Hey guys, today is Epiphany! It’s a feast day that celebrates the incarnation.
“Epiphany means ‘to make manifest.’ By the fourth century, Epiphany was a major annual celebration for the church. It is a season when we see Jesus’ divine mission revealed when the magi visit him, and then we remember his baptism, miracles, ministry, and his call for us to follow.”
Just something to think about. And maybe pray about?
Have a great day, friends!
I know this topic is somewhat taboo (what can of worms am I opening?!), but I think that it is incredibly relevant (see the recent revokation of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell and what it has conveyed to the LGBT community). Today, LGBTs are lobbying for more ‘rights,’ acceptance, and recognition. And the ‘freedom’ that America is touting is stuck in a strange tension in resolving this. In light of this, the sexual brokenness ensued by homosexuality (but also sexual brokenness in heterosexuality, which I will not explicitly touch here) must be addressed by Christians, lest our views fall to the cultural norm.
And please note that I want to disclaim any authority on the matter–only (mere) reflection–and am, therefore, petitioning your opinion and discussion. And really, I’m just asking questions to get your thoughts as I have some tentative.
EDIT: many of these considerations use the word ‘homosexual’ and its derivatives applied to implied meanings of the practice of homosexual acts as well as same-sex attraction.
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First of all, I am not entirely confident in Christianity’s response to homosexuality–I wonder, does it even exist? How have Christians responded to the cultural approval of homosexuality?
Before you answer those questions, I want to ask this: how many people in your church do you know deal with homosexuality?
I know only of one. But wait–isn’t the church a gathering of sinners? Isn’t it a body of those who acknowledge their sins in repentance and hope in Christ’s completed work on the Cross? If so, why aren’t there more people in the church who struggle with homosexuality?
I have a couple of (not exhaustive) proposals for the answer to that last question.
1) People who struggle with homosexuality are universally withdrawn from the church.
2) There exist people who struggle with homosexuality within the church, but are not entirely open with their burdens.
I tend toward the idea of the second–I think that there are Christians who are struggling with homosexuality. Let me pause for clarification here: I think that there are Christians, who acknowledge that they are broken and sinful, burdened with the temptation of homosexuality, but have faith in Christ’s justifying work on the Cross, and are now living in repentance and the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit. But where are they as we sit in pews among liars, thieves, gossips, and adulterers? Have we really welcomed those who struggle with homosexuality into our church? Or have we scared them into thinking that they are somehow worse than the rest? Have we scared them into thinking that they cannot live in the love of Christ because of their sexual brokenness?
I know not how to phrase it any differently, but I think we have scared those who struggle with homosexuality by not really loving them. And if we’re scaring struggling Christians, how can we reach the entire nation of those struggling with homosexuality outside the church?
Respond as you will, but if I can conclude with my questions in a somewhat ordered matter, you may like following that:
1) How has Christianity responded to homosexuality?
2) How many people in your church do you know struggle with homosexuality?
3) Where are the ‘homosexuals’ in the church?
4) Has Christianity’s response to homosexuality been one of love?
5) How do we respond?
Or even more summarily:
1) How should Christians approach homosexuality?
These are some meditations on the significance of the Incarnation from John 1:1-18 (full text posted here). For a semi-introduction to why I picked John for my Christmas meditation, see this post.
(4) In him was life, and the life was the light of men. (5) The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it….(9)The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
“in him was life”: It’s easy, at least for me, to just brush over phrases like these assuming I know what they mean, but never really stopping to consider exactly how they work out. What does it mean for life–an abstract concept and yet our most concrete reality–to be in something or someone? It sounds sort of like Life is contained inside of the Word, like when we say that there is water in a container. But then, we also say that there is water in the ocean, and what do we mean by that other than that the ocean is composed of water, that the substance of the ocean is water. And so in that sense, the Word not only contains life, but he is Life. And thus from him also flows Life.
“the light of men”: The metaphor John introduces here seems a little strange at first, but let’s think together for a second about what could be the significance of the Life of the Word being the light of men. First of all, without light, everything dies. If the sun ceased to shine, the world would cease to function. And if the light of men did not come into the world, so would the world cease to function. Secondly, without light we can perceive nothing, and thus we are totally blind. And when we can see nothing, we can know nothing. If the light of men did not come into the world, we would be spiritually floating around in a pitch-black vacuum, with no reality to cling to. And so we see that darkness–the absence of light–is presented here as a metaphor for death.
“the light shines in the darkness”: But the opposite of darkness is light, and the beautiful thing about this contrast is that dark and light are not equal powers vying for control. In fact, dark is no substance at all, but wherever the light shines, there is darkness totally defeated.
“the true light…was coming into the world”: When the Word, whose life is the light of men, came into the world, darkness was crushed in a single blow. Perhaps we have not yet seen all the effects of this victory yet; perhaps there are still shadows and unlit corners of our world; perhaps our vision is still dull and dim, as the clouds of our fallen world hide the direct light of the sun. And yet–and yet–Light has won, and one day very soon the triumph will be complete. But even now, the coming of the kingdom of light has been inaugurated. With light, there IS life. With life, we CAN see. The presence of light is the absence of death.
(16) And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.
This is one of the greatest, if not the single greatest mystery of the Incarnation: that we–rebels, enemies, God-haters; homeless, helpless, hopeless–that we “should gain from his reward”. Just take a minute to let this soak into your heart and mind. The Word became flesh for us. Now that is incredible.
(14) And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have see his glory, glory as of the Only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
“the Word became flesh”: Oh, may this never cease to blow our minds every time we read or hear or think about this! May we never lose the wonder of Immanuel–God with us!
“and we have seen his glory”: But the mystery does not end there. For God did not come to us in some ethereal, only spiritual way. He was not just “in the midst of us” as he was with Israel in the cloud and fire, or in the ark, or through the prophets. He was here with us AS ONE OF US! But more than that, he was not just here in the physical sense. Christ did not give up his Godhood when he came to earth, nor was his glory somehow lessened when he put on flesh. But think about what this verse means when it says “we have seen his glory”. In the Word become flesh, the Glory of God was clothed in flesh not to hide it, but to reveal it!
(18) No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.
In the Word become flesh, man can literally see God. We can finally truly know God. In the Incarnation, God is no longer to us merely the Force that created and sustains the universe, but a Person. A Person that the disciples could see and touch and hear, and a Person that even now we can interact with and love and be loved by and communicate with–that we can really know. Had God not become a Man, we would never have been able to know him; but not only that, we would never have been able to know Reality. In the Incarnation, God bridged the uncrossable chasm between the physical world we breath in and the spiritual world our souls inhabit. When the Word became flesh, he restored the marriage between soul and body which was broken by the Fall–something we could never have done on our own.
Without the Incarnation, we are not only doomed to eternal Hell because of our sins, but all of creation would have remained under the dominion of darkness, which is death. Without the Incarnation, even the sun would not rise. But praise be to God that the Sun has risen indeed, and he has come with healing in his wings.
Merry Christmas and glory in the highest to Emmanuel!
As I thought a little bit more about the first chapter of John, I realized that perhaps it would be better to just post the first 18 verses, and let you meditate on them yourself, and let them sink into your mind and heart, before I try to share my limited view of them. So I’ll post some aids for meditation tomorrow (Christmas morning), but for now I strongly encourage you to take some time to read through and think about this introduction to John’s history of Jesus life and ministry. I think you will find it rewarding, as I have.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light.
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John bore witness about him, and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks before me, because he was before me.’”) And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.
I’m going to suggest something that most people would probably consider somewhat outlandish. I’m going to suggest that this Christmas we not focus on trying to retell all the details of the Christmas stories–angels and shepherds and wise men and all that. And in fact, I’m going to go so far as to suggest that we not give our attention in any serious degree to any of the narrative surrounding the birth, or the even the life, of Jesus.
Instead, here’s what I recommend for us to do this Christmas as we celebrate what this year is all about: let’s read John’s introduction to his gospel (chapter one, verses one through eighteen), taking it in phrase by phrase, and stew on the profound truth of the Incarnation that John expounds so brilliantly and elegantly, yet so simply.
Thinking about the Incarnation from the narrative perspective can be very helpful, because the story reveals many facets of God’s character and His love for us. We see in the virgin birth God’s sovereign and omnipotent hand; we see in the dirty manger God’s utter disregard for the world’s value system; we see in the helpless infant Jesus the unfathomable paradox of the Vulnerable Almighty. And there is so much more. But if you grew up in church like most of us here at Mere, the Christmas story, and even its more profound applications, can easily fade into tradition and rote regurgitation of something we think we already understand. And the minute we begin to think, even subconsciously, that we understand Emmanuel–the minute we lose our awe at the concept of the God Man–we have at that moment lost the significance of Christmas. And when our Christmas celebrations get reduced to tradition and unthinking liturgy, we have totally wasted the immeasurable riches implicit in the Christmas holiday. The whole purpose of Christmas is to help us to meditate on the wonder of the Incarnation, and if we get so lost in the Christmas story (not to mention gifts and parties and “holiday cheer”) that we forget to meditate on God-with-us, we have wasted Christmas.
For that reason, I suggest that we try to think about the Incarnation a different way this year, and really devote ourselves to meditate on its mystery, and what it means for us, for the world, for the church, and even for the whole universe. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day I’ll post some of my thoughts on a few different parts of John chapter one which I hope might help us to consider anew some aspects of the Incarnation that are often overlooked. And ultimately, my prayer is like Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians (found in Ephesians 3:14-21), that we might better comprehend the love of God.
For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.
In the beginning was the Word…
Have you ever stopped to consider this opening sentence of John’s Gospel, not from a literary or historical or philosophical or doctrinal or hermeneutical perspective, but simply thinking of John as a real person, a regular fisherman from Galilee, when he first sat down to write his gospel? I can just imagine him pacing distractedly across a room, a younger disciple sitting by attentively, waiting to take down John’s dictation. The words are swirling through his head, on the tip of his tongue but ever so elusive–like minnows scatter when your hand touches the water, and just when you think you’ve got one in your grasp it slips away…–and then finally. He spins around on his heel and begins, quickly: “in the beginning” (a quite unoriginal phrase, perhaps, but a fitting echo of Genesis 1) then pauses for a moment, as if to let the importance of what he is about to dictate sink into his own mind. Then slowly but confidently he exhales: “was the Word”. And after that first monumental sentence he resumes his pacing and his dictating, but this time more slowly–and more deliberate–as the thoughts begin to coalesce in his mind, stilling–like ripples in calm water quickly fade into peace: “…and the Word was with God, and God was the Word…*”.
Or maybe that’s not how it happened. Maybe there was no scribe after all, and John was sitting at a table, parchment spread out, writing utensil in hand, carefully choosing his words. Or maybe the thinking was all already done–it had been stewing in his mind for years and years–so that one day he sat down and without hesitation penned the whole book at once. I don’t know how it happened. And most likely I never will. But as we approach Christmas–the day we set aside to celebrate and remember the beauty of the Incarnation–Emmanuel–I can think of nothing more fitting than to consider the wonder and reverence and ecstasy that the disciples must have had when they thought back on that great mystery which they were blessed to behold, and to live with, and walk beside, and listen to, and love.
Let us not waste this Christmas by leaning on old platitudes about “Jesus birthday” and “silent nights” and all such unhelpful, if not totally untrue sayings. Rather, let us steep ourselves in meditation on the dirty, sublime, incomprehensible, certain, bloody, divine mystery of GOD WITH US. And may we ever kneel in awe-struck worship before the newborn King–Son of God, Son of Man: Emmanuel.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the Only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
Here I am, a snowflake white
Falling, blowing ever so light
Racing, flutt’ring toward the ground
Myself willing, forcing down.
To my left and to my right
Snow-speckled air–what a sight!
What joy in my flutter found
Yet unknown, to my doom I’m bound.
I do not know whereto I fly
But only in my nature delight
Is that the end, a pale white mound?
I think it is! But what’s that sound?
A cry and screech, mourning in the night
From where’s this noise, my ears to bite?
Cries: “slow down! stop yourself! slow!”
I hear, and I think I now know.
My kin now in suffering quite,
Found the ground not to like
It’s there they die, I guess I will too
Alas, I wish that higher in the sky I knew.
content
got my coffee
got my bag
got my phone
what else to add
ready for work
ready to go
ready to live
all on my own
work on a project
work to get paid
work to fulfill me
nothing else my heart stays
ive got it all
ive got all i need
ive got money and shelter
only myself do i lead
lonely
bored with my work
bored with my home
bored with my paycheck
i think my life is gone.
there’s got to be more…
do we all but drone on?
there’s got to be more!
are we but America’s pawn?
hopeful
But someone might tell me:
To the Cross! To the Cross!
Turn your head and your heart
To Jesus Christ on the Cross!
a reflection of life in the city
One of my favorite hymns–originally from the Liturgy of St. James. Watch & listen to it here.
Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth,
Our full homage to demand.
King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
At His feet the six winged seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
For the longest time Derek Webb had confused me. I started really listening to music long after Caedmon’s Call had come onto the music scene, and even after Webb had released his first couple solo albums, but somehow I got exposed to Webb in more-or-less chronological order. First I heard those classic Caedmon’s songs–Thankful, Thy Mercy, Table for Two, Forty Acres, Lead of Love, Shifting Sand, etc–that in my estimation earned the band the title of Most Calvinist Band Ever. And then I heard that classic, unmatched Webb album She Must and Shall Go Free, which to this day I declare the best album on the Church in the history of the Christian music industry. After that I stumbled into some later Webb–The Ringing Bell, parts of Mockingbird–the albums which saw Webb shift the attentions of his songwriting genius to more didactic, more politically minded music. Then at this point, I think I went out of order and discovered The House Show, which still makes me rather mad that I never got to see the old Webb in concert. I’ve never heard a musician preach the Gospel like that at a concert. Anyways, at this point I was sold on Webb, and a full-out part of the niche market (of YRR’s) that he had carved out for himself, and so I awaited the release of the “controversial” Stockholm Syndrome with eager anticipation, a little annoyed at how ridiculous he was being but nonetheless expecting great things from it, due to all the hype. And then when I finally got the album, and listened to it five, maybe ten, times through, and started to try to interpret/understand it, and then talked to other people who had listened to it about what they made of the album, I started to get confused. And the reason why is that I really didn’t see the Gospel anywhere. I mean, if I looked really hard and read way in between the lines and drew meaning out of obscure places, I could see it. But in general, as a whole, the main gist of the album was not a bold declaration of the Gospel, even though “the truth is never sexy”–no, instead all I could really see what bitterness, and outrage, and angst (and ironically, he was bitter/angry at fundies/conservatives for being hateful/hypocritical). And I had to ask myself: “How could Webb have forgotten the Gospel? He appeared to have understood it so well, and articulated it better than anyone else in the Christian music industry, but where is it now in his music? I can’t even find it–and what I do find instead looks an awfully lot like the worst kind of liberal Christianity: evangelical-hating social gospel.”
But recently, a thought hit me, and I think it works if you trace it through the history of Webb’s career. Is it possible that Webb was never really as obsessed with reformed theology, and the local church, and Gospel-centered living as he made it out to be, but that in reality he just likes being edgy? That deep down, what drives him is simply a desire to be critical, to be on the outskirts, to be contrary to what’s popular? For the record, I hope not. But let me try to walk through his career, in just a sentence, to try to show how I think it works. Webb was a calvinist before it was cool; Webb preached the importance of community when mega-churches were booming; Webb sang against trusting in government right as (Christian) conservatives were celebrating victory; Webb lashed out at right wing fundies about their treatment of homosexuals while evangelical leaders stressed the importance of preserving the sanctity of marriage and not defiling the pulpit. And now Webb has released an album challenging the “conventional” concept of what “worship music” is. Sounds kinda like being edgy for edginess sake to me.
What do you think?