Tag: change

Tuesday of Holy Week (Psalm 71:1-14)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment
Station 3 of the Stations of the Cross, along the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem

In you, O Lord, I take refuge;
    let me never be put to shame.
In your righteousness deliver me and rescue me;
    incline your ear to me and save me.
Be to me a rock of refuge,
    a strong fortress to save me,
    for you are my rock and my fortress.

Rescue me, O my God, from the hand of the wicked,
    from the grasp of the unjust and cruel.
For you, O Lord, are my hope,
    my trust, O Lord, from my youth.
From my birth I have leaned upon you,
    my protector since my mother’s womb.
My praise is continually of you.

I have been like a portent to many,
    but you are my strong refuge.
My mouth is filled with your praise
    and with your glory all day long.
Do not cast me off in the time of old age;
    do not forsake me when my strength is spent.
For my enemies speak concerning me,
    and those who watch for my life consult together.
They say, “Pursue and seize that person
    whom God has forsaken,
    for there is no one to deliver.”

O God do not be far from me;
    O my God, make haste to help me!
Let my accusers be put to shame and consumed;
    let those who seek to hurt me
    be covered with scorn and disgrace.
But I will hope continually
    and will praise you yet more and more. (New Revised Standard Version)

Christians take a decided interpretation of seeing Christ in the psalms. For us, we can envision Jesus saying these words of lament in the last days of his earthly life and ministry.

Why lament?

Lament is a significant piece of Lent, and is especially present in these final days of the season, Holy Week. To lament is to offer a public and passionate expression of grief. And it’s not optional but necessary and vital to the Christian experience, not to mention the human condition.

Without lamenting our great losses, our grief comes out sideways, inevitably harming others with our snarky vitriol. Lament gives expression to our deep grief. It enables us to come to grips with what has happened in the past, or happening to us in the present, and within us.

What does it mean to lament?

  • A lament is an expression of personal grief, due to any significant change or loss; it is the normal emotional, spiritual, physical, and relational reaction to that loss.
  • Lamenting is an intentional process of letting go. Relationships, dreams, plans, and people all die. We cannot get them back. Lament helps us find and live into a new identity after the loss or change.
  • Expressing grief through lament is intensely personal; there is no one-size-fits-all. No one else can do our lamentation for us.

How do I lament?

There are many psalms of lament, including our psalm lesson for today. They all have a typical structure to them, including:

  • Addressing God: Crying out for help. Some psalms of lament expand to include a statement of praise or a recollection of God’s intervention in the past. (Psalm 71:1-3)
  • Complaint: Telling God (said with some flavor!) about our problem or experience through a range and depth of emotional, relational, and spiritual reactions to the change or loss. (Psalm 71:4)
  • Confession of Trust: Remaining confident in God despite the circumstances. Beginning to see problems differently. (Psalm 71:5-8)
  • Petition: Proclaiming confidence in God. Appealing to God for deliverance and intervention. Keep in mind that petitioning is not bargaining with God or a refusal to accept loss. Rather, it is a legitimate seeking of help. (Psalm 71:9-13)
  • Words of Assurance: Expressing certainty that the petition will be heard by God. (Psalm 71:14a)
  • Vow of Praise: Vowing to testify in the future to what God will do with praise. (Psalm 71:14b-24)

I encourage and urge you to consider the following spiritual practice in this Holy Week: Set aside some time and craft your own psalm of lament.

Choose an event from your past which created grief for you. It can be recent or from years ago. Using the structure of lament psalms, thoughtfully write out each element as I have outlined it. Then, read it aloud to God. Perhaps even take another step by reading your lament aloud to a trusted family member, friend, or faith leader.

Our grief needs the outlet of lament. Grief which is not expressed ends up sitting heavily in the soul. Eventually, over time, if not acknowledged and spoken aloud, it can easily become putrid and rancid, poisoning our spirit, and compromising our faith.

Sharing your story through lament is biblical, practical, and I insist, necessary. I regularly craft psalms of lament whenever I have events or people who keep sticking with me in my thoughts and in my heart. Here is one example from a few years ago, after a mass shooting in my city:

Lord, in our shock and confusion, we come before you.

In our grief and despair, in the midst of hate,

in our sense of helplessness in the face of violence,

we lean on you. How long, O Lord, must we keep facing this!?

For the families of those who have been killed, we pray.

For the family of the shooter—help us to pray, Lord.

For the communities that have lost members—their anger, grief, fear—we pray.

For the churches striving to be your light in darkness, beyond our comprehension, we pray.

In the face of hatred, may we claim love, Lord.

May we love those far off and those near.

May we love those who are strangers and those who are friends.

May we love those who we agree with and understand,

and even more so, Lord, those who we consider to be our enemies.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Heal our sin-sick souls, and grant us your peace.

Make these wounds whole, Lord, for you can do it. Amen.

How Can the World Change? (Philippians 1:21-30)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment

For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me, yet I cannot say which I will choose. I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better, but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. Since I am convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that, by my presence again with you, your boast might abound in Christ Jesus because of me.

Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel and in no way frightened by those opposing you. For them, this is evidence of their destruction but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ but of suffering for him as well, since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have. (New Revised Standard Version)

I believe that one of the greatest tragedies of this contemporary age is that millions of people suffer in silence, alone, with nobody knowing what they’re going through. Countless others cry by themselves, even in public. It’s as if someone who is suffering or sad is a pariah whom we cannot get close to.

It is not supposed to be this way. Suffering by oneself is a tragedy. Suffering with others is a privilege. We are not only meant to be one in spirit when things are going well and it’s a joyous occasion; we’re also to maintain that close unity when the world seems to be falling apart and there are those who are profoundly hurting in either mind, spirit, or emotion.

A few years ago, I stood amongst a gathered group of people, most of whom I did not know.  I was there for a memorial service of a fellow colleague. She received the kind of news that no one wants to hear. In a matter of weeks, she was gone. Not every funeral I attend (or even officiate) is beautiful. This one was, and here’s why: It was a collective experience of both joy and sorrow.

I walked away from my friend’s remembrance with a clear conviction – one that had been percolating and forming within me for quite some time.

This conviction might seem exaggerated, yet it by no means is meant to be. It’s just what I have come to believe about the universal human experience.  It comes from the confidence and experience of a lifetime of observation and ministry.

It is neither merely a heartfelt sentiment nor a passing feeling. No, it really is a conviction, a firm principle or persuasion. It is this:

Crying with strangers in person has the power to change the world.

I think I’ve always known this. It just crystalized for me through that experience. After all, I have watched with awe the privilege of walking into a dying patient’s room, full of tearful family, and be with them in their pain.  The sharing of stories is powerful, eliciting both great joy, reminiscent laughter, and profound gratitude; as well as tremendous sorrow, grinding grief, and sad lament. 

Tears and celebration mix in a sacred alchemy producing a kind of care which transcends description.

It’s one thing to observe other’s joy and sorrow on the evening news, or even from afar. It is altogether a different reality to participate up close and personal. It’s something akin to watching a travel documentary on Yellowstone Park versus visiting the place in person; there’s just no comparison. 

Shared human experiences of suffering will nearly always translate into new and emerging capacities for empathy. And where empathy exists, there is hope for all humanity. 

Being with another person or group of people in their suffering creates a Grinch-like transformation in which our hearts suddenly enlarge. A single tear from a singular small little Who girl in Whoville had the power to penetrate years of hardness of heart and change what everyone thought was a shriveled soul full of garlic and gunk.

Said a different way: The spiritual and emotional heart of a human being is able to shrink or expand. It shrinks from spending far too much time alone and/or holding others at bay, at arms-length, while playing the armchair critic to those who are out rubbing shoulders with real flesh and blood people. 

The Grinch never went back to his isolation. Instead, he did what Whoville thought was the unbelievable: The Grinch fully participated in the joy of the community, up close and personal.  It was a full-bore holding of hands, singing, and eating – which illustrates a conviction I’ve held for a long time:

Hospitality, that is, showing love to outright strangers through celebrative participation with food and drink, has the power to change the world.

Hospitality cannot happen from afar. Sitting around the table with strangers and interacting with them is needed. It alters our perspectives so that we live our shared humanity. It is rather difficult to hate someone when you get to know them and discover their loves and joys, hurts and wounds.

This all leads toward asking one of the most fundamental and basic biblical questions that must be asked by every generation and considered by everyone who respects God and/or the Christian Scriptures:

Am I able to see the image of God in someone very different from myself?

The Christian doesn’t have to go very far to answer this one, at least from an objective cerebral perspective.  Jesus saw the humanity in everyone he encountered, from Jew to Gentile, from sinner to saint.  In fact, Jesus saw this image so deeply within another that he sat around the table and ate with people whom others saw as not worthy to eat with.  Jesus’ willingness to participate in the hospitality of strangers was downright scandalous.  It isn’t a stretch to say that it got him killed.

What’s more, Jesus wept. He cried in public with strangers. For followers of Christ who seek to emulate him in his practical ministry, that point ought to be noticed. After all, we choose to remember and participate in the life of Christ through the elements of bread and wine at the Table. God’s radical hospitality toward us is truly meant to translate to an open heart toward those who look and act differently than me.

The great fourteenth century mystic, Julian of Norwich, a female devotee of Christ and an influential theologian in her own right amongst a world of men who tended to see the image of God in women as flawed, understood what it would take to reawake image-bearing humanity. She stated:

“All that is contrary to peace and love — is in us and not in God. God’s saving work in Jesus of Nazareth and in the gift of God’s spirit, is to lessen our wrath in the power of his merciful and compassionate love.”

Julian of Norwich

Don’t think for a minute that suffering with and crying with strangers is an easy thing for me. Truth is, crying is not something I typically do, or even like to do. Yet, constrained by the love of God in Christ, and putting myself in a position to feel with the emotions of others in front of me, I allow those tears to come.

Yes, collective experiences of emotion have the power to change the world. Yet, this occurs only if we show up.  Perhaps that was the reason for the Christian doctrine of the incarnation: Jesus is our Immanuel, God with us, the One who is present.  He showed up, and salvation happened.

And that is what the Philippian Church needed to remember, tap into, and live as one Body of Christ for the life of the world.

What Does God Want? (John 11:1-45)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment
The Raising of Lazarus, by Rembrandt, c.1632

Now a man named Lazarus was sick. He was from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. (This Mary, whose brother Lazarus now lay sick, was the same one who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped his feet with her hair.) So the sisters sent word to Jesus, “Lord, the one you love is sick.”

When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days, and then he said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.”

“But Rabbi,” they said, “a short while ago the Jews there tried to stone you, and yet you are going back?”

Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Anyone who walks in the daytime will not stumble, for they see by this world’s light. It is when a person walks at night that they stumble, for they have no light.”

After he had said this, he went on to tell them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up.”

His disciples replied, “Lord, if he sleeps, he will get better.” Jesus had been speaking of his death, but his disciples thought he meant natural sleep.

So then he told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”

Then Thomas (also known as Didymus) said to the rest of the disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”

Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

“Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

After she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside. “The Teacher is here,” she said, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there.

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

Jesus wept.

Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. “Take away the stone,” he said.

“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.

Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

Therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him. (New International Version)

The Raising of Lazarus, by Vincent Van Gogh, 1890

Here’s a Captain Obvious observation:

what God wants, and what we want, is not always the same thing. 

Today’s Gospel story centers around a man named Lazarus, the brother of Mary and Martha. The disciples were familiar with them since they were committed followers of Jesus. 

Their friend Lazarus became deathly ill. Christ and the disciples caught wind of it. Everyone believed Jesus could do something about this. But Jesus stayed put. He didn’t make a move to go to his sick friend. 

After a few days, Lazarus died. It was only then, that Jesus made his move.

The religious authorities in Jerusalem had it out for Jesus. But Jesus decided to go to Bethany and Jerusalem anyway. This made no sense to the disciples. Lazarus was lying dead in Bethany. Going there would put everyone at risk – which is why Thomas uttered the defeatist and dramatic statement, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

Yet, they all went. And once they arrived, Christ and his disciples found the grieving sisters. Mary and Martha believed that Jesus was the promised Messiah who would come and save the people. They didn’t understand why Jesus stayed away and didn’t come sooner. 

If Jesus had been there, he could have healed Lazarus. He healed other people, so why not a friend and a brother?

The death of Lazarus seemed to be the end. No one was happy with how things shook-out. Lazarus died. The disciples’ plans were dead. Mary and Martha’s expectations died…

but death is exactly what it takes in to have resurrection.

There’s no such thing as a painless miracle. Death isn’t a pleasant affair. I have been with countless people at the end of life, and I will tell you that, although it’s possible for a death to be peaceful, it’s still ugly business. 

It’s also painful to watch carefully laid and prayed over plans die. It hurts to see a long sought after dream just go up in smoke and die. To see anything or anyone we deeply care about die is gut-wrenching. Yet, in order for a resurrection to occur, there must first be a death.

There cannot be a new life unless there’s an old one. 

Jesus did the impossible by raising Lazarus from death and giving him new life. And the resurrection of Lazarus pointed to an even greater truth: Christ’s own death and resurrection was coming, and it will change everything.

Whenever what we want dies, then we are in a position to ask: So, what does God want? 

God wanted something better than what everybody else wanted. By allowing ourselves to be consumed with what God wants, it turns out to be the very best thing for us, even if it does not quite jive with what I want.

Everyone’s expectations needed to die, along with Lazarus, for the resurrection to become reality. Only then did Jesus act by rising Lazarus from death.

Jesus pointed to himself as the one able to bring life to all that is dead among us. Sometimes:

  • dreams must die so that Jesus can resurrect them to new life, with outcomes far more glorious than you and I could ever imagine
  • plans have to be dead and buried before Jesus will breathe new life into them, making those plans so much more than they could ever have been in our hands.
  • ministries, even churches, need to be dead as a doorknob so that Jesus can resurrect them and give them new life, invigorated with spiritual resurrection power.

If we desire to see the miracle of resurrection, we must die to ourselves – take up our crosses and follow Jesus into the grave so that he can transform our lowly expectations into a glorious new existence. Death does not have the last word because Christ’s resurrection makes it possible for us to have new life. Again, I ask:

What does God want? God wants to raise the dead to life.

Do you believe this? Yes, I believe. Help me in my unbelief.

Follow the path of what God wants and watch what the Lord will do for you.

It’s Not Over Till It’s Over (Ezekiel 33:10-16)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment

The Lord said:

Ezekiel, son of man, the people of Israel are complaining that the punishment for their sins is more than they can stand. They have lost all hope for survival, and they blame me. Tell them that as surely as I am the living Lord God, I don’t like to see wicked people die. I enjoy seeing them turn from their sins and live. So if the Israelites want to live, they must stop sinning and turn back to me.

Tell them that when good people start sinning, all the good they did in the past cannot save them from being punished. And remind them that when wicked people stop sinning, their past sins will be completely forgiven, and they won’t be punished.

Suppose I promise good people that they will live, then later they start sinning and believe they will be saved by the good they did in the past. These people will certainly be put to death because of their sins. Their good deeds will be forgotten.

Suppose I warn wicked people that they will die because of their sins, and they stop sinning and start doing right. For example, they need to return anything they have taken as security for a loan and anything they have stolen. Then if they stop doing evil and start obeying my Law, they will live. Their past sins will be forgiven, and they will live because they have done right. (Contemporary English Version)

“It ain’t over till the fat lady sings,” is an old adage which means one should not presume to know the outcome of something that’s still in progress. In more contemporary language, we might say, “It’s not over till it’s over.”

Those sorts of proverbs are asking us, “What are you doing today? How are you living your life, right now?”

We need to be present to the time we are inhabiting at this moment. There are two opposite temptations for us in relating to time.

  1. “I did a lot of good things in the past. I worked hard. I was generous. Now it’s time for me to do whatever the heck I want. Nobody is going to tell me what to do or how to live my life.”
  2. “I did a lot of bad things in the past. I partied hard. I took advantage of people. Now it’s time for me to do good. I don’t know, though, whether it will ever be enough.”

In other words, the temptations are either to rely on all the good I’ve done, earning me a license to do what I want; or to believe I can never overcome my bad past. In both cases, it’s to keep thinking our past is the controlling factor.

But it’s not.

Just as there was a flip-flop of living, it could very well happen again. The guy who did good in the past, then didn’t, now responds to overtures to stop living a selfish life. He begins doing the good he used to do. And the guy who had a sordid past, then changed and did good, now goes back to his old life, like a dog returning to its vomit.

It’s never over, till it’s over. As long as we’re still breathing on this earth and walking on it, the outcome of life is still yet to be determined. There is always the opportunity for new life. And it begins with identifying and confessing where we are in this present time.

If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from everything we’ve done wrong. (1 John 1:9, CEB) 

Being right with God means assessing our relationship at all times. Forgiveness and reconciliation are activated by admitting one’s true condition. Secret sins tucked away deep in the soul will only fester and boil. The result of un-confessed sin is spiritual blindness, darkness, and death. 

There cannot be new life and renewal, revival, or revitalization of life and ministry apart from real honest tell-it-like-it-is biblical confession. 

If this scares the hell out of you, it really should. Dealing with sin in a radical straightforward manner is what Jesus talked about in his Sermon on the Mount, in saying we should pluck our eyes out if they offend, and cut our hands off if they cause us to sin; because it’s better to be in God’s kingdom with no eyes and hands than to burn in hell with our parts intact. (Matthew 5:29-30) 

Confession is more than simply mouthing some words about not being perfect and a sinner like everybody else; it is to lead to a complete turn-around and change of how we live our lives. We can change. We are neither fated to be a screw-up forever nor a good person till the end.

Instead, we have to put the work in – mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Change is what the biblical word “repentance” means. It happens by dealing squarely with our past thinking, choices, and behavior. This is why some form of a prayer of confession really needs to happen at every church worship service. 

Ignoring such a vital liturgical prayer and practice will, at best, leave people with no guidance for confronting sin; and, at worst, will teach people that confession is not necessary to Christianity and leave them a spiritual mess. 

Yet a carefully constructed prayer of confession can lead believers to unburden the things they have done, and the things they have left undone – which opens us to the advocacy of Jesus Christ who speaks on our behalf because of his once-for-all atoning sacrifice for sins.

Confession, repentance, and change are more than single events; they are a way of life for the believer. As long as you are still able to read this, there’s still the opportunity to live the good life and forsake the wicked life.

Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts. (Hebrews 4:7, NIV)

It ain’t over till it’s over.

Creator God, you made us in your image: may we discern your goodness in all that we see, and serve you with all goodness in everything we do, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.