Being Rickulous

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Mark 1:9-15 (March 18, 2009)

Mark 1:9-12

God profoundly, overwhelmingly affirmed Jesus at His baptism. Then God immediately drove Jesus into the wilderness where he experienced prolonged deprivation and seduction.  Don’t we want our life with God to be the former more than the latter?  The New Testament seems to think the second experience was at least as formative as the first, and the New Testament seems to know that the first experience prepared Jesus for the second one.  It takes repetitive measures of blessing and testing for us to be shaped into God’s dream for us.  We are, all of us, ready for God to gently light onto us and drench us with approval.  We need to be just as ready for God to chase us into the sand blasted land of trial, where lack is the order of the day, where voices are compelling but not trustworthy, where we learn who we are and how we make it through and how we can in fact lean on a Presence that is suddenly silent but not absent.

 

Mark 1:12-13

Jesus, Satan, wild animals, and angels.  Satan tempted Him, angels ministered to Him, and the wild animals were there because everybody else was on their property.  Perhaps Jesus and the animals were the only ones visible.  So Jesus was wrestling with the seen and with the unseen, and Jesus was comforted by the seen and the unseen.  The next thing could come at any time and from any direction.  It could be dangerous or it could be relieving or it could be either disguised as the other.  People of faith who attempt to lead other people of faith are familiar with this landscape and with these dynamics.  How often during this defining period of time did Jesus remind Himself of the descending Spirit and the heavenly voice?  How often did Jesus remind Himself that He had, in fact, been sent into that pregnant barrenness?  When we find ourselves hungry and thirsty and disoriented and pushed and pulled out there in the wild, a divine reference point helps us keep our sanity and increases the chance that we will emerge with clarity and maybe a new understanding of our powers and, best of all, insight about what is God, what is not, and what is simply animals acting like animals will.  That reference point helps us discern whether we were sent there or just showed up there.  “Sent” is holy even when it is messy.  And those sent can count on indefinable but nourishing sustenance.

 

Mark 1:14-15

The sequence startles me.  John baptizes Jesus…Jesus disappears…John is arrested…Jesus blasts into Galilee announcing the imminent and incoming realm of God.  It’s Good News Time!  But what about the Bad News of John’s arrest?  The good news stays good even when our news is bad?  I am pretty sure I have been guilty of leashing the good news to my own ups and downs.  It’s one thing to merge my story into The Story, which is helpful.  It’s another thing for me to allow the earth tones of my story to bleed into the enduring pastels of the Gospel.  This is not helpful.  The Gospel itself is not affected, but the version I embody bears more resemblance to John’s arrest than to Jesus’ big entrance.  May God so massage the good news into me that it rises in all of my dramas.


Violence (from March 12, 2009)

March 12, 2009 Over the past few days, violence driven by observable and unobservable triggers erupted in Illinois, in Alabama, and in Germany.  The events were dreadful.  They have dominated national and international media outlets.  Of course, local headlines contain more of the same, closer to home, constantly. Tuesday night during church council and deacon's meeting we set aside time to talk about it.  We spoke our fears and our faith.  It was necessary and honest and productive.  Then at the end of my workout yesterday afternoon I turned on a news channel.  Three "breaking stories" into the broadcast I was worn out in a manner that had nothing to do with my workout. So I shifted in what was holding my attention.  I began thinking about Jesus and His sisters and brothers called the body of Christ.  Last night I had the privilege of worshipping with a wonderfully alive installment of the body of Christ in our sanctuary.  We looked each other in the eye and we affirmed that faith families are good news people in a bad news world. The bad news reaches back to the Garden of Eden.  Has it become worse, or do we hear and see more about it now, or is it a combination?  I am nowhere near smart enough to take a shot at answering my own question, but the question is valid. Here is what I am confident in saying.  The bad news mutates relentlessly.  The good news does not.  The writer of Hebrews sums it up vividly: Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  Or as the Renovare folks put it, Jesus Christ is our everliving Savior, Lord, Teacher, and Friend. The First Baptist Church of Maryville, Illinois, got the shock of its life Sunday morning.  Their resolution is to grieve thoroughly, to adapt accordingly, and to continue embracing God's dream for them, because the good news does not change.  I hope and pray that churches everywhere, ours included, will follow their scarred but strong and clear lead.


Mark 1:1-8 (from March 5, 2009)

March 5, 2009

 Mark 1:1-8 So let’s say you were in charge of the Messiah’s publicity campaign, and your main responsibility was to interview candidates and select a forerunner.  What would be your prototype?  What characteristics would land a resume on the short stack?  Would you not favor someone with solid people skills and an ascending track record in marketing?  Would you kick to the top of the list somebody with the following credentials: lives in the wilderness, wears animal skins, has a history of insect consumption, and communicates mostly with shouts? John the Baptizer became the messenger sent ahead of Christ to prepare the way.  In other words, God did not choose diplomacy or polish.  God chose detonation.  God chose to blow people out of their comfort zones before the Son even started His ministry! Apparently, people who come equipped with human nature sometimes, at least sometimes, need to be herded rather than romanced, blasted rather than finessed, agitated rather than soothed. John the Baptizer did not invest one second determining how to make his appearance or his content user friendly.  In both cases he tossed handfuls of nails onto the roadway.  When people showed up he bluntly exclaimed that he was not the crop; he was the fertilizer.  Compost.  John knew the boundaries of his role.  John could make them squirm and he could make them change and he could make them wet, but he could not make them full. Furthermore, John understood who he was and who he was not.  He could not even qualify to loosen the straps on Jesus’ sandals, but he accepted his identity and his place in the world.  In our culture, where self image is an industry that feeds numerous other industries, John is a welcome sight.  Secure in his identity and his standing, he could move on to more imperative matters. John did not even go to the people.  He stayed where he was.  They had to travel to him.  And they did.  In droves.  The Gospel writer seems nearly as startled as we might be, because it is after his reporting of the wilderness crusade that he describes what John was like. When did indirect methods become the only theologically correct ones?  In the theology of John the Baptizer, the closest route from point A to point B is a stiff right cross.  And it is only when we begin to understand the razor sharp edges of repentance that we can even allow for the possibility that John’s approach is credible.  Can you say “About Face, Forward, March?”  Repentance is as subtle as a stomp. And the best joke of all is that God loves us so much that God crosses our paths with human jackhammers.  What do you and I need to hear from John?  Are we ready?


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