I grew up in the Lutheran church (LCMS), so I'm no stranger to Lent. Thus, I was pleased to learn that this year our church (PCA) is taking a step in the liturgical direction and encouraging us to observe the liturgical period lasting from Ash Wednesday through Maundy Thursday.
One of the classic Lenten rituals is fasting from something dear to you for the entire period. In the past I've given up soda (pop for you Texans), bubble gum, ice cream, and so on. This year I decided to really think hard about it to come up with something that would hurt a bit; something that I would really rather not do without. So, after much deliberation I have decided to abstain from Google Reader (and all of the blogs represented therein) from tomorrow through the end of Lent. I will still be posting occasionally, but I won't be reading anyone else's blogs.
If you're also giving something up for Lent leave a comment below. I'm always curious to hear what others think would be a real sacrifice to do without for a brief stretch.
See you on the other side…
One of my favorite times of Sunday worship is when Pastor Stu leads us in a few simple, acapella worship songs while the elements are being distributed to the congregation. Hearing everyone's voices ring out in worshipful unison seems like the closest thing to a heavenly celebration that we'll taste around these parts. Sometimes I actually get goosebumps.
There are other Sundays when we don't do this. Instead, an organist will typically play something slow and somber-sounding while we sit there waiting for the bread and the cup to come our way. I suppose that this is intended to be a time of reflection, to calculate one's own sin and repent of it in preparation for receiving communion. On some level this seems appropriate, given the warnings to examine oneself so as to not eat the bread or drink the cup in an unworthy manner (1 Cor 11:27-32). However, at that point in the order of the worship service it seems out of place.
By the time we get to communion we've already had worshipful singing, personal and corporate confession of sins, the declaration of pardon, and teaching from the Word. We come to the table as people who have been forgiven by their Creator, and who have been ministered to by their Lord through his Word. The table is one of celebration. The blind can see and the deaf can hear, and tax collectors and "sinners" can now come to a feast provided by the Son of God, who calls us to join him in his "ministry of reconciliation" as he is "reconciling the world to himself" (2 Cor 5:11-21). It seems out of place to me at this point of communion with our Savior and within his Church to double back to the part where we feel really bad for being sinners. We already dealt with that half an hour ago, and if we truly believe all of this "as far as the east is from the west" business (Ps 103:11-12) we ought to be able to trust that the blood of Christ, the same shedding of which we remember in communion, was and is and will forever be sufficient to cover our sins.
I understand the impulse to go through a "no, Jesus, I really am sorry" routine before we approach his table. If we really are repentant people our sin will always be before us. But, I think it does some unintended damage to the power of the gospel when we feel the need to confess and re-confess the same sins, as if Jesus blood and righteousness can only cover them after a second pass. We need to trust in the power of Christ to proclaim our pardon once and for all, and then to live our lives as if we've really been forgiven. And what better way to begin living that way than by rejoicing in the powerful grace and mercy of God by singing his praises as we approach his table?
Isaiah 33:5-6
[5]The Lord is exalted, for he dwells on high;
he will fill Zion with justice and righteousness,
[6]and he will be the stability of your times,
abundance of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge;
the fear of the Lord is Zion's treasure.
One of the basics you learn early on in the Christian life is that the way that God's economy works is usually the complete opposite of how we expect things to work. The Scriptures are full of examples of this. If you want to save your life, you have to lose it. If you want to inherit the earth, be meek. A king, the Son of God, is born in a stable. The scarlet blood of Jesus makes us white as snow. A boy who will eventually rule Egypt has to first be thrown into a cistern. The kingdom of heaven belongs to babies. On and on and on it goes.
So, it doesn't take long to grasp this concept and, by the grace of God, to employ it in your life. But it struck me today that I don't really understand why there is such a huge discrepancy between the way I think things should "normally" work versus how God says they actually are. Maybe it's that the things of God are foolishness to those who are perishing, and that he has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise. Or, maybe it is because we are so radically depraved that we call darkness light, and light darkness. We see the things of death (worldly riches, gratifying the lusts of the flesh, etc.) as attractive signs of abundant life.
How is it that we can get our thinking corrected so we are accustomed to valuing things the way God does? How can we finally begin to see life as life and death as death?
A: You're embarrassed when your Christian friends find out you do this.
—and—
A: You're embarrassed when your non-Christian friends find out you do this.
Q: What is listening to KLOVE?
Although my favorite passage from the Bible is definitely Footprints, the story of the Little Drummer Boy is a close second. I think Jesus realy identified with the little drummer who was "a poor boy, too" considering that he smiled at the boy while he played. I also like to think of the ox and ass swaying back and forth, keeping time, while the percussive worshipper honored the newborn Savior. I think it's a shame that churches always magnify the role of the magi bringing gifts to Jesus but somehow always overlook the drummer boy. Shouldn't we all be a little more like the drummer boy, anyway? Sure, we can give expensive gifts to Jesus but what he really wants is heartfelt worship… even on a drum. I know if a pastor would preach their Christmas Eve sermon from this passage I would probably go to that service instead of driving around looking at Christmas lights.
Let me preface this by saying that I trust, respect, and deeply appreciate the leadership at our church. That's not just an obligatory disclaimer as I wind up to let 'em have it. Amanda and I really are grateful for the men that lead our church. In the period following the fire, they have been exceptionally steady and their leadership is commendable.
We got a letter in the mail from church the other day with several items worth noting. The first one was related to the upcoming church plant. The church plant needs our prayers and, though it wasn't stated in the letter, they will also need funding.
The second item was about our good friends, Bryan and Jamie O'Donnell. They O'Donnels are moving away in the very near future to serve Christ by raising up worshipers in Japan. They are $28,000 away from having their one-time expenses (i.e. everything it takes to move a family to Japan) covered.
The third item was about the drive to raise money to buy a pipe organ for our new building. I don't know how much you know about pipe organs, but if you're in the market for a pipe organ of even mediocre quality expect to shell out $200,000 or more.
I can't remember where I heard it, but it's a quote worth remembering. "When your at war, you don't buy new tires." That quote came to mind as I read through the letter.
The back story here is that our new building, which we moved into a couple of weeks ago, doesn't have a pipe organ. We're used to having a pipe organ. We are, after all, a Reformed church. We like our hymns, and we prefer anything that came during or before the 19th century to everything that has come along since. We like bricks. We like hymnals. We like dead white guys. We like pipe organs the same way emerging church preachers like cuss words.
Still, it seems almost embarrassing that we would shell out $200,000 to support our Isaac Watts addiction when there are obviously much more pressing needs in front of us. As a result of the O'Donnells work in Japan there will be Japanese worshipers in heaven for all eternity. As a result of the church plant the heart of Lincoln will be transformed and redeemed for Christ as the needs of the people in and around the 9th and D area are met. As a result of a new organ, a bunch of upper-middle-class Christians will get to rock out to their favorite 200 year old songs. Which of these things seems like a priority that might need to slide down the list a few notches?
I should also mention that we already have an electric organ in the building that has worked just fine. As I understand it, we're renting it right now. I'm not sure what *that* organ would cost to buy, but I have it on good authority that a guy can pick up a sweet, portable electric organ for under $3 grand. Let's see… that would only leave $197,000 for the O'Donnells and the church plant to use to go into all the world and proclaim the good news to all creation.
While I think the word idolatry gets thrown around a little too easily in evangelical circles (food is an idol, cigarettes are an idol, your new Wii is an idol), I don't really know what else to call it when someone spends an exorbitant amount of money in order to honor a particular century instead of honoring the King and the advancement of his Kingdom. The building God gave us didn't come with an organ. As a guy who thinks hymns, dead white guys, and organs are pretty great, I think we need to accept that and move on. When you're at war, you don't buy new pipe organs.
Pete turns four on December 7th, and I'm starting to get excited! I think he's finally intellectually ready to understand that I love him and want to have a personal relationship with him. Even from before he was born, I have had a deep desire to express my love for him; to embrace him as my son, to provide for him and nurture him, to instruct him and discipline him. The only problem is that I don't want to force my love on him, thereby violating his free will. What if he doesn't want me to love him? What if he chooses to reject my love? For me to force it on him would be unjust and perhaps even sadistic. It would be hateful, not loving, for me to force my love upon him against his will.
So, I've been waiting. I keep looking for signs that he's ready. He's getting really good at his A-B-C's, and he can count *way* past ten. But, is he old enough to make a decision this important? What if he can't clearly articulate what it is that he is choosing? What if he is too young to fully understand what it means to make a life-long commitment to accept me as his own personal father?
So, I continue to withhold my love from him until he's ready and able to tell me that he wants it. Until then, I'll just have to keep waiting for the time when he decides whether or not he wants to be a Wittmann. Man, I can hardly wait!
—
(In other words, if you think a son needs to be able to articulate the propositional truth that he loves his Father and his Father loves him in order for it to *count*, I think you're nuts.)
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