Archives For following Jesus
I have found the daily meditation from the online site Sacred Space very rich for me recently. Today, in conjunction with the passage where Judas betrayed Jesus, it offered these thoughts:
“Holy Week is an invitation to walk
closely with Jesus: we fix our gaze on
him and accompany him in his
suffering; we let him look closely at us and see us as we really are.
We do not have to present a brave face to him, but can tell him about where we have been disappointed, let down – perhaps even betrayed. We avoid getting stuck in our own misfortune by seeing as he sees, by learning from his heart.”
“Conversation requires talking and listening.
As I talk to Jesus may I also learn to be still and listen.
I picture the gentleness in His eyes and the smile full of love as He gazes on me.
I can be totally honest with Jesus as I tell Him of my worries and my cares.
I will open up my heart to Him as I tell Him of my fears and my doubts.
I will ask Him to help me to place myself fully in His care, to abandon myself to Him, knowing that He always wants what is best for me.”
I have been finding this passage a good reminder as I journey through the season of Lent:
“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed freeand break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and He will say: ‘Here am I.’
If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always; He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.
Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.”
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten journey which culminates in the celebration of the resurrection from the dead. In between the beginning and the end of this life season, there will be a lot of dust. Dusty roads, dusty furniture, dusty thoughts.
Sometimes we write on the dust: our names or a simple drawing. Sometimes we close the door on the dusty room. Sometimes we cover up the dust with another layer of stuff. Sometimes we watch balls of fluffy dust float across the floor. And sometimes we try to deal with it: wiping, washing, blowing it off the surface of our lives. But the dust always returns.
There is an Ash Wednesday blessing by Jan Richardson that takes a more hopeful view. It is a reminder that God formed us from the dust. Dust is not a problem for Him. Neither are ashes or brokenness. He creates, He remakes, He redeems and brings life again.
There is hope.
Excerpt from”Blessing the Dust
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
All those days
you felt like dust,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?…
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
You can read the whole thing here and see Richardson’s artwork which illustrates the blessing.
I’m yawning and stretching and wondering where I am, let alone where I am going.
However life is more like a marathon than a sprint so perhaps all is not lost. Before plunging ahead, I’m taking the time to look back on last year [the one that feels like a decade ago], and look ahead to this year [the one the already feels half-gone].
Because we live in eternity, it’s never too late to re-evaluate the direction we’re taking or to make adjustments or to shed an old cranky habit and take on a different approach. The promise of something new is always here, always now.
In that spirit, here is a blessing based on Numbers 6:24-26 for the new life that is growing and that is to come:
The Lord bless you.
May you be blessed with blessing from the good and loving Father
and keep you;
May you know the everlasting arms that hold you, that you can lean on, that will guide you to paths of righteousness and pull you back from danger
the Lord make His face shine upon you,
May you stay close to your Father, who has brought His light into the world through Jesus. May this life-giving light that shines in the darkness and penetrates through the gray clouds of this world, illuminate your heart.
and be gracious unto you;
May you walk in the fullness of grace that He has given to you freely
the Lord lift up his countenance on you
Yes, may you know and live and walk in the Father’s abundance of blessing, as His chosen child, created, redeemed, sustained and comforted, in this life until the world to come.
and give you peace.”
May you receive the gift of the Lord’s peace, that is, shalom;
of green pastures and calm waters,
guarded by the great Shepherd of the sheep;
whose love overtakes fear and anxiety, and who names you, “Beloved.”
Sometimes [like most of the time], I want to have everything wrapped up. I want to get an answer from God in a neat little package, instead of having an ongoing conversation with Him.
However, sometimes, [like most of the time], following Jesus means living with the unanswered and the unfinished. The ‘answer’ is not to figure life out. It is looking to Jesus, and listening to Him. It is following His lead and not the often warped and distorted movement of my broken heart. However I am feeling, Jesus wants me stay with Him.
Sometimes [like most of the time], it will be messy. But Jesus invites me to draw closer to Him–and not listen to the accuser. Because although there are lots of good, honest questions to ask God, the accuser’s questions are designed to get me to turn away, such as:
“Where is your God?”
“Did God really say…?”
“How long will He make you suffer?”
“Aren’t you tired of trusting?”
So when I can’t put it all together, and when I can’t find that neat answer I want, I’ll remember this:
Sometimes [like most of the time], the question isn’t something to be figured out. It is something to be lived. Because really it’s not an answer I seek. It’s a person, Jesus.
In our Instagram, instant-Facebook, instant-Twitter world, it is helpful for me to remember that growth cannot be hurried. It takes three years, not three days for a grape vine to begin bearing fruit. It takes 180 days, not 180 minutes for the grapes to mature.
“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way
to something unknown, something new.
Yet it is the law of all progress that is made
by passing through some stages of instability
and that may take a very long time…
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that His hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.
Above all, trust in the slow work of God,
our loving vine-dresser. Amen. ”
Pierre de Chardin
“My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that, if I do this, You will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust You always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone.”
“Graceless religion tells us that, to be acceptable, we must live up to
the customs and shun the taboos of its tradition. It shames us when
we do what it forbids and do not do what it requires.
Our religion-shaped self easily becomes a self of hypocrisy and appearances; we feel compelled to make up for what we lack inside by obeying all its prescriptions on the outside. Graceless religion creates the illusion that if we only follow the letter of the rules, we will be acceptable, and that if we fail we will be rejected and despised.”
Lewis Smedes in “Shame and Grace”
Where, except in uncreated light, can the darkness be drowned?”
“If people know they are loved, they are not afraid of their ‘badness.’ They feel accepted and safe, and they do not have to feel ‘good’ about themselves to be safe. Love does that. Love is everything. In the Bible the opposite of ‘bad’ is not ‘good’, it is love.”
Henry Cloud in “How People Grow”
“The arms of God be around my shoulders,
The touch of the Holy Spirit upon my head,
The sign of Christ’s cross upon my forehead,
The sound of the Holy Spirit in my ears,
The fragrance of the Holy Spirit in my nostrils,
The vision of heaven’s company in my eyes,
The conversation of heaven’s company on my lips,
The work of God’s Church in my hands,
The service of God and the neighbor in my feet,
A home for God in my heart,
And to God, the Father of all, my entire being.
Saint Fursa’s breastplate prayer, circa 630 AD
“Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Be thou my breastplate, sword for the fight;
thou my whole armor, thou my true might;
thou my soul’s shelter, my strong tower:
raise thou me heavenward, great Power of my power.”
Based on the 6th centurty Old Irish text, “Rop tú mo Baile” usually attributed to Saint Dallán Forgaill
“Satan tries to confuse us. “Look at how messed up the world is. How can you believe in a loving God?”
The only answer is the breastplate of righteousness. You cannot understand particular happenings; you cannot give any explanation. But you do know that the God who clothed you with His righteousness and saved you from a lost eternity must have your highest interest and those of His universe at heart.
When you hold on to that, your heart is protected from despair, even if your mind struggles to comprehend what is happening. You can live in peace even though you do not know all the answers.”
You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
“Jesus calls people not to a new religion but to life.”
“When it comes to the mystery of death, like the mystery of life, how can any of us know anything? If there is a realm of being beyond where we now are that has to do somehow with who Jesus is, and is for us, and is for all the world, then how can we know the way that will take us there?
“I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” is how he answers. He does not say the church is the way. He does not say his teachings are the way, or what people for centuries have taught about him. He does not say religion is the way, not even the religion that bears his name. He says he himself is the way. And he says that the truth is not words, neither his words nor anyone else’s words. It is the truth of being truly human as he was truly human and thus at the same time truly God’s. And the life we are dazzled by in him, haunted by in him, nourished by in him is a life so full of aliveness and light that not even the darkness of death could prevail against it.”
“Spiritual growth is not only about coming back into a relationship with God and other people and pursuing a pure life, but it is also coming back to life – the life that God created for people to live. This life–of deep relationship, fulfilling work, celebration, and more–gives us the life we desire…”
Henry Cloud and John Townsend in “How People Grow”
I have come in order that you might have life—life in all its fullness
Lately, I’ve been pondering what the cross means. So after Christmas in July, perhaps it is time for Easter in August.
What has particularly drawn me to the cross has not been God’s forgiveness for me but my struggle to forgive those who have wronged and hurt me.
In the midst of these reflections, I ‘happened’ to attend a worship concert where we were invited to write down the name of someone we were finding it hard to forgive. Then we went forward and nailed the slip of paper to a large wooden cross. It was a powerful moment for me as I realized the sins Jesus took on Himself included sins done against me.
“We are invited to put our pain and any senseless suffering of the world into the wounds of Jesus. Jesus went to the cross so our sin and pain wouldn’t just stick to us. It has somewhere to go, somewhere it can be transformed rather than just transmitted. There are no tears and sorrow too deep for God to transform. Put your pain into the wounded hands and feet of Jesus. Watch him turn an act of unjust violence into hope and life.”
Adele Ahlberg Calhoun in “Invitations from God”
“The Cross is the word through which God has responded to evil in the world. Sometimes it may seem as though God does not react to evil, as if he is silent. And yet, God has spoken, he has replied, and his answer is the Cross of Christ: a word that is love, mercy, forgiveness.”
“At the cross the world sinned its sins into Jesus Christ.
And what happens? Jesus forgives.
Why? Because God is like that.
In the defining moment of the cross Jesus defines what God is really like.
God is love—co-suffering, all-forgiving, sin-absorbing, never-ending love.
God is not like Caiaphas sacrificing a scapegoat.
God is not like Pilate enacting justice by violence.
God is Jesus, absorbing and forgiving sin.
At the cross a world of sin is absorbed by the love of God and recycled into grace and mercy.”
Brian Zahnd in “Water to Wine”
“The image of God is the image of Christ crucified.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer in “The Cost of Discipleship”
I’ve been reflecting on what it means to rest in God–to rest in being His beloved, to find rest for my soul as Jesus promised in Matthew 11 when He said, “Come to me, you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
That sounds like music to my soul, but the next sentence tends to jar my sense of peace: Take My yoke upon you. There’s nothing about a yoke that seems restful to me. In fact, the idea of resting and trusting seems to be the opposite of wearing a yoke. In my mind, a yoke chafes, to bumps, it constrains. It seems painful, tiresome, relentless.
But that is not what a yoke is meant to be:
“A yoke, in ancient Palestine, was made of wood, handmade to fit perfectly to the neck and shoulders of the oxen to prevent cutting and chafing.” [Pete Scazzero in Emotionally Healthy Spirituality]
Or, as Jesus puts it in John 15: “Remain in my love.”
I need to remember that the choice is not between having a yoke or having no yoke at all. There is no yoke-free life. Whatever track I am following is a yoke of sorts. And though other paths may seem pleasant at the time, there is only one directing me to my ultimate best. Jesus wants to bring me home and I can trust that the yoke He gives is going to be a good fit for me, a yoke of grace, love, forgiveness, comfort, shelter–and yes, rest.
I’ve seen this in action. I’ve had the privilege of knowing saints who have taken the yoke of Jesus, and they are the lightest and most rested people I know. Their lives are full of peace and joy. They may experience trouble on every side, but they aren’t crushed; they may be perplexed, but they aren’t driven to despair; they may be knocked down, but they aren’t destroyed. They carry in their bodies the death of Jesus, but the life of Jesus is also visible in them, full of grace and truth.
They are able to rest in a storm, like Jesus sleeping on the boat in Mark 4:37-38. A furious squall came up and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. At rest.
“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in a love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”
“‘Conversion’ is not about an abstract transaction in which your soul becomes destined for heaven instead of hell.
Rather, ‘conversion’ is the moment when you find yourself within the story of Jesus, the story of Israel, the story of the Church and the story of God.”
“Holiness is not a state of perfection but a faithful striving that lasts a lifetime. It is expressed primarily in small ways, day after day, through the practice of forgiveness, patience, self-sacrifice, and compassion.”
“Trust in Him at all times. O people.
Pour out your hearts to Him for God is our refuge.”
I love how trusting God and expressing the feelings in my heart go hand and hand. Trusting God is not some robotic, ‘cut yourself from your mind and heart’ action. It is opening my heart and pouring it out to Him…the same action Mary did, pouring perfume on Jesus’ feet.
Perhaps in some way, the feelings we store in our hearts and then pour out to our Father are like perfume to Him too. Because to be honest with someone, to be truly open and vulnerable with them, is a great gift. And that is a gift we can give to God.
Pouring requires opening. When my heart is open, I can pour out my feelings, my worries, and my concerns to Him.
And then, with my heart open, He can pour Himself, the Spirit of grace and truth, in my life.
Pouring is not a timid action. It is the action of leaning forward, and letting the stream begin to flow.
“This is what the Lord, the one who made you, says –
the one who formed you in the womb and helps you:
“Don’t be afraid, my servant Jacob,
Jeshurun, whom I have chosen!
For I will pour water on the parched ground
and cause streams to flow on the dry land.
I will pour My spirit on your offspring
and my blessing on your children.
“Even in the life of a Christian, faith rises and falls like the tides of an invisible sea. It’s there, even when he can’t see it or feel it, if he wants it to be there. You realize, I think, that it is more valuable, more mysterious, altogether more immense than anything you can learn or decide upon… It will keep you free – not free to do anything you please, but free to be formed by something larger than your own intellect or the intellects around you.”
Flannery O’Connor in a letter to a young student struggling to believe
“Faith is still a surprise to me. No small part of my religious conversion has been coming to know that faith is best thought of as a verb, not a ‘thing’ that you either have or you don‟t have. I appreciate much more the wisdom of novelist, Doris Betts who asserts that ‘faith is not synonymous with certainty but rather faith is a decision to keep your eyes open.’”
“People say, “I lost my faith.” But you don’t lose faith like you lose your keys. It’s a matter of the will, an abandoning that we do more or less knowingly. What we lose is not faith, but the will to believe.”
How I became a Christian Again [Comment Je Suis Redevenu Chretien] by Jean-Claude Guillebaud is the story of how a French intellectual returned to the Christian faith of his youth.
Maybe the reason I like this book so much is because it’s in French [though lest you get the wrong impression of my French abilities, it’s written in an easy journalistic style and I had to continually look up words]. Francophile that I am, everything seems better in my favorite language. I don’t like listening to talk radio and sports events in English. But if they are in French, suddenly my ears perk up. Is it because French was the first language I studied and some linguistic imprinting took place even though I was never a stellar French student? Or is it because of the chocolate? The bread? The cheese? The wine? But I digress…
Guillebaud started out as a reporter for Le Monde [the French equivalent of the New York Times] and then became a book editor at Editions du Seuil [perhaps the equivalent of Random House]. He grew up as a nominal Catholic which meant by the time he went to college, he had given up any connection to faith. He covered several wars but it was the civil war in Lebanon that disturbed him most and brought him to the question of evil. For the first time he became aware that evil was not something external, but there was an intimate enemy that lives inside each person.
His return to faith was a slow process over many years. He wasn’t searching for consolation or fleeing from existential despair but rather he was trying to understand how the world came to be as it is. And as he traveled on his way back to faith in Christ, he passed through three circles.
In the first circle he looked at the sources of our modern world and realized how much of our culture was formed by its Judeo-Christian heritage. The values that were important to him, such as the right of the individual and social equality, developed as a result of Christianity.
From there he came to a second circle where he began to rethink what Christianity is. He saw that at the core of Christianity is a subversive, radical faith that has split the world in two. In the kingdom of God the poor and weak, rather than the powerful, are given first place. And then there is the scandal of the cross: not only God becoming man, but God crucified.
In the third circle, he came to understand that faith is something you choose to do. There is always a leap involved because faith is concerned with things we don’t understand, things we can’t know–that’s why it’s faith and not knowledge. To believe means to put your confidence in something. It doesn’t mean to passively accept some dogma or truth written in stone. It’s beginning on a path with the hope of arriving at a good place down the road. In other words, faith is where you get on the train, not where the train ends.
This rang true to me. I can coast along living under the label ‘Christian’, but every time I come back to the roots of my faith, I’m bowled over by the mystery and the stunning power of the good news: grace, redemption, resurrection. But this conviction is something I hope for, not something I am going to fully realize while I live on earth. I will never get beyond trusting in what I don’t see. I have to go on in faith. That’s the only way.
“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” Mark 9:24
[from the archives]
“Let us pray for the company of all faithful people, for the followers of the Way, the Way of the Cross: for those who are asking questions, lest they lose the way;
for those who know all the answers, lest they become proud;
for those who withdraw from all fellow-travelers, less they become arrogant;
for those who are disappointed and discouraged lest they give up in despair;
for those who will not accept changes, lest they become inflexible;
for those who change with every passing fad and fancy, lest they lose their direction;
for those who have the spirit, but neither the will or the power;
for those who have the will, but not the imagination; the faith, but not the love;
for all these, hear our prayer, O Lord, and let our cry come unto thee.
For those who can withstand everything that life can do to them and be neither downcast or bitter;
For those who follow the Way of the Cross even though they see it only dimly;
For those who shine like stars in a dark world;
For those who stagger not at the uneven motion of the world, or censure their journey by the weather they meet or turn aside for anything that befalls them;
For those who by their steadiness keep us in the Way when we are tempted to drop out,
We are thankful, O Lord. Amen.”
Theodore P. Ferris
This year, setting aside time to reflect on the season of Lent and its practice of denial strikes me as unnecessary. Another year, I’ll probably have the time and the need to consider the mysteries of Lent. But for now I find plenty of opportunities for renunciation as I walk the path before me one step at a time, without making an interior pilgrimage, or rooting around in my soul.
Every day I’m presented with the invitation of Jesus to take up my cross.
And every day this same Jesus who is gentle and humble, invites me to put on His easy yoke, to drink the living water He offers me,
and to be nourished by Him, the Bread of life.
The invitation to let go of my complaints and trust His safe embrace:
“ Jesus.. says, ‘Let go of your complaints, forgive those who loved you poorly, step over your feelings of being rejected, and have the courage to trust that you won’t fall into an abyss of nothingness but into the safe embrace of a God whose love will heal all your wounds.”
The invitation to listen:
“The first service one owes to others in the community involves listening to them. Just as our love for God begins with listening to God’s Word, the beginning of love for other Christians is learning to listen to them. God’s love for us is shown by the fact that God not only gives us His Word, but also lends us His ear.”
And the invitation to a full life in the emptiest of places:
“If you get rid of unfair practices,
quit blaming victims,
quit gossiping about other people’s sins,
If you are generous with the hungry
and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out,
Your lives will begin to glow in the darkness,
your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight.
I will always show you where to go.
I’ll give you a full life in the emptiest of places—
firm muscles, strong bones.
You’ll be like a well-watered garden,
a gurgling spring that never runs dry.
You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew,
rebuild the foundations from out of your past.”
Isaiah 58:9-11 The Message
“If you cannot make yourself what you would wish to be, how can you bend others to your will? We want them to be perfect, yet we do not correct our own faults. We wish them to be severely corrected, yet we will not correct ourselves. Their great liberty displeases us, yet we would not be denied what we ask. We would have them bound by laws, yet we will allow ourselves to be restrained in nothing. Hence, it is clear how seldom we think of others as we do of ourselves.
We may learn to bear with one another’s burdens, for there is no person without fault, no person without burden, no person sufficient to himself nor wise enough. Hence we must support one another, console one another, mutually help, counsel, and advise.”
Thomas à Kempis in The Imitation of Christ
Who dares accuse us whom God has chosen for his own?
No one—for God Himself has given us right standing with Himself.
Who then will condemn us?
No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us,
and He is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us.
“The church is not made up of spiritual giants;
only broken people can lead others to the cross.”
David J. Bosch
“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.”