faster vengeance and slower justice

Thinking about fear as a motive for vengeance, today. It’s been on my mind quite a bit, actually. Lots of vengeance going on lately. Fear makes vengeance make sense. It makes vengeance rational, beyond a spiritual rationale. Vengeance becomes necessary when we fear that justice won’t be done. And justice is important. Justice belongs to all humanity. It is withheld by evil, true, but heaped upon the earth by good.

Fear demands revenge.
Faith awaits justice.
Fear believes that no one will hear the cry of the oppressed.
Faith believes that God will…if not in this life temporally, then beyond it eternally.

Recently, I watched the movie Faster. Make no mistake, this is a movie about vengeance. And quite honestly, when you watch it, it’s simple to make the mental adjustment necessary to completely buy into it. When a wrong has been done. It begs to be righted. Faster is movie about a man who has suffered a kind of wrong that needs to be avenged. There is a need for justice to be served…

And so pursues it…hunting the men who killed his brother in cold blood and left him for dead.
It is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of Dwayne Johnson.

In the letter to the Hebrews, there is another idea at work. In a passionate sermon on perseverance, the ability to go on despite injustice, the writer proclaims:

“Just think how much worse the punishment will be for those who have trampled on the Son of God, and have treated the blood of the covenant, which made us holy, as if it were common and unholy, and have insulted and disdained the Holy Spirit who brings God’s mercy to us.

For we know the one who said, “I will take revenge. I will pay them back.”
He also said, “The LORD will judge his own people.

It is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” (Heb 10:29-31)

Um…that’s a scary statement. It’s a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God. I think what the author of Hebrews is trying to communicate is that it’s OK to trust that God will right injustice. And when God does this thing, it will look different than we expect it will (Isa 55:8). It doesn’t look like toting a .44 magnum and performing the God like task of taking life. God’s judgment will not appear very human at all. Eugene Peterson writes that judgment looks like:

The biblical word judgment means “the decisive word by which God straightens things out and puts things right.” Thrones of judgment are the places that that word is announced. Judgment is not a word about things, describing them; it is a word which does things, putting love in motion, applying mercy, nullifying wrong, ordering goodness. This word of God is everywhere in worship.
Eugene Peterson, “A Long Obedience In The Same Direction“

I remember seeing, on the day Osama Bin Laden was killed, the New York Times headline that read, “Bin Laden Killed By US Forces In Pakistan, Obama Says, Declaring Justice Has Been Done.” How would the writer of Hebrews respond to that statement? Possibly, simply by restating something like this, “…Declaring Revenge Has Been Done.”

In the Hebrews passage, the Greek word for ‘terrible’ is a derivative of the word for ‘fear’. I think that what makes the hand of God, the hand that dispenses justice so fearful, is that it’s terrible for everyone. Righting wrong with divine love, cosmic mercy and unfathomable goodness isn’t what victims cry out for. It’s not what evil condones and doesn’t sound all that much worth waiting for. What if judgment looks like reconciliation? [For those who need there to be punishment, don't worry. In cases where reconciliation happens somebody's going to hate it!] But that’s the business of God…pouring justice upon the needy, avenging evils, vanquishing the enemies of the righteous.

Perhaps, humanity would be satisfied and give up our desire for vengeance, if Jesus would just do it all a bit…FASTER.

What say ye?

Ignatius and the sound of the Household Codes

Coloring in a thought from last Sunday’s sermon: By the time Paul’s teaching on the Household Codes (Eph 5:21-6:9) had filtered to the next generation, I believe there was an artistic, poetic vocabulary used to articulate the idea of mutual submission (hupotasso). Read as Ignatius reminds the church in Ephesus what the Gospel of mutual submission is about:

“Therefore Jesus Christ is sung in your harmony and symphonic love. And each of you should join the chorus, that by being symphonic in your harmony, taking up God’s pitch in unison, you may sing in one voice through Jesus Christ to the Father, that he may both hear and recognize you through the things you do well, since you are members of His Son. Therefore it is useful for you to be in flawless unison, that you may partake of God at all times as well.” Ignatius; To the Ephesians 4:1c-2

Isn’t that a wonderful way to restate, “Submit to one another in fear of Christ.” It’s like the Message version, except with music. In the abstract, I think that Paul was saying that relationships within the Christian Community have symphonic and harmonic characteristics, however the real mark of community is finding God’s note and joining in unison. Your harmony subjected to his melody.

While it’s tempting, to sing your own line, your own notes, with lack of regard of the song that is taking shape around you, Ignatius invites the church to join in God’s song so it sounds less like this:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

And much more like this:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Does the song in your life, in your home sound like a proper submission of harmony and symphony? Or is it just noise?

Haggai: Conflict is Crucial

Robert McKee, the dean of the Department of Story, states: “Nothing moves forward in a story except through conflict.” This, he writes, is the Law of Conflict. As a story progresses, something has to happen that is contrary to the expectations of the protagonist. Sometimes this event arises due to consequence, sometimes on purpose and sometimes it’s completely random…but happen it must.

“Conflict is to storytelling what sound is to music”

As we are introduced to the prophet Haggai, we find ourselves in the third act of a great story: love and devotion, betrayal and unfaithfulness, divorce and destruction, redemption and restoration. The rise and fall and subsequent rise of Judah, the southern kingdom is fascinating reading. If one were to diagram it next to other familiar stories, it might look something like this:

story diagram

By the time we get to Haggai’s ministry (the prophets who’s name means “My Party!!!”) we are beyond the conflict, Babylonian exile. We are in a period of history where the Persian Empire has acceded to a new Exodus. The Jews are again allowed out of captivity and in turn, go home. Faced with a desolate expanse of rubble and localized opposition, Haggai breathes new life into an old people. Earlier prophets warned of impending Babylonian invasion. Jeremiah saw it with his own eyes. The warnings ended.

Haggai is a new generation of prophet. He is post-conflict. Haggai’s ministry is an eschatologically oriented one, and that great end he prophecies begins with building a new foundation upon the shadow of the old one. The second temple isn’t a sore reminder of a lost faith, it is a flame of hope meant to ignite renewed faithfulness. Under constant surrounding political threat, God surrounds his people with mnemonic reminders of His presence and plan.

Zerubabbel > “Out of Babylon”
Joshua > “God Saves”
Jozadek > “God is Holy”

Act 3 is everywhere. Something hurtful had to happen first, though. Without conflict, there is no Act 3, no happy ending, no sequel, no redemption…no resurrection. The lifecycle of Judah is a harsh one, a tough life, but a remarkable story.

Judah’s story has what Hollywood calls a Redemptive Story Arc: When you spend your life [and specifically your worship] on the compulsive pursuit of contemporary values [- success, fortune, fame, sex, power -] it will destroy you, but if you see this truth in time and throw away your obsession, you can be redeemed.

Sometimes waiting is what it is…

Yesterday, I began a new chapter as Pastor/Head of Staff at Glendale Presbyterian Church (@glenpres). My first sermon ventured into the space of “Waiting,” since both the church and family Harrison had both done quite a bit of it. You can hear the whole sermon here.

I began with these three short narratives concerning waiting and different shapes it can take; I fully acknowledge that I only mention three and that there are a literal million more.

A young man saved all he had and bought a ring, you know the kind, big ol’ diamond set on top. He placed the ring on a pile of nerves he carried with him everywhere he went. She had waited this long, why not a while longer? He could save more, build more, provide more. She, meanwhile, had been waiting on him. Did he really love her, she wondered? Was she the one for him? The pressure of the present was enough to bring her to tears without warning. How could she hide how she felt while she waited? How could she love him if he just kept her waiting? One night, he took her to a crowded yet breath-taking restaurant and got down on knee. As she said “Yes,” she whispered to herself, “I would have waited forever for you.”

Sometimes waiting isn’t what it seems. Sometimes what we are waiting for is worth the wait. Sometimes the grief and pain waiting can cause is completely made up for in joy and healing when it is over.

A soldier, feet planted in the sand of Afghanistan, waited for a command. Today, he would fight a battle from which few thought many would return. The seconds passed like years…the beating of his heart pounded in the rumbling cadence of a tympani drum. As he gripped his rifle, waiting, he began to think of home. He thought of the distance he had kept between himself and his family. A distance that should have never been. He thought of how proudly he had behaved in their presence. He wanted to see his mother, to tell her he loved her, to hear her say she forgives him. As the drum beat on, he thought of his ex, man…he could have played that one way differently. He could have kept some of those vows. He loved her, not that she would know. As the infantry were called forward, he took a step and thought of their son. He would make it home. He would be a father. He would be forgiven.

Sometimes waiting is exactly what it seems. Sometimes waiting works to remind us what is important. Sometimes waiting isn’t working against us at all…it’s a process geared to wake us from the sleep of self.

A child lies awake. She can’t sleep and won’t sleep. No tonight, she will put seven years of wondering to rest. Tonight, she will have answers, she will have truth. Tonight she will know for sure, because tonight she will see Santa Claus face to face. The milk has been out a while now, and she worries that the tepid temperature may spoil it and her’s would be the house where Santa caught a belly ache. In silence, she waits on the downstairs sofa, comfy on the pillows. The click clack clicks of the Schnauzer’s paws make her think she hears reindeer on the roof. The warmth of the fire and its dancing flames convince her to close her eyes and soon she is rubbing them again. She stares at the place where Santa has been. She supposes that the milk was fine after all and plans no fire for next year.

Sometimes waiting brings wonder, like a Christmas morning, or a baby.
Sometimes waiting points to a challenging road ahead, the need for perseverance, the hope of transformation.

Luke 9:1-2 // a fourfold sending

Otherwise entitled, How not to preach the Greek.

When Jesus had called the Twelve together, he gave them power and authority be light in the darkness and to exhibit a hands on ministry of presence where hurt are tended, hearts are mended and lives and relationships are restored, and he sent them out to tell their story and to have faith that God is going to do what God is going to do.

This past Sunday, I gave my first candidating sermon. While preparing the Scripture, I ran into the old familiar, “Sure this worked for them, but what the heck does it have to do with me?” Like any good academic hermeneutician, I knew that it was time to dive into the Greek and see what surfaced. For me, the Greek made the sermon come alive, but I faced a dilemma. I wanted the sermon to be accessible to the theologically educated in the congregation, but also — and perhaps more so — to those whose educations lie in other disciplines, or simply life itself.

I found myself asking, Where does the line between intelligent and inspiring begin to blur? How do you preach the Greek in plain English?

Luke 9:1-2 (TNIV)
When Jesus had called the Twelve together, he gave them power and authority to drive out all demons (ἐξουσίαν ἐπὶ πάντα τὰ δαιμόνια) and to cure diseases (θεραπεύειν), and he sent them out to proclaim (κηρύσσειν) the kingdom of God and to heal (ἰᾶσθαι) the sick.

The obvious is that this verse is a sending verse. Jesus is speaking to the group of disciples that he is equipping and putting them to the test. It’s a great verse for a church, it’s just that not many of us have gifts of exorcism, curing, preaching and healing. And why curing and healing? How do you take those ingredients and produce a digestible recipe in one sermon?

[Read more...]