Journal: Why I Need Lent

Lent has begun.  The tone of this season in the church year is noticeably more somber than other times of the year.  And it should be.  Lent is a time of preparation and a time of reflection.  Lent is a time set aside to meditate deeply on our sinfulness, God's mercy, the blessings we undeservedly enjoy, the overwhelmingly great need for Christ in our communities, and the call we have to bring Jesus to our dying world.  I need Lent.

I need Lent because Lent forces me to focus on the Cross as something that is before me.  It's so easy to shove the Cross into the background of my busy life and let it become  an afterthought -- to treat the Cross as something behind me as I press on toward new goals with fresh ideas on how to walk with Jesus.  I need Lent to slow me down, to refocus me, to re-center my life.  I need the familiar pattern of its forty day journey that carries me from the heights of the mount of Jesus' Transfiguration through the valleys of betrayal, desertion, abuse, scorn, and death to the exaltation of Christ's Resurrection.  Without Lent I would rush to the empty tomb with an empty heart instead of one filled with the joy and praise and delight of being loved and forgiven at such a great cost.  I need Lent to keep from convincing myself that how I ordinarily live my life is preparation enough to celebrate Easter with a sincere heart and true joy. 

It's Lent.  It's time to draw near to the God who drew near to me, taking on human flesh to suffer and die so that I could live.  It's too much to embrace  in an instant or a day or just one forty day journey.  I need Lent over and over again in my life so that the single most important thing that has happened in human history never stops being what shapes and guides and moves me.  I need Lent because I need the crucified Christ in order to live in His Resurrection.

Reflection: The Ultimate Test of Faith (February 26, 2012)

First Sunday of Lent
Genesis 22:1-18; James 1:12-18; Mark 1:9-15

Our lives are filled with tests. Some don't have much of an impact on our lives, others have the ability to change our lives substantially. Consider the difference between a test of your knowledge of state capitals for a geography exam and a test for cancer in your body. The results of one will affect your GPA. The results of the other may very well turn your life upside-down. Despite the vast difference in the impact that these two tests could have in your life, they share the same purpose of every test: to show something. Like other tests, tests of faith are meant to show us something too.

Today's texts include several tests of faith along with the ultimate test of faith. Abraham's test was very dramatic. His trust in God's promises was tested when God told him to offer Isaac as a sacrifice. Without any idea of how God would keep His promise of a multitude of descendents through Isaac, Abraham obeyed God. By God's intervention, Isaac was spared. At the conclusion of this test, God told Abraham, "I have caused you to know …" The test showed Abraham that he loved and feared God above all things, even his only son Isaac. Dramatic, but not the ultimate test of faith.

The Epistle reading calls for us to stand firm in the Faith when we are under trial. We're promised that when we have "stood the test" that we "will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him." Those trials come to us in various ways, but, as the text indicates, they always come to us with and through temptation. We are reminded that those temptations are not tests from God, but the result of our own sinful desires. God does not tempt anyone, but He tests everyone. His tests often involve resisting temptation, but they are mostly about how we deal with our failures to do so. These kind of tests bring us to the ultimate test of faith.

The problem we have with the ultimate test of faith is that it isn't anything like what we'd expect it to be. Since faith is so important, we look for its ultimate test to be dramatic, like Abraham's, or oppressive, like the tests James is talking about. But the ultimate test of faith seems rather ordinary and far too simple. It's found in today's Gospel lesson, not in Jesus' struggle with Satan in the wilderness but in His call for us to repent. Simple, profound, telling, and life-altering, repentance is the ultimate test of faith.

Audio file of the sermon based on this reflection

Public Square: Forgetting the Least of These

The words that we use betray our convictions.  The divide over the issue of abortion in our culture highlights this well.  In the public arena, which is controlled by secular media, those who support abortion are referred to as "pro-choice" or, more recently, "pro-reproductive rights"  On the other hand, those who are opposed to abortion are rarely portrayed as "pro" anything, especially "pro-life."  Instead, they are labeled as "anti-abortion rights" or "anti-choice."  Our acceptance of these terms has played no small part in the shift in American attitudes about abortion.

The power of words in the struggle for the sanctity of human life struck me this week as I was listening to a news story about a pharmacist who was being accused of professional misconduct for refusing to fill prescriptions for "emergency contraceptive medicine."  This pharmacist cited religious and moral objections to providing a drug that was designed to induce an abortion (i.e., an abortifacient).  Dismissing the issues of conscience, the reporter cast the story in a particular light (in which the pharmacist shone poorly) by intentionally avoiding the word "abortifacient" and using the phrase "emergency contraceptive medicine" even though the phrase is grossly misleading.  In the first place, one has to question how the word "emergency" can be used in conjunction with contraception.  The nature of this word used in this context is highly suspect.  It masks the reality that contraception is not the issue at all.  What makes the matter an "emergency" is the probability (indeed, the likelihood) that conception has already taken place.  In light of that probability, the word "contraceptive" is a misleading description of the drug in question.  It is clearly designed to destroy what has been conceived, not prevent a conception.  It destroys life.  It does harm.  Therefore, it is not a medicine, for medicines are intended to heal and do good.

But there's a bigger problem.  At the same time we are bristling at the phrase "emergency contraceptive medicine," those who are pro-life have entered the public square to speak out against government intrusion into matters of religious conscience.  Unfortunately, the way in which we've spoken out has obscured the issue and we've played into the hands of the hostile media.  Our protestations that this is not about "reproductive rights" has shifted us further away from defending the lives of those in our society who are most vulnerable and at the greatest risk of exploitation.  In our concern over protecting our religious freedoms we have further diminished our defense of the unborn.  Despite the words that we are using to justify raising our voices on our own behalf, we have once again failed to make the necessary sacrifices on behalf of the least of these.

Refelection: The Renewing Prayer of Repentance (February 22, 2012)

Ash Wednesday
Psalm 51; Isaiah 43:19-25; Revelation 2:1-7; Matthew 11:20-30

He was the leader of a powerful nation.  Under his governance, this nation had conquered its enemies, expanded its territories, and amassed incredible wealth.  Popular and powerful, he led his nation from a struggling pawn of foreign powers to the peak of its strength and influence -- the standard by which this nation would forever measure itself.  He enjoyed the fruits of his success by living in unparalleled luxury and enjoying whatever he desired.  Despite having hundreds of willing and available women at his disposal, he wanted her.  She was beautiful, but had no standing in society.  She was married.  Her husband was a foreigner who displayed unrivaled loyalty to his adopted home and its leader, even serving him in his armed forces.  There was no comparison between these two men.  To call the contest for her affection and favors a David vs. Goliath battle would be accurate but highly ironic, for he was David.  Her name was Bathsheba.  David summoned her and she came to him.  There were no objections.  She did not protest.   We can only imagine the motives she had for wanting to be wanted by the king.  But it was adultery.  Secret at first, the king's sin grew out of his control.  Bathsheba was pregnant.  Uriah, her husband, was away fighting the king's enemies.  Adultery lead to further deception and then conspiracy and then blossomed into murder. Uriah was dead.  Bathsheba was David's. The king had his way.  But God was not pleased.

Psalm 51 is the Spirit-inspired prayer of King David after his horrible sins had been exposed by God's prophet Nathan.  Confronted by his sinful acts, David could have killed the prophet who stood before him and silenced all of his accusers.  But, by God's grace, David acknowledged his sins and repented of them.  There were consequences, of course, but God's answer to David's prayer of repentance was to remove his sins from him, to fully restore to him the "joy of salvation."  It is the same answer that God had given to the sinful people of Israel who lived long before David when they prayed in repentance.  It's the same answer that those who turn to Him in faith and pray repentantly to the God who delights in "a broken and contrite heart."

God's answer to His people's prayers of repentance is the forgiveness that He purchased for us with the blood of Jesus.  He shed His blood to save us from bloodguilt.  He gave up His spirit so that we could receive His Holy Spirit.  He has washed away all of our iniquities and cleansed us from our sin.  Our sins are no longer before us because the one sacrifice that the Father did delight in has removed them from us forever.  All this and more is ours in renewal that comes through repentance.

Audio file of the sermon based on this reflection

Journal: Lent: A Time for Taking Up, Not Giving Up

There's a long-standing tradition of giving up things for Lent in the Western Church.  The generally understood purpose of this practice is to experience some loss or deprivation as a preparation for observing and celebrating Easter.  In many cases, this has devolved into a sense of personal suffering that somehow helps us understand or be connected to the sufferings of Christ. How silly of us to think that denying ourselves chocolate for forty days or going without our morning boost of caffeine for a season even begins to approach the least of Jesus' sufferings for us.  We've moved far away from the purpose and substance of Lent by the insignificant things we're willing to give up.  While no one is certain about how the practice of giving up things for Lent began or what the motives were of those who first observed Lent in this way, we can certainly see how giving up things for Lent has come to be practiced in our culture. 

Far from being a time of solemn reflection and repentance, the beginning of Lent has turned into another excuse for people to engage in excess.  Now without the disciplines of fasting, self-denial, and prayer that followed, people revel in consuming all the things that were once prohibited during Lent -- and much, much more.  Mardi Gras (and its various regional adaptations) has become a celebrated cultural event that shows more of what the American character has become than our half-hearted observances of Lent.

By giving up things for Lent in the ways that we do, we've made this holy season into one more instance of our self-absorption.  Like the New Year's Resolutions that were made just a few weeks ago, our commitment to observing Lent sacrificially is momentary and fleeting.  We have a sense of what is good for us and what we must do in order to improve ourselves or our circumstances, but we lack the resolve to see our way through the self-denial that it takes to make the needed change an effective part of our lives.  What we give up for Lent is often as petty and insignificant as what we resolve for New Year's -- and ends up just as broken and meaningless.

Isn't it time for us to put an end to our empty observances of Lent?  Are we ready for a serious go at journeying through Lent in a way that brings us to a deeper understanding and appreciation of Christ's atoning work?  If so, we need to stop giving up things for Lent and use this sacred time to take up things instead.  The things that we should aim to take up during Lent are those things that we've let fall by the wayside as we've lived our lives at the breakneck speed of our culture.  It might include taking up a daily devotion or taking up the practice of meditative prayer.  If we've been away from the gathering of God's people in worship, we could take up participating in the Divine Service on Sundays as well as the mid-week Lenten services.  What a difference Lent could be for us if we would take up reading God's Word daily, speaking the Gospel to one person a week, showing the love of Christ to the poor and needy in social ministry, or listening to Christian music exclusively.  Whatever we might take up for Lent, we should remember that, above all, taking up things for Lent in a meaningful way inevitably results in hearing the clear call of Jesus to take up our crosses daily.  Taking up our crosses involves  looking beyond our self-interests, desires, and pious actions (including giving up things for Lent) and finding joy, peace, security, and purpose  -- those things that are so glaringly absent in our culture -- in the realization of what Jesus took up for us.

Reflection: Blinded by the Dark (February 19, 2012)

The Transfiguration of Our Lord
2 Kings 2:1-12; 2 Cor. 3:12-4:6; Mark 9:2-9

Bruce Springsteen's song, "Blinded by the Light," became a hit song in 1977 after being recorded by the Manfred Mann's Earth Band. Springsteen offered a tongue-in-check analysis of why the British rock group's version was so successful after his was not. He pointed out that the phrase "revved up by a deuce" was misheard in their singing of the refrain and it changed the song's meaning. While it may be true, unfortunately, that people are "revved up by deuces," we are certainly not blinded by the light. As God's Word makes clear in today's Epistle, we are actually blinded by the dark.

With rare exceptions, light does not cause blindness. But darkness does. Even a person who has trouble seeing in the light because his eyes have adjusted to darkness isn't blinded by the light into which he's entered, but by the darkness from which he has escaped. Once his eyes adjust to the light he can see well — much better than he could in the darkness. So it is for us. Once we were in spiritual darkness. We were blinded by sin and unbelief. There was no light in our lives because "the god of this age" had blinded us with his darkness. But God spoke His Word of life and light to us. He said, "Let light shine out of darkness" and the veil of darkness was removed from our minds and He "made His light shine in our hearts." Once we were blinded by the dark, but now we can see by the light of His Word. Because many people remain blinded by the dark, Christ has called us to bring His light to those still in darkness.

The call to bring the light of Christ to the people of our world still blinded by "the god of this age" is a challenge, but it is much more than that. This call is our very purpose for being here. While we may be tempted to linger in the warmth and beauty of His light, like Peter was on the Mount of Transfiguration, Jesus will not allow us to be blinded by His light and lose sight of our purpose to bring His love to those who are still in darkness. We are not to avoid them, despise them, pity them, or dismiss them, but we are to show compassion to them as though they are blind people trying to make their way through an unfamiliar place without any help — because that is what they are. And that is what we were when we were blinded by the dark. But no more! The veil of darkness has been lifted and glory of Christ shines in our lives.

Audio file of the sermon based on this reflection

Journal: Let's Stop 'Revitalizing' Churches

I was listening to an interview on the radio in which a well educated, well versed, and very articulate pediatric physician/university professor was explaining how the changes we made in our food in the 1970s to reduce fats for better cardiovascular health have had the opposite effect.  We now know that carbohydrates are the real culprits in cardiovascular disease.  It made me wonder what a physician/professor might be saying about our current thinking about food and disease forty years from now.

It seems everything goes through phases of understanding.  We're always adjusting our thinking based on new evidence, experience, and the results of past efforts.  Growing the church is no exception.  Today the two methods of reaching people and growing the church that are most talked about and promoted are church planting and church revitalization.  Church planting concerns itself with starting new churches.  Church revitalization seeks to reverse the decline of existing churches and give them new life.  After thinking about these things for some time, I've come to the conclusion that, while church planting is a tried, true, and Biblical method of growing the church and we should continue to plant churches, it's a mistake to try to revitalize churches and we should put and end to the practice.

I think that the primary problem in church revitalization is that it ends up being used as a means for church members to try to recapture or re-create the glory days of their congregations.  Rather than looking for new ways to reach new people, the core group of people committed to revitalization efforts are seeking to reestablish old ways and attract people who share their love of them.   Many (most?) revitalization efforts inevitably seem to lead to crippling conflict between those honestly seeking to revitalize the congregation and those who want to bring back the good old days and good old ways.

We know enough now to understand that every congregation goes through a life-cycle.  While decline is not inevitable, once a congregation enters into decline it's unlikely to recover from it.  Revitalization efforts are almost always reactive and are typically desperate attempts to extend the life of a congregation in advanced decline.  What we don't seem to have learned is that we should let the congregation finish it's life-cycle and let it die a peaceful, dignified death rather than squeeze out every moment of life that we can through heroic, but doomed, revitalization efforts.  In other words, once a congregation has entered into advanced decline we should shift our emphasis to providing palliative care for it.

That being said, while the congregation is living out its final days in dignity under compassionate palliative care, we should make every effort to bring forth life from death.  Using the resources of the dying congregation as an inheritance and trust, we should plant new churches as legacies of the old.  The new church could use the buildings, personnel, capital, and even the name of the existing church.  It could aid in providing the end-of-life care for its predecessor.  As one human generation passes the baton to the next, one congregational iteration can enable the creation of a new and vibrant descendent of itself.

Imagine the glory that could be brought to Christ if the time, money, people, and energy we're expending in confrontational church revitalization efforts were to be redirected into a harmonious effort of bringing dying churches to a dignified end while planting churches that are genuine rebirths of the old rather than altogether new.

Public Square: The Gospel as Collateral Damage

Today the institutional church rose up against the Federal government's mandates against conscience.  It was necessary for the preservation of our religious freedoms.  And it was bold.  But let's not for a minute confuse this action with the proclamation of the Gospel.  Furthermore, we should realize that in our post-Christian/post-Church culture this action may very well have created new barriers to reaching the lost in America.

Did we weigh carefully how the non-churched people in our country would perceive the testimony before Congress?  Did we come across to them as caring about people in distress or caring about our rights?  Was the power of God clear or did His Church appear to be a pawn among the power brokers in Washington?

There's a lot of congratulating going on among people and leaders in the church.  Our representatives were articulate.  Their statements were well crafted.  Their arguments were compelling.  They may very well have swayed some people on Capitol Hill and on Main Street.  But I fear we've done more harm than good when it comes to sharing the compassion of Christ with those who are oppressed, broken, and hurting.  In a world in which it said to take an Act of Congress to get things done, it took the political play-acting of Congress for the church, which has been deafeningly silent in the face of so much human suffering, to finally speak up.  And then we spoke in self-interest.

I don't know if having our church leaders testify before Congress in this matter was the right thing to do.  And I don't know if it will make much difference regarding the offending policy.  But I'm convinced that even if we won a victory today in the preservation of religious rights, there were unintended consequences that will make the Church's work of sharing the Good News even more difficult.  In other words, the Gospel was collateral damage.

Public Square: Health Care Mandate - Christians Made It Possible

I'm troubled by Church leaders not speaking up about an underlying concern in the recent and on-going controversy over President Obama's healthcare mandates that require religious organizations to provide contraceptives and abortifacients against their teachings and conscience.  There's plenty of reaction among Church leaders and religious freedom advocates to this being an assault on the First Amendment and a threat to our religious liberties.  While I believe that there are reasons to be concerned about these things, there's a more fundamental issue that we don't seem to want to address: we did this.

At the core of the Health and Human Services secretary Kathleen Sebelius' defense of this mandate is an argument that Christians in America have made possible.  The basis of her argument divides the activities of religious organizations into sacred and secular.  In other words, the mandate distinguishes religious activities such as worship, Bible teaching, and evangelism from non-religious activities such as running hospitals, providing child care services, and feeding the homeless.  The greater threat of the HHS mandate isn't forcing religious organizations into acting against conscience, it's reinforcing the status quo of American Christianity.  We Christians created the distinction between being the Church and going to church.  Whether for good motives or bad, Sabelius is making use of what we created.

We have avoided challenging those who profess Christ to live their lives as fully committed steward-servants of Jesus.  Instead, we've allowed (even encouraged) people to retain their lifestyles, world views, and worldly habits while asking them to make a little room in their busy lives for some religion.  We've made going to church (i.e., attending worship services and, maybe, a Bible study) an acceptable standard for being a faithful Christian instead of calling on those who would follow Jesus to be the Church by denying themselves, taking up their crosses daily, and going after Him.  The very things that Sebelius describes as unrelated to religious expression are the things that Jesus lists as evidences of a living faith (Matthew 25:34-36) and the Bible describes as true religion (James 1:27).  We can rant and rave about our government officials acting as they are, but we've set the stage for this.

By all means we, as citizens of the United States, should respond to this controversy in the public forum and work to preserve our religious freedoms.  But let's not let the Kingdom of the Left issues overshadow the greater Kingdom of the Right opportunities.  This should serve as a call for all Christians to live out the Faith in such a way that it is clear to everyone who we are in Christ.  It is a wake up call for us to refuse to be satisfied with going to church and to rededicate ourselves to being the Church.  After all, the issue at hand shows us just how desperately our nation needs us to be the Church.

Reflection: God's Reason for Being Unreasonable (February 12, 2012)

The Sixth Sunday After Epiphany
2 Kings 5:1-14; 1 Cor. 10:31-11:1; Mark 1:40-45

Let's face it, God can be very unreasonable at times — at least to people who consider themselves to be reasonable. A good case in point is found in today's Old Testament reading. God worked things out so that the commander of the Syrian armed forces would go to Israel expecting to be cured of a disease. It didn't matter to God that Syria was a powerful enemy of Israel. He also didn't seem to care that Naaman learned about the hope for a cure through an Israelite girl who has taken as a slave during a raid by his forces. And it also didn't bother God that Naaman had an incurable disease. However, the king of Israel, who was a reasonable person, was seriously troubled by these things. He reasoned that the king of Syria was looking for an excuse to attack Israel. He reasoned that no one in Israel could cure Naaman. And he reasoned that there was no way out of this dilemma. The king's problem was that he was a reasonable person with an unreasonable God.

Hundreds of years after Naaman, Jesus encountered a leper who was willing to set aside reason and act in faith. "If you want to," he said to Jesus, "You can heal me of this incurable disease." In love and compassion, Jesus touched the leper and healed him. Then Jesus told the healed man to keep quiet about this miraculous healing. How unreasonable! Yet, when we see how he adversely affected Jesus' ministry by telling people about being cured of leprosy, we begin to understand the wisdom of God's unreasonableness.

While we can see how these two lepers should have accepted God at His Word, it's much more challenging for us to embrace God's unreasonableness in our lives. We want things to make sense to us before we commit our money, time, energy, and selves to an endeavor. When God works something in our lives that is confusing or confounding — something that seems to go against what we consider reasonable — we struggle with being faithful. We want answers to our questions and assurances for our doubts. We can see more reasonable (and palatable) options and want to know why we can't pursue them. We might be angry with or offended by our unreasonable God, until we realize that if He weren't unreasonable we would still be lost in our sins and captive to death. After all, it took an unreasonable God to become like us, die in our place, and bring us salvation.

Audio file of the sermon based on this reflection 

Devotion: Hating the Truth

[Jesus said,] ¹³ “I am coming to you now, but I say these things while I am still in the world, so that they may have the full measure of My joy within them.  ¹⁴ I have given them Your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world.  ¹⁵ My prayer is not that You take them out of the world but that You protect them from the evil one.  ¹⁶ They are not of the world, even as I am not of it.  ¹⁷ Sanctify them by the truth; Your word is truth.  ¹⁸ As You sent Me into the world, I have sent them into the world.  ¹⁹ For them I sanctify Myself, that they too may be truly sanctified.”  (John 17:13-19)

We all hate the truth at one time or another.  When the truth is unpleasant, demanding, or unflattering, we don't want to hear it.  We hate the truth when others share with us (or with others) something that is true about us but is also condemning or embarrassing.  This kind of hating the truth is an emotional reaction toward it.  It is the dislike of what is true, but not the rejection of it.  If we are wise we will take the truth to heart whether we like it or not.  In this way the truth that we hate serves us well.  But there is another way in which people hate the truth that serves them very poorly: disregarding God's Word.

For the most part, we use the word "hate" to describe how we feel about something or someone.  While the Bible uses the word in this way as well, the deeper meaning of the word that is translated as "hate" is "to be indifferent toward, to disregard, or to reject something."  The implication is that what is hated has little or no value for the one who hates it.  While it isn't an emotional response, hating in this way leads to an attitude against what is hated.  What we hate in our minds we end up hating in our hearts and what we hate in our hearts we end up hating in our minds.

Hating is a substantial part of our fallen nature.  Until we are made new in Christ we can only hate God and His Word.  It takes His gift of faith in Christ Jesus for us to love and desire His Word.  Even then, because we are still sinners living in a fallen world, we have a tendency to hate God's Word.  Martin Luther wrote of this in his commentary on Psalm 119:103, "'I delight in the law of God,' that is, 'The words of God are sweet for me'  ... But to the carnal man they are bitter and harsh and full of hate, because his will which is suffering from the fever of sin hates God’s words …"*  We may struggle with loving God's Word, but by His grace we do not hate the truth.

Unfortunately, the people of the world can't help but hate the truth.  And their hatred doesn't stop there. When Jesus said that His disciples had received the truth of God's Word from Him, He also warned them that the people of the world had already begun to hate them.  He knew that the people's hatred of His disciples wasn't personal.  They hated them because He had entrusted His Word of truth to them.  Jesus was making something very clear: people without faith hate the truth and those who believe it.

So much of what people believe and do in our world is shaped by hating the truth.  In place of God's Word, they have set up theories, speculations, and wishful thinking as alternative "truths." To protect their lies, they end up hating what is actually truth and everyone that holds to it.  We should expect the people of the world to hate us — to be indifferent toward, to disregard, and to reject us — and what we believe.  After all, they hated Jesus for bringing them the truth.  In His love God came to this world of lies with His truth to be hated, rejected, and killed so that we could know the truth.  Now that we know the truth, we can overcome the hatred of the world by living and sharing the truth of His love. Because we love the truth, we bring His life giving Word to a world dying from hating the truth.

*(LW, vol. 25, page 334)

Reflection: The Price of the Prize (February 5, 2012)

The Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Isaiah 40:21-31; 1 Corinthians 9:16-27; Mark 1:29-39

Every prize has a price. For example, winning the Super Bowl costs an NFL team great amounts of time, energy, and money. Along the way to winning this coveted prize, teams may lose players to injuries, coaches to fans' expectations, and fans to more successful franchises. Whatever the sacrifices may be, when a team finally does win the Lombardi Trophy the players, coaches, and owners all say that it was worth it. And we would agree. But should we?

When we step back at take a look at winning the Super Bowl from a perspective that isn't shaped by our culture's standards it seems rather insignificant. It's winning a game for a title that will be lost, probably in a year's time. The prestige associated with winning this title has no intrinsic value and certainly has no eternal significance. As impressive as the Lombardi Trophy may be, it's just a piece of metal (albeit seven pounds of sterling silver). Looked at in this way, winning the Super Bowl is a foolish pursuit, the achievement of which is poorly rewarded. But we don't look at it that way. We can't divorce the Super Bowl from the context in which it exists. In that context, it is a highly valued prize filled with honor and glory. It is the realization for a few of a dream dreamt by many. It is the desire of the heart of every serious professional football player. It is the prize.

Few of us will ever have anything to do with the pursuit of the Lombardi Trophy, but each of us has been called to seek after a greater prize. On the surface this prize seems insignificant. It doesn't come with the praise of millions of people. There is no great financial reward with it. It doesn't provide great status in this world. There isn't even a trophy to display when you win this prize. On top of all that, it not only requires all of your money, all of your time, and all of your energy, it demands all of you. By every earthly standard and measurement, this prize is highly undesirable. But this prize cannot be measured by earthly standards. Unlike earthly prizes that fade away, this prize will last forever. It is the heavenly prize that has already been won for us by Christ Jesus. This prize is yours now and it cannot be taken away from you if you commit yourself to "run in such a way as to get the prize." Above all, whatever this prize may require of you, the price of this prize has been fully paid by Christ Jesus.

Audio file of the sermon based on this reflection 

Journal: Why Be Holy?

14 As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance.  15 But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do;  16 for it is written: "Be holy, because I am holy." -- 1 Peter 1:14-16

"Why be holy?"  This question was raised at the beginning of the class that I took last month (Spiritual Formation).  It caught me off guard and startled me spiritually.  I really hadn't given any serious thought to the question.  I know the theological answers to holiness and the inseparable topics of justification and sanctification, but I hadn't ever asked myself about being holy in this way.

I suppose a good Lutheran answer to this question would run along the lines of "Why concern yourself with being holy, you are already holy."  As true as the latter part of this statement is, it avoids the question.  That isn't too surprising.  As strong as we are on justification, Lutherans tend to stumble over the real life outworking of sanctification.  Still, I don't want to answer this question according to the demands of the Law.  I can't find the reason for being holy in a command to be holy.  That will lead to failure, frustration, and guilt, not holiness.  But, because the Gospel doesn't demand anything of us, the call to be holy -- if it is a serious call -- must be understood as the Law in its third use, which takes me back to the sanctification struggle of my theological tradition.

I think the best answer to the question "Why be holy?" is another question: "Why not be holy?"  It's a tremendous blessing that I can even consider being holy.  Most people in this world know nothing of Christ and His mercy.  They can't give any serious thought to being holy.  But in Christ I have been given the privilege, opportunity, and ability to live a holy life to His glory.  I'd be foolish to let this blessing pass by me.  After all, in holiness there is true joy and only in holiness is there genuine peace.  Holiness is love expressed and love being expressed.  Holiness offers only good things and requires the sacrifice of nothing of value.  Why be holy?  The real question is, "Why be anything but holy?"

Journal: Seriously? The Call of Hebrews 12:14

I keep running across passages in the Bible that offer up challenges that I haven't considered in the past.  I know that these passages have been there all along, but they simply haven't registered with me.  Now, in the midst of new circumstances and my bolstered sense of being mature in the Faith, they jump out at me like flashing traffic signals that demand attention to prevent catastrophe.  Hebrews 12:14 is one of those passages: "Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy …"

Seriously?  Live in peace with everybody?  Even hard-to-get-along-with people?  I just don't see how that can happen.  More than that, the call to "make every effort" comes across as overly demanding.  Why should it fall on me to make every effort to live at peace with others?  What's their responsibility in all of this?  This passage is overly altruistic.  Maybe it's a hyperbole, an intentional exaggeration.  Or maybe it's a real call to a life of holiness.

I know someone who has broken off relationships with a number of people in her life (including me) because she wanted to rid her life of negative influences.  I can see the absurdity of this ill conceived strategy for living a peaceful life.  After all, at some point or another every one of us has had a negative influence on others.  That's one of the consequences of sin.  So, even if we eliminate every sinful person in our lives, we're still stuck with our sinful selves.  Even though I see this person's actions as foolish, I still find my own ways to do much the same thing.  From avoiding people I don't get along with to neglecting relationships with people who have hurt me in some way, I've tried to fashion ways to live at peace apart from people rather than making every effort to live at peace with them.

Looking to the original Greek wording of Hebrews 12:14 doesn't give me any wiggle room on this call.  In fact, it fortifies it.  The word that is translated "make every effort" is dioko which means "to do something with intense effort and with definite purpose or goal." There it is.  Living at peace with all people is the goal set before followers of Christ -- the One who came to make peace between God and us.  It is something that I am called to pursue with intensity.  It should drive me with a relentless desire.  I should be so moved by the peace I have with God through His Son Jesus that I cannot be satisfied until I have made every effort, no matter how unpleasant or costly, to live at peace with every person whom God has put into my life.  Seriously.

Journal: The Church - A Museum or a Hospital?

There's a description of the church that is growing in popularity. It says that the church is not a museum for the display of saints but a hospital for sinners.  Since the first part of this statement is true, it's tempting to accept the second part as a good description of the church.  It's even more tempting because it is also true -- but only in part.  However, when we consider what a hospital does we can see how it is a deceptive description of the church.  A hospital mends sick and injured people in order to return them to the lives that they were living before their illnesses and injuries.  This is not the desired outcome of the work that the church does in a person's life.  The point of the church is not to enable people to live as they did before "entering the hospital," but to transform them into a radically new life in Christ.

The church is neither a museum nor a hospital.  What is it?  Using the Bible's terminology, the church is a kingdom.  As a kingdom the church includes hospitals and museums, as well as schools, businesses, stores, recreational areas, and much more.  It's only when we understand what kind of kingdom the church is that we  understand the purpose of it including all these things.

The church is not only a kingdom, but it is a kingdom at war.  The militant kingdom of the church is engaged in an ongoing counterinsurgency.  It's a kingdom that has been invaded by an enemy that seeks to overthrow the King and to destroy all those who are loyal to Him.  For this reason, perhaps the best way that we can describe the church in earthly terms is to call the church an army.  Unlike any earthly army, the church is an army that is absolutely ensured to be victorious whenever we battle the enemy.  Also, the church is a unique army because, rather than destroy and kill, we bring life to the dead whenever and wherever we conquer the opposing forces.  When we see ourselves as the victorious army of Christ at war in this world we will not be content to be passive -- whether in a museum or a hospital -- but will be eager to engage and defeat the enemy to the glory of our King.