non-metaphysical stephen

Hmm, didn’t Jesus have a parable about this kind of situation?

Judge blasts bad bank, erases 525G debt - NYPOST.com.

Suffolk Judge Jeffrey Spinner wiped out $525,000 in mortgage payments demanded by a California bank, blasting its “harsh, repugnant, shocking and repulsive” acts.

The bombshell decision leaves Diane Yano-Horoski and her husband, Greg Horoski, owing absolutely no money on their ranch house in East Patchogue.

Spinner pulled no punches as he smacked down the bankers at OneWest — who took an $814.2 million federal bailout but have a record of coldbloodedly foreclosing on any homeowner owing money.

Today’s sermon was on the Epistle reading: Ephesians 4.25-5.2:

Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another. Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil. Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need. Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

Lots of food for thought in the passage (and in the sermon!), but (our pastor) Bob’s discussion of one verse in particular really jumped out at me: (more…)

There’s an odd juxtaposition of texts in my online daily Bible readings. Today’s reading includes Ezra 10, the passage in which the people of Israel, having been rebuked by Ezra, agree to put away their non-Hebrew wives.

Before I get to the second passage, let me make a few comments: (more…)

A few weeks back the Sunday morning Gospel reading was the story of the woman with the hemmorhage who touched Jesus’ clothing and was healed. Rev. Bob mentioned that the insertion of this story within the story of the synagogue ruler Jairus is interesting because it means Jesus would have been ritually unclean after she touched him. Yet Jairus brought Jesus back to his house anyway. That’s a pretty powerful story in itself–that Jairus put aside his knowledge of the Law and trusted in Jesus’ purity. I wonder if her healing had any external evidence for the crowd to see.

Then I noticed an interesting variation between the accounts (Mark 5, Matthew 9 and Luke 8). (more…)

Today’s scripture readings from the ESV Daily Reading Bible are an interesting juxtaposition. The Hebrew text describes Babylon’s conquest of Judah under Nebuchadnezzar, while the Christian text describes the promised fall of Babylon the Whore.

It’s interesting to see these two texts side-by-side since God used the Babylonians to punish the faithless people of Israel, only to punish them later for their own sins and then to allow the name of Babylon to be forever linked with the worst excesses of human depravity. (While researching my dissertation, I learned that the Babylonian exile was not the worst experience the Hebrews faced–they may have had even harsher lives under later rulers–yet Babylon remains the symbol of unrighteousness.) God may not be the God of the Babylonians, but they are certainly under God’s power. Yet how strange it is that God would choose a people like this–a people destined for their own judgment–to act as agents of spiritual justice. How easy it is to forget that the God of the universe has authority to raise up and utilize all nations–and not only the just ones!

The passage from Revelation is also interesting for its stress on economics as a temptation to sin. It’s not just the kings who mourn the fall of Babylon–it’s also the merchants and the seafarers who have made their riches off of selling luxury items. Consider the list of goods mentioned in the text:

…no one buys their cargo anymore, cargo of gold, silver, jewels, pearls, fine linen, purple cloth, silk, scarlet cloth, all kinds of scented wood, all kinds of articles of ivory, all kinds of articles of costly wood, bronze, iron and marble, cinnamon, spice, incense, myrrh, frankincense, wine, oil, fine flour, wheat, cattle and sheep, horses and chariots, and slaves, that is, human souls.

We get the picture of men and women who used material goods not for sustenance and/or for generosity and charity, but to make themselves wealthy–probably marketing to the extremely wealthy who can waste money on the most expensive, impressive, unnecessary goods.

I wonder how much John’s depiction of the economics of Babylon matches up with our modern culture. What sins do we accrue against ourselves through our economic values and policies. Are we as tied in to luxurious living as the Babylonians and the merchants and seafarers who lived off of them? Is our emphasis upon economic power an obstacle to our spiritual health? Are we bringing judgment upon ourselves by our posh lifestyles?

These questions came to mind as I read the chapter this morning:

Other than Luke, Paul had no chronicler–wouldn’t it be great if we knew the daily details of his ministry? And what about Timothy and his time in Thessalonika? What did he do there? What were the Thessalonians like?

If we truly believe that God chose how all the scriptures were to be written, isn’t it interesting that almost all of our records of the apostles’ lives come from the epistles? Why do you think this is?

And when Paul praises the Thessalonians for their endurance during affliction, he doesn’t single out any leaders. I’m curious what made this group of Christians able to persevere when it seems other groups weren’t as strong, and I’d expect to learn that their were certain leaders (if no pastor) in the church who continued to provide good instruction and counsel. But Paul doesn’t mention anyone by name. Perhaps the group was just that small?

Either way, it makes me wonder about the emphasis we place on pastors in our churches. Not that pastors are unimportant, but perhaps we underestimate the importance of the laity–that is, we underestimate our own responsibilities as congregants. Do we place too much of a burden on our pastors to maintain our spiritual health? Do Paul’s comments suggest that the laity is far more responsible for each other’s health than we allow?

The Lectionary readings for Sunday included Jesus’ temptation in the Wilderness, and Renee spent most of her sermon on that passage. It’s material I’ve heard a thousand times before, and yet needed to hear again.

This time, I started to notice my own reactions to God in the Devil’s words:

“IF you are the Son of God, then…”

How often have I demanded that God prove himself by doing something? How often have I told myself that I didn’t know if I could believe in God if X were to happen, in spite of all that God had brought me through in the past. Jesus’ faith protected him from falling for this trick. Like him, we must learn to trust in God’s provision and not demand “if-then” proofs of God’s existence or power.

I also heard myself in something Renee said when she imagined whether Jesus reacted to his time in the Wilderness with “Did I make a mistake?”

Again, how often have I seen signs of God’s faithfulness and provision only to wonder if, in spite of it all, I’ve gone astray somewhere, with no idea how or when? How do I lose faith so easily?

I’m feeling a bit of Wilderness fever right now with my job search. May God preserve me and give me the faith I need to trust that God is preparing me to for a holy service, to minister to God’s people and to live out the reality of God’s kingdom.

Amen.

I’ve been chatting online about our response to suffering, and today’s readings contained this gem of a passage:

Hebrews 10.32-35:

But recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one. Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward.

Whoa! I recall Paul’s admonishment that we ought not to be upset when people defraud us, and this verse seems right in line with Paul.

How many of us would be willing (much less able) to joyfully accept having our property plundered? How many of us have the maturity to count our earthly possessions as nothing compared to the hope that is at hand for us in Christ Jesus? How many of us could see God’s goodness and activity in such an event?

As the author of Hebrews states just before this passage,

“It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”

I wonder how many of us could withstand these sufferings without cursing God?

Some questions I had on reading today’s lectionary passages:

Genesis 16.15-17.2:

• And Hagar bore Abram a son, and Abram called the name of his son, whom Hagar bore, Ishmael. Abram was eighty-six years old when Hagar bore Ishmael to Abram.
• When Abram was ninety-nine years old the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am God Almighty;walk before me, and be blameless, that I may make my covenant between me and you, and may multiply you greatly.”

There’s a thirteen year gap between these two (consecutive) passages, and yet the scriptures pass over them completely. What especially strikes me is that God is not shown correcting Abram of his mistake during this time. Is it not a frightening thing to think that we might misunderstand God’s will and not be told our error for thirteen years?

Hebrews 10.8-9:

• When he said above, “You have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt offerings and sin offerings” (these are offered according to the law), then he added, “Behold, I have come to do your will.” He does away with the first in order to establish the second.

Throughout this section on the law, I was thinking of the Reconstruction and Theonomy movements. When the scriptures are so clear about the inefficacy of the Mosaic law and the superiority of the Gospel, why do Christians want to impose the law onto the nation?

John 5.34b:

• I say these things so that you may be saved.

There are a few places in John where Jesus implies that our salvation is prior to his death and resurrection and is instead found in his own words to us. Elsewhere he claims that the disciples are clean because of his words (John 15.3). What is the connection between his words, i.e., his teachings, and our salvation? Could we be ignoring a crucial aspect of our redemption by focusing so much on his Passion?

John 5. 45:

• Do not think that I will accuse you to the Father. There is one who accuses you: Moses, on whom you have set your hope.

It’s interesting that Moses is the accuser here, since accusation is the name and function of Satan. If Moses does Satan’s job, what does that tell us about Satan?

In today’s sermon, Pastor Renee reminded us that after Jesus was baptized, he was led to the Wilderness where he was tempted. What struck me about hearing this again was that Jesus was led by the Spirit of God! He didn’t end up in the Wilderness by being unfaithful or by misunderstanding God’s call. No, it was God himself who led Jesus there.

I suppose for most of us, the Wilderness is something to be avoided. And when we find ourselves there, we wonder 1) where we got off-track and 2) how to get out. But this conception is not biblical. When God led the Hebrews out of Egypt, they had to first go through the Wilderness. And it was in the Wilderness that their doubts and fears got the best of them: they wanted to return to slavery, they tried worshiping other gods, they accused God of leading them to their deaths.

But God was fully in charge during that time. The Wilderness was a necessary place between slavery and the Promised Land. God had great plans for them, untold blessings and freedom. God was their safety and their refuge in their wanderings. If only they had trusted that the God who rescued them from bondage could (and would) provide for them in their journey.

Aren’t we like this today? We want to avoid the Wilderness, when sometimes that is exactly where God would lead us. The Wilderness may look scary, like the Valley of Death, but in God’s hands, we are perfectly safe. Why are we so afraid of the Wilderness? Why do we trust God so half-heartedly?

Do with us as you will, Father. Your Love for us is so great that we know you will never let us be ashamed of following you, even when you lead us into the thickest forests, the most barren deserts and the darkest and coldest of nights. Lead us where you will, that we might be fruitful for the sake of your Kingdom.

In Christ,
Amen.

A short break from Ellul: Our church is doing a summer-long study on the Sermon on the Mount. Tonight we worked through the Beatitudes, and my group was asked to focus on the first verse: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

After talking about the way the Greek term for poor implies being a beggar (I thought it might translate well as “bankrupt” in spirit), we discussed the Amplified Bible’s translation of “poor in spirit” as not making too much of one’s self. And I realized that I’ve been addressing this idea every time I contemplate my createdness (an idea I gained through a Zen reading of John Calvin’s On the Christian Life).

I am nothing more than God’s creation — I did not create myself, nor can I take any credit for my own strengths or talents. I am only here because God created me, because God chose to, because God in his loving-kindness wanted to. This life is only a gift, and I owe everything I am and have to God. Yet I continue to make demands upon God as to how my life should go. How arrogant and ungrateful I am!

However, in those brief moments when I do grasp my own createdness, I sense just how poor in spirit I truly am. And in those moments, I feel God’s reign finally taking a place in my heart.

May I continue to decrease, that God might increase. Amen.

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“Whatever you ask in My name, that will I do, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” (John 14.13)

This verse has been in my head the past few days — not sure why. I’m not going to complain though. There’s plenty to pray about, and if Jesus is going to make a promise like this, I’m going to take him up on it.

Meanwhile, it’s a new calendar year. Not a new year for the church (that was 5 weeks ago, on the first Sunday of Advent), but a new number at the end of the date. Really, it’s just a day like any other day (today was windy and cold, and gasoline wasn’t any cheaper than usual). But it does provide a useful opportunity for us to stop and take stock of where we’ve been for the past year, to recognize how much has changed, how much we’ve come through, how far we still have left to go.

This year, let us renew our commitment to Christ, to recall the promises of Psalm 139 that God is always present with us. And let us renew our trust in Christ’s promise that what we ask in his name, he will do. He is faithful and true, if we will believe. Amen, and amen.

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I’ve been pondering this guy the past few days. Luke’s account is interesting for the way it parallels and contrasts Zacharias and Mary: both receive a visit from an angel about a son, and both respond with a question. But the differences in the accounts raise so many questions: Why does Elizabeth not receive the visit from the angel? Why does Zacharias’ question earn him nine months of silence? Why is John the Baptist’s birth announced publicly but not Jesus’?

This passage is Zacharias’ only appearance in the Gospels, and Luke gives him an extremely prominent position in his narrative–he’s the opening figure. To get a sense of the importance this position gives him, consider the other Gospels: Mark and John both begin their narratives with John the Baptist, while Matthew begins with Joseph. Zacharias becomes a crucial figure simply by parallelism with the other narratives. But why him?

I don’t know how to answer that question right now, but I do wonder if we are like Zacharias. Very few of us will be one of the central characters in the history of the church–we will not be the Peters and Pauls, the Marys and Teresas and the Francises and Luthers. We will have a much smaller role in the narrative.

But that role is ours to play, given to us by God in love and for his glory. The role is small but it is neither unimportant nor lacking in honor. For it is a gift of God’s grace and a sign of God’s favor. And even when we fail to understand what God is doing, as Zacharias could not, God can still use us as signs to the people of his love and faithfulness.

We may have no idea how important our smallest actions may be for the kingdom of God. Zacharias was simply fulfilling his purposes as husband and as priest. He didn’t go out of his way to seek greatness, but was faithful in doing his duties. Yet by his faithfulness, he became not only the father of one of the church’s greatest figures, but a public sign of God’s promise to the entire nation.

Like Zacharias, we have no idea what God will call us to later in life. Nor can we comprehend just how much God can do with our faithfulness in our daily duties. We do not need to be the star of the show–even the supporting players must play their part fully. But if we are faithful in our calling, we might find that our small role has crucial importance in God’s amazing work of redemption.

Let us not grow weary in doing what is good. And may it be done with us according to God’s will, no matter how small the part we are called to play.

This passage has been on my mind of late, especially as I ponder my future, what God wants me to do with my life, and how I can help people grow closer to Christ’s Love for them. The lilies don’t do any work–yet I feel like I’m not doing enough. Or more accurately, I feel that I should be more fruitful and that I must not be doing enough.

Such egotism–thinking that I must be destined for greater things than this and that the responsibility lies on my shoulders. De Caussade would say that I may be fruitful even now, simply in fulfilling my duties and even if I feel I have been abandoned by God.

The lilies don’t spin their clothes–they simply abide in good soil. (more…)