For God’s Glory?

I am finding myself troubled by an assertion about God’s purposes in last Sunday’s lectionary Gospel that is repeated, and even intensified, in the Gospel for this coming Sunday. Since this seems to be central to Jesus’ understanding of the glory of God, I am also troubled about my troubled response.

In John 9:2-3 the disciples asked Jesus who sinned that a man was born blind. Jesus answered that no one sinned but he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed. “Reformed” as my theology is, I have a hard time accepting that God’s sovereignty specifically designated this man to be born blind (and his parents to have that anguish). My theology suggests that such tragedies come with human brokenness which God is redemptively healing. I easily accept Jesus acting in that way when he heals the man. Yet, the wording of the text seems to indicate purposefulness in the man being born blind. What troubles me is considering the apparent cruelty of inflicting this on that man (and his parents) for who knows how many years, just so Jesus can heal him.

My concern is heightened in the story of the raising of Lazarus where Jesus specifically said that Lazarus’ fatal illness was for God’s glory (John 11:4). John seems to have recognized this problem to some extent when he reported that though Jesus loved Martha and Mary, he purposely delayed going to Bethany (vv. 5-6). When explaining to his disciples, Jesus told them he was glad he was not there, so the disciples could believe (v. 15). Both Martha and Mary seemed to be hurt by Jesus’ delay as they each say, “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died” (vv. 21, 32). That John made note of this so closely together in his Gospel (which we get two Sundays apart when following the lectionary) suggests to me that he was aware of the tension between God’s glory and God’s (and Jesus’) compassion.

I am very aware of the standard explanations for this difficulty. First, that when the blind man was healed and Lazarus raised, the previous anguish faded in the joy of the healing and raising. Second, there is the amazement of having been a channel of God's glory. Third, and perhaps both more significant and more troubling, is that God’s glory is of such greater magnitude than human suffering, that struggling with this betrays an inadequate appreciation of God’s glory. I will own up to this, if I am also allowed to wrestle with the incongruous anguish of juxtaposing God’s glory and human suffering.

I don’t want to compare my personal difficulties, or those of my family and friends, or those of people in the congregations I have served specifically with the man born blind and the death of Lazarus. However, I would have to say that I have experienced and accompanied others through these sorts of very human pains. As a pastor and spiritual director, I often ask myself and those who are struggling were or how they recognize God at work, especially when the desired and prayed for outcome does not materialize. Cliché answers do not satisfy, true though they may be (strength to endure, compassionate companions on the way, preparation to minister to others). At some point we recognize that in Jesus, God is with us in the dark night of the soul. In the NIV, Psalm 88:18 ends with “darkness is my only friend.” And Psalm 139 affirms that though I make my bed in Sheol (shadowy place of the dead in ancient Hebrew thinking), God is there (v. 8), and even when the darkness covers me, the darkness is not dark to God (vv. 11-12). The lectionary Psalm for this coming Sunday is 130, which invites us to cry to God out of the depths, and encourages us to wait for the Lord.

I come to no conclusion here, nor do I make some sort of pastoral resolution. Rather, I take this reflection as God’s invitation to wrestle and question in painful darkness. I love the Giotto painting of the raising of Lazarus for its expressiveness. Several people are covering their noses from the stench of Lazarus’ decay, and Lazarus seems to be quite surprised to be there smelling his own rot too.

How I Am Praying for President Donald Trump

Since Richard Nixon was President, I have been praying through the Psalms each month. I pray for the US President and other political leaders (global, national, state, local) whenever a Psalm mentions the king, kings, princes, rulers, etc. That happens almost every day, sometimes more than once. I have found these Psalms have prompted me to pray in unexpected ways from several different angles for those in positions of public leadership (sometimes that includes leaders in business and other endeavors). This has also enabled me to pray in healthy ways for all of these Presidents (and others) whether I agree with them or their positions or not.

On the 12^th of each month I come to Psalm 72, which is the most comprehensive prayer for the King in the Psalter. As the inauguration of Donald Trump as US President is just days away, Psalm 72 has prompted me to pray that his administration will have the effects prayed for in the Psalm, regardless of what he (and other who work in government and politics) intend. I strongly urge all biblical people (Christians and Jews) to pray through Psalm 72 in its entirety when they pray for the new administration, Congress and other public leaders. I have summarized the core of the Psalm below, casting it as an invocation for the inauguration.

May God bring justice and righteousness through President Trump. May God bless the whole nation (and the rest of the world) with prosperity so that those at the bottom of the socio-economic ladder enjoy prosperous lives. May God prompt President Trump to give special attention to the needs of the weak, the poor and the needy. May God enable President Trump to limit violence. May God bring respect and honor of other nations to President Trump and the United States as agents for peace and justice in the world. May God grant the people of the nation to be authentically delighted in their President.

For those who have not seen my pattern of praying the Psalms, it is to start with the date (today is 12), then add 30 four times (today 42, 72, 102, 132). On the 29^th I skip Psalm 119 and come back to it by itself when a month has 31 days, since it is to long.

The God of the Living

In my lectio divina today (November 3, 2016) on Luke 20:27-38 (Jesus’ response to the Sadducees about the resurrection), I recognized that in his response (vv. 37-38) about how God self-identified to Moses at the burning bush as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Jesus was saying more about God than about Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. God is the God of the living, not the dead. I suppose for humans to be concerned about their personal resurrection is natural, which I sense that 20^th and 21^st century Christians in the West have distorted with our cultural emphasis on individualism. But Jesus concluded by saying that  to God all of them are alive. Jesus’ focus is on God’s living eternality, of which the lives of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are a subsidiary product.

Not just in our extreme cultural individualism, but in our universal human finitude, at best we imagine God’s eternality and an endless extension of our measured lives. Even describing God as beyond time, thus both past and future are eternally present to God, arises from trying to explain a mystery in terms of how we experience time. I certainly have no illusions of coming up with something better, only to say that meditating on how Jesus described God’s living eternality prompted me to look beyond what I might imagine or anticipate after my earthly death to gaze unswervingly at God whose living eternality is incomprehensible to me. Is not the point of worship to relinquish our self-focus to be swallowed in the presence of God by the Holy Spirit?

Perhaps driving funeral cars the last year and a half has sharpened my awareness of mortality in fresh ways, though as a pastor who has conducted plenty of funerals and as one who grew up in the home of an undertaker, death has been a constant in my awareness as long as I can remember. It plays a role in the three (still unpublished) novels I have written and in the collection of true vignettes I have assembled into a manuscript called “Ripples” that is on its way to publication.

Especially during this time of witnessing a wide variety of funerals, I have been aware of a lot of silly, superficial things pastors and others say to grieving people with the intent of comfort. I myself know that a funeral meditation is not the place for exposing people to the theological nuances of the intermediate state and the ultimate hope of resurrection to eternal life, but I cringe, suspecting that some of these prove impotent to offer enduring comfort. But more to my immediate point, as I have explored mortality and the biblical hope of resurrection, the less satisfying I find our human, even Christian, constructs of what to expect after death.

The biblical imagery, which is almost entirely in the New Testament, is clearly metaphorical language not intended to be taken literally (streets pure as gold, for example), but rather are intended to evoke hope and joy, courage and anticipation, especially in circumstances that tend to shake our faith. Taken as a composite, a sort of mosaic, I suggest they do not describe what our experience after this life will be like but rather are intended to draw our focus into the God of the living with such power we can escape the hold our present lives have on us so that we can be propelled into the presence of the God of the living, accepting a mystery that is beyond us, without regret for what we may fear losing in the here and now. The real question is not “what will I experience when I die?” but “How wonderful is the God of the living?”

Money, Sex, and Power

In 1985 Richard Foster wrote a book titled Money, Sex and Power: the Challenge of the Disciplined Life. He explored how these three things – individually or in combination – are common traps for people in leadership and those who seek to cultivate their spiritual lives. He also observed how, from the earliest days of Christian monasticism, the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience formed as specific antidotes to these threats. Taking it out of a strictly monastic context for those who aspire to be Jesus’ disciples today, I would suggest stewardship, fidelity, and accountability.

 I am convinced that money, sex, and power are an intricately intertwined web of ruinous enticements. All three often entangle those whose leadership and spiritual intentions collapse in disaster. This entanglement seems to lure its victims into a hubris that either blinds them to their danger or convinces them that they are not subject to the limits of ordinary people.

The line from Donald Trump’s 2005 video that recently caused so much stir seems to corroborate my observation. He said that when you are a star, women let you do it. Trump and his supporters have recited Bill Clinton’s infidelities as though that excuses or at least ameliorates his. I would suggest that they are both entangled in this web in which money, sex, and power feed on each other destructively, to which I suspect many in positions of prominence are vulnerable. Allegations of sexual impropriety have been made about five of the thirteen US Presidents of my generation. The careers any number of recent public office holders of both parties have come crashing down in scandals involving some impropriety of the mix of money, sex, and power.

The adultery of King David (2 Samuel 11-12) has been applied in a variety of ways to the indiscretions of political leaders in our time. I would say that the prophet Nathan’s confrontation, David’s repentance, and the tragic consequences of his sin are all applicable in some fashion. However, I also find King Ahab’s treacherous seizure of Naboth’s vineyard to be powerfully instructive. (1 Kings 21) Ahab lusted for Naboth’s vineyard and was depressed when Naboth refused to sell it. Naboth understood that the land was not personal property but belonged to God and was not to be sold in perpetuity but passed generation to generation for the benefit of the whole community. (Leviticus 25:23) And at some level, Ahab understood that Hebrew kings did not have absolute power but were to be servants of the community. (Deuteronomy 17:14-20) But his pagan wife Jezebel thought that as king Ahab had absolute despotic authority and could take whatever he wanted. She mocked him, “Do you now govern Israel?” (1 Kings 21:7), and she set in motion a scheme to confiscate Naboth’s vineyard. While the US Constitution has built in checks and balances, people in all sorts of positions of power easily start to presume they can make their own decisions. Some of those are shady financial dealings. Some are abuses of power from racial profiling to deleting government records. Some are sexual predation. Often, all are tangled together.

Athletes, entertainers, and all manner of celebrities are similarly susceptible. Rampant domestic abuse among some athletes is almost certainly part of this phenomenon. With their fame and excessive money at a young age can also come plenty of attention from admirers of the opposite sex. When they run into rejection, they are prone to lash out. Not all are entrapped, to be sure, but the pattern seems all too common.

Recognizing this destructive pattern in those who are distant from me is all too easy, and makes me susceptible to deceptive self-righteousness. As a retired pastor I am painfully aware that we in ministry are also vulnerable. This is not limited to the mega-church pastors who preside over huge ecclesiastical empires. Even pastors of small congregations are often the recipients of admiration and generosity and trusted with very personal aspects of people’s lives. The combination of strength and tenderness can be sexually powerful. We can start to believe we are special and are accorded privileges in our relationships that others do not have. Rationalizing that we are doing something in the name of God for the good of someone else is very dangerous. When a prominent pastor falls, the public knows, and all too often injured and disillusioned people are turned away from the church if not God. However, too often I have seen this pattern play out painfully among my own clergy colleagues and friends. A reduction of scale in no way restricts the damage. I can allow myself no room to be smug. By God’s grace I have served with both clergy and lay people who have held me accountable in healthy ways, and my wife has had good spiritual radar to alert me to threats before I was aware of them.

I recommend Richard Foster’s book Money, Sex, and Power as a great practical resource and will not attempt to delve into the practical details as he did so well. But I will reaffirm stewardship, fidelity, and accountability as essential protections from the lure of the destructive web. Stewardship is putting into practice the reality that I own nothing and have not earned what I have. (Deuteronomy 8:17; Psalm 44:3; 1 Corinthians 4:7) Rather these are gifts that belong to God that I am entrusted to use in the name of Jesus for the benefit of others. Fidelity is far more than restricting my sexual expressions to my wife. It means finding great joy in devoting myself to nurture her and to receive her nurture in the same way Christ nurtures the Church. I am learning this in new depth since she was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Of course, it is challenging, but it is also deeply satisfying as we approach our 48^th wedding anniversary. Accountability to a few people who trust me enough to be honest with me when they observe spiritual danger in me. I have been blessed with several clergy colleagues and staff members who have done this for me. I have also had spiritual directors and spiritual companions for this purpose.

At seventy years old, I am still learning and growing and aware that I am vulnerable to both known and hidden faults (Psalm 19:12). I do not offer this essay as any kind of expertise, but more as a personal spiritual examen. I also offer it as an invitation for all who are wrestling with the issues that the current presidential campaign has exposed to explore how God might lead you to protect yourself from the trap of money, sex, and power.

Where the Journey of Grace Begins

On Wednesday, September 14 I drove limo for a funeral at The Church of the Incarnation (Episcopal) in Dallas, Texas. I noticed prominent banners publicizing their fall sermons and Bible studies on the Old Testament. Each banner had a thought provoking question that seemed to me to go well beyond an Old Testament survey to probe deeply into human reality and faith. I am considering composing my own answers to these questions, not as an Old Testament overview, but an exercise in my own spiritual formation. I encourage you to ponder these questions and even share your responses.

I am not a member of this congregation or any Episcopal church, but a pastor retired from the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) whose ecclesiastical journey has ranged widely. However, in appreciation and out of fairness to The Church of the Incarnation, I want to let you know you can learn more of their take on this at https://incarnation.org/walking-through-the-old-testament/.

·         How do we know what God wants?

·         How do we know when we’ve been rescued by God?

·         Are you ever too old for God to use you?

·         What does standing up to evil look like?

·         What happens when leaders fail?

·         What does an extreme test of faith look like?

·         What do you do when there’s nothing left?

·         Can romance be redeemed?

·         What was the first break-up in the history of the world?

·         Is your money actually yours?

Was Naaman’s Servant Girl a Victim of Stockholm Syndrome?

This week I have been digesting the story of the healing of Naaman from 2 Kings 5. I have gotten stuck at verses 2-3 pondering the servant girl who suggested to Naaman’s wife that he could be cured if he saw the prophet in Samaria (Elisha). She was captured in a military raid and forced into slavery to serve the military leader of the army that had captured her. We’re not told her age, but the story seems to suggest she was young enough not to be considered a grown, adult woman. Still, I think the story suggests that she was old enough to know about and appreciate the Prophet Elisha.

From our modern perspective, we readily recognize the brutal injustice of this practice, especially involving a child. We might also ascribe her sympathy for Naaman’s suffering with disease (the umbrella label of leprosy) to the Stockholm Syndrome, but the text seems to suggest she had an authentic compassion for her captors and masters. Also, the text presents her as an example of faith, recognizing that God worked through the Prophet Elisha. This is all the more remarkable since this seems to come during the reign of Ahab’s son Joram who “did evil in the eyes of the Lord," (3:2) and who seems less aware of Elisha than the captive servant girl (5:7).

This is another example of the theme that runs through Scripture of God at work through seemingly insignificant, powerless people. It also illustrates the power of loving enemies, which Jesus built on solid Old Testament foundations. I find a powerful lesson here for how we people who faith who aspire to faithfully follow Jesus can and should respond in the contentious social and political environment of our time. I think is speaks to how we should speak about those with whom we have political, and yes, theological disagreement. I think it speaks powerfully to how we can advocate for racial reconciliation at a time of increasing tensions. I think it teaches us how to respond to people that we consider to be threatening outsiders from Latin American and Middle Eastern immigrants and refugees, and yes, how we express the love of Jesus to Muslims and all others who do not acknowledge Jesus as Lord.

Reflections on April 6, 2016

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and all my will – all that I have and possess. You, Lord, have given all that to me. I now give it back to you, O Lord. All of it is yours. Dispose of it according to your will. Give me love of yourself along with your grace, for that is enough for me.

Ignatius of Loyola

Spiritual Exercises 234:4-5

Psalm 36:7-9

How precious is your steadfast love, O God! All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light.