Hope is one of the most confusing concepts I have ever encountered. Hope has carried me through darkness, giving me strength to make it through. It gives me the ability to see God when I'm surrounded by situations that are so devoid of His nature. Even if I can't see Him, it gives me an insane, illogical purpose to not lose myself because I have a hope that He is and that because He is, I will be too, one day.
On the other hand, hope has plunged me into the depths of insanity, of an unmet urgency, of burdens that I feel alone in bearing. It has led me to irrational choices. It has been the source of tears and of a gripping pain that seizes me on occasion.
Hope, by nature, is unfulfilled. Faith is the substance of what we hope for. Hope is this illusive glimmer. A spark of light you see in a dark tunnel and you're not sure if you imagined it. It is the glimpse of an image that could be an immanent reality or a mirage. Hope is always amidst an emptiness, a void. It is usually amidst uncertainty and ambiguity.
It seems to be tied regularly to waiting, which is one of the most painful places to be. Waiting, in my mind, is a position that most people don't choose to take in most situations. In a post office, in the DMV, for a future spouse, for enough money to get that car, for the right time to go to school, for the ease of summer break. Hope is tied to an unsettling disatisfaction with things in their current state and it exists by one's ability to see into or live into another reality. This necessitates a period of waiting as things change or an ability to live into the change knowing that its fulfillment will not occur, making the wait indefinite.
Waiting without hope is passive. At an amusement park, one waits in line in the hope of riding the new roller coaster. Of course, the line could actually end up being to the restrooms, disappointing that hope. Or it could be met by its fulfillment at the end when one reaches that ride they imagined. No one waits in line with nothing at the end of the line. People wait in line with the sole purpose of eventually not being in line anymore, which is where hope comes in.
I'm realizing more and more that hope thrives on imagination. That probably makes some nervous. Imagination can be the cause of detrimental beliefs or of delusions. The danger isn't in having and using imagination. The danger is in not having an open imagination. Imaginative solutions to problems can become a problem themselves when once this imagined reality is created, that there is no ability to amend and adjust it, or that there is no openness to receive from other voices and other imaginations.
God, the most imaginative being of all, created. Because he created and gave us the ability to imagine and create, he gives us the ability, in some senses to create the worlds we live in. We can advance the kingdom of darkness or the kingdom of light. The kingdom of darkness is advanced by active participation in its purposes and in the passive acceptance and adoptions of its ways. The kingdom of light is advance by an active and a necessarily imaginative existence and interaction with the world and with God.
Romans 8:22-25
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
To wait patiently doesn't mean the waiting is inactive. To wait patiently also doesn't mean that we can't groan as we wait. We DO groan as we wait, but we wait and we hope for what is unseen. How do we do that? By imagining the Kingdom that Jesus describes, by imagining our roles in it, by imagining the fulfillment of all things, by imagining what wholeness looks like, and by actively living into it while we wait. It can be painful; it can be joyous. But hope, in the Biblical sense of a spirit-filled hope, does not disappoint (Romans 5:5).
Sometimes I like to go into nature. I feel like nature teaches me how to wait. Nature, the whole of creation, groans knowing what has been, knowing what it was meant to be. We groan, only imagining what can/could/will be. I like the certainty I feel in the groans of nature - the certainty of a wholeness that is to come. It is one of many places that fuels my hope and teaches me to wait patiently. I think it's important for us to find those places and to find places that feed imagination.
Thank God that he has enough hope for the Kingdom that he revealed himself to us in Jesus so that we could share in his hope.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
The look of defeat, the triumph of God.
During my senior year at North Park University, I took a class on the gospel of John. The entire class was spent developing a one-sentence thesis of John's gospel. Aside from writing my very first 147-word sentence, this class challenged me to look again at Jesus.
John's portrayal of Jesus is very unique. Every gospel portrays him different (here I will highly recommend Four Gospels, One Jesus? by Burridge). If Luke displays Jesus in accessible and tangible terms, John likes to overturn expectations. He seems to take delight in presenting an idea of Jesus, then expanding it, modifying it, or turning it completely on its head to present an alternative view.
The quick sum of what John seems to set out to do is three-fold to me (though my own synthesis project is more caveated, these are the three main points that I believe are unavoidable and are the thrust of the text):
1. Jesus in John's gospel is all about self-revelation; revelation of the very nature of God, making God known to His followers and to the world
2. God's character in Messiah is most clearly revealed through his repeated I AM statements throughout the gospel that lead to a definitive declaration of His ironic kingship (demonstrated by the crucifixion, which is referred to as the "glorification")
3. Jesus calls His followers to carry on the work of revealing the nature of God; the very work Jesus did, His identity, and His mission have been passed along to us
God's self-revelation through Jesus in John's gospel is even more important than the idea of Jesus dying for sins. Soteriology, salvation, is not shown to be about personal belief in a Jesus that dies for your sin. It is simply to know God and to continue making Him known, the way that Jesus did, by following Him (John 17).
1. Self-revelation: Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. (John 17:3)
2. Identity through the glorification: I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began. (John 17:4-5)
3. Followers carry on the same mission: I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified. (John 17:14-19, note the parallel language).
If the glorification, the crucifixion, is the pinnacle of Jesus' revelation of the character of God, we must know that we bear that mission. We don't seek martyrdom. And bearing our cross doesn't mean dealing with personal demons or a difficult past or a current "thorn in the side". It means following the way of Jesus. Jesus himself didn't seek martyrdom.
If we truly seek to follow Jesus and to continue God's work of self-revelation "so that the world may believe" (John 17:21), we cannot expect our glorification to look like anything that the word glory would typically imply. John turns that term on its head. Or Jesus. Or John's interpretation of Jesus.
Whatever the case, in John 14-17, Jesus again and again states our relation to Him, Jesus' relation to the Father and the purpose of His/our work, so that the world may believe Jesus was sent from God, so that they may know God in truth.
Sometimes it looks like the utmost defeat. But it is triumph in the Kingdom of God. All of this comes from a question I've been mulling over the past week, which I will now close with:
When we follow Jesus, whose glorification according to John's gospel WAS the crucifixion, why do we expect our way of life to look like a conquest of nobility? Are we seeking to pick up our crosses or our crowns?
John's portrayal of Jesus is very unique. Every gospel portrays him different (here I will highly recommend Four Gospels, One Jesus? by Burridge). If Luke displays Jesus in accessible and tangible terms, John likes to overturn expectations. He seems to take delight in presenting an idea of Jesus, then expanding it, modifying it, or turning it completely on its head to present an alternative view.
The quick sum of what John seems to set out to do is three-fold to me (though my own synthesis project is more caveated, these are the three main points that I believe are unavoidable and are the thrust of the text):
1. Jesus in John's gospel is all about self-revelation; revelation of the very nature of God, making God known to His followers and to the world
2. God's character in Messiah is most clearly revealed through his repeated I AM statements throughout the gospel that lead to a definitive declaration of His ironic kingship (demonstrated by the crucifixion, which is referred to as the "glorification")
3. Jesus calls His followers to carry on the work of revealing the nature of God; the very work Jesus did, His identity, and His mission have been passed along to us
God's self-revelation through Jesus in John's gospel is even more important than the idea of Jesus dying for sins. Soteriology, salvation, is not shown to be about personal belief in a Jesus that dies for your sin. It is simply to know God and to continue making Him known, the way that Jesus did, by following Him (John 17).
1. Self-revelation: Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. (John 17:3)
2. Identity through the glorification: I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began. (John 17:4-5)
3. Followers carry on the same mission: I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified. (John 17:14-19, note the parallel language).
If the glorification, the crucifixion, is the pinnacle of Jesus' revelation of the character of God, we must know that we bear that mission. We don't seek martyrdom. And bearing our cross doesn't mean dealing with personal demons or a difficult past or a current "thorn in the side". It means following the way of Jesus. Jesus himself didn't seek martyrdom.
If we truly seek to follow Jesus and to continue God's work of self-revelation "so that the world may believe" (John 17:21), we cannot expect our glorification to look like anything that the word glory would typically imply. John turns that term on its head. Or Jesus. Or John's interpretation of Jesus.
Whatever the case, in John 14-17, Jesus again and again states our relation to Him, Jesus' relation to the Father and the purpose of His/our work, so that the world may believe Jesus was sent from God, so that they may know God in truth.
Sometimes it looks like the utmost defeat. But it is triumph in the Kingdom of God. All of this comes from a question I've been mulling over the past week, which I will now close with:
When we follow Jesus, whose glorification according to John's gospel WAS the crucifixion, why do we expect our way of life to look like a conquest of nobility? Are we seeking to pick up our crosses or our crowns?
Thursday, October 4, 2012
A Fire in the Fire Station
I had a dream two nights ago that I felt so strongly depicted
some of the issues the Church struggles with these days. So I'll go
through the dream and explain how I think it relates.
The Dream:
In my dream I was at a fire station. At some point, I slid down the firepole and on the lower level of the fire station there was, ironically, a fire. I panicked. As I looked around, I realized no one who was a part of the fire station was around. I sounded the fire alarm and no one came. Assuming they hadn't heard it, I sounded the alarm another couple of times. Nothing.
I ran out from the station and noticed that people were outside the fire station. These were people that have been associated with the church in my life, and they were having spiritual conversations. The alarm sounded, but they were all outside talking. When I confronted them about it, they responded that they weren't worried about it because it seemed to be a contained fire.
That's all I remember about my dream. I have a few points to make about this.
1. The station was threatened by the very thing it was established to challenge.
The fire station was built and established to create a safe presence in the community/world, not just for its own self. Just like the fire station, the Church doesn't exist for itself. The fire station wasn't created to protect the fire station from fire. For the fire station to function at all, according to its purpose, it cannot itself have a fire. Its purpose is to protect the surrounding community from fire and to combat the effects of fire in the world.
Likewise, the Church exists for the benefit of the world. A Church existing to protect the Church is limited in scope and purpose. And if the Church houses the very thing it claims to combat or protect others from, it condemns its own self, rendering itself completely useless.
2. The fire station was equipped to put out the fire.
It would be one thing if the firehouse did not have hoses and running water, but by definition and by name, it claims that it does. If it is not equipped to put out fires, it cannot be a fire station. It may claim to be one, but the actually details would show that it is a liar.
The Church cannot claim to be the Church and not do what the Church was made to do, or more importantly, to BE what it was made to BE. If a Church is not fulfilling its purpose in the world, it is not what it claims to be. If the Church is the Church, there is no excuse for it not filling its purpose, because by definition, it is equipped.
3. No one responded to the distress signal.
It is important to know what the distress signal is. Fire stations have very distinct alarms that firefighters are trained to recognize.
Certainly some churches hear and don't respond. But I think the bigger issue is that the Church often is unaware of what the distress signals are. These vary greatly at the local church level. Every church has a distinctive way of communicating problems. In fact, every person does. The trick is to learn those signals. Paul knew those signals and his letters respond to them. We need to be conscious to learn the distress signals of the individuals around us and the church we are specifically a part of, and to respond as a result.
4. The fact that the people preferred to talk rather than to respond to needs.
In every facet of life, people have their ideas about how to handle situations. We can do a lot of talking about solutions, and ironically, sometimes it's the very discussion of the problems that keeps them from being solved. And talking can also prevent us from learning our church's distress signals. If we are singularly focused on the importance of our own words and ideas, we become deaf to the ideas, words, and cries of others.
5. The way their complacency was excused.
It's not simply worth noting that the people's complacency was excused, but how it was excused. The biggest excuse was that it was a grease fire on a non-flammable surface. It seemed like a contained fire. So long as it didn't spread and get worse, people decided to live with the flames.
As followers of Jesus, we cannot excuse the darkness within/among us and claim to be light. Rather than actively entering into a way that is more loving and truthful and good, the Church often tries to contain its fires and "suck up" (if you'll excuse the phrase) their existence.
"Well, we'll just try to avoid going there with ________"
"It's not great, but I think as long as it doesn't __________, I think we're okay."
So often we don't believe that the power of Christ really can and does transform us and/or our Church communities. So we attempt to contain our fires, or simply attempt not to spread them. And so we accept defeat and limit our participation in the mission of the Church. Or of the fire station.
That's all. No wrap-up. Just food for thought.
The Dream:
In my dream I was at a fire station. At some point, I slid down the firepole and on the lower level of the fire station there was, ironically, a fire. I panicked. As I looked around, I realized no one who was a part of the fire station was around. I sounded the fire alarm and no one came. Assuming they hadn't heard it, I sounded the alarm another couple of times. Nothing.
I ran out from the station and noticed that people were outside the fire station. These were people that have been associated with the church in my life, and they were having spiritual conversations. The alarm sounded, but they were all outside talking. When I confronted them about it, they responded that they weren't worried about it because it seemed to be a contained fire.
That's all I remember about my dream. I have a few points to make about this.
1. The station was threatened by the very thing it was established to challenge.
The fire station was built and established to create a safe presence in the community/world, not just for its own self. Just like the fire station, the Church doesn't exist for itself. The fire station wasn't created to protect the fire station from fire. For the fire station to function at all, according to its purpose, it cannot itself have a fire. Its purpose is to protect the surrounding community from fire and to combat the effects of fire in the world.
Likewise, the Church exists for the benefit of the world. A Church existing to protect the Church is limited in scope and purpose. And if the Church houses the very thing it claims to combat or protect others from, it condemns its own self, rendering itself completely useless.
2. The fire station was equipped to put out the fire.
It would be one thing if the firehouse did not have hoses and running water, but by definition and by name, it claims that it does. If it is not equipped to put out fires, it cannot be a fire station. It may claim to be one, but the actually details would show that it is a liar.
The Church cannot claim to be the Church and not do what the Church was made to do, or more importantly, to BE what it was made to BE. If a Church is not fulfilling its purpose in the world, it is not what it claims to be. If the Church is the Church, there is no excuse for it not filling its purpose, because by definition, it is equipped.
3. No one responded to the distress signal.
It is important to know what the distress signal is. Fire stations have very distinct alarms that firefighters are trained to recognize.
Certainly some churches hear and don't respond. But I think the bigger issue is that the Church often is unaware of what the distress signals are. These vary greatly at the local church level. Every church has a distinctive way of communicating problems. In fact, every person does. The trick is to learn those signals. Paul knew those signals and his letters respond to them. We need to be conscious to learn the distress signals of the individuals around us and the church we are specifically a part of, and to respond as a result.
4. The fact that the people preferred to talk rather than to respond to needs.
In every facet of life, people have their ideas about how to handle situations. We can do a lot of talking about solutions, and ironically, sometimes it's the very discussion of the problems that keeps them from being solved. And talking can also prevent us from learning our church's distress signals. If we are singularly focused on the importance of our own words and ideas, we become deaf to the ideas, words, and cries of others.
5. The way their complacency was excused.
It's not simply worth noting that the people's complacency was excused, but how it was excused. The biggest excuse was that it was a grease fire on a non-flammable surface. It seemed like a contained fire. So long as it didn't spread and get worse, people decided to live with the flames.
As followers of Jesus, we cannot excuse the darkness within/among us and claim to be light. Rather than actively entering into a way that is more loving and truthful and good, the Church often tries to contain its fires and "suck up" (if you'll excuse the phrase) their existence.
"Well, we'll just try to avoid going there with ________"
"It's not great, but I think as long as it doesn't __________, I think we're okay."
So often we don't believe that the power of Christ really can and does transform us and/or our Church communities. So we attempt to contain our fires, or simply attempt not to spread them. And so we accept defeat and limit our participation in the mission of the Church. Or of the fire station.
That's all. No wrap-up. Just food for thought.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Identity and Being In the World
Preface: This blog is a half-developed thought. It's an inspiration to me to share the stories that I have experienced that have changed me. Other blogs are more developed in thought, so if you want that, click on another one. But if you read this one, hopefully it will inspire you the way writing it inspired me.
If you grew up in the church, you have heard the phrase, "Be in the world, but not of it!" used as a condemnation to those that are judged for being too much a part of the world. You may also have heard the verse used as an excuse, wherein the speaker claims that whatever thing they have done that is in question has been simply a part of being in the world, but it's okay because they are still not of the world.
In either case, I believe that the verses this concept is based on are being stretched like a contortionist's body. Its untwisted form may be somehow present, but only with some imagination. Though no verse says this phrase directly, "in the world, but not of it", some roughshod googling suggests that it is a religious construct of the Sufis.
The Bible verses perhaps primarily responsible for our adoption of this phrase are from Jesus and Paul. In the upper-room, Jesus says, "As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you" (John 15:19b). And Paul says, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind" (Romans 12:2a).
Fairly, both verses seem to imply the Sufi concept. Clearly both verses assume that we are in the world, which seems like common sense, but I think a lot of Christians forget that from time to time. That said, both verses also demonstrate that the followers of Jesus are decidedly Different and Apart.
My concerns in our understanding of this concept are:
1) The artificial, legalistic lines we draw between being in the world and being of the world, which often lead an exclusion of the world or to seclusion from the world
2) The tendency of the affluent, privileged, and modern world to determine for themselves which world(s) they want be a part of
I'll rush through the first point a bit. When we draw lines between what being in the world and of the world means, we can easily become like the Pharisees who shut the door of the Kingdom in people's faces (Matt. 23:13b), which excludes the world. Or it leads to a full-out seclusion from the world. Probably all of us are familiar with so-called Christian bubbles. The culture of "gosh darn it,"of "got Jesus?" T-shirts, of WWJD bracelets, and other things that make the Christian community a great punch-line for a certain type of joke. I won't go into the details here. You know the drill.
The second part, which has actually a lot less to do with these verses directly, is what I am going to focus on.
Something that eats at me is the fact that a large number of us in the western world have the ability to choose what world or which worlds we are a part of. Have any of you seen the show Dance Moms? It shows the studio and tour lives of mothers who have daughters that dance competitively. In an episode I saw recently (I don't watch often, but when I do, I watch a marathon and then hate myself for days after the fact), a new-coming mother/daughter pair swooped in. She, as a single, working mother, asked the other mom's what they do. Sitting in the window room, watching her daughter perform, one mother replied, "This is what we do. This is our lives."
Their worlds are centered around competitions for fame and fortune for their children. It's what they do. It's how they identify themselves. It's how they decide how and what to be in the world.
In some party schools, the worlds that exist for college students involve a lot of sleeping, homework, binge drinking, going clubbing, etc.
In some Christian circles, the world that exists is one that centers on weekly meetings, vigils. People identified with this world may have Jesus bumper stickers, fish, and of course, extensive knowledge of the Christian film industry (which some of you didn't know existed).
If you asked the students about their favorite Kirk Cameron film, they might ask if he was the dude from Growing Pains, then proceed to say, "Wait! He's in movies?" If you asked someone from the Christian circle to make you a Jagerbomb, they might say, "Oh, I can't - I'm a pacifist."
The dance mom said it well. This is what we do.
It concerns me when we choose to limit which worlds we are exposed to. I may not want to feed into twisted dynamics of separate worlds, like any of the three described above, but I want to know them. Part of white privilege is never having to be exposed to the injustices that the people of color have been exposed to, never having to come to terms with the fact that we have been a part of creating this dynamic (not just in history, but in the present). Part of class privilege is that those who are rich never really have to cross paths with the poor. They have enough money to pay for a way of life that would ensure that they would never have to see another poor person again.
I'm speaking in extremes. Most of us do come into contact with these realities from time to time. But do we let them change us? Do we let the things in these worlds inform us, transform us. We are not to allow them to conform us, but to transform us. The dance moms have it right again (I'm saying that as much as possible - there aren't many situations where this phrase is appropriate or true) - it does come down to the question of identity. Do we let our worlds inform our identities or do we let our identities influence the world around us?
If enough of us walk in power and truth, we can be the presence of transformation in the world, bringing hope. We should be able to echo Jesus' own self-proclaimed (or proclaimed by a prophet, affirmed by Jesus) decree of His mission in the world (confirming his identity as the Messiah):
The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
If you grew up in the church, you have heard the phrase, "Be in the world, but not of it!" used as a condemnation to those that are judged for being too much a part of the world. You may also have heard the verse used as an excuse, wherein the speaker claims that whatever thing they have done that is in question has been simply a part of being in the world, but it's okay because they are still not of the world.
In either case, I believe that the verses this concept is based on are being stretched like a contortionist's body. Its untwisted form may be somehow present, but only with some imagination. Though no verse says this phrase directly, "in the world, but not of it", some roughshod googling suggests that it is a religious construct of the Sufis.
The Bible verses perhaps primarily responsible for our adoption of this phrase are from Jesus and Paul. In the upper-room, Jesus says, "As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you" (John 15:19b). And Paul says, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind" (Romans 12:2a).
Fairly, both verses seem to imply the Sufi concept. Clearly both verses assume that we are in the world, which seems like common sense, but I think a lot of Christians forget that from time to time. That said, both verses also demonstrate that the followers of Jesus are decidedly Different and Apart.
My concerns in our understanding of this concept are:
1) The artificial, legalistic lines we draw between being in the world and being of the world, which often lead an exclusion of the world or to seclusion from the world
2) The tendency of the affluent, privileged, and modern world to determine for themselves which world(s) they want be a part of
I'll rush through the first point a bit. When we draw lines between what being in the world and of the world means, we can easily become like the Pharisees who shut the door of the Kingdom in people's faces (Matt. 23:13b), which excludes the world. Or it leads to a full-out seclusion from the world. Probably all of us are familiar with so-called Christian bubbles. The culture of "gosh darn it,"of "got Jesus?" T-shirts, of WWJD bracelets, and other things that make the Christian community a great punch-line for a certain type of joke. I won't go into the details here. You know the drill.
The second part, which has actually a lot less to do with these verses directly, is what I am going to focus on.
Something that eats at me is the fact that a large number of us in the western world have the ability to choose what world or which worlds we are a part of. Have any of you seen the show Dance Moms? It shows the studio and tour lives of mothers who have daughters that dance competitively. In an episode I saw recently (I don't watch often, but when I do, I watch a marathon and then hate myself for days after the fact), a new-coming mother/daughter pair swooped in. She, as a single, working mother, asked the other mom's what they do. Sitting in the window room, watching her daughter perform, one mother replied, "This is what we do. This is our lives."
Their worlds are centered around competitions for fame and fortune for their children. It's what they do. It's how they identify themselves. It's how they decide how and what to be in the world.
In some party schools, the worlds that exist for college students involve a lot of sleeping, homework, binge drinking, going clubbing, etc.
In some Christian circles, the world that exists is one that centers on weekly meetings, vigils. People identified with this world may have Jesus bumper stickers, fish, and of course, extensive knowledge of the Christian film industry (which some of you didn't know existed).
If you asked the students about their favorite Kirk Cameron film, they might ask if he was the dude from Growing Pains, then proceed to say, "Wait! He's in movies?" If you asked someone from the Christian circle to make you a Jagerbomb, they might say, "Oh, I can't - I'm a pacifist."
The dance mom said it well. This is what we do.
It concerns me when we choose to limit which worlds we are exposed to. I may not want to feed into twisted dynamics of separate worlds, like any of the three described above, but I want to know them. Part of white privilege is never having to be exposed to the injustices that the people of color have been exposed to, never having to come to terms with the fact that we have been a part of creating this dynamic (not just in history, but in the present). Part of class privilege is that those who are rich never really have to cross paths with the poor. They have enough money to pay for a way of life that would ensure that they would never have to see another poor person again.
I'm speaking in extremes. Most of us do come into contact with these realities from time to time. But do we let them change us? Do we let the things in these worlds inform us, transform us. We are not to allow them to conform us, but to transform us. The dance moms have it right again (I'm saying that as much as possible - there aren't many situations where this phrase is appropriate or true) - it does come down to the question of identity. Do we let our worlds inform our identities or do we let our identities influence the world around us?
If enough of us walk in power and truth, we can be the presence of transformation in the world, bringing hope. We should be able to echo Jesus' own self-proclaimed (or proclaimed by a prophet, affirmed by Jesus) decree of His mission in the world (confirming his identity as the Messiah):
The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Why I don't owe God my life.
This is probably going to be one of the most controversial blogs I post, and almost definitely one of the most offensive.
Almost exactly a year ago I was dealing with the all-too-common issue of guilt. Guilt is the primary broken way in which I relate to God, myself, and others. Guilt, I've discovered, is one of the most important tools of manipulation, and is arguably one of the strongest driving forces of motivation. Even in the church, as Wayne Jacobsen notes.
So almost exactly one year ago while on a retreat at school, I was pondering the idea of grace. In an atonement model of the resurrection, where Jesus bore our sin and "paid the price", the "debt is cancelled". I started thinking about what it means for a debt to be cancelled. The balance is emptied. Even without the idea that Jesus' righteousness is imputed to our accounts, the balance due is 0. Nothing. That tripped me up for a minute.
Wha- I don't owe God anything? Get this: You don't owe God anything.
A famous hymn says, "Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe." That is the most contradictory phrase I have ever heard in a religious song. Let's reword this. "Jesus paid it all", roughly means "Jesus made it so that there is nothing to owe". So let's run through this again. "Jesus made it so that there is nothing to owe. All to Him I owe." That's what I call a logical fallacy. Especially if we aren't setting up a false dichotomy between Jesus and God.
It's been paid. We don't owe God obedience. We give it to Him. We don't serve Him because we owe it to Him. Is He worthy of all? Absolutely. So why make the distinction?
1. Because God is worthy of our true love and devotion.
If we are so caught up on paying a debt that no longer exist, our good works become a selfish means of self-justification which suggests we believe that Jesus didn't pay it all. On a deeper level, it reduces our ability to truly love God because 1) We don't really believe the extent of God's love for us - that He would truly cancel the debt (and we know that we love God because He first loved us), and 2) Love isn't the driving force behind our actions. If we relate to God out of guilt rather than from love, we aren't devoted to the God that we love so much as we are indebted to the God that we feel enslaved to.
2. Because our God is unique.
In Acts 17 Paul appeals to the men of Athens who were "very religious in every way" (vs. 22). His proclamation of who God is was set up to directly contrast the ways the men of Athens were taught to relate to their own gods. Section by section, his proclamation overturned the expectations of who or what "God" is. There were stringent requirements that had to be made to appease the gods of Athens. Not so with the God who was made known through the crucified and resurrected Messiah, for "He is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else" (vs. 25).
The God we follow, as revealed to us through Jesus, never gains followers through manipulation and He never seeks appeasement. Even to those for whom He performed miracles. If I healed some dude and he tried to sell me out to the Pharisees (see John 5), I would be like, "Really? I healed you! You owe it to me to follow me - or at the very least not try to stir up trouble for me."
Is obedience commanded? Is love a command? Yes. Yes. But the basis is never from what we owe. The basis is instead, in my understanding, from what we receive.
Matt. 20:25-28
Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.
Jesus paid it all. All to Him we give.
Sin had left a crimson stain. He washed it, now we live.
God, I don't get your love. It offends me that I can't ever pay you back. Not in full, nor in part. God, if this really has been paid in full, any and all of my attempts to alleviate my guilt are in vain. You have called me blameless. I thank you that when I learn what it means to abide in you that I live into that reality. Give me the faith to trust that what you said is true. I want all that I do for you and for others to be motivated by love. Thank you for that freedom Jesus. Help us to get it. Help us to have faith when we don't.
Almost exactly a year ago I was dealing with the all-too-common issue of guilt. Guilt is the primary broken way in which I relate to God, myself, and others. Guilt, I've discovered, is one of the most important tools of manipulation, and is arguably one of the strongest driving forces of motivation. Even in the church, as Wayne Jacobsen notes.
So almost exactly one year ago while on a retreat at school, I was pondering the idea of grace. In an atonement model of the resurrection, where Jesus bore our sin and "paid the price", the "debt is cancelled". I started thinking about what it means for a debt to be cancelled. The balance is emptied. Even without the idea that Jesus' righteousness is imputed to our accounts, the balance due is 0. Nothing. That tripped me up for a minute.
Wha- I don't owe God anything? Get this: You don't owe God anything.
A famous hymn says, "Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe." That is the most contradictory phrase I have ever heard in a religious song. Let's reword this. "Jesus paid it all", roughly means "Jesus made it so that there is nothing to owe". So let's run through this again. "Jesus made it so that there is nothing to owe. All to Him I owe." That's what I call a logical fallacy. Especially if we aren't setting up a false dichotomy between Jesus and God.
It's been paid. We don't owe God obedience. We give it to Him. We don't serve Him because we owe it to Him. Is He worthy of all? Absolutely. So why make the distinction?
1. Because God is worthy of our true love and devotion.
If we are so caught up on paying a debt that no longer exist, our good works become a selfish means of self-justification which suggests we believe that Jesus didn't pay it all. On a deeper level, it reduces our ability to truly love God because 1) We don't really believe the extent of God's love for us - that He would truly cancel the debt (and we know that we love God because He first loved us), and 2) Love isn't the driving force behind our actions. If we relate to God out of guilt rather than from love, we aren't devoted to the God that we love so much as we are indebted to the God that we feel enslaved to.
2. Because our God is unique.
In Acts 17 Paul appeals to the men of Athens who were "very religious in every way" (vs. 22). His proclamation of who God is was set up to directly contrast the ways the men of Athens were taught to relate to their own gods. Section by section, his proclamation overturned the expectations of who or what "God" is. There were stringent requirements that had to be made to appease the gods of Athens. Not so with the God who was made known through the crucified and resurrected Messiah, for "He is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else" (vs. 25).
The God we follow, as revealed to us through Jesus, never gains followers through manipulation and He never seeks appeasement. Even to those for whom He performed miracles. If I healed some dude and he tried to sell me out to the Pharisees (see John 5), I would be like, "Really? I healed you! You owe it to me to follow me - or at the very least not try to stir up trouble for me."
Is obedience commanded? Is love a command? Yes. Yes. But the basis is never from what we owe. The basis is instead, in my understanding, from what we receive.
Matt. 20:25-28
Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.
Jesus paid it all. All to Him we give.
Sin had left a crimson stain. He washed it, now we live.
God, I don't get your love. It offends me that I can't ever pay you back. Not in full, nor in part. God, if this really has been paid in full, any and all of my attempts to alleviate my guilt are in vain. You have called me blameless. I thank you that when I learn what it means to abide in you that I live into that reality. Give me the faith to trust that what you said is true. I want all that I do for you and for others to be motivated by love. Thank you for that freedom Jesus. Help us to get it. Help us to have faith when we don't.
Monday, December 26, 2011
He sees me... and I exist.
First few paragraphs are personal blurbs about "where I am with God/faith/life" right now, but it's disjointed and confused. Kinda like me right now, haha. If you don't wanna bother with that part, please skip to after the blocked off area.
_____________________________________________________
I recently discovered that I get to know God in the context of my problems. I have a very deep, solid relationship with God. But I don't relate to him on the basis of his love. I still fight against this belief that God loves me inasmuch as I am useful to his ultimate purposes. That I would be better to him as an empty, personality-less shell that could be moved and operated fully by him. read previous blogs on this topic. Cool insights in past entries.
Knowing now that this isn't true, I still find it easiest to relate to God by bringing him problems and/or by asking him to guide me into specific works for him. I don't know how to relate to him by just enjoying him and letting him delight in me. I have a close friend who really grasps God's love. If she doesn't understand his love or see his love on a given day, it shows. She really needs it to survive and to thrive. She knows what it is to know God's intimate love for her. So when she doesn't know/believe/trust it, she feels deprived and her day isn't "right". She knows something is off.
God is teaching me about his love for me. That he doesn't want me to come to him just for "marching orders" for how to deal with this or that. That he wants me to accept his love. I read a commentary on the Gospel of John and it spoke of how Judas was served by Jesus just as the other disciples were. Jesus washed his feet but he remained unclean. Jesus fed him the bread, but when he took it "Satan entered him". This commentator (Koester) said that Judas's issue lied in not accepting Jesus' love. Wow. That's a sobering thought.
God is teaching me how to accept his love. How to trust it, really. I have a deep love for God. But I often struggle to believe that He cares for me. So long as I "press right through", "tough it out", and take "marching orders", I can continue to serve and demonstrate my love for God without truly accepting or understanding his love for me. So God has not given me anything I can run forward with. In this season right now he is not telling me what I want to hear. He's not telling me how to serve, how to do this, how to deal with that. He's not letting me aggressively root up all these struggles I have.
He's been calling me to rest. He's given me images and words for what this season in my life is about right now. And it's about "playing" with God, resting with him, and coming away with him. This is all the intro to my actual blog.
___________________________________________________________
I was watching a movie the other day. It's winter break and I finally get to see movies I've been meaning to see since the summer. So I rented Super 8. I love the movie Stand By Me and I heard this one was similar. I still prefer Stand By Me, but Super 8 was pretty good.
I have been having a hard time hearing God lately. But out of the blue the main character Joe said a line that resounded. I knew God was speaking to me, reminding me of how he sees me. Any other time, the line would have been really amazing, but only within the context of the movie, not at all in relation to me. When I heard it, I almost began to cry. Not because of what was happening to Joe. But because of what Joe's words revealed to me about how God and I relate. Now that I've built sufficient suspense, here's the line:
She used to look at me... this way, like really look... and I just knew I was there... that I existed.
God reminded me that when he looks at me, he really looks. He sees me. His eyes level all the barriers I've put up. His eyes see past all the crap that the world heaps onto me. His eyes shine through the lies I've believed to reveal what is true about me. In that moment, when I see him seeing me... I know. I know that I am here. That I exist. Not I as I perceive myself to be. But the I I am in God's eyes, which is the truest me there is. I exist because he sees me, and because I know he sees me, I can exist as I truly am.
Is that too philosophical? Is it just making sense to me because it's what I needed to hear? Let me put it another way.
Last year I was praying, asking God which people of the Bible I am like. I believe it was that very night that God gave me a dream. In my dream, someone told me that I am like Hagar and that there are five other people in the Bible who share my way of faith (I didn't find out who yet).
Excited that God answered my prayer, I turned to Genesis to read about Hagar. And I was deeply offended. Here's the basic premise. Hagar was Abram and Sarai's slave. She was an Egyptian. She didn't share their ethnicity and almost definitely did not share their monotheistic beliefs in the True God.
Abram and Sarai had been promised by God that they would have many descendants (even though they were well past child-bearing ages). They started to doubt, and Sarai urged Abram, "Look, just have a baby with Hagar." She didn't have to tell him twice! So Hagar became pregnant. Now Sarai got jealous and felt like Hagar was being cruel to her since she had become pregnant. She freaked out and talked to Abe. He just said, "Deal with her how you will." And Sarai treated her so badly that Hagar ran away.
Hagar got to a spring in the desert and an "Angel of the Lord" (which in the Old Testament means God's very presence) came to her and spoke to her, telling her to go back to Sarai and Abram. He gave her a blessing and also made a blessing/promise/covenant with the unborn child. He even said, "You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery."
She then names God as a result of her encounter with him. Genesis 16:13 says, "She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me."
I thought to myself, "It's a cool story, God. But I'm still kinda offended. I mean, Hagar? What did she ever do that got you to see her?" With a patient response, he responded, "Nothing." I stopped short and asked, "What?!" He replied, "She didn't do anything to make me see her. I just saw her."
In an unexpected way, God overturned my entire way of thinking. I get caught up in the idea that I do things to make God see me. Some people think God turns away when they do things that aren't so good, since he supposedly can't bear to look on sin (which is untrue, by the way; it's a powerful lie the enemy uses against us, though). I tend to fall more on the side of the other false belief that God doesn't really see me unless I'm fighting for his attention. That he doesn't see me unless I'm willing to do the list of tasks he gives me. And all-too-often I think that once he "gives me a task", that I'm on my own and that I can only meet back up with him once it's completed.
In this comparison, God reminded me, No. No. He doesn't see me because of anything I do or don't do. Hagar didn't know God! She probably worshiped other gods! But God saw her and cared for her. In Genesis 21, another incident happens with Sarai and Hagar, and again Hagar ends up in a desert, but not near a spring this time. She was convinced that she and her little boy (who is a child at this point) would die. Ishmael cried and God heard him. He spoke to Hagar and formed a well of water for them to drink. He proved to be the One That Sees yet again.
Just like Joe in Super 8... It takes Hagar knowing that God is looking at her, that he really sees her, to know that she exists. For me, to know that I exist as God looks at me is to exist wholly within his love. Existence without God's love is empty. Sure, other people looked at Joe. But only his mom could really see him in a way that affirmed the truth about the essence of who he was. Other things and other people may see me and make me feel understood. But existing in God's love, knowing his eyes and his gaze... That affirms the truth about the essence of me as I learn the truth and essence about God. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.
I'm glad God spoke to me through that movie. He's been surprising me by sneak-attacking me with little spurts of understanding of his love when I'm not looking for it. I love my God so much.
_____________________________________________________
I recently discovered that I get to know God in the context of my problems. I have a very deep, solid relationship with God. But I don't relate to him on the basis of his love. I still fight against this belief that God loves me inasmuch as I am useful to his ultimate purposes. That I would be better to him as an empty, personality-less shell that could be moved and operated fully by him. read previous blogs on this topic. Cool insights in past entries.
Knowing now that this isn't true, I still find it easiest to relate to God by bringing him problems and/or by asking him to guide me into specific works for him. I don't know how to relate to him by just enjoying him and letting him delight in me. I have a close friend who really grasps God's love. If she doesn't understand his love or see his love on a given day, it shows. She really needs it to survive and to thrive. She knows what it is to know God's intimate love for her. So when she doesn't know/believe/trust it, she feels deprived and her day isn't "right". She knows something is off.
God is teaching me about his love for me. That he doesn't want me to come to him just for "marching orders" for how to deal with this or that. That he wants me to accept his love. I read a commentary on the Gospel of John and it spoke of how Judas was served by Jesus just as the other disciples were. Jesus washed his feet but he remained unclean. Jesus fed him the bread, but when he took it "Satan entered him". This commentator (Koester) said that Judas's issue lied in not accepting Jesus' love. Wow. That's a sobering thought.
God is teaching me how to accept his love. How to trust it, really. I have a deep love for God. But I often struggle to believe that He cares for me. So long as I "press right through", "tough it out", and take "marching orders", I can continue to serve and demonstrate my love for God without truly accepting or understanding his love for me. So God has not given me anything I can run forward with. In this season right now he is not telling me what I want to hear. He's not telling me how to serve, how to do this, how to deal with that. He's not letting me aggressively root up all these struggles I have.
He's been calling me to rest. He's given me images and words for what this season in my life is about right now. And it's about "playing" with God, resting with him, and coming away with him. This is all the intro to my actual blog.
___________________________________________________________
I was watching a movie the other day. It's winter break and I finally get to see movies I've been meaning to see since the summer. So I rented Super 8. I love the movie Stand By Me and I heard this one was similar. I still prefer Stand By Me, but Super 8 was pretty good.
I have been having a hard time hearing God lately. But out of the blue the main character Joe said a line that resounded. I knew God was speaking to me, reminding me of how he sees me. Any other time, the line would have been really amazing, but only within the context of the movie, not at all in relation to me. When I heard it, I almost began to cry. Not because of what was happening to Joe. But because of what Joe's words revealed to me about how God and I relate. Now that I've built sufficient suspense, here's the line:
She used to look at me... this way, like really look... and I just knew I was there... that I existed.
God reminded me that when he looks at me, he really looks. He sees me. His eyes level all the barriers I've put up. His eyes see past all the crap that the world heaps onto me. His eyes shine through the lies I've believed to reveal what is true about me. In that moment, when I see him seeing me... I know. I know that I am here. That I exist. Not I as I perceive myself to be. But the I I am in God's eyes, which is the truest me there is. I exist because he sees me, and because I know he sees me, I can exist as I truly am.
Is that too philosophical? Is it just making sense to me because it's what I needed to hear? Let me put it another way.
Last year I was praying, asking God which people of the Bible I am like. I believe it was that very night that God gave me a dream. In my dream, someone told me that I am like Hagar and that there are five other people in the Bible who share my way of faith (I didn't find out who yet).
Excited that God answered my prayer, I turned to Genesis to read about Hagar. And I was deeply offended. Here's the basic premise. Hagar was Abram and Sarai's slave. She was an Egyptian. She didn't share their ethnicity and almost definitely did not share their monotheistic beliefs in the True God.
Abram and Sarai had been promised by God that they would have many descendants (even though they were well past child-bearing ages). They started to doubt, and Sarai urged Abram, "Look, just have a baby with Hagar." She didn't have to tell him twice! So Hagar became pregnant. Now Sarai got jealous and felt like Hagar was being cruel to her since she had become pregnant. She freaked out and talked to Abe. He just said, "Deal with her how you will." And Sarai treated her so badly that Hagar ran away.
Hagar got to a spring in the desert and an "Angel of the Lord" (which in the Old Testament means God's very presence) came to her and spoke to her, telling her to go back to Sarai and Abram. He gave her a blessing and also made a blessing/promise/covenant with the unborn child. He even said, "You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery."
She then names God as a result of her encounter with him. Genesis 16:13 says, "She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me."
I thought to myself, "It's a cool story, God. But I'm still kinda offended. I mean, Hagar? What did she ever do that got you to see her?" With a patient response, he responded, "Nothing." I stopped short and asked, "What?!" He replied, "She didn't do anything to make me see her. I just saw her."
In an unexpected way, God overturned my entire way of thinking. I get caught up in the idea that I do things to make God see me. Some people think God turns away when they do things that aren't so good, since he supposedly can't bear to look on sin (which is untrue, by the way; it's a powerful lie the enemy uses against us, though). I tend to fall more on the side of the other false belief that God doesn't really see me unless I'm fighting for his attention. That he doesn't see me unless I'm willing to do the list of tasks he gives me. And all-too-often I think that once he "gives me a task", that I'm on my own and that I can only meet back up with him once it's completed.
In this comparison, God reminded me, No. No. He doesn't see me because of anything I do or don't do. Hagar didn't know God! She probably worshiped other gods! But God saw her and cared for her. In Genesis 21, another incident happens with Sarai and Hagar, and again Hagar ends up in a desert, but not near a spring this time. She was convinced that she and her little boy (who is a child at this point) would die. Ishmael cried and God heard him. He spoke to Hagar and formed a well of water for them to drink. He proved to be the One That Sees yet again.
Just like Joe in Super 8... It takes Hagar knowing that God is looking at her, that he really sees her, to know that she exists. For me, to know that I exist as God looks at me is to exist wholly within his love. Existence without God's love is empty. Sure, other people looked at Joe. But only his mom could really see him in a way that affirmed the truth about the essence of who he was. Other things and other people may see me and make me feel understood. But existing in God's love, knowing his eyes and his gaze... That affirms the truth about the essence of me as I learn the truth and essence about God. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.
I'm glad God spoke to me through that movie. He's been surprising me by sneak-attacking me with little spurts of understanding of his love when I'm not looking for it. I love my God so much.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
"The man who told me everything I ever did".
Anytime I used to read or hear the story of the Samaritan woman in John 4 I was always disturbed. Jesus seemed either cool and removed, or cruel and haughty, in my reading of it. There's a *lot* going on in this narrative that I would love to talk about, but in this blog I want to focus on one narrow aspect. Or two and how they relate. Cool?
Ok. So basically Jesus talks to a Samaritan woman at the well and mysteriously talks about Living Water. She doesn't really understand what he's saying but asks him for some anyways. He talks it up pretty good; it must be worth a shot. He tells her to summon her husband, to which she replies that she has none. He replies back, "No. You're right. You've had five husbands and the guy you are with now isn't your husband."
She affirms that he is right and that he must be a prophet. Then they go into a tangetial conversation about religion and whether the Jews and right or the Samaritans are right. Cool, cool stuff going on here, but not what this blog is about. Maybe another one. Eventually Jesus admits he's the Messiah and she goes off into the village telling everyone, "Come see the man who told me everything I ever did! Could he be the Messiah?"
The story disturbed me on many levels. It was always weird to me that Jesus called her out like that. She tried to dodge an awkward situation of explaining about the man she is living with by telling him, "Oh, I don't have a husband." And he calls her out. Straight up. No, Missy, you ain't dodging that bullet! Does it sting?
As a kid/teen/young adult, I always read that and felt that it was so unnecessary the way he did that. If that was me, I'd have been all kinds of defensive. Or offended. Or legitimately just freaked out. But she responds, "Oh. You must be a prophet." Knowing that he has special insight from God, she seeks his wisdom on the topic of worship. Astounding. And later she uses the story of him knowing all about her as a reason why he could be the Messiah. She doesn't keep it quiet (though her own story is involved and could be at stake), but tells the whole village! How unexpected!
Detour: Most people who grew up in the church have a serious problem understanding God/Jesus. They see God as the "bad cop" and Jesus as the "good cop". I always had the opposite problem. A real love for God and a real fear of Jesus. He was so unpredictable and so harsh in his judgments and words. Or that's how I'd always thought of him. That's the lens through which I always read this narrative.
But I had a crazy realization today in a very profound way. It unfolds like this: Jesus wasn't speaking to the woman to convict her. Unlike with other people he encounters (even in this gospel), he does not say to her, "Go and sin no more!" He doesn't address the issue more than just showing her that God revealed her situation to him. A prophet, as she called him, does not speak on his own, but speaks the words of God and the insights of God. The fact that he spoke of her story indicates that God himself saw and knew her intimately. The wonder she must have felt at knowing that she had captured the attention of the Almighty!
She was spoken to in a way that elicited trust and belief, not condemnation, defensiveness or fear. She responds not by explaining her situation, nor by ending the conversation and walking away. Knowing that she is known by God, she asks this wise prophet how to worship God truly. She opened herself to a vulnerable position knowing that he could, and probably would, say that her worship was false. As a Jew, of course she expected him to say that Jews were right, the end.
But he turns everything on its head. Jesus does not say that her worship is untrue. Only that she worships who she doesn't know. Ironically, God knows her, but she does not truly know him. The Jews, on the other hand, know God. But soon, he claims that the specifics of where to worship will no longer matter, because God will make it so that people could worship all over "in Spirit and in Truth". In a sense, that the Jews knew God more than the Samaritans did, but that both still had a lot more to learn as Christ himself was revealed (and God revealed through him).
She says that she knows of the Messiah and he tells her that he himself is the Messiah. At this the woman leaves her jar at the well and runs off to the town to talk about him and invite others to see him.
I had always read Jesus as brash and cruel, calling her out as a sinner/liar and telling her that her religion is wrong. I had always misread Jesus. This new insight makes this whole narrative make more sense. Pushing it even further, the understanding of this second half of her encounter even makes the first half make more sense.
This is a woman who has faced hardships. She was either involved in a life of sin or had many husbands pass away. Or both. She was hardened towards the very idea of a Jew talking to her, unwilling to interact with Jesus until she got the record straight about why he would even want to talk to her. But he saw her need for Living Water. He saw the thirst in her that could not be quenched. At first glance it seems like this conversation is never resolved. But we find that it is resolved throughout the text when Jesus talks about worshiping "in Spirit and Truth" (God doing a new thing in worship which, we readers find out, is actually through Christ), and when he reveals that he is the Messiah. He is the Living Water.
This is the God who sees us and knows "everything we've ever done" and tells us where we've been, who we are in Truth, and how to worship in Truth that we too would truly know God and worship who we know.
How amazing that God knows us but just wants us to know him. Ultimately, Jesus came to reveal to the world who God is. Later in the same gospel (John 14), Jesus and one of his disciples have this exchange:
Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me? The words I say to you are not just my own. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work.
This is the God who desires to be known so fully that he came in flesh to a world that did not know him, though he created it, so that it could know him and his immense love and so it could have life. That is what Jesus was showing the woman at the well in Samaria. That what Jesus shows and offers us today. The reality of knowing God.
Ok. So basically Jesus talks to a Samaritan woman at the well and mysteriously talks about Living Water. She doesn't really understand what he's saying but asks him for some anyways. He talks it up pretty good; it must be worth a shot. He tells her to summon her husband, to which she replies that she has none. He replies back, "No. You're right. You've had five husbands and the guy you are with now isn't your husband."
She affirms that he is right and that he must be a prophet. Then they go into a tangetial conversation about religion and whether the Jews and right or the Samaritans are right. Cool, cool stuff going on here, but not what this blog is about. Maybe another one. Eventually Jesus admits he's the Messiah and she goes off into the village telling everyone, "Come see the man who told me everything I ever did! Could he be the Messiah?"
The story disturbed me on many levels. It was always weird to me that Jesus called her out like that. She tried to dodge an awkward situation of explaining about the man she is living with by telling him, "Oh, I don't have a husband." And he calls her out. Straight up. No, Missy, you ain't dodging that bullet! Does it sting?
As a kid/teen/young adult, I always read that and felt that it was so unnecessary the way he did that. If that was me, I'd have been all kinds of defensive. Or offended. Or legitimately just freaked out. But she responds, "Oh. You must be a prophet." Knowing that he has special insight from God, she seeks his wisdom on the topic of worship. Astounding. And later she uses the story of him knowing all about her as a reason why he could be the Messiah. She doesn't keep it quiet (though her own story is involved and could be at stake), but tells the whole village! How unexpected!
Detour: Most people who grew up in the church have a serious problem understanding God/Jesus. They see God as the "bad cop" and Jesus as the "good cop". I always had the opposite problem. A real love for God and a real fear of Jesus. He was so unpredictable and so harsh in his judgments and words. Or that's how I'd always thought of him. That's the lens through which I always read this narrative.
But I had a crazy realization today in a very profound way. It unfolds like this: Jesus wasn't speaking to the woman to convict her. Unlike with other people he encounters (even in this gospel), he does not say to her, "Go and sin no more!" He doesn't address the issue more than just showing her that God revealed her situation to him. A prophet, as she called him, does not speak on his own, but speaks the words of God and the insights of God. The fact that he spoke of her story indicates that God himself saw and knew her intimately. The wonder she must have felt at knowing that she had captured the attention of the Almighty!
She was spoken to in a way that elicited trust and belief, not condemnation, defensiveness or fear. She responds not by explaining her situation, nor by ending the conversation and walking away. Knowing that she is known by God, she asks this wise prophet how to worship God truly. She opened herself to a vulnerable position knowing that he could, and probably would, say that her worship was false. As a Jew, of course she expected him to say that Jews were right, the end.
But he turns everything on its head. Jesus does not say that her worship is untrue. Only that she worships who she doesn't know. Ironically, God knows her, but she does not truly know him. The Jews, on the other hand, know God. But soon, he claims that the specifics of where to worship will no longer matter, because God will make it so that people could worship all over "in Spirit and in Truth". In a sense, that the Jews knew God more than the Samaritans did, but that both still had a lot more to learn as Christ himself was revealed (and God revealed through him).
She says that she knows of the Messiah and he tells her that he himself is the Messiah. At this the woman leaves her jar at the well and runs off to the town to talk about him and invite others to see him.
I had always read Jesus as brash and cruel, calling her out as a sinner/liar and telling her that her religion is wrong. I had always misread Jesus. This new insight makes this whole narrative make more sense. Pushing it even further, the understanding of this second half of her encounter even makes the first half make more sense.
This is a woman who has faced hardships. She was either involved in a life of sin or had many husbands pass away. Or both. She was hardened towards the very idea of a Jew talking to her, unwilling to interact with Jesus until she got the record straight about why he would even want to talk to her. But he saw her need for Living Water. He saw the thirst in her that could not be quenched. At first glance it seems like this conversation is never resolved. But we find that it is resolved throughout the text when Jesus talks about worshiping "in Spirit and Truth" (God doing a new thing in worship which, we readers find out, is actually through Christ), and when he reveals that he is the Messiah. He is the Living Water.
This is the God who sees us and knows "everything we've ever done" and tells us where we've been, who we are in Truth, and how to worship in Truth that we too would truly know God and worship who we know.
How amazing that God knows us but just wants us to know him. Ultimately, Jesus came to reveal to the world who God is. Later in the same gospel (John 14), Jesus and one of his disciples have this exchange:
Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me? The words I say to you are not just my own. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work.
This is the God who desires to be known so fully that he came in flesh to a world that did not know him, though he created it, so that it could know him and his immense love and so it could have life. That is what Jesus was showing the woman at the well in Samaria. That what Jesus shows and offers us today. The reality of knowing God.
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