I had a thought the other day about the emptiness of Easter, and the significance of it.
The emptiness of the Cross was what first caught my attention. On Friday, the Cross was filled with Christ. It was filled with His suffering, and with the enormous cesspool of human sin. But at the end of the day, He was brought down and buried. The cross had been full. Full of God Himself, full of blood, full of sin being drowned in the blood. Full of Him emptying Himself out for our salvation. Poured out, and then....it was over. That evening, the cross was empty, and would not ever be filled again. His sacrifice covered us, once, for all.
That day the Temple was emptied as well. The Mercy Seat of God, the I AM who sat in the presence of His people in the Tabernacle, and then in the Temple, was now empty. God no longer dwelt in the Temple. The veil that separated the Holy God from the chosen people was torn, the doors thrown open by the quake. What had been living there, now was going to live in us. So the Temple was emptied.
Sunday, the Tomb was empty. Having gone to mourn, gone to weep, the women arrived at the tomb to find it ....emptied. The body they had expected to find was not there."Why do you look for the living among the dead?" (Luke 24:5) "You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised." (Mark 16:6) Death had been defeated. Separation from God had been defeated, proven by an empty tomb.
So then..... what does the emptiness say to me? It says God, in the person of Christ, has emptied my cross of sin. It says God has emptied the useless Temple-like sacrifices I make to Him, and opened the Temple of Himself to me. It says He has freed me from a tomb...even if so often I feel like Thomas in needing to feel the wounds in order to not feel so empty myself.
God, grant me rebirth. Grant me fullness in you. Fill me with Your love, for the greatest of these is love.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
The Saturday between
They watched Him crucified by Rome on a terrible Friday afternoon. They were lost. A brave Jewish leader claimed the body, prepared it,and laid it to rest before the start of the Sabbath. Night descended on the world -- both literally and figuratively -- in darkness and sorrow and pain.
Now what?
Saturday dawned, or maybe it just came around, with no one really noticing a sunrise. Grief sat heavy upon the disciples. It sat heavy upon God Himself, for the part of His nature that was the Father was grieving the death of the part of Himself that was the Son. Even knowledge of His plan, and of His pending resurrection likely could not remove the pain of loss He felt in the separation from His Son. Before the joy of Resurrection there was the sorrow of Saturday, even for God.
I forget that I have to go through Saturdays.
The losses for me are by no means on the scale of His loss; mine are infinitesimally smaller. Yet, for a small, simple, broken human, they are still losses. The cry to God over the loss of career goals and hitting a ceiling before I wanted to. The long dark hours of pain from the loss of a marriage, and later the loss of a relationship with my child. This weekend, this Saturday, I was mourning the loss of a relationship I struggled to understand and to make work, one that brought great happiness and great hurt at the same time.
I know that I face nothing that God hasn't faced. We talk about the temptations that Jesus faced in the desert, but we don't examine the losses as much. A Father separated from His children. The loss of His plans because of our sin. The pain of a Saturday that must be endured before the fullness of time has come to roll away a stone. And unlike Thomas, I don't get to see the Lord, to hold Him. I have to draw strength from His words ("Blessed are those who believe without seeing me" John 20:29) and believe that the Sunday will follow....and the joy.
Lord, help me to believe.
Now what?
Saturday dawned, or maybe it just came around, with no one really noticing a sunrise. Grief sat heavy upon the disciples. It sat heavy upon God Himself, for the part of His nature that was the Father was grieving the death of the part of Himself that was the Son. Even knowledge of His plan, and of His pending resurrection likely could not remove the pain of loss He felt in the separation from His Son. Before the joy of Resurrection there was the sorrow of Saturday, even for God.
I forget that I have to go through Saturdays.
The losses for me are by no means on the scale of His loss; mine are infinitesimally smaller. Yet, for a small, simple, broken human, they are still losses. The cry to God over the loss of career goals and hitting a ceiling before I wanted to. The long dark hours of pain from the loss of a marriage, and later the loss of a relationship with my child. This weekend, this Saturday, I was mourning the loss of a relationship I struggled to understand and to make work, one that brought great happiness and great hurt at the same time.
I know that I face nothing that God hasn't faced. We talk about the temptations that Jesus faced in the desert, but we don't examine the losses as much. A Father separated from His children. The loss of His plans because of our sin. The pain of a Saturday that must be endured before the fullness of time has come to roll away a stone. And unlike Thomas, I don't get to see the Lord, to hold Him. I have to draw strength from His words ("Blessed are those who believe without seeing me" John 20:29) and believe that the Sunday will follow....and the joy.
Lord, help me to believe.
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| http://www.sunday-school-center.com/easter-sunday-school-lessons.html |
Monday, April 14, 2014
Both ends of a week: Palms to Cross
I was out walking on Saturday, for the first time since my plantar fasciitous flared up. God, I miss the time outside walking, putting my body on auto pilot and turning my mind free to think, pray, meditate, connect with God.
I happen to be thinking about this week. It is the pinnacle week of the Christian faith. Yet it has always been a bit of a puzzle to me. One day, Jesus enters Jerusalem on a carpet of palm fronds and shouts of adulation. A few days later His life is given away for the freedom of a murderous revolutionary zealot. What happened between Thursday morning and Friday morning? What caused the crowds who still followed that week to turn on Him and cast Him to His fate?
He failed them. He didn't do what they wanted, what they expected, and in so doing....He failed them. So they rejected Him.
The crowds were still following on Thursday. After his arrest, there was still a crowd. I had missed this before, that there was a crowd still following him (although the disciples fled). It was in this crowd that Peter was challenged "After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away." (Matt26:73) and he denied the Man and God he had followed and lived with for three years. There was obviously a crowd that followed to Pilate "“What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him" (John 18:38) and it was a crowd that asked to make the choice of Barabbas or Christ.
They watched Him in the court of the Sanhedrin and religious leaders, and in the court of the Roman prelate. One represented the laws and rules that governed their daily lives and their faith in God, the other court representing the hated occupiers of the land. When they asked the Incarnate One who He was, if He was the Son of God, He answered in a familiar term of "I AM". And yet He did nothing. He did not call down legions of angels, the hosts of Heaven. He did not overturn the civil rule of Rome, or the religious law of the Pharisees. He said very little, and did less. Things would continue, it seemed.
So they turned on Him because He did not meet their expectations, did not answer their prayers, did not do what they so wanted Him to do. He let them down, and they turned on Him.
Yeah. I've so been there.
It happened when I lost my first job. After five years of Bible study groups in college and fellowship with believers, I found myself alone in my first job. No church, no study, no roommates. And when I lost that first job to a downsize, I got angry at God. We spoke almost not at all for years. The continued thorn in my flesh, which He did not relieve, didn't help. Through the marriage and the cold, impersonal, unfeeling church (the Bishop even said that to the Pastor after a visit), was of little help. When I did return to Him, during the slow painful dissolution of the marriage and the loss of all sense of where my life was going, I still came with expectations. And when the marriage ended, and
an important volunteer ministry did too....I walked away again.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
Except I really didn't. It was the start of my wrestling with God, my Jacob time. Even now I'm struggling with God and my expectations. I want my foul depressive mood to be gone, my sense of always being an outsider to be banished. I want love in my life, for others and with someone. I want His presence to be palpable to me. I want....I expect....yeah. Just like the crowd. He doesn't deliver what I expect, what I desire, and I call for His life.
He gave it, though. Just like He did to the first crowd. He does accomplish His work. He did overturn Rome, and the Jewish religious establishment. He gave His life then, for them, for me.
I get it. And I don't. But I keep going forward.
And want more walks, to find more of Him as I walk.
I happen to be thinking about this week. It is the pinnacle week of the Christian faith. Yet it has always been a bit of a puzzle to me. One day, Jesus enters Jerusalem on a carpet of palm fronds and shouts of adulation. A few days later His life is given away for the freedom of a murderous revolutionary zealot. What happened between Thursday morning and Friday morning? What caused the crowds who still followed that week to turn on Him and cast Him to His fate?
 |
from www.12printablecalendar.com |
He failed them. He didn't do what they wanted, what they expected, and in so doing....He failed them. So they rejected Him.
The crowds were still following on Thursday. After his arrest, there was still a crowd. I had missed this before, that there was a crowd still following him (although the disciples fled). It was in this crowd that Peter was challenged "After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away." (Matt26:73) and he denied the Man and God he had followed and lived with for three years. There was obviously a crowd that followed to Pilate "“What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him" (John 18:38) and it was a crowd that asked to make the choice of Barabbas or Christ.
They watched Him in the court of the Sanhedrin and religious leaders, and in the court of the Roman prelate. One represented the laws and rules that governed their daily lives and their faith in God, the other court representing the hated occupiers of the land. When they asked the Incarnate One who He was, if He was the Son of God, He answered in a familiar term of "I AM". And yet He did nothing. He did not call down legions of angels, the hosts of Heaven. He did not overturn the civil rule of Rome, or the religious law of the Pharisees. He said very little, and did less. Things would continue, it seemed.
So they turned on Him because He did not meet their expectations, did not answer their prayers, did not do what they so wanted Him to do. He let them down, and they turned on Him.
Yeah. I've so been there.
It happened when I lost my first job. After five years of Bible study groups in college and fellowship with believers, I found myself alone in my first job. No church, no study, no roommates. And when I lost that first job to a downsize, I got angry at God. We spoke almost not at all for years. The continued thorn in my flesh, which He did not relieve, didn't help. Through the marriage and the cold, impersonal, unfeeling church (the Bishop even said that to the Pastor after a visit), was of little help. When I did return to Him, during the slow painful dissolution of the marriage and the loss of all sense of where my life was going, I still came with expectations. And when the marriage ended, and
an important volunteer ministry did too....I walked away again.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
Except I really didn't. It was the start of my wrestling with God, my Jacob time. Even now I'm struggling with God and my expectations. I want my foul depressive mood to be gone, my sense of always being an outsider to be banished. I want love in my life, for others and with someone. I want His presence to be palpable to me. I want....I expect....yeah. Just like the crowd. He doesn't deliver what I expect, what I desire, and I call for His life.
He gave it, though. Just like He did to the first crowd. He does accomplish His work. He did overturn Rome, and the Jewish religious establishment. He gave His life then, for them, for me.
I get it. And I don't. But I keep going forward.
And want more walks, to find more of Him as I walk.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
The other Job......her.
As I write the title of the blog, I realize how many different ways the title could be taken, which wasn't my original intention. No, it's not related to your job at work, or to Steve at Apple. It's the story of Job, as told in the Old Testament. Actually, it's an observation on the person in the story that, in all my years of church attendance (which has had a general paucity of sermons on any aspect of Job), I have never heard mentioned in a sermon.
His wife.
In the opening of the story, she is the silent but still present participant. She is his wife, ostensibly the mother of his children, the collaborator in his life. Since Job is blameless before Jehovah God, it would be reasonable to assume that Job treats his wife well. One could suppose some degree of intimacy between them, especially since she is likely endowed with great beauty and they have a large family.
So when the evil one is permitted by God to wipe out Job's children and his wealth, she alone of his family remains and is not physically destroyed. She is not taken, but her children are, the blessedness of seven sons along with daughters. Her status and standing as wife of the richest man around are gone. Her world is ripped out and her means of being supported are gone. Everything she has on this planet other than her husband is taken from her. He mourns. She mourns. And then his health is shattered as well, leaving her with no community (ostracized) no support, no source of income, no ability to provide or be provided for. And no one to talk to, for Job is sitting in a heap of ashes scrapping his sores.
Her response, in that setting, is unsurprising. She lashes out at her husband in her one sentence eternal cry “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”
It says a lot, doesn't it.When in life have you reacted the same way to God? I know I have. When I was laid off from my first job, and had no support network, no ability to process the pain and shame I was suffering. It happened again when the job I loved doing was moved to another state and they didn't want to take me. An anger based response is, really, pretty natural.
And then I wondered, was I reading her reaction right? Was she angry at God and wanted to express it through a reaction from her suffering husband? Was she angry at Job, thinking that this was all from some secret sin he had hidden from her? Or.....or was it a fatalism and despair that with everything gone, she wanted to just curse God as a means of ending her own life.
We don't know which of these she wanted to do. We do know her faithful husband told her they were foolish words, words that apparently didn't match their life and faith. Maybe, as a lesson to us, they are left there to show that the words won't leave us destroyed. That are reactions and emotions are allowed, even if they are not desirable.
In many respects I wonder what happened to her relationship with God as things moved on. The fortune and family of Job was restored, including a blessing of seven sons. Her children were the most beautiful in the land "Nowhere in all the land were there found women as beautiful as Job’s daughters..." (Job 42:15).
I wonder about what the lesson is for me. As my marriage was ending I cried out to God for help. When I physically moved out, I wanted God's presence even through my animalistic wails. I've still struggled with seeing His love in the depths of my darker moments over the years. But ..... but I've learned that I can express myself to God, even if the expression is anger and hurt and pain.
Because He has been there too. And will meet me there.
His wife.
In the opening of the story, she is the silent but still present participant. She is his wife, ostensibly the mother of his children, the collaborator in his life. Since Job is blameless before Jehovah God, it would be reasonable to assume that Job treats his wife well. One could suppose some degree of intimacy between them, especially since she is likely endowed with great beauty and they have a large family.
So when the evil one is permitted by God to wipe out Job's children and his wealth, she alone of his family remains and is not physically destroyed. She is not taken, but her children are, the blessedness of seven sons along with daughters. Her status and standing as wife of the richest man around are gone. Her world is ripped out and her means of being supported are gone. Everything she has on this planet other than her husband is taken from her. He mourns. She mourns. And then his health is shattered as well, leaving her with no community (ostracized) no support, no source of income, no ability to provide or be provided for. And no one to talk to, for Job is sitting in a heap of ashes scrapping his sores.
Her response, in that setting, is unsurprising. She lashes out at her husband in her one sentence eternal cry “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”
It says a lot, doesn't it.When in life have you reacted the same way to God? I know I have. When I was laid off from my first job, and had no support network, no ability to process the pain and shame I was suffering. It happened again when the job I loved doing was moved to another state and they didn't want to take me. An anger based response is, really, pretty natural.
And then I wondered, was I reading her reaction right? Was she angry at God and wanted to express it through a reaction from her suffering husband? Was she angry at Job, thinking that this was all from some secret sin he had hidden from her? Or.....or was it a fatalism and despair that with everything gone, she wanted to just curse God as a means of ending her own life.
We don't know which of these she wanted to do. We do know her faithful husband told her they were foolish words, words that apparently didn't match their life and faith. Maybe, as a lesson to us, they are left there to show that the words won't leave us destroyed. That are reactions and emotions are allowed, even if they are not desirable.
In many respects I wonder what happened to her relationship with God as things moved on. The fortune and family of Job was restored, including a blessing of seven sons. Her children were the most beautiful in the land "Nowhere in all the land were there found women as beautiful as Job’s daughters..." (Job 42:15).
I wonder about what the lesson is for me. As my marriage was ending I cried out to God for help. When I physically moved out, I wanted God's presence even through my animalistic wails. I've still struggled with seeing His love in the depths of my darker moments over the years. But ..... but I've learned that I can express myself to God, even if the expression is anger and hurt and pain.
Because He has been there too. And will meet me there.
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