Glory lover

We live glory. We love to see it, to give it, and, yes, to receive it. This is how we have been designed.

The problem comes in when the object of our glory is less than glorious or is glorified for something beyond the scope of its inherent glory.

Time and again I've discussed glory (twice last week). I struggle with glory--giving it and wanting it for myself. ButI see more clearly now that the glorying isn't the problem, though the object might be.

I can empathize with the Pharisees, both the ones that believed in Jesus and the ones that rejected him. Both groups had glory issues and object-of-glory issues.

John describes the unbelief of the people (and the Pharisees) in his gospel continually. In 12:36-43 he tells of Jesus' hiding himself for the people, likely because several sought to kill him as they had before (John 8:59 and 10:31ff). Many just can't believe and some are afraid to let it be know that they believe:

"Nevertheless, many even of the authorities believed in him, but for fear of the Pharisees they did not confess it, so that they would not be put out of the synagogue; for they loved the glory that comes from man more than the glory that comes from God." (John 12:42-43)

See where the glory is? In the whole of the passage, we know the glory is actually--really and truly--in Jesus. In the part I've quoted we see the glory and power the people and "even the authorities" fear: the Pharisees. They fear the leaders. They fear being kicked out of the formal company of people, that is, the synagogue. This is a legitimate concern, but if the object of synagogue worship is right there and is clearly glorious and a person is more concerned with the other so-called worshippers' opinion, there is a grave problem of heart and mind in these believers.

But I won't judge them to condemn; I'm merely judge to assert that I'm like them.

~~~*~~~
Today, I ask you: are you a glory lover? Can you admit it? Who's glory do you love and seek?

Jesus gives the stoners the slip

Time and again we see Jesus come under fire in the gospels. The Pharisees are continually trying to "bust him," as I say with not so much precision.

In John's gospel, Jesus carries on extended conversations with the Pharisees who would gladly kill him to be rid of his disruptive teaching to the "crowd that does not know the law." The Pharisees say the people are "accursed" (John 7:49)--probably because they believe what Jesus is saying.

Some time during the conversation, the Pharisees hold a sort of council, trying to figure out what to do with this man. They look for reasons he must be false: the Christ will not come from Galilee... the Christ will come from David, from Bethlehem. They clearly don't know that both of these things are true of Jesus. They continue: none of the "authorities or the Pharisees" have believed him. Then, as if they haven't quite finished their initial argument, they say no prophet arises from Galilee (they really don't think much if Galilee, do they?).

Later, these Pharisees bring the debate right to Jesus' face. They tell him he is bearing witness about himself, which, in their mind, means he's making things up. Jesus responds that the Father bears witness of him. They ask where his father is. He answers that they do not know because they don't know who he is. Jesus says he is going away; the Jews (and I assume Pharisees as well) wonder if he plans to kill himself.

And so the dialogue continues. The Jews and Pharisees ask questions or wonder among themselves, and Jesus answers them without stammering, without hesitation.

And while there is a wealth of theological insight demonstrated in the dialogue recorded over John 7-8, what strikes me most today is Jesus' attitude. His confidence is sure, yet without conceit; his answers are firm, yet humble. To us, he may sound a bit testy. We might perceive that he is excuse-making; he does answer at length, a common characteristic of a "tale-teller," i.e., "liar." But this is not the case. He speaks with surety but he is humble before his Father, confident in his Father, concerned with the glory of his Father.

We know that later Jesus will pray that his disciples see his glory (John 17), but for now he is not concerned with giving clear explanations. He does make a defense--give an apologetic--for what he's doing, but he's not defensive. He's not interested in tickling ears and pleasing people. He's interested in the truth, even if they misinterpret him--which they do.

The Pharisees are outraged at Jesus by the end of their conversation. "So they picked up stones to throw at him," John tells us.

But Jesus gives them the slip.

Jesus' explanations slipped right past all the Pharisees' reasoning and comprehension and understanding, but he doesn't see the need to stand and fight. It's not his way. Besides, he's in control of the entire situation, and, like I said, he's not trying to defensively vindicate himself. He's explaining the nuances of the plan and purpose of God the Father.

~~~*~~~
And what is your primary concern? You? What people think of you? How people understand or don't understand you? These are often my concerns and I'm not astute enough to remember the greater plan and purpose of God, I'm not discerning enough to know when it's best to give the crowd the slip.

Again, what is your primary interest or concern when confrontation comes? Can you keep calm and carry on (as the signs say), or is the defensive protest your way?

Greatness

I struggle to see what I can do on this earth that will last. Paired with this, are other issues as well: Am I so audacious as to assume that something I do or say is worth lasting? or that, feeble as I am in word and deed, I am capable of saying or doing anything of lasting merit or import? Why do I even care if what I say or do lasts?

These are questions similar to some I used to wrestle over with one of my pastors, only the specific topic was greatness. Time and again I would bring up for discussion the ingredients of greatness. What makes a man great? Is it something in him? Is it time and location? Opportunity? All of the above combined? My pastor would ask me, "Why do you care? Why is it important?" I know he suspected that I wanted greatness, yet I would say I was just curious... but certainly it's true that there was--IS--something in me that aspires for greatness.

Or at least remembrance. Or significance. I want to be remembered and I most certainly want to be significant. In truth, I was sheepish about having to answer my pastor's questions. I know that I should desire King Jesus' greatness in and through my life. But what of me? What of my deeds and words?

Yes. Good question: What of them?

That's the point, right? So although something in me wants to be great, I don't necessarily strive much for greatness. I'm not great. I'm just... me. And I think I can accept and live with that.

~~~*~~~

In Shakespeare's Twelfth Night the nature of greatness comes up--in the context of a prank--but the analysis seems correct:

some are born great, some achieve greatness,

and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.

I'm not sure if any of these circumstances apply to me and my life, but I can take the admonition given before these words in the fictitious letter that the hapless--and aspiring for greatness--Malvolio finds: "be not afraid of greatness."

Ok. I can live with this. I ought not be afraid of greatness. Yet, as I said before, I'm not great. Should I fear not being great? What am I to do?

Well, I'll do what I've known to be true (and as I said earlier): I'll strive for Christ to be great in my words and deeds. I've found that living is much more personally satisfying when I'm not concerned with my own greatness, but with my duty, my identity in him, my growth in grace, the growth in grace and good of my fellow man.

So I don't seek the greatness itself, so much as the person and understanding what he said and did. I won't seek to elevate myself by elevating him. I'll simply seek to act as I've been declared, namely, as a child of God, in thought, word, and deed.

Most likely, I'll be forgotten soon after my children or grandchildren die (if God sees fit that I live long enough). But hopefully the deeds I've sought to do and to model for them, the words I've used to counsel and instruct them, will stick with them. And if the deeds and words themselves are forgot, hopefully the motivation and the man behind them will not be. Hopefully God and his son the King will not be forgot by him. 

That, I think, is greatness enough.

Identity: Child of God

Ever heard a conversation like this:

"Oh. So you're a Christian?"

"Well, I'm trying to be. I'm not very good at it."

"Hmm... not very good at it?"

"Nah. I keep messing up all the time. I'm a pretty lousy Christian."

~~~*~~~

I suppose we could end the conversation with something like, "Is there any other kind?" However, I want to address the issue of many of us saying we're "trying to be" Christians. Is this possible? What do we mean by this?

When someone asks us if we're Christian, it's an identity sort of question. The simple answer is, We either are or we are not a Christian. There isn't really any middle ground.

Why? Because being a Christian is our identity, if we are in Christ. If we are in Christ, we are children of God. Period.

Take a look at what John says in his first letter:

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. (3:1-2) 

I'm not sure this could be any more plain. God the Father has given us his love. What does this love look like, how does it affect us? We are now called children of God. That is love. We were enemies of God, but he has sent his son to die in our stead--to face the punishment we deserved--so that we might have God, so that we might be his children. "And so we are," as John reiterates for emphasis.

No, what we will be isn't entirely clear, but we know that we will be like Christ. For now, during the time in-between redemption and his appearing? Well, we are called children. This is what--this is who--we are.

So, the next time someone asks if you are a Christian, you don't need to answer with a "maybe" or anything resembling a "I'm trying to be." If you are in Christ, the simple answer is "Yes." You can add, "I'm a child of God, a child of the King," if you want and/or for good measure.

~~~*~~~

So here is a reminder for you and for me today: In Christ, our identity is "child," and this is so whether we are good, bad, ugly--name it. Our identity doesn't become anything more or less based on our behavior. We are children of God. Amen.

Jesus the hero, part 3

As I worked to demonstrate last week, Jesus is a hero. More than that, he is an epic hero. Through his life and work he brings to pass the epic movement in the life of Israel and in the life of the church.

According to Dr. Louise Cowan, there are four "essence" characteristics of epic, which I've simplified with the terms Space, Time, Balance, and Motion. Jesus' life and work exemplifies and embodies each of these essence characteristics. Today, I intend to focus only on how Jesus life and work exemplifies the epic essence of Space.

SPACE

The term Space refers to the space in which mankind lives. In epic, this space is opened up or broadened. The "veil," which separates the natural and supernatural, the material and immaterial realms, is torn or lifted, allowing the hero to see and/or directly interact with the divine. Thus a more intimate relation between the hero and the divine is experienced, and the hero (and mankind by way of the hero) is thus able to see and understand and experience more than his typical space or region of habitation within the created world. In other words, his perception is broadened. In seeing the heavenly realm, the hero (and his people through the hero) is better able to understand and interact within the events and happenings of the physical realm.

We see this breaking through of the veil between mankind and the divine time and again within the life of Jesus. Given the fact that Jesus is divine, this is obvious, but it is no less true in terms of his incarnation as a man as well.

The events leading up to and surrounding his birth and the first couple years of his life demonstrate this opening up of space conclusively. Time and again, angels--heavenly or supernatural beings--appear in dreams, orchestrating how the arrival of the infant hero should be interpreted and handled, as well as how this new-born baby's life ought to be preserved. First, Jesus' earthly "father," Joseph, dreams before the baby is even born: the angel of The Lord appears to him and says, "do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins" (Matthew 1:20-22). Just in this brief interaction we hear divine intervention (the angel's message) and we see that there has been some sort of physical divine intervention as well, for Mary is a virgin yet she is with child by the work of God in the Holy Spirit.

Matthew, the narrator of these events, goes further in demonstrating that this is a unique rending of the barrier between God and mankind when he explains that this birth is a fulfillment of prophecy: "'Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,/and they shall call his name Immanuel' (which means, God is with us)" (Matthew 1:23). So this birth itself is a divine intervention, for in the form of this baby God himself is coming to dwell with mankind. The supernatural is going to be enfleshed in a natural body.

To ensure that this baby's significance is rightly understood and that he is allowed to live, more intervention is required. A star guides the wise men's way to this new-born king that is worthy of actual worship (Matthew 2:2). Herod, the current king, will have none of this, though he'll play along; he intends murder. To keep this from happening, angels appear in the wise men's dreams, indicating that they must not return to Herod. When Herod realizes he's been deceived by the wise me, he goes into a rage and kills all children under the age of two that have been born in the region where this new king has been born. Angels appear three times to Joseph in his dreams, first directing him to take the child and his mother to Egypt (Matthew 2:13-15), then directing him back to Israel (Matthew 2:19-21), then directing him to Galilee (Matthew 2:22-23).

So we see that without divine intervention and a breaking of the veil or barrier between the supernatural and the natural, Jesus' birth would not have happened, nor would his life have been preserved. So space is opened up, and people--Joseph and the wise men and Mary (if we remember that she, too, had dreams--see Luke 1:26-38)--are able to understand more fully what is happening here on the earthly plane because they've had direct contact with the supernatural or heavenly plane of existence.

And this divine interaction between God and man doesn't let up all through the life of Jesus. At Jesus' baptism, John the Baptist declares the coming work of the coming Messiah and then God the Father declares that this Jesus is that coming Messiah indeed (Matthew 3:1-17). Months later at what we call the transfiguration, Jesus will meet with God the father and Moses and Elijah (men who should be dead); God will again declare Jesus' identity (Matthew 17:1-13). Jesus himself will pray time and again, directly interacting with the divine (see Matthew 11:25-26; 26:36-44; John 11:41-42; 12:27-28; 17; etc.). His miracles show that he's connected to the divine--that he is divine. In Matthew 8-9 alone he shows he has control over sickness, the supernatural, the natural, sin, death, uncleanness, and physical deformities or birth defects. All these acts or miracles show that he has authority from beyond the pale of man. And let's not forget his death. The literal veil is torn when he dies (see Matthew 27:51-54), demonstrating this break in the barrier between God and man, the immaterial and the material realm. And, upon dying, Jesus goes to the "underworld," hades, surely a place mortals can't tread.

And then Jesus returns from Hades, from death, from the tomb. So not only does Jesus have a running communion with God the Father, not only does he speak and act with an authority given him from the supernatural (that is, God the Father), not only does he venture to the land of the dead, he actually returns. He is able to pass between the material and the physical, for all of space, all realms, are opened up to him.

All this demonstrates conclusively that the life and work of Jesus demonstrates the epic essence of Space. And, as we continue this study of how Jesus is epic, we'll see that his mission is to do the same for us: open up space, open up reality, open up understanding.

Jesus the hero

In the gospels we find Jesus, the epic hero.

No, he doesn't look anything like Achilles or Odysseus, Aeneas or Aragorn. He doesn't do physical slaying of his enemies, though we could argue that the Pharisees get a fair drubbing on many an occasion. He doesn't lead an army, though we could argue that he is building one--of a sort. He doesn't found or defend a city or nation in the sense that these other heroes do, though we could argue that founding and defending a city--the city of God--is exactly what he's doing.

So Jesus isn't a typical epic hero... but there can be no doubt that so much of what he does and works for is the very motivation, pursuit, and goal of the epic hero. But Jesus is no ordinary epic hero.

What I want to begin working through here are the four essence characteristics that Dr. Louse Cowan discusses in her essay "Epic as Cosmopoesis," and explain how the life and work of Jesus encapsulates each. Today I'll start with the first two.

First of all, in epic the "veil" or barrier between the divine and man, between the supernatural or immaterial realm and the natural or material realm, is opened up. Man is allowed a view of things and creatures that mere mortals are normally not privy to. In the case of Jesus, God the Father speaks to and of this man, his son. Time and again, Jesus and God the Father communicate in, and though we don't usually hear the voice of God the Father in the gospels (that is, his actual words aren't recorded), we know that Jesus is being heard, for his miracles demonstrate that he is heard (see the feeding of the 5,000 for example, Mark 6:30-44).

Secondly, in epic there is an awareness of all of time--past, present, and future. The hero himself lives at a time of utmost importance, a time when the culture of a people group faces possible structural annihilation. The hero is well aware of where his people have been and he knows the possible or prophesied future to where they head. He also often knows--and this is the great weight the hero bears--that he must act or execute a certain function or play a certain role in his present, or the destined or commanded future will not arrive. In many ways (all ways?), the potential future of his people rests on his shoulders.

Clearly this describes Jesus and the time and place when and where he arrives on the scene. He is the Jewish messiah, the promised coming king, who is to bring to fulfillment all that the Jewish people have longed and looked for. He is the climax of their story and the one who will renew God's people and institute a new way to live and move and have being in the Kingdom of God. And... we could say more. The point is, Jesus is all these things, BUT if he doesn't act then the hoped for renewed city and culture and kingdom won't come. All is lost unless God intervenes and his Son the hero carries out his mission.

~~~*~~~
So we're on our way to briefly explaining how Jesus is an epic hero. Later this week we'll explore how Jesus embodies the other two essence characteristics that Cowan describes in her essay.

For now, let me know what you think of this. Does it make sense? Is this a viable way to see and understand the person and work of Jesus?

Resurrected

9 As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, "Follow me." And he rose and followed him.
10 And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples.
11 And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?"
12 But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.
13 Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.' For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners."

Matthew places the story of his being called in chapter nine of his gospel. A quick look at what else is in chapters eight and nine will show healing after healing, miracle after miracle. So why does Matthew put his story amid all these healings and miracles? What's going on here?

The simple answer is that he considers his story to be one of healing as well. Just as Jesus healed a leper, a centurion's daughter, a paralytic, a woman with a blood flow issue, two blind men, a deaf and mute man; just as Jesus cast out demons and calmed the storm... just so he healed Matthew, who had been working for the Roman government by collecting taxes from his own people. In Matthews mind he too was healed--resurrected even.

Too great a claim? Maybe, but when Jesus said, "Follow me," Matthew responded: he "rose and followed him." The Greek word for "arose" here is one of three words used to describe getting up, but it's also used to describe resurrection in several places (see Matthew 17:9, 20:19; Mark 5;42, 8:31, 9:9-10, etc.). Is this just a simple word play, or the use of a word that has a wide variety of uses? Could be, but there is no doubt that Matthew views his calling as something significant, as something on the spiritual and physical level akin to healings and miracles. Else, why would be include it among a series of healing and miracle stories.

~~~*~~~
So Matthew is called and he arises. He is healed. Have you arisen? Have you headed the call to arise and follow Jesus? Do you see that call and the resultant arising as nothing short of a healing, of a miracle? Maybe it's time that you and I DID see it as such.

Jesus is God

Have you ever heard someone say something like, "Jesus never actually claimed to be God"? This is true; Jesus never actually uttered the words, "I am God."

However, just because Jesus never said these exact words, doesn't mean he isn't divine or that he didn't think he is divine while on earth. He did. But, unlike twenty-first century critics, who prefer direct, specific claims, Jesus didn't find it necessary to speak in this manner. Rather, he demonstrated his divine authority and nature in his teachings and his actions.

A passage that shows this in multiple ways is Mark 2:1-12.

1 And when he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. 2 And many were gathered together, so that there was no more room, not even at the door. And he was preaching the word to them. 3 And they came, bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men. 4 And when they could not get near him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay.

5 And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."
6 Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, 7 "Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?" 8 And immediately Jesus, perceiving in his spirit that they thus questioned within themselves, said to them, "Why do you question these things in your hearts? 9 Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Rise, take up your bed and walk'? 10 But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins"-he said to the paralytic- 11 "I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home." 12 And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, "We never saw anything like this!"

By my count, there are at least five interconnected proofs here that show that Jesus thought he was God and that he is, in fact, God.

1. Jesus offers or grants the paralytic forgiveness of sins. Only a person who has been wronged is in a position to offer forgiveness. Jesus speaks as one that is in the position of one who has been wronged.

2. Jesus can read the scribes' minds. The scribes grumble about point number one, but they do it in their hearts. Jesus knows exactly what they're thinking and feeling, so he asks a question--"Which is easier...?"--and then acts, proving his divinity in word, deed, and mind reading. (I missed this very obvious piece of evidence in my initial posting; thanks to my friend Steve for pointing it out to me.)

3. Jesus calls himself the "Son of Man." This term is an allusion to Daniel 7:13-14, which describes the Ancient of Days (God the Father) presenting dominion and glory and a kingdom to one like a son of man. Jesus is essentially claiming that he is this figure described and that he, indeed, has the authority granted him by God.  

4. The paralytic is actually healed. We could argue against proofs one and three and say that Jesus is merely presuming to be in the position to offer forgiveness. We could just say Jesus is mad or delusional. However, the fact that the paralytic actually rises and walks out of the house demonstrates that he's been healed and forgiven, as Jesus explains. Of course, people can't actually see forgiveness, but the audience still responds...

5. The crowd glorifies God. Even though people can't see forgiveness, they can see the paralized man rise and walk. Something great has happened and they respond in worship. No, it doesn't say the people actually glorified Jesus, but they are amazed at both the words and actions of Jesus. They know that in some way this event is beyond a mere faith healing.

6. The scribes' reasoning is that Jesus is God. Okay, this isn't entirely accurate, but bear with me. The scribes hear Jesus say,"your sins are forgiven," and they are outraged because God alone can forgive sins. They're right; this is the point exactly. The problem is, they refuse to believe or can't see that Jesus is not just claiming to act like God; he actually is God. Their premises lead to this very conclusion. Here's their logic laid out in standard (and stiff, I admit) syllogistic form:

All sin forgivers are God.

All Jesus is a sin forgiver.

The conclusion? Yes:

All Jesus is God.

~~~*~~~
No, these six so-called proofs aren't as clean or unassailable as many of us would like. For many of us, they won't prove conclusively that Jesus believed that he is God, much less that he is God. Even so, Mark is dropping hint after hint that this is the case. The scribes were on the right track, but they couldn't--wouldn't--follow their reasoning to its logical end.

Here's the question: Will you? Can you?

The Jesus in-between

You may be what we call a "creedal" Christian. That is, you adhere to or profess (or both) one or more of the creeds that have been passed on within the church for centuries.

The creeds came into existence as the early church worked to weed out error or outright heresy in many people's belief about Jesus and the Bible. What is interesting to note is that the creeds are, for the most part, silent about a large and extremely important portion of Jesus' life.  

Take a look:

The Apostles Creed says of Jesus, "I believe... Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried; he descended into hell; on the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty; from there he will come to judge the living and the dead."

The Nicene Creed says,

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,
the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, light from light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
of one Being with the Father;
through him all things were made.
For us and for our salvation
he came down from heaven,
was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary
and became truly human.
For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again
in accordance with the Scriptures;
he ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,
and his kingdom will have no end. 

Notice anything? When we recite these creeds, we are completely silent about the portion of Jesus' life that covers, well, his life.

Now this could be for any number of reasons. The creeds were written to address error, after all; perhaps there wasn't much debate about the nature and meaning of Jesus' day to day life, his preaching, teaching, and working of miracles. Also, if the gospels were presented alongside the recitation of the creeds, then the life of Jesus would be read and heard in the churches.

I consider myself credal, and I recite them regularly. I am, in no way, saying "Down with the creeds!" However, what happens if we focus only on what the creeds say about Jesus? In other words, what happens if we only focus on his virgin birth and his death, burial and resurrection... but not on his life and teaching itself? What happens then? 

The simple answer is we develop a skewed perspective of Jesus. The serious reality of this is that we fall danger to thinking that the gospel and the purpose of Jesus was merely to conquer death and save us from our sins. These things are so, but if we only focus on them, we miss the key point of Jesus' life: He was bringing the kingdom of God to earth. Jesus began his ministry with the words "The kingdom of God is at hand" (Matthew 4:7--"kingdom of heaven"; Mark 1:15). The rest of his words and actions proved that this is so. His resurrection (which the creeds aptly proclaim) is God's confirmation of this reality.

~~~*~~~

There is obviously much more to say on this. For more on this topic, see N.T. Wright's recent book, How God Became King. His general goal in the book is to explain the reality of Jesus' kingship and urge readers to remember the period of Jesus' life that is often forgotten, the period between his birth and his death, burial, resurrection.

Just for the sake of discussion, how often do you consider the significance and meaning of Jesus' life? Has your Christianity become more about Jesus' birth and death and resurrection than about the word and goal of his life's mission? In other words, do you think more in terms of your personal salvation or Jesus' kingship over the earth? 

A prayer

I needed a prayer today and thought you might too.

Lord, you are good. You are patient and kind. Your love is steadfast, unflagging, undeterred. Today, in this moment, I remember these things... I actually feel them somehow, and am thankful that my mind and heart are aware--more of the whole of me is aware of you. In a word, you seem more real to me; thus I feel more real to me. Oh, I know my sensing your presence doesn't make you any more so (how could it? I'm not God, my sense can't make you any more real), but I am glad for the sensation. For the reminder of you.

Today there is wind and cloud in the sky. I hope to feel the wind and see the cloud. I hope to feel the floor under my thin-soled bare feet, hear the talking and laughing and conflict in my children's voices and play, to smell the scents of a place where life is lived. I hope to feel and hear and smell and see...

I hope to sense as much as I can of what is outside and in, and to be thankful for all, for all is from you and the parts that we have skewed you can and will renew. (Thanks for accidental rhymes.)

I pray for my good friend who has been ill; may he be made well, but more than that, may he see and savor Christ today. May he smile. I pray for my other friend's little boy. I'm thankful for his faith and for the laughter and texture of life they're experiencing, for the encouragement they're giving, even in the face of cancer. Through their struggle, somehow, you've drawn open my heavy eyes and the eyes and hearts of our community. (Remarkable.) There are many more in my life who are ill, who are struggling, who are suffering. Your mercy on them, I pray; heal their wounds, their systems, their relationships. In all this, heal their minds, hearts, souls and imaginations.

I pray for whoever might be reading this strung-together prayer. May they be opened up, may their senses, minds, imaginations be jump-started or jogged or whatever they need today. May they know the hope of the gospel; may it enliven all of them (in the sense of numbers and in the sense of their entire, whole individual being... but you knew what I meant, right?).

We have need, all of us; you fill it. Remind us of this again and again today. May the kingdom come be ever in our eyes and actions.

In the name of Christ, our hope, our savior, our bridegroom, our shepherd. Our king. Our sign, given to show your love. (We smile.)
Amen.