Lent: A Time of Radical Discipleship




And To Dust You Shall Return

It’s early March, but here in the Southeast signs of spring are becoming visible after an altogether brutal winter.  Tender buds are forming on the trees, and outside my window the first buttercups are braving the winter wind. One season is faithfully, if begrudgingly, giving way to another in this continual cycle of life. How fitting then that we in the Christian tradition observe the season of Lent during this period of earthly transformation.  From the Anglo-Saxon word “Lencten”, Lent means ‘long’ or ‘to lengthen’, referring to the increasing hours of sunlight as springtime creeps ever nearer and winter retreats back from which she came. Last week we commemorated Ash Wednesday, marking the beginning of 40 days of dark, penitent preparation as Christ followers the world over prepare body, mind and soul to meet the risen Lord on Easter. The Lenten rituals of prayer, fasting, repentance and self-denial pre-dates the established church, with evidence that even first century Christians formalized a time of intentional spiritual formation, taking seriously Christ’s commands to “deny yourself, pick up your cross, and follow me continuously”.[1]   Lent reminds us that we are members of an alternative community of travelers along this way of transformation and discipleship; led, modeled and embodied by ‘The Way’ himself.

Christ’s three-fold challenge (deny, pick up and follow) is the sin qua non of discipleship. Lent is the occasion whereby we align our soul and will more deliberately with the Spirit of God. It is living for forty days how we should be living 365 days a year.  And while self-denial and the divestiture of habits, addictions and luxuries is the first step toward change, personal disavowal is much more than sentimental bourgeois asceticism.   The very choice to fast or deny one's physical needs provides both existential and spiritual freedom. “It should be accepted as a most elementary human and moral truth that no man can live a fully sane and decent life unless he is able to say ‘no’ on occasion to his natural bodily appetites.”[3] No one who simply eats and drinks whenever he feels like eating or drinking, or gratifies his every physical urge and impulse can ever consider himself free.[4] He is the servant of compulsion, a slave unto himself. Lent becomes the opportunity to put down the habit-forming indulgences that bind us, while joining our Lord in the solidarity of self-denial and acts of service. It is also worth noting that this biblical connotation of 'denial' evokes the vernacular a courtroom, where followers of Christ are pressed to either profess Christ or renounce him, the former necessitating self-sacrifice and death.[2] This way of Christ continues to remind us that it is in service and self denial that we experience freedom, while simultaneously offering it to others. As Isaiah reminds us:

“Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?...If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.”[5]

And still, self-denial isn't an end in itself.   It is never enough to simply put aside this thing or that, we are required to pick up something altogether different, a cross. The specific turn of phrase echoing down through the ages to ‘pick up your cross’ has no other meaning than an invitation to share in Christ’s suffering; to join Him weeping with those who weep, mourning with those who mourn, making peace with those who choose war, offering meekness to a world replete with domination and practicing mercy with those hell bent on redemptive violence.  Walking this way, choosing His cross and dying to self is antithetical to our very existence, thus the need for faithful praxis and practice during this intense period of spiritual formation.

As His followers, called by His namesake, we identify with and accept as recompense the suffering that comes from Jesus' subversive Way.  His dramatic and hopeful story, which began heralding highways through the wilderness, ends on the narrow path to Golgotha.  The ashes of Wednesday remind us some 2,000 years later that

“A servant is not greater than his master. If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.”[6]

As we move deeper into Lent, as one spiritual season gives way to a new one, urge one another on to follow him unceasingly.  Obedience is never an accident.  You will never accidentally fall into faithfulness, it requires intentionality and action.  Abide in Him so that He may abide in you.[7] Join the saints in this season of spiritual change repenting of sin, renewing of faith, practicing the traditions of the ekklessia and preparing to celebrate the joyful mystery of our salvation.

Amen.

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[1] Mark 8: 34.

[2] Fears, J. “Rome: The Ideology of Imperial Power.” 1980.

[3] Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Isaiah 58: 6-7, 10.

[6] John 15: 20.

[7] John 15: 4.

Jesus Keeps Playing Hard To Get

“When the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. And they were saying to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?’ And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back-it was very large. And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were afraid. And he said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go; tell the disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you. And they went out and fled from the tomb, for they were trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

The MyrrBearing Women

Here, among trembling, fear and hope, Mark’s drama ends…There is no sighting of the Risen Lord, no hands in his sides, no Road to Emmaus, and certainly no glory filled ascension.  It's a strange way to end a story of good news. And while most of today's Bibles tidy up the story by adding an alternate ending, of the nearly 6,000 Greek manuscripts available, none of them have the remaining 11 verses we read today.  This veiled attempt to clean up Mark’s mess limit the beauty of the text.  By leaving the story incomplete, Mark is inviting the reader to provide the ending. His discipleship drama will only continue if the apostles,  and if we the reader, choose to accept the call to ‘Go and meet Jesus in Galilee’, to continue the pursuit of Him even in the midst of fear and uncertainty.   New Testament scholar Ched Meyer writes, “The abrupt ending without a resurrection appearance points emphatically to the still future character of the kingdom of God.  Jesus’ disciples at the end of the story find themselves suspended between the news of the resurrection and the experience of the risen Lord.”  This is the exact same place we find ourselves…Joy and frustration give birth to indecision and fear as Jesus remains elusive, just out of reach but still calling us to meet him in an age of ambiguity. 

This rightful ending to Mark’s story summons the reader to embrace the tension of discipleship.  First, we are summoned to continue to follow Christ’s example even without him. Discipleship requires nothing less than what was demanded of him.  In fact, the young man’s invitation ought to provoke trepidation in us, if we take it seriously.  As Bonhoeffer paraphrased, “When Christ calls a person, he bids them come and die.” Will we flee, or will we Follow?   Simultaneously, joy is experienced not only in the pursuit of the risen Lord, but also in the promise of complete, cosmic redemption.  The game has not been lost, darkness does not prevail, sickness and death do not triumph, evil has been dealt with once and for all and at His appearing, we will be like Him.

But in the meantime, we live in the present age which is “an anomalous interval in which the ‘already’ and the ‘not yet’ of redemption exist simultaneously in dialectical tension.”[iii]  We live in the “time between Times”; the end of one age and the beginning of another have overlapped.  A time when the world’s true Lord is still waiting his Final consummation and vindication…Our future hope is near, and yet we are entreated to join in Christ’s suffering now.[iv]  This temporary point along the historical timeline finds us living under the thumb of sham Caesars requiring our political, social, and spiritual allegiance.  Like the souls under the alter in revelation we ask, “How long oh Lord”? “How long is murder, mayhem and injustice going to rule this horrible world.”? But God answers, this isn’t a horrible world, it is a good world that I made and that through my grace I am making new.  I’m cleaning it up and it will happen in its proper time.   And when it finally happens, we won’t say “why did it take so long”, we’ll say, “Now we see, that’s the way it was supposed to be.”

Living between the ascension of Jesus and His ultimate appearing marks a very unique moment in the grand narrative of human existence; a moment that is building to a second climax, which is the fulfillment of God’s kingdom on earth as it now is in heaven.   The Jesus event ushered in a new world, a new creation and a new historical age that is being fulfilled daily relationship by relationship, economy by economy, village by village and will ultimately find its completion with his appearing.  But this will only happen if we accept the challenge, to continue to follow our ‘just out of reach’ Lord. Our call is to join the disciples, not standing gazing into heaven wishing for instant kingdom culmination, but rather in their work restoring relationships, binding broken hearts, welcoming outcasts and setting the addicts free. 

Going ahead to Galilee requires our pursuit of a world where power and position are used for service rather than self-promotion, where authentic relationships are built on trust rather than manipulation, where work is fulfilling and rest is sweet, where economics resist the temptation to stock pile wealth in the hands of the few, but rather divides her surplus equally, where equality trumps hierarchy and privilege, and tables are welcome for all who choose to join in the feast.  These can be characteristics of our time, as we allow the Kingdom to direct our steps.    But doing so requires understanding, humility, soberness and discipline as we balance the current, fallen state of things while living out the promise that Christ’s kingdom has already dawned, but not yet reached its final consummation. Joy and suffering are present, and Christ-followers must expect this paradox to continue while embracing the role to live as Christ until his return.

So come, join him in Galilee toiling for peace, justice and righteousness; become his hands and feet by uniting your life, passions and gifts with His spirit work in this world. And in so doing,  we help bring the present rushing forward into the ultimate consummation of His future, when God will be all in all as the waters cover the sea.

Making Modern Disciples

Pala di Sant Agostino

Last week I had coffee with a mega-church pastor whose congregation numbers well above 10,000 members.  It’s an impressive operation equipped with escalators, elevators and espresso.  Half-way through our conversation I asked him, “how do you all make disciples”?  His honesty was as refreshing as it was terrifying.  “We don’t, we've completely missed the boat”, he said.  “It is the single greatest failure in our attempts at mega-ministry.”  Upwards of 15,000 people come in and out of his doors each Sunday, and to his credit, he realizes their failure to develop disciples.  Sadly, modern American spiritual formation, or discipleship, tends to consist of large-scale programs and gatherings, where individuals come together for the greatest show on earth.   We wow them with lights, sound and visuals, and move them to tears with our carefully orchestrated song service.  And, week after week, our “revolving door” spirituality fails to touch the significant depths of the soul. Our congregants long for something more than an opening ceremony of spirituality.   They want lasting change, but where do we start?  Developing and implementing a philosophy of discipleship does not happen through programs or education alone, it involves an intentional, holistic view of formation that understands the complexity of the human person.  It involves seeing the world the way God sees it, and acting in that world the way God acts.  It is living in the place where “to do what God wishes is our pleasure and desire”[1] as we bend our will and passions into alignment with His.  In short, it is our journey toward wholeness. 

Christian discipleship is the way we express a living faith in the real world.  It is the sum total of our attitudes, beliefs, practices and actions. Christian spiritual formation is the life-long pursuit of the imitation of Christ.  What makes this so difficult is our natural self, which seeks to fulfill our own desires and our own will.  Spiritual formation is thus the process of bringing our “unruly wills and affections” into right alignment with Christ’s.  In so doing, we restore our mind, heart and soul into right relationship with God.  Learning, being and doing form the foundation for our spiritual pursuit of God.  And, according to Lesslie Newbigin,

“One does not learn anything except by believing something, and -- conversely -- if one doubts everything one learns nothing. On the other hand, believing everything uncritically is the road to disaster. The faculty of doubt is essential. But as I have argued, rational doubt always rests on faith and not vice versa. The relationship between the two cannot be reversed. ”[2]

Henry VII's Chape at Westminster

In order to be like something, we must first believe in it, and part of believing is knowing.   We are made to learn, form opinions, believe and apply knowledge to every sphere of life.  Cognitively speaking, holistic spiritual formation must include the shaping of what we believe about the nature of reality.  All of us seek to provide systematic answers to life’s big questions:  Does God Exist, What is the Meaning of Life, What Does it Mean to Be Human?  Our ideas and beliefs on these matters form the foundation of our worldview, which shapes how we relate to the biosphere around us.

Yet, spiritual formation isn’t just about what we know; it is about what we love, what we do and how we relate to the world.  Sadly, our post-Enlightened schools and churches have seen the human person as primarily ‘thinking things’ and not ‘feeling’ and ‘loving things’. Therefore, spiritual formation and discipleship have been more about ‘thinking the right things’ than creating a holistic approach acknowledging the human person as lovers and feelers as well.[3]  Effective spiritual formation deconstructs the Cartesian cognitive model and replaces it with a holistic approach to discipleship. Discipleship and spiritual formation are less about erecting an edifice of knowledge than they are a matter of developing a Christian know-how that intuitively understands the world in light of the Gospel.  Yes, we are formed by what we think, but we are also formed by what we love and how we act.[4]   Proper spiritual formation returns us to the pre-modern faith-based paradigm which views the human person as a thinking, feeling, believing and loving creature shaped not just by information, but by liturgy, practices and ritual.  To be human is to love, to desire, to know, to believe and to do.  Lasting discipleship consists of forming our humanity so that our precognitive selves can find the proper end for which we were made.  As Augustine reminds us, “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you".

The goal of Christian spiritual formation is the knowledge, love and imitation of Christ.  “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2: 20).  This life in Christ is best achieved within the context of a diverse confessing community, public worship, the Sacraments, Biblical scholarship and the spiritual disciplines of prayer, study and service. 

Community is therefore the sin qua non of a distinctly Christian understanding of the world and our place in it.  In fact, our place in it is with others, doing life together.  This foundation for life is modeled by God himself, who has lived in community from eternity as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  God as Trinity is the core reality of the universe, meaning that community is the primacy of humanity.   Our life in Christ only makes sense as a shared journey of togetherness toward the likeness of His image. 

Liturgy or public worship is a second qualifier within the formative process.  The centrality of worship is integral to the task of spiritual formation.  And, at the heart of worship are the Sacraments, those tradition laden acts passed down for centuries by the church, interpreted in various ways by sundry congregants.  Sacramental worship, for all ages, roots us in the habits of the disciple, which when done over and again, constitute an almost second nature.   “Our habits incline us to act in certain ways without having to kick into a mode of reflection”.[5]  For many of us, our spiritual journey started at the baptismal font, recalibrating our lives as we died to sin and took on the new self through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.  However, in terms of spiritual formation, baptism has a dual role.  Beyond a public declaration of faith performed once and forever there after considered accomplished, baptism also “provides an orientation to ourselves, our world and our God that must be appropriated day after day”.[6]  The baptismal rite confers upon us certain spiritual gifts that allow us to become more and more like Christ while confirming our place in the Christian community by helping to remind us that our true identify is found in the suffering savior.  Baptism then acts to sustain our spiritual formation, becoming “the daily garment which the disciple is to wear all the time…every day suppressing the old person and growing up in the new”.[7]  Finally, baptism directs our attention to our responsibility to one another in community as we confirm over and again our shared role in the shaping and equipping of the saints.

Eucharist, or Holy Communion, is a second sacramental act that sculpts us into the image of Christ.  If baptism begins our journey, Eucharist provides the nourishment for the road ahead.  The bread and wine confirm Christ’s new covenant within us while continually requiring the remembrance of his death and resurrection.  More importantly, at this alter we encounter the risen Lord.  The layers of profound depth and meaning birthed in this little solitary act are hard to describe.  In breaking the bread and drinking the wine, we actively express our belief in Christ’s historical redemptive act on the cross, while allowing us to taste his sorrow and bear witness to His risen reality. Jesus’ real presence here enables us to recognize Him in the face of the hungry, in the hands of the broken and the feet of the needy.  Our action of welcoming Him here, empower us to love Him more out there.

Common and private prayers are yet another formative action.  At home, at church and within our small groups, we join the human chorus of praise directed toward our God.  Our common prayers remind us over and again that this thing called spirituality isn’t just about me and God.  It is as much about me and my wife, my neighbor, my kids and my enemies as it is about my relation to the Almighty.  We must divest ourselves of the notion that just because our prayer lives are personal, they must also be private.  “Community prayer is meant to bind us to one another and to broaden our vision of the needs of the world and to give us models to steer by and friends to uphold us and encourage us and enable us to go on”.[8]  Prayer, when used as a communal practice, is integral for spiritual formation.  The Lord’s Prayer alone is a prayer of and for community.  ‘Our’ father; give ‘Us’ ‘Our’ daily bread; forgive ‘Us’ as ‘We’ forgive  ‘Others’.  Common prayer, especially in a small group setting, is a powerful tool for spiritual transformation.

One final aspect of ‘doing’, which shapes us spiritually, is service.  Our example is Christ the Lord, who came not to be served, but to serve.  All the books, all the sermons and all the prayers combined cannot change our stubborn hearts like one humble act of service.  It is here, serving the least of these when our hands and feet become His.  Our service in His coming kingdom is not only the public proclamation that a new order is dawning; it is the bodily reminder that to be fully human, we must give our lives for others’ sake.

Beyond these traditions, practices and pursuits, I’m quite certain there isn’t a formula for making disciples.  If there was, the church would have figured it out by now.  Due to our proclivity toward sin and self-reliance, it’s an arduous, life-long journey to put the old self to death and take on the fullness of Christ.  Thankfully, Jesus left a helper, the Holy Spirit to guide our thoughts, hearts, actions and desires as we seek to become more and more like the Nazarene. 

Just a cool picture of a boat

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[1] DeSilva, David. Sacramental Life: Spiritual Formation Through the Book of Common Prayer.

[2] Newbigin,Lesslie. The Gospel in a Pluralistic Society.

[3] Smith, James K.A. Desiring the Kingdom.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Desilva, Sacramental Life.

[7] Luther, Martin. The Large Catechism.

[8] Chittister, Joan. Wisdom Distilled From the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today.

Already, But Not Yet

“We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.  Not only so, be we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we await eagerly.”[i]

She waddled up the aisle and slowly plopped down next to me in seat 29G.  For her, it was going to be a long flight from LAX to D.C.  She must have been at least 14 months pregnant because bless her, she was about to pop.  It was evident that she was already great with child, but had not yet delivered her sweet baby.  The tension between her current discomfort and her ensuing joy was apparent.  Her belly held not only her coming child, but a hint of Pauline theology.

For Paul, and for us, the death and resurrection of Jesus is the apocalyptic event signaling the end of the old world and the beginning of the new creation.  We find this theme echoing throughout Scripture, clearly articulated through the Prophet Isaiah, “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind.” [ii] This apocalyptic promise is the foundation for Christian ethics and Christ-like praxis within the current space, time universe.  But while we wait expectantly for the appearing of Christ and the fulfillment of his kingdom purposes, we live in the present time which is “an anomalous interval in which the ‘already’ and the ‘not yet’ of redemption exist simultaneously in dialectical tension.”[iii]  The end of one age and the beginning of another have overlapped.  New Testament scholar Richard B. Hays describes our historical moment as the “time between times”; our future hope is near, and yet we are entreated to join in Christ’s suffering now.[iv]  The Gospel is about living within this dichotomy.

This synchronicity shouts to us, the modern church, from the pages of Mark’s gospel, especially its enigmatic ending.  You’ve probably noticed it before, but there is an asterisk the size of Barry Bonds beside Mark 16:8. It’s there to remind us that the manuscript evidence is decisive; all manuscripts that provide endings other than verse 8 were added much later to ‘clean up’ Mark’s strange ending, and was never a part of Mark’s original work.  The corroboration is clear; Mark’s gospel ends at verse 8, pregnant with tension:

“When the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. And they were saying to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?’ And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back-it was very large. And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were afraid. And he said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go; tell the disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you. And they went out and fled from the tomb, for they were trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”[v]

Then and there, Mark’s drama ends.  “The abrupt ending without a resurrection appearance points emphatically to the still future character of the kingdom of God. Jesus’ disciples at the end of the story find themselves suspended between the news of the resurrection and the experience of the risen Lord.”[vi]  Joy and frustration give birth to uncertainty and fear as Mark’s Jesus remains elusive, just out of reach but still calling us to meet him on the road.  This rightful ending to Mark’s story summons the reader to embrace the tension of discipleship.  First, the reader is summoned to continue to follow Christ’s example even without him. Discipleship requires nothing less than what was demanded of him, that we take up the cross and follow, that we abandon any temptation toward power, that we cease to coerce the opposition by defending our ‘traditional’ values, and that we share in his cup of suffering.  Simultaneously, joy is experienced not only in the pursuit of the risen Lord, but also in the promise of complete, cosmic redemption.  The game has not been lost, darkness does not prevail, sickness and death do not triumph, evil has been dealt with once and for all and at His parousia, we will be like Him.

Living in these between times requires understanding, humility, soberness and discipline as we balance the current, fallen state of things while living out the promise that Christ’s kingdom has already dawned, but not yet reached its final consummation. Joy and suffering are present, and Christ-followers must expect this paradox to continue while embracing the role to live as Christ until his return. 

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[i] Romans 8:22-23

[ii] Isaiah 65:17

[iii] Hays, Richard B. The Moral Vision of the New Testament. Page 27.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Mark 16:1-8.

[vi] Hays, Richard. The Moral Vision of the New Testament.