Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Thinking Toward Sunday's Message


In any given week, I'll read hundreds of pages concerning the text or topic. I'll begin with the text itself - looking at the original languages and word study, ferreting out any culture specific phrases, reading different versions and the Message. Making some notes on things that need further work, and sketching out what might be the thrust of the passage, I'll go on to reading about the passage. What has the Body of Christ - my fellow brothers and sisters in faith, heard from the Holy Spirit through it down through the centuries.

I thought I'd share some of these with you this week so you can see the richness of the Spirit's voice and how His instruction can come so differently and yet so truly to each of us.

Every believer, every minister and congregation, is tempted to realize the kingdom of God apart from the cross of Christ. Although the gospel is the "power of God unto salvation" we are constantly tempted to win the world by evangelistic methodologies, group dynamics, management systems, institutional agendas and the like, as if there is a better way, a more effective way than the cross. The message of the cross, by itself, seems ineffective, weak and foolish, and so needs our marketing initiatives. Yet, it is not the dynamic welcoming congregation that draws people into the kingdom, but rather the Son of Man lifted up. From Here


This Gospel is so gentle, we might miss its absoluteness.

This quiet, simple appreciation of seed stirs memories in me of my Uncle Oscar, filtering the heavy, satin kernels with his strong weathered hands. I'll never forget the spring South Dakota suffered one of its worst droughts. As dust blew across the farmyard I heard my cousin ask, "Dad, are you even going to put the crop in?" Oscar didn't hesitate and with an inflection all his own replied, "ABSOLUTELY! It won't grow in the granary." My uncle loved the wheat and so gave it up every year to the miracle of its fruitfulness: the Gospel's picture of dying and rising.
From Here


It is often through family and friendships that we learn the gift of
sacrificial giving, of generously offering ourselves to others. We witness parents making forfeiting some of their own pleasures or desires so that their children might reach their full potential. Some have given the gift of an organ so that others might live. Others have shared their homes with the homeless. Some have spent their vacations on mission trips expressing the love of Christ.

It is in this kind of service that we experience the rising of something new within ourselves. We cannot force growth or produce it by the strength of our own will. We can only expose ourselves to opportunities which become the impetus for our transformation. Those opportunities are usually found in giving up our own comfort and extending ourselves in the service of others.From here


Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “When Jesus died, this power was made manifest. By absorbing into himself the worst that the world could do to a child of God and by refusing to do any of it back, he made sure it was put to death with him. By suffering every kind of hurt and shame without ever once letting them deflect him from his purpose, he broke their hold on humankind. In him, sin met its match. He showed us what is possible. These are just some of the fruits of Christ’s death, things that could never have happened if he had not been willing to fall to the ground.”


This is just amazing writing from the pages of a Quebec literary journal. Click on the link to read the whole thing. It's worth your time.:

"How do seeds work?"

Dad thought for a moment. Then, struggling to conceal a grin he replied, "Magic."

"No, really. How do they work?"

"Magic. Just like a said." Dad laughed and then proceeded in a more serious tone, "And don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

I thought for a moment about whether or not to take Dad seriously. He loved to pull a person's leg, but the last comment had been stated so seriously that I couldn't decide what to make of it. He gave me a moment to dwell on this and then, sensing my confusion, offered a further explanation.

"Everyone knows what a seed needs to grow: soil, water, air and sunlight. But no one I know can explain why a seed grows. It's dead when you put it in the ground, but add the right ingredients and it shoots right up. Your science teacher wouldn't be happy with that answer, but I'm not a scientist and I'm also not afraid of a little mystery now and again. I guess I just choose to view at least a portion of it as a miracle—or magic if you like."

I smiled and laughed. I liked this explanation from my father. It was so unlike him and yet now as I look back, it explains so much. Silence ensued once more, but just as our planting was about to converge in the middle of a row a thought occurred to me.

"Is Howie like a seed? Is that why we put him in the ground?"

Dad sat back on his haunches and contemplated the dark soil at his knees. His right hand shook up and down methodically as he rattled a group of seeds within his closed calloused hand. Then, with invisible tears welling behind squinting eyes, he looked at me and stated firmly and with great resolve, "Yes, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

I remember the look of our hands that day. They were filthy and yet at that moment and in that place it was the most natural thing on the planet. -Mark Bowers From Here

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