Do This in Remembrance of Me

The drink offering was a companion offering to the Grain (and Burnt) offering. This was as if they were offering a meal to God. In a meal, the drink, the beverage that is served with the meal, is intended to aid in consumption and digestion. We drink while we eat to "grease the gears" so to speak, but it's the food that we're interested in because it's the food that gives us the most sustenance, the most nutrients.

Jesus talks about these offerings with his disciples in the upper room. He likens his body to the bread, or grain offering, and his blood to a drink offering. Now this is odd, considering that we think of His blood as the central piece of the Christian story, and He compares it to an adjunct offering.

What does this mean? Could it be that the Blood he shed isn't what he wants us to focus on? It's His body that he compares to the grain offering. What if that's what he wants us to see? What if it's not about the blood, not about the salvation (though our salvation is vital to what he calls us to do), but the breaking of his body that is the point?

What if the Blood of our Salvation is just meant to "grease the gears"? But grease the gears to do what? What does Jesus say in the upper room that night? He tells his disciples that the bread represents his body, broken for them, and the wine represents His blood, poured out for them (grain offering and its drink offering), and then he gives a command. "Do this in remembrance of me." What are we to do? He just dipped some bread into some wine... is that what he means? Perhaps... That's what he just did, but what was he just talking about? He was talking about pouring himself out, breaking himself open for others.

Jesus was notorious for talking about several things at once, surface level things and their deeper hidden-meaning kind of counterparts. Is there anything in this story that should make us think this moment in the upper room is any different? What is it that Jesus is saying? Of course, he's telling us to observe the ceremony that they shared in the upper room, but there's so much more just underneath the surface. As he's talking about breaking himself open and pouring himself out, he tells us to "Do this in remembrance of me". He's telling us that we are to be the bread and the wine, that we are the Eucharist. We are to be the grain offering and drink offering for others. We are to be Jesus to those around us.

To take a page from Rob Bell, "Over and over God speaks of the widow, the orphan, and the refugee. This is how you remember God: you bless those who need it the most in the same way that God blessed you when you needed it most."

Just like God came alongside you when you were at your worst and lifted you up, so to you are to come alongside others when they are at their worst. When you see others at the point of desperation and without hope, you are to go to them and stand beside them, letting them know that they are not alone, that they are loved, just like God came to you when you were in that exact same place.

We don't remember God with a piece of bread and a sip of wine. We remember God with our entire lives.

No Big Deal(s)

Mother Teresa once said "We can do no great things, just small things with great love. It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it." As I read this, I understand it completely because this was one of the main themes of Jesus' ministry when He was in the world, but at the some time this concept seems to me completely foreign. The culture in which we live values production, it values efficiency, it values quantity. In a culture like that, love tends to take a back seat and numbers, how much we do, how much we make, how many we reach, become the driving force behind much of what we do. Especially, I would argue, in the one place in which we would do well not to hold this mentality, the Church.

Before I begin, I need to say that This is a difficult subject for me to write on, mainly because it is so foreign to me, and because of that, I'm not real sure what a wholly love-driven culture, or even a love-driven church would look like. Despite this shortfall, I'm going to do my best and posit what thoughts I do have on the subject (most of which come from the book The Irresistible Revolution written by Shane Claiborne).

Immediately as I read the above quote, the passage in the Gospel of John comes to mind where Jesus says "Truly, Truly I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do" (John 14:12). It seams as though Jesus is saying just the opposite of Mother Teresa. But because the Kingdom of God is an upside down kingdom (a nearly complete inverse of the kingdoms of the world), we must take a closer look at this statement of Jesus.

Let's begin by looking at a few of the things that Jesus did, things that could be viewed as great. In Mark 5:22-23,35-42, Jesus hears the plea of Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, to come and heal his daughter. By the time Jesus gets to his daughter, she has apparently died. But Jesus, being Jesus, goes to her anyway and raises her from the dead. Amazing! You might have noticed that in the scripture reference there is a significant gap (11 verses missing). That's because right in the middle of going to heal Jairus' daughter, he is interrupted by a woman who had been suffering for 12 years. She had a discharge of blood it says in Mark. According to Jewish law, that basically means she was isolated, cast out of the city, out of community with other Jews, and not allowed in any part of the temple, effectively separating her from God. With just a touch of Jesus' clothing, she was made well. Stopping, Jesus turns and affirms the woman's faith, all the while Jairus daughter is busy dying. Wow! Later, in Mark 8, Jesus is teaching and ministering to a great multitude of people and it's getting late. Jesus tells His disciples to feed them. Feeding 4,000 people itself is no simple task (a great feat in itself). But Jesus does it with only five loaves of bread and two fish. That's pretty great if you ask me. Then, in Mark 10, as Jesus is leaving Jericho, he stops and heals a blind man (that's no small feat either!). Then, to take the cake, in John 11, Jesus' good friend Lazarus dies, and after FOUR DAYS of being buried, he resurrects Lazarus, bringing him back from the dead! If that's not great, I don't know what is!

So these few things that Jesus does are pretty great, pretty spectacular things. And He says we will do even greater things than these!? What's up Momma T? What do you mean "We can do no great things"?

Mother Teresa understood something very important about the nature of the work Jesus called us to, and about the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God, as I said earlier, is an upside down kingdom. She understood this, but more importantly, Jesus LIVED this. So if we are to begin to understand what Jesus is saying, we need to begin looking at his life and teaching not with the understanding we have of this world or the eyes we've learned to look through from this life, but with the Kingdom eyes that Jesus had, and that we will have once we understand what Jesus is up to. This is the problem that the disciples ran into time and time again, and something that continually frustrated Jesus.

Let's take another look at those same miracles, but through the lens of the Kingdom of God (as best we can). In Mark 5, it says that Jesus was with a great crowd when Jairus came to him and begged him to come heal his daughter. Jesus left this great crowd of people that he was no doubt teaching and ministering to, to go help out one man. Jairus was at the point of desperation to come and beg Jesus, the man the priests and Pharisees eventually killed, to come help his sick daughter. Jesus didn't leave the many to help the one just to show off his God powers, to be a spectacle. No, Jesus did this because he felt Jairus' desperation and in helping him, Jesus loved him. No other reason was necessary. Out of love Jesus went to Jairus daughter. Then, on the way, His love quest was interrupted by another person who was at the point of desperation. In turning to affirm the bleeding woman's faith, instead of condemning her for fouling all the people around her, Jesus loved her. There's no greater reason for his display of power. Love. That's it. So much love, in fact, that he delayed his mission for another desperate soul, allowing Jairus' daughter to slip from life into death. It's love. All of it. Then Jesus feeds 4,000 people. This one is a bit easier to see with Kingdom eyes because Jesus states his reasoning plainly. he says "I have compassion on the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat." Jesus doesn't multiply the loaves and fish for a show of magnificence, He does it because the people are hungry. He fed them. That's it. When he was leaving Jericho, a blind beggar named Bartimeaus heard that it was Jesus that was passing by, which gave him a sliver of hope, so he began calling out "have mercy on me!" Jesus, hearing this, even among people rebuking Bartimeaus, called him over. Instead of immediately healing his eyes, he asked him, "What do you want me to do for you?". Jesus didn't just do what was sensational or spectacular, he was concerned about what this man wanted. And then, upon Bartimeaus expressing his desire to see again, Jesus restored his sight. Jesus wasn't interested in showing off. He was interested in loving Bartimeaus by doing what he asked. If he had wanted a pet duck, Jesus would have went and found a duck. His answer to Jesus' question didn't matter, Jesus would have done whatever he said because He loved him. Again, Love. That's it. And then there's Lazarus. Oh man! If this isn't love, I don't know what is! This whole story takes 44 verses to unfold. Basically, it begins with Jesus hearing that a close family friend (close enough to be a family member) is sick and at the point of death. He wraps up what he is doing and goes back to Lazarus' town, where the people there were trying to kill him, to help his friend. As he's leaving, he basically tells his disciples that Lazarus has died and he's going to raise him up again. When He gets there, He finds that Lazarus had been entombed for four days, and his family was grieving his death. He tells Lazarus' sister that he will live again, and asks to be taken to his tomb. Up to this point, Jesus has been able to hold his grief in, but when he sees the tomb, he breaks down. The shortest verse in the Bible: John 11:35 "Jesus Wept." he feels the grief of those around him piled on top of his own. He then proceeds to raise Lazarus and call him out of the tomb. This miracle undoubtedly showed many things about Jesus, such as demonstrate his authority over death and, as he says in 11:4, glorifies the son of God, but the main reason he did it I would argue is because he loved deeply both Lazarus and his family. Love. That's it.

Now that we've looked a bit closer at these miracles to discover a common underlying reason for them all, lets take a couple steps back and look at the bigger picture just to drive the point home. In all these miracles, Jesus does something to or with these people to help or improve their life right where they were, right when they were. But that's not the point. What he did is not as important as why he did it. Look at it in a long term perspective, an eternal perspective (the Kingdom perspective). He healed Jairus daughter and the woman's sickness. It's almost certain that in the course of their lives they got sick again. He fed the crowd that was with him; they got hungry again. He restored the sight of Bartimeaus. It's a sensible assumption that as he aged, his sight once again began to give out. He resurrected Lazarus from the dead (hardly an insignificant act); he died again. All the things He did were ultimately temporary and didn't last. Only one thing stayed with each of these people Jesus helped: the love of Christ. He loved them. Even when sickness and hunger return, when sight fails, when death once again approaches, the love that Jesus showed is still there, is still felt. THIS is what Mother Teresa understood.

So in a culture that worships at the alter of productivity and efficiency, what are we to do with this? How do we work to show the upside down kingdom of Love within a culture that only understands numbers? We ignore the numbers. For us, the numbers should mean very little. Whether we help one person or one thousand people, if we do not make the love of Christ manifest to them, it means nothing. Jesus understood this very well. There was a time when Jesus' disciples came to get him because all the people in the village had brought their sick out to be healed, and he told his disciples that that they were moving on to the next city. Even though there were still people there that hadn't been healed, his Love was already there. Healing the sick, as we discovered, is a temporary thing. There were cities where Jesus had not yet been that did not yet know the love of Christ.

Just like the mustard plant (which was considered a weed) just needs one tiny seed to spread throughout the entire garden, so too love just needs one small foothold to spread throughout a community... throughout the world.

So we indeed can do no great things. The things that appear great in this world, ultimately have little significance. What has very great significance is the small things that we do to convey and spread the love of Christ. To someone who needs a friend, stopping by to chat is far greater than a new car. To someone in desperate need of a car, helping them get a car will be far greater than stopping by to chat. Numbers don't matter. It's the love behind what we do that makes all the difference, in this world and the next.

"We can do no great thing, only small things with great love. It's not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it."

A Sculpted Heart

After saying yet one more good-bye to a treasured friend moving into a new season of life and out of my own, I find myself thinking again on the significance of community and what it does for a person. I can't say that good-byes are fun, neither can I say they are easy, but one thing that I am certain of is that they leave a mark.

After this particular good-bye, I feel like I've been able to put a finger on something that I've felt in every good-bye but haven't been able to articulate. And it's this: No matter who the friend, how close I become to them, or how deep a love I have for them, I inevitably give them a piece of my heart and I get a piece of theirs. This is why a good-bye is such a hard thing. There is a piece of my heart in this person, and they are leaving with it; taking a piece of me that I'll not get back.

At first thought of this, I was startled to find that I am loosing bits of my heart here and there. I thought that I should be saving those pieces or something, saving them for God, or my future wife, or kids, or something big like that. But then I realized something important. With every piece that's taken from me, I become someone a bit different each time. With every chip, my heart takes on a new shape. This, in turn, slowly sculpts me into the person who I will be, and has thus far made me the person I am today.

Relationships, loves, friendships, crushes, all of these social connections are God's tools that He uses to sculpt us into the person whom we will become. Michelangelo's David wasn't poured into a mold, it was carved out of a solid piece of marble. If little pieces (and very big pieces) had not been chipped away, it would still remain just a rock. But because it lost bits of itself, bits of what it once was, it is now a timeless masterpiece.

My heart is much the same. If I refuse to let go of pieces to those who would take them, I will remain the same person who I am today, not changing, not growing, not being refined into something more, but just living, just being. By allowing myself to feel the pain and grief of every good-bye, the sorrow of watching a piece of myself leave with someone I love, I allow my heart to be sculpted into something that will be unique and all the more beautiful with every loss.

Good-byes are hard, and they are sad, and they are most definitely painful...

But they are good.

Untitled Reflection #26

I find myself at the end of a calm summer in a college town, facing the imminent return of the students and the subsequent bustle that accompanies them. In my little corner of Manhattan, home to Kansas State University, I'm watching this transformation take place. As the coffee houses fill up again and the roads once more become a bit more dangerous, I feel my mind fill with anticipation. In my spirit I feel a reinvigoration, and in my heart an excitement grows. But why?

I suppose it could be the prospect of facing the unknown. The tension of not knowing who I will meet if I take a stroll across town, mingling with the possibility of getting to know new and interesting people. It could be... But I don't think that's it. I've been thinking about this, and I think I've discovered where this feeling welling up inside me is coming from. Simply put, it's life. It's the life that is beginning to happen around me.

As students come back into Manhattan and repopulate the houses and apartment complexes that have been sitting empty all summer in a calm silence, they bring with them an esprit air, an atmosphere of intelligence and independence, and occasionally one of hilarious and sometimes hazardous idiocy. There comes with returning students an excitement that seems to hang in the air.

The new freshmen coming to college for the first time leaving their parents behind and beginning a new chapter that will preface the story of their lives in the "real world". The returning student meeting friends after a summer apart. The fraternities and their inhabitants filling the air with the smell of burning charcoal, seared meat, beer, and the occasional obscenity, and their female counterparts preparing to judge and indoctrinate brand new sorority sisters into the culture of consumer fashion. And, of course, the lawn parties dotting the lawns of every street, letting loose the sounds of clanking washers and loud music while brandishing signs that say things like "You honk, We drink". All these things, these people just doing what they will, combines to form the strange and unique experience that is life in a college town. Life beginning to happen all around me creates a sort of energy that reaches into my being and plucks a string that resonates with the life that is simultaneously happening within me.

I'm part of this dance. I'm the non-student, watching all this happen from the outside with a smile, remembering that I was once on the inside of it all. I was once the new freshman, I was once the dorm-dweller rushing through the madness of move-in day, I was once a contributor to the chaotic ballet that is college life. I've put in my time and I've had my fun. I'm now content watching it from the outside while composing my own new and unique part of this never ending dance called life.

Moving forward, Loving Back

Fractured and broken souls
Finding comfort, finding reprieve
In the jagged cracks and holes
Of the broken souls of others.

Together we come, and together grow
We become one, as though we are now
Together, broken... but together whole.
Our broken pieces rest in the light.

We grow close, we become one.
And then, as it does, life moves on.
We now come to a fork in our road.
Your ways not mine, our way is gone.

Though time has come for our ways to part
souls once connected will always find love.
A distance between and a world away,
Our bond is solid, tethered heart to heart.

The time has come for each to ask
Our paths diverge... where to now?
We find comfort in the broken souls,
Of each, our broken past.

TRUST

As I sit in the black cold that surrounds me,
I hear a voice calling, faint and dull out of the darkness.
"Do you trust me?"
I continue to sit, paying no mind to the call.
The black gets deeper and the cold is growing.
I hear again. "Do you trust me?"

"Who are you?" I ask, to which there is no reply
So I sit, nowhere to go, nothing to see, nothing to say
nothing to feel but the cold that's killing me.
"Do you trust me?" once again calls from the void.
"Who are you?" I ask again, to which there is no reply
"Get up and walk toward me" the voice calls.

It's dark and cold, I can't see anything.
I don't even know where I am.
Who knows what will happen should I move.
"I can't see what's in front of me." I say to the voice.
"Do you trust me?" the voice calls again.

My warmth is waning as the cold begins to seep into my being.
The darkness begins to suffocate me as I ponder the voice.
If I move, there's no telling what will happen to me.
But if I stay here, I will be consumed by the darkness.
I stand up.

My heart races as I struggle against the decision before me.
If I move, there's a chance I could perish.
If I stay here, I will live until the darkness consumes me.
In my mind I'm flying as I hold my breath.
I make the decision and take a step.

I'm still alive.
The frigid darkness is still engulfing me.
"Come toward me" the voice calls out.
"Who are you?" I ask again, this time finding a reply.
"I... am"

"You are what?" I ask.
"Do you trust me?" the voice asks again.
The darkness surrounding me is still growing colder and deeper.
"I don't know." I say, standing, shivering in the dark.
"Come toward me" the voice says again.

My heart begins to beat as I take another step.
I move forward as my foot finds more solid ground.
I take another step, and another, and another.
"Do you trust me?" the voice calls out again.
"I don't know" I say again.

One foot after another, I walk toward the voice.
The darkness is becoming unbearable.
The cold is sucking all the warmth out of me.
I can't breathe.
Out of desperation I begin to run.

"Do you trust me?" the voice is louder this time.
My heart is pounding as I struggle for breath.
I can feel my life beginning to drain.
I can't run fast enough to escape the darkness.
My body is beginning to go numb.

I'm running as fast and hard as I can.
I use the last of my strength as my legs buckle and I fall to the ground.
I'm gasping for air, but there is none.
"Do you trust me?" the voice calls again, louder than before.
With my last breath I scream, "Yes!"

My lungs are filled with air as I heave.
I can breathe!
"Who are you?" I shout, panting with deep heavy breaths.
"Look, and see" the voice says.
I lift my head and look toward the voice.

In the darkness I can scarcely make out a faint glow.
"Come toward me" the voice says again.
I rise to my feet, and with the hope of light I begin to run.
My breathing now comes easily as I run.
The cold still surrounds me, but light is ahead of me.

I run faster and faster.
I get closer to the light, the cold begins to subside.
I can feel a warmth emanating from the light.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes! Yes!" I shout as I run

I am close, I can make out a figure.
As I come into the light, I see my God, whom I had forgotten long ago.
"Come to me" He says, this time unmuffled and clear.
I run into his arms, into his firm embrace
"I'm sorry" I cry, weeping into his shoulder.

This is Beauty

A single note drifts through the cool night air

It resinates wih calm and soothing bravdado as it caresses my ear

As my mind swoons underneath it's touch, I embrace the sensation

I choose to loose myself in the air of the moment as my soul is liberated

This is beauty

Governing Beauty

Today as I was listening to the 44th presidential inauguration, I was struck by the beauty of the democratic system that is the United States Government. The beauty that I speak of manifests itself in its ability to change hands in an eloquent and graceful dance that is the presidential inauguration. This was beautifully illustrated in today's events.

Before I unveil this illustration, let me first draw a backdrop to frame it, for just as a color by itself is just a color, however beautiful it may be, becomes a thing to be valued only when it is put into the context of a painting. All around the world there are as many different forms of government as there are countries for them to govern. A large majority of these governments do not handle transfer of power gracefully. There are precious few that have learned to make it work, but for the rest, a transfer of power is generally accompanied by a military or political coup, a civil war, or a conflict of some flavor or another, major or minor. That being said, let me present the beauty that is the United States Government.

At every presidential inauguration, the president takes the oath of office at exactly 12:00 noon because that is when the prior president's term ends and the president-elect's term begins; that's when the executive power is legally transferred. At the 2009 inauguration, in between the vice presidential oath of office (taken by former senator Joseph Biden) and the presidential oath of office (taken by the former senator and president-elect Barrack Obama), there was to be an arrangement played composed by John Williams especially for this occasion called "Air and Simple Gifts" . Playing this piece was cellist Yo Yo Ma, violinist Itzhak Perlman, clarinetist Anthony McGill, and pianist Gabriella Montero.

As it turns out, the ceremony was slightly behind schedule. Obama wouldn't be sworn in until after the transfer of power had already taken place. However, that slight lag in the schedule allowed for a most beautiful display of the grace and elegance of the United States democratic process.

The quartet began to play. The arrangement by John Williams was a beautiful piece. It began with a slow prolonged violin solo, somewhat somber in tone reflecting the troubled nature of the times. Then Ma came in with the cello and it lightened a bit but still very beautifully captured the air of the time as it was a mix of minor and major strains. Then McGill came in with a light and melodic allusion to "Simple Gifts". The musicians then began playing a variation of "Simple Gifts" as they continued in a cheery yet pensive tone. The piece ended with a confindent set of prolonged chords, capped by a single bassy note held by Ma. Because the ceremony was slightly behind schedule, the musicians were still playing when the clock clicked over to 12:00 noon. In fact they were still in the middle of the piece.

Think about that for moment. That is absolutely beautiful! If you saw the inauguration, you may have felt it yourself. In a world where transfer of power within governments is often accompanied with conflict and often violence, on January 20th, 2009 in the United States of America, the transfer of power occurred to a chorus of inspiring strains of music. While countries around the world war with themselves and plot and plan against their own in order to usher in a new government, we, the United States, do it with beautiful melodies. How absolutely breathtaking is that!

At the end of President Obama's inaugural address, he concluded with the words, "God bless the United States of America." God has blessed the United States of America. His hand has been on us for quite some time. Even though we take the blessings He gives and misuse them, squander them, and even sometimes ignore them completely, He continues to shine His divine light on us. We are a beacon of light in a world so full of darkness. Testimony to this is the fact that our own government can change hands to such a beautiful and eloquent display.

We asked God to bless America. He answered. Our move.