My dad used this quote from N.T. Wright in his sermon this morning, and I liked it so much I thought I'd pass it along to you:
“The whole point of Jesus’ work was to bring heaven to earth and join them together forever, to bring God’s future into the present and make it stick there. But when heaven comes to earth and finds earth unready, when God’s future arrives in the present while people are still asleep, there will be explosions. And there were.” (N.T. Wright, Simply Christian, p.102)
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Surrender
I want to share here something I wrote in my journal this morning. I'm sharing it because it's important, but it's hard, too. It's messy. It's painful. It's forcing me into deep and quiet places. If over this next week, I don't have much to say here, this is why.
Surrender: to give oneself up, as into the power of another; submit or yield. (www.dictionary.com)
I’ve spent the last two and a half days rediscovering just exactly how bad I am at surrender. I’ve tried arguing, negotiation, ignoring, baiting, avoiding, and running in the opposite direction. None of them worked.
You see, there are things that Jesus is asking of me right now that I don’t like. Things that scare me – terrify me actually. There is a slow shattering that is occurring that I find frightening and painful. There seems to be the promise of freedom in it, but it has seemed that freedom only comes at a cost so high I’ve not been sure I’m willing to pay it.
I went alone to Palm Sunday Mass last night. Traveled downtown to the cathedral where I attended mass in high school. I picked the cathedral because I knew there would be enough people in attendance that I could slip in and out anonymously. Just me, and time with the Lord, in a corporate setting that would also allow me the freedom of my own thoughts. I went alone, because I somehow knew that I wouldn’t want to talk with anyone once it ended.
So I sat, and stood, and knelt and sang. I accepted the strips of palm leaves that someone handed me. I prayed, and wished “peace be with you” on those around me. And I listened and was caught off guard by what I heard. I wasn’t expecting the Passion to be the topic of discussion. Protestants talk about the triumph on Palm Sunday – the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, with the crowds giving praise. We talk about the triumph and we leave it there. The triumph was hardly mentioned. What caught me deeply off guard was the long, responsorial reading of the gospel passage. Three readers at the front, a narrator, a voice, and Jesus, with occasional parts for the whole congregation to join in. So we read, from the entry into Jerusalem, through the breaking of bread at Passover, through the suffering and arrest in the garden, through the trials and the whipping and the crucifixion. And as I dutifully followed along, I was caught off guard by the part the congregation was asked to read. We played the role of the crowd – the accusers. The ones demanding the release of Barrabas, and shouting “Crucify Him”. And it hit me that I am part of that crowd in a way that it has never hit me before. That I stand there, sinful. That Jesus shed his blood for me. And that I am fighting against the will of the one who was willing to die in my place.
I reflected in my journal last night that for the first time in my life I am dreading the journey through Holy Week. I usually find it enjoyable. Well, enjoyable may be the wrong word to use, but I generally find it to be a week of positive reflection. As I look into this coming week, I see nothing but images of shed blood, of broken bodies, of my own heart finally and completely shattering. And I dread the coming pain.
Surrender, I’m discovering is not an easy or painless thing. It is rarely bloodless or tidy. It is the thing that comes after the battle, when the losing side is too weak to carry on, and the cost in lives would be too high to let the battle carry on. It is not a place of negotiation. You can ask for the conditions you desire, but you ask from a position of weakness. You’ve lost, and the victor holds the power in the negotiation.
It’s taken me two and a half days of fighting to find a place of surrender. To reach a place of crying out to Jesus that I need Him to once again set me free, and that I’ll go where He asks and do what He requests in order that I may find that freedom. It happened at 8:10 this morning, after a night passed in alternating bouts of arguing and sleep. In dreams and uncertainties, and pain and anger and tears. One line from a David Crowder Band song came through my head, and I cried it out to the Lord, “Deliver me.” I saw an immediate picture, of a strong leather strap wrapped around me snapping, and four things flew into the air and away from me.
I’m still dreading Holy Week. I dread the lecture I’m attending tonight, that I know will draw me deeper into a place of brokenness on behalf of the world. I dread the moments of hunger. I dread all the other moments I know are coming. The body broken and the blood poured out. But in that dread I see beauty forming. I see the hope of resurrection, of new life. I see myself being pulled deeper, and I am thankful.
Surrender: to give oneself up, as into the power of another; submit or yield. (www.dictionary.com)
I’ve spent the last two and a half days rediscovering just exactly how bad I am at surrender. I’ve tried arguing, negotiation, ignoring, baiting, avoiding, and running in the opposite direction. None of them worked.
You see, there are things that Jesus is asking of me right now that I don’t like. Things that scare me – terrify me actually. There is a slow shattering that is occurring that I find frightening and painful. There seems to be the promise of freedom in it, but it has seemed that freedom only comes at a cost so high I’ve not been sure I’m willing to pay it.
I went alone to Palm Sunday Mass last night. Traveled downtown to the cathedral where I attended mass in high school. I picked the cathedral because I knew there would be enough people in attendance that I could slip in and out anonymously. Just me, and time with the Lord, in a corporate setting that would also allow me the freedom of my own thoughts. I went alone, because I somehow knew that I wouldn’t want to talk with anyone once it ended.
So I sat, and stood, and knelt and sang. I accepted the strips of palm leaves that someone handed me. I prayed, and wished “peace be with you” on those around me. And I listened and was caught off guard by what I heard. I wasn’t expecting the Passion to be the topic of discussion. Protestants talk about the triumph on Palm Sunday – the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, with the crowds giving praise. We talk about the triumph and we leave it there. The triumph was hardly mentioned. What caught me deeply off guard was the long, responsorial reading of the gospel passage. Three readers at the front, a narrator, a voice, and Jesus, with occasional parts for the whole congregation to join in. So we read, from the entry into Jerusalem, through the breaking of bread at Passover, through the suffering and arrest in the garden, through the trials and the whipping and the crucifixion. And as I dutifully followed along, I was caught off guard by the part the congregation was asked to read. We played the role of the crowd – the accusers. The ones demanding the release of Barrabas, and shouting “Crucify Him”. And it hit me that I am part of that crowd in a way that it has never hit me before. That I stand there, sinful. That Jesus shed his blood for me. And that I am fighting against the will of the one who was willing to die in my place.
I reflected in my journal last night that for the first time in my life I am dreading the journey through Holy Week. I usually find it enjoyable. Well, enjoyable may be the wrong word to use, but I generally find it to be a week of positive reflection. As I look into this coming week, I see nothing but images of shed blood, of broken bodies, of my own heart finally and completely shattering. And I dread the coming pain.
Surrender, I’m discovering is not an easy or painless thing. It is rarely bloodless or tidy. It is the thing that comes after the battle, when the losing side is too weak to carry on, and the cost in lives would be too high to let the battle carry on. It is not a place of negotiation. You can ask for the conditions you desire, but you ask from a position of weakness. You’ve lost, and the victor holds the power in the negotiation.
It’s taken me two and a half days of fighting to find a place of surrender. To reach a place of crying out to Jesus that I need Him to once again set me free, and that I’ll go where He asks and do what He requests in order that I may find that freedom. It happened at 8:10 this morning, after a night passed in alternating bouts of arguing and sleep. In dreams and uncertainties, and pain and anger and tears. One line from a David Crowder Band song came through my head, and I cried it out to the Lord, “Deliver me.” I saw an immediate picture, of a strong leather strap wrapped around me snapping, and four things flew into the air and away from me.
I’m still dreading Holy Week. I dread the lecture I’m attending tonight, that I know will draw me deeper into a place of brokenness on behalf of the world. I dread the moments of hunger. I dread all the other moments I know are coming. The body broken and the blood poured out. But in that dread I see beauty forming. I see the hope of resurrection, of new life. I see myself being pulled deeper, and I am thankful.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Saturday Smile List
It's been a rough few days, and I find myself rather desperately in need of a pause, and a list of things I'm thankful for - things that are making me smile. So, without further ado, here is the Saturday, March 15, 2008 edition of my smile list:
- clean house
- fresh sheets on my bed to crawl into tonight
- chickpeas - I actually quite enjoy chickpeas once in a while
- green grapes from the farmer's market - particularly sweet and tangy today
- friends who share hearts with me - spread across the country, and even the globe
- the story of Lazarus
- David Crowder Band - particularly their "A Collision" album and "Remedy" album, which I've been listening to nearly constantly this week
- finances that have finally stabilized after travelling
- 45 dollars worth of fresh fruit and veggies from the farmer's market sitting in my fridge and waiting to be consumed
- that there was at least one night this week where I slept relatively peacefully for at least 4 hours.
- plans to go to mass this evening
- flip flops, yoga capris and a comfy t-shirt for hanging around the house and cleaning.
- a favorite teddy bear
- a comfy corner in my bedroom in which to curl up, or prop my feet up and settle in with a book
- Rocky Mountain Soap Company's "Sore Muscle Therapy" and "Green Apple" lip balm
- running into my aunt and uncle at the market, enjoying a quick coffee with them, and being offered an unexpected ride home
- a quiet, empty house since my roommate and our house guest are out for most of the day
- water
- mandarin oranges
- the ability to read and write
- photos of Paris on my living room wall
- soft pillows
- lemon mango fruit infusion loose tea from Oolong Tea House
- emails from friends
- itunes
- days when you really can just kick back for even a little while, and escape the intensity of life
Friday, March 14, 2008
The Narrow Way
I love this image that David Hayward, "The Naked Pastor" drew and put on his blog. Especially today. The Narrow Way.
It reminds me of a friend, and an ongoing conversation that we've been having through the Lenten season. It speaks to me after a day of fighting, and reminds me that I knew it wouldn't be easy when I signed up.
It reminded me, too, of a Jason Upton song "The King's Way" off of his "Great River Road" album:
There is a road
That leads to peace
That leads to life
But few will follow
We're at the crossroad
Which way will we go
There is not today a more holy way
Than the steps that lead me to the cross
Where my will can't be the priority
And these crowns I've gained
I count as loss
When I hear the spirit say
That this is the true King's way
It reminds me of a friend, and an ongoing conversation that we've been having through the Lenten season. It speaks to me after a day of fighting, and reminds me that I knew it wouldn't be easy when I signed up.
It reminded me, too, of a Jason Upton song "The King's Way" off of his "Great River Road" album:
There is a road
That leads to peace
That leads to life
But few will follow
We're at the crossroad
Which way will we go
There is not today a more holy way
Than the steps that lead me to the cross
Where my will can't be the priority
And these crowns I've gained
I count as loss
When I hear the spirit say
That this is the true King's way
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