Tag: sermons

God Has Never Been Lonely, but the Trinity is not a Clique

When I was little, I often wondered, didn’t God get lonely before creating humans? If it is true that God has always existed, which I believe it is, hasn’t all that existing gotten boring by now? Or, at least, wasn’t it boring before we human beings came on the scene to liven things up a bit? What did God do up there, I wondered?

The idea of the Trinity is central to our faith. Christians are baptized into “the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” You will often hear in a benediction when church is ending, “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” Each Sunday as we bring our tithes and offerings to God, we “praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise him, all creatures here below, praise him above, ye heavenly host, praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

Wrapped up in the Trinity is an answer to my childhood question of, “Didn’t God used to get lonely before he created us?”

Starting with Scripture

You may already know that the word Trinity does not appear anywhere in the Bible. But the idea of the Trinity is all over the pages of both testaments. Genesis 1:2 talks about the Spirit of God as hovering over the waters. We know from John 1 that Jesus the Son was present in creation and even before. John writes, “In the beginning was the Word [or, Jesus], and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.” From the very beginning of creation, even long before creation, God was Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Romans 8:12-17 is another Trinity-revealing passage. It says that we are led by the Holy Spirit to call out to God our Father, and that as we do so we become aware that we are not only God’s children, but that we have a most holy and awesome sibling: Jesus, the Son of God.

But lest we be tempted to think that this Father, Son, and Holy Spirit language is speaking of three distinct gods, we have the words of Jesus in John 10:30: “I and the Father are one.” And Jesus prays to the Father in John 17, “All I have is yours, and all you have is mine” (17:10), “You are in me and I am in you” (v. 21), and, “We are one.”

So on the one hand the Scriptures reveal Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, with distinct roles at times, and you have Jesus praying to the Father just as you and I do… but on the other hand, you have Jesus saying things like, “I and the Father are one.”

Nicaea
Nicaea

I once read somewhere that God is not and never has been confused about his identity. But it took the early church a good four centuries to make sense of all this! The early church councils gave us the Nicene Creed and the Apostles Creed, both of which contain this understanding of one God as three persons. The “one God” part of it means that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit all are of the same substance, or essence. The “three persons” part of it means that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have distinct parts to play, with each other and throughout human history. The “three persons” also means that this is a personal God we worship.

Theologians use words like “co-equal, co-eternal,” and “of the same substance” when describing the Trinity.

Just go outside for some analogies

As we try to wrap our head around this core Christian doctrine, nature gives us a few analogies. They’re all imperfect and break down somewhere, but they at least get us in the ballpark.

Saint Patrick of Ireland is said to have used the three-leaf clover in his missionary efforts–though the clover is one, it has three leaves that join together.

And we have H2O. It’s one molecule or group of atoms: two Hydrogen atoms bonded to one Oxygen atom. Yet we see H2O in three different expressions: in liquid form it is water; in solid form it is ice; and in gaseous form it is steam.

Or, we can think about music, where a building block is the triad–three distinct notes which, when sounded together, make one chord.

A few years ago my wife and I were in Minnesota, visiting family. We received a wonderful gift of tickets to see the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. The first piece they played was by 19th Century composer Felix Mendelssohn, “Piano Trio No. 1 in D Minor.” Here is the first movement:

I was mesmerized from the very beginning. Mendelssohn wrote the trio for piano, violin, and cello. At times the three instruments blended into one beautiful unity, at other times I could hear each distinctly. The program notes put it well, saying, “There is great equality among the voices, and their exchanges show Mendelssohn’s gift for instrumental interplay.”  Equality, yet interplay. 1, yet 3.

Rublev Writes an Icon

This idea of interplay in the nature of God is fascinating to me. Though Mendelssohn’s Piano Trio was 30 minutes long, I never once got bored. The music was too beautiful for that. We’ve seen from Genesis and John that God was Father, Son, and Holy Spirit even before creation. There were three persons living in community together. And if any of you have ever had a roommate or are married or have lived with other people, you know that living in community is anything but boring.

We start to get an answer to my childhood question. God was not bored before he created us. God was never lonely. The three persons of the Godhead were in constant, joyous, life-giving community with each other.

rublev trinity

In the early 1400s, a Russian painter and devout Christian named Andrei Rublev painted a famous icon called The Icon of the Trinity (above). This icon is also known as The Hospitality of Abraham, since it is based on one level on the story in Genesis 18 where Abraham and Sarah show hospitality to three angelic strangers who come to them to share the good news that they will have a son at long last. (We had this as part of the lectionary a couple of weeks ago.)  But the icon on a deeper level represents the three persons of the Trinity, sitting around a table together. The persons of the Trinity are here shown to be in community with each other.

Rublev shows that God is of one substance or essence by showing identical faces on the three figures and an identical staff that each holds. The same color blue clothes each figure, showing the unity even in the diversity of persons, but Rublev also varies the clothing on each to highlight the three distinct persons of the Trinity. Their heads tilted at different angles and their hands making different gestures also show the diversity found among the Trinity. Yet Rublev shows that God is of one substance in that the three persons are seated around one cup and table.

When we want to get to know a person better or deepen bonds of intimacy, that often takes place over a shared bite to eat, a cup of coffee, a dessert, or a full-blown lunch or dinner. This meal in the icon, this table shows God’s communal nature. So if this is going on long before the creation of the world, God would have never been bored or lonely.

rublev closeup

In Rublev’s painting the three persons of the Trinity are not only gathered together in the communion of a meal, but they also appear to be sitting together around a literal communion.  On the table is a cup with a small piece of meat inside. The immediate reference here is to Genesis 18:7 where it says Abraham “ran to the herd and selected a choice, tender calf and gave it to a servant, who hurried to prepare it.” But Henri Nouwen writes that in the icon this meat is also “the sacrificial lamb, chosen by God before the creation of the world.”  It is the body of Christ, right there on the table, together with the cup. The Trinity is in communion or community with itself, and also, it seems, preparing to share this with others.

Communion that invites you to come on over

God invites us into this communion of the Trinity. 2 Peter 1:4 says, “Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature….” We participate in this community of the Godhead. Jesus prays in John 17:21, “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us.”

In writing about the communal nature of God, author and Episcopal priest Tim Jones, writes:

…That multilayered communion [of the Trinity] doesn’t become a clique, doesn’t turn inward upon itself; it overflows. It spreads out into an embracing larger whole, inviting others (like you and me!) in, saying , “Come on over.”  …God is used to conversation. Used to dialogue. …ready. This God invites me, in fact, to join in on a conversation already going on, one that has been going on for a very, very long time.

We become part of the family. We are adopted into this communion.

And as we grow closer to God, as we participate in the communion of the Trinity, we realize that we share this same communion with each other.

Key to our human existence is our connectedness to each other. No one is an island. We are not merely individuals left to find our way in this world. To live individualistically is to miss out on what God has modeled for us from the beginning of time.  We do with each other what we see God doing in himself. That is, joining together in loving community.

We never have to be lonely again!

As we join with each other at the table, we join with God in a conversation that is already going on, “one that has been going on for a very, very long time.”

The above is adapted from the sermon I preached today. See my other sermons, if you desire, here.

Kitchen Clutter (or, Martha’s Baditude)

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” 

 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

–Luke 10:38-42 (NIV, 1984)

At the Rabbi’s Feet She (!) Sits

Martha gets off to a good start in this passage. She is showing hospitality to Jesus, by having him into her home. She “opened her home to him,” Luke says, using language of gracious hospitality.

She will call Jesus “Lord” later in the passage, so she clearly loves him.

She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said.

Have you ever heard people talking about sitting at Jesus’ feet? Perhaps one of those evangelical phrases we hear from time to time, not really sure what it’s about.

That’s what Mary was doing: sitting there, listening.

This posture of sitting at someone’s feet is not the subservient posture we might think of today. Rather, this was how learners actively engaged with their teachers. A student would sit at the feet of his rabbi.

Yes, his rabbi. This is very unusual posture for a woman to take. There were some rabbis that had female students, but most did not. Women would instruct other women in the Torah. Mary was taking on a stereotypically male role here in becoming Jesus’ student.

And students sat in the dust at the feet of their rabbis, not only so they could learn, but so that they themselves could train to become rabbis, to teach others. Mary is taking in from Jesus how she, too, can preach the Gospel of Jesus and lead others to a saving knowledge of God.

N.T. Wright says, “People sat at a teacher’s feet in that world, not to gaze languidly with drooping eyelids, but in order to become teachers themselves. … Mary had crossed a boundary, entering into the man’s world of discipleship; Jesus had affirmed her right to be there….”

Last week we saw the Samaritan–one of the last people you’d expect–seeing and having compassion on a man in a ditch. He saw him, had compassion on him, and acted on that compassion. He did what was in his power to do. And he was one of the last people who would be expected to do that.

In this passage there is a woman–one of the last people one would have expected then, certainly the wrong gender, according to society, who takes the posture of a disciple, learning from a rabbi.

Jesus has little use, sometimes, for social conventions. He can and does work through them, certainly. But he’s just as likely to turn them on their heads, teaching instead the social conventions of the Kingdom of God.

Sibling Rivalry and Other Distractions

Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, by Johannes (Jan) Vermeer
Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, by Johannes (Jan) Vermeer

But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

It’s interesting… Luke says that Mary was “listening to what he said.” “But Martha was distracted….”

Jesus was already talking. Why wasn’t Martha putting her work on hold to listen? Or at least, were there some preparations she could have done while still in earshot of him?

I’m sure many of us have been in that situation where we have guests coming over. We nervously look at our watch and see that we only have 10 minutes left to get the food in the oven, vacuum the living room, and maybe put on some deodorant or whatever, because we’ve been running around for the last hour or two. Maybe we exchange a few terse words with spouses or children to hurry up and help prepare….

And when the guests come, we may not be done with the preparations, but that’s okay. (It really is okay!) We can invite them to sit in the kitchen with us so we can finish dinner, but also talk to them. Or we put our preparations on hold at least to say hello, shake hands, give hugs, and so on.

Was Martha avoiding Jesus?

To be clear: the work itself was not bad. She was showing hospitality to Jesus by having him in. Earlier in Luke Jesus rails against a man named Simon who had invited him over but not been hospitable. In that story a woman “who had lived a sinful life” poured perfume on his feet and wiped them with her hair, crying all the while. Jesus said,

Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. 

Jesus values hospitality. In fact, in Jesus’ culture, to complain to your host was a big no-no. You thanked your host profusely for going out of their way to greet you. But Jesus had called Simon out anyway.

So Martha is doing something that is generally good.

But her focus on the tasks of hospitality kept her from seeing the guest.

She was distracted–her attention was turned from where it should have been (the presence Jesus) to a lesser good (tasks done not in the presence of Jesus).

We get the picture of Martha barging in and interrupting–Jesus was talking to Mary, Mary was listening, and now Martha blurts out, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

She puts the focus on herself. Actually, on her sister. “She’s not doing her chores.” (A common refrain of siblings everywhere.) “Tell her to help me.”

Another distraction-someone else’s relationship to Jesus–keeps Martha from thinking about her own relationship to Jesus.

Martha’s Baditude

Martha tells Jesus what to do! We begin to get the sense that throughout Jesus’ visit she has not been having a good attitude at all. We have a word for this in the K-J house: baditude. It’s a bad attitude. Martha is sporting a serious baditude.

A number of interpreters of this passage have pointed out the difference between Martha, who tells Jesus what he has to say, and Mary, who listens to what Jesus wants to say.

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things,

“Martha, Martha!” There is emotion in Jesus’ response, as he says her name twice. A firmness, it sounds like, but also compassion.

“You are worried and upset about many things.” Many things!

Maybe Martha is worried and upset about more than just Jesus’ arrival.

Maybe Martha has avoidance issues more generally.

Maybe she is afraid of being known well by others.

Maybe the baditude was just a front. Maybe she was scared of being loved deeply by someone else.

Maybe she thought she could somehow earn the love and approval of Jesus and his entourage by hosting them with the most elaborate spread.

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? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

David Garland, a Bible professor at Baylor, asks, “How is it that one can do everything right and still be wrong?”

Martha welcomed Jesus in v. 38, a sign of hospitality. She calls him Lord. She seems to truly love him. She just gets distracted. And stressed out. Frustrated with her sister for not joining her in her stress. And maybe she is even jealous of her sister’s relationship to Jesus?

You Only Really Need One Thing

but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Martha has allowed the Good to distract her from the Better. Her priorities are not quite right. Her affections, her emotions, the way in which her heart is going… is mis-directed.

Prioritizing where our attention goes would be easy if we could choose between a bad thing and a good thing. But sometimes life gives us a choice between two goods. And one of those goods may be better than the other. Mary used wisdom and discernment in this passage to do that. Martha did not. She was too busy doing The Good to notice The Better that was right there in her living room.

The writer Kathleen Norris puts it this way:

Martha may do her work in silence, but it is a sham, a mask for rage. I like to think of her as saying nothing as she bangs around the house, trying to get Mary’s attention, or better yet, make her feel guilty for not helping out. …I recognize myself all too clearly in the scene; all the internal–infernal–distractions, the clatter-bang of daily routines and deadlines, that can make me unfit company for anyone.

When our work, when our lives become just a series of tasks, it’s exhausting. I identify with Martha here; I’d imagine that a number of us do. I want to make that decision that Mary makes. She’s not just passively sitting there, doing nothing, she has deliberately chosen to listen to Jesus. And, Jesus says, she has chosen “what is better.”

“Jesus is coming. Look busy,” the bumper sticker says.

And of course we can–and sometimes should be busy for Jesus. But we need to also ask how we can keep our work and our service and our ministry in its proper relation to listening to God.

When it comes down to it, Jesus says, “Only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

One thing–Jesus. More specifically, sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to him. That’s what we really need to do.

Inviting Jesus into the Kitchen

Brother Lawrence in the Kitchen
Brother Lawrence in the Kitchen

I don’t read this passage as telling all of us Marthas in the world that we can’t keep actively serving others. I don’t think Jesus is saying that we have to stop our work in the kitchen altogether.

But if we are doing our work with the same sort of “baditude” Martha has here, it’s either time to take a break and be with Jesus, or more deliberately invite Jesus into the work we are doing.

A number of sermons ago I suggested using sentence prayers throughout the days tasks to connect with God:

“Lord, I know that you are with me.”

“God, thank you.”

“Jesus, please help me.”

“Lord, help me love this person the same way you do.”

“God, I offer this work to you.”

Brother Lawrence was a 17th century monk who served as cook in his Carmelite order. He was described as having a “great aversion” to the kitchen, and yet, as one brother said of him,

[I]t was observed, that in the greatest hurry of business in the kitchen… He was never hasty nor loitering, but did each thing in its season, with an even uninterrupted composure and tranquillity of spirit.

“The time of business,” Lawrence said, “does not with me differ from the time of prayer; and in the noise and clutter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess GOD in as great tranquillity as if I were upon my knees at the Blessed Sacrament.”

It’s especially tragic when we are doing ministry work, like the hospitality Martha was trying to show, and we forget the main reason we are serving… for Jesus.

Work without a connection to Jesus is just being busy.

But when we deliberately sit down with Jesus, or invite him into our work, listening to what he has to say… that can never be taken away from us.

The above is adapted from the sermon I preached today. All Scripture quotations come from the NIV (1984).

The Parable of the Good Texaco Oil Executive

It’s kind of a funny name–Good Samaritan. It sounds redundant to us now, since “Samaritan” generally already has positive connotations: Samaritan’s Purse relief organization. Good Samaritan hospital. Church of the Good Samaritan. And so on.

But Jesus’ listeners would have heard “Good Samaritan” as an oxymoron. Samaritans were anything but good. They were a despised people–a product of God’s people intermarrying with another, idolatrous people. They weren’t faithful, many Jews thought. A Samaritan was the last person one would have expected to help another person.

How do we get to the parable?

How do we get to the “Parable of the Good Samaritan” in the first place?

Luke 10:25     On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

An expert in the law, a lawyer, tests Jesus. As we soon see, he already has an answer to his own question in mind.

Luke 10:26     “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

Jesus answers his question. No, he doesn’t at all. He asks him another question. It’s that great trick of the trade when you’re teaching and you want to more fully engage someone… what do you think?

“Why does a Rabbi answer a question with a question?” the joke goes.

“Why shouldn’t a Rabbi answer a question with a question?”

Luke 10:27     [The expert in the law] answered: “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’’”

Luke 10:28     “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

These are two Great Commandments: Love God and Love Your Neighbor. Had the lawyer heard Jesus say something like this on another occasion? Perhaps. In Mark and Matthew, it is Jesus who gives these commandments as the most important ones in the law–on these hang all of God’s other commands. Love God, Love Your Neighbor–that frames, that grounds everything else.

“Do this and you will live,” Jesus says. Yes, law expert, you know the answer. Go do it.

And the parable will actually end this way, too, with Jesus saying, “Go and do likewise.” But…

Luke 10:29     But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

“He wanted to justify himself.” Justify–to make right, to be declared righteous. He asks, “Who is my neighbor?” One commentator speculates that the question here is expecting a specific answer like, “Your parents, your friends, your cousins, etc.” so that he can then say, “I’ve loved them all” and be praised by Jesus in front of everyone.

“Who is my neighbor? Who all do I have to love, and who can I get by without loving? Who is my neighbor, and who is my non-neighbor?”

That’s what his question seems to imply. In a sense, he’s asking the bare minimum. Or at least some sort of clarification so he can know who will be inside his circle of love and who will be outside it.

So Jesus tells him a story. We’ve heard it.

The parable

Credit: Mark Jenkins (Sculpture)
Credit: Mark Jenkins (Sculpture)

Luke 10:30     In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead.

That road was rocky, full of caves, about a 17-mile journey. There was a 3,000 foot elevation change on that journey. Thieves would hide out in those caves and mug people who travelled on the road. It was a lucrative business.

31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.

A priest–a religious ruler. Part of society’s elite in those days. Coming from Jerusalem, he was probably doing his priestly duty. So he had just been in church!

(I wonder what Scripture readings he heard that day? I wonder what the teaching was?)

32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.

Levites assisted the priests–they were like the worship leaders, or the music leaders. Also coming from Jerusalem, maybe from worship there.

(I wonder what songs they led. I wonder what message they were seeking to reinforce in the service–have compassion? Love your neighbor as yourself?)

Then, what is supposed to be next is a person of Israel. There was a formula throughout the Old Testament of priests, Levites, and all the people of Israel.

This is shaping up so far to be an anti-clergy story. The person of Israel is supposed the be the hero–the so-called layperson. But instead–a Samaritan!

33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

I read an interesting re-telling of this parable this week.

A man was mugged and beaten by a gang of thugs in the park. He was left for dead.

A theology student saw the man and had the instinct to help him, but she had just taken a pastoral care class, so said,

“We were just taught it is not good to try to rescue someone. We must resist the temptation, however sincere and religiously motivated, to naively wade in and try to be someone’s rescuer.” That’s a Savior complex. I’d better not help, she thought. So she passed by.

Then, in this re-telling of the parable, the chairperson of the local church association’s social justice committee came by. He saw the man. But he was overwhelmed with all the systemic, macro-level issues that could have produces a man lying in a ditch–the economy, social structures. “To help this man,” he said, “Is simply a Band-Aid, solving nothing.” He passed by, too.

Finally, the CEO of Texaco Oil, out riding around in his new BMW, saw the beaten man. His heart was moved with compassion. He picked him up, put him in the back of his car (on his clean, white upholstery), bandaged his wounds, and drove him to the local hospital, paying all his bills.

Who was the neighbor? Not, in this re-telling, the people you might have expected. And that’s one of Jesus’ main points here–if a Samaritan, someone this law-expert would least expect, can show compassion, anyone can.

“And When He Saw Him…”

Credit: Mark Jenkins (Sculpture)
Credit: Mark Jenkins (Sculpture)

Let’s go back to the original story. After the parable, Jesus asks another question:

Luke 10:36     “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law might have wondered after the Priest and Levite passed the guy in the ditch–was he their neighbor? Gosh, maybe not…

But Jesus doesn’t spend a lot of time on the man in the ditch. We don’t know much about him. In this parable he is just, “a man.” Because for Jesus, the question is not, is he the neighbor, but will you be a neighbor to the one in need?

So he asks the law-expert: “Who was a good neighbor?”

The expert in the law can’t even bring himself to say the word “Samaritan,” so he says, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus is saying–much more important than finding out who is your neighbor is being a neighbor. It’s the old adage: if you want to have a friend, be a friend.

Don’t think about other people’s status and worthiness. Be the loving neighbor we know we are called to be.

This passage ends with Jesus not so much saying–now I’ve explained the law to you and you know who is your neighbor, and how to inherit eternal life… he says, here’s a story of how someone you despise is a neighbor. And if he can do it, so can you. “Go and do likewise.” Go. Do. You know what to do. Go do it. Be a good neighbor. Be the neighbor you wish to see in the world.

And this is a good enough message, one that we know we all want to strive, by God’s grace, to listen to and put into practice.

But there’s just one more thing. A small but essential detail to this story.

Look one more time at the text. In verse 31:

31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.

Going down the same road, and when he saw the man….he passed by….

32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.

33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.

Each of these three people–the priest, the levite, and the Samaritan, came to where the man was, and they saw him. They saw him.

Priest–sees him, passes by. Levite–sees him, passes by. Samaritan–sees him, takes pity on him.

This verb that Luke uses–take pity, have compassion… the NRSV has it as “he was moved with pity.” This particular verb, when it is used in the New Testament, is mostly used of Jesus. He has compassion. And many of those times that compassion comes after Jesus has seen a crowd. Or Jesus has seen a person in need. Jesus sees them and has compassion, and then he acts.

In the same way, the Samaritan sees the man in the ditch and has compassion, and then he acts.

I was so struck this time around, as I studied this parable, at this one word–see. And Luke is a good writer–this is all on purpose. The Samaritan totally breaks up the pattern of the story:

sees–passes by

sees–passes by

sees–has compassion–does something

Credit: Mark Jenkins (Sculpture)
Credit: Mark Jenkins (Sculpture)

It’s the same sequence in the story of the Prodigal Son. The father sees his wayward son returning home, has compassion on him, and acts–he runs to him and sweeps him up in an ecstatic embrace.

The Samaritan’s compassion moves him to act. He takes care of this half-dead stranger. He bandages his wounds, pours on oil and wine for healing and soothing. Puts him on his donkey, takes him to an inn, takes care of him. Pays for him.

The priest, the Levite, the Samaritan–they all saw him. The difference was, what the Samaritan did with what he saw.

Seeing… and doing something

“Neighborliness comes in all shapes and sizes,” one author writes.

What needs do we see around us, situations or people that cry out for a neighbor? It may be a need in another country. It may be a need right here in the city or town in which you live.

Or there may be someone within a 25-foot radius of you that is in need of a good neighbor right now.

Or perhaps you can think of a person in need that you see during the week–whether physical need, emotional need, or social need.

Being a good neighbor starts with seeing. And acting on what we see, just as the Good Samaritan did.

Let’s not be like the theology student in the re-telling of the parable, or the chair of that committee–whose concerns were valid and legitimate (and I wholeheartedly believe Jesus calls us to effect change on the macro-level!)… but those concerns paralyzed them from doing the good they could have done in a specific situation.

May we see the needs of others, may we have compassion, and may we do what is in our power to act, and to help heal the wounds of the world around us.

The above is adapted from the sermon I preached this last Sunday. All Scripture quotations come from the NIV (1984).

If God Lives Inside Us (or, when Paul called Peter out for being a Mean Girl)

Deep ThoughtsI watched the television show Saturday Night Live just about every week in the early 1990s, one of its best eras, in my opinion. One of the regular features was “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy.” Jack Handy would read a pithy statement as its text scrolled across the screen, set to some relaxing piano music and an image of various nature scenes in the background—a beach, some mountains, etc.

The thoughts were all farcical. One of the most memorable ones was,

If God lives inside us, like some people say, I sure hope he likes enchiladas, because that’s what he’s getting.

The apostle Paul is one of those people who says God lives inside us. Jack Handy implicitly raises the question—what does that really mean?

Paul writes in Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

This is one of the most theologically dense parts of Galatians, especially so far. What does it mean that Christ lives in me?

In this post I’ll offer an attempt at answering that question, based on my sermon last Sunday. To that end I’ve reproduced the text of Galatians 2:11-21 with my comments below.

The play-by-play: high school cafeteria and (almost) Matt Damon-style

Gal 2:11  When Peter came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he was clearly in the wrong. 

One writer notes that this phrase Paul uses, “opposed him to his face,” is used in the Old Testament for situations where a people successfully wards off an invading army. Paul looks at Peter as an imperial oppressor. Translation: Paul’s getting ready to throw down.

Gal 2:12  Before certain men came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group.  13 The other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray.

Can't sit with us
Mean Girl

It’s like the high school cafeteria all over again! You’re willing to sit with the kids at the awkward people table, until someone you’re trying to impress comes along and sees you, then all of a sudden… “I’m not sitting here! These aren’t my people!”

It’s a similar dynamic here. Some men came from James, one of the big leaders in the Christian church in Jerusalem. All of a sudden, Peter is afraid to eat with Gentiles. There were Jewish purity laws on the books that called for Jew and Gentile to eat separately, but in Christ, Jew and Gentile were supposed to already be one at this point. Which is why Peter was eating with them in the first place.

So Paul calls him out for changing on that:

Gal 2:14  When I saw that they were not acting in line with the truth of the gospel, I said to Peter in front of them all, “You are a Jew, yet you live like a Gentile and not like a Jew. How is it, then, that you force Gentiles to follow Jewish customs?

How can you make people follow what you yourself don’t follow, Paul says? They were “not acting in line with the truth of the gospel.” I love this—the Gospel, according to Paul, is not just something you believe. Not just a set of propositions, though it does include that. It’s a way of life! And Peter is not living that life here.

This is Peter! You may know him from such works as 1 Peter… and 2 Peter. He’s a big deal:

Peter AnchormanBut he wasn’t acting according to the Gospel.

If look back at Galatians 1:8, Paul has said, “But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let him be eternally condemned!” Even if we or an angel from heaven… or the apostle Peter should preach a gospel other than the one we preached…! Strong words for Peter here. You get the sense this is about to turn into a Matt Damon action movie.

Gal 2:15  “We who are Jews by birth and not ‘Gentile sinners’  16 know that a man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ. So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by observing the law, because by observing the law no one will be justified.

This “Gentile sinners” is sarcastic. Of course, Paul is saying, we’re all sinners. We all fall short of God’s standards.

But we are not made right with God by what we do. We’ve already seen Paul address this as a major theme in the letter. The grace of God in Christ wasn’t enough for the Galatians, who were being led astray by other teachers. They wanted to add to the requirements one had to fulfill to get right with God.

Three times in verse 16 Paul says—not justified by observing the law. We’re not reconciled with God that way. Three times in verse 16 Paul says, it’s by “faith in Jesus” that we can stand before God.

Gal 2:17  “If, while we seek to be justified in Christ, it becomes evident that we ourselves are sinners, does that mean that Christ promotes sin? Absolutely not!  18 If I rebuild what I destroyed, I prove that I am a lawbreaker.  19 For through the law I died to the law so that I might live for God.

The law, in other words, is dead to me. Requirements of ritual, keeping days like the Sabbath—Paul will say elsewhere those are still good things! They’re just not what justifies a person—makes a person right—before God.

An answer for Jack Handy

20 I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.  21 I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!”

Again, a person isn’t righteous—or made right, holy—because of things they’ve done; it’s because of what Jesus has done.

And here we’re back to Jack Handy—“If God lives inside us, like some people say….”

What is Paul getting at?

What he doesn’t mean is that we’re robots, somehow brainwashed, sterilized, and taken over by some sort of Divine Control. We still have personality. We still have these bodies. These bodies are good—all that God has created is good.

But we also know that these bodies and these personalities aren’t all that they could be.

ShipwreckThere is the story of John Newton—a sailor and slave trader in the 18th and early 19th century. He talked about sinning “with a high hand.” “I made it my study,” he said, “to tempt and seduce others” to sin.

After a dramatic conversion on a boat that was fast filling with water in the middle of the night, Newton went on to become an Anglican clergyman and slave trade abolitionist. And he gave us one of the best-known and well-loved hymns of all time: “Amazing Grace.”

“I am not what I might be,” he once wrote, “I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I wish to be, I am not what I hope to be; but I thank God I am not what I once was, and I can say with the great apostle, ‘By the grace of God I am what I am.'”

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.

Even if we don’t have a story as dramatic as Paul’s or John Newton’s, we who have turned to Jesus can say with Newton, “I once was blind, but now I see.” “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live”—it’s the death of the “old me.”

“Out with the old, in with the new.” As one commentator puts it, “The old life of self-effort has been condemned and put on the cross.”

To put it another way (as this truth has captivated musicians and lyricists throughout the ages): “My sin… not in part, but the whole… is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more!”

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live.

But I’m not dead—there’s still a self here. It’s just a self that Christ inhabits, lives in. Christ lives in me.

Samuel Ngewa, a Kenyan seminary professor, writes, “This experience is difficult to define…But the meaning is clear. Christ so dominates Paul’s whole experience that Christ-likeness is all that is seen in him.”

Christ lives in me.

Having been changed by grace, we are transformed by Jesus, inside and out. Christ lives in us, and “Christ-likeness is all that is seen in [us].”

But it’s not just personal!

Looking at the rest of Gal. 2:20: The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

Faith is personal, on the one hand—I believe the promises of Jesus. I believe that what God says about himself is true. I believe that what God says God will do… God will do.

And to live life by faith is a highly social activity, too. It’s not just “Jesus and Me.”

Remember that Paul’s theologizing here arose out of that high school cafeteria lunch scene—Peter was not living out the Gospel in his interactions with others.

To “live by faith in the Son of God” means to live by faith in my interactions with others. It means to remember that Christ lives in me and to live like it!

One of the ways I’ve tried to do that is through short phrases I call to mind, prayers I pray in the midst of a situation that calls for faith.

Alcoholic Anonymous arms themselves does a similar thing (and they do it well), using short phrases in the time of struggle. “Easy Does It.” “First Things First.” “One Day at a Time.”

Here are some others, as we try to live life by faith in Jesus: “Lord, show me your will.” Or maybe God’s will seems to be clear in a situation, so we’d do better to pray, “Not my will but yours be done.”

Or just a simple, “Jesus, you live in me.” A prayer of affirmation to God that is also a reminder of who I am. “Jesus, you live in me.”

“God, please give me strength.”

Many other short go-to prayers we could commit to pray—perhaps starting this week.

Because we have been crucified with Christ, it is not just we who live, but Christ-in-us. We have been transformed through and through.

This is the Gospel that Paul so eagerly upholds in Galatians. This is the Gospel he calls them to, that in those moments when they are tempted to rely on what they can do in a given situation, they would call instead on Jesus, who lives in them, who has saved them, and who continues his saving work each day.

The Revised Common Lectionary is going through Galatians in six weeks, and I’m preaching on it. See my first Galatians post (Your Grace is Enough?) on Galatians 1:11-12 here. My second (Your Christian testimony has no shock value? No matter–it’s still compelling) is on Galatians 1:11-24, and is found here.

Your Christian testimony has no shock value? No matter–it’s still compelling

materWhen our five-year-old son was younger, about two, his favorite movie was Cars, by Pixar. In that movie, race car Lightning McQueen finds himself stuck in a small town the week before his big Piston Cup race. He befriends an old pickup truck named Mater, who is voiced by Larry the Cable Guy.

Mater declares himself to be, among other things, “the world’s best backwards driver.” He shows Lightning his skills, using his rear-view mirrors to look behind him and quickly drive backwards through town and over various obstacles. “Don’t need to know where I’m going,” Mater says to an impressed Lightning, “Just need to know where I’ve been.”

Where have you been? What’s your story?

There’s power in our stories; there’s power in a good and compelling story. Paul knows that, and so in the second half of Galatians 1, he tells the Galatian churches his story.

He preached the Gospel in Galatia—that Jesus “gave himself for our sins to rescue us” (v. 4) and that “God the Father… raised him from the dead” (v. 1).

But this Gospel wasn’t enough. The Galatian Christians came under the influence of some teachers who said the Galatians needed not just faith in Jesus, but steadfast observance of Jewish rituals in order to be truly at peace with God. These teachers tried to undermine Paul’s authority.

So Paul tells them a story—his story. “You have heard of my previous way of life in Judaism,” he says in verse 13, “how intensely I persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it. I was advancing in Judaism beyond many Jews of my own age and was extremely zealous for the traditions of my fathers.” Paul had been so zealous for his faith that he tried to root out and destroy people of any other faith. He treated Christians with violence, and “breathed murderous threats” against them.

The Conversion of St. Paul, Caravaggio, 1600
The Conversion of St. Paul, Caravaggio, 1600

Then God intervened. Acts 9 tells the story of Paul (then called Saul) heading to Damascus to find some Christians to imprison. He’s on his way, part excited, part bloodthirsty, listening to Slayer or Pantera or Wolves in the Throne Room or some other heavy metal to get him pumped up. And then—a bright light from heaven flashes all around him. He gets knocked to the ground and hears a voice, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” It’s the voice of Jesus. “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”

Paul goes to Damascus, still reeling from the vision and unable to see, eat, or drink, and finds a man named Ananias who restores his sight, baptizes him, and sends him on his way, a new man.

This account is what one reader of this passage called a “Biography of Reversal.” It’s a biography of major reversal.

Where have you been? What’s your story?

Well, mine’s not quite like that. I always wanted a conversion story like Paul’s. I remember in high school when I first learned about giving a “testimony.” I didn’t think I had much to say. The questions were always—what was your life like before Christ? How did God intervene? What is your new life in Jesus like now?

I grew up in a Christian home, two pastors for parents, and as an oldest child, was a pretty well-behaved pastor’s kid. I do remember saying a prayer when I was four to ask Jesus to be God of my life, and then a recommitment to Christ in 8th grade. But nothing flashy. I wished I had a testimony like Paul’s, or like that big-name speaker at the youth rally: I was into drugs—not just doing them but selling them– and went to clubs till 3am every night, was in a gang… and then I got saved!

And here’s Paul—persecuted others, tried to destroy them, violent… then a bright light and a loud, booming voice!

It’s a great testimony, a great conversion story.

But Paul wants to point beyond the conversion itself, and to the person who is behind the conversion. Paul has this incredible testimony, but if he were here explaining this letter to us this morning, I bet he’d say—don’t get too caught up in remarkable reversal in me… give praise to the God who orchestrated it! –The God who is behind every testimony, whether it’s the testimony of a well-behaved pastor’s kid or of an ex-murderer.

This God, Paul says in verses 15 and 16 does four things–with Paul, with an ex-gang member, with anyone who comes to faith in Christ.

First, God sets his people apart from birth. God has knit each of us together in our mother’s wombs (Psalm 139:13).

Second, God calls us by his grace, by his undeserved favor. St. Patrick put it like this: “I was like a stone lying in deep mud, but he that is mighty placed me on top of the wall.” A stone that is stuck in mud has no way of pulling itself out—someone has to come along and do that. God has called us, pulled us out of our mud, by his grace.

Third, God has been pleased to reveal his Son in us. It really gives him joy to do that! It’s like a highlight of his day, this act of showing us Jesus.

Fourth, this is so that we might share the good news of Jesus with others. Jesus said, “Let your light so shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father, who is in heaven.” We do this, in part, by living lives that bear fruit (a testimony to grace), which Paul will elaborate on later in the letter.

Like Mater from the movie Cars, Paul knows where he’s been. His aim in the second half of Galatians 1 is to say that whoever he is, wherever he has been—that is ultimately rooted in the gracious initiative of God. “Grace means you’re in a different universe from where you had been stuck,” author Ann Lamott writes, “When you had absolutely no way to get there on your own.”

This is what makes our stories in Christ compelling—not the details of what we’ve done or haven’t done, but who has been there with us, all along… setting us apart, calling us by grace, and revealing his Son Jesus in us. This is a compelling story. Those of us who have said yes to Jesus have powerful testimonies, because the one who stands behind our testimony is powerful.

The Revised Common Lectionary is going through Galatians in six weeks. Two Sundays ago (June 9) was the second Sunday, covering Galatians 1:11-24. The above is excerpted from the sermon I preached on that passage. See my first Galatians post (Your Grace is Enough?) on Galatians 1:11-12 here.

Your Grace is Enough?

Galatians, IlluminatedThis last year my family has had the privilege of living in a winter rental on Wingaersheek Beach. We were just a two block walk from Coffins Beach, a shoreline that if you follow, takes you to the beautiful Essex Bay.

Last week I was running along Coffins Beach at dusk, and I saw three people huddled together on a blanket, looking at the ocean. Well, actually, I could see that at least two of them were looking at their phones. As I approached them and then passed them, I was struck that these 4 or 5 inch screens had somehow won the focus of these beach-sitters, with the vast ocean in front of them and the orange tint of sun on the horizon.

Paul asks in Galatians 1 whether the Gospel of Jesus is enough? If the work that God has done on our behalf, by sending his son Jesus to rescue us from our sins—is that enough? When we think about who we are, our identity, our security in life—is Christ’s death and resurrection sufficient for us?

It didn’t seem to have been enough for the churches in Galatia.

Some teachers had come among the Galatian Christians, seeking to undermine Paul’s authority and the content of his teaching. They were telling the Galatians that this Gospel of Jesus—that Jesus rescued us from our sins (v. 4)—was not enough to save you. Yes, these teachers taught, the Galatian churches needed Jesus, but they also needed to observe all of the customs and regulations and laws that were a part of 1st century Judaism. In other words, they have to believe in Jesus and fulfill all the requirements of the law to be accepted by God, to find his favor, to be right with him.

When I read the Bible, there seems to be something of a recurring pattern. I read a passage like this, perhaps looking ahead to Galatians 3 where Paul says, “You foolish Galatians!” and say to myself—yeah, those foolish Galatians! Who would buy such garbage; who would believe the lies they are believing? Paul says, “Who has bewitched you?” And I think—really! Who has bewitched you, Galatians?

And then I sit with the passage a little bit longer. And I think about myself. And… I start to see myself as part of Paul’s audience. I know that I believe that the Gospel of Jesus—”Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again”—I believe that that Gospel is enough. But do I always act like it is?

Am I confident in the sufficiency of the Gospel of Jesus, or do I look elsewhere to supplement it? Can I just rest in my identity as God’s much-loved child, or do I still find myself doing things to try to boost my standing in God’s eyes? Tim Keller says, “We love to be our own saviors… so we find messages of self-salvation extremely attractive.”

This grace, this undeserved favor from God is so present, and yet how often do we think it’s great, but not really enough? “I’ll take it from here, God!” Are we at times too quick to gloss over the grace that is all around us? Just as we see ourselves as part of Paul’s audience, perhaps we also see ourselves in those people on Coffins Beach that I ran past last week. They had a majestic ocean sunset in front of them and yet were glued to their tiny screens.

That is no gospel. The true Gospel of Jesus–the grace that God offers–is enough. And the call in the first part of Galatians is to accept the gift of God’s grace. We receive it. Paul talks about this Gospel of grace (in verse 9) as something that the Galatians once received. In verse 12 he talks about this Gospel of grace as something that he received from Jesus.

The grace of God in Christ is something to be received, accepted, arms held open, palms facing upward.

The Revised Common Lectionary is going through Galatians in six weeks. Last week (June 2) was the first Sunday, covering Galatians 1:1-12. This week (June 9) overlaps the last two verses of that reading and covers Galatians 1:11-24. The above is excerpted from the sermon I preached on Galatians 1:1-12.