Grace

A few years ago I co-taught a class based on Philip Yancey's book, What's So Amazing About Grace.  I remember as we talked in the class that there seemed to be a perception that grace = forgivness.  I'm not here to argue that; it certainly does mean that.  I think, however, that forgiveness is grace in the same way that a square is a rectangle.  There is so much more to grace.

I read this paragraph from Bishop Carder's book (Living our Beliefs):

According to Randy Maddox, Wesley was deeply concerned to hold together the two traditional emphases on grace.  The Eastern Church has historically placed the accent on grace as God’s healing, while the Western Church has emphasized pardon as the principal work of grace.  John Wesley incorporated both healing and pardon as inseparable expressions of divine grace.

Think about the idea of healing.  I think in this discussion healing is more than the restoration of health.  It's the restoration of the image of God in us.  It's the restoration of our relationship to God. 

Grace is love.  It's forgivness.  It's pardon.  It's healing.  It's restoration. 

It's grace.

Gift

During the Lenten luncheon today, Eva sang "Holy City" and then Luana highlighted a particular line in the song:

The gates were open wide,
And all who would might enter
And no one was denied.

It made me think of an analogy I use in our Grace class sometimes. Think of God offering you a gift. It's wrapped and beautiful, but you set it down and never go back to open it. Your choice is to ignore it, but the gift has still been given. Compare that to someone telling you you can have a gift if you work hard enough.

Both of them are gifts. One of them is given out of love; one is given out of a sense of obligation. Which is grace? God doesn't judge our worthiness before he offers us the gift of his love. He offers it, and then we judge whether to accept it or not.

The risk is worth it

I sometimes hear, when I teach a class, certain ideas about grace and forgiveness that I disagree with:

• God won't forgive sins that are horrible. The more horrible and evil, the less likely God is to forgive.
• In order to be forgiven, there are certain things we must do -- we must change our ways, we must ask for forgiveness, we must be sorry for what we did.

I think we try to create God in our own image. We limit grace, because it doesn't seem fair or just to us.

It isn't fair. It isn't justice. It's grace.

Philip Yancey, in his book What's So Amazing About Grace?" talks about loopholes. Have you ever thought "why don't I go ahead and sin because God is going to forgive me anyway."?

We might not admit to that rationalization. What we might say, though, is that "God must not have meant to establish this kind of system -- forgiveness for everything - because the opportunities for abuse are just too large!

The risk is huge. God takes the chance that we will sin and sin and sin, seeking forgivneness. He opens himself up to become vulnerable and abused and taken for granted because what he is seeking is love.

Love. If I love, I will respond to grace with grace. I will desire not to sin, I will choose to obey and love God.

If he gives us the opportunity to choose freely, then he risks we will choose sin. The love, though, is worth the risk.

Tranformational Forgivness

Have you ever considered the transformational effect of forgiveness?

In class today we compared two scripture passages -- the one in which Peter denies Jesus three times and the one in which the resurrected Christ and Peter meet on the shore for breakfast.

Consider Peter. He has done what he promised he would not do -- what he had been absolutely certain he would never do -- betrayed Jesus. He goes back to what he knows -- fishing, rather than going forward with what Jesus has called him to do -- to be a fisher of men. He is frozen in his guilt. He cannot go forward in ministry.

Until Jesus meets in on the beach and convinces him, finally, that he is forgiven. One only has to read Acts to discover the transformational effect of forgiveness in the life of Peter.

Is that grace we can refuse to offer? Is it grace we can refuse to accept?

Forgiveness

I'm reading for the class we're teaching tomorrow, and I'm thinking about forgiveness.

I think there are those who believe that we must ask for forgiveness in order to receive it, and that conversely, we cannot forgive someone who doesn't ask -- who doesn't show remorse -- who isn't sorry.

Forgiveness and confession are two different things. Separate. And meant to be.

Forgiveness is something we do. It is independent of the sorrow or regret or confession of the other person. If it weren't, then we would never be able to forgive someone who has already died. Or who has hurt us without realizing it. Or who has hurt us and doesn't care about it. The list goes on and on.

When we forgive, we let go of judgment and give it to God, where it belongs. When we forgive, we start to heal. We may not be able to forgive all at once, or easily or without the help and guidance of God, but with God's help, we can forgive, regardless of what the other person does.

It's grace.

Euphony of Grace

Craving -- an intense urge or longing.

What do you crave? Long for? Sometimes I crave chocolate or Diet Pepsi. When I was pregnant, I craved Cherry or Strawberry slurpees and icees -- whatever it was, it needed to be red and frozen.

Philip Yancey says that we all have a craving for grace. To reword that sentence, we all have an intense urge or longing for the love of God. It sounds right to me. Created by God, we would naturally crave his love.

In the same book (What's so Amazing About Grace), Yancey says:

"Grace is everywhere," said the dying priest in in Georges Bernanos's novel Diary of a Young Priest. Yes, how easily we pass by, deaf to the euphony.

I had to look up the word 'euphony.' It means any agreeable (pleasing and harmonious) sounds.

Can you imagine a person dying of thirst, standing in the middle of a crystal clear pond of water? We crave grace and yet we are deaf to the sound of it, all around us.

The One Thing

I wrote yesterday about one way in which the church can be a legalistic place -- a place where certain behavior and certain clothing is expected. To "swim against the tide" is to sometimes run face into opposition. Judgment.

And yet, according to Yancey's book, the characteristic which makes the church different is its ability to offer grace. We yearn for it, and the church is the only place we can find it.

Other organizations can feed the hungry, education children, or provides funds for scholarships and rent payments. The church can do all of those, but it is the only place where grace is offered for free.

How often do we fail in the one thing that makes us different?

Grace dances

I'm co-teaching a class using the book by Philip Yancey -- "What's So Amazing About Grace." I tell you that as a means of warning: I imagine there will be many "grace" posts in the next few weeks as I reread the book and listen to the discussion in class (hoping there will be discussion).

Let's start with this quote from W.H. Auden:

I know nothing, except what everyone knows -- if there when Grace dances, I should dance.

What does that quote mean? I imagine there are several interpretations, and perhaps all of them might be right in some manner.

• If we are a witness to the grace of God in action, then perhaps we are called to celebrate -- to dance. Grace is celebration worthy.
• If we are the recipients of grace, then we should dance along -- in the presence of grace, we should be willing to receive it. Haven't you ever been resistant to grace?
• Perhaps my favorite interpretation is to follow the lead of God. When grace dances, we dance, to. Wherever God goes, we should follow. If he dances in a homeless shelter, then we should dance along. If he dances on a trip out of town, then we need to put on our dancing shoes.

Spread grace -- share grace. Be grace, wherever you see God dancing.

God is big enough

Last October, when I was a member of the Emmaus walk team, one of the women on the walk was talking about forgiveness. She had been worried that what she had done in life was too big to be forgiven by God. A friend of hers told her by doubting God's forgivness, she was shortchanging the blood of Christ.

Is God's love -- is God's grace large enough to be sufficient for you

Back when we were teaching the class about the book What's so Amazing About Grace, this was a big issue. I told the class that not only were their sins forgiven, but that they were forgiven before they even commited them. That grace -- that forgiveness was given to them as a gift. In order for it to be tranformational, they had to accept it, but the gift had already been given.

I wondered at the time if I were right. It felt right to me -- it felt like God to me.

This past Sunday, one of the ministers who attends our church (but is not THE minister) delivered the sermon. His theme was that there are two really hard things that we are asked to do -- to love and forgive each other. He's right -- they are the two hardest things to do. He went on to say that we are forgiven by God -- already -- before we even commit the sin. That went a long way to affirming what I think.

And then I read the lectionary readings last night. Listen to this:

And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing. Galations 2:20b-21

Listen to it again:

Is it not clear to you that to go back to that old rule-keeping, peer-pleasing religion would be an abandonment of everything personal and free in my relationship with God? I refuse to do that, to repudiate God's grace. If a living relationship with God could come by rule-keeping, then Christ died unnecessarily.

God's grace is large enough. It doesn't depend on keeping the laws and it isn't given in response to the size of our sins. It is grace -- free and all encompassing.

Images: From the campus of West Virginia Wesleyan. Love that new camera!

A hypothetical situation

A hypothetical situation, made up only for purposes of illustration:

An elderly gentleman stopped at the local gas station to fill up his tank, and to grab a cup of decaffeinated coffee. The "real stuff" keeps him awake, you know. He "paid at the pump" -- he may be up in years, but he's still a modern gentleman, and then went inside to buy the coffee. While he was standing at the cash register, counting out the correct change, a young man entered the store. This man looked frantic, angry and mean. He pulled out a gun, pointed it at the clerk, and demanded the contents of the cash drawer. The clerk hurried to comply.

The young man didn't like the look on the face of the elderly gentleman. Maybe it was pity - maybe it was disbelief - maybe it was just fear, but the young man leveled the gun at the older gentleman, and shot him in the chest. The criminal then ran out of the gas station.

The clerk, while not ready to tackle an armed robber, was quick to call 911, and an ambulance arrived within minutes, transporting the elderly gentleman to the hospital. He received prompt and effective care which barely saved his life. For the rest of his life, though, he will be unable to walk, to drive his car, to dance with his wife or to stroll through his garden. He is angry, and it will take many years before he is able to begin to set aside the hatred that he feels for this young man who shot him.

Before I start my questions, understand that I have every sympathy for the older man, and hope that that younger (hypothetical) man meets justice.

At the end of this story, who is a sinner in the eyes of God? Both of the men. One, the younger man, who shot and almost killed a fellow human being, robbed a store, and fled, unrepentant. The other, the older gentleman, who carries hatred in his heart for an enemy. Believe me, I don't stand here as a judge, but as a fellow sinner, recognizing the illness of sin.

Which sin is bigger? Neither of them. Sin is sin.

Which has larger consequences? The sin of the younger man, I think. While I do believe that sin is sin, I also believe that some consequences of sin are more costly than others.

Which man has God forgiven? Both of them have already been forgiven by God. This was a discussion last night in our last Grace class. My belief is that forgiveness and grace are gifts. Free. They are not earned by repentance. They are gifts, waiting to be received. For the grace to have a transformational effect on a person's life, then it needs to be accepted, and that may require the healing process of repentance. But repentance is not the cost of forgiveness. Forgiveness has already been granted. Can the elderly gentleman forgive the young man, even if the young man is not repentant? Yes, he can. And he is urged to do this by God. If we believe that, then why can't we believe that God himself will follow this advice. The sin is forgiven. Just because we do not accept the love of God, does not mean it does not exist. Just because we don't ask to be loved by God, doesn't mean he isn't loving us already.

Does God grant more grace or more love to the elderly gentleman than to the younger man? No. God loves them both. This was another discussion from last night. God wants both of them to reach healing and wholeness. He sent his son to die for both of them. We don't want it to be that way. We want God's love to be fair, because we think we deserve it more than an armed robber. We do not. We continually say, "hate the sin but love the sinner." If we espouse that, if we think that that is the way that God wants us to live (never mind the arrogance of the statement), then why can't we believe that God is capable of doing that?

God love us all -- we are all sinners -- we are all already forgiven. It's grace, and it's amazing, and why can't we seem to grasp it? To believe it? Why do we insist that God is less capable of loving than we are?

Infinite Hope

G is starting 9th grade in the fall. One of his classes in honors English. Because of that, he has a summer reading list of three books, and assignments to match them. The first of the books is The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I picked him up a copy of the book today. I actually picked up two copies -- I told him that I would read it along with him. I can't remember if I have read it before; if I have, I didn't understand it. I know I've seen the movie, so I do have an idea of the plot.

I've started on my copy, and immediately ran into this sentence:
Reserving judgement is a matter of infinite hope.

That sentence struck me, especially in the light of our Wednesday evening class a couple of days ago. It was based on the parable (Matthew 13:34-30, 36-43) of the farmer who plants clean seed. Overnight, the enemy sneaks in and plants weeds. The hired hands ask, "Should we weed out the thistles?" The farmer answers, "'No, if you weed the thistles, you'll pull up the wheat, too." It is a parable about not judging other people -- allowing God to be God.

I think this quote from the Great Gatsby applies to this parable, in two ways.

1. We looked at this parable during The Jesus I Never Knew. The class members wanted to know if weeds could ever become wheat. We decided that transformation is possible. That is a basis for hope and a reason to reserve judgement.
2. This time, in What's So Amazing About Grace, the class focused more on the idea that we are unable to tell the wheat from the weeds. We are not equipped. We can't see into someone's heart or search their souls, while God can. So in this case, perhaps we reserve judgement out of the hope that our own judgment is poor, while God's is not. God can see the good in someone; while we can only hope that it is there.

Images: Cover of the paperback and scene from the movie of the same name, 1974, Robert Redford and Mia Farrow.

Grace amid disagreement

Class tonight was about showing grace to those with whom we disagree, especially in the political realm. What is it, I wonder, that makes politics such a divisive issue?

Today was the funeral for a member of our church. JPC had been a member of JM for longer than I can remember -- longer, certainly, than I have been a member. I remember him the most when when he served as the chairman of our staff-parish relations committee. I remember him saying at a meeting that he had promised Emerson (our pastor at the time) that he would say on as chairman of SPR until Emerson retired.

Emerson, though retired, delivered a large portion of the funeral service. He spoke of JPC lovingly and with grace. He said that the two of them have very different political views, but that they became friends anyway -- that they became brothers in Christ. That's a wonderful image to take to this class. He said that they disagreed, but that they were never disagreeable to each other -- dispensers of grace

We all have acquaintances -- we have very few real friends. Emerson obviously spoke of JP as one would speak of a friend.

The Older Son

One of my favorite parables (if God will grant me the grace of choosing a favorite from among his stories) is the one in Luke 15: 11-32. We often call it the story of the Prodigal Son, but really, it is SO much more.

It is a story of a family – a story of two sons. One leaves home, in effect telling his father that he wished the father were dead. He is lost. The other son stays with the father, and while his physical location is known all the time, he is also lost. Who among us is not lost?

Someone in class a week ago said that while the older son worked hard for the father, he only did it out of selfishness, out of a desire for recognition. Is that true?

It is true that when the older son saw the radical love lavished on the returning younger son, he was jealous. He didn’t keep that jealousy to himself; he told his father about how he was feeling. Is there a lesson there? Can we tell the father how we are feeling, about anything? Do we trust him that much? This older son is an example of how we should be in prayer – honest, trusting. This is a lesson that the older son can teach us; God wants our honesty.

But is it true that the only motivation that the son had for his good works is a selfish desire for what he could achieve from the father? I don’t think so. There is nothing in the parable to indicate that the older son was that selfish. In fact, by saying that, we are jumping to a conclusion that is not supported.

Why would we make that statement? I think that we often see ourselves in the older son. We see a “church-going,” faithful child who works hard for the father, and yet is still lost. We want to believe that there is something else wrong with him; otherwise, if he is lost, then so are we.

What can we learn from the way the father reacts to the older son? First of all, he goes out to him. God doesn’t wait for us to approach him. He comes out to us. Even when we’re not ready for him, or not prepared for him, or even if we haven’t asked him to visit with us. He comes anyway.

Even when the son wasn’t listening, the father was talking. How humbling is that? God is not waiting for us to pay attention; he’s talking to us now, and we’re ignoring him.

What did the father not do? He wasn’t angry with the older son, even though the older son was angry with the father. God can take our anger. It’s OK.

I really like the phrase, “everything that is mine is yours.” Everything. We have nothing to fear. We have no reason to be jealous of the younger son, even though the father lavishes everything he has on him. God’s love is radical, and one of the ways in which it is radical, is that it is limitless. Limitless. Just because God gives all of his love to one lost, returning son, the love he shows to us is not depleted. Why do we seem to want to hoard the infinite to ourselves? One of the radical characteristics of God’s love is that every bit of love he has he gives to each of us. He doesn’t cut it up like cake. It rains on us in limitless quantity.

The father celebrates when the one who is lost, returns. We don’t see the end of this story, but if it were written, when the older son walks into the house, no longer angry, but returning to his father, his father is as happy to see him as he is to see the younger son.

We are all lost. We are all loved in a radical way. God celebrates each time one of us returns to him.

Image: Yellow weed flower from Spring Heights, May 2007

We close the door

One final post (well, maybe, and maybe not) about freely offered forgiveness. When I told the class last week that I thought forgiveness was freely offered to anyone and that we did not need to earn it, one member asked the following question:

If forgiveness of sins is offered to everyone, but I am not repentant, and do not accept it, then what happens when I die?

It’s a good question, and I stumbled over the answer. The answer I offered is true, but I’m sure that it did not satisfy the one asking the question. My answer was that who receives salvation is not for me to judge – that’s God business. I certainly cannot say what will happen to anyone after death.

I’ve thought about it since then (and I had thought about it before then), and while I am still not God, and cannot say, I have developed an opinion. I’m sure you are not surprised.

First of all, it is a good question. If everyone receives grace, and everyone receives forgiveness, freely given, without restriction, then wouldn’t everyone go to heaven – no judgment, no hell? In other words, do I believe in universal salvation?

I believe that God believes in universal salvation. His goal is to bring everyone – every person on earth – back to him. He has worked toward that goal since Eve took a bite of the fruit in the garden. He has not changed his mind, and he will not give up. God is love, and he cannot leave us behind.

The block for universal salvation is not God. It is us. We refuse to accept it.

Jesus died on the cross for every sinner. He died for you. He died for me. He did not die for sin; he died so that sin would die and that we would live. If the consequence of sin is death, then the consequence of his death is life for us. All of us. It is a gift, freely given.

Just as if you were to buy a friend a birthday gift, and the friend does not accept it, the gift is still a gift. The recipient does not receive it, but it does not change the nature of the gift. Forgiveness and salvation are gifts of grace, whether we accept them or not.

Thinking about this question is what prompted me to write the poem that I posted yesterday. It’s a metaphorical statement of what I am trying to say more concretely today. Think of the kingdom of God as having a door. The spirit of God ushers us to the doorway. The son prepares us to enter, opening the door. The Father invites us, yearns for us to enter. The only thing stopping us is OUR OWN judgment – our own resistance to a gift freely offered.

Repentance is necessary because it is what heals us. It is what will turn us around so that we can see God. God desires it for us, because otherwise we will miss the door altogether. Even repentance is a gift of grace – God will grant it to us if we allow him to do it.

I think we get into trouble with this issue when we set up what we think are laws to enter the kingdom of God. Can I get in if I do this or don’t do that? The door isn’t controlled by laws. It is opened by grace.

Truly, perhaps my answer at the beginning of this post is the correct one. It is up to God. It is certainly up to God. We should stop worrying about it. We can trust God. He loves us. He will do what is right for us. He will not let us go! Knowing that, go out and show other people the door. Show them the nature of God – be God’s face and hands and feet for them. Let God be God.

We need to (I think) become agents of grace, and stop trying to set up locked gates – secret passwords – criteria. Instead, we need to point to the open door and let God convince people to enter. That job is hard enough without us making it even more difficult.

Role of Repentance

If forgiveness is available to all of us, and if there is nothing that we need to do to earn it, then what about those who claim that we must be repentant in order to be forgiven?

First of all, do you require that the person you are forgiving be repentant? Does your forgiveness of another person rest on that other person's attitude? If we understand that forgiveness will heal us -- the one who is hurt -- then why in the world would we give the power of that healing -- the power of forgiveness -- to that person who has hurt us?

I think forgiveness is done independently of the person who has hurt us. It may (and often does) require God's grace in order for us to forgive someone, but God asks us to forgive so that we may be healed of the hurt.

Don't get me wrong. I think forgiveness can be a powerful means of grace for the one who is being forgiven, but it must first be a means of grace for us.

So if forgiveness does not depend, for us, on the person who has hurt us, why would God's forgiveness of us be dependent upon us? It is not. It is offered by God, free, like grace.

Do what about repentance? Repentance means turning around. Truly, repentance heals the one who has done the wrong. Repentance enables us to accept the gift of forgiveness. God knows what is best for us; turning toward God is what is best for us. God offers of grace to accomplish this, as well.

Can we be forgiven for those things for which we are not repentant? Let me ask the question another way. Have you been truly repentant for every sin you have committed? I have a feeling that the answer to that question is no.

We are sinners. We live in sin, and God saves us from that. He loves us so much that he rescues us, even from ourselves.

Why Obey?

I can’t find my copy of C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity. If you could see my bookcase, you would not be surprised. Imagine packing for a 2 month voyage in an overnight bag. That’s my bookshelf. It overflows.

Somewhere, though, is Mere Christianity. We read it as a Sunday school class years ago, and I thought it was (and still think it is, even though I can’t find it) a wonderful book. One of the ideas which really stuck with me was Lewis’ idea that we have an inborn awareness of right and wrong. For him, it was this awareness which is one of the hallmarks of God’s creation and his presence.

I wish I could quote him.

Yesterday, I wrote about the availability of forgiveness. According to that post, forgiveness is available for everyone for everything. If that is true, then the question becomes “Why obey?” What is the motivation to do what God tells us to do? As one of the gentlemen in the class said, “Where is the moral code?”

One of the scriptures we studied on Wednesday was from Romans 7:5-7 – this is part of it:

The law code had a perfectly legitimate function. Without its clear guidelines for right and wrong, moral behavior would be mostly guesswork. Apart from the succinct, surgical command, "You shall not covet," I could have dressed covetousness up to look like a virtue and ruined my life with it.

The law exists so that we have a moral guideline; I agree with Paul. I also agree with Lewis, that we have an inborn, God-given sense of right and wrong. We ignore it, but it exists. One of the members of the class said that we know right from wrong, deep down, where the “ought” lives.

The problem with the law is that times we become legalistic, when we need to be grace-filled. Jesus told us that the greatest law of all was to love God and to love each other. If we do that, I really believe that the rest will take care of itself. As one person in class said, we will obey the law, and treat each other as God wants us to, because we wouldn’t treat people we love otherwise.

Just as our love for each other should motivate us to treat each other in a Christ-like manner, our love for God should create in us a response to do as God would have us to do. We are motivated by a need to please him, because we love him.

God tried it the other way. He gave us the law in the Old Testament, but we were not able to “get” it. We disobeyed. We still disobey. To leave us without forgiveness, or to give us only a forgiveness that we must earn, would be to lose us. So God took a risk. He gave us grace. He opened up his heart, and showed it to us, and said, spreading his arms wide, “I love you this much – more than you can even imagine. I will not lose you, so I will take the risk that you will love me, too. You are forgiven.” And he awaits our response.

Image: One I found on my hard drive this evening - I may even have posted it before, but I like it.

Does he forgive EVERYTHING?

This week’s session in class was based on Chapter 14 of Yancey’s Grace book -- “Grace Abuse.” I didn’t think that this would be a topic which would generate very much discussion, but apparently it flies in the face of what are taught to believe.

The question is this: If forgiveness is always available – if God’s grace is just ours for the asking, then what is to keep us from sinning? If the fear of an unforgiving God is removed, then why “be good?” If the law is not all-important, then where is the moral code? Does God forgive EVERYTHING?

Here is my theory. In fact, here is my faith. Jesus died on the cross so that I (and you and that guy over there) could be reconciled to God. That means that all sin is forgiven. The “little ones” that we don’t even realize that we commit and the “big ones” that we know we should never even consider. All of them. He did it – sent his son – because he loves us. He loves us with an overwhelming passion that we cannot even comprehend. He chases us through the muck and mire of our sin because he cannot – CANNOT – not do it.

If this is my faith, then how do I answer the questions I’ve listed above?

Is forgiveness always available? Yes. Not only is it always available, it has already been granted to us. God’s forgiveness of us is not based on anything that we do. Yes, I know, that is going to cause some people heartburn, but just as I can forgive the person who hurts me without them asking to be forgiven or without them showing any remorse, God can, too. His forgiveness of me doesn’t depend on me, the one who has wronged him. At Jesus’ death, my sins – the ones I’ve committed, and the ones that I am yet to commit, have been forgiven.

Does God forgive ANYTHING? EVERYTHING? Yes. We go around saying that sin is sin – that there are no gradients of sin. If this is true, and I think it is, then God doesn’t forgive in “gradients.” If he did, then I guarantee, that no matter how wonderful we think we are, we would be unforgiven.

Does God forgive deliberate sin? This is a question that came up in class on Wednesday. Does God forgive me if I look at the law, see it written, “Do not steal,” and, fully knowing it is wrong, steal anyway? Can I – will I – be forgiven? Yes. Even deliberate sin will be forgiven. In fact, the deliberate decision to sin is a sin in and of itself, and it will also be forgiven.

I’ve only just begun – there are many more questions which will be addressed in the coming days. What about repentance? Are we forgiven even if we do not ask to be? If any sin can be and will be forgiven, then why shouldn’t we sin? What motivates us to obey the law? What role does the law play in Christianity?

Image: Geese and goslings at Bob Evans this morning before breakfast. I won't even go into the problems I had getting a picture of them, but suffice it to say, this is the best one that I have.

Evangelism

In class last night we got into a discussion about evangelism. Does our church evangelize? Do we do it enough? What kinds of activities can be called evangelism?

The word evangelism comes from the Greek word euangelion.
It originally meant a reward for good news given to the messenger and has the same origin as the word "angel." In fact, if I look at euangelion, I can easily see something that I would translate as "true (eu) angel."

So what is it? We often narrowly define it as the process of going out and convincing other people to come to God -- to believe in God.

Can there be a wider definition? I wonder if the verse which tells us to "Go forth and make disciples" is a good definition. I think that in this work -- in this service to God -- we absolutely need to be working in partnership with God. We can certainly go forth without him, but I have a feeling that we cannot make ANYONE a disciple. Essential ingredient = God.

So, if we are to evangelize, and if we must have God with us to do it, then maybe evangelism is just pointing to God. "Look! See God?"

How do we do that?

Have I told this story? At closing of the last men's Emmaus walk, one of the new community members said that he wanted to go into the world and act so much like Jesus that no one would recognize him -- that instead of seeing him, they would see Jesus.

I loved that analogy, and maybe that's what evangelism is. Maybe we truly evangelize when we act so much like Jesus, that we are not recognizable -- that what the person in front of us sees is Jesus.

Can our Thursday night service to the homeless and marginal be evangelism? Yes, absolutely. It will be if we act so much like Jesus that they can see him. We evangelize when we feed hungry people, when we our words in worship are God's words, when we sing with such enthusiasm that those listening can hear true angels. We evangelize when we listen to the people in the room, when we see them for the person God intended them to be, when we lift their concerns to God in prayer.

We evangelize when we point to God for someone and say, "Look." There is a real blessing when we don't have to point at all -- when God is so obvious in what we are doing that no one could miss him.

And when that happens, we will find that we see God, too. Being a blessing can result in being blessed.

An Uncomfortable Truth

Two days ago I wrote about Holy Ground. How do we know when we are standing on Holy Ground? Could it be that we are always on holy ground?

It's a concept we like. We might forget that God is near, but when we are reminded, we like the grace of it. There is a corollary to that idea, though, that isn't so easy to take.

In Yancey's Grace book, he says:

All of us in the church need "grace-healed eyes" to see the potential in others for the same grace that God has so lavishly bestowed upon us. "To love a person," said Dostoevsky, "means to see him as God intended him to be."

We take for granted that God is near; we feel showered in grace to be reminded of his presence. It's not so wonderful to be reminded that each of us is God's holy ground. We are each children of God, designed by God, equipped by God, loved by God.

That's great for me; what a blessing to think of myself as a child of God. I'm glad to see you that way. But him? No, thanks, I would rather not see that other guy that way.

I re-read Psalm 23 and the devotion in Disciplines this week. Remember this line:

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
I always thought of that line as meaning that God would provide me protection, even in the presence of my enemies, but think of that line along with the word 'communion.' It takes on a whole different meaning, doesn't it?

It is an uncomfortable truth.

Holy Ground

Think back to Moses and the burning bush. That's right -- way back -- Exodus 3:1-6. Moses is working, keeping the flock safe for his father-in-law. All of a sudden, he sees a bush on fire, but the bush is not consumed.

Can't you imagine Moses? The NRSV says, "Then Moses said, "I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up." (verse 3). He's working, minding the sheep, and sees something fantastic. "I must turn aside..."

Then the scripture says, "When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see..." I think that's interesting -- God waited until he had Moses' attention and then he called to Moses. Once Moses answered, God said, "Come no closer. Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing his holy ground."

Do you ever feel as if you are standing on Holy Ground?

How do we know?

Those are good questions, but maybe they are not the right questions to be asking. Could it be that we are ALWAYS standing on Holy Ground?

For class this Wednesday, I'm reading chpters 12 and 13 of Yancey's Grace book. He's talking about the cleanliness/uncleanliness standards in the Old Testament, and he says,

I sense in Jesus' approach a fulfillment, not an abolition, of the Old Testament laws. God had "hallowed" creation by separating the sacred from the profane, the clean from the unclean. Jesus did not cancel out the hallowing principle, rather he changed its source. We ourselves can be agents of God's holiness, for God now dwells within us.

We can be a source of holiness.

If that is so, and if God is with us always, then all ground is holy. If it is God that makes us holy, then this ground, where I sit right now, is Holy Ground.

There is a quote, and if anyone knows it exactly, leave it in the comments, please. I can't find it right now. It's something like, "There are burning bushes all around. Some of us see them, and the rest of us sit around, picking daisies." I've destroyed that quote -- it's not at all right -- but you get the meaning. If God is with us, then he is WITH us. It's just that sometimes we ignore him, picking daisies.

This ground is Holy. Take off your shoes and wiggle your toes.

In his presence there is joy beyond measure
And at his feet peace of mind can still be found
If you have a need, I know He has the answer
Reach out and claim it for we are standing
On holy ground

We are standing on holy ground
And I know there are angels all around
Let us praise, Jesus now
We we are standing in his presence
On holy ground

Song at end: Holy Ground -- Words and Music By Christopher Beatty and Geron Davis
Image: Sunset at track meet this evening.