Death, Life and Glory

Jesus has these three friends whom he loves, Mary, Martha and their brother, Lazarus. Lazarus gets sick, so they send word to Jesus. “Lord, he whom you love is ill.”

No problem  says Jesus, “this illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

The story continues:

“Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.”

Wait. What? Jesus does not go straight to Lazarus and heal him?

Apparently that’s not how this story goes.

Jesus waits two more days and Lazarus dies. By the time he arrives on the scene, Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days, his sisters grieving for his loss.

Martha is the first person he meets.

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now, I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.”

Even now…

Even now, in the midst of the worst case scenario. Even now, steeped in death, grief, suffering. Even now, although Jesus could have stopped it, changed it, made it better.

Even now, Jesus is who he says he is.

What even now are you in the middle of?

The current climate of the story was death. Grief was real and painful, agonizingly so. It was for Jesus, it was for Lazarus and his sisters and it is for us. We are invited to take up our cross and be crucified with Christ; we are buried with him in baptism and share in his sufferings. He himself was a man of grief and acquainted with sorrow.

Jesus does not ignore this aspect of the sister’s experience, but identifies with them  in their suffering, foreshadowing the way he will identify with us in our sin and suffer with us, for us.

But even though death is Jesus’ experience, it is not his identity.

“Jesus said to Martha, ‘Your brother will rise again.’

Martha said to him ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’

Jesus said to her ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?’

She said to him ‘yes Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.”

Jesus IS resurrection, he IS life.

“Why do you look for the living among the dead?“

Death is an experience Jesus goes through, but it is not the place he stays. It doesn’t define him. It’s not the end of his story, or Martha’s story, or our story.

And it is not just eternal resurrection at the end of the age that Jesus is talking about. Martha’s faith is exemplary. She puts her hope the promise of eternal life, as should we all. But Jesus also has something a little more immediate in mind. Lazarus, Martha,  Mary and the whole community are about to get a pre-taste of resurrection life.

And the good news? That pre-taste is on offer to us as well.

If we are crucified with Christ, it is so we can live with him; if we are buried with him in baptism, we are also raised to life; if we share in his sufferings we also share in his comfort and glory.

The outstanding nature of God’s glory is beyond words and beyond our wildest dreams. It caused the Apostle Paul to suffer the loss of all things, and count them RUBBISH, if only he could somehow gain this resurrection life.

The radiant glory of God caused Jesus to suffer the cross and despise its shame for the anticipation of what lay beyond it. The incredible glory of God caused Jesus to wait for two more days before going to see Lazarus. He knew what lay beyond that too.

And he knows what lies beyond our “even now” moments and the seasons when we travel through the valley of the shadow of death, where all seems sorrow and suffering. He knows these times are necessary.

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone…”

And he knows the promise of what will come.

“…but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

“We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed but not driven to despair; persecuted but not forsaken; struck down but not destroyed; always carrying around in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies…

…so we do not lose heart… for this slight and momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

On Humility

Giving out and letting go, I suggested, is the way we respond to being in relationships with people who we need and yet can’t fix us.

The waterfall makes it look so easy. Even winter seems to catch it in the act of pouring itself out, the freeze capturing and preserving its selflessness.

But constantly lowering yourself requires a great measure of humility.

“The humble man is surprised by all the good that he can see around him rather than scandalized by what he cannot judge anyway. The humble woman is grateful for her successes but not disheartened by her failures. She enjoys her gifts and readily admits her mistakes. She maintains a sense of humor whether the news from Wall Street is giddy or glum. She faces her character defects without getting discouraged. Her humble confidence in God’s love and her enchantment with the kabōd Yahweh [glory of God] shape a hedge of thorns against self-absorption and free her for an unself-conscious presence to others” (Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust, p.128).

This is where I want to be; honest and accepting, unselfconscious and free. Most days I reflect this image as though I were a mirror shattered into a thousand shards of glass. But even those tiny glimpses tell me there is hope of greater humility.

Manning writes that

The heart of humility lies in undivided attention to God, a fascination with his beauty revealed in creation, a contemplative presence to each person who speaks to us, and a “de-selfing” of our plans, projects, ambitions, and soul (Ruthless Trust, p. 120).

As always, Jesus demonstrates this to perfection. He always, and only, did what he saw his Father doing, which tells us a lot about where his undivided attention was directed. Whether he was performing miracles of healing, at prayer, or talking with a woman at a well, Jesus was fully invested in the present, conscious that his Father was about the business of that moment. And nowhere is “de-selfing” seen more clearly than in the Garden of Gethsemane ~

“Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will”

A constant connection with The Source is the only way it is possible to continually give out and let go and relinquish thoughts of self.

And as we are caught up with Him, He gathers up our shards of glass and His radiant glory reforms us to more perfectly reflect who He is.

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part: then I shall know fully , even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor. 13:12).

I need you, even though you can’t fix me

I’m trying to figure out a seeming contradiction at the moment. It’s the one where we need people, yet people can’t meet what we need.

Let me explain…

Betsy posted about friendship recently.

“Be vulnerable, but don’t expect your friends to fix you” she counsels.

Wise words.

Your friends can’t fix you, no matter how great they are. They can’t be with you all the time, they can’t change your circumstances any more than you can and they can’t be perfect. Even if your friends are the most loving, trustworthy and fun people in the world (which I happen to think mine are) there still comes that point where the party is over and you have to go home by yourself. There’s that place inside of you no friend can fill.

But then I read this from Bonhoeffer:

The Christian needs another Christian who speaks God’s Word to him. He needs him again and again when he becomes uncertain and discouraged, for by himself he cannot help himself without belying the truth. He needs his brother as a bearer and proclaimer of the divine word of salvation.

From “Life Together”

Our friends do play a vital role in our lives. I desperately need and am deeply grateful for the people in my life who speak the truth to me, and rehearse it with me and reflect it back to me when I can’t see it. On my own I will distort and misconstrue and just plain forget who God is.

And maybe it’s not fixing I really want anyway…

When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

Henri Nouwen, “The Road to Daybreak: a spiritual journey”

The “warm and tender hand” of a friend touches us with truth and grace; chooses to keep us company despite knowing that they can’t fix us. Maybe this was the problem with Job’s friends. They wanted to solve his problems instead of share his pain.

So how do we respond to this tension, this needing people who can’t fix us?

I think the answer is here.

We give out. And we let go.

We give without expecting back. We give ourselves and are vulnerable, without expecting to be offered a solution. We give our joy to celebrate the good things that happen to others without resentment.

We let go of our expectations and accept other people for who they are. We remember they are not our Source. When we’re open-handed, not holding onto people or trying to control them, it’s amazing what beautiful and unforeseen gifts surprise us; like cellos and wisdom and borrowed faith and your favorite chocolate and money to pay the bills and mercy. Or someone who shares a piece of their life with you, who trusts you to care about the things which are important to them.

What riches await us if we have hands empty enough to receive them.

When we give and let go, we can receive graciously and gratefully what others pour into us, knowing where it really came from. We trust The Source to bring all that we need, however He chooses to do it. And we are also given what we need to be a source of refreshment to others.

Our hopes and expectations are rooted in Him, our eyes fixed to the top of the mountain, The Source of the source, and

(..the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e e cummings

The continual grace  poured out to heal and restore and revive originates with the One who carries your heart in His heart.

My friend Marshall wrote this song which sums it up. You can listen here.

Oh how your love came down, your love came down, your love came down

Oh how your love came down, your love came down, your love came down

I am a vessel, pouring out love, pouring out love

We are but vessels, pouring out love, pouring out love

Thoughts on home

Here is Spurgeon’s reflection for the day on being at home in God. It’s amazing how much inspiration can be drawn out of six short words from The Word.

~

“The eternal God is thy refuge.”

Deuteronomy 33:27

The word refuge may be translated as “mansion,” or “abiding place,” which gives the thought that God is our abode, our home. There is a fullness and sweetness in the metaphor, for dear to our hearts is our home, although it be the humblest cottage or scantiest garret; and dearer far is our blessed God, in whom we live, and move, and have or being. It is at home that we feel safe: we shut the world out and dwell in quiet security. So when we are with our God we “fear no evil.” He is our shelter and retreat, our abiding refuge.

At home, we take our rest; it is there we find repose after the fatigue and toil of the day. And so our hearts find rest in God, when, wearied with life’s conflict, we turn to him, and our soul dwells at ease.

At home, also, we let our hearts loose; we are not afraid of being misunderstood, nor of our words being misconstrued. So when we are with God, we can commune freely with him, laying open all our hidden desires; for if “the secret of the Lord is with them that fear him,” the secrets of them that fear him, ought to be, and must be, with their Lord.

Home, too, is the place of our truest and purest happiness: and it is in God that our hearts find their deepest delight. We have joy in him which far surpasses all other joy.

It is also for home that we work and labor. The thought of it gives strength to bear the daily burden, and quickens the fingers to perform the task; and in this sense we may also say that God is our home. Love to him strengthens us. We think of him the person of his dear Son; and a glimpse of the suffering face of the Redeemer constrains us to labor in his cause. We feel that we must work, for we have brethren yet to be saved, and we have our Father’s heart to make glad by bringing home his wandering sons; we would fill with holy mirth the sacred family among whom we dwell. Happy are those who have thus the God of Jacob for their refuge!

Temptation and Trust

“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it” (1 Corinthians 10:13).

There is a kind of comfort in realizing that the things we are tempted by are “common to mankind.” We’re not alone in this state or the only who’s struggling. Maybe that’s why we are instructed to confess our sins to each other. If we’re all in the same boat we can help each other row to calmer waters.

The boat I’m tempted to climb into is the one with the disciples. The storm is raging, Jesus is asleep.

Lord, what the heck? Where are you? I’m drowning here! I know you said we’re going across to the other side of the sea, but are you sure? Is that what you really said?

Did God really say?

That question pulls me back thousands of years in time as I exchange Galilee for Eden. I’m Eve in the garden, easily deceived into thinking that God can’t be relied on, sorely tempted to doubt his heart and do things my own way.

“Did God really say?”

A mouthful of mistrust is a difficult thing to digest.

 

Oswald Chambers describes temptation as:

a suggested short cut to the realization of the highest at which I aim – not towards what I understand as evil, but towards what I understand as good.

When we are tempted, maybe we need to stop and ask ourselves what it is we really want. What are we trying to take a shortcut to? What we ultimately desire may not be the problem, just our method of getting there.

Have you ever noticed how selfish shortcuts are? We are tempted into grasping and grabbing, controlling and conniving, getting what we want and getting it NOW. Temptations never seem to offer us the option of being kind, or being a servant, or giving up our rights.

Temptation always whispers “you are the most important person. God can’t be trusted to give you what you think you need, so you better take care of it yourself. Here’s an easy way you could do it…”

Perhaps this is why patience is so highly prized by God. It’s a means of travel that ensures we wait and do things his way. It’s a way of avoiding the mess and pain sin causes.

The good news is “we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin” (Heb. 4:15).

He was tempted just like we are.

Go on, prove yourself. Prove your identity, satisfy yourself, prove you’ve got power, prove God really loves you…

But he shows us that what we truly desire and what really matters can’t be gained by taking the easy way out, by utilizing selfish or impatient methods.

He declines the offer to self-satisfy, instead demonstrating his identity in becoming Bread enough to feed the whole of humanity. He declines the offer of owning the kingdoms of the world, instead choosing to worship God and display his authority and splendor through the way of the cross. He refuses the temptation to test God’s heart towards him, instead choosing the long-term view of trust in the Father’s goodness.

“Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted” (Heb. 2:18).

He is able to help us. He suffers with us, he understands, he shows us how to be patient and make good choices.

As Henri Nouwen reminds us,  “the root choice is to trust that at all times God is with you and will give you what you most need.”

Trust is the way out of temptation.

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need” (Hebrew 4:16).