Fire and Figs

So we continue along our Lenten journey.  It has been a couple of weeks now since Ash Wednesday.  Our call into Christian discipleship continues as we walk with Jesus down the mountain towards Jerusalem.  Along the journey with him he stops and tells us a story...a story about a fig tree planted in the midst of a vineyard.

"A man owned a fig tree planted in his vineyard.  He came looking for fruit on it and found none.  He said to his gardener, 'Look, I've come looking for fruit on this fig tree for the past three years, and I've never found any.  Cut it down!  Why should it continue depleting the soil's nutrients?'  The gardener responded, 'Lord, give it one more year, and I will dig around it and give it fertilizer.  Maybe it will produce fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down.'"

This story intrigues me on several levels.  In Lent, we are called into penitence.  We are called to be honest with ourselves, both as individuals and as congregations.  We are called to examine our strengths and our weaknesses.  Perhaps we are even called to pause for a moment and consider our spiritual growth over the past year.  For the last five weeks our small group that meets on Wednesday nights has been studying from the book of Revelation.  I find the same chords in Jesus' story about the fig tree reverberate throughout John's vision.  Our lives are changed when we encounter the risen Christ.  But that change must continue.  In Revelation, the image used is fire.  The fire from heaven comes and burns away the impurities of those who are willing to grow in holiness.  Those who refuse to be willing suffer through the burning.

The fig tree is a symbol of the same process.  The gardener gives the tree a stay of execution.  He agrees to go beyond the expected to help the tree to bear fruit.  But in order for the tree to be successful in the stay, it must co-operate with the gardener.  It must take in the fertilizer.  It must force itself to do the thing that it has not been doing.  God's desire for each one of us and for every congregation is the same.  He wants us to do the things we have been called into.  But in order to do that we must repent.  We must turn away from our wants and desires and turn to God's way of doing things...God's vision for our lives.

The fig tree's purpose was to produce figs.  It had not been doing that.  So it had to repent (turn away from being unproductive) and turn towards God's desire for it.  If it did not, then it would be cut to the ground.  Judgment and grace go hand-in-glove.  Judgment without grace is impossible.  Grace without judgment is cheap.  God is patient with us...he wants what is best for us...he goes beyond the expected to make sure we have every chance.  But in the end, he doesn't force himself on us.  He pursues us until we repent or until our hearts grow so hard that we can't see him anymore.

Brothers and sisters, that is what Lent helps us do.  It helps us repent away from ourselves so that we can repent towards God.  He won't give up, but we must do our part too.  Until next time...




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Have Mercy On Us And On The Whole World

We've been in the season of Lent for a little over a week now.  On Ash Wednesday we gathered as a faith community to recognize our own mortality and to offer our penitence before our God; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  When I look at all of the holy days throughout the church calendar there are so many of them that speak to my heart and help to shape me as a Christian and as a pastor.  But Ash Wednesday is my favorite.

Ash Wednesday is the beginning of a forty day long fasting period in the Church.  Many times you hear the phrase "What did you give up for Lent?"  That phrase is a modern day adaptation of the ancient tradition of the Lenten fast.  In the early days of the church, the weeks leading up to Easter  were used to prepare men and women who desired to join the Church.  A part of their commitment to the journey was fasting and prayer.  Sponsors of the church would accompany them along the journey by fasting and praying too.  Over time, this period of fasting and praying became much wider and almost all people in the congregation would fast and pray in solidarity with the new converts.

The purpose behind all of the fasting and praying was to center the new converts in a Christian life.  In the same way, the sponsors (and eventually the entire flock) would also be re-centered around Christ and their commitment to Christian living.  That's what I love about Ash Wednesday.  It is a counter-cultural move by the Church saying, "We are declaring our allegiance to Christ."  On Ash Wednesday we admit that we have messed up.  We acknowledge our own sinfulness, both individually and as a congregation.  We recognize that we only have one life and we determinedly want to live it according to God's desire for us and not for ourselves.

As a member of the laity I didn't always "get it."  I attended Ash Wednesday services and allowed the pastor to smear my forehead with ashes.  I was told "from dust you came, to dust you shall return...repent and believe the gospel."  I allowed myself to be moved towards a more Christ centered life, but I didn't think beyond myself.  I didn't think about the wider community of Christ.

But as a pastor, all of that has changed.  There is something humbling about looking my parishioners in the eye and declaring to them that they are mortal.  There is something deeply emotional about extolling them to repent and to believe the gospel.  Each time that I smudge a person with those former palm branches, it's a sacred moment.  I feel a connection to the person that I don't feel at other times.  Perhaps it's through our shared repentance, our communal declarations of unfaithfulness, that our spirits are connected.  I can't put into words what I feel, but I know that God is meeting us individually and corporately in those ashes.

A few months ago I heard a song played on EWTN that intrigued me.  I heard it a few more times after that. It was such a beautiful song that I began to research what it was.  I finally discovered that the song I had been hearing is a prayer that had been put to music.  It is the prayer known as the Chaplet of Divine Mercy.  This song is the epitome of the Lenten journey.  The words of the song cry out to God to remember the body and blood of Christ and because of his sacrifice to "have mercy on us and on the whole world."  You see, Lent is not about us.  It is about sacrifice, fasting, prayer, re-centering...essentially it is about God and our relationship with him.

That's why I love Ash Wednesday and Lent.  It not only focuses me as an individual, it also focuses my entire faith community.  We recognize that we can do more and be more than we have been.  It pushes us to see that Christ's blood was shed for more than our small part of the world.  Through Lent I have been praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy as a part of my daily devotion.  It's not a short prayer.  It is very repetitious.  It probably is not suited for everyone.  However, I invite you to at least listen to it once.  Give yourself about 20 minutes of uninterrupted time where you can feel the presence of God and allow him to focus you outside of yourself.  As you hear the repetition, join in the song prayer.

Whatever you are doing during this season of Lent, may the LORD bless that endeavor.  I sincerely hope that God uses this season of fasting to recenter each one of us for ministry, discipleship, and spiritual growth. Until next time...





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The Rest Of The Story...

When I was a kid, my parents would listen to country music on the radio.  These were the days of the Oak Ridge Boys, Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton, and Alabama.  While I remember listening to many of those country songs when we would be in the car, that's not what I loved most about those country stations.  If we happened to be in the car at noon or about 3:00 in the afternoon a familiar voice would come across the airwaves.  It was a comforting voice.  Since both of my grandfathers had died before I was born, I imagined that the man on the other side of the radio was what a grandfather sounded like.  He was trustworthy, dependable, and so full of brilliant wisdom.  That man was none other than Paul Harvey.

One of my favorite things that he would do was his "rest of the story."  I'm sure you all remember that segment.  He would find some well-known event, person, or place and then tell some interesting background about it.  Many times as he told the story, I would sit quietly trying to figure out what the rest of the story was before he finished.  I felt like a detective, actively piecing together the clues  in order to solve the case.

Sometimes when I read through Scripture, I wish I could hear Paul Harvey's voice come across and tell me the rest of the story.  I came across one of those passages this week while I was preparing for my sermon.  In St. Luke 9, there is an interesting commentary from the writer about Herod.  Tucked away between a story about Jesus sending out the twelve on a mission trip and a story about Jesus feeding 5,000 men is an odd paragraph consisting of three verses.  "Now Herod the ruler heard about all that had taken place, and he was perplexed, because it was said by some that John had been raised from the dead, by some that Elijah had appeared, and by others that one of the ancient prophets had arisen.  Herod said, 'John I beheaded; but who is this about whom I hear such things?' And he tried to see him."

When I read those words, I wondered why Jesus wouldn't go see Herod.  After all, if Herod is the ruler of Judea, wouldn't it have been beneficial to have him on Jesus' side?  Couldn't Jesus go in for an afternoon and visit with this man?  Why wouldn't Jesus go up to the palace and heal a couple of sick folks, drive out a few demons, and maybe even transfigure himself right there?  Then Herod would believe and the people would actually be better off.

But since I had a sermon to prepare, I really didn't have time to contemplate this short passage too long and I moved forward.  In the midst of my studying about the transfiguration of Christ and the implication of that transfiguration on both his early disciples and on us, it hit me.  The rest of the story started to form my understanding of why Jesus did what he did.  In verses 37-43a, Jesus casts out a demon from a boy.  After he does so, we are told that "...all were astounded at the greatness of God."  The miraculous things that Jesus did pointed to God's greatness, but his power really wasn't found there.  God's true power is found in verses 43b and 44, "While everyone was amazed at all that he was doing, he said to his disciples, 'Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands.'"

Real power from God means that you continue to do what's right even in the midst of opposition.  Real power from God means that you lower yourself and become a servant of others.  Real power from God means that you are willing to be beaten, spat upon, kicked, harmed, and even killed for being a child of God.  And real power from God means that you accept all of this because you are filled with joy, peace, patience, kindness, and most importantly love.

So while miracles, wonders, and signs point to God, they are not the end all of who God is.  God is more completely found in the everyday.  He is in the welcoming of strangers.  He is in the care for the sick.  He is in the humility of his people.  He is most certainly in the poor, the prisoner, the naked, and the thirsty.  That's why Jesus didn't go see Herod; there was no reason to.  Jesus knew his mission and he knew his Father's heart.  He didn't need a ruler's approval.  And now you know the rest of the story...


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