Jesus and Jerry Springer

It seems Jesus had a pretty messed up family. Obviously we know about the "uniqueness" of the whole un-married teen mom thing, but it gets much weirder than that. One of his ancestors was a woman named Tamar (Genesis 38). Tamar was married, but before she could get pregnant, her husband died. So, as her culture suggested, she then married her brother-in-law, who, again, died before she could get pregnant. So her father-in-law told her to wait until his next son was old enough and then she could marry him as well. This didn't jive with Tamar. She wasn't ready to wait another few years before becoming a mother. So she went with the obvious solution to this problem: She disguised her self as a prostitute and became pregnant through her unsuspecting father-in-law. Jerry Springer, call your office. 

A few generations later in Jesus' family tree comes a woman named Ruth. She was a very noble woman with a great story to tell. Sounds like the perfect ancestor - except for one little problem: She was a Moabite. This doesn't mean much to us, but to a biblical Jew, this is a pretty big deal. The Moabites are decedents of (surprisingly) Moab. Moab's father was a guy named Lot - who also happened to be his grandfather. You see where this is going. Lot's daughters weren't able to have children, so they come up with a great idea (a chip of the ol' Tamar block) to get their father really drunk and...you can figure out the rest. 

Disgusting? Yes. Immoral? Yes. Against the Law of God? Yes. A true part of our Savior's family history? Yes.

Then there is Bathsheba. We can tend to think of her as a victim of an immoral king - and their may be some truth to that. But I suggest that she knew exactly what she was doing. Bathsheba's husband was a nobody named Uriah. When he was called off to war, Bathsheba starts to think about how better her life could be. She lived right next door to the most powerful and famous man in Israel. So she takes a bath in a place where David could easily see hoping he would come calling. Her plan works perfectly and David, in a selfish and sinful act, brings her to his palace. When she is found to be pregnant, they have to find a way to cover it up so eventually David sends her husband to the front line where he is killed. Adultery, lust, manslaughter, lying. All in Jesus' family.

So why does Matthew open his gospel by telling us this? This genealogy of Jesus is impressive and royal. Jesus can trace his lineage through many great men of God - but it also goes through Tamar, Ruth, and Bathsheba? Why is this significant? I think what Matthew, through the inspiration of God, is trying to say is this: God has used incest, adultery, murder, and foreigners to do his work in the world - and just wait until you see what's next. God doesn't need the best and most talented. Some of the greatest moments in the story of salvation come through normal, flawed people. People who are unprepared and unqualified. People like Mary and Joseph. People like you and me. 

So, if God can use that, what can he do with you? 

Reflections from Common Prayer

Today in Common Prayer, we reflect on the words of Psalm 139 which reminds us of the depth and mystery of a God who knows us better than we know ourselves. The Psalmist writes "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." While this may come across as a simple road away from wrestling with deep questions of God and existence, I read it as reaffirming something that we all know to be true - there is a God who is approachable, yet still beyond our reach. The God of Christianity is one that comes near to us yet is unknown. Because of this, fully following this God means embracing the mystery - not as a puzzle to be solved, but as an ocean to swallow you.

Yesterday I got a call from a local youth ministry about an event they were planning. Apparently they are bringing in a riveting speaker who will be talking to students about "debunking evolution." The caller explained to me that it is an attempt to give facts and answers to these students so that they can talk to people who question their believe in Theistic creation. Let me first say that I think it is very profitable for young people to search for answers to questions they or their friends may be asking. I believe in a Creator God and think it is good for students to learn more about this aspect of our faith. However, what I find interesting about this is the thing behind the thing. Like I said, searching for answers about creation is well and good, but I think this conference actually speaks to a deeper, more fundamental issue. We, as humans and as Christians, have a tendency to not want to fully commit to things when we don't have a firm grip on the end results. If we have questions, before we discuss and dialogue, we need answers. Before we set out on a journey we need Google maps and a GPS. Before we take a step in the direction of God's work, we need to see the other side. We tend to be hesitant if we don't have all the answers.

But I'm not so sure this is what following Jesus is about.

We read in Hebrews 11 about generations of people who devoted themselves to the work of God on faith. Noah, Moses, Abraham, the prostitute Rahab, David. These people understood that following God doesn't always mean having the answers but instead often means diving into the mystery. This chapter is referred to as the "Faith Hall of Fame" and for good reason. The examples that they men and women leave are stunning.

Yet, as we learn more about these people, we realize that their following after God was not always roses. In fact, their lives were littered with hardship. Accepting the mystery sometimes (often) means fumbling around. But then we get to Hebrews 12. After the author encourages us to look to these examples - fully aware what that entails - he says


Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.


We are called to be people who have a "passion and courage to answer the call to peace and justice, no matter where it might lead us." We don't always need to have everything sorted before we follow Jesus. We don't need all the answers. We don't need to see the end. We simply need to follow.

May we be reminded that we are called to be people who throw ourselves at God's work, even though we may not have a firm grip on the end result. May our faith and our passion define us. 

Tonight, a group of friends and I are going to get together in one of the rooms of our church and explore something awkward, uncomfortable and ancient. For a bunch of people who grew up more/less conservative evangelical, the prospect of spending the next 12 months diving to the world of liturgy conjures up all of these words are more. But as different as it promises to be, I believe our commitment will have a profound impact in our lives.

The church calendar is not something I grew up observing. In fact I probably didn't even know what it was until I got to college - the idea of having a set of guidelines that directed your faith was so foreign to the grace-centric Christianity I grew up in. Clearly, these two are not in any way exclusive - they just didn't seem to mingle with one another during my formative years. So as I embark on teaching the purpose of the church calendar, I find myself constantly learning.

Simply, the purpose of the church year is to bring order to our lives, and to center that order around the person and life of Jesus. Just as we order our months and weeks around the western calendar, we begin to find our seasons take root (most comfortably, it seems) within the liturgical year. It's going to be (like I said) uncomfortable at times, but I believe that is the whole point.

I vividly remember the evening before my final Hebrew paper was due during my last semester of college. While intentions were good, it naturally came down to an "all-nighter" that was dedicated to writing this monstrosity. During the night there were several times when I simply could not focus anymore (too many shva's!). The multiple hours of staring at a screen trying to write something that loosely resembled exegesis took its toll. So I got up. I forced myself out of my chair and walked around a bit. This intentional movement awakened me and brought my senses back in order. However, it didn't help my grade at all, but that's another story)

I think our Christianity is often like this as we sink into a grove of existing with a knowledge of Jesus, Abraham, yada, yada, yada. It is in these moments that the stiffness of liturgy can reawaken us. When we force ourselves to get out of our chairs and read a paragraph as a group (something not usually done), pray together (often done alone) and sing an unaccompanied song it brings our senses back in order. It refocuses, recenters, revitalizes us. It reminds us that our Christianity is vibrant, relevant and communal (it's beautiful to know that Christians around the globe are following the same calendar as our little group in West Michigan). We will use liturgy, specifically dedicated prayer, to stay connected with our faith, our Savior, and our community.

I'm looking forward to this year. I'm nervous that I may slip up. I'm nervous that others won't connect with what we're doing. But I look forward to this 12 month journey through an ancient practice that is thankfully reemerging as a regular part of evangelicalism.

A Response

My friend Mason wrote a thought provoking post on why the language we use in songs matters - specifically in reference to the old hymn "When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder." You can check it out here.

I appreciate Mason's sentiment. The issues he is bringing up resonate with me as someone who's job it is to present worship music for a group of Christians to sing along to. I grew up in a fairly traditional church, and because of that, many of the hymns of our faith have a strong place in my own spiritual formation. These are songs I have sung hundreds of times and feel deeply about preserving for the current and future generation. But, like Mason says, as we sing these hymns we will inevitably come across wording and ideas that don't quite jive with (post?)modern theological thought. With so much work being done in New Perspectives (both of the Old and New Testament), we have started to revisit some of the theology that the western church has preached for the better part of the 20th century - things like the rapture, our purpose in this life on earth, our eternal state. We've perhaps widened our lens a bit and rediscovered the importances of reading scripture in its social/cultural context. Because of this, when we sing "...and time shall be no more," we don't sing it with full bodied agreement.

But, we must continue to sing these songs.

Not because we want to confuse people. Not because we want to sing things that we don't mean or believe. But we must continue to sing these songs because it reminds us of our history - our story, our journey, our past as a church. Many of these hymns, especially the ones that we would put in the county/gospel category (think Carter Family) come out of a time when the thought of leaving the world of dust bowl, back breaking farm work, coal mines shutting down and incurable influenza was a comforting ideal. When you live under conditions like that, you sing "I'll fly away, oh glory!" and you mean it. These are not songs of uninterested, unschooled people. These are songs that are based on a specific cultural mindset - which played deeply into their reading of scripture. In the same way our 21st century worldview plays into how we read eschatological passages, 19th and 20th century culture played directly into the writing of songs about meeting on the other shore. We see the same thing with the Negro spirituals. How many of these songs sing about the Promised Land, Canaan, the other side of the Jordan? These are songs about exodus coming from a culture that could feel a deep need for leaving their current life and moving to something better. The culture plays a staring role in how and why songs, hymns and spiritual songs are written.

And so we need to keep singing these songs. But maybe now, we take a bit of time to remind ourselves (and the congregation we are leading) why they say what they say. What was their culture saying? What were their lives like? What can this say to us 50, 70, 100, 500 years later? We need to be aware of what we now feel scripture says on the matter, but we cannot throw away a huge portion of our heritage as a church just because we don't agree with one of the lines. Let us continue to wrestle with the words that we use and the impact they have on us and our communities, but let us also remember where we have come from. It is only then that we can fully see where we are going

The Gospel of Self

I'll spare you the long and slightly-incriminating story, but this morning I was told (not by someone in my congregation):

"Just because I'm a Christian doesn't mean I have to be nice to everyone. I won't be a doormat."

This statement hit me hard. It's been hours and I can't get it off my mind. It's stung and I'm not sure why. As a pastor, perhaps I sometime get jaded to the world outside of commentaries and sermon prep. Maybe it stung because I'm not as in touch with the "everyday" Christian as I should be. Maybe it stung because my hope in people's life-altering commitment to Jesus is unrealistic. Maybe it stung because it was a look into how people misinterpret Christian humility.

But mostly, I think it stung because it reminded me how self-gratifying 21st Century Western Christianity has become. Living with the mind of Christ is fine when I am on the receiving end, but when it prevents me from getting something I feel I deserve, it's my right to be assertive. I'll being a Christian when it is convenient, but if it means sacrificing these rights, I'll take a pass.

Essentially what this guy was saying is that he will chose to define Christianity not by the commands of Jesus to love your neighbor or the writing of Paul to cloth yourself in humility but by his own rules of what is fair and what is not. His sense of justice is more important to him than his obligation to God's sense of justice.

I'm not saying this to bash this man or the Church as a whole, but instead as a reminder of how much work is still left to do. In my short 26 years, I've seen so many beautiful, hopeful things happening in the American church, but as long as this mentality exists, there is still work that needs to be done. There are still scriptures that need to be expounded and applications that need to be given. There are still actions that need to be seen and words that need to be heard. The Gospel of Peace is alive and well and must be preached if it is to overcome the Gospel of Self that we see every morning, afternoon and evening.

May we be the ones with this message on our lips and fingertips.

Brief Thought on Psalm 27

I remain confident of this:

I will see the goodness of the LORD

in the land of the living

Wait for the LORD;

be strong and take heart

and wait for the LORD.

Psalm 27.13-14 (the late TNIV. RIP.)

David's confidence is not that God will just take him out of the trouble that he is in, but that God will intervene in a divinely-earthly way. While our hope as the church might be slightly more revealed, we patiently await the return of the LORD, yet live with confidence that his goodness and presence be a real part of the land of the living.

Words and Hammers

When language is personal, which it is at its best, it reveals; and revelation is always formative - we don't know more, we become more. - Peterson, p24

As a pastor, my tool is my words. When I need to teach or preach, I use words. When I need to show someone they are an important and cherished part of our church community, I use words. When I need to remind someone that perhaps the path they are on is not God's path, I use words. Language is at the crux of my vocation.

So I need to be aware and intentional of what words I choose to say what I feel needs to be said. And sometimes, maybe my language isn't as personal as it needs to be. In The Pastor, Peterson speaks of using language "from the land of the living" - words that are used in super markets, bike shops and bus station. Sometimes, maybe my language comes more from books than side walks. I strive to connect with people when I teach, but maybe while the content is accessible, the words that I use are not always from their land. Maybe sometimes I speak in a way that lets people know more but fails to help them become more.

So, I'll keep trying. I'll keep being careful that my language is from the land of the living. I'll continue to join the 6000 year old tradition of translating God's timeless truth to words and phrases that resonate and take root. I'll continue to find ways to harness the power of language as a revelatory, formational tool.