The Poverty of God

Have invested chunks of time lately into missions - Salkehatchie youth mission camp and taking a team to Bombita, Dominican Republic. So this week have been reflecting on what I've learned from it all. I was helped yesterday in my devotional time with a passage by Simon Tugwell (in his book, Prayer) on the poverty of God. But I'll return to that in a minute.

In preparing the team for the DR, I stated repeatedly that we have three objectives. First, we are making ourselves available to God in a different (new, for some) way, and we should pay close attention to the work God does with our hearts on the mission trip. Secondly, we go to demonstrate God's love and our love in a ministry of presence, letting the people there know we care about them. Finally, we will do some physical labor to help the ministry there accomplish its goals. The order of the objectives is crucial. Most folks want to reverse the order, focusing on what we're doing to "get done."

Indeed, several times on the trip we wanted to make the third objective the first priority. Like most Americans, we were set on "fixing things." When we saw the lack of clean water in the Hatian village where we were working, we began planning how to get a micro-desalination plant installed there. When we noticed the lack of a wholesome diet, we brain-stormed how to introduce vegetable gardening. As we observed the subsistence housing, we talked about future trips to work on particular homes. We are easily deluded into thinking the most important things we have to offer are our "know-how," our "get-it-done" energy, and our vast resources.

A team member said during a morning devotional that she felt bad because, while our work on the school was important, she felt that there was so much more we could/should do for the people in the village. Guillermo, a local worker, replied, "You have done more simply by coming here than you realize. Your presence tells us you care, and gives us hope."

Simon Tugwell, referring to St. Paul's passage (1Cor 1) about the weakness of God, wrote about God choosing to reveal himself not in displays of power, but the foolish, weak, and seemingly unimportant things of the world. He states:

This is why, if we keep clamoring for things we want from God, we may often find ourselves disappointed, because we have forgotten what we may call the poverty of God. We had thought of God as the dispenser of all the good things we would possibly desire, but in a very real sense, God has nothing to give at all, except himself.

God wants to give us God's self, but we'd rather have the "things" God can provide. Might this have something to do with "You shall have no other gods before me"? And how do we carry an awareness of the poverty of God not just on a mission trip, but in our daily lives?

My wife left yesterday, driving nine hours to spend a day with a friend who is in the last stages of a battle with cancer. She said before she left that she didn't know what she'd say, what to do, or what to expect, knowing this would be the last time she'd be able to see our friend alive. In a very real sense, she has nothing to give at all, except herself. And if we could just learn and live that, perhaps we'd begin to understand the poverty, and power, of God.

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A Plea for Vindication

What are usually considered the last words of Jesus from the cross are also words usually misunderstood. Our church used the seven utterances from the cross for services in the Lenten journey. The last one comes from Luke 23:44: “Into thy hands I commit my spirit.” The usual interpretation of these words depict them as a final resignation before dying.

Jesus is at the point of death. He then “lets go” and expresses his trust in God to care for his “spirit”, by quoting from Psalm 31:5. The psalmist in Psalm 31 is overwhelmed with trouble, calls on God to be his safe place, and to make it right. “In you, O God I seek refuge, let me never be put to shame, in your righteousness deliver me…into your hand I commit my spirit.”

Such an interpretation, however nice it is, misses the point being made in the gospel. These are not words of resignation. They are an appeal for justification. Like the psalmist in distress, Jesus is appealing to the highest authority to vindicate him – to correct the wrongful judgment.

This alternate interpretation of Jesus’ words is supported by Luke’s usage of Psalm 31, the concept of death from a Jewish perspective, and Luke’s emphasis on salvation history. A vindication view of Jesus’ death and resurrection hleps us to see the entire “Jesus event” as God’s work of salvation instead of just focusing on the cross.

Luke’s placement of the quote from Psalm 31 as the Jesus’ last words cross sets the stage for his understanding of the resurrection. God overturns the verdict of this world that condemned Jesus - at worse as a blasphemer and at least as an insignificant revolutionary. For Luke, the redemptive work of Christ was not just his death on the cross, but his whole life: his incarnation, his teachings, his miracles, and his passion.

Luke concludes his gospel with two resurrection appearances. In the road to Emmaus appearance, he “interpreted to them all the things about himself in all the scriptures” (Luke 24:27) and is revealed to them in the eucharistic breaking of the bread. When Jesus appears to his disciples, he tells them that all his words and everything written about him (in the law, the prophets and the psalms) must be fulfilled and that they are to be witnesses of these things. (Luke 24:44-49). For Luke, the resurrection demonstrates that God hears and honors Jesus’ appeal and thus sets him as an authority higher than all the authorities of the world. In that authority and power the church is created, whose story Luke will continue in the Acts of the Apostles.

(More...full article at Checked Luggage site.)

The Orthodox funeral practices reflect the belief that death is not just the cessation of life, but the beginning of dying. During the year of mourning the deceased undergoes the cancellation of their sins as their flesh decomposes. “One’s evil deeds were thought to be embedded in the flesh and to dissolve along with it.” Jewish thought at the time of Jesus was that the painful disintegration of the flesh left the bones (which contain the personality) as a framework for a new body on the day of resurrection.

But at Christ’s death, God interceded. God overturned the judgment of the world and through the resurrection, prevented the dying process from taking place. An expiation of sin in the dying was not needed, as God vindicated Jesus. “Taken in its cultural context, the claim of resurrection for Jesus asserts that his death was wrong and has been overturned by a higher judge. This cultural interpretation contrasts sharply with a theological one: that Jesus’ death was right and necessary and required by God ‘to take away the sins of the world.’”. (Quotes, Bruce Malina, see full article.)

From this perspective, our salvation was not in the suffering of Jesus prior to his death. That suffering, at the hands of cruel men, was evil and wrong. Our salvation is in placing our lives in Christ, heeding his words and following in his footsteps, being born anew from the kingdom of this age into the kingdom of God.

“Into thy hands I commit my spirit,” Jesus’ last words on the cross, are a call for vindication. He has been wrongly condemned to death and uses the words of the psalmist, who in a similar situation appealed to God for justice. In the resurrection, God intervenes, overturning the power of this world and asserting the righteousness of Christ.

We can almost hear in the resurrection the message of God at the Transfiguration (Luke 9:35) “This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him.” For if we listen to and follow him, placing our lives in him, he who vindicated Jesus in the resurrection will also raise us up with him in the last day. Into your hands, Lord, we commit our spirits. Hear our plea, amen.

Convincing others we really care.

Yesterday afternoon I participated in an event at the county courthouse. One of Trinity's members, Jack Howle, was being installed as the Chief Public Defender for the 3rd Judicial Circuit. Last year our state legislature passed the Indigent Defense Act of 2007 to coordinate and standardize the public defender offices across the state, and to give the give the public defenders a more equitable status with the solicitor's office. Our own Rep. Murrell Smith was instrumental in getting it passed. It was a needed reform of the system and I understand it has become a model for other states.

Jack was the right man for the job and I felt honored to bring the invocation and benediction. Jack has been the Chief Public Defender in Sumter for ten years and has many more years experience in the field. He is calm and consistent and has a quiet determination to do what is right. Every Tuesday he is at my early morning men's Bible study and is very active in our church. Those who need the services of a public defender are fortunate to have such a dedicated and experienced attorney who sees his work as a call to ministry through his baptism.

Jack's comments after the swearing in acknowledged family and colleagues and the work of the public defenders office. What stuck with me were some of his closing words when he said that the general public often has a erroneous and negative view of the people who must rely on public defenders. Jack said that they are simply people for whom the circumstances and choices of their lives have put them in a position to depend on the expertise of others they cannot afford. "The most difficult part of this job," he said, "is convincing our clients that we really do care about them."

Jack, of course, was talking about the public defender's role, but I immediately thought about the role of the church. How good a job have we done convincing people that we really care about them? It doesn't matter to them if we can share the way of salvation if they perceive that we really don't care about them. What's the old saying? No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care.

Jesus is not a commodity that we can package, market and distribute to others. Jesus is known in a relationship of grace that is passed from heart to heart. Instead of evangelism and church growth programs, maybe we need to back up and re-train ourselves on being truly caring people. Perhaps we need to pray for hearts of compassion, and then the ability to break apart the stereotypes of the church so that the world can see through us that God indeeds cares. To what lengths are we willing to go to convince others that because of Christ, we actually, really, do care about them?

I have called you by name.

It is amazing how a human face changes things. Take an issue, any issue, and speak of it in generalities and, especially if it is a controversial issue, people will quickly become adamant about the correctness of their position, whatever side of the issue they happen to be on. But speak of a mutual friend dealing with the same issue and the conversation changes. In the abstract, stem cell research may be wonderful or murder in your opinion. But when a neighbor with a rare cancer pins her hopes on such research, all you can do is feel the pain and longing.

In a similar way, when we hear a news report of a tragedy and we feel regret or some sadness for the pain and loss. But put a human face with it, and it changes for us. We are connected, and one persons' loss is a loss to us all.

The fire tragedy at Ocean Isle Beach, NC this past weekend that claimed the lives of seven college students hit me with these thoughts. We have watched the news of the horrible fires raging in southern California for weeks, which included loss of life. Those fires were horrible, and we prayed for the victims and the fire fighters. But that was far away and we did not know them.

This loss, closer to home, with names we unfortunately can connect with, becomes an ache we carry for those in shock and grief. Names and faces of people we know, or who know the people we know. And so we pray anew.

My point is, I do not believe God sees in generalities. God sees and knows each face. Maybe another way to say it is, God does not see us a people, but as persons. That probably says more about our faith than I can comprehend, but for today, it is both a comfort, and a calling.

Parental Powerlessness

Children are not supposed to die before their parents. Don't know where I heard that, but I thought of it yesterday when I visited the parents of a man who died in our community. I remembered a tombstone from the 1800's I saw in Scotland, that listed six children. When I greeted these parents I sensed a black void of grief lurking in the room, held at bay by their stoic resolve. Our moistened eyes acknowledged the pain, but there wasn't sufficient strength to speak of it beyond my expressing sadness for their loss. Quickly the conversation turned to the blessings of their son's life. And there are many.

Clark Bynum was a successful businessman in Sumter, a basketball standout in high school and college, and gained extensive fame when he and a friend helped subdue a hijacker in 2000. I never really got to know him personally, but from all reports he was a devout Christian man whose complete trust in God blessed others as he lived as a servant of Christ, and especially in these last months as he battled cancer.

I left the Bynum home and decided to spend the afternoon at home, with my daughter, home from school early because of the pain in her wrist. Last week she had to leave tennis practice because of the pain, which the orthopedic doctor thinks is due to a torn cartilage. We'll know for sure after an MRI this week.

I looked at my sleeping daughter and like any other parent, would have gladly traded my healthy wrist for her damaged one. And when I think on this feeling, my thoughts go to parents over the world who endure witnessing their children suffer greatly, many times for preventable reasons, such as hunger and war. We do all we can as parents to shield our children, but when it comes down to it, we are powerless to prevent their pain. Yet our love keeps us vulnerable and in this powerlessness we taste the poignancy of God's love.

I do not understand this deep mystery. Many years ago, theologians like Moltmann gave me concepts and words to talk about an awareness that had grown inside me since teen years. It is a Biblical concept, well known and much written about, but still one that has to take root inside you. That is, that while God is a God of all power and authority, God has chosen to relate to us through God's passion. God's power is known in weakness, and God redeems in the midst of suffering and pain. For God so loved the world that God gave God's own Son to suffer and die, holding back all the power and authority God possesses, to redeem us through the mystery of powerlessness and love.

"My ways are not your ways," God is quoted as saying. And the apostle Paul writes, "the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing" (1 Cor 1:18). I wonder if we come closest to knowing God, not in the moments of estacy or transcendent joy, but when we enter the pain and suffering of others and feel the breath-stealing weight of "powerless love" upon our hearts. And in the mystery of God's passionate presence and redemption we have the assurance, Cast all your cares upon God, because God cares for us. (1Pet 5:7). I claim that promise for myself, for the Bynums, and for all parents today.