catching his breath

I freeze. Stop. Pause.

The words don’t come.

Here for a cause.

To tell him just some

Of the things he’s made

Possible in my life.

But thoughts on parade

Create great strife

Inside my heart.

Confusion and hesitation;

Where to start?

Oh, the frustration…

But then I stop in confidence

With reason for ponder.

Thanks to the Spirit he sent—

My God doesn’t have to wonder.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts know the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will. –Paul.

The more I read Paul the more I see beyond his remarkable theology and into his heart. Following Jesus wasn’t simply a stimulative mind exercise for him. He philosophized in Athens but the emotional tug of Jesus’ heart pulled him beyond sitting around convincing others of his point. Paul loved people and he never disconnected that from his technical teachings. He always left the classroom and the courtroom to seek solidarity with the poor and the prisoner.

And so if we’re to read him correctly we cannot extrapolate his intense desire for his neighbor’s good from his intricate detailing of God’s work through Jesus. Reflected in the glint of the wet ink of Paul’s pen were hopeless faces peering back at him through the blur of their tears. Though laboring to articulate the impossible, he stared back into their eyes, writing with unmatched technical precision but with greater empathy. This empathetic momentum shaped his writing more than his intellectual prowess or his religious education.

In this way Paul wrote through a vision displayed by Jesus on the cross. He saw the orphan, the widow, the temple prostitute, the misguided Pharisee and the confused Greek through the lens of the greatest love ever. As if he had mixed the dry elements of ink with his tears, the core of Paul’s emotions seeps into the parchment of his letters. His writings weren’t dry treatises just written for peer review, they were movements of love shaped by Jesus and his cross and the Spirit of God.

No matter what we conclude about Paul’s theology we miss it all if we ignore his raw honesty and love for people. “I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people.” “But the greatest of these is love.” “Therefore, if food makes my brother or sister stumble, I will never eat meat, lest I make my brother or sister stumble.”

The cold scholar? The heartless debater? Hardly.

His words live. In them his heart still beats for the “least of these.” For Christ’s sake, the world’s sake…for our sake, let’s not rip it out.

Over the last several days my studies have focused on Paul and his relationship to Judaism and whether that matters to modern Christians (even though Paul himself didn’t use that description of Jesus followers). My thoughts haven’t plummeted the depths of the issue nor do I claim to have exhaustively detailed any fresh perspective on Paul (I’ll leave that for N.T. Wright and John Piper to unravel), but I did experience a few paradigmatic shifts in the process that I’d like to share. With an awareness that I may have ventured beyond my abilities and education, let me still offer some thoughts on Paul and identity.

According to Paul, a core identity in Jesus appears to have had little to do with external manifestations of religious custom and practice. He is quite forceful about this in Galatians. Circumcision or no circumcision, it doesn’t matter. And that matters because the identity of God’s people from Paul’s perspective was signified only through the reception and leading of the Spirit of God through faith in Christ (Galatians 3:26-29; 5:5-6). This reality in the lives of Jesus followers, no matter what tribe or race or religious heritage, underwrote the insurance that declared them the beneficiaries of the promise to Abraham and at the same time the executors.

His letters suggest that Paul is more concerned with reworking the identity of Israel in light of Jesus’ death and resurrection rather than propagating and promoting a new religious movement completely severed from Israel’s history. Though the door to the new age had busted open, religious structure wasn’t the hinge upon which it swung. He refers to those who have expressed faith in Jesus as the Israel of God (Galatians 6:16), the new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17) in the likeness of the new Adam (Romans 5:12, 18-19). Jews who rejected Jesus were considered by Paul to have rejected or, at best, resisted the idea that Jesus’ followers, Jew or Greek, were now the heirs of God’s covenant promises and, consequently, cosmic rescue operation in spite of any particular religious system or manifestation. This fundamental intention of God’s stays shrouded in mystery until Jesus steps onto the stage.

The final chapter of the story is written for God’s people through the life and vocation of Jesus, the secrets are told in his chapter. All the shadows solidify into substantive realities by his mission; his life pens the climax of Israel’s drama. If that represents chapter 7 then many of Paul’s contemporaries were still attempting to live out chapter 6. They wouldn’t turn the page and were content to tell their own story. They were no longer Jews in this stubbornness, at least not in the sense of the newly constituted Jews who were to inherit the promises of God to Abraham through faith in Messiah Jesus. Of course, this neglect of his family to see the rest of God’s story through bothered Paul deeply and he wrestled with ways to ease this anxiety (Romans 9-11). He knew that they, like all people, could experience and catalyze new creation as God’s people. If only they’d move on.

So what? What does this construction of Paul’s work have to do with Christians today? How can this framework shape our lives as followers of Jesus, the Israel of God, the new creation, the fruit of the second Adam?

Allow me three observations.

First, it puts the first thing first. Following Paul’s lead, today’s Christians are free to focus on proclaiming the same first thing Paul believed marked the true Israel. That first thing is a guarantee of inherited blessings (Genesis 12:3; Ephesians 3:6) as realized through the gift of the Spirit of God (Ephesians 1:13-14). It is contracted through a faith response (I place baptism’s role here: Galatians 3:26) induced by the historical and liberating message of Jesus’ death and resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:1-3)––the victory proclamation of Israel’s Messiah. All other matters should be relegated to the periphery of religious identity. They were by Paul.

Second, it allows us to genuinely and honestly become all things to all people without threatening the core of our identity (1 Corinthians 9:19-23). We can peel back the religious, cultural and whatever-else identities we wear to create solidarity with others. Paul engaged Jewish temple worship (indicating little regard for modern “Christian” sensibilities) so that he could maintain a credible platform to proclaim Messiah Jesus to his ethnic family (Acts 21:17-26). Like him, we can do this without giving up our real identity because it isn’t dependent upon doctrinal precision or prescribed patterns of worship but on the first thing alone.

Third, it throws us into the tangible history of God reclaiming the world. In this story we tap into a reality greater than denominational differences and transitory traditions. The part we play changes us. God’s Spirit not only seals the deal but provides the resources and power needed to live out the intended influence of Israel. What happens as it takes hold of our lives can be expressed in concrete terms.

We will move away from the wishful wonder of a legal transaction somewhere in heaven where God takes care of sins to the salty tears of weeping with those who weep; to the calloused knees of intercessory prayer; to the rolled-up sleeves of God’s kindness; to the frustration of dealing with domestic turmoil; to the exuberant praise of victory. We will begin to feel alive in a reality where the deeds of love overcome the dead-ends of legalism.

Above all, as Paul weary and tired worked to bring this hope into view, he knew that his access to the inheritance proved the same accessibility for his neighbor. Through religious debate, persecution, punishment, sleepless nights and raging seas he embodied the ultimate purposes of Israel and never let go of the promise he’d claimed through her Messiah: “All peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”

Go, Israel, and bless.

Please read yesterday’s post (if you haven’t) and offer your critique or additions.

After you do that I’d really like for you to share what you believe are the implications of understanding Paul’s mission this way.

Let the conversation begin.

In 2 Corinthians 11:24, Paul laments, “Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one.” Evidently, Paul, for certain reasons, endured punitive discipline from the Jews that Paul included among his lists of persecutions suffered. We know from his letters that he faced these disciplinary actions because of his willingness to bring the Gentiles into Israel, the people of God, without forcing circumcision (1 Thessalonians 2:16; Galatians 5:11; 6:12). So Jews and possibly Christian Jews (2 Corinthians 11:26, “false brothers”) objected to Paul’s insistence and passionate mission that the Gentiles could enter the kingdom of God without full observation of Torah.

To break this down a bit, we conclude that some Jewish Christian evangelists, namely Paul, were punished for bringing in Gentiles to the messianic movement without first demanding proselytization. Other Jewish Christians seemingly escaped the thirty-nine lashes either because they did not admit Gentiles or because they did but required circumcision and full observance of the law (consider Peter and James in Acts 15; Galatians 2:11-14).

This tension frustrated Paul throughout his mission. Yet it reveals an interesting detail that is easily overlooked if we’re not paying attention. Paul’s submission to the punitive actions of the Jews highlights his continual commitment to Judaism. He mentions that five times he received the Jewish punitive measure and though disagreeing with the cause he acquiesced to the punishment. He could have severed fellowship and left, cutting all ties to the Jewish leadership and religion but he didn’t. He stayed and submitted to the punishments arguing his case for Gentile inclusion without circumcision; pleading for Jews to understand God’s reconstruction of Israel. How do we make sense of these squabbles? If Christianity was a new religion separate and removed from Judaism why not move on?

One of the key points we derive from this tension of Paul and the Jews is that both believed the Christian movement fell within Judaism. Faith in Jesus and following him found an appropriate context and home within the Jewish religion of that time. It served a key role in the newly constituted Judaism. E. P. Sanders notes that the Gentile converts “were taken seriously enough by synagogue authorities to lead them to discipline the one who brought them into the people of God without requiring circumcision.”

Paul believed these people were heirs to Abraham’s promise (Galatians 3:29); that they, too, were now Israel (Galatians 6:16). The punishment arose out of this important debate. Both parties understood the gravity of determining just who constituted Israel. It seems rather obvious to say then that it is only in this discussion that Christians posed a threat to the Jewish establishment. If the Christian faith had touted itself as a new religion these accounts would seem unnecessary and out of place. The Jews were not bullies who picked on other religions.

E. P. Sanders concludes then: “Punishment implies inclusion. If Paul had considered that he had withdrawn from Judaism, he would not have attended synagogue. If the members of the synagogue had considered him an outsider, they would not have punished him.” The implications of this historical construction reach far and wide and possess the strength to yank down some of our 21st century constructs of Paul’s purposes and mission.

Let’s kick this around a bit. I want to hear what you have to say before detailing some of my reactions.

Please, jump in. Yesterday’s conversation stoked my fire immensely. Keep it up.

Chime in please. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it means for us, as disciples of Jesus, to live as and be the true Israel. How did Paul understand his conversion?

Mull over the following questions and jump in. Nobody lurk on this post…thoughts and further questions required.

1. The New Testament does indicate a “conversion act” for both Jews and Gentiles, but what were the Jews converting to? Do Paul’s letters and arguments give the impression that there was a new religion or a renewed and reconstituted one thus a now true Israel open to all?

2. Galatians 6:16, what does Paul mean by the Israel of God?

3. Do Paul’s and Peter’s and James’ agreements over accommodating Jews have to do more with table fellowship than entrance rites of a new religion? (consider Acts 15).

4. Ask your questions for clarification. And thanks for contributing.

I love the legendary line of St. Francis of Assisi: “Preach the gospel at all times and if necessary use words.” This convicting statement captures the idea illustrated through the biblical metaphor of bearing fruit. The content and historical reality of the gospel should produce a substantive expression of abundant living. In the context of Jewish thought, God’s people live out an inheritance, a life of milk and honey, a fruitfulness that brings to bear the blessedness of God’s reign to the nations. Certainly, this imagery lingered in Paul’s Jewish mind when he wrote to the Colossians and mentioned their fruit-bearing early in his letter.

The Colossian disciples, though, would have grown up understanding Rome as the source of fruitful abundance, the catalyst of global blessing. But the empire often executed that goal through violence and subjugation; hardly a positive contribution. Or, maybe they had met some of the Jews in the region and were cajoled into believing that Moses-following Jews, not Christ-followers, countered imperial oppression through their call to bear fruit (Leviticus 26:3-13). Of course, historically, Jews often behaved like the empire themselves and consequently forfeited those blessings promised by God (1 Samuel 8). It could be some of the Colossian disciples had even experienced the fruit of Jewish exiles who sought to live out Jeremiah’s encouragement to continue God’s creation intent (Genesis 1:28-29; Jeremiah 29:5-7). Some or all of these forces would have sought to persuade the young church into confusion about what entity offered the world fruitful delights. Rome? Moses? Jesus?

Paul writes his letter within the reality that the impetus of fruitful prosperity is not found in either the current imperial domination nor the Jesus-rejecting Jews of the Diaspora. He thanks God that the Colossians practice “good works” in the Spirit, bringing fruit to the world through an alternate way of life rooted in the work of Jesus. Because of the gospel (the liberation announcement of Jesus’ conquering death and vindicating resurrection), God’s reconstituted Israel (Galatians 4:29) is now the community of fruitful abundance, the fruitful agency of God’s promises and blessings. Paul is thankful they’ve entered this rhythm of life and challenges them to anchor their hearts deeper into this reality as a people of thanksgiving.

Lately I’ve struggled with the dim reality that my hair continues to thin and let go. I never thought I’d be one who balding bothered, but it has stung a little bit. Nature is taking my hair from me. I’m not alone when comes to having things taken.

Most people have experienced loss of one degree or another. The list is long of jobs taken, memories taken, possessions stolen. Some have had their innocence swiped away or their credit card swiped by a thief. This age poses all sorts of circumstances where people find themselves in situations where they’ve been taken. Taken isn’t just a good movie, it’s the verb of grief.

The thing to hold on to because we can… “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:38-39).

I decided to take my two youngest kids kite flying. One of the neighbors had given them an unused, used kite, like those you find in a garage sale, so I thought they would get a kick out of watching the thing soar. Cheap entertainment. The wind had picked up a bit and occasionally gusted briskly, so off we went to the big field east of our house.

When it comes to my ideas I’m an optimist and thought the wind was blowing a lot harder than the kite thought. It turned out the kite was right. Subsequently, we had to work the run-with-it-to-keep-it-up angle. Okay, cheap but exhausting entertainment. But the kids and I were able to catch a few moments of kite-flying wind in conjunction with our sprinting that made it a somewhat enjoyable experience. Again, an optimist.

I’m anxious about taking the kids kite flying again (when they won’t have to run a half mile to see any results). Note: a steady wind strong enough to wave a small tree is a prerequisite to flying kites while standing still. Lesson learned.

Of course, I’m always thinking of ways to exploit experiences with my family for my own illustrative purposes. I couldn’t pass this one up.

Let me set up this illustration a bit more. You can’t fly a kite drawing from your own resources or abilities. You’ve got to have a forceful wind. You won’t be able to exhale it into the air. Maybe for a moment someone can run fast enough to generate enough resistance that the kite peeks above the trees, but not for long. Every time one of the kids quit moving the kite went kamikaze on us. Unless we were in one of the few brief moments the wind had picked up. Still, you’ve got to have the force of a semi-strong wind to make a kite do what it’s supposed to do. Trust me, I made my kids sweat to prove this point.

Without God’s Spirit surging through the body we can never reach full potential as a church. We won’t soar the heights of the Jesus Way. Nothing but a crash awaits those who fail in posturing themselves to catch the animating force of God’s Wind.

Acts can serve as a quick case study. Start reading and it doesn’t take long to see that Luke describes Jesus in Jerusalem making preparations to launch his kite into God’s Wind. From there it will travel to “Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

Chapter 1: Jesus assures them he will send the Spirit and that they don’t need to do anything until then. Wait for the wind.

Chapter 2: The Wind rushes in and the church takes off. Luke leaves little doubt to what generated the powerful display of God’s presence in the disciples of Jesus.

Luke goes on to describe Peter’s leadership sailing beyond his comfort zones by the power of the Spirit as he reaches out to the Gentiles welcoming them into the kingdom.

Chapter 7: Luke records Steven’s flight into the arms of Jesus after delivering a powerful kingdom message prompted by the Spirit.

Chapter 15: The disciples come together to discuss dissension among God’s people. Heated argument broke out, I mean, this thing had the potential of blowing up like some of the nation’s recent town halls over Health Care reform. It didn’t. Unity emerged. It’s very clear the only possible way this happened was because God’s people yielded to the Spirit’s movement and work (15:8, 28).

The rest of the book focuses on Paul. He is taken and blown all over the Gentile world spreading good news that God’s kingdom includes every nation. One part of his journey stands out and I’ll quote it at length.

“Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, ‘Come over to Macedonia and help us.’ After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them” (Acts 16:6-10).

If you’re going to fly a kite wait for the wind. Jesus and the early church functioned under this reality and we’re reaping the blessings. The next time I get the itch to take the kids kite flying we’re waiting on the wind. We’ll have a better time. And I’ll have a story for them about a greater Wind. A Wind that will sweep them off their feet if they want.

I can hardly wait.