It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it. Life is long enough, and a sufficiently generous amount has been given to us for the highest achievements if it were all well invested. But when it is wasted in heedless luxury and spent on no good activity, we are forced at last by death’s final constraint to realize that it has passed away before we knew it was passing. So it is: we are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not ill-supplied but wasteful of it.

One of the things I find very beneficial about the church’s liturgical calendar (Advent, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, etc) is that the participants in these cycles are forced to constantly ask questions – some of them over and over again – instead of floating through a year without a sense of structured movement. Surely, each season has particular action or emotion that it stresses. For instance, Lent tends to be viewed in more of a penitential light; Advent is seen more as a season of anticipation. (Now, of course, we can switch that up and see hope in Lent and penitence in Advent. The point is just that each season has a main focus). Even though there are different foci in the seasons, there are still constant similarities weaved throughout the year. That is no different for this week of Lent.

The focus this week is making sure that, even as God’s people, we have “eyes to see.” The text we have in Mark comes on the heels of some amazing events. Jesus has fed 5,000, walked on the water, healed a deaf man and then fed 4,000 more. Following all of this, the disciples (*ahem…. we) still don’t get it. They don’t understand who Jesus is and what he came to do, a misunderstanding that only intensifies in chapters 8, 9 and 10. This text (Mark 8:14-26) is the final piece of narrative before the turning point of the entire gospel, Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Christ, and it sums up all that had been going on.

Jesus warns his disciples to beware of “the leaven of the Pharisees.” They foolishly thought he was rebuking them for forgetting to bring more bread. What actually is going on is that they are failing to understand the depth of what Jesus was doing. Jesus had just fed 9,000 people; did they really think he needed more than their one loaf? They were simply failing to see that Jesus, by performing his miracles, was presenting himself as the creator, giver and sustainer of life. They just didn’t get it.
What makes the passage interesting, is that twice Jesus asks them, “Do you not see (8:17, 21)?” The very next interaction Jesus has is with a blind man. In his first “attempt” to heal the man, he asks, “Do you see?” The man is still partially blind, so Jesus acts again and asks a second time, “Do you see?” This time, the blind man is completely healed. So, why twice? Why couldn’t Jesus heal the blind man with one attempt? The reason is that he (and Mark as the author) is paralleling the disciples two inabilities to see with the blind man’s healing. In other words, it’s all about having the eyes to see what’s directly in front of you.

What this means for us is that we can constantly have Jesus set before us in the Word, in the sacraments or in the community and still fail to see who he is and what he’s doing because we have not sought “eyes to see.” Especially now, in all of our Lenten attempts to be purified from unholiness, do we want eyes to see our Lord and ourselves as we truly are?  Isn’t this what is at the heart of Lent? Shouldn’t we desire to be given a knowledge in a time of sacrifice that pushes us forward in hope? Otherwise, that is if we don’t have eyes to see, we will inevitably end up before an empty tomb on Easter Sunday and still fail to understand where our Lord has gone and what exactly he has done.

May we be given “eyes to see.”

Ralph Wood, of the National Review Online, has a great article reflecting on her work, especially the aspects of divine grace. If you’ve ever read Flannery, you’ll enjoy this article. And if you’re looking for a good reason to get into short stories, the article should get you going.

Many are thrown off by her violent and self-destructive characters. But Wood observes that this is one reason her fiction is so unique in introducing an element of mercy and grace. He explains:

When asked why her fiction, like that of so many other Southern writers, is filled with freaks, O’Connor wryly replied that Southerners “are still able to recognize one.” To discern deviations and distortions, O’Connor explained, one must first have a clear vision of the Norm. The rural and “Christ-haunted” South, as she called it, has retained such a vision because the popular imagination has remained essentially Biblical. When the folk religion is shaped by the Biblical narrative — of creation and fall, of Israel’s election and Christ’s incarnation, of the crucifixion and the resurrection, of the church as God’s own people and the Second Coming as history’s consummation — then even the barely literate possess the ultimate criterion for measuring themselves and everything else.

You can read the full (though short) article here.

This is for Sarah.

This is for Sarah, because as far as I know, she may be one of about 2 ½ people who read this blog. She’s a dear friend and, along with her husband and daughter, an important part of my life. Why? Because she’s part of my community group, or, as I prefer, she’s part of my family. She’s someone who, whether she likes me or not, has chosen to put up with me and care for me as I try to figure out any of the many facets of living the gospel. So this is for Sarah. She recently gave me a hard time for not blogging enough (or, indeed, like I said I would… consistently). Since she has a sensitive conscience, she immediately apologized although I’m not sure it was necessary.

So, why is this for Sarah? Because, she’s a reminder to me that my choices, every decision I make, always affect others around me. For instance, failure to blog might be an insignificant thing in itself, but failing to meet my end of a deal with members of a community is no small matter. I need reminders like this all the time, but especially now in the Lenten season of the church. My sin is not my own issue. It’s the issue of everyone around me. My sin affects the lives of those closest to me, and even though I might hide it from them “in order to protect them” (or whatever lame excuse I may fool myself into believing), I’m essentially hurting them and myself by refusing to confess and repent. Sin never hurts just me.

This is exactly what we see in our readings for this Sunday in Lent. The prophet Jeremiah called to the people of Jerusalem warning them that he was “full of the wrath of the Lord” for their sin, and that he was “weary of withholding it.” Their sins, their spiritual idolatry and fornication had turned the Lord’s goodness toward them to wrath, and they would not repent in order to escape the coming judgment. When the judgment finally comes, there is no distinction of who receives it. Children in the street, young men, husband and wife all receive the judgment because they are inhabitants in the land where the wickedness was dwelling. It does not matter if “they did not sin themselves.” The sin of the nation brought judgment on all its individuals. From the least to the greatest, no one was spared.

In a similar vein, the Apostle Paul warns against sexual immorality so that we do not sin against more than ourselves. Sure, this sin is personal in that it only involves the sin of the bodies of individuals. For Christians, however, there is a deeper element. Their bodies do not belong to them. Their “individual” bodies are members of a larger body: the body of Christ. Their sin, their sexual immorality, is more than just a sin against themselves. It is a sin against their brothers and sisters and the head of their body, the Lord Jesus Christ. Even in an intensely personal act, such as sex, there is still not a private distinction. That is, sex isn’t just your business. It’s the business of the entire congregation, because your sins in this matter affect us all. With this I’m reminded of a quote from Stanley Hauerwas, a theologian at Duke:

I had a colleague at the University of Notre Dame who taught Judaica. He was Jewish and always said that any religion that does not tell you what to do with your genitals and pots and pans cannot be interesting. That is exactly true. In the church we tell you what you can and cannot do with your genitals. They are not your own. They are not private. That means that you cannot commit adultery. If you do, you are no longer a member of “us.” Of course pots and pans are equally important…”

The community, then, is important, because they help keep us from our sins and judgment stemming from those actions. The community is important, because they remind us to believe and live the gospel. The community is important, because without them we are lost and alone and doomed to fail to better ourselves in personal holiness. The community is important, because the community is everything.
This expresses itself beautifully (so to speak) in Lent. Often times, we fast of things for personal gain/sacrifice/reflection, etc., but we do so without thinking of what type of effect or consequence it will have on the body as a whole. Sure, you’re (and I’m) fasting, but what does it say about the local church? What does it say about Jesus’ body? It’s never too late to alter our motives in the Lenten season. It’s never too late to refocus our goals and make sure our priorities are right and that our fasting is for the right reasons, especially in a penitential season such as Lent.

That’s the great thing. As long as we are… “here”, wherever that is, it’s not too late. As long as today is called today, we may repent. We can forsake our sin and turn to Jesus, the One who makes our faith perfect. Don’t be discouraged. Be encouraged that it is never too late to repent as individuals and as a community.

So this is for Sarah, because in her concern for a silly little blog to read, she just might’ve assisted in removing me from my sin. Just by being part of a “gospel family” she took part in helping me see that I need to repent, because it’s always about more than just me.

Thanks Sarah.

I just want to give a few reflections and helpful reminders for any who are entering Lent:

1. Whatever you fast from or whatever you give up, make sure that it is more than an attempt to “wash the outside of the cup.” Seek to replace your habits with holiness.

2. Embrace the difficulty, pain and suffering that the act brings. Allow that to give voice to what you feel in your soul.  Long for Christ’s resurrection, so that when we get to Resurrection Sunday, the stone will be rolled away from your heart as well.

3. Don’t focus on how long but what. That is, don’t continue to think about how many days/weeks you’ve fasted. Instead, think about what the Lord is accomplishing in your heart doing this time. Look for opportunities not to say “I have fasted for 3 weeks,” but say “I have been reconciled to my brother and sister.”

4. Keep hope ever before you. HOPE. HOPE. HOPE. There is always hope. It’s not just about suffering. It’s not just about giving something up because we feel bad that we’ve got “too much stuff.” There have always been distraction that keep us from true worship, so we’re not just talking about giving it up, just to give something up. Always remember, we give things up in response to sacred moments (grief, sin, desire for repentance, etc.). We give those things up in response to these situations, because we believe that things can change. I can give up food to give voice to my soul, because I believ – I have hope – that it will be heard. Keep the hope of the resurrection ever before you.

Keep your eyes open and check back Sunday for part 1 of our Lent series.

Peace.

That being said, here’s an article pointed out to me by my buddy Bryan. It’s a recently published booklet/tract from the American Anglican Council, a group seeking “biblical reform” in the Episcopal Church USA. There are several stunning quotes throughout the pages, but pages 4-7 put some very particular charges of heresy before the feet of Presiding Bishop Kathryn Jefferts-Schori. 

If you’re a nerd, you can get the article here.

If you’re not, you can comment below on how I’m a big dork…. then you can click the above link and GO EDUCATE YOURSELF!!!!

That said, I did venture to say that what I saw during my travels was the stirrings of a true spiritual revival, not merely renewed interest in a particular theological system. I saw hunger for God’s Word, passion to spread the gospel around the world, and zeal to pursue greater holiness. That’s something Christians of any theological persuasion can support. For those who despair of this growing movement, I can only recommend that they renew their efforts to catechize young believers. It’s easy to embrace Reformed theology in college when a Calvinist is the first Christian who has exposited the Word for you.

I couldn’t agree more with D.A. Carson’s endorsement of my book when he cautioned, “This is not the time for Reformed triumphalism.” This movement has flourished without it, and I would hate to see pride bring it down. I suspect Calvinism will prosper if its leaders will simply continue to go about the business of training pastor-teachers who will lead their churches in evangelism, teach faithfully each week, and care for the weak. Their example will spread within churches and inspire selfless care for one another alongside courageous, costly love for our neighbors.

Check out the article here

[and keep checking back. Once the semester gets under way (and Louisville regains power), blogging will be more consistent].

Here’s an excerpt:

I always thought it was the Bible that was meant to interrogate the culture; but the order seems to be being somewhat reversed in recent times.   For example, a few years ago, Mel Gibson’s film, The Passion was all the rage in evangelical circles.  One day, I was sitting in my office and a student called by to let me know he was taking the youth group at his church to see it and to ask if I had already done so.  I said I had not, and we then entered a discussion about whether it was right to depict Christ visually on the big screen. At the end of the discussion, he said that he felt sorry for me because my qualms about the visual depiction of Christ were making me irrelevant to ministry in the modern church.  Now I may well be irrelevant, although I think that time has proved Gibson’s Passion to be pretty irrelevant as well.   What shocked me in this encounter, however, was not that we had different views on the matter, but that the student could not even see that there was any question to be asked.  For him, the question of the meaning, relevance, and application  of the second commandment was not even a question.  He just thought it was obvious that anything which generated interest in Jesus was a good thing; thus, my concerns about the visual depiction of Christ revealed me as an irrelevant old hack, a superannuated puritan who simply didn’t get it.  To me, this was a most dramatic symbol of how culture had come to set the theological agenda even within a conservative, confessional, reformed tradition, and to define the plausibility structures not simply of the answers but even of the questions.  My question arose out of my concern to see what the Bible said to our cultural situation, and that refracted through centuries of discussion of this point; but this student did not even have the categories to see that there was any question to be asked.

You can read the full article here, and I suggest you do so.

To believe in somebody or something implies that we believe in their existence. But it also carries overtones of an investment of faith or trust… To believe in Jesus means, or should mean, more than believing in his existence. It involves personal trust and faith by virtue of which the power of Christ is magnified in the life of the believer. The access of Christ to and individual’s life, his power or influence within them, is in proprtion to their faith. The same us of language applies to the wider world. To believe in a political leader implies more than believing in their existence; it implies faith in the system of values for which they stand and confidence in their ability to carry it through.

The reply to the question should Christians believe in the devil must therefore be a resounding ‘No!’ When we believe in something we have a positive relationship to that in which we believe but for the Christian a positive relationship to the devil and demons is not possible. We believe in God and on the basis of this faith we disbelieve in the devil… Satan is not the object of Christian belief but of Christian disbelief. We believe against the devil. We resolutely refuse the devil place.

Nigel G. Wright, A Theology of the Dark Side: Putting the Power of Evil in Its Places (Carlisle: Paternoster, 2003), 24-25; quoted in, Christopher J.H. Wright, The God I Don’t Understand: Reflections on Tough Questions of Faith (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008), 38-39.