Our mission team had an amazing trip to Matamoros, Mexico where we worked closely alongside Pastor Lalo Castro and his wife, Patty. The days were filled meeting with Pastor Lalo and listening to him describe what God is doing in Matamoros as the church moves to a new location and builds an orphanage on the outskirts of town. The evenings were filled with praise and worship and members of our team were asked to bring messages each night and then pray for members of their church.
What I observed most from the church was their incredible hunger to experience the power and presence of God in their lives. They didn't have a lot of resources to "do church" but what they had was a longing to see God at work. And where there's that longing, amazingly, God shows up providing exactly what's needed to love and minister to others.
Isn't that awesome? When we find ourselves being extended beyond our abilities and resources to do what God has placed before us, God shows up to help us do what we can't do ourselves. The glory then is God's glory and not our own. The big question is - Are we extending in faith toward that calling? Are we hungry for God to move through us? To work through us? To minister through us?
The question applies to us individually (are we risking so that we have to rely on God?) and as a church (are we reaching out past our walls and saying whatever you have for us God, we gladly receive!). I know that the times I've grown in a big way in my faith are those times I said yes to the invitation to walk in unkown, unmapped places and put my trust in God's leading and provision to see me through. When we do this we will always grow. It might stretch us a little. It might stretch us a lot. But God is growing inside of us the heart of a warrior - ready to do battle, ready to bring the peace, ready to risk it all for God's eternal kingdom. Don't become cynical or despairing when these growing times occur. Keep your sights focused on the promise of God's goodness and trust in what God is building in you.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Why Do We Call This Friday "Good?"
Why is it exactly that we call this Friday good? If you run through in your mind the course of the day’s events there is nothing in this day – two thousand years ago – to remotely refer to this day as a good day. It begins the evening before as Jesus shares his last meal with his apostles and tells them that his body will be broken and his blood shed. He is betrayed by one of his disciples who has walked closely with him throughout his short, three-year ministry. And for what? For power, prestige, for fame? No, for money. For thirty pieces of silver and lasting infamy.
He is taken into custody not by the Romans, at first, but by his own people – the Jews. They have been the ones most threatened by his ministry. Put yourself in their shoes. They have worked out a nice arrangement with the Romans – the Romans receive their tribute money and in return the Jewish temple authorities and king remain in power. It’s a sweet deal. Except for one, small thing. Jesus has promised those who would listen to him that they no longer need to go through power or the temple to know and serve God. In fact, they may know God as “Abba, Father.” Papa.
Well, that’s not going to work in the nice, sweet, deal that the Jews and the Romans have worked out. Because everything hinges on the people living in dependency on the temple and the priests and the political power of their day. That very last thing that anyone would want would be actual "freedom."
Why is it exactly that we call this Friday good? Those same Jewish authorities arrest the trouble-maker Jesus and bring him before their own rigged court. And in that court, what happens is perfectly predictable –they find Jesus guilty. Oh they trump up some charges against him because they realize that they really have nothing to hold him on. They quote back to him some of the things that Jesus talked about in his ministry – out of context, of course. But that doesn’t matter; they’re the ones asking the questions. And then they wait for Jesus’ reply knowing that anything he says will be something they can jump on – “See we told you all along he was a blasphemer, a bandit, and a rebel.”
But Jesus is mostly silent. There’s no arguing with power in power’s court.
Jesus is handed over to from the religious leaders to the Roman governor – Pilate. Pilate had been given the ominous task of preventing Jewish revolt and maintaining order in their capital city. He answered to Caesar in Rome. He, too, had lines of power that must be followed and structures that must be kept in place. Order must be maintained for the sake of empire. But he saw this man as no threat to Roman power. You can almost hear the sneer as he asks Jesus, “Are you the king of the Jews?” “You have said so,” is Jesus’s only reply. Jesus is mostly silent, because you see there’s no arguing with power in power’s court.
Pilate can’t be bothered and determines that this is a Jewish matter. Let their political puppet Herod decide this case. It really is a Jewish matter, after all. Let the consequence rest in Jewish hands – this man is no threat to Rome.
Herod – not even a Jew but an Idumean - had been installed by Rome to keep peace in volatile Judea and make sure the tribute continued to flow. But Herod was intrigued by Jesus. He had been informed of what Jesus had done. The miracles. The healings. The teachings. And he was hoping that maybe Jesus would do some of that for him. But before Herod – the shadow of power – Jesus is silent.
It’s against the backdrop of religious authority and political power that Jesus remains deathly silent. What was it inside of the hearts of those seated on the Jewish council that prevented them from seeing the very presence of God in Jesus? What was it inside the heart of Pilate or Herod that prevented them from recognizing someone who could bring real justice and kingly leadership to the people? What was it inside of the hearts of the Sanhedrin, or Pilate, or Herod, that needed to hold so tightly to their power, their version, their authority, their control, their structure in the face of one who was in fact, the Life-Bringer? Of what, or of whom were they so afraid?
Do we miss the Life-Bringer when he stands before us? Do we become blinded by our own need to protect what we have that when real life is offered to us, our eyes are pressed shut and our hands clasped tightly over our hears?
You know the rest of the story. Jesus was crucified shamefully on the cross on a hill outside of Jerusalem for all to see – this is what happens to those who try to thwart the system. This is what happens to those who offer the promise of real freedom to those who dare to dream that they may one day be free.
It would be a sad story, repeated so often throughout history if it ended there. Freedom fighters dying for their ideals against earthly and spiritual forces of oppression and greed. We resonate with the story of the freedom fighter because something deep down inside of us desires real freedom. We quietly recognize the places where we have given up hope or given in and said “well, that just how things are.” “That’s life in the real world.” “Better just to get used to it.” And we say these things as our spirits sink and we become further dulled.
It would be a sad story were it not for what happens on the third day. Because it’s there, on that day, that the lie is exposed that it always has to be like this. There, on that day the promise is fulfilled. God reigns, his power prevails over the powers of darkness and oppression. And we get to be part of that victory. We have tasted it. We live in it. We rise to new life in it. And it’s in the victory that we look upon any mere earthly power and ask “would you presume to have power over us when we stand in the presence of the Risen King?” It’s in that victory that we have been released to real freedom.
And so it is that a Friday otherwise destined for darkness and misery can be seen through the light of the victory as Good. We call this Friday good because it was power’s last stand against the victory that Jesus would bring. For ever since then, all exercise of power or influence whether it be earthly, spiritual, or emotional has been weighed and judged against the victory of the cross.
He is taken into custody not by the Romans, at first, but by his own people – the Jews. They have been the ones most threatened by his ministry. Put yourself in their shoes. They have worked out a nice arrangement with the Romans – the Romans receive their tribute money and in return the Jewish temple authorities and king remain in power. It’s a sweet deal. Except for one, small thing. Jesus has promised those who would listen to him that they no longer need to go through power or the temple to know and serve God. In fact, they may know God as “Abba, Father.” Papa.
Well, that’s not going to work in the nice, sweet, deal that the Jews and the Romans have worked out. Because everything hinges on the people living in dependency on the temple and the priests and the political power of their day. That very last thing that anyone would want would be actual "freedom."
Why is it exactly that we call this Friday good? Those same Jewish authorities arrest the trouble-maker Jesus and bring him before their own rigged court. And in that court, what happens is perfectly predictable –they find Jesus guilty. Oh they trump up some charges against him because they realize that they really have nothing to hold him on. They quote back to him some of the things that Jesus talked about in his ministry – out of context, of course. But that doesn’t matter; they’re the ones asking the questions. And then they wait for Jesus’ reply knowing that anything he says will be something they can jump on – “See we told you all along he was a blasphemer, a bandit, and a rebel.”
But Jesus is mostly silent. There’s no arguing with power in power’s court.
Jesus is handed over to from the religious leaders to the Roman governor – Pilate. Pilate had been given the ominous task of preventing Jewish revolt and maintaining order in their capital city. He answered to Caesar in Rome. He, too, had lines of power that must be followed and structures that must be kept in place. Order must be maintained for the sake of empire. But he saw this man as no threat to Roman power. You can almost hear the sneer as he asks Jesus, “Are you the king of the Jews?” “You have said so,” is Jesus’s only reply. Jesus is mostly silent, because you see there’s no arguing with power in power’s court.
Pilate can’t be bothered and determines that this is a Jewish matter. Let their political puppet Herod decide this case. It really is a Jewish matter, after all. Let the consequence rest in Jewish hands – this man is no threat to Rome.
Herod – not even a Jew but an Idumean - had been installed by Rome to keep peace in volatile Judea and make sure the tribute continued to flow. But Herod was intrigued by Jesus. He had been informed of what Jesus had done. The miracles. The healings. The teachings. And he was hoping that maybe Jesus would do some of that for him. But before Herod – the shadow of power – Jesus is silent.
It’s against the backdrop of religious authority and political power that Jesus remains deathly silent. What was it inside of the hearts of those seated on the Jewish council that prevented them from seeing the very presence of God in Jesus? What was it inside the heart of Pilate or Herod that prevented them from recognizing someone who could bring real justice and kingly leadership to the people? What was it inside of the hearts of the Sanhedrin, or Pilate, or Herod, that needed to hold so tightly to their power, their version, their authority, their control, their structure in the face of one who was in fact, the Life-Bringer? Of what, or of whom were they so afraid?
Do we miss the Life-Bringer when he stands before us? Do we become blinded by our own need to protect what we have that when real life is offered to us, our eyes are pressed shut and our hands clasped tightly over our hears?
You know the rest of the story. Jesus was crucified shamefully on the cross on a hill outside of Jerusalem for all to see – this is what happens to those who try to thwart the system. This is what happens to those who offer the promise of real freedom to those who dare to dream that they may one day be free.
It would be a sad story, repeated so often throughout history if it ended there. Freedom fighters dying for their ideals against earthly and spiritual forces of oppression and greed. We resonate with the story of the freedom fighter because something deep down inside of us desires real freedom. We quietly recognize the places where we have given up hope or given in and said “well, that just how things are.” “That’s life in the real world.” “Better just to get used to it.” And we say these things as our spirits sink and we become further dulled.
It would be a sad story were it not for what happens on the third day. Because it’s there, on that day, that the lie is exposed that it always has to be like this. There, on that day the promise is fulfilled. God reigns, his power prevails over the powers of darkness and oppression. And we get to be part of that victory. We have tasted it. We live in it. We rise to new life in it. And it’s in the victory that we look upon any mere earthly power and ask “would you presume to have power over us when we stand in the presence of the Risen King?” It’s in that victory that we have been released to real freedom.
And so it is that a Friday otherwise destined for darkness and misery can be seen through the light of the victory as Good. We call this Friday good because it was power’s last stand against the victory that Jesus would bring. For ever since then, all exercise of power or influence whether it be earthly, spiritual, or emotional has been weighed and judged against the victory of the cross.
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