This word came to Jeremiah from the LORD: "Rise up, be off to the potter's house; there I will give you my message."
I went down to the potter's house and there he was, working at the wheel. Whenever the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again, making of the clay another object of whatever sort he pleased.
Then the word of the Lord came to me: "Can I not do to you, house of Israel, as this potter has done?" says the
LORD. "Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my
hand..."
"Rehab. Sermon by John David Walt, Jr. given in Estes Chapel on the campus of Asbury Theological Seminary on February 14, 2008. Copyright. All Rights Reserved."
Read Matthew 4:1-11.
"She's only 24 with six Grammy nods, crashing headfirst into success and despair, with a codependent husband in jail, exhibitionist parents with questionable judgment, and the paparazzi documenting her emotional and physical distress. Meanwhile, a haute designer [Karl Lagerfeld] appropriates her disheveled style and eating issues to market to the elite while proclaiming her the new Bardot.[87]"
She could use our prayers. Listen to her own words, "I don't ever want to drink again. I just need a friend." She's a precious daughter of the most high God. Every day her Abba in Heaven stands at the end of the road scanning the horizon, watching for the first sight of her return ready to run into her embrace.
They try to make me go to rehab and I say No! No! No! The song is so unbelievably popular because it hits a nerve. I don't want to go to rehab. Do you? But I can promise you this. I need rehab and so do you. I am a man who needs to go to rehab and I live among a people who need to go to rehab. I'm not talking about Christianity as therapy. (Although it is interesting to note that our word therapy comes from a Greek word meaning to heal or to minister) I'm not talking about rehab in the 28 day sense. I'm talking about rehab in the 40 day sense and all the richness that this number implies. Take a look at how the word is defined. That's precisely what the desert of Lent is about. Take a look at how the word is defined. 40 days of intensive rehabilitation. We fast. We pray. We give. We covenant together as a people for an intensive period to "dry out," to renounce the impetuous indulgence of our insatiable appetites. Together, surrounded by sackcloth with ashes on our foreheads we enter the Spirit's treatment facility known as the desert. Jesus leads us into the Lenten theatre of the Holy War against sin in the power of the Holy Spirit. We enter in to face the tripartite enemies of the soul: the world, the flesh and the devil and to confront them in the full armor of God, in the Trinitarian energy of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
We must come to grips that something deep inside of us still doesn't want to go to rehab. While we may listen to the song, we must stop singing it and learn the new song the Spirit is always teaching. And what, you may ask, is the song of the Spirit. Thank you. I'm convinced that the song of the Spirit is found in what we know as one of the earliest songs of the Church. Philippians 2:5-11.
5 Have the same mind in you that was in Christ Jesus:
6Who, being in very nature[a] God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
7but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature[b] of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
8And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
9Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
10that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
11and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
I want to encourage you to take a devotional risk in these 40 days. I'm going to offer you three desert practices this morning. Go into a room, close the door and sing this scripture back to God as a song. Make up the melody. Chant it. Dance it. Whatever can break it free from the confines of ink and paper. This is the Spirit's song about the Son to the glory of the Father. Even if you can't sing. Your heart can make melody.
Isn't that like the Spirit, to sing about the Son. Isn't it just like the Son to demonstrate and display what it looks like when the Spirit lives and works with perfection in a human being to the glory of the Father. Why did Jesus go into the Desert? He certainly didn't need to. This is not like Luke Sky Walker confronting Darth Vader. It's more like the New York Giants taking on West Jessamine High. Jesus enters the desert because he knows we human beings are slaves to sin and that we are prone to spend 40 years of our life lost and wandering craving anything that promises comfort and security. The rehabilitation of Lent, the treatment facility of the desert designs to wean us from the brokenness and laziness of our own spirit which incessantly attempts to turn stones into bread, which constantly puts God to the test and which will readily forfeit our own soul in order to live a secret life in Egypt and gain the whole world (i.e. worships Satan). The treatment facility of the desert designs to wean us from the indulgent immature laziness and brokenness of our own spirit and restore in us the very life and breath of God, remaking us in the strong, beautiful, loving, meek, merciful, pure hearted, peacemaking, persecuted and yet unquenchable image of Jesus Christ.
But there is a subtle deception waiting for us in the desert. We easily become deceived into making the world, the flesh and the devil our focus. We focus on what is wrong with us and Lent becomes a darkly introspective narcissistic quest to get fixed. Intensive introspection cunningly plays into the maintenance of what Dr. Mulholland in his writings calls the false self. Worse yet, we get tricked into making religion and religious practice and piety our focus. We are ever talking about what we are fasting from and how much we want it and how hard it is and how we can't wait for it to be over. Here's another way we miss it. We launch into a way of fasting and praying as though we were pushing and pulling the levers of heaven, putting God to some kind of test. Intensive religion plays into the hands of the flesh in perhaps the most deceptive way of all, feeding what Mulholland in his book calls the religious false self. Then there's the devil. Driving in the van somewhere a few weeks back, my 5 year old, Mary Kathryn proffered this analysis, "Daddy, you know God owns this world, but the devil tries to control it. And you know, Daddy, the devil will trick you." Perhaps the devil's greatest deception is to convince us that he is everywhere and behind everything that goes wrong. This deception has a way of blinding us to the unlikely places and unexpected ways that he does present himself. Matthew seems careful to point out that Satan shows up with his tricks only at the end of the 40 days. Maybe his most surprising strategy is proof texting scripture. Wouldn't it make a great bumper sticker: Satan Proof Texts. Those of you in Dr. Seamands Spiritual Warfare class will learn well that the focus of spiritual warfare is not on the devil but on the Spirit and the Word of God.
The proper focus of Lent, the Spirit's strategy for the treatment center of the desert is to cause us to behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world with every ounce of our personhood and every iota of our attention. We must get our eyes fixed on Jesus Christ. Every word he speaks, every move he makes, every encounter he engages, every person he touches, every step he takes, every prayer he utters --all filled and running over with the wisdom of God. Some weeks ago I preached on this text: Behold the Lamb of God. I repeat now what I said then. I think the entire paradigm of being and doing is worn out and tired. It sounds good, but what does it really mean. It's quite existentially bound in the human experience. I think it is a false dichotomy. I'm making a switch. I'm trading in the notion of being and doing for the movement of beholding and becoming. It takes the focus off of human initiative and activity and focuses us on God's initiative and activity. Beholding and becoming happen simultaneously as the fusion of contemplation and action, for what one beholds one becomes. Being and doing are two things. Beholding and becoming are one thing—one thing I ask of the Lord, one thing I seek; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life and gaze upon the beauty of the Lord.
Philippians 2:5-11, the song of the Spirit, will always lead us to a place of beholding and becoming. Think of it visually.
Jesus meets us in the desert because the desert is a very deceptive place. We readily succumb to vertigo, thinking that through all our intensity, and focus and religiosity that we are actually going down when in fact, we are fueling our own pride and climbing the mountain to make our own name great. The mind of Adam is pervasive in us. This is the very form of pride. In the Garden of Eden we find Satan interpreting the Word of God and again distorting its meaning. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil. Adam (and Eve) consider equality with God something to be grasped. This continues in a deadly ascent all the way to Babel where we see ourselves building a tower that reaches to the heavens in order to make our name great.
God sent his Son to show us the way to "on earth as it is in heaven." In Jesus, Heaven comes down. Jesus shows us that the way is down. It is the way of life-laying-down-love-for-friends. This is the one who did not consider equality with God something to be grasped but made himself nothing. This is the one who humbled himself and became obedient. This is the only one who can lead us to this place. God did not send his son in order that we would deconstruct his life into a set of principles or shape it into an ethic or create wrist lockets or any of the sort. Jesus is not a life application principle nor a life enhancing paradigm. He is not a purpose. He is a person. As we loose the controlling death grip we have on our self we will find his life welling up inside of us.
I love Julian of Norwich's quote from February 21 of our Spring Scripture & Saints
Reader: And
after this our Lord showed himself more glorified, to my eyes, than I
saw Him before. By this I was taught that our soul shall never have
rest till it comes to Him, knowing that He is fullness of joy, friendly
and courteous, blissful and very life. Our Lord Jesus said again and
again, "It is I; it is I; it is I who am highest; it is I whom you
love; it is I whom you delight in; it is I whom you serve; it is I whom
you long for, whom you desire; it is I whom you mean; it is I who am
all."
MIND OF CHRIST MIND OF ADAM
—St. Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love
When we follow Jesus to this place of abandon here's what begins to happen: "Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow. And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness. Isaiah 35. How's that for rehab? The very desert itself transforms into our Father's House, a veritable school house of prayer where the only tenured faculty are the Son and the Spirit. You see, by the power of the Spirit we are welcomed into the deep love shared between Father and Son where our own hearts cry out Abba! Here we feast on the Word of God as the Spirit teaches us to speak it as our heart language of prayer. Only then will we rise up into that house of prayer for all nations and as we lift our eyes to scan the horizons we will see nations coming to our Light. If you abide in me and my words abide in you may ask whatever you wish and it will be given to you.
Now to the final two spiritual practices for the desert season of Lent.
In the desert we learn to hear the Spirit whispering this one word invitation: Abide. Abide in me and I will abide in you. We find this word covering the 15th chapter of John's Gospel. Jesus teaches us what it will be like to know and walk and work with him following his departure. He instructs us in the ways of the Holy Spirit. Interestingly though, this is not the first place we see the term. The Greek term is meinete. We see it first at the Jordan River. 40 days prior to his desert fasting, Jesus stood in the waters of the Jordan. He goes under the water in baptism. The voice of God speaks, "This is my Son, my beloved one. With him I am well pleased." We see the Spirit descending like a dove and "abiding" with him. The term meinete is used. Here we see the Word and the Spirit revealing themselves and working together in the Son both to announce and to prepare him for the mission ahead. What's fascinating is how these deeply life affirming words were spoken at the beginning of his public ministry, prior to any sermons or miracles or other demonstrations of his divine power. These words were spoken for him and yet they were also spoken for us.
I will never forget being part of a Lenten prayer and fasting group of students, staff and faculty a few years back. We were sharing about this temptation narrative and how Jesus responds to the first temptation to "turn these stones into bread," saying, "It is written, man does not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God." One of the quieter students, Jason, raised his hand to offer a comment. He said, "You know, I think the word that Jesus was feasting on in the desert was the word that had days prior come from the mouth of God. 'This is my Son, my beloved. With him I am well pleased."
The desert place of fasting leads us to the Spirit's place of feasting where we eat this Word. Satan's test becomes the Spirit's triumph as we eat this Word. I am finding a way of eating this Word every day. It happens in the shower. As the water cascades over my head and down my body, I begin to say aloud these words, "My Abba. My Abba. My Abba. My Abba!" I say them until I am really saying them to God. Then I repeat his response in my own voice, aloud, "My Son. My Son. My Son. My Son!" Again, I say them until they register deep in my heart and spirit. I respond, "My Abba. My Abba. My Abba. My Abba!" He responds (again in my audible voice), "My Beloved. My Beloved. My Beloved. My Beloved!" I speak back, "My Abba. My Abba. My Abba. My Abba!" He responds, "With you, I am well pleased! With you, I am well pleased! With you, I am well pleased." It is like the scene of his baptism being played out in my shower day after day after day after day. This is how the Word of God becomes the mind of Christ in us. Because of the pervasive nature of the mind of Adam, it takes daily immersion in this extraordinary reality. Because of the deceptive temptation to prove oneself by turning stones into bread, it takes daily feasting on this extravagant word. Every other basis of identity is false. This is what I call a story immersion practice. I am learning to participate in the true story. It is changing me. I commend the practice to you.
Now to the final practice. You remember at the end of John's Gospel when Jesus, raised from the dead, meets with his disciples behind closed doors and breathes on them, saying, "Receive the Holy Spirit." It was as though he wanted them to breathe in as he was breathing out. That's what abiding is like. It's like breathing. That's how near he longs to be to us. It's a practice of the spirit I want to commend to you today. As we walk out these desert days, try this: as you breathe in whisper these words: Abide in me. And as you breathe out, whisper these words: And I will abide in you. Try it now.
It is as though the Spirit craves the pure oxygen of the Word of God in order to condition the human heart to contain fire—to be like the bush burning yet not consumed. We've all seen lots of wildfire, where the spirit was surely at work, but the person was not ready and either burned up or flamed out. And we've all seen our share of religious piety, faking fire while being cold as ice. What we long to be and what we long to see are human persons on fire with the flame of Love, gloriously burning and yet not consumed. This is the work of the desert. This is the fruit of rehab.
I close with this wisdom story from one of the early desert fathers. After I tell the story I invite you to a few minutes of complete silence, after which we will find a way to depart.
One day Abbot Lot went to see his teacher, Abbot Joseph - and Abbot Lot said, "Abbot Joseph, the best that I am able, I keep my little fast, my little rule, my little devotions. To the best that I am able, I keep my meditation and my prayer, I try to cleanse my heart of earthly desires, but Abbot Joseph - it is not enough. I still haven't found what I seek."
Now Abbot Joseph listened closely to his student, and when Abbot Lot was done speaking Abbot Joseph got up out of his chair, and he reached his arms and his hands up into the air until he stretched out each of his ten fingers - and out of the tips of each of his fingers shot pure flame - ten burning candles there in the middle of the desert - and Abbot Joseph said to Abbot Lot - "Why not be completely changed into fire?"
"Why not be completely changed into fire?"
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
It's maybe a little early yet, but Ash Wednesday is Wednesday and planning is good.
I know I need to take advantage of this season. I need to reevaluate and renew and refocus and re-energize. And receive. I declined to do music at any Holy Week / Easter Masses (at this point, anyway), so I can attend as a member of the congregation, rather than serving. Is that bad? I think it comes across a little selfishly to other people, but I don't think it's selfish in my heart. I don't have a lot to give right now. Sometimes we all need to receive. Oh, totally, because everyone needs the opportunity to give - within his or her gifts, talents, and strengths - and the only way that can happen is if everyone takes the opportunity to receive. If I am always giving and never receiving, then someone else (or lots of someone elses) around me is being limited / not given his or her opportunity. Sometimes I have to walk myself through this to remember that it is ok to say "no, thank you." (And - note to self - it's still better to say no politely than to say yes, whine and complain, and be miserably rude.)
So, Lent. I love the inherent challenge of Lent. It's multifaceted - the challenge to discern some solid "give ups" (by which I really mean the challenge to truly increase in prayer, sacrifice, and charity), the challenge to stick to them, and the challenge to take full value on them. I grew up wanting to give up things like smoking (not a smoker), lima beans (won't eat them anyway), basketball practice (lazy!), etc. When I got older, I wanted to give up things which would achieve an end - fast food (lose weight!), drinking (lose weight and save money!), shopping (save money!) - all of which were good things to give up, but they were lacking the right intent. This Lent, I want to truly strive to increase in prayer, to make real sacrifices, and to serve my proverbial neighbor in charity.
I want to make my dailies. I'm struggling with fully committing to daily Mass for Lent because 8am is my daily of choice, and I have to be at work at 8am. Daily Mass, this time 'round, won't be as easy as just rolling out of bed with plenty of time to Mass, breakfast, and go to work. It's going to require getting up really early... and finding another church to go to... and mostly just getting up really early... I know I should do it, especially because of the additional sacrifice in "inconvenience." I know I want to do it, because I love dailies and we are so blessed in this country to be able to receive in Mass as frequently as we are.
[Aside: I am worried (but also not really worried because "God is on the throne") about the priest shortage. Like with all of the ease and convenience in this country, I am convinced that the only way people will rediscover true value - of Eucharist, of consistent meals, of freedom of speech, of easy transportation, of shelter and heating and air conditioning, of fresh, hot, cold, or iced water, of education - is by not having. ...I refuse to be side-tracked by our secular nation right now. My worry about the priest shortage is that the way to fix it takes us through a greater shortage, with less frequent celebrations of the Mass, with the closing and combining of parishes, with larger crowds of uninterested/disaffected faithful, until - from the outside - the Church appears broken. At which time, a revival will come - I know - and it's already happening in so many ways and in so many places. I'm not really worried; I just have to walk through the process in my brain sometimes.]
Here are my options:
- the Mission - 7am or 5:30pm
- OLG - 5:30pm
- John of the Cross - 6:30am
- St. Therese - 6:20am
- B Sac - 6:15am
Morning at the Mission wouldn't be terrible... I could leave my house at 6:30, be out of Mass by 7:30, and be at work before 8. I do like the 5:30p options though...
I am also going to give up Starbucks. I'm going to keep track of the times when I want to get it (and what I want to get), add all of that theoretically spent money up, and give it to ... I don't know whom as of yet. Some charity or other. I spend a lot of money at Starbucks...
There was something else I can't remember. Oh yeah, the internet. I'm going cold turkey on internet (except for whatever is necessary for work). I've tried and failed with that one in the past; we're going for it again.
This post is long; I'm going to read a book.
