Holy Week, Friday :: The Praetorium :: the Place of Suffering

Mark 15:1-20. Very early in the morning the leading priests, the elders, and the teachers of religious law—the entire high council—met to discuss their next step. They bound Jesus, led him away, and took him to Pilate, the Roman governor.

Pilate asked Jesus, “Are you the king of the Jews?”

Jesus replied, “You have said it.”

Then the leading priests kept accusing him of many crimes, and Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer them? What about all these charges they are bringing against you?” But Jesus said nothing, much to Pilate’s surprise.

Now it was the governor’s custom each year during the Passover celebration to release one prisoner—anyone the people requested. One of the prisoners at that time was Barabbas, a revolutionary who had committed murder in an uprising. The crowd went to Pilate and asked him to release a prisoner as usual.

“Would you like me to release to you this ‘King of the Jews’?” Pilate asked.10 (For he realized by now that the leading priests had arrested Jesus out of envy.) 11 But at this point the leading priests stirred up the crowd to demand the release of Barabbas instead of Jesus. 12 Pilate asked them, “Then what should I do with this man you call the king of the Jews?”

13 They shouted back, “Crucify him!”

14 “Why?” Pilate demanded. “What crime has he committed?”

But the mob roared even louder, “Crucify him!”

15 So to pacify the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He ordered Jesus flogged with a lead-tipped whip, then turned him over to the Roman soldiers to be crucified.

16 The soldiers took Jesus into the courtyard of the governor’s headquarters (called the Praetorium) and called out the entire regiment. 17 They dressed him in a purple robe, and they wove thorn branches into a crown and put it on his head. 18 Then they saluted him and taunted, “Hail! King of the Jews!”19 And they struck him on the head with a reed stick, spit on him, and dropped to their knees in mock worship. 20 When they were finally tired of mocking him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him again. Then they led him away to be crucified.

After the public betrayal and humiliation of the upper room, Jesus’ physical ordeal begins. He is arrested at night, and then kept up through a sham (and illegal) trial, before being delivered over to the only people with the power to inflict capital punishment in the region—the Romans.

The Romans didn’t particularly dislike Jesus; to them he was simply another Jewish religious fanatic. The punishment they inflicted on him wasn’t particularly malicious or evil.

But it was efficient.

Jesus was beaten, whipped, insulted, and he bled, sweat, and wavered.

Make no mistake, a lot happens at the cross; but a lot happens before the cross as well.

Because Jesus suffers.

Call me crazy, but having a “suffering savior” matters to me.

It’s possible that God, being all-powerful, was completely capable of bringing us back to Himself with a snap of His infinite fingers. But regardless, He chose to come to us in the form of a human being.

Who was beaten, whipped, and crushed.

I think the implications of this are staggering.

If we worshipped a God who was only far-off, who is distant, who is only perfect and clean, than I would be terrified or embarrassed to come to Him (or Her) in my weakness and suffering.

But because God—because somehow YHWH—knows suffering, knows pain, knows humiliation, it means that I can bring my own suffering, pain, and humiliation to Him, and when I do, he says,

“I understand.”

“I have felt this.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed.”

Because God suffered, I can suffer too, and know that He welcomes it, and shares in it. He does not shun me in my weakness, but welcomes me.

Holy Week, Wednesday :: Temple :: the Place of Obedience

Take a moment and read Mark 11:11-33.

As I mentioned yesterday, even if you have places of safety—Bethany—in your life, sometimes you have to leave. As Jesus begins to press his presence in Jerusalem, he comes to the Temple, looks around, and goes back to Bethany, maybe for one final deep breath before the storm.

This episode in Jerusalem is marked by a specific sequence of images and events. Mark “bookends” or “sandwiches” the Temple incident with a curious incident with a fig tree. Most of the time when you see this in scripture it means that the outer “bookends” are intended to shed light on the inner content, and vice versa. So the fig tree is meant to tell us about the Temple, and Jesus’ actions in the Temple tell us a little about the fig tree as well.

Let’s not waste time: the fig tree represents Israel. Mark and Jesus are intentionally echoing Jeremiah 8, where the prophet is indicting the leadership of Israel as “false prophets” and leaders:

They offer superficial treatments for people’s mortal wound.
They give assurances of peace when there is no peace.
Are they ashamed of these disgusting actions?
Not at all–they don’t even know how to blush!
Therefore, they will lie among the slaughtered.
They will be brought down when I punish them, says the LORD.
I will surely consume them. There will be no more harvests of figs and grapes.
Their fruit trees will all die.
Whatever I game them will soon be gone.
I, the LORD, have spoken! (Jeremiah 8:11-13)

So Jesus is pronouncing judgment here, but why? There’s a clue in the language that Jesus uses in 11:17. Most translations use the word, “robbers” to translate the Greek word lestes. But lestes actually indicates more violence than “robber” captures. As N.T. Wright puts it, “The Temple had become, in Jesus’ day as in Jeremiah’s, the talisman of nationalistic violence…” (Jesus and the Victory of God, 420). Jesus is angry—not so much about the exchange of goods and money changing in the temple—but about the violent resistance that the Temple has come to represent. (By the way, Jesus’ actions in the Temple are probably better understood, not so much as violent anger, but as prophetic and symbolic action, representing God’s judgment on the Temple and the nation of Israel.)

Simply put, God’s kingdom is not going to come about through violence, and Jesus’ pronouncement has much more to do with how people had twisted and/or confused the mission of God into an excuse to take up arms against Rome and “the pagans”, to seek the Kingdom through military and political victory, rather than through suffering and humility.

Good thing the church never does that any more, huh?

So Jesus moves into the place of obedience: an immediate confrontation with the economic, political, and violent “powers” of his day.

It simultaneously took immense courage, first to confront the establishment, and then later to choose suffering rather than retaliation.

  • Is there anywhere that you need to confront injustice?
  • What could it mean to confront injustice and oppression with suffering and humility? 

Tomorrow: the Upper Room, the place of intimate betrayal.

Leadership Commandments, 6-10

As promised, here are the last five “Leadership Commandments” I gave to my friend as he entered into ministry.

  1. (6) Thou shalt remember that people need you to lead them; don’t be afraid to. As counter-intuitive as it may seem, people actually crave legitimate leadership. If they trust you, they will entrust a lot to you, and they will do it willingly. Don’t miss an opportunity to lead just because you’re afraid to speak into someone’s life.
  2. (7) Thou shalt remember that it all starts with what God is doing in your life. Though I don’t necessarily agree that you can’t take a person somewhere you haven’t been yourself (because God is way, way bigger than that), you do need to take your spiritual life seriously, and you do need to minister out of the fullness of your own life. Tend to your soul.
  3. (8) Thou shalt realize you reproduce what/who you are. I learned this the hard way. You can talk and lead until you are exhausted, but ultimately you will reproduce who you are, not what you do. In one of my first ministry callings, I worked extremely hard to build a great team; we did great work together. However, I began to notice that a couple key members had become cynical and sarcastic, and lost the sense of wonder that they’d had when they began their journey with me. I realized that had helped them become that, because that’s what was stirring around in my soul. That’s who I was becoming.It still crushes me.
  4. (9) Thou shalt lead by faith, not by sight. When you lead musical worship, it’s tempting to either watch people “really getting into it” and decide that you’re doing a great job, or watch people sitting on their hands and decide that you’re doing a horrible job. Both are error. We minister to God first, and we trust that He is working. If you watch the people who are enthusiastically responding to your leading and decide that you are really hitting it, you are actually closer to idolatry than it is to leading faithfully. If you watch the people who are not responding at all and decide that you are failing, you are allowing yourself to become needlessly discouraged. Do your best, and trust God for the results.
  5. (10) Thou shalt immediately begin working yourself out of a job.More than any other vocation, ministry is not meant to be hoarded. There’s a fine line between allowing yourself to “do the things that only you can do,” and just holding on to ministry roles that you really should be giving away. Ministry is meant to expand, which means you need to actively look for people to pour into.Caveat #1: It will take a long time to find them. 

    Caveat #2: There will a couple instances where you think you’ve found “your replacement”, and you will be disappointed. 

    But keep looking.

So that’s it. There will probably be a “third tablet” of commandments, someday, but these were enough to get him started.

“All I Did Was Pick Up the Phone…”

Switch, by Chip and Dan Heath

If you deal with any kind of change—whether personal or organizational, internal or external—this book is really amazing.

One of the key concepts that Chip and Dan Heath communicate is that in order to achieve really big goals you have to “shrink the change.” Our brains can get overwhelmed with the enormity of some of the “big things” we are trying to accomplish, so in order to keep from being paralyzed, we need make change manageable, turning it into small bite-sized chunks.

For me, an unexpected result of “shrinking the change” was that sometimes I lose a bit of the sense of doing some crazy, enormous thing (the goal or change), and instead acquire the thoughts of doing these seemingly meaningless tasks.

Sometimes it actually feels less inspiring to me.

But then I got to thinking: I wonder if people who do really amazing things are aware that they are doing really amazing things.

I wonder if they just know that they are simply following the next logical step in a sequence in order to accomplish their given task…

  • To write that book…
  • To lose that weight…
  • To change their character…
  • To complete that record…

It’s tempting to focus on the “Big, Hairy, Audacious, Goals” in our lives, and to use that focus as motivation to do them.

But it’s more important to actually accomplish the goals than it is to dream them up…

… and that’s considerably less sexy.

So, the irony is that to accomplish really cool things—to change your life, to produce something, to “ship”,  you have to sometimes surrender the thought that you’re doing really cool things, and simply do the next thing that’s in front of you.

  • Taking 10 minutes out of your day to pray can change your character forever
  • Picking up the phone to call someone who is lonely and isolated can send a powerful message of significance and love
  • Writing for 10 minutes a day can unlock the creative ideas for a book or a song
  • Going to bed 30 minutes earlier can give you the added energy you need to be more engaged at work

Is it sexy? No.

Does it work? Probably.

Surrender a little of the grandiosity of your dreams in order to actually achieve them.

James Brown and Lent

(I originally wrote this for my church. I added a couple of thoughts).

Bear with me just a minute.

One of my favorite records is James Brown Live in Paris in 1971. It is one of the most intense sets of music I’ve ever heard. In terms of flat out energy, I’d put it up against releases from most metal and industrial bands. For 73 minutes (the entire CD), the band just cooks. There are, however, breaks: times when James needs to hang back and sing a ballad, in order to give the band—and the audience—a break.

In short, funk—and art, and life—needs contrast. 

Dark so that light can stand out.

Silence so that noise can be pronounced.

If all you ever have is noise, life gets exhausting. If you only ever go “full throttle”, sooner or later you run out of gas. A holistic, healthy life needs to swing back and forth between exertion and rest, engagement and retreat, waking and sleeping. A holistic life needs silence, needs rhythm, needs diversity.

Our spiritual life is no different. In a sense, every Sunday is a miniature celebration of the resurrection, and all of the joy and excitement that comes with it. However, it can be easy to become addicted to “resurrection,” and to begin to think that our spiritual lives should only ever be full of joyful shouting.

For our own spiritual health, sometimes we need to engage in a different perspective.

That’s where seasons such as “Lent” can be helpful. Lent is a traditional season of the church that is useful for preparing for the earth-shattering, paradigm-shaking event of the resurrection at Easter. To that end, it’s historically been a season where Christ-followers reflect on their lives and thoughtfully contemplate the forgiveness that God offers us through Jesus, often through activities such as fasting, silence, and confession.

The season of Lent begins with Ash Wednesday, where we are invited to remember our mortality, to remember the beginning of Jesus’ journey towards the cross, and to symbolically begin our own. E3 will have two traditional Ash Wednesday gatherings—at 7:30 am and at noon—on February 22.

… Because even the hardest working man in show business needs some occasional quiet time.

Lent is traditionally about reflection, fasting, and giving. Here are a few questions to get you thinking:

  • Where/how do you need contrast in your life? Do you need silence? Or maybe you have the silence thing down, and you need “engagement”; where can you give—but give secretly—over the next forty days?
  • What have you become too dependent upon for life? What needs to be removed in order for you to re-orient yourself towards your dependence on God?
  • How can you follow Jesus to the cross this season?

Artful Living

I need some help here…

Do you think of yourself as “creative”?

Have you ever considered the fact that you are “creating” your life—actually that as believers we charged with creating a very particular, “gospel” life—in the same way that an artist creates, and that there are some valuable lessons that we can learn from the process of creativity? 

For a while I’ve been thinking about the connection between art and the “Christian life”, and to me the connections are interesting and profound. As followers of Jesus, we believe that the gospel isn’t just for getting into heaven, but has the capacity to radically change the world now. Similarly, many artists proclaim that “art changes the world.” Good art has ability to change the way you see the world (which actually changes the world, but that’s a quantum physics discussion for another time).

The gospel changes the world. Art changes the world.

We proclaim the gospel. We live the gospel.

Can we connect artistic practices with gospel living?

I have a hunch that we can, and in the process learn more about the gospel and become more creative as well.

What are your thoughts? Send ’em on…

How Pro-Life Am I?

Like many folks, I was really troubled by the execution last week of Troy Davis.

Really I was just really hopeless and sad.

But then I also saw this story, and I was really forced to ask myself, “How pro-life am I?”

Because what that guy did was horrible…

… and if I mourn the execution of Troy Davis, then I have to also mourn the execution of James Byrd.

… and that’s really, really hard to do…

Words from a Father…

I love, love, love chipotlé salsa, specifically this particular brand. (I’m pretty convinced that Jesus would’ve dipped his bread in it at the last supper, if Rick Bayless was in his posse.)

Unfortunately, it’s pretty difficult to find in Tallahassee. The only place I know for certain that has it is World Market. A few days ago we were right in the neighborhood, so me, Levi, and Emily popped in to get a jar.

On display at the cash register were these odd candy bars. They said, “No Girls Allowed” on them, very prominently.

Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out the significance of the branding, so I finally asked the cashier, “Why no girls allowed?”

“Oh because of how many calories! 350 calories! We wouldn’t want a girl to eat 350 calories, right?!?”

With my 13-year old daughter standing there, I was pretty horrified. Though childhood obesity is very troubling, body image issues hit home for me a bit harder. We work hard to make sure she doesn’t have to compare herself with other girls, to try and understand what it means to be “healthy” rather than “thin” (or whatever other adjective you care to describe).

Yet here is this company (and/or the cashier; I understand that there’s some debate about why the ad agency went with this tagline), in plain sight, throwing it right in our faces.

I couldn’t help but think of the young women in my life who have struggled with eating disorders in order to try and conform to the standards of a world that makes unrealistic, even evil demands from them. All of these beautiful daughters of God who struggle to love them the way the Father does, because of silly, “offhand” taglines of candy bars and random retail employees.

This morning, I was listening to a beautiful piece of music when the weight of this—and many more issues—all crashed down on me. I sat in my car and sobbed, weeping for the tragic brokenness of the world. Yet no one weeps more than God.

The west has found a gun / and it’s loaded with ‘unsure’

Nip and tuck if you have the bucks  // in a race to find a cure

Psalm one hundred and thirty-nine // is the conscience to our selfish crime,

God didn’t screw up when he made you … //

He’s a father who loves to parade you …

To the daughters out there, may you receive the blessing of a Father who wants to proudly parade you today, who is smiling because his little girl is wonderfully and beautifully made… perfect in every way.

(This is 7 minutes of excruciating, beautiful, powerful prayer through music… the lyrics above occur at 2:28)

Why I Wrestle…

There’s a wonderful scene in The Devil Wears Prada, where Miranda Priestly, played by the amazing Meryl Streep addresses her new assistant’s (played by Anne Hathaway) indifference — even disdain — for the world of high fashion that the fictional Runway magazine reports on. (watch the scene here; I’ll wait.)

I was thinking about this recently while wrestling through a book on the relationship between Paul and 1st century rabbinic Judaism (fascinating, I know). Streep’s character points out the relationship between the frontiers of “high fashion” and the seemingly mindless, instinctive choices that Hathaway’s character makes in shopping and picking out clothes each day.

“You think this has nothing to do with you,” she says. “What you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise, it’s not lapis, it’s cerulean. And you’re also unaware of the fact that in 2002 Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns … and then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of 8 different designers; and then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down to some tragic casual corner where you no doubt fished it out of some clearance rack … It’s sort of comical how think you’ve made a choice that somehow exempts you from the fashion industry when in fact you’re wearing a sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room.”

Chilly elitism aside, I think this is important. Theology — thoughts and study about God — is always growing and changing. Archaeology is revealing more about Jesus and Paul and their context. It’s easy to think that theology is irrelevant to our daily lives, but I think that wrestling with “deep things” is like high fashion – as folks think through the really big issues, it will work its way through the seminaries, colleges and churches and eventually into our daily lives. The problem is that I’m afraid many of us are wrestling with the equivalent of acid washed jeans and polyester shirts. The truth is, God is doing new things, always. Are we (as pastors and leaders) willing to wrestle with the “high fashion” theological questions — not so we can be faddish or “cool” but so we can keep in step with what we are coming to know about God, Jesus, and their message and mission for the world?

I believe we will walk out our theology; we will speak it into others’ lives; we will proclaim it from the platform.

I want to know why we pick the Cerulean sweater.

No One Stands Alone

“No One Stands Alone”

The church where my faith initially took root and began to grow legs had a motto, “No One Stands Alone.” I wasn’t a part of its development; I don’t know who came up with it, or what debates may have surrounded its selection. What I do know, however, is that it spoke to a deep need of me and my friends: to know and to be known. That slogan has remained with me as sort of a DNA-like implant on my soul: a church should be a place where no one stands alone, whether at a party or in the darkest hour of need.

Yet, still, this is much more easily said then done. We naturally gravitate towards folks we know, folks who have common passions, interests, and hobbies. In isolation, there’s really nothing wrong with this. But the people of God should somehow be different; there should be a constant “intentionality”, or focus, to practically everything we do. Whenever we gather, the radical expression of hospitality should be right there with us as a subtext. There is always an opportunity to be the voice of welcome, the face of hospitality: all you have to do is too look for those who are standing—or sitting—alone. Welcome them into your conversations; find out what their story is, and tell your own.

I am a self-confessed introvert; one of my favorite off-handed comments is basically, “Yeah, but everyone knows that I don’t like people.” This is obviously meant to be humorous, but I know that this is brokenness and sin in my life — I intensely guard “my time”, and am reluctant to engage “the stranger” in hospitality. At the same time, I burn with indignation and conviction when I see people standing alone, staring at the backs of groups of strangers who are engaging in the well-practiced art of exclusion. The church has become much to adept at this, and we need to stop.

In the same spirit of John’s 1st letter (“We love because he first loved us”), we should welcome others because we were first welcomed by God. We have come from being radical outsiders to the very people of God, and now it’s our turn to look with the eyes of the welcoming Savior to find those who are waiting to know us, and to be also known. What if the next time you attended a worship gathering or event at “church”, you took a moment to pray to God, asking him to give you eyes that would recognize the outsider, the lonely? What if you invited those who were sitting by themselves to join your friends? Your family? I think it would start a quiet, radical revolution of love and invitation in our communities.