Creeds: And, Jesus…

The Apostles Creed:

“And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord,”

The Nicene Creed:

“We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,
the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, Light from Light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
of one Being with the Father.
Through him all things were made.”

There is no Christianity without him.  The creeds will go on to speak of the things Jesus did, but the introduction to Jesus is quite beautifully stated (simply in the Apostles Creed, and more descriptively in the Nicene Creed) as a reminder to us that we believe in Jesus, first because of who Jesus is.

I cannot help but think of John 1:1-5, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was with God in the beginning.  Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.  In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (NIV).

Jesus is the Word.  As much as I love Scripture, it is only the written communication we have from God.  Jesus is God incarnate, the living, breathing Word, sent to us… to show us what it is to be human, to be loved, to be birthed, and also to be surrendered to creator, as Lord.

Lord is an interesting word, an interesting concept.  To be lord (lowercase l) is to have legitimate power based in heredity or preeminence.  To be Lord (capital L) can only be defined as to be God or Jesus.  It’s intriguing how this echoes, “I am.”  Surely, the Lordship of Jesus carries with it the authority of every other lord, yet there is something different here, however subtle it may be.  Rather than command unquestioning obedience, this Lord brings light and life and then persuades us to follow by the power of prevenient grace.

L.

What Makes a Sacrament?

I had this great podcast interview, this morning, which will post tomorrow.  It’s the first in a series of podcasts covering various sacraments, and the truth is the conversation was so good that we only managed to cover about half of what we intended to talk about.  Less work for me, because that means one transcript is going to stretch for two episodes, but I did want to touch briefly on a foundational sacramental identity issue.  What makes a sacrament?

As Protestants, we insist on three qualities:

Dominical institution:  I actually really hate it when people use this phrase, and I’m about to tell you why (surprised much?).  I don’t like this phrase, because it’s not accessible.  I feel like people use this phrase, because they want to look really smart, and honestly… it’s so great when you know Latin.  I mean that.  There is absolutely no sarcasm here.  I promise.  I love language.  I’m going to learn Latin, too, someday.  But when you say this to the average person; it doesn’t make any sense.  Before we ever begin a conversation about the sacraments, we have lost the ear of the vast majority of people in the entire world.  So here’s the definition, friends: Dominical institution simply means that it is a direct command (and perhaps promise) of Jesus.  Look for the red words in Scripture.  You’ll find it.

Now, I was not even going here, but rabbit trails seem to be the story of my life, lately, and it’s all just coming out of my fingers onto this screen, so here we go…

Sacraments are too important to lose people because we’ve made them feel stupid.  And if you don’t think that’s a real thing, I have a story.  Several months ago, I sat down to dinner with a friend of mine.  We started to talk about life and theology and education, because… let’s be real… that’s mostly what I talk about.  As is often the case with conversations such as these, we began to muse over shared experience and mutual acquaintances in the world of theology, and I don’t know if it’s a curse or what, but more often than not these conversations lead to a single name of a shared friend, and everybody…  I mean everybody says, “Oh wow, I really want to meet him someday…” 

So I was just bracing for my typical response when his name came off her lips and she said, “Oh wow, he really made me feel stupid…”

I’m glad I had not yet taken a drink of my Coke, because I seriously would have spit it all over the restaurant!  This friend of mine—she’s really smart… really educated… top 8.9%.  If somebody made her feel stupid, there’s a problem, and it’s not with her.

And I’m so far down this rabbit trail; I think I fell in a hole, but the point is we have to be more conscientious than this.  The average adult in the United States has a 3^rd-8^th grade reading level.  If we’re making people with graduate level degrees feel stupid, what must we be doing to the general population?

Today was originally about confession, so I’m sorry.  I will use more accessible words.

Oh… goodness… sacraments…

So, the second qualification is that the sacrament must be a means of grace.  Nobody… and I mean nobody… should feel as dumb as me on this one, because I have asked a ridiculous number of questions most often phrased as, “What grace is this?”  That concept is a topic for another day… another blog… another podcast, but it matters deeply, because we have often assigned specific types of grace as worthy of sacramental value, and I don’t think we can ignore our human inclinations in this.  Most often, the grace imparted is salvific (leading to salvation) or communal in nature.  Sacraments tend to embody the grace of God that initiates, transforms, or redeems identity and community of some sort.  So, that’s what you’re looking for.

And third, the sacrament must have an outward sign.  This might be the most subjective of the sacramental attributes, and I have to be honest here; sacramental people (me included) can kind of be snobs about this.  So, if you’re going to fight for more than two sacraments in the Protestant Church or more than seven in the Catholic Church, just be ready… you might have to pay with your orthodoxy card (and your reputation… and the relationships you fought so hard to have, grace and all).  There are definitely some undeniable ones—the water of baptism, the bread and wine (body and blood) of the Eucharist, but there are others that are difficult to sell (I think I live to see another day as a Protestant… maybe).

God makes this grace available to everyone, but I’m afraid we might limit it with our human standards and insistences.  So maybe we could work together to stop that… or to change it?

L.

He is Risen, He is Risen Indeed!

There is something incredible about waking up as the sun rises on Easter morning.  If you know me (even a little bit), you know I am not a morning person… at all…  There is, quite literally, nothing I like about the rising of the sun.  I love the sunset.  I love the darkness.  My family and friends just roll their eyes, shake their heads, and smile when it starts to rain, and the sun goes behind the clouds, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief that it is damp and cold and dreary.  If I’m honest, it’s not that hard for me to sit with the sadness of Holy Week, which is probably one of the reasons I do it so well and preach it so nauseatingly.  Yet, as the sun just barely peeked over the horizon, this morning… this morning… this Easter morning… I instinctively, joyfully woke up.  I arose, because Jesus arose!  This is the best morning for waking up! 

Matthew 28:6-7, “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly…” (NIV).

Interestingly, this is not a morning for sitting with… anything…

When Mary and Mary arrived at the tomb, they probably needed a minute.  I mean, how confusing must it have been?  Even if they remembered Jesus’ words, none of it would have made sense.  Grief is a horrible, wonderful, terrible process.  What is essentially just hours after the brutal death of Jesus, which they observed, grief must still be clouding everything!  They must be numb.  Incredibly, they are going through all the right motions, adhering to all the right customs.  The vast majority of us rally and do these things when tragedy strikes.  But there is an order to things.  A protocol.  A modus operandi. 

What do you do when the body is missing?

Oh, I just realized I could go more ways than I want to with that one… (note to self, follow up).

As I read the resurrection account again, this morning, I stopped to think about how very familiar it is.  To be candid, we need some things in our life like this… some truths we can recall by rote, in the midst of our most heartrending moments, when we can’t make sense of anything.  And we need the angel, too.

As a force of habit, I woke up with the words, “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said…” niggling at the back of my mind.  I’m not sure my eyes had even opened yet.  I surely hadn’t had my morning coffee (still haven’t as of this writing, so forgive me if it isn’t as coherent as I think it is).  It was that foggy instant between being fully asleep and fully awake.  Honestly, I might have still been dreaming.  And even though it’s a passage I have memorized and quoted, I couldn’t for the life of me remember who spoke the words.

Ah… the angel.

Thank goodness the angel was there, speaking truth into the lives of two women who were probably more prepared for another day of death than one of joy.  They had come to rub spices and oils on a rotting corpse.  Thank goodness the angel was able to catch their attention long enough to jog their memories.  And thank goodness the angel had a plan for what happens next!

“Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly…”

And you know… they do it!

The resurrection narrative hangs on these women with red, swollen eyes.  I think they’re able to accomplish the telling, precisely because they know what it is to sit through the pain.  They know we can’t have one without the other.  They’ve lived it (and lived it well). 

Colossians 3:1-3, “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God” (NIV).

And so their lives are inextricably tied to Jesus’ life, once again.  To… his… life!  Because he is alive!

May our lives be tied together, as well.

Psalm 118:24, “The Lord has done it this very day; let us rejoice today and be glad” (NIV).

 
L.

To Say Less

Isaiah 40:6, "A voice says, 'Cry out.'  And I said, 'What shall I cry?'" (NIV)

Today is the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, just in case you needed a quick reminder... or have never heard of such a day... like me.  I'm not 100% sure how we should celebrate this, but a few thoughts from the lectionary passages gave me a clue.

I think we might talk too much about all the wrong things.  If I start beating a dead horse, here, let me know, because I remember posting about similar topics in recent days.  I think we talk too much about what we don't know and, in turn, silence the people whose voices need to be heard.  I think we often mean well when we do this.  We think we are bringing attention to the problems in the world.  We think we are being a part of the solution.  And then we realize that we actually have no idea what the solution is.  We hear the voice saying, "Cry out!"  We cry out.  And then we realize we don't know which words to cry.  This is exceptionally difficult for someone who loves words.

I suppose Zechariah experienced this more profoundly than anyone.  An angel appears to him and foretells the birth of his son, John, but since Zechariah and Elizabeth are old, Zechariah just can't grasp it.  Quite verbally, he cannot believe, so the angel basically says, "Wrong words.  Now you can't talk until someone says the right name."  It's sort of like a childhood game of jinx gone terribly bad.  So when Zechariah has the opportunity to fix this error, some months of silence later, he is quick to do so.  Interestingly, when his mouth is opened again, it's as if he can't stop speaking!  Filled with the Holy Spirit, he gives us these beautiful words of truth:

Luke 1:68-79, "Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has come to his people and redeemed them.  He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago), salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us - to show mercy to our ancestors and to remember his holy covenant, the oath he swore to our father Abraham: to rescue us from the hand of our enemies, and to enable us to serve him without fear in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.  And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace" (NIV).

Well, that's powerful.  These are the kind of words I want.

Something else that was striking, today, were some of the words of David, from Psalm 85.  What stood out to me most is that the Psalm begins with David speaking, requesting things of God (and that's good and right and important), but then, about halfway through, it changes direction when David proclaims that he will listen:

"I will listen to what God the Lord says; he promises peace to his people, his faithful servants - but let them not turn to folly.  Surely his salvation is near those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.  Love and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other.  Faithfulness springs forth from the earth, and righteousness looks down from heaven.  The Lord will indeed give what is good, and our land will yield its harvest.  Righteousness goes before him and prepares the way for his steps" (Psalm 85:8-13).

The words that follow the listening seem to be the ones that matter most.

I wonder how often we allow God to prepare us before we speak.  I wonder how often we are willing to remain quiet for longer than it feels comfortable in order to be certain that when we do speak we will say the right words.  And by "we," of course I mean "me".

John comes to prepare the way for the Lord.  Preparation matters.  Sometimes we are also used in the lives of others to prepare the way.    Once we have done so, there is another hard truth.  John knew it:

"He must become greater; I must become less" (John 3:30, NIV).

To speak less, to be less, these are not the things that people generally pursue.  But OK.  What shall I say?

L.