You say you want a revolution… [part 1]

I wonder…

I wonder about a different kind of church. Not a “new” way, but in a differnt way. A type of church that is not traditional but honors tradition. A church that is fresh and forward thinking, but not at the expense of it’s heritage. By heritage I don’t mean heritage of a certain denomination or sect, but of the heritage of Christianity itself.

In my opinion, in our attempts to be relevant or to divorce ourselves from the damages church and church people have wrought we tend to throw out everything about our old traditions.

To be continued.

Oh Boy…

WARNING: Political commentary. I don’t expect you to agree.

Regarding universal healthcare, which it seems is now closer to passing… It’s not a super secret that I’m opposed to it. This is not because I’m an evil conservative opposed to anything a Democrat supports, or because I think rich people should be richer and poor people should suck it up and get a job, or that I think people with no insurance should be left to die in the streets. Hopefully, you know me better than that.

This is beyond politics for me. Not a Glenn Beck “this is good-vs-evil” kind of thing, but definitely beyond right-left issues. It goes to the central tenet of what it is to be American, and beyond that, a central aspect of being Christian – freedom.

I know some who read this think about healthcare in theological terms, and some of your assumptions I can’t argue with. Shouldn’t we care for the sick? Of course we should… I don’t even think that’s negotiable. It falls under that whole, “Love others as yourself” thing that Jesus was pretty big on. To sum up my feelings about it: Yes it is our responsibility… “our” meaning the church, me, you, us… not a government. If you rely on the government to dispense charity on your behalf you are, in my opinion, lazy. I digress…

Again, this is a bigger issue than just healthcare, and I also see it from a theological standpoint. It’s less about healthcare than it is about control (or the potential for control), or compulsion. The bills floating around now would create a mandate for each American to carry insurance, and if he or she is unable, then (eventually) the government will pick up the cost. The numbers and budget chaos this would play can be argued by the accountants and money folks. What it would create, then, is two mandates – the mandate to have insurance, and the mandate for we, as taxpayers, to fund coverage for those who don’t have it. Here again, I hear some asking what’s wrong with that. Well, nothing. Except for the fact that person A is compelled to provide for person B (through taxation) or face fines or imprisonment.

These are my questions: How is forcing person B into prison a Christian idea? Where in the gospels does Christ compel anyone to do anything, except to come to Him?

I guess my point is this… Christianity has, at times in history, placed its morality on society through the force of government. When has that ever worked out well?

Eucharist. Remixed. (maybe)

[I wrote this a few years ago and recently rediscovered it. For your consideration...]

Why do we practice communion? Was Jesus some sort of cannibalistic nut job? Is all this symbolic? Is there something more?

“In the beginning the Word already existed. He was with God, and he was God. He was in the beginning with God. He created everything there is. Nothing exists that he didn’t make. Life itself was in him, and this life gives light to everyone. The light shines through the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.” – John 1.1-5

God created us in his image, making us intricately linked with him. An unexplainable connection that we can try to explain but more or less just sense or feel. Even those cultures tucked deep away in jungles and deserts claim a link with nature, the sun gods or the river gods… something outside of themselves that makes them unified with creation. Our Scripture claims the same, in that we and the rocks and mountains and zebras are all creations of a Creator. This image, though, speaks something different – we are intimately linked not with creation only, but with the Creator himself.

Adam and Eve were in paradise, in total communion with God. They walked the same earth, occupied the same space as their Creator. They loved him and he loved them. The whole deal was pronounced “good” by the Creator, and Love ruled.

And then serpent spoke. Adam and Eve sought to become like God by their own means and failed to recognize or forgot about the God already in them and with them. They ruined their fellowship, banished from paradise for their own sake.

Thousands of years passed. Humanity, the object of Divine Love, constantly rebelling against the Divine Lover, turning away his sacred romancing, drawing them constantly back to him. They refused, still seeking, aching to be reconciled but insisting on their own way.

And then the Creator became the created. Divine became human. Jesus Christ, Son of God and Son of Man, at the same time. God, above space and time inserted himself into it. Why? To reconcile that thousand-year-old divorce.

Jesus had a ton of people following him. The sick followed him – they heard he sometimes touched people and they were suddenly not sick. Tax collectors followed him – he took time to eat dinner with them. Prostitutes followed him – he spoke to them as though they were actually human. The religious elites followed him – he ticked them off. The healer, the friend, the radical… he was many things to many people.

On this particular day, he was a provider.

A large crowd enveloped him, drawn by the miracles they had seen and heard about. Jesus crossed Galilee and climbed a hill to sit with his closest friends for a while. He looked over the crowd and asked one of his friends, Phillip, a question.

“Where can we buy bread to feed these people?”

Philip answered in the way most of us would, “Uh, nowhere.”

Another friend spoke up, “There is a kid here who has some fish and some bread… but not enough to feed all these thousands.”

I imagine Jesus smiled his “I’m Jesus and I’m about to do something that will blow your mind” smile as he said, “Make the people sit down.”  He took the food and gave thanks for it, and told his friends to distribute it.

No one went hungry.  In fact 5000 people ate their fill, and there was enough to take home for later.

Later on, the crowd noticed that Jesus’ boat was gone, but that no one had seen him leave. So, as good crowds do with someone who just fed them, they went and found him.

Once they found him, someone asked, “Teacher, when did you get here?” The implication was, “Why didn’t you invite us?”

“You are just following me because I gave you free food, not because of how you saw God in my actions,” Jesus said.  “Quit wasting your time searching for cheap tricks – search for the kind of food that will stick with you. The kind of food that I, the Son of Man, provide.”

The crowds longed for this food that wouldn’t leave them hungry ever again, but they weren’t quite sure what Jesus was talking about (as was often the case with Jesus). “Why don’t you just show us what’s going on? Our Scriptures tell us that Moses fed our forefathers. The bread from heaven and all that.”

Jesus paused, perhaps deciding how to phrase his thoughts. “The significance of that story is not that Moses called down food from heaven, but that God stands right now, offering you bread from heaven. Real bread. The bread of God came down out of heaven and is giving life to the world.”

The crowd became excited. “Give us that bread! Let us eat it forever!”

“I am that bread of Life. Those who come to me hunger and thirst no more. Ever. Once you embrace me, I never let go. I came down from heaven not to follow my own whim, but to accomplish the will of the One who sent me. What is that will? That all of you would be made whole – my job is to put you on your feet alive and whole when time ends.”

The religious elites got real uptight. “Who is he to say he is the bread from heaven? Isn’t this that poor carpenter’s son? We know his family! He is a liar!”

Jesus could sense their anger and said, “Don’t argue over me. This is not about you! You’re not in charge – the Father is in charge. If you sit under my teaching, you’re listening to the Father. You hear and see it firsthand from me, and I have it firsthand from the Father. No one has seen the Father except the One who has his Being alongside the Father… and you can see me.  If you believe in me, you have real life, eternal life. I am the Bread of Life. Your ancestors ate bread in the desert and they died. Here is the bread out of heaven – if you eat it you will not die. I am living Bread! This Bread that I present to the world so that can eat and live is myself, this flesh and blood self.”

Some weren’t getting it. “How can this fool serve himself as a meal?”

Jesus kept going. “If you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you will have life within you. When you eat my flesh and drink my blood, I am in you and you are in me. If you make a meal of me, you live because of me.”

***

Some time later Jesus and his followers met together for the Passover meal that the community celebrated every year. Jesus’ mood turned very grave as the meal began.  “You have no idea how I have looked forward to eating this meal with you before my suffering begins. One final time with my closest friends. This will be the last we share before we meet again in the kingdom of God.”

He raised the bread, blessing it. Then he tore it, passing it among them. “This is my body, given to you. Take it. Eat it.”

He then raised his glass, blessing the wine. “This is my blood,” he said, his eyes reddening and his voice quivering. “This is my blood poured out for you. A new covenant between you, me, and my Father. Drink.”

Memories washed over his followers. That day after he fed all those people with the fish and bread. I am the bread of life. If you make a meal of me, you live because of me. Eat my flesh and drink my blood…

***
Jesus seemed to be adamant on the point. Eat my flesh and dink my blood. Why would he be?

People living during the decades following Jesus’ death and resurrection thought the Christians were a cult of cannibals, due directly to this story and the practice of communion (the Lord’s Supper, or Eucharist).

Through the centuries, many Christian denominations have come to view communion as more or less simply symbolic. The juice and the bread are simple reminders of what Christ has done.  I agree with that.

However, that doesn’t seem to reconcile Jesus’ insistence for his followers to eat his flesh and drink his blood. Obviously, he wasn’t insisting that we have Fried Jesus for dinner. Rather, he was insisting that we partake of his very essence. That we, in a sense, become Jesus.

But this becoming doesn’t mean that we will soon be able to walk on water and be able to call ourselves equal to the Creator. No, this means that we become Jesus by spending time with him, learning from him, being captured by the Holy Spirit, striving to have his mind, seeing people as he sees people, talking to people as he spoke to them. In a word, Loving.

Love, after all is the truest essence of God. It propels him in his every action – Creation, all the repentance messages of the Old Testament prophets, and ultimately Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross.

Jesus’ message to us was for us to consume him so that we may live as he lived. That we may be in his presence.

The bread and the juice are reminders and symbols and also much more. This simple eating and drinking is where we intersect with countless men and women across the ages who have done the same and where we ultimately intersect with Christ.

Where we become the Word.

Power

Steady my hands, this one can turn around.
Steady my heart, it’s beating faster now.

Mat Kearney. I absolutely love his music, his lyrics. His style is introspective at times, and other times he tells stories. He’s realistic and the world he lives in is harsh, cruel, damaging, but he is ever optimistic. In a word, he’s… fresh. A break from the “my life sucks” depression of most hard rock and the “me and shawty gonna get busy” fantasmorgasmic hip-hop that populates the top 40 stations.

The above lyric is from “Never be Ready” from his last album City of Black & White. The song is a conversation, his plea, I assume, to a friend, a lover perhaps, to stay. Whether it’s a plea to stay in a relationship that has hit the rocks or to a friend on the brink of catastrophe is hard to discern. The beauty of music is that we all have our own interpretations of songs. This song makes me think of people I know who are on the brink of giving up, have already been through hell, or are otherwise locked into situations they see as hopeless. I’m sure others who I don’t know feel likewise.

You know who you are, even if I don’t.

Circumstances come and they go. What happens to us is not always within our control. Our response always is, however. There are those of you who read this who are slaves to what others expect of you, and it’s you that I’m speaking to.

You live and die by others’ view of you. Get off it. You’re better than that. Your attempt to keep somebody else’s feelings from being hurt is getting you nowhere. Conflict may be avoided. Awesome, but you’re dying inside. You’re not avoiding conflict, you’re giving them power over your life. “They” have become your master. You have been conquered. Your emotions are the tribute you pay to your new king. This is your reality.

Or should I say, this is your current reality.

It is not too late. Don’t doubt yourself – it’s not too late. Recant your allegiance to the false kings and queens.

Take control of your life…

You’re ok, with me here in the silence
With all of the violence crashing around

Significance.

It’s Christmas!

It’s hard for me to pinpoint one thing about Christmas that I love. The whole season just… gets to me, I guess. I don’t get uptight, wondering if people are taking the “Christ” out of Christmas. People, for at least a while, take time to think about others, no matter what the material motivation is. They give and love and put themselves aside, hanging out with in-laws they can’t stand, or drop some change in a bucket beside some guy dressed as santa. Marines, hardened and trained and disciplined to kill and break things take toys to children who sometimes have no hope. Sinners and saints alike recite some of our oldest stories, from Santa to Scrooge to the Pevensies. All of them, or very nearly all, are our oldest stories. And they reflect our Great Story. If this isn’t interaction with the Almighty, then I’m not sure what is. “They” can’t remove Christ from Christmas. He embodies it. He is Christmas.

It’s not hard for me to imagine the Christmas story being true. Of the realness of Christ, I have no doubt. What I, at times, struggle with is the reality that it involves me. In the grand scheme of things, I am small. In the story of history, I am an extra. A witness to history, but generally not a participant.

The mystery of the Christmas story is not that its fantastic, not that it is Great. The mystery is that it is fantastic and Great and all about me. The creator of all that was, is, and shall be wants me. He wants me to be a part of the story. Not an extra. Not a supporting role, but a lead role.

I once went on to the porch, alone and contemplative. I sat down and stared across the road for a few minutes and noticed the brightness that was reflected from the moon. In its gaze, I considered all the millions upon millions of people who were that very moment craning their necks to stare at this shining rock in the sky. Of all the billions of people who had stared at it through history, pondered its meaning, its purpose. I expected to feel small. I expected to feel unimportant. I was surprised. What overtook me wasn’t any of the above, but significance. You are somebody. You have worth. You have value. How can that be?

I’m sure you ask yourselves the same questions: How could it be that one with neverending significance would consider me significant? What am I that I AM would even think of me? What makes me worthy? I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even have most of them. Maybe it’s not for us to know. Then again, maybe it is.

Maybe that is what is truly frightening.

Winter

Winter is my favorite time of year. It’s got all the great weather qualities I love: cold, snow, it’s not hot, it snows, it’s not humid, and Christmas. Sure, sure, I can hear you scientists saying, “Christmas isn’t a weather quality!” Well, to you I say the following two things:
1. Shut.
2. Up.

Christmas is awesome because (setting aside the spiritual implications) it has all those winter qualities, plus you get stuff. Oh, and the Jesus thing too. Remember him? Haha… that guy.

I’d like to hear a version of “Little Drummer Boy” where a drummer really cuts loose. It’s weird if drums aren’t at least featured in the song, you know? The Almost and Jars of Clay have done some of the best jobs at it. It needs more cowbell. Only drums, not cowbell.

This is random, I know. But I haven’t written anything other than school/report type stuff for a long, long while. I hope I can get back into the habit. I think maybe I’m too accustomed to Twitter, with its 140 letter limit.