“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son-of-Man has nowhere to lay his head.”
“Let the dead bury their own dead.”
“No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the dominion of God.”
I wish I could tell you there was some obviously easier way to hear this strange and difficult text from the Gospel of Luke. Wish I could assure you that Jesus was speaking metaphorically and what he really meant is much less harsh than how it’s written.
I wish! But, unfortunately for our comfort level, I think the necessary conclusion is not that Jesus didn’t mean what he said, but rather that following Jesus is both disruptive and offensive.
Following Jesus – living as a disciple and proclaiming the in-breaking reign of God – is both disruptive and offensive.
Following Jesus is disruptive because it calls us away from what is comfortable and familiar. It disrupts our mental image of what comfort and security look like. It gives us no guarantee of a warm reception, no promise of a place to belong that neither challenges nor pushes us. Following Jesus requires a vision that looks ahead, to the future, when we’d much rather look longingly over our shoulder. It demands a single-mindedness for the mission we are called to fulfill amid so many competing causes.
Following Jesus means following the one who leads us across borders and boundaries. Following the one who beckons us to share meals with those from whom we’d rather keep away. Following the one who rebukes us when we jump to judgment and violence rather than mercy. Yes, the call to discipleship is disruptive.
Following Jesus is also offensive. Following Jesus is offensive because it calls into question our loyalties. The way the world operates is turned on its head as the poor and lowly are raised up and the rich and powerful cast down – and we bristle at the unfairness. Following Jesus forces us to acknowledge that we’re not in charge, that while we are beloved, we’re not the center of attention or the most important thing.
In his explanation of the Ten Commandments in the Small Catechism, Martin Luther reminds us that an idol or other god is anything we fear, love, or trust more than God: ourselves, power, security, fame, money, family, rituals. Our ultimate hope and trust are in God, and everyone and everything else will fail us. Yes, the call to discipleship is offensive.
Following Jesus is both disruptive and offensive because it leads us not to prestige, power, or glory, but to death – death on a cross. When confronted with the pain and brokenness and death present in this world, God’s response is not revenge or anger but love. Love that is so rich and so expansive that it’s even willing to die so that we might not be alone in our suffering.
The good news is that regardless of how disrupted and offended we are, no matter how hard it is for us to follow, Jesus is unwavering and determined in his mission to bear God’s presence and love into a divided, broken, hurting world. When Jesus sets his face to go to Jerusalem, he does so knowing that the world does not look kindly on that which disrupts or offends.
Assured of God’s presence and love, claimed as beloved children, and filled with the Holy Spirit we are called to keep on following, even when we stumble, and even when it’s difficult.
With that in mind, if we recognize that the Gospel message and the call to follow Jesus are disruptive and offensive, I wonder what we might do differently as we follow.
I wonder if we might spend less time tiptoeing around people’s feelings and more time working alongside one another to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world.
I wonder if we might be willing to disrupt “the way we’ve always done things” – how we worship, or what our spaces look like, or where and how we serve – so that a world in need of good news might better be able to hear it.
I wonder if we are willing to inconvenience ourselves, the insiders, so that God’s beloveds who are not here can also hear the call to follow alongside us.
One of the most beautiful things about our week at Confirmation Camp was the Thursday evening worship. All week we “traveled” to different regions and countries of the world to learn about the global Church, and a recurring theme was the rich gift of diversity in language, food, geography, culture, worship, and more.
As part of our class time on Thursday morning, we talked about worship, focusing on this question: if you knew nothing about Christian worship and wanted to plan something that would praise and glorify God, what would you do?
Following our small group discussions, the kids were invited to plan that evening’s worship. It was difficult at first, but as they warmed to the idea, the kids began to call out things to create an order of worship for the 15-20 minutes allotted. They first decided that singing was important, so that began the list on the white board – a song; followed by two minutes of dancing, accompanied by drums; a scripture reading; a discussion of the reading; and ending with a “prayer song”. There were a few of the kids really into this whole pet rock thing all week, so we decided to use rocks as our guiding theme. We chose a related song from the camp songbook to be led by guitars, and selected as our reading 1 Peter 2:1-10, about the rejected building block becoming the chief cornerstone.
We gathered for worship that evening and it was joyful! I had been skeptical about the dance portion in particular because two minutes is kind of a long time, but it was amazing. There was some individual moving and grooving and then we formed a conga line with everyone there and it felt like the most holy representation of God’s kingdom – gathered in community, using our whole bodies for movement and laughter, no one left out or forgotten.
The sobering part was after worship, smiles still on our faces, when I asked a few kids what that worship experience was like for them. It was great, they responded. Next I said, I wonder what it would be like if you tried this kind of worship back at your church? Could you imagine everyone there dancing down the aisle?
With wide eyes they shook their heads – oh, it wouldn’t work! People would be upset. You’re not allowed to do that at church.
It made me cringe to hear that, but I was cringing even more to recognize that I would be one of the uncomfortable ones. I mean, worship at camp is one thing, but church? We’ve never done it that way before...
Following Jesus is disruptive and offensive. Nothing about Christianity is meant to make us comfortable – and that’s a good thing! Comfort means we’re probably not hurting when our neighbors are hurting. Comfort means we’re quite satisfied with how things are and have no sense of urgency or drive to share the good news of God’s love. No, we’re not promised comfort.
What are we promised? A God who loves us and calls us by name; a God who knows our suffering and never abandons us; a God who lavishes us with mercy and forgiveness; a God who walks with us even when we are uncomfortable, disrupted, and offended.
“Let the dead bury their own dead.”
“No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the dominion of God.”
I wish I could tell you there was some obviously easier way to hear this strange and difficult text from the Gospel of Luke. Wish I could assure you that Jesus was speaking metaphorically and what he really meant is much less harsh than how it’s written.
I wish! But, unfortunately for our comfort level, I think the necessary conclusion is not that Jesus didn’t mean what he said, but rather that following Jesus is both disruptive and offensive.
Following Jesus – living as a disciple and proclaiming the in-breaking reign of God – is both disruptive and offensive.
 |
| From https://bit.ly/301P08z |
Following Jesus is disruptive because it calls us away from what is comfortable and familiar. It disrupts our mental image of what comfort and security look like. It gives us no guarantee of a warm reception, no promise of a place to belong that neither challenges nor pushes us. Following Jesus requires a vision that looks ahead, to the future, when we’d much rather look longingly over our shoulder. It demands a single-mindedness for the mission we are called to fulfill amid so many competing causes.
Following Jesus means following the one who leads us across borders and boundaries. Following the one who beckons us to share meals with those from whom we’d rather keep away. Following the one who rebukes us when we jump to judgment and violence rather than mercy. Yes, the call to discipleship is disruptive.
Following Jesus is also offensive. Following Jesus is offensive because it calls into question our loyalties. The way the world operates is turned on its head as the poor and lowly are raised up and the rich and powerful cast down – and we bristle at the unfairness. Following Jesus forces us to acknowledge that we’re not in charge, that while we are beloved, we’re not the center of attention or the most important thing.
In his explanation of the Ten Commandments in the Small Catechism, Martin Luther reminds us that an idol or other god is anything we fear, love, or trust more than God: ourselves, power, security, fame, money, family, rituals. Our ultimate hope and trust are in God, and everyone and everything else will fail us. Yes, the call to discipleship is offensive.
Following Jesus is both disruptive and offensive because it leads us not to prestige, power, or glory, but to death – death on a cross. When confronted with the pain and brokenness and death present in this world, God’s response is not revenge or anger but love. Love that is so rich and so expansive that it’s even willing to die so that we might not be alone in our suffering.
The good news is that regardless of how disrupted and offended we are, no matter how hard it is for us to follow, Jesus is unwavering and determined in his mission to bear God’s presence and love into a divided, broken, hurting world. When Jesus sets his face to go to Jerusalem, he does so knowing that the world does not look kindly on that which disrupts or offends.
Assured of God’s presence and love, claimed as beloved children, and filled with the Holy Spirit we are called to keep on following, even when we stumble, and even when it’s difficult.
With that in mind, if we recognize that the Gospel message and the call to follow Jesus are disruptive and offensive, I wonder what we might do differently as we follow.
I wonder if we might spend less time tiptoeing around people’s feelings and more time working alongside one another to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world.
I wonder if we might be willing to disrupt “the way we’ve always done things” – how we worship, or what our spaces look like, or where and how we serve – so that a world in need of good news might better be able to hear it.
I wonder if we are willing to inconvenience ourselves, the insiders, so that God’s beloveds who are not here can also hear the call to follow alongside us.
One of the most beautiful things about our week at Confirmation Camp was the Thursday evening worship. All week we “traveled” to different regions and countries of the world to learn about the global Church, and a recurring theme was the rich gift of diversity in language, food, geography, culture, worship, and more.
As part of our class time on Thursday morning, we talked about worship, focusing on this question: if you knew nothing about Christian worship and wanted to plan something that would praise and glorify God, what would you do?
Following our small group discussions, the kids were invited to plan that evening’s worship. It was difficult at first, but as they warmed to the idea, the kids began to call out things to create an order of worship for the 15-20 minutes allotted. They first decided that singing was important, so that began the list on the white board – a song; followed by two minutes of dancing, accompanied by drums; a scripture reading; a discussion of the reading; and ending with a “prayer song”. There were a few of the kids really into this whole pet rock thing all week, so we decided to use rocks as our guiding theme. We chose a related song from the camp songbook to be led by guitars, and selected as our reading 1 Peter 2:1-10, about the rejected building block becoming the chief cornerstone.
We gathered for worship that evening and it was joyful! I had been skeptical about the dance portion in particular because two minutes is kind of a long time, but it was amazing. There was some individual moving and grooving and then we formed a conga line with everyone there and it felt like the most holy representation of God’s kingdom – gathered in community, using our whole bodies for movement and laughter, no one left out or forgotten.
The sobering part was after worship, smiles still on our faces, when I asked a few kids what that worship experience was like for them. It was great, they responded. Next I said, I wonder what it would be like if you tried this kind of worship back at your church? Could you imagine everyone there dancing down the aisle?
With wide eyes they shook their heads – oh, it wouldn’t work! People would be upset. You’re not allowed to do that at church.
It made me cringe to hear that, but I was cringing even more to recognize that I would be one of the uncomfortable ones. I mean, worship at camp is one thing, but church? We’ve never done it that way before...
Following Jesus is disruptive and offensive. Nothing about Christianity is meant to make us comfortable – and that’s a good thing! Comfort means we’re probably not hurting when our neighbors are hurting. Comfort means we’re quite satisfied with how things are and have no sense of urgency or drive to share the good news of God’s love. No, we’re not promised comfort.
What are we promised? A God who loves us and calls us by name; a God who knows our suffering and never abandons us; a God who lavishes us with mercy and forgiveness; a God who walks with us even when we are uncomfortable, disrupted, and offended.
Comments
Post a Comment