Reflection on Mark 13:1-8

Mark 13:1-8 (NRSV)

1 As [Jesus] came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” 2 Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

 3 When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, 4 “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” 5 Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. 6 Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. 7 When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. 8 For nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.”

Reflection

Births are wonderful: the baby’s first cry ringing out, assuring everyone that everything is just fine; the warmth of the baby on the mother’s chest, an assurance that all is right and well in the world once again; the tears of joy that stream down after the intense anxiety and fear and struggle is finally over.  Births are wonderful. 

I think that Jesus is tugging at us to imagine the birth of the new creation when he talks about the “beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).  Sure, there is nothing great about the “birth pangs” themselves, but the very fact that he brought it up means that he wants our souls to crave what could be, or more to the point, what will be as God’s kingdom arrives.   The new creation is wonderful.  God’s presence with us and in us and through us is wonderful.  Births are wonderful. 

Do you know what is not so wonderful?  Pregnancy.  Take it straight out of the mouth of someone who has never experienced pregnancy firsthand; pregnancies can feel like the end of the world.  “Pastor Jira, you don’t even know the half of it,” you might be saying.  And, you would be right.  But, the half I do know looks like Armageddon. 

Throwing up for a month straight…or more?  Sign me up!  Worrying through sleepless nights, and tears streaming down your face concerning the state of the world that you are choosing to deliver this child into?  Bring it on.  Changes in your body that hurt and make you feel ugly.  No worries, I have always embraced ugliness.  And, the pain; the unimaginable pain!  You are right.  I cannot imagine it. 

Even though I will never experience it myself I still think that it is safe to say that births feel like the beginning of something new and wonderful, but pregnancies feel worse than the end.  “If only the end would come!”

Though I have not experienced the pain and struggle of pregnancy myself, I have an almost daily experience with people’s other pains and struggles.  Just the other day I heard a child express to me the Biblical fear of “wars and rumors of wars,” as she talked about how she runs into her room and closes the door while her mom and dad wage war with one another (Mark 13:7).  “Will they get divorced?” she wonders.  “Will my life fall apart?” she questions.  Young children cannot stop marital wars, no matter how perfect she tries to be around her parents.  No matter what she does, words will be lobbed and anger shot across the room, grazing her very heart, tearing it open.  The pregnancy that must be endured before the new life comes can be brutal.

Jesus taught his disciples that there will be “wars and rumors of wars.”  Jesus never promises that we will not feel pain, nor did he promise that we will never suffer.  But, what Jesus does promise is a new birth after the pain.  “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).

“Do you and grandpa still love each other,” the boy asked his father just a week ago. 

“Of course we do,” the father told his son, but the fact was that the father did not actually know. 

The politics of the nation had seeped insidiously into his relationship with his dad, and as a result, the family had become divided.  “Kingdom against kingdom” started waging war in conversations at the Sunday family meal (Mark 13:8).  One night the political war had become so bad that the desert had been forgotten entirely.  You know it is bad when warm, homemade vanilla pudding has been forgotten on the stove.  It had been weeks since the last family meal, and the father did not know if the war was over.

Jesus taught his disciples that “nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom” (Mark 13:8).  Even further is this scripture, Jesus teaches that families will be divided and will turn against each other (Mark 13:12).  Jesus never promises that our world, or even our families, will be at peace.  But, what Jesus does promise is a new birth after the division. “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).

And, there may not be a famine in the land, but right in our own county we have a significant amount of people who are at risk of not having enough food.  Did you know that more than 6,000 people in Bradford County, that is 1 out of every 10 people in this very county, is food insecure.  One out of every 10 people that you encounter on any given day has not had enough to eat, or has not been able to eat healthily.  It is a famine hidden within plain sight, hidden under faces of pride and embarrassment.  And, this is happening within a nation of plenty.  We have not even talked about the famines that starve the bodies and souls of people in nations of scarcity and the starvation, stemming from the horrors of natural disasters and wars.

Jesus taught his disciples that “there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines” (Mark 13:8).  Jesus never promises that the land will provide abundantly, nor does Jesus promise that that the people will share.

In fact, the Bible teaches us the exact opposite.  After Adam and Eve fail to trust God in the garden, and choose to trust in themselves instead of God, God says that the consequences will be that “in pain” women “shall bring forth children,” and also “cursed is the ground” because of Adam’s failure for; “in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life” (Genesis 3:16-17). 

And, we are no better at trusting God today than we were at the very start of creation.  Even today, when either our personal worlds and the greater world seems to be falling apart, rather than trusting in God, we either trust in our own ability to “fix things,” or we are susceptible to those who arise around us, promising to fix all that is broken.

Jesus warns us: “Beware that no one leads you astray.  Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray” (Mark 13:5-6).  So many people promise that they are the Messiah, even without outright saying it.  So many people seek our devotion and loyalty, promising to save us from out crumbling world.  They are not wrong when they point to the stones of this world being thrown down.  They are not wrong when they point to the sufferings of the people.  But, they cannot save us.  They will suck us dry of our devotion and loyalty, a devotion and loyalty that belongs to God alone.

“Let me take your $50.  I promise to make it grow.  You will see!” the new boyfriend said to the young mother.

“But, I need it to buy formula.  That stuff is not cheap,” she pleaded as she watched the money slip into his pocket.  Why did she leave it out on the dresser?  How could she be so stupid?

“I got this,” he said with an assuring smile, and went out the door.

That evening, when he came back through the front door she asked about the money.

“I still need to buy formula,” she reminded her boyfriend.

“I didn’t get lucky,” he said simply.  “I’m going to bed.”

“Beware that no one leads you astray.  Many will come,” promising to save (Mark 13:5-6).  But, there is only one who can save.

He is the one who finds us despairing as the stones of our lives tumble to the ground and promises us, “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).

The old ways are crumbling apart.  Like stones of a once ancient and remarkable temple being thrown down, the old ways are crumbling apart.  And, that crumbling does bring very real suffering that we can see and feel and experience. 

However, that crumbling is not the last word.  The crumbling and suffering is only a part of the pregnancy.  Because we all know that after the morning sickness and suffering, after the birth pangs, after the painful convulsions, and after the skin tearing pain of pushing; there is a new life that is born, and that new life changes everything.

After suffering on the cross and causing the whole world to go dark, Jesus breaks free from the tomb and is pushed out, bringing new life to the world; new life to you.

I hear your suffering.  I hear your pain.  But, it is only “the beginning of the birth pangs.” 

Now you hear this, your pain and suffering is not the end of your story.  The end of your story is Jesus Christ, the one who gave birth to new life.  The end of your story is resurrection.  The end of your story is a whole new story with Jesus leading the way. 

Just as a young couple, who have just given birth, start a whole new life with their child only after the pain of pregnancy and birth, so too do you start a whole new life, as Jesus throws the stones of your old life to the ground, smashing them and crushing them, and then provides for you a new life full of love and grace and truth; a new life!

Does the collapsing of the old walls of your old life hurt?  Of course.  Jesus never promised that it would not.  But, do not give up hope.  It is only “the beginning of the birth pangs.”  Jesus is giving you a new life of hope, love, grace and purpose.  Do not be surprised when the old walls fall.  Your new life with is just beginning.  And this time around, Jesus is leading the way.

Reflection on Mark 12:38-44

Mark 12:38-44

38 As [Jesus] taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces 39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! 40 They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

41 He sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. 44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

Reflection

They were her last two coins.  The Bible says that the two coins were “all that she had to live on” (Mark 12:44).  After that, what?  Begging?  Death?  Since it was her last two, they might as well go toward something good.  Giving the two coins to the temple meant that they had the potential to help out another poor widow such as herself.  The sound of the two coins thrown into the trumpet-shaped, bronze funnel barely made a sound.  When the rich threw in coins out of their abundance of riches, the clatter would turn heads.  Her offering would not.  No one would notice or remember.  The two dull plunks were her quiet sacrifice.

This widow’s sacrifice reminds me of another widow in the Bible, who was using up the last of her meal and oil to prepare one last meal for her son and herself; as she states in the Bible, “that we may eat it and die” (1 Kings 17:12).  The prophet Elijah asks her to make a small cake that he too may eat.  What is one more person?  It did not matter in the end.  They would all soon starve.  Why not make your last action one of grace?  No one would notice or remember.  The small gift of food was her quiet sacrifice.

The two widows remind me of the mother who knocked on the door of the church, asking for just five dollars so that she could finish buying food for her two children. 

“What about some food for yourself?” I asked. 

“No, no.  The kids are who I care about.  I can eat in a couple of days,” she said, unconsciously scratching her thin arms.  “I get my paycheck in a couple of days.  I will eat then.  I will be fine.  I have the rest of the money for their food and formula.  Five dollars is all I need, if you could help, please?”

She was giving up her last scrap of money for her children, with little concern for herself.  She was giving it all for the sake of two little, beloved children in God’s creation.  No one but me would notice or remember.  It was her quiet sacrifice.

All around the world, there are such people, making the same sort of quiet sacrifices for others’ sakes.  They will never have poems written about them.  Their names will not be remembered.  Most of them gave their last two coins and baked their last cakes without anyone even noticing.  Yet, their small, quiet sacrifices do cause a ripple of goodness that spreads across the waters of life. 

What is most tragic about the widow who gives her last two coins is that the scribe who counts the coins in the box at the end of that bronze funnel and records the amount, could have noticed her plight and offered her some of the funds.  After-all, God does expect God’s people to remember and help the widow and orphan. 

In Deuteronomy 14:28-29 God instructs that, “Every third year you shall bring out the full tithe of your produce for that year, and store it within your towns; the Levites, because they have no allotment or inheritance with you, as well as the resident aliens, the orphans, and the widows in your towns, may come and eat their fill so that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work that you undertake.”  It is that scribe’s job to make certain that happens.  But, it does not.  She is not noticed.

Jesus tells us that those scribes often have other priorities in life, making them blind to those around.  Do not we all?  Jesus says, that the scribes “like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers” (Mark 12:38-40).  

Widows sell their houses to get money for food, and the scribes happily buy them up; they happily devour their land, all in the name of helping out the needy.  But, where does that leave the widows?  Where are they to live without houses or land?

Jesus once preached, “Blessed are the meek (or the unimportant), for they will inherit the land” (Matthew 5:5).  But, in order for those unimportant widows to inherit the land, or at least get it back, someone would need to notice and care.  And, who would possibly notice the sound of two measly little coins?

Actually, someone is there to notice; someone special, who has the eyes of God.  It is this one who embodies Psalm 68:5:

“Father of orphans and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation” (Psalm 68:5).

It is this one who has memorized the call of Isaiah 1:17:

^“Learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Isaiah 1:17).

It is this one who will take notice when this specific law of love has been violated: “You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry…” (Exodus 22:22-23).

“I will surely heed their cry.”  The Bible says that someone did notice. 

Hear the word of the Lord: “[Jesus] sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on” (Mark 12:41-44).

Jesus notices what no one else did.  Jesus notices the widow.  Jesus notices both her generosity and her plight.  Jesus notices.  In a world that does not see and even if it did, does not care, Jesus notices and cares.

We cannot remember a single man or woman who dumped in huge amounts of coins out of their abundance in those ancient days.  We have no stories about them.  But, this widow was noticed by Jesus and now lives on the inherited land that makes up the pages of the Bible.  There are an estimated 7.5 billion Bibles in print, and she is in each and every one of them; all because Jesus notices her and cares.

Jesus is the one who leaves 99 sheep in order to find the one.  Jesus notices and cares.

Jesus is the one who notices a man, blind from birth, and allows him to see.  Jesus heals him.  Jesus notices and cares.

Jesus is the one who notices the crippled woman who is bent over and cannot stand straight.  Jesus heals her.  Jesus notices and cares.

And, in a world where all attention is on leaders vying for power, on the rich movers and shakers, on the well paid athletes and their games, and on the famous entertainers and their craft, Jesus notices a woman putting in two coins, worth almost nothing, and declares that she has put in more than anyone else.  Jesus notices and cares.

If that is true, then Jesus notices and cares for you as well.  Jesus notices when you love and it is not reciprocated.  Jesus notices when you have given your all and it still is not considered enough.  Jesus notices when you have tried hard to change, but others still see you as your old self.  Jesus notices and cares.  Jesus not only notices you, he dies to join you in the grave of insignificance, dying a criminal’s death, and he carries you out of that grave of insignificance, and stands you back up as a child of the Most High God.  Jesus notices and raises you each and every time.

Jesus notices you just as he noticed the widow that day as seen in this excerpt from the poem, “The Widow’s Mites” by Brother Roy from New Hope International Ministries:

“…She passed unnoticed by the stream of visitors in God’s house that ancient day, 
But she did not escape the eyes of Savior as he sat unnoticed and out of the way.

The gifts of the richest men in Jerusalem from memory have faded away,
But Jesus intended that the story of the Widow’s mites would be here to stay.

 

Even though her pockets were empty and her clothing was threadbare,
She withheld not a cent, regretting only that she didn’t have more to share.

 

The story of her sacrifice and devotion around this old world has spread,
Inspiring others to help the needy and to see that the hungry are fed…

 

…She moved through the crowd to cast in her two mites and then silently drew apart,
But more than the two mites she left there, for with them she left [Jesus] her heart.”

Reflection on John 11:32-44

 

John 11:32-44

32 When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34 He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus began to weep. 36 So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” 37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” 43 When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Reflection

Jesus knew.  Jesus knew that he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead before he even arrived on the scene.  The Bible says that “when Jesus heard [about Lazarus’ illness],” “he stayed two days longer in the place where he was” (John 11:4 and 6).  Jesus knew that what was about to happen would be “for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (John 11:4). He knew that Lazarus would die.  He knew that he would raise him again so that we might all believe.  He knew that those gathered around the tomb would hear his prayer to God and that they would trust in him after they saw.  Jesus knew it all.

Yet…

When Mary runs up, kneels down, and accuses Jesus of being too slow in coming to help her brother, his friend, and when she chides, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” Jesus does not defend himself (John 11:32).  Jesus does not say to Mary, “Just calm down woman.  There is nothing to get hysterical about.  Everything is going to be alright.  You will see.”  He says none of those things.  Rather, Jesus lets his dear Mary accuse him to his face.  He lets her break down right in front of him, joining her tears and weeping with the others gathered there.  He does not rebuke her anger, nor does he defend himself against her accusations.

And, it makes me think of the times that I accused the Lord for not getting there in time.  It makes me think of the times that I questioned why there was not healing, but rather there was death.  It makes me think of the times that I broke down, sobbing alone in the car while driving, or weeping in my office with the door closed.  I see my face reflected in Mary’s face as she accuses Jesus, because just as Jesus did not defend himself against her accusations, Jesus also chose not to defend himself against my own.  Jesus chose to simply be there for me, and with me, as I broke apart.  Sometimes, we can do nothing more than be there when someone breaks apart.  Sometimes, simply being there is the best response.

After-all, Jesus knows it all.  He knows how the story ends.  He knew how Lazarus’ story was going to end.

Yet…

When Jesus looks around at the weeping and loud laments, seeing those he loves having their heart torn apart right in front of his eyes, the Bible says Jesus is “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved” (John 11:33).  That is what my Bible says anyway, but those who hear this story in the Greek language, hear that Jesus is “angrily groaning” in his spirit and his usual calmness has been “deeply disturbed” making him “restless.”  Somehow, the death of his friend and the emotional toll that it is taking on all of those he loves completely unsettles Jesus, making him strangely angry and deeply restless. 

And, it makes me think of all of the times, while grieving, that I have become angry at God, and the world, and the slow driver who goes 25 mph in a 40 mph down the golden mile.  Who does that? Do they not know there are people grieving out here?  Speed up!  Are you trying to make us mad? 

Jesus’ angry groans make me think of my shouts to the sky and fists to the air in utter frustration at the senselessness of it all.  Death is senseless.  Death it just takes, and takes, and takes, and does not give.  And, Jesus’ restlessness makes me think of the nights of tossing and turning, unable to find some peace.  And, it makes me think, Jesus gets it.  God gets it.  Jesus is right there, punching his fists into the air out of anger and despair with me.  Knowing the end does not make it any easier.  Jesus knows the end, but it does not make it any easier.  He gets it. 

That is right; Jesus knows the end of the story.  Jesus knows what he is going to do.

Yet…

When Jesus asks, “Where have you laid him?” searching for Lazarus’ resting place, they respond, “Lord, come and see” (John 11:34).  It is so weird.  He hears his own words coming right back at him.  “Come and see.”  These were the words he used to beckon his followers.  These were the words he used to convince people who were lost, searching for life, and light, and truth, to follow him and find that life, light, and truth.  “Come and see.” 

And, now the words are being used to beckon him toward death.  “Come and see pain.” “Come and see decay.”  “Come and see death.”  “Come and see.”  Was all of the beckoning and preaching and convincing all for nothing?  Lazarus cannot come and see anymore!  What good did the coming and seeing do him?

And, it was all too much.  “Jesus began to weep” (John 11:35).  Actual tears run down his face, even though he knows the end of the story.

And, it makes me think that the tears are OK.  The tears that still fill my eyes, years after the death, are fine and good.  It convinces me that the tears are not a sign of weakness, but are rather an expression of love made liquid.  Liquid love ran down Jesus’ face and soaked the ground just as liquid love would pour out of his side and water the earth when Jesus is pierced with a spear after his own death on the cross.  There is something healing about that liquid love that he pours on the world.  And, there is something healing about our tears.  They are a gift.  Notice, that it is only after the tears fall that Jesus is finally ready to do what he knew he was going to do all along.

And, let us not gloss over that too quickly.  It was only after the accusations, and the confusion, and the anger, and the energy draining restlessness, and the all important tears that Jesus is then ready to bring the new life; the resurrection.  All of that stuff had to come first, both for himself, and for those around.

So, if you are still there; if you are still in the accusations, and the confusion, and the anger, and the restlessness and are still consumed by the tears, if you are still in that sort of place, that is fine.  You are exactly where you are supposed to be.  Jesus has been there.  God understands.  And, Jesus’ Spirit is right there with you through it all, taking it all, and holding you through it all.  Jesus will not abandon you in any of it, because he knows the end of the story.

38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” 43 When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” 

(John 11:38-44).

May you too be resurrected from your grief.  May you too be unbound and set free to live your life.  May you too find hope in Jesus’ promise of resurrection; even as you grieve the loss of those who now feast at the heavenly party that has no end, with Jesus Christ, our risen Lord.

Reflection on Romans 3:19-28

Romans 3:19-28

19 Now we know that, whatever the law says, it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world may be held accountable to God. 20 For no human will be justified before him by deeds prescribed by the law, for through the law comes the knowledge of sin.

 21 But now, apart from the law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed and is attested by the Law and the Prophets, 22 the righteousness of God through the faith of Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, 23 since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; 24 they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, 25 whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith. He did this to demonstrate his righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over the sins previously committed; 26 it was to demonstrate at the present time his own righteousness, so that he is righteous and he justifies the one who has the faith of Jesus. 

 27 Then what becomes of boasting? It is excluded. Through what kind of law? That of works? No, rather through the law of faith. 28 For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law. 

 

Reflection

“We hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law” (Romans 3:28).  That phrase was a mind-blowing discovery to Martin Luther, the first voice of the Protestant Reformation.  The idea that a person is made right by trusting in the one who can make things right, Jesus Christ, changed Luther’s life.  Previously, Luther’s relationship with God was one of absolute struggle. 

In his own words, Luther describes his life previous to his discovery: “As a monk I led an irreproachable life. Nevertheless I felt that I was a sinner before God. My conscience was restless, and I could not depend on God being propitiated by my satisfactions [he could not trust that he had gained God’s favor by doing all that God expected]. Not only did I not love, but I actually hated the righteous God who punishes sinners…Thus a furious battle raged within my perplexed conscience…” ("Weimarer Ausgabe" 54. 183-185).

After-all, there is so much pressure on us to be a certain type of person, and to do certain things.  I see the videos my teen watches, instructing her on the right way to shape and blend her makeup.  It is the law of makeup, so that the girls of the world can be acceptable.

I feel the pressures from family and friends to vote the “right” way and support the “right” causes as the election looms.  It is as if there is only one acceptable way to think and vote and do.  It is the law of political alignment, so that the voters of the world will be acceptable to their fellow citizens.

I feel the pressures to do more and be more and do more still, feeling guilty for not doing enough for people and being enough for the right people.  I feel the list of “doing” growing and growing, and I feel myself encouraging others to do the same, as if doing enough will allow any of us to finally be acceptable.

That is the all pervasive law of “up religion.”  “Up religion” tells you that you will only be acceptable and good if you do what is expected.  “Up religion” encourages you to save yourself, make something of yourself; be a better self.  “Up religion” says that you must climb up to finally see God.  “Up religion” requires that instructions be followed precisely and laws be kept.

And, the thing that is so confusing about the laws of “up religion” is that the laws are good.  As Paul says, “we know that, whatever the law says, it speaks to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world may be held accountable to God” (Romans 3:19).  There are ways that makeup is done that makes you look glamorous and there are ways that makeup is done that makes you look like a crazy, cartoon faced Aunt Edna.  Sorry to all of the actual “Aunt Ednas” out there.  I am sure you are all beautiful. 

The laws are good.  God’s expectations of us are good, and our expectations of one another are also often very good, and what we do does affect other people.  The way you vote will have repercussions with the way our society either falters or flourishes.  The laws are good. 

But, the problem with “up religion” is that we put way too much stock in the abundance that the laws promise.  We trust that the laws will actually bring us what is promised.  We trust that the proper makeup will get us the attention that we seek.  Unfortunately, makeup may get someone to look our way, but it cannot get anyone to love us.  At least it has never worked for me. 

The other problem is that we convince ourselves that we will actually be able to accomplish the all that is expected.  We do and do and do, but all of that doing only reveals that we have not done it enough.  How many of you feel as if you have prayed enough?  How many of you feel as if you have loved your neighbor enough?  Praying and loving are absolutely good, but over and over again we look at the law, at the expectations, and all we see reflected back is the face of a failure.  We cannot be made right by following the law because God so often uses the law to make us come to “the knowledge of sin” (Romans 3:20).  The law, the expectations, are like a mirror that reveals us to be failures.

This is where the good news starts to break in.  After years of struggling to keep the law, only to be exposed as weak and a fraud, Luther made the discovery in God’s Word that changed his life.  In his own words, “Then finally God had mercy on me, and I began to understand that the righteousness of God is a gift of God by which a righteous man lives, namely faith, and that sentence: The righteousness of God is revealed in the Gospel, is passive, indicating that the merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written: ‘The righteous shall live by faith.’ Now I felt as though I had been reborn altogether and had entered Paradise” (Ibid. 183-185).

And, this was when Luther discovered the gift of God that had been hidden in plain sight the entire time.  He discovered the gift of “down religion.”  “Down religion” is God’s promise to “come down” to us, to heal us, to feed us, and to save us.  In the very real feet and hands of Jesus Christ, God comes down to make things right again, as a gift.  It is the promise of the cross, where Jesus comes down to the dust through death, only to rise up again and raise us with him. 

The Apostle Paul prays that we will not only see, but grasp with our very lives, like a sinking person grasps a life preserver, this gift of God, convincing us that “since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:23-24).

The Apostle Paul wants us to trust that Jesus loves us first, before we prove anything.  Jesus comes down to find us and save us, searching like a shepherd who loves his lost sheep, searching like the woman who desperately seeks her lost coin, and embracing tightly the son who had wandered away even before he could say, “I’m sorry.” 

In his book, “When Christ Comes,” Max Lucado recounts a true story that came after a horrific earthquake.

“Moments after the deadly tremor ceased, a father raced to an elementary school to save his son. When he arrived, he saw that the building had been leveled. Looking at the mass of stones and rubble, he remembered a promise he had made to his child: ‘No matter what happens, I’ll always be there for you.’

Driven by his own promise, he found the area closest to his son’s room and began to pull back the rocks. Other parents arrived and began sobbing for their children.

'It’s too late,’ they told the man. ‘You know they are dead. You can’t help.’ Even a police officer encouraged him to give up his task.

But the father refused. For eight hours, then sixteen, then thirty-two, thirty-six hours he dug. His hands were raw and his energy gone, but he refused to quit. Finally, after thirty-eight wrenching hours, he pulled back a boulder and heard his son’s voice. He called his boy’s name, ‘Arman! Arman!’ And a voice answered him, ‘Dad, it’s me!’

Then the boy added these priceless words, ‘I told the other kids not to worry. I told them if you were alive, you’d save me, and when you saved me, they’d be saved, too. Because you promised, ‘No matter what, I’ll always be there for you.’”

(https://www.irontontribune.com/2021/05/16/he-has-promised-he-will-always-be-there-for-you/)

Jesus promises to rescue us and make us right.  We are in the rubble.  We cannot possibly get ourselves out.  Whenever we try, another piece of rubble falls down to pin us under.  But, rather than despair, we urge others to trust the promise given to us, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you.”

That is why we, as God’s people, do not trust in ourselves.  We do not trust in our own works or our own accomplishments.  We are not convinced by “up religion” that tells us that we need to do more and be more. 

Rather, as Paul says, “We hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law” (Romans 3:28).  We are people of “down religion” who trust in the one who wants the best for us and who goes to any length to make things right for us once again, even all the way to a cross.  In the cross we see that first and foremost, we are loved by Jesus. 

And, we share that promise of “down religion,” with everyone around us, because we understand to our very core that everyone strives for “up religion.”  The dark corners of this world want to convince us all that it is up to us to do more and be more and save all.  The world tries to convince us to save ourselves and be slaves to the messages of this world.  “Look pretty.”  “Be the best.”  “Find God.”  But, “up religion” forces us to ask the wrong god to save us.  You will recognize this very struggle in the poem, “Stepdad.”

Stepdad

Everything he does, he does to make his father proud. 

 

The ceramic volcano that he made in school,

that he handed over to his father in pride,

was thrown into the corner of his Father’s apartment,

collecting piles of dust inside. 

 

I am his stepdad. 

He doesn’t want me,

but I was there to hold him,

he needed to know someone was there to see. 

 

The time that he devoted at the gym,

gaining an impressive, muscular frame,

was not seen by his father

who decided women’s bodies were more to his gaze. 

 

I am his stepdad. 

He doesn’t want me,

but I was there to spot him as he lifted those weights.

I will be there, because that is what he needs. 

 

The touchdowns and the championship

were all done to make his father talk with pride. 

But, when he stared to the stands, his father was nowhere to be found,

and his tears he had to hide. 

 

Instead, his eyes fell upon his stepdad. 

He doesn’t want me,

but I smiled and raises my thumbs up high anyway,

because the day will come when he will surely see, 

 

that while grieving his father

whose pride he was never able to find,

he will see the dad

that he had the entire time. 

 

But, until that day,

I vow to be at his side,

To show him that he has always been loved,

and has never needed to do anything to gain my pride.

 

Christ has been there the entire time, giving his love.  There is no need to do more or go up. Christ has come down to you.  May Christ’s love for you this entire time, blow your mind, and may he continue to reform your life.