I rise to taste the dawn, and find that love alone will shine today.                                                                      
              - Ken Wilber






READING:
This is how much God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son.  And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.  God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was.  He came to help, to put the world right again.  Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it.  And why?  Because that person’s failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him.

This is the crisis that we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness.  They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God.  Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won’t come near it, fearing a painful exposure.  But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is.
                                      - John 3.16-21 (The Message)


REFLECTION:
We of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) …whoa Nellie! This title requires some explanation. It would be easy to read this title as a claim to be the only true disciples, but that would be a mistake. We firmly believe that we are not the only Christians, but Christians only, serving humbly beside Christians of any other stripe or color.

Anyway, we Disciples recently lost a saint – a truly awesome man! – Fred Craddock, who both inspired and humbled us all. He inspired us with some of the best preaching around; and he humbled us with his commitment to serve “The least of these” in practical, hands-on ways. How he managed to write as prolifically as he did and still find time to serve others remains a mystery God alone can penetrate.

Dr. Craddock begins his commentary on John 3.16 with the caution that it is easy to trivialize this verse. Boy! He could say that again. Most of us know this verse in some form, and most of us trivialize it by reading our meanings into the text. We typically think of God as loving… unless you cross him (sic); in which case God can be a harsh judge. And we trivialize it by thinking of the salvation of the Christ as a pie-in-the-sky reward in the distant future for confessing that we believe this statement about Jesus.

We do this, however, at the expense of its context in John’s theology, losing any chance of recognizing the profundity, subtlety, and radically challenging content of this verse. We need to step back and tease out John’s thought on the nature of the God who loves the world, and what he means by salvation.

I invite you to try this in preparation for Sunday’s worship. Reflect on your notion of the God who loves. Is that all God does? What is this God like? And what is this love John speaks about? Is it sentimental and weak, or profound and powerful? And try to summarize what you think of as salvation. Then on Sunday we will examine this verse, and the passage in which it is nestled, with a view to discard any trivializing tendencies, and catch a glimpse of something both inspiring and challenging that can be embraced by all, including those who think long, hard, and reasonably about spiritual things… and expect preacher types to do the same. Join us, won’t you? 

Suddenly they saw him the way he was, the way he really was all the time, although they had never seen it before, the glory which blinds the everyday eye and so becomes invisible. This is how he was, radiant, brilliant, carrying joy like a flaming sun in this hands… and there on that mountain they saw him, really saw him, saw his light.                         
          - Madeleine L’Engle

READING:
“This isn’t pie in the sky by and by. Some of you who are standing here are going to see it happen, see the kingdom of God arrive in full force.” Six days later, three of them did see it. Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain. His appearance changed from the inside out, right before their eyes. His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them. Elijah, along with Moses, came into view, in deep conversation with Jesus. Peter interrupted, “Rabbi, this is a great moment! Let’s build three memorials—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah.” He blurted this out without thinking, stunned as they all were by what they were seeing. Just then a light-radiant cloud enveloped them, and from deep in the cloud, a voice: “This is my Son, marked by my love. Listen to him.”  The next minute the disciples were looking around, rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus, only Jesus. Coming down the mountain, Jesus swore them to secrecy. “Don’t tell a soul what you saw. After the Son of Man rises from the dead, you’re free to talk.”
                                         - Mark 9.1b-9 (The Message)

REFLECTION:
Those lucky disciples: Peter, James, and John! Jesus invited them to a high and lonely mountain, and there they saw him, really saw him, for the first time. They were offered something precious; a vision, a glimpse of Jesus as he truly is. But it didn’t last. Even before they descended the mountain the vision faded, and they found themselves rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus; no shimmering, no glistening white, just Jesus, a peasant artisan turned teacher with whom they had traveled many dusty roads. There was really no reason for Jesus to swear them to secrecy. By the time they reached the valley his glory, as L’Engle expresses it, had become invisible.

This scene as it unfolds begs the question; what good was the vision? Why bother if it didn’t abide, transforming their lives as they saw it again and again in the following days. The real Jesus had finally shown up, only to disappear again. A vision on a mountain is one thing, but a vision in the valley – smack dab in the middle of daily life – now that would be something! That would change things.

Perhaps the vision was available in the valley, not obscured by the dust they kicked up on their journey. Perhaps there was shimmering and glistening if only they had the eyes to see. Shimmer in the eyes of the one grateful leper who returned to thank Jesus; or a glistening aura emanating from a scene in which Jesus, or even one of the disciples, reached out in compassion to one in need.

This is an important “perhaps” for our faith, because we don’t have the slightest chance of climbing the mountain and seeing the Christ revealed in glory. But perhaps we can “Take the mountain to Muhammad,” as the expression goes. Perhaps we can see the Christ in our everyday experience, if only we have the eyes to see. What would be the circumstances in which we caught a glimpse of the Christ and were ourselves transformed? What type of experience might afford us such a vision of glory? We will consider such questions on Sunday. We hope to see you then.

The theme that will guide our reflection during this Lenten season is simple; “Faith Is Living… On The Way.” It’s only simple, however, if you assume that faith and the way are two different things. Faith is belief in God, and the way is the path we will follow to reach our goal. During Lent, this goal is Easter; overall this goal is heaven. Voila! Done and done.

But what if faith and the way are identical? What if faith is defined by its journey? “Now you’re just being silly,” you say? “That would put our theme somewhere between obscure and paradoxical… no help at all!” Nevertheless, there is precedent for the identification of faith and the way. Consider that the early Christian community did not refer to itself as Christian, but rather as The Way. They referred to themselves as followers of Jesus on the way. And you don’t get off the hook just by saying that faith as the way is obscure or even paradoxical. There is much in our faith that is obscure, and some that is over-the-top paradoxical. For example, consider God as “One in three and three in one,” or Jesus as “Truly God and truly human,” or “To save your life you only have to lose it,” or… well, the list could go on and on.

Humor me for a moment and consider what faith would look like if it was defined by its journey; if faith and the way were identical. Firstly, it would mean that faith is a verb; something we do, not something about which we hold an opinion. And it would mean that we would choose those with whom we fellowship less on what they believe to be true, and more on what their lives show to be true. And it throws the focus back onto our lives today. That is to say, the goal of faith is not to get to heaven; it’s not to bide our time through this warm-up act, waiting for the truly real to come along. No; faith as journey means that this life matters. God has the eternal covered, we need not fret about that. Rather, we are called to follow the way of Jesus. And that friends, is quite a journey. A journey to God in God’s presence, as one scholar has put it.

On Sunday we will begin an inquiry into what faith as a journey means for our personal and spiritual lives, and the way we look at our day-by-day living. I hope you will join us at 8:30 (classic worship) or 10:30 (creative worship). 

The table fellowship of Christians implies obligation. It is our daily bread that we eat, not my own. We share our bread. Thus we are firmly bound to one another not only in the Spirit but in our whole physical being. The one bread that is given to our fellowship links us together in a firm covenant. Now none dares to go hungry as long as another has bread, and anyone who breaks this fellowship of the physical life also breaks the fellowship of the Spirit.
                                                              — Dietrich Bonhoeffer

READING:
When they finished eating, Jesus asked Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” Simon replied, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” Jesus asked a second time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Simon replied, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Take care of my sheep.” He asked a third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was sad that Jesus asked him a third time, “Do you love me?” He replied, “Lord, you know everything; you know I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.
                                                              - John 21.15-17 (CEB)

REFLECTION:
A friend recently shared with me that while most of us claim to harbor God's love in our hearts, that love is worthless unless we give it expression. Unless, that is to say, it flows through our lives into the lives of others. You know, into the lives of those pesky neighbors Jesus was always on about! My friend’s sentiment rang true to the life and message of Jesus, which I found mystifying, since my friend is Muslim. This twist in the conversation brought the words of Thomas Aquinas to mind, "One may never have heard the sacred word “Christ,” but be closer to God than a priest or nun." But that is not my point, so I will move on.

If we love God we will reach out to our neighbor to offer nurture and nourishment; or, to use the language of the New Testament, we will feed God's sheep. Fair enough; but what does that mean? What do we have to offer? Peter must have been haunted by that question as time and again Jesus challenged him to show his love for the risen Lord by feeding his sheep. What do we have to offer our neighbors? It is the same for us in our day as it was for Peter back in the day: address their needs; share from our bounty; offer personal, material, and spiritual support.

I must admit, that challenge makes me nervous, especially with Thanksgiving just around the corner. You see, I want to have that choice drumstick all to myself at the family feast, just as my cousin Richard used to manage (every year! Thanksgiving and Christmas.) I want to sit down at the thanksgiving table, thank God for the many blessings in my life, then keep them all for myself (especially that choice piece of turkey!) But - no - I'm supposed to share, just as Peter was to share. And If that’s not enough, Dietrich Bonhoeffer offered his two cents on the issue. “It is our daily bread that we eat,” he said, “not my own. We share our bread.“ I’ll have to admit, this is not a bad reminder as we approach the season of gratitude.

So, how do we express our love for God; how do we offer thanks for our many blessings? By feeding God's sheep, as Peter learned. Ann Weems seems to have learned this lesson, and speaks of it in a poem entitled Feeding Sheep. Perhaps if we interlace her words with Peter' story we will get a clear sense of what we should do next week:

When they finished eating, Jesus asked Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” Simon replied, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He said, “Feed my lambs.” There were no conditions… Jesus asked a second time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Simon replied, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Take care of my sheep.” He said, “Take care of my sheep… feed my sheep.” There were no conditions… Least of all, feed my sheep if they deserve it. Feed my sheep if you feel like it. Feed my sheep if you have any leftovers. He asked a third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was sad that Jesus asked him a third time, “Do you love me?” He replied, “Lord, you know everything; you know I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.” No conditions… just, “Feed my sheep.” Could it be that God’s Kingdom will come when each lamb is fed? We who have agreed to keep covenant are called… to feed sheep.

No conditions, just feed my sheep. No conditions, but I still have one question; may I please have the drumstick?

But to us who are personally called by God himself—both Jews and Greeks—Christ is God’s ultimate miracle and wisdom all wrapped up in one. Human wisdom is so tinny, so impotent, next to the seeming absurdity of God. Human strength can’t begin to compete with God’s “weakness.”
                                                            - Paul of Tarsus



READING
The Message that points to Christ on the Cross seems like sheer silliness to those hellbent on destruction, but for those on the way of salvation it makes perfect sense. This is the way God works, and most powerfully as it turns out. It’s written, I’ll turn conventional wisdom on its head,
I’ll expose so-called experts as crackpots. So where can you find someone truly wise, truly educated, truly intelligent in this day and age? Hasn’t God exposed it all as pretentious nonsense? Since the world in all its fancy wisdom never had a clue when it came to knowing God, God in his wisdom took delight in using what the world considered dumb--preaching, of all things!—to bring those who trust him into the way of salvation. While Jews clamor for miraculous demonstrations and Greeks go in for philosophical wisdom, we go right on proclaiming Christ, the Crucified. Jews treat this like an anti-miracle—and Greeks pass it off as absurd. But to us who are personally called by God himself—both Jews and Greeks—Christ is God’s ultimate miracle and wisdom all wrapped up in one. Human wisdom is so tinny, so impotent, next to the seeming absurdity of God. Human strength can’t begin to compete with God’s “weakness.”    

     - 1 Corinthians 1.18-25


REFLECTION
Let’s get one thing straight from the get-go. In this passage Paul is neither vilifying Jews & Greeks, nor writing off spiritual signs and reason altogether. Paul was himself a proud Jew, steeped in its traditions and rituals; and he had one first rate Hellenistic education. So if you read this passage as anti-Semitic or as anti-intellectual toward faith, think again.

Paul is, however, critical of certain notions of signs and reason that he thought led to a spiritual dead end. For example, if you seek divine fireworks, a spectacular occurrence so compelling it takes away the need for faith… forget it, Paul says. Faith is the lived experience of following Jesus, and will more likely lead to unspectacular service to others than to divine fireworks.

Again, If you seek a sure knowledge and understanding of God in order to package & contain God, and tie up all the loose ends… forget it, Paul says. He would agree with Thomas Aquinas that reason can lead all the way to a knowledge about God, to the conviction that God exists, but there it reaches its limits, and fails to comprehend God as vulnerable and loving; so loving, in fact, that God is willing to go to any length to put the world right again, as John’s Jesus says in chapter 3. At a certain level, this characterization of God seems quite absurd, but in the proper context it leads to comfort, courage, and joy.

So let’s not give up on signs, they may very well play a role in the spiritual life; and for Pete’s sake let’s not give up on reason in favor of an unthinking faith that is gullible to so many shallow, lowest common denominator answers to life’s questions. Rather, let’s gather on Sunday and reflect on how we may with integrity incorporate both into our spiritual life.