Tuesday, August 22, 2017
The Beloved Gospel
I have been immersing myself lately in the Gospel of John. I didn't plan to do it. It just started happening. It's like deciding to go out for a walk and finding that no matter how hard you try, you cannot make yourself stay on your prescribed path. That is how it has been with the Gospel of John. I might start out dipping into another passage of the Bible, but I keep winding up back in John. I have to wonder if Jesus had the same problem. No matter how how much he loved the other disciples and spent time with them, did he repeatedly find that he ended up hanging out with John? Was his loving nature so absorbing that Jesus enjoyed his association with John more than the others? Is this how the gospel writer gained the moniker "the disciple whom Jesus loved?" Surely Jesus loved all his disciples. So why did John refer to himself as "the beloved disciple?" Perhaps we will not know that until we reach the other side. In the meantime, I will just enjoy immersing myself in the Gospel of John, which I have taken to referring to as the "gospel of love."
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Jesus Wept
The shortest verse in the Bible (John 11:35) fills me with hope. You see, I'm a weeper, and I'm glad to know that Jesus was a weeper too. Perhaps it is merely hormonal. Perhaps it is that as I enter the crone stage of my life, I have learned that the most important things in life revolve around love and connection to others. Perhaps it is because my compassion tank got bigger as my life experiences have gotten more difficult at times. I have experienced times of great sorrow and great pain, which at times has led to deep loneliness. But even those times of deep loneliness eventually turned to an awareness of a great Presence. That Presence wasn't talking. Not even in a still small voice. That Presence was simply there, bearing witness to my suffering. The Presence wasn't trying to hide the pain, discomfort, or despair. The Presence was simply there with every shallow breath, every sharp intake of pain, every excruciating moment of loss. There was no pretense that suffering was easy or "for the best."
I suspect in the midst of his agony on the cross, Jesus felt the acuteness of his suffering. We are told in Matthew 27 that he expressed this feeling of abandonment when he uttered the words, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" This is translated by the gospel writer to mean, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" A short time later, Jesus cried out and "yielded up his spirit." In other words, he let go of his physical being and died. I would like to believe that in those tense moments when those nearby were debating the meaning of his words, Jesus became once again aware of that great Presence, and that is what allowed him to relax into the arms of the awaiting angels, who had come to deliver his spirit to God. I know in my heart that the Presence is always there. I may not always feel it at first, but if I reach out to God, I am always met. Not by a loud, booming voice; sometimes not even a still, small voice. But I am always met nonetheless, by a Presence that lets me know that my suffering doesn't happen in a vacuum. God is always there, bearing witness to the great pain and joys of my life, even when it doesn't feel like it.
I suspect in the midst of his agony on the cross, Jesus felt the acuteness of his suffering. We are told in Matthew 27 that he expressed this feeling of abandonment when he uttered the words, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" This is translated by the gospel writer to mean, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" A short time later, Jesus cried out and "yielded up his spirit." In other words, he let go of his physical being and died. I would like to believe that in those tense moments when those nearby were debating the meaning of his words, Jesus became once again aware of that great Presence, and that is what allowed him to relax into the arms of the awaiting angels, who had come to deliver his spirit to God. I know in my heart that the Presence is always there. I may not always feel it at first, but if I reach out to God, I am always met. Not by a loud, booming voice; sometimes not even a still, small voice. But I am always met nonetheless, by a Presence that lets me know that my suffering doesn't happen in a vacuum. God is always there, bearing witness to the great pain and joys of my life, even when it doesn't feel like it.
What Can I Do for God?
Decades ago, a young politician with big ideas gave a speech. Not everyone appreciated his ideas, but he became one of the most beloved Presidents of the United States. In his inaugural address, John F Kennedy encouraged the citizens of his country, "Ask not what your country can do for you--ask what you can do for your country." It's natural for us to want to know what's in it for us. The higher path is to ask what we can do to help others. To look not for the self-seeking answer, but to look for the answer that brings hope to someone else. As in the national view this is true, so in the spiritual world. Ask not what your God can do for you--ask what you you can do for God. While you have nothing God doesn't have, you have gifts God can use to help others. I'm going to start today, asking what I can do each day for God to encourage others and watching for clues that let me know where God wants me to be and what God needs me to do.
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