Loving God, let not me nor my words get in the way of what your Spirit has to say:
One of the loveliest and probably most challenging things about our faith is that it teaches not a distant God, but a God who comes really close to us, and becomes one of us. A God who in Jesus has a heartbeat.
A God who as a child must have cried, or fussed, or screamed, or – God forbid – when he hit two, threw temper tantrums. A God who perhaps, stained his lips with mulberries, or sat in awe of a bowl of pomegranate seeds, before spooning into the smile of his mouth. A God who as a child must have looked up at his father or mother for recognition and affirmation. To see and hear in them (as it was growing inside of him) glimpses and echoes of God.
A God who, from time to time, had fingertips stained with soot, and probably smelt of fire as this God, in Jesus the man, cooked breakfast for his friends on a beach.
Our faith paints a picture of God, who attends a wedding – not as a prude – but as one who must have contributed to the gladness and loudness of the day. A God who allowed people of all sorts to touch him – including women he was not related to. A God who let children climb up on him, like Zacchaeus in a tree.
A God, who in Jesus the man knew what it’s like to walk probably more often on dusty Palestinian earth than on water. A God, who in Jesus, is thoroughly acquainted with the ground – and falling to the ground. A God who weeps at the grave of his friend. A God who is not spared from dying an excruciating, disgraceful, humiliating, all too public death… A God who, on Resurrection Sunday, is mistaken to be the gardener – mistaken to be the boy.
Our faith teaches a God into whose arms we are able to fall; whose stories move us to laughter, to turning our lives and world around, to truth and tears. A God who will get God’s hands dirty as it were for love of us.
Our faith in Jesus never teaches a cold and clinical God; but one who is willing to be born not just among us, but as one of us.
Part of the story from the Book Genesis, read to us today, echoes this God who comes really close. Here our faith paints the picture of a God who, in the cool of an evening breeze, would walk to find us. And when God doesn’t find us, would call out – call out to us (Genesis 3:1-7).
In the gospel for today (Matthew 4:1-11), our faith paints a picture of God who in Jesus knows what it’s like to be tempted, not from a distance, but really up close and personal. A God who knows that when you are really, really hungry – famished in fact, everything will remind you of food. Stones begin to look like loaves of bread. A God who knows that in that moment of weakness we begin to doubt, or completely forget who we are.
But this Lent, let us remember who we are. For central to the story of our origins, found in the book Genesis is not the cunning serpent, not the mistake made by Eve or whoever; not shifting the blame; not even the tree in the centre of the garden. But central to the story is that whatever God makes – whatever God makes, it is not only good, but very good (Genesis 1:31). This includes you and me. God doesn’t make mistakes; what God makes is not only good, but very good. In our moments of weakness, we doubt or complete forget this Goodness; we forget it not only in others but also in ourselves. And we are tempted – even to put God to the test. And like the tempter in the gospel story, we begin to throw the ‘If’ word back at God.
If I’m your child, why’s life so hard?
If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
If you are a loving God, why all the catastrophes, the violence, the senseless loss of life?
I love how Jesus handles the tempter in the gospel story. We can learn from him.
The tempter throws scripture at Jesus, and Jesus replies using scripture.
In our own moments of weakness, when we are tempted to throw
’If’ words and lines back at God, let us learn this Lent, to rewrite those lines.
Use those moments of being tempted and tested to be drawn more deeply
One of the loveliest and probably most challenging things about our faith is that it teaches not a distant God, but a God who comes really close to us, and becomes one of us. A God who in Jesus has a heartbeat.
A God who as a child must have cried, or fussed, or screamed, or – God forbid – when he hit two, threw temper tantrums. A God who perhaps, stained his lips with mulberries, or sat in awe of a bowl of pomegranate seeds, before spooning into the smile of his mouth. A God who as a child must have looked up at his father or mother for recognition and affirmation. To see and hear in them (as it was growing inside of him) glimpses and echoes of God.
A God who, from time to time, had fingertips stained with soot, and probably smelt of fire as this God, in Jesus the man, cooked breakfast for his friends on a beach.
Our faith paints a picture of God, who attends a wedding – not as a prude – but as one who must have contributed to the gladness and loudness of the day. A God who allowed people of all sorts to touch him – including women he was not related to. A God who let children climb up on him, like Zacchaeus in a tree.
A God, who in Jesus the man knew what it’s like to walk probably more often on dusty Palestinian earth than on water. A God, who in Jesus, is thoroughly acquainted with the ground – and falling to the ground. A God who weeps at the grave of his friend. A God who is not spared from dying an excruciating, disgraceful, humiliating, all too public death… A God who, on Resurrection Sunday, is mistaken to be the gardener – mistaken to be the boy.
Our faith teaches a God into whose arms we are able to fall; whose stories move us to laughter, to turning our lives and world around, to truth and tears. A God who will get God’s hands dirty as it were for love of us.
Our faith in Jesus never teaches a cold and clinical God; but one who is willing to be born not just among us, but as one of us.
Part of the story from the Book Genesis, read to us today, echoes this God who comes really close. Here our faith paints the picture of a God who, in the cool of an evening breeze, would walk to find us. And when God doesn’t find us, would call out – call out to us (Genesis 3:1-7).
In the gospel for today (Matthew 4:1-11), our faith paints a picture of God who in Jesus knows what it’s like to be tempted, not from a distance, but really up close and personal. A God who knows that when you are really, really hungry – famished in fact, everything will remind you of food. Stones begin to look like loaves of bread. A God who knows that in that moment of weakness we begin to doubt, or completely forget who we are.
But this Lent, let us remember who we are. For central to the story of our origins, found in the book Genesis is not the cunning serpent, not the mistake made by Eve or whoever; not shifting the blame; not even the tree in the centre of the garden. But central to the story is that whatever God makes – whatever God makes, it is not only good, but very good (Genesis 1:31). This includes you and me. God doesn’t make mistakes; what God makes is not only good, but very good. In our moments of weakness, we doubt or complete forget this Goodness; we forget it not only in others but also in ourselves. And we are tempted – even to put God to the test. And like the tempter in the gospel story, we begin to throw the ‘If’ word back at God.
If I’m your child, why’s life so hard?
If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
If you are a loving God, why all the catastrophes, the violence, the senseless loss of life?
I love how Jesus handles the tempter in the gospel story. We can learn from him.
The tempter throws scripture at Jesus, and Jesus replies using scripture.
In our own moments of weakness, when we are tempted to throw
’If’ words and lines back at God, let us learn this Lent, to rewrite those lines.
Use those moments of being tempted and tested to be drawn more deeply
into the Temple of God
The deepest truth is this:
The deepest truth is this:
It is never ‘If I’m a child of God’
You are God’s child! That is the truth.
You are God’s child! That is the truth.
That is what the tempter wants you to doubt.
You are God’s child.
And that is how every line must begin…
Here’s an example: If I’m your child, then why’s my life so hard?
Rewrite: I am your child. My life is hard. So too was Jesus’ life. But with effort and renewed heart, together we will see it through.
Another example: If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
Rewrite: I am your child. Thank you for doing many things beyond what I can grasp or understand. Thank you that in Jesus, you become small enough to hold not just my heart, not just my dreams, but also my hand.
With effort and practice you’ll begin to see
God’s wonders right there in the wild and your bewilderedness.
You’ll feel again the heartbeat beneath what’s caked-over, calloused and hard.
And you’ll come to experience nothing less than the touch of angels, the touch of God in your deepest time of need…
Be patient with yourself and others as you learn to rewrite your ‘If’ words, lines and scripts. It took Jesus a long time to get to that point. Be excessively kind and gentle with others and with yourself on this Journey. It doesn’t happen overnight.
You are God’s child.
And that is how every line must begin…
Here’s an example: If I’m your child, then why’s my life so hard?
Rewrite: I am your child. My life is hard. So too was Jesus’ life. But with effort and renewed heart, together we will see it through.
Another example: If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
Rewrite: I am your child. Thank you for doing many things beyond what I can grasp or understand. Thank you that in Jesus, you become small enough to hold not just my heart, not just my dreams, but also my hand.
With effort and practice you’ll begin to see
God’s wonders right there in the wild and your bewilderedness.
You’ll feel again the heartbeat beneath what’s caked-over, calloused and hard.
And you’ll come to experience nothing less than the touch of angels, the touch of God in your deepest time of need…
Be patient with yourself and others as you learn to rewrite your ‘If’ words, lines and scripts. It took Jesus a long time to get to that point. Be excessively kind and gentle with others and with yourself on this Journey. It doesn’t happen overnight.
Remember what our faith teaches about God. How God comes to us in the person of Jesus. A God who in Jesus is big enough to become small enough. A God that is not distant, but closer to you than your own thoughts and breath.
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