First week of Advent: Holy Fear

As I read the stories of Zechariah, Mary and the shepherds' encounters with angels, I cannot help but notice that they were all frightened by the arrival of God's messengers. Throughout the Old Testament, we see the call to have the "fear of the Lord". We find it in Psalms, Proverbs and many of the prophets as they call for repentance.

But this is the New Testament, the time for the New Covenant.  Surely fear has no place here.  And yet, here it is. God sends his messenger with words of hope and joy, but the first response of those hearing it is to be afraid.  Why is this so?

Is it because, in that moment, when we look upon one who has seen God's face and has stood in His Presence, that we can no longer fool ourselves into believing that we are righteous, good...holy? Is it because the charade of thinking we are invincible, gifted, capable, strong and wise turns to dust in the light of the Infinite? Is it the recognition that we cannot hide who we truly are; our sinful hearts and weaknesses laid bare? Is it the knowledge that He who made us can also unmake us?  Is it the recognition of our true reality: that He is God and we are not? With all of that façade stripped away, who would not feel fear?

But where is my fear and trembling? Do I truly believe that over the last 2,000 years Christians have evolved past that fear? 1 John 4:18 tells us that perfect love drives out fear. Does this mean we just skip the fear and go right to the warm and fuzzy? It seems easier that way.  I don't want to think about fearing God. We fear car accidents, criminals and earthquakes. We fear illness, unemployment and being alone. Our finite fears are terrifying and we do not want to associate that terror with God, Love made flesh. So we jump to "Do not be afraid Zechariah, Mary, shepherds. There is good news!" We simply skip this gut reaction, this heart pounding, legs trembling, take our breath away fear that just the presence of God's messenger inspires.

But there is a difference between our human fears that John speaks of in his letter and the fear of the Lord. And the fear of the Lord still belongs. He is God: Almighty, Lord of All, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Lord Mighty in Battle, Creator of all things...The Great I AM. We, who are the created, made from dust and who will return to the dust, should fear and tremble because we know what we deserve. We are not wrong to have the fear of the Lord. It is holy fear. When we truly look at our own hearts, our response should be like Isaiah's:
     "Woe to me, for I am a man of unclean lips and live among a people of unclean lips..." (Isaiah 6:5)

The good news is that God does not leave us in our fear. The messenger says, "Do not be afraid." This is not another human being, not even an heroic one like a police officer or fire fighter, saying these words.  Gabriel, the messenger of the Lord, says to Zechariah: "I stand in the presence of God and I have been sent to tell you this good news." (Lk. 1:19) Gabriel speaks for God and God says, "Do not be afraid." We are not getting what we deserve. In fact, we are receiving just the opposite: a savior, perfect Love made flesh, who will dwell among us and save us.

                "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will be for all the people. Today, in the city
                 of David, a savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord." (Lk. 2:10-11)

Perfect love drives out all fear.

Father God, please help me to leave aside my pride and arrogance in order to recognize holy fear. But help me also, to live into your words of hope and love and spread them far and wide: "Do not be afraid. I am here." Amen.

Broken, but not that way

I am broken…

I have disabilities. I have two chronic illnesses and a learning disability (yes, adults can and do have learning disabilities and yes, they still affect us, even when we are not in school, but that is another blog posting for another day). Between them, my diagnoses affect how I sleep, how and what I eat, my relationships, my finances, my breathing, my work, even my driving.

I am broken…but maybe not the way you think.

Throughout human history, the myth of an “ideal” version of humanity has been repeated until it is believed. Over the years, this has come in different forms: the myth of being male as “ideal”, the myth of being white as “ideal”, the myth of one culture being more “ideal” than another. In all of these myths, there is a basic theme: if you are not a part of the “ideal”, you are “less than”.
Then there is the myth of ability: a whole, sound mind and body, as defined by science and culture, is the “ideal”. Anything else is “less than”. That’s made clear even in the language we use: disability, literally “not able”. A victim. A problem. Broken.

Over the years, we as Christians have allowed the myth of ability to co-op and warp our perceptions of those who are not typically-abled. Even the early Church Fathers, who took the radical approach of establishing hospitals that were for the care and cure of those with disabilities (unheard of in their cultures during the 3rd and 4th centuries), struggled with this. They welcomed and cared for all, but their patients were not allowed to become leaders, pastors, bishops (Disability and the Christian Tradition, Swinton and Brock, 2012). They were brothers and sisters to be cared for and assisted, but not individuals, gifted and called by God for his purposes.

Several months ago, I had a conversation with someone around this subject. In articulating my belief that the church needs to seek inclusion of and reconciliation with those with disabilities or who are not “typically abled”, I compared it to the need for reconciliation and inclusion of those marginalized due to race and/ or gender. This person responded that by comparing disability to gender and race, the implication was that gender and race were deficits, which they are not. I responded, “I agree. Neither is disability a deficit.”

I am broken…but not because of my disability.
We all are broken…and equal in our brokenness. I am a sinner, saved by grace, justified by love, overwhelmed by mercy from the Cross that I did not deserve. Sinner, but saved. Depraved, but redeemed. Broken…but healed.

I am broken…and called.

Scripture declares it!

Ephesians 2:10

"For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

 

Not only that, but scripture says those that may be seen by others as “weak”, “less honorable” or “unpresentable”, are equally called and gifted, essential to the function of the Body, Christ’s church.

1 Corinthians 12:14-27

"Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it."

 

What would happen to a part of our own bodies if we fail to use it? If we coddle it because we see it as weak, injured or fragile? If we ignore it because we are sure we don’t need it? If we think that working it, exercising it, using it, would take too much time and effort? If we pretend we don’t see it, hoping it will go away?

What would happen? We all know the answer. That part would weaken, atrophy and the tissue may even die. The only way to strengthen a weak part of our bodies is to utilize it.

The truth is that when the Body of Christ ignores, pities, and fails to utilize the gifts of those brothers and sisters with disabilities, we choose to atrophy. We, the Body, cease to function as God designed us to.

When we approach those who have disabilities from the standpoint of “how can I help?” instead of “how can I come alongside and work with you?” we miss out on the ways God works through each of us. Not only do we deprive our brothers and sisters of opportunities to do that which they are called to, but we miss out on the opportunity to see the work of God in a new light. That’s not to say that everyone doesn’t need help up from time to time. I do. You do. We do. That is the nature of true community. But what if the person who is giving you a hand up has depression, is in a wheelchair, can’t speak, has schizophrenia, cancer, ADHD, diabetes or epilepsy? What if the person giving you a hand up, doesn’t have hands?

I am broken…but not in that way.

The seasons of grief and Psalm 73

Recently, during the opening devotions of our church staff meting, one of our pastors read Psalm 73: 21-28, then asked us to rewrite it in our own words.  Not a translation, not an official paraphrase, but rather how this Psalm spoke to us.  A few staff chose to share their versions with us. As they read what they had written, each shared a different way that this passage had connected with them. What a beautiful reminder that the Word is alive!
 
For me, this passage spoke of my journey through the seasons of grief that I have been in and am still moving through: the anger, the pain, the comfort, the hope. Three years ago this month, my dad lost his wife of 30 years, the boys lost an amazing grandma and I lost my Mum, my step-mom, my third parent and one of my closest friends.  Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), grief is not a 5 point to-do list that we can check off and be done.  It must be named, looked at, handled, wrestled with, walked with, sometimes even danced with. And it must be surrendered to the One who brings healing and peace. To the One who never leaves us even in the darkest nights and deepest valleys. To the One who is our hope.
 
This is how the Word spoke to me through Psalm 73:21-28.

Lord, my sorrow is evident and my grief is just below the surface.

I lash out in my pain and anger at those around me

And turn my back to You

But You remain faithful

You do not let me go

You speak your words of comfort and correction

My home will always be with You

Lord, what do I have but You?

Nothing I have is forever

Except You and your great love

My body will break down and I will pass from this earth

But I will always be with You

And You with me

Lord there are those who seek and embrace evil.

They are not of You, even though You call to them

But Lord You are my sanctuary, all I need

I will praise you with my life.

May the Word work in our hearts and minds today and everyday.
Amen