On Being Found (aka Googled by God)

The other day I was pleasantly surprised to discover the Google Maps mobile in our new neighborhood. It is literally a brand new neighborhood, and one that doesn’t yet exist on the GPS (a true crisis in our day!!!). We have already had four or five packages wrongly routed to the very same wrong address!

In case you don’t know, Google has basically mapped out (or is in the process of mapping out) every neighborhood in the the world. I know, this conjures up the most terrifying of conspiratorial fears, but apparently, this little vehicle (pictured above, and I’m sure one of many) travels throughout the land and interacts with satellites that download locations into its server. From that moment on one can ‘find themselves’ online.

As I considered the Google mobile in our neighborhood I was reminded of one of my favorite bible accounts, from the lives of Hagar and Ishmael (very bible-like sounding names, wouldn’t you say?). They aren’t household names because they actually represent a painful moment in Redemptive history. Abraham was promised a son, but he was an old man when the promise was given. His wife Sarah an old woman didn’t believe it possible that she would become pregnant. So she arranged for her own maidservant, Hagar, to sleep with Abraham. Together they bore Ishmael. However, to her great shock, Sarah did actually become pregnant by her husband, and eventually gave birth to their son Isaac. But every time Sarah saw Ishmael she was disgusted (sin has this way of biting us, doesn’t it), and she demanded that Abraham make them leave.

The problem was that Hagar had no where to go and no one to go to, so she subsisted in the desert on the provisions Abraham offered when he made her leave her home. However when they ran out, she put the boy down, out of her sight (Genesis 21:16 says that “she thought, ‘I cannot watch the boy die’”) and sat nearby, and began to sob.

She and her son were in relatively untamed, uncharted territory and there was no Google, no Internet, and no GPS in her day. And yet, the scriptures say that God heard the boy crying and called out to Hagar and pointed her to a well of water. Together they would live out their lives in the desert. Ishmael would thrive, marry and become a great archer.

There is no question in my mind that everyone who is hiding wants to be found. Fear, shame, guilt and painful experiences have their ways of holding us in the shadows, but no one who is in hiding really wants to remain there. Something in all of us wants to be discovered for who we are, and then loved without condition.

But the idea of exposure in a ruthless culture, and sometimes hyper-critical church environment, is a terrifying prospect – until we encounter Jesus, who made Himself completely vulnerable to the point of scandal, contempt and death. It was God’s way of playing out in full what we see in part in that little Genesis narrative – that He hears the cries of the weak and champions the cause of the broken. And for all who are unfinished, and recognize their true need, in Jesus we have the promise that He will find us and enter into the places we hide, even when we can’t bear to see how life will play out.

All this without GPS, and without needing us to admit we want to be found…

What good news…

peace.

A Shadow in NOLA

Last weekend I had the privilege of speaking at Redeemer Presbyterian Church, where a dear friend pastors in New Orleans (NOLA) – his church web site is listed among the other sites on this blog. It was a beautiful experience where people and neighborhoods and a city live in constant convergence and community.

It just so happens that I was there during Jazz Fest, a nine-day citywide celebration that spans two weekends and is literally spread throughout the entire city. Let me tell you, the music is amazing. And what made the weekend all the more special is that our daughters drove over from Pensacola, Florida, where they attend college, in order to hang out with the ‘old man’ (that would be me).

Needless to say, the experience of spending time with the Redeemer church community, its pastors, taking in the music, not to mention eating the out-of-this world NOLA cuisine, and then to be with our precious daughters, all made for an unforgettable experience.

On Friday evening, as we made our way through the French Quarter in order to see a particular jazz group, we came upon the St. Louis Cathedral, the ‘oldest continuously operating cathedral’ in the US. Amazingly, the first structure on the site was built in 1718, the year New Orleans was established by the French. It is a magnificent structure on the NOLA skyline, set before the great Mississippi River and standing as a presence at the entry of the famous Quarter.

The picture before you is taken from the back of the Cathedral, a small gated courtyard and a non-descript structure on what could easily be considered a sometimes-dangerous city backstreet that connects relatively unlit alleys.

What stands out is the obvious – the statue of Jesus. But it isn’t only Jesus – It is the shadow His image casts in the face of a spotlight that is fixed on the building behind the sculpture.

It is striking to say the least, and when we first came upon it, I was struck, not only by its splendor, but also by its symbolism – because here in a city known for its beauty and culture, along with its recent history of destruction and violence, is a lovely piece of art that stands as a stark illustration of the Psalmist’s words, ‘He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty’ (Psalm 91:1).

As I’ve reflected on this image, as a Christ follower, as a husband, a dad, a friend and pastor, and certainly as one that is deeply unfinished, I was reminded that we, like historic cities, with all their beauty, pain, mess and dark places, are never alone. We live in the shadow – of Jesus.

And as we navigate the seasons of our lives –the good – the bad – joyous and the sorrowful – He is always there. Only we don’t have to travel a darkened, sometimes-dangerous and often isolated backstreet to see Him.

But He is there when we do.

And this, friends, is good news.

peace.

Rise

“…According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead…”

1 Peter 1:3

For all the times you wanted to throw in the towel, Jesus is Risen. For all the regrets you live with and the shame you bear, Jesus is Risen. For all the people you long to reunite with, all the indiscretions and all your sorrows, Jesus is Risen. For all the mistakes you can’t fix and all the sins and words and actions you can’t take back, Jesus is Risen. For all the injustice, oppression and heartache you see, and even that which you have caused, Jesus is Risen. For your troubles and the sorrows of the world, Jesus is Risen. For all the love you’ve lost and failed to give, Jesus is Risen.

And death is at your doorstep
And it will steal your innocence
But it will not steal your substance

Mumford & Sons – Timshel

In His Name, Rise Up.

Jesus is Risen.

He is Risen Indeed!

He is Risen for you.

peace.

The Throwaway Day

“For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken.”
Isaiah 53:8b

It is Saturday morning, the day before Easter. The Church celebrates the three days surrounding this day, but not Saturday. On Thursday we celebrate the evening Jesus instituted His new command that we love one another. On Friday we reflect on the Cross. And then, of course, we rejoice on Easter Sunday – the day every promise of God was validated – when Jesus arose from the grave.

But Saturday. As I reflected on this yesterday I was reminded of our daughter Emily’s philosophical assessment of turning 19 years old. Eighteen was such a big deal. And 20 would be the first age away from teenage years, with 21 the year she was officially an adult. But nineteen. Blah! She saw it as a throwaway year – a boring year – the year that didn’t really matter.

That must be how we generally see Saturday during Easter week. It was the day the disciples packed it up and went back to their lives, and the day the women prepared spices to pack a corpse the next morning. It was the day the Jews returned to their religious activities, and the day the Romans patted themselves on the backs, having squelched yet another uprising.

But it was more than all this. God was there. He was silent, but He was there. His plan was unfolding. His care was ongoing. His gaze was undeterred. The next day His Son would rise. But on Saturday, the Forsaken One remained in the grave with our forsakenness. It was anything but a throwaway.

Today I reflect on the assurance that with the Father there are no throwaway days. That in the blur of our crazy calendars and messy lives, He has not lost sight of us, and His plan never thwarted, regardless of how forgotten we may feel. We matter…

Because we are His.

That is good news.

peace.

Words, Song & Hope on Good Friday

At the Lamb’s high feast we sing Praise to our victorious King,
Who hath washed us in the tide
Flowing from his pierced side;
Praise we him whose love divine
Gives his sacred blood for wine,
Gives his body for the feast,
Christ the Victim, Christ the Priest.

6th century Latin Hymn

“…we’re Easter people living in a Good Friday world.”

Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

“May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.”

Galatians 6:14

“The crucifixion was the shocking answer to the prayer that God’s kingdom would come on earth as in heaven.”

N.T. Wright, Simply Jesus

Let us love and sing and wonder
Let us praise the Savior’s name
He has hushed the law’s loud thunder
He has quenched Mt. Sinai’s flame

Let us love the Lord who bought us
Pitied us when enemies
Called us by His grace and taught us
Gave us ears and gave us eyes

He has washed us with His blood
He has washed us with His blood
He has washed us with His blood
He presents our souls to God

Let us wonder grace and justice
Join and point to mercy’s store
When through grace in Christ our trust is
Justice smiles and asks no more

He who washed us with his blood
He who washed us with his blood
He who washed us with his blood
Has secured our way to God

Let us praise and join the chorus
Of the saints enthroned on high
Here they trusted him before us
Now their praises fill the sky

He has washed us with his blood
He has washed us with his blood
He has washed us with his blood
He has washed us with his blood
He will bring us home to God

John Newton

Discarded to be Human

If you have ever moved you know that it is an ordeal. Recently Katherine and I moved within the same town. She is an organizational genius and our movers bragged more about her system than their own. But part of the experience involves displacement – living somewhere that isn’t really home. We spent two nights in a hotel (I know that Railroads don’t have hotels in Monopoly, but it wasn’t until we moved to Maryland that we learned that the ‘B&O’ in B&O Railroad stands for Baltimore & Ohio!). Once the initial relief of having someone else clean up after you wears off, living out of suitcases is no fun, even for only two days. It isn’t home.

Tomorrow evening our church, and many others, will celebrate the night Jesus was betrayed. Many will follow with what we call Good Friday services in celebration of the day Jesus died.

This is one of those peculiar things about Christianity that seems counterintuitive to natural thought. Most grieve death, and all feel some measure of dread when it comes. But we celebrate too.

This past Sunday I shared with our congregation that Craig Bartholomew, in his book, Where Mortals Dwell, writes that our sense of ‘place’ profoundly contributes to our sense of humanness. Where we live, who we love, what we do, who we root for – everything in our daily experiences that place us in a context – all of it is part and parcel of what makes us feel human. And when some dimension of our lives is stripped away, it is a crisis to our humanness. We feel displaced.

What exactly do we celebrate when we consider Jesus’ death?

You have to go to the Old Testament to fully understand. Each year, on the Day of Atonement, along with the sacrifice for sin that the High Priest would offer to God on behalf of Israel, a goat was chosen to ceremonially have the sins of the people placed on its head, only to be turned loose into the wilderness, outside the camp. It was the ‘scapegoat’ that symbolically carried away the sins of the people.

Do you remember when John the Baptist said, Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 2:29)? He was identifying Jesus, the true Scapegoat, the One who would be treated inhumanely, and unjustly executed, to die with our guilt upon Him displaced and outside the city of Jerusalem.

Through faith it is as though we died with Jesus, only to discover that we are not displaced, but restored to the humanness we were created for. So in recognizing Jesus’ sacrifice we celebrate that in Him God has found us home.

Hey, we’re unfinished, which means that in the journey, from time to time we lose sight of home. Our sin, our doubts, our fears, our crises, our affections, and a whole host of other experiences can leave us feeling less than human. But the Cross speaks into our lives with Jesus, and a glimpse of Him will do what it did for Peter when Jesus forgave him at the Sea of Galilee – it will remind us that when God looks at us, He doesn’t see failures or screw-ups. He sees His children – and they are every bit as human as His Son became for them.

Friends, what good news.

peace.

The Mark (aka Lost in Translation, part 2)

There was a Church Growth study that came out over 20 years ago. It listed the three most important rooms in a church facility when it came to visitors. They were (in order), the Nursery, the Ladies’ Restroom and the Sanctuary. Essentially, what this study revealed was that by the time a visiting family entered into that church’s worship space, they had already determined whether or not they would return a second week. Before the sermon. Before hearing the music. It really is that practical at times.

Similarly, Jesus has offered a practical litmus test for the Church – a ‘mark’ (Francis Schaeffer coined this term in his booklet, The Mark of the Christian) that will determine whether or not the outside world will receive the Christian message as credible. We celebrate this defining characteristic each Maundy Thursday when we celebrate the Lord’s Supper. That word ‘Maundy’ comes from the Latin, ‘mundatum,’ and it means what it sounds like: Mandate, or Command. It is used in John 13:34-35 where Jesus says, A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

Here is the thing: Apart from an observable love our message will be lost in translation every time. Because the Culture can’t hear what we refuse to embody – it just doesn’t translate into a discernable, or maybe a better word is, desirable, message. Jesus understood this and set the bar high by declaring that it would be by our love for one another that the world would know that we are His. And it only follows that anything we would hope to speak into a broken world would have to first pass through the filter of a community that embraces the love it declares. In her book Living into Community, Christine Pohl writes, The best testimony to the truth of the gospel is the quality of our life together.

In a sense Jesus chose the most unlikely of dynamics to prove His own credibility to the world. Frankly, I am more comfortable thinking that I am evidence of all that is wrong with the world and the Church. But in some way that is the point. God demonstrates His grace through broken vessels and messy lives He redeems and weaves together in the fabric of love.

And so, amazingly, in spite of ourselves, it is in our life together, as God’s people, that we enter and speak into a world that reflects our own shattered stories, with evidence that Jesus has come with ‘healing in His wings’ (Malachi 4:2), born in how uncharacteristically we are enabled to love. And what more powerful message than one that demonstrates that God can take such a collection of messy, self-interested, often obsessed-on-the-meaningless, diverse and broken people, and knit them together into something beautiful? How could there be anything other than hope for those who long for such healing?

What Good News.

peace.