Do you have this problem? I tend to do some things automatically, without thinking. For instance, I automatically close my garage door when I leave home and then a block or so away I wonder, 'Did I close the door?' Several times I have driven back to make sure the door was closed. Once, when we left on a trip, I left it open and didn't think to check it. there it was, wide open for anyone to take whatever they wanted. Fortunately, our neighbor knew we were leaving and closed it for us.
It can be risky to do things without thinking. This seems to be what Paul is saying in 1 Corinthians 11:17-34. He began by criticizing them for their divisions when they came together and then, after reminding them of how Jesus began the Lord's Supper in the upper room, he said to them, in effect -- THINK when you do this. Here is how he puts it in verses 28-29, "examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves." "Examine," "discern," he says -- in other words, THINK when you do this. But think about what?
First, he says, "examine yourselves" -- think about yourselves. This certainly means to look into your own heart, to be aware of motives, weaknesses, failures. It means being honest with yourself when you come to the table.
But he makes it clear in the next verse that examining yourselves is not a strictly private experience. He goes on to say that if you don't "discern the body you eat and drink judgment against yourselves." What does he mean by "the body?" Some say it refers to the body of Christ Himself as he hung on the cross. Certainly, that is involved. We do need to think about Christ on the cross. But if we had time to read this entire section, beginning in verse 17, you would see that he is thinking about the church as the body of Christ.
Specifically, he is thinking about the unity of the church. When the Corinthian church came together they had so many cliques and divisions among them (see chapters 1-4) that it destroyed the meaning of the meal. He actually says, "when you come together it is not really to eat the Lord's Supper."
I have always been thankful that ours is a thinking church. We think about each other. When we come to the table there is a strong sense of fellowship and unity. As we continue to grow it will be important that we maintain this by knowing each other, by caring for each other, praying for each other, and in many other ways, "discerning the body" as we come together.
Saying the confession of faith is one of the ways we express our unity of faith -- will you say it with me now.
Twin Oaks Christian Church, November 16, 2008.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
A TIME TO FORGET
Anyone who competes in athletic games knows the importance of forgetting. I make a lot of bad shots as a golfer but I can't dwell on them or it will affect my next shot -- I have to forget the past and focus on the next shot. When the American gymnast, Paul Hamm, fell after vaulting he had to forget it and concentrate on the next event. Anyone who lives in the past will lose his future.
At the Lord's Table we often speak of remembering, and of course, we should, because Jesus said, "Do this in remembrance of me."
On the other hand, when we come to the table it should also be a time of forgetting. We must not only remember God's saving grace in Christ, we must forget the past mistakes and failures that keep us from accepting His grace and moving on toward the future that God has for us.
Paul said in Philippians 3:13-14, " ... I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."
At the Lord's Table we see with double vision. We look to the past and remember his sacrifice on our behalf, but we also look to the future and anticipate our destiny with him. As Paul put it in 1 Corinthians 11, speaking of our action in the Lord's Supper, "We proclaim the Lord's death until he comes." Remembering his death and what it means for us helps to wipe out the memory of our failures. It frees us to look to the future, to His return, and to "press on toward the goal" that Christ has set for us.
At the Lord's Table we often speak of remembering, and of course, we should, because Jesus said, "Do this in remembrance of me."
On the other hand, when we come to the table it should also be a time of forgetting. We must not only remember God's saving grace in Christ, we must forget the past mistakes and failures that keep us from accepting His grace and moving on toward the future that God has for us.
Paul said in Philippians 3:13-14, " ... I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."
At the Lord's Table we see with double vision. We look to the past and remember his sacrifice on our behalf, but we also look to the future and anticipate our destiny with him. As Paul put it in 1 Corinthians 11, speaking of our action in the Lord's Supper, "We proclaim the Lord's death until he comes." Remembering his death and what it means for us helps to wipe out the memory of our failures. It frees us to look to the future, to His return, and to "press on toward the goal" that Christ has set for us.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Where Joy And Sorrow Meet Hebrews 12:2
Why should Jesus, as he hung on the cross, be ashamed? Ashamed of what? Of healing the sick? Of feeding the poor? Of criticizing the self-righteous? He had nothing to be ashamed of.
And yet, in the eyes of the public it was a shameful thing to be crucified. The Gospel writers do not ignore the pain and suffering of the cross but if you look closely at their accounts of the crucifixion it is clear that they stressed something else. You don't find graphic pictures of Jesus in agony or strong adjectives describing how much pain he had. Instead the descriptions stress the humiliation, disgrace, and shame of the cross.
Honor and shame were, and still are, pivotal values in the Mediterranean and near East world. We have heard even in recent times of so-called honor killings when a man thinks his daughter or wife has brought shame upon him. Love of honor was a powerful, driving force in Jesus' day. Contempt, loss of face, defeat and ridicule were to be avoided at all costs. Those who heard or read the story of Jesus' death understood this. the Gospels give us details of how the Roman soldiers and some Jewish leaders deliberately heaped shame upon him. They stripped him, hung a purple robe on him, forced a crown of thorns on his head, and then mocked him as a king. The focus of a man's honor is his head so they struck him in the face and spit upon him. As he hung helplessly on the cross they hurled insults at him and ridiculed him.
It is no wonder that Paul refers to Christ crucified as a "scandal," and "offense," a "stumbling block," to many because of the shame involved (1 Corinthians 23). The writer of Hebrews 12:2 explicitly calls the cross "shame." But notice how he puts it: "Fixing our eyes on Jesus ... who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."
He endured the cross and the shame. Here is suffering joined to shame but both are linked with joy. For the joy ahead he endured the cross and despised the shame. Here is where joy and the sorrow of suffering and shame meet. The cross of Christ is still, for us, the place where joy and sorrow meet.
Some words from a modern song by Avalon express it well:
The Lord's Table reminds us of that place where joy and sorrow meet.
And yet, in the eyes of the public it was a shameful thing to be crucified. The Gospel writers do not ignore the pain and suffering of the cross but if you look closely at their accounts of the crucifixion it is clear that they stressed something else. You don't find graphic pictures of Jesus in agony or strong adjectives describing how much pain he had. Instead the descriptions stress the humiliation, disgrace, and shame of the cross.
Honor and shame were, and still are, pivotal values in the Mediterranean and near East world. We have heard even in recent times of so-called honor killings when a man thinks his daughter or wife has brought shame upon him. Love of honor was a powerful, driving force in Jesus' day. Contempt, loss of face, defeat and ridicule were to be avoided at all costs. Those who heard or read the story of Jesus' death understood this. the Gospels give us details of how the Roman soldiers and some Jewish leaders deliberately heaped shame upon him. They stripped him, hung a purple robe on him, forced a crown of thorns on his head, and then mocked him as a king. The focus of a man's honor is his head so they struck him in the face and spit upon him. As he hung helplessly on the cross they hurled insults at him and ridiculed him.
It is no wonder that Paul refers to Christ crucified as a "scandal," and "offense," a "stumbling block," to many because of the shame involved (1 Corinthians 23). The writer of Hebrews 12:2 explicitly calls the cross "shame." But notice how he puts it: "Fixing our eyes on Jesus ... who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."
He endured the cross and the shame. Here is suffering joined to shame but both are linked with joy. For the joy ahead he endured the cross and despised the shame. Here is where joy and the sorrow of suffering and shame meet. The cross of Christ is still, for us, the place where joy and sorrow meet.
Some words from a modern song by Avalon express it well:
There is a place where hope remains
In crowns of thorns and crimson stains
And tears that fall on Jesus' feet
Where joy and sorrow meet.
There's a place of thirst and hunger where the roots of faith grow deep.
And there is rain and rolling thunder when the road is rough and steep.
There is hope in desperation, there is victory in defeat
At the cross of restoration where joy and sorrow meet.
The Lord's Table reminds us of that place where joy and sorrow meet.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The Table of Reconciliation
Is there any greater need in our world today than the need for reconciliation? Whether it is the conflict between Russia and Georgia, or husband and wife, or rich and poor, black and white -- or whatever -- the need for reconciliation is overwhelming. True reconciliation between humans, however, can never take place without first being reconciled to God. And God himself has provided the model that shows us how it can come about.
Leanna Pemberton, a long-time missionary to the troubled land of Zimbabwe, spoke at the Winema Week of Missions on the Oregon coast recently of how we. as Christians, have been chosen to carry God's word of reconciliation to the world. She read 2 Corinthians 5:18-19, "God has given us the ministry of reconciliation, that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their sins to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation."
She spoke of how it is often difficult, in different cultures, to express what is meant by words like "reconciliation," or what it can mean to people. Then she told of how her preacher-missionary husband, John Mark, who died much too young of a sudden heart attack, discovered a way to make God's act of reconciliation meaningful to the people they worked among. It had to do with burial concepts.
He often preached from 1 Corinthians 15 that defines the gospel message as the death, burial and resurrection of Christ. We talk a lot about the death and resurrection but not so much about the meaning of burial. Among the people of Zimbabwe, however, burial is an important function and provided a clue for John Mark's preaching of the Gospel. It came to him when two young men from different villages were drinking together with some friends. An argument broke out. It became violent and one man killed the other. The offended family refused to bury their son until the reconciliation price was paid. They even took the body and left it at the entrance of the other family's village. The police came and said, "you can't leave it here. You must bury it." They replied, "you can bury it if you want but we will not until reconciliation is paid." Finally the other family paid the number of cows, or whatever was required, and the young man was buried.
In his sermons after this John Mark would say, "See how much God loves you. He sent his Son but your sins killed him. But God did not refuse to bury him. He loves you and allowed his son to be buried without requiring a payment of reconciliation. God himself has paid the price by giving his Son on your behalf."
In whatever culture, and whatever language, God is calling upon us to be reconciled to him and to one another. We call this the Lord's Table, but we could also call it the table of reconciliation. It reminds us, as Paul said in Romans 5:8, "God demonstrates his own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us ... when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son."
The price for our reconciliation with God has been paid -- and we are welcome at the table of reconciliation.
Leanna Pemberton, a long-time missionary to the troubled land of Zimbabwe, spoke at the Winema Week of Missions on the Oregon coast recently of how we. as Christians, have been chosen to carry God's word of reconciliation to the world. She read 2 Corinthians 5:18-19, "God has given us the ministry of reconciliation, that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their sins to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation."
She spoke of how it is often difficult, in different cultures, to express what is meant by words like "reconciliation," or what it can mean to people. Then she told of how her preacher-missionary husband, John Mark, who died much too young of a sudden heart attack, discovered a way to make God's act of reconciliation meaningful to the people they worked among. It had to do with burial concepts.
He often preached from 1 Corinthians 15 that defines the gospel message as the death, burial and resurrection of Christ. We talk a lot about the death and resurrection but not so much about the meaning of burial. Among the people of Zimbabwe, however, burial is an important function and provided a clue for John Mark's preaching of the Gospel. It came to him when two young men from different villages were drinking together with some friends. An argument broke out. It became violent and one man killed the other. The offended family refused to bury their son until the reconciliation price was paid. They even took the body and left it at the entrance of the other family's village. The police came and said, "you can't leave it here. You must bury it." They replied, "you can bury it if you want but we will not until reconciliation is paid." Finally the other family paid the number of cows, or whatever was required, and the young man was buried.
In his sermons after this John Mark would say, "See how much God loves you. He sent his Son but your sins killed him. But God did not refuse to bury him. He loves you and allowed his son to be buried without requiring a payment of reconciliation. God himself has paid the price by giving his Son on your behalf."
In whatever culture, and whatever language, God is calling upon us to be reconciled to him and to one another. We call this the Lord's Table, but we could also call it the table of reconciliation. It reminds us, as Paul said in Romans 5:8, "God demonstrates his own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us ... when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son."
The price for our reconciliation with God has been paid -- and we are welcome at the table of reconciliation.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Not A Stranger Ephesians 2:12
In Ephesians 2 Paul spoke of the plight of some when he said they had been "strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world."
As I thought about what it might be like to be a stranger to the covenant of promise I remembered a conversation I heard on public radio last week. they were discussing the survey done recently across America about religious belief and the question was asked, "Do you have to belong to a church or can you be religious alone?" A woman called in and gave a good testimony of how much the fellowship of the church meant to her. Then another woman called who said she did not need a church to be religious or spiritual. In fact, she felt most religious and spiritual when sitting alone on a hillside under a tree or on a cliff overlooking the ocean.
I can understand that to a great extent. I love the mountains and the seashore and have spent a lot of time there. I have been in church camps at Winema on the beach and in the wilderness area of the Wallowa mountains when campers went out alone and had a devotional time. Those can be very spiritual moments. But how would we feel in those places if a ferocious storm came upon us -- as it well could do. Of if a blizzard threatened to bury us under a deep blanket of snow? How spiritual and religious would we feel then? I think I would feel more frightened than spiritual.
Even in good weather, being alone can be frightening. One year on our high school back packing camp in the Wallowas a girl got separated from the rest of us. The trail split and went around a lake and then came together again further on past the lake. She took one trail and everyone else took the other. The trails were far enough apart that they were hidden from each other. Suddenly we heard frantic cries for help coming from across the lake. She had left the trail and found the lake but couldn't see us. Eventually, we made visual contact and motioned her in the right direction. That night at bonfire we had our usual prayer time. She had not prayed before but that night said one simple, five word prayer: "Thank you God for people."
It can be very frightening to be all alone in the world. This is one reason we have covenants. A covenant requires commitment. It means being part of a group of people who are committed to each other. People who help us find the way.
As Jesus held the cup before his disciples he said, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood..." In effect, he was initiating a covenant community and was expressing his commitment to them. Not much later he demonstrated that commitment as he went to the cross and shed his blood for the forgiveness of sins. As we partake of the Lord's Supper we join in commitment to one another and to Christ. Some, as Paul said, may be "strangers to the covenant of promise, having no hope and without God in the world," but not us. We are his covenant community.
As I thought about what it might be like to be a stranger to the covenant of promise I remembered a conversation I heard on public radio last week. they were discussing the survey done recently across America about religious belief and the question was asked, "Do you have to belong to a church or can you be religious alone?" A woman called in and gave a good testimony of how much the fellowship of the church meant to her. Then another woman called who said she did not need a church to be religious or spiritual. In fact, she felt most religious and spiritual when sitting alone on a hillside under a tree or on a cliff overlooking the ocean.
I can understand that to a great extent. I love the mountains and the seashore and have spent a lot of time there. I have been in church camps at Winema on the beach and in the wilderness area of the Wallowa mountains when campers went out alone and had a devotional time. Those can be very spiritual moments. But how would we feel in those places if a ferocious storm came upon us -- as it well could do. Of if a blizzard threatened to bury us under a deep blanket of snow? How spiritual and religious would we feel then? I think I would feel more frightened than spiritual.
Even in good weather, being alone can be frightening. One year on our high school back packing camp in the Wallowas a girl got separated from the rest of us. The trail split and went around a lake and then came together again further on past the lake. She took one trail and everyone else took the other. The trails were far enough apart that they were hidden from each other. Suddenly we heard frantic cries for help coming from across the lake. She had left the trail and found the lake but couldn't see us. Eventually, we made visual contact and motioned her in the right direction. That night at bonfire we had our usual prayer time. She had not prayed before but that night said one simple, five word prayer: "Thank you God for people."
It can be very frightening to be all alone in the world. This is one reason we have covenants. A covenant requires commitment. It means being part of a group of people who are committed to each other. People who help us find the way.
As Jesus held the cup before his disciples he said, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood..." In effect, he was initiating a covenant community and was expressing his commitment to them. Not much later he demonstrated that commitment as he went to the cross and shed his blood for the forgiveness of sins. As we partake of the Lord's Supper we join in commitment to one another and to Christ. Some, as Paul said, may be "strangers to the covenant of promise, having no hope and without God in the world," but not us. We are his covenant community.
Monday, June 2, 2008
A Gift From God 2 Corinthians 9:15
"Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift."
Speaking of gifts, I received an unexpected gift recently that meant a great deal to me. It was a book that I already had but I was able to trade it in for another, written by an author I did not know, which led to two more by the same author, each one very enjoyable. Why is it gifts can mean a lot to us? There are many reasons, I suppose, but at least this much is true, gifts say things to us.
My nephew, Steve, is the pastor of First Christian Church in Silverton, Oregon. In a recent newsletter column he commented on the meaning of communion as God's gift to us. He said that he looks forward to communion every Sunday and went on to say:
"In April of 1943, German theologian and professor Dietrich Bonhoeffer was arrested for opposing Adolph Hitler's policies. Ten weeks after his arrest, Bonhoeffer received a parcel from his parents, and then he wrote a letter from prison to them:
It is Monday, and I was just sitting down to a dinner of turnips and potatoes when a parcel you sent me by Ruth arrived. Such things give me greater joy than I can say. Although I am utterly convinced that nothing can break the bonds between us, I seem to need some outward token or sign to reassure me. In this way, material things become the vehicles of spiritual realities. I suppose it is rather like the felt need in our religion for the sacraments.
"Yes," Steve wrote, "the sacrament of communion can feel like this. The bread and juice are material things that become the vehicles of spiritual realities -- material things that speak to us. Bonhoeffer knew his parents loved him, and yet something inside of him hungered for that love to become tangible. And we also know that God loves us, and is here with us, but something inside yearns for that love to be seen and felt, touched and tasted."
"Every week we receive a "parcel," a gift from God called communion. Through the bread and cup we can experience God's love and presence. And remember Jesus. What he said, what he did. His amazing sacrifice. His resurrection."
What Paul exclaimed about God's gift of Christ we also say about our experience of Christ in communion: "Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!"
Speaking of gifts, I received an unexpected gift recently that meant a great deal to me. It was a book that I already had but I was able to trade it in for another, written by an author I did not know, which led to two more by the same author, each one very enjoyable. Why is it gifts can mean a lot to us? There are many reasons, I suppose, but at least this much is true, gifts say things to us.
My nephew, Steve, is the pastor of First Christian Church in Silverton, Oregon. In a recent newsletter column he commented on the meaning of communion as God's gift to us. He said that he looks forward to communion every Sunday and went on to say:
"In April of 1943, German theologian and professor Dietrich Bonhoeffer was arrested for opposing Adolph Hitler's policies. Ten weeks after his arrest, Bonhoeffer received a parcel from his parents, and then he wrote a letter from prison to them:
It is Monday, and I was just sitting down to a dinner of turnips and potatoes when a parcel you sent me by Ruth arrived. Such things give me greater joy than I can say. Although I am utterly convinced that nothing can break the bonds between us, I seem to need some outward token or sign to reassure me. In this way, material things become the vehicles of spiritual realities. I suppose it is rather like the felt need in our religion for the sacraments.
"Yes," Steve wrote, "the sacrament of communion can feel like this. The bread and juice are material things that become the vehicles of spiritual realities -- material things that speak to us. Bonhoeffer knew his parents loved him, and yet something inside of him hungered for that love to become tangible. And we also know that God loves us, and is here with us, but something inside yearns for that love to be seen and felt, touched and tasted."
"Every week we receive a "parcel," a gift from God called communion. Through the bread and cup we can experience God's love and presence. And remember Jesus. What he said, what he did. His amazing sacrifice. His resurrection."
What Paul exclaimed about God's gift of Christ we also say about our experience of Christ in communion: "Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!"
Friday, May 23, 2008
"TO LIFE!" 1 Corinthians 10:16; John 10:10
Coming out of the depression and prohibition era as devout Christians my family was not a drinking family. I don't remember ever seeing my parents drink an alcoholic beverage. Frances and I continued the no-drinking policy as we raised our children. I don't regret that policy and would do it over again, for several reasons which I will not go into here. However, I realize now that by not having a glass of wine with our meal, or with friends on special occasions, we may have missed out on a rich and universal custom. Henri Nouwen describes it this way:
"After a meal the win is poured. No one drinks until all are served. Then all lift their cups, look each other in the eye, and offer a toast. It is a universal [and old] custom. In Latin the toast is "prosit," -- "be well;" in German, "zum wohl," -- "to your well being;" in English, "cheers;" in Polish, "sto lat," -- "a hundred hears;" in Ukrainian, "na zdornia," -- "to your health;" and in Hebrew, "L Chaim," -- "to life!" (Can You Drink The Cup, 57).
The Hebrew toast is an old one, but I don't know how old. I have wondered if it was the custom in Jesus' day to lift the cup and say, "to life!" We do know that the in the Passover meal there were traditionally four cups of wine that were lifted. In the upper room as Jesus and his disciples ate the Passover meal the third cup came, as Luke says, "after supper," and was called "the cup of blessing" in Jewish tradition. When Jesus held it before them Luke says that he added this distinct meaning: "This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood."
When Paul referred to it in 1 Corinthians 10:16 he used the Jewish phrase, "the cup of blessing." Peterson's The Message translates it this way: when we drink the cup of blessing, aren't we taking into ourselves the blood, the very life of Jesus? Paul must have called it the cup of blessing, not only because it was traditional, but because it had this meaning for him -- that we are taking into ourselves the very life of Jesus.
Would it not be appropriate, then, for us to take the cup, hold it up, look into each other's eyes and say, "to life!"
"After a meal the win is poured. No one drinks until all are served. Then all lift their cups, look each other in the eye, and offer a toast. It is a universal [and old] custom. In Latin the toast is "prosit," -- "be well;" in German, "zum wohl," -- "to your well being;" in English, "cheers;" in Polish, "sto lat," -- "a hundred hears;" in Ukrainian, "na zdornia," -- "to your health;" and in Hebrew, "L Chaim," -- "to life!" (Can You Drink The Cup, 57).
The Hebrew toast is an old one, but I don't know how old. I have wondered if it was the custom in Jesus' day to lift the cup and say, "to life!" We do know that the in the Passover meal there were traditionally four cups of wine that were lifted. In the upper room as Jesus and his disciples ate the Passover meal the third cup came, as Luke says, "after supper," and was called "the cup of blessing" in Jewish tradition. When Jesus held it before them Luke says that he added this distinct meaning: "This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood."
When Paul referred to it in 1 Corinthians 10:16 he used the Jewish phrase, "the cup of blessing." Peterson's The Message translates it this way: when we drink the cup of blessing, aren't we taking into ourselves the blood, the very life of Jesus? Paul must have called it the cup of blessing, not only because it was traditional, but because it had this meaning for him -- that we are taking into ourselves the very life of Jesus.
Would it not be appropriate, then, for us to take the cup, hold it up, look into each other's eyes and say, "to life!"
To life without guilt!
To life without fear!
To life without end!
As Jesus himself said, I came that you may have life, and have it abundantly" (John 10:10). Now, as I lift this cup of blessing, will you say it with me: "To Life!" ----- Yes, to Life with a capital "L".
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