passion

Ponderings for Palm Sunday

We Serve the One who Served Us

Do you ever feel like if people really knew you, they’d see you aren’t as good or capable as you appear to be? Psychologists call this “impostor phenomenon.”  Some call it impostor syndrome, but that makes it sound like a pathology that applies to just a few, when actually this is a widespread tendency across the human experience. Even the most highly accomplished people can feel like they aren’t good enough. Maya Angelou, the award-winning author and poet, once said, “I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh-oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.’” The impostor phenomenon names the gap that persists between what we know is inside ourselves—multiple, contradictory, incoherent feelings, swirls of shame and regret and competing desires—and how we try to present a more composed, consistent version of ourselves to the world. As one of the original researchers of the phenomenon has described it, impostor feelings come from a conviction that “I have to mask who I am.” (See “Why Everyone Feels Like They’re Faking It,” by Leslie Jamison, The New Yorker, 2/6/2023.)

Beyond the psychological dimension of feeling inadequate about who we are, there’s also a spiritual dimension. In our souls, we are aware of our inferiority. It’s not because we are inferior to each other. We all are equal. But we know deep down that we fail to measure up to the standards of what we should be. In biblical terms, “there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:22,23). Inwardly, we all know that truth about ourselves … but often we are not ready to admit it. We try to mask it. We try to prop ourselves up superficially with self-image and ego, and we minimize our failures. We seek to assert ourselves, our position, and our own opinions as having high importance. In reality, we are all insignificant individuals in the sea of humanity—except for the importance and value given to each of us by a gracious God.

God is important. He is supreme, sacred, superior. Jesus Christ is as perfect as perfect can be. There is no inferiority in him. And yet he was willing to step down and lower himself, to become one with us in our struggling, imperfect world. He did so to lift us up so we can be all that we are meant to be in him. As a result, we can stop hiding behind masks and feeling like we can’t ever measure up. Through Jesus coming down to our level to redeem us and make us his own, we can be confident about ourselves and who we are, because we are God’s people. And we will serve one another and others in the same way Jesus served us.

Let’s consider Christ’s humility and the honor and worship now due to him because of what he did. Ponder these words about our King from Philippians 2:11, quoting from Eugene Peterson’s The Message translation:

  • Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.
  • Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, so that all created beings in heaven and on earth—even those long ago dead and buried—will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, and call out in praise that he is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father.

Martin Luther, in a sermon for Palm Sunday concerning this Philippians scripture, commented on the description of Christ as God becoming human:  

  • Unquestionably, Paul proclaims Christ true God. Had he been mere man, what would have been the occasion for saying that he became like a man, and was found in the fashion of other men, and that he assumed the form of a servant, though he was in form divine? Where would be the sense in my saying to you, “You are like a human being, are made in the fashion of a human being”? You would think I was mocking you, and might appropriately reply: “I am glad you regard me as a human being, I was wondering if I were an ox or a wolf. Are you crazy?”  (Sermons of Martin Luther, volume VIII, page 176)

Jesus’ original identity is not as a man, but as God. He has existed from eternity. In the beginning he was with God and he was God and he is by nature God (cf. John 1:1).  Even in his incarnation, becoming human, Jesus’ divine nature and form remained clear to see. He was flawless and perfect in every action. He taught the teachers, even when he was a boy. He did miracles of power and amazement that only God can do. He preached messages of authority that set him apart from all other rabbis and teachers. Even as a human being, Jesus still displayed the attributes of God. Who he was was obvious from how he was: absolutely powerful and wise and sinless. He is God.

And yet Jesus did not consider this equality with God something he had to cling to or exploit, but made himself nothing to serve us, in our humanity. Though all glory and power was naturally his, Jesus emptied himself of it. In that final week leading up to his death, Jesus set aside his powers as God. Never did he appear more human:

  • He would be arrested. How do human beings arrest God and take him into custody? 
  • He would be put on trial. How can corrupt human justice accuse the one who is the judge of the universe?
  • He would be beaten and whipped, pummeled and punched, spit on and mocked. How can God be a victim of abuse?
  • He would be nailed and hanged, crucified, dead, and buried. How can God die?

God, in Jesus could do all these things, because he emptied himself of his divine rights, did not use his divine powers, and let himself stand in for us humans in fully human helplessness. He became obedient to the Father’s will, suffering for our sins. He became obedient even to the point of a most horrible death. That is how low and how humble Jesus made himself in his work of redeeming us.  Again, as Luther described:

  • He accepted the most ignominious death, the death on the cross, dying not as a man, but as a worm; yes, as an arch-villain, a scoundrel above all scoundrels … Losing even what favor, recognition, and honor were due to the assumed servant form in which he had revealed himself, and he perished altogether. (Sermons of Martin Luther, volume VIII, page 178).

Jesus died a death reserved for only the worst in the world, when, indeed, he is the best and purest of any who ever walked this earth.

Already the way Jesus entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday showed his intent to divest himself of his regal, divine privilege. A mighty king or ruler would have ridden in on a mighty steed, an impressive horse of proud bearing and gait. Jesus comes in on a donkey – on a colt, the foal of a donkey. In modern terms, whereas great leaders parade into town in limousines with police escorts and traffic-halting motorcades, Jesus would be coming in on his own, on a bicycle – on a bike with training wheels, the baby of a bicycle. Palm Sunday was a humble entrance to what would be an even more humbling week, as Jesus very literally made himself nothing, to save us nothings and make us something.

And because Jesus did this, we worship him. God has exalted him. The Father has restored him, and Jesus sits at his right hand, in all authority and glory. We bow to Christ in love and trust and admiration, in service and praise. We serve the one who served us. He gave us an identity in him and with him, allowing us to live without putting on a mask to hide who we are.

How do we go about serving and praising Jesus as our Lord? The initial verse of Paul’s psalm of praise in Philippians tells us where we fit in: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5). “Think the same way that Christ Jesus thought” (CEV). The way that Jesus humbled himself is to be a pattern for us as we live for him.

So, how humble are we? How selfless and self-sacrificing are we willing to be? How readily do we take on ourselves the form of a servant? Or do we imagine ourselves instead as masters of our own destiny, lords of our own castles, owners of our own bodies, in charge of our own possessions?

As disciples of Jesus Christ, we will not be about pushing ourselves forward. Rather, we will be about serving one another in service to God. We are God’s servants, indebted to him out of love for how he was treated so shamefully for us. We are not merely to be waiting for God to wait on us, like we’re restaurant patrons and church is where God serves up our spiritual Sunday dinner. Certainly he does serve us. That’s why we call the worship hour “the divine service.” God serves us in our souls with his word and sacraments. But if we attend church only to be served by him, to take from him, we are only considering half of the story. Then who is the Lord and who is the servant? Do we treat God sometimes like some sort of waiter or busboy, and we are the very important persons who expect him to be at our beck and call whenever we want something?

My friends, we are not lords and masters, we belong to the Lord, our Master. We remember how the Lord, our Master, lowered himself to come and serve us.  Our attitude shall be the same as that of Christ Jesus. He, the God of all creation, gave up his position of power and glory to come and serve us—even to the point of pain and shame and dying for us, to forgive us of all our selfishness. Surely, now in return, we can give up ourselves and our selfish interests and become servants to him, and serve our neighbors as he served us all. We will devote heart and mind, body and soul, money and materials, energy and efforts, and our very lives to God and to his glory, at home and in our congregations and in our communities. May God by his grace and by his Spirit make that happen among us. “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Matthew 21:9)  Let us confess and live daily the truth “that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:11), and to the benefit of our fellow, redeemed human beings.  

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For a previous Palm Sunday blog post, see:
“Cheering on Sunday, Jeering by Friday”

 


Scripture quotations, except where otherwise indicated, are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

 

Posted by David Sellnow

Patience

A meditation focused on Psalm 129

PATIENCE

See Psalm 129 in The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language by Eugene Peterson

 

Have you heard the apocryphal story about the woman who asked her pastor to pray for patience for her? Let’s hope it’s not a true story, because it would be terrible ministry practice. (Cf. article by Tim Harvey in The Messenger, 11/13/2019.)

The story goes like this:

A woman came to see her pastor. She said, “I am struggling with losing my patience. I get so frustrated dealing with my kids. At work, the policies and procedures and red tape infuriate me. When standing in line at the grocery store, I get agitated and just want to scream. Pastor, would you pray for me, that I can learn to be more patient?”

“Sure,” her pastor replied, and began to pray: “Lord, give this woman trouble and pain. Bring about times of distress and difficulty. Cause her to suffer …”

“Wait, wait, wait!” The woman interrupted. “Please stop! I didn’t ask for you to pray for me to have pain and suffering. I asked you to pray for patience for me.”

The pastor took a Bible off the desk (King James Version, of course), opened to Romans chapter 5, and read: “We glory in tribulations … knowing that tribulation worketh patience” (Romans 5:3 KJV).  If you want patience, what you need is more suffering.

I hope no pastor would take such an insensitive approach. There is, though, a grain of truth to consider.  Scripture does say we welcome sufferings when they come, “knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Romans 5:3-4). God doesn’t take pleasure in seeing us suffer; he loves us and strengthens us with his Spirit (Romans 5:5). When powers and people in this life kick us around and knock us to the ground, we hang on to hope in God’s promises. We trust he is working to deepen our relationship with him, build our resilience over struggles, and prepare us for an eternal reward as people called to be his own.

Our natural tendencies do not tend toward patience.  As Pastor Eugene Peterson put it in his book, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, we are people who are constantly “whining and chattering … and running and fidgeting,” which causes us to miss listening to the slow, calm, merciful words and ways of God (p. 114). “The way of the world is peppered with brief enthusiasms” (p.123), of chasing after one thing and then another, because this world is a temporal, temporary, wibbly-wobbly sort of place. That which is enduring and permanent–that which is everlasting–can only be found in relationship with God. But that’s not what counts to us when we’re always tracking daily stock prices and quarterly business reports and scrolling what’s trending on social media and what’s streaming on our TVs or tablets or all the other devices we’ve accumulated to occupy our time.

Our chronic impatience–our pursuit of “brief enthusiasms”–spills over into spiritual life too. For example, a number of years ago, I attended a concert in Houston. The headline act was Leon Patillo, who had been lead singer for Santana. He had found Jesus and turned to making Christian contemporary music. His vibe was bouncy and boisterous, like you’d have heard in dance clubs, except with lyrics full of “Praise God!” and “Hallelujah!”  Oodles of young kids had come to party to his synthesizer sounds, and they were bored with the opening act (the person I had actually come to see). His name was Michael Card. Those of you in my age bracket may recognize his name as the songwriter of “El Shaddai,” “Love Crucified Arose,” and other thoughtful songs focusing on the life of Christ revealed in the Gospels. Midway through his brief portion of the show, as the young people were impatient for the headline act to take the stage, Michael Card paused and spoke sincerely to the audience.  He said, “Christian life is not one big party; I want you to realize that.  We are not here only to jump and sing and dance, but to struggle in the name of Jesus as we proclaim him to the world.”  And then he read from Philippians chapter 3 (verses 10-11): “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

Michael Card had it right.  Jesus does not promise us constant fun or problem-free living on this earth.  He does promise inner joy that transcends outward circumstances, life forever to those who endure and overcome.

Psalm 129 has a message of a similar mood. Worshipers on their way up to Jerusalem would sing this song, remembering their history as a people, trusting God’s enduring faithfulness to them, and praying that the enemies of God’s people would be thwarted.

Think of the patience needed to be an Old Testament believer in the promises of God.

  • Abraham was promised by God that he would be the father of a great nation, bringing about blessings through him and his descendants (Genesis 12:1). He was 75 years old at the time (Genesis 12:4). The promise was laughable. Then, Abraham was made to wait 25 years before the miraculous promise was fulfilled and the son Isaac was born, when he was 100 years old and his wife Sarah was 90 (cf. Genesis 17:17, 21:5-7).
  • Jacob was promised that the land inhabited by Abraham, his grandfather, and Isaac, his father, would become the homeland of that nation of their descendants (Genesis 35:11-12). Then, in his old age, Jacob and his whole extended family needed to emigrate to Egypt to survive a time of famine (cf. Genesis 42-47). Not until a couple hundred years later did the Israelites, as a people, exit Egypt and go back to the promised land.
  • The history of Israel from that point forward wasn’t easy either. In the days of the Judges, the people faltered in their faithfulness and experienced a series of attacks against them by surrounding peoples such as the Moabites, Midianites, Canaanites, Ammonites, and Philistines. During the time of the Kings, forces that opposed God’s plans for his people continued to afflict them from both inside and outside their nation. Eventually, the northern tribes of Israel fell under the domination of the empire of Assyria, and then the southern tribes (the nation of Judah) fell to the empire of Babylon. Some think that Psalm 129 may have been composed during the time of exile in Babylon or after Jewish exiles returned from there decades later.

With that history of Israel’s struggles in mind, the psalm writer reminisces: “They’ve kicked me around ever since I was young”–so says Israel–”but they never could keep me down” (Psalm 129:1,2 MSG).  In poetic imagery, the psalm sees the history of Israel as if others were driving plows up and down their back, ripping deep into their flesh. Yet they were not destroyed. They were not defeated. God kept coming to Israel’s aid, “ripping the harnesses of the evil plowmen (Israel’s enemies) to shreds” (Psalm 129:4 MSG), rescuing his people.

When I read Psalm 129’s description of how the enemies of Israel were gouging and ripping up the back of the people of Israel, I can’t help but think of another image of suffering.  Jesus Christ went through an ordeal of suffering. We call it “The Passion of the Christ” because suffering is the original meaning of the Latin term passio. When Jesus was brought before the Jewish authorities as an enemy of the people, those “who were holding Jesus began to mock him and beat him; they also blindfolded him and kept asking him, ‘Prophesy! Who is it that struck you?’” (Luke 22:63-65).  Jesus was then dragged before the Roman governor Pontius Pilate as an enemy of the empire. Though there was no basis to the charges against Jesus, Pilate had him flogged–at two points during the process, it seems (cf. John 19:1 and Matthew 27:26, Mark 15:15). The 2004 movie, The Passion of the Christ, dramatized how gruesome scourging by Roman soldiers could be. Mel Gibson’s original theatrical release of the film dwelt on that torture scene for ten minutes. Subsequent editions of the film cut five minutes of the goriest visuals, because viewers and critics had found it too horrible to watch. If the image of it is too horrible for us to endure, what of the horror endured by Jesus himself, actually experiencing such a thing? And then experiencing the horrors of crucifixion, slowly suffocating to death? And the horror of soul in bearing all the weight of humanity’s separation from God as an act of atonement for us, causing him to cry out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)?

We can have patience in our ordeals in life because we know we have a God who is on our side. He has suffered with us and for us.  “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:15-16).

Now, there’s a part of Psalm 129 that we haven’t addressed yet, which we can’t ignore. The last verses of the psalm approach the throne of God with a prayer for punishment on all those who have hated and opposed Zion–God’s holy mountain, God’s people, his church.  “Oh, let all those who hate Zion grovel in humiliation; let them be like grass in shallow ground that withers before the harvest” (Psalm 129:5-6 MSG). Is that a righteous prayer? Are we allowed to pray for judgment against “the evil plowmen” who have “plowed long furrows up and down” our backs? Are we allowed to ask God to rip “the harnesses of the evil plowmen to shreds” (cf. Psalm 129:3,4 MSG)? When Christ was crucified, didn’t he say, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34)?

Yes, Christ urges us to show patience and forgiveness to all. At the same time, we also speak out against those who knowingly and persistently act against righteousness and justice and goodness.  Jesus himself forcefully upended the tables of the merchants and money changers doing business in the temple area, even making a whip to drive away all their merchandise–sheep and cattle they were selling for sacrifices (John 2:13-17).  God’s prophets again and again decried those who acted unjustly. The prophet Amos warned the proud and powerful in his day, saying, “I know how many are your transgressions, and how great are your sins—you who afflict the righteous, who take a bribe, and push aside the needy. … Hate evil and love good. … Is not the day of the Lord darkness, not light, and gloom with no brightness in it [to those who are wicked]?… Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:12,15,21,24).

We are called to a path of patience like God’s own patience, “not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).  But that doesn’t mean we wish people well in their path of sin or smile cheerfully when evil and hurtful things occur.  Christians can get confused about that sometimes. I know someone who worked in a domestic violence shelter in the Bible belt. Many of the women entering the shelter were deeply Christian in their convictions. As soon as their terror subsided and their wounds and bruises began to heal, they began feeling it was their duty to go back to their husbands and forgive them. The shelter team had trouble keeping these women safely in the program, because of their compelling urge to turn the other cheek and forgive quickly. The advice I offered? Remind the battered women of the example of Joseph in dealing with his brothers.  Joseph had been mistreated by his brothers and sold off into slavery by them. God kept Joseph safe and put him in a position where later his brothers came before him (not recognizing who he was, as he became a leader in Egypt and had the appearance of an Egyptian).  Joseph very much wanted to forgive and reconcile with his brothers, but didn’t rush into doing so. He put his brothers through a series of tests of character to see if they were still the same uncaring men who had sold him into slavery more than a decade earlier (cf. Genesis chapters 42-45). Once it was clear they were changed, repentant persons, he revealed himself, and a genuine reunion and reconciliation occurred.

Loving Zion–loving the kingdom of God and all that is good–means we will not smile and nod toward those who hate Zion or do evil.  We will, in all honesty, feel what the ancient psalm-singers felt when they sang: “Let all those who hate Zion grovel in humiliation.” We don’t say, “Congratulations on your wonderful crop! We bless you in God’s name!” (Psalm 129:8 MSG) to those who achieve their great harvest or success by abusing or exploiting or taking advantage of people to get it. We call evil evil, and we call good good.  We pray for the good of all, and we pray against that which is evil. And we wait patiently while enduring suffering and hurt in a world that is plagued by much that is evil, knowing we have a God who is good and who will rescue us from all that is painful in his appointed time.

The Passion of Christ has shown us how God achieves what is valuable for us. There was nothing quick or easy about the path set before Jesus. He trod that bloody, anguished path for us.  And he promises us that when our patience is tried and tested, he remains with us, building our endurance, giving us hope. As the Scriptures testify: “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh” (2 Corinthians 4:8-11).  This is our calling in Christ.


Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are rom the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked MSG are taken from THE MESSAGE, copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress. All rights reserved. Represented by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

Posted by David Sellnow

Heart, soul and mind

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on November 5, 2014.

This blog post is from a dear friend whose faith and passion I admire much … and yet she realizes how much she needs the passion of Christ in order to be passionate for Christ.

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Passion for Christ

by Danica Scharlemann

Think for a moment of something that you are passionate about. Perhaps it’s football–not only do you play, but you know the statistics of every NFL player and you know every rule to the game. You’ve joined every fantasy league you could. Every Sunday you are glued to the television; you never miss a game. You’re simply addicted to the sport. … Maybe your passion is cooking. The moment you open the kitchen pantry, you are taken to another world. You instinctually begin creating formulas for fresh, delectable recipes. … For me it’s piano. I’ve sat at the piano bench and lost myself for hours in the meditation of the sounds of each key. I wonder at the immeasurable amount of music that can be played with only 88 keys, 8 distinct notes, 10 agile fingers, 1 pianist.

Now, these are all great passions, wonderful blessings from our Lord, but think about how much time you dedicate to these hobbies. For some of us, they may consume our lives, at least for a season.  During his years of ministry among us, Christ preached, “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and with all of your soul and with all of your mind” (cf. Matthew 22:37, Mark 12:30, Luke 10:27).  Read that again, “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and with all of your soul and with all of your mind.” Have you ever done anything with all of your heart and soul and mind? God wants us to be passionate about him, loving him with every single part of us. If someone asked me to make a list of things I’m most passionate about, I doubt the first thing to come to my mind would be God. I would turn to things that interest or fascinate me, i.e. piano, math. I may mention my dedication to family and friends or loyalty to my place of employment. I don’t know how far down my list I’d have to write until I thought to mention God. Yet whenever I hear this passage, I simply brush it off as something that we are told time and time again, something that every Christian instinctually does. Yes, I go to church every Sunday. I’ve attended private Lutheran schools my whole life. For goodness sake, I attend a college that prepares people to be ministers! Yet none of those facts are any type of proof that I love my Lord with ALL my heart, ALL my soul, and ALL of my mind. It’s as if we try to keep our relationship with Christ separate from our daily interests when we need to be integrating him into every moment of our lives.

We will always fail when trying to love God with all of ourselves. No matter how much passion we feel for our Lord, it is never enough. Yet, when we had no love for Christ, when we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). God felt so passionately for you, that he sent his Son to live perfectly and die gruesomely, just so that you may have life. This is the Passion of our Lord, Jesus Christ. He loves us with all of his heart, all of his soul, an all of his mind. His love for us is immeasurable–incomparable with anything that we have ever experienced.

Now I don’t expect you to leave after hearing this and become some type of born again Christian, speaking only Biblical truths and studying only your Bibles. But perhaps if we spent as much time studying God as we do the football games each Sunday, perhaps then we may grow in passion for our Lord. Perhaps then we won’t become stagnant in our studies of Scripture. Perhaps then we may begin to learn what it means to love our Lord with all of our hearts, all of our souls, and all of our minds … as Jesus fills us up more and more in our hearts, our souls, our minds.

Posted by kyriesellnow