Listen, I support LGBT equality... in all things. Marriage. Employment. If there's equality to be had in an area of life, I want LGBT folks to have it - just like everyone else.
This gets dicey because I am (most days) a Christian, and our Bible says some things about that. I will admit that I'm unclear about how to reconcile this, which is part of the reason that I took a... break... from church and ministry to wrestle with God. I'm not sure how to convey my firm convictions on this subject to my more conservative religious friends. The easy answer to this quandary would be to stay away from the faith and the church, as I have recently tried to do for a number of reasons (this being one of them): after all, if you don't care what the Bible has to say about something, you're free to formulate your own opinion. But, as simple as it would be, I'm choosing a slightly more difficult path - the path that refuses to abandon a tradition that I've followed for most of my life, regardless of how uncomfortable beliefs and members of this tradition sometimes make me.
The courage of a couple of amazing Christian friends have made me realize that I haven't done enough to articulate my belief, and that I haven't done enough to see my convictions on this issue through. And, before you haters start hatin'(g), I know that a blog post isn't really an important forum in terms of making grand pronouncements... but it's the forum that I have.
I've said this before, but I reaffirm this position at 11:48 p.m. on November 3, 2013. I believe that the LGBT community deserves and is owed the exact rights that heterosexual people take for granted. Now. Right now. Every day that the Federal Government does not act on this, they make an absolute travesty of our democracy. The rights of an entire community of people are being held hostage by a vocal, militant, MINORITY of religious people, in blatant disregard of the separation of church and state. Millions of dollars are being spent to keep the LGBT community out of courthouses, wedding chapels, hospital rooms, funeral homes. This is not a secondary issue. This will not wait.
As for the church: this issue is not going away. These PEOPLE, our brothers and sisters, are not going away. This issue is the sword that the American Evangelical movement is preparing to fall on, and so it's time to ask ourselves: are we willing to die as an institution, in order to hurt and cast out a group of people that society has already hurt and cast out? Is this what we're ready to martyr ourselves as a church for, to lose an entire generation over? I promise you, equality is that important to us.
Now, I'm not worried. I know that something else will rise again when this lumbering giant of the American Protestant Church falls over dead - and that something will be amazing. But, it would be FAR better if we decided to change instead. We don't have to perform weddings (though I think we should look at that issue a little more closely.) We don't have to march in the Pride parades (though we should look at THAT issue more closely as well!) What we should STOP doing, though, is telling a group of people in one breath that we love them, and then telling them in the next that they are unrepentant sinners in danger of hell. That they are sinners simply for loving someone and wanting to be in covenant, communion, partnership with that person. That is not love - it's just putting a nice coat of paint on our prejudices.
I know what the Bible says. I've read the verses, had the verses quoted to me, had them quoted to me again, read commentaries on the verses, commentaries on the commentaries, rebuttals, point/counterpoint... I've been doing my homework on this for the past decade. And, regardless of what I am told I must believe, I refuse to abandon my conviction that the Bible either A) Doesn't say what you think it says or B) Says what you think it says, and it's culturally biased on this subject (among several others, I might add.)
I have some friends who believe strongly that the Bible is an inerrant single volume, fully sufficient for salvation and holiness - they are part of a fairly large group of Christians on that point. But, I dissent from that opinion, respectfully. I cannot abandon my conviction that we are wrong about this issue. I cannot abandon my conviction that, if there is a final Judgement, that we will be judged harshly for how we treated those on the margins of society. We will be held to account: did we bear the cross for those mistreated by the institutions of our time - even the church? Did we invite them in without condition, without hesitation? Did we do what I believe Jesus would do, were He here today?
Or, did we refuse them?
I stand by my conviction on this. The United States will never live up to its ideals as a free and equal society if they do not extend that equality to the LGBT community RIGHT NOW.
And the church needs to get on the side of the marginalized and ostracized, or its fruit will whither on the vine.
Grace and peace.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Double-Vision Jesus
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I've got a thought running around inTside my head, and it's based on a number of conversations that I've had over the past few months. It's less a thought, more of a question:
I've got a thought running around inTside my head, and it's based on a number of conversations that I've had over the past few months. It's less a thought, more of a question:
Who is Jesus... really?
I haven't answered this question all the way. I don't have any special knowledge. I have read much of the Bible, alongside several differing commentaries, but I still don't understand as much as I'd like to.
What I am beginning to understand is that Jesus gets pigeon-holed quite a bit. He gets put into a box. He gets oversimplified. He gets remade into our image... or into whatever image we want to see.
I take comfort in the fact that we are not the first generation of believers to do this (nor will we be the last.) Even His disciples, and the followers of His disciples, had different ideas about who Jesus was and what Jesus meant to the world.
The following are two most common oversimplifications that I see, and the problems that I find with them.
Jesus as William Wallace
"Jesus Christ is 7 feet tall!"
"Aye, so I've heard... kills men by the hundreds. And if He were here, why He'd consume the unbelievers with fireballs from His eyes, and bolts of lightning from His..."
End of Braveheart quote.
This is the image of Jesus that many people of His time - even His disciples - wanted to make Him into. When He said He brought 'freedom for the captives', they thought He meant, "FREEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!"
(Seriously, I'm done now.)
The Messiah was a political savior, and so they wanted Him to kick some Romans in the face. When He talked about the Kingdom of God, they thought He meant a really real Kingdom on Earth.
Immediately, He began confusing them. He talked about the Kingdom belonging to weak people, to poor people, to humble people, to meek people. He called Himself "meek and humble of heart." What kind of a King was this? How was this Messiah going to save them from Rome?
Immediately, He began confusing them. He talked about the Kingdom belonging to weak people, to poor people, to humble people, to meek people. He called Himself "meek and humble of heart." What kind of a King was this? How was this Messiah going to save them from Rome?
Unfortunately, we still make the same mistake today.
I refer everyone to a quote by Mark Driscoll that seriously disturbed me when I read it, and continues to disturb me today.
"There is a strong drift toward the hard theological left. Some
emergent types [want] to recast Jesus as a limp-wrist hippie in a
dress with a lot of product in His hair, who drank decaf and made
pithy Zen statements about life while shopping for the perfect pair
of shoes. In Revelation, Jesus is a prize fighter with a tattoo
down His leg, a sword in His hand and the commitment to make
someone bleed. That is a guy I can worship. I cannot worship the
hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can
beat up."
(Blogger's Note: I am not taking on Mark Driscoll's total theology or ministry. In the course of finding the exact wording of this quote, I found many quotes from him that emphasized love and service. Like most of us, I think this man has a mix of great ideas and nutty ideas... I am only talking about this particular quote.)
You actually see two simplifications in the above quote, but the one I focus on is the "prize fighter with a tattoo down His leg..." Just as His original listeners wanted Jesus to kick the teeth out of the Romans' heads, the writer of Revelation (as well as many of its modern readers) really believe that the point of Jesus is that - eventually - He will dispense with the forgiveness and "make someone bleed."
A lot of people who have committed to this image of Jesus don't really want Jesus - they want Zeus. They want William Wallace or John Wayne. They want an action hero, someone who will vindicate their suffering and destroy their enemies. They don't know what to do with a Jesus who went meekly to the cross, who submitted to pain, torture and suffering. They are baffled by a Jesus that cried "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!", as He died - unless it is part of a larger scheme that involves Jesus shooting lightning bolts at the end of time, smiting the ones that He asked forgiveness for, causing a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth.
They want a Warrior-King, not a Prince of Peace. So, talk of forgiveness will always be colored with the smug knowledge that sinners will "get theirs" when Jesus comes back and really saves us.
(I'm not claiming innocence of this simplification. Just because I hate people who hate others, I'm not excused from hating in the first place.)
Jesus As Philosopher
The opposing simplification is the idea that Jesus of Nazareth was a wonderful moral philosopher, and that His death was very sad. The end.
I find myself in conversations like this a lot. I identify myself as a Christian, and I am immediately branded as intolerant, bigoted, or any number of other unflattering things. After some conversation, if the other person becomes convinced that I am not those unflattering things, the conversation turns into something like this:
"I just don't understand why you can't follow the teachings of Jesus, without all the divinity and miracles and stuff. You can be a good person without the superstition."
That's a paraphrase, but the sentiment is always the same: Jesus is alright, as long as it's all about living a decent, moral life. But, you can keep the "Son of God" stuff. You can stuff the miracles, the resurrection, the claim to be "at one" with God.
Christianity is alright, as long as I don't need to believe anything.
I am, unfortunately, guilty of having lived this simplification. I thought, If I just make this about "following" Jesus, de-emphasize the divinity, more people will be interested.
But, then I decided to dig deep into the Gospels. I tried to look at them as independent documents, how people might have viewed them before they became canon, before they were exposed to the other writings. The result was the same: I was confronted by a Jesus who was not simply a moral philosopher. I was confronted by a Jesus that spoke with the authority of Almighty God, who claimed a relationship with YHWH that was blasphemous to the Jewish Temple...
Unless it was true.
I've found myself at odds with Clive Staples Lewis in the past, but I have to agree with his inestimable intellect when he says this:
"A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said
would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic--on the
level with a man who says he is a poached egg--or he would be the devil
of hell. You must take your choice. Either this was, and is, the Son of
God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a
fool or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God. But let us
not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human
teacher. He has not left that open to us."
Jesus As Jesus
"My teaching is not my own.
It comes from him who sent me. If anyone chooses to do God's will,
he will find out whether my teaching comes from God or whether I
speak on my own."
—John 7:16
"I came into the world, to
testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to
me."
—John 18:38
"For the Son of Man came to
seek and to save what was lost."
—Luke 19:10
"It is not the healthy who
need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous,
but sinners."
—Mark 2:17
"Come to me, all you who are
weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you
and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you
will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is
light."
—Matthew 11:28-30
"The Son of Man did not come
to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for
many."
—Matthew 20:28
"The Father judges no-one,
but has entrusted all judgment to the Son, that all may honour the
Son just as they honour the Father. He who does not honour the Son
does not honour the Father, who sent him. I tell you the truth,
whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life
and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life.
I tell you the truth, a time is coming and has now come when the
dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will
live. For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the
Son to have life in himself. And he has given him authority to
judge because he is the Son of Man. Do not be amazed at this, for a
time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his
voice."
—John
5:21-28
"All authority in heaven and
on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of
all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the
Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I
have commanded you. And surely I will be with you always, to the
very end of the age."
—Matthew 28:18-20
And there you have Him. A King. A Judge. A Servant. A Savior. Gentle. Humble. Teacher. Healer.
The Christ.
He does not always make me comfortable. He calls me to be more than I sometimes want to be. He is Lord and King, Comforter and Friend. He loves, forgives, judges and commands. He speaks with authority. He rages against the temple priests, but refuses to condemn the woman caught in adultery. He forgives the ones who mock, torture and kill Him. He forgives sin, and commands us to "go and sin no more."
I am in awe of Him.
I am comforted by His presence.
I believe Him.
I cannot help but follow Him.
What about you?
My Love to You, Wherever You Are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Seventy Times Seven Is Not a Math Problem
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I have had occasion to think about forgiveness recently. I think we all have occasion, on most days, but I also think that most of us choose not to think about it.
It is much easier to hold a grudge.
I have plenty of my own history with grudges. I've held grudges for a decade or more: grudges against family, against friends that I've lost, even against God. I held on to all the anger, the bitterness, the blame, the hurt.
It made me powerless.
"Teacher," one of the disciples asked. "How many times should I forgive my brother who has sinned against me? Seven times?"
"Seventy times seven," Jesus said.
Anyone who can do math knows that, literally taken, Jesus told His disciples to forgive someone 490 times. But, it's not really a math problem.
I like to think that Jesus knew a little something about the nature of forgiveness, about the power of forgiveness. I like to think that He knew that people who see forgiveness as a mathematical exercise, as a legal exercise, will never know that power.
Those people will always be able to give up on someone because, "I've done my part."
"I've done enough."
"How much more can be expected of me?"
Seventy times seven is a repeating number.
It's a never-ending problem.
It's a lifestyle.
It's a daily choice.
Anger and bitterness take power away from the offended, and put the power into the hands of the offender.
Forgiveness surrenders the power to the Almighty.
Forgiveness acknowledges that we are the offender as often as we are the offended.
You cannot claim to love God and hate your brother.
You cannot claim to be forgiven, if you are not willing to forgive.
And I think that Jesus knew that when a person lives a life of forgiveness, they cannot stop forgiving.
Anger is about power, but forgiveness is about freedom.
Forgive the distant family member.
Forgive the unfaithful friend.
Forgive the ex-spouse or ex-partner.
Forgive the tyrannical employer.
Forgive the murderer.
The abuser.
The dictator.
The sex fiend.
The drug dealer.
The drug addict.
The alcoholic.
The cheat.
The fraud.
The terrorist.
Forgive.
Forget.
Let go.
Be free.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
I have had occasion to think about forgiveness recently. I think we all have occasion, on most days, but I also think that most of us choose not to think about it.
It is much easier to hold a grudge.
I have plenty of my own history with grudges. I've held grudges for a decade or more: grudges against family, against friends that I've lost, even against God. I held on to all the anger, the bitterness, the blame, the hurt.
It made me powerless.
"Teacher," one of the disciples asked. "How many times should I forgive my brother who has sinned against me? Seven times?"
"Seventy times seven," Jesus said.
Anyone who can do math knows that, literally taken, Jesus told His disciples to forgive someone 490 times. But, it's not really a math problem.
I like to think that Jesus knew a little something about the nature of forgiveness, about the power of forgiveness. I like to think that He knew that people who see forgiveness as a mathematical exercise, as a legal exercise, will never know that power.
Those people will always be able to give up on someone because, "I've done my part."
"I've done enough."
"How much more can be expected of me?"
Seventy times seven is a repeating number.
It's a never-ending problem.
It's a lifestyle.
It's a daily choice.
Anger and bitterness take power away from the offended, and put the power into the hands of the offender.
Forgiveness surrenders the power to the Almighty.
Forgiveness acknowledges that we are the offender as often as we are the offended.
You cannot claim to love God and hate your brother.
You cannot claim to be forgiven, if you are not willing to forgive.
And I think that Jesus knew that when a person lives a life of forgiveness, they cannot stop forgiving.
Anger is about power, but forgiveness is about freedom.
Forgive the distant family member.
Forgive the unfaithful friend.
Forgive the ex-spouse or ex-partner.
Forgive the tyrannical employer.
Forgive the murderer.
The abuser.
The dictator.
The sex fiend.
The drug dealer.
The drug addict.
The alcoholic.
The cheat.
The fraud.
The terrorist.
Forgive.
Forget.
Let go.
Be free.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Not Ashamed
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
At some point, you have to get off the fence. I've realized this in the past few months. I've tried to practice my faith in the most non-offensive way possible... and I'm certainly not intending to run around intentionally offending people now. This is not THAT blog post. :)
But, the past few days/weeks have taught me that I cannot have my cake and eat it too. It is a good thing to respect the beliefs and opinions of others, but if you focus so much on not "stepping on toes", you WILL end up tip-toeing around really essential parts of the Christian message. And, so, you have to decide whether your religion is about being a Disciple of Jesus, or being a Crowd-Pleaser.
Today's post is for me, but I hope that someone reading it will gain something from it.
Jesus was not afraid of offending folks. He was kind, He was gentle, He was compassionate... but He was also MIGHTILY pissed off at things that were wrong with the religion and society of the time.
Jesus never pulled any punches about what was right and what was wrong. Granted, there has been a lot of disagreement over the centuries about what He was actually talking ABOUT when He said certain things, but the fact that He acknowledged an Absolute Truth has never been in dispute.
He gave specific instructions to His disciples, a very particular way to live and to share the Good News. He commanded them to go to all the nations, preach and baptize. He commanded them to pray, and even gave specific instructions for prayer. He taught what He taught for a reason, and He taught the WAY that He taught for a reason.
He is quoted as saying, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man comes to the Father, except through me." That's uncomfortable, because I really want to believe that "I'm okay, you're okay, we're all okay." It's a great thing to acknowledge the goodness in other people, to appreciate the truth and beauty that exist in other religions, to respect the considered opinions of people who believe differently than I do.
But, no matter how kind the invitation to believe, no matter the compassion, respect and love that you approach the attempt to convince someone with, there are some who will always receive that message as judgement, condemnation, condescension.
You can change the tone of a message. You CANNOT change the message itself.
And I am not ashamed of this message.
I am not ashamed to say, with confidence, that the man who brought sight to the blind, life to the dead, and forgiveness for the sins of all mankind 2,000 years ago is the Savior who promises hope for the hopeless, comfort for those who mourn and love for the unlovable EVEN TODAY.
I am not ashamed to believe - and say with confidence - that, while other prophets of other religions may bring truth and beauty to their followers, only Jesus conquered Death. That singular act - the Divine sacrifice, to bring atonement - makes following Jesus different than any other faith.
I am not ashamed to believe that Jesus did not do this to appease an angry God, but as an act of love for a humanity that suffered (and suffers) greatly under the yoke of their sin, their selfishness, the oppression of unjust political and religious systems. He did it in a specific way, in a specific time, as a very specific and symbolic act. And while the symbolism of the act might be diminished in a time that has no context for the sacrificial atonement system, the POWER of the act, the sacrifice, can never be diminished. It still applies today.
I am not ashamed to believe that my suffering has a purpose, that my suffering is a pathway to peace... but that does not mean that my God has ordained it or even allowed it. It simply means that I am called to embrace my sufferings, as my Savior embraced His, as a way to experience the suffering of the entire world, as a way to humble myself, and as a way to draw me closer to God by drawing me closer to others who suffer the same.
I am not ashamed to believe - and to boldly proclaim - that this is a message of LOVE. It is a message of forgiveness, mercy, compassion, and that my God has all of these things in abundance. He loves His creation - every single member of His creation - and I can serve Him best by sharing that love, forgiveness, mercy and compassion with everyone that I meet.
I am not ashamed of that agape Love, and I do not feel the need to "temper" it with a message of judgement or condemnation. Judgement is for God alone, and His mercy, His love and His compassion have been poured out IN PLACE of His judgement.
I am not ashamed to believe that it is ACCEPTANCE that characterizes my God, as shown through the Son and the Savior, and that REJECTION is the antithesis of my faith.
I am not ashamed to say that sin is present in the world, and that humankind suffers greatly under its yoke, but that it has been CONQUERED by the redeeming love of Jesus.
I am not ashamed to say that true freedom is available to all who want it.
I am not ashamed to believe that there is a battle for the souls of all men and women, and for the collective soul of the entire world. There is an Enemy, an Evil One, who accuses, who tempts, who deceives. His weapons are despair, hopelessness, hunger, poverty, oppression, and his "followers" are the ones who perpetrate these evils, these injustices.
But I believe, and will believe until my dying breath, that LOVE WINS.
Love wins.
Love has already won.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Not Ashamed of the Gospel,
For it is the power of God
For salvation
To everyone that believes.
At some point, you have to get off the fence. I've realized this in the past few months. I've tried to practice my faith in the most non-offensive way possible... and I'm certainly not intending to run around intentionally offending people now. This is not THAT blog post. :)
But, the past few days/weeks have taught me that I cannot have my cake and eat it too. It is a good thing to respect the beliefs and opinions of others, but if you focus so much on not "stepping on toes", you WILL end up tip-toeing around really essential parts of the Christian message. And, so, you have to decide whether your religion is about being a Disciple of Jesus, or being a Crowd-Pleaser.
Today's post is for me, but I hope that someone reading it will gain something from it.
Jesus was not afraid of offending folks. He was kind, He was gentle, He was compassionate... but He was also MIGHTILY pissed off at things that were wrong with the religion and society of the time.
Jesus never pulled any punches about what was right and what was wrong. Granted, there has been a lot of disagreement over the centuries about what He was actually talking ABOUT when He said certain things, but the fact that He acknowledged an Absolute Truth has never been in dispute.
He gave specific instructions to His disciples, a very particular way to live and to share the Good News. He commanded them to go to all the nations, preach and baptize. He commanded them to pray, and even gave specific instructions for prayer. He taught what He taught for a reason, and He taught the WAY that He taught for a reason.
He is quoted as saying, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man comes to the Father, except through me." That's uncomfortable, because I really want to believe that "I'm okay, you're okay, we're all okay." It's a great thing to acknowledge the goodness in other people, to appreciate the truth and beauty that exist in other religions, to respect the considered opinions of people who believe differently than I do.
But, no matter how kind the invitation to believe, no matter the compassion, respect and love that you approach the attempt to convince someone with, there are some who will always receive that message as judgement, condemnation, condescension.
You can change the tone of a message. You CANNOT change the message itself.
And I am not ashamed of this message.
I am not ashamed to say, with confidence, that the man who brought sight to the blind, life to the dead, and forgiveness for the sins of all mankind 2,000 years ago is the Savior who promises hope for the hopeless, comfort for those who mourn and love for the unlovable EVEN TODAY.
I am not ashamed to believe - and say with confidence - that, while other prophets of other religions may bring truth and beauty to their followers, only Jesus conquered Death. That singular act - the Divine sacrifice, to bring atonement - makes following Jesus different than any other faith.
I am not ashamed to believe that Jesus did not do this to appease an angry God, but as an act of love for a humanity that suffered (and suffers) greatly under the yoke of their sin, their selfishness, the oppression of unjust political and religious systems. He did it in a specific way, in a specific time, as a very specific and symbolic act. And while the symbolism of the act might be diminished in a time that has no context for the sacrificial atonement system, the POWER of the act, the sacrifice, can never be diminished. It still applies today.
I am not ashamed to believe that my suffering has a purpose, that my suffering is a pathway to peace... but that does not mean that my God has ordained it or even allowed it. It simply means that I am called to embrace my sufferings, as my Savior embraced His, as a way to experience the suffering of the entire world, as a way to humble myself, and as a way to draw me closer to God by drawing me closer to others who suffer the same.
I am not ashamed to believe - and to boldly proclaim - that this is a message of LOVE. It is a message of forgiveness, mercy, compassion, and that my God has all of these things in abundance. He loves His creation - every single member of His creation - and I can serve Him best by sharing that love, forgiveness, mercy and compassion with everyone that I meet.
I am not ashamed of that agape Love, and I do not feel the need to "temper" it with a message of judgement or condemnation. Judgement is for God alone, and His mercy, His love and His compassion have been poured out IN PLACE of His judgement.
I am not ashamed to believe that it is ACCEPTANCE that characterizes my God, as shown through the Son and the Savior, and that REJECTION is the antithesis of my faith.
I am not ashamed to say that sin is present in the world, and that humankind suffers greatly under its yoke, but that it has been CONQUERED by the redeeming love of Jesus.
I am not ashamed to say that true freedom is available to all who want it.
I am not ashamed to believe that there is a battle for the souls of all men and women, and for the collective soul of the entire world. There is an Enemy, an Evil One, who accuses, who tempts, who deceives. His weapons are despair, hopelessness, hunger, poverty, oppression, and his "followers" are the ones who perpetrate these evils, these injustices.
But I believe, and will believe until my dying breath, that LOVE WINS.
Love wins.
Love has already won.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Not Ashamed of the Gospel,
For it is the power of God
For salvation
To everyone that believes.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Crouching at the Door
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I need to write about Sin today, and it's unpleasant. I don't like talking about Sin, because it seems like we sometimes talk about it in the Church to the exclusion of everything else.
And I feel like we talk about the wrong things when we talk about sin.... not that the things that we list as sin aren't sins. I feel that we more often miss the mark when we talk about sin (see what I did there, Biblical scholars?)
It's important to recognize that we have sin in our lives, that sin is a huge and inextricable part of the individual human condition. It's important that we realize that immoral sexual practices, hateful language, interpersonal violence - all the things that we struggle with in our own lives - are a product of sin.
But the point that we miss when we talk about sin is how BIG it is, how it infects every facet of our lives, every level of our society. It is the lion crouching at the door, waiting to devour us whole - all of us.
I don't want to overstate this, but I also don't think I can understate it. This is a big deal. I don't get down with a lot of traditional "sin doctrine" - I don't think we all suck because the first man and woman ate from the wrong tree. I think we have a much bigger problem, a problem that is much harder to deal with.
We have a problem with Sin, because we have a problem with self.
We are absolutely addicted to ourselves. We will do anything to advance ourselves. We will do anything to defend our rights, our privileges, what we want, what we need. We will do this to the detriment of anyone else, without regard to the feelings, wants, needs, wants, rights and privileges even of those closest to us.
Need evidence for this premise? Turn on the news. Take a cursory glance at history.
This is where it gets real for me, because this is where the self and the society meet. Every single instance of large and small scale tragedy can be traced to an individual - or a group of individuals - exercising this addiction to self, advancing their own interests ahead of the interests of anyone else. Advancing their interests to the detriment of anyone else.
Poverty exists because people are addicted to making themselves wealthier.
Violence exists because people are addicted to making themselves more powerful.
Sexual exploitation exists because people are addicted to giving themselves more pleasure.
We are messed up, because our world is messed up. And our world is messed up, because we are messed up.
We cannot extricate this curse from ourselves, because the cause of the problem is also the solution.
We need less of ourselves and more of other-selves.
But, we can't do this alone. The Good News is, there is Someone who has shown us how.
"Whoever would come after me must take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would keep his own life will lose it. But whosoever will lose his life, for my sake, will find it."
We need to turn away from our sin, and turn towards the One who has promised to free us. We need to give up our addiction to Self, and rely on the One who has promised both an end to Self and the gift of a greater Self - a Self that is part of a whole, a Self that can never be extricated from the Other. In Jesus, ourself becomes otherself.
In Jesus, Self gets nailed to a cross. Other-self rises again.
The Sin of Self can only beget more selfishness, more Sin. The Other-Self that comes in Christ can only beget more Christ.
And I believe that we need more Christ and less Self in the world today.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Dead in Sin
Alive in Christ
I need to write about Sin today, and it's unpleasant. I don't like talking about Sin, because it seems like we sometimes talk about it in the Church to the exclusion of everything else.
And I feel like we talk about the wrong things when we talk about sin.... not that the things that we list as sin aren't sins. I feel that we more often miss the mark when we talk about sin (see what I did there, Biblical scholars?)
It's important to recognize that we have sin in our lives, that sin is a huge and inextricable part of the individual human condition. It's important that we realize that immoral sexual practices, hateful language, interpersonal violence - all the things that we struggle with in our own lives - are a product of sin.
But the point that we miss when we talk about sin is how BIG it is, how it infects every facet of our lives, every level of our society. It is the lion crouching at the door, waiting to devour us whole - all of us.
I don't want to overstate this, but I also don't think I can understate it. This is a big deal. I don't get down with a lot of traditional "sin doctrine" - I don't think we all suck because the first man and woman ate from the wrong tree. I think we have a much bigger problem, a problem that is much harder to deal with.
We have a problem with Sin, because we have a problem with self.
We are absolutely addicted to ourselves. We will do anything to advance ourselves. We will do anything to defend our rights, our privileges, what we want, what we need. We will do this to the detriment of anyone else, without regard to the feelings, wants, needs, wants, rights and privileges even of those closest to us.
Need evidence for this premise? Turn on the news. Take a cursory glance at history.
This is where it gets real for me, because this is where the self and the society meet. Every single instance of large and small scale tragedy can be traced to an individual - or a group of individuals - exercising this addiction to self, advancing their own interests ahead of the interests of anyone else. Advancing their interests to the detriment of anyone else.
Poverty exists because people are addicted to making themselves wealthier.
Violence exists because people are addicted to making themselves more powerful.
Sexual exploitation exists because people are addicted to giving themselves more pleasure.
We are messed up, because our world is messed up. And our world is messed up, because we are messed up.
We cannot extricate this curse from ourselves, because the cause of the problem is also the solution.
We need less of ourselves and more of other-selves.
But, we can't do this alone. The Good News is, there is Someone who has shown us how.
"Whoever would come after me must take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would keep his own life will lose it. But whosoever will lose his life, for my sake, will find it."
We need to turn away from our sin, and turn towards the One who has promised to free us. We need to give up our addiction to Self, and rely on the One who has promised both an end to Self and the gift of a greater Self - a Self that is part of a whole, a Self that can never be extricated from the Other. In Jesus, ourself becomes otherself.
In Jesus, Self gets nailed to a cross. Other-self rises again.
The Sin of Self can only beget more selfishness, more Sin. The Other-Self that comes in Christ can only beget more Christ.
And I believe that we need more Christ and less Self in the world today.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Dead in Sin
Alive in Christ
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Our Persecution Complex
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I read an article recently about a young woman who, while working at a college event, was asked to remove a very conspicuous cross necklace. She was representing the school, it was explained, and the supervisor was concerned that such a blatant religious symbol would "turn people off" from the school.
Lawyers were immediately called. The fact that this story has happened in the same week as the Supreme Court's ruling on DOMA and California's Prop. 8 has only heightened the cries of "Persecution!" from certain segments of the Church.
My views on this are mixed, and I'm determined to not become overly-political with this blog. Jesus is the point, and I don't want to obscure Him by causing unnecessary argument. With that said, this is a conversation that needs to be had within our faith - and Jesus Himself promised that He brought division.
Are we being persecuted in America?
Not nearly as much as we should be.
I don't have any television channels in my home, but every time I log onto the Internet, I see a new story of how the Church is trying to become the majority voice in our country. But, it's only a certain section of the church, and the voice always says the same thing: DON'T.
Don't allow homosexuals to marry.
Don't allow women to have abortions.
Don't allow atheists to hold public office.
Don't allow high school students to be taught safe sexual practices.
Don't allow underprivileged women access to low-cost birth control.
Don't allow any other voices in the conversation.
I'm not denying the importance of some of these issues. I certainly see the value of protecting the unborn... but where are the majority of Christians demanding better access to birth control? Where are the Christians speaking in support of adoption programs, government - or church - assistance for low-income women who find themselves pregnant with no way to support their child?
The "Christian majority" has a great deal of concern with the goings-on of homosexuals in our country... but where are the voices speaking out against real sexual deviance in our nation? Where are the voices raised in outrage against sex trafficking, pederasty in the Church, unchecked promiscuity in our youth due to a culture of despair and low self-esteem?
Why are we even talking about cross necklaces, public Nativity scenes, Ten Commandment displays - when there are children all around the world who are naked, and are not clothed; who are hungry, and are not fed?
Why are we not speaking and praying about the hundreds of thousands of dead innocents as a result of our nation's wars?
Why are we not concerned with the thousands dead by gun violence every year?
Why do we not speak in support of nuclear disarmament?
Why are we not visiting the thousands of prisoners who are held captive each year?
Why are we appealing to Caesar to legitimize our faith, when we should be calling on God to heal the broken world - and being His hands and feet, doing His work?
Our litmus test for persecution is broken. When we begin to speak with authority against the Powers of the Earth, against the unjust social systems that have made hunger, poverty and despair a way of life in our world, then we will start to see the persecution. And it will be the kind of persecution that we can rejoice in.
I can't rejoice in someone taking away my nativity scene or my cross necklace. But I can and will rejoice when I speak the Truth to Power, when I demand the release of the captives of oppressive governments and social systems, and I am put in prison, or beaten, or arrested, or killed. Because I'm speaking about something that matters. I'm speaking about something that has the power to change hearts and lives, not laws or public opinion. And, whether there is an eternal reward or not, I can rejoice in my persecution - because I have spent my life advancing the Kingdom into darkness.
"I say it truly, whatever you did to the least of these, you did to Me."
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved by Grace
Walking in Faith
I read an article recently about a young woman who, while working at a college event, was asked to remove a very conspicuous cross necklace. She was representing the school, it was explained, and the supervisor was concerned that such a blatant religious symbol would "turn people off" from the school.
Lawyers were immediately called. The fact that this story has happened in the same week as the Supreme Court's ruling on DOMA and California's Prop. 8 has only heightened the cries of "Persecution!" from certain segments of the Church.
My views on this are mixed, and I'm determined to not become overly-political with this blog. Jesus is the point, and I don't want to obscure Him by causing unnecessary argument. With that said, this is a conversation that needs to be had within our faith - and Jesus Himself promised that He brought division.
Are we being persecuted in America?
Not nearly as much as we should be.
I don't have any television channels in my home, but every time I log onto the Internet, I see a new story of how the Church is trying to become the majority voice in our country. But, it's only a certain section of the church, and the voice always says the same thing: DON'T.
Don't allow homosexuals to marry.
Don't allow women to have abortions.
Don't allow atheists to hold public office.
Don't allow high school students to be taught safe sexual practices.
Don't allow underprivileged women access to low-cost birth control.
Don't allow any other voices in the conversation.
I'm not denying the importance of some of these issues. I certainly see the value of protecting the unborn... but where are the majority of Christians demanding better access to birth control? Where are the Christians speaking in support of adoption programs, government - or church - assistance for low-income women who find themselves pregnant with no way to support their child?
The "Christian majority" has a great deal of concern with the goings-on of homosexuals in our country... but where are the voices speaking out against real sexual deviance in our nation? Where are the voices raised in outrage against sex trafficking, pederasty in the Church, unchecked promiscuity in our youth due to a culture of despair and low self-esteem?
Why are we even talking about cross necklaces, public Nativity scenes, Ten Commandment displays - when there are children all around the world who are naked, and are not clothed; who are hungry, and are not fed?
Why are we not speaking and praying about the hundreds of thousands of dead innocents as a result of our nation's wars?
Why are we not concerned with the thousands dead by gun violence every year?
Why do we not speak in support of nuclear disarmament?
Why are we not visiting the thousands of prisoners who are held captive each year?
Why are we appealing to Caesar to legitimize our faith, when we should be calling on God to heal the broken world - and being His hands and feet, doing His work?
Our litmus test for persecution is broken. When we begin to speak with authority against the Powers of the Earth, against the unjust social systems that have made hunger, poverty and despair a way of life in our world, then we will start to see the persecution. And it will be the kind of persecution that we can rejoice in.
I can't rejoice in someone taking away my nativity scene or my cross necklace. But I can and will rejoice when I speak the Truth to Power, when I demand the release of the captives of oppressive governments and social systems, and I am put in prison, or beaten, or arrested, or killed. Because I'm speaking about something that matters. I'm speaking about something that has the power to change hearts and lives, not laws or public opinion. And, whether there is an eternal reward or not, I can rejoice in my persecution - because I have spent my life advancing the Kingdom into darkness.
"I say it truly, whatever you did to the least of these, you did to Me."
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved by Grace
Walking in Faith
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Being Jesus (In the non-delusional way)
Dear Brothers and Sisters (there are no more In-Betweens),
You can see pictures of Jesus in a lot of places. Sometimes He's a light-skinned, bearded guy with a brilliant aura in the background. Sometimes He's a dark-skinned guy... not that often, but I've seen it. Sometimes, He's Jim Caviezel covered in blood.
Sometimes, He's pictured walking on the water, sometimes on the cross, sometimes in front of the empty tomb. Sometimes He's healing a blind man, or a leper, or He's feeding the 5,000.
I don't know what Jesus looked like. Having spent a lot of time amongst Middle-Eastern men, I can form a vague image in my mind. But, it's vague. I'm pretty sure that He was bearded, fairly dark-skinned and dark-haired. He was probably pretty short. As the son of a carpenter (or stone mason, depending on what you've read), I imagine that His hands were calloused, and His arms, shoulders and back were well-muscled. I don't know if He was handsome or unpleasant looking. I don't know what kind of clothes He wore.
I think He probably had a pretty good laugh, and an infectious smile. I think He had a look that, when He gave it to you, you knew that you were in the presence of someone who loved you.
I think about this sometimes, because I don't just think that I've been called to follow Jesus in my every day life. I think that I've been called to BE Jesus to the people that I encounter, because no one really knows what He looked like.
A thousand Christian denominations try to define Him, and ten thousand Christian churches and pastors will try to paint a picture of Him week after week. I'm not writing this to argue with any particular denomination, church or pastor. I'm writing this, because I've been called to be Jesus to the people around me. I've been entrusted with presenting His face to the world, along with every other person who has accepted the call to discipleship, and so I'm taking some time to think and write about what that means to me.
Being Jesus means that I feed the hungry.
Being Jesus means that I pray for and minister to the sick.
Being Jesus means that I touch the ones that society - and sometimes the church - have declared "untouchable."
Being Jesus means that I eat in the homes of the most despised of society.
Being Jesus means that I sometimes have to stand in the presence of powerful and dangerous men, and speak with authority about their misuse of power.
Being Jesus means that I might have to flip the tables of the money-changers, and crack a whip at them, to keep them from misusing the poor and dispossessed.
Being Jesus means that I kneel in the dirt next to a person who has been condemned and cast out, and show her forgiveness and acceptance and freedom.
Being Jesus means that I sometimes have to stand at the grave of a friend and weep.
Being Jesus means that I sometimes have to stand at the edge of a city, and weep for the brokenheartedness of its inhabitants.
Being Jesus means that I must welcome the "least of these" into the Kingdom.
It means that I honor the servant, not the master.
It means that I stand at the side of the oppressed, not the oppressor.
It means that I cry out to God in my own Gethsemane, standing in the gap for my friends while they fall asleep.
It means that I reject my sense of self so strongly, that I allow it to get nailed to a cross.
It means that I live in New Life, and it means that I can show others the Way to New Life.
What does being Jesus mean to you? Is it a belief system, or is it New Life?
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Standing in the gap for you
You can see pictures of Jesus in a lot of places. Sometimes He's a light-skinned, bearded guy with a brilliant aura in the background. Sometimes He's a dark-skinned guy... not that often, but I've seen it. Sometimes, He's Jim Caviezel covered in blood.
Sometimes, He's pictured walking on the water, sometimes on the cross, sometimes in front of the empty tomb. Sometimes He's healing a blind man, or a leper, or He's feeding the 5,000.
I don't know what Jesus looked like. Having spent a lot of time amongst Middle-Eastern men, I can form a vague image in my mind. But, it's vague. I'm pretty sure that He was bearded, fairly dark-skinned and dark-haired. He was probably pretty short. As the son of a carpenter (or stone mason, depending on what you've read), I imagine that His hands were calloused, and His arms, shoulders and back were well-muscled. I don't know if He was handsome or unpleasant looking. I don't know what kind of clothes He wore.
I think He probably had a pretty good laugh, and an infectious smile. I think He had a look that, when He gave it to you, you knew that you were in the presence of someone who loved you.
I think about this sometimes, because I don't just think that I've been called to follow Jesus in my every day life. I think that I've been called to BE Jesus to the people that I encounter, because no one really knows what He looked like.
A thousand Christian denominations try to define Him, and ten thousand Christian churches and pastors will try to paint a picture of Him week after week. I'm not writing this to argue with any particular denomination, church or pastor. I'm writing this, because I've been called to be Jesus to the people around me. I've been entrusted with presenting His face to the world, along with every other person who has accepted the call to discipleship, and so I'm taking some time to think and write about what that means to me.
Being Jesus means that I feed the hungry.
Being Jesus means that I pray for and minister to the sick.
Being Jesus means that I touch the ones that society - and sometimes the church - have declared "untouchable."
Being Jesus means that I eat in the homes of the most despised of society.
Being Jesus means that I sometimes have to stand in the presence of powerful and dangerous men, and speak with authority about their misuse of power.
Being Jesus means that I might have to flip the tables of the money-changers, and crack a whip at them, to keep them from misusing the poor and dispossessed.
Being Jesus means that I kneel in the dirt next to a person who has been condemned and cast out, and show her forgiveness and acceptance and freedom.
Being Jesus means that I sometimes have to stand at the grave of a friend and weep.
Being Jesus means that I sometimes have to stand at the edge of a city, and weep for the brokenheartedness of its inhabitants.
Being Jesus means that I must welcome the "least of these" into the Kingdom.
It means that I honor the servant, not the master.
It means that I stand at the side of the oppressed, not the oppressor.
It means that I cry out to God in my own Gethsemane, standing in the gap for my friends while they fall asleep.
It means that I reject my sense of self so strongly, that I allow it to get nailed to a cross.
It means that I live in New Life, and it means that I can show others the Way to New Life.
What does being Jesus mean to you? Is it a belief system, or is it New Life?
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Standing in the gap for you
Sunday, June 23, 2013
God On The Ledge
Dear Brothers, Sisters, and All Those In Between,
Most days, I wake up in the morning with a vague feeling of hopelessness, a sense that I and the people around me would be better off if I was dead. That's not a cry for help, it's the truth. I accept that this feeling is a part of who I am at this stage of my life. I wish it was not so. I wish that I could wake up every morning and experience the true joie de vivre that I know a lot of people do - and I do have moments of joy that pierce through the haze. Some days, weeks and months are a lot better than others; some are much worse.
I occasionally reach the point where I graduate from feeling that "it would be better if I was dead" to feeling that "I really want to die." But, even on those days when I feel that way, I accept that this is just part of my experience. I know that the feelings will pass, and I just try to find something that distracts me from it before it gets any worse.
Some days, it gets worse. Some days, it feels like I'm standing right on the ledge, looking down.
Friday morning, I woke up with the vague sense of hopelessness - I was looking at the ledge, but I was still a ways off from it.
Yesterday morning, I walked a bit closer to the ledge. I really wanted to die, just to make the ugly, out-of-control feelings of despair stop.
This morning, after a brief stint of anger, I shut myself in the closet - literally. I sat in the dark, alone, and thought about how I might end my life.
I was afraid to leave that space, that darkness. I don't know if this is the same for others who have a history of suicidal thoughts/intentions/attempts; I don't know if, once you've been all the way out on the ledge, you're always only a few steps away. I know that it is this way for me.
My Accuser was out there with me this morning. He spoke with my voice, using words that I have used.
You fail as a father.
You fail as a husband.
You failed as a soldier.
You fail as a Christian.
You cannot stop failing. You don't even have the courage to end your life. Instead, you sit here inside a closet, hiding from the people around you. Trying to hide from yourself. Trying to hide from the enormity of your own failure.
Just do it. Find a knife. Use the pills. Have the courage to act, instead of just hiding in the closet and thinking about it.
Don't be a failure in this too.
It's amazing how often the spiritual Enemy sounds just like myself. We look so often to the world outside for a glimpse of the one called Satan, the Accuser... when I am my worst Accuser, my own mind is often my worst Enemy.
Whoever the Accuser is, he was out there on the ledge with me this morning.
I am able to write this - only hours later - because my Savior was out there too.
There's a chapter in the Old Testament, wedged into the longest of the books. It's familiar to anyone who knows the Bible, and has been near the ledge. It's the cry of a Psalmist's heart, and it has become the cry of mine on far too many occasions.
I imagine Jesus on those days when I am still a few steps away from the ledge, with His hand on my shoulder. He is reminding me that the ledge is in front of me, but He is right behind me.
I imagine Him on those days when I have walked close enough to see the edge. He is holding my hand. I might be close to the ledge, but He is right beside me.
This morning, as I stood on the ledge looking over, I felt His arms around me. When I am intentional in my desire to die, when I am consumed by feelings of failure and despair, He is no longer content to remind me of His presence. He embraces me, He holds me, I can no longer ignore Him. It is difficult to be consumed by fear and despair when you are embraced by Love and Grace.
And He whispers in my ear:
28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
I need an easy yoke sometimes. I need a light burden. I need rest for my soul.
I wish I could tell you that this thing is easy. I wish I could tell you that following Jesus means an end to your pain, an end to your suffering. I wish that I could tell you that you will never see that ledge again.
I can't do that. All that I can tell you is that, without Jesus, all that I have ever found in the darkness is my own despair: a despair powerful enough to drown out the love and concern of multitudes of friends and family.
With Him - and with the continued love and concern of those friends and family - I cannot face the darkness alone. Love is always there - love that is Divine, Everlasting, Unconditional and Present. It is a Love that will not give up, a Love that refuses to let me hide from it. It is a Love that pierces through the doubt and the despair, and shines a light on the hope of a better tomorrow.
If you are reading this, I want you to know this Love. This is why I write: because in spite of my doubts, my despair, my desire to stop existing, Love has embraced me. It has pulled me back from the ledge.
Even now, I feel His arms around me. He still whispers in my ear. I hope that He never lets go.
His Love to You, Wherever You Are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Most days, I wake up in the morning with a vague feeling of hopelessness, a sense that I and the people around me would be better off if I was dead. That's not a cry for help, it's the truth. I accept that this feeling is a part of who I am at this stage of my life. I wish it was not so. I wish that I could wake up every morning and experience the true joie de vivre that I know a lot of people do - and I do have moments of joy that pierce through the haze. Some days, weeks and months are a lot better than others; some are much worse.
I occasionally reach the point where I graduate from feeling that "it would be better if I was dead" to feeling that "I really want to die." But, even on those days when I feel that way, I accept that this is just part of my experience. I know that the feelings will pass, and I just try to find something that distracts me from it before it gets any worse.
Some days, it gets worse. Some days, it feels like I'm standing right on the ledge, looking down.
Friday morning, I woke up with the vague sense of hopelessness - I was looking at the ledge, but I was still a ways off from it.
Yesterday morning, I walked a bit closer to the ledge. I really wanted to die, just to make the ugly, out-of-control feelings of despair stop.
This morning, after a brief stint of anger, I shut myself in the closet - literally. I sat in the dark, alone, and thought about how I might end my life.
I was afraid to leave that space, that darkness. I don't know if this is the same for others who have a history of suicidal thoughts/intentions/attempts; I don't know if, once you've been all the way out on the ledge, you're always only a few steps away. I know that it is this way for me.
My Accuser was out there with me this morning. He spoke with my voice, using words that I have used.
You fail as a father.
You fail as a husband.
You failed as a soldier.
You fail as a Christian.
You cannot stop failing. You don't even have the courage to end your life. Instead, you sit here inside a closet, hiding from the people around you. Trying to hide from yourself. Trying to hide from the enormity of your own failure.
Just do it. Find a knife. Use the pills. Have the courage to act, instead of just hiding in the closet and thinking about it.
Don't be a failure in this too.
It's amazing how often the spiritual Enemy sounds just like myself. We look so often to the world outside for a glimpse of the one called Satan, the Accuser... when I am my worst Accuser, my own mind is often my worst Enemy.
Whoever the Accuser is, he was out there on the ledge with me this morning.
I am able to write this - only hours later - because my Savior was out there too.
There's a chapter in the Old Testament, wedged into the longest of the books. It's familiar to anyone who knows the Bible, and has been near the ledge. It's the cry of a Psalmist's heart, and it has become the cry of mine on far too many occasions.
1 You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
5 You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
5 You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.
I imagine Jesus on those days when I am still a few steps away from the ledge, with His hand on my shoulder. He is reminding me that the ledge is in front of me, but He is right behind me.
I imagine Him on those days when I have walked close enough to see the edge. He is holding my hand. I might be close to the ledge, but He is right beside me.
This morning, as I stood on the ledge looking over, I felt His arms around me. When I am intentional in my desire to die, when I am consumed by feelings of failure and despair, He is no longer content to remind me of His presence. He embraces me, He holds me, I can no longer ignore Him. It is difficult to be consumed by fear and despair when you are embraced by Love and Grace.
And He whispers in my ear:
28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
I need an easy yoke sometimes. I need a light burden. I need rest for my soul.
I wish I could tell you that this thing is easy. I wish I could tell you that following Jesus means an end to your pain, an end to your suffering. I wish that I could tell you that you will never see that ledge again.
I can't do that. All that I can tell you is that, without Jesus, all that I have ever found in the darkness is my own despair: a despair powerful enough to drown out the love and concern of multitudes of friends and family.
With Him - and with the continued love and concern of those friends and family - I cannot face the darkness alone. Love is always there - love that is Divine, Everlasting, Unconditional and Present. It is a Love that will not give up, a Love that refuses to let me hide from it. It is a Love that pierces through the doubt and the despair, and shines a light on the hope of a better tomorrow.
If you are reading this, I want you to know this Love. This is why I write: because in spite of my doubts, my despair, my desire to stop existing, Love has embraced me. It has pulled me back from the ledge.
Even now, I feel His arms around me. He still whispers in my ear. I hope that He never lets go.
His Love to You, Wherever You Are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Sunday, June 16, 2013
In Defense of Doubt
Dear Brothers, Sisters and all those in between,
I'm reading through the few blog posts that I've written, and I realize that I've made most of them sound like sermons. Today, I think I'd rather just ruminate a little.
I've had a tough week, with a great many doubts running through my head. I've been thinking really hard about my future, now that I'm allowed to chart my own course, and I feel a strong call towards full-time ministry. I don't know what shape that ministry will take, but I have watched as all the things I thought I wanted to do with my life and career have ceased to be interesting or important to me. As I told my pastor, I want to have my heart broken for hurting people, I want to be driven to my knees with the need to pray for the hopeless and the helpless, I want to have callouses on my hands from working on behalf of the homeless and the hungry. And I want to do it all in the name of Jesus, so that others will know the depth of His love and compassion.
But I have struggled with so many doubts, and I'm tired of struggling. So, I've decided to rejoice in my doubts.
We have this idea in Christianity that doubt is the enemy of faith, and I have wrestled with that idea all week.
"I need to stop doubting and trust God."
"I can't be a Christian and have all these doubts."
These thoughts were destructive to my spirit, and they were born of the idea that Certainty = Correctness. If someone is absolutely confident in a belief or an idea, then they must be correct. Right?
I'll give you a minute to chuckle.
What's funny is that I never operated under this assumption in the military. Sure, as a young Private, I may have trusted every blowhard that came my way... but after a few transformational experiences, I learned to add a healthy dose of doubt to my interactions. I didn't start to believe in the certainty/correctness principle until I came back to the church.
(Now, let me throw in a caveat: I don't believe that every person who is confident in their beliefs is necessarily an idiot or a liar. Some people have that surety, that conviction, after years of examining their faith. Bear with me, as I try to throw out the bathwater and KEEP the baby.)
Maybe I can both doubt and trust God... in fact, maybe that's a part of what faith is: trusting God in the midst of my doubts. Perhaps, I don't have all the answers, and the answers that I have are imperfect. But, I trust that I am always being led to a better understanding. to a more perfect communion with God.
When Jesus appeared to His disciples in the Gospel of John, Thomas wasn't around. They tried to tell him about it later, but Thomas said that he would not believe unless he could see the holes in Jesus' hands and feet.
So, in true Jesus fashion, the Lord shows up.
And he doesn't condemn Thomas. He tells him to stop doubting, and He blesses those who can believe without seeing. But, He gives Thomas what he needs to believe. (Thomas did end up believing.)
Maybe I'm stretching this story to prove my point - it wouldn't be the first time in the history of Christianity. But, I believe that Thomas had a really reasonable reaction to being told that a guy that he had watched die was now alive. No matter that Jesus had told him that He would rise again; Thomas had probably assumed, like most reasonable people, that Jesus was speaking figuratively.
A lot of Christians that I know really dislike atheists. In contrast, I have made a lot of friends who are atheists over the years; contrary to popular belief, there are many atheists in foxholes. Some of my Christian friends think that it's foolish to talk to atheists about faith. "The fool says in his heart, 'There is no God'." That's what gets quoted at me.
And it makes me feel like crap.
Here's the thing: we live in a world that is, at once, bigger and smaller than our ancestors could have ever imagined. We don't just know that the Earth isn't the center of the universe; we know that the Earth is just a speck on the galactic map. We don't just understand how our bodies work in a more complete way than our ancestors; we know how the individual cells in our bodies behave. I know people who will dedicate their entire lives to trying to understand life through physics, chemistry, biology, philosophy - and they will die having gained only a fraction of the knowledge that is available.
How can I look at that person and, because they don't believe in God, say, "You're an idiot."?
We have more access to information than we ever have before. We have the sum of human knowledge at our fingertips. We can talk to people in other countries, in other cultures, as if they're in the same room as we are.
My point is this: when you tell someone in this day and age that the key to their salvation is believing that the Son of God died and rose from the dead, skepticism is a perfectly reasonable response.
Do I think that atheism is a good way to live? No, because I've found a fulfillment in Christ that I could never have found outside of Him. Do I think that the logical person can find a way to believe in God? Absolutely. There's an entire branch of religious study, called apologetics, that attempts to do just that. But I think that atheists are serving a really important purpose in the church, even though I'm certain that they're not meaning to.
Atheists are making us face our doubts. They're making us question what we believe, to validate what we've been certain of for two thousand years. That "Old Time Religion" may have been good enough for the Prophet Daniel, and good enough for you, but it's not good enough for them. Should we change our essential beliefs, turn into pluralists, hem and haw around the Truth? Absolutely not. Should we examine what we teach and how we teach it? Should we appreciate the skepticism - even respect the doubts of intelligent, thoughtful and conscientious atheists and agnostics? YES PLEASE.
While that's pretty important stuff, there is something that I find more important: embracing and encouraging the doubters inside the church. That guy next to you in service, the one who is really into the worship? He's not sure that the Bible is true. The lady that teaches your 7-year-old's Sunday School? She doubts that God cares about her struggles. The pastor who has been ministering to your church for 20 years? He sometimes wonders if he has wasted his life.
We should be okay with that. We should be able to talk to each other about our doubts, without feeling that we're all one step away from the precipice of eternal damnation. Because Jesus didn't hit Thomas in the face or cast him out of fellowship - He showed Thomas the holes in His hands and feet. He gave Thomas what He needed to believe.
I cannot validate this next statement scientifically, scripturally or theologically. I can only speak from my own experience when I say that doubt does not lead to unbelief. Doubt leads to hope. And I know that faith is the substance of the things that I hope for, and also the evidence of the things that I cannot see.
So, I'm no longer getting my spiritual panties into a twist about doubt. I'm embracing it. I'm sharing it. And I'm waiting on the day when all of my doubts become hopes, and all of my sorrows become joys. In the Name of the One who is still willing to show the holes in his hands, feet and side, I hope, for your sake, that one day you will look at what He's trying to show you.
All my love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved by Grace
Full of Doubts
But Walking in Faith
I'm reading through the few blog posts that I've written, and I realize that I've made most of them sound like sermons. Today, I think I'd rather just ruminate a little.
I've had a tough week, with a great many doubts running through my head. I've been thinking really hard about my future, now that I'm allowed to chart my own course, and I feel a strong call towards full-time ministry. I don't know what shape that ministry will take, but I have watched as all the things I thought I wanted to do with my life and career have ceased to be interesting or important to me. As I told my pastor, I want to have my heart broken for hurting people, I want to be driven to my knees with the need to pray for the hopeless and the helpless, I want to have callouses on my hands from working on behalf of the homeless and the hungry. And I want to do it all in the name of Jesus, so that others will know the depth of His love and compassion.
But I have struggled with so many doubts, and I'm tired of struggling. So, I've decided to rejoice in my doubts.
We have this idea in Christianity that doubt is the enemy of faith, and I have wrestled with that idea all week.
"I need to stop doubting and trust God."
"I can't be a Christian and have all these doubts."
These thoughts were destructive to my spirit, and they were born of the idea that Certainty = Correctness. If someone is absolutely confident in a belief or an idea, then they must be correct. Right?
I'll give you a minute to chuckle.
What's funny is that I never operated under this assumption in the military. Sure, as a young Private, I may have trusted every blowhard that came my way... but after a few transformational experiences, I learned to add a healthy dose of doubt to my interactions. I didn't start to believe in the certainty/correctness principle until I came back to the church.
(Now, let me throw in a caveat: I don't believe that every person who is confident in their beliefs is necessarily an idiot or a liar. Some people have that surety, that conviction, after years of examining their faith. Bear with me, as I try to throw out the bathwater and KEEP the baby.)
Maybe I can both doubt and trust God... in fact, maybe that's a part of what faith is: trusting God in the midst of my doubts. Perhaps, I don't have all the answers, and the answers that I have are imperfect. But, I trust that I am always being led to a better understanding. to a more perfect communion with God.
When Jesus appeared to His disciples in the Gospel of John, Thomas wasn't around. They tried to tell him about it later, but Thomas said that he would not believe unless he could see the holes in Jesus' hands and feet.
So, in true Jesus fashion, the Lord shows up.
And he doesn't condemn Thomas. He tells him to stop doubting, and He blesses those who can believe without seeing. But, He gives Thomas what he needs to believe. (Thomas did end up believing.)
Maybe I'm stretching this story to prove my point - it wouldn't be the first time in the history of Christianity. But, I believe that Thomas had a really reasonable reaction to being told that a guy that he had watched die was now alive. No matter that Jesus had told him that He would rise again; Thomas had probably assumed, like most reasonable people, that Jesus was speaking figuratively.
A lot of Christians that I know really dislike atheists. In contrast, I have made a lot of friends who are atheists over the years; contrary to popular belief, there are many atheists in foxholes. Some of my Christian friends think that it's foolish to talk to atheists about faith. "The fool says in his heart, 'There is no God'." That's what gets quoted at me.
And it makes me feel like crap.
Here's the thing: we live in a world that is, at once, bigger and smaller than our ancestors could have ever imagined. We don't just know that the Earth isn't the center of the universe; we know that the Earth is just a speck on the galactic map. We don't just understand how our bodies work in a more complete way than our ancestors; we know how the individual cells in our bodies behave. I know people who will dedicate their entire lives to trying to understand life through physics, chemistry, biology, philosophy - and they will die having gained only a fraction of the knowledge that is available.
How can I look at that person and, because they don't believe in God, say, "You're an idiot."?
We have more access to information than we ever have before. We have the sum of human knowledge at our fingertips. We can talk to people in other countries, in other cultures, as if they're in the same room as we are.
My point is this: when you tell someone in this day and age that the key to their salvation is believing that the Son of God died and rose from the dead, skepticism is a perfectly reasonable response.
Do I think that atheism is a good way to live? No, because I've found a fulfillment in Christ that I could never have found outside of Him. Do I think that the logical person can find a way to believe in God? Absolutely. There's an entire branch of religious study, called apologetics, that attempts to do just that. But I think that atheists are serving a really important purpose in the church, even though I'm certain that they're not meaning to.
Atheists are making us face our doubts. They're making us question what we believe, to validate what we've been certain of for two thousand years. That "Old Time Religion" may have been good enough for the Prophet Daniel, and good enough for you, but it's not good enough for them. Should we change our essential beliefs, turn into pluralists, hem and haw around the Truth? Absolutely not. Should we examine what we teach and how we teach it? Should we appreciate the skepticism - even respect the doubts of intelligent, thoughtful and conscientious atheists and agnostics? YES PLEASE.
While that's pretty important stuff, there is something that I find more important: embracing and encouraging the doubters inside the church. That guy next to you in service, the one who is really into the worship? He's not sure that the Bible is true. The lady that teaches your 7-year-old's Sunday School? She doubts that God cares about her struggles. The pastor who has been ministering to your church for 20 years? He sometimes wonders if he has wasted his life.
We should be okay with that. We should be able to talk to each other about our doubts, without feeling that we're all one step away from the precipice of eternal damnation. Because Jesus didn't hit Thomas in the face or cast him out of fellowship - He showed Thomas the holes in His hands and feet. He gave Thomas what He needed to believe.
I cannot validate this next statement scientifically, scripturally or theologically. I can only speak from my own experience when I say that doubt does not lead to unbelief. Doubt leads to hope. And I know that faith is the substance of the things that I hope for, and also the evidence of the things that I cannot see.
So, I'm no longer getting my spiritual panties into a twist about doubt. I'm embracing it. I'm sharing it. And I'm waiting on the day when all of my doubts become hopes, and all of my sorrows become joys. In the Name of the One who is still willing to show the holes in his hands, feet and side, I hope, for your sake, that one day you will look at what He's trying to show you.
All my love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved by Grace
Full of Doubts
But Walking in Faith
Saturday, June 8, 2013
God's Halfway House
Dear Brothers, Sisters and All Those In Between,
I am going to start by telling you about the most evil thing that I have ever done.
I was a young medic in Iraq, and I was most of the way through my first tour of duty there. I was the Medic on Duty at our small Forward Aid Station, and I was called into our "Holding Area" because one of our detainees (prisoners) was ill. I walked into the room, in which we were currently holding a large number of detainees on suspicion of killing one of our soldiers. The mood was decidedly angry amongst the soldiers guarding the detainees, and I shared it. One of these men - or several of these men - had conspired and killed one of our friends. We hated whoever that was, and so we hated all of them.
Back to my sick detainee. I learned, through an interpreter, that this man was a diabetic, and he had been without insulin for well over 24 hours. He had begun having mild seizures. He had lost control of his bowels and bladder. He had vomited all over himself. He was an older man, probably in his 50s or 60s, and it was unlikely that he had been responsible for the shooting of my friend. He was just a sick man, a man who would die if left untreated. He smelled, he was dirty, but he was dying, and I was asked to bring him healing.
I walked away.
Now, I can imagine what some of you are thinking. "Did he just publicly confess to criminal negligence and war crimes?" There's more to the story, and, fortunately for he and I both, someone grew a conscience and informed his medical superior about the issue - after agonizing over it for much longer than I should have. But, that's not the point of the story. The core of it is that when I was faced with someone sick, hurting, broken, frightened - someone who was as far outside of my identity group as anyone could be - when my empathy was tested at its limit, I failed. I walked away.
I have agonized over that act for years. The sin has become so intrinsic to my pscyhe that my mind has created two separate versions of the event: in one version, I walk away and ignore the man's suffering, but later realize my error and report his condition to the Doctor. The man is taken care of and released, all is well.
In the second version of the event, I walk away and the man dies. No one blames me for my indifference. He was, after all, one of THEM. He was dirty, he was smelly, he was probably a terrorist - or at least a sympathizer. Who could blame someone for not wanting to dirty his hands with the blood and bile of that kind of man?
I'll tell you who could blame someone: me. I could blame someone.
And I did, and I have. For years, I could not convince myself of the first version of the event. I constantly had nightmares and flashbacks of that moment when I turned my back on an old, dying man and walked away. That one event, that one moment of intentional indifference, has defined my life for nearly seven years.
Christians do this all the time.
When I was a kid of about 12, I attended a church that was very wealthy. The congregation wasn't necessarily wealthy, but the church had accumulated quite a bit of wealth - and the Pastor was very well paid - as a result of an aggressive campaign of "tithing" messages. If you were a member of this church, you had bought into this idea that you would be blessed if you helped the church raise a million dollars.
The memory I have is of a Sunday morning. I was sitting in service with my parents, and the pastor brought up this homeless person - I believe it was a young woman, though I can't be sure. The person was dressed in very ragged and dirty clothing, obviously hadn't had a shower in a while, probably no hot meals for a time. The pastor allowed this person to make their plea to the congregation, and then he/she was diplomatically escorted out of the building.
This person had come to our church, because they were in need. Life had not turned out the way that they wanted it to, and so they came to the one place where they thought that they would not be judged, where people would see their need instead of the perceived poor decision making process that led to the need.
All that he/she received was 2 minutes on a microphone, in a beautiful auditorium, while he/she had to bear the uncomfortable, and sometimes hostile, glances of a church congregation that just didn't want to hear.
We have a problem with indifference.
The Church of Peter
Simon is my favorite of all the original Disciples of Jesus. The first thing that I like about him is that he was a fisherman - his hands were undoubtedly dirty, he probably stank, and his language and appearance were probably rather "salty". He wasn't religious material, on the whole. The Gospels record him as being Jesus' most eager disciple, while also being the most thick-headed.
In a great story about both Jesus and Simon, Jesus is asking His disciples what people are saying about him. The guys are passing on the rumors: Jesus is Elijah, He's John the Baptist, etc.
Then Jesus says, "What about you? Who do you say that I am?"
Simon looks at Him and says, "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God."
And then, Jesus looks at Simon. I can only imagine His expression. Jesus says, "Simon, I call you Cephas (Peter, or Rock) and on this Rock I will build my church, and the Gates of Hell will not prevail against it."
I'm pretty sure that Jesus knew, even then, the kind of person that He was charging with founding His church. Simon Peter has already displayed a singular lack of attention to detail. He irreligious, he's smelly, his hands are dirty. During the trial and crucifixion of Jesus, Peter will deny ever knowing Him, for the sake of his own life. Peter is a broken man. Jesus knows this, and He knows that Peter is going to get worse far more quickly than he is going to get better.
And yet, He makes a strong statement of confidence in Simon. He even gives Him a new name.
We are the Church that Jesus built on Peter. Peter, who jumped out of the boat, but didn't have the faith to walk on the water with Jesus. Peter, who swore to follow Jesus all the way to the cross, and then denied Him 3 times to save his life.
Peter, who wept bitterly when he realized what he had done. Peter, who was the first to acknowledge his friend Jesus as something more than just a wise teacher. Peter, who promised Jesus on the shore to bring the love of God to all of His lambs. Peter, who did follow Jesus to the cross - even though it was years later.
Peter the Broken.
Peter the Denier.
Peter the Faithful.
Peter the Redeemed.
When we look at ourselves as a church, what do we see? Are we a collection of suits and dresses, in a very nice building, looking out at the world? Or is the world in the church with us, sitting beside us, being comforted by us?
We are meant to be the Church that Jesus built on Peter. Jesus gave Peter an extraordinary amount of Grace and Love, and He only asked Peter to pass it on to His lambs.
What do we do with the Grace that God has given us? Do we find someone else who needs that Grace as much as we do, and show it to them? Or do we dress up our Grace and call it Righteousness? Do we let the homeless person speak and beg for money from the followers of Christ, and then turn them out when they get no response? Or do we sit that homeless person down, and invite them to hear about Jesus while we get them something to eat and drink?
Do we look at the broken and hurting of this world and see Them? Or do we see Us?
But, for the Grace of God
I asked a question on a Facebook post recently. The post was about "dress codes", whether official or unofficial, in church. There are many opinions on this topic, and most of them have a legitimate foundation in something good. The question I asked was as follows:
"If a prostitute walked into your church on Sunday morning, still dressed in the same clothes that she was hooking in on Saturday night, what would you do? Would you tell her to clean up and come back? Or would you welcome her (or him, really) in to the Grace of God and the community of believers?"
Sometimes, we forget that we were all prostitutes at one point. Prostitutes and pimps, tax collectors, pornographers, abusers, addicts, adulterers, cheats and thieves. We were all of those things, even if some of the specifics didn't apply. We all had a symptom of our brokenness, whether it was out in the open or we hid it well.
I've told you about my brokenness, but I still reflect on it daily. I never thought that I could be forgiven for my hatred, my indifference, for the murder that I had committed with my heart, even if I hadn't committed it with my hands. I was sick in my brain and in my spirit, hopeless and hating myself.
When I found Jesus, I didn't find Him by cleaning myself up and trying to be righteous. I didn't find Him because of some really excellent religious folks. I found Him because I found a community of people who were as broken as I was, who were relying on Grace to prop them up, and who really felt that their only calling was to share the Grace and Love that they had received. And that was transformational.
Jesus set us free from our addictions, from our hurts, from the burden of our sins and from our brokenness. Whom the Son has set free, is free indeed. He set us free with Love, and He commands that we love others. He set us free with Grace, and He commands us to be gracious to others. He even gave us an example of what His church would look like in Simon Peter: broken, unsteady, but clinging faithfully to a Savior, to the Christ, to the community that Christ had gathered around Him. We need to find that community again.
Jesus In Our Midst
I was talking with my pastor and youth pastor the other day. They are both good friends of mine, and while our conversation wandered a lot (80s movies was one of our random musings), we talked mostly about Jesus. And I started thinking about Jesus and community, and what it all meant.
After Jesus died, the disciples were in hiding. They had heard Him say that He would rise again, but they weren't sure if they could believe it. They had even heard some other people say that they had seen Jesus, but the disciples still weren't convinced.
So, there they are. They're broken, they're leaderless, they've lost all hope. They've just watched the object of their devotion killed in the most brutal way imaginable, and they don't quite have the faith to believe that there's more to this story.
So, they start talking about Jesus. This group of dirty, scared, broken men start to talk about the one that they love, and who loved them. I'm sure that they are swapping stories. Because I've been in a community where people have died, I'm also sure that there were tears - as well as laughter. There might be wine, because wine is appropriate for these sorts of occasions.
So, there they all are - Jesus' motley band of fisherman, tax collectors, lawyers and other undesirable people - getting drunk and talking about Jesus, crying and carrying on. They are living in community. And the craziest thing happens:
Jesus appears in their midst.
I believe that's what happens when we live in community together in Christ. He shows up. Our hearts burn, and we suddenly love one another more than we ever did - or even could - before Jesus was in our midst. Strangers become friends, friends become family - we become one with each other when Jesus is in our midst. He can't help Himself: He wants to be where we are, where His family meets to remember Him.
And He wants us to invite others in, so that them becomes us. He wants us to revel in our brokenness, and in the grace and love that make us whole. He wants us to celebrate that grace and love in the only way that we can - by sharing it with others.
There is a 3rd version of my story now, one that just came to me as I type this. I think of it with tears in my eyes, and I praise God for Grace and forgiveness.
In the 3rd version of my story, I see this man - sick, dying, smelly and dirty. Instead of turning away, I kneel beside him. I give him some water. I wipe the sweat from his brow, the vomit from his chin. I help him clean himself, and I take him in my arms to the doctor, to receive healing. Because, in the 3rd version of my story, that sick, dying and broken man is me. And Jesus is kneeling beside me, healing me.
I hope that we can recognize that the brokenness in the world is the brokenness inside us all. I hope that we will stop dressing Grace up in a suit and tie, and hoping that people will see it as Righteousness. I hope that we can kneel beside the hurting - in the sweat, the tears, the blood and the bile - and bring those who are hurting and dying, in our arms, to the only One who can heal them. And I hope that we keep them close, and hold them inside of our community. Because, when those of us who have been healed and set free by Jesus gather together and love one another, He is there in our midst. And He never leaves.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved by Grace
Walking in Faith
I am going to start by telling you about the most evil thing that I have ever done.
I was a young medic in Iraq, and I was most of the way through my first tour of duty there. I was the Medic on Duty at our small Forward Aid Station, and I was called into our "Holding Area" because one of our detainees (prisoners) was ill. I walked into the room, in which we were currently holding a large number of detainees on suspicion of killing one of our soldiers. The mood was decidedly angry amongst the soldiers guarding the detainees, and I shared it. One of these men - or several of these men - had conspired and killed one of our friends. We hated whoever that was, and so we hated all of them.
Back to my sick detainee. I learned, through an interpreter, that this man was a diabetic, and he had been without insulin for well over 24 hours. He had begun having mild seizures. He had lost control of his bowels and bladder. He had vomited all over himself. He was an older man, probably in his 50s or 60s, and it was unlikely that he had been responsible for the shooting of my friend. He was just a sick man, a man who would die if left untreated. He smelled, he was dirty, but he was dying, and I was asked to bring him healing.
I walked away.
Now, I can imagine what some of you are thinking. "Did he just publicly confess to criminal negligence and war crimes?" There's more to the story, and, fortunately for he and I both, someone grew a conscience and informed his medical superior about the issue - after agonizing over it for much longer than I should have. But, that's not the point of the story. The core of it is that when I was faced with someone sick, hurting, broken, frightened - someone who was as far outside of my identity group as anyone could be - when my empathy was tested at its limit, I failed. I walked away.
I have agonized over that act for years. The sin has become so intrinsic to my pscyhe that my mind has created two separate versions of the event: in one version, I walk away and ignore the man's suffering, but later realize my error and report his condition to the Doctor. The man is taken care of and released, all is well.
In the second version of the event, I walk away and the man dies. No one blames me for my indifference. He was, after all, one of THEM. He was dirty, he was smelly, he was probably a terrorist - or at least a sympathizer. Who could blame someone for not wanting to dirty his hands with the blood and bile of that kind of man?
I'll tell you who could blame someone: me. I could blame someone.
And I did, and I have. For years, I could not convince myself of the first version of the event. I constantly had nightmares and flashbacks of that moment when I turned my back on an old, dying man and walked away. That one event, that one moment of intentional indifference, has defined my life for nearly seven years.
Christians do this all the time.
When I was a kid of about 12, I attended a church that was very wealthy. The congregation wasn't necessarily wealthy, but the church had accumulated quite a bit of wealth - and the Pastor was very well paid - as a result of an aggressive campaign of "tithing" messages. If you were a member of this church, you had bought into this idea that you would be blessed if you helped the church raise a million dollars.
The memory I have is of a Sunday morning. I was sitting in service with my parents, and the pastor brought up this homeless person - I believe it was a young woman, though I can't be sure. The person was dressed in very ragged and dirty clothing, obviously hadn't had a shower in a while, probably no hot meals for a time. The pastor allowed this person to make their plea to the congregation, and then he/she was diplomatically escorted out of the building.
This person had come to our church, because they were in need. Life had not turned out the way that they wanted it to, and so they came to the one place where they thought that they would not be judged, where people would see their need instead of the perceived poor decision making process that led to the need.
All that he/she received was 2 minutes on a microphone, in a beautiful auditorium, while he/she had to bear the uncomfortable, and sometimes hostile, glances of a church congregation that just didn't want to hear.
We have a problem with indifference.
The Church of Peter
Simon is my favorite of all the original Disciples of Jesus. The first thing that I like about him is that he was a fisherman - his hands were undoubtedly dirty, he probably stank, and his language and appearance were probably rather "salty". He wasn't religious material, on the whole. The Gospels record him as being Jesus' most eager disciple, while also being the most thick-headed.
In a great story about both Jesus and Simon, Jesus is asking His disciples what people are saying about him. The guys are passing on the rumors: Jesus is Elijah, He's John the Baptist, etc.
Then Jesus says, "What about you? Who do you say that I am?"
Simon looks at Him and says, "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God."
And then, Jesus looks at Simon. I can only imagine His expression. Jesus says, "Simon, I call you Cephas (Peter, or Rock) and on this Rock I will build my church, and the Gates of Hell will not prevail against it."
I'm pretty sure that Jesus knew, even then, the kind of person that He was charging with founding His church. Simon Peter has already displayed a singular lack of attention to detail. He irreligious, he's smelly, his hands are dirty. During the trial and crucifixion of Jesus, Peter will deny ever knowing Him, for the sake of his own life. Peter is a broken man. Jesus knows this, and He knows that Peter is going to get worse far more quickly than he is going to get better.
And yet, He makes a strong statement of confidence in Simon. He even gives Him a new name.
We are the Church that Jesus built on Peter. Peter, who jumped out of the boat, but didn't have the faith to walk on the water with Jesus. Peter, who swore to follow Jesus all the way to the cross, and then denied Him 3 times to save his life.
Peter, who wept bitterly when he realized what he had done. Peter, who was the first to acknowledge his friend Jesus as something more than just a wise teacher. Peter, who promised Jesus on the shore to bring the love of God to all of His lambs. Peter, who did follow Jesus to the cross - even though it was years later.
Peter the Broken.
Peter the Denier.
Peter the Faithful.
Peter the Redeemed.
When we look at ourselves as a church, what do we see? Are we a collection of suits and dresses, in a very nice building, looking out at the world? Or is the world in the church with us, sitting beside us, being comforted by us?
We are meant to be the Church that Jesus built on Peter. Jesus gave Peter an extraordinary amount of Grace and Love, and He only asked Peter to pass it on to His lambs.
What do we do with the Grace that God has given us? Do we find someone else who needs that Grace as much as we do, and show it to them? Or do we dress up our Grace and call it Righteousness? Do we let the homeless person speak and beg for money from the followers of Christ, and then turn them out when they get no response? Or do we sit that homeless person down, and invite them to hear about Jesus while we get them something to eat and drink?
Do we look at the broken and hurting of this world and see Them? Or do we see Us?
But, for the Grace of God
I asked a question on a Facebook post recently. The post was about "dress codes", whether official or unofficial, in church. There are many opinions on this topic, and most of them have a legitimate foundation in something good. The question I asked was as follows:
"If a prostitute walked into your church on Sunday morning, still dressed in the same clothes that she was hooking in on Saturday night, what would you do? Would you tell her to clean up and come back? Or would you welcome her (or him, really) in to the Grace of God and the community of believers?"
Sometimes, we forget that we were all prostitutes at one point. Prostitutes and pimps, tax collectors, pornographers, abusers, addicts, adulterers, cheats and thieves. We were all of those things, even if some of the specifics didn't apply. We all had a symptom of our brokenness, whether it was out in the open or we hid it well.
I've told you about my brokenness, but I still reflect on it daily. I never thought that I could be forgiven for my hatred, my indifference, for the murder that I had committed with my heart, even if I hadn't committed it with my hands. I was sick in my brain and in my spirit, hopeless and hating myself.
When I found Jesus, I didn't find Him by cleaning myself up and trying to be righteous. I didn't find Him because of some really excellent religious folks. I found Him because I found a community of people who were as broken as I was, who were relying on Grace to prop them up, and who really felt that their only calling was to share the Grace and Love that they had received. And that was transformational.
Jesus set us free from our addictions, from our hurts, from the burden of our sins and from our brokenness. Whom the Son has set free, is free indeed. He set us free with Love, and He commands that we love others. He set us free with Grace, and He commands us to be gracious to others. He even gave us an example of what His church would look like in Simon Peter: broken, unsteady, but clinging faithfully to a Savior, to the Christ, to the community that Christ had gathered around Him. We need to find that community again.
Jesus In Our Midst
I was talking with my pastor and youth pastor the other day. They are both good friends of mine, and while our conversation wandered a lot (80s movies was one of our random musings), we talked mostly about Jesus. And I started thinking about Jesus and community, and what it all meant.
After Jesus died, the disciples were in hiding. They had heard Him say that He would rise again, but they weren't sure if they could believe it. They had even heard some other people say that they had seen Jesus, but the disciples still weren't convinced.
So, there they are. They're broken, they're leaderless, they've lost all hope. They've just watched the object of their devotion killed in the most brutal way imaginable, and they don't quite have the faith to believe that there's more to this story.
So, they start talking about Jesus. This group of dirty, scared, broken men start to talk about the one that they love, and who loved them. I'm sure that they are swapping stories. Because I've been in a community where people have died, I'm also sure that there were tears - as well as laughter. There might be wine, because wine is appropriate for these sorts of occasions.
So, there they all are - Jesus' motley band of fisherman, tax collectors, lawyers and other undesirable people - getting drunk and talking about Jesus, crying and carrying on. They are living in community. And the craziest thing happens:
Jesus appears in their midst.
I believe that's what happens when we live in community together in Christ. He shows up. Our hearts burn, and we suddenly love one another more than we ever did - or even could - before Jesus was in our midst. Strangers become friends, friends become family - we become one with each other when Jesus is in our midst. He can't help Himself: He wants to be where we are, where His family meets to remember Him.
And He wants us to invite others in, so that them becomes us. He wants us to revel in our brokenness, and in the grace and love that make us whole. He wants us to celebrate that grace and love in the only way that we can - by sharing it with others.
There is a 3rd version of my story now, one that just came to me as I type this. I think of it with tears in my eyes, and I praise God for Grace and forgiveness.
In the 3rd version of my story, I see this man - sick, dying, smelly and dirty. Instead of turning away, I kneel beside him. I give him some water. I wipe the sweat from his brow, the vomit from his chin. I help him clean himself, and I take him in my arms to the doctor, to receive healing. Because, in the 3rd version of my story, that sick, dying and broken man is me. And Jesus is kneeling beside me, healing me.
I hope that we can recognize that the brokenness in the world is the brokenness inside us all. I hope that we will stop dressing Grace up in a suit and tie, and hoping that people will see it as Righteousness. I hope that we can kneel beside the hurting - in the sweat, the tears, the blood and the bile - and bring those who are hurting and dying, in our arms, to the only One who can heal them. And I hope that we keep them close, and hold them inside of our community. Because, when those of us who have been healed and set free by Jesus gather together and love one another, He is there in our midst. And He never leaves.
My love to you, wherever you are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved by Grace
Walking in Faith
Sunday, June 2, 2013
What God Looks Like, and Why I Have a Hard Time Looking
Dear Brothers, Sisters and All Those In Between,
I am not a master of theology... I'm not even a proper apprentice. I'm what fantasy buffs might call a Novice Theologian. I haven't seen a proper trainer in ages, and I only know what I'm picking up along the way.
So, before I begin, let me thank a few people who are continuously helping me with my theology.
EJ Gonzalez of the Rangerville Church of Christ has been a long-time friend of mine, and he continues to be my friend - either in spite of or because of our sometimes fundamental differences of opinion. There is a huge gift of God in our friendship, because we can continue to love each other when words like heretic and legalistic get tossed into our arguments. That's not a human love - that's a Divine Love. So, thanks to EJ for your sometimes rather pointed observations about my theological musings, and for always reminding me to look to Scripture.
Charles Martin, Lead Pastor of my own Fellowship United Methodist Church, edifies me with his Sunday morning messages, his goofy and authentic way of praying, and his unconditional love for the people of our church and our greater community. He is my teacher and pastor, but he is also my brother and friend. Thank you, Charles, for helping me iron out some of the kinks.
My earthly father, Brian Woywood, showed me Jesus in so many ways as a child and a young man. He continues to show me Jesus in the way that he loves, forgives and corrects, without judgement or conditions. If my children know Jesus through me, it will be because my father showed me Jesus at a pivotal time in my life. (My mother was also instrumental, and I hope that no one thinks I've forgotten her.) Thanks, Dad.
On with the blog!
I'm going to start with something from the Bible, specifically something that Jesus talked about. The story (parable) comes from Luke 15, and I'll go ahead and post the whole thing here (to make it easier for anyone who doesn't have a Bible right next to them.)
11 Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”
... this story is important. My pastor told the congregation a few weeks ago, "If you want to know what God looks like, go read Luke 15." So I did, and I was blown away. Let me tell you why.
I would really like to think that I am a good person all the time. And, for the most part, I am a really good person - I am generous with my time and my money, I am kind and respectful to everyone, I try to make friends of enemies... I mean, the list of how awesome I am most of the time goes on and on.
But, here's the problem: all that stuff is about me. I might be generous, but don't you dare respond to my generosity with anything less than total gratitude. I am kind and respectful to everyone, until someone gets rude and in my face. I try to make friends with enemies - until someone refuses to recognize my magnanimity. If you refuse to meet MY conditions, I become a blistering asshole.
And that's when I'm being nice: I have been withdrawing from nicotine for the past few days, in yet another attempt to quit smoking, and I have seen what I"m like when I'm not looking to be nice. I'm angry, impatient, sulky... I act like a 3-year-old child who is not getting his way. Of course, afterwards I feel really awful about it and go out of my way to be nice again... but the monster is always there, lurking, waiting for the next opportunity to appear.
In short, I am actually not a good person. If you are a really good person - you know, the kind that gives of yourself willingly and without a hint of grudge, who never has a bad day or passes by a person in need with indifference - I want to hang out with you and learn from you.
If, on the other hand, you are like me... then, let's talk.
The parable... Son (you and me) decides that he knows better than Father (God) how to spend the family money. So, he goes out into the world and does really wonderful things with this financial investment, right?
NO. He squanders it. Half the family fortune is spent on hookers and card games, and it gets so bad that the son is now living in a pigsty.
That's what I do with God's gifts. I squander them. God gave me a gift for writing, and what is my first instinct? Writing scathing commentary on people's Facebook statuses, belittling people. God gives me a gift of a wonderful family... and I ignore them, preferring to pursue my interests. I have a gift of stable finances, and instead of investing that money, I waste it on stuff. I go to restaurants and eat twice the amount that I need for a meal, while there are people starving on the streets of my city. I spend a small fortune to go see a movie about heroes solving problems... when there are actual problems to be solved in the world, and I have the brains and the means to help.
(If I seem like I might be overstating the case for my own depravity... you might be right. After all, I don't do the killing or the raping or the robbing, so I'm probably all right. But, this thing that we're all called to - discipleship - is about so much more than just not doing the things that we know are wrong. It's about doing the things that we know are right.)
Back to the parable... so, the son is living in a pigsty, probably eating feces (or at least sleeping in them), and he says, "Man, I could live better than this as a servant in my father's house. I'm going to go back and apologize, and hope that he'll accept me as a working man."
Again, we stop for a tangent: most people decide to call on God when they are at their worst, and that's okay! That's exactly the right time to call on God. I mean, He'll take your call whether you're happy, sad or indifferent... but Jesus is the Savior of the Broken and Destitute. He loves you whether you're living in a penthouse or in a PILE OF PIG CRAP.
And we always want to crawl to God, don't we? When we're hungry and smelling of feces, we don't want to walk proudly, with our back up... but we still have that pride. It's not the haughty kind of pride, it's the "I'm going to earn my way back into my Father's graces." kind of pride. We know that we're not worthy of being accepted back, but we're going to prove that we're worthy, we're going to do stuff for God. We will serve Him, but we just want to do the servant thing. After all, we still smell like pig crap.
The next part of the story blows my mind.
The Father sees his son from a long way off, and he runs to him. He runs to this wayward child, who still smells like a bathroom, and he embraces him.
And that is what God looks like. The son had this speech ready, he was going to stand downwind and tell him how unworthy he was... but then he was going to do stuff to earn his way back to his father's grace. BUT, before the son can say a single word, here comes Dad in a clean robe, probably very well made, and he's hugging him and kissing him. Dad was watching for him, watching so hard that he saw his son from a long way off. The Father's joy at having his son home overpowers the son's feelings of unworthiness.
And the son gives it a try. "I have sinned against heaven and you..." So, there is definitely sorrow and repentance... but it was just the act of coming home that caused the Father's joy and acceptance. The Father won't hear anything about his son being a servant - he calls for the best clothes, a feast, the best cow to be slaughtered. The Father is celebrating, because his son has come home. He thought the son was dead; instead, he's alive. He was lost, but now he is found.
Amazing Grace.
There are a few really important points to the end of this story, and since I've been sort of flailing along with my commentary, I will try to make my conclusions a little more Methodist-y.
1) Repentance is all you need. This might be confusing for some of you who read my last blog post that said All You Need Is Jesus. I stand by that earlier point... but I probably failed to point out that Jesus calls us to repentance. (Read my earlier point about being a Novice Theologian.) What this story points out about God is that all that was required of the Prodigal Son was to turn around (the actual meaning of repentance) and come back to the Father. It really didn't matter about the smell or what was covering his face - the Father was already looking for him to come back, hoping that he would come back. He was so anxious to see His son again, that He spotted him from a long way off.
We may think we have the perfect plan to turn our life around, to clean ourselves up and come back to God... but our plans don't matter. Repentance matters. This brings me to my next point...
2) God's Grace matters more. There is nothing that you or I can do to stop being children of God. We are His children because He has called us His children. Whether we live in His house with Him, or in a PILE OF PIG CRAP apart from Him, we don't stop being His children. The only decision that we have to make is whether to continue to live apart from Him, or to come home.
3) Not all of God's children will be happy to see you. The very end of the story has the Righteous Son, or Responsible Son, getting really... butthurt by the way the Father is so welcoming of the Prodigal. I mean, the Prodigal smells like crap, he's wasted all his Father's money on whores and card games - all while the Responsible Son has been doing the back-breaking work of managing his Father's estate. Nobody has been patting Righteous Son on the back for his good deeds... and Prodigal Son gets a party the minute he returns.
So, there's a prod there at Righteous People who really want others to clean up and prove themselves before they get God's overwhelming grace. But, there's also a lesson about love... because the Father doesn't tell Righteous Son to shut up. He doesn't call him a self-righteous hypocrite, or any of the other nasty names that I have been guilty of calling Righteous People. The Father says, "You are always with me, and everything that I have is yours... but your brother who was dead, is alive again. He was lost, and now he is found." Moral of that part of the story? The "Righteous People" may not always appreciate God's Grace for those of us who smell like crap... and He loves them the same as the rest of us.
So, by now I'm sure that you know why I titled this blog What God Looks Like... but now it's time to tell you why I don't want to look at Him.
I really, really need Grace... but I am one of those that has lived in a pile of crap for years. I knew about the Grace of God from an early age, but I never, ever wanted it. Grace was for those people who didn't know how to do stuff for God. I didn't need Grace, I was one of the Righteous People... but I was even better than the Righteous People, because I didn't think of myself as a Righteous Person. I thought of myself as ugly and undeserving, not worthy of God's Grace...
It was all pride. I was just like the Prodigal Son: even in my filth, I really thought that I could still do stuff to measure up to God's Righteousness. And, even when I came back home, when confronted by the joy and the grace of my Father... I had to look away. I couldn't accept it... until I realized that I wasn't worthy of it, I wasn't unworthy of it, it JUST WAS. Grace was there, waiting for me, watching for me... my worthiness or unworthiness didn't even enter the equation. I was always a Child of God, I will always be a Child of God... I just have to accept a fact that already exists. I just have to come home.
It is my sincere and earnest hope that you will come home, too. Whether you are clean and well-dressed or filthy and bad-smelling, I hope that you will turn around and come to experience God's Grace. And when He is looking at you, with love and joy in His eyes, I hope that you don't look away. I hope that you look right back at Him, and know what it feels like to be His child. Always.
My Love to You, Wherever You Are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved By Grace
Walking in Faith
I am not a master of theology... I'm not even a proper apprentice. I'm what fantasy buffs might call a Novice Theologian. I haven't seen a proper trainer in ages, and I only know what I'm picking up along the way.
So, before I begin, let me thank a few people who are continuously helping me with my theology.
EJ Gonzalez of the Rangerville Church of Christ has been a long-time friend of mine, and he continues to be my friend - either in spite of or because of our sometimes fundamental differences of opinion. There is a huge gift of God in our friendship, because we can continue to love each other when words like heretic and legalistic get tossed into our arguments. That's not a human love - that's a Divine Love. So, thanks to EJ for your sometimes rather pointed observations about my theological musings, and for always reminding me to look to Scripture.
Charles Martin, Lead Pastor of my own Fellowship United Methodist Church, edifies me with his Sunday morning messages, his goofy and authentic way of praying, and his unconditional love for the people of our church and our greater community. He is my teacher and pastor, but he is also my brother and friend. Thank you, Charles, for helping me iron out some of the kinks.
My earthly father, Brian Woywood, showed me Jesus in so many ways as a child and a young man. He continues to show me Jesus in the way that he loves, forgives and corrects, without judgement or conditions. If my children know Jesus through me, it will be because my father showed me Jesus at a pivotal time in my life. (My mother was also instrumental, and I hope that no one thinks I've forgotten her.) Thanks, Dad.
On with the blog!
I'm going to start with something from the Bible, specifically something that Jesus talked about. The story (parable) comes from Luke 15, and I'll go ahead and post the whole thing here (to make it easier for anyone who doesn't have a Bible right next to them.)
11 Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”
... this story is important. My pastor told the congregation a few weeks ago, "If you want to know what God looks like, go read Luke 15." So I did, and I was blown away. Let me tell you why.
I would really like to think that I am a good person all the time. And, for the most part, I am a really good person - I am generous with my time and my money, I am kind and respectful to everyone, I try to make friends of enemies... I mean, the list of how awesome I am most of the time goes on and on.
But, here's the problem: all that stuff is about me. I might be generous, but don't you dare respond to my generosity with anything less than total gratitude. I am kind and respectful to everyone, until someone gets rude and in my face. I try to make friends with enemies - until someone refuses to recognize my magnanimity. If you refuse to meet MY conditions, I become a blistering asshole.
And that's when I'm being nice: I have been withdrawing from nicotine for the past few days, in yet another attempt to quit smoking, and I have seen what I"m like when I'm not looking to be nice. I'm angry, impatient, sulky... I act like a 3-year-old child who is not getting his way. Of course, afterwards I feel really awful about it and go out of my way to be nice again... but the monster is always there, lurking, waiting for the next opportunity to appear.
In short, I am actually not a good person. If you are a really good person - you know, the kind that gives of yourself willingly and without a hint of grudge, who never has a bad day or passes by a person in need with indifference - I want to hang out with you and learn from you.
If, on the other hand, you are like me... then, let's talk.
The parable... Son (you and me) decides that he knows better than Father (God) how to spend the family money. So, he goes out into the world and does really wonderful things with this financial investment, right?
NO. He squanders it. Half the family fortune is spent on hookers and card games, and it gets so bad that the son is now living in a pigsty.
That's what I do with God's gifts. I squander them. God gave me a gift for writing, and what is my first instinct? Writing scathing commentary on people's Facebook statuses, belittling people. God gives me a gift of a wonderful family... and I ignore them, preferring to pursue my interests. I have a gift of stable finances, and instead of investing that money, I waste it on stuff. I go to restaurants and eat twice the amount that I need for a meal, while there are people starving on the streets of my city. I spend a small fortune to go see a movie about heroes solving problems... when there are actual problems to be solved in the world, and I have the brains and the means to help.
(If I seem like I might be overstating the case for my own depravity... you might be right. After all, I don't do the killing or the raping or the robbing, so I'm probably all right. But, this thing that we're all called to - discipleship - is about so much more than just not doing the things that we know are wrong. It's about doing the things that we know are right.)
Back to the parable... so, the son is living in a pigsty, probably eating feces (or at least sleeping in them), and he says, "Man, I could live better than this as a servant in my father's house. I'm going to go back and apologize, and hope that he'll accept me as a working man."
Again, we stop for a tangent: most people decide to call on God when they are at their worst, and that's okay! That's exactly the right time to call on God. I mean, He'll take your call whether you're happy, sad or indifferent... but Jesus is the Savior of the Broken and Destitute. He loves you whether you're living in a penthouse or in a PILE OF PIG CRAP.
And we always want to crawl to God, don't we? When we're hungry and smelling of feces, we don't want to walk proudly, with our back up... but we still have that pride. It's not the haughty kind of pride, it's the "I'm going to earn my way back into my Father's graces." kind of pride. We know that we're not worthy of being accepted back, but we're going to prove that we're worthy, we're going to do stuff for God. We will serve Him, but we just want to do the servant thing. After all, we still smell like pig crap.
The next part of the story blows my mind.
The Father sees his son from a long way off, and he runs to him. He runs to this wayward child, who still smells like a bathroom, and he embraces him.
And that is what God looks like. The son had this speech ready, he was going to stand downwind and tell him how unworthy he was... but then he was going to do stuff to earn his way back to his father's grace. BUT, before the son can say a single word, here comes Dad in a clean robe, probably very well made, and he's hugging him and kissing him. Dad was watching for him, watching so hard that he saw his son from a long way off. The Father's joy at having his son home overpowers the son's feelings of unworthiness.
And the son gives it a try. "I have sinned against heaven and you..." So, there is definitely sorrow and repentance... but it was just the act of coming home that caused the Father's joy and acceptance. The Father won't hear anything about his son being a servant - he calls for the best clothes, a feast, the best cow to be slaughtered. The Father is celebrating, because his son has come home. He thought the son was dead; instead, he's alive. He was lost, but now he is found.
Amazing Grace.
There are a few really important points to the end of this story, and since I've been sort of flailing along with my commentary, I will try to make my conclusions a little more Methodist-y.
1) Repentance is all you need. This might be confusing for some of you who read my last blog post that said All You Need Is Jesus. I stand by that earlier point... but I probably failed to point out that Jesus calls us to repentance. (Read my earlier point about being a Novice Theologian.) What this story points out about God is that all that was required of the Prodigal Son was to turn around (the actual meaning of repentance) and come back to the Father. It really didn't matter about the smell or what was covering his face - the Father was already looking for him to come back, hoping that he would come back. He was so anxious to see His son again, that He spotted him from a long way off.
We may think we have the perfect plan to turn our life around, to clean ourselves up and come back to God... but our plans don't matter. Repentance matters. This brings me to my next point...
2) God's Grace matters more. There is nothing that you or I can do to stop being children of God. We are His children because He has called us His children. Whether we live in His house with Him, or in a PILE OF PIG CRAP apart from Him, we don't stop being His children. The only decision that we have to make is whether to continue to live apart from Him, or to come home.
3) Not all of God's children will be happy to see you. The very end of the story has the Righteous Son, or Responsible Son, getting really... butthurt by the way the Father is so welcoming of the Prodigal. I mean, the Prodigal smells like crap, he's wasted all his Father's money on whores and card games - all while the Responsible Son has been doing the back-breaking work of managing his Father's estate. Nobody has been patting Righteous Son on the back for his good deeds... and Prodigal Son gets a party the minute he returns.
So, there's a prod there at Righteous People who really want others to clean up and prove themselves before they get God's overwhelming grace. But, there's also a lesson about love... because the Father doesn't tell Righteous Son to shut up. He doesn't call him a self-righteous hypocrite, or any of the other nasty names that I have been guilty of calling Righteous People. The Father says, "You are always with me, and everything that I have is yours... but your brother who was dead, is alive again. He was lost, and now he is found." Moral of that part of the story? The "Righteous People" may not always appreciate God's Grace for those of us who smell like crap... and He loves them the same as the rest of us.
So, by now I'm sure that you know why I titled this blog What God Looks Like... but now it's time to tell you why I don't want to look at Him.
I really, really need Grace... but I am one of those that has lived in a pile of crap for years. I knew about the Grace of God from an early age, but I never, ever wanted it. Grace was for those people who didn't know how to do stuff for God. I didn't need Grace, I was one of the Righteous People... but I was even better than the Righteous People, because I didn't think of myself as a Righteous Person. I thought of myself as ugly and undeserving, not worthy of God's Grace...
It was all pride. I was just like the Prodigal Son: even in my filth, I really thought that I could still do stuff to measure up to God's Righteousness. And, even when I came back home, when confronted by the joy and the grace of my Father... I had to look away. I couldn't accept it... until I realized that I wasn't worthy of it, I wasn't unworthy of it, it JUST WAS. Grace was there, waiting for me, watching for me... my worthiness or unworthiness didn't even enter the equation. I was always a Child of God, I will always be a Child of God... I just have to accept a fact that already exists. I just have to come home.
It is my sincere and earnest hope that you will come home, too. Whether you are clean and well-dressed or filthy and bad-smelling, I hope that you will turn around and come to experience God's Grace. And when He is looking at you, with love and joy in His eyes, I hope that you don't look away. I hope that you look right back at Him, and know what it feels like to be His child. Always.
My Love to You, Wherever You Are,
Michael Brian Woywood
Saved By Grace
Walking in Faith
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