Tag: jesus

On Lent and Justice and Slogging Through Both

This past week marked the season of Lent–a time when many of us Christians give up or pick up habits in an effort to grow closer to becoming that person we believe (fingers crossed) God has called us to be. A few weeks ago, I read a devotion based on Isaiah 1:11-21 that lit a fire within me. If you haven’t read it, take a few moments to do so…I’ll wait.

In Isaiah 1, God has had it with the people of Israel. They’ve made worship a spectacle–kind of like the Super Bowl, but without T-Swift. They show up with their game-day gear, jump around, scream and cheer, get fired up and riled up, then go home feeling really good about themselves, secure in the knowledge that they’re part of team God and they will always bring home the bling. However…God’s not buying it. Look at what he says to the Israelites:

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Yikes! I’m not going to lie, that kind of stings. That’s because I have a feeling, deep down, that Isaiah’s words are as true today as they were thousands of years ago. How often do we make our faith a performance–something we throw on Sunday mornings like a special-occasion dress so we can #church on social media? We tend make worship a bit of a spectacle, too, complete with loud songs, raised hands, and calls of “Amen” and “Praise Jesus!” None of this is wrong, per se, but God tells us that he wants more than the motions. In Isaiah, God’s not angry that the Israelites are worshipping emphatically–he’s furious that their so-called devotion doesn’t extend beyond the walls of the Temple.

While the Israelites are happy to bring sacrifices to God in worship, they most certainly aren’t doing so beyond that. They lie and cheat. They ignore those in need. They don’t defend the widows or help the orphans. And they oppress the immigrants. In fact, Isaiah goes so far as to say that the people of Israel have blood-stained hands. Maybe they haven’t physically hurt someone else, but their actions have perpetuated systems of injustice that have led to people being oppressed and neglected. When children are starving, who is responsible? God seems to say that we all are.

So, what does God want from us? Isaiah lays it out pretty clearly:

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We are to be the people of hope–the feet that bring good news to the poor, sight to the blind, and release to the captives. Our acts of worship should fill us up with God’s spirit so that we can leave behind the walls of the church and bring God’s mercy and love to those on the streets…the hungry, addicted, enslaved, abused, grief-stricken, struggling, fearful, lonely people we meet every day.

God’s justice is different from the world’s justice. When the prophets speak of justice, they’re not always talking about retribution. Rather, it’s a reordering of priorities and practices. God’s justice is about freedom–breaking the chains of poverty, racism, sexism, ableism, violence, human trafficking, hunger, climate change so that all people can live into their God-given potential because all people are children of God.

God’s justice makes me want to move, to act, to sing the Good News into the world. Before Lent, I had a plan. I was going to make a justice calendar for myself that I could hang above my desk. There would be a daily act of justice, something small, but meaningful, I could check off each day. But as I considered this justice to-do list, I came to a daunting reality: You can’t schedule justice on a calendar.

The truth is, fighting oppression is a long slog through the bogs of humanity. Though we can give to the hungry, it takes a lot of time, effort, resources, and reordering of our systems of government and finance to ensure that every person can provide for themselves. Case in point, we once served a church that helped build a chicken farm in a community in Haiti. The farm was supposed to bring financial freedom to the people of the community and help their neighbors get sustenance, but these God-inspired goals were hit with the full force of political turmoil and economic oppression. The farm struggled, and though the people of the community are diligently trying to make it work, it’s an uphill battle.

Justice is hard, because it calls for a reordering of society. Justice is about relinquishing power, turning over our resources, making more room at the table for people who might make us uncomfortable. And honestly, I don’t always have the will or desire to do that. However, God is adamant that this is nonnegotiable. Remember when Jesus said: “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me?” That’s justice. And it’s so hard.

Fortunately, when it comes to hard things, we’re not alone. We have a God who can do infinitely more that we could ever plan or imagine. He makes things possible, though not necessarily easy. This Lenten season, I feel like I’m at the start of something. There’s a road that God is inviting me to follow, and I know we’re going to wind our way through some steep hills and marshy valleys. I don’t know anymore what this focus on justice will bring, but I know it’s a journey I have to take. Because we are kingdom builders. Even it we have to start with one small pebble at a time.

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

New Year, One Word: Compassion

Over Christmas, our family took a trip to NYC–along with half the world’s population! It was beyond crowded at most of the tourist spots. Just for some perspective, here’s a look at our ferry on the way back from Ellis Island:

See those life vests up above? Just decoration…if that sardine can went down, we were all going with it.

If I’m being honest, I am not really at my best among hordes of people. In my better moments, I see crowds as a nuisance–something to get through in order to experience something I want. And at my worst…well…I mostly wish they would just all go away so I can fully enjoy whatever I want to enjoy. It’s selfish and entitled, and I am fully aware of that in the moment. Unfortunately, that awareness doesn’t always precipitate change.

That’s why I am floored that Jesus’ response to the overflow of people hounding him along his journey isn’t one of exasperation; rather, Matthew tells us (three times!) that Jesus saw the crowds and had compassion.

Compassion is a powerful word. It’s more than just feeling bad for someone. Instead, to have compassion means that you are so deeply concerned about the circumstances of another human being that, according to Merriam Webster, you have “an urgent desire to aid” them. When Jesus saw the crowds around him, his heart was broken open. He saw their sickness, both spiritual and physical, and was compelled by an urgent desire to make them better.

Too often, when I look at others, I don’t see them with compassion. I see the poor choices, the dirty fingernails, the tattered clothes, the coarse language, the cloying neediness, the boisterous braggadocio, the condescending glance, the mental illness, or even the gleaming success….and I walk away full of my own self-righteousness, somehow thinking that Jesus’ compassion is a gift only for me.

In the gospel of Luke, Jesus gives those who will listen a lesson on compassion. Love your enemies, he says. Do good, and lend expecting nothing in return. If you do, you will have a great reward. You will be acting the way children of the Most High act, for–and this is the kicker– he is kind to ungrateful and wicked people.

God is kind to ungrateful and wicked people. And who might those ungrateful and wicked people be, per se? Get a mirror.

God always sees right into the hearts of his children. And when he finds their particular sickness (which we all have), he doesn’t turn away. He is so concerned for them, for us, that he has an urgent desire to act. God brings healing and hope to all those he encounters. And, if we’re willing, he’s offering us the chance to take part in this healing with him by showing others compassion.

We are called to be a people of compassion–a people who are so concerned with the problems facing other human beings that we have an urgent desire to aid them. But so often, we let our own sickness keep us from engaging in this practice. We put ourselves first, and quite honestly, most of us don’t even show compassion there.

This year, my focus word is compassion. I want to look at others with Jesus’ eyes–to see beyond the surface and into the heart, and to allow that knowledge of who, what, and why someone is (fill in the blank) break open my soul and lead me to act rather than pass by. It won’t be easy…I realize that I’m fighting against some deeply ingrained habits of behavior. But if I open the door of my heart to God’s compassion, I think that change will come…

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

To Be Known

The other day, as I was talking to my 15-year-old in the kitchen, I noticed that he was sporting a new watch–a Hello Kitty watch. Where’d you get that?, I asked. And then answered my own question before he could get there. His buddy, _____, of course.

This is the same friend who got my son a copy of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense for his birthday, and who encouraged him to learn the guitar. This is the same friend my son competes with on a daily basis to see who can get first chair in band, score the highest on a math test, bench the most at the gym, and get the fastest mile on their bikes. These two challenge each other, celebrate each other, and just generally get each other.

As a parent, watching your child form meaningful and lasting friendships with people who get them is one of life’s greatest blessings. There’s something wonderful about being known–about being understood. You don’t have to explain your reasoning, justify your thinking, or apologize for your emotions. You can proudly wear a Hello Kitty watch to high school because it’s funny and weird and that is who you are and your friend understands that.

One of my favorite passages of Scripture comes from the Gospel of John. The “beloved”disciple begins his tale as all great tales start–in the beginning.

John establishes an almost symbiotic relationship between God and Jesus, both floating in the amniotic fluid of the universe and nursing new stars into being–each needing the other to bring forth their cosmic masterpiece. In the darkness of deep space light burst forth, and John tells us that the light was life spoken by the Word, and that this life-giving light of God was for all people. God, Jesus, and Spirit were one, and they enfolded humankind into their midst. Talk about a knowledge too great and wonderful for me!!

Often, when it comes to faith, I think we know (or think we know) a lot about God. We read Scripture and learn the stories of faith. We listen to teachers and understand the key points. We can say that God is good, or just, or merciful, or righteous. We can quote our favorite verses, and maybe list all of the books of the Bible. But knowing about someone isn’t the same as knowing them. To know someone goes so much deeper than being aware of the key events in their lives and maybe their favorite colors. We get to know others through relationship–in talking and sharing and laughing and crying and listening and understanding and journeying together. It takes time, and it takes effort, but the result is something so deep and beautiful and lasting that words can’t accurately convey it. It’s love distilled to its purest and simplest form. And it is what Jesus brings into the world.

John says that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us–we sing about it each December. But Jesus’ birth isn’t a pretty story to tell in the dark and cold of winter, it’s an opportunity to be known by the One who created us deep within our mother’s wombs. Because of Jesus, we can know God–we can walk and talk with him just like Adam and Eve did in Eden. And in Jesus, John tells us that the meaning and purpose of the universe–of life itself–comes into focus. Jesus invites us to know God as one of our closest companions, and it is in that knowing that our lives take shape.

At Christmas, we don’t celebrate the end of a story–rather, we celebrate the beginning of a deep and meaningful relationship. God made himself flesh and dwelt among us to bring us closer to him. How deep the Father’s love for us, indeed!

Merry Christmas!

Sara