Jason Gaboury's Blog, page 8

Advent 2021 – The Jesse Tree: How to Trust God in Loss

This is a series of reflections on daily readings designed for families during the season of Advent.  

 

There is nothing that can prepare you for the death of a dream, the loss of a parent, or the dissolution of a marriage.  The day after my dream came crashing down, I sat on the couch in disbelief while waves of rage and grief washed through me in tears and cries.  

 

What do you do in the face of profound loss?  How do you relate to God, when the one thing you most wanted to protect, hold onto, or keep safe, is in danger?  These are not academic questions.  If God can’t be trusted to protect and keep safe the things that matter most to us, is God worth trusting at all?    

Day Six – Trust: Genesis 22:1-19

 

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” 2 He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.”

 

This is one of the most troubling passages in all of scripture.  It’s hard enough to imagine offering up one’s own child as a burnt offering, but when we consider Isaac and Abraham the story only gets more complicated.  Isaac is the child Abraham waited more than twenty years to conceive.  Isaac is the child God promised to Abraham, through whom Abraham expected to have grandchildren.  Everything Abraham understands about his future, his covenant with God, his posterity, and God’s blessing rests on Isaac.  How in the world can God ask Abraham to sacrifice him?  

 

Dig a little deeper into the story of Abraham and you’ll discover this hero of faith isn’t exactly faithful.  Twice, Abraham offered his wife Sarah to other powerful men when he feared his life might be at stake.  Abraham fathered a son with Sarah’s slave Hagar, but then sent both the boy and his mother away, exposing both of them to the possibility of death in the desert.  

Abraham is complicated.  He’s a friend of God.  He’s a coward.  He’s a righteous man.  He’s a scoundrel.  Like most us Abraham is a monstrous saint, or else a saintly monster. 

 

I wonder if this ordeal, an ordeal in which God provides a ram in place of Isaac, is an opportunity for Abraham to come face to face with the loss of his dream, his future, his love, and to confront that essential question, “Can God be trusted?”  This story presses us to confront the same question.  Can God be trusted in the face of real or potential loss?  Abraham seems to say yes, calling the place “God will provide.”  

How have you struggled to trust God to provide?  

What loss or grief causes you to doubt God’s provision?

 

How might this story (strange as it is) offer hope?  

 

 

The Jesse Tree: How to Leave Home and Find God

Advent 2021 – The Jesse Tree 

This is a series of reflections on daily readings designed for families during the season of Advent.  

I got off the train in Penn Station and lost myself in the crowd.  Despite the crowd, the smell of urine and body odor, panhandlers, drug dealers and the rest of the seedy population of Times Square in the mid 80’s, I felt strangely at home.  I think a part of me knew, even back then, that New York City would become home.     

Still, leaving home is difficult.  Disconnection from space and place takes its toll on us, even if our departing from home was full of blessing.  (How much more if it is fueled by crisis, violence, political instability, divorce, death, or loss?).      

Day Five – Leaving and Blessing, Genesis 12:1-7

The Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (Genesis 12:1).

This is no small command. In a highly mobile and individualized culture we’re prone to miss how significant God’s call to leave home was for Abram.

For Abram the call to leave home also meant he would be an exile, cut off from familiar people, language, custom, and even family. In traditional cultures family is everything. Ask my mother-in-law who she is, she will not tell you about her presidential award, ongoing charity work, faith, or children. Instead, she will tell you about her parents, their parents, and the overlapping family network spanning back generations. This is how she describes others in the family as well.

In Genesis 11 we’re introduced to nine generations of Abram’s family. This is ancient storytelling 101. The reader or hearer of this genealogy knows that at the end of this list of names we’re going to be introduced to someone who is going to move the action or story forward in a particular way. The reader or listener knows that this character’s actions will bring either honor or shame to the whole family. Nobody expects that next line to be “Go . . . from your kindred and your father’s house

God continues his call to leave home with a promise.

I will make you into a great nation,and I will bless you;

I will make your name great,

and you will be a blessing.

I will bless those who bless you,

and whoever curses you I will curse;

and all peoples on earth

will be blessed through you. (Genesis 12:2-3)

As dramatic as it is, leaving home launches Abram’s life with God, and ours.  Everything changes.  Abram’s long journey of friendship with God is the means through which God expands his partnership with human beings, for the sake of blessing the whole world. 

What ways have you “left home” in order to cultivate friendship with God?

How have you experienced blessing? 

How might you offer welcome to others? 

 

 

The Jesse Tree: How to Find Mercy in a World of Judgment

Advent 2021 – The Jesse Tree 

This is a series of reflections on daily readings designed for families during the season of Advent.  

My brother was terrified.  Every swell our little boat crashed into sent a spray of water into our faces.  He huddled under a rain poncho, gripping the railing with white knuckles.  I stood by my uncle as he piloted the boat back towards the shore.  The winds and waves pressing against us.  I laughed in delight as we crashed into swells large enough to send my uncle’s little fishing boat into the deep.  Fear simply never occurred to me. 

I always remember this scene when I think about the story of Noah.  Storybook Bibles sanitize the story, draining out all the unpleasantness.  Meanwhile, more mature readers look in horror at a scene of judgment.  What are we to make of it?   

Day Four – Judgment & Mercy, Genesis 6:5 – 9:17

The story in Genesis 6 – 9 begins in sorrow.  Human beings, who are meant to reflect the image of God into creation, have degenerated to the point of continuous evil.  Lamech, in a kind of anti-creation poem, celebrates his ability to bring death. God laments making humans.     

Collusion with death has disastrous consequences.  Torrents of water will wash away human culture and bring an end to the continuous evil the human creatures create.  This is not a random image.  Water in the Hebrew scriptures is associated with chaos.  Since human beings are given over to chaotic evil they will be consumed by the primal image of chaos in their creative imagination. 

But this is not the end of the story.  Just as in the creation poem where a wind from God hovers over the face of the deep, in this story God will preserve humans and animals in the midst of the torrent. 

God’s plan involves a strange partnership between God and a human family.  The humans will need to work to construct something for the purpose of saving life, not destroying it.  They will need to collect and care for plant and animal.  The whole partnership will involve building a relationship of trust between God and humanity, a trust broken long years before.  This is a relationship based on mercy. 

A quick glance at our world confirms that human corruption is not just an ancient problem.  It’s a modern problem and a human problem because it’s a spiritual problem. 

Perhaps the story of Noah is not a tale to terrorize us with judgment, (though there seems to be a lot of that going around), but an invitation to partnership with the creator God for the sake of others.  Perhaps, if we learn to build up, seek out, and care for the vulnerable, we will not need to be afraid when the torrents come. 

What comes to mind when you reflect on the story of Noah? 

What might partnership with God for others look like in your context? 

The Jesse Tree: How to Belong in a World of Shame

Advent 2021 – The Jesse Tree 

This is a series of reflections on daily readings designed for families during the season of Advent.  

I couldn’t breathe.  Shame settled on my chest like a blanket.  Every beat of my heart seemed to scream, “failure!”  An outsider looking in on the circumstances wouldn’t have seen the weight.  They may have, rightly, observed that the details of our family’s distress could have been much worse.  They might have even suggested that we were fortunate to have resources and options other families didn’t. 

Brené Brown describes shame as, the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging… unworthy of connection.  Put more simply, shame is pain plus exclusion.  Any faith worth having needs to offer healing, belonging, and restoration. 

Day Three – Shame, Genesis 2:4 – 3:24

Sometimes we’re so used to reading scripture according to our theological schemas we forget that the first problem in the Bible isn’t disobedience, but loneliness.  In the “very good” creation, in the midst of plenty, it is ‘not good’ for the man to be alone.  The story of the naming of the animals and the creation of the woman are designed to show our need for connection.  We humans need one another, not simply for procreation, but for life, health, for… good(ness). 

The Christian tradition has emphasized “the fall of humanity” as the big problem the story of scripture sets out to address.  But, what if the problem of sin is a substory of the larger problem, the problem of connection, of belonging? 

The story about the serpent, the forbidden fruit, and the woman (and man) is often rehearsed ungenerously.  First, the “knowledge of good and evil” is a euphemism for independence, not for sex as is sometimes suggested.  The crime, committed by both man and woman, was to declare independence from creator and seek the wisdom to determine good and evil for themselves. This “desire to be wise and determine good and evil” is not a problem because humans are meant to be dumb, only that human wisdom (and self interest) make us limited, distorting the good and promoting the evil.

The immediate impact of this is shame.  Having broken trust with creator they cannot face one another without being reminded of what they have lost.  They cover themselves and hide. 

Notice that the creator God is not ashamed of his creatures.  God calls to the woman and man, like the parent calling to the toddler wiggling under the covers in a game of hide and seek.  Willful independence and broken trust have their consequences, but God makes clothes, sets boundaries, and promises restoration. 

Most of us know something of pain plus exclusion.  What would it feel like to come out of hiding, to listen to the voice calling, “Where are you?”  What would it be like to feel ‘covered’ by the creator instead of blanketed by shame? 

 

 

 

The Jesse Tree: Our Primal Need for Meaning

Advent 2021 – The Jesse Tree 

This is a series of reflections on daily readings designed for families during the season of Advent.  

There’s something primal about our Advent celebration.  It begins in fire.  The striking of a match.  The lighting of a candle atop an Advent wreath.  We sing a song of mourning, O Come, O Come, Immanuel, keening for God to come and ransom his people.  Perhaps it this raw emotional realism that drew us to celebrate Advent in the midst of grief and loss.  

I sincerely hope that you are not in a season of grief, but if you are, you’re in good company.  Perhaps reflecting together will warm our hearts toward God and one another.  

Day Two – Creation, Genesis 1:1 – 2:3 

I’ve never really been interested in arguing about creation and evolution.  As much as apologists and new atheists thump their chests, I can’t bring myself to care all that much.  Perhaps it’s because both seem to be reading an origin story as though it’s something different.  This beautiful Hebrew poem isn’t interested in evolutionary biology or carbon dating.  It seems, to me anyway, to be focused somewhere else.  

Do we live in a meaningful universe?  Now, this is a question to keep you up at night.  Is there meaning in the data of quarks and quasars?  Is there significance in the stories we tell, or the songs that birds sing?  

The creation story speaks to this question.  In the ancient world, just as in the modern, most origin stories pointed towards meaninglessness or to political expediency.  We can assert, quite plausibly, that human beings are cosmically irrelevant.  In this view we are the random recombination of particles and proteins organized to pass on genetic information.  But a vision like this is hopeless.  It’s answer to the question, “do we live in a meaningful world,” is an emphatic, “no.”

It’s also easy to punt this question into politics.  Ancient systems of thought imagined power as coming from the gods, contemporary systems of thought see power as coming from popularity. Meaning is only relevant to the degree that it creates, sustains, or challenges systems of power.  Meaning, in this vision, is simply a mask we put on our thirst for power.  

In contrast the ancient Hebrew origin story asserts that the breath of God hovered over the primordial waters.  Speech, order, symmetry, relationship, and harmony are not accidental.  They are good gifts.  The reason we can grieve and lament in the face of loss is that life is not trivial, meaningless, or reduced to power plays.  Instead, right in the middle of the primordial chaos is the speaking, creating, generous, and good God.  

We tend to think, when faced with chaos, that God is absent, hidden, or far off.  How would a vision of God present in the midst of chaos help you to face grief with greater hope?

 

 

 

The Jesse Tree: How a Dead Stump Kindles Hope

Advent 2021 – The Jesse Tree 

This is a series of reflections on daily readings designed for families during the season of Advent.  

A little more than 10 years ago, our family took on the practice of daily reflection on scripture during the season of Advent.  We did not come to this practice because we were looking for something nice to do together.  We came because to this practice with our hopes in tatters, our emotions raw, and mad at God.  

 

We experienced both violation and injustice.  Our cries for justice and compassion were met with racialized scorn.  We felt abandoned and betrayed by God.  

 

I suppose this isn’t the way one is supposed to discover a spiritual discipline.  Yet, out of our desperation we discovered a practice that has deepened our life with God.  In this series, you’re invited to join us.  I sincerely hope that you are not in a season of anguish, but even if you are, I trust that these reflections will inspire your life with God.  

Day One – Isaiah 11:1-2

 

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. 2 The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. 

 

The key image in this passage is the of a fruitful shoot coming out of a stump.  This image is meaningful when considered in context.  In chapter 6 the image of the stump is used as an image of the people of Israel ravaged and destroyed by their enemies.  The prophet declares Israel’s demise, “Even if a tenth part remain in it, (a tenth of the people) it will be burned again, like a terebinth or an oak whose stump remains standing when it is felled.” The holy seed is its stump.”

 

This image of a burned and devastated stump is a troubling image for the people of God.  But, if we’re honest, I suspect it’s descriptive of how we sometimes feel.  God seems to have abandoned us.  Loss and grief pile on.  Recently, after hurricane Ida, a friend experienced not only the loss created by damage to his home, but 10 years of collected photos, resources, and tools for ministry as well.  (You can read his reflections about his experience here.).

 

If we are able / willing to admit our grief, we are better able to receive these later words from Isaiah as a gift.  Desolation, judgment, exile, loss, and grief are not the end of the story.  Instead, the story leans forward to hope.  Hope is coming in the form of one who will bring wisdom, justice, and the presence of the Lord.   

How have you experienced grief / disappointment in your life with God?  

How might these words rekindle hope?  

Why Give? How Giving Reveals More Than we Imagine.

Giving season upon us.  In the next few days and weeks, we’ll be invited to buy gifts, make donations, and otherwise celebrate the winter holidays.  It will undoubtedly stir emotions.  (There’s nothing like a black Friday crowd to make you rethink your life choices.). 

In light of this season I thought it’d be helpful to share a conversation my daughter and I had a short time ago.  We’d just finished our morning routine of listening to a prayerful recitation of Luke 21 on Pray As You Go, a fantastic prayer app for busy people, and were discussing what we’d heard.  

In Luke 21, Jesus is sitting by the treasury in the temple watching the community offer gifts to God.  Then, as now, all the eyes are on the big donors whose contributions inspire the crowd.  Quietly, and without fanfare, a widow deposits two small coins in the box, and for the first time in the story, Jesus is stirred with emotion.  He celebrates the widow as having given, ‘more than all the others,’ because her gift was, ‘all she had to live on.’  

 

Our conversation went something like this… 

Me: Why does God care about what we give? 

Daughter: Because he's a jealous God and he wants us to give our best to him. 

Me: Ok. What are possible other reasons? 

Daughter: I don't know. 

Me: Can you think of how giving relates to the character of God? (Insert meandering conversation finally landing on John 3:16.) 

 Daughter: Oooh! 

Me: What is it?

Daughter: Maybe God cares about giving because He gave something really important. 

Me: I think you're right. So…when we give generously, sacrificially, and freely for the sake of others what are we doing?

Daughter: We're showing the character of God. 

Me: When we give in a selfish, ungenerous, and stingy way do we reflect God's kingdom "on earth as in heaven"? 

Daughter: No! 

Me: So, why does God care about our giving? 

Daughter: Because he wants us, and other people, to know what he's like... generous, loving, and sacrificial. 

In all my reflections on giving up to this point, I’d imagined that we should give to demonstrate our character.  Our giving tells our community that we are generous, thoughtful, responsible, and socially minded.  But what if our giving actually reveals the character of God?  What if the best reason to participate in giving is because it shows an anxious, needy, and distracted world what God is like?  

This year I’m going to try to give a little more like the unnamed widow by:

1.     Setting aside $200 to give to strangers anonymously.  

2.     Involving our whole family in giving. 

3.     Regularly asking, “How does this gift help the receiver to know what God is like?”

What are your best giving experiences?  How have they shaped your practice of generosity?  

 

 

Calling Up vs Calling Out - Ancient Twitter and a Story of Belonging

Have you noticed how difficult it is to really connect and talk these days, especially across differences? The Categories that once brought us together have become emotionally charged and potentially explosive. Anxiety is on the rise… and so is loneliness.  We value diversity. We insist on sameness.  We fear saying the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong way, withdrawing into ourselves, or into our tribes, and then wonder what to do with our ache of loneliness.  

Maybe that’s why I was so struck when I came across this letter between a religious leader and a community he had founded.  It was an open letter, addressed to the whole community. Written long before Twitter, this letter functioned in a somewhat similar way, continuing a contentious conversation in public. This letter addressed controversial topics including sex, celebrity, justice, and love, just to name a few.  But, what really stood out to me was how this letter, Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth, started.  

Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes, 2 To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours: 3 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.[1]

 

Here's what I notice… Paul uses a form of the word called four times in his introduction.  He’s called by God to be an apostle, but he reminds his readers that they are called too.  (The word church in Greek literally means, the called-out ones.). Then he goes on to describe them as those who are called to be saints and reminds them that they share this identity with everyone everywhere who calls on the name of the Lord.  

In other words, this complicated and conflict rich letter begins by saying, I’m called to belong to God, you’re called to belong to God, we are called to be holy ones, and we share that calling with everyone who calls upon the Lord.  

 

This letter is not going to be about “calling out.”  It’s going to be about “calling up.”  In a context of grace and peace, they’re going to talk about some difficult things… and Paul’s going to call them “up” into being more of what they were meant to be.  

 

You know, I’m not a Christian cause I think it’s easy to be one… especially today.  But I do keep finding nuggets like this… wisdom that says there’s something deep and beautiful here, calling me to more of a life with God.  So, I’ll respond to God’s call, and maybe you will too… and maybe together we can call each other up to be more of what we were meant to be.   

When did you experience someone calling you “up”?

What made the difference?

[1] The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. 1989. Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers.

 

 

The Incredulity of St. Thomas

From a Sermon given at All Angels’ Episcopal Church – April 2014

Chris Webb tells the story this way.

The filthy Roman backstreet was wrapped in darkness. Foul smelling water trickled between the stones underfoot, and a single guttering candle burned in a window high above. A drunken young man, his clothes tattered, stumbled into a doorway and threw up violently. Across the street two prostitutes, their faces garishly painted, cackled with delight as they watched him slide down the doorframe and fall into the pool of his own vomit...

...Then he pulled himself to his feet again and weaved his way toward another doorway at the end of the street. He hit the door hard with his shoulder and it crashed back on its hinges, toppling him into the inky blackness of the hallway beyond. Cursing and groaning, he clattered noisily up the wooden staircase; a voice from a neighboring house yelled at him to keep quiet. Pushing open another door, he tumbled his way into a large attic studio and collapsed into a chair in the middle of the open floor. The candle, now burning low, sat in the open window behind him. As the light shone over his shoulder, he contemplated the canvas mounted on the easel before him. There were four figures gathered in a tight huddle in the center of the painting, surrounded by a thick and impenetrable gloom. Their faces were illuminated by some bright light, but everything else lay in darkness. For perhaps half an hour the young man pondered before the canvas, unmoving, his eyes half shut; a casual observer might have thought him asleep. Then, with a start, he leaped up and frantically began mixing paints onto a cracked wooden palette— thick, oily purples and browns, grays and greens. Stabbing a brush into the mixture, he began edging color into the shadows around the leftmost figure. He painted for hours, energetically, even frenetically. As dawn began to color the city in a soft crimson light, the painter, now somewhat more sober but utterly exhausted, fell back into the chair and examined his work thoughtfully. He closed his bloodshot eyes and nodded. It was finished. On the canvas, three disciples stood in a tight group around the newly resurrected Jesus. Matthew and John looked on in wonder as an incredulous Thomas pushed his finger into Christ’s wounded side. Jesus, his eyes etched with compassion, held Thomas’s wrist, keeping the hand steady. The scene was shocking and extraordinarily tender all at once. Without doubt a masterpiece. In his chair, Caravaggio slept. (Chris Webb, The Fire of the Word, Downers Grove IL, InterVarsity Press, 2011, 23-24)

Caravaggio, the drunken outsider, is an unexpected interpreter for the scene we consider this week. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe we need to be woken up to the tensions of doubt, investigation, and disbelief. Maybe we need someone to probe us out of a sleepy faith that nods too easily at the incredible, smiles too shallowly at the resurrection, and suppresses too sweetly the darkness of doubt.

I love this story of St. Thomas in John 20:24-29. The story captured by Caravaggio in his famous painting. It shows us three things that are vital to a healthy Christian community:

The reality of doubt in inside the community of the faithful.

The reward of doubt for doubters and non-doubters alike.

It shows us revelation in spite of doubt.

Reality of Doubt

“How do I know it’s not all made up in my head?” Frankie said to me after I’d preached at a conference recently. Frankie grew up in church. He was graduating and headed to medical school. The worldview gap between the naturalism he’d been expected to function within in his academics and the supernaturalism of his church community was pushing him toward a personal crisis.

If you were sitting with Frankie, what would you say? How would you help him?

The truth is that women and men like Frankie are a part of every faith community. You may know some. You may be someone with big doubts about faith. You may be holding on to faith because you value your place in the community, or you appreciate the experience of worship. Perhaps you participate in worship because of a parent or a child, but even as you participate you wrestle to make sense of your own belief and unbelief.

Thomas’ incredulity inspires in part because his story is so relatable. Thomas, one of the 12, is as close to the Jesus community as he could get, and yet he still doubts. ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’

In the verses just before this section Jesus appeared to the disciples. At that time Jesus gave the disciples (except Thomas) an incredible trust, the ability to determine the boundaries of their community. It says that Jesus breathed on them saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit, if you forgive the sins of any they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”  (John 20:23)

In light of this authority to determine community boundaries, notice how the other disciples respond to Thomas’ refusal to believe. They don’t say, “Clearly you don’t have enough faith to be a part of our community. You don’t measure up. You have sinned against God. So now we’re done with you.”

Here’s a question worth considering, when was the church free of doubtful and half-believing people? Was there ever a time when the church filled only with true believers and confident disciples? The answer is... never. Thomas is one of the 12. He was so committed to Jesus that when Jesus said he was going to Jerusalem, aware that it could mean his betrayal and death, Thomas was the disciple who suggested that they go die with him. Can you get any more committed?

Thomas was committed AND doubtful.

The reality of doubt in the community of faith is important to acknowledge. If you have significant doubts about the gospel of Jesus, a healthy Christian community says, “We are delighted that you’re here. Our hope is that you feel safe within this community to name your doubts, to explore the claims of Jesus, to wrestle honestly.”

The incredulity of St. Thomas shows us not only that doubt is present in the community of faith, but also that doubt is necessary for robust faith.

Reward of Doubt

How do you wrestle honestly with doubt? Healthy doubt begins with an unsolved puzzle, but it doesn’t stop there. Thomas’ had an unsolved puzzle, how could a crucified messiah be alive? How could a crucified messiah be messiah at all? What makes Thomas’ doubt healthy is that it looks for the pieces of the puzzle to be solved. Thomas says, “Unless...” That’s a powerful word. Unless clarifies the criteria that would resolve the puzzle or enable him to see through the paradox.

I suspect that every story of faith has an ‘unless’ in there somewhere. Unless causes our doubts to become specific and focused. It was realistic of Thomas to ask for the same kind of experience with the risen Christ that the other disciples had. Let’s not forget, the other 10 disciples didn’t believe when Mary told them that she had seen the risen Christ. They didn’t believe unless... he came to them, which he did.

I don’t see Melanie that often, but when I do she always asks if I remember her. Then, whether I acknowledge remembering her or not, she shares her story with me. One day in a dark period of her life she wrote in her journal that life wasn’t worth living. She had determined to act on this conclusion when her friend called to invite her to an event at her church. Melanie agreed to go with her friend that evening, then went back to her journal and wrote 7 questions that she needed answered that night or she would follow through with her plan to end her life.

I happened to be speaking that evening at the event her friend took her to. Melanie always tears up when she says, “I went home that night and I had answers to every one of my 7 questions. That was the night God saved my life. That was the night I became a follower of Jesus.”

“Unless I see the mark of the nail...Unless I have an answer...” These are real questions. There is an, ‘unless’ that lurks in the background of our religious activity. There is an, ‘unless’ in the lives of our doubting friends that we as worshipping and witnessing communities need to hear so that that it may inform our prayer and proclamation. What would happen this week if every person in our community asked a doubting friend or family member, “What’s important to you in the spiritual life and where do you struggle to believe?” and then, to just listen... unless...

The reward of doubt is what happens when God meets us in the, ‘unless’.

Jesus came to Thomas and allowed Thomas to probe his wounded side. There is no hint of disappointment. Having stretched his own flesh between heaven and earth to accomplish the reconciling purposes of God, Jesus is not about to withhold himself from Thomas. Thomas and Jesus come face to face. “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory...” (John 1:14)

Now I know at this point the skeptic says, “Well, that’s fine for Thomas... but why doesn’t Jesus appear to everyone who wants to believe? This story must be a legend. It can’t possibly be true, or else this test should be available for everyone... right?”

There are 3 reasons why Jesus doesn’t just appear physically to everyone who asks. First, this narrative occurs during a short season in the life of the early church when Jesus did appear physically. This time ended with what we call the ascension, which is a key move in the life and mission of the church. Ask me more about that later. Second, as much as we hate to admit it, physical manifestations of the presence of God do not ensure faith. Remember the Exodus? God appeared to the people in a cloud and fire. The presence of God literally hovered over their heads... and the people still doubt. In John’s gospel Jesus produces seven distinct ‘signs’ of his identity, and people still fail to believe. Third, this story isn’t fundamentally a method for investigating Jesus, but rather the testimony of one who did. John opens his gospel with the testimony, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.” (John 1:14)

What is your, ‘unless’? What is the, ‘unless’ of your colleagues, family, or friends? Far from a hindrance to faith, healthy doubt presses us into a vital, even liminal space where we can come face to face with Jesus. If and when we do, we discover not simply evidence that requires a verdict, but revelation that requires a response.

Revelation in Spite of Doubt

Thomas stands out in John’s gospel as the primary example of faithful discipleship. After having articulated his doubts Thomas sees Jesus and declares, “My Lord and my God.” There is a cryptic statement Jesus makes in response to Thomas, “Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’” (John 20:29)

John is picking up (and in this exchange resolving) a theme that has run throughout the whole gospel. ‘Seeing’ and ‘not seeing’ are ubiquitous in John. The theme offers an invitation to those of us who read. Do you see the signs? Do you see the one who has come? Do you see who this Jesus really is? Do you?

In beauty and brevity that only John can pull off Thomas is the last of the 12 disciples to ‘see the resurrected Jesus’, and also the first to truly ‘see’ him. Thomas declares Jesus’ identity as a summarization of what he had come to know and to believe.

Fifth century poet Romanus Melodus wrote:

Who protected the hand of the disciple which was not melted

At the time when he approached the fiery side of the Lord?

Who gave it daring and strength to probe

The flaming bone? Certainly the side was examined. If the side had not furnished abundant power,

How could a right hand of clay have Touched

Sufferings which had shaken Heaven and Earth?

It was grace itself which was given to Thomas

To touch and cry out “Thou art Lord and God.”

Truly the bramble which endured fire was burned but not consumed.

From the hand of Thomas I have faith in the Story of Moses.

For, though his hand was perishable and Thorny, it was not burned
When it touched the side which was like

Burning flame.
Formerly fire came to the bramble bush,

But now, the thorny one hastened to the Fire;

And God, Himself, was seen to guard both. Hence I have faith; and hence I shall praise God, Himself, and man as I cry,
“Thou art our Lord and God.”

For truly the boundary line of faith was Subscribed for me

By the hand of Thomas; for when he

Touched Christ
He became like the pen of a fast-writing

Scribe
Which writes for the faithful. From it

Gushes forth faith.
From it, the robber drank and became sober again; From it the disciples watered their hearts;
From it, Thomas drained the knowledge

Which he sought,
For he drank first and then offered drink

To many who had a little doubt. He Persuaded them to say,

“Thou, art our Lord and God.”

And so we like Caravaggio... like Thomas... probe the mystery, the beauty, the wonder of Jesus, messiah of Israel, raised from the dead, Lord of the world. Can we take a moment to enter into this liminal space? Can we confess with Romanus, “Thou, art Lord and God.”?

Life with God - Why do we Need it?

Did you ever meet someone and think to yourself “that person knows God?”  I don’t mean because they’re wearing a Christian t-shirt or carrying a bible or something, but just because of the way they treated you, or the way you saw them treat others.  I was at an anti-war rally the first time I saw Martin.  He was on the mic for something like three minutes and I knew… this guy knows God.  I wasn’t following Jesus at the time, and still I knew… here was a man who walked with God.  I wanted to know more.    

Who do you know that so exemplifies life with God it makes you curious to know more about them?  

 

2 Corinthians 5:14-21 is a fascinating glimpse of what it means to have a life with God according to St. Paul.  Reflecting on this passage can help us clarify why we need a life with God, how to get one, and what to do once we have it.  

 

Here’s the passage. 

2 Corinthians 5:14 – 21.  

 

For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. 15 And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them. 

 

16 From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. 17 So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! 

 

18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. 20 So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. 21 For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

 

Why do we need a life with God?  

 

We need a life with God because the times demand and so do our souls.  Healthy communities need to be rooted in a life with God as well.

 

Difficult times demand a life with God. 

You’re probably tired of hearing how difficult 2020 is.  I’m tired of saying it.  And, it hasn’t stopped being true.  The combination of critical losses and ambiguous losses have been so great in this season that many of us are grieving and not even aware we’re grieving.  If you’re a student, this is the first time your generation has had to deal with loss at a massive scale.  As a result, many Christian students are wrestling with doubt, (where is God in this mess…maybe God isn’t there or doesn’t care), distraction, (huge numbers of students, both men and women wrestling with compulsive engagement with porn) or disconnection (loneliness).   

 

In such troubling times we need a life with God.  Douglas Coupland confessed,  

“Now--here is my secret: 

I tell it to you with the openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again, so I pray that you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. My secret is that I need God--that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love.” [1]

When we don’t have a life with God we move toward spiritual death and personal disintegration, especially in times of loss, grief, and disorientation.  

 

The context of 2 Corinthians 5:14 speaks to times of loss grief and struggle.  Paul describes his experience in ministry in these words, “For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake...”[2]  In the section right before the passage quoted above Paul is wrestling with the question of whether it wouldn’t be better just to give up his earthly struggle.  Here is a man acquainted with grief, despair, and disappointment.  How is he able to keep going?  Verses 14-21 are Paul’s answer to the question.  

 

We need a life with God because our times demand it.  

 

Our souls demand a life with God.

Ronald Rolheiser said, “We do not wake up in this world calm and serene, having the luxury of choosing to act or not act. We wake up crying, on fire with desire, with madness. What we do with that madness is our spirituality.”[3]

 

Our souls demand to be satisfied.  The longing drives us.  Augustine said, “our hearts are ever restless until they find their rest in thee.”[4]

 

Chance the Rapper captured the restless and longing of his creative process this way,

 “I don't make songs for free, I make 'em for freedom
Don't believe in kings, believe in the Kingdom
Jesus' black life ain't matter, I know I talked to his daddy
Said you the man of the house now, look out for your family.”[5]

 

In this passage Paul is clear about what is compelling him forward in ministry, despite all the challenges, disappointments, and temptations to despair.  “For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died.”  

It’s easy to dismiss a passage like this. We think Paul is describing a deep feeling of affection, intimacy, or enthusiasm for Christ, which is compelling him in ministry.  Since no one lives in a state of perpetual warm fuzzy feelings toward God, we might be tempted to dismiss Paul’s words as unattainable.  But notice, it’s not Paul’s love for Christ, but Christ’s love, that is motivating and pressing Paul forward.  

 

How does Paul know Christ’s love?  By staring into the mystery of Jesus on the cross until he’s overcome by it.  This is what he means by saying, “because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died.”  As Paul looks into Jesus’ death he sees the death of the righteous for the unrighteous.  He sees the death of the messiah for Israel.  He sees the death of the obedient for the disobedient.  He sees death of God in exchange for life, for him… for all… for you.   

 

Contemplating the death and resurrection of Jesus places our souls in touch with a love that burns away weaker passions.  In the death and resurrection of Jesus the power of our disobedience, unrighteousness, and sin is melted away, and we behold the depths of God’s love.  This vision of the cross and resurrection presses Paul forward despite despair.  

Contemplating this vision of the cross will change us too.    Here’s an example… Everyone on the campuses where I minister says, “don’t judge,” but I love to say, “Jesus is uniquely qualified to judge the living and the dead.” I know That sounds horrifying.  Objections come forcefully,  until I say, “would you like to know why Jesus is uniquely qualified to judge the living and the dead?  It’s because he hung naked on a cross for three hours, subjecting himself to the most inhumane and unjust tortures, and never once did he cry out for judgment or vengeance.”  Anyone who can do that, and then be resurrected from the dead, is uniquely qualified to judge the living and the dead.   

 

As we contemplate a love that subjects itself to torture without resorting to vengeance or escape our souls are moved, for they demand a life with God.  

 

Healthy community requires a life with God. 

If the love of God is not leading us to a life with God, then whatever else is driving us to serve others will ultimately destroy us.  If it’s guilt, it will lead us to resentment.  If it’s fear, it will lead us to anxiety and burnout.  We can never be perfect enough, pleasing enough people, or fulfill all our moral duties.  The weight of trying to do all of these things is a heavy burden and ultimately destructive. 

According to Paul, the power to endure in his ministry is a life with God anchored in the gospel.  Paul describes it in verse 15 by saying, “And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.”

 

This verse is a challenge to many of us because we live in a culture that values individualism above all.  The idea of not living ‘for ourselves’ feels inauthentic, oppressive, stifling, and the opposite of everything we’re groomed to value.  How can living for something other than ourselves be the way to thrive?

 

Contemplating the gospel helps us to see how living for ourselves is a prison not an accomplishment.  When you live for yourself you inevitably relate to people based on the value you can get from them.  We attempt to manage this dynamic with dating apps, contracts, and social norms, but most of us long for something better.  We long to fall in love with someone who wants us, not just to get something from us.  We want to do business with someone who wants to offer us their help, not just take our money.  Nevertheless, the call to life for ourselves is ubiquitous.  When you actually live that way, though, it undermines your relationships, and you end up isolated and alone.  As our old systems and social structures have given place to economic and expressive individualism, and technology has swooped in to fill the gap, we’ve discovered an epidemic of loneliness!  We think living authentic individualistic lives is going to be a heaven, and it ends up a picture of hell.

 

The gospel challenges individualism.  When we contemplate the love we see in Jesus’ death and resurrection, we see “one dying for all.”  Here we are confronted with the self-giving love we all crave but are groomed to avoid.  This death is not just for us to admire, however.  It happened so that, “those who live, might live no longer for themselves…”. It is as if this particular death has the ability to liberate us from the prison of self and its entanglement with sin and death.  And then, as liberated people, we’re free to respond to God’s love, grace and truth, in the unique personalities, contexts, and relationships we’ve been given.  

 

Think of your friend whose life with God you admire.  I bet that part of what draws you to them is the way they are comfortable in their own skin, they are themselves, but they are not consumed by themselves.  They live, not for themselves, but for him who died for them. 

 

We need a life with God.  Our times demand it.  Our souls demand it.  Healthy community demands it.  At the center of this life with God, at least according to Paul, is a contemplation of the death and resurrection of Jesus.  

How might reflection on this story and these verses inspire your life with God?  

[1] Douglas Coupland, Life After God (New York: Simon & Shuster, 1994), 365. 

[2] 2 Corinthians 4:11, Holy Bible New Revised Standard Version 

[3] Ronald Rolheiser, The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality (New York: Image, 1999

[4] Augustine, Confessions (New York: Doubleday, 1960) 

[5]  Chance the Rapper, Blessings