Jesus' Original Message

The first recorded message of Jesus was simple, "The Kingdom of God is at hand." He preached it for three years of public ministry. Sometimes he called it the Kingdom of Heaven. Sometimes he added the words "Repent" or "The time is fulfilled." But the basic message was clear.

Jesus told his disciples, "To you it has been given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God." And he sent them out to reveal the mystery to any who would listen. "And as you go, preach, saying, 'The kingdom of heaven is at hand.'"

You don't hear Jesus' followers proclaiming this message much these days. Maybe it is because they don't know the mystery of the kingdom. People can't preach what they don't know.

The Kingdom of God is "at hand." That does not mean it was coming soon. That would make Jesus into a liar, since it has been 2000 years since he said it. It means that the kingdom is within arm's reach. Reach out your hand, and you touch the Kingdom. I picture Jesus spreading his arms saying, "It is right here! See for yourself!"

He often prefaced it with the command "Repent." Repent literally means to rethink, to think again, to think in a new way. Billy Graham was fond of saying that it means to turn around. It is a good translation. Turn your thinking around. Turn your seeing around. Instead of looking outward, turn inward. There it is.

When the Pharisees asked Jesus for a date for the arrival of the kingdom he replied, "The kingdom of God does not come with observation; nor will they say, 'See here!' or 'See there!' For indeed, the kingdom of God is within you." It is not seen with physical sight, but with spiritual sight.

When Pilate asked him about his kingdom Jesus responded, "My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would fight, so that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but now my kingdom is not from here."

On one occasion Jesus said, "Assuredly, I say to you that there are some standing here who will not taste death till they see the kingdom of God present with power." The fact is that everyone who stood there listening to Jesus died. So either Jesus was mistaken, a liar, or "a lunatic - on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg" (as C.S. Lewis was fond of saying.) Or some of those standing there truly saw a kingdom "present with power" which abolished in them the taste of death.

Jesus' message was of a spiritual kingdom experienced spiritually. This doesn't eliminate future eschatological manifestations of the kingdom in time and space. I am still expecting the return of Christ in glory. But his main message is that the Kingdom of God - the spiritual realm of God's presence - is here now. As Jesus said, "Having eyes, do you not see? And having ears, do you not hear?" Repent, The kingdom of God is at hand.

Don't Call Me Names

For 33 years I have been an ordained minister. People called me Pastor or Preacher. Some called me Reverend, and a few called me Doctor, which was confusing to medical workers when I was doing hospital visits. On formal occasions I have been introduced as The Reverend Doctor. Once I even got a letter from a school principal addressed to The Most Reverend, even though I am a Baptist minister, not a Catholic bishop.

One older gentleman in New Hampshire used to call me Parson whenever he saw me. I liked this title. Parson is simply an old form of the word "person." It made me feel more like a person. I even wrote a church newsletter article to my flock suggesting that they call me Parson. It never stuck. 

When I left full-time ministry, people did not know what to call me any more. They stammered when addressing me on the phone or meeting me in a store, and especially when introducing me to others. I reminded them that I had a name before I had a title. Now that I am "out of office" everyone calls me Marshall.

Jesus felt a similar discomfort with titles and labels. He told his disciples not to call him Christ in public. On one occasion a man addressed Jesus as "Good Teacher."  Jesus responded sharply, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but One, that is, God." That raises all kinds of Christological issues that I will not address here.

On another occasion Jesus was criticizing the scribes and Pharisees for loving their titles and the privileges that came with them. He told his disciples not to be like them.  "Do not be called Rabbi; for One is your Teacher, and you are all brothers. Do not call anyone on earth your father; for One is your Father, He who is in heaven. Do not be called leaders; for One is your Leader, that is, Christ."

I know there is a place for ecclesiological roles, but Jesus points beyond them to a more important truth. There is only One who is truly our Rabbi, Teacher and Father. All others get in the way of the One. All teachers are merely pointers to the Teacher. All fathers are signposts to the Father. All true leaders lead to the Leader.

There is only One. That is why he is called One. "Hear O Israel, the Lord thy God, the Lord is One." When we have lost sight of the One, we use titles. When we have forgotten the One, we start religions. When we can't experience the One, we need rituals. We insist on names when we no longer know the Nameless One.

When Moses asked the name of the One who spoke in the Burning Bush, God responded "I am who I am." The truth is Being Itself, as Paul Tillich used to say. Names just get in the way.

Memories of Eden

In his book, Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis relates an experience of beauty that he had as a child. His brother had constructed a miniature garden out of moss and twigs placed in the lid of a biscuit tin. For some inexplicable reason this piece of childhood art triggered an intense vision of paradise in the young Lewis.

Years later he relived the experience and described it in these words: "It is difficult to find words strong enough for the sensation which came over me; Milton's 'enormous bliss' of Eden (giving the full ancient meaning to 'enormous') comes somewhere near it."

In a moment the experience was gone. He says, "The world turned commonplace again, or only stirred by a longing for the longing that had just ceased. It had taken only a moment of time; and in a certain sense everything else that had ever happened to me was insignificant in comparison." Lewis called his experience "the memory of memory.... as if from a depth not of years but of centuries."

We all have moments like this. These moments of beauty and peace and joy are glimpses of eternity. They are memories of Eden. Lewis says of his experience, "As long as I live, my imagination of Paradise will retain something of my brother's toy garden."

I have had moments like. My life is marked by memories of Eden, my true home. They prompted my spiritual search as a teen, triggered my conversion to Christ in my twenties, and led me into fulltime ministry. When church and religion threatened to extinguish them altogether, I left ministry to recover them.

There are certain places in the natural world that I can go today where memories of such encounters trigger new encounters. These are my holy places. They are not shrines or historical sites, but wilderness places of quiet and peace.

You have had moments like these. Think of those times in your life of deep joy and peace. It may have been an experience of nature, music, art, family, worship or prayer - a time when time seemed to stop, space seemed to drop away, and you dwelled in profound peace.

Return to that time in your imagination, and you can relive the experience. This is when we touch the essence of who we truly are, what the world truly is, and who God really is. This is the Kingdom of God that Jesus proclaimed. We know intuitively that this spiritual realm is always at hand but not always perceived.

I find such moments now in prayer regularly. I get to my knees, and the world often becomes translucent to the Word behind the world. But then the heaviness of physicality returns, leaving only the "memory of the memory," as Lewis says, "a longing for the longing that had just ceased."

To live in this real world that lies behind the concrete veil of the physical world is my heart's desire. It is the home from which I came, toward which I am headed, and in which I live. As the apostle Paul quoted the ancient poet as saying, "In Him we live and move and have our being."  In Him I know myself, and all is well. Outside Him, I am a stranger in a strange land.

The Spiritual Life of Children

Every Sunday our church has a "blessing of the children." All the kids come to the front of the sanctuary, and one of the elders prays over them. Then they head off to Children's Worship. It is one of my favorite parts of worship. There is something about the spirit of a child that communicates God to me. It is as good as a sermon... maybe better.

Jesus says some wonderful things about children and spiritual life. On one occasion parents were bringing their children to Jesus for him to bless them. The disciples didn't like the idea. They began to rebuke them. Jesus rebukes the rebukers saying, "Let the little children come to me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven."

On another occasion Jesus said, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

I know the Christian doctrines of original sin and the fall of man. I know they are important for understanding salvation, even though I don't remember Jesus saying much about these ideas. In any case these concepts need to be balanced by Jesus' teaching about children's natural connection to the Kingdom of God.

The natural state of children gives us a glimpse into the Kingdom of God. These little ones have no need for conversion ... at least not yet. They are somehow still "of the kingdom of God" according to Christ. Don't ask me how. My seminary courses in Baptist theology never really explored the spiritual condition of children, except to talk about an undefined "age of accountability" at which point they were eligible for baptism.

Jesus seems to think these little ones are all right the way they are. In fact adults need to become like them to enter the kingdom of heaven. Maybe small children have not yet eaten of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. I know the smallest ones haven't yet followed the example of Adam by naming everything in sight.

They don't yet have both feet in this divided world of multiplicity. There is still a natural wholeness in the way they view the world, a directness and clarity in the way they see reality. They are close enough to their birth to remember the face of the Creator who knit them together in their mother's womb. They still see the Kingdom of Heaven through the veil of time and space.

It is not that children are sinless. Any parent of a two-year old knows the willful selfish streak that runs in every human child. But it seems like our sinfulness takes time to fully erase the memory of our original state.

In any case, I see heaven in the face of a child. I see myself the way I used to be - the way I still am under this heavy knowledge of good and evil. Through their eyes I see again the Kingdom of Heaven. Thank God for children; they are my spiritual teachers.

Hiding in Plain Sight

The prophet Isaiah said, "Truly you are a God who hides himself, O God and Savior of Israel." It is an interesting thought. It is certainly my experience.

The Bible says that God has revealed himself to his chosen people Israel and to all mankind. Indeed the Bible purports to be a record of that revelation... or the revelation itself, depending on your understanding of the nature of scripture. Yet my experience is that of Isaiah: God is a God who hides himself.

My experience of prayer is that God is powerfully present with me, yet also hiding. Not intentionally. It is just his nature. When I pray I have the sensation that God is not anywhere "out there." It feels like God is behind me. If I turned around quickly enough maybe I could catch him playing hide and seek. He is palpably present, yet out of my field of vision.

One of my favorite theologians is the fourteenth century preacher German Meister Eckhart. He said in one of his sermons, "The eye with which I see God is the eye with which God sees me." That sounds right. I could likewise say that the ear with which I hear God is the ear with which God hears me. God is so present that there is no place to hide.

Muhammad (dare a Christian quote the Quran?) said that God is closer to us than our jugular vein. That also seems right. I can hear him in the rhythm of my heart and in the movement of my breath. God is not an object to be seen or heard or known. He is the Subject. He is the Knower. He is the Pray-er.

The apostle Paul said, "The Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God."

The Spirit prays in us ... for us ... through us. John Main says, "Prayer is the life of the Spirit of Jesus within our human heart. The Spirit prays in us and we consent." This is not only the pattern in prayer, but also in everyday life. Another fourteenth century Christian, Teresa of Avila, wrote this poem: 
 

Christ has no body now on earth but yours, 

No hands but yours, No feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which Christ looks at the world; 

Yours are the feet with which he walks; 

Yours are the hands with which he blesses men now.

Christ said that he is the hungry, thirsty, poor and imprisoned person right in front of us. As we have acted toward them, we have acted toward him. God is hiding in plain sight. Too close to see. Too near to ignore.

Tea Time

I went to a Tea Party rally yesterday. Don't judge me too quickly. I went to an Obama rally two years ago right across the street from this site. So I am not expressing my political loyalties by attending such a rally. It is just that there is not much to do in Beaver County, Pennsylvania.

Besides watching the rivers flow and the smokestacks smoke, there is not much excitement around here. Furthermore I had heard and read a lot about this movement - both good and bad - so I went to see for myself what all the fuss is about.

They were meeting in front of the county courthouse, so I texted my daughter and her husband who live nearby. I told them to meet my wife and me at the courthouse for tea. I almost tricked her into coming until she found out that it was politically flavored tea. They walked to the courthouse with us, but then they kept on walking to Starbucks. That was more their cup of tea.

I got right in there and rubbed shoulders with real gun-carrying conservatives. There were the typical handshaking politicians working the crowd, looking for votes. I told them the truth, "I don't vote for ruling party candidates.  You got us into this mess. I vote only for third parties or independents now. I want my vote to count."

Conservative radio personalities were the featured speakers, and patriotic songs were sung ... badly. There were no radicals that I could see. Some placards connected Obama with socialism, but I've seen more offensive signs at anti-Bush rallies.

There were just a lot of flags and copies of the Constitution floating around. There was more talk of taxes and gun rights than anything else. In short, it seemed that these were pretty ordinary folks with some gripes. There was anger expressed at "the other side," but no more than at any political rally.

Then I crossed to the other side - literally. On the opposite side of the street was the regular weekly demonstration of the local peace organization - the kind of people who promote the "social and economic justice" that Glenn Beck finds so dangerous. These people held signs against war and for healthcare.

I didn't really see the point of the pro-healthcare reform placards. Didn't they already win that battle? I guess old habits die hard. Or maybe they just hadn't found time to make new signs. Anyway they were advertising a folk concert with a banner that read "Make Music - Not War." That sounded good. I took down the info. I like music more than war too.

These left-leaning folks also seemed like nice ordinary people. It struck me that both sides were protesting against actions of the same government. If they could only get together with their neighbors across the street, they might accomplish something. But that would call for bipartisan cooperation, which is rare these days on any side of the street.

So ... that was my excitement for a nice spring Saturday. But I tell you one thing. Next weekend, the Tea Partiers will be gone, but the Peaceniks will be there, as they have been every Saturday from 1:00 to 2:00 for years ... rain or snow or sun. I have to respect them for that. Plus they have better music.

Prone to Wander

I have been away from home a lot lately - Massachusetts last weekend, Florida the week before. As I peruse the calendar, I see I will be away from home a lot in the coming months. Ohio for a college reunion, New Hampshire for a two week vacation, Hawaii for a wedding, and then New Hampshire again for a couple of months. It is not work that carries me away from home. It is my nature. I am prone to wander.

One of my favorite hymns is "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing." My favorite stanza is this one:

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

I was disturbed recently when I heard this song on the radio. I began to sing along only to discover that the words had been changed. (I assume Amy Grant changed them since she was singing it.) In place of "Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love" she substituted, "Never let me wander from thee, Never leave thee God I love." Nice prayer, but it only makes sense when we acknowledge that we are prone to wander in the first place.

I pray a lot these days - more than I ever did when I was in fulltime ministry. And I pray differently than before. Most of my prayer time is spent wordlessly abiding in God. I rest my mind in the mind of Christ. I enjoy the spaciousness of the presence of God. My Father knows what I need before I ask him. I am home.

But even when on my knees, I am prone to wander. My mind drifts into godless thoughts, and my heart wanders into profane territory. My body follows my heart with tension and tightness. When I become aware of my wandering, I repent (which literally means "rethink") and return home to the joyous embrace of the Father.

Like a prodigal son I leave home, squander my inheritance, and return home several times in the space of a half hour. Every time I come home, I am welcomed with open arms as if I had never left.

Two thousand years ago Pliny the Elder wrote, "Home is where the heart is." Not for me. My heart is in a far country. My home is where God is.