Saturday, February 27, 2010

Two Days from the Passover

* On Sunday mornings (or on Saturday nights for Sunday mornings) I am going to post communion meditations that I have written at some point in the last few years. I pray that they will help the body remember the significance of why we gather together each week.

To understand the scene, it might help if we pictured Vancouver a couple of days before the Olympics began. Everywhere you look there are reminders of the Olympics. Everyone is talking about the teams involved and sporting their country's colors. The city swells with thousands of spectators who have come from all over the world. Journalists. Cameras. Television networks. Newspapers. The nations focus on the Vancouver and everything that happens there. For those two weeks – everything revolves around the Olympic games.
Picture that scene as we turn our attention to Jesus and his disciples as they walk through the streets of Jerusalem...



When Jesus had finished saying all these things, he said to his disciples, “As you know, the Passover is two days away—and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.” Then the chief priests and the elders of the people assembled in the palace of the high priest, whose name was Caiaphas, and they plotted to arrest Jesus in some sly way and kill him. “But not during the Feast,” they said, “or there may be a riot among the people.” (Matthew 26:1-5)



It was a festive atmosphere in Jerusalem. Everyone’s attention was on the upcoming Passover Feast which would be followed by seven days of remembering how God delivered the Jews from Egypt under Moses’ leadership. But what would be happening two days prior to the feast?
When God announced the first Passover, he told them to find a lamb by the tenth day of the month and take care of the lamb until the day of the Passover Feast – the fourteenth day. It was their responsibility to feed, clean, and protect that lamb until twilight of the fourteenth day. At that time all the animals were killed and roasted, their blood was used to cover the doorposts of their house. The blood on the house would be a sign that protected all of the firstborn in that house.
The tradition surrounding the lamb would continue as the Passover observance became the most important of the Jewish feasts. The lamb itself is symbolic of God’s redemptive power, a reminder of God’s mercy, a sign of God’s love. While Jesus walks about the streets of Jerusalem two days before the Passover, he is becoming that sacrificial lamb for all humanity.
As the Lamb walked the streets of Jerusalem, pointing to the upcoming feast, the teachers of the law were scheming and plotting a way to silence God’s plan. This lamb’s blood would not cover a doorpost as a sign to an angel. This lamb’s blood would cover the hearts of men and women who turned to God. It would cleanse the sin from the lives of unworthy people.
As we gather today, the Passover has come and gone – but the feast remains. The body of the lamb lies before us. As we eat this memorial feast, we remember God’s power, his mercy, his love. In eating this meal, we are brought together and unified through the working of God. We are made one family. God’s power is on display – but journalists will not notice, cameras will not cover the scene, networks will not broadcast this mornings events, newspapers will not run headlines of our meal together. Yet what we do around this table is much more important than anything else we could be doing during this time – remembering the sacrifice, praising the father, thanking our savior…

Friday, February 26, 2010

Oops!


For all of you with cell phones - put them down while you drive. Don't text. Don't play your little games. And above all, don't take pictures of semi-trucks stuck up to the axle in sand on a construction on-ramp for a new bridge. (I've already done that, just ask me and you can borrow my picture.) In my defense, traffic had backed up and I wasn't moving yet...and it was a great opportunity. How often do you see a stuck truck?...Especially when there's no mud!
Now that the legal "don't try this at home" stuff is in print, I want you to picture yourself as the driver of this truck. For him, (gender specific because all the people on the work site were men) this picture is the epitome of a bad day. Its the kind of day where you say out loud to anyone listening, "I hate my job, I hate my co-workers, I hate my life." Did you notice the group of men standing further up the on-ramp? They are all standing and looking at the truck. This guy's mistake is known by everyone!
I've been there. You have probably been there, too. Paralyzed by the embarrassment, the fear, the shame. Your sin becomes public knowledge and you become the whispers in the hallway. Every giggle is instigated by your presence. The whole world laughs at your expense.
Here's the good news... that truck isn't stuck in the sand anymore. I know that for a fact. The bridge they were building on the day that truck got stuck is completed. I have driven over that bridge several times in the past few months. That bridge is sturdy and will stand for a long time.
So you messed up... big deal. The "whole world" laughed at you... who cares. Don't let that sin, that embarrassment, that shame, that fear paralyze you. Don't stop living the life you were called to live because of one little mistake. Look at it this way - at least no one took a picture of your mistake and posted a blog about it for anyone to see... :^)
Life as I know it is lived best when we don't let our mistakes stop us from doing what we're supposed to do.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

I Can Do It Myself


The moment a man becomes a father is a really strange moment. There are so many emotions, so many thoughts, so many plans. Instantly, our brains become crowded with all sorts of stuff all relating to the future of our child. First and foremost is the thought, “how am I going to afford this kid?” This explains the dazed look of fathers in the hospital maternity wings – sticker shock. Over the next several hours, he will wander around in sticker shock mode as he begins to think of paying for all the things his baby will need – diapers, clothes, a car, college, wedding…
After the sticker shock wears off a little bit, the father begins to accept his new role…and boldly musters up the courage to change a diaper. It is at this very moment that the father begins to long for their child to speak. He isn’t waiting to hear the sweet sound of how his baby calls him “dada.” Standing there with that dirty diaper in his hands he longs to hear one particularly well spoken phrase: I can do it myself.
For the dad, “I can do it myself” is a sign of success. “I can do it myself” is a signal that he is not a failure as a dad. His child has matured to the ability of being able to put on a shirt or button his/her pants or pour a glass of milk. The dad will greet this announcement with a high five or a fist pound. And then he will leave the room, his triumphant fist raised into the air, believing that his child has accomplished independence. In his mind, dad will believe that he will never again have to force a kids head through an impossibly small shirt neck or button a pair of kids pants or pour a glass of milk – after all, his child has declared, “I can do it myself.”
A couple of minutes later, when this same father is down on his knees cleaning up a glass of spilled milk, he will tell his child, “It’s ok…don’t cry…daddy’s not mad…” Kneeling there with that milky towel in his hand, he begins to realize that claiming independence and being able to be independent are two different things. He is reminded that the road to maturity is long and that his child will need him long after they are able to do things on their own. And then, all too often, that man will walk away from that Godly reminder of how much we need to rely on our Father and he will try to live independently.
“I can do it myself.” Childish words become a man’s mantra.

Check this out from Proverbs:
A wise man has great power,
and a man of knowledge increases strength;
for waging war you need guidance,
and for victory many advisers.
(Proverbs 24:5-6 NIV)
You are in a spiritual battle today. Satan wants you to believe that you can do it on your own. You need guidance for today – read the Bible. You need many advisers – others who have your best interest at heart and who will hold you accountable.
Life as I know it is lived best when we learn to listen to God and Godly people around us instead of throwing a temper tantrum and screaming, “I can do it myself!”

Monday, February 22, 2010

A Dog's Life

The rational, scholarly part of me realizes that when this life is over and we are in the presence of God, the questions that we ponder now won't be important at all. That being said, most of us have those "When I get to heaven I'm going to ask God..." questions. These questions are of utmost importance to our lives right now. These are the crucial things that keep us awake worrying all night long. Here's mine: When I get to heaven I'm going to ask God why dogs love things that stink.
Breeze loves laundry day. The Monday morning mountain of dirty clothes becomes her playground. She buries her nose in the pile and digs around until she finds her treasure - the dirtiest, nastiest, smelliest dishrag in the pile. She pulls it out of the pile so that she can roll around on it for a bit and then she carries it in her mouth the rest of the morning.
This behavior probably wouldn't bother me as much if Breeze could hold her licker - but she can't. She loves to lick - hands, jeans, faces, glass doors, bare feet...and I think I'll stop there before I make myself sick. Her tongue touches every stinky dirty thing that she smells and then she licks me. Gross.
What if on that day in the future that will never end, I actually did ask my question to God? What would his answer be? I think that right before I got to the point of asking my question, God would answer it by saying something like, "Didn't you do the same thing? Didn't you roll around in the filth of sin and then come lick me? Didn't you revel in the aroma of the world and then try to draw close to me?"
Life as I know it is best when I keep my nose out of the dirty clothes.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

One Way Rebellion

I hate one way streets. It seems that any time I encounter a one way street, the arrow is pointed in the wrong direction. The place I need to be is upstream, which means that I have to deviate from the shortest route and take a more circuitous route to my destination. For the real man, this is annoying. Real men know how to get from one point to another without directions. Our brains contain a detailed map of the entire world. If we need to get from one point to another, we simply know how to get there. At least we did know...until someone started making one way streets. That threw everything in our brains into disarray. No longer can we simply go from one point to another, now we have to navigate. So when I see a one way sign, I cringe...or I get people to stand in front of the sign pointing the other way (a nod to my rebellious side).
I vividly remember two times that I've gone the wrong way. The first time was in Zomba, Malawi. (Short pause for the men to look up Zomba on their brain map.) For some reason, someone decided that the right side of the road was the wrong side of the road. Not only that, but the right side of the car was the left side of the car. The passenger is supposed to be on the right hand side of the car - everyone knows that. But the cars in Malawi put the passenger on the left...thereby making the right side of the car the left. From the left hand passenger seat, it was my job to shift gears (since shifting gears is a right hand function, not left). On our first venture onto the highway, we successfully managed to get the car moving forward on the right side of the road. With perfect teamwork, we shifted into second gear. We celebrated. Then we looked up to see a large truck speeding toward us in our lane. Now from the perspective of the driver of the truck, he saw a very tiny car lurching toward him in his lane. His perspective was correct. The right side of the road was the wrong side of the road.
The other time I tried to go the wrong way down a one way street was in Austin, TX. Some friends and I were headed to my parents house. My parents moved to Austin after I graduated high school, so I wasn't familiar with most of Austin - certainly not the downtown part that is one way in every direction. My friends wanted to go down Sixth Street. I don't know why since we weren't the type that would party on Sixth Street...and it was the middle of the afternoon. But, being the neo-native Austinite, I boldly headed directly for Sixth Street. My brain map led me directly to Sixth Street and we turned left onto Sixth Street. The first thing I noticed was just a glimpse of a sign that said "Wrong Way." But the greater impression was the three lanes of cars heading toward me.
There are times that my One Way rebellion spills over into my spiritual life. Instead of following Jesus, I try to navigate my own path. The things of this world distract me from walking in His steps. Satan whispers that there's another way that will help me get to the same point. I would like to be able to tell you that there are only two times in my life that I remember going the wrong way spiritually. I can't do that. When I go the wrong way spiritually, the signs aren't as obvious as a truck barreling toward me or three lanes of traffic going the opposite way. The dangers are more real than cars and trucks, but not as obvious.
Jesus promises that his way leads to a complete life. He calls us to give up everything else - to unburden ourselves from the weights the world shackles on us - and follow him. Life as I know it is best when I answer his call.

Friday, February 19, 2010

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Blog

This is now my second blog. I don't know what happened to my first blog. It was there one moment, then there was an error message, then when I typed the blog name in again I was told that this name was already in use. Normally not one to scream at the computer, I typed it in again... and again. Then I added a dash and did my best not to lose my second blog...and my temper.
One of my thoughts prior to creating a blog or two was that I didn't want it to be like every other blog. (So, of course, I used a template to get started.) I figure the first post on most blogs (and I did absolutely no research on this) was a post about why the blogger felt the need to start a blog. So I decided not to do that...which is exactly what I am now doing. I even asked people to convince me to NOT do a blog. They were highly unsuccessful.
So here I type the first post on my second blog - unsure of where the road will lead, but hoping that in the posts that follow, I may share something that inspires you, helps you, sparks your interest in drawing closer to God, or maybe just lets you smile for a couple of minutes. Thanks for taking the time to read this little note - now I'm off to try to figure out topics that I can write about in the near future.