Did
you miss me?
I
haven’t been posting for a couple of weeks. I’ve been away on vacation and,
prior to that, I just sort of let stuff get away from me. I was in a pretty
nasty car wreck earlier last month. My ride was totaled, so I had to do a lot of
running around to the wrecking yard and meeting with insurance folks and things
like that. Then my church was broken into and vandalized by some neighborhood
punk. I know it was a neighborhood punk because any self-respecting junkie
would’ve stolen the microphones from our praise band. This burglar just stole
some religious articles after trashing my office, ripping the crucifix off the
wall of the narthex, and scrawling incomprehensible graffiti in our entrance
way. (The graffiti was incomprehensible because the “F word” was the only word
spelled correctly.)
Oh..!
Then I caught a nasty cold. While I was busy sniffling with that, I learned
that the insurance company is dropping the church’s coverage because of too
many claims, and the new coverage will cost over $3,000 a year more while we’re
already running a serious deficit and will probably have to lay off some staff
next year. Then I got a call to do a funeral for a 26-year-old victim of a
heroin overdose.
Do
you miss me now?
I’m
such a whiner I can hardly stand myself. No. Really. I’m sorry I unloaded all
this crap on you. After all, you never did anything to me. Forgive me my trespass.
Forgive me for crossing over onto your property when you have more than enough
crap of your own to deal with.
Whoever
said being a Christian was going to be easy? (I think it was Joel Osteen).
Truth be told, if we think living a good and virtuous life will give us nothing
but good and virtuous things we’re really kidding ourselves. In last week’s
gospel (Mark 10:17-31), it seemed like old Peter was looking for some kind of
compliment or reward from Jesus because he’d left everything and embraced an
uncertain life of poverty and persecution to follow the Lord. But Jesus didn’t
play his game. He told him that the only thing he could expect to be rewarded
with in this life would be more
persecutions.
In
this week’s lesson, James and John still think there’s going to win some
Publisher’s Clearing House prize for being followers of Jesus. They don’t quite
get this crucifixion thing Jesus has been talking about, and they really think
there will be an earthly kingdom where they can be Vice President and Secretary
of State when Jesus reigns in glory and splendor (In Matthew’s gospel, they don’t
ask Jesus for this reward: their mom asks for them. I think that’s kind of
sweet, don’t you?).
All
Jesus can tell these ambitious lads is that they are going to suffer as he will
suffer, but he can’t guarantee them any prize for doing it (vv. 39-40). All he
can do is exhort them to lives of service and humility.
I
guess some happy tooth fairy of a TV evangelist can promise Christians great
riches and rewards, but to me that is more superstition than religion. Thinking
we can influence God is a false belief. True faith is believing that God
influences us—even when we must sometimes drink from the cup of sorrow. God
owes us no favors, and our humble acts of service are not what makes God love
us. They are the result of knowing that God already does love us. They are the response to Christ suffering along with
us out of pure love, and knowing that—on our worst days—God has not stopped
being good just because we have chosen not to look at God’s goodness.
It
is good to have you visit, my friend. May you feel God’s blessings this week.
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