a call to remember

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands—remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.   Ephesians 2:11-13

 

 Remember that at one time you were separated from God. Remember that you were an alien—you had no belonging and no understanding of God. Remember that you were once separated. You were without God.

 

It’s good to remember, even if what we are remembering is itself not good. It’s good to keep in mind where we’ve come from and what we’ve been saved from. It’s good to have this kind of perspective. Remembering that God has given us all we have and made us all we are. Remembering that when left to ourselves we were without hope and without God.

 

 

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.           

1 Peter 2:9-10

  

Remembering what we once were (and were not) makes being who we are now all the more sweet. It’s harder to rail against the church with all its foibles (and there certainly are a lot we could get distracted with!) when we remember that we now belong to a people when once we were alone. When we remember that this church is God’s royal priesthood and holy nation and that we are inseparable from them—we are them! It’s also harder to be malcontented with the day’s little bumps and struggles when we are remembering that we were once separated from Christ and in utter darkness, but now we walk in his marvelous light.

  

You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I command you this today.         Deuteronomy 15:15

 

 It’s remarkable the way the book of Deuteronomy is filled with calls to remember. At least four times the call is a distinct call to “remember when you were slaves.” There are also a multitude of calls to remember sins committed and God’s faithfulness, but God goes out of his way to have Moses call the people to the specific memory of slavery. He does this repeatedly. How better to produce thankfulness and gratitude for our rescue than to remember what we once were?

 

But what if I came to Christ as a young child? Doesn’t that make these memories less sweet? Doesn’t it mean less because I had less time and freedom to allow my sinful nature full access to all its corruptive potential?

 

Consider again the Israelites who were commanded to remember they were slaves. Do you think it meant less to those who were children when they left Egypt simply because they had not yet had the opportunity to bear the full brunt and punishment of their slavery? Was the present less sweet? Were they less enslaved in Egypt than their parents? Certainly not. If anything, they should have greater thankfulness from the realization that God brought them out so soon; so quickly before they were subjugated to their slavery as adults. Just because they were children didn’t make them less enslaved. The same can be said of those of us who came to Christ as young children. We were not less enslaved, less sinful, less corrupted and hopeless. We were on the same trajectory as all human beings, and God saw fit to rescue us.

 

Remember that you were spearated from Christ, but now you who once were far off have been brought near by his blood. This is the most beautiful of memories.

 

once upon a time

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

                                                                        1 Peter 2:9-10

 

Once not a people, now a people.

 

Once in darkness, now in light—his marvelous light.

 

Once without mercy, now recipients of mercy.

 

We have come far. No, we have been brought far.

 

We are a people—and not just any people. A holy people. A royal and priestly people. A people belonging to God. A people with a voice and a message. A people with light and mercy and belonging.

 

Do we proclaim him? Do we live as this people—his people?

 

We should remember today where we’ve come from, what we once were. And what we once were not. Without salvation from Jesus we wouldn’t only be missing out on heaven when we die. There is so much more! Without Jesus we wouldn’t be a people, we wouldn’t know his mercy, we wouldn’t have his praises to proclaim. Without Jesus we would still be in darkness, still be alone, still be the once upon time people that weren’t even a people.

 

We should remember. Remember where we’ve come from. Who Jesus has made us into. Who he is still making us into.

 

Are we living as the royal priesthood? Are we embracing the family heritage we’ve been given, the mercy we’ve been lavished with? Are we telling and sharing and living out the message of mercy and life and belonging that is ours in Christ? Or have we forgotten? Are we in a stupor? Do we simply go through motions without meaning, say words without power, share the message of self and self interest forgetting the light we’re living in where once there was only darkness?

 

We are a people. His people here for his glory.

 

Once upon a time we were not a people and were living for our own self-interest in the slavish darkness of our own self-destruction. Some killing themselves swiftly and boldly. Others of us killing ourselves slowly and subtly. But still we all were not a people. We all were in darkness. We all were without mercy or hope or belonging.

 

That was us, but not anymore. We are now a people—his people. Let us revel in this mercy and live for his glory and proclaim these truths.

 

Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness
and who seek the Lord:
Look to the rock from which you were cut
and to the quarry from which you were hewn;

look to Abraham, your father,
and to Sarah, who gave you birth.
When I called him he was only one man,
and I blessed him and made him many.                       Isaiah 51:1-2

 

advent day 18 – mercy

He shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him.

 

Mercy. That’s what Christmas celebrates. Mercy on unprecedented levels. Mercy given on proportions unrivaled from the beginning of time until now. For God to give his own. For God to give himself. This is what we celebrate. This is why we give gifts. We give to remember what we’ve been given. We give to stir up the joy that comes from receiving and to remind ourselves of what we have received in Christ.

 

Mary sings of it. The angels bear witness to it. Jesus is the mercy sent from heaven. Unmerited gifts are the theme of the season because Jesus is the gift we’ve been offered. Do not simply read my words and move on. Take time today to let the words of Mary’s singing settle on your soul. Celebrate the mercy of the season!

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Day Eighteen Reading: Luke 1:39-56

 

Consider Mary’s words, not just as an example of her belief, but also as a statement of worship. What does she say about God?

 

Mary comes to Elisabeth to worship the blessing of Jesus coming to the world through her. What does this say about the importance of gathering together for worship?

 

Prayer—Father we praise you for the display of your mercy and strength that we see in the gift of Jesus.

 

advent day 4 – he has been merciful

 

 

He has been merciful. This is what we wait for. This is what we anticipate celebrating.

God has been merciful. God has given salvation–tender mercy and rescue. This is the song of Zechariah. The song of the one who had been silenced. The one now seeing, now believing, now hoping in the mercy of God coming near.

We have been rescued from our enemies so we can serve God without fear.

 

Has anyone seen it more clearly than the father of the one who would make straight the way, prepare the people, proclaim the Lamb?

This is mercy. This is salvation. To worship God–to serve God–without fear. We wait to celebrate the morning light from heaven breaking upon us; warming us with mercy and love and salvation.

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Day Four Reading : Luke1:57-80

 

How do you respond when you hear that the Lord has shown great mercy to others?

 

What do you hear in Zechariah’s prophecy?

 

Prayer—Lord give me ears to hear of your mercy being shown to your children.

balancing act

There may be few things we as the Body of Christ do more poorly than accountability and church discipline. Just mentioning those words makes most of us want to stop reading right now. (I certainly want to stop writing!) Except for the few of us who read those words and get excited—we love a good confrontation! This is what I’m finding as I live my life in community with others. We typically tend to one extreme or the other.

 

Many of us are inclined to ignore people’s sin (at least the “little” ones). We simply don’t want to confront people and don’t want to rock the boat. After all, we’re supposed to have grace and not judge, right? Looking the other way becomes our form of fellowship. Pretending we don’t see it and convincing ourselves that we are trusting God to guide the person is our logic behind being quiet. “Isn’t conviction the Holy Spirit’s job?” we ask ourselves.

 

And then there are those of us who are always on the lookout for a confrontation. Always ready to battle it out, always ready to challenge everyone on everything. We always have the answer, always want others to fix their problems, and want people to change completely now!

 

Why is it that in Christian community we either tend to be graceless or spineless? Why can’t we find the place of moderation and balance? Why can’t we be the people of humble restoration and burden sharing? Why are we so often either overly tolerant or extremely impatient? It seems that there is a critical balancing act of grace and discipline and we rarely make the effort to carry both well.

 

Dear brothers and sisters, if another believer is overcome by some sin, you who are godly should gently and humbly help that person back onto the right path. And be careful not to fall into the same temptation yourself. Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ. If you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling yourself. You are not that important.                 Galatians 6:1-3

 

Paul is calling us to be the people of Christ; to see the sin that overcomes our brothers and sisters and to restore that person. Notice this: Paul calls us to humble and gentle restoration; to helping people back on the path. Correcting others isn’t a power play and it’s not a game of catching people with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

 

I actually know of a friend who once received a voicemail from someone who simply said, “I saw what you did yesterday.” That was it. There wasn’t any “Hi, this is so and so and I was concerned about something…” Just a one sentence message: “I saw what you did yesterday.” While I have seen some pathetic attempts at holding others accountable and correcting those in sin this one stands alone as probably the most disappointing attempt at being the Body of Christ I have been witness to. But it’s far from an isolated case. And anyone who’s spent more than a minute within church probably has their share of horror stories. We just fail epically when it comes to being the people of God who help one another grow and repent from sin.

 

And that’s part of why I love Paul’s words here at the beginning of Galatians 6. It’s a call to helping restore one another when we are overcome with sin. And Paul calls our attention to the age old adage: “There but for the grace of God go I.” Which simply reminds that we are no better than the one in sin and we could just as easily be there caught in what they are caught in…but for the grace of God.

 

And be careful not to fall into the same temptation yourself.

 

If ever we don’t believe that we could find ourselves in the same sin as the one we wish to help, we have no business helping them. If we cannot recognize that we are just as broken, just as in need of grace, just as likely to be overcome with sin as the one we are seeking to correct then it may just be that we are already overcome with the sin of pride and self-reliance.

 

For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.  Romans 3:23

 

Share each other’s burdens. That’s what Paul says to the church in Galtia. This is how we help correct others. This is the way to see them restored to the Body. Share their burden. It isn’t their problem to fix, it’s our problem to carry to the cross of Christ and give to him.

 

Paul ends this section with perhaps the most powerful element in his call to restorative, grace relationships: “You are not that important.” We should stop puffing ourselves up. We should stop believing our own hype. We are not as important or great as we like the world to believe. Accepting this fact alone should go a long way in helping us be people of restorative grace.

 

We are called and expected by God to accept nothing less than holiness from one another. We are to spur one another on to faith and good deeds. We are to expect repentant hearts from one another and deep reliance on the Spirit to produce fruit within us. But we need to expect these things with humility and gentleness; with the same grace that we’ve been given.

 

I feel it’s safe to say that the church as a whole has nowhere to go but up in how we practice restoration and accountability. It’s time we take these words of God to heart. We rightly restore when we share the burden, and revel in the grace that we all need.

 

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*** Photo Southbound Train by eric feldman

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the rabble

 

The Israelites cause major destruction among the Egyptian people. At least, that’s how most of the people of Egypt must have seen it. Their God is the reason, but I think at the end of the day many of the people would have simply looked at the Israelites and laid the blame there. They caused inconvenience, discomfort, pain and ultimately death and finally they are leaving.

 

Pharaoh, who said they would not be allowed to go is sending them. Pharaoh, who said if he saw Moses again he would die has now called for Moses and told him to take the people and go. So they are leaving. The Israelites have been victorious—God has been victorious. And at no small cost to the Egyptian people. Exodus 12:30 states that there was not a single house where someone had not died on the night of the Passover. We’re talking total devastation here.

 

What’s interesting to me is that I would’nt expect to see what is said a few verses later. Honestly this is kind of a PR nightmare for the followers of God. You don’t expect to gain followers from leaving this kind of destruction in your wake. And yet, there it is.

 

A rabble of non-Israelites went with them, along with great flocks and herds of livestock.      Exodus 12:38

 

A rabble. I love that word. These weren’t the elite, the pretty, the put together. These were the side-liners, the marginalized, the unnecessary in Egypt. Sounds like the kind of people Jesus hung out with. These weren’t Israelites, and yet they followed them out of Egypt. Out into the wilderness. It’s not like taking a trip today where we know that we are going to drive on well-maintained highways in our air-conditioned cars with rest stops just down the road and fast food options to get us through when we get hungry. This is the wilderness. The desert. They don’t even know where or when they’ll find water.

 

Why would these people go with the Israelites? They are the rabble. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain. They long to belong. They just want a place and a people and a God who cares about them. And this is still the way of it today.

 

The rabble is still out there. And they don’t need us to make our faith all prettied up. They don’t expect fanciful promises about how easy this following Jesus will make their life. They just want to see authentic living. They want to see a community that loves one another and that would love them too. They just want to belong and it’s okay if you don’t have all the answers or know how it will all work out in life, or if sometimes life still is scarred by devastation. If you believe in your God enough to follow him into the desert and to love them—the rabble of society—and let them come along, well that’s all they really are looking for. They will come. The second they realize that when you said they were welcome you actually meant them. The moment they learn that you are talking to them, spending time with them, and it’s your choice. As soon as the find out that you believe that they are loved by Jesus just as much as you are, and that you embrace this reality…the rabble will always come. They just want to be loved. They just want to belong.

 

So I’m wondering, who are the rabble in my life? Who are the rabble in yours?

 

But when the teachers of religious law who were Pharisees saw him eating with tax collectors and other sinners, they asked his disciples, “Why does he eat with such scum?”
  When Jesus heard this, he told them, “Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners.”     Mark 2:16-17

 

can i hear?

During that long period, the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God. God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob. So God looked on the Israelites and was concerned about them.   Exodus 2:23-25

 

God sets the example for us. He shows the way. God hears the cry of the oppressed. God sees the hurt of those who are mistreated. God listens when the weak cry out. And God, in his concern, finds a way to reach the hurting and the needy. God seeks out the poor. He cares.

 

What about me? Do I follow my God’s example? Do I hear the cries of the hurting?

 

I must confess, I have often become numb to the cries of the hurting. I have been suspect of those who ask for help. I have been more concerned with how others will respond to my offerings for rescue or assistance than with making sure that I am offering myself to them. I have been less inclined to be poured out as a drink offering and more concerned with those who would drink and how and with what kind of appreciation. 

 

When did it happen that the people of God became less accepting and more judgmental than God himself? When did we take it upon ourselves to determine which hurting were worthy of our time and attention? How can it be that after being given the greatest mercy and grace imaginable we dole it out to others as if we had only sparse amounts in reserve?

 

Or is it simply that we do not hear them at all? That somehow we have become deaf to the cries for help? Are our TVs too loud, our schedules too busy, our pursuit of our own wish lists too consuming for us to give an ear and hear.

 

This is not the first time God sets us this example. It is not only here in Exodus and it is not only fro whole nations that are crying out for help. It is for the one as well as the many. Just ask Ishmael, child of parents with little faith and less patience.

 

God heard the boy crying, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there.          Genesis 21:17

 

God heard the boy. Not the nation, not the people. The boy. One boy. A boy who should have been discarded by God. He stood for disobedience to God’s promise and God’s ways. He was the result of Abraham and Sarah not trusting God and waiting on God, but taking matters into their own hands.

 

Instead God loved him. God heard him. God helped and rescued him. This is what God does. He hears those who cry out for help. And he comes and offers help.

 

Can I be like this? Can I hear the cries? Can I learn to care enough to drop everything and give all to bring help to these hurting? God sent Moses to Egypt, a foretelling of how he would send his own son to the whole world. God sent all for the sake of those crying. Because he heard and he cared and he was concerned.

 

I want to hear the cries. I want to take the steps to do what must be done to help the hurting. I want to go forward even when it hurts to see the hurting. Even when it costs to reach out to them. Even when they don’t want what I offer and reject my gifts of love. I want to hear them, I want to care, and I want to help.

 

I confess that I do not hear very well, because I do not want to hear very well. In my own city there are thousands who are hungry, abused, mistreated, unwanted, unloved, traded as possessions. Thousands—if not more. It hurts to listen to their cries. And it costs me dearly to reach out for them. I do not even know how to reach out to them. God, show me the way. Open my ears. help me to hear.

 

I have indeed seen the misery of my people…I have heard them crying out…I am concerned about their suffering.        Exodus 3:7

 

the sick

As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him. While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and “sinners” came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?” On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”        Matthew 9:9-13

 

I’m reading this as I prepare to spend the morning in worship, gathered with my family of Jesus followers. It reminds me of how many friends I’ll see today. And so I begin to think, how many friends do I have who are not counted among those following Jesus?

 

It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.

 

I’m not saying I shouldn’t be going to spend the morning in fellowship and worship; that I shouldn’t be among the “healthy” today. I should—for so many reasons. Primary among those is the fact that God calls us to be in community and relationship with the Body of Christ.

 

What I am thinking about is the fact that Jesus, while spending lots of time with his disciples, also intentionally pursued the sick. He went after and spent time with the sinners. And he didn’t go with agendas or speeches or guilt trips. He went to build relationships—to make friends—and share life with them. He went to have dinner.

 

Why as Christians do we depend so much on programs and “events” to reach the sick and dying—the lost of the world—when Jesus simply did it with food? He just made friends, and then lived life with them. He never pretended to be other than who he was, and he never backed down from the truth. He just loved the sinners, genuinely loved them.

 

Jesus says he has not come to call the righteous, but sinners. That means those he is calling will be a mess (just like us). They won’t have it together and make us more comfortable. They will be needy and carry baggage. They will take time to come around and need us to be humble, to be interested in them as people.

 

It can’t be about us, these relationships with the sick. But it can’t be about them either. It will be about Jesus. Us loving them with Jesus love. Us sharing a meal or an evening, or a cup of coffee, so that they might see Jesus in us (even if they don’t know that’s who they are seeing).

 

We need the healthy to surround us, to encourage us, to spur us on. But we need the sick around us too. Because they need to hear Jesus calling them; to feel Jesus being merciful to them. And all they have is us.

 

hey jude – part 2

In August of 1968 the Beatles had a hit song called “Hey Jude.” You know, the one with the compelling lyrics, “Na na na nananana, nananana…hey Jude.” The funny thing is that because it’s a light-hearted, somewhat silly sounding song many people think it’s just that: a silly song. Most people don’t understand its origin or meaning. The truth is that Paul McCartney wrote it for John Lennon’s son Julian to comfort him during his parents divorce. It was originally called, Hey Jules.

 

When I thought about the verses we looked at yesterday from the book of Jude and the song Hey Jude I couldn’t help but think of the commonalities. Hey Jude was written as a comfort and Jude’s words in the Bible also were written as a comfort. And just like most people have no idea of the origins or meaning of the song, the same can be said for many people and the words of the Bible. Most in the world just don’t get it; they don’t understand the deeper meanings of the words. It just seems silly.

 

Here’s the passage we looked at yesterday (with an addition of verse 20 thanks to Jonathan for highlighting its importance in a comment on yesterday’s post).

 

But you, dear friends, build yourselves up in your most holy faith and pray in the Holy Spirit. Keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life. Be merciful to those who doubt; snatch others from the fire and save them; to others show mercy, mixed with fear–hating even the clothing stained by corrupted flesh.         Jude 1:20-23

 

Verse 22: “Be merciful to those who doubt…”

 

Back to what I just said, “And just like most people have no idea of the origins or meaning of the song, the same can be said for many people and the words of the Bible. Most in the world just don’t get it; they don’t understand the deeper meanings of the words. It just seems silly”

 

The call of Jude is to be merciful to these people.

 

Why is it that Christians have a tendency to do the opposite of what it says here? Why instead of being merciful do we encounter those open to discussion, but who doubt our faith, and we find ourselves pouring all kinds of energy into arguing? Why do we become obsessed with being right? Often at any cost.

 

Where is our mercy for these people? Where is our patience and willingness to listen? I found in my own life an alarming tendency towards not listening, but just crafting my next point.

 

Why do we get so defensive when people don’t believe? We are talking about the creator of the world here! He does not need us to defend him. But it seems he does expect us to be merciful. It’s not easy. After all, we have found the truth, we know what is right. Jesus is who he claimed to be and following him is the only way. But that does not remove the need for us to be merciful when encountering those who doubt.

 

And this leads to one other question we have to ask ourselves. Do I know anyone who doubts? Hopefully the answer is yes. Hopefully you’ve not sequestered yourself so far from the world that you don’t need to exercise this practice of mercy to the doubting. The likelihood is you do know someone—probably many someones. They need our mercy. They don’t need our arguments, they don’t need our debates. They don’t need our memorized Scripture or our guilt trips. They need mercy. They need to be loved and appreciated, they need to not be a goal or a task. They need to be a person you value and invest in.

 

Today, as you go about your business, be merciful to those who doubt.

 

asking

Give ear, our God, and hear; open your eyes and see the desolation of the city that bears your Name. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.                       Daniel 9:18

 

 “Why won’t God answer me?”

 

“Why does it feel like he isn’t listening?”

 

“I pray and pray, but it just doesn’t feel like God is listening to me at all.”

 

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe you never think these types of thoughts—but maybe you do. I know I do. These kinds of things and worse.

 

Sometimes it can get pretty frustrating when it feels like I am praying, I am asking, I am seeking…and I am getting nothing in return—or at least none of the somethings I am seeking!

 

It’s times like these that I need the reminder of Daniel. He has a nice way of saying, “We don’t deserve for you to answer our prayers, but you are so loving and merciful that we believe you will. We believe it enough to ask, even though we have no right to.”

 

“We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.”

 

I forget this easily. I forget that I don’t have a right to the things I’m asking God for. I forget that me wanting something doesn’t mean I should have it. I forget that just because it seems like the best option from my point of view doesn’t mean it is. And I can easily forget that no matter how well I try, no matter how faithful I think I’m being, I should never ask out of a sense of my own righteousness. If I ask God for anything I should ask as I fall on his mercy.

 

It’s only in his mercy that he answers. It’s not because of me, my wisdom, my rights, my needs, my anything. Only his mercy. Always his mercy.

 

In the Gospel of Luke we find a blind man who hears that Jesus is passing by. He wants to be healed and so he cries out. Not once, but multiple times. And he continually says the same thing.

He called out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”             Luke 18:38

 

Have mercy on me. That’s pretty simple. No long explanation of how he deserves to be healed. No bargaining and promising to do this or that for God if he is healed. No attempts to manipulate or get Jesus to feel sorry for him. No grandiose attempts to display that he has great faith.

 

Just a simple call for mercy.

 

And the response? Well, Jesus heals him. But Jesus also makes a profound statement about the man.

Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.”      Luke 18:42

 

Your faith has healed you.

 

What faith? He didn’t ask in faith to be healed…did he? He didn’t make some magnanimous proclamation about how he knew Jesus would heal him. He didn’t ask for healing at all. He asked for mercy.

 

His faith in the mercy of Jesus brought healing.

 

Instead of calling for specifics; instead of demanding, lobbying, justifying, the blind man simply asked for mercy. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.    We have no rights, we don’t always know what’s best, and never deserve the ALL that Jesus gives. So we might as well just acknowledge it and fall on his mercy.

 

The next time I need something from God, the next time I am about to pray for something I would like to see happen, I think I will simply ask for mercy and leave it at that. After all, Jesus loved us so much he laid down his life for us—and this while we were still sinners. What more could there be than this mercy?

 

Yes, I think I’ll just ask for mercy and leave it at that. That is far more than I could ask for anyway!