A Holy Week Reflection for March 28, 2013

”I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.
Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” (John 17:20-26)


This morning I received an email from a major department store alerting me to THE COMFORT I DESERVE. It was an ad for pillows and comforters for a bed. They looked very nice. I just didn’t know that I deserved them. I also didn’t know what I had done to deserve such comfort. But the department store people seemed to be convinced that I was a deserving person. They must be very kind.

In Jesus’ prayer in John 17, there isn’t anything about deserving. His prayer is about giving—giving the love of God the Father to the people around him, giving himself to God and to others, giving the oneness that he shares with God to those who will receive it.

He prays not only for those in the room with him, but also for us. He speaks of those “who will believe.” If there is any comfort to be had, I find it knowing that Jesus prayed for all who would come along later, including Paul, Augustine, Teresa, Calvin, Wesley, King, and us.

But is that a comfort we deserve?

No, it is a comfort that results from the generous love of God. And if Jesus’ words are to take root in our hearts, then we are not able to think of deserving—that is, de-serving. We can only think of serving, and doing so in the way of Jesus.

This is such a different prayer than the so-called Lord’s Prayer, the one that Jesus said was to be prayed “this way.” Maybe we are given such a simple prayer for ourselves because, as in John 17, Jesus prays the prayers we cannot find the words to prayer.

It’s a lot more than we deserve.

A Lenten Reflection for March 19, 2013

The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. (John 9:30-38)


It’s fun to read the story of the man born blind. After Jesus heals him, the Pharisees are enraged and want an accounting. The man gives them the facts, but they’re not satisfied.

So he lectures them. And they hate it.

After all, they’re the smart, holy guys and he’s the man who was, probably to them, an uneducated object of God’s wrath. That’s why he was born blind. He was afflicted because of some past generational shenanigan and God decided that someone—how about a newborn baby?—had to pay. How awesome.

I love it that the tables got turned on the Pharisees, but there’s something tragic to the story as well. The man has been, for his entire life, living at the margins of society. Now that he can see for the first time, he has to adjust to a sighted life and find a way to integrate in his context. He’ll need to develop some skills so that he can work. He’ll need to learn how to socialize like his neighbors. And he’ll need to learn how to worship with his community.

Except now, the Pharisees have driven him out. They’ve cut up his synagogue membership card.

How troubling this would be for the man. He could only believe that God had a hand in his healing, a healing that came through that wandering street preacher named Jesus. Having been restored to full humanity by the God he thought had forgotten him, he is now banished by the local religious elite. It doesn’t make sense.

But after the expulsion, Jesus took him in. He invited him into the embrace of faith and the man fell into Jesus’ arms. The Pharisees showed the man the face of the God they preferred—a God to which they felt they had aspired, one that kept his circle of acceptance tight and bounded. Jesus, however, showed the man the real face of God—it was a generous face of love, of healing, of initiated trust.

The man may have been born blind, but he seemed to recognize the real thing when he saw it.

A Lenten Reflection for February 26, 2013

Now there was a royal official whose son lay ill in Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus had come from Judea to Galilee, he went and begged him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. Then Jesus said to him, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.” The official said to him, “Sir, come down before my little boy dies.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your son will live.” The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started on his way. As he was going down, his slaves met him and told him that his child was alive. So he asked them the hour when he began to recover, and they said to him, “Yesterday at one in the afternoon the fever left him.” The father realized that this was the hour when Jesus had said to him, “Your son will live.” So he himself believed, along with his whole household. (John 4:46b-53)


The problem with email is that you can’t hear a person’s tone in the message. Misinterpretations can take place and feelings can get hurt. That’s why emoticons were invented.

It’s too bad that ancient scribes didn’t think of emoticons. I could have used a scriptural emoticon when Jesus said, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.” I’m not entirely sure, but it seems like he’s chastising the royal official, who has come in desperation to ask Jesus to heal his son. In fact, the man does indeed believe Jesus as he heads home, trusting that his son has been made well.

Was there a sad or angry face next to Jesus’ words? I don’t know. Perhaps there was an emoticon of curiosity or even of happiness. Could it be that Jesus saw, in requests for signs and wonders, a recognition that his words had been true, that indeed the kingdom of God was at hand? Weren’t such things signals of a greater reality yet to come, one that had erupted in present time? Maybe longing for signs and wonders was a good thing, and not a sign of spiritual weakness.

I confess that I need the occasional sign and wonder in order to believe. It doesn’t have to be spectacular (although spectacular now and again wouldn’t be so bad); it can be as simple as folks from a church coming together to help a family in need. It can be followers of Jesus giving of their time and money to see to it that impoverished people have clean water to drink, houses to live in, and wheelchairs so they can get around. It can be faithful people gathering each week to serve God in worship, to remember who they are, to express love to one another, and then go out in the power of the Spirit to love and serve God and the world.

Actually, I do get to see these things, and I do believe.