Reflections on a Good Friday

“Greater love has no one than this:

to lay down one's life for one's friends.”

(John 15:13, NIV)

I have a hard time with Good Friday.  I cannot buy into sanctification through the blood of another . . . that Jesus, hanging on a cross, gives to me new life and new hope . . . that through his actions he wiped the slate clean for me and everyone else . . . that through his blood I am cleansed, redeemed, and made fully acceptable in the eyes of God.  Too often that seems to be the general understanding of Good Friday . . . and, I cannot buy into it.  I cannot buy into it because it is too simplistic and misses the whole point of Jesus’ teachings and life.

To believe this is to take the easy way out.

Now I might be too simplistic in my understanding or interpretation of the whole “gospel” message as shared by Jesus . . . but, I cannot embrace sanctification through the blood of Jesus.  I cannot buy into it because I believe that the crucifixion was not the end result, but the example . . . “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”   In reading the gospels one sometimes gets the feeling that the people chosen to be disciples were dolts . . . not the sharpest knives in the drawer . . . because they were constantly misunderstanding what Jesus was attempting to teach and show them.  In the end, being crucified on a cross . . . laying down one’s life for others . . . becomes the ultimate demonstration of all that he was attempting to teach and show the disciples.  Jesus put his love one the line to show the disciples that to love means going the whole distance for another . . . even to the point of death.  But, as I have stated, this might be too simplistic of an understanding.

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another,” said Jesus (John 13:34, NIV) . . . even to the point of giving up one’s life for another.  These words were spoken in that last meal that Jesus had with his disciples.  What was to unfold in the next twenty-four hours was a demonstration of how far love should go for another . . . an example of the ultimate love for another.   Jesus is not calling for us to step up and take our place on a cross . . . no, Jesus is asking us to love one another as he has loved us, even to the point of laying down our lives for others.  The crucifixion is the supreme example of that love in action . . . Jesus was teaching us until the end.

Again, I am sure that this is too simplistic of an understanding . . . one that my fellow clergy will tear apart and declare me to be a heretic.  Yet, I cannot believe or embrace that it is through the blood that I am saved.  No, I believe that it is the same for me as it was for Jesus . . . it is in the acceptance of wanting to love . . . to love God completely . . . to love others . . . as I love myself and have been loved.  Jesus calls us to love . . . not to the cross.  The cross serves as a visual picture that asks us whether or not we get it.  An outward expression of an inward decision that each of us must make if we are truly to be followers of Jesus.

Sadly, we haven’t gotten it yet.

On this Good Friday . . . as I reflect upon its significance in my own life . . . I weep.  I weep at the foot of the cross because we . . . as God’s children . . . still have not gotten it.  There are still wars.  There are still those who do not have enough to live life in its simplest terms.  There are those who are still hungry . . . dying of starvation in a world that could easily feed all the masses.  There is still meanness and violence towards others.  There is still prejudice.  There are still those who are lonely and lost . . . those who are searching and desiring connection whether it is with others or some higher power.  There are those who are sitting on the outside looking in . . . longing to be acknowledged and welcomed into the circle.  There are those who cannot hear the cries of those who are oppressed . . . those who are persecuted.  It does not take much to look around and see that the world in which we live is having a difficult time understanding and embracing the idea of “love”.

One of the popular sayings among the churches that makes up the denomination that I belong to is: “All are welcome.”  That statement is especially prevalent when it comes to the Lord’s Table where it is emphasized that everyone . . . all . . . are welcomed at the table of Jesus.  The saying is so popular that many of the congregations within the denomination post it on their signs, put it on their publications, and announce it every Sunday morning when Holy Communion is served . . . all are welcome.  It is a great concept . . . that all are welcomed.  When practiced it is an excellent demonstration of inclusive love . . . welcoming love . . . of hospitality.  Yet, I wonder: do we really believe it?  Do we really live it?

Well, in all honesty . . . sometimes we get it right, sometimes we get it wrong, and most of the time we wallow somewhere between to the two.  Because of this I am constantly challenging the congregation I serve . . . a congregation that has embraced the motto of “all are welcome” . . . to really wrestle with what this means.  It means that everyone . . . every stinking, conceivable person . . . has a place at the table and a place in the lives of each of them.  If they are good enough for Jesus, then they should be good enough for the congregation.  Easier said than done.

It is not easy to love.

It is easier to believe that Jesus stepped up and willingly sacrificed himself so that I do not have to worry about it . . . that he spilt his blood so that I wouldn’t have to.  I cannot buy into that belief because I do not think that is what Jesus taught and lived.  What he taught and lived was love . . . an unbelievable, awesome, embracing, and inclusive love that drew everyone in . . . to show us the way.  To show us the way to the Kingdom of God.  Jesus never thought of that kingdom of being “pie in the sky” . . . no, it was a “kingdom” that was possible now in the present moment . . . if people believed, embraced, and lived love as he loved.

But, we don’t get it.

Because we don’t get it we go through the same “song and dance” every year . . . with every generation.  We nail Jesus to the cross and run to the tomb.  What did the angel say?  The angel said that he wasn’t there . . . and, he’s not!  Jesus is not in the tomb.  He is alive.  He is living.  He is living in us . . . and, we become the embodiment of Jesus in the world in which we live because we can love.  That is the message of Easter . . . Jesus lives because we love. 

I am not alone in having a difficult time with Good Friday.  My experience as a pastor in a local congregation is that it is one of the poorest attended services because people just don’t want to deal with the richness of what the day represents in the spiritual journey.  Even though I have a hard time with Good Friday, I appreciate what it represents, what it makes me think about.  It gives me hope . . . not because I am sanctified by the blood, but that I have witnessed the greatest act of love . . . the willingness of another to lay down his life for another.  It gives me hope that I, too, can learn to love in such a way . . . that the world may one day do so also.

Someday . . . we all just might get it.  In the meantime all we can do is reflect . . . and, hope.

Chaos

The clock is ticking . . .

In approximately fifteen hours it begins.  The youngest son and his spouse will be arriving from that community mecca of Mormonism—and, no, they are not Mormons, but exist peacefully in their midst—to kick off the start of the Fourth of July celebration.  Eleven hours later the daughter, her husband, the nearly two-year-old granddaughter, and a little over one week old granddaughter arrive from the nearby big city to join in the festivities of celebrating the nation’s birthday.  Five hours after their arrival will come the son-in-law’s family—mother, father, and two brothers; plus, there will be a good friend of the son’s wife joining us about the same time.  Add into that mix that the oldest son canceled his brief vacation back to the land of Big Red, the number three son looking forward to the big celebration, and the wife and I . . . it beginning to stack up as a natural plan for chaos.  As they say, whenever two or three gather, someone always spills the milk. 

Like the rest of the nation all of us are looking forward to celebrating our independence . . . or at least using that as an excuse for getting together for food, family, and fun.  We are just as patriotic as the next family, but, at the same time, we are also gathering to do some other celebrating.  We are celebrating the youngest son’s birthday while he is here.  We are celebrating the youngest son’s and his lovely spouse’s first wedding anniversary.  Thrown in there will be the celebration of the newest addition to the family—our lovely granddaughter and her presence at the table.  We will also, semi-celebrate the oldest granddaughter’s birthday—which we won’t officially celebrate until later in the month of July.  Plus, we are throwing is a semi-reunion for the daughter-in-law and one of her childhood friends and bridesmaid as she travels up from the Cowboy State to see her best friend.  Are you keeping all of this straight . . . are you beginning to sense ominous clouds of chaos building?

So, there will be fifteen people and three dogs in our house to celebrate the day on the Fourth . . . fifteen people . . . that is eleven more than usual . . . and, they will be in the house for endless hours into the wee hours of the night.  An introvert’s worse nightmare.  Oh, sure, the first few hours will be fine . . . everyone will put on their best faces, exchange pleasantries and small talk, sip beverages, play a few games, and tell the same old stories over and over again.  The pattern is well-established through the generations of all families, everyone knows his or her role . . . it is just how it is.  Yet, somewhere there is a magical nexus that tips towards the dark side . . . and, then things begin to change.

Facial expressions change . . . suddenly there is more rolling of the eyes and other musculature manipulations of the face that express boredom and beyond.  The pleasantries and small talk turn to sarcasm and heated debates . . . especially if politics or the president are mentioned.  Beverages move from the sipping stage to the gulping stage creating less inhibition and the ability to be more mouthy escalates.  The games being played go from the backyard to the places where two or three are gathered together . . . from the realm of physical games to psychological games.  And, the same old stories are told over and over with editorial comments and corrections being added by other players involved in the story.  Feeling get hurt.  Moping begins.  The mood shifts . . . but, everyone attempts to ignore it.  Someone will suggest that a few fireworks be lit . . . nothing like a metaphorical image to express what everyone is feeling.

Chaos?

I am not quite sure, but it feels like it.

Even as an introvert . . . and, since this is actually a gathering of people I love and know well . . . I am looking forward to the gathering.  I am looking forward to seeing my youngest son and his wife as they are two of my favorite people in the whole world . . . even their dog, our granddog, Zoey.  I haven’t seen them for what seems like a long, long time since they live in the Mormon Mecca.  I am looking forward to seeing the daughter and her family . . . I really like my son-in-law . . . and, I especially like my two granddaughters.  It is good to have the other two sons at home for the celebration even though I see them all of the time.  The son-in-law’s family are good people and I enjoy their company whenever we get together . . . after all, we all survived the wedding that we planned together and no one was killed or hurt . . . they are a lot of fun.  And, the daughter-in-law’s friend . . . well, she is a ginger like the daughter-in-law and she is the daughter-in-law’s best friend . . . has a great sense of humor and a beautiful smile.  She is a good person, and despite the fact that she lives in Wyoming we won’t hold that against her; after all, the daughter-in-law does too.  I like and love the people who are gathering at the homestead to celebrate all of these wonderful occasions . . . yet, those storm clouds of chaos are building.

It is impossible not to gather that many people in one small house without air conditioning on what is supposed to be the hottest day of the summer without a few strands of the rope fraying somewhere.  The dynamics of putting fifteen independent people in the same room and expecting them to get along peacefully for the whole time . . . well, it is a Spanish pipe dream.  It just cannot happen as expectations bite the dust as the day grows longer.  Chaos.

First of all, there is the attention factor . . . who gets the attention?  Does the youngest son get the attention since it is his birthday we are throwing into the mix?  Is it the youngest son and his wife since we have not seen them in so long and we are celebrating their anniversary of being married one year?  Is it the daughter and her family with the newest (a little over a week) addition to the family?  Is the youngest granddaughter going to be the center of attention . . . will she become the family Cracker Jack box that gets passed around to everyone for their five minutes of holding time?  Is it going to be the nearly two-year-old granddaughter who is still attempting to figure out this little invader to her family . . . her sister . . . and all the attention she is taking away from her . . . dealing with all the uncles, aunts, and grandparents?  Is it going to be the visitor from the Cowboy State?  The wife with all of her hostess skills?  Maybe even our nation as it grows another year older?  What will be the attention factor . . . and, will everyone get enough attention to satisfy the lust for attention?  Sounds like chaos to me.

Second, there is the noise factor that kind of goes with the attention factor.  There will be a lot of noise.  One of the things I have learned over the years is that whenever people gather—family, friends, or whatever—they like to be heard.  To be heard you have to be loud.  Thus, noise . . . lots of noise as people raise their voices to be heard over all the other voices.  Then there are the heated debates as topics and issues are discussed . . . everything from politics to religion to one’s favorite sports teams. Add to that the sound of laughter . . . loud laughter . . . rambunctious laughter . . . fake laughter . . . belly aching laughter . . . and, you get noise.  Not an introvert’s comfort zone. 

And, lastly, throw in the heat.  As I stated, the homestead is a small place without air conditioning.  Most of the time it is not a problem as we control it through manipulating the shades and windows in the house, using the ceiling fans, and retreating to the coolness of the basement when it gets too hot . . . but, we are throwing in an extra eleven people into the mix, plus one extra dog.  They all put off body heat.  Add that heat to the heat of the day . . . and, you get more heat.  Unbearable heat.  Research shows that high temperatures in the weather change people . . . they get grumpy . . . they get irritable . . . they get impatient . . . their fuses get shorter.  It does not make for a good time . . . we all may end up running through the sprinkler with the granddaughter later in the afternoon.

I am nearly overwhelmed and it is still t-minus fifteen hours until it is all set into motion . . . those clouds of chaos are looming on the horizon and the National Weather Service has not even put out a storm watch or warning yet.  The chaos is coming!

Even though the chaos is coming . . . I am prepared.  After fifty-some plus years, I am prepared.  I have ordered up the beverages.  I have set the lawn chairs in the shade where the breeze blows through in the yard.  The wife has gotten a really cool sprinkler to run through.  I have turned all the fans on.  I even ordered up a Speedo swimsuit to wear all day . . . okay, I exaggerate, there are laws against indecent exposure, and me wearing a Speedo would definitely fall into that category.  The thing is . . . I am prepared.  I am ready for anything.  Bring it on!

In the midst of the looming chaos is family . . . my family.  There will be sons and daughters, grandchildren, and friends . . . all people I love.  In the midst of that chaos will be a whole lot of tumult as everyone is making themselves presence and known to everyone else . . . it will be loud and rambunctious, but aren’t all family gatherings?  In the midst of that chaos there will come a sense of being overwhelmed, but I am ready for that too . . . I will step back and observe.  I will observe how such a diverse group of people can love one another despite all of the odds against such an arrangement . . . observe the kindness that overtakes the moments of hurt and forgetfulness . . . observe the family that is gathered.  In the stillness of that respite a different sort of overwhelmness will probably flood my heart as I realize that this is as good as it gets, and it is great to be a part of such a crazy, loving family. 

What are we celebrating in the midst of this chaos?  Well, I am celebrating presence . . . love . . . grace . . . I am celebrating family.  I am ready.  Bring it on . . . it is only fifteen short hours away!  I can’t wait.  Out of chaos comes peace.

Promises We Made

Here in Montana a guy disappeared eight days after his wedding.  His wife said he left the house in a dark car from Washington.  He was missing for quite a while before someone found his body at the bottom of a cliff in Glacier National Park off the Going to the Sun Highway.  For over six weeks there have been a lot of questions asked about what happened . . . and, for over six weeks, the authorities said nothing.  Lots of things were suspected . . . even murder.  This morning the newspapers answered the questions . . . if you were putting your money on murder, you won.  And, if you were betting on the grieving widow as the primary suspect . . . you doubled your bet.

Till death us do part . . .

Promises spoken in just about every wedding service I have ever officiated at . . . promises probably uttered at the majority of wedding services performed in a so-called “Christian” church.  I guess the bride took the words seriously . . . after eight days she had had enough of being married.  Admitting to the murder, the widow stated that she and her departed husband had been arguing while visiting the nearby national park.  The argument escalated, she pushed him, she pushed him back . . . and, over a cliff where he fell to his death.  Turns out she didn’t really want to get married in the first place, she just wanted a big marriage.  It was downhill from the words, “I do.”

A phrase in a Bruce Springsteen song caught my attention this morning as I was commuting to my job in the nearby big city . . . “The promises we made.”  It got me to thinking about promises . . . promises we all make to one another and ourselves . . . promises that sound good when we make them, but are a long, long way from fulfillment.  This couple made promises to one another in the presence of family, friends, and God . . . promises that were never realized or fulfilled.  Made me think . . .

We make promises all of the time.

I have come to the conclusion that words are only as good as the actions that back them up.  Promises are just words and we all fail the words that we speak.  I know that I have, and for that, I am sorry.  Sorry to all of those that I have let down over the years with the empty words that I have said.  Sometimes it is easier to say the words that people want to hear than it is to be honest and disappoint people that we care about . . . but, isn’t what happens anyways when we do not live up to the promises that we make?  If the congruency between the words and actions are not there, aren’t they nothing more than broken promises?

The newspaper article stated that everyone who knew the young man who was pushed off the cliff was wildly and deeply in love with his murderer.  They said he was looking forward to his new adventure in marriage.  Unfortunately, his spouse was not as thrilled.  Broken promises . . .  ironically, she did keep one promise . . . until death us do part.  I imagine that is one way to look at it.

Promises . . . do we really consider the weight of the words that we speak?  Words that are hung on by those who heard them . . . including ourselves.  All of us speak words of promise . . . and, all of us have experienced the pain of broken promises. 

I imagine all of us have broken more than our fair share of promises over a lifetime . . . I know that I have.  I have broken promises with just about every person who is a part of my life and who has been a part of my life.  I have left people I love standing in the lurch . . . and, they have done the same to me.  I have spoken the words of hope . . . the words of love . . . of dreams . . . and, of promise, only to see them never fulfilled.

I think that for most people the intention is never to hurt someone else.  I think that it is to please the people and allow them to hear what they want to hear.  Unfortunately, we humans are weak and lazy . . . in our lazy weakness we break our work because it takes more than we expect, much more . . . whether it is in cost or effort.  We ignore our words . . . we deny our words . . . whatever the reason, we break our word.  So much for the promises we make!

As a pastor, I am reminded of the promises I have made each and every time I perform a wedding, baptism, and funeral.  I hear the words I speak as they echo in the sanctuary of faith because each of those services has promises . . . promises between those who speak, those who participate, and those who are witnessing . . . promises to one another and to ourselves.  I know that they are not mere words, but a spoken hope of what could be if we live up to those promises.  Each time I find hope in the failure I realize . . . promises, spoken and unspoken.  The Spirit knocks on the door of the heart . . .

. . . can any of us ever answer openly and honestly when we know we have failed to live up to the promises we speak?

That is the daily challenge.  To live up to the words that we speak . . . by putting action behind our words.  Thankfully we have a forgiving God . . . a God of grace.  A God of grace who has never forgotten the promise made to each and every one of us . . . we will never be abandoned . . . we will never be forgotten . . . we will not be alone.  Thankfully, most of us have experienced that grace in those we love . . . those who love us despite our broken promises.  For both, I am thankful.

Promises are never easy to keep if we take them seriously.  Just like the young woman who pushed her husband over a cliff, I too, have stated that I will love until “death we do part.”  It is the toughest job I have ever had . . . one that I haven’t quite gotten the hang of yet . . . and, one that I try daily to make sure that my actions back my words.  It never crossed my mind to push my wife off a cliff . . . but, I guess we all see promises differently.  The promises we make are usually easy to say, but harder to live up to.  Thank goodness God hangs in there with us . . . at least we should try to honor the words we speak.  I think God would appreciate it.