Monday Morning Music Ministry

3-31-13

Many of the new games that absorb young people worldwide – virtually obsessing them – are role-playing games. Video games, “gaming,” computer games, hand-held games, are largely dependent upon tech innovations and New Media. (That’s me, back there, in the dust.) The designs enable players to choose identities and play roles, and engage in “what if” scenarios.

When I worked for Marvel and for Disney, and otherwise wrote fiction, the goal generally was to focus on one character, develop a personality for him/her, and define a clear narrative path, with beginning, middle, and end. Today the computer gamers deal in bifurcation of heroes’ personalities and narrative options (or quadfurcation – yes, that’s a word – or further dispersal of story elements… what if’s… alternate realities).

My son-in-law is a computer-game programmer. As I said, part of my background is in comics and superheroes. When we get together, we usually talk about… the grandkids and the weather. Ha! Superficially similar, the new, popular adventure media are worlds apart from the… “old.”

However, I got to thinking recently about the Easter story in a new way. Through the prism of “role-playing.” Can we imagine ourselves as some of the principal players? What we would have done? How we would have reacted?

For instance: Judas and Peter. Two Disciples. Close friends for more than three years, the glue of their association was the mysterious and wondrous person named Jesus. They both gave up everything to follow Him. They listened to His wisdom, even when they did not always fully comprehend. They saw incredible acts of kindness, and devotion. They witnessed astonishing miracles.

When crunch time came, however, they were traitors. All the Disciples scattered like autumn leaves on a windy street when persecution began, but Judas and Peter were different. Judas betrayed Jesus to the Sanhedrin, the sure first-step to arrest by the Romans. He did it for money, like spies who betray their country. Peter betrayed Jesus by denying he even knew him – three times, not once.

Let’s role-play. Would you have done the same things? We can say “no” quickly… but remember, even Peter said he could never do such a thing when Jesus predicted it only hours previous! Which is worse in this exercise – “fingering” Jesus, or claiming to have nothing to do with Him? Remember also that Jesus, knowing all, told Judas to go and do his dirty work, in effect. Jesus knew everybody’s roles in advance, even if they did not.

The real role-playing challenge – and the lesson that waits for us – is the next level of their games. Both men were mortified, overwhelmed with guilt. Judas threw away his bribe money, and hanged himself. Peter cried for forgiveness, and soon renewed his devotion to the Messiah. In fact, I identify with the “early” Peter because he was always the impulsive and sometimes reckless Disciple, even to the Upper Room, after Resurrection and Ascension, till the Day of Pentecost. But when he waited upon the Holy Spirit, wisdom came upon him, and Peter became one of the great and effective Apostles.

We sin every day; that is, the rules of the game don’t vary: we all fall short of the glory of God. But the next level is amazing – we can choose incredibly different paths. We can remain in sin, or be so remorseful that we cripple ourselves. And, frankly, disappoint God all over again. A constantly repeating game, unhappy ending. OR we can confess our sins, ask forgiveness, proclaim devotion to the Savior, and dedicate ourselves to Him. Not just needing, but wanting, to serve others in His name.

Judas or Peter? Whose game will you play?

And let us not forget the “2.0” version of this game – which, of course, is not a game, in that our response must be deadly earnest and has tremendous consequences.

But Jesus played a role, too. He fulfilled all the elements of myriad prophecies – chapter 53 of Isaiah, alone, reads like a news account of the crucifixion in every detail… except it was written 600 years before the events! – and played them perfectly.

He role-played on the cross, too. He took the role of you. And me. We chose separation from God by our transgressions. We deserve punishments for our sins. We do not deserve to live with God in Glory; we fall short. But Jesus played a Holy game. He said to the Father, “In this story of eternal justice, I will play the role of…” and insert your name. Or my name, or anyone you can imagine. In fact, you can name people of His day, of our day, of people yet unborn; people who are sinners, even people who despise the name of Jesus.

He came to take your place in that great game of life. When He died, the rules were adjusted. When we accept Jesus as God’s own, and that His sacrifice, the shed blood, served just the purpose He stated, God no longer sees us – that is, our imperfect hearts – when He looks at us. He sees Jesus.

Rate that Holy Game “E” for Everyone.

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Click: He’s Alive!

3-29-13

We listen to Handel’s oratorio “Messiah” at Christmastime (even though the piece is about Christ from ancient prophecy through His Passion and Ascension to Heaven, and therefore is appropriate at any time of year). Less often do we listen to Bach’s “Christmas Oratorio’; a shame, because it is stunningly grand and inspiring.

Perhaps the facility of arranging background music when the Yule Log burns, or when trees are decorated, assists the popularity of “Messiah.” I suggest that ANY excuse is appropriate to listen to the two Passions of Johann Sebastian Bach – the St Matthew and the St John.

I will suggest, and provide a link here, to the more modest (shorter) and unjustly obscure “Easter Oratorio” of Bach. But it is beautiful, moving, and masterful in its presentation of music, harmony, lush instrumentation, choral and solo movements. This version features original instruments, sometimes unfamiliar but fascinating to our ears, in the setting of a Baroque-period church.

Originally written by Bach as a cantata for Easter Sunday, it is appropriately festive, because it begins with the empty tomb – its first title was “Come, Hasten, and Run!” In other words, share the news that Christ has risen! Mary, after all, was the first evangelist of them all, spreading the good news.

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

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Click: Bach’s Easter Oratorio

3-25-13

“Life is cheap” is a saying that gets bandied about, usually referring to the horrors of war or the cruelties of peace; that is, social injustice. The term has increasing, not diminishing, application – widespread abortion; the terrible euphemism of “mercy killings” of the elderly; child and spousal abuse; human trafficking. “Life is cheaper” should be the slogan of our time.

My wife, in her last months, saw the early effects of the Affordable Care Act, and concluded that the new law, in its name, manifested neither. Already, the government is mandating that fewer conditions be addressed with less frequency, and at lower rates of compensation. “There won’t be ‘Death Panels,’” she would say, “at least they won’t call them that.” Life is cheaper and cheaper.

Perhaps in a culture that increasingly is “throw-away” it is harder to appreciate the sacrifice that believers commemorate this week. I wonder how many non-believers – even in the midst of a nominally Christian society – ask, “Jesus died. But we all have to die.” Or, “Tortured and crucified. But so were other people, criminals on each side of Him, and multiple thousands through the Roman empire.” Big deal? Life is cheap, right?

If you ever are tempted to think these things, you simply must remember the facts.

Jesus was perfect, sinless, did not deserve His earthly fate. Surely one’s sense of justice must rebel.

Jesus’ suffering and death had been foretold by many prophets, centuries previous, down to the most minute details. This was more than “a” death.

God Himself foretold the efficacy of Jesus’ sacrificial death by first establishing a plan of blood sacrifices, vows of repentance, and atonements for the sins we inevitably commit.

When humankind could be convinced that it was unable to approach God because our natures are inadequate to obey commandments and fulfill such cleansing rituals, the Father fully instituted the plan that had been prophesied.

“Life is cheap”? God did not think so; He does not think so. He could have exploded galaxies to show His power. He could have sacrificed, say, all the sheep on the planet in one moment, to take the ritual the Nth degree. Or any spectacular, supernatural display. And show His children the fully realized plan of salvation. But it was time for the Plan, and there was, or is, no Plan B. Even while we were yet sinners, He took the form of a human being. That aspect of His Being would become obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.

Life is cheap? No, life is precious.

Two thousand years later, there still is no Plan B. No other sacrifice, not our own works, no other savior. No more merciful plan… for us. God is Holy, and we cannot, in justice, approach Him. However, by just believing that Jesus is the Son of God, and confessing it, we in effect accept the blood shed on the cross’s altar. As with the sacrificial lambs of earlier times, His blood cleanses us – NOW we understand it all! As the blood on the door frames in Egyptian bondage made the Angel of Death pass over, we are free from eternal death – NOW we understand it all! As Abraham was asked by God to show himself willing to accede to the crazy request to sacrifice his son; although his hand was held back – NOW we understand it all!

We fast-forward 2000 years. In some families, babies are aborted; in some neighborhoods, children are abused; in some towns, little boys and girls are abandoned. Is life cheap? But in some families, miscarriages are grieved; in some neighborhoods, children happily are adopted; in some towns, boys and girls are rescued. Is life precious? For many people, yes. For God, always.

When God chose the Plan of Salvation, He was telling humankind that He was sending the most tender message He could imagine – the importance, the grief, the identification – that God could share with His children. He understands. And now we, too, understand it all.

Do you know what it’s like to lose a child?

God does.

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The amazing J J Heller has written a song with the line “Sometimes I don’t know what You’re doing, But I know who You are.” A song about life, and loss, and romance, and love, and hope; a seemingly secular setting, but a very spiritual message. The same thing, precisely, can be said about Good Friday upcoming. Be blessed.

Click: Who You Are

3-18-13

St Patrick’s Day has assumed an important part in my life, my faith life, in recent years. And I find myself for a week or so afterwards thinking about meanings and issues surrounding the person and the work of St Patrick. This year I invite us all to do that.

I am not Irish; I am American. And my background is not at all Irish; it is German. Propelled, I am eager to admit, by a remarkable book, “How the Irish Saved Civilization,” by Thomas Cahill, I have learned about a gifted people who, not unlike other ethnic groups, endured persecution through generations; and learned about a land that was repository of many tribes, not least the Celts, until its craggy Atlantic coast became the last European stand against pagan barbarism. Those tribes became a people, and their land virtually became, for quite a while, the secret refuge of literacy and faith, in lonely monasteries and libraries.

I will also admit that my main interest in things Irish was principally fed by my daughter Emily’s missions trips there. She had a heart for Northern Ireland, rather the border of north and south. She served in the city of Londonderry (or Derry, depending on one’s prejudice); she returned for a longer time, ministering to street kids in the fabled neighborhoods of the “Troubles,” where things have improved, but violence still occurs – somehow less on American news shows, however. American “journalism” has moved to other bloody areas around the world.

Emily met Norman McCorkell at church. They fell in love. They married. They attended Irish Bible Institute together. They have gifted me with two grandchildren. So I am rather more emotionally invested in things Irish than I previously was. But something near my home in Michigan taught me more about old St Patrick’s mission, and new Ireland’s troubles, than my visits and conversations have done.

There is an “Irish Shop” a few towns away from me, where imported items are sold, and which offers annual tours to the Ould Sod. The American-born woman who operates the shop with her husband always seemed to appreciate our visits, and, like my wife, was a kidney transplant recipient, so there was never a shortage of conversation. We told her about Emily; how the ministry was scrupulous about being “Christian,” not Protestant or Catholic in its outreach, about the many dangers of the neighborhoods they entered with hot coffee and warm words.

One time we entered the shop, and by way of introduction – for she must have many customers – I said, “we’re the couple with the daughter who works with the street kids of Derry.” She remembered us: she said, matter-of-factly, “Oh, yes. Teaching the Protestant kids to hate Catholics.” No tongue-in-cheek. She was not kidding. Automatic reaction.

That remark, that attitude, taught me anew the lingering power of hate. It is never new, sadly, yet we all need to be reminded, if we are to attempt resistance. Two weeks ago in Derry a mortar-filled van was discovered and defused minutes before exploding. It would have caused history-making devastation. I was reminded that if people had been killed, perhaps Emily and her family, there are other people who would not a shed a tear. And, of course, the other-side around, too.

St Patrick knew persecution. There understandably is some obscurity about a man who lived in the late 400s, but two letters he wrote survive; there are records of his deeds; tremendous influences surely attributable to him are still felt; and he did die on March 17. These things, and more, we do know.

He was born in western England and kidnapped by Irish when he was a teenager. As a slave he worked as a shepherd, during which time his faith in God grew, where others might have turned despondent. He escaped to Britain, became learned in the Christian faith, and felt called to return to Ireland. On that soil he converted thousands, he encouraged men and women to serve in the clergy, he worked against slavery, and quashed paganism and heresies. Among his surviving colorful lessons is using the shamrock to explain the mystery of the Trinity, the Triune God, to converts.

He was an on-the-ground evangelist – possibly the church’s first great evangelist/missionary since St Paul – and he preceded much of history: living more than a hundred years prior to Mohammed; 500 years before Christianity split into Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy; and a thousand years before the Reformation.

No labels – except the gospel and love. The gospel AS love. He preached reconciliation before the issues arose that we think are irreconcilable. But nothing is impossible with God.

This week I am lifting up three friends, especially, in prayer. Somehow their challenges all relate, in the eyes of my heart, to the mission of that brave apostle of God from so long ago.

One friend faces serious health issues, and has been nervous about approaching God. Patrick taught that God can become our breastplate, our shield, as well as our dignity. He takes those things upon Himself.

Another friend lost her husband four years ago, and their anniversary was St Patrick’s Day. Her wounds sometimes still seem fresh. It is a gift as well as a magnificent burden to have a tender heart. St Patrick taught that God offers to BE our heart, and our vision, in all matters of life.

Another friend is ministering to her precious daughter through a crisis. I don’t know the details, but when Christians ask for prayer, we don’t have to know the details; God knows. St Patrick taught that God does not only gift us with wisdom: He IS our wisdom. He not only bestows spiritual treasures: He IS our treasure.

“St Patrick’s Breastplate” is a prayer that has comforted uncountable people for 1500 years. Another ancient Celtic hymn, “Be Thou My Vision,” incorporates the words I have just quoted. We can draw inspiration… if we choose to listen. Reconciliation, healing, love, and peace are still pummeled by life’s waves of indifference and hatred.

But, for those who will not listen, St Patrick reminded us that God offers to be our ears, too.

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For more than a millennium the hymn, set to a haunting tune and using St Patrick’s teaching, has spoken to the hearts of believers and non-believers. At its essence is a plea for what is already true: that God is our All-In-All.

Click: Be Thou My Vision

3-11-13

This is the Christian story: The Lord of the universe was pleased to create the earth and populate it with human beings. An aspect of His love was to imbue His children with free will, which no mortal has ever failed to use toward rebellion and sin. God delivered laws and commands to His Chosen People, called so because in His plan, when the Law would be recognized as insufficient for a rebellious humanity to be reconciled to Him; that from them, a Messiah would arise who would provide the means of that salvation.

These basics are widely known, even if non-Christians shrug their mental shoulders; even if Christians cease to be in awe of God’s plan, even taking for granted their astonishing inheritance. It has been calculated that the odds of all the Old Testament prophecies fulfilled in the birth, life, locations, miracles, and other circumstances surrounding Jesus (most not disputed, even by enemies of His and His disciples at the time) exceed a hundred million to one.

I sometimes wonder, given all this, why the Christian population of the world is approximately 3-billion; more than one-third of humanity. History, threads of religious traditions, logic, the personal testimonies of those who lives have been supernaturally touched – I wonder why 95 per cent of people do not claim Christ.

An answer has come to me. A very 21st-century outlook might be a matter of packaging, or “branding.” Just as, to me, the upcoming end of Lent will feature too much Bunny and not enough Easter, it might be that the church insufficiently communicates the reality of Holy Week as we look ahead.

Most of us know the stories, and the pictures, of Jesus humbly entering Jerusalem on a donkey, amidst adoring crowds. We know He was falsely accused; He was betrayed by one follower, and denied by another; He was chased down and arrested; He was tortured and abused; He was humiliated perhaps as no man ever has been; He died on a rough cross between two criminals; He was carried to a borrowed tomb; on the third day He rose, conquering sin and death.

As scripture prophesied, He was led like a lamb to slaughter.

But can it be that we place too much of our attention on His submission? Jesus could have called down ten thousand angels to lift Him from the cross, to strike His accusers dumb, to spare Himself the pain, humiliation, and (worst, in my book) the abandonment of His friends and disciples.

We must understand that Jesus was born to die. And to overcome death. He knew the Father’s plan to become the sacrificial lamb, to take the sins of the world – our sins, through history to you and me – upon Himself. From the wrath of God, everything we deserve for our rejection and rebellion, He spares us.

So in this view, I have another image. I know it is VIRTUAL, not the way the Bible describes it. Nevertheless it is true. I ask you to see Jesus, not ambling on a donkey into Jerusalem, but galloping full speed. I remind you that Jesus, at the Passover seder, did not stop Judas from ratting Him out, but hurried him on his way. I suggest to you that Jesus, silent before accusers in the temple and before Pontius Pilate, was virtually shouting, “Come on! Do your worst!” That, until He collapsed, a Man of sorrows and a man painfully bleeding, on the via Dolorosa, He carried His cross as if to say, “Let’s do this! For this I came to earth!”

… and that, instead of being stretched and nailed to a cross, it is spiritually the case that Jesus virtually scrambled up that cross. For us. “Forgive them; they know not what they do.” But Jesus knew what He was doing, and despite the portion of humanity with which we can identify (“if it be possible, let this cup pass…”) He was there for us. He was there. For us.

And then, looking forward to what we call Easter Sunday, we read the accounts of the risen Jesus appearing quietly to Mary, to pedestrians on the road, to His old disciples, to many hundreds of others – accounts recorded by the Jewish historian of the era, Josephus, and by the historians Origen and Eusebius. He quietly appeared and witnessed to people. But let us realize that Jesus metaphorically burst forth from that tomb. In that sense he ran out, shouting to everybody, “I’m Alive!!!” In words of Anthony Burger’s little son, ad libbing in a Sunday School pageant, “Here I come, ready or not!”

Then, and now, Jesus runs up to every person and says, “I live so that you may live also! Believe on me, and you shall have life for eternity!”

Let us return from the virtual and metaphorical. These truths, no matter what the details of their playing out, cannot leave us unchanged. We can make the life-changing decision to ignore Him, or the life-changing decision to accept Him. There simply is no middle ground.

If we see Jesus in this different way – that He was Savior not just willing to die for our sins, but EAGER, such is God’s love for us, and that He excitedly confronts us daily – then we might see Lent in another light. And the rest of the year. And the Lord Himself. And the condition of our souls.

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Humanity’s response to God’s plan, and the sacrifice of His Son so that we might be reconciled by the acceptance of Jesus’ substitutionary death, has taken myriad forms through the centuries. Indifference, sadly; to revelation about the availability of a personal relationship with our Savior; to expressions in art and music. The awesome mystery of this salvation plan often is met by the question, “Why Me, Lord?” We know the answer is “Because I love you,” yet our souls scarcely can comprehend the enormity of God’s love. A contemporary song is Kris Kristofferson’s classic plaint, “Why Me, Lord?” Here he explains to some friends how he came to write it, after he had a life-changing experience.

Click: Why Me, Lord?

3-4-13

A friend of mine posted a note this week: “I just received a phone call from a friend asking for prayer for another friend whose daughter is likely caught in a human trafficking ring… We must know that it is around us! It can happen to any of our families. Please keep spreading the word and educating our kids and teens in preventive measures.”

My friend, Cheryl Hults Meakins, is doing great and necessary work, currently as Chair for Ministries of Compassion, Mercy, and Justice for the Women Ministries of the Evangelical Covenant Church’s Midwest Conference. Important work that inspires me when I hear of it. And so many others. I admire the work that people do to serve others.

… and then I stop and grieve, sometimes, because I realize that entire professions exist because the need is so great. Servant-hearts are at work because there is so much sorrow and heartache and pain and abuse and hurt and despair – so much hatred, so much sin – in our midst. Counselors and ministers do all they can, responding (in effect) to the laws of supply and demand. What a cursed world.

Human trafficking is not new. Neither is it rare in the world… nor in America. Abuse of all sorts is common. And it is an equal-opportunity offender, of children and the elderly, of women and men. Abuse at its base is a demand for power, manifested in hatred, and therefore is basically a spiritual fight. And that requires spirituals answers! Jobs and education cannot cure what the prince of darkness incubates. Only the love of Christ can cure what ails humankind.

It is then no surprise that good people, everywhere, suffer for their faith, more and more of them tortured and slaughtered. For Christians, in greater numbers now than at any time in history; more, proportionally, than in the time of Roman emperors.

I realize I am writing as if I think I am interrupting some program with breaking news. But I know the chances are that among those who read this, a vast number of you will be thinking: “I heard about ‘this’ down the street’; or “I have a relative who experienced ‘that’”; or… “I know about these things. They happened to me.”

It can seem like a cliché – or perhaps a hopeless sentiment – to ask whether we all can’t give up hating, for Lent.

But couldn’t we all try to give up indifference to hatred, even only occasionally?

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A link to resources and programs of Cheryl’s ministry can be found through her personal website www.MeakinsSpeak.com and at www.covchurch.org/what-we-do/mercy-justice. I commend the music video here linked, “Which Way To Pray,” sung by T. Graham Brown to a group of friends. Touching words about dirty little secrets in our midst. You know, I believe that sometimes we can have such open minds that our brains fall out. Not a good thing. However, the same is not true of our hearts! We can never be too open-hearted, too compassionate, too moved not to respond to the hurting amongst us.

Click: Which Way To Pray