A Long Boney Finger

John 1:29-34

There is a painting that has become popular in the church the last couple of years.  It’s been around a long time, but I hadn’t noticed it until recently.  That’s all you need to know about how much I paid attention in Fine Arts as a student, but I digress.

The image is a painting by Matthias Grunwald entitled, The Crucifixion. There is a lot going on in this painting:  you can see Mary, the mother of Jesus, in the left side of the painting fainting into the arms of John, the disciple; a woman recognized as Mary from Magdala by the alabaster jar sitting next to her; Jesus with his hands extended to the heavens grasping for his Father; on the right side of the cross a lamb with a cross over its shoulder; and a strange figure on the right of the painting holding what appears to be scripture while pointing a long, boney finger at Jesus.  Over John are written the words, “He must increase, I must decrease.”

This picture was painted in the middle ages.  It was during a dark time in the church, with very few copies of scripture, and is why churches often told the gospel through stain glassed windows and paintings.  Artist didn’t paint abstractly, but were telling the gospel story through art.  They had purpose and meaning.  They were not trying to confuse anyone, but tell the story of the gospel to those who are illiterate, or unable to have a copy of scripture, using images.  

Theologian Karl Barth had a copy of Grunwald’s painting on the wall of his study.  It's said that when Barth would talk with a visitor about his work, he would direct them to John the Baptist in the painting and would say, “I want to be that finger."

Me too.  The interesting thing is John the Baptist says twice in these six short verses that he didn’t know Jesus was the one, saying “Look!  The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! He (Jesus) was the one I was talking about . . . I did not recognize him as the Messiah.”  But once he did, it was all about Jesus.  I’m not sure his finger was as boney as Grunwald portrays, but that long boney finger sends a clear message; he, Jesus, the one naked, dying on the cross is the one!  The one whose mother just fainted into the arms of John, he is the one.  The lamb I said would take away the sin of the world, this is how it happens.  He is the one! 

When things around us can become dark, as they were in Jesus day, John pointed to Jesus.  That’s what Lamorris, Megan, Andy and JJ did this week for us.  In pointing to Jesus, they pointed us to Jesus too.  I didn’t see them extend their finger pointing, but I think we heard clearly as they shared vulnerably with us not only about their good days, but their dark days, recognizing God was with them in the light and the dark.  They believed that God had them.  When he was drafted – God was there.  When he made his first pro-Bowl – God was there.  When they were 8-0 and he broke his thumb – God was there.  When he was released by the Bengals and didn’t know what their next step was – God was there.  When they lost two babies while trying to have a third child – God was there.  They currently don’t know what the next step is for them – but they gave testimony that just like God has been with them in the past, God is with them now.

Every now and then, we all need a long boney finger pointing us to Jesus.  He is the one!

 

Bonfire or Spotlight?

John 3:21

We sold our home this past summer.  I miss my man cave and porch, but an area I miss almost as much is our firepit.  I love sitting around a bonfire.  Anyone else?  Can you smell roasting hot dogs and marshmallows?  There is something that happens around a fire that doesn’t happen anywhere else.  I’m not sure why, but it invites conversation, friendship, and an occasional s’more.  We had tiki torches around our pit, and my neighbors knew if the tikis were lit a bonfire wasn’t far behind. It was their invitation to come sit, talk, and melt some chocolate with a marshmallow or two.  We loved those conversations with Rob and Peggy, Mike and Janet, Bill and Sherri, Gary and Renee, Jason and Jenelle; our neighbors and friends.

The home we currently live in has a great back deck, but no firepit.  My wife, knowing how much I missed ours bought me a portable one for Father’s Day, but it hasn’t been the same.  We sit on the back porch a lot, but don’t use our pit much.  There is one problem with our back deck, there is a spotlight that comes on every evening.  It has a light sensor so as the sun sets, a light turns on.  It also has a motion detector, so when it senses motion it gets brighter.  Significantly brighter.  Like, blinding.  It goes from providing low light to the backyard that gives us a sense of security and ability to see, to a bright light that is irritating and blinding.  Not the same, know what I mean?  I find myself trying to not move while sitting on the deck so it won’t go from low comfortable lumens to bright, blinding mode.

It is probably obvious – I prefer bonfires over spotlights.

Bonfires are warm, inviting, welcoming.  A fire can create an atmosphere where your conversations go from “how was your day?” to “how is your life?”  The light from a bonfire isn’t blinding, it is comforting, easy to look at. Bonfires are meant to be shared.  It seems like a waste of firewood to just light one for yourself, but if friends are coming over, the wood is ready to light.  Who doesn’t want to sit around a bonfire?  

I’m not sure how you feel about the last 20 months, and the “walk in the dark” we have all been on together, but I feel like there have been an awful lot of spotlights that have been shining in my eyes.  Some of them have been difficult to look at, and when I try to look away, I’m left with what is called an “afterimage,” that small white light left in your eyes after staring at a bright light.  There have been times the last 20 months it’s been difficult for me to see because of all the lights on high beam.  

I think you know where I’m going.  In chapel this week, Pastor Eric talked about the difference between three kinds of lights; spotlight, refrigerator light, or a fire.  The imagery is obvious, so I won’t belabor the point, but wonder if as we walk in the dark it would be better if we lit some bonfires instead of shining our 1 million lumen candle lights in each other’s eyes, blinding us instead of enabling us to see.  What if our conversations were kinder and more welcoming instead of abrasive and confrontational?  What if we lit some tikis, and invited our neighbors to talk about life with us?  What if the conversations we are part of were more about listening and hearing; dispelling fear instead of creating pain?  Invitationally providing comfort like a bonfire.

Look, there are times when hearing the truth isn’t easy.  There are times speaking the truth is appropriate and right.  But, it’s easier to hear truth when I know it’s coming from someone who cares, than someone just lobbing a bomb.  

John says in his gospel: “Those who do what is right come to the light so others can see that they are doing what God wants.”  So others can see.

I think that John is saying that the gospel is good news.  The good news is caught as much as it is taught.  Jesus won people over, yes, because he told them the truth — just read the stories of Nicodemus or the unnamed woman at the well.  But he was also gracious and kind as he did.  Why else would sinners and tax collectors keep hanging around?  I think Jesus was more like the bonfire you have in your backyard with friends and neighbors than that irritating spotlight I can’t figure out how to turn off.  

If Jesus was that way while walking around in the dark, maybe while we walk around in the dark we should, or could be, too.

 

Moonbow or Rainbow?

John 1:5

Ever heard of a moonbow?  I hadn’t until last week.  I’ve seen rainbows my whole life, but have never seen a moonbow.  Scientists say they are both optical illusions, meaning they don’t exist in specific locations in the sky.  Whether you see one depends on where you’re standing.  As colorful as rainbows are — you know, ROY G. BIV —moonbows are in grayscale.  The light is diminished because it isn’t just refracting from water droplets, but it is a dim reflection of the source of light, the sun.  Most moonbows are seen around waterfalls.

Okay, before I have to fall all over myself apologizing to Dr. Case and put my ignorance on more display than I may have already done, here is my point.  Rainbows are created by the direct light from the sun off fragments or droplets of water, and when standing at the right angle, seen for all their color and beauty.  A moonbow, often without the help from a lens that increases the light, might never be seen.  If they are seen, they’re in grayscale, with no definitive colors in them.

One reflects diminished light that is difficult, and at times impossible to see.  The other one reflects bright, direct light that puts on display an entire spectrum of color, from red to violet and everything in between.

As we talk about light and dark this semester, reflecting on the differences between a rainbow and moonbow, the theme begs a question for me – Which light source will we live by?  The moon or the sun?  The light that at best can only be seen in gray scale, or the light that reveals all the colors of the spectrum?

 “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.”

John 1:5

In the world we live in, filled with real light that reveals all that is there, and artificial light, hiding things in gray scale and shadows, we have a choice to make.  As John shared in his prologue to his gospel, “Jesus came to the world he created, and the world didn’t recognize him.  He came to his own people, and even they rejected him.”  When the real light is here, why settle for a dim reflection, living in a world of grays instead of all the colors of the rainbow? 

 What will it be for you?  Moonbow, or rainbow?

Four Words

I've started to write this multiple times.  I've stopped and started, and found myself repeating much of what has already been said over the past week and 81 days.  I thought about including pictures of faces and events, but you can see those at other places.  To protect myself from slipping into "Captain Obvious" mode, I'm keeping this simple, without being simplistic or trite. 

It's been a tough spring.  It's been a terrible week.  It's been a horrific weekend.  We're all trying to figure how to respond to what is happening around us.  I'm sitting in my office alone again, having sheltered in place for 12 weeks, working at home for 8 of them.  I want to talk with someone maybe more today than at any time over the past 81 days.  What do we do?   What do I do?

Well, I start by reading and listening, and I'm doing a lot of that.  I started reading Uncle Tom's Cabin for the first time.  True confession, thought it was time.  I also thought it was time to begin reading Oscar Romero's book, The Violence of Love.  I read an article this morning calling out social media sites and corporations like Facebook and Nike stating; "They need to to more!"  Don't think I can abdicate my responsibility by pointing fingers at them, just too easy to do.

I saw a tweet last week by Katie Couric, who I'm sure meant well, asking for a statements from Presidents Obama and Bush to help us navigate this cultural moment.  I have a lot of respect for both of these men and the way they responded to crises during their times of presidency.  They both seem to be great husbands, fathers, and leaders.  But I don't know them, will never meet them, and if I can be candid with you, don't need to hear from them.  What I need to do isn't mandated from the White House or my Twitter feed.  Our government and social media can't, and won't provide the answer.

I've pivoted.  I can't look at this issue as purely a macro issue.  There is nothing I can do to change the world.  I'm changing my perspective, looking at this from the micro level; the ways this is affecting the community I live in, the people I know, and the place where I work.  To use a phrase I've said before, we observe what is happening globally, while we think and act locally.  So here is my response to you.  This is my response, mine to do.  Not the university's where I'm employed.  Not Student Development or the Office of Spiritual Development.  This is my response to you in four words; you matter to me.

If you were expecting more, that's it:  You matter to me.

Cynthia, you matter to me.  Charles, you matter to me.  Jackie, you matter to me.  Kimberly, you matter to me.  Lauren, Kwame, Allison, Kennedy and Eric; you matter to me. McKenzie, Emma, TK, Brian, Drea, Lily, Hannah, Shania, Janelle, Shemara, Tiara, Ari and Byshop.  You matter to me.  Somer, Ashley, Natalie, Zanna, Jordan, Brooke, Lance and Kaleb.  Miranda, Amir, Karina, Lizzy, Jonathan, Skylar, Keek, Katie, Cami, Jason, Kayla, Kelly, Jackson and Abi.  Sam, Nimmy, Weston, Phillip, Noelle, Rico, Justin, Kelli, Anna, CJ, Lamont, Rachel, Maya, Anna and Britney.  You know I had to stop somewhere, so please feel free to place your name here if it isn't already because you matter to me.

I want you to know, in the cultural moment we find ourselves in with all it's hashtags, one that we can't change or deflect, but must own as our moment, I want those I come in contact with today to know how much they matter to me.  And yes, I'm going to be intentional about telling my black and African American friends and neighbors.  I'll take on whatever criticism you throw my way because of that statement, I'm okay with it.  The little I will face won't compare to what others have faced this week, the last 40, 140, or 400 years, however you want to count them.

I can't worry about anyone else, this is mine to do.  The only thing I wish I could change, is I wish I could tell you in person how much you matter to me.  This is written looking forward to the day I can.  For now, it's time to get busy.  There are some things I need to do today.  And until we meet again, I want you to know this; you matter to me.  Oh, and we have work to do when we are back together this Fall.

Galatians 1:10:  "Am I now seeking human approval, or God's approval?  Or am I trying to please people?  If I were trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ."

Showing Up

John 20:24-29

During my junior year of college, my high school had been making a run in the boys’ state basketball tournament. After winning their quarterfinal game on a Wednesday, they were playing in the semi-finals on Friday. I had made the decision that if they won, I would skip my Friday classes and meet my family in Ann Arbor, MI. This was something I didn’t want to miss. I had to be there. I had to show up.

Showing up. Sometimes we do it out of love for something or someone; like basketball and my former high school. That weekend in March 1980, I didn’t want to just listen to the games. I wanted to experience them for myself. Hearing about something is different than being there. So, I showed up.

Sometimes we show up out of obligation. We have to be there, so we are. Maybe we show up because our friends are there (wouldn’t that be nice). Maybe it’s something we’ve always done. Even though we don’t know why anymore, we show up anyway. Always done this, so here we are again. Or maybe there just isn’t anything better for us to do. No place better for us to be.

I wonder if that’s how Thomas the Apostle felt, when he showed up. The one labeled the doubter, he isn’t given the credit he deserves for hanging around. He didn’t believe what the disciples told him after they had seen Jesus. In fact, he said, “Unless I stick my hand in his side and my fingers in his hand, I will not believe!” But for some reason while not believing, Thomas showed up anyway.

Why? I wonder if deep down they were remembering, wondering, and hoping against fear and despair. I’m not surprised Jesus showed up; Jesus always does. I’m not surprised Jesus came to where they were; Jesus always does that too. Jesus always shows up. I’m not surprised by that at all. What I am surprised by, is that the Apostles did. Their dreams had been crushed as they watched Jesus die. Hope was gone. So why were they hiding together in the room? Did they think they were next? And if they did, why didn’t they just go home? Why didn’t they go back to work?  What are they doing now?

I wonder? Maybe they were remembering; remembering how Jesus showed up for the man born blind after he was kicked out of the synagogue. Remembering how Jesus showed up, eventually, for Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Remembering how Jesus showed up; cleansing the temple, reclaiming the worship space for the Gentile, the unclean, the outsider. Remembering what had taken place for the last three years and wondering in hope, if Jesus would show up one more time. So, they showed up, hoping Jesus would show up again, too. Hiding in homes to protect themselves from what was “out there.”  Afraid for their safety. Wondering if they were going to be next, if Jesus would show up here too, maybe even today. And we all know what the answer to their wondering was.

And if Jesus showed up for them, He will for us, too. As we hang out behind closed doors, protecting ourselves from what is “out there,” wondering when this will end, if Jesus will show up for us, I think we can listen with hope to what John is saying. This letter was written during a time that the church was still hiding, being beaten, imprisoned, and even murdered for their faith. Not much had changed the first 40 years for the church, and John is reminding them, as he is us, that as we hang out, just like Jesus showed up for them, Jesus will show up for us too. It might not look like it did for Mary, or Peter, or John, or Thomas.  It might feel like fear and despair now, but in hope we believe, as they did, that Jesus will show up for us, when we need it, right on time, answering our questions right when we need them answered.

Making the Journey: Got Bread?

Making the Journey: Got Bread?: Got Bread? John 13:21-35 My dad was a pastor.  He pastored medium size churches, rarely ever larger than 250.  We gathered 3 times e...

Got Bread?

Got Bread?

John 13:21-35

My dad was a pastor.  He pastored medium size churches, rarely ever larger than 250.  We gathered 3 times each week; Sunday morning, evening, and Wednesday night.  My dad’s churches, because of their size, were close and intimate.  That brought along with it some really good days, and some really tough days.  There were not many secrets in our church, because there was nowhere to hide.  The best way to hide was to stop coming, but if you stopped coming that only served as a sign that something was wrong.  So there really was no hiding.

My dad loved rituals.  He was experiential before that was cool.  One he loved repeating was what is referred to as a “love feast”.  Unannounced, we would show up for church on Sunday evening and find a loaf of bread on the communion table waiting for us.  You could hear some audibly moan, understanding its significance.  When we showed up, seeing that loaf of bread, it was a call back to living in the way of Jesus shaped by his behavior in John 13.

After Jesus washed the disciple’s feet, he began to share the Passover meal with them.  We celebrate this differently as Jesus redefined the bread and cup; replacing the Jewish Seder with another meal, Communion.  But something else was going on.  After they ate Jesus tells them that one from the inner circle was going to betray him.  No one knew what he meant, except Judas.  But before Judas left the room, Jesus made a gracious gesture.  Its why no one tackled him when Jesus dismissed him to, “do quickly what you are going to do”.  He gave him a piece of bread.     

This is laced with symbolism and easy for us to miss, but not them.  When a Jew breaks bread, it’s a pledge of friendship.  It literally means that even if I have to die, I will not betray our friendship.  Wow.  Jesus says this to Judas.  Judas!  The same one John opens the curtain to earlier in his gospel as Judas calls Mary’s anointing of Jesus wasteful, declaring Judas didn’t say this because he cared about the poor, but was a thief? (John 12:6)  Jesus forgives Judas.  Let that sink in for a second.  And Judas knew what Jesus is saying as he handed him that piece of bread, as well as everyone in the room.  Then he left, and followed through with the betrayal anyway. 

Jesus didn’t wait for the cross to forgive, but is giving us a glimpse into what was about to happen in their near future, and our present – forgiving the betrayer. Forgiving the one who offends, sins against, even considered the enemy.  But he wasn’t the only one, was he?

Peter is forgiven.  Thomas is forgiven.  Matthew is forgiven.  Judas is forgiven.  But the best news in this is, so am I.  So are you.  So are we.  As Paul expressed, he was the chief of sinners, that’s a long line we can stand in.  But that isn’t enough.  After Judas left, Jesus went on to say:

“Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.  By this act, everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

So when we walked into church on a given Sunday evening, seeing a loaf of bread on the communion table reminded us of Judas, how Jesus forgave him, telling us to forgive each other.  This wouldn’t be bread extended from Jesus to us; it was bread extended from us to each other.  “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples.”  The one we had offended, or worse, the one who had offended us.  It was the call to seek those out that we needed to be reconciled with.  It was “leaving our gift at the altar, and after being reconciled to our brother or sister, coming back to the altar to present our gift”.  It wasn’t easy, but it was what Jesus had done for us, and what he instructed us to do for each other.  It was, and still is, the way of Jesus and his people.  It was, and still is, the way we witness to the world Jesus love for us and ours for each other.

So we broke and shared bread, cried, apologized, and often ended praying around the altar together.  As difficult as was, it was the right thing to do.  It was always good.  As difficult as living this way is, it is the right, the good, the only way to live.  Can you imagine the impact it had on the 10-year-olds in the room watching their parents who hadn’t talked with each other in a couple of weeks crying on each other’s shoulders, seeking forgiveness from one another while exchanging pieces of bread?  Well, so much so that I can still remember it vividly 50 years later. 

This is the way of Jesus.  This is what Friday is all about, and why it is “good”.  It’s shaped by love expressed on Friday, made possible by the hope displayed on Sunday. 

“Father forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.”

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples.”

Got bread?