Good Friday

Today is one of the most challenging days of the year for me.  Good Friday confronts me even as it comforts me.  The death of Jesus calls for nothing less than a radical, literal relinquishment of my own personal rights. There are no loopholes. No exceptions. No justifications for getting out of it. If I want to follow Jesus, I have to be willing to go to a cross.  To relinquish every right I think I have...in exchange for the right to suffer. To be persecuted.  To be the victim of injustice.  To follow Jesus involves a cross.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  Nothing else.  There's just no way around it. 

Christians are not given the right to retaliate. To repay evil for evil. Eye for an eye. When we suffer injustice - like being forcemarched by Roman oppressors for a mile - we offer to go two. When someone begs from us, we do not have the option to pass them by. When faced with enemies whether personal or corporate, real or imagined, domestic or abroad, we love them. We pray for them. We follow the example of so many of our brothers and sisters around the world who face their persecutors with the love and grace and compassion of Christ. (See Matthew 5:41-44)

I have been told I am naive for holding to such views. Many have given me different scenarios under which returning violence for violence is necessary. All kinds of justifications are offered in defense of the "eye for an eye" principal. But on this day - Good Friday - such justifications pale in significance to the cross where my Lord died. Where my King completely and totally and utterly gave up his right to retaliate. To respond in kind. To pay back evil for evil. Eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth. On this day, all justifications for necessary violence cease as I gaze on the face of the one who loved me so much he was willing to die. Throughout human history, our race has pursued violent means to accomplish peaceful ends. And we have so little to show for it. Does anyone really believe we will achieve peace in the Middle East? Or stop the genocide in Sudan? At best, all we human beings can achieve is a ceasefire. A demilitarized zone. An uneasy period of detente between the outbreak of hostilities. Why? Violence begets violence. Always. Unless one eradicates the enemy completely.

Jesus offers a different way. The way of true peace comes when we - who belong to a different Kingdom and who serve a crucified King - willingly give up our need for revenge and retaliation. We give up our right and our need for justice in this world. We come to grips with the fact that this world is sinful and broken and evil and we will not find what we are looking for this side of heaven. It doesn't mean we shouldn't work for such ends but it does mean we should stop using the weapons of this world to do so. Instead, we lay hold of the fact that our warfare is not against flesh and blood but against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. The weapons of our warfare are not worldly but mighty in God to tear down every stronghold and every high thing that sets itself up against the knowledge of God. Rather than strap a cross to a shield and march off to kill, we should willingly go to the cross ourselves just like our Savior. Just like the disciples. Just like the early Christians. Just like the Chinese Christians today or the Ethiopian Christians who are changing the world through their willingness to truly give their lives for their faith. 

I love this quote from Paul Scherer - writing in 1943 during WW2 - "We are living in a world where there is something so incorrigible; so vast and demonic that God Himself had to get into it and die before anything could be done about it...the surest claim we have comes from a Person, whose very presence it is that keeps His will alive.  Against him men do not revolt; against him men break and destroy themselves.  What he says, life repeats and at last enforces.  But every soul must make it's own choice, standing on it's feet with the eyes of God upon it in the face of Jesus Christ."  From the cross, Jesus looks down on our world.  Looks down on each of us.  He looks beyond all our achievements.  All our accomplishments.  All our so-called power and wealth and influence.  He looks into the darkest, deepest recesses of our souls with this gentle, persistent, haunting command, "Come follow me." 

Great Friendships

I was talking with a friend the other day who is not a Christian and he asked me a question about prayer.  "How do you know prayer is real?  Or that the God you pray to is real?"  It's a great question.  And one I can find myself struggling with at times.  I am not a man who takes much on faith.  I have always been a skeptic.  I have always been someone who needs to see the proof.  I need to feel it, touch it, hold it in my hands.  Because of the life experiences I have had, I am deeply cynical at times as well and that only makes things harder for me in terms of my faith.  So without knowing it, my friend had pressed into a sensitive area for me.  But in this particular instance, I found myself responding almost automatically, "I know prayer is real and I know God is real because he often tells me "No."  Now I have to say that these words could not be my own.  I had never had this thought before in my life.  Somehow, someway, in this moment, in this conversation, this deep and profound truth crystallized for me and God made himself real to me (and my friend) yet again. 

The people who share my faith talk a lot about having a personal relationship with God.  We believe that God came to earth literally in the person of Jesus Christ in order to establish that relationship with us once and for all.  We talk about how Christianity is not a religion but a relationship with the living Lord of the universe.  But I am not altogether convinced that we really understand the depth of the friendship God desires to have with us.  God isn't interested in being our sugar daddy.  God isn't interested in being our therapist.  God isn't interested in being our jury, judge, and executioner.  God desires to be our father and God desires to be our friend.  I think of Moses who spoke to God face to face.  I think of Abraham whom God literally called a friend.  Both of these men, among many other men and women throughout the Bible, truly understood what it meant to have a deep relationship, a great friendship with God.  You see it in how they interact.  They aren't afraid to argue, to fight, to talk, to share, to be vulnerable.  They don't treat God like some cosmic bellhop here to meet their every whim and desire.  They endure God's silences.  They respect God when he tells them "No."  They fall down in fear and humble submission when he confronts them on their sin.  Most of all, they trust God has their back and their best in mind. 

This is the essence of a truly great friendship and I shared all this with my friend.  It was rather eye-opening for him as he had always judged the efficacy of prayer on the basis of the results it achieved.  If God came through in the way my friend desired, then prayer must work.  If God didn't come through then maybe God didn't exist.  But this is not true friendship.  True friends are able to say "No" to one another.  They don't demand.  They don't force.  They don't require the other person to live life on their terms.  It is give and take.  It is honest.  Real. Messy.  Authentic.  And that's the kind of friendship God wants with us. 

We cannot "intellectualize what is at bottom the exchange of life with life." (Paul Scherer) The heart of the Christian faith is not a list of rules or set of demands nor is it a cheap and easy and superficial grace. It is the intersection of our lives with God.  It is that deeply intimate space where God and I stand face to face in the mutual give and take of friend with friend. This is where we hash out how we will live together, walk together, serve together, love together.  Like any great friendship, it takes time. Lots of time. And an investment of ourselves from the deepest resources of our souls.  We can hold nothing back if we wish this friendship to grow.  Faith that is strong and deep is not argumentative or intellectual or philosophical or academic.  It is built on the love of a great friendship with God himself.

Let's Read the Bible Together

Let's Read the Bible Together

Why would I read a book - or really a collection of books - that were written over thousands of years, mainly chronicling the journey of a people (the Jews) to which I have no connection, climaxing in the birth, death, and resurrection of a man named Jesus who lived almost two thousand years ago?  Why would I not only read these words each year but more importantly, try to pattern my life accordingly?  Why would I commit my life to studying this book and teach others to do the same?