Fullness of Grace

From the fullness of His grace we have all received one blessing after another. __John 1:16__

I’m what you might call a borderline universalist, meaning that I harbor tendencies toward the idea that, because of God’s grace being so huge, everyone is going to be with him in the end. I’m not there completely. I still think that there is a vast amount of judgment and exclusion language in Scripture that needs to be addressed and interpreted. And I still believe that there at some point has to come a decision on our end to either embrace this grace or give it the finger, so to speak. It’s passages like this that keep reminding of the immensity of grace. And maybe that’s what I’m believing more in: that God’s grace is already given to everyone, that everyone is forgiven through the cross of Christ, that everyone is getting into the party at the end, but that there will be some that refuse to enter the party and enjoy what God has given them free of charge (a number of Jesus’ parables point to this idea of inclusion, though I don’t have time here to go into them). Let me just break this passage down into bite-sized chunks to reveal my thought process and some of the questions that remain unanswered.

From the fullness…  My thesaurus tells me that a synonym for “fullness” is “extensiveness.” Either way you say it you are dealing with the whole measure of God’s grace in Christ. Every. Last. Bit. God is holding nothing back, not keeping any grace in reserve. He’s packing every ounce of His grace into this deal. Imagine packing for a trip. You are limited to one large duffel bag and you have to fit everything into that one bag. You cram and pack and smoosh. In order to get the zipper closed you have to sit on the bag and have your spouse hold the zipper teeth together in order to get the thing zipped. This is fullness.

…of His grace… This is God’s unmerited, unearned, unfair, unjust, undeserved, (perhaps) unasked for favor that comes through the Word-made-flesh (see 1:14—“full of grace”). There is nothing you can do to gain it. Nothing you can give to buy it. And I dare say, nothing you can do to avoid it. It comes from Him simply because. It is the reality of how the world really works.

…we have all received… Who is “we”? Does he just mean Christians? What does John mean here buy “all”? I suppose that I tend to lean towards “all” meaning, well, all. Everyone. If you draw breath then you are included in the word “all.” You, me, and the crack-whore down the street—everyone of us has received blessings from God because of His full, overflowing, duffel-bag-zipper-busting grace. Maybe some of us don’t even realize that we’ve received all of these blessings from God. Maybe this is pointing to the fundamental way that reality is. Maybe it is our decision whether we choose to live inside that fundamental reality or not, open our eyes to see, open our hands to receive and open our hearts to accept the beauty of God’s fullness pouring down around us like rain.

shalom, matt

Recognize

Finally read my Bible today. First time in, oh, four-ish months. A friend of mine is in New Zealand and happens to be currently making me look foolishly silly in the spiritual realm (Props K-dog!), kicking it Jesus-style (props to DC Talk for that one), and generally experiencing God with the intensity of Isaiah 6 (read it yourself, lazy). Anyway, she mentioned that she had read through John, so I thought I might start on my own venture into the great mystery Gospel of John, perhaps I would might even find a similar encounter as well.

Interestingly, my first foray into the Bible in several months (I still can’t believe I let it go this long. I’m an idiot.) revealed an interesting picture from the opening poetry of John’s story. In verse 3 John is talking about this Word (Greek logos) that was both God and with God in the beginning, meaning that the Word has been around for a freaking long time, like, you know, forever. John says that through “Him” all things were made and that without Him nothing that is could be. If it is then it finds its is-ness (not to be confused with Izzy-ness, which can only come from listing to Iggy Pop albums) in the fact that it (whatever it is) was made through Him, the Word.

Move on down to verse 10. This very world, which finds its is-ness, its being, in having been created through Him, fails to recognize its own agent of life moving among them. He becomes his creation and his creation, not only fails to recognize him, they don’t even receive him. Read: He was in the world, and though the world was made through him , the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.

The thought struck me as I was reading this: how tragic would it be for my son to fail to recognize me. How disheartening from the perspective of Christ, to know in the core of your being that it was you through whom all things were made, every person that he came into contact with, and to have those people fail to see you for who you were. Or worse, to see you and fail to receive you. It seems to me that this passage could be seen through the lens of a grieving parent whose own children don’t acknowledge them as creator, as the life-giver. Notice what John says in the next verse. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become (their whole is-ness being transformed) children of God. 

shalom, matt

Things That Would Be Better Than Working a 12-Hour Shift When You are Coming Down With and Illness

I’ve been sick for, like, 5 days now. Not fun. Started getting sick at the beginning of 12-hour shift. Even less fun. Thought I might kick it during my two days off on Monday and Tuesday. No dice. Felt like crap on Wednesday and Thursday (two more 12 hour shifts). Wanted to die. Went to the clinic. Nurse Practitioner told me it’s viral and I just have to wait it out. Fantastic. So, that’s why I’ve not posted anything in a while. In response to all of this I present to you the list of Things That Would Be Better Than Working a 12-Hour Shift When You are Coming Down With and Illness.

Working an 11-hour shift when you are coming down with an illness.

Bull-fighting naked with only a Twizzler (cherry) and a napkin to defend yourself with.

Relaxing at a beach-front condo on the shores of the Lake of Fire in Hell.

Eating pumas (without milk).

Listening to an All-John-Tesh hour on the radio.

Wander around the lion cage at the zoo wearing meat pants and shouting “The Lion King sucked” through a megaphone.

Consume your body weight in pork rinds and Funions.

Halloween party with schizophrenics.

Jogging in corduroy pants and a wool sweater.

Watching women’s basketball.

Working a 12-hour shift when you are really sick.

Being run over by a cargo ship.

Two words: Lifetime Channel.

Hope you are healthier than I am.

shalom, matt  

If I could start a "church"...

If I were to start a church what would it look like?

Its primary reason for existing would not be to perpetuate its own existence.

It would be a force of good in the community.

A building would only be as necessary and debt would not be incurred to build it.

Its main focus would not be on programming for the masses.

It would be a messy community of people who are screwed up but leaning on grace.

It would be a place where everyone is cared for by others in the community of faith.

No paid staff; or at the most a minimally compensated staff.

It would not be the “new” thing in town. Church-hoppers are not welcome. only those seeking life, grace and Jesus.

Its goal is not size but depth.

It will preach love of God and humanity and how that gets lived out.

Sunday mornings will not be the main focus. Every day of the week is the focus.

Sunday mornings will be for two purposes: 1) to celebrate last week; 2) and prepare for next week.

Every gift is welcomed and will find a use in the community of believers.

It would be a place of rest.

It would be a place of work.

It would hold those two things in tension, seeking a rhythm, a synthesis of the two.

Its tithes and offerings will be for the good of the community, not simply sunk into supporting the building.

Its people will be living Eucharists, broken and poured out for others. Communion will celebrate this.

It would have no official membership, if you show up then you are part of it.

It will celebrate the sacraments: marriage, communion, baptism and the like.

It will recognize and learn from the ancient Church.

It will adhere to the Apostle’s Creed as the basis of theology.

Women would have equal place in leadership.

It would teach and practice the spiritual disciplines.

It would forget its own identity in Christ, instead of aping someone else’s.

It would be a place that sought life in the Spirit as opposed moralism.

It would be a place that someone would want to be.

It would welcome doubt and skepticism, seeing them as faith taking shape.

It would interact with and redeem culture, listening for the voice of God there.

How about you? What would you add to this list?

shalom, matt

Scripture as Pictures

I got into a discussion (read: heated argument) with the minister I worked for several years ago regarding the Bible and how it isn’t where our “evangelism” should start with people. I argued that you can’t use the Bible to bring someone to a relationship with Christ if they don’t care about the Bible. (Just as a side note, I know this is a very, very huge generalization, and I know that some people have come to Christ through Scripture, but it’s my article and for the most part I think it’s a valid argument. If you don’t like it stop reading and write your own.) It doesn’t make sense. If I don’t believe something, i.e., the Bible, is true, nor do I care if it is true, why would you try to use that very something to try and convince me that the Someone in that something wants to have a relationship with me? (Just as another side note, I was an immature douchebox back in my early ministry career and I probably started the argument. He and I remain good friends to this day.)

I was thinking today at work (we’re only running one line, which means my day is dragging and my brain has too much time on its cerebral hands) about this idea and came up with an apt analogy. I have a ridiculously cute nephew and an equally handsome son, both of whom take the cheesiest pictures of anyone you’ll meet under the ages of 2 and 5, respectively. Sometimes I want to show them off to people who don’t know anything about them, have never met them, and have no relational connection whatsoever. You can tell that they only vaguely care how cute they are, not feeling 1/1000th of the feeling I have for them. Why? Because to me they are more than pictures. Behind the pictures are voices, personalities, laughter, memories, and attachment. The pics are a link to them, a vivid reminder of who they are. I used to take pictures of my son on trips with me, because, in a way, it brought him to me whenever I looked at them (One more side note and I’ll stop: re-read that last sentence and then make the connection to the Eucharist we celebrate on Sundays.)

The Bible is a book of pictures, images, metaphor and story, which those of us who grew up with it take for granted. To those who have a living relationship with Christ the Bible serves as a picture frame, full of emotion, voices, personalities, memories, and attachment. In other words, a relationship. For those without that relationship there are none of those things. Not that the Bible is unimportant or useless to everyone like this, but without the relationship the images of Scripture lose context and depth. Evangelism, as I’ve written about before, must begin in genuine relationship. Only when the images of Scripture find fulfillment in your life for others to see will the Bible come alive for them. Humanity’s  initial relationship with Christ begins in the relationship they have with a disciple. We, the Church, with Christ in us, give color, depth, emotion and attachment to humanity’s encounter with Scripture--because they have already seen it come alive in us. 

shalom, matt

The Primacy of Story: Acts

Having worked in churches for a number of years there was one thing that I became increasingly irritated by: the ritualistic abuse of the book of Acts by turning it into a manual for how to do church (not to be confused with how to be the church, which you could actually use Acts for). Our Western minds crave structure and order, so we take an Eastern book, written in symbol, metaphor, and image driven patterns, and we plumb its depths looking for strict patterns, blueprints and three point bulleted sermons. Though the Church has been guilty of this abuse for centuries, it has never been more pronounced than it is right now (or so it seems to me). 

Back a number of years ago, around the time I was in college, Rick Warren, the founding pastor of Saddleback Community Church in So-Cal, wrote a book called The Purpose Driven Church (followed a couple years later by The Purpose Driven Life). In that book he lays out five foundational principles that he found in the book of Acts that the early church “emphasized”: worship, fellowship, discipleship, service, and evangelism. What this did, besides cause every church in America to ape this plan and try to be a megachurch, was turn the book of Acts into a no-fail formula for how to do church here in America. 

News-flash! The book of Acts is about the disciples of the Way learning to be the Church. And they learned to be the Church by following the Way of Jesus, not by formulating a plan, strategy, or catchy vision statement. They simply lived.

Our missing of this point has lead churches to compartmentalize their programs, turning true discipleship into an assembly line process, where a person can move from point A to B to C and so on, finally reaching an imaginary finish line and being a true disciple. 

Horsecrap.

That would work if the church was full of robots. It isn’t. It’s full of messy, broken people who aren’t programmable. I the book of Acts teaches us anything it’s that the Body of Christ is human, prone to beautiful acts of grace and compassion and courage because of the Spirit of Christ moving in us. 

The story of Acts chronicles for us the journey and rise of a confused group of disciples from an upper room huddle to a world changing force for the Kingdom. It is the best of humanity overcoming the worst of humanity by living the Way. It is the enfleshment--an epilogue if you will--of all Jesus lived and taught. Yes, they worshipped, served, etc., but not as a means towards some supposed end. Everything they did was an overflow of who they were in Christ. 

Following Jesus is more than the sum of those five compartments. It’s about a new way of seeing the world; a new way of being human; a de-centering away from the world’s values and a re-centering in God’s values; a new way of seeing yourself; it’s learning to love, forgive, seek justice and mercy, and walk humbly with God. This what we find in Luke’s history of the early church. Let us move on then from formulas, vision statements, and programs to a way of life. 

shalom, matt

The Primacy of Story: Flood

I can’t imagine a more horrible story than this. It is very easy to get caught up in all of the theological theorizing concerning the ethics of God wiping out 99.9% of life on earth. It is every easy to get stuck in a flannel graph world of rainbows, and duos of animals smiling at the big boat and being waved at by the old guy with the white beard. It’s also easy to get stuck in the mode of comparing the Flood with the End Times destruction. This story seems to be saying something revolutionary about God:

God gets sad.

In ancient Middle Eastern cultures gods were part of everyday goings-on. If it rained it was because of the rain god being pleased with you. If it flooded then you had hacked off the rain god and it was time for a sheep to die so as to assuage the angry rain god. People lived in constant fear of their gods, never knowing if they were happy or angry. 

The Bible records this God, Elohim/Yahweh, who is intimately linked with his creation, showing them favor in their disobedience (note that after the Fall God makes Adam and Eve coverings, which by all accounts is an act of grace). He is so linked to them that their corruption tears at his heart. This is a god who is emotionally attached to what he creates. He doesn’t stand aloof, winding up the clock and letting it run, then running off to Tahiti to sip Margaritas on the beach. He is in complete and loving control of his creation, pushing it towards His intended purpose and plan for it. 

A God who is emotionally involved with His creation is a god that can be trusted, because his attachment means that at no point will he “drop the ball” and leave us hanging. Even in his decision to destroy the earth we find intentionality. He takes a right-living man named Noah, tells him to build a huge-freaking boat in the middle of the desert and then to gather two of every animal to put into a boat. Only a God in control, with a distinct plan could make this work. He then uses Noah and family to rebuild and repopulate the world. 

A God who is emotionally attached to his creation will also enter into that creation, take on flesh, subject himself to its laws and forces, and die so that he need never destroy the world again. 

shalom, matt

Televangelist Resolutions

This comes from The Wittenburg Door blog, a satirical religious magazine. Found this on ysmarko.com and thought it worth sharing. Funny stuff. 

shalom, matt

The Primacy of Story: Adam and Eve

Adam and Eve

Two people. One serpent. One tree. One piece of fruit. One deception. One bite. Two bites. One God. One (heart-rending) question (“Where are you?”). Death. Banishment. Promise of grace.

Is there a more human story than this in Scripture?

Whether you believe that Adam and Eve were real people or not doesn’t change the fact that this story is the story of humanity. This story didn’t just happen; it happens, everyday, everywhere. On the surface this is a story of a bad choice, of sin, rebellion against God. But did Adam and Eve really set out to be rebellious? Was it really their intent to know what only God needs to know? Did they even realize the implications of their choice beforehand? I would dare to answer “no” to all three questions. Why? Is it ever our intent to be rebellious (maybe occasionally, but often no)? Is it ever our intent to be like God, to try and take his place (we may try unknowingly, but often no)? Do we ever think about the implications of our choices (occasionally yes, but often no)? 

You see? It’s our story.

This story is about our desire for control. More on that later.

Some may think it unfair (I’m one of them) that God never gives them much of a reason why they shouldn’t eat from the Tree. “Don’t eat it or you will die.” That’s it. (There is a scene in the movie Animal House where John Belushi’s character “Bluto” is giving new pledges their official Delta House frat names. He tells the one fat, doofy kid, “Your Delta Tau Chi name is “Flounder”. “Why ‘Flounder’?” he asks. “Why not!?” responds a very drunk Belushi. Sometimes God’s reasoning seems that banal: “Why God?” we ask. “Why not?” He responds.) To my knowledge Adam and Eve never question the command. But I do know that the pull of the Tree was too much for them. It’s Pandora’s Box: they opened it, satisfying the curiosity, gaining control of your ability to choose, but a whole mess of crap came with it, none of it pleasant. 

One of the great tragedies of this story (and ours) is Adam and Eve’s decision to take control of what God alone should have control of: their lives. God’s control results in provision, care, communion, intimacy, satisfaction and life--real life. Their need for control--our need for control--brings hardship, frustration, toil, isolation, guilt, anxiety despair, and the desire for more control. The beginning of the story of Adam and Eve shows us that everything was supposed to be controlled for us--except our ability to choose love over control and allow God to love us and control us as only He can. 

And we chose poorly. And we choose poorly.

Now we are in a fight with our own fallen nature, grasping tightly our need for control, never realizing that in fighting for control we are actually losing control. In the cross of Christ we find, strangely, a God who so loves the world that he gives up control of his own life to his creation and dies. This is how an all-controlling God shows us his love, by giving up his control and dying, forever freeing us from the curse that we brought on ourselves by seeking the very same control.

May we follow the example of Jesus and die so that we might be free from the curse of trying to control our own lives. 

shalom, matt

Yet...

There is a phrase found in Scripture (Job 13:15) that says, “Yet will I hope.” That word “yet” is pregnant with meaning. Three little letters that carry a world of possibility inside their tiny confines. The word scares us because of what has to come before it. It’s always negative, otherwise there would be no reason for “yet.” “Yet” could mean anything. “Yet” can be the smallest problem or massive disaster. It could be a busted alternator and a barren bank account; it could be a busted heart. It could be lost work or lost loved-one; a barren womb or a barren soul; a scratched cornea or pancreatic cancer; one thing or ten things. As Rob Bell points out in NOOMA: Rain, “It always rains, doesn’t it?” There is a saying in King James English to describe these phenomenon: the crappeth hath hitteth the faneth. It happens and 99% of the time there is little we can do to predict or control it. We stop and stare at what’s going on, unable to move or breathe, speak or think, like a Sasquatch caught by a tourist’s video camera, knowing intuitively that nothing will ever be the same.

Yet…

It isn’t such a bad word after all. Maybe it is fraught with possibility. Maybe, instead of indicating a problem it signifies a new day is dawning, the endless night of Antarctic winter is over, and the sunrise is coming. Maybe “yet” is an assertion of will against the present circumstance, the past mistakes and the future troubles: “I will not be mastered by despair, by anxiety, by guilt.” “Yet is a loving gaze skyward, towards the God who “knows the plans He has for us...plans for a hope…” It is looking out to a barren field and seeing the growth that can come. it is a radical trust in the face of an overwhelming foe. It is seeing the light at the end of the tunnel when you can’t see the end of the tunnel and everything in you says, “There is no end to the tunnel.”

“Yet” is an infant in a feed trough, born into a dark world to set people free from fear of today, tomorrow and yesterday. He is an infant born to give fullest possible meaning to the word “yet.”

shalom, matt