I just started teaching a class in a course of study for adults called Diakonia here in Orlando.
The course is "Ministry in Daily Life."
One of the assignments is for the class participants to complete a daily journal using a method called "S.O.A.P." Each read the same assigned Scripture each day and then journal about it. S = Scripture, O = Observation, A = Application, P = Prayer. From the total Scripture they read for the day they pick just one piece that caught their mind and heart. Then they write.
Takes about 20-30 minutes for the whole thing each day.
I'll be doing this along with my class participants, and I'll try to post as many of my daily journal S.O.A.P's as possible.
Here's a start:
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
“Enough Faith?”
The Nature of Faith
S = Scripture
“ ‘You don’t have enough faith,’ Jesus told them. ‘I assure you, even if you had faith as small as a mustard seed you could say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it would move. Nothing would be impossible.’ “
Matthew 18:20
O = Observation
A = Application
So Tuesday night at the new Diakonia class I start teaching on the topic of the nature of faith – and I say that it’s not about quantity. You can’t get more faith, just faith. And I say – the main topic – it’s not something you do, but it’s something done to you. Then, the first reading in S.O.A.P., the daily bible journal discipline I introduced to the class and required them to do, has this from Jesus: “You don’t have enough faith”!!!! Yeah, that’s Jesus for you – deconstructing the nice worlds we build. But wait. Listen. Seriously, I think he’s not saying anything about quantity after all. Because his qualifier, his object lesson, his metaphor for illustrative purposes to tell of this gigantic “more” is not a Mac Truck (I know, they didn’t have those then, but still), but rather a mustard seed. If we had a mustard seed faith we could mountains? Really? Do you know how big, how “more,” a mustard seed is? Okay then. Here’s what’s going on – he’s saying they have no faith, not a small faith that needs to be super-sized. If they had any faith, mountains would move. Good enough, but now we still are left in a quandary, because it seems harder to us to produce something from nothing than to grow something larger. These days I work a lot in a greenhouse. I know how to grow plants that’ll knock your socks off. But I can’t for the life of me figure out how to make a seed. So, back to the key point about the nature of faith: it’s not something you do but something done to you. That’s the deal, and the critical point. And the subject of another posting! Or two!
P = Prayer
Lord Jesus, give (more!) faith to me today!
Amen.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
About that Cross on a Friday Noon
It is easy to want to de-spiritualize the Jerusalem events and point to how Jesus, historical figure that he was, was simply a misguided mystic who underestimated Rome and The Temple in their reaction to his following or a political insurgent incapable of producing a strategic plan to deploy and organize those sympathetic to his cause. I am of the mind to say that something cosmic and transcendent did, however, happen that Friday noon and Sunday dawn, even as I cannot employ the traditional atonement theologies to give it meaning.
The most popular explanation, and most longstanding of the theories, is that Jesus was a stand-in for us in taking on the anger and righteous judgment of God against our wrong-doing, not to say also our mistrust. There are more, but the key reason I cannot appreciate this thinking is that it undercuts the actual mercy of God. There is not mercy shown if blood spilt is a necessity. In this, I am not defending God as loving and kind. I am simply pointing out the impossibility of the actual claim – that God is merciful to humanity by being merciless to one of humanity’s own (and you cannot rebut this by claiming Jesus’ humanity exempt from humanity’s attributes. Nicea took care of that!). One more reason to mention (and this is not incidental in my mind these days overall when it comes to our contemporary reading of the biblical accounts) is that the actual and historical events that took place should not be infused artificially with supernatural occurrence or meaning in order to render them divine. If divinity is real, and I believe it is, it should not have to be invented or superimposed, but rather observed and experienced. In this case, this Friday and Sunday so observed, we must look closely at what actually happened as we look at the biblical narrative that those contemporaries recorded. It was (and is) written that Jesus died for them (and us). It’s possible to see that this is true without invoking a theology of a just God who cannot tolerate opposition.
I would put it this way. Jesus did love those he taught, healed, fed and led. The accounts bear this out. When cornered by the Religious and Rome, what were his options when it came to not compromising his singular love?
He could run away, lead an escape, taking his close band of followers with him (or not, for that matter). But where would that leave those same followers, those same that he loved? Bereft of home and community, they would be political and social refugees never able to safely return. How loving is that?
What other options for Jesus? How about fighting back? He could actually lead an insurrection – either politically or militarily. But where would that leave his beloved? Crushed in a heartbeat, that’s where. Caesar’s power, co-mingled with the Religious Elite, would quickly and violently take out any organized opponent. Not exactly, for Jesus as the leader, the most loving place to lead his followers.
So Jesus did what only could be done to stay true to who he was (the identity recognition here is not unimportant: he is the son of Mary and Joseph, but also, as he says, sent from God). He died for them. Rather that flight or fight, he let them go and took his place on their behalf. Tragically, and divinely profound, it was the only thing he could do – he was caught, perhaps you could say, by his own identity and mission. He must love at all costs because he is love at all costs. God was not impressed by this, nor thwarted from ruthless action against humanity. Because, we see, what happened there, on this Friday noon, was God’s Self. This is God, purely unconditional and self-giving love.
And, then, why do we know this and recognize this (and fall on our knees in worship) instead of counting it all as one more death among many? Because on that Sunday something happened where this same crucified Jesus was experienced alive and inviting his followers to this same kind of unconditional love. Debate the resurrection event as you will – empty tomb or embodied Jesus – but someone real encountered those Jesus followers and invited them to embrace his dying as their way of living.
The risen Jesus calls into question all our self-preserving schemes that would distance us from trusting God alone so that loving others unconditionally as he did would be our very way of life. We are, facing him, named for what we are: intransigent mis-trusters (sinners). Facing him in this way he destroys our self-serving projects. The apostle Paul wrote about his effect when he wrote to the Christians in Rome (Romans 6) about how the “sinful self” is put to death in Christ when the follower is baptized. But at this same time, the Risen Christ gives us his own God-trusting Self so that loving others unconditionally as our way of life could be done with joy and abandon. We are, facing him, named (again!) for what we are: capable trusters (saints).
Far from being some kind of insurance policy against our mortality, the Resurrection of Jesus is a deathblow to all who cannot trust (that would be every last one of us, religious or not) and the life-giving power to all who take his gift of faith (trust) and live by it.
As much as we’d like to think that the cross and the resurrection is some kind of antidote to our fear of what will become of us – either here or hereafter – any vigorous reading of the New Testament does not afford us such luxury. The story of Jesus is the truth of the matter: we don't know what will become of us and are only left with the invitation to trust God alone with this and get on with the business of taking care of neighbor and nature. And since we will not do this trusting, God gives us, in the most dramatic self-giving move of all, even his own presence to do the trusting for us (This is the real power of the resurrection! Power to trust God’s promise of life against all odds).
What would be “luxury” would be to claim eternal safety and security through a belief system or behavior pattern we adopt. We have, to the detriment of all, made Christianity into this. What I argue here is that the cross and resurrection are not such system or structure, but rather are the actual way of God that gives us life where and when (everywhere and always!) we refuse it!
God is about healing and blessing the world. Jesus was exactly this. He is this. The cross is what we do to God. The resurrection is what God does to us – amazingly – in return.
So, back to what actually happened that Friday and Sunday. Coming up with elaborate explanations of meaning (theologies) can serve to protect us from engaging the truth about us and God. The truth about us is that we cannot impact our destiny by our belief and behavior. The truth about God is that God can and does impact our destiny. God decides, we do not. And the further truth about us is that we will not trust God to do that deciding but instead create elaborate schemes to supplant God’s decision. And the further truth about God is that God only decides for us, never against us. But instead of embracing these truths we construct a religion that says Jesus died to keep us from the wrathful God who rightly could and should destroy us and that we must decide for or against him.
I suppose this type of religion could be tolerated if it were benign. But it is not. Not only does it drain us of resources (investing in religious rituals and protocols) that should be spent on the only thing that matters to God – lifting up our neighbor and tending the earth’s ecology. But also, it sets up exclusivities and expels outsiders who do not conform to our established beliefs and behaviors (no matter how congruent with God’s moral law). So, we must declare, as Martin Luther did, the cross is our theology, and not a theology about the cross is our theology!
What happened on that Friday noon and Sunday morning is the presence of God encountering our sin and giving us life, not things to believe or do (Jesus simply died, he did not give his followers burdens to bear: Fight! Flight!). If we could but see this – God in-breaking instead of us believing something about God – well, then, everything would change. Holy week would be the grand celebration of giving life away to those in need and to our environment in crisis, all in the name of Jesus Christ! This, instead of what it so often is now: a ritual observing a supposed transaction between God and Satan to which we are passive observers until such time as we tell ourselves we must believe this transaction took place so that we might be given its blessing.
This week is Holy alright, because of Jesus Christ and his passion – that sets us free to serve and does not, decidedly, set us about the business of believing and behaving correctly to save our skin.
We are saved. To love. Unconditionally. Now if we could only get used to that truth. It would set us free.
The most popular explanation, and most longstanding of the theories, is that Jesus was a stand-in for us in taking on the anger and righteous judgment of God against our wrong-doing, not to say also our mistrust. There are more, but the key reason I cannot appreciate this thinking is that it undercuts the actual mercy of God. There is not mercy shown if blood spilt is a necessity. In this, I am not defending God as loving and kind. I am simply pointing out the impossibility of the actual claim – that God is merciful to humanity by being merciless to one of humanity’s own (and you cannot rebut this by claiming Jesus’ humanity exempt from humanity’s attributes. Nicea took care of that!). One more reason to mention (and this is not incidental in my mind these days overall when it comes to our contemporary reading of the biblical accounts) is that the actual and historical events that took place should not be infused artificially with supernatural occurrence or meaning in order to render them divine. If divinity is real, and I believe it is, it should not have to be invented or superimposed, but rather observed and experienced. In this case, this Friday and Sunday so observed, we must look closely at what actually happened as we look at the biblical narrative that those contemporaries recorded. It was (and is) written that Jesus died for them (and us). It’s possible to see that this is true without invoking a theology of a just God who cannot tolerate opposition.
I would put it this way. Jesus did love those he taught, healed, fed and led. The accounts bear this out. When cornered by the Religious and Rome, what were his options when it came to not compromising his singular love?
He could run away, lead an escape, taking his close band of followers with him (or not, for that matter). But where would that leave those same followers, those same that he loved? Bereft of home and community, they would be political and social refugees never able to safely return. How loving is that?
What other options for Jesus? How about fighting back? He could actually lead an insurrection – either politically or militarily. But where would that leave his beloved? Crushed in a heartbeat, that’s where. Caesar’s power, co-mingled with the Religious Elite, would quickly and violently take out any organized opponent. Not exactly, for Jesus as the leader, the most loving place to lead his followers.
So Jesus did what only could be done to stay true to who he was (the identity recognition here is not unimportant: he is the son of Mary and Joseph, but also, as he says, sent from God). He died for them. Rather that flight or fight, he let them go and took his place on their behalf. Tragically, and divinely profound, it was the only thing he could do – he was caught, perhaps you could say, by his own identity and mission. He must love at all costs because he is love at all costs. God was not impressed by this, nor thwarted from ruthless action against humanity. Because, we see, what happened there, on this Friday noon, was God’s Self. This is God, purely unconditional and self-giving love.
And, then, why do we know this and recognize this (and fall on our knees in worship) instead of counting it all as one more death among many? Because on that Sunday something happened where this same crucified Jesus was experienced alive and inviting his followers to this same kind of unconditional love. Debate the resurrection event as you will – empty tomb or embodied Jesus – but someone real encountered those Jesus followers and invited them to embrace his dying as their way of living.
The risen Jesus calls into question all our self-preserving schemes that would distance us from trusting God alone so that loving others unconditionally as he did would be our very way of life. We are, facing him, named for what we are: intransigent mis-trusters (sinners). Facing him in this way he destroys our self-serving projects. The apostle Paul wrote about his effect when he wrote to the Christians in Rome (Romans 6) about how the “sinful self” is put to death in Christ when the follower is baptized. But at this same time, the Risen Christ gives us his own God-trusting Self so that loving others unconditionally as our way of life could be done with joy and abandon. We are, facing him, named (again!) for what we are: capable trusters (saints).
Far from being some kind of insurance policy against our mortality, the Resurrection of Jesus is a deathblow to all who cannot trust (that would be every last one of us, religious or not) and the life-giving power to all who take his gift of faith (trust) and live by it.
As much as we’d like to think that the cross and the resurrection is some kind of antidote to our fear of what will become of us – either here or hereafter – any vigorous reading of the New Testament does not afford us such luxury. The story of Jesus is the truth of the matter: we don't know what will become of us and are only left with the invitation to trust God alone with this and get on with the business of taking care of neighbor and nature. And since we will not do this trusting, God gives us, in the most dramatic self-giving move of all, even his own presence to do the trusting for us (This is the real power of the resurrection! Power to trust God’s promise of life against all odds).
What would be “luxury” would be to claim eternal safety and security through a belief system or behavior pattern we adopt. We have, to the detriment of all, made Christianity into this. What I argue here is that the cross and resurrection are not such system or structure, but rather are the actual way of God that gives us life where and when (everywhere and always!) we refuse it!
God is about healing and blessing the world. Jesus was exactly this. He is this. The cross is what we do to God. The resurrection is what God does to us – amazingly – in return.
So, back to what actually happened that Friday and Sunday. Coming up with elaborate explanations of meaning (theologies) can serve to protect us from engaging the truth about us and God. The truth about us is that we cannot impact our destiny by our belief and behavior. The truth about God is that God can and does impact our destiny. God decides, we do not. And the further truth about us is that we will not trust God to do that deciding but instead create elaborate schemes to supplant God’s decision. And the further truth about God is that God only decides for us, never against us. But instead of embracing these truths we construct a religion that says Jesus died to keep us from the wrathful God who rightly could and should destroy us and that we must decide for or against him.
I suppose this type of religion could be tolerated if it were benign. But it is not. Not only does it drain us of resources (investing in religious rituals and protocols) that should be spent on the only thing that matters to God – lifting up our neighbor and tending the earth’s ecology. But also, it sets up exclusivities and expels outsiders who do not conform to our established beliefs and behaviors (no matter how congruent with God’s moral law). So, we must declare, as Martin Luther did, the cross is our theology, and not a theology about the cross is our theology!
What happened on that Friday noon and Sunday morning is the presence of God encountering our sin and giving us life, not things to believe or do (Jesus simply died, he did not give his followers burdens to bear: Fight! Flight!). If we could but see this – God in-breaking instead of us believing something about God – well, then, everything would change. Holy week would be the grand celebration of giving life away to those in need and to our environment in crisis, all in the name of Jesus Christ! This, instead of what it so often is now: a ritual observing a supposed transaction between God and Satan to which we are passive observers until such time as we tell ourselves we must believe this transaction took place so that we might be given its blessing.
This week is Holy alright, because of Jesus Christ and his passion – that sets us free to serve and does not, decidedly, set us about the business of believing and behaving correctly to save our skin.
We are saved. To love. Unconditionally. Now if we could only get used to that truth. It would set us free.
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