Category: Religion

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

So declares St Paul in a statement resonating with such hope and encouragement that over 2000 years later, Christians still encourage each other with it. And while this declaration is applied to virtually every obstacle we encounter, goal we set, and dream we undertake, its context for Paul was very specific. Here are the two verses preceding it:

“For I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.” Philippians 4:11-12

Paul has learned how to be content in any circumstance through Christ who strengthens him. Contentment. It’s neither valued nor practiced in our consumeristic society of limitless choices, instant gratification, and insatiable consumption. The moment I experience any kind of impulse or craving, I can hop on any number of apps and services to get what I want when I want it. The only thing that limits me is my credit limit. Hungry? Get food delivered now. Bored? Get entertained now. Want the newest gadget or fashion? Order it now with expedited delivery. 

My heart shrieks with Bob Wiley’s plea from the movie What About Bob?, “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! I need! I need! I need! I need! Gimme! Gimme! Please!”

Technology has caused the interval between impulse and fulfillment to shrink so much, we rarely have time to think. Years ago, we dealt with impulse shopping when we stood in line at the grocery store. Stood in line. For several minutes. That at least gave us enough time to have the internal conversation that might dissuade us from buying the magazine or candy bar. Now we deal with impulse consumerism with multiple apps on our phone. Watch a YouTube video or commercial featuring some new item and it’s ordered in less than a minute. Read an online review, tap the embedded link, and in moments you’re eagerly awaiting delivery.

And while there used to be some time for an internal conversation with reason, it is still a far cry from the contentment of which Paul speaks. Through constant interaction with God’s grace and strength, Paul has learned not to even have the impulse. Instead, he experiences what Dallas Willard calls a pervasive, overall sense of well-being. At the core of Paul’s being is peaceful satisfaction in all circumstances. When he has little, he doesn’t long for more. When he has much, he doesn’t strategize how to keep it or amass more. And he doesn’t have to work himself into a state of contentment. It’s not something he has to muster up. Rather it is easy and natural, like breathing.

I like how NT Wright translates this passage:

“In every possible situation I’ve learned the hidden secret of being full and hungry, of having plenty and going without, and it’s this: I have strength for everything in the one who gives me power.”

Paul has learned from Jesus the “hidden secret” to contentment. Paul knows he has strength for everything in Jesus who gives him power. Paul has learned how to lean into the reality of Jesus’ good news, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” God’s kingdom has arrived in Jesus, who has mastered living in it. By trusting Jesus through life-long apprenticeship to him, Paul has embraced Jesus’ lifestyle and practices and thus experiences Jesus’ life — his faith, character, and power. He has learned from Jesus how to be like Jesus in his own life. And a core aspect of that life is deep, peaceful contentment.

And while the specific context that Paul expresses his contentment is in financial provision, contentment touches on many more aspects of human life. As Jesus’ apprentices, we learn contentment with possessions, dreams, relationships, reputation, accomplishments, career, the past, the future and other facets of life. We learn that because of who God is, his world is a perfectly safe place to be and his love and goodness will prevail through any and all disappointment, tragedy, loss, pain, sorrow and even death. We are safe in and with him.

And this sense of well-being permeates us, so that over time it extinguishes our distorted desires and impulses so we are peacefully satisfied in God at all times.

That’s what Paul was learning to experience as he interacted with Jesus’ strength through the moments of his daily life. It was his hidden secret that he shared with everyone.

This past Sunday, our priest made an interesting observation. The Gospel reading was from Luke 5, the familiar story of Jesus telling Peter to let down his nets into deep water. Peter and his companions had fished all night in vain. It was now mid-morning or later, definitely not the time to fish. And the nets had been washed and stowed away. Most, if not all, know how this story plays out. Peter complies and he and his partners catch so much fish, the volume threatens to break the nets and sink the boats. Peter’s reaction to this incredible event was to proclaim to Jesus, “Go away from me, Lord, I’m a sinful man!” Peter knew he was in the presence of someone great and his reaction was to tell Jesus to leave.

Now contrast this with a similar fishing episode three years later. Jesus has been crucified. Everything Peter had hoped for in Jesus was gone. And to make matters worse, Peter is simmering in the shame of having denied Jesus three times during Jesus’ “trials”. So he and his friends have gone back to fishing. But similar to what happened three years earlier, they fished the night in vain. Then a figure on the shore tells them to lower their nets. Complying, they catch a large number of fish. 

Here’s our priest’s observation. When Peter realizes it’s Jesus on the shore, his response is completely different than the first fishing episode. Peter dives into the water and swims to Jesus. Three years ago, he wanted Jesus to leave. Now, in the midst of his pain and shame, he rushes to Jesus. This observation made me think about what had happened to Peter in those three years.

Peter is often portrayed by modern preachers as a constantly brash and impetuous man who gets himself into trouble. He rushes into situations and conversations with both feet first. Oftentimes, one of those feet ends up finding its way into his mouth. And because of this approach to situations, he’s constantly corrected by Jesus. While this portrayal is accurate, I truly believe something is taking place deep within Peter through all of these missteps we see in the Gospels. And it’s something so life-altering that within three years, he changes from a sinful man who begs Jesus to leave him into a man that can’t get close enough to Jesus, even while haunted by his darkest moment of failure.

Below the surface of a brash and impulsive personality, formation has been occurring. All those moments of impetuous speech and behavior, followed by Jesus’ caring correction, has made Peter trust Jesus. He knows Jesus is safe, even during the worst mistakes and harshest correction. I mean imagine being called “Satan” by Jesus.

But through his impulsive mistakes and Jesus’ corrections, Peter is growing, changing, and transforming. He is a constant “work in progress” throughout the Gospels. Peter’s growing interactive experience with Jesus has convinced him that Jesus is the master of life. 

So when many other disciples ultimately abandon Jesus, Peter will remain close and keep learning. He tells Jesus, “Master, to whom would we go? You have the words of real life, eternal life” (John 6:68). Peter had grown. When others walked away from Jesus, he proved that he could and would stay with Jesus.

Maybe it was this event — remaining with Jesus when the teaching and circumstances caused others to leave — that filled Peter with confidence to declare prior to Jesus’ arrest, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will! Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” 

But now, Peter’s confidence overreached his current state of formation. Jesus knew that even though Peter had been growing, he still did not have what was necessary to fulfill his confident declaration of loyalty and faithfulness. So he tells Peter, “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat.But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

Perhaps all of this was going through Peter’s mind during that second fishing episode. He failed terribly. When Jesus needed him the most, he’d proven himself to be a coward, disloyal, and unfaithful. Why? When others left before, Peter had stayed. So why did he cower and deny Jesus this time?

But somehow, Jesus, knew Peter would fail. As always, Jesus seemed to know Peter better than Peter did. In fact, during Peter’s overconfident bragging during that final meal, Jesus predicted his failure. Those words, like most of Jesus’ correction over the past three years, stung and hurt. But while they stung, Jesus also told him that he had prayed for him. And that Peter would turn back. Jesus knew Peter. Jesus truly was the master of life!

Interrupting his thoughts, a figure on the shore tells Peter and his companions to put out their nets. They catch a tremendous amount of fish. And three years of mistakes, correction, growth, and forgiveness, culminating in his most shameful failure so far, flood Peter. He launches himself into the water and sprints to the shore. It’s Jesus! And the greatest place in life is with him.

After they all eat together on the beach, Jesus takes Peter on a walk. He addresses Peter’s threefold denial. It’s embarrassing, awkward, and cutting. Jesus goes to Peter’s heart, his love and loyalty. But again, as always, the corrections are filled with forgiveness, love, and restoration. 

For the rest of his life, Peter remains a “work in progress.” But there is always progress. He will continue to make mistakes. For example, in Galatians, Paul records that he had to confront Peter for his betrayal of the Gospel. Intimidated by some Jewish Christians from Jerusalem, Peter withdrew from table-fellowship with Gentile believers. And by doing so, he caused other Jewish believers, including Barnabas, to do the same.

But Peter stays close to Jesus and keeps learning and growing. And over more time, we discover an older and wiser man who pens 1Peter and 2Peter. Over the years of living his daily life with Jesus, Peter’s faith in Jesus has matured and transformed into the faith of Jesus. He knows God to be good, kind, compassionate, caring and always faithful. There seems to be less impulsiveness and a more relaxed and gentle wisdom. We can hear in his words, the Spirit of Jesus shining through.

All because, he chose to remain a work in progress.

Recently I was reading a book by a popular Christian astrophysicist discussing how everything from the vast components of the universe to the features of our planet demonstrate fine-tuning to support advanced life. The book was filled with times, distances and masses of immense values — billions of years, millions of light years, billions of solar masses, and other measurements that far exceed my understanding. My takeaway is that the universe is marvelous and tremendously awe-inspiring.

Soon after reading that book I listened to Dallas Willard’s final lectures before his passing in 2013. He made the following statement:

“Creation was an act of joy, of delight in the goodness of what was done.”

That stopped me and I had to rewind and listen again and again and again.

This immense universe — the one I had been reading about and was overwhelmed by its sheer size — its creation and ongoing growth is an act of sheer joy and delight.

Theologically, I’ve always viewed the cosmos’ creation as an act of power, not an act of joy.

Joy. Such a small word. Frankly it’s never been a significant part of my spiritual journey. This is probably due to the fact that I’ve often defined it as an enhanced version of the fleeting emotion of “happiness,” even though intellectually I know joy is not primarily an emotion.

So I’ve been reflecting on joy as part of who God is. Here’s another quote by Willard from his book, The Divine Conspiracy:

“Central to the understanding and proclamation of the Christian gospel today, as in Jesus’ day, is a re-visioning of what God’s own life is like and how the physical cosmos fits into it. . . . We should, to begin with, think that God leads a very interesting life, and that he is full of joy. Undoubtedly he is the most joyous being in the universe. The abundance of his love and generosity is inseparable from his infinite joy. All the good and beautiful things from which we occasionally drink tiny droplets of soul-exhilarating joy, God continuously experiences in all their breadth and depth and richness.”

Read that again. “Undoubtedly, he [God] is the most joyous being in the universe.” My head struggles with the idea of God being the happiest being in the universe and that the moment he created the universe wasn’t an exertion of power as much as it was a moment of sheer joy.

Willard defines joy as “the sense of pervasive well-being.” Everything, from every quark to every galaxy cluster, is permeated with the sense of well-being. Everything is well and good. Everything is easily held together by God’s activity and Word. God isn’t sweating or struggling to keep everything moving properly. Creating and holding together the universe is such a small part of God’s activity.

And God’s “abundance of love and generosity is inseparable from his infinite joy.” Infinite joy. Infinite well-being. And God’s love and generosity is inseparable from that infinite well-being. 

No wonder Jesus could say, ““Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” Matthew 6:25-26

We are surrounded by God’s infinite joy, his infinite well-being. We are completely safe in him. This doesn’t mean that sorrow, loss or tragedy won’t touch us. But it does mean that even in the midst of such darkness, we are still surrounded by God’s infinite well-being. We are safe and well in the pain, in the loss, and even in death.

The universe’s age is currently measured at 13.8 billion years old. And all of that time was used to prepare the universe and earth to support humans, who are created in God’s image and have an incredibly unique eternal purpose in God’s kingdom. And those billions of years are just a drop in infinity. What we experience in our short 80-90 years, God willing, is nothing compared to the billions upon billions of years and beyond that we will experience in a universe renewed and filled with God’s glorious presence and infinite well-being, love and generosity.

We really are safe in God’s good world!

That’s why Paul could write abundant encouragement like this passage:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 2:4-6

Notice the progression from joy to the awareness of God’s intimate presence, to the encouragement to stop being anxious, then to prayer and thanksgiving, and then to transcendent peace.

Or another passage from Paul:

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1Thessalonians 5:16-18

Again notice the similar progression. Joy moves to prayer, which then moves to thanksgiving.

Or take the list of spiritual fruit, the very character of God being formed in us:

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace…” Galatians 5:22

Notice the progression — love flows to joy, joy then flows to peace.

Throughout the New Testament, there are similar, though not exact, progressions that incorporate love, joy, prayer, thanksgiving and peace. But joy is usually in the midst of the progression. As Willard said, “The abundance of his [God’s] love and generosity is inseparable from his infinite joy.”

Joy. Such a small word. But it is more immense than our universe because it is as infinite as the God from whom it springs.

Ever have a song instantly transport you decades into your past? That happened to me this morning while driving. I was listening to Chris Tomlin’s new album, “Always.” Then song number 5 started, “O Lord, You’re Beautiful.”

For those of you old enough to remember, this is one of Keith Green’s songs. As I listened to the song this morning, I was transported back to 1988. I was a brand new youth pastor, on fire with intense love for Jesus. I wanted to go anywhere and do anything to serve him. I loved worshipping him. So, I taught myself some basic piano chords so I could sing my love to him.

As the simple chords of “O Lord, You’re Beautiful,” played in my car this morning, I was in the upstairs youth room in that old Baptist Church. I was alone with Jesus, playing the chords and singing this song of love to him.

Back in the car, my heart swells and the tears start. My God, I loved him with such a simple and focused love!

But over the decades, I’ve “matured” and let my life and faith become more “complex”. And the simplicity of my love had been replaced by something else. When I was young, I strained for a vision of what I could be in the future. Now I’m there and I long for what I had in the past.

In the car, the song continues. I’m back, fully in the present. I’m singing these simple words — words that are more than a song. They’re a prayer, a yearning, a plea. A cry of simple devotion from my past, racing forward to shape my present and future.

Photography is about not giving up https://aows.co/blog/2022/11/16/photography-is-about-not-giving-up

I’ve occasionally discussed how photography has helped with my spiritual formation. It has taught me to slow down, to look, to notice, to reflect.

The short post linked above highlights another aspect of how photography can also aide spiritual formation by teaching us to endure, to persevere, to see the long road. Or as Eugene Peterson has discussed, “the long obedience in the same direction.” I love how this post ends. The prize is that we get to do it again tomorrow. The prize of spiritual formation is that we get to follow Jesus — to be with him, to learn from him how to be like him — again tomorrow. The prize is his presence, his person, his character, all of him everyday.

The following is not something that I would normally post. When I have intimate and personal experiences with God, I tend to keep them close. But this was a powerful moment and I wanted to put it out there.

This morning, as I was reflecting on the person of Jesus, a very powerful image came to mind. I was standing on a high place like the top of a hill. Jesus was in front of me, silhouetted by a magnificent vista. The land behind him was beautiful and glorious, beyond what any words could adequately describe. I knew this land was his Father’s kingdom.

I could sense Jesus inviting me, “Come and follow me.” He was inviting me to join him on a new journey to explore this grand vista. I knew that if I didn’t accept, he would go on that journey without me. If he started without me he would disappear over the hill and vanish from my sight. And the thought of that brought intense sorrow. Yet as I thought about following him, I was aware of my condition as a middle-aged man, overweight and out of shape. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. I had followed him to this place on the hill and had become content and complacent where I was.

But being with him was the only thing I wanted. So I shouldered my backpack, said, “Wait up. I’m coming,” and struggled to join him. I was filled with a mixture of devotion and fear. I knew where I had been standing was not where I was supposed to remain. It was only a temporary point in the journey. But it was comfortable and safe. I was frightened of the pain I would experience and the prospect of losing everything I had gained. But I knew I would rather lose everything I currently have than lose Jesus. So I chose to follow even though I felt I wouldn’t be able to keep up.

As I rushed to join Jesus, my knees and joints ached and I was winded by the short distance to catch up to him. I was so out of shape. This increased my fear and anxiety that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. But I knew I had to follow him. I couldn’t let him go over the crest of the hill without me or I would lose him. No matter how much it hurt, I wanted more than anything to journey with Jesus and explore his Father’s kingdom with him.

I remember sensing a similar call when I was 18 or 19 years old. It was the most exciting prospect and filled my life with the deepest sense of purpose. I was ready to go anywhere and do anything with him. I was ready to take risks and make sacrifices. I had absolutely nothing to lose.

For many years, I feel I have drifted from that purpose. I have followed Jesus to the top of this hill and have become encamped there. But now he’s calling me to follow him further, to start a new leg of the journey. While the idea of following Jesus into a new and risky journey is exciting, it also fills me with fear. At this point in my life, I feel I have so much to lose. I fear it will somehow jeopardize my future, my retirement, and the “golden years” of my life. I find myself praying for God to protect or increase what I have obtained. I’m scared of losing it.

But I know I was never supposed to worry about my future. Things like owning a home and saving for retirement, while fine, were never supposed to be my primary concern. And I know that you cannot follow Christ and cling to what you have.

I knew that to accept Jesus’ invitation and challenge, I would need to undergo significant change in order to keep up. I have no idea what Jesus is calling me to. All I know is that he’s challenging me to explore God’s kingdom with him. And as I pray about what this means, Colossians 1:10-12 keeps coming to mind: 

“That you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light.”

That is what I want the rest of my life to be about.

Jesus’ call to “Come and follow me” doesn’t only occur at the beginning of our journey with him. I think we hear it again and again as we begin new phases of our life with him. In those moments, we have a choice either to stay where we are, content with what the journey has produced in us or to answer the call again. We begin something new again, accepting new risks and challenges.

Answering the call is always risky. Each time it requires us to leave everything behind, even everything we have gained by following him. This is true whether we are young or old or in-between. Each time we are confronted with the question, “Is following Jesus worth everything?” Is he worth even losing everything we have gained thus far by following him?

Remember the parables of the hidden treasure and the pearl of great price?

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.”

In both parables, everything had to be sold to gain the most valuable item. The willingness to give up everything to gain the best is essential at the beginning of the journey with Jesus as well as throughout all the phases of the journey. It goes without saying that Jesus is the treasure and the pearl. So when faced with his call to “Come and follow me” we have to ask, is Jesus worth losing everything again?

In his commentary on Matthew, NT Wright begins his observations of Matthew 6:25:34 by asking a question that startles me every time I read it:

“Has it ever struck you what a basically happy person Jesus was?”

Sure there were times of stress, grief and anger, but as Wright states, “But these are the exceptions, the dark patches painted on to the bright background.”

When Jesus spoke of God’s care for the birds and flowers, this emanated from his “strong, lively sense of the goodness of his father, the creator of the world.” This was Jesus’ knowledge and experience of God and life.

So when Jesus invited his followers not to worry about tomorrow, he led by example. He was able to completely live in the present, aware of and celebrating his father’s goodness in the moment.

In addition, when Jesus instructs his followers to make God’s kingdom and the covenant life of creative goodness and sacrificial love for the sake of others their highest priority, he’s inviting them into a twofold reality.

First, God is the source of beauty, energy and excitement, not food, drink and clothes. God is the creator who infuses his world with his beauty, energy and excitement. So his people can find their source first and foremost by loving and trusting God, who is always close to them.

Second, because God has saturated the world with his beauty, energy and excitement, it doesn’t mean that food, drink and clothes don’t matter. Jesus isn’t telling us not to enjoy these things, but to enjoy them in their proper priority. For example, Jesus attended parties and ate and drank so that his enemies accused him of being a glutton and drunk. And when he was crucified, his tunic was such high quality that the admiring soldiers gambled for it rather than tearing up such a valuable item. So Jesus isn’t saying to avoid these things.

Rather, Jesus is inviting his followers to enter a life of different priorities and values than what the surrounding world offers. When one puts God’s work and life first, beautiful and wonderful things like food, drink and clothes are provided. So the aspects of our lives like work, relationship, possessions, and hobbies should be enjoyed. But we don’t have to anxiously strive after them in order to find happiness and fulfillment. In this life Jesus is inviting us, one doesn’t have to worry about tomorrow because we know our creator God and good Father is near, caring and providing.

So let’s return to Wright’s introductory question, “Has it ever struck you what a basically happy person Jesus was?” Imagine what his inner life was like. Imagine his deep, trusting confidence in God’s love and goodness. Imagine his ability to live in the present, loving and celebrating God’s goodness in that movement, task, or relationship. Imagine the utter lack of anxiety and worry about what the next hour, day, week or month would bring.

Now hear his joy-filled, anxiety-free voice inviting you to share his knowledge and experience of life:

“Are you having a real struggle? Come to me! Are you carrying a big load on your back? Come to me — I’ll give you a rest! Pick up my yoke and put it on; take lessons from me, I’ll be gentle with you! The last thing in my heart is to give you a hard time. You’ll see — rest you need, and rest you shall have. My yoke is easy to wear, my load is easy to bear.” -Matt 11:28-30

When Jesus explained his parable about the receptivity people have to his message, he likened one type of people to seed falling on a hardened path:

“When someone hears the word of the kingdom and doesn’t understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart.” Matthew 13:19

These people don’t understand what he’s saying and that lack of understanding allows the Satan to easily steal away the message. This is a very frightening prospect.

I wonder what keeps a person from not understanding Jesus’ message? In Jesus’ historical context, he was speaking to his fellow Israelites. Their lack of understanding was not caused by a lack of intelligence. They were as smart then as we are today.

Rather, I think Jesus was speaking from a different story, a different narrative that didn’t make sense from the story they had embraced their entire lives.

Israel believed that their God was the one true God. If this were true, then they shouldn’t be ruled by pagans. They believed their Scriptures that one day, God would make everything right by ultimately becoming king of the entire world.

But many in Israel believed they were to bring about God’s kingdom through violent revolution, overthrowing their pagan oppressors. The problem was they were fighting darkness and violence with darkness and violence.

Jesus was calling Israel to turn back to their true calling as God’s covenantal people, who were to restore the nations and God’s creation through light and love.

Jesus was inviting them to follow him on the path of self-sacrifice and self-giving love, even to one’s enemies and even to one’s death. This message made absolutely no sense in the context of the other stories where Israel was to be the supreme nation above all others.

The other day I saw a bumper sticker that actually made me cringe. It said, “My three loves: God, Guns and Country.” An ideology that would even associate God with either Guns or Country is absolutely ludicrous. But it’s a prevalent one among Christians in the US. And this is only one of several false preconceived ideas about God that Christians embrace.

So it’s our false ideas of God that actually get in the way of understanding Jesus’ true message of God. In this way, someone who thinks they’re close to God is actually far away. And someone who thinks they understand God and his kingdom is actually not understanding at all.

And Satan is right there doing his work.

Occasionally, I like to simplify everything back to its core. I especially like to do this with the idea of The Gospel, which we are to live and communicate.

The Greek word for “Gospel” means good news. When a new Roman emperor was installed during ancient times, messengers were sent into the outlying territories proclaiming the gospel of that emperor. It was the good news that Rome had a new emperor and because of it, Rome’s citizens would experience peace, prosperity and salvation.

The four New Testament Gospels, in narrative form, are doing the same thing about Jesus. They are bearing witness that Jesus is Israel’s long-awaited, representative king. As such Jesus has fulfilled the covenant that God made with Abraham and his family to be God’s blessing to the nations, he has launched God’s future new creation concurrent with this creation, and he is installed as the world’s true Lord. That is the good news of Jesus! Jesus is the true King and Lord!

The implications of that gospel for every person who loyally embraces Jesus’ kingship and follows him is freedom from all of the destructive powers in our lives and the restoration of our human vocation (and here I’m blatantly stealing from Bishop Todd Hunter) “to be God’s cooperative friends who are learning from him how to live constant creative goodness for the sake of others in the power of God’s Spirit.”

With Jesus as our true King, we lack nothing and thus can learn from him how to build strong, unshakable lives like his, able to risk everything for the sake of God and neighbor. 

This is reality of Jesus’ kingship. And it is the ultimate Good News!

Last weekend, our family visited Oak Glen, a favorite location of ours. This visit was unique because a thick fog rolled in, altering the landscape. So during our visit, I took several photos with my phone. One of the photos was a reflection shot of the pond in the botanical garden. When I took the photo, I thought the image was free of fellow visitors. But when I got home, uploaded the photo to Lightroom and expanded it, I noticed there were a couple of people in the image. The larger screen and software enabled me to see the scene better than when I was actually standing there.

That photo came to mind this morning while reading John 14:12-21. In this passage, Jesus tells his disciples that he will soon be returning to his Father. While at first this sounds discouraging, he informs them that they will actually be able to do greater works than what he’s been doing because he’s going to the Father. And that’s because the Father will give his followers the Holy Spirit. 

I think many of us believe that Jesus’ original followers had it much easier than we do simply by the fact that Jesus was physically with them. But according to Jesus in this passage, the opposite is true. If we think about the original disciples, they seemed to constantly misunderstand Jesus’ words. They found themselves misinterpreting events. Judas betrayed Jesus, Peter denied him and the rest scattered at his arrest.

Here’s the remarkable truth of John 14: Christians today are in a far better situation than Jesus’ original followers during his lifetime! Jesus is actually more present to his followers in this new mode than when he was physically present.

When Jesus talks about going to the Father, he’s not just talking about going to heaven. He’s referring to defeating evil, idolatry, sin and death through his crucifixion. He’s referring to launching God’s New Creation through his resurrection. He’s referring to merging heaven and earth through his ascension. And he’s referring to being fully present and empowering by the Spirit through Pentecost.

Because of his accomplishments through the process of “going to the Father,” an entirely new world lies before us. And in this new world, Jesus is with us far more fully than he was with his original disciples — renewing our minds and energizing our lives with his LIFE to do greater works than Jesus ever did.

I don’t think I need to convince anyone when I state that our lives are filled, perhaps overfilled, with activity. Usually from the moment we awake to the moment our bodies drift to sleep, we are doing something. And many of those activities have formed our identity, reinforcing and energizing those activities.

One of the invitations of Lent is to let go of some of those activities in order to create new space within our lives — space for the potential of beauty, space to be alert to God and others, space to examine some of the shadowy parts of our inner lives.

I read a statement by Richard Rohr that might be helpful. He says, “We become free as we let go of our three primary energy centers: our need for power and control, our need for safety and security, and our need for affection and esteem.” I think every person struggles in some way with these areas and Lent invites us to become a bit more aware and perhaps to learn how to let go.

The beauty of Lent is that it doesn’t demand, but invites. There is no obligation to participate in Lent. It doesn’t make God love us more nor does it necessarily make us better people. God loves us and is pleased with us whether we have a laser-focus during Lent or if we choose to “give up Lent during Lent.” But that same lavish, unending love is both the invitation to and the environment within which we engage in Lent.

To put it simply, Lent is Love. It is God’s love that invites us to Lent. It is God’s love in which we experience Lent. It is God’s love through which we may be transformed in Lent. And it is God’s love in which we may fail in Lent.

Recently, Bishop Todd Hunter likened Lent to the R&D department of a company. It’s a unique time each year where we can, with a childlike and an almost playful spirit, let go, make space, examine, and engage God regarding oft-hidden aspects of our lives within God’s deep and unchanging love for us.

So I would encourage you to hear and answer God’s invitation to let go and experience his love during Lent.

As a young Christian, one of my favorite worship songs was Maranatha’s version of “As the Deer.” It’s basically Psalm 42 put to simple music:

“As the deer panteth for the water,

So my soul longeth after Thee.

You alone are my heart’s desire

And I long to worship Thee.

You alone are my strength and shield

To you alone may my spirit yield.

You alone are my heart’s desire

And I long to worship Thee.”

I have cherished memories of being alone with God, playing the chords on a piano, and singing my heart to him.

Ever since meeting Jesus, he’s been my heart’s deepest desire. And that intimacy and longing has been the core of over 30 years of journeying with him. Now as a not-so-young Christian, the same intimacy for Jesus is the driving force in my life.

And while intimacy with Jesus launched my journey with him, I think it has matured into much more.

Recently, I read a short post by Bishop Todd Hunter describing the purpose of his parish, Holy Trinity Church. He wrote that Holy Trinity Church “is engaged in a straightforward and plain journey: we seek intimacy with Jesus and transformation into his likeness, becoming his cooperative friends… for the sake of others.”

That simple sentence captures the goal of intimacy with Jesus — a personal and communal vocation of spiritual formation into God’s royal priesthood for the sake of others. This is the calling of God’s people, His Body — to be a community of people gripped by deep intimacy with Jesus so that it transforms us into his likeness so we can be like him, live like him and work with him for the sake of everyone around us.

This is why the local parish exists. And all of its theology, liturgy, sacraments, programs, administration, and other aspects of its life must direct its members toward this singular goal — a transforming, loving, others-centered intimacy with Jesus.

But the vocation only makes sense when it’s first and foremost fueled by deep intimacy with Jesus. That’s where it starts and that’s where it ends. And that’s what gives everything in between its shape and meaning.

“Give me a freakin’ break! I trusted him! I followed him! I left everything! He was supposed to be Israel’s king. And he went and got himself killed like all the other “messiahs” before him. Now you’re telling me that he’s alive? Give me a break!

“I know, Thomas. It sounds crazy. But we were there. We saw him.”

“I’m tired of this. Not again. I’ll tell you what. Unless I can see and touch his wounds, I mean actually shoving my hand in his side, I’m done trusting.”

I know I’ve taken some liberty and have embellished the biblical dialogue. But I want to highlight what I perceive to be the raw emotions in Thomas’ words.

Too often, our modern, rationalistic culture is projected onto Thomas as though he demanded scientific empirical proof. That’s unfortunate, because I think that perspective misses the point of Thomas’ experience. I believe he felt betrayed by Jesus. And roiling inside of him was pain, anger, hurt, fear, shame, and a whirlwind of other dark emotions that accompany betrayal.

Jesus claimed to be the Christ and Son of God — the King of Israel who was anointed by Israel’s God to vanquish the Roman occupiers, to restore the presence of Israel’s God in their Temple, and to make Israel great again. Jesus had convinced Thomas by his words, his deeds and his very presence to follow him. Sure, there had been would-be messiahs before. But Jesus actually seemed to be the one capable of succeeding where everyone else had failed.

Recently, though, Jesus seemed to be on a suicide mission. Thomas had told the group just before visiting Lazarus’ grave that if they went with Jesus, they would die with him. Jesus seemed intent to return to the places that wanted to kill him. Going publicly into these areas without any type of military force or strategy was simply tempting fate. Jesus had been lucky so far. But Thomas knew how things worked. Sooner or later, Jesus’ luck would run out and he and his followers would be captured and killed like all the other would-be messiahs before them.

What was Jesus thinking? How could he risk everything he had been building the past few years? How could Jesus be so cavalier with his and his followers’ lives? Sure enough, Jesus’ luck ran out. This past week he pushed too hard, too often. He got himself killed. The movement came to a crashing halt at the foot of a Roman cross. And now his followers, including Thomas, were at risk. The authorities would hunt them down and do the same to them.

It’s my opinion that Thomas’ statement was not unbelief. If he truly didn’t believe, I think he would have hightailed it out of Jerusalem under the cover of darkness soon after Jesus’ death. If he no longer believed, why did he stay with the threat of such peril?

I believe it’s because Thomas’ faith was crippled, not destroyed. And his proclamation about seeing and touching Jesus’ wounds was the mingling of betrayal’s pain and hope’s yearning.

And a week later, Thomas is still with the other disciples.

Much like the paralyzed man who had relied on his friends to carry him, to rip apart the roof, and to lower him at the feet of Jesus, Thomas needed his friends. Like true friends, they carried a crippled Thomas and tore down the roof of betrayal’s pain and lowered him to Jesus’ presence.

And there Jesus met and healed Thomas.

And Thomas’ faith surges.

“My Lord!” Thomas’ faith extends to where it was before. Jesus IS Israel’s king. And “My Lord” is how you would address your king.

“My God!” Thomas’ faith launches into new uncharted territory. No self-respecting Jewish man would ever associate divinity to a human being. We must remember that even the title “Son of God” was a Jewish term for Israel’s human king. It’s normal use never associated divinity to its bearer.

Yet, in that healing moment between Jesus and Thomas, Thomas’ faith expands to a place no one else has yet contemplated. Jesus is Israel’s King. And somehow, Jesus is also Israel’s God.

And with Thomas’ remarkable declaration, the Gospel-writer, leads his readers to a startling conclusion. John’s Gospel has revealed a New Creation, a New Temple and a New People of God. And he uses Thomas’ declaration as a rhetorical exclamation mark to highlight that these new realities of God’s New World require a New Faith — a faith exclaimed by a man at his lowest and darkest point, ravaged by feelings of betrayal, anger and fear.

My Lord and My God!

As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. And he sent messengers on ahead, who went into a Samaritan village to get things ready for him; but the people there did not welcome him, because he was heading for Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?” But Jesus turned and rebuked them. -Luke 9:51-55

This is another moment in a string of episodes demonstrating the inability of Jesus’ followers to truly understand the scope of his mission. Sometimes, I think we’re so quick to judge Peter for his many missteps, that we forget James and John, two of Jesus’ closest disciples, blundered as well.

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem for his ultimate demonstration of God’s love. Yet, two of his closest followers want to call down divine judgment upon a village because the villagers won’t welcome their entourage. You can almost hear the slap of Jesus’ palm on his forehead.

Christian history is replete with this type of misguided zeal. A serious problem occurs when protecting the fidelity of the Faith eclipses the actual values of the Faith. While we may not literally call down fire, we resort to other tactics. We’ll label ourselves and others so that it creates an “us” vs “them” dichotomy. We’ll denounce others who are not in our group while we exalt ourselves as being genuine Christians. We’ll resort to “straw man” tactics or compare our group’s best with their group’s worst.

Every group has its overzealous members.

When I was a young Christian in Calvary Chapel, I remember some speaking of Roman Catholics as adherents to dead ritual, implying that they weren’t really Christians. And they described mainline denominations as “liberal” with a similar insinuation.

During my short involvement with YWAM, the organization’s evangelism efforts were focused in middle eastern countries like Turkey. I remember hearing some stating that Eastern Orthodox Christians needed to be evangelized because their religion was dead.

As part of the Charismatic movement, other Christians were viewed as not having the Holy Spirit and being spiritually dead. I remember some stating about non-charismatic churches, “If God didn’t show up to their church on Sunday morning, no one would notice.”

When I was part of the Emergent/House Church movement, I heard some speaking suspiciously of professional pastors because they actually made a living from pastoring.

As part of the Eastern Orthodox Church, I hear some using words like “heterodox” and “heretic” too easily to describe non-Orthodox forms of Christianity. Quite frankly, some of the Protestant-bashing I’ve heard in my limited experience in Orthodoxy is sickening.

I’m familiar with these incidents because, to my shame, I’ve participated in this misguided zeal.

It’s taken more time than necessary, but I’ve finally learned that Evangelicals have no more of a personal relationship with God than Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox and mainline Christians. Nor are Charismatics any more Spirit-filled than their other siblings. House churches are no more genuine than their institutional counterparts. Eastern Orthodoxy is no more truer, enlightened or faithful than any other form of Christianity. Everyone needs to be evangelized with God’s Good News.

In the midst of all this zealous craziness, Jesus demonstrates God’s love for everyone by dying upon a cross. Three days later, he bursts from the grave to launch God’s New Creation for all.

I’m not saying everyone simply needs to embrace a wishy-washy undefined faith. Quite the opposite. Our faith must develop, mature and become well-defined. As such, distinctions will always exist. But the more mature our faith becomes, the more it should align with the actual values of the Faith — faith, hope, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, holiness, compassion, humility, repentance… I think you get my point.

Jesus’ followers defend the faith by living the faith.

Part of living the faith means living in loving communion with all of Jesus followers — valuing each other and each other’s tradition so we can talk with and learn from each other.

Earlier this year, I wrote the following “classified ad” but never had the courage to post it on social media:

“Wanted: A small group of Christians who gather regularly with the sole agenda of becoming Jesus’ apprentices through spiritual formation. This group would welcome Jesus’ apprentices from all traditions — Roman Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Protestantism. It would not be affiliated with any organization nor would it replace anyone’s local church or parish. Rather, it would be a group of friends committed to learning with and from one another about how to follow Jesus. This group would discuss Scripture and supplemental writings, pray for one another, support one another and learn from each other’s traditions, theology and practices in the ultimate effort of becoming like Jesus for the sake of the world.”

I would love to be part of a community whose members are learning to carry the cross rather than calling down fire.

“I urge you, brothers and sisters, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit, to join me in my struggle by praying to God for me. Pray that I may be kept safe from the unbelievers in Judea and that the contribution I take to Jerusalem may be favorably received by the Lord’s people there.” -Romans 15:30-31

I have to be honest. After being a Christian for over 30 years, prayer is still a mystery to me. There are certain aspects I understand. For example, I know prayer is relational conversation with God. And in that conversation, I pour out my heart, be it praise, thanksgiving, remorse, confession, desperation, or petition.

But prayer is also more than that. So there are other aspects of prayer that are shrouded in mystery for me, even after all these years. The passage in Romans is one of them. How does one “fight the battle” for another in prayer? Is this just dramatic imagery for simply praying for a person’s needs? Or is there something more?

Throughout my Christian life, I’ve participated in groups that had their particular answer to these questions. I’ve been in some prayer meetings where praying was spiritual warfare performed by audibly “binding and loosing” spiritual powers influencing situations.

I’ve been in groups where lists of requests were gathered and a small group would pray over the various needs.

I’ve been in groups where the participants would physically lay their hands on a person and wait for the Spirit to bring specific prayers and prophetic messages to mind.

I’ve also been in groups where prayer is quietly whispering a liturgical prayer and lighting a candle for a person, requesting God’s mercy and presence in their life.

I suspect Paul and the early Christians understood something that is often missing in our modern concept of prayer. Too often we see prayer as petitioning God and expecting an answer. What if that isn’t necessarily the prayer’s primary purpose. What if prayer is more like training — learning to wait on God, sense his leading, praying appropriately, then rinse and repeat.

In most Christian traditions, the “Lord’s Prayer” is the model for prayer. But Jesus wasn’t giving us categories or words to pray. He was showing us how to become “mobile Temples,” how to become God’s presence where heaven and earth are stitched together through love.

What if prayer is like working out on an exercise machine at the gym. In this example, we don’t do a few reps and expect to have fully developed muscles. It takes months or years of training to hone our muscles.

So perhaps prayer transcends mere petition and answer. Perhaps prayer is working out in cooperation with God so our interior life is reshaped and renewed into the place where heaven and earth are joined and then expressed naturally through our exterior life.

So what if Paul’s request is similar to Jesus’ model prayer. Surely he needs their prayers on his behalf. And immediate answers would be greatly appreciated. But he’s a pastor. He knows there are tensions between between Christians and non-Christians. And there are tensions between the Roman Church and the Jerusalem Church.

So perhaps, Paul’s request gives the Roman Christians the opportunity to continually pray for both “unbelievers” and “God’s people” in Jerusalem so they may train into God’s love toward these people.

One of my earliest memories as a child was learning to swim. Every week, my mom would take us to Ms. Christie’s house for lessons. I remember clutching the side of the pool. Ms. Christie stood in the water several feet away, beckoning me. I would let go of the side, struggling with each stroke to reach her. But she always seemed just out of reach. With every few inches I achieved, she would move away from me. When I felt I couldn’t go any further, I was suddenly in her safe and secure arms as she quickly closed the distance between us and grabbed me. Over and over, we would do this. And I learned to swim.

Perhaps that’s what prayer is like. Perhaps our needs or our loved one’s needs force us to struggle toward God. But in love, he always remains slightly out of reach. By doing so, he’s helping us to grow into love, into the embodiment of his New Creation. And just when it seems like all is lost, we’re in his safe and secure arms. Perhaps we don’t have the answer we desired. But we have his presence and the transformation he intended all along.

So if love is the embodiment of God’s New Creation, then prayer is the exercise that develops it in our lives.

I want to ask a tough question. “What’s God doing in and saying to you right now in your life?” I told you it’s a tough question. I’m not sure I could provide a stellar answer right now.

Sometimes the phrase “personal relationship with God” can become sterile and abstract. But ultimately, that question is the rubber-meets-the-road reality of an intimate and personal relationship with God.

Having to pause and think when I’m asked that question is a symptom of something amiss in my relationship with God. It shows I’m not aware of his work and voice, which is a constant in our lives. It is an indicator that my personal relationship may not be so “personal.” And in those moments, I can either honestly admit that or fabricate an answer in the attempt to appear more spiritual.

It would be similar if you asked me, “So how’s Debbie doing?” As her husband and friend, I should know. Not knowing is an indicator that our relationship may not be very personal at that time. The same is true for God.

A person that influenced my spiritual formation was Jean Pierre de Caussade. Here are a few quotes from him:

“The soul, light as a feather, fluid as water, innocent as a child, responds to every movement of grace like a floating balloon.”

“The present moment is always full of infinite treasure. It contains far more than you can possibly grasp. Faith is the measure of its riches: what you find in the present moment is according to the measure of your faith. Love also is the measure: the more the heart loves, the more it rejoices in what God provides. The will of God presents itself at each moment like an immense ocean that the desire of your heart cannot empty; yet you will drink from that ocean according to your faith and love.”

“Those who have abandoned themselves to God always lead mysterious lives and receive from him exceptional and miraculous gifts by means of the most ordinary, natural and chance experiences in which there appears to be nothing unusual. The simplest sermon, the most banal conversations, the least erudite books become a source of knowledges and wisdom to these souls by virtue of God’s purpose. This is why they carefully pick up the crumbs which clever minds tread underfoot, for to them everything is precious and a source of enrichment.”

A personal relationship with God is living aware of what God is doing and saying in the present moment. This doesn’t come naturally and requires us to develop a few skills.

Observation — We must learn to look around. We must develop eyes that look for God in everything.

Attention — We must learn to pay attention. This goes deeper than just looking. It’s looking at the details. It’s looking at the big picture. It’s noticing what may not be immediately apparent.

Reflection — We must learn to ponder and pray about what we see and notice. Many times we may see things that require us to then look at our own heart and ask tough questions.

Observation. Attention. Reflection. I know this is corny, but we need to take up our O.A.R. if we want to properly guide the raft of our lives through the rapids. Otherwise, we remain adrift and at the mercy of any random or destructive current.

God is moving and speaking constantly to us. His voice may come through a sermon, a Scripture, a song, a conversation, a circumstance, a whisper in our heart. Or sometimes simply in the silence.

A good place to begin practicing these skills are with the major movements in one’s life. Have you just experienced or are ready to begin a significant event? What might God be saying? Are you experiencing depression, stress, loneliness, or other pain? What might be God be saying in the middle of it? Are you in a life-changing relationship? What might God be saying? Did you hear a sermon that grabbed your attention? Are the ideas in a particular book captivating you? Did someone say something to you that keeps banging around in your head? Is there a Scripture passage that keeps grabbing your attention?

God is present in every facet of our lives. There’s not a single part in which he is absent. As we learn to sense his movement in the major moments, then we hone our skills to sense his presence in the more minute and mundane areas.

In every life’s detail, O.A.R. are skills that enable us to become more aware of God’s gentle movements and voice.

Here’s a quote from Archbishop Anastosios worth mulling over:

“The critical question for a mission in Christ’s way is to what extent others can discern in our presence something, a ray, of His own presence” (Mission in Christ’s Way).

The Gospel, the royal proclamation that Jesus is the world’s true king, requires embodiment. It is not enough to simply tell someone the Gospel. Nor is it enough to simply invite someone to church in the hopes they will hear or experience the gospel.

If we follow Jesus as his apprentices, then we must continue his mission in the same manner as him — we must incarnate or embody the life and love of God. We must go beyond actions and words. We must BE the Gospel.

I used to tell my kids, Jesus was the will of God even when he was doing mundane things like eating and sleeping. He didn’t just proclaim God’s will and do God’s will. He is God’s will. He IS God’s will, word, life, love and presence. We must learn this as well.

St Paul tells Timothy:

So, then, my child: you must be strong in the grace which is in King Jesus. You heard the teaching I gave in public; pass it on to faithful people who will be capable of instructing others as well. Take your share of suffering as one of King Jesus’ good soldiers. No one who serves in the army gets embroiled in civilian activities, since they want to please the officer who enlisted them. If you take part in athletic events, you don’t win the crown unless you compete according to the rules. The farmer who does the work deserves the first share of the crops. Think about what I say; the Lord will give you understanding in everything. -2Tim 2:1-7

All three images used by Paul illustrate the need for focused discipline and effort. It requires determination and work to become the kind of person that can embody God’s presence like Jesus did, even just a ray of his presence. A person doesn’t magically drift into the incarnational life. There are no shortcuts or hacks.