an obstacle, you will get rid of it. This is not a hobby; it is a life.

There are many methods, biblical and extrabiblical, that Christians have employed in becoming Christlike. However, even the best methods, used profitably for more than a thousand years, will fail if we are trusting in the method rather than Christ himself.

Further, all the methods in the world won’t help if the intention is lacking. Before God Almighty, we must choose to become like Christ. And the sooner we choose, the better.

That’s because we are already being formed—either into Christlikeness or into something else. We were being formed when we were born, are being formed right now, and will continue to be formed until we die. The question is: Into what are we being formed? What shall we be when the shape we are now taking is complete? Our nature is hardening into its true shape, whether that shape is Christlike or not.

Imagine I want to make Jell-O for my grandkids. I have several different molds into which I intend to pour the liquid Jell-O while it is still warm. One looks like a pine tree, one like a star, another like a heart. But once the Jell-O has hardened, it’s too late to pour it into the mold. It will retain its shape, the shape of whatever originally surrounded it. The only way to reshape it then is by cutting it and discarding the parts that don’t fit or by exposing it to some serious heat.

Some kind of formation is already taking place in you and me. God intends it to be into the image of his Son and he will make it so. How much better to be poured into the mold early rather than shaped later by knife or by flame. But the person committed to Christlikeness – the person who has seen – chooses to be so shaped, whatever the means.

Do you so choose?

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