Posts filed under ‘Word for Today’
“Word for Today” – John 8 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
I ran across a statistic the other day that caught my attention and hurt my heart. In a recent study, the National Center for Health Services found that a full 40 percent of children are now born out of wedlock in the United States. Compare this to statistics just 55 years ago, and you find a 700 percent increase in children born to unmarried parents. This is certainly frightening. And it is certainly against God’s Word and will. However, before some merely decry the demise of our society and condemn the transgression of our culture, we should perhaps reflect on how to considerately, gracefully, and thoughtfully gage a response. For although such a statistic does indeed call for a response, any response, in light of the gravity of this foreboding fact, should be a carefully crafted one.
In our reading for today from John 8, Jesus is drawn into what must have seemed to him to be a tragic situation. “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery” to Jesus (verse 3). Now, although I do not have the statistics for first century Jewish women who engaged in sexual activity outside of marriage, I feel fairly confident that they were significantly lower than 40 percent. For in first century Jewish culture, to have a woman participate in this kind of sexual immorality earned her what would have been better than the equivalent of a scarlet letter. For the punishment for such an immoral act was stoning. Thus, the religious leaders say to Jesus: “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say” (verses 4-5)?
Before proceeding with the story, we must note a peculiarity concerning this woman’s charge. “This woman was caught in the act of adultery,” the religious leaders arrogantly announce. With whom? After all, this sin is a two person transgression. And the Mosaic Law, to which the religious leaders so smugly refer, clearly mandates, “Both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death” (Leviticus 20:10). However, the intentions of the religious leaders do not center on upholding the integrity of Biblical Law. Rather, their intentions are more sinister. “They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing Jesus” (verse 6). For stoning this woman would break Roman Law, the secular law of their land. But refusing to carry out a death penalty would break Mosaic Law, the very law of God. The religious leaders are hoping to trap Jesus between the Law of God and the Law of Rome.
Jesus, however, is not so easily cornered. “If any one of you is without sin,” he replies, “let him be the first to throw a stone at her” (verse 7). Facing a relatively rare, at least in the first century, statistical anomaly of a Jewish woman caught in adultery, Jesus responds with another statistic: that of those who sin. And that statistic, whether it’s in the first century or the 21st century, has always hovered right at 100 percent. Well, 99.99999999999 percent (with some more 9’s in there as well). For there was one person who did not fall prey to this somber statistic. And he was the one who quoted it. Jesus, however, does not use his perfection to condemn this woman, but to forgive her: “Has no one condemned you?” Jesus asks. “No one sir,” the woman replies. “Then neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin” (verse 11).
I’ve never really liked this translation of Jesus’ final words to this woman. “Go now and leave your life of sin,” although it’s eloquent, doesn’t really capture the sense and significance of the Greek. A more wooden translation would read: “Go from the now and stop sinning.” Even if this translation may seem a bit awkward, I don’t think its profundity can be overstated. Jesus says, in response to this woman’s sin, “Go from the now.” In other words, Jesus is telling this woman, “The way things are now are not the way they have to be. You can leave your present life mired in sin and brokenness. You can go from it. Your statistic of sin need not be permanent. It can change.” And here is the hope of this passage. It is hope for the 40 percent of unwed parents who live in this country and hope for the 100 percent of sinners who live in this country. Your sin need not enslave you, trap you, or rule you. The way things are now are not the way things have to be. For you can go from your “now.” You can go from your now and walk into freedom: freedom that is in Christ and through the cross. So, whatever sinful statistic is suffocating your spirit today, walk away from it. Go from your now. And remember, Jesus will be leading you the whole way.
“Word for Today” – John 7 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
On my desk, I usually keep one or more bottles of water. As a man who has a not-so-secret love affair with coffee, water on my desk reminds me that, in order to maintain my health and hydration, I can’t just drink the black stuff, I also have to drink the clear, and better for my kidneys, stuff. Melody, however, has called into question my affinity for bottled water. “Why can’t you just drink water out of the tap?” she asks me. The answer, of course, is that San Antonio tap water… Well, let’s just say I’ve tasted better. In that way, I suppose I’m a bit of a snob. Even if it costs me a little bit extra, I’ll take the clean taste of purified bottled water over the chalky taste of our tap water any day.
In the first century, people did not have the luxury of having bottled water on their desks or water coolers in their offices. In fact, any relatively clean water was a luxury. In the Ancient Near East especially, which is an arid area to this day, to have clean drinking water was a precious privilege, not a common commodity. And to use this water for something other than drinking? Unthinkable. Unthinkable, that is, unless it was used for a very special purpose.
The Jewish religious calendar contained three primary feasts. One was the Feast of Passover, commemorating God’s rescue of the Israelites from their bondage in Egypt. The second was the Feast of Weeks, where the Israelites would thank God for his providence at the onset of the harvest. And then finally there was the Feast of Tabernacles, in which the Israelites commemorated God’s gracious provision to them while they were wandering in the desert during the Exodus. According to ancient Jewish sources, a very moving and extravagant ceremony accompanied the celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles. “A golden flask…did one fill with water from Siloam. When they reached the Water Gate, they blew a sustained…blast on the horn. The priest went up on the ramp…and would pour out the water as libation all eight days” (Mishnah Sukkah 4:9). Did I hear this correctly? A priest would pour out valuable water from Siloam, most certainly suitable for drinking? Yes. Such was the pageantry of the Feast of Tabernacles. And the priest would explain the symbolism of such a profligate performance when he shouted, “With joy will you draw from the wells of salvation.” Water, poured out, symbolized the very salvation of God.
In our reading for today from John 7, we read this account: “On the last and greatest day of the Feast…” (verse 37). What feast is this? The Feast of Tabernacles, of course (cf. verse 2). “On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, ‘If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink’” (verse 37). Can you imagine the moment? The priest pours out precious water as part of the pomp and circumstance of the Feast of Tabernacles, and as it falls to the ground, and as people with parched lips look on longingly, Jesus announces, “Thirsty? I have water for you to drink. But this is not water to wet your whistle, this is water to saturate your soul. For this is the water from the very wells of salvation. And just as the priest poured out water to celebrate God’s salvation at the Feast of Tabernacles, I will pour out the water of my life on the cross to win God’s salvation.” As the Psalmist prophesies, using words that are meant to be placed on the lips of Jesus himself, “I am poured out like water” (Psalm 22:14).
But Jesus continues: “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him” (verse 38). Because Jesus has poured out the water of his life on the cross, our souls need never be parched. For a gusher of Jesus’ water of salvation can run through our beings. And so, the same question Jesus asked of those gathered for the Feast of Tabernacles, he also asks of us: “Thirsty? I have poured out the water of my life so that you can drink from the water of salvation.” So drink deeply. For this is a source of water that never runs dry. For this is a source of water that is the very grace of God. And it doesn’t even taste chalky.
“Word for Today” – John 6 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
Promises, promises. How many promises are made only to be broken by the morass of reality and life? “I’ll meet you there at three,” the plumber promises. At four, we’re still waiting. “This project should take two months,” the contractor pledges. Four months later, we’re wondering why our kitchen cabinets still don’t have any doors. “The check’s in the mail,” the client vows. Sure it is. We’ve all heard that one before.
We live in a world of broken promises. This seems especially true in politics. The promises of politicians often appear to be nothing but outlandish guarantees mixed with unrealistic expectations. Woodrow Wilson, for example, when running for president, promised to keep the nation out of World War I. Franklin Roosevelt promised to keep the nation out of World War II. Whoops. Then there was Herbert Hoover’s 1928 pledge to end poverty. Then October 28, 1929 hit. So much for that promise. But even the Great Depression didn’t stop Lyndon Johnson from recycling this same promise in 1964 as he promised to win the war on poverty. And we’re still waiting.
It’s easy to understand our pessimism toward promises. After all, others break their promises to us and we break our promises to others. There are always reasons we break our promises, of course. Sometimes we run out of time. Sometimes we run out of money. Sometimes we just plain forget. Sometimes we never intended to keep our promises in the first place. And sometimes, our promises seem so outlandish and so unrealistic, that they strain the bounds of even the most trusting naiveté.
Such seems to be the case in our reading for today from John 6. Jesus makes this promise: “I am the bread of life,” Jesus announces. “He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in my will never be thirsty…I am the bread that came down from heaven” (verses 35, 41). Never go hungry? Never be thirsty? Bread that comes down from heaven? That sounds about as realistic to me as a pledge to end poverty. And so the people listening to Jesus, themselves familiar with the pervasiveness of preposterous pledges, respond with skepticism: “Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know. How can he now say, ‘I came down from heaven’” (verse 42)? “Come on, Jesus,” they’re saying, “You can’t pull the wool over our eyes with this kind of outlandish statement. We weren’t born yesterday, you know. This is sure to be a broken promise.” As John regretfully records: “On hearing this promise, many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it’” (verse 60)?
One of the most poignant statements in the writings of the great church father Augustine comes in his admission that he once thought, along with the incredulous disciples of John 6, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” Augustine writes of his initial impression of Christ and his promises: “As I was passing into early manhood, the more defiled by vain things I became as I grew in years. I could not imagine any substance, but that which could be seen with these eyes. I thought not of you, O God, under the figure of a human body” (Confessions VII:1). Christ, come down from heaven? God in human flesh? “No way,” was Augustine’s initial answer. Nothing but some empty promises.
The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:20: “For no matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ.” “God keeps his promises,” Paul says. They can never and will never be broken. Our call, then, is to trust in these promises, even when these promises seem to be outlandish and hard. For no matter how outlandish and hard they may seem, they’re still true. After all, these promises are spoken to us not by some politician, but by our living Lord. So lean on his promises today. In the end, you won’t be disappointed. And that’s a promise.
“Word for Today” – John 5 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
The winter of 2004-2005 was a warm one. But it wasn’t the temperatures outside that were soaring; rather, it was the fevers of countless thousands around the United States as they came down with winter’s most antagonistic ailment: the flu. The Chiron Corporation, based out of Great Britain and the world’s second leading supplier of the flu vaccine, had its supply suspended by the US government early in the flu season when worries about the safety its vaccine arose. This left only domestic suppliers distributing the vaccine, effectively cutting our supply of this much needed inoculation in half. The result? At nearly every clinic doling out the vaccine, there were long lines full of worried patients hoping to receive their shot first before the preciously scarce supply ran out and the flu wreaked havoc on their health.
In our text for today from John 5, we read of a man who had been invalid for some 38 years (see verse 5). And although John does not tell us what his precise malady was, we can surmise that he was at least lame, if not paralyzed.
Now, if you read the story of this invalid man carefully, you may have noticed an anomaly in your text. This man’s story begins in verse one, proceeds to verse two, then on to verse three, and then verse…five? Yes, verse five. What’s the deal with this? Did someone forget how to count? Was the number four unlucky and so they decided to leave it out, kind of like the thirteenth floor at a Las Vegas hotel?
The modern day chapter and verse divisions of the Bible come down to us from a man named Stephen Langton, who was the Archbishop of Canterbury from 1207 to 1228. When he first divided John 5 into verses, there was indeed a verse four that read thusly: “From time to time an angel of the Lord would come down and stir up the waters. The first one into the pool after each such disturbance would be cured of whatever disease he had.” Since Langton’s enumeration of this text, however, scholars have discovered better and older manuscripts which leave these words out. Indeed, even many of the ancient manuscripts which do include them only do so with an asterisk, marking these words as non-original. Thus, most modern versions of the Bible either include verse four only as a footnote, or not at all.
Despite the fact that these words were probably not part of John’s original gospel, they do provide us with valuable information concerning the superstitious air that surrounded the Pool of the Bethesda. The legend went like this: The first one into the pool when it bubbled received the pool’s precious and healing vaccination. Everyone else was out of luck. You can imagine the long lines that formed around this pool. For this pool’s bubbling elixir was scarcer than a flu vaccine.
The problem for the invalid man of John 5, then, would have been clear enough: Due to his ailment, he could never make it into the pool fast enough to receive its precious healing. In fact, he could not make it to the pool at all. Thank God he didn’t need to. Because rather than making it to the pool, one day, a man named Jesus makes it to him. And he makes it to him with words of healing: “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk” (verse 8). And the man does.
Is there, or has there ever been, a place in your life where you wonder if will “make it?” Make it to the next paycheck. Make it to the next meeting. Make it through the sickness. Make it to the end of the week when today’s only Monday. The promise of John 5 is that the point at which we feel as though we just can’t “make it” is precisely the point at which Jesus makes his way to us. He makes his way to meet our needs, comfort our pains, and even forgive our sins. In fact, some time after Jesus heals this man, he meets up with again. And the way John describes their second encounter is worth noting: “Later Jesus found the man at the temple” (verse 14). Jesus sought. And Jesus found. He made it to the man he was looking for. And he’s made it to you too. So tell Jesus what’s on your mind today. He’s right next to you to listen and to help.
“Word for Today” – John 4 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
Oil and water. Night and day. Sweet and sour. Republicans and Democrats. Longhorns and Aggies. Some things just don’t go together.
Galileans and Samaritans. This was the “oil and water” combination of the first century. These two people groups despised each other. The Galileans considered the Samaritans spiritual “half-breeds.” According to 2 Kings 17:24-41, Samaritans were the result of intermarriages between Gentiles and Jews after Assyria exiled the bulk of the Jewish nation in 722 BC and brought in Gentiles to live alongside a remnant of Jews still in Israel. When these Jews intermarried with these foreign people, they also began worshipping their foreign gods. Thus, Samaritans were born. And hostilities between Galileans, who were pure-breed Jews, and Samaritans, who were half-breed Jews, only intensified with time. Allow me to share two examples, both from a first century Jewish historian named Josephus.
In AD 9 during the Passover feast, a group of Samaritans snuck into the temple at Jerusalem, the Galilean place of worship, and scattered human bones over the temple floor, which, understandably, dramatically increased tensions between these two people groups (cf. Antiquities, 18.29-30). Then, in AD 50, a Galilean man was brutally murdered while on his way to worship in Jerusalem. This so enraged the Galileans against the Samaritans that Josephus records that the Galileans “massacred them, sparing no one regardless of their age” (cf. Jewish War 2.232-237). Needless to say, the relationship between the Galileans and Samaritans was shockingly hostile.
“Now Jesus had to go through Samaria” (John 4:4). Of course he had to go through Samaria. For Jesus was a Galilean (cf. Matthew 2:19-23). And no Galilean would ever willingly travel through Samaria unless travel plans absolutely demanded it.
While traveling, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman and tries to strike up a conversation. Her response is telling: “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman” (John 4:9). This woman can simply not imagine that a Galilean would want to talk to a Samaritan.
In spite of strained national and political relations, and in spite of the cultural and religious mores that divide them, Jesus presses on. He talks to her about her relationally broken life (for this woman had been married five times and now had a live-in boyfriend) as well as, on a lighter note, worship differences that separate Galileans and Samaritans. Following their conversation, this woman finally responds, “I know that Messiah (called Christ) is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us” (John 4:19, 25). And then, Jesus drops his bomb: “I who speak to you am he” (John 4:26).
The gospel of John is well known for preserving the “I am” sayings of Jesus. “I am the bread of life” (John 6:35). “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). “I am the good shepherd” (John 10:11). Many biblical scholars see these statements as a testament to Jesus’ divinity. For in Exodus 3:14, we learn that “I am” is God’s given name. Thus, Jesus appropriates God’s name as his name. The first “I am” statement in John’s gospel, however, is not be found in John 6, or in John 8, or in John 10. No, it is to be found in John 4:26: “I who speak to you am he.” A more wooden translation would read, “I am! This is the one speaking to you.” This, then, is a forthright and unequivocal statement of Jesus’ divinity. And he shares it not with a fellow Galilean, but with a half-breed Samaritan.
As Jesus finishes his conversation with this woman, John records that his disciples are “surprised to find him talking with a woman” (John 4:27). I’m sure they would have been even more surprised to know what he was talking about with this woman. For Jesus was telling this woman that he was the God of the universe.
God often says of himself, “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (Exodus 3:6). God, it seems, is the God of many. Other names can be lined up behind God’s “I am” as well. The God of Moses. The God of David. The God of Daniel. The God of Galileans. The God of Samaritans. Our God is the God of all. And our God desires to say, “I am your God too.” Do you take him at his word?
“Word for Today” – John 3 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
On a shelf in our apartment, there sits a small toy tractor. It isn’t worth much. In fact, I bought it from the Dollar Store. But it has been a delight for practically every child who has visited us. In fact, one time, when we were still living in Corpus Christi, a mother stopped by with her two sons, Elijah and Jonas. Jonas, the younger of the two, as soon as he noticed the green of the tractor, became fixated on it and almost immediately headed over to grab it. His glee was palpable. He “drove” the miniature farming vehicle across our living room carpet, making motor noises all the while. Elijah, however, was not so amused. He headed for Jonas and, with grit and determination in his eye, yanked the tractor from his little brother’s hands.
It’s interesting, isn’t it? Up until the point Jonas began to play with our tractor, Elijah showed no sign of interest in our cut rate toy. But as soon as it became precious to Jonas, it became prized to Elijah. And so, he had no choice. He had to ruthlessly commandeer the tractor from his little brother. What led to the value of our tractor skyrocketing so suddenly? Well, it seems that jealousy is not a sin reserved just for adults. Rather, it is a temptation that troubles even the youngest of our children.
In our reading for today from John 3, we find a prophet named John the Baptist in the midst of a promising season of ministry. The gospel writer tells us that “people were constantly coming to be baptized” (verse 23) which, when your last name is “the Baptist,” is probably a sign that your ministry is doing well. But jealousy concerning John’s ministry begins to subtly creep in. “Some of John’s disciples…came to John and said to him, ‘Rabbi, that man who was with you on the other side of the Jordan – the one you testified about – well, he is baptizing, and everyone is going to him’” (verses 25-26). The complaint of John’s disciples can be summarized thusly: “John, Jesus is killing our ministry potential! Our baptisms are down 25% from this time last year while his are up 37%. Those baptisms could have been ours!”
Sound familiar? Jealousy is a way of life for many. Except that our jealousy usually centers on things far less essential and far more mundane than how many people are being ministered to. How much money somebody else makes. The job that somebody else works. The complexion that somebody else has. These are the things that many of us find ourselves jealous of. Our executive director, Greg Styles, recently bought himself a brand new Chevrolet Silverado Crew Cab Texas Edition with a spray-in bed liner. When I saw it, I have to confess, a twinge of jealousy welled up from somewhere inside of me. It’s so clean and has that new truck smell. It has so many options. And, as a Texas Edition, it’s so big! It’s much bigger than my 2005 base model Regular Cab Chevy Silverado. That’s why tomorrow, I’m going to go and find me a Silverado, Alaska Edition. Alaska’s bigger than Texas, right?
John, when his disciples fling darts at Jesus with their jealous words, refuses to play along. “He must become greater; I must become less” is John’s simple response (verse 30). Simple as these words may be, however, they are certainly not easy. For our human nature desires greater things, not lesser things.
Yet, when we are instructed to become “less” by John, we are not being asked to do anything that Jesus himself has not already done. The Greek word that John uses for “less” is elattoo. The author of Hebrews employs this same word when he writes, “But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone” (Hebrews 2:9). The word for “lower” is also elattoo. Jesus, the author of Hebrews says, unjealously lowered himself to this earth so that we did not have to be lowered in the ground forever because of death. Now, we are called to unjealously lower ourselves to proclaim his greatness. And, as elattoo as that task may sometimes be, it still seems pretty great to me.
“Word for Today” – John 2 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
As a teacher, my wife Melody is always trying to make her classroom at Concordia the best that it can be. That is why she loves buying General Mills products. You may have heard of their “Box Tops for Education” program where each box top you clip and mail in is worth ten cents for the school of your choice to assist them in purchasing everything from books to computers to playground equipment. And so, Melody is always reminding me, “Don’t forget to clip the box tops!” And, as her dutiful and doting husband, I always assure her that I will do my best to remember.
That is why I was surprised when, a couple of months ago, I found Melody rummaging through our trash. “What are you doing?” I asked with a tinge of cynicism in my voice. “Looking for box tops,” she answered. “But why?” I shot back, “I’ve told you that I’ll do my best to remember to clip them for you.” “Yes,” she responded, “But you’re always forgetting. I’ve gotten to the point where I just don’t trust you to clip them anymore.”
“I just don’t trust you anymore.” Even though these words didn’t concern me all that profoundly because they were spoken about some relatively minor box tops, depending on their context, these words can rend a heart. For they usually come from a person who has been betrayed so profoundly, or hurt so deeply, or let down so consistently that all faith that they once placed in someone has now evaporated. “I just don’t trust you anymore.”
In our text for today from John 2, we read about a time when Jesus’ ministry was skyrocketing in popularity. “Many people saw the miraculous signs Jesus was doing,” John says, “and believed in his name” (verse 23). The Greek word for “believed” is pisteuo, meaning “faith” or “trust.” In other words, the crowds that adored and applauded Jesus had come nowhere near the point of not being able to trust Jesus anymore.
Sadly, the same thing cannot be said for Jesus’ estimation of those who so readily revered him. For John continues, “But Jesus would not entrust himself to them” (verse 24). The Greek word here for “entrust” is also pisteuo. Thus, although the people trusted in Jesus, Jesus did not trust in the people.
But why? Why would Jesus be so cruel as to say something like, “I just don’t trust you anymore”? John tells us that Jesus “knew all men” (verse 24). In other words, Jesus knew of their sinfulness, he knew of their depravity, he knew of their malicious objectives, and he knew that, at the moment he did finally entrust himself to them, their shouts of adulation would quickly dissipate into cries of “Crucify him!” Thus, Jesus did not entrust himself to the people…at least not yet. But this was soon to change. Because Jesus, even though he has no good reason to trust people, for people are sinful and depraved and malicious and fickle, is nevertheless bent on trusting them anyway. He nevertheless is bent on trusting us anyway. As the apostle Paul writes, “We speak as men approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel” (1 Thessalonians 2:4). And the Greek word for “entrusted” is none other than pisteuo. Christ trusts us, Paul says. And he trusts us with something much more precious than ten cent box tops. He trusts us with the very message of his salvation. He trusts us with the very message of his cross. And he trusts us with this most precious message, not because we deserve such trust, but because he loves us.
So, now that Jesus has trusted you, the question becomes: What will you do with this precious trust of the gospel? Will you entrust it to others even as it has been entrusted to you? I pray that you will. Because if there’s one thing we could all use more of, it’s a little more trust.
“Word for Today” – John 1 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
I am a child of the Sesame Street generation. I grew up watching Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch, Bert, Ernie, Snuffleupagus, Grover, and even Mr. Hooper before his untimely passing. And yet, even though I learned about everything a little kid could conceivably be interested in from this timeless children’s classic – from geometry to healthy eating habits to being brave, even in the dark – it was during Sesame Street that I also received my first formal introduction to the great American tradition of unabashed advertising. Yes, I know that Sesame Street airs on the non-profit, commercial-free PBS network, but that didn’t stop the Children’s Television Workshop from receiving large corporate sponsorships resulting in shameless plugs for these same sponsors at the end of each show. You remember, don’t you? “Sesame Street has been brought to you by the letter ‘A.’ The letter ‘Q.’ And the number ‘7.’” Capitalistic commercialization at its best.
If Sesame Street can do it, so can I. So, in the interest of full disclosure, today’s blog is brought to you by the letter “i.”
With that sponsorship mention out of the way, in our “Word for Today” readings, we begin reading through the gospel of John. And, in his opening comments in John 1, we hear a beautifully clear and cogent statement concerning Jesus’ divinity: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (verse 1). Jesus, John says, was the God of the universe. And yet, despite John’s unequivocal affirmation, this fundamental confession of Jesus’ divinity has not always been so readily received.
The year was AD 325. The emperor of Rome at the time, Constantine the Great, had convened an ecumenical church council at Nicea to discuss many things, one of which was the formulation of a formal confession of the Christian faith. Dispute broke out, however, as to how Jesus should be described. And this dispute was brought to us by, you guessed it, the letter “i.” Many in this church council, led by a man named Athanasius, thought that Jesus should be referred to using the Greek word homoousious, meaning that he was “of one substance with God.” That is, many affirmed John’s declaration: Jesus is God. Another contingent, however, led by a man named Arius, wanted to refer to Jesus using the word homoiousious, meaning that he was “of like substance with God.” One letter. A world of difference. One side clearly confessed Jesus’ divinity. The other side demanded a confession that referred to Jesus as God-like, but not God himself.
Now, lest you think that this dispute is a mere relic best kept sitting on the dusty shelves of history, let me assure you that how you answer this dispute has profound implications for how you perceive God. The question is this: How close do you think God is? Does he simply reside in heaven, watching with a passive, even if intense, interest at our sinfulness, brokenness, and pain? Or, has God actually come to be close to us in Jesus? John’s answer is clear: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (verse 14). In Jesus, God has come to get really close to us. But that’s not all. For God has come with a gift for us. Jesus, John says, came “full of grace and truth” (verse 14). In other words, when God got really close to us, he didn’t get really close just to condemn us or to criticize us or to wag his faultless finger at us. No, he came really close to us to give us grace out of his love for us. As Athanasius wrote, “For by God becoming a man, the Savior was to accomplish…works of love” (Incarnation of the Word, 18).
What, then, is the upshot of all of this? Simply this: There is no “i” in homoousious. Jesus is not “of like substance with God,” he is of “one substance with God.” And yes, this actually matters. For it means that God got really close in Jesus. And he got really close to you. So let’s put the “i” back where it belongs: “I believe in Jesus Christ…who, being of one substance with the Father, came down from heaven and was made man.”
“Word for Today” – 2 Corinthians 13 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
The other day, I received a phone call from a buddy of mine, asking me some questions about the Scriptural account of creation. After chatting about everything from theistic evolution to Augustine’s interpretation of the creation account to the length of the “days” in Genesis 1, all of which are very heavily and hotly contested, we ended on a much lighter note. “Say hi to your wife for me,” my buddy said. “You say hi to your wife too,” I replied. And that’s how our phone call ended.
My buddy and I have been friends now for over ten years. We went to college together and, as fate would have it, our wives, who attended the same college as we did, even roomed together. Hence, the extended greetings that we pass along to our respective spouses. But now, with both of us living in different towns and with all of the different duties and obligations that naturally come with adult life, we don’t get to see each other very often. Our once close relationship is now a little more distant. So, greetings to and from each other often come second-hand. When our wives talk, just like when we talk, I usually get from Melody an extended greeting from my friend.
As Paul wraps up his letter to the Corinthians in 2 Corinthians 13, we find an extended greeting of sorts that comes through Paul to the Corinthians: “All the saints send their greetings” (verse 13). In a day before phone calls, emails, instant messaging, and Facebook, this is often the best that old friends could hope to receive: a second hand greeting via a traveling missionary. No doubt, many of “all the saints” who are saying hello through the pen of Paul were personally known to the Corinthians at one time or another. But then, just like today, these saints moved to different towns and different places and began different lives. Perhaps because of a job opportunity. Perhaps because of a missionary call. Perhaps even because of persecution. And those once close relationships are now a little more distant.
Interestingly, right before Paul passes along greetings from those who are afar, he encourages the Corinthians to “Greet one another with a holy kiss” (verse 12). The “holy kiss,” of course, was no romantic gesture, but was a long standing Jewish tradition denoting fraternal affection. Indeed, the very word for “kiss” in Greek hints at this: philema, from the word phileo, meaning “brotherly love.” The purpose of this “holy kiss,” therefore, was not to opportunistically create love while standing under some bit of mistletoe, but rather, to demonstrate deep affection and thankfulness for the blessing of having someone near enough that you could actually kiss them. For in that day, as in ours, you never knew when a holy kiss would melt into a much more impersonal, “The saints send their greetings.”
This, then, is a lesson for us. For time and circumstance have a way of separating us from those who are now near enough to kiss. Close friends move away. Kids grow up and leave the house. And yes, even spouses die. And we are left with much more impersonal second hand greetings that come to us through others or through emails or through cards during the holidays. In some instances, we are even left with only our memories. So today, don’t miss out on your opportunity. For today’s opportunity is a holy opportunity! Give a peck on the cheek to those you love. After all, Scripture commands it. And I have every intention of obeying. I think Melody’s in the kitchen right now…
“Word for Today” – 2 Corinthians 12 – www.concordialutheranchurch.com
“It’s no big deal if I don’t get this.” That is what I kept telling myself after I went in for an interview at KASE 101, a country radio station in Austin. “There are other jobs out there. It’s no big deal.” But the fact of the matter was, it was a big a deal. It was my second year in college and I was in desperate need of a job to pay my bills. And I didn’t really want to work at Taco Bell, even though it was a staple of sustenance during my college career. And so outwardly, I played it cool: “It’s no big deal if I don’t get this.” Inwardly, however, I was crying out to God in prayer: “Please! Please! Please! Please! I need this, God!” And mercifully, I got the job. On my birthday, nonetheless. At 19, I began working as a DJ at Austin’s number one radio station, KASE 101.
Perhaps you can relate to this experience. You say it’s no big deal. But really, it is. Your hands are shaking as you think to yourself, “If I ask her out and she says, ‘No,’ it’s no big deal. There are other fish in the sea.” But really, you know that if she says “no,” you’ll be emotionally shattered. Or, your body is aching after you take a fall flat on your face, all while saying to concerned bystanders, “It’s no big deal. I don’t need to go the doctor. I’m fine.” But really, you know that you can barely contain a yelp of pain. No matter what we may say, to others or to ourselves, things which we oftentimes say are “no big deal” are precisely that.
In our reading for today from 2 Corinthians 12, Paul does not even try to pretend that his love, longing, and concern for the Corinthians is “no big deal.” He writes to them, “What I want is not your possessions, but you” (verse 14). Paul has a deep desire for the hearts, minds, and souls of his beloved congregation. The Christians of Corinth are a big deal to him. He goes on to speak as a love-sick father, yearning for the Corinthians to love him in return: “If I love you more, will you love me less” (verse 15)? Clearly, Paul’s passion and compassion for the Corinthians is a big deal. And Paul makes no effort to hide that.
One of the beauties of our heavenly Father is this: in the same way that Paul, as the Corinthians’ spiritual father, has deep passion and compassion for his beloved congregation, our heavenly Father has deep passion and compassion for us. He speaks to us as our love-sick Father, eager for us to love him even as he has loved us. What he asks of Peter, he asks of us: “Do you love me” (John 21:17)? Our answer is a big deal to him.
In ancient Greek philosophy, God was conceived of as immoveable, aloof, and unfeeling. No less than Aristotle called God the “Unmoved Mover.” In other words, while God may have been the one to move the cosmos into existence, God himself could not and would not ever be moved by a mere mortal. The Scriptures, however, paint a very different picture of God from that of Aristotle. The Scriptures remind us that we serve, believe, and hope in a God who is always on the move and on a mission, driven by his love for us, so that we too may move toward him and be on a mission for him. Indeed, when necessary, God even moved across the infinite to the finite to redeem us and capture that which is most precious and valuable to him: our hearts. Why? Because we’re a big deal to God. So today, pray to God, “Where will your plan take me? Where would you like to move me?” And then follow. After all, God has already moved all the way from heaven to earth…because you’re a big deal.
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