March 24th:
John 12:1-8
1Six days before the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2Here a dinner was given in Jesus' honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. 3Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus' feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
4But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 5"Why wasn't this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year's wages." 6He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.
7"Leave her alone," Jesus replied. "It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. 8You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me."
This is a lunch that is rich with symbolism.
On the surface this seems like an ordinary gathering. Jesus was in town and was invited to a luncheon in his honor that was being held at the home of a man known as Simon the leper. Simon was known as “the leper” because he had been a leper but Jesus had healed him. So, this was an “ordinary” lunch being hosted by a man who had for years been considered dead to the world but was now alive again.
Attending this dinner were the 12 disciples and Jesus’ good friends Mary, her sister Martha and their brother Lazarus, who had been dead for four days and was called out of his tomb by Jesus. So, it was just an ordinary lunch being hosted by a man who had been socially and emotionally dead and attended by a man who had been physically dead and had been raised to life by the power of God. OK, so it’s not so ordinary, but it is interesting.
And then, somewhere during their time together, Mary decided to offer Jesus a very expensive gift. She took a bottle of perfumed oil, about the size of a ½ liter bottle of water, and poured it on Jesus’ feet. This was oil that was extracted from the roots of a plant which grew in the Himalayan Mountains. It had to be processed and imported and so it was very expensive to buy. Some people even bought it as an investment. This oil (nard) was so precious that it was used to anoint “kings” and, in her mind, that may have been exactly what Mary was doing. She saw the kind of impact Jesus’ ministry had on people. She knew that they were on the verge of something big. She could very well have been anointing her king for his triumphal entry into Jerusalem.
And this was the next event in the life of Jesus. After this “ordinary” dinner Jesus would be riding into the city of Jerusalem on the back of a colt (which, by the way, was how conquering kings entered a city) and people would stand on the side of the roadway and wave palm branches in the air.
Mary may have been anointing her king, but Jesus knew that she was anointing him for his burial. Jesus knew that he was going to Jerusalem to die.
Against this backdrop we have Judas Iscariot complaining about money.
Simon and Lazarus recognized Jesus to be the Lord of life. Mary recognized Jesus as her king. Jesus was preparing to ride into Jerusalem to sacrifice his life for the sin of the world and all that Judas cared about was a few dollars.
Judas was sitting in the presence of a man who had healed Simon the leper and called Lazarus from his grave. Judas was sitting in the presence of a man who had walked on water, healed the blind, multiplied loaves and fish and forgave sin and all that Judas could see was that someone was being overly generous with some perfume.
It struck me that we often struggle with this same kind of “blindness.” Judas saw but he did not see because he was so focused on temporary things that he missed all of the really important things that were unfolding around him.
How many people do you know whose lives have been changed by their relationship to Jesus? If you haven’t seen them yet, then you need to start paying attention because they are all around you. How often have you paused to admire the complexity of a leaf or marveled at the birth of a child and missed seeing the hand of God at work in these amazingly “ordinary” things? It is time for us all to open our eyes so that we might see what has been right in front of us “hiding in plain sight.”
Lent is supposed to move us to look at things we rarely see and recall things we have forgotten. Easter is supposed to remind us again of a God who loved us too much to leave us alone, but instead came into our lives to save us from ourselves. Judas wasn’t seeing what was right in front of him. We should never make that mistake.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Calling The Prodigal Home
March 18th:
Luke 15:11-32 (in the New Testament) is one of the most familiar parables that Jesus told; the story of the “prodigal son.”
There are a number of memorable characters in this short story and most of us find ourselves relating to one or the other of them. However, what often gets missed as we follow the progress of this run away boy is that this “made-up” story was addressed to two groups of real people.
It struck me that if we are going to get any real value out of this bit of teaching we might want to take a look at who the story was being told to.
The first group was “tax collectors and "sinners." Jesus had a habit of reaching out to those people who were the outcasts of society. Tax collectors were Jews who worked for the Roman government and they were considered to be the worst kind of traitors. The Romans didn’t care how much money the tax collectors collected as long as they got their cut. So, tax collectors basically extorted money from everyone and used Roman soldiers for protection.
“Sinners” is a word that would have included people like prostitutes, the physically crippled and even lepers. These were the members of society that honest, decent people avoided. These were the members of this society that were considered to be un-redeemable. I would assume that when you’ve been told for years that you are not acceptable that after a time you wouldn’t even want to try anymore. Jesus was a ray of hope for people who had no hope.
The other “real” people in the story were the “Pharisees and the teachers of the law.” They were the ones who spent their lives telling people what they could and could not do. They were the ones who determined who the “real sinners” were and who was “in” and who was “out.” They weren’t very “gracious” and they didn’t offer a lot of “mercy.” They were “hardnosed religious types.”
It was to these two groups of “real” people that Jesus told this story about two sons. The older son was a good boy. He stayed home, he did his work and he followed the rules. The younger son was just the opposite. He turned his back on his “decent” family and ran off to do the kinds of things that decent people don’t do. In fact, he went so far away and so far off the deep end that his family considered him dead. He was lost to them physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Most of the story is about how this “prodigal son” came to his senses and decided to return home to his father, but the point of the story isn’t so much about his decision to return as it is about the responses of his father and his older brother.
The older brother could only see how he, himself, had been “offended.” He was acting morally superior, which was bad enough but his real problem was that he had no mercy in his life. He had no forgiveness in his heart, no grace to offer. He wanted his brother to stay dead. The father (on the other hand) saw what was really happening. He loved his son and understood that the son was stepping from death back into life. The father was willing to forgive and welcome his “lost son” back into the family.
But we have to come back to the fact that this make believe story was being told to two groups of real people and the implications are pretty clear. The tax collectors and sinners are the “son who walked away” from the family. They were the ones who had made poor choices and had found themselves far away and lost. The Pharisees and teachers of the Law were the “elder son” who chose to be offended and had forgotten about things like mercy and grace. They cared more about being right than they did about these other people. At least on the surface, they were the ones who were following the rules and doing their jobs, but they had no heart.
And the application is also fairly clear. If you have wandered away and your life is coming apart IT IS TIME TO COME HOME. Your heavenly Father is waiting for you to come and will welcome you back into the family. He wants you to move from death to life.
If you have never strayed then you need to remember that IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU! Be grateful for all that you have been given and learn to care about those “lost” brothers and sisters. Don’t turn them away. Invite them home. This is OUR job.
Luke 15:11-32 (in the New Testament) is one of the most familiar parables that Jesus told; the story of the “prodigal son.”
There are a number of memorable characters in this short story and most of us find ourselves relating to one or the other of them. However, what often gets missed as we follow the progress of this run away boy is that this “made-up” story was addressed to two groups of real people.
It struck me that if we are going to get any real value out of this bit of teaching we might want to take a look at who the story was being told to.
The first group was “tax collectors and "sinners." Jesus had a habit of reaching out to those people who were the outcasts of society. Tax collectors were Jews who worked for the Roman government and they were considered to be the worst kind of traitors. The Romans didn’t care how much money the tax collectors collected as long as they got their cut. So, tax collectors basically extorted money from everyone and used Roman soldiers for protection.
“Sinners” is a word that would have included people like prostitutes, the physically crippled and even lepers. These were the members of society that honest, decent people avoided. These were the members of this society that were considered to be un-redeemable. I would assume that when you’ve been told for years that you are not acceptable that after a time you wouldn’t even want to try anymore. Jesus was a ray of hope for people who had no hope.
The other “real” people in the story were the “Pharisees and the teachers of the law.” They were the ones who spent their lives telling people what they could and could not do. They were the ones who determined who the “real sinners” were and who was “in” and who was “out.” They weren’t very “gracious” and they didn’t offer a lot of “mercy.” They were “hardnosed religious types.”
It was to these two groups of “real” people that Jesus told this story about two sons. The older son was a good boy. He stayed home, he did his work and he followed the rules. The younger son was just the opposite. He turned his back on his “decent” family and ran off to do the kinds of things that decent people don’t do. In fact, he went so far away and so far off the deep end that his family considered him dead. He was lost to them physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Most of the story is about how this “prodigal son” came to his senses and decided to return home to his father, but the point of the story isn’t so much about his decision to return as it is about the responses of his father and his older brother.
The older brother could only see how he, himself, had been “offended.” He was acting morally superior, which was bad enough but his real problem was that he had no mercy in his life. He had no forgiveness in his heart, no grace to offer. He wanted his brother to stay dead. The father (on the other hand) saw what was really happening. He loved his son and understood that the son was stepping from death back into life. The father was willing to forgive and welcome his “lost son” back into the family.
But we have to come back to the fact that this make believe story was being told to two groups of real people and the implications are pretty clear. The tax collectors and sinners are the “son who walked away” from the family. They were the ones who had made poor choices and had found themselves far away and lost. The Pharisees and teachers of the Law were the “elder son” who chose to be offended and had forgotten about things like mercy and grace. They cared more about being right than they did about these other people. At least on the surface, they were the ones who were following the rules and doing their jobs, but they had no heart.
And the application is also fairly clear. If you have wandered away and your life is coming apart IT IS TIME TO COME HOME. Your heavenly Father is waiting for you to come and will welcome you back into the family. He wants you to move from death to life.
If you have never strayed then you need to remember that IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU! Be grateful for all that you have been given and learn to care about those “lost” brothers and sisters. Don’t turn them away. Invite them home. This is OUR job.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Home Blessed
March 4:
For the first time in my life I am feeling homeless. It’s not like we are out on the street or living under a bridge. We still have a roof over our heads. It’s just that, for the first time in our lives, we know that we are leaving where are living now (we are here on limited time) but we don’t know where we are going to end up.
Normal people do this all the time. It’s just that for the last thirty plus years we have been parsonage dwellers. I don’t have time nor space to elaborate on parsonage living (it has both advantages and disadvantages) but let me just say that we are looking forward to being first time homeowners. But, until we find the house that God has set aside for us we are in a kind of property limbo. I guess it would be more accurate to call us “property-less” or “place where we keep all of our stuff-less.” Whatever the label, it’s still a little unnerving.
I have always heard it said, “home is where the heart is.” What this means is that I actually have a number of “homes.” I gave my heart to Jesus thirty-seven years ago and I have been trying to keep myself from taking it back every day since. As of this moment, it still belongs to Him (at least a sizeable piece of it.) My wife and children all lay claim to pieces of my heart as well. When I think of them I think of many of those things that make life special.
Ok, I take it back. I’m not “homeless” I am “home blessed.” I’m just not certain where I’ll park the car after July 1st.
You know, I'd be willing to bet that, if you think about it, you will discover you are “home blessed” as well.
For the first time in my life I am feeling homeless. It’s not like we are out on the street or living under a bridge. We still have a roof over our heads. It’s just that, for the first time in our lives, we know that we are leaving where are living now (we are here on limited time) but we don’t know where we are going to end up.
Normal people do this all the time. It’s just that for the last thirty plus years we have been parsonage dwellers. I don’t have time nor space to elaborate on parsonage living (it has both advantages and disadvantages) but let me just say that we are looking forward to being first time homeowners. But, until we find the house that God has set aside for us we are in a kind of property limbo. I guess it would be more accurate to call us “property-less” or “place where we keep all of our stuff-less.” Whatever the label, it’s still a little unnerving.
I have always heard it said, “home is where the heart is.” What this means is that I actually have a number of “homes.” I gave my heart to Jesus thirty-seven years ago and I have been trying to keep myself from taking it back every day since. As of this moment, it still belongs to Him (at least a sizeable piece of it.) My wife and children all lay claim to pieces of my heart as well. When I think of them I think of many of those things that make life special.
Ok, I take it back. I’m not “homeless” I am “home blessed.” I’m just not certain where I’ll park the car after July 1st.
You know, I'd be willing to bet that, if you think about it, you will discover you are “home blessed” as well.
Monday, February 22, 2010
In It For The Long Haul
February 22:
So, I’ve been off blog for a while, but I have a good reason. Or maybe I should say that I have a bunch of reasons. Three weeks ago just before Sunday services the District Superintendent (my supervisor) sat in my office and asked me to consider taking a different appointment. In short, I was being asked to move from Fort Atkinson (where I have served for fifteen years) to serve the Church in Elm Grove.
The idea of moving wasn’t really a problem. Of course it would be hard to leave the home where we raised our children and the many friends we have made over the past fifteen years. But, when I decided to go into this line of work I signed up to go where I was sent. I fully expected that one day we would be asked to move to another assignment.
The problem with the whole process was that I was asked to make this move on Sunday, the 31st of January and then I was expected to keep it all a secret until yesterday and we did. But, it was three weeks of not sleeping and not eating well. It would make a great weight loss program if I could figure out some way of synthesizing the constant anxiety.
If you throw into the mix three funerals, one of those for the 22-year-old son of our office manager, a boy I’ve seen grow up for the last fifteen years and you might understand a bit of the tension I was feeling. I was having a hard time even writing in complete sentences. This is not intended to be a “pity party” and I’m not looking for sympathy. I just wanted to clarify the reasons for my silence…and maybe vent a little bit…OK, maybe just a little sympathy.
But, what’s been bothering me beneath the surface of all this tension is that I keep hearing those words in my head, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God.” Philippians 4:6 (that’s in the New Testament.)
“Be anxious for nothing?” I understand the “prayer and supplication” part. This making “my requests known to God” thing is easy for me. I believe in prayer. I believe it draws me closer to my Lord and gives me the perspective I sometimes desperately need. I want God to hear about my wants and needs. It keeps me open and honest with Him. This I can do.
I get the “with thanksgiving” part. There isn’t anything I have that hasn’t come to me directly from this God who has loved me first. Thanksgiving is fundamental. But, I’ve learned a thing or two about anxiety over these last three weeks and I have been reminded, again, of just how small my faith can be.
So, I guess the bar has just been raised a bit and I have just identified another one of my growing edges. This is a good thing because I do want to grow in my faith. I’ve been reminding my congregation that being a Christian is not a sprint it is a marathon. I am in it for the long haul.
So, I’ve been off blog for a while, but I have a good reason. Or maybe I should say that I have a bunch of reasons. Three weeks ago just before Sunday services the District Superintendent (my supervisor) sat in my office and asked me to consider taking a different appointment. In short, I was being asked to move from Fort Atkinson (where I have served for fifteen years) to serve the Church in Elm Grove.
The idea of moving wasn’t really a problem. Of course it would be hard to leave the home where we raised our children and the many friends we have made over the past fifteen years. But, when I decided to go into this line of work I signed up to go where I was sent. I fully expected that one day we would be asked to move to another assignment.
The problem with the whole process was that I was asked to make this move on Sunday, the 31st of January and then I was expected to keep it all a secret until yesterday and we did. But, it was three weeks of not sleeping and not eating well. It would make a great weight loss program if I could figure out some way of synthesizing the constant anxiety.
If you throw into the mix three funerals, one of those for the 22-year-old son of our office manager, a boy I’ve seen grow up for the last fifteen years and you might understand a bit of the tension I was feeling. I was having a hard time even writing in complete sentences. This is not intended to be a “pity party” and I’m not looking for sympathy. I just wanted to clarify the reasons for my silence…and maybe vent a little bit…OK, maybe just a little sympathy.
But, what’s been bothering me beneath the surface of all this tension is that I keep hearing those words in my head, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God.” Philippians 4:6 (that’s in the New Testament.)
“Be anxious for nothing?” I understand the “prayer and supplication” part. This making “my requests known to God” thing is easy for me. I believe in prayer. I believe it draws me closer to my Lord and gives me the perspective I sometimes desperately need. I want God to hear about my wants and needs. It keeps me open and honest with Him. This I can do.
I get the “with thanksgiving” part. There isn’t anything I have that hasn’t come to me directly from this God who has loved me first. Thanksgiving is fundamental. But, I’ve learned a thing or two about anxiety over these last three weeks and I have been reminded, again, of just how small my faith can be.
So, I guess the bar has just been raised a bit and I have just identified another one of my growing edges. This is a good thing because I do want to grow in my faith. I’ve been reminding my congregation that being a Christian is not a sprint it is a marathon. I am in it for the long haul.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The Pain Of Caring
January 27th:
I have been living in a delusion.
I have always said (mostly to myself) that I am too sensitive to do the work that I do. I take everything personally. Complaints and criticism make my stomach roil. I am always ready to quit on Monday. All of these things together had me thinking that I was unsuited for the work I do and I had begun to wonder why God had called me to this particular service.
Then, some years ago I read an article that suggested that Mondays were the most natural day for pastors to take-off because, doing what they do on most Sundays means that on Mondays, they are going through adrenaline withdrawal. The symptoms include physical exhaustion and depression. So, apparently the Monday “thing” was a “natural” drug induced state of dissatisfaction. Who would have guessed?
And then I began to realize that when we decide to care we also decide to be disappointed and dissatisfied and discontented. It happens like night follows day. It sounds redundant (and it is) but if I don’t care then I DON’T CARE. People can do whatever they want, believe whatever they want and act out in whatever way they choose and it will mean nothing to me. But, on the other hand, when I care, then I CARE and it hurts when people hurt themselves and others. It hurts when people manipulate and abuse the people around them. It hurts when people walk away from a God who has loved them. It should hurt.
Years ago, I was trying to minister in one particularly difficult congregation and every day I had to deal with complaints and criticism. In the midst of this turmoil the Staff-Parish Relations Committee chairperson said to me that I should just learn to not care so much. My response was, “Do you really want a pastor who doesn’t care?” The answer should be obvious.
At the time, the pain of those personal attacks was so constant that I missed the obvious lesson. Anyone who really cares will risk the possibility of being hurt. This is not “bad,” it just is. This is not “pleasant,” it just is.
I decided that I have to choose. I can either care (with all of its attendant pain) or I can protect myself and let people go to hell (literally and figuratively.) I choose to care. Which means that I won’t always be happy and I will never be satisfied with my performance. Let’s call it “holy discontent” or “compassionate dissatisfaction,” but let’s recognize that it is indeed the cross we have been called to bear.
I have been living in a delusion.
I have always said (mostly to myself) that I am too sensitive to do the work that I do. I take everything personally. Complaints and criticism make my stomach roil. I am always ready to quit on Monday. All of these things together had me thinking that I was unsuited for the work I do and I had begun to wonder why God had called me to this particular service.
Then, some years ago I read an article that suggested that Mondays were the most natural day for pastors to take-off because, doing what they do on most Sundays means that on Mondays, they are going through adrenaline withdrawal. The symptoms include physical exhaustion and depression. So, apparently the Monday “thing” was a “natural” drug induced state of dissatisfaction. Who would have guessed?
And then I began to realize that when we decide to care we also decide to be disappointed and dissatisfied and discontented. It happens like night follows day. It sounds redundant (and it is) but if I don’t care then I DON’T CARE. People can do whatever they want, believe whatever they want and act out in whatever way they choose and it will mean nothing to me. But, on the other hand, when I care, then I CARE and it hurts when people hurt themselves and others. It hurts when people manipulate and abuse the people around them. It hurts when people walk away from a God who has loved them. It should hurt.
Years ago, I was trying to minister in one particularly difficult congregation and every day I had to deal with complaints and criticism. In the midst of this turmoil the Staff-Parish Relations Committee chairperson said to me that I should just learn to not care so much. My response was, “Do you really want a pastor who doesn’t care?” The answer should be obvious.
At the time, the pain of those personal attacks was so constant that I missed the obvious lesson. Anyone who really cares will risk the possibility of being hurt. This is not “bad,” it just is. This is not “pleasant,” it just is.
I decided that I have to choose. I can either care (with all of its attendant pain) or I can protect myself and let people go to hell (literally and figuratively.) I choose to care. Which means that I won’t always be happy and I will never be satisfied with my performance. Let’s call it “holy discontent” or “compassionate dissatisfaction,” but let’s recognize that it is indeed the cross we have been called to bear.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Holding Each Other Accountable
January 23rd:
I don’t want to sound like I’m picking on John Edwards but hearing his “revelation” got me thinking about our cultural attitudes toward commitment.
In the church we use the word “covenant” which is a term that has become somewhat passé in 21st century North America. In secular society we use the word “contract” and these two terms (covenant & contract) are similar but there is a subtle distinction that I want to explore.
Technically, both words describe a “formal agreement.” The difference for me is that a “contract” can be between two people, but a covenant almost always involves at least a third. Let me try to illustrate what I’m thinking.
The God of Israel called His people into a “covenant relationship” with Him. There were expectations for both sides and promises were made. But, the final piece of this “covenant” was circumcision (now we’re talking commitment). Circumcision became the visible expression of the covenant. The whole nation of Israel was supposed to carry with them a physical symbol of their agreement and everyone was a witness to it. Let’s move on…
In a wedding, couples make promises to each other in the presence of both God and witnesses. Then they exchange rings. The rings are (as the ceremony says) the “outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, signifying to all the uniting of this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” In this way, the whole world is being given the opportunity to witness this “covenant commitment.” I often say that we are sending newly married couples out into the world to be “evangelists” for commitment.
When we join a congregation (Church with a big “C”) we are often asked (and rightly so) to make a public testimony to our faith in Jesus Christ. This is because we are entering into a covenant relationship that involves us, our God and all those people we call the “church” (church with a small “c.”) The church (and the Church) are supposed to hold us accountable to this covenant promise. The whole thing is reflected in the words of Jesus when he said that our two obligations are to “love the Lord our God” and “love our neighbors as we love ourselves.”
Here’s where I’m headed.
What I often see reflected in the modern Church is a desire for a relationship with God that has room for only two. I think we’re missing something. I admit that I may splitting hairs here, but it seems to me that what we have been offered is a personal relationship with the living God that is made real because of our place in God’s family. It has to run in both directions. If we want to be the best we can be and if we want to be all that God wants us to be we have to be willing to be covenant people.
I don’t want to sound like I’m picking on John Edwards but hearing his “revelation” got me thinking about our cultural attitudes toward commitment.
In the church we use the word “covenant” which is a term that has become somewhat passé in 21st century North America. In secular society we use the word “contract” and these two terms (covenant & contract) are similar but there is a subtle distinction that I want to explore.
Technically, both words describe a “formal agreement.” The difference for me is that a “contract” can be between two people, but a covenant almost always involves at least a third. Let me try to illustrate what I’m thinking.
The God of Israel called His people into a “covenant relationship” with Him. There were expectations for both sides and promises were made. But, the final piece of this “covenant” was circumcision (now we’re talking commitment). Circumcision became the visible expression of the covenant. The whole nation of Israel was supposed to carry with them a physical symbol of their agreement and everyone was a witness to it. Let’s move on…
In a wedding, couples make promises to each other in the presence of both God and witnesses. Then they exchange rings. The rings are (as the ceremony says) the “outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, signifying to all the uniting of this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” In this way, the whole world is being given the opportunity to witness this “covenant commitment.” I often say that we are sending newly married couples out into the world to be “evangelists” for commitment.
When we join a congregation (Church with a big “C”) we are often asked (and rightly so) to make a public testimony to our faith in Jesus Christ. This is because we are entering into a covenant relationship that involves us, our God and all those people we call the “church” (church with a small “c.”) The church (and the Church) are supposed to hold us accountable to this covenant promise. The whole thing is reflected in the words of Jesus when he said that our two obligations are to “love the Lord our God” and “love our neighbors as we love ourselves.”
Here’s where I’m headed.
What I often see reflected in the modern Church is a desire for a relationship with God that has room for only two. I think we’re missing something. I admit that I may splitting hairs here, but it seems to me that what we have been offered is a personal relationship with the living God that is made real because of our place in God’s family. It has to run in both directions. If we want to be the best we can be and if we want to be all that God wants us to be we have to be willing to be covenant people.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Confession Is Good For The Soul
January 21st:
Here’s the headline that caught my eye this morning:
RALEIGH, N.C. (AP) - Former Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards finally admitted Thursday he fathered a child during an affair before his second White House bid, dropping long-standing denials…
Was anyone really surprised? Most of us read all of the details of this story months ago while we were standing in the checkout line at the local grocery store. Some of us were convinced at that time that the story was true. Some of us were assuming (or hoping) that what we were reading would be better grouped with the stories about alien abductions.
I was one of those people who was hoping all the stories were just rumors. Infidelity (marital disloyalty) is sad enough but when you add in a wife fighting cancer, grown (and not so grown) children, another woman and a baby named Quinn it becomes contemptible. I wasn’t being naïve about the possibility. I’ve seen it all before. I was just hoping.
I am always fascinated with the popular assumption (even held by many believers in God) that as long as no one has a picture and there is no “money trail” that somehow we have gotten away with something.
The truth is that we have a tendency to act as if our God is both blind and deaf or that He sees and hears but doesn’t care. I choose to believe that neither of these propositions is true. In fact, one of the great promises of the Christian faith is that our God knows all about us (even our secrets) and He loves us anyway. He is not blind to our infidelities (our lack of faith) and he is not deaf to our disloyalty. He simply sees within us the possibility that (with His help) we can be better than we ever dreamed.
Let’s face it, we all mess it up from time to time. We all make bad choices. We all speak without thinking. We all find ourselves in situations where we are willing to sacrifice other people’s best interests for our own self-interests. We live broken lives. What we need to recognize is that we’ve already been caught.
The really good news is that Jesus came to heal this broken world and all of its broken people. It’s a healing that begins when we are willing to trust Him to transform our lives. This journey to new life begins when we admit that we need what only He can provide. We call it “confession.”
The fact that John Edwards has finally gotten to that point where he is willing to admit to his failure (for whatever reasons) could be a good sign. Knowing you’ve been caught is the hardest part. Let’s hope and pray that the rest of his journey can bring some healing to all of those involved.
Here’s the headline that caught my eye this morning:
RALEIGH, N.C. (AP) - Former Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards finally admitted Thursday he fathered a child during an affair before his second White House bid, dropping long-standing denials…
Was anyone really surprised? Most of us read all of the details of this story months ago while we were standing in the checkout line at the local grocery store. Some of us were convinced at that time that the story was true. Some of us were assuming (or hoping) that what we were reading would be better grouped with the stories about alien abductions.
I was one of those people who was hoping all the stories were just rumors. Infidelity (marital disloyalty) is sad enough but when you add in a wife fighting cancer, grown (and not so grown) children, another woman and a baby named Quinn it becomes contemptible. I wasn’t being naïve about the possibility. I’ve seen it all before. I was just hoping.
I am always fascinated with the popular assumption (even held by many believers in God) that as long as no one has a picture and there is no “money trail” that somehow we have gotten away with something.
The truth is that we have a tendency to act as if our God is both blind and deaf or that He sees and hears but doesn’t care. I choose to believe that neither of these propositions is true. In fact, one of the great promises of the Christian faith is that our God knows all about us (even our secrets) and He loves us anyway. He is not blind to our infidelities (our lack of faith) and he is not deaf to our disloyalty. He simply sees within us the possibility that (with His help) we can be better than we ever dreamed.
Let’s face it, we all mess it up from time to time. We all make bad choices. We all speak without thinking. We all find ourselves in situations where we are willing to sacrifice other people’s best interests for our own self-interests. We live broken lives. What we need to recognize is that we’ve already been caught.
The really good news is that Jesus came to heal this broken world and all of its broken people. It’s a healing that begins when we are willing to trust Him to transform our lives. This journey to new life begins when we admit that we need what only He can provide. We call it “confession.”
The fact that John Edwards has finally gotten to that point where he is willing to admit to his failure (for whatever reasons) could be a good sign. Knowing you’ve been caught is the hardest part. Let’s hope and pray that the rest of his journey can bring some healing to all of those involved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)