the song of the Rock

i've always felt a pull towards the idea of missions, especially foreign missions.  i love traveling. i love adventures. i love the sights, sounds, feels and tastes.  i simply adore the camaraderie of  serving with a team, meeting goals and needs, serving side by side fellow Christians of every nationality.  it's a small piece of heaven; i want every slice i can get.

for some reason (okay, let's call it what it is: SIN) it's always been a thousand times easier to find a stranger in a foreign land and share the Gospel than it is to grab the elbow of my neighbor and share this mind-blowingly good news. 

it's Easter, friends.  this week our extended family members all over the world are celebrating the climax of Christianity.  this is it!  Easter weekend is the single reason we all have hope, love, a future, a family, forgiveness.  the TOMB is EMPTY! THAT ROCK MOVED, FOLKS!! if ever there was a time to celebrate life, it's now.  if ever there was an opportunity to share Christ that was handed to you on a silver, diamond-studded platter, it's now.

it's also the time when the whole nation is "sharing" and "liking" posts, making new hashtags and changing their profile pictures to the flag of Belgium.  social media is exploding with news about, and prayers for, the victims, their families, their country… OUR country, every country! the death toll rises, names are being released, and once again anyone with a trace of spirituality is praying to whatever or whoever they think might be listening.  instead of celebrating life, thousands are mourning death.

the exciting, and scary, thing about all of this is that we've gotten our cue.  we missed it-again- but we get a second (or ten thousandth) chance.

every word i read or hear about missions fills me with both hope and shame. hope at the idea of giving as much time as God allows to serving Him in a place still waiting.   shame, because… i'm surrounded by people HERE and NOW who don't know, don't care, don't know to care and live day to day waiting for a "something." and yet i, and so many Christians, live day to day with our mouths closed.  without the glamour and thrill of a passport stamp, the concept of bringing up faith, religion or an afterlife is deemed as  inappropriate and socially unacceptable. 

and yet...

and yet, there's a world out there crying out for answers and mercy.

for a hope that lasts longer than a paycheck.

for a life that is free of pain, guilt, death, gore, sickness, bullets and bombs.

for a ruler that… is not quite like any current (or past) dictator, king or president.

we have it.  we have all of that.

because we have HIM.

HE is it.  our Hope that "enters once for all" into the true temple "not made with human hands" with a better sacrifice than all the goats and sheep in creation- Himself.

He is our Life- the source of all Life, and the way to a Life that will never end and that makes this earthly life as pale and transient as morning fog.

He is the Ruler that will never be unjust, protects all His own and whose term in office never ends.  no currency except faith.  no taxes except joyful praise. no end at all, except of sin and all its consequences. 

this is the song that never ends; it just goes on and on, my friends! it started just outside an empty hole in the ground, and will continue for all eternity, growing ever louder as we all join our voices.

we have it- all of it.

not only that, but we also have a direct order from our Ruler to bring as many others into this Kingdom as possible. He hears these cries, and has told us to show them the Answer.

the ancient Jews celebrated the Passover every single year, to serve as a reminder of their salvation.  they were even told how to share the meaning of their festival, so they would be prepared with an answer every time someone asked them what on earth they were doing.

as great as that holiday was… we celebrate the best of all Passovers- the final one, where our Lamb paid the final price and paved the way to God Himself, open to all who accept it.  we also each have an answer, a testimony, a true drama, a personal story to share every single time someone asks us what on earth we are doing.

i promise you this- you will honk some people off.  they will tell you that are an idiot, and worse.  they will tell you to shut up. they may end friendships, cost you business, hurt deeply.  your story may mean nothing to whoever you are talking to. Jesus Himself was told off by the  "religious elite." His answer: if the people won't, the rocks will.  the Good News will not be silenced.  it WILL be told- the only difference is the "how."  i haven't done my part.  i want to start- before my garden border stones start singing and put me to ultimate shame.

but i also promise that there is someone in your immediate vicinity that will hear and respond.  whether or not you ever hear about it, someone is broken and in desperate need of a Healer.  you knowing or taking credit is soooo not the point.  the personal cost is also not the point. whatever cost to you, Christ's was eternally greater. take a leap of faith and have your answer ready. there is nobody less worthy of the Gospel than you; there is nobody more worthy of the Gospel than any ISIS leader.  everyone needs to hear. and if we don't share, the rocks themselves will instead.  please don't give them our job. it's our time to rise up together and share Easter joy!

if you remember the point in your life when the message finally sunk in,  let that give you the strength to be that joy to someone else. 

let this Easter be a vivid reminder of what is at stake.   let His hope fill you with both joy and courage.  make this the best Easter of your life, and the first true Easter for someone else.  silence those rocks-ready, set, go!

sticks and stones and dead men's bones

I love those moments when a thought just pops up, a question just burns in your brain, or a revelation suddenly arises that makes you smile.  these moments, for me anyway, are rare, which i guess is part of why they're so special.

good glory, i hope this makes sense to whoever reads it.

I was considering again moments from my past and how in so many ways, for so many years i was nothing more than a modern-day Pharisee.  my early life revolved around following rules, codes, standards and policies that would make any Saul of Tarsus proud.  we would have had to add a whole second row of tassels on our robes, and heaven forbid we not tithe every single penny we received from our weekly allowance, which when we were 5 years old, was 25 cents.  so we were also good at math- which is a given (i forget which tab "homeschool" fits under- i think either "standards" or "codes"- but included was the Thou Shalt Succeed decree.  failure was not an option). we were filled with guilt if we forgot to tithe, do our morning devotions (because to do it in the evenings, or even after breakfast was classified as "wrong"), or even have too much Apple Cinnamon Cheerios with our plain Cheerios.  like the front-row Pharisees of old, we were generally applauded by peers and looked up to in our teeny tiny Christian community as being role-models. 

and also like the front-row Pharisees of old, i was even more tangled than those tassels, caught up in the little things but missing the big picture.  missing it entirely.  everything good about the Gospel buried under the rulebooks. plagued by doubt, fear of failure, shame, the need to please others, justification through the Law of Moses.  and the Law of Mom.  i'm not even sure which one i held in higher regard, to be honest.

so, just like the front-row Pharisees, i turned into a blind and bitter "Christian," with no answers for the situations i was trying to fix but couldn't.

in one of the last discourses Jesus gave in Jerusalem, in that last week before his impending execution, Jesus suddenly goes off on those front-row Pharisees, ripping to shreds their rules, codes, standards and policies.  he calls them children of hell.  a brood of vipers. hypocrites. blind guides. 

whitewashed tombs. absolutely stunning on the outside, gorgeous rocks, gardens, plants, probably markers or nameplates to remember their loved ones locked away inside.  on the inside, well, there are the loved ones' bones.  corruption. decay.  germs galore. a stench to turn even this nurse's stomach.

…

umm.  yeah.  Jesus said that. to the front-row, super-spiritual religious elites.  a tomb. a pretty vessel chock full of DEATH.

you're probably looking for the encouraging part now, right?  good- here it is.

i just went back and confirmed the timing on this speech of his, and when i flipped back and forth a couple times between Matthew 23 and John 10 and 11, you see something pretty cool.

immediately before the Triumphant Entry, something absolutely epic happens.

he receives word that one of his best friends in the town of Bethany (2 miles away from Jerusalem, and one of Jesus' stopping points) in on his deathbed and Jesus' healing is required immediately. 

so Jesus….doesn't go.  he waits. for 2 whole days.

Lazarus, unknown to the messenger, is probably already dead before Jesus hears of this, because by the time Jesus shows up the mourning is in full swing and the body has already been cleaned, prepared and locked in the grave for 4 days.

Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha, both have separate conversations with Jesus on his arrival.  Jesus asks to see Lazarus's body, and Mary, full of grief, confusion, impeccable common sense, says, "Eww. Jesus, that's gross."

Martha had already run out to meet him, and also to question why he refused to come earlier to save them from this incredible pain. 

Jesus then takes this fantastic opportunity to boot her faith up several levels and tells her :

"your brother will rise again."

Martha said to him, "i know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day."

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die."(John 11: 23-27)

then He walks right up to that beautiful tomb full of a dead man's bones, convinces several hesitant guys to roll the stone away, and then demands that those dead man's bones get up and walk on out.  and they do. 

the Resurrection had come.

a short amount of time later, that Resurrection was in the Jews' religious center- Jerusalem, speaking to a synagogue's worth of tombs, calling them what they were, angry at their sin, condemning it, calling it out.

but just as importantly, offering life to any of those dead bones who would step out and receive it.  

He's shouting out: HEY!! you're DEAD!  but true life is LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!!

i have very little doubt that many of those Pharisees hearing that speech hadn't heard about Lazarus.  a bunch of them were likely there at the tomb and had witnessed firsthand what happens when Jesus gets too close to graves and talks to them.  those who weren't there, were told immediately by those who were (John 11:45-47).  the whole episode at Lazarus' re-birthday was meant to bring the spiritually dead to a new spiritual life, just as his speech to them in Jerusalem days later, with this miracle fresh in their minds. 

i remember that day when, -after months of wrestling together through these incredibly difficult issues and circumstances surrounding me, shedding tears and prayers, talking and listening- my pastor and i had reached a point where he called my salvation into question, citing as proof the guilt, anger, self-righteousness and pride that had become so evident.  and i suddenly, immediately felt the immense burden of sin- MY sin- that i'd never realized before.   i looked down that night at my shaking hands wringing out another tissue and envisioned the blood dripping off them, the spiritual death i'd caused, how far i had strayed.  how much sin could be covered up and made to look oh-so-spiritual.  how the mask of religious piety was nothing more than a death mask, hiding the corpse of a soul lurking underneath.  i was a whitewashed tomb, choking on all the crud that filled me up.

but that calling-out wasn't just a judgment.  it was an invitation. this tomb's bones were finally ready to be introduced to the Resurrection and to be summoned from the depths of the grave, out into the light.  i knew the theology and was kinda ticked by Jesus' timing, just like Martha.  i had so many questions i wanted answers to, just like Mary. i had a stone-cold heart and eyes blinder than a bat, just like a Pharisee. 

but the Resurrection had come.  to me.  called me by name.  and i changed from a Pharisee, a Saul, a tomb, into a Lazarus, a Mary, a Martha with eyes opened now to a whole new life.

cool things happen when Jesus talks to rocks. and if there are any other front-row Pharisees out there, i hope you hear him calling you out of your tombstone, too.

your Resurrection is here.  it's calling.  are you going to remain inside your whitewashed tomb or are you going to step out when you hear your Resurrection and Life beckoning you?