Fatherless Made Sons and Daughters

This Easter I've been captured by the notion that in order for me to call God my Father, Christ had to become Fatherless.  Meaning that in his going to the cross and the grave, receiving what was due to me, His Father necessarily had to forsake Him.  Thus, the Son became fatherless in order that the fatherless might become sons/daughters.  This is a poem I wrote trying to get at this idea.

Abbas only true son
took upon himself this flesh.
Gave up his rights as God
knowing soon he'd perish.

To do his father's will,
Christ's only and true intent.
Suffering and unknown,
his life would soon be spent.

Fatherless and cut-off,
our spirits in atrophy.
Wandering like lost sheep,
creation a tragedy.

To make us sons and daughters,
his purpose from the start.
The son atones for sin,
through blood did he impart.

Fatherless became sons,
when Son forsaken died.
Eternal bond fragmented,
through him we now abide.

Three days down in the earth,
in Sheol did he spend.
Death now victored over,
at the kings right hand again.

Creation now restored,
no longer kept apart.
Sins once long reign is over,
perfect life he did impart.

 

 

 

 

 

Disciples not Ideologues

I was listening to a talk about how the Gospel affects discipleship, in which the speaker states that Jesus is both the content and context of the Gospel and calls us to actively trust him in our obedient following.  At its core, discipleship seems to entail being a active participant in being remade into the likeness of Jesus.  The implications of this are vast, yet two things stand out to me at this time.
The first is that discipleship is an active trusting participation, rather than an ideology.  Throughout my time in seminary I was consistently frustrated and convicted of the notion that in our learning we became more apt Christians, when the reality is/was that our ideas were so separate from our actions.  In studying the gnostics of Jesus' time, I realized how very alike we were.  Gnosticism is basically the idea that in attaining some knowledge or idea, I am better able to be justified or sanctified.  None of my classmates would ever say that in having knowledge we were justified, after all it is by faith alone in Christ alone.  Yet in the way we lived, thought and related to others, it was very evident that we believed in our core that by having this 'Reformed' knowledge of Scripture, we had true faith and we were in a sense more righteous than those whose ideas of Scripture differed.  We were theologically Reformed, but practically gnostics. 
This revelation is fueled by the second implication of discipleship, which is that for me to follow Jesus means I am to become like Jesus.  To really, actually live like Jesus.  To be called a friend of sinners, and spurned by the religious.  To freely give words of care to sexual deviants, and at the same time freely give words of anger to those who are religiously self-righteous.  In short, to spur and aggravate the gnostics, be they Pharisee or Reformed, and welcome in as brothers and sisters those broken people foolish and ignorant, spurred and outcast, whores and thieves, sex addicts and alcoholics.    Don't get me wrong, addicts and fools just as often seek their self-righteous salvation in prosperity preaching, wealth, sex and alcohol as the seminary trained religious leaders seek theirs in books and ideas.  The one thing it seems that Jesus is welcoming towards is a broken, empty, spent and contrite spirit.  The adulterous woman who can't even look him in the eye,  the Roman general whose daughter is dying, or the poor and ignorant fisherman who hasn't been able to provide for his family through his trade. 
Discipleship is living out of this broken flesh, needy and dependently trusting that Jesus has to provide both salvation and sanctification, that there is no plan B.  He's it, and if he doesn't show up then I'm doomed.  My effort and brains won't out-perform my heart which is bent on self-righteous rebellion. 
The idea that I can sit in my office and love the sex addict who can't stop themselves, not because I am loving in nature, but because I am loved by Jesus who has full and deep knowledge of me, is at the same time terrifying and liberating.  This speaks against all my moral legalism which wants to shout at the sinner to stop their behavior. 
I fear my classmates and professors reading this (luckily most of them have already written me off as wayward in my thinking), but I am so tired of pretending that because I read the church fathers, know a dead language, or have studied the nuances of Scripture that I am somehow more spiritually prepared and apt to minister to others.  I'm not.  I'm often lost and bewildered by where Jesus is taking me, and it literally scares the hell out of me to be his disciple. 

The Unseen Moved into Plain Sight

Some of us are participating in this season of Lent, preparing ourselves for celebrating Christ’s resurrection, as well as the promise of ours in turn.  Thus, I thought it would be appropriate to spend a few minutes pondering him, his character, his work, and the implications of who he is on us.

"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created,in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all thingshold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross." Colossians 1:15-20

He made the unseen/invisible visible, in plain sight.  The Creator took on the form of His creation.  The ruler of all dominions became an impoverished, dependent child.  He who was before all things, separate from time, put himself into creation at an exact moment.  He who was spiritual became permanently physical.  The preeminent became a servant.  The fullness of God dwelt in a man, so that God could be fully known.  All this for the purpose of reconciling all things to himself, giving rest and peace, through his journey to death and resurrection. 

How this shapes his followers is put well by Diane Langberg in her book for therapists working with those who suffered abuse.  She says it this way:

"All that we do as those who name the name of Christ is to be both incarnational and redemptive.  Our words are to communicate his truth.  Our person is to reflect his person.  Our lives are to be a living, breathing explanation of his character. Those who sit with us in our office should have a better understanding of who God is because we have, through our obedience to him and love for him, touched them with the flavor of his presence."

May we be a taste of the fullness of God to those around us.