Change...

             Who could have ever thought that by changing a couple of words, the meaning would forever be different?  That’s really all that Jesus did.  He took the stories that were most familiar to his listeners – stories that they had heard all their lives read from scripture – and changed them just a bit, and because of that little change, forever transformed his listeners. 
              He took a simple question from a lawyer “Who is my neighbor?”, told a story, and then re-asked the question, changing it slightly: “Which one acted most neighborly?”
              He took an old story about a man who planted a vineyard, found in Isaiah 5, changed a few words around, and retold it to his listeners (found in Matthew 21).  And as a result, we’ve been changed.  We see ourselves in the story. 
              He began to teach about what life could be like, not harassed by an occupying force from outside, but about the dangers of allowing an occupying force control us from within – sin – and gave us a new hope.  We were being invited into a new reality – the Kingdom of God.  Here.  Now.  In this lifetime.  Step into it, and realize that power that God is offering of redemption, forgiveness, and possibility.
              And then came that night in a room upstairs with his closest friends.  He took the ancient ritual of remembering God’s powerful words of deliverance for the people Israel from bondage in Egypt, how they were to prepare bread quickly, and at the signal, depart.  But again, he changed the words – the bread, he said, was his body.  Broken.  It was as if the remembrance we were being told to hold onto was somehow different this time.  God is doing a new thing through his own sacrifice.  Instead of the non-believers’ first born children being sacrificed, this time it was himself – God’s own first born.  His body broken, like the bread, was what we shall remember from now on.  And that bread, his body, is what brings us wholeness.  Healing.  Life.
              Three days later, after a mockery of a trial on trumped up charges, a horrific beating that even Mel Gibson’s version cannot come close to, and a shameful execution and burial, once again, he has changed the words:  “Death, where is thy victory?  Death, where is thy sting?” Even death cannot hold him!  Nor can death hold us.
              At the garden tomb, by the seashore, on the road to Emmaus, in the upper room that was locked from the inside, Jesus once again speaks – and he changes the reality of the world.  And because of his words, we are forever changed!  We have conquered death through him – and the kingdom is here!  Thanks be to God!  Alleluia!
              See you in Church!

Grace and peace,

Brad

When Hoarding Isn't Just On TV...

           There’s been a recent rash of true-life television shows.  Have you noticed?  “Keeping up with the Kardashians” (I didn’t know they had passed me by), “Flipping Out” (If I had that much money to worry about those things, I’d flip out too), and “Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo” (Uh, I got nothing here…) are just a few. 

            But there is another show that has garnered a lot of interest.  “Hoarders” is about real people who suffer from the addiction of not being able to let go of things.  Newspapers, magazines, food containers, and garbage consume their homes in giant piles.  While it is never their intention to let their homes get into the state they are in, the compulsion is overwhelming, and the paralysis becomes unbearable.  Nothing is discarded, and the piles accumulate.  Watching the show is difficult, because of the pain that is involved with the homeowner, the friends and family who are trying to help, and the uphill battle that is waged.   Over the years as a pastor, I’ve come to know several people who suffer from this disorder.  Their homes would rival any on the show. 

But I’ve also come to know that hoarding isn’t just something that involves magazines, newspapers, and garbage.  Sometimes hoarding involves the inward things that can get so piled up that we cannot see what God is trying to show us.  We can’t see God’s forest for the proverbial trees of our own selfishness.  We stockpile our wants and desires around us like we were trying to build a fortress to defend ourselves from the hurting world around us.  If we just built it thick enough, we might actually not even hear those who are in need crying out for help.

Jesus was confronted by an angry sibling in a crowd one day who demanded that Jesus tell his brother to give him the fair share of the inheritance that was due.  Evidently, there were some family tensions that strained the relationship beyond the normal sibling rivalry.  Jesus responded that one should not put one’s self in a place where greed destroys relationships.  He even told a story about a guy who had suffered the unbearable gift of a bumper crop.  The farmer thought to himself, the only way to enjoy this is to hoard it – to build a bigger and better barn.  Then he could relax and enjoy the rest of his life, living on the excess of one successful year.  But God shows up and demands to have an accounting for all God had blessed him with in his life, and the man was speechless.  Eugene Peterson summed it up this way: “That’s what happens when you fill your barn with Self and not with God.” (Luke 12:13-21, The Message).

Hoarding takes on many different forms.  When we seek to insulate ourselves from the realities of pain and suffering around us, we become hoarders.  When we place more value in the things of this world than in the things of the Kingdom, we become hoarders.  When we cease to feel the same pain that Jesus feels, when we cease to love the same things Jesus loves, when we fail to help someone in need, we become hoarders.  When we fail to see the cross, and count its cost, we become hoarders.

Read again (and pray with me) the words of the Prayer of Confession in our Communion Liturgy:  “Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart.  We have failed to be an obedient church.  We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, we have not loved our neighbors, and we have not heard the cry of the needy.  Forgive us, we pray.  Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.”  (A Service of Word and Table II, UM Hymnal, p. 12.)

May your season of Lent be one that not only humbles, but purifies, cleanses, and restores you into right relationship with the One who came to redeem you. 

See you in church!

Grace and peace,

            Brad