catching his breath

When naked we clothe ourselves. At funerals we shroud our tears in Oakleys. We protect those parts of us, physical or emotional, that we deem vulnerable to those around us. It’s natural to think, or so we’ve been conditioned to believe, that exposing certain parts of who we are leaves us short of true humanity. But does it? (Note: please don’t read the previous lines of thought as a proposal and encouragement of public nudity).

Let’s be honest, our propensity is to cover up our perceived weaknesses, to keep closed those doors to our hidden life, to protect our status as healthy humans. And this thinking can squelch a reality that may slip away from us if we’re not careful. When we train certain aspects of our humanness to vanish like ninjas when threatened we miss out on participating in and sharing with others our full humanity. And what did the incarnation of Jesus express if it didn’t express that God wants to, and does, participate in the fullness of humanity–the good, bad and ugly? God, in Jesus, embraced the vulnerabilities often disassociated from a complete person. He didn’t shy from them or throw on his shades. On the cross, and recorded for all to read, God unleashed his doubts and divulged a deep emotional trauma: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

God stamped approval on humanity by his willingness to enter it. He didn’t sit coldly from his divine perch and demand that we seek the status of gods before we could enjoy intimacy with him. He moved into our space, our world, our pain, our suffering, our condition. And Jesus didn’t enter human existence devoid of such realities. Still, he removed the typical protective measures and fully opened himself to God. He pled for his life in the garden. He wept at the passing of a friend. He cried out to God in confusion. Had he clamped shut these aspects of himself he would have come short of a full expression of humanity.

I’m afraid that failing to accept the implications of the incarnation has deepened our resolve to resist all the vulnerability we believe endangers our humanity. The irony, though, is that in doing so we cut off opportunities to be fully human. Let’s not forget that those tears and fears we believe need denied and suppressed are also emotions God seeks to share with us.

Surface level stuff seems good in my life, but I have an aching that I am missing something deeper. Perhaps like Martha I’m distracted from spending time with Jesus, sitting at his feet, infusing the rhythms of his life with mine. When people sleep, events are over, activities at rest the emptiness consumes me.  

I wanted to pray today and couldn’t. Where are the deeper things? I’d like to think I drink of the deep well of God’s love, but I haven’t felt the refreshing of it.

The next few weeks I will seek to find the deep where I can anchor my anxiety. Hope compels me. I tried to pray today and couldn’t. So I wrote.

Check out this article in Slate.

I don’t know about the war on Christmas and my part in it. So let me just think out loud for a minute.

When I read the Christmas story in Scripture I get the sense that we’re to embody the presence of God in humility and sacrifice––and that it has nothing to do with making a list of Christmas friendly store or the debate of whether it’s “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas.”

Christmas is a mixed bag for me theologically. It doesn’t come off as “merry” to think about the real story of Mary (a virgin cast out as a whore, a poor, crying baby in a stinky, poop-filled barn or the weeping mothers of Jerusalem wailing for their dead sons). It means I have a God who has work for me to do and sometimes it’s not peaceful or merry. There’s a mess and he’s rolled up his sleeves and jumped in; he turns to us and says follow me. Answering this call can turn life upside down. Participating in God’s incarnation entrenches me in the messiness and ugly realities of life.

Basically, I don’t have time for the war on Christmas.

Here are some undeveloped thoughts I’ve begun kicking around because of a question asked of me yesterday (by an eleven year old girl no less!).

Her question asked, “If all humans sin because that’s what humans do then how, if Jesus was human, did he not sin?” You could immediately offer some canned responses, but I think this question implicitly deconstructs some of our accepted dogmas of what it means to be human.

God created us in his image and did so perfectly. God dubbed humanity very good (Genesis 1: 31). God in Jesus became flesh, he became human. And if Hebrews 2 is saying anything it at least says that Jesus is the perfect human.

Back to the question. Maybe in our considerations about sin and humanity we are too quick to include sin as a part of the human make-up. Jesus says no. Sinning leaves us short of humanity, sin dehumanizes. Jesus’ humanity and sinlessness walked together hand in hand. He didn’t perform superhuman feats, he lived the entirety of his life as human.

To sin is not human. What do you think? How does this deconstruct the phrase “I’m only human…” that is often uttered when we sin.

Check out the link here.

I agree that enough is enough. No matter where you fall politically, some things go too far and those who follow Jesus should invest in speaking out against those who go there. It’s clear that Jesus receives continuous bad publicity through religious and political radicals who attach his name to their purposes.

How about this? Let’s neutralize their poisonous rhetoric through accurately living out and speaking out the love of Jesus. Let’s shout, in word and deed, that the Jesus (mis)represented by these opportunistic exploitations isn’t the Messiah, the resurrected One, reconciling the world. And, we will no longer tolerate others exploiting him to gain the upper hand in political debate. He is not leverage for anyone’s personal or political agenda. He is not justification to spew hate and murderous innuendo.

God help all of us!

If you have had enough, speak up. Please. Speak whenever and wherever you have a platform, personally or privately. Refuse to let others hijack your responsibility to represent Jesus as anything other than the Messiah of shalom, the teacher of Matthew 5-7. Let’s pray for them and our leaders. Let’s pray that God would work to bring shalom into intensely emotional discussions and politics.

[P.S. I recently studied the passage cited on the t-shirts (Psalm 109) in depth through the scholarship of Walter Brueggemann. The passage speaks to much deeper issues and raises the complexity of social justice issues and God. Those who've used the passage as hate speech have completely ignored the hermeneutic complexities of reading texts thousands of years removed. When will we realize the danger of uninformed readings of Scripture?]

I encourage you to click the link below and read Doug Young’s latest blog post.

He reminds us of a crucial leadership reality that often escapes the notice of church leaders. Thanks Doug.

Here it is.