"my brother and sister and mother"

One is a brother to another only through Jesus Christ.... What determines our brotherhood is what that man is by reason of Christ. Our community with one another consists solely in what Christ has done to both of us. This is true not merely at the beginning, as though in the course of time something else were to be added to our community; it remains so for all the future and to all eternity. I have community with others and I shall continue to have it only through Jesus Christ.

We have one another only through Christ, but through Christ we do have one another, wholly, for eternity.

―Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together

I've been thinking a lot about relationships lately. Maybe part of it is that a friend wrote recently, talking about his search for community, "a family." And then there's our years of experiencing the organized community here weakening and dissolving. Also, again and again over the years, I've reflected on our relationships within the church, the body of Christ, as I moved between churches and denominations and seen what what was similar and different among them. And in all this I keep being brought back to Jesus' words, when his mother and brothers asked to see him:

Jesus replied, "Who are my mother and brothers?" And looking at those who sat around him, he said, "Here are my mother and brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother." (Mk 3.33-35)

Those words emphasize that Jesus' relationships with other people were determined by their relationship with God. "Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother." The relationship is not defined by the two (or more) people involved, but by God. I remember writing something similar before, thinking about the church:

The more organic biblical imagery for the church, such as "the body of Christ" or "I am the vine and you are the branches," point to something very different. If these are accurate, then the life and nature of church is not determined by us, but by Christ. It is not us, our choices or actions or constitutions, that make the church what it is. It's Jesus. The church is the corporate, communal manifestation of Jesus in the world. It is his presence and nature that make it what it is. If he is not in it, it is not the church. If it is not like Jesus, obeying him as head, doing his work, loving with his love, then it is not the church. This is not something we decide about or make happen. It's not an issue or challenge or question for us to solve. The church is, and can be nothing other than, Christ.

And that seems to agree with the words of Bonhoeffer about Christian community: "I have community with others and I shall continue to have it only through Jesus Christ."

I believe this is true. But, if so, then it presents an understanding of the church that is markedly different than what we see in our church organizations. And I can't help but notice that Jesus wasn't talking about some kind of religious membership when he spoke those words quoted above. He was responding to a question about his family, the most basic human community. Jesus described the basis for the most real, the most fundamental, relationship with others: "Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother." That doesn't just describe "church" relationships. That describes the one community that Jesus knew, the one real community. So, for Jesus' followers, that presents an understanding of all relationships that's markedly different from what we see all around us, all the time.

Continued in love one another...

scenes from the protests

if it was up to us, we'd fix it

From a recent discussion with a friend...


I think I'd like to reply to this interesting passage, especially interesting in the midst of a worldwide pandemic and economic shutdown:

I remember you saying at some point that Jesus never taught us to divide the kingdom of God into "the already" and "not yet," but to instead focus on, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand." Is that more or less accurate? I ask because we all see a pretty dramatic difference between our present world and what God will bring about when He makes all things new. So when it comes to the kingdom of God now, what can we expect? 

I guess I think Jesus, by his life, showed us what to expect. And it seems his first followers experienced the kingdom of God in much the same way. There was a dramatic difference between their lives before Jesus and after, and there was also a dramatic difference between their lives and the lives of most other people. Wasn't there? Like in Jesus' life, sometimes this meant things changed around them, miraculous deliverances, their ability to do the seemingly impossible. And sometimes it meant that they experienced the sufferings and loss that others also experience (or even more so) but they were able to respond in an amazingly different way. We see this also in the lives of many more of Jesus' followers throughout history. These real and dramatic differences make apparent the actual presence of God's kingdom that Jesus said was "in your midst," here and now.

But this does exist "in the midst" of so much that is not the kingdom of God. We look at all that and wonder why God doesn't fix it, if he's so loving and powerful. If it was up to us, we'd fix it, wouldn't we?

We keep trying to fix it. We've found that we can do so much to change things around us, by working together and through technological advancements. We've solved so many problems, cured diseases, reduced pain, organized society, made human life longer, more comfortable, more well-ordered. We've been so successful that it seems we think that's the whole point of life. (Or we hope that's the point?) Then we wonder, indignantly, why God doesn't seem to be dedicating himself to this project as eagerly as we are.

But even with all our medical, societal, and technological advances we are still so isolated, lonely, confused, enslaved by our fears and lusts—lost. We are not so capable at fixing this problem, though it is more fundamental. So we throw ourselves into fixing everything else around us and try not to think about our inner isolation and bondage.

Jesus made it clear that he was interested in addressing this more fundamental problem. This deeper, more important problem. He came preaching the freedom and deep connectedness that God's love offers us. That comes through abandoning our own fears and desires and will, and depending on God to provide and protect and guide us. It's not a problem we can fix. Only God can.

And through our life experiences, God is working to bring each of us to himself, to bring us to the point where we abandon our own strength and reach out our hand to God. What is needed to bring us there is somewhat different for each person, I think. So none of our lives are exactly the same. At some moments we need deliverance, and other times we need to go through the shadow of death. Sometimes we need the pain to be taken away, and sometimes we need the pain. Maybe to help us see more clearly, or help us let go. That has been my experience. I wouldn't presume, though, to know what someone else needs at any moment. But I believe God can know and can provide the escape, or the hardship, that will help us most in the place we are in our journey to God. God offers this in love, with mercy, so that we will not be broken but be made free.

That does seem relevant to the current upheaval in our world. But everyone's experience is different and it's impossible to say what exactly God is doing with all these experiences in so many different lives. Except that he's trying to draw each of us to himself. This is the goal, not perfecting our society or the environment in which we live. The kingdom of God is found in following Jesus, no matter what's happening around us. It's real. And it's now. And what's happening in our lives can't keep us from the kingdom of God.

But it can help us get there.

"do you not care that we are perishing?"

We read this story for our family worship Sunday morning:

And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.

But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"

He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace! Be still!"

Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?" (Mk 4.36-41)

And then we sang this:

My life flows on in endless song;
above earth’s lamentation,
I catch the sweet, though far off hymn
that hails a new creation.

No storm can shake my inmost calm
while to that Rock I’m clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,
how can I keep from singing?

Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing.
It finds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

What though my joys and comforts die?
I know my Savior liveth.
What though the darkness gather round?
Songs in the night he giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm
while to that Rock I’m clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,
how can I keep from singing?

 

a hidden life

We recently saw A Hidden Life, based on the life of Franz Jägerstätter. He was a conscientious objector in Austria during World War II. A very powerful film. I was especially moved by this scene, when Franziska Jägerstätter meets her husband for the last time:

spirit in the sky

I hope they play this at my funeral...

Outside, men quarrel
But here quietly I wait
for him to waken



(previous Christmas haikus here)

the purpose of life?

Often in the past I've found it helpful to think about "the purpose of life." Or, more specifically, what I thought my particular purpose in life is. It seemed to help give me direction, or help focus me again when I was getting lost in the many confusing demands of daily life. It was during such a time of seeking purpose that I found a new interest in the life and teachings of Jesus.

But lately it seems that focusing on my "purpose" has become less helpful. Maybe it's partly because I've seen how often I've failed to live up to the purposes I've pursued. And it's partly because I've seen how often my purposes (and the purposes of others) have been misguided, unachievable, or simply unworthy of a human life. But I think the biggest issue for me right now is that having "a purpose" seems too much like having "a job."

A purpose in life, even if it's seen as a purpose given to us by God, still seems to be a goal or task to be accomplished, a work to be done. Maybe that seems good to us at times, because we want to feel valuable or needed or useful. And there certainly is a satisfaction that comes from completing a task that has been set before us. But focusing our life around a goal or type of work does seem to suggest that our value is in what we produce, that we are workers that are valued as means to an end. Then there are the troubling questions that arise: How well (or much) are we working? Are we working towards a good enough goal? What happens when we can't work any more?

And it seems to me that Jesus' teaching and example lead us to a different understanding, that it isn't our work that God wants—it's us. To be with us. Because God loves us, each of us. Jesus' life and sacrifice wasn't about gathering an army or a workforce to reshape the world, but about reuniting each of us with God. What we are offered is not just the purposes of God, but the Person of God. And that is what we all long for most deeply.

When I find myself getting confused or anxious amid the many demands of daily life, I'm finding it much more helpful to reach out to the Person, rather than a purpose. Remembering that (despite what most everyone else seems to say) I'm not the means to something else that someone wants, I myself am what God wants. And God is what I want. That is a "goal" that is worthy of a human life, and God makes that achievable right now, in this moment. And in the next moment, whether it be work together, or rest together, crying together, or laughing together. To be and act together, in the midst of whatever the moment brings.

I've been trying to remind myself of this the first thing I wake up, inspired by something my young son does. He sleeps right next our bed. And every morning, just as he wakes up, he calls out quietly: "Da?" Just checking to make sure I'm there. Because that's what's important to him. I realize that's how I want to start each day also.

"Da?"