Friday, May 20, 2011
The Darker Side of the Rapture
Certainly we've seen the sad and the humorous sides to the whole Rapture prediction business, but this article in the Washington Post today delves into the dark history of End-of-the-World predictions and what it does to the followers.
Click here ► If the end of the world is not on May 21, what will Camping’s followers do?
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Rapture: Yearning for Home
It’s easy to make fun of the folks planning to be swept up in the Rapture tomorrow. The media attention has been unrelenting. I even understand there are supposed businesses that will take care of your pets when you’re raptured… for a small fee. I got caught up in the silliness this evening as I chuckled and clicked “Like” next to a friend’s status on Facebook where it seems he’s planning to attend a “Post-rapture Looting” event to snag some sweet stereo equipment. I’m always amazed people don’t know that the Rapture and in fact the entire kettle of strange end-times fish are rather recent innovations that appeared in the 1800’s, but have never been part of historical Christian teaching.
But I wonder… what causes people to buy into what appears to be a burgeoning industry of predicting the end of the world? If we stop dismissing these folks long enough to really look at them, I suspect we would find something we can recognize in each of us: the yearning for home… the yearning for certainty in a very uncertain world. How comforting to know when that ticket home can be expected! How humanly gratifying to also see all the bad guys get their comeuppance and the good guys (you being one of them, of course) win the grand prize, eternal bliss! I understand yearning for home. I understand getting weary of all the vagaries of life. And I love Bruce Willis and Clint Eastwood films where the bad guys get what’s coming to them. I get it.
With understanding comes just a bit of sympathy. I believe in heaven – oh, probably not like most people imagine it, but I do believe in that time outside of time and place outside of all places where things get fixed. I believe that God is in the process of drawing all things back into God’s self. There are rough days where I really yearn for this time where no kids will ever be hurt again, where no one will have to die, and where I will both know and be fully known. Yet, I know the kingdom is here; it is among us; there’s work to do. Jesus never promised it wouldn’t storm, he just promised he’d stay in the boat with us – we’re never alone. That’s why the incarnation was so important. That’s why he became fully human, while remaining fully God.
There are likely to be a lot of disappointed and surprised people come Saturday. The media is going to be tough on them. I hope they don’t lose their faith over it, but I hope their faith matures. Their only crime is gullibility. But I understand their yearnings. I want the world set to rights too. I yearn for home. And if we’re honest, I suspect we’ve all had times where, like St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 16, we’ve whispered the word Maranatha! – Our Lord, come!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
A Grown-Up Jesus
There are things I used to believe when I was young: For every question in life there was one right answer; I could do anything; my father was not very smart; everybody would naturally like me; and probably… just probably, I was secretly the heir to the British throne and my parents were really just foster parents.
As I grew up, I had to learn some hard truths: Don and Joyce in Sparks, Nevada were my real parents; no matter what I do, amazingly, not everyone is going to like me; my father was actually pretty smart; I have limits: limits of strength and stamina and interest – I can't do everything. I actually need other people, and; for every question in life there are probably somewhere between five and a hundred right answers. And my right answer doesn't have to be yours.
I spent a lot of time thinking about God when I was young. I fell in love with the baby Jesus in the manger, and the young boy Jesus asking questions and listening to answers in the Temple, and gentle Jesus who was the kind and good Shepherd. Because I loved Him, in a few short years I decided I would follow Him always because: If you follow God you'd always be happy; bad things only happen to sinners; if I just prayed hard enough and long enough God would fix anything for me… the way I wanted it fixed, and; I would always be a good person.
But then as I grew older, what I was actually experiencing in my life didn't match these beliefs: I wasn't always happy; I saw bad things happening to good people… and people I loved died; There were things in my life that I prayed hard and long about that never changed; and I learned I was not always a good person. I learned I could be cruel and thoughtless and selfish.
Slowly, without realizing it, the boy Jesus was no longer enough for me. Jesus the kind and good Shepherd was no longer enough for me. The questions I was facing in my life were too hard. I had grown up… and I needed a grown-up Jesus. I'll bet you experienced the exact same thing in your life as you grew up.
The same kind of thing happened to Jesus' disciples. There were things they used to believe. They used to think that it mattered which of them was the greatest and Jesus rebuked them in Mark 9:
But they also learned they did not have to be afraid anymore. In John 20, they learned they had power within themselves to lead:
The disciples needed a grown-up Jesus. I need a grown up Jesus. We all need a grown-up Jesus: A Jesus who really knows what it means to suffer, a grown-up Jesus who knows what it is to lose someone they love, a Jesus who knows what it feels like to be afraid. We all need a Jesus who knows what it feels like when the plans you made for your life burn to the ground and you're sifting through the ashes wondering what in heaven’s name you are going to do next.
Only in the Gospel of Matthew do we find the story of Jesus' death and resurrection framed by two great earthquakes: One when he died on Friday, and one when the stone was rolled away on Sunday. The disciples were quaking and afraid, locked in that upper room, and Jesus came to them and told them they no longer needed to be afraid. You see, the rules were changed on Easter morning. No longer would death have the last word. No longer would suffering be all there was. No longer would human beings have to live in fear because Jesus – the grown-up Jesus –had overcome all of these things! He pulled back the curtain and showed us that no matter what the world throws at us, no matter how we suffer, we are not alone. By rising again he showed us that love cannot be conquered. Bracketed between two physical earthquakes the greatest earthquake of all time – Jesus' resurrection – changed everything. Our world has never been the same.
Two thousand years have come and gone since the sun began to rise over old Jerusalem and the women came to the tomb that Easter morning. Two thousand years have come and gone since the Angel of God dressed in lightning rolled away the stone and tough battle-hardened Roman guards fell to the ground in mortal terror. Two thousand years have come and gone since they tried to make sure Jesus never walked this earth again, but they failed… and he stepped into that locked upper room and said, "Peace be with you."
Two thousand years have come and gone, and yet, the resurrection is still being reported by people who've been able to catch a glimpse of the risen Jesus in the midst of human life. He has been seen in the streets of Port-au-Prince, Haiti in the eyes of those who suffer. He has been seen in the compassion shown by neighbors helping others during the recent fifteen-state tornado devastation. He has been heard in the cries for justice and basic human rights and dignity for all of God's children that have echoed from every corner of our globe: From Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Theresa in India to Martin Luther King in America to Aung San Suu Kyi in modern-day Myanmar. Sometimes it's just a glimpse: A look, a brief moment. Sometimes just his hands appear. And they say those hands look remarkably like yours and mine.
As I grew up, I had to learn some hard truths: Don and Joyce in Sparks, Nevada were my real parents; no matter what I do, amazingly, not everyone is going to like me; my father was actually pretty smart; I have limits: limits of strength and stamina and interest – I can't do everything. I actually need other people, and; for every question in life there are probably somewhere between five and a hundred right answers. And my right answer doesn't have to be yours.
I spent a lot of time thinking about God when I was young. I fell in love with the baby Jesus in the manger, and the young boy Jesus asking questions and listening to answers in the Temple, and gentle Jesus who was the kind and good Shepherd. Because I loved Him, in a few short years I decided I would follow Him always because: If you follow God you'd always be happy; bad things only happen to sinners; if I just prayed hard enough and long enough God would fix anything for me… the way I wanted it fixed, and; I would always be a good person.
But then as I grew older, what I was actually experiencing in my life didn't match these beliefs: I wasn't always happy; I saw bad things happening to good people… and people I loved died; There were things in my life that I prayed hard and long about that never changed; and I learned I was not always a good person. I learned I could be cruel and thoughtless and selfish.
Slowly, without realizing it, the boy Jesus was no longer enough for me. Jesus the kind and good Shepherd was no longer enough for me. The questions I was facing in my life were too hard. I had grown up… and I needed a grown-up Jesus. I'll bet you experienced the exact same thing in your life as you grew up.
The same kind of thing happened to Jesus' disciples. There were things they used to believe. They used to think that it mattered which of them was the greatest and Jesus rebuked them in Mark 9:
He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’They believed Jesus would never experience defeat or suffering as He foretold in Matthew 26:
And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’ But he turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’Once Jesus was dead, they thought the story was done… and then Jesus approached them on the road to Emmaus in Luke 24:
They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, ‘Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?’ He asked them, ‘What things?’ They replied, ‘The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place.’Yes, the disciples had some beliefs they had to grow out of. They had to grow up pretty fast in the last three days of what we now call Holy Week. What they thought they knew about life and death and power was turned upside down. They learned bad things happen to good people too. They learned that they were not always good people… they deserted him… they denied him. They learned they should've listened to the women. The four gospels were written for four very different Christian communities over a 30- to 40-year period, and in each one of them the women are named as witnesses to the resurrection.
But they also learned they did not have to be afraid anymore. In John 20, they learned they had power within themselves to lead:
… the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’They had to learn that however things appeared on the surface, God was still in control.
The disciples needed a grown-up Jesus. I need a grown up Jesus. We all need a grown-up Jesus: A Jesus who really knows what it means to suffer, a grown-up Jesus who knows what it is to lose someone they love, a Jesus who knows what it feels like to be afraid. We all need a Jesus who knows what it feels like when the plans you made for your life burn to the ground and you're sifting through the ashes wondering what in heaven’s name you are going to do next.
Only in the Gospel of Matthew do we find the story of Jesus' death and resurrection framed by two great earthquakes: One when he died on Friday, and one when the stone was rolled away on Sunday. The disciples were quaking and afraid, locked in that upper room, and Jesus came to them and told them they no longer needed to be afraid. You see, the rules were changed on Easter morning. No longer would death have the last word. No longer would suffering be all there was. No longer would human beings have to live in fear because Jesus – the grown-up Jesus –had overcome all of these things! He pulled back the curtain and showed us that no matter what the world throws at us, no matter how we suffer, we are not alone. By rising again he showed us that love cannot be conquered. Bracketed between two physical earthquakes the greatest earthquake of all time – Jesus' resurrection – changed everything. Our world has never been the same.
Two thousand years have come and gone since the sun began to rise over old Jerusalem and the women came to the tomb that Easter morning. Two thousand years have come and gone since the Angel of God dressed in lightning rolled away the stone and tough battle-hardened Roman guards fell to the ground in mortal terror. Two thousand years have come and gone since they tried to make sure Jesus never walked this earth again, but they failed… and he stepped into that locked upper room and said, "Peace be with you."
Two thousand years have come and gone, and yet, the resurrection is still being reported by people who've been able to catch a glimpse of the risen Jesus in the midst of human life. He has been seen in the streets of Port-au-Prince, Haiti in the eyes of those who suffer. He has been seen in the compassion shown by neighbors helping others during the recent fifteen-state tornado devastation. He has been heard in the cries for justice and basic human rights and dignity for all of God's children that have echoed from every corner of our globe: From Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Theresa in India to Martin Luther King in America to Aung San Suu Kyi in modern-day Myanmar. Sometimes it's just a glimpse: A look, a brief moment. Sometimes just his hands appear. And they say those hands look remarkably like yours and mine.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Simon's Cat in "Hop It"
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Sunday, April 17, 2011
Ride on, King Jesus!
Now here's the way to do Palm Sunday right!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
The Poetry of Holy Week
Richard R. Niebuhr once said, "Pilgrims are poets who create by taking journeys." This week, Holy Week, we are invited to create poetry in our lives by taking such a journey.
For over 2000 years, Christians have relived the events of Jesus' last week, beginning with Palm Sunday and Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem, continuing into Maundy Thursday where we have Jesus establishing what we call the Lord's Supper and the giving of the great mandate – in Latin, mandatum, from which we get the word Maundy – Jesus' great command: Love one another. This is where we wash one another's feet as Jesus did. Friday, we come to the day of his crucifixion – Good Friday. It sounds odd to our modern ears, but it's the word "good" in the ancient sense of "holy." And then, from sorrow to joy: The Great Vigil of Easter on Saturday night.
I think there's a huge difference between reliving an event and merely reenacting an event. If you reenact something, you're acting out something that someone else lived, like Civil War reenactments: You weren't actually in the Civil War; you're just acting out a piece of history. But since what we have in Holy Week is nothing less than the battle between good and evil, life and death, and life again, we are not acting out something from someone else's life. We are living again something that is part of all of our journeys. We are not disinterested observers: We have a vital stake in the outcome of this week. We have a vital stake in the outcome of the issues of good and evil; life and death… and life again.
As I live my own life, every year I journey through Holy Week, I can see myself as someone different. Some years, I seem closer to poor Peter denying the Lord three times, but then weeping bitter tears. Some years, I identify more with the women waiting at the tomb for the risen Christ as I wait for change in my life. Some years, I can see myself as the High Priest Caiaphas protecting my turf. Some years, I am Jesus himself. It seems that where I am in my own understanding of good and evil – life and death and life again – changes how I live Holy Week.
Now, I would love just to take a shortcut and get to Easter without having to watch Jesus suffer, without having to re-examine my own life; without having to admit that many times in my own life I would have been one in the crowd crying out, "Crucify him!" But if I look away, I won't see what it looks like to live fully human and yet fully divine as God intended. I have to look, not to see some kind of a bloody sacrifice required by God, but to see God demonstrating what it means to truly love.
Write poetry this week… Richard Niebuhr says pilgrims do that by taking journeys. We're going to be traveling some dark roads. The streets of old Jerusalem are narrow, and the crowds from all over the world are sure to grow larger as we go. There will be the chaos and confusion of other pilgrims from our day, and fellow pilgrims from past centuries. Know without a doubt that you journey this week from darkness toward the light. But we also know, you cannot take this journey… you cannot write this particular piece of poetry… and remain unchanged.
For over 2000 years, Christians have relived the events of Jesus' last week, beginning with Palm Sunday and Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem, continuing into Maundy Thursday where we have Jesus establishing what we call the Lord's Supper and the giving of the great mandate – in Latin, mandatum, from which we get the word Maundy – Jesus' great command: Love one another. This is where we wash one another's feet as Jesus did. Friday, we come to the day of his crucifixion – Good Friday. It sounds odd to our modern ears, but it's the word "good" in the ancient sense of "holy." And then, from sorrow to joy: The Great Vigil of Easter on Saturday night.
I think there's a huge difference between reliving an event and merely reenacting an event. If you reenact something, you're acting out something that someone else lived, like Civil War reenactments: You weren't actually in the Civil War; you're just acting out a piece of history. But since what we have in Holy Week is nothing less than the battle between good and evil, life and death, and life again, we are not acting out something from someone else's life. We are living again something that is part of all of our journeys. We are not disinterested observers: We have a vital stake in the outcome of this week. We have a vital stake in the outcome of the issues of good and evil; life and death… and life again.
As I live my own life, every year I journey through Holy Week, I can see myself as someone different. Some years, I seem closer to poor Peter denying the Lord three times, but then weeping bitter tears. Some years, I identify more with the women waiting at the tomb for the risen Christ as I wait for change in my life. Some years, I can see myself as the High Priest Caiaphas protecting my turf. Some years, I am Jesus himself. It seems that where I am in my own understanding of good and evil – life and death and life again – changes how I live Holy Week.
Now, I would love just to take a shortcut and get to Easter without having to watch Jesus suffer, without having to re-examine my own life; without having to admit that many times in my own life I would have been one in the crowd crying out, "Crucify him!" But if I look away, I won't see what it looks like to live fully human and yet fully divine as God intended. I have to look, not to see some kind of a bloody sacrifice required by God, but to see God demonstrating what it means to truly love.
Write poetry this week… Richard Niebuhr says pilgrims do that by taking journeys. We're going to be traveling some dark roads. The streets of old Jerusalem are narrow, and the crowds from all over the world are sure to grow larger as we go. There will be the chaos and confusion of other pilgrims from our day, and fellow pilgrims from past centuries. Know without a doubt that you journey this week from darkness toward the light. But we also know, you cannot take this journey… you cannot write this particular piece of poetry… and remain unchanged.
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