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Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.  Matthew 6, Psalm 51, Joel 2, 2 Corinthians 4.

Ashes.  Marking foreheads with the sign of the Cross.

"Remember you are dust..."

On the face of the woman who just buried her mother. 

The little child.  The newborn baby.  How can I make sure not to get any of it in his eyes?

"...and to dust you shall return."

On the forehead of the young man now a couple of years into living with a brain tumor.  On the wife of a man whose doctor just had to use the "c" word, cancer.  Do I really need to remind these folks of mortality?

The almost intimate act of brushing aside hair, the sloppiness of ashes.  The heartbreak of saying those words to someone who likely won't be with us next year.

The teen who is invincible.  The retiree who can hardly stay standing as I touch his face.

"Remember you are dust..."

To the man who labors for the church behind the scenes every day.  To the couple who backbite and spread gossip but are sweetness and light to your face.

The man whose secret sin, exposed for the world to see, would crush anyone not sustained by the grace of God: he staggers away, stained and tear-drenched.

"...and to dust you shall return."

I can still feel the ashes on my own face, my visage marked by a sign of cleansing, repentance, mortality, and renewal.  I need those ashes.  I need God's grace.

But I can still feel the ashes on all of their faces too.  What a terrible, wonderful beauty God's mercy is.  What a piercing love Jesus brings; a sword, indeed.

Remember that you are dust.  And to dust you shall return.

Remember that you are God's.  And to God, may we all return.

Technorati tags: Ash Wednesday Lutheran dust repent

 

How We Hear the Word

Fellow Lutheran blogger Melanchthon made a great comment on an earlier post of mine.  Here's a quick excerpt of his comment:

I wonder if maybe we've turned the demand side of this into a caricature. As Lutherans, when we think "what does this demand of us" we have a tendency to think in terms of "the law always kills". What I'm trying to feel my way toward is a position where the command of Christ can also be seen as a Living Word -- not in the sense of making us righteous if we obey it but as a life-giving gift.

Ahhh....  This is good stuff.  I'm going to fall back on what one of my OT professors taught me, which I've quoted a number of times, but which I think really works here.  In addition to asking what the Bible says, what the Bible means, and how to apply that meaning to my life (a great 3-step process I was taught through InterVaristy), we also have to ask the question, "What does the Bible do here?"

Making Goats into Sheep

Fine Lutheran blogger Melanchthon, who sins boldly (but seems to believe more boldly still!), writes an excellent post on the relationship between salvation and holy living, lifting up Dallas Willard and the difference between believing the Gospel of Jesus Christ and trying to enagage in mere exercises in "sin management" (a phrase I love).

Now I am, admittedly, a picker of theological  nits.  And so while I wish to praise Melanchthon and not tear him down, I do want to point out a portion of his post that gets my goat.  He writes, concerning the great parable of the last judgment starring sheep and goats in Matthew 25: "When I was a greener Christian, I used to twist this all around trying to figure out how to get it to work in a scheme of salvation by faith alone. (Honestly, I still do sometimes.) But what I do far too rarely (and I doubt I'm alone in this) is listen to it."  What, Christians, even Lutherans, rarely actually listening to a piece of Scripture?  Say it ain't so! 

Well, alas, I can't say that it ain't so.  But I do want to propose that listening to Jesus' words in Matthew 25 will show that there is very little twisting needed to see how the parable of the sheep & goats fits in perfectly with the biblical teaching of justification by grace alone through faith alone.

(Please note: no uncharitable attitude is meant towards Melanchthon in this; I mean to bash no one who blogs the Gospel!)

The Unblogged Life - Pastoral Ministry and Healthy Living

Well, I obviously haven't been blogging much.  Many thanks to those of you who still check back, or who watch the RSS feeds!

Where've I been?  It's not quite honest to say "I've been too busy."  I mean, I have been - in the sense that there has been a ton of other "stuff" occupying my time.  But that's not the heart of it.  It's a facile reason, but not the real one.  I'd rather characterize it as having been living an unblogged life.

There have been a number of very powerful blog posts of late reflecting on the dangerous, sometimes tenuous calling and life of "pastor types."  Scott Williams has had a number; I found a lot to think about in this one.  But poke around his stuff if you haven't already.  And then bounce on over and read this by the Internet Monk.  I won't pretend to approach the degree of reflection, wisdom, or humility either of these guys have.  Nor do I intend for this to turn into a whining session on the travails of pastoral ministry.  But I do want to stop living the unblogged life.

Bemusement Park

Mark Hasty blogs!  That discovery makes me glad.

It should make you happy, too.  Click, and read.  Yeah, the first post over there right now is on the whole ELCA and sexuality thing.  I should probably blog about that at some point.  No, wait, I shouldn't.  Anyways, if you don't really care about Lutherans and sex, scroll down a bit on his blog.  And poke around a bit.

Mark was a couple of years ahead of me at Luther Seminary.  Quite possibly one of the funniest Lutherans God ever created.  I'd take his music tastes pretty seriously, too.

(In an e-mail, he also calls me on the carpet for stealing his seminary license plate for my gmail address.  Guilty as charged!)

Somebody's Gotta Change Here

So this week's Gospel text in the Revised Common Lectionary is Matthew 15:10-28.  Not an easy passage, but a very illuminating one.  "Illuminating" in the sense that it casts light on those who try to interpret it.  Go on, look it up; read it.  It's a two-part text; the first has Jesus telling the crowds that "it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles" (15:11).  This ticks off the Pharisees (who wanted to make sure that everyone kept rigorous standards of ritual cleanliness), whom Jesus then refers to as "blind guides," and implicitly as plants "that my heavenly Father has not planted" (vv. 13, 14). 

But then comes the second half of the story, vv. 21-28.  This is the hard one.  A Canaanite woman wants her daughter delivered from a demon.  The disciples are annoyed at her noise-making and want her sent away.  (She's a Canaanite, after all...  one of the those outsiders.)  Jesus seems to validate this sentiment: "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (v. 24).  Then, the shocking words we do not expect from the Savior: "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs" (v. 26).

Ouch.  Jesus, you didn't just call her a dog, did you?  Now, anyone who thinks that the postmodern era is amoral, throw this text out there and watch the moral indignation that will arise.  "Racist!  Bigoted!  Misogynist!"  But things start to get really interesting once you watch people really wrestle with this story.

Check it out

Philip Melancthon (or rather, a modern-day one who Sins Boldly) has some good thoughts over at his blog.  Go, read.

And pray for our ELCA Churchwide Assembly, going on now, that the Holy Spirit would guide all that is done.