A Time for Figs

It’s a question that has been asked since Cain killed Abel and will likely be asked until the world is reborn to what God intended. The question is “Why?”  It is a question that keeps people from faith. “I cannot believe in a God who allows children to suffer.” It is a question that draws people to faith. “Where can I go when there is no reason why?” It can be answered with clear rationalism. “The prevailing wind currents and ocean temperature combined to create a storm of immense power that came ashore at 0900 hours.” It can be answered with utter anguish. “Why do the proud and haughty prevail and the faithful know only strife?”

It was a question in the mind and heart of the crowd that followed Jesus in the text we will be exploring the week at Seneca Presbyterian. Why else would they have repeated the latest news from Jerusalem? Some Galileans on pilgrimage were slaughtered by Pilate who then mixed their blood with their sacrifices. Jesus knew the question that was lingering in the air, and did not hesitate to ask it. “Do you think they were greater sinners?” He then answered his own question with a resounding “no.” Not once, but twice. That should have settled the matter forever. But still we ask.

• What did I do wrong to deserve cancer? What is God trying to tell me?
• Why did my child die? Is he paying a price for my failure?
• Who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind? By the way, that’s a real question asked by the disciples and directed to Jesus. Check out John chapter nine.
• When a nation falls – or twin towers – is God punishing its people for their unfaithfulness?

These are questions we struggled with as my faithful group of seekers gathered to ponder these words of Jesus. Most of us said no, we did not believe in a direct correlation between sin and suffering – nor goodness and blessing either. Life can be tough, and the question isn’t why but where. In the midst of our challenges, can God be found?

We were not as confident as we tried to understand what Jesus said next. “But unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” Jesus seems to contradict himself.  Was he irritated with the question? Was he preoccupied with what lay ahead of him on the road to Jerusalem? Was he wearing his prophet’s robe instead of his tender shepherd’s cloak? I think we find some clues in the Parable of the Fig Tree. I'll say more about that on Sunday!

The Journey of Lent

The season of Lent is upon us! Today is day two of our 40 day journey to the cross and beyond. Last night, at Seneca Presbyterian Church, we read scriptures and spoke prayers that unite many Christians in their observance of Ash Wednesday. We confess to You, O God, all our past unfaithfulness: the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience in our lives; our self-indulgent appetites and ways and our exploitation of other people; our anger at our own frustration and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves; our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us. Then we marked our foreheads with the sign of the cross using ashes burned from our Palm Sunday palm branches. It is a reminder that sin is real and we feel its consequences in our lives even when we live by the grace of God. The world is not as it should be, and even those of us who profess to have claimed God’s vision for the world are still responsible for a large portion of its mess.

Our response is two-fold. First we accept the grace of God into our lives. That’s where we must begin, because without that there is no hope. But that grace is more than forgiveness for what is past; it is power to re-make the future. We can change – slowly, with effort, through the power and presence of the Spirit within us. We can then become more faithful partners with God in the re-creation of God’s world.

Lent is the season to do the work of changing. Just as we cut away the old growth from our bushes and trees in the spring, Lent is the time to cut away the dead limbs of our lives so that life can return and thrive. Otherwise there is little hope for the “garden of our souls.” Intentional practice helps – and is most likely a necessity – if we are to succeed in passing from death to life during Lent. Some practices call upon us to “do without” – like the ancient way of fasting. Some Christians actually do fast, keeping alive the tradition that is so much a part of Hebrew and Muslim faith. Others fast in more intangible ways. We take away something from our lives that is important to us – a piece of chocolate; a weekly hour of our time; a craving that pulls us away from God and from one another. Then we let our hunger for what we have relinquished remind us of our hunger for God.  

Some practices call us to add. We find time to intentionally seek God – usually through some form of devotion and prayer. There are many resources in print, but in our age the web is also full of options. For instance, if you want to explore fixed hour prayer – the tradition that calls for regular morning, midday, and evening prayer - check out: http://www.explorefaith.org/prayer/prayer/fixed/pray_the_hours.php. This page will allow you to choose a time zone and your browser will pop up the appropriate prayer for the day and the hour. (Take time to read background information about fixed hour prayer within this same web site.)

As we gather for worship at Seneca Presbyterian Church each Sunday this Lent, I want to focus on the dead wood of our lives and how we can cut some of it away – for the sake of our own lives and the life of the world. The Gospel of Luke will be a faithful guide. This Sunday, we begin with the amazing Parable of the Good Samaritan. From the experience of an unknown traveler who was left “half dead,” we will identify one of our most critical threats to life through the amazing and surprising twist Jesus gave the story. For your own reflection, consider this: if you were in need of rescuing, would you allow your most hated and feared enemy to be the one who rescues? Just who would that be?  

Lifting the Veil

It’s Transfiguration Sunday – one of those marker Sundays in the church year that tells us a time of transition is upon us. We are at the end of the Epiphany season – which was rather short this year thanks to the moon – and about to begin the season of Lent. Next Wednesday we will mark our foreheads with ashes and start the 40 day journey to Easter. (In case you are counting, we take a break on the Sundays.)  We will try as diligently as we can to contemplate the meaning of the events that mark our faith – the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus – so that as we experience those holy days, we will be ready and open to receive them and the life-giving transformation they offer.

                No wonder the journey begins with a remarkable story. In it, the inner circle of disciples catch a glimpse of a truth they are just beginning to contemplate much less comprehend – that Jesus is more that he appears. He is more than teacher and rabbi and even more than healer and miracle worker. He is God incarnate – the anointed One – the Messiah.  Except this time, that’s more than just an intuition in their souls; it is a reality in front of their eyes.

                For Peter, James, and John, the veil is lifted. They catch a sneak peak of what is to come. This story is the turning point. It reaches back to the moment when Jesus was baptized and heard the voice of God say, “You are my Son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased.” This time those disciples hear God say, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"  And it reaches forward to another time when Jesus will take disciples up a mountain to be with him as he prays. They will fall asleep that time, too. You would think they would learn that when Jesus prays, something amazing is going to happen.

But the story reaches back even further. Jesus is beginning a new exodus journey. That’s what “his departure” (Luke 9:31) means: exodus – a going out. Jesus is going out from this world but just as Moses did before him, he will bring yet again a deliverance from slavery. This time, we are the slaves and our slave-master is sin – all that separates us from God and from one another; all that keeps this world from becoming what God created it to be.  

                Lent gets us ready for that exodus. It is a time for cutting away all that would keep us from claiming the new life that is promised to us. If we will let him, in these 40 days Jesus will prune us like a fig tree. He will cut away all the dead wood of our lives so that new sprouts can spring forth.

                When the faithful seekers of Seneca Presbyterian Church gathered this week to explore Sunday’s text together, we talked of times we experienced God. Those are times when God touched us. As we begin the Lenten journey, can we consider times when we need to be touched by God? What part of your life that you know needs healing are you willing to offer to God in these 40 days?

Healer of our Every Ill

Have you ever experienced the power of healing prayer? It’s an intriguing question that can be interpreted and answered in many ways. Most Christians I know will say they have prayed personally for healing and known some kind of positive answer. Most Christians I know will say they believe in the power of intercessory prayer. It is why we keep a list of prayer concerns and ask the members of Seneca Presbyterian to pray for those listed – both within our family of faith and beyond that community to include others known to us. 

Some Christians I know will say they believe in the power of healing prayer. By this they believe that some have been given the spiritual gift of healing and through that gift, usually accompanied by some form of touching, the Holy Spirit can heal. 

When we gathered for Bible study last Wednesday evening, we explored two stories of healing performed by Jesus in Luke, chapter 7. In one, Jesus healed the slave of a Roman centurion. In the other, Jesus brought back to life the only son of a widow in the village of Nain. Both stories are fascinating, not only for what they teach us about Jesus but also for what they teach us about healing today. We’ll look at them more fully as we gather for worship this Sunday. 

But our “Wednesday night faithfuls” also explored what we believe about healing and prayer. We shared openly and honestly as those who do believe in the power of prayer to heal and make whole. Some spoke of personal experience with what they belief was divine healing that accompanied the human gift of healing through medicine. We affirmed the ministry of prayer in our lives and in the life of our church family. 

But our skepticism surfaced when we talked of “miraculous healings.” I don’t think we doubted God; I think we doubted people. We’ve known too many times when the needs of vulnerable persons were abused by those who only sought personal gain. In good and faithful Presbyterian fashion, we thought examples of miraculous healing were limited to Jesus and those closest to him – in other words, the “apostolic age.” John Calvin believed that. He also believed that evidence of God’s miraculous presence is all around us. We don’t need miraculous moments to see it, only the eyes of faith opened by the Spirit. 

Yet still I wonder…

What do you think?