IT WASN’T GOD’S WILL THAT JESUS DIED

The Heresy Police, I am certain, will be after me, but here goes: It was not God’s will that Jesus be crucified or killed in any other manner. It is never God’s will that bad things happen to good people, even bad things happen to bad people. In the latter case it is also because no one is bad in God’s eyes. We are all good because we are all children of God and God does not create anything that is not in and of itself inherently good.

That is not to say that we good people, one and all, don’t do some very bad things which can cause some very bad things to happen to others and to ourselves. It is never God’s will that we do such to others or to ourselves. When we do, God laments as much as we do and as do those whom we have hurt by our selfish actions.

But what about Jesus? Don’t the Gospels say that while Jesus was in agony in the garden just before he was arrested and taken off to be crucified that Jesus asked God to do something so that he did not have to undergo what he was about to undergo, but in the next breath say, “your will be done?” Yes, but, again, I don’t believe Jesus said that even though the Gospel writers say he said it.

So why do I say it? For two reasons. First, no one heard what Jesus said. Those closest to him – Peter, James and John – were sound asleep. The others were nowhere near to hear anything he said. Second, and most importantly, that’s what we always say when bad things happen to good people: “It was God’s will.”

Tell the parents of David who died of brain cancer shorty after graduating from high school that that was God’s will. Tell the parents of Nancy, home for Christmas during her freshman year of college who did not wake up because she died of an unknown but congenital heart defect that that was God’s will. Tell the parents of Katie who was killed by a wild animal while the family was on vacation in Africa that her death was God’s will. Tell the parents in Parkland, Orlando, etc., etc., etc., that the killing was God’s will.

It wasn’t, and neither was Jesus death on the cross. Jesus knew, as did Martin Luther King, Jr, as did Gandhi, as did all the prophets before them, that someone sooner or later would kill them. Jesus certainly knew that once the people proclaimed him to be a king as they did on what we call Palm Sunday, his days were numbered. The powers in charge would have to stop this nonsense at once, and they did.

Again, sometimes we know why bad things happen to good people and bad people: we people do some very bad things that hurt ourselves and others. But sometimes, like with David and Nancy and Katie, we do not. What we do know is that it was not God’s will but that God will give us, as God gave to Jesus, as God gave to David’s and Nancy’s and Katie’s parents the grace and strength to move on, never understanding why what happened happened, but somehow in some way to find resurrection and life.

THE FORGOTTEN POOR

Christmas has come and gone. We were all wrapped up in the season in more ways than simply wrapping presents. We remembered all those we love, who are important to us, who are special in some way or another whether we gave them presents or not. And even when we do give loved ones gifts, the truth is none of them need anything we give. They and we already have more than enough. All the while we tend to easily forget about those who do not have enough: the poor.

Why is it that the poor are so often so forgotten? Why does it take a natural disaster to awaken us to the plight of the poor, to that fact that there are so many poor people throughout the world? When it comes to the poor and the needs of the poor, “out of sight, out of mind” seems to be the prevailing philosophy of everyone who is not poor. It seems that if we were not reminded of the poor on a more or less regular basis, we would forget about them altogether.

This lack of concern for the poor is nothing new. It is age old, as old as the world. It seems that every generation has neglected the poor and the downtrodden in their midst. The poor may never have been completely ignored, but they were also never on anyone’s priority list, not now, and it seems, not ever.

And yet, if we read Scripture closely, all of it, the poor are always, always, always, God’s Number One priority. In every generation everywhere God has had as a first concern the care for the poor. The picture of the Last Judgment that Jesus paints in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel is one where the only criterion for entrance into external life is how we treated the poor of the world. Did we treat them well or did we mistreat or even ignore them?

The problem is not that we are so callous that we neglect the poor or even use and abuse the poor. The problem is that we can get so wrapped up in our own lives, often struggling just to makes ends meet, that we don’t even give the poor a second or third thought unless we stand face to face with someone in need. Then and only then do we seem to be shaken out of our own little world to catch a glimpse of the wider world out there. It is a world where poverty and disease run rampant and will continue to do so until and unless those of us who have begin to address the situation to help the have-nots.

The disciples in Jerusalem, for example, wanted to remind Paul that once he set off on his missionary journeys he must not forget about the needs of the poor in Jerusalem where so many of the needy in that part of the world gathered. These disciples knew Paul would be very busy trying to evangelize the gentiles, that his days would be consumed with this mission and that it would be easy for him to forget about the poor simply because his mind was not focused on them. He assured them he would not forget about them.

It is unfortunate that we all need such reminders, that the poor are not foremost in our thoughts and front-burner issues in our lives. Reminders, however, are only as good as the responses we make to them. 

A NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION

It is certainly a fact of life and thus should be a serious concern for our life of faith that we can seek too much pleasure. We can eat too much, drink too much, become so angry or so jealous that we cannot think straight or act sensibly. We can and we do, each one of us, at times in our lives. That does not mean we are gluttons or sexual perverts or anything like that. It simply means that we can go overboard, overindulge, on occasion. We have. We also know the harm even such momentary outbursts can cause others and cause even ourselves.

When we do not maintain some sort of self-control, when we allow our passions and desires to grab hold of us and then gain control over our human appetites, it can be a long and difficult journey back to normalcy. We do not become gluttons, for instance, overnight nor do we become self-controlled in the area of food intake overnight. The road back from perdition is as long as the road to perdition, and we should make no mistake about it. And it is a very difficult road at that.

Just as vice has to be fed to become vicious, so virtue has to be fed to become victorious. Neither happens automatically. It would be wonderful if we never had to worry about our passions taking over and getting the better of us. It would be even more wonderful if a virtuous life were standard operating procedure for each and every human being. But passions being what they are and the pleasure attached to succumbing to them being what it is, virtue is in for a battle even if it is more natural for us to be virtuous than not, which it truly is, child of God that each of is.

In order for us to live a good and godly life, we have to work at it. In order to stay strong when passion rears its head, we have to work at it. It is always easier to give in, which is why we sometimes do. It takes grace and strength to resist those temptations that push us to go too far. Saying “no” to pleasure, God-created pleasure, when that pleasure is misplaced or misused is difficult, even when we know what we are doing is wrong. Such is the nature of what has now become a beast.

We know that the fruit of the Holy Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We know that when our passion to do what we know is wrong kicks in, the fruit of the Spirit can easily take a beating and, often and unfortunately, lose.

We also know that good intentions to live in the Spirit are not enough, especially when they are placed face-to-face with those passions that would turn good into bad. Yes, we have to be intentional about being self-controlled, kind, loving and all the rest. But we also have to be intentional about doing the work necessary to make virtuous living our standard operating procedure, one that flows naturally from us. But even then, we can never let down our guard, never, ever.

Perhaps beginning each day asking the Holy Spirit to help us eat of the Spirit’s fruit will keep us on the straight and narrow that day. If we do so, we will be well fed.

THE NON-SENSE OF THE GOSPEL

Paul reminds us that the gospel is certainly not of human origin (Galatians 1:11). If the gospel were of human origin, it would make much more sense. There would be no hero being killed but rather the hero conquering the world. There would be no miracles as these are beyond human capabilities. There would be straightforward talk and not convoluted advice by way of parables that asked more questions than they answered.

There certainly would not be commands about turning the other cheek, walking the extra mile, having care and concern for those in prison, forgiving always, and on and on. All that may make one kind and caring but it certainly would not be of assistance in making one successful in this world. As Paul would opine later, the gospel is truly foolishness for those who do not believe. In other words: nonsense.

Of course that is also why Paul had a very difficult time preaching that gospel. It was and is not of human origin. No sensible person could make it up and no sensible person could or would believe it. And that was Paul’s constant message. If what he preached was true, that truth had to come directly from God and, even more, Paul himself had to believe that that is from where this gospel proceeded.

Today we receive the gospel message from ordinary human beings, people who have not received the same kind of revelation that Paul did. Nevertheless, like the people to whom Paul was sent to preach, we believe this gospel to be of divine origin even though it has been handed down to us through people just like us. The truth is that the gospel Paul preached makes no more sense today than it did in his day. In other words, once again, nonsense, nonsense, nonsense!

So why do we believe this gospel to be true? Why do we model our lives on the messenger of this gospel? Why do we take his words to be the commandments we use to guide our lives? Why do we believe that what seems like nonsense is not? Why?

The answer is quite simple: we have had a divine revelation no less that the one Paul had. No, we did not see visions or hear God’s voice. Ours came in a much less observable manner. In fact, we probably did not even know that we received a revelation when it was taking place. It was non-sensible. We may not even know when it took place. Unlike Paul, the fact is that most of us do not.

Somewhere in our life’s journey we came to believe in this gospel. That was our divine revelation. That is the moment when we came to believe that all this foolishness is not so foolish after all. In fact, far from being foolish, it makes total sense and it is the way we have chosen to live our lives. Faith is a gift from God, a revelation of God to us that the gospel is true, is believable and must be followed.

Our faith makes sense out of nonsense even though we never sensed when that change came about, understand how or why it happened, but it did and we are thankful. Now to live it each day even when it might seem like nonsense to do so.

YOU MIGHT AS WELL LOVE IT

We visit Arlena’s Mom on a regular basis, every two weeks or less. We do some housework, make sure her meds are taken care of, take her to lunch and do some grocery shopping. Depending on how she feels, there is a trip to the mall that is included, especially is she’s seen an ad for some kind of sale. Even at ninety-five one never has enough clothes or shoes or purses.

The last time we were with her, I stayed around to wait for the people who were coming in from Columbus to install a new rain-protection, gutter-guard system while mother and daughter went shopping. On the way to their various destinations, one of which was to Kroger’s, Arlena’s Mom said, “I really love grocery shopping.” Arlena was somewhat taken aback.

“Really, Mom?” she asked. Her Mom replied: “Well, you have to go grocery shopping so you might as well love it.” Really? Love taking out the garbage, scrubbing the floors, mowing the lawn and all those other chores that go with owning a home? Love going to work? Love going to school? Love cleaning your room or doing homework? No matter how old or how young there are always demands on us that we would rather not fulfill but have to and, at the same time, we should love doing?

Well, yes. If we look upon them as simply drudge work, we will hardly ever do them well or certainly not as well as we could or should. If our heart is not into what we are doing, we are likely to make a mess of it. Half-heated attempts are better not begun than begun at all. We all know that from first-hand experience. Yet we still go through life half-heartedly doing what needs our full attention if not love.

What would happen if we actually looked forward to doing those things that we think as drudgery, whatever they may be? What if we would put heart and soul into it? Whistle while we work, as the old song has it? Whenever what we are doing becomes something we look forward to, even as mundane as scrubbing the floor, it makes what we are doing so much easier and we’ll even do a better job.

It’s all a mindset, of course. Scrubbing floors will never be on par with relaxing on the beach. Nor should it. My wife has a Honey-Do List for me on the counter most every day. I get pleasure out of crossing of each chore as it is completed. I am even getting to the point of looking forward to see what she has next in mind for me to do. I have not yet gotten to the place where I can say that I love doing what is on the list.

That will take time. I suspect it took Arlena’s Mom quite a while before she came to love grocery shopping but she is there and that’s what matters. Changing our mindset, changing the way we look at life, does take time. Imagine what our life would be if we learned to love everything we do! Yes, imagine!

CHILDREN UNDER 12 AND ADULTS OVER 60

My wife and I spent a few days in the Allegheny Mountains about two hours from us. (I know, calling them “mountains” to our friends in Spokane would give them a hardy chuckle. Having lived there, I know what a real mountain looks like.) It was good to just get away, really relax, take some long walks, breathe in the fresh “mountain” air. We could have stayed longer but our walking trail around the golf course was interrupted by the sound of gun shots from deer hunters in the nearby woods. But it was enough.

On one of our walks we trekked around Little Flipper Lake, a place set aside for fishing for, as the sign read, “Children under 12 and adults over 60.” Fifteen years ago when I was 60 I probably would have taken that as sort of a slap in the face. I wasn’t decrepit, slow of foot, needed help in any way. And even though my body is slower to heal, when sitting too long causes me to groan when I stand up, when I am slower of foot because of three hip surgeries, I now take that sign as a compliment.

I am not too old to play. And, in fact, maybe that is what part of aging is to be about: playing, especially playing with children under 12, being a grandparent to your own grandchildren if they don’t live too far away and being a stand-in grandparent to those whose grandparents are too far away or who have none. I know one of the privileges I missed growing up was not having a grandparent to play with me.

I survived, of course, because I had great parenting. But grandparents, real or substitute, are special. Ask any grandchild. Our youngest, Carter, thinks I hung the moon. But then, the feeling is mutual. Being with children under 12 keeps us young. They also open our eyes to realities we have often shut them to as we grow older. For Carter, who is three, the world is wonderful. Everything is interesting and he can’t get enough of it.

Even more so, everyone is equal. Carter’s daycare class is filled with kids of all races and mixed races. He doesn’t see color. He sees someone just like him: a kid to get to know, to play with, to learn with and learn from and even to do some teaching himself. The only way Carter will think he is or they are different is if his parents tell him so, and they will not, that is for certain.

We were all that way once. We did not recognize differences or, if we did, we didn’t think they mattered very much. We knew our parent’s car was different from the car our friend’s parents drove, but a car was a car. Differences didn’t matter. They still don’t even though, sadly, we, as a nation and world, seem to think and act as if they do, much to our sadness and loss, a very real loss.

That sign at Little Flipper Lake made me smile. It also made me thankful that no matter how old we get, no matter how much our steps slow or our muscles weaken, we have a real and important place in this world. We always have even though we sometime lose that place. And, lest we forget, so do children under 12. They have so much to re-teach us, lessons we have forgotten, lessons this world needs to re-learn and put back into practice. Thanks, Carter, for your continual reminder.

SHALL WE DANCE?

Glad you asked. Wish I could. But I have two left feet. I took dance lessons once, back in fifth and sixth grade. They were held in the evenings at the public school I attended. In hindsight, I think there were two reasons why I took the lessons. First, all my buddies did. Second, it was a chance to dance with Myrtle Lou Fritz, my and all my buddies' heartthrob back in elementary school.

I was half successful. I never really learned how to dance -- anyone can learn the "box step." But I did get to dance with Myrtle Lou. Made my year. I wonder what ever happened to her. What happened to me is that I never got any better. So when on those rare, very rare, occasions when my wife and I dance, I move slowly and try not to step on her feet. If the tempo speeds up, I sit.

There are times, however, when I don't have a choice, when I can't sit this one out, when I have to get out on the floor and do my best, hoping I don't make a complete fool of myself. Those are the times when I have to be part of the dance of life, if you will. Actually, I, we, do have a choice. We can refuse to dance. We can sit this one out if we so choose, for the choice is always ours. No one can make us join the dance.

           

A church, a Christian community, can be likened, in a way, to a dance. And as Christians, both as individuals and as a community/church, we are asked to dance all the time. Even more, we ask others to dance with us, or certainly should. We are to reach out a hand and reach for theirs and ask, "Shall we dance?" At that point it is out of our hands for the offer can be refused or accepted.

There are many reasons why we turn down the offer to dance or are turned down ourselves. Sometimes the reason is that we believe we have to know all the steps before we can get out onto the floor. Sometimes we refuse because we are afraid to make a mistake. Sometimes we refuse simply because we are stubborn or lazy or both. The reasons, the excuses are many and almost always seem valid.

Forming and shaping Christian community, be that community a family (like yours and mine), a church (like the one of which we are a member) or The Church (like The Episcopal Church), involves risk. It involves getting out onto the dance floor and knowing ahead of time that we may step on someone's toes; that we may trip, stumble and even fall.

It also involves sharing and learning, humility and patience, every human emotion. And it is work. And it takes practice. Before the dance instructor allowed us to pair up, we had to practice the step over and over and over again until we got it right. It was a pain, but I was thankful. God forbid I would step on Myrtle Lou’s delicate toes! But it was worth it.

So, too, for us in the dance of life. If we are willing to take the risk, in the end, it is worth it. It always is.

Shall we dance? Why not?