Reading the story now, knowing in advance how it will end, it's easy to quickly skim through the painful parts, like the crucifixion, comforted by the knowledge that it's all going to turn out okay. We know the story- Jesus doesn't stay dead. We've heard the story so many times; it's easy to forget how painful, frightening, and confusing those days must have been for his followers. They were living through it; they didn't know how it was going to end. I'd say they thought it had ended- the man they had left everything to follow, the man who they believed to be their Messiah, had just been crucified like a criminal. He was dead. How bleak and hopeless it all must have seemed. How many doubts and questions they must have had.
Twice in this chapter a resurrected Jesus appears to his followers, who are sorrowful over the events that have taken place. He had tried to tell them before what was in store for him, that he would suffer and die and rise again, but they just didn't get it. None of it made sense to them. But now, Luke says that Jesus "opened their minds to understand the Scriptures." Now, after the fact, it was painfully clear and undeniable that Jesus had, in fact, suffered and died. And here was Jesus, standing before him, making it clear- he had risen again.
But why? What was the point of it all? This is what Jesus says:
"Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem."
So many people have been taught to believe in a God who is harsh and condemning, a God who is just waiting for us to mess up so he can punish us. So many people think they aren't good enough for God and therefore he could never love them. And you know what- we aren't good enough. That's true. We are completely unworthy, on our own, to stand before a perfect God. But God loves us anyway. He put skin on and made the ultimate sacrifice necessary so we could finally be reconciled to him. He's not eager to punish us; he's eager to forgive us and to have a relationship with us. And that is the good news- love, grace, mercy, forgiveness.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Luke 23- Forgive Them
At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus was tempted to prove himself by providing for his physical needs and by making a public spectacle. And now he's on the cross, facing the same temptations. He's been betrayed and denied by some of his own followers. His people have falsely accused him and insisted that he be put to death. He has been made fun of and he's been physically abused. Now he's hanging on a cross and, through the physical pain, through the mental anguish, through the emotional turmoil, he hears the people's words all around him.
"He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!"
"If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!"
"Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!"
How tempting it must have been to say, "To hell with these people," literally. How tempting it must have been to prove himself by making a public spectacle and saving himself. How tempting it must have been to make them see who he was and what they were doing.
But he didn't do any of those things. He didn't say, "To hell with them." Instead, he said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
I can't find the words to explain how deeply that affects me. To see that God knows people are broken and blind to the truth, and that he reacts with compassion, love, and forgiveness instead of anger is so amazing. To see that he desires a relationship and is not going to try to force us to believe is amazing. To see that he would go to such great lengths, to make the sacrifice himself and to take on the punishment we deserved, so we can be redeemed is amazing.
"He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!"
"If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!"
"Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!"
How tempting it must have been to say, "To hell with these people," literally. How tempting it must have been to prove himself by making a public spectacle and saving himself. How tempting it must have been to make them see who he was and what they were doing.
But he didn't do any of those things. He didn't say, "To hell with them." Instead, he said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
I can't find the words to explain how deeply that affects me. To see that God knows people are broken and blind to the truth, and that he reacts with compassion, love, and forgiveness instead of anger is so amazing. To see that he desires a relationship and is not going to try to force us to believe is amazing. To see that he would go to such great lengths, to make the sacrifice himself and to take on the punishment we deserved, so we can be redeemed is amazing.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Luke 22- Amazing Grace
We see the flaws and failures of Jesus' disciples throughout this chapter. Judas makes the decision to betray Jesus. The disciples get into an argument at the Passover meal, over which of them is the greatest. They fall asleep while Jesus is praying, even though he's instructed them to pray as well. And Peter, who had said only hours before that he was ready to go with Jesus to prison and death, denies that he even knows Jesus.
I have often wondered how much we're like Jesus' disciples. How often do we focus on the wrong thing while completely missing the point? How often do we just not get it? How often do we not see the seriousness of a situation? How often do we betray Jesus, setting aside our devotion to him in order to pursue our own selfish desires? How often do we deny that we even know him because we're afraid of what people will say or think or do?
This is one of the things that I find most amazing about Jesus. He knew what was coming. He knew that the disciples still didn't really get it. He knew he was going to be betrayed and denied by his own followers. I'd be willing to bet that he knew his followers throughout history would do the same, that we would still be imperfect and that we would still screw it up. And at the same time he knew what he was about to go through, he knew how he was going to suffer and die, and he knew why. And he chose to do it anyway, knowing that he, God in the flesh, was suffering all these things for imperfect, screwed up people- people like his disciples, people like us. He made the ultimate sacrifice to offer forgiveness and redemption to people who had done nothing at all to deserve it, because he loved us that much. That is what grace is all about. And it is truly amazing.
I have often wondered how much we're like Jesus' disciples. How often do we focus on the wrong thing while completely missing the point? How often do we just not get it? How often do we not see the seriousness of a situation? How often do we betray Jesus, setting aside our devotion to him in order to pursue our own selfish desires? How often do we deny that we even know him because we're afraid of what people will say or think or do?
This is one of the things that I find most amazing about Jesus. He knew what was coming. He knew that the disciples still didn't really get it. He knew he was going to be betrayed and denied by his own followers. I'd be willing to bet that he knew his followers throughout history would do the same, that we would still be imperfect and that we would still screw it up. And at the same time he knew what he was about to go through, he knew how he was going to suffer and die, and he knew why. And he chose to do it anyway, knowing that he, God in the flesh, was suffering all these things for imperfect, screwed up people- people like his disciples, people like us. He made the ultimate sacrifice to offer forgiveness and redemption to people who had done nothing at all to deserve it, because he loved us that much. That is what grace is all about. And it is truly amazing.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Luke 21- The Widow's Offering
Usually when I write, I like to bring everything to a conclusion, to state what I think and why. Today I'm not going to do that. In fact, the passage I'm going to write about today is one that I struggle with the most. And honestly, it's part of the reason I've delayed finishing up these posts on Luke; I've been avoiding this passage because I don't know how to write about it. So this post is unique; I have no idea what I'm going to say. I'm just going to write my thoughts as they come to me, and see where we end up.
The passage comes at the beginning of Luke 21, and here is what it says:
Jesus looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box, and he saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. And he said, "Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on."
Just two sentences from Jesus, but I struggle mightily with this in several different ways.
First, I have a hard time understanding what Jesus is actually saying. Is he implying that it is better for a person to put in all they have to live on than to put in only a portion? Is he saying that it means more to God? Is he saying the person who does it is more righteous or spiritual or blessed? Or is he simply making an observation- that although her coins don't look like they amount to much, they are everything she has- and that although the rich people's offerings look like a lot, they are but a portion of what they have?
Looking back, it seems that a lot of times I've heard this passage presented in such a way that leads one to believe Jesus is not simply making an observation, but that he is also deeming the widow and her offering as the better way, the way we should be doing things. But as I read through his words again, I realize he never makes a judgment call. He never says she or her offering are better or more righteous or more pleasing to God, and he never says that the rich people's offerings are not good enough or less pleasing to God.
I also struggle with guilt. The more I think about it, the more I think that I feel guilty because of some of the sermons I've heard in the past and some of the things I've read into this passage that aren't even there. So many times I've walked away from this passage feeling beat up. Why? Because when we have money left after paying our bills and getting food for our family, we absolutely give what we can to our church and to people in our lives who need extra money. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. But during the times where we only have enough to live on ourselves, paying our bills and feeding our family come first.
Then I read that passage and feel so discouraged, like I've messed it all up. After all, we aren't doing what the widow did. We aren't putting in everything we have to live on. In fact, it seems to me like that would be a risk that perhaps God doesn't actually want us to take; it seems like saying, "Well, God, this is everything we have, our bills aren't paid and we don't have food, but I'm giving this money. You're gonna have to come through for me!" And that, to me, sounds like telling God what to do and not being smart with our very limited finances. What if God is sitting there going, "But don't you see that I AM coming through for you? I've provided this job, and you do have enough money to get the things your family absolutely needs- so use it for that!"
Maybe I need to look at this passage differently. Maybe I need to purge from my mind all the judgment calls that Jesus never actually stated, and go back to his actual words. Read his words again. Maybe he's not actually saying that giving out of your abundance is less righteous than giving everything you have. Maybe the point he's trying to make is simply that what looks like it isn't much in the eyes of others may be everything to the person who's giving it, and that sometimes what looks like a lot may mean little to the person who's giving it. Maybe he's saying that what's in your heart, what is driving you to give in the first place, is of more significance than the percentage or amount you're giving.
The passage comes at the beginning of Luke 21, and here is what it says:
Jesus looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box, and he saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. And he said, "Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on."
Just two sentences from Jesus, but I struggle mightily with this in several different ways.
First, I have a hard time understanding what Jesus is actually saying. Is he implying that it is better for a person to put in all they have to live on than to put in only a portion? Is he saying that it means more to God? Is he saying the person who does it is more righteous or spiritual or blessed? Or is he simply making an observation- that although her coins don't look like they amount to much, they are everything she has- and that although the rich people's offerings look like a lot, they are but a portion of what they have?
Looking back, it seems that a lot of times I've heard this passage presented in such a way that leads one to believe Jesus is not simply making an observation, but that he is also deeming the widow and her offering as the better way, the way we should be doing things. But as I read through his words again, I realize he never makes a judgment call. He never says she or her offering are better or more righteous or more pleasing to God, and he never says that the rich people's offerings are not good enough or less pleasing to God.
I also struggle with guilt. The more I think about it, the more I think that I feel guilty because of some of the sermons I've heard in the past and some of the things I've read into this passage that aren't even there. So many times I've walked away from this passage feeling beat up. Why? Because when we have money left after paying our bills and getting food for our family, we absolutely give what we can to our church and to people in our lives who need extra money. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. But during the times where we only have enough to live on ourselves, paying our bills and feeding our family come first.
Then I read that passage and feel so discouraged, like I've messed it all up. After all, we aren't doing what the widow did. We aren't putting in everything we have to live on. In fact, it seems to me like that would be a risk that perhaps God doesn't actually want us to take; it seems like saying, "Well, God, this is everything we have, our bills aren't paid and we don't have food, but I'm giving this money. You're gonna have to come through for me!" And that, to me, sounds like telling God what to do and not being smart with our very limited finances. What if God is sitting there going, "But don't you see that I AM coming through for you? I've provided this job, and you do have enough money to get the things your family absolutely needs- so use it for that!"
Maybe I need to look at this passage differently. Maybe I need to purge from my mind all the judgment calls that Jesus never actually stated, and go back to his actual words. Read his words again. Maybe he's not actually saying that giving out of your abundance is less righteous than giving everything you have. Maybe the point he's trying to make is simply that what looks like it isn't much in the eyes of others may be everything to the person who's giving it, and that sometimes what looks like a lot may mean little to the person who's giving it. Maybe he's saying that what's in your heart, what is driving you to give in the first place, is of more significance than the percentage or amount you're giving.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Luke 20- The Things That Are God's
In this chapter, some of the religious folks are trying to catch Jesus saying something wrong so they can turn him over to the authorities. So they ask him if it's okay for them to give money to the government. I have always felt somewhat comforted when I read the following exchange:
He perceived their craftiness, and said to them, "Show me a denarius. Whose likeness and inscription does it have?" They said, "Caesar's." He said to them, "Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's."
Why is this comforting to me? Because it always reminds me that things like money are not really mine to begin with; our money is inscribed, not with Caesar or Rome, but with American symbols. But people are stamped with God's image, created in his likeness, bearing his inscription. And I find it comforting to know that a government (or bills, or other people) can take the money- just paper and coins, really- but they cannot take what is God's. No one can take what is spiritual, our relationship with God, the joy that can be found through him no matter what the outward circumstances are- no one can take those things from our lives, these things that matter so much more than material things. My self, my life, my being are all stamped with God's image, and I will render those things to him, and not to anyone or anything else.
He perceived their craftiness, and said to them, "Show me a denarius. Whose likeness and inscription does it have?" They said, "Caesar's." He said to them, "Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's."
Why is this comforting to me? Because it always reminds me that things like money are not really mine to begin with; our money is inscribed, not with Caesar or Rome, but with American symbols. But people are stamped with God's image, created in his likeness, bearing his inscription. And I find it comforting to know that a government (or bills, or other people) can take the money- just paper and coins, really- but they cannot take what is God's. No one can take what is spiritual, our relationship with God, the joy that can be found through him no matter what the outward circumstances are- no one can take those things from our lives, these things that matter so much more than material things. My self, my life, my being are all stamped with God's image, and I will render those things to him, and not to anyone or anything else.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Time Keeps on Slipping Into the Future
This week has been a very obvious and bittersweet reminder of how quickly time passes and how quickly children grow up.
The biggest reminder has been Elijah starting kindergarten. He turned 6 last week and started kindergarten this week. And as you can probably imagine, I have had a hard time with it. Lots of mixed emotions- the first couple of days I was so nervous and worried. "Is he having a good time? Is he making friends? Or is he lonely and sad and feeling abandoned?" And other such worries. The first two mornings there were a lot of tears on my end, out of his sight of course because I didn't want to make things harder on him. But he seems to be enjoying school and he looks forward to going each day, so I feel excited and happy for him too. It's just hard, when I've been home with him full time for almost three years now, and part time before that, to have him gone for 6 1/2 hours a day. It honestly doesn't feel like that long ago that he was a little baby, and now look at him. It's amazing how quickly the time goes by.
But that's not the only thing that happened this week. As of Wednesday, I am now in the third trimester of this pregnancy. The last 6 months have gone by so quickly, and I know the next 3 will too. Before long I'll be holding my new baby. I have mixed feelings about this too- I'm so ready to have Jude here with me, but at the same time I really enjoy being pregnant and I'm going to miss it when it's over.
And one other thing that I have to mention. My little brother started his senior year of high school this week. I was Elijah's age when Scott was born, so I remember pretty clearly when he was a baby. And now he's in his last year of high school.
As I approach the end of this week, one thought keeps coming back to my mind: Cherish every moment. Seriously. Savor it, enjoy it, because it really does go so quickly.
The biggest reminder has been Elijah starting kindergarten. He turned 6 last week and started kindergarten this week. And as you can probably imagine, I have had a hard time with it. Lots of mixed emotions- the first couple of days I was so nervous and worried. "Is he having a good time? Is he making friends? Or is he lonely and sad and feeling abandoned?" And other such worries. The first two mornings there were a lot of tears on my end, out of his sight of course because I didn't want to make things harder on him. But he seems to be enjoying school and he looks forward to going each day, so I feel excited and happy for him too. It's just hard, when I've been home with him full time for almost three years now, and part time before that, to have him gone for 6 1/2 hours a day. It honestly doesn't feel like that long ago that he was a little baby, and now look at him. It's amazing how quickly the time goes by.
But that's not the only thing that happened this week. As of Wednesday, I am now in the third trimester of this pregnancy. The last 6 months have gone by so quickly, and I know the next 3 will too. Before long I'll be holding my new baby. I have mixed feelings about this too- I'm so ready to have Jude here with me, but at the same time I really enjoy being pregnant and I'm going to miss it when it's over.
And one other thing that I have to mention. My little brother started his senior year of high school this week. I was Elijah's age when Scott was born, so I remember pretty clearly when he was a baby. And now he's in his last year of high school.
As I approach the end of this week, one thought keeps coming back to my mind: Cherish every moment. Seriously. Savor it, enjoy it, because it really does go so quickly.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Long Time, No Blog
Well, it's been about a week, I guess. Not really that long. I'm just a few chapters away from finishing the Luke study; in fact, I actually only have a couple chapters left to read, but sitting down to write has not been happening lately! I'm about to have more time on my hands, though. Elijah's starting kindergarten; yesterday was his first day. It's hard to believe that my baby is in school now. He and I are both adjusting to the change, slowly. It's hard to leave him for that long when I'm used to him being at home with me, but he comes home chatting about the things he did and excited about the things that they're going to do, so that helps. The last couple of mornings have been hard for me, and I imagine the next few will be as well. It's hard to watch your baby growing up.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Luke 19- For I'm Going to Your House Today
Whenever I hear about Zacchaeus, I automatically think of the song I learned as a child:
Zacchaeus was a wee little man,
and a wee little man was he.
He climbed up in a sycamore tree
for the Lord he wanted to see.
And as the Savior passed that way,
He looked up in the tree.
And he said, "Zacchaeus, you come down,
for I'm going to your house today.
But that song only tells half the story- a short guy climbed a tree so he could see Jesus, and Jesus told him that he was coming to his house. But the account in Luke gives us the rest of the story. Zacchaeus was a rich tax collector. Tax collectors were notoriously disliked by the people- they were greedy and took more than they were entitled to. The people were upset that Jesus was going to a sinner's house. But in the end, Zacchaeus made some major changes: he told Jesus that he was going to give half of his goods to the poor, and that he was going to reimburse the people he had cheated- by four times the amount he had taken from them!
As I read this, it occurred to me that when Jesus comes to our house- when he enters into our personal lives- it changes us. Once we've experienced the love Jesus has for us, his unmerited grace for undeserving sinners like ourselves, we cannot remain the same. When Jesus comes to our house, it changes what we do, how we live, and how we treat other people. We want to live the kind of life he's called us to live, we want to set things right, we want to show love to others.
I thank God that he loved me enough to "come to my house," to come into my personal life even when I was far from deserving. I thank God for his love and grace, and I want nothing more than to show love and grace to others in everything I do.
Zacchaeus was a wee little man,
and a wee little man was he.
He climbed up in a sycamore tree
for the Lord he wanted to see.
And as the Savior passed that way,
He looked up in the tree.
And he said, "Zacchaeus, you come down,
for I'm going to your house today.
But that song only tells half the story- a short guy climbed a tree so he could see Jesus, and Jesus told him that he was coming to his house. But the account in Luke gives us the rest of the story. Zacchaeus was a rich tax collector. Tax collectors were notoriously disliked by the people- they were greedy and took more than they were entitled to. The people were upset that Jesus was going to a sinner's house. But in the end, Zacchaeus made some major changes: he told Jesus that he was going to give half of his goods to the poor, and that he was going to reimburse the people he had cheated- by four times the amount he had taken from them!
As I read this, it occurred to me that when Jesus comes to our house- when he enters into our personal lives- it changes us. Once we've experienced the love Jesus has for us, his unmerited grace for undeserving sinners like ourselves, we cannot remain the same. When Jesus comes to our house, it changes what we do, how we live, and how we treat other people. We want to live the kind of life he's called us to live, we want to set things right, we want to show love to others.
I thank God that he loved me enough to "come to my house," to come into my personal life even when I was far from deserving. I thank God for his love and grace, and I want nothing more than to show love and grace to others in everything I do.
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