There was a time when I thought it was selfish and improper to pray for a blessing on myself. I should pray for others. I should put others first. God would bless as it was deemed appropriate.
I can thank Bruce Wilkerson’s book The Prayer of Jabez for changing my mind about that. Not that I’ve read the (little) book. I never did. I didn’t need to. It was once quite popular — a Christian fad during 2001 and several years after. I used to hear about the book continually. People would quote from it, and summarize it, and refer to it. Other people denounced the book and it’s sudden popularity. Since then the whole phenomenon has been largely forgotten.
Anyway, back then, I got curious. So, I looked up the actual prayer of Jabez in the Bible. It’s in 1 Chronicles.
Ash Wednesday services are important to me — when I can attend. Sometimes, since my retirement, I’ve had to kind of search around for a nearby church that was holding such a service — this is not generally advertised on the church signs or on the church web sites.
I feel like something is missing if Ash Wednesday isn’t part of my Lent. But, I haven’t always felt that way about it. I think the Weidman United Methodist Church was the first church I served that insisted on having a “real” Ash Wednesday Service — I mean with ashes and all.
Prior to that time, Ash Wednesday had never been a big deal for me. I don’t remember attending an Ash Wednesday service as a child or as a young adult. I was brought into the faith more in the revivalistic & holiness tradition than in the liturgical tradition. I was taught to scorn “empty ritual.” So, a tradition like Ash Wednesday would mean little to me. What’s the point? And ritual and form were always suspect.
Furthermore, Ash Wednesday doesn’t even commemorate anything in the Bible or the life of Christ. It only marks the beginning of Lent, which is a season in the Church Year. So, from that point of view, it was a little hard to even connect with it.
Many of the churches that I served in the early part of my pastoral career didn’t seem to care about Ash Wednesday any more than I did. I vaguely recall one pastoral charge where we held Ash Wednesday services. But, it was a preaching service: no ashes. I think we had communion.
However, being in the ministry did acquaint me with the Church Year, which can be a helpful way of presenting the different aspects of the faith, through preaching and through worship. So, I became accustomed to the season of Lent. And, when the Weidman Church said they had Ash Wednesday services, I said fine. And, do you have the imposition of ashes during the service? Yes, they said. We do. Oh, I see. I hadn’t done that before.
A colleague in the area gave some ashes to use — from palms she had burned the previous year. She had plenty. And, so we had a real Ash Wednesday Service. It was nothing new to the people who came to the service. But, it was something new to me!
I followed the directions in one of the official United Methodist worship books. It said this was not a communion service. That was a surprise — but I could see the reasoning behind what they were saying. I followed the liturgy in the book and the directions they gave. I preached on one of the Ash Wednesday texts (in the lectionary, they are always the same, every year).
Then came the Imposition of Ashes. It was actually the first time I had ever been to a service where this happened. And, stranger than that, I was the one conducting this service. It felt strange to me. It was like the complete opposite of offering Holy Communion. Offering communion has always felt to me like offering life and salvation and hope. But, now I was offering death.
“Dust you are, and to dust you shall return.”
Mortality. It’s something we rarely think about. It something most of us don’t want to think about. But, it’s true: we are all going to die. Our time on earth is brief.
At first it felt strange to be doing this. In fact, at first, I didn’t want to do it. Yet, as I did, I found the reminder of mortality strangely comforting — and bonding. I had spent far too long ignoring the fact of death. There is a strange comfort that comes from remembering we are dust.
Several years ago, I read these thoughts from an Episcopal priest named Donald Schell. (I believe this is no longer on the Internet.) In writing about his experience of Lent, and he says:
Later one Ash Wednesday, as I was nearing forty, I had another small breakthrough. That morning of marking each person’s forehead with ashes and saying the Prayer Book’s words, ‘Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return,’ I felt God’s mercy in those stark words and a wave of tenderness for our fragile humanity. l was blessing the finitude of people God loved beyond measure. I’ve looked forward to Ash Wednesday ever since.
Though all Lent after I first learned that it was a mercy to remember we are dust, I thought and prayed into this sense that our mortality wasn’t only tragic. I couldn’t explain just how our God-given finitude (including our boundaries of birth and death) was a gracious gift, but since then, I’ve always heard “remember you are dust,” as genuine Good News.
I guess you either know what he’s talking about — or not. I do.
One year after the Ash Wednesday service in Weidman, Robin and I had to stop at the store. We forgot the sign of the cross was still on our foreheads in ashes. And, it was a pleasant experience. At the store, we saw other people whose foreheads were also marked by the sign of the cross. And, we felt a bond with them. So, now, when I know it’s Ash Wednesday — and I don’t have any other commitments for that day — I want to find a church that has a “real” Ash Wednesday service.
I do it to join with others in the community of faith. I do it to remind myself that I am dust, and to dust I shall return.
“Even now,’ declares the LORD, return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning. Rend your hearts and not Your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.”
— Joel 2:12, 13
The season of Lent begins this week on Wednesday. It is Ash Wednesday that begins the season of the Church Year called Lent.
Historically, the season of Lent is one of the most important seasons of the church year. The season of Lent moves toward Holy Week: the time when we remember the crucifixion. Lent looks toward the Cross — and then beyond it to the miracle of Easter and the resurrection of Jesus. Ash Wednesday arrives this week: Wednesday March 5. The history of the season of Lent is interesting for us today. Though we do not celebrate it as people did in the past, a look at the history of Lent can give meaning to this season of the Church year.
I know that my perspective is shaped by the experiences I’ve been through. It’s true for everyone. In order to understand where someone is (as we say) “coming from” you need to understand the shaping influences in their life.
I think I’m a real Methodist “throwback” and I’m actually rather glad about it. My early experiences in the faith included Revival meetings and Camp Meeting and Prayer Groups and Evening Worship Services and Midweek Prayer Meetings, etc. They were all aids to discipleship. They were important at the time. And, unlike many who are now deconstructing their faith (no criticism intended), and am abidingly thankful for the influence they had one me.
Revivalism was a very important part of my early Christian experience. So, as a result, there is a special place in my heart for the Camp-meeting and revival meetings. The formative Christian experiences of my adolescence were closely related to these experiences.
I know a lot of people feel differently about it. I have heard some appalling stories; I’m not minimizing other people’s experiences at all. But, my experience was different. I’m eternally grateful to the people who first conveyed the Gospel of Christ to me.
Over time, I’ve drifted away a from the Camp-meeting. While our family lived in the Boyne City area, I was president of the local Camp-meeting Association for a brief time. But, by and large, since entering the pastoral ministry, I have not attended camp-meeting in the summer. And, yes, I used to feel that something was missing. Now (sad to say) I’ve just gotten used to it.
Now, let me be clear. I’m not talking about church camp. That’s a wonderful thing, too, but I never knew about that until I was an adult — and was asked to serve as a camp counselor. Sad to say, I don’t think that as a child or a teen anyone could have successfully even dragged me to church camp.
As a child, I was lost in the church. I was sent to Sunday school. Later, I was sent to confirmation class. I was sent to youth meetings. I was confirmed in the Congregational (U.C.C.) church.
In my estimation, the Church had nothing to offer. It seemed to be a sterile and pointless institution. It seemed like an organization of people engaged in the pitiful attempt to hold on to the forms, symbols and rituals of a faith they no longer (and perhaps had never) believed. They sought to make relevant a Book whose acknowledged mistakes, distortions and falsehoods made it an unlikely source of authority. An unfair accusation? No doubt. Maybe I shouldn’t have “written off’” the Church so quickly. But, please remember that the worst thing we can do to the Gospel is to make it look false, empty, boring and irrelevant to daily life. I haven’t forgotten that the “liberal church” never conveyed the Gospel of God’s love and grace and forgiveness to me.
So camp-meeting hit me pretty hard. There I heard some fiery and enthusiastic evangelistic preaching. Evangelists there spoke of a Gospel that was genuinely related to the struggles of my life. These people really seemed to believe that the Bible’s message was true. It was there I heard how faith in Jesus Christ related to personal guilt, decision-making, and daily life. There I heard about a real God with a genuine love for all people. My attention was now directed to the power, truth and relevancy of the very Book my Sunday school teachers had found embarrassing. I was told that Jesus Christ could change my life and give me a reason to live. I needed that.
In fear and trembling, I responded to the invitation. The pastor of the Methodist church our family had been attending made his way forward to pray with me. It was a step I have never since regretted.
Time has passed. Much has happened since those days. My outlook has changed in many ways. But, what the evangelist at camp-meeting told me was true. There is a God of love. There is a revelation from God. By faith in Christ, there is a life of peace, hope and love. I’m glad someone told me that.
Are camp-meetings (and revival meetings) an anachronism? It certainly appears so! They were a great evangelistic strategy of nineteenth century frontier revivalism. They were once the heart and soul of American Methodism. When the original camp meetings began to fall on hard times, the Holiness movement hit upon them as a strategy for spreading the message of Perfect Love.
But, many of the great camp-meetings are no longer in existence. Some of those that still remain have an uncertain future.
But — here’s my real gripe — what has taken their place? Where now is the point of entry for people like me who were lost in Church? Where now are we gathering together to call people to new commitments & into a deeper life of faith?
Yes, some camp-meetings still survive (as noted above). Yes, there have been other movements like the Lay Witness Mission or The Walk to Emmaus and so forth. These have fallen on hard times, too. But, I wonder if we are really doing all we should to help people find reality, strength, and spiritual depth in their faith.
I have not forgotten the debt I owe to those who told me the story of God’s love in Jesus Christ. It is because of the truth, power and relevancy of that message that I continue to remember these experiences with gratitude.
Long ago someone preached a message of hope and faith to me. I’d like to do that same favor for others.
The story of Jesus’ transfiguration dovetails with a persistent theme in all the Gospels: Jesus’ prayer life.
The Gospels let us know that Jesus often sought out times and places for private prayer. In this, Jesus stands out from the other Biblical characters. Yes, other Biblical characters are portrayed as people of prayer — Moses, Elijah, and others — but no one more than Jesus. This runs contrary to a naive theology: as the Son of God, it seems as if Jesus would be the least in need of prayer and solitude, and the other Bible characters, being mere mortals, the most. And, maybe they were. But, Jesus was the one who sought out the place of prayer the most.
Here is the fountainhead of all subsequent teaching on the life of prayer in the various Christian traditions — the prayer life of Jesus.
“Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” (NRSV.)
It was while he was praying that “the appearance of his face changed” (τὸ εἶδος τοῦ προσώπου αὐτοῦ ἕτερον). In Exodus 34:29-35, we are told the story of Moses coming down from the Mount with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand and it says: “Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.” (Exodus 34:29 NRSV.) This is a similar case.
I can’t state it better than H. D. M. Spence did, as he waxed eloquent in the old Pulpit Commentary:
“The marvellous change evidently passed over Jesus while he was in prayer, probably because of his intense prayer. Real, close communion with God ever imparts to the countenance of the one who has thus entered into communion with the High and Holy One, a new and strange beauty. Very many have noticed at times this peculiar and lovely change pass over the faces of God’s true saints as they prayed — faces perhaps old and withered, grey with years and wrinkled with care. A yet higher degree of transfiguration through communion with God is recorded in the case of Moses, whose face, after he had been with his God-Friend on the mount, shone with so bright a glory that mortal eye could not bear to gaze on it until the radiance began to fade away. A similar change is recorded to have taken place in the case of Stephen when he pleaded his Divine Master’s cause in the Sanhedrin hall at Jerusalem with such rapt eloquence that to the by-standers his face then, we read, “was as the face of an angel.” Stephen told his audience later on, in the course of that earnest and impassioned pleading, that to him the very heavens were opened, and that his eyes were positively gazing on the beatific vision. Yet a step higher still was this transfiguration of our Lord. St. Luke tells us simply that, ‘as he prayed, the fashion of his countenance was altered.’”
Jesus appears transfigured before them. Christ appears now in his true glory. Christ appears now in his end-of-time glory. This story is quite different than the resurrection stories — for there Jesus’ ordinariness is emphasized: he is mistaken for the gardener, he meets with the two disciples traveling to Emmaus as a conversation partner — only to be recognized for who he is in the breaking of the bread. And so forth. The resurrection Jesus is not an overwhelming presence. But, the transfiguration Jesus is: his clothes are dazzling white.
Jesus is here identified with the Shekinah glory of God. This kind of thing brought later generations of Christians to speak of Christ as: “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God….” (The Nicene Creed.)
And, with Jesus — talking to him actually — are Moses and Elijah. They represent the Law and the Prophets. Moses and Elijah are talking to Jesus about his “departure” (ἔξοδον = exodus). They are talking to him about the events of the Cross, and resurrection, and ascension (“They… were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.“) Jesus’ mission is spoken of here in terms of his giving of himself to redeem humankind.
The implicit claim here is that everything in the religious traditions of Israel are now culminating in Jesus’ death and resurrection. For us, this points to a progressive unity of the Old and New Testaments. As Jesus says in the Gospel of Matthew he comes not to abolish the law and the prophets but to fulfill them (Matthew 5:17). Faith in Christ challenges us to see the Bible record as a progressive but continuous story, culminating with the account of Jesus Christ.
“Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” — not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud.” (NRSV.)
The text implies: they almost slept through it! They were tired, but they saw it all since they had (as it happened) remained awake.
An old and unanswerable question here is: how did Peter know these were Moses and Elijah? I’ll leave you to speculate on that one….
But, it is clear that Peter is overwhelmed by this experience. Luke lets us know that he blurts out something stupid: “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings….” Then the cloud overshadowed them. Remember: clouds are often associated with the visible glory of God throughout the Bible. So, this is the Shekinah (שְׁכִינָה) glory of God, and they are terrified (ἐφοβήθησαν) as they enter it. While this is a form of the common verb for “fear” (φοβέω) — the verb is sometimes used to mean “reverent fear” (Mark 6:20; Luke 1:50; Acts 10:2; Ephesians 5:33; Revelation 11:18).
This, of course, is the quintessential Mountain Top Experience — a term preachers love to use. Notice: it was not sought. They were tired, but it so happened they were awake enough to experience this. And: it is not an end in itself. It is designed to impress them with the revelation of God in Christ — and their need to heed it.
“Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.” (NRSV.)
Christ’s voice is the voice they must heed above all. As Christians we come to understand the preparatory messages of the Law and the Prophets in the light of what God has done and said through Christ. Christ is the key. We interpret all that has come before in the light of Christ.
The whole point of this overwhelming encounter is to cement in their minds the need to heed Jesus Christ. “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” True discipleship is more than a mountaintop experience — it is a day to day following after Christ — giving heed to his example and teaching.
John Nolland remarks in the Word Biblical Commentary:
It is not possible—and it is not right — to freeze this moment of glory. The aftermath of the voice speaks as eloquently as had the voice itself. The moment of glory has vanished. Jesus is alone. The mountaintop experience has passed and what remains is the way of the cross as the way to permanence of glory. They have seen the glory that by right belongs to Jesus, but it belongs to him the other side of death and resurrection.
The Revised Common Lectionary gives preachers the option to include Luke 9:37-43. This is the story of Jesus delivering a demonized boy — after the disciples could not help. The contrast is sharp, and this has led to the common rhetoric about “Mountain Top Experiences” versus service “in the valley.”
Prayer and service go hand in hand.
A FREE GIFT TO PREACHERS: Here is a PPTX file for a sermon based on this passage . You can use this, edit this, change this however you wish — it is free for you to use (or not). Click this link: With Christ on the Mountaintop.
“Praise the LORD! Oh give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; For His loving-kindness is everlasting.” (Psalms 106:1 NASB).
It is an exhortation. The “hallelujah” is an imperative. We are being told to praise.
I don’t think this is an attempt to command an emotion. This is not the same as: “Don’t worry, be happy.” I think I am being told to turn my mind toward the God who alone is worthy of praise. Emotion cannot be commanded. Emotion arises when I turn my mind toward something that awakens that feeling.
To feel an emotion, I must find the object that arouses it. Sin, guilt and failure cannot be allowed to be the last word. It leaves me in despair. We turn from ourselves toward God. As we remember that God is good (ט֑וֹב) and that God’s steadfast love (חַסְדֹּֽ) endures forever, hope and joy and purpose stir in us again.
It is true, I think, that as the Creator and Source of our life God is worthy of praise. But, it is God’s character, known through the history of salvation, that truly awakens praise. God is good. God demonstrates a never-gives-uplove (חַסְדֹּֽ) which continually chases after us. So, the strength and vitality of my praise today depends upon my belief that God is good and gracious and merciful and loyal and persistent.
Many years ago — when we were living in the Byron Center, Michigan area — I attended a couple of prayer retreats with a small group of fellow pastors from the area. We spent some time at St. Gregory’s Abbey in Three Rivers, Michigan. We were there from Monday evening to Tuesday afternoon.
I always appreciate places like this where silence and meditation are practiced. Being on retreat in a place like this is an invitation to silence and to mindfulness about ourselves and God’s presence with us.
What I remember about it is this: the retreat began to re-awaken my desire to be with God, to be in prayer, to meditate anew on the Scriptures. It re-awakened the desire to listen. I had a renewed desire to experience (or recognize) God’s presence.
I need to continually re-affirm for myself anew that God is good and steadfast and loyal and gracious and loving. And, that is what Sunday morning worship is so important. That’s why having a prayer time in the morning can be so important. It turns our mind toward God. Even at the times I have felt most alienated from the church, there is still within me a desire to worship. I am not in the hands of fate — I am in the hands of God.
“Who can speak of the mighty deeds of the LORD, Or can show forth all His praise?” (Psalm 106:2 NASB).
At times my prayers are filled with words. But, if God’s deeds cannot be adequately recounted, what is the importance of my words?
At times I so want my words to reflect the emotion I feel. Hmm. Or is it the emotion I think I ought to feel?
At times all the words seem empty and inadequate and pointless. What do I need to tell God? Nothing. Do I really need to fill God in on things? No. What does all my knowledge amount to when placed against the greatness of God? Nothing. Job finally confessed: “…I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.” (Job 42:3 NRSV). God’s greatness is beyond expression. Our words fail. There is a deep form of praise that is silent.
“But the Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him!” (Habakkuk 2:20 NRSV).
A PRAYER
Lord God, Let my praise be finally swallowed up in silence, Not because I will the silence but because there are no longer any words that are adequate.
Meet me in the silence. I pray, through Jesus Christ the Lord. Amen.
This passage is from a section of the Gospel of Luke often called “The Sermon on the Plain.” This begins at Luke 6:17 and extends to the end of the chapter. There are many similarities to the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew. This passage in Luke, in particular, has several parallels to passages in the Gospel of Matthew and a parallel to the Gospel of Mark.
I’ve said something about my usual habits in reading the Psalms here: Praying the Psalms. Briefly stated, my usual procedure in reading, meditating and praying with the Psalms is to read consecutively and slowly. For this purpose I use an Interlinear (Hebrew with English below) edition of the Psalms.
Usually this approach works very well. But, when I first got to Psalm 106 this didn’t work. With Psalm 106 it was necessary for me to see the opening verses of praise (vv. 1-5) in the light of their larger context. When I began to read and meditate on the Psalm, I was struck by the language of praise and worship in the opening verses (though they were similar to verses found elsewhere in the Psalms), but then I got “stuck” (from verse 6 onward) in a long section that recounts the sins of the nation of Israel (verses 6-46) and God’s unfailing commitment to them in spite of all that. This forced me to go back to the beginning and read it over again.
In this passage Jesus is continuing the series of antithesis statements he began in verse 21. In these he fleshes out what he means by coming not to destroy the law but to fulfill it. He goes beyond the law — not relaxing it, but pushing it further — pushing it toward its spiritual fulfillment. Jesus challenges us to consider more than just outward fulfillment; he pushes us to examine our motivations and inner lives.
In verses 21-37 the issues were: destructive anger, covetous sexual desire, divorce, and the swearing of oaths. Here the issues are vengefulness, enemies, peace, and universal love for all. Here the issue is how we treat — and think about — each other. This passage can be seen as a unit because of its closely related themes.
This is also one of those passages in the New Testament that uses the word τέλειος — often translated “perfect” — which gave rise to the phrase “Christian Perfection”— often used by John Wesley (and his followers) to talk about the spiritual life. The phrase has been misunderstood from the beginning and continues to be misunderstood today, and it’s easy to see why Looking at verse 48 in its context may help to sort out some of the confusion.
My goal in looking at this passage is much larger than that one issue — it is to understand how Jesus interprets the Old Testament law and applies it to life.
