There is a confluence of the Yuba and Downie rivers in Downieville,  California.  The waters sweep over rocks creating hydraulics and there is more than one risky horizon lines to navigate. “There’s gold in them there hills” is not a quaint quote from bygone days: dredges and sluice boxes work the rivers seeking fortune a pennyweight at a time.

With class 4 and 5 rapids and outstanding mountain bike riding, the surer gold on the river is dredged from wallets belonging to Urbanites seeking a thrill during an extended weekend.

Highway 49 drops you into this isolated hamlet where once, back in 1851, Juanita was hung from the Jersey Bridge for stabbing Fredrick Cannon to death.  “Adios Senores,” parted her lips before the rope fulfilled its duty. 

For eight years we served this town, ministering in a small Assembly of God church that met in the school, then the Community Hall and at last in the United Methodist Church.

It was in this town I really learned about bedrock.  Not as a principal or a geological data point – but as the opportunity for a dream to be met: a dream that showed up in the form of a gold nugget in the offering plate.

These rivers and their tributaries force gold downstream.  The heavier the stone, the deeper it descends until it can sink no more because it encounters bedrock.  Through a labyrinth of gravel and rock and silt and moss the gold miner straps rock to cable, vacuum to stone, and hose to air supply for one goal: gold.

It’s dangerous work, moving to bedrock.  The wrong displacement can lead to an arm smashed and wedged between rocks.  Cables can snap.  Exhaust from the dredge can find its way into the air supply for the diver.  Death can – and does – happen under the cold waters of the river.

Bedrock: the goal of serious dredgers – or at least the place of their goal.  The way to it provides flakes and pennyweights of gold – always beckoning for further exploration.  Move everything if you must; but get to the bottom of things.

We were praying in staff the other day when in my prayers this issue of bedrock became a metaphor during my prayer.  “How hard it is,” I thought during my prayer, “to get to bedrock.  There is so much that gets in the way.”

Not only is there the voluminous tuff of tailings to move through, there is the sheer physical labor of moving sand and stone.  It is extensively hard work accompanied by constant setbacks.  It takes strength of body and mind to keep moving through false hopes and freezing water.

Then there are the smaller successes prior to bedrock.  Nuggets that got wedged between rocks and very small slices of gold that swirl about when added to small vials of water.  You can take these immediately and sell to local stores and gaping tourists.  Every moment away from the dredge counts off time toward the end of the season.  Nonetheless, the immediate exchange of nugget to cash is hard to resist.  The successful gold miner does resist the urgent and presses to the important.

Edward Mote and William Bradbury knew what they were writing when they penned the words and music :

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness

I dare not trust the sweetest frame

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name

His oath His covenant His blood

Support me in the whelming flood

When all around my soul gives way

He then is all my hope and stay

On Christ the solid Rock I stand

All other ground is sinking sand

All other ground is sinking sand

The Rock.  The Cornerstone.  On Christ , the solid rock I stand.  Not a rock laid upon other rocks.  Not a boulder resting on the bedrock.  But the bedrock.

At times in my life I have settled for the lesser.  While every nugget is a treasure, there are yet still greater treasures to be had in Christ.  There are times the immediate blessing takes over the need to persevere over the long haul.  Because the work of digging deeper is arduous – I too often take what is surface and easier to obtain.

Weary, I settle in on sand and silt while wiser Believers know this is just tailing.

It’s dangerous work, getting to bedrock.  It threatens me.  I think at the start I know what I want – but Christ so alters me in the task that He changes my desires.  The gold I thought I wanted turns out to be fool’s gold and the real gold – well, it’s found by finally resting my feet on the bedrock of Jesus.

Sometimes I lament that the shifting sands, the sinking sands, are doing just that.  Sometimes I would be content to settle in, even if it is on a false foundation – a far lesser foundation.  To counter Mote and Bradbury, my hope is built on settled sand.

I know this is true of me.

So, where then is my hope?  In my ability to force my will to go to bedrock?  To exert all the harder, all the longer – to press through the dark and freezing waters at all cost?

I thank God that One has already done this for me.  Where I cave in to my weakness, He stood firm.  Where I settle for lesser – He meant it when He said, “Not my will, but Yours.”  I hold fast to the statement by the apostle Paul:  ^“Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.” (Philippians 2:12-13, NIV)

To be sure, there is a working out – but it is framed in the context of a God who works IN us – altering the desires of our heart and changing our will to conform to His.  All my striving toward bedrock is in some sense a resting in what He is doing within.

It’s an active resting, however.  Of course, it is.  To actually rest in Christ’s work is one of the hardest things I have ever done.  I find this wonderful nugget – and then jump out of the stream to accomplish my desires (even in His name!!).  To stay on this wonderful Rock, this bedrock of eternity – this is the greatest reward of all.

I think I’ve messed up this thought and will have ot come back and rework it for consistency of thought and metaphor.  Nonetheless, I toss it out as that – a reflection that is still messy, not fully developed and needing a better writer than me!

Nebraska restrains the bitterest winds until the temperature drops far enough down to make their partnership especially harsh.  Then, as if it were some odd, twisted Christmas gift, Nebraska releases the two in a welcome to its grayish winter.

Like awkward penguins, we shuffled across the iced parking lot toward the doors that swung open to our dying mother.  For days my sister – and then the two of us – had played Yhatzee by her bedside.  Interspersed with questions for the Hospice nurse, the staff of the home and memory trips between the two of us, we had drawn near to Christmas with the realization this was our last gift to Mom: our presence.

Our brother came, too.  Finally, after a week of waiting, we took a brief break for lunch.  Of course, she died while we were out eating: her last gift to us.

Here in the Bay Area of Northern California, it is hard to sing songs about the weather being frightful and the snow being so delightful.  The wind is about the same and the temperature does get chilly . . . but not too much.

This is the first Christmas without my parents.  Dad died back in July of 1996 and mom joined him in December of last year.

With Passover drawing near, Jesus made arrangements to secure a room to partake with his disciples.  Passover was a meal shared with family; yet in some manner Jesus took each of his disciples away from their immediate families in order to eat this meal with them.

In the background another conversation informs this one:

While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, “Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you.”

He replied to him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” Pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”

The apostle Paul, revolutionized by the risen Lord, is incredulous that the church at Corinth does not take in either of the above incidents as their own.  Gathering for the supper of our Savior, they come and maintain their economic and ethnic distinctions.  Those with rich tastes sit together lest the poor partake in the ancient Sunday pot-luck dinner.  In the midst of such division, the apostle warns: “For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself.”

It’s as if Paul can’t believe he has to tell them that they are part of a new family: made brothers and sisters in the risen Christ.  How can such division continue in this family meal?  If it does, Paul warns: judgment.

Though these verses may seem strange to you as a Christmas message – to me they make perfect sense.  I am orphaned in this world through the death of both parents.   But there is another sense – and a more real sense – in which my father and mother are made my brother and sister in the redeeming work of Jesus.

The same Spirit that adopted them into the heart of God and put on their souls the words of ‘Abba, Father’ is the One that has done so for me.  For all of eternity my father and mother have become my brother and sister as we worship the Lamb who blazes brilliance throughout all creation.

Jesus certainly did not make this earthborn family of no value!  Honor your father and mother was but one of the commandments of God he perfectly kept.  But Jesus went about creating a community that was based on something eternal: himself.

That child in the feeding trough in the city of David came to make sure I was not orphaned in eternity.

So, Dad and Mom – you’re having the merriest of Christmases as you behold Him with unveiled faces.

See you in His time.

Recently a friend wrote to me about a question he had been asked: “Throughout the entire Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, which is the single most important biblical verse?”  My friend wanted to know what I thought.  What a difficult task!

My favorite passage of the Bible is Psalm 51 – but that’s an entire chapter.

One of my favorite concepts in the Bible is the rich and deeply nuanced thread throughout the Scripture: the Temple/Priesthood.

My favorite story in the Bible? The Prodigal Son.  Or maybe, Esther.  This is too hard to decide.  Okay, the Prodigal Son.

My central person?  Jesus, and through Him – the Father and Spirit.

But one verse?  And not just my favorite: the question was about important.  I thought of many – perhaps the oddest being Genesis 15:17.  Yes, Genesis 15:17. That’s a story for another time.

My friend needed a quick response because he was speaking to the person asking the question: a person searching for a place to land in faith.  So I picked the obvious and in a few moments of looking at the verse, jotted down some initial thoughts.

I sent the letter to my friend and thought I would share it with you with one proviso: What is your favorite verse in the Bible?  Write me and let me know why.  You don’t have to list 17 reasons.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. - John 3:16 (NIV)

This passage is important to me for several reasons:

1. It presupposes the existence of God (For God . . .)
2. It speaks to the personal nature of this God (so loved)
3. It speaks to the fact that God is not dispassionate (his love moved him to act – I am using this in a nontechnical sense.  Way too much to go into here!)
4. It speaks to the awareness and interaction with that which is outside God’s own existence (the world)
5. It speaks to the redemptive and generous character of God (he gave)
6. It speaks to the nature of the godhead: there is relationship within the godhead (his son)
7. It speaks to degrees, if you will, of distinction within the godhead (his son given/sent)
8. It speaks to the incarnation and the intentional emptying by the son to the father for the purposes of redemption (son given/sent)
9. It speaks to the uniqueness of the relationship (his one and only son)
10. It speaks to the state of the world apart from God (perish)
11. It speaks to God’s movement of redemption (there is a way to not perish)
12. It speaks to the need for direct interaction of the world toward God (whoever believes)
13. It speaks to the need for relationship as the core of the belief, not only a doctrine (whoever believes in him)
14. It speaks to the issues of religious practices as the means of redemption in distinction to faith in a person (whosoever believes in him)
15. It speaks to the possession of the one who believes (but have)
16. It speaks to eternity – thus moving us to the greater issues of what life itself means (eternal life vs. perishing)
17. It speaks to God’s ability to bring about that which He purposes (shall not  . . . but have)

Each one of these points would need expansion to understand them properly; but the genius of this short little 26 word passage is that it presents all of these issues either outright or in an incipient manner.  The reflective reader will spend time pursuing the many implications of this masterful verse.  I spent about 10 minutes to come up with the 17 reasons above – which only proves you don’t have to be too reflective a person to think through a passage.

For example, number 13 – It speaks to the need for relationship as the core of the belief, not only a doctrine (whoever believes in him): The working out of this issue is the turning point in the life and meaning of the apostle Paul.  For him to move from religious practice to faith in Christ is what the book of Romans, Galatians and Ephesians is all about.  In his letter, James wrestles with the implications of faith as it relates to religious works – and what moves one to redemption.

Where people land on these varying discussions will certainly differ.  This only affirms the passage bears the basis of the discussions – it’s all there ready to be unwrapped.  Brilliant!

The Bible is a mercy of God to us – new every morning.  Take some time to meditate on your favorite passage.  Then check out a few more verses while you’re at it.  Maybe among your favorites you’ll find one that seems deeply important.

May His Spirit open your heart and understanding to His Word.

 

 

 

 

 



The remaining fruit salad waited in isolation as the conversation turned theological.  The early evening dinner was another moment with our friend, Tracie.  About three months ago her husband had been waiting to turn left when a SUV careened out of control and landed on everything that was Stephen.  Gone.

Three months into a life she hadn’t planned, she sat at our table and shared in the simple discussions of simple things.  Two grandchildren and our daughter and son-in-law sat with us as the satellite music channel pumped out contemporary Christian music.

Now, toward the end of our evening, eschatology was the discussion.  With one grandchild in the bath and another downstairs with Dad, we three talked about Jesus and peace.

Just as she rose to leave, the music filtered through the moment and Chris Tomlin was in our kitchen singing, “I Will Rise.”

There are moments when the veneer of normalcy is stripped back and raw, unfiltered, unfettered, “I-am-so-deeply-pained-and-I-can-hardly-take-being-alive” emotions manifest themselves.  This was one such moment.

Shortly after Stephen was killed, I arrived at his home with a song that had invaded my soul all morning.  Taking the CD from the car, I told Tracie that this song was comfort to me as I reflected on Stephen.  His knees badly scarred from multiple surgeries, his gait altered from adjusting to the pain – Stephen found getting up from a seated position a process of focused energy.  Now, released from the constraints of joints and tissue, Stephen could rise and give God praise.

Tracie listened to the song and signed some of the words that wafted through her kitchen.  A deep, guttural cry released as the final tones quieted.  With strength of emotion to hard to describe, she cried out. “It’s perfect.”  Her own grief intermingling with the thoughts of Stephen worshipping/Stephen gone from her.

Now, in this unexpected moment months away, the enormity of his absence was exposed as the song played and an abyss of pain filled the room.

There is little anyone can do in such a moment.  Only cry.  And hug.  And hold.  And stand in awe of the incredible immensity of grief.  This was a pain not contained: it reached out and demanded our surrender to it.  And we did.  Janet held, I circled the three of us.  A momentary thought: turn off the music!!!  But there was no turning back – this moment could only be journeyed through, not around.

“Jesus wept,” the writer, John, tells us.  He weeps at the tomb of his friend, Lazarus.  How profound his weeping must have been.  Those around him, those that observed him, commented about the depth of his love for Lazarus measured alongside his significant sorrow.

Jesus wept.

But so did Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus.  Their grief multiplied by a torturous thought: “Where was Jesus?”

Hadn’t Jesus received the news of Lazarus’ illness?  To drive the point home, the message was sent to Jesus in this manner: “Lord, the one you love is sick.”  The one you love.  The reasonable expectation of such a statement is that the one loved would receive a hasty response.

But Jesus waited.  Two days passed before he gathered up the crew of disciples and headed into Judea and Bethany.  Two days.

It’s in these moments that we most ardently hope that God is paying attention to our lives.  C.S. Lewis observed during his own grief at the loss of his wife, Joy:

Meanwhile, where is God?  This is one of the most disquieting symptoms.  When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be – or so it feels – welcomed with open arms.  But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find?  A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside.  After that, silence.  You may as well turn away.  The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become.  There is no light in the windows.  It might be an empty house. . . Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?

Martha must have felt the bitterness of this delay.  Were not she and Mary and Lazarus the best friends he had?  “Yes, go and do what you must,” Martha may have thought, “but when your real friends need you – COME!”

Jesus arrives too late.  Lazarus is in the tomb and Mary—the one so attentive to Jesus in the past—stays in the house as Martha goes out to see Jesus.  Her first words to their friend, Jesus?  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

If you had been here.  If only you were paying attention.  If only you responded to our plea.

These words carry the pain of disappointed faith.  Disappointment with the One we trusted.  In these words all the words we aren’t supposed to utter come forth.  Why?  Where were you, God?  Is it too much to care for those you love?

So broken.  So unfathomably hurt.  “If you had just showed up things would be different. But you didn’t.  And things aren’t different.”

Martha goes to get Mary: “The teacher is here and is asking for you.”  And what does Mary say when she sees Jesus?  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Those who know the story know that Jesus said he would raise Lazarus.  Those who know the story know that Martha, after saying things would be different if Jesus had come also said, “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

“All this confidence shows that they trusted Jesus and never wavered in their faith,” counter those who know the story.  “Jesus is the resurrection and the life; he even tells Martha this,” counters the contextualist.

But do you hear the weeping?  Are you standing in the room with Mary and Martha?  They are mourning!  And Jesus.  He weeps.

Throw all the theology around and you still have grief in full display.  Loss.  Pain.  Suffering.  Hurt.  Stand with us in the kitchen and wonder at the severity of the wounding.

“I will rise,” Tomlin sings.  It is a hope not lost at all, but certainly pushed to the outer edges of focus at the moment.  Right now, in this moment, we weep.  And Jesus?  I believe he was in the kitchen with us.  He knows the song better than Chris Tomlin.  He knows where Stephen is and where we all will be.

I also believe he was doing what he did standing outside the tomb of his friend: weeping.

Tissue Issues

This Sunday, the first Sunday of September, we come to the table of our Lord.  As is the practice each first Sunday, we come as a community to a common meal of redemption.

It was in the presence of family, of disciples, of friends that Jesus gathered for the Passover meal that would end all meals, as such.  The Passover required community at a meal.  Appropriate, since Jesus came to build a new community, a new people, a church.

It is in this sense, and much more, that when we gather we participate as a people in Communion; the word itself – and the practice of our Lord – make clear the connection.

While no given approach may be in itself prove to be more sanctified than others – it is clear that the approach to serving communion can shape and inform the understanding of it.

At SRPC we have been using intinction.  In the gathering around a common (common-union) cup, we all partake of the cup of Christ.  By dipping the bread into the cup, we signify a participation in His sacrifice that makes us His Redeemed and unites us as a family.

Growing up sitting in a pew with trays of hardened crackers followed by one of grape juice, I treasured the meaning of communion as applied to me, Scott Downing.  The form, while meaningful on a personal level, did little to remind me of the communal nature of what was being offered.  In some way, the ‘me’ of redemption was reinforced while the ‘we’ of communion was sublimated.

We face this issue as the spread of the H1N1 flu virus becomes a concern for some.  Is taking of a common cup an easy way to catch the virus?  Aren’t churches in England and Ireland abstaining from a common cup for fear of the virus?  Should our practice not pay attention to the warnings of theses churches?

It is true that some churches in Europe have issued directives to their congregations to abstain from various practices:

• Shaking hands during the ‘passing of peace’
• Serving the cup and the bread (some now only serve the bread for Communion)
• From any ‘holy kiss’

Along with these measures, the repetition of common sense flu season warnings has been forwarded:

• Wash hands frequently
• Cough into your arm rather than your hand
• Use tissues when sneezing and dispose of tissue properly and wash your hand again!
• Stay home if you are sick
• If someone is sick in your home, stay near home for five days to see if you have caught the virus
• If possible, cease all living functions, end all relationships and draw your life to a close.

Okay, that last one was not on the list.  I made that one up. Perhaps it’s an overreaction.  Sorry.

What are we to do?  Just the other day the Washington Post reported:

Fairfax County middle school student Hal Beaulieu hopped up from his lunch table one day a few months ago, sat next to his girlfriend and slipped his arm around her shoulder. That landed him a trip to the school office.

Among his crimes: hugging.

All touching — not only fighting or inappropriate touching — is against the rules at Kilmer Middle School in Vienna. Hand-holding, handshakes and high-fives? Banned. The rule has been conveyed to students this way: “NO PHYSICAL CONTACT!!!!!”

In light of this fear, I think it wise for a dialogue for our church.  We are blessed to have several doctors in our congregation and a theologian or two (I’m thinking Jim Sawyer and Denny Smith) that can help us navigate through this discussion.  Look for a date for discussion before our next Communion.

This week we still will have intinction but there are a few things I and the Session suggest:

• Wash hands prior to church.
• Use the normal hygiene practices noted above (except the one I added)
• We will use larger pieces of bread allowing for several things:
  • Easier to take a piece of bread
  • Easier and more firm grip on the bread while dipping
  • The servers will slightly lean the cup toward you – allowing for simpler access
  • Dip bread only slightly into cup – save full immersion for Baptism Sunday

For some, these steps are simply not enough.  For others, it is silly overreaction.  One thing is sure: we will not satisfy everyone on this discussion!  We will, however, take seriously the discussion and seek a respectful resolution that balances the theological and medical issues.

Thank you for your time, your participation and your prayers.

The Post Script of Paul in I Corinthians 16 is far more than some afterthought tagged onto a letter; it is rich with teaching and nuance.  Giving one sermon on this pasage leaves out much to be said, so I thought it necessary to bring you in on one of the key issues I wouldn’t  have time to cover this Sunday (August 30, 2009).  Please take a few moments to read – and if you’d like, give feedback.

While at this site, please take a moment and read the last several posts. too.

In His merciful care:

Scott Downing

_____________________________

Andrew Carnegie

“I propose to take an income no greater than $50,000 per annum! Beyond this I need ever earn, make no effort to increase my fortune, but spend the surplus each year for benevolent purposes! Let us cast aside business forever, except for others. Let us settle in Oxford and I shall get a thorough education, making the acquaintance of literary men. I figure that this will take three years active work . . .”

“. . . Man must have an idol and the amassing of wealth is one of the worst species of idolatry! No idol is more debasing than the worship of money! Whatever I engage in I must push inordinately; therefore should I be careful to choose that life which will be the most elevating in its character. To continue much longer overwhelmed by business cares and with most of my thoughts wholly upon the way to make more money in the shortest time, must degrade me beyond hope of permanent recovery. I will resign business at thirty-five, but during these ensuing two years I wish to spend the afternoons in receiving instruction and in reading systematically!”

So wrote Andrew Carnegie in a ‘memo-to-self’ at age 33.  He did not retire at 35 nor did he begin philanthropic work until many years later.  And he made a bit more than $50,000 a year.

But he understood, at least intellectually, a lesson not uncommonly known.  As Benjamin Franklin said, “Money never made a man happy yet, nor will it. The more a man has, the more he wants. Instead of filling a vacuum, it makes one.”  Wealth as an idol was something that Carnegie knew would damage his very soul.

There is of course always an alternative vision: “Money is not the most important thing in the world. Love is. Fortunately, I love money;” or, as Helen Gurley Brown said: “Money, if it does not bring you happiness, will at least help you be miserable in comfort.”

Money.  In tough economic times it is on our minds.  In times of ease, it is on our minds.  And when Ministers talk about money . . . well, everybody gets nervous.

Jesus never shied away from talking about money, however.  In fact, in just a few verses after the well known Lord’s Prayer, Jesus said this:

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19-21

Even more than your cardiologist, Jesus was all about your heart condition.  Jesus simply puts it: your money management reflects your heart condition.

So it is not necessarily a surprise that the apostle Paul draws down his letter to the Corinthians by talking about money.

Money had been a contentious issue between Paul and the Corinthians, partly because of the apostle’s refusal to take personal support from them.  Now, the apostle will speak about receiving money from them in three distinct ways:

First, he receives an offering from them for the church at Jerusalem.  Collecting these funds was a key component of Paul’s third missionary journey (see Galatians 2:9-10; 2 Corinthians 8-9; Romans 15:25-32).

The poverty of Jerusalem gave opportunity for the Gentile oriented churches to recognize the heritage given them by the Jewish Believers.  Look at Paul’s approach to this in Romans 15:25-27:

Now, however, I am on my way to Jerusalem in the service of the saints there. For Macedonia and Achaia were pleased to make a contribution for the poor among the saints in Jerusalem. They were pleased to do it, and indeed they owe it to them. For if the Gentiles have shared in the Jews’ spiritual blessings, they owe it to the Jews to share with them their material blessings.

Paul approached money as something far past its pure commercial worth.  While recognizing money would actually buy food, housing and essential life needs – Paul nonetheless moves to the core of money as a spiritual transaction of honor, heart and heritage.

To capture this concept, to see money beyond its marketable meaning, is to move into the realm of generosity and money as spiritual property. Paul does not see this as an optional view: twice in the Romans passage Paul refers to these monies being “owed to the Jews.”  Whether you respond with pleasure and joy – as did the Romans and the Galatians – is a reflection of your understanding.

Secondly, this passage is not a reference to tithing.  The apostle Paul understood tihing and giving very well.  Indeed, when it came to contributions, he used at least nine different words to describe giving:

1. Logeia – as used in this passage, an extra voluntary collection.
2. Charis – a free gift freely given – more of an ongoing giving than an extra collection (I Cor. 16:3; II Cor 8:4)
3. Koinonia – fellowship/sharing (2 Cor. 8:4; 9:13; Romans 15:6)
4. Eulogia (2 Cor 9:5) a bounty.  The amount is  Bounty here ties more to the heart of giving – a heart gladly, lovingly giving.
5. Diakonia (2 Cor 8:4; 9:1, 12, 13) service.  Sometimes our money can go where we cannot – we give it as deacon finds, per se
6. Leitourgia (2 Cor 9:12) Often used for giving by those who support a work for the “State”.  In church terms, one who underwrites a particular mission or work.
7. Eleemosune (Acts 24:17) alms.  Individuals helping the poor
8. Prosphora (Acts 24:17) An offering, a sacrifice.
9. Hadrotes (2 Cor. 8:20) abundance, An overflowing amount.

In I Corinthians 16, the collection is an offering, a logeia, a relief for the poor.  However, there are two interesting aspects Paul brings forward:

• It is an amount based on God’s prospering you rather than a fixed amount.  While tithe actually means “tenth,” thus a fixed percentage, this amount would be open to the heart of each person as they surveyed the blessings of God in their life and considered the great needs of others.
• Monies are to be set aside on the first day of the week.  This is no small statement.  Paul could have simple stated to set aside the funds “once a week” or “weekly.” For the early Christians, the first day of the week bore deep significance: Christ rose on the first day of the week.  I am not alone in the understanding that the church switched very early to the first day of the week as the day of gathering.  There are other passages in the New Testament that refer to the first day (Acts 20:7; Revelation 1:10).

Third; Paul will consent to their supporting him personally.  This is what is meant when he writes, “After I go through Macedonia, I will come to you—for I will be going through Macedonia. Perhaps I will stay with you awhile, or even spend the winter, so that you can help me on my journey, wherever I go.” (1 Cor 16:5-6).  This is an olive branch by the apostle.  He had already extended one by having the Corinthians select representatives to accompany Paul and the financial collection.  Now, he moves to the realm of their criticism of Paul: were he a real apostle, he would have allowed us to support him (see I Corinthians 4 and 9 for discussion on this).  Paul relents.  Maybe in his urging Apollos to go to Corinth, Apollos counseled him to allow support.  Maybe Paul, in his urgent desire to get funds to the Believers in Jerusalem, found it more expedient to allow their support.  For whatever the reason, Paul now gives them the place for financial support.  Paul had received support from other churches and now the Corinthian church comes alongside.

Five Cities of Refuge

Browsing the shelves of Half-Price books at Todos Santos Plaza always leads to interesting discoveries. 

In the religious section you can spot the attempts by people to evangelize one another.  How did that Wiccan book end up right next to Purpose Driven Life?  And what’s with the book on Buddhism saddling up to Moses: Giver of the Law?  When I meander over to metaphysics I find our Christian brothers and sisters are making their efforts, too.  There is a book on Evangelism Explosion contending with Ram Dass’, Be Here Now and The Gwyddonic Order.  It’s sort of a free market of titles and ideas vying for a voice among the overruns, the last-sellers and the trade-ins.  It is the first amendment on display!

In the section on Judaism, I picked up, Five Cities of Refuge by Lawrence Kushner and David Mamet.  A well known Rabbi and a Pulitzer-Prize-winning playwright?  And what was with the five cities?  In the Bible, the book of Numbers lists six cities of refuge, not five.  These were cities God designated as places of sanctuary for someone who had committed accidental manslaughter could hole up to escape the vengeance of the victim’s family.  Of course, they had to get to the cities before the families could get to them!

When visiting the BIG Island several years ago, we stopped in at Puʻuhonua O Hōnaunau (The Place of Refuge).  It seems Hawaii residents back in the day needed sanctuaries for the same essential reasons the children of Israel needed them – and risked all to get to them.

Opening the book, I find it is comprised of weekly meditations based in the five books of Moses – with each book serving as a refuge city, “where those of us who have committed accidental (or purposeful) transgressions might turn for solace and safety.”

The metaphor works for me so I plunk down my $7.98 – a rather steep price for a book in this haunt, but it sells for $16.38 at Amazon.

The book is rooted in an ongoing hevruta (an introspective and essentially interactive learning partnership going back to ancient Judaism[1]) between Kushner and Mamet.  They look at a passage, and each adds a comment or insight. Though the weekly readings are brief, I know my $7.98 was well spent.

Right from the introduction, I knew I would at least appreciate the approach to Scripture:

Our premise was that the biblical text always knew more than we did.  A passage you suspect may be in error, mistaken, corrupt, incomplete or just plain wrong, offers you only two real options: Either it’s stupid or you are.  If you choose the former, as many moderns do, you effectively cut yourself off from anything you don’t agree with or understand.  You place yourself above the text and can no longer be instructed or chastened by it.  But, if you will venture the traditional temerity to choose the latter, then every book, every verse, every letter—especially the ones you don’t agree with or understand—become a potential source of new wisdom and growth.  We have tried to approach scripture with some of this reverence.[2]

Once, while listening to a presentation, I heard a well known pastor and scholar comment, “You have to go to seminary to learn to distrust the Bible.”  While that may be overstated, it also bears an exceptional amount of truth.  This minister wasn’t pandering to the crowd; after all, the crowd was filled with PhDs, ThDs, and other forms of ‘D’s’, including me: Downing. The truth? The most prestigious seminaries in the nation overwhelmingly turn out graduates who view the Scriptures as nothing more than cultural mythology and intuition.  Mamet, in a contiguous theme, points out, “To be dismissive of ‘natural’ evidence is called ‘ignorance.’ To dismiss the divine is called ‘sophistication.’

Ouch.  But so true.

For a new Believer, the Scripture is a goldmine of wisdom, insight and truth.  Not a collage of cultural mythology, the new Believer sees the Bible as what it claims to be:

But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, and how from infancy you have known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.  (2 Timothy 3:14-17, NIV)

If all Scripture is God breathed, and holy, and that which gives you wisdom for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus – well, it seems wise thing to be under it – not over it.

Certainly there should be discussions about differences in the manuscripts, culturally-bound interpretations, and the honesty of simply varying opinions.  But there is a distinction between those that view the Bible as a product humanly-breathed or those that see it as God-breathed.

When I read Five Cities of Refuge, I know I am reading a book written by two Jewish men who have dialogued on Old Testament passages from their perspective as Jewish men.  I gain insight and beauty from that perspective; I can also reject their perspective as one who sees the Old Testament consistently pointing to Yeshua Hamashiach.

But when it comes to Scripture, I do not approach it as if an ancient Davidis Mametis penned it.  I come to the Scripture believing God formed and shaped this revelation while maintaining the integrity of human authors through whom He moved and human language with which He uttered.

At times I shudder under the curses of the Bible and its collision course with this generation.  Other times I call out for God to remove me from His sight – so holy and righteous is nature.  Then, in Scripture I find hope in redemption. Joy.  Eternal wisdom.  But none of it would impact me nearly so much if I held it under my scrutiny – lording over it my present cultural mindset and simply dismissing this page or that passage as unacceptably silly and old school.

In contrasting some ‘fundamentalist’ view of the Bible being taken literally because it is a vessel of God’s word, Kushner has this to say about Jewish fundamentalism:

Jews go further.  If God is somehow in the biblical text, then not only must we revere the literal meaning of each word, we must assume that each word has infinite meaning.  And that means that arguments are inescapable.  Surely anything less would only trivialize sacred words.

Does Kushner mean that it trivializes sacred words if we fail to see them bearing infinite meaning?  Or does he mean that only a people clueless of God’s presence in the word would fail to argue about its meaning?  While I think he may have meant the latter, I would include the former.

To be sure, arguing that each word has infinite meaning can cause more than one Reformed pastor to engage an apoplectic state.  If each word has infinite meaning, perhaps infinite interpretations could have equal validity.  Oy vey!

There are two factors to this I believe can ameliorate this outcome:

• One is the reverence for the literal words.  This can serve as an anchor even as the discussion sails the seven seas of thought.  Always returning top the integrity of the language, its grammatical, syntactical structure as well as its cultural rootedness keeps us grounded.
• The other is the character of God.  God is seen in Jesus Christ.  Wherever my fights of fancy take me in discussion, somehow the words of Jesus must be able to wrap around what I am saying.  Jesus boundaries my infinite.

As you come to the Word – I pray that you have the freed heart and mind of a new Believer.  I pray your love for the Savior is shaped by God’s word and God’s Spirit.

I pray that you and I can sound like David (not Mamet! The David in the Bible!):

 I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands.

I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.

Praise be to you, O LORD; teach me your decrees.

With my lips I recount all the laws that come from your mouth.

I rejoice in following your statutes as one rejoices in great riches.

I meditate on your precepts and consider your ways.

I delight in your decrees; I will not neglect your word.

Psalm 119:10-16, NIV

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[1] Not in the scope of this blog, but if you want a simple approach to hevruta, see http://www.reclaimingjudaism.org/bmitzvah/planning2/hevruta.htm

[2] Kushner, L. and Mamet, D., Five Cities of Refuge, (pp ix-x), Schocken Books, New York, 2003

It started with a thought.  Then the dream.

Knowing the worship team had just finished practicing, I entered the sanctuary from the left side room.  The view before me was of a sanctuary whose capacity was that of a football field.  I say sanctuary, but only in a sense, for in the dream I could see nothing more than a distant light.  Like some film noir scene enveloped in a deep night San Francisco fog, the streetlamp in the distance lighted a woman leaving the room.

Of course.  The practice over, she was the last one leaving.

“How did it go?” I said.  The dark fog shrouded each word, encasing syllables and consonants, impeding their delivery to the intended target.  Movement continued at the other end of the sanctuary.  Now, with her about to exit the far door, I raised my hands to create a mini megaphone and lifted my voice so it would glide above the murkiness: “HOW DID IT GO?”

Malevolence.  Not from the far end of the sanctuary; not from the woman leaving.  Not from – as if it was coming toward me from a definite location – but present.  Here.

Leave.  Turn and leave.

The dread was familiar.  As a young boy assisting my volunteering parents, I helped clean the church each Saturday evening.  At the far end of a hallway lined with doors fronting classrooms, I had to go and turn on the lights.  Beginning with a slightly nervous walk, I would begin the journey to the end.  Each door bore opportunity for opening any time by some Presence that meant harm.  This was a church, a place where angels battled demons and the Spirit propelled us into ecstatic visions and prophetic messages. This was the dwelling of other worlds presenting in ours.  By a fourth of the way, just past the third door, my nervous walk paced into panicked run through the darkened hall until I arrived at the switch that seemed to make all things well.

Not in this dream.  There was no light switch; no hall – only the immediate reality of evil.

I turned and began moving out.  The floor, which I hadn’t noticed before, was sand.  Like Tobiah to Sanballat, the sand synced to the malevolent presence and received each step into itself deeper and deeper – engulfing each foot fall.  The sand was turning my exit into an arduous exertion of will.  Though slowed, I kept pushing against the sand until I could feel the sand surrender to the Presence.  No longer a lesser companion, the sand allowed itself to be taken, transformed, defined and morphed completely.

The sand had been receiving each step – sort of a passive retaining of my exit.  Now, however, the sand became active in its intentions.  The pressure started on my lower legs and began to rise up to my waist.  The evil was now commanding each small particle, each little grain of sand singing in treacherous harmony as it gathered in a wave to overcome my leaving.

The sanctuary wasn’t safe, it provided no harbor now.  Long gone were the woman and the lights and sounds of practiced praise.  To my lower back and now pressing against my ribs, the wave perfectly timed itself with my steps and began to shove me forward into itself below.

Once on a trip to the beach in Santa Cruz, all the years of playing in the waters finally caught me unfocused.  An incoming wave became outgoing and another rolled in: I was knocked off my feet and caught in a furious undertow.  Panic set in as I tried to figure out where I was in relation to sand and sky.  Tumbling, spinning, flailing for footing, every receding wave seemed to delight in sweeping out any stability near my feet.  Was I in three feet of water?  Four feet?  It didn’t matter, the surface danced above me as an unreachable hope.  Running out of breath and getting weary in of terminal exertion – I finally knew I had to quit struggling and wait for the rhythm of the ocean.  It was a split second between the incoming and outgoing waves that ushered in a firm footing and I broke into blue sky and the sounds of the Big Dipper.

Not here.  There would be no release in relaxing.  There wasn’t a rhythm here, only the constant pressure of a rising wave that now reached just under my shoulders.

I was surprised.  I hadn’t expected any of this.  I wasn’t ready for it.  Now, at my neck and about to stream up the back of my head I awoke with a jolt as my head snapped back.

Lying in the dark, in the quiet, I could not shake the sense of a Presence.  Carefully, I lifted my head and looked about the room.  The stillness of the furniture and family photos revealed nothing of danger.  I lay my head back down and cautiously fell back to sleep.

In my ministry I have only had a few dreams I considered ‘prophetic.’  One involved a counseling situation that seemed at an impasse – until a dream was given, then related.  It broke open healing and restored a family.

This one is for now, for our church.

And I will speak to what it means soon.

In His merciful care:

Scott

I’ve been thinking about worship – “gathered-as-God’s-people-on-Sunday” type of worship.

And I’ve been thinking about the prayer Jesus gave in response to one of the best requests in the Bible: “Lord, teach us to pray.”  You know the answer:

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

It’s important to note that out of all the translations Jesus could have anticipated, he anticipated the King James Version.  And just to keep things clear, the verses I used are from Matthew’s account where the prayer is not taught in direct response to the disciples’ question (although Luke records the question) but in the context of the sermon on the mountain.

Like the commercial that once played in the service of hawking peanut butter cups, my thoughts serendipitously collided with Jesus prayer getting all over my reflections on worship.

In many traditional churches the Sunday gathering begins with a ‘call to worship.’  Were we to look at more contemporary church services, the call to worship might sound something like this: “Let’s stand and praise God,” or “Are you ready to shake the heavens and rock the earth by giving glory to God in song and shouts?”  Okay, maybe the latter of those is a bit lengthy – but I have honestly heard calls to worship just like it.  When I was leading the music, I started many services by asking, “Are you ready to worship?  Let’s go!”

Now I look back and wonder why.

The traditional call to worship was not focused on our readiness to worship or my desire to “shake the heavens.”  It was a statement of God’s invitation to worship.  More times than not, the call may be a quote from the Psalms about the glory and majesty of God.  Simply: the call to worship was about God first.

It’s easy criticism to say that too many contemporary songs are focused on me or my feelings or about some therapeutic aspect of God.  It easy criticism because, well, hmmmm, ahhh – it’s true!

Before sounding like an old, cranky dude (yes, I am old and cranky – and I am a dude) bemoaning the ‘kids’ of today, please note that contemporary songwriters are rethinking and writing newer material moving past self absorption and into acknowledging a vast, holy, magnificent God.

Calls to worship and benedictions frame our time together with words of God reminding us:

• You are here by His great invitation, now come and exalt Him
• You leave this place today with His great promises and presence, now go in His peace

 Even the shortest call to worship – something like, “Let us worship God,” gives both the call and the purpose: God.

We know worship comes from the shortened old English, weorthscipe (couldn’t these guys spell?), meaning worthy, honor.  From the Biblical languages, worship is rooted in words like bowing, prostrating, serving and ministering.

The call to worship is a call to acknowledge that the God who is worthy of all glory and honor and praise has given us favored audience; He has brought us into the most holy place where we cannot help but bow before His glory and brilliance.

I think this can often lack at the beginning of some contemporary services.  I see that I did not present that call far too many Sundays.

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

 When Jesus schooled his disciples on prayer, he began with a fundamental recognition of:

• Community (our)
• Relationship (father)
• God’s personal existence (which art)
• God’s transcendence (in heaven)
• God’s holiness and ‘otherness’ (hallowed be)
• God’s power and identity (thy name)
• God’s realm of authority (thy kingdom)
• God’s sovereignty (come)
• God’s intentionality (thy will)
• God’s providential care (be done)
• God’s redemptive grace and reconciling strength through Christ (on earth as it is in heaven)

And that’s the short list of those opening words of the prayer (I usually take a year to teach on the Lord’s Prayer; aren’t you glad you saw a bulleted list, instead?)!

The opening words of the prayer are overwhelming focused on the worthy nature and acts of our Father.  He is worthy to be praised.

As I thought about this, I wondered if the outline of this prayer could not also be the outline of our worship gatherings.  What if our call to worship was a call to acknowledge His majesty and glory?  What if our opening words and songs were overwhelmingly focused on the nature of God and not simply the nature of my feelings about God?

This is not to say there isn’t a place in gathered worship to speak of personal expressions of love, need, want or passion.  Indeed, the Lord’s Prayer touches on our daily bread, daily dealings with temptation, and daily need for his care over our souls.

The Lord’s Prayer opens with the revolutionary reality that God has drawn us near as His children – He calls us as sons and daughters and places us as heirs with His Son, Jesus.  This is highly theological/relational/emotional/psychological/existential and any other ‘. . .als’ you can come up with.

This prayer is filled with intimacy and personal expression.  It is, however, set in the context of calling and benediction: it opens with praise and worthiness of God and ends with glory and kingdoms and eternality (for all you redactionists out there, the end of the prayer is another blog . . . someday).

Movement from call to benediction: The Redeemed People – the Redeemed Person – the Redeemed People.  Movement from God’s Person – God’s Provision – God’s Providence.

Our needs, though addressed as ‘us’ in the prayer, are given room in worship to be expressed.  I do love the Lord and want to passionately express that love; I do want to lay hold of His astounding friendship and fellowship and thank Him for it. 

But don’t leave me there on Sunday.  We start as the people of God acknowledging His worthiness – we move to personal expressions of love/need and then we come back to His glory and kingdom as the people of God.

It seems to me a progression in prayer and in worship and in gathering and in life.

So, back to that commercial about the peanut butter cups: your prayer got all over my worship – no, your worship got all over my prayer. Mmmm, yummy!

Sex.  Do you know how many hits this blog may get as a result of using this word?

For two Sundays at SRPC we are focusing on sexual healing.  Why?  Because the apostle Paul talked about it, wrote about it and sent it along as a message to the Corinthian church.  In so doing, he was writing to us.

There is a vital need for this discussion from the Bible.

For many families, the educational system has taken over the discussion but has rejected any ‘imposed’ morality on the topic.  In so doing, they have imposed amorality – an approach that ultimately reduces sex to a purely physical and biological act.

The celebrity heroes our culture can’t seem to take the next step in their fame without having a sex tape ‘leaked’ to the public – an apparently wise and profitable move on their part.

Pornography?  It’s mass-marketed and mainstream.  From its temples of worship (from so-called “gentlemen’s clubs” to the corner strip joint) to it imminence via the internet, our culture is saturated with depersonalized, detached, objectifying sex.

And the church?  What does the church have to say about this?  All too often the only thing spoken is condemning and prudish.  Many churches claiming to ‘preach the whole Bible’ become strangely silent on the topic – avoiding even an entire book of the Bible!

Odd.

The Bible has much to say, however, about sex.  When it critiques, it is about the abuse of sexuality and its disconnectedness from the glory it is meant to be.  When it praises, it is well grounded in the joy, pleasure and purpose of sexuality.

In the fifth chapter of 1 Corinthians, the apostle Paul must speak to broken sexual relations on display in the church.  In the latter part of chapter six and in chapter seven, he continues to address the topic through corrective measures, teaching, and defining the way for a healing sexual life.

The title of this teaching is taken from the well known song by Marvin Gaye: Sexual Healing.

While interviewing Marvin Gaye for an autobiography, David Ritz observed an avant-garde, French sadomasochistic book, full of cartoon drawings of women who were sexually brutalized.  Ritz, states:

I told Marvin, “This is sick. What you need is sexual healing, being in love with one woman, where sex and love are joined instead of sexual perversity.” Marvin liked the concept of sexual healing, so he asked me to write lyrics to go with this concept. [i]

In 1982, the album Midnight Love was released and Sexual Healing gave Marvin Gaye his first hit in five years.  Ritz goes on to observe:

The irony of it all was that Marvin never got the ‘healing’ he sang about in the song. He sang it beautifully, but he couldn’t quite live up the message of the lyrics.

Marvin Gaye knew he was broken and needed healing.  The song that put him back on the music charts expresses lyrics focused on his own wants, needs and lusts rather than discovering what God intended through sexuality.  Even if Gaye lived “up to the message of the lyrics” he would have simply moved from one person to another – the lyrics are absent of any c marriage.  Sadly, his life ended at the hands of his father during an argument.

The sexual brokenness in which our culture exists can only be healed by returning to our Creator and Redeemer.  It can only be healed when we embrace His purpose in creating sex in the first place.

Over the next few weeks, we’ll take a look at what Scripture brings to the healing.

Certainly not salacious, it will be forthright.

It will be Biblical.

And it just may give your youth a reason to search for the Biblical perspective on sexuality instead of the latest marketing by Hollywood and the music industry.

See you on Sunday.

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[i] http://www.songwriteruniverse.com/davidritz.html