It was 5:20 PM and a man stopped me on the Roberts Street bridge. I was on the brisk walk from my office to my truck, parked across the river in the $1.75 lot. His girlfriend has passed by first, leaning on the concrete rail to rest her tired body. I nodded my customary hello to her, but she wasn’t looking. I nodded to the man and he smiled, then waved to stop me. He started his speech by saying that he wasn’t homeless or anything, his girlfriend and him just needed some help. 30 cents would do. I had to cut him off to tell him I had no money, which was true. I spent the last of my money on a Father’s Day card. My wallet was empty and I was going to have to go to the bank so I could pay for parking for the rest of the week.

Continue reading The Least of These →

Lately I’ve been realizing how very little we pay attention to the Bible. Who did Jesus hang out with? The prostitutes, the tax collectors, and the lepers, we all answer very smugly, as if we understood. That’s the way I always answer, but the truth is I’ve never actually hung out with the modern day equivalent. I’ve never talked to a prostitute, I’ve never met anyone with HIV, I’ve never even seen cocaine, let alone someone using it. If Jesus were around today I get the feeling he’d be hanging around with these kind of people. I also get the feeling that we understand that conceptually, it’s just that something doesn’t fully click because we don’t do anything about it. I’ve never heard a church announce a weekly “Hooker Hour” where they go wherever the hookers hang out and share the love of Jesus. Maybe that’s a bad example, but very rarely do I see sign up sheets for those activities. I know I’d never sign up.

Then there’s Paul. We ignore him, too. At least Jesus won’t feel lonely that way. Paul talks about marriage and he says it’s perfectly okay to stay single. In fact, he encourages it. Yet what do we all do? Get married. I’m getting married on December 29. Perhaps it’s odd of me to bring this up, since I myself am getting married, but I’m just trying to prove my point. We don’t really do what the Bible says. We read it, we understand it, and we ignore it. Paul says be single. That’s great. Thanks Paul. But no thanks.

What if Jesus came to your church? Of course he wouldn’t come with flowing robes and nail pierced hands. That’d cause quite a scene. He’d show up incognito, haven taken on the form of an innocent looking person. I think he’d come as a child, but only because he’d want to go to Sunday School and make a craft for his dad. He’d laugh with the other children and sit next to the boy nobody likes. He’d lean forward in his chair and his feet wouldn’t touch the ground. He’d be smiling.

Instead of joining the other children for Children’s Church, I think he’d stay for the sermon. He’d sit next to the really old guy–the one you expect to show up under the Sympathy section of the bulletin any week now. Incognito Jesus would plop down next to this old in his blue suit, off-white hair, and big rubbery nose. Incognito Jesus would smile at the old man and say good morning. The old man would smile back and pat little Incognito Jesus on the head. Somehow the old guy would know who it really was.

Why are we so scared? We’re so afraid to admit so many things, or even entertain simple notions. The very inkling that we might be wrong strikes terror in our hearts. Since when do we have all the right answers? Since when do we know it all? It’s funny how often we judge and tell others how the world is, yet we can’t see it for ourselves. Worst of all we whine when things don’t go our way and we’re offended at the slightest thing. Do you think God is ever offended by us? Do you think God stands up there in heaven shaking his head at all the little heathens? Bad heathen. Bad, bad, bad. Do you think God stands up there in heaven smiling at all the little Christians? Good Christian. Good, good, good. We like to make things so simple. We put God in our little box and that’s where he belongs. That’s why we don’t understand when there’s an ounce of the transcendent in something outside the four walls of the church. It’s because God will not be confined to a box. Yet we never understand.

Can you have varying degrees of acceptable modesty? For example, on a Christian college campus is there a certain attire that is considered modest, and an attire that is immodest? And if there is such a standard, does it change? If you travel to a public university will the standard be different? If you travel to a public park will the standard be different? Will the standard be different at the beach? I can’t help but ask these questions after reading some letters to the editor in my college’s newspaper. The letters were dealing with lust and essentially pleading for the women on campus to dress modestly. Aside from the fact that modest is a relative term, how do we deal with the idea that there are varying degrees of acceptable modesty? What you might consider inappropriate attire for a college campus is perfectly reasonable for the beach. Why is that? Perhaps it’s just an issue of practicality and I should just shut up.

I’ve just been struggling with the issue because I don’t think the answer is as easy as we want it to be. Ask the girls to dress modestly and it’s all taken care of. How brave of the guys to step forward and ask such a noble question. But I don’t think it ends there. Frankly, I don’t think it should start there either. Certainly Paul talks in 1 Corinthians 8 about how Christians are not to be stumbling blocks for one another. It doesn’t help guys any if their Christian sisters are running around flaunting themselves. But in Matthew chapter 5 when Jesus claimed that looking at a woman lustfully was committing adultery with her, he told us if our right eye causes us to sin, gouge it out. I don’t think he meant for us to literally gouge our eyes out, but whatever he means, he means for us to do something drastic. Drastic and personal. He doesn’t tell us to attack what our eyes are looking at, he tells us to attack our own eyes. This issue isn’t simply about women dressing modestly. The time will come when you step away from the church and the women won’t dress modestly. What then?

I just want people to think things through a little deeper. Certainly I don’t have all the answers. It would probably do me good to think things through deeper myself. It just seems to me that the initial idea of forcing others to keep us pure is missing the whole point. The problem is personal, and the modesty of others will only get you so far.

Do you have faith? A class discussion today entered the realm of faith and a few people asked why we don’t have the faith Jesus did. For example why don’t we heal people? It was an interesting discussion evoking ideas of courage, love, trust, authority, and the very nature of faith. If we have faith in God why can’t we heal the sick? The discussion took on an interesting twist as we all knew that no one in the room had ever tried to heal anyone. Some people claimed it was a bad example, but I think they were just shying away from it. Healing is quite a remarkable miracle, a tangible display of God’s power. You can’t argue with a miracle like that. At the same time what do you do if nothing happens?

This summer I watched this very event unfold on the streets of Chicago. I was sitting on the steps of the Museum of Broadcasting and these three women, dressed like the had just come from church, were leading a crippled man around, praying and singing. There was a woman on each side of the man, supporting him and half dragging him, half helping him to walk down the sidewalk. The third woman followed behind carrying his crutches. The three women prayed, sang, and encouraged the man to straighten up and walk. The whole time he had this bewildered look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe how crazy these women were–but at the time he had a touch of hope in his face. A tiny glimmer of hope that these Bible quoting women could actually heal him. You could tell he didn’t expect it to happen, but if it did, he would gladly take the help.

A few hours later as I headed back to the train I passed that man on the sidewalk. He was still struggling along with his crutches, and the three church ladies were no where to be found. I don’t quite understand the point of their action. They tried to heal him, and failed. Perhaps they didn’t have enough faith. Perhaps the crippled man lacked faith. Perhaps God simply didn’t want to heal this man. But one thing I do know, those women had a lot more faith than I ever have, and probably ever will.

The April mist sinks to the ground forming tiny dots on the glass, asking why I’m still awake. Contemplating this and considering that, seeing myself with righteous eyes and wondering how I can change the world with my own two hands. Or I could just let them all go, the heathens–a lost cause. But truly it’s a wonder that I’m not the lost cause. Perhaps I am. Perhaps God has given up on me long ago, leaving me to wallow in my own arrogant pride.

I like to think I have the answers. I put up this front, this face fixed in thought, the furled brow and the hand stroking the chin. I’ll raise an eyebrow when I see you stumbling down a path I’ve been down. I know where it goes and someday you’ll undoubtedly come to my conclusion. Until then I’ll just nod and smile and let experience teach you. I’m so smart. But if you really push me, push each thought and action, you’ll see I’m just as hollow as you. If you really push me I’ll cave in, admit I’m not that smart, and throw up my arms in righteous surrender. I may be wrong, but I know when to admit I’m wrong, thus I save face and don’t look quite as foolish as I am.

We like to think we have Jesus all figured out. We like to think ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ was such a simple and easy test. But we really don’t have a clue. We’re as lost as the Pharisees. And when I point this out I’m just as lost. I’m secretly hoping you won’t realize that one of the tables Jesus overturned was mine. You see I was in the bathroom when he came through, saving face once again. We look at Judas and see a man thoroughly given to Satan. That’s what we like to think. But really you are Judas. I am Judas. We kiss the face of Christ, and then walk away. At least Judas realized what he had done and dropped the act. What we do if grace found Judas before the rope? Wouldn’t that be a skeleton in our closet? The grace of God is something I’ll never understand. He would have wrapped his arms around Judas and laughed. Tears would well up in his eyes and he would have thrown his head back shouting to anyone who would hear, “My son has come home.”

That grace is mine as well. Christ wraps his arms around this self-righteous soul and his tears wash it all away.

While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.

Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, “Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.” And they rebuked her harshly.

“Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” (Mark 14:3-9 NIV)

This passage intrigues me. It seems to go against everything we read in the Bible, it makes a declarative statement about what will be told when the gospel is preached, and it seems like no one ever listens to or understands this passage. All through the Bible we see a theme of ‘give to the poor.’ Jesus seemed to echo that theme. He told us it would be hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Jesus told the rich man to go and sell all that he had and follow Jesus. Enter a woman with a jar of expensive perfume. We’ve seen Jesus in action before and we think we know the answer. The woman should have sold the perfume and given it the proceeds to the poor. That’s what Jesus will say! No. He calls her action beautiful.

Continue reading The Woman’s Response to Jesus →

Venomous rhetoric and unfounded claims, simple affirmations without citation. You pull on the heart strings and claim you do good. But you have a hidden agenda, don’t pretend you’re innocent. It boggles my mind the way facts aren’t really facts. My facts and your facts are completely different, and so I throw my arms up in the air. We can’t even get along with our own kind, how are we supposed to change the world?

Christians, of all people, should be taking a visible stand for what is right. Churches, of all places, should be free of stereotypes, racism, sexism, hypocrisy, materialism, pride, and hate. But are they? I don’t think so. How often do we walk into church and an hour later go home unchanged. A once a week service means little to us. Certainly we believe, how dare you question our faith? It’s our action that could use a once over. Are Christians the people you think of when you think of social activists? It seems we’re too content to hide in our churches and mutter about how the world is trying to destroy us. Whose side are we on? I don’t remember signing up for the losing team. The battle is already won, yet we whimper and whine about each little infringement on our rights. We hold up any martyr we can and moan for fair treatment. You want to talk about infringement of rights, what did they do to Jesus? They didn’t just picket Jesus or try to limit his constitutional rights. Who cares if they want to walk all over our rights? Who cares if they pass laws that we don’t like? Our job isn’t to make a wishy-washy Christian nation. Our job is to make Christian disciples. You don’t need a Christian nation to do that, so why don’t we stop trying to legislate our morality and start spreading the word?

For some reason I always think I have the answers. Why is that? I never do. You’d think I’d learn by now. So often I’m the Pharisee. I’m the one trying so hard to be righteous that I forget what it’s all about. I fuss and complain when Jesus doesn’t do the things I want him to. I judge others and somehow I always end up on God’s side of an issue–or rather God is always on my side of the issue. So often we look at the Pharisees in the Bible and think, “Silly Pharisees.” But we just don’t get it. That’s us. So often I think of them as the hypocritical religious leaders and I relish watching Jesus stick it to ’em. But if I’d look a little closer, Jesus is sticking it to me, too. Arrogance and pride are deadly sins (aren’t they all?), and if it happened to the Pharisees, who am I to think it can’t happen to me?