Mark 9:2-13
The story of the Transfiguration of Jesus as recounted in Mark’s gospel gives us quit a bit to ponder. There is the lofty yet lonely location in which the events take place and the isolation of the characters involved who are eventually even shrouded by clouds. The setting of this event seems very intentional and important. There are also the various voices that speak in the passage, actually or by inference. Jesus, God, Peter, Moses, and Elijah are each quoted to the reader or are seen by others to be speaking. Words obviously play a major role in this story which is appropriate as Jesus Christ is the Word of God made flesh. But today I’m struck by this section of the text: “And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ He did not know what to say, for they were terrified” (Mark 9:4-6). All that Peter could think about at the appearance of Moses and Elijah was a building project of sorts, essentially busy work.
Peter’s fear is understandable, but there was really no reason for the three disciples to build tents or booths for Jesus and the other. In fact, Peter’s offer reminds me of the old cliché of sending someone to boil water just as a women goes into labor. It’s the sort of thing you send someone to do so that they will be out of the way. But Peter’s offer also raises an interesting question for us to consider. Are there times when our involvement in the life and work of the church amounts to no more than “busy work,” meaningless actions carried out for no real purpose? How often do we offer to build booths when we should pay attention to what is going on, to events we’ve been blessed to witness, opportunities we’ve been given to see the word of God unfolding in our midst? Are there times when we would rather tend to the day to day stuff of organization or institution when what we should be doing is touching lives by sharing ourselves? I know how easy it is to let myself get lost behind a pile of work. I also know how easy it is to miss out on real opportunities to minister.
Peter was frightened, and there is much to frighten us today as well. Peter wanted to do something – anything – rather than absorb what he was seeing. Finally the voice of God called him and the others back to the need to listen and to be involved in what Jesus was saying and doing. Day to day the voice of God calls us as well. Our response must be to stop with the busy work, and to get busy doing the real work of the coming reign.
Prayer: Lord God, guide us in our living that we may set aside that which would distract us from your will. Help us instead to serve you and to respond to your call in all we do. In Jesus’ name that we pray. Amen.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Pop Quiz
Mark 8:27-9:1
“[Jesus] asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah’” (Mark 8:29). It’s funny how the question, “who do you say that Jesus is?” has the power to set a believer’s teeth to chattering and palms to sweating faster than just about any other. And yet, everyone who professes faith in Jesus Christ should be ready to offer an answer. As a minister, the temptation I face is one of over-answering the question. If I find myself engaged in a conversation about faith – on an airplane for instance – I sometimes have to fight the urge to share stories about the early church fathers, or an explanation of the doctrine of the incarnation, or the differences between Presbyterianism, congregationalism, and the episcopacy as forms of church polity, as if any of that is truly key to knowing Jesus Christ. What answers like that do is to miss the point badly because they point off into the distance somewhere in some abstract way. What is needed is an answer that speaks in personal terms.
Over the years I’ve considered a number of ways to express who Jesus is to me without getting abstract, and the one that I’ve tended to use most often is this: Jesus Christ is the one who helps me make sense of my life. What I mean by that is that in his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus Christ demonstrated a complete trust in God and a devotion to God’s will that allowed him to live with a deep and abiding compassion for all. When I face times of challenge or crisis, when I am confronted by issues that I don’t understand or can’t explain, when the darkness seems to overwhelm the light, I am comforted by the fact that Jesus was willing to die for the sake of the world—me included. Jesus trusted in God, and that trust inspires me, it lifts me, it comforts me, and yes, it gives my life shape and meaning. Who do I say that Jesus is? I say that he is my Lord and Savior and I invite others to consider what it might mean for them to say the same.
Prayer: Lord God, we thank you for the love you have shown to the world in the person of Jesus Christ your Son in whom we see your grace poured out and in whose name we pray. Amen.
“[Jesus] asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah’” (Mark 8:29). It’s funny how the question, “who do you say that Jesus is?” has the power to set a believer’s teeth to chattering and palms to sweating faster than just about any other. And yet, everyone who professes faith in Jesus Christ should be ready to offer an answer. As a minister, the temptation I face is one of over-answering the question. If I find myself engaged in a conversation about faith – on an airplane for instance – I sometimes have to fight the urge to share stories about the early church fathers, or an explanation of the doctrine of the incarnation, or the differences between Presbyterianism, congregationalism, and the episcopacy as forms of church polity, as if any of that is truly key to knowing Jesus Christ. What answers like that do is to miss the point badly because they point off into the distance somewhere in some abstract way. What is needed is an answer that speaks in personal terms.
Over the years I’ve considered a number of ways to express who Jesus is to me without getting abstract, and the one that I’ve tended to use most often is this: Jesus Christ is the one who helps me make sense of my life. What I mean by that is that in his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus Christ demonstrated a complete trust in God and a devotion to God’s will that allowed him to live with a deep and abiding compassion for all. When I face times of challenge or crisis, when I am confronted by issues that I don’t understand or can’t explain, when the darkness seems to overwhelm the light, I am comforted by the fact that Jesus was willing to die for the sake of the world—me included. Jesus trusted in God, and that trust inspires me, it lifts me, it comforts me, and yes, it gives my life shape and meaning. Who do I say that Jesus is? I say that he is my Lord and Savior and I invite others to consider what it might mean for them to say the same.
Prayer: Lord God, we thank you for the love you have shown to the world in the person of Jesus Christ your Son in whom we see your grace poured out and in whose name we pray. Amen.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Walking Trees Are Just One Example?
Mark 8:11-26
There is one of those verses in our reading from Mark today that always catches my attention. I find it fascinating, perhaps, for no other reason than it is so honest. According to Mark’s account, Jesus had just put saliva on the eyes of a blind man in order to heal him. “Can you see anything?” Jesus asked him. “And the man looked up and said, ‘I can see people, but they look like trees, walking’” (Mark 8:24). Finally, Jesus laid his hands on the man’s eyes and the man’s sight was restored.
One thing this passages helps to demonstrate is the particularity of Jesus’ ministry, especially his acts of healing. The detail and complexity of this account remind us that the people Jesus ministered with and for were real people with real needs. This sort of detail – the dialogue between Jesus and the blind man, the failed first attempt at a complete healing, the fact that to the man in need people looked like trees walking to and fro – it all serves to remind us that no two people that Jesus met were alike. Just as they suffered from different conditions, they also had different personalities and different habits. There were men and women, young and old, rich and poor, Jew, Samaritan, and Syrophoenician, Pharisee and sinner, priest and tax collector, some were blind, some lepers, some deaf, some possessed. Some were shy or withdrawn when meeting the Lord, and others bellowed across the road at him. Everyone was different.
Nor was Jesus’ response to these people the same. As I’ve pointed out elsewhere, Jesus is reported to have healed folks in a variety of ways and under a number of different circumstances. Sometimes he touched the person in need of healing and sometimes that person touched Jesus; sometimes Jesus was nearby the one in need and sometimes Jesus never actually saw that person; sometimes Jesus accomplished the healing with mud, sometimes saliva, and sometimes with only the spoken word. In this case, of course, Jesus used two methods of healing to allow a blind man to see again, but that’s because the first method didn’t get the job done.
As Mark’s gospel makes abundantly clear, Jesus is willing to meet us as individuals right where we are and to meet our needs in the ways they need to be met, not in a one-size-fits-all sort manner, but displaying God’s love and affection for all of us, which is just what you would expect from a God who created each of us and knows us extremely well. The challenge, then, is for us to begin to see one another and our needs the way God sees them, as applying to particular individuals in particular types of need. We must never look for instant fixes or one-size-fits-all solutions to fling among cutout people. Instead we must see the world as a rich tapestry made up of different types of men and women all striving in their own way toward an abundant life. When we do this, when we see beyond the stereotypes to the things that make us who we are – as different as our fingerprints – then and only then can real ministry take place. Only then can we do the work of God in the world.
Prayer: Almighty God, teach us to know one another as individuals and to cherish one another as ones created in your image. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
There is one of those verses in our reading from Mark today that always catches my attention. I find it fascinating, perhaps, for no other reason than it is so honest. According to Mark’s account, Jesus had just put saliva on the eyes of a blind man in order to heal him. “Can you see anything?” Jesus asked him. “And the man looked up and said, ‘I can see people, but they look like trees, walking’” (Mark 8:24). Finally, Jesus laid his hands on the man’s eyes and the man’s sight was restored.
One thing this passages helps to demonstrate is the particularity of Jesus’ ministry, especially his acts of healing. The detail and complexity of this account remind us that the people Jesus ministered with and for were real people with real needs. This sort of detail – the dialogue between Jesus and the blind man, the failed first attempt at a complete healing, the fact that to the man in need people looked like trees walking to and fro – it all serves to remind us that no two people that Jesus met were alike. Just as they suffered from different conditions, they also had different personalities and different habits. There were men and women, young and old, rich and poor, Jew, Samaritan, and Syrophoenician, Pharisee and sinner, priest and tax collector, some were blind, some lepers, some deaf, some possessed. Some were shy or withdrawn when meeting the Lord, and others bellowed across the road at him. Everyone was different.
Nor was Jesus’ response to these people the same. As I’ve pointed out elsewhere, Jesus is reported to have healed folks in a variety of ways and under a number of different circumstances. Sometimes he touched the person in need of healing and sometimes that person touched Jesus; sometimes Jesus was nearby the one in need and sometimes Jesus never actually saw that person; sometimes Jesus accomplished the healing with mud, sometimes saliva, and sometimes with only the spoken word. In this case, of course, Jesus used two methods of healing to allow a blind man to see again, but that’s because the first method didn’t get the job done.
As Mark’s gospel makes abundantly clear, Jesus is willing to meet us as individuals right where we are and to meet our needs in the ways they need to be met, not in a one-size-fits-all sort manner, but displaying God’s love and affection for all of us, which is just what you would expect from a God who created each of us and knows us extremely well. The challenge, then, is for us to begin to see one another and our needs the way God sees them, as applying to particular individuals in particular types of need. We must never look for instant fixes or one-size-fits-all solutions to fling among cutout people. Instead we must see the world as a rich tapestry made up of different types of men and women all striving in their own way toward an abundant life. When we do this, when we see beyond the stereotypes to the things that make us who we are – as different as our fingerprints – then and only then can real ministry take place. Only then can we do the work of God in the world.
Prayer: Almighty God, teach us to know one another as individuals and to cherish one another as ones created in your image. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Who’s Making All That Noise?
Isaiah 52:1-12
It isn’t always easy to perceive the work of God in our midst. God’s grace, God’s love, God’s mercy all take interesting forms and can come at us from surprising directions. But one thing of which we can be sure is that God does remain active transforming lives and restoring creation. This is, after all, the message that lies at the very heart of the gospel. In Jesus Christ, God was – and is – reconciling the world to God’s self. The prophet Isaiah looked forward to a time when the message of God’s salvation would ring loudly and clearly throughout the land. “Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices, together they sing for joy; for in plain sight they see the return of the Lord to Zion” (Isaiah 52:8). To me the most obvious modern version of these particular sentinels is the church, and it seems appropriate that the people of God, called to be the body of Christ at work in the world, should lift their voices with exultation in order to proclaim God’s presence so that all the world may know and rejoice.
The key, I believe, is Isaiah’s call to “sing for joy.” Normally this would be a funny thing for sentinels to do. It brings to mind images of the knights of Camelot performing their wacky dance number in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. But true joy has that affect, it causes us to dance and sing and become giddy with delight until others begin to wonder why and perhaps even to join in. The church, then, is a sentinel called to scan the horizon, not in dread of what may be coming, nor in gleeful anticipation of God’s fiery condemnation of “everyone else,” but with expectation and hope, knowing that God comes with power and might – yes – but also with love and justice. And when we see signs of God’s activity, when we glimpse grace unfolding in our midst “in plain sight,” we most certainly should “lift up (our) voices, (and) together sing for joy” in response.
Worshipping with a local congregation, serving in the wider community, offering prayers, reflecting on scripture, accepting others as God’s creatures as we strive to find common cause, giving generously of our time and talents: these are all appropriate ways to “sing for joy,” to make known that the Lord is near and that the kingdom of God has dawned. As the people of God let us rejoice at what the Lord is doing and let the good news be shared.
Prayer: Lord God, give us voices to praise you and the willingness to serve you in all we do. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
It isn’t always easy to perceive the work of God in our midst. God’s grace, God’s love, God’s mercy all take interesting forms and can come at us from surprising directions. But one thing of which we can be sure is that God does remain active transforming lives and restoring creation. This is, after all, the message that lies at the very heart of the gospel. In Jesus Christ, God was – and is – reconciling the world to God’s self. The prophet Isaiah looked forward to a time when the message of God’s salvation would ring loudly and clearly throughout the land. “Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices, together they sing for joy; for in plain sight they see the return of the Lord to Zion” (Isaiah 52:8). To me the most obvious modern version of these particular sentinels is the church, and it seems appropriate that the people of God, called to be the body of Christ at work in the world, should lift their voices with exultation in order to proclaim God’s presence so that all the world may know and rejoice.
The key, I believe, is Isaiah’s call to “sing for joy.” Normally this would be a funny thing for sentinels to do. It brings to mind images of the knights of Camelot performing their wacky dance number in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. But true joy has that affect, it causes us to dance and sing and become giddy with delight until others begin to wonder why and perhaps even to join in. The church, then, is a sentinel called to scan the horizon, not in dread of what may be coming, nor in gleeful anticipation of God’s fiery condemnation of “everyone else,” but with expectation and hope, knowing that God comes with power and might – yes – but also with love and justice. And when we see signs of God’s activity, when we glimpse grace unfolding in our midst “in plain sight,” we most certainly should “lift up (our) voices, (and) together sing for joy” in response.
Worshipping with a local congregation, serving in the wider community, offering prayers, reflecting on scripture, accepting others as God’s creatures as we strive to find common cause, giving generously of our time and talents: these are all appropriate ways to “sing for joy,” to make known that the Lord is near and that the kingdom of God has dawned. As the people of God let us rejoice at what the Lord is doing and let the good news be shared.
Prayer: Lord God, give us voices to praise you and the willingness to serve you in all we do. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
What Does It Mean To Be The People of God?
Isaiah 49:1-12
What does it mean to be the people of God? For one thing, it means bearing the news of God’s salvation to the world. As the prophet Isaiah tells us, “Thus says the Lord: In a time of favor I have answered you, on a day of salvation I have helped you; I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people, to establish the land, to apportion the desolate heritages; saying to the prisoners, ‘Come out,’ to those who are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves’” (Isaiah 49:8-9a). As an aspect of their own salvation, God has given God’s people as a covenant, a sign of God’s abiding presence to all the nations, but more specifically to those who suffer or are oppressed. What an amazing message we carry when we speak of God’s grace. To those who have been disenfranchised we grant a share of the kingdom and restore fairness to the means of self-fulfillment. To those in prison we offer a way out. We encourage those who have remained hidden, who cower under cover of night, to step forward without fear. We do not clutch at God’s blessings as though they were ours alone, we do not turn inward at the exclusion of others. We recognize that the circle of God’s grace moves ever outward encircling all whom God includes.
God has long used God’s people as a blessing to others. Noah and his family were set aside by God as a means of grace for generations to come, reestablishing God’s relationship with humanity. Abraham and Sarah were likewise called to be a source of goodness to the nations. Like our reading from Isaiah today, the message of the prophets can often be summed up as an exhortation to care for the alien and the outcast in our midst. And with the words of the great commission Jesus Christ, too, sends all who would be disciples into the world to meet needs and lift spirits.
There is a poignancy to Isaiah’s words. As a parent I can think of a number of times when I’ve encouraged my children to set aside their fears and to step forward, to trust me to love them and to take care of them. God wants that message conveyed to all people. God wants all nations, all races, all cultures to trust in the divine will, to accept the good news of salvation, and then to care for one another with open hearts and open hands. To be God’s people, then, is not to end a journey, it is to be reoriented along a new path that carries us well beyond ourselves, to a world that God loves and to people for whom God cares deeply.
Prayer: Lord God, in love and grace you have called your people to care for one another and to reach far into the world with your good news. May we find the strength and courage to serve you in all we do, for it is in Jesus’ name that we pray. Amen.
What does it mean to be the people of God? For one thing, it means bearing the news of God’s salvation to the world. As the prophet Isaiah tells us, “Thus says the Lord: In a time of favor I have answered you, on a day of salvation I have helped you; I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people, to establish the land, to apportion the desolate heritages; saying to the prisoners, ‘Come out,’ to those who are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves’” (Isaiah 49:8-9a). As an aspect of their own salvation, God has given God’s people as a covenant, a sign of God’s abiding presence to all the nations, but more specifically to those who suffer or are oppressed. What an amazing message we carry when we speak of God’s grace. To those who have been disenfranchised we grant a share of the kingdom and restore fairness to the means of self-fulfillment. To those in prison we offer a way out. We encourage those who have remained hidden, who cower under cover of night, to step forward without fear. We do not clutch at God’s blessings as though they were ours alone, we do not turn inward at the exclusion of others. We recognize that the circle of God’s grace moves ever outward encircling all whom God includes.
God has long used God’s people as a blessing to others. Noah and his family were set aside by God as a means of grace for generations to come, reestablishing God’s relationship with humanity. Abraham and Sarah were likewise called to be a source of goodness to the nations. Like our reading from Isaiah today, the message of the prophets can often be summed up as an exhortation to care for the alien and the outcast in our midst. And with the words of the great commission Jesus Christ, too, sends all who would be disciples into the world to meet needs and lift spirits.
There is a poignancy to Isaiah’s words. As a parent I can think of a number of times when I’ve encouraged my children to set aside their fears and to step forward, to trust me to love them and to take care of them. God wants that message conveyed to all people. God wants all nations, all races, all cultures to trust in the divine will, to accept the good news of salvation, and then to care for one another with open hearts and open hands. To be God’s people, then, is not to end a journey, it is to be reoriented along a new path that carries us well beyond ourselves, to a world that God loves and to people for whom God cares deeply.
Prayer: Lord God, in love and grace you have called your people to care for one another and to reach far into the world with your good news. May we find the strength and courage to serve you in all we do, for it is in Jesus’ name that we pray. Amen.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Listen to the Silence
Psalm 28
One of the evening psalms for today offers what I might call an auditory conundrum. “To you, O Lord, I call; my rock, do not refuse to hear me, for if you are silent to me, I shall be like those who go down to the Pit” (Psalm 28:1). What exactly does the silence of God sound like? Is it like the sound of one hand clapping, or a tree falling in the forest when there is no one there? Is it like the quiet of a library, or the hush of a school building when the day is over and the children have gone home? The homecoming parades I marched in during high school used to pass by a hospital at which point the instruments quit playing and the drums simply marked a soft tap, tap, tap so we could keep cadence. Surely the silence of God is not like that.
The psalmist knew, or at least thought he knew, what the silence of God would be like. It was the experience of separation, of descending to a place where the love of God was only a memory. It meant being cast off, as the wicked are sent away and left to their own fate. How deeply the psalmist felt the need for what one writer calls, “a living mutual relationship with God.” And so the psalmist prayed, with arms outstretched toward the temple, and beseeched God to listen and to respond and to not be silent.
Silence can be a good thing, of course. When young children have been a little wound up the soft sounds of their sleeping comes as a blessing. But silence can also be a draining experience, can leave us feeling lost or lonely, can remind us of our need for others. And with arms outstretched we lift our prayers to a God who does indeed listen, and who indeed responds, and who is capable of breaking the silence of our very souls with the knowledge of the divine presence. “Blessed is the Lord, for he has heard the sound of my pleadings. The Lord is my strength and my shield…” (vs. 6-7a).
What does the silence of God sound like? At the end of the day we have to answer that question for ourselves. But whatever the answer may be, it cannot mask the fact that God cares for God’s people like a shepherd for a flock, that God hears our pleadings, hears our prayers, and in ways that we cannot fully understand responds to us. God’s silence then is only an illusion, for the sound of God is really the sound of our being.
Prayer: Lord, hear us when we call to you, and bless us with the knowledge of your presence, for it is in Jesus’ name that we pray. Amen.
One of the evening psalms for today offers what I might call an auditory conundrum. “To you, O Lord, I call; my rock, do not refuse to hear me, for if you are silent to me, I shall be like those who go down to the Pit” (Psalm 28:1). What exactly does the silence of God sound like? Is it like the sound of one hand clapping, or a tree falling in the forest when there is no one there? Is it like the quiet of a library, or the hush of a school building when the day is over and the children have gone home? The homecoming parades I marched in during high school used to pass by a hospital at which point the instruments quit playing and the drums simply marked a soft tap, tap, tap so we could keep cadence. Surely the silence of God is not like that.
The psalmist knew, or at least thought he knew, what the silence of God would be like. It was the experience of separation, of descending to a place where the love of God was only a memory. It meant being cast off, as the wicked are sent away and left to their own fate. How deeply the psalmist felt the need for what one writer calls, “a living mutual relationship with God.” And so the psalmist prayed, with arms outstretched toward the temple, and beseeched God to listen and to respond and to not be silent.
Silence can be a good thing, of course. When young children have been a little wound up the soft sounds of their sleeping comes as a blessing. But silence can also be a draining experience, can leave us feeling lost or lonely, can remind us of our need for others. And with arms outstretched we lift our prayers to a God who does indeed listen, and who indeed responds, and who is capable of breaking the silence of our very souls with the knowledge of the divine presence. “Blessed is the Lord, for he has heard the sound of my pleadings. The Lord is my strength and my shield…” (vs. 6-7a).
What does the silence of God sound like? At the end of the day we have to answer that question for ourselves. But whatever the answer may be, it cannot mask the fact that God cares for God’s people like a shepherd for a flock, that God hears our pleadings, hears our prayers, and in ways that we cannot fully understand responds to us. God’s silence then is only an illusion, for the sound of God is really the sound of our being.
Prayer: Lord, hear us when we call to you, and bless us with the knowledge of your presence, for it is in Jesus’ name that we pray. Amen.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Not So Different
Galatians 1:1-17
Our reading from Galatians today includes Paul’s reference to himself as one called, not by any human institution, by God to minister: “Paul an apostle — sent neither by human commission nor from human authorities, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead….” Paul’s point is that he received his authority as an apostle directly from Jesus Christ in an encounter on the road to Damascus and not from any human source. Paul had reason to make such a strong statement. His confrontation with the risen Christ had wrenched him free from his previous life, one spent persecuting the church and imprisoning its members. And while Paul’s experience differentiated him from some like Stephen who had been ordained as a deacon by the early church, it also served to heighten the responsibility or sense of purpose that Paul must have felt. God had called him through the presence of Jesus Christ, and had led him to a new and challenging way of life.
On the other hand, when we look at the nature of the Christian faith, at the meaning of discipleship, we may find that Paul was not really all that different from any other believer. There is a traditional Cuban hymn text that underscores the importance of responding to God’s will in our lives, regardless of what that may be.
Sent by the Lord am I;
my hands are ready now
to make the earth the place
in which the kingdom comes.
The angels cannot change a world of hurt and pain
into a world of love, of justice and of peace.
The task is mine to do, to set it truly free.
Oh, help me to obey; help me to do your will.
We all have been called, set aside, commissioned to serve God by sharing the good news of the gospel with the world. Throughout history, God has chosen men and women to minister in the world, to share the love of the gospel with those who are suffering or alone. We may not experience call in the dramatic fashion that Paul did, but God has continually set aide folks like you and me to live lives of faithful obedience, to do the work that angels can not, work that is ours and ours alone.
Paul had reason to point to his conversion to Christianity and his work as an apostle. But we, too, have work to do and we, too, are called to “make the earth the place in which the kingdom comes.” In this way we are not so different from Paul.
Prayer: God of grace, help us to serve you faithfully in all we do, that your will may be done and the entire world be filled with your glory. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Our reading from Galatians today includes Paul’s reference to himself as one called, not by any human institution, by God to minister: “Paul an apostle — sent neither by human commission nor from human authorities, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead….” Paul’s point is that he received his authority as an apostle directly from Jesus Christ in an encounter on the road to Damascus and not from any human source. Paul had reason to make such a strong statement. His confrontation with the risen Christ had wrenched him free from his previous life, one spent persecuting the church and imprisoning its members. And while Paul’s experience differentiated him from some like Stephen who had been ordained as a deacon by the early church, it also served to heighten the responsibility or sense of purpose that Paul must have felt. God had called him through the presence of Jesus Christ, and had led him to a new and challenging way of life.
On the other hand, when we look at the nature of the Christian faith, at the meaning of discipleship, we may find that Paul was not really all that different from any other believer. There is a traditional Cuban hymn text that underscores the importance of responding to God’s will in our lives, regardless of what that may be.
Sent by the Lord am I;
my hands are ready now
to make the earth the place
in which the kingdom comes.
The angels cannot change a world of hurt and pain
into a world of love, of justice and of peace.
The task is mine to do, to set it truly free.
Oh, help me to obey; help me to do your will.
We all have been called, set aside, commissioned to serve God by sharing the good news of the gospel with the world. Throughout history, God has chosen men and women to minister in the world, to share the love of the gospel with those who are suffering or alone. We may not experience call in the dramatic fashion that Paul did, but God has continually set aide folks like you and me to live lives of faithful obedience, to do the work that angels can not, work that is ours and ours alone.
Paul had reason to point to his conversion to Christianity and his work as an apostle. But we, too, have work to do and we, too, are called to “make the earth the place in which the kingdom comes.” In this way we are not so different from Paul.
Prayer: God of grace, help us to serve you faithfully in all we do, that your will may be done and the entire world be filled with your glory. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
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