The Pilgrim's Journey

This week, my wife Sarah and I were overjoyed to hear that some good friends are pregnant. They’ve wanted to be parents for years - their journey has been full of waiting and heartache and disappointment and more waiting. But this summer, they’ll be parents to twins! And any day now, our firstborn son will come into the world. This week, I have a lot to be thankful for, and these recent events sparked some thoughts around the birth story of John the Baptizer.

John would grow to be “a voice in the wilderness.” Living off the grid in a harsh desert environment, John would draw massive crowds of people from out of a corrupt religious environment, and call them to make themselves ready for the arrival of their long-awaited King.

When John was born, Zechariah his dad would break out into a song that was rich with vivid imagery and powerful hope. But up until that day, dad had been kept silent for 9 months.

I say “had been kept” because Zack did not choose his silence. Those 9 were imposed on him. God closed his mouth until it was ready to be opened again. Why wasn’t Zack’s mouth ready to speak?

When bad things happen to good people.

We know about John’s birth and his brief adult life, but what John was like as a kid we may never know. Many of the famous people in the Bible have some kind of backstory before we hear about God calling them. But we don’t know about John’s growing up years. The only people we really hear about are his parents - Zechariah and Elizabeth. And what do we know about these two?

Mediators.

Zechariah and Elizabeth are Levites – they’re a priestly family from the priestly tribe of Levi. These days, we might compare them to a pastor’s family. In the story of the people of Israel, their nation was made up of 12 tribes, and it was the tribe of the Levites who were set aside for the special purposes of mediating the relationship between God and people. The word to describe many of the sacrificial “offerings” that the people were to bring is the Hebrew word korban, which means “draw near.” God had created a way for His schizophrenic and skittish people to draw near to Him, and He worked through mediator types like the Levites to help people to draw near. 

Zack and Liz are Levites, which means that they are priests.

I’m not sure what kind of background you have with the word “priest.” My wife Sarah had a great priest when she was growing up as a young Catholic – a good man who connected with the kids in his class with humor and intelligence. Regardless of what images come to mind when you hear the word “priest,” what’s important to understand is that a priest is a go-between, a mediator. A priest is someone who stands before God on behalf of people, and also stands before people on behalf of God. They represent weakness to the One who is strong. They represent the Source of compassion to the ones who need it most. 

Feet in two worlds.

When you’re a mediator, you have a foot planted in two different worlds. You don’t fully belong to either world - but you partly understand and represent them both. It’s a really unique place to be; it’s easy to feel alone and misunderstood. And when we’re told that his parents were “righteous” and “blameless,” you could say that they were in “right-standing” (Luke 1:6). Their two feet straddled the gap between the heavenly and earthly realms, and they stood rightly while they did. 

When it comes to being right-standing, maybe you have people who immediately come to mind. People who show you what God is like by the character of their lives. It’s wonderful to be around people like that, and the folks who come to my mind are my grandparents. Before any phone conversation comes to an end with Ron and Mary Etta, they make sure that they have prayed for you, bringing your concerns into the presence of the One who hears and loves you. And you should hear them pray – they talk as if God is simply on the other line, and He’s been listening in the whole time! You should hear my Grandpa Ron say the name “Jesus” – there’s such affection in his voice, like he’s addressing the One with whom he is intimately familiar. Ron trusts and knows Jesus, but that’s not to say that he hasn’t had dark days where he’s gone for long drives in his car and had a good screaming match with God – confused, bewildered, doubting. That’s what it is to be a mediator – just because you represent someone doesn’t mean that you completely understand them or approve of their methods. It’s the same with Zechariah and Elizabeth, the people who are righteous and blameless are also doubters. When John’s father is told that he is going to have a son, he doubts.

I find this very encouraging. I hope that you do too.

The illusion of certainty.

When Zack is told - by an angelic messenger of all things - that he is going to be a dad, he asks the angel, “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years” (Luke 1:18).

This old-dad-to-be asks how he can be sure. How can he be certain?

He tells the angel what the angel already knows - that he and his wife are very old, well beyond childbearing years. For most of us, we imagine a brief window of plausibility, when being parents is a reasonable hope. Zack believed that this window had already been closed for a long time.

If you’ve ever wanted something for a long time, but it seems like that window has closed for you, then you would resonate with Proverbs 13:12: hope deferred makes the heart sick.

After enough delays, after you’ve held out hope for so long, that hope is worn down. To avoid the pain of disappointment, you insulate yourself from expectancy and shield yourself with skepticism.

That was the temptation for Sarah and me, wanting to be parents for a long time. When we were dating, one of the things that impressed me about Sarah was her ability to move so quickly between relating to the kids and parents in the dance studio where she worked. I saw her connect so readily to these kids who smiled and were drawn in to her gravity and I thought, “she is going to be a fantastic mom!”

5 years ago tomorrow, Sarah and I get to celebrate the day we got engaged. What a day that was - so much joy and great expectation! As we talked about our life together, our plan was to be married for a few years before we would start a family. But when those years had passed and we felt that it was time, that time didn’t arrive. After lots of doctor appointments and sad conversations, the idea of “birth control” seems like such a cruel trick. You’re not in control. Our sense control is an specter, a myth, an illusion. 

It’s the same with our quests for certainty.

Zack wants to know how he can be sure, how he can open his heart up to hope. Because that window had been closed for a long time, and not even an angel can convince him to open himself up to what is going to be birthed among and within him.

But let’s not forget, these are good people who would raise John. Not perfect, no family is, but they are good people whose hopes of being parents had been eroded by the heartache of delay.

All infertility is painful, but I imagine that it was especially painful for this couple to be childless. Their surrounding culture would have magnified their sorrow. One of the promises that God spoke over the people of Israel was that they would have lots and lots of kids. Children were signs of God’s relentless love and blessing. So what do your neighbors wonder about you when you’re unable to conceive? Do they question the legitimacy of your priesthood? Do they defer to other mediators who have to keep building bunkbeds and add-ons to make room for their abundance of kids?

Here’s the dilemma: we’re told that this righteous married couple is childless, and we know that this isn’t the result of some secret disobedience in their lives. Contrary to what bad religion would say, God isn’t holding out on them. 

Something good is on the way.

If you are a student of the epic narrative that is the Scriptures, and you hear that this couple is childless, all of the lights on your biblical dashboard should be lighting up – you know that there’s something bigger going on. Often, in the biblical story, the New Testament authors will tell one story with another story from the Hebrew Bible in the background. And in this story, there’s a lot of parallels between Zechariah and Elizabeth and another couple from long before – Elkanah and Hannah. Who are these people? They’re the parents of the great prophet Samuel. These good people were also childless, and Hannah – in her heartache - cried out to God. God answered her prayer, and she gave birth to a baby boy. She named him Samuel. What did Samuel grow up to do? He was a prophet who prepared people for the arrival of David, the greatest king of Israel. 

Fast-forward back to Zack and Liz: what does this background tell you about what their baby boy will grow up to do? When a miraculous birth comes out of barrenness and answered prayers, know that something extraordinary is on the way. In John’s case – a king is on the way – One greater than David, the greatest of Israel’s kings – Jesus, the Son of David, the Son of God.

Something big is about to happen. But Zack can’t see it. He’s not in any sort of shape to believe it. Good news can’t find any place to plant itself in his heart.

And so when Zechariah asks for certainty, the angel gives him the gift of silence. He shuts his mouth. Zack won’t be able to speak until the unbelieved promise is born into the world.

I’m thankful that God wasn’t thwarted by Zack’s unbelief. I’m also thankful that Zack wasn’t disqualified from being a part of what God was up to. He was just benched for awhile until God decided it was time to get him back in the game. God had work to do while Zack was trapped in his doubts, but Zack’s mouth would be set free when the time was right.

Great is Thy faithfulness.

The beginning and end of Luke’s gospel carry this same theme. John would prepare the way for Jesus, but John’s dad was full of doubt. At the end of Luke’s gospel, Jesus has risen from the dead, and was preparing his disciples to take this news to the world, but Jesus’ disciples were full of doubt. 

Compare both the beginning and end of Luke, and you’ll see similar descriptions between Zack and the disciples: - startled and frightened - a word of peace spoken to their fear - doubt in the midst of great news - fulfillment of prophesied hopes and longings - an explosion of praise

Luke’s gospel ends with praise, and that’s also where it began. But before the joy and gratitude, both Zack and Jesus’ disciples had to go through a death and resurrection of their own. 

I take comfort in this: I can bring my uncertainty and delayed hope and frustrated dreams before God, and he will lead me to a place of sincere gratitude and joy. In the middle, there will be a necessary death. But the death had a purpose - to make room in my heart, and in my mouth, for joy and gratitude.

Despite my own delayed desires and dreams, this Thanksgiving, I choose to remember that any day now, my son will be born into the world. I remember that 5 years ago, Sarah said “yes.” I remember that long before I met her, God drew her to a church where she would hear good news, and she would weep and not know why. Now she knows that the Spirit of God was speaking truth and life to her soul, and her soul was saying “yes.” Through all of that, God was preparing the both of us to one day meet each other, date, marry, and start a family.

In all of that, we never had certainty apart from God. He intended Himself to be our constant. He called us not to certainty, but to trust. Certainty is one kind of knowing that alludes us, but there is another way to know - the way of trust. Trust isn’t a knowledge gained from facts; it’s the kind of knowledge that can only come through experience. It’s the kind of knowing that can only be known in relationship. Trust isn’t about facts and certainty, it’s about a Person that we experience.

When Zechariah was able to break the silence, he broke out into song. For my own song, I continue to reach back to the hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness.”

Great is Thy faithfulness, Oh God My Father, There is no shadow of turning with Thee. Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not, As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

.......................................

What about you?

Where in your life are you experiencing painful silence; heartbreaking barrenness? 

Where are you experiencing darkness and lifelessness?

Where are you wanting certainty, while God intends to birth trust?

When God brings you from death to resurrection life, when He breaks the silence, what will your song be?

all except for one glaring error in the overall story arc (more on that in just a bit), watching Mad Max: Fury Road has a lot to say about the gift that each gender can offer to the other.

i’m serious.

watching Max Max also makes me incredibly anxious, and then exhausted. the entire story, from beginning to end, is one incredibly long chase scene, with only a few brief moments to catch your breath.

when i first saw it in theaters, i was deeply moved, but i soon found that not everyone had the same experience. one of my friends described the movie as “gratuitous,” which was his way of saying that the entire style of the film seemed to him a bit too ridiculous and over the top.

sure, i get that. but then the movie came out on Redbox, and after watching it again, i thought, “he was so wrong!”

Mad Max wasn’t gratuitous.

shocking, yes. but the shocking elements weren’t pointless. the intensity of the content was serving a larger purpose. from an incredibly bleak situation emerged a deeply hopeful picture; one that doesn’t just speak to George Miller’s post-apocaplytic world, but also our own.

so what does Mad Max teach us about men and women?

Mad Max calls out the strengths that both genders can offer each other.

with very little subtlety, both genders are shown for their ability to exploit or empower.

for example...

Immortan Joe is the dictator-leader of the Citadel. he only sees others for what they can do for him. young men become his expendable War Boys. young women are his means of pleasure and progeny. oil is fuel for his war machines, metal is raw material for bullets, and water is a resource to be ruthlessly regulated so that people see him as their savior and provider.

Immortan Joe is a caricature of the man who is threatened by the power and creativity of others, always bearing a childish sense of his own importance. my wife works at an organization that provides holistic life recovery for women who are homeless, abused, and addicted. some of those situations stem from men who used their strength to keep subordinates inferior, whether they are women, men, or children. and of course there are other men who aren’t physically abusive, they are actually men of some influence over other people, but they abuse that influence. while we might admire their ability to hold a certain kind of realm together, it’s toxic, dysfunctional, and exploitive. these sorts of men undoubtedly have a real energy and charisma, but it is small and self-serving.

and then there’s Imperator Furiosa. it doesn’t take too long until you realize that Mad Max isn't your typical action film. Vanity Fair said that it was the year's “most surprising feminist triumph.” other more hostile critics said that it was “a feminist piece of propaganda posing as a guy flick.” regardless, Furiosa is one tough lady. she is the fearless leader and rescuer of vulnerable women. she makes the tough calls. what’s surprising is that she's the one who always seems to be saving Max - and not the other way around. is Max the damsel in distress? the Tumblr account Feminist Mad Max seems to think so. it’s full of all kinds of memes that highlight the women who ensure the survival of the two fortunate men in their company as they travel through a brutal post-apocalyptic world.

(funny, right? the whole thing is a twist on the Ryan Gosling “Hey Girl” meme.)

we also witness the redemption of Nux, one of the many War Boys who have been raised on the Myth of Redemptive Violence. for Nux, life is all about building the realm of his god, Immortan Joe, who has promised the War Boys that upon giving their life for his cause, they will enter into a Paradise of sorts, the hallowed gates of Valhalla.

Nux is the essence of the warrior archetype, who lives his life with courage, persistence, focus, and devotion to a cause. but without a good leader, father figure, and a moral center, men like Nux are naive, dangerous, and responsible for most of the aimless and recreational violence on this earth. it takes the tenderness and patience of the women around him to finally help him see that the vision of life that he has been handed is meaningless, but that another way is possible.

speaking of those women...

the brides are the women who have been rescued from the harem of Immortan Joe. at the beginning of the movie, we see only their beauty and their exploitation. but as Furiosa leads them away from the Citadel and towards the Green Place, a promised land full of life and flourishing, we discover the unique strengths that each of these women possess: leadership, quick-thinking, courage, nurture, truth, non-violent tactics, etc. but it’s not all goodness that’s put on display; we see one of the women give in to fear, and she’s ready to return to her captors rather than risk the perilous journey to freedom.

but there’s plenty of moments when their best qualities shine. when Nux secretly climbs aboard their transport in order to capture and return them to the Citadel, he publicly fails and embarrasses himself in front of his hero - Immortan Joe. one of the women finds the grief-stricken young man curled up in the rear compartment. she disarms him with unexpected compassion, and she manages to turn an enemy into a friend; he eventually joins their effort as a warrior for their cause. but this doesn’t mean that this brainwashed youth isn’t without need for some strong truth from another one of the women. when Nux blindly defends his former leader’s consumptive way of life, Angharad asks the piercing question: then who killed the world?

compassion. truth. leadership. courage. qualities of women that are pushed down into subservience in a world ruled by violent and paranoid males.

and then there’s Max...

a man of great resourcefulness. like a good knight, he’s able to double his efforts when he’s exhausted, and he has a sense of the essential and proper force that is needed to achieve his purposes. he does not seek out enemies, but neither is his naive about them. he is reliable to those who deserve his loyalty and focuses on the task before him without being absorbed in his own comfort or security.

despite all of the “Hey Girl” memes that make Max to be the damsel in distress, he and Furiosa are both incredibly fierce, loyal, and willing to sacrifice their own lives for each other and for the people in their protection. we discover early on that Max has the unique blood type of a Universal Donor. (hence the IV tube strapped to his shoulder.) while at first, this gift is hijacked by his captors, later on, we see Max saving Furiosa’s life when her own life is draining out of her. yes, Max is the damsel in distress, but so is Furiosa.

what are the story moments that deeply move the heart of a man? the scenes where the hero is willing to lay down his life for the ones that he loves and protects. men are wired for this; it’s our gift to the world. but the gift that the warrior energy of a man can be for others has been all but lost in our culture. men waste their energy watching MMA fights or attending fundamentalist churches because we haven’t learned how to integrate it with the clear nonviolent teaching of Jesus. it’s just not something we have been taught, even though we have so many examples of men like St. Francis and St. Ignatius - who started off as warriors - and learned to transfigure that energy into something that doesn’t take life, but gives it.

set against each other with intense contrast, the light and dark sides of both genders are put on full display. in so many ways, we’re shown how men and women possess the ability to be a gift, or to ruin. to deceive, or empower. we can either be a blessing or a curse to one another; it all depends on what we decide to do with our power.

and now, for the part that bothered me so much.

as Max, Furiosa, Nux, and the sister wives draw nearer to the borders of the elusive Green Place, they come to learn that no such place exists anymore. they meet the Many Mothers, a group of female warriors who have been surviving in the wastelands. they ride motorcycles, they’re packing some serious heat, and they bear a satchel of planet earth’s last remaining seeds for growing plants, herbs, flowers, and crops. everywhere they travel, they plant into the dry ground, in hopes that the desert can bloom again.

we learn that Furiosa came from this tribe of women, but that few are left. to make matters worse, the Green Place is no more. the Many Mothers tell her that their good land became poisoned, and it became yet another uninhabitable wasteland. we see Furiosa’s spirit crushed when she hears what has become of her desired home country.

the Many Mothers offer to share their provisions and vehicles with the survivors, and together, they continue their search for a new home. but this is the point when Max tells Furiosa that he is going his own way. 

this is a real crisis in the film, because we’ve seen a man drawn out of his isolation, and into a company of people that he has learned to put ahead of his own interests - and now he’s about to revert to his old ways. this is the dark side of the warrior archetype, and it’s very appealing to the selfish part of a man’s ego. we are wired to lay our life down, but the real sacrifice might not be the glorious death that the War Boys long for. what would be truly remarkable is a daily kind of death to selfishness; to think of a group of people instead of ourselves. that would be real heroism - but how many of us have grown up without husbands or fathers who were willing to go the distance?

eventually, Max realizes his mistake, rejoins the group and tells them that a journey further into the saltlands is a lost cause. instead, what they need to do is to make a perilous return journey to the Citadel, which is currently unguarded. if properly tended, the Citadel could become a true Green Place and home that they’ve been searching for all along. despite the onslaught of enemies, obstacles, and challenges, the return home is often the most difficult part of the hero’s journey. whether we’re coming home from a college experience that has transformed our thinking, or a trip overseas that has realigned our priorities, the hardest part is not to stay in that extraordinary world, but to begin the real hard work of returning home, and bringing that transformation to our own community and way of life.

Max and the whole group agree to work together to evade the motorcade that pursues them, and take the Citadel as their own. there is a hard-fought victory over Immortan Joe, and an incredibly risky recovery of the Citadel. but once Max has done his part to ensure that Furiosa and her companions have secured control over their new kingdom, he and Furiosa exchange one last knowing look, and then Max disappears into the crowd.

and it deeply bothered me.

George Miller’s solution to the problem of males who misuse their power was for his protagonist to ride off into the sunset. the lone warrior lays down his power once his work is done, which could be commendable, had power being a temptation for Max. but power wasn’t his problem; it was isolation - and going his own way was escapism veiled in heroism. in the end, the women are left to fashion a well-ordered and sustainable world for others, but without the men. after all, the beginning of the story showed us what men do when they have power. wouldn’t the solution to this male-created crisis be a world without men?

because we have so many examples of men who have misused their power, there is an almost universal suspicion of power. especially for our sisters, patriarchy (“the rule of our fathers”) has become equated with maleness. as a result, maleness becomes equated with aggression, war, greed, and control.

i admit that men have an extraordinary capacity to use their power for their own selfish gain. but power - whether it’s spiritual or physical - can be good. it can be contained. it can be shared. it can be used for others. after all, isn’t that what we see in Jesus, the Son of God, and Son of Man - who, being in very nature, God, did not consider his God-ness as something to be used for his own advantage? instead, the heart of what it means to be God was put on full display when he took on the form of the Servant of Man, and descended into total humiliation, suffering, and death, in order to restore the shalom that we had vandalized. but he didn’t just set the wrongs right. he is setting us right, and he is working through those he has set right to set the world right again.

who killed the world?

we did.

who is setting it right again?

he is.

and we are, if we are in him.

this tells me that there is hope even for the fracturing of male-female relationships. our unique powers can be used to serve and empower, not to conquer and use each other.

the world needs to see this. the fatherless War Boys of the world need to learn that there are women who are strong leaders, and that there are men who know how to collaborate with a woman who is designed by God to bring order out of chaos. the motherless and exploited girls of the world need to see that there are men who can be trusted, and that there are women who know how to call out the strength of a man who is designed by God to lay down his life, daily.

if i could had been asked to co-write the ending of Mad Max, the final scenes of the movie would have been of men and women who were rebuilding their world.

“are you the Expected One, or should we wait for another?” (Matthew 11:3) Considering who asks this question, this has to be one of the saddest questions that anyone ever asked Jesus. 

Jesus answered questions throughout his earthly career.

Jesus was questioned throughout his earthly career.

People questioned the legitimacy of his birth, and his authority to speak and act in the way that he did; they even asked questions in order to trap him. (Isn’t that so irritating, when people ask you a question - not in pursuit of the truth - but to get you into a corner?)

But given who asks this question, it’s arguably the saddest question that Jesus was ever asked.

It came from his closest ally - his cousin, John the Baptizer.

(by Rembrandt) The question comes from a prison cell, where an evil king has put John for speaking out against a royal scandal. John cannot understand why his cousin Jesus has allowed this to happen; this was not part of the plan.

The saddest questions come from the people who know us really well, the people who have championed our cause, the people who would suffer right alongside us.

This was John.

If you know anything about the Baptizer, you know that he wasn’t always so gloomy. Quite the opposite. He self-identified as a voice in the wilderness, one who was preparing God’s people for the arrival of their King. When the time came for Jesus to be revealed to Israel, John boldly and passionately and joyfully declared to everyone within the sound of his voice: HEY LOOK! It’s God’s Lamb! The One who takes away the sin of the world!

John had become quite a superstar in his own right. By the Jordan River, he reenacted Israel’s journey out of slavery and into the Promised Land by taking people through water. The scandal of his message was that this time, it wasn’t the Red Sea, but the Jordan River, that people were passing through. He wasn’t calling people out of Egypt, but out of Jerusalem. God’s people had corrupted themselves, and John wasn’t afraid to call them out for it. People heard loud and clear: your King is on his way, and you aren’t ready for his arrival. Until you return to him with all that you are, you remain in exile - outside of his promise and favor.

This scandalous message resonated with huge crowds of people who recognized the deep compromise in their lives, and they readily went through a baptism of repentance. It also offended the religious and royal powers of his day, who were happy with the current establishment. Nonetheless, John the Baptizer gained a huge following.

But when the time came for his cousin Jesus to step into the spotlight, John joyfully gave up his place at center stage. John’s disciples thought that their rabbi would be grieved when the huge crowds of people left him and flocked to Jesus. But like a man allowing another man to cut in to dance with the woman he has been partnered with, John says: he is the groom, I am merely the best man. He says, with joy: he must increase, and I must decrease.

So what happened between then, and now, in prison, where John asks Jesus: are you the Expected One, or should we wait for another? Where does this deeply sad question come from?

The circumstances of John’s life had changed drastically.

In his passion for God’s people to live with integrity, holiness, and righteousness, John had challenged the man who was in power in his day... he challenged the morality of Herod Antipas - one of ancient history’s powerful and ruthless rulers. Herod had taken his brother’s wife to be his own wife, and John called it for what it really was - sin.

When we are confronted with sin, we have two options:

1) own up and repent

2) silence the voice that stirs our conscience

Herod chooses option two and sends the voice to prison.

And left to rot in that prison cell, John is surprised, dejected, and confused. John’s question comes from a place of deep disappointment with Jesus.

John had given his all for Jesus, but now, not far from the day he will be beheaded, John wonders if he had been wrong about Jesus.

(by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes)

“are you the Expected One, or should we wait for another?”

Have you ever felt that way?

Have you ever wanted to ask some form of John’s question?

Yesterday was about the Cross. Tomorrow will be about the Resurrection. But today, we are in that in-between space of doubt and personal darkness. 

So what went wrong for John? Why the doubts?

The Gospel writer Matthew tells us that while John is in jail, he hears a report about the work that Jesus is doing. And what John hears is a great disappointment.

Not that it’s bad news - it’s really good news. Jesus is healing the sick, releasing the demonized, even raising the dead!

So what bothered John?

It wasn’t what Jesus was doing. It’s what Jesus was not doing.

Ever felt like that before? 

And so John sends messengers to ask Jesus: are you the Expected One, or should we wait for another?

What was Jesus not doing? What was disappointing John?

The disappointment is on two levels: theological and personal. When it comes to our own disappointment with God, these things usually go hand-in-hand.

First, theological.

Very much in line with the heart of the Hebrew Scriptures, and in the spirit of the prophet Elijah, John was expecting his cousin to bring a baptism of fire and Spirit. 

The fire would purge the world of everything that is evil and broken in this world. The Spirit would renew God’s people to make them everything God had always intended.

What’s the problem? The gifts of God’s spirit are being poured out, but there’s no fire. John hears nothing about wrath, only mercy.

What’s worse, the people that John expects to get the axe are the very people that Jesus is partying with! Jesus, I see the Spirit, but where’s the fire?!

But his question isn’t just theological, it’s personal.

Personal, because John is in prison.

This seems totally out of line with the arrival of God’s Expected One! God’s Messenger has been put in prison by the unrighteous people that God’s Messiah was supposed to destroy! Languishing in prison, John can hear the singing and dancing right above him, as Herod and his cronies get drunk.

And adding insult to injury, Jesus is the guest of honor at the houses of drunkards and loose women and traitors to the nation. Jesus is pouring out the mercy of God on the very people whom John called down the fire of God! And to make things worse, John sees no indication that Jesus plans to free his cousin from jail.

John’s question is: if you’re really the Expected One, then what am I doing here?

What am I doing here? Ever identified with John’s disappointment? Our theological and personal disappointments often go hand-in-hand, don’t they?

Our theological issues are often rooted in personal wounding.

Like the words: Our God reigns.

Our problem isn’t that we don’t believe these words, but our lives aren’t going the way we thought they would if God was reigning.

Or: Jesus heals.

We struggle with these words, not because we don’t believe that Jesus can’t heal, but because he hasn’t healed us or the people that we love.

Or: Jesus can give you joy.

The issue is not that we haven’t seen anyone else who is filled with the life and joy of God, but because we are battling deep personal darkness.

John’s expectations of who Jesus is and what he should do weren’t being met on a theological and personal level, so he has to ask: are you the Expected One, or should we keep waiting for someone else to arrive?

Again, have you ever wanted to ask Jesus some form of that question? 

I haven’t found many Christians who are comfortable with this kind of personal darkness and doubt. Different friends have told me about times when God’s healing didn’t arrive for themselves, or someone that they loved, and the answer that Christians gave them boiled down to: well, you clearly didn’t have enough faith.

Don’t you just want to punch those people? I do. (Just being honest.)

I take great comfort in the fact that a great man of faith like John the Baptizer also battled personal darkness and doubt. If this is where you are, then know that you are in good company.

When a loved one, for whom you have prayed your guts out, dies.

You get cancer.

You get fired.

A natural disaster kills hundreds of people.

A war that you prayed wouldn’t happen does happen.

Your Christian brothers and sisters are being beheaded by evil people, and you’re not sure if you should blame the evil people, your government, or someone else, for not doing enough.

The conditions of your neighborhood or local school are atrocious.

Depression or anxiety lingers for months.

At some point, all of us have asked some form of John’s question: Jesus, are you the One we have been waiting for, or should we start the search for a new candidate?

Yesterday, I gathered with my church community to celebrate Good Friday, which as my friend Clint pointed out, is a gigantic paradox. Good. Friday. Good Friday. Good for who? Not Jesus, that’s for sure.

But we can’t get to Resurrection Sunday without the Painful Friday, and the Doubting Saturday. We’ve all met people who short-circuit the necessary journey through theological and personal darkness, and as a result, they give shallow and insincere answers to questions of doubt and suffering.

In times of darkness, you want to be around the people who didn’t go around the pain, but through it. They experienced Resurrection, but only after a difficult and sad Friday and Saturday. When these people sing it’s a beautiful day, don’t let it get away, you believe them, because you know that they embraced and learned from and were shaped by the struggle.

So on the Saturday before the empty tomb, I’ll ask you: where are you facing deep theological and personal darkness? What questions and disappointments do you have with Jesus?

Let’s talk about why people who are fantastic care-givers can also be the most awkward care-receivers.

Last week, at the church community that I’m a part of, I was part of a team that put together a special lunch for the staff. During lunch, we reenacted some key parts of the famous Last Supper story - including the moment when Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. And so, at all of the tables, everyone at staff lunch was given some wet wipes and instructed to pair up and take turns washing each other’s feet.

And that was as much warning as we gave the group, because we knew that if we told them ahead of time, we would have had a much lower attendance. 

(http://ozarkswalkabout.com/)

As you might imagine, the whole forced foot-washing exercise created some awkwardness.

Because some of us are grossed out by our feet.

Some of us had a difficult time clicking on this blog post when we saw the dirty foot photo.

Some of us are ticklish.

Others of us have no problem washing the feet of someone else, but for them to do this for us - to be vulnerable, to be served, to be cared for - that’s just too much to handle.

I find that a lot of people who are really great at caring for others are absolutely rubbish at allowing others to care for them. Have you ever tried to do something nice for someone who is a great care-giver? How successful were you?

I imagine that they objected: that’s really not necessary. I’m fine. Maybe they talked faster, changed the subject, tensed up. It’s painful to watch, isn’t it?

Now if they had no choice in the matter - perhaps your gift or service came as a surprise - then they automatically start thinking of some way to return the favor.

Caring for care-givers is so... awkward.

Despite all of the awkwardness of the moment at staff lunch, it only confirmed that we were on the right track, because it was also awkward for Jesus’ disciples. 

It’s likely that Jesus celebrated Passover with his disciples at last 2 or 3 times in their 3 1⁄2 years together. But at this last one, the famous one that we call The Last Supper, Jesus starts to transform their understanding of what this meal was pointing to - or rather - who it was pointing to...

The Passover meal is a symbolic retelling of God’s dramatic rescue operation to save the Hebrews from their bondage to slavery to the Egyptian Pharaoh. God carried out this rescue through the life of an ordinary man named Moses. And before he kicked off the rescue mission, God made four promises about what he would do for his people.

(by Marc Chagall)

In Exodus 6:6-7, God makes four statements that all begin with the words, ‘I will.’ 

Promise 1: I will bring you out.

Promise 2: I will free you from your bondage.

Promise 3: I will redeem you with outstretched arm.

Promise 4: I will take you to be my very own.

The Hebrews were instructed to remember this dramatic rescue operation. And so these four promises are represented in the Jewish Passover meal by four cups of wine.

Four promises. Four cups.

After the Last Supper, Jesus and his disciples head to a garden to pray, but his disciples fall asleep. And preachers will speculate about why, but isn’t it obvious? They’re men who just had a big meal, it’s night time, they’re in a garden for a prayer retreat, and they’ve just had four cups of wine. 

Four cups... of wine.

But I digress.

Jesus knew what was about to happen to him, even if his disciples could have never anticipated it. He was going to die on Passover. And yet, because he knew that he was the fulfillment of Passover, he held a sort of “pre-Passover” with his disciples, incorporating many of the key elements of the Passover meal into this Last Supper. And yet, he transformed the meaning of Passover. It didn’t make sense to his disciples in the moment, but he told them: you don’t understand now what I am doing, but later on, you will.

Early on in a typical Passover meal, everyone would drink from the first cup. This is also the point in the evening when you would offer up a prayer as you washed your hands. And it’s very likely that this is when Jesus washed his disciple’s feet. 

In those days, foot washing was needed in every home - not just for hospitality, but for hygiene. The streets were dusty anddirty, littered with garbage and animal waste. People in those days wore sandals, and as you can imagine, your feet would be pretty ripe by the end of the day.

Imagine the shock you would feel as one of the disciples, passing around the pitcher and basin to wash your hands, butthen Jesus - your teacher and leader and hero - strips off his outer garments, takes a towel, ties it around his waist...and begins to wash your feet.

You might know that in the middle of this story, the disciple Peter objects: Jesus, don’t do it! This is uncomfortable. I’m not worth it. You’re better than this. I’m fine, really! (My translation)

(by Sieger Koder)

And just like Peter, the whole foot-washing exercise was really uncomfortable for most everyone at staff lunch. 

Now, I’m writing about this, but I’m not above it. I found myself untying my shoes and removing my socks and rolling up my pant sleeves to make it as easy and quick and painless as possible for my foot-washing partner to serve me in this way. And the whole foot-washing exercise was my idea! Isn’t that ridiculous?

When a few of us planned this lunch, I guess we were expecting things to be more somber and serious. Instead, people were laughing. Probably because some of us are ticklish, but also because laughter is the natural result of discontinuity. 

Discontinuity is an interruption in the normal structure or configuration of things. 

Discontinuity is one of the many factors at work when we laugh at a joke. A lot of jokes start by creating some tension. Like this one...

_________ 

Two hunting buddies are in the woods, when one of the guys grabs his chest, cries out, and falls down dead. His friend panics and pulls out his cell phone to dial 9-1-1, and when the operator picks up, the hunter says, “You have to help me! My friend... he’s DEAD!”

The operator responds, “Sir, I need you to remain calm. I have your location, and first responders are on the way. But I need you to make sure that he’s really dead.”

The hunter pauses, but then says, “OK, hold on.”

The operator hears some rustling as the hunter sets his phone down. Then she hears a loud **BANG!!**

The hunter picks the phone back up and says, “Yeah, he’s dead all right. Now what?”

_________

Did you laugh? Did you at least crack a smile?

There’s all kinds of reasons why we laugh, and one of the reasons is discontinuity. 

The result that we were expecting from a story like this - the hunter checked his friend’s pulse and breathing - didn’t happen. 

The punchline - he “made sure” that his friend was dead - was a surprising twist to the story. 

This is discontinuity - we burst into laughter over the unexpected misinterpretation of the operator’s instructions. The punchline was an interruption in the normal structure or configuration of things.

Sidenote: is a joke actually funny if you have to dissect it and explain why it’s funny? I sincerely apologize. It won’t happen again.

Needless to say, foot-washing can be an enlightening social experiment in discontinuity. 

When Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, he created a moment of discontinuity. 

Much like our world, Jesus’ world was structured according to a hierarchy. The Roman Empire was a top-down structure - with Caesar at the top, all the way down to the lowest slave. Within the hierarchy, certain things are expected concerning how you treat the people who are above or below you. And this is true of our world too. A less extreme example is when you hear people say: that’s beneath you or she’s out of my league.

When he washed his disciples’ feet, Jesus created an interruption in the normal structure or configuration of things. 

For the disciples, it was beneath Jesus to wash his disciples’ feet. But for Jesus, this was in perfect continuity with the new thing he was bringing into the world.

Jesus knows that he’s about to go to the cross so that he can bring about a rescue mission even more dramatic then the Exodus: he will bring us out, he will free us, he will redeem us. And after his resurrection, his followers will be commissioned to tell a beloved world what God has done on their behalf, and that one day, he will return and take us to be his very own.

But Jesus’ mission will fail if his followers are operating according to the same old hierarchies that dominate our world. And so the whole foot-washing exercise wasn’t because Jesus suffered from OCD or couldn’t digest his food with the funk of foot odor in the air.

He is disrupting the normal configuration of things in order to bring them into something new.

Peter objects to the foot-washing because he is still a part of the old system of top-down hierarchy.

And so Jesus says: Unless I wash you, you have no part with me. 

Washing is about cleansing, but it’s also about removing the funk and residue that we’ve picked up along the way. For disciples of Jesus, we have to unlearn what we have learned, or else we won’t be able to participate in the brand new thing that he’s bringing to the world. 

Because Rome had a hierarchy, and so did Egypt. It looked a lot like a pyramid, with the all-powerful Great One on top, and everyone else suffering below. This top-down system created oppression and suffering. It caused people to cry out in pain. And it’s as true then as it is today: God hears that cry, and it moves him to action.

Moses brought people out of that system. But it wasn’t long before humans continued to revert to systems of domination and oppression. It’s one thing to get the slave out of Egypt, it’s another thing to get Egypt out of the slave.

Once and for all, Jesus came to bring us out from that system, and modeled something new that we would have never come up with on our own. 

After washing their feet, he tells them, You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

Now, what if Jesus had said: Now that I have washed your feet, you also should wash my feet?

Can you imagine the disciples clawing and scrambling to be the first in line to wash the feet of their rabbi? I know I would. I don’t know about you, but after all that Jesus has done for me, all that he has saved me from - it would be my honor to wash his feet, and I would fight someone for that honor.

But that’s not what he said.

He said: Now that I have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.

Think about how brilliant Jesus is. If he had instructed them to wash his feet, that would have perpetuated the pyramid-thinking that comes all too naturally for us, where the Great Ones are served by the less deserving. Foot-washing could become the new social currency that we would use to move up in society.

But Jesus says, I am your Lord and Teacher. I have washed your feet. No servant is greater than his master.

In other words, if I’m not above this, then neither are you. Take all of the gratitude and love that you want to pour out on me, and pour it out on others.

_________

I’ll end with some final words about caregiving...

It is blessed to give, and to receive.

You caregivers: when you care for others, that’s how you say I love you, right?

So when we deny others the opportunity to care for us, we deny them the opportunity to say I love you.

Knowing this, is it more motivating to allow people to care for you?

But that’s not all they miss out on...

Earlier in this post, there was a painting by Sieger Koder. (This guy is brilliant with symbolism.) In the painting, did you notice that you can’t see Jesus’ face as he washes Peter’s feet?

Now look again...

Do you see his face?

I think that Sieger Koder is referencing words that Jesus had spoken at an earlier time. To people who were praised for feeding the hungry, satisfying the thirsty, hosting the homeless, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and the prisoner - washing their feet - Jesus the King says, you didn’t know it, but when you did that for them, you did it unto me. (Matthew 25:40)

For those of us who would have clawed and scrambled to wash Jesus’ feet, Jesus shows us how we can still do that. But when we deny others the opportunity to serve us, we deny them the opportunity to see the face of Jesus in the reflection of the water basin.

Knowing this, is it more motivating to allow people to care for you?

But that’s not all they miss out on... 

Jesus knew that there is already plenty of pyramid-think at work in the world, but all it creates is oppression and violence and greed and suffering. And so he brought a revolution, an interruption to the normal configuration of things, in order to bring something new.

It started with an invasion, where he snuck into our world, being born to the poorest unmarried couple in the most scandalous of circumstances in the dirtiest of conditions in the most backwater province of the most powerful empire.

And then came his ministry, welcoming sinners and outcasts, and totally upending the pyramid-think in every aspect of society. It came to a head when both the religious and political powers didn’t know what to do with him, and by necessity of their broken system, killed him on a cross.

But just before the cross and the trial and the arrest and the betrayal, Jesus has an intimate meal with his disciples, and he shows them the secret to subverting the empire. Not with a sword or an AK-47. Not with picketing slogans and ironic t-shirts. The empire will be subverted with a towel and a pitcher of water.

So caregivers, you’re really good at what you do. And I’m one of you - it’s hard for me to receive care from others. But when we deny others the opportunity to care for us, we deny them the opportunity to say I love you, to see the face of Jesus, and to participate in his revolution.

If we really care for people, let’s remember that it is blessed to give and to receive. Maybe it would help you to think of receiving as: giving an opportunity for more giving to take place. 

But enough with words. Jesus says that we will be blessed if we don’t just blog about this (my translation).

He’s inviting us to imitate him. What if we took him up on this? 

............................

So, I’ll offer two experiments for you to try out, depending on whether you have trouble giving, or receiving.

First... a Giving Experiment.

There are a lot of grocery stores that offer hand wipes at the main entrance. If you ever find yourself shopping with a significant other, snag a couple of wet wipes as you exit the store. (Be sneaky about it.) Once you’ve loaded the groceries, and they sit in the passenger or driver’s side - just before they’re about to buckle themselves in - warn them that you’re going to need their shoes. (You’ll probably have to say something like: Relax or Trust me or I know this sounds weird.) Then, kneel down outside their door, and start removing their shoes. Prepare for some awkwardness, but then, as you wash their feet with the wet wipe, look them in the eyes and start telling them how important they are to you, what you love about them, and what a gift they are to you and to the world, and that you hope that this year, you can find even more ways to serve them and put them first in your life.

Then... a Receiving Experiment.

You’re at a restaurant, or a coffee shop. And that moment comes that you absolutely dread: the moment when your friend offers to pay for your meal, or buy your coffee. Your one job is to say two words: THANK YOU. Don’t offer to take care of it next time. Don’t think of how you’re going to pay them back in some subtle way. Just receive the gift with gratitude, and then don’t say one more word about it. It will probably take some practice to do this gracefully, so go easy on yourself as you become more comfortable with receiving a gift.

............................

Which experiment is harder to carry out? I think there are compelling arguments to be made for both sides, so let’s just focus on what will help us become the most like Jesus.

When you’re young, you always feel that life hasn’t yet begun – that “life” is always scheduled to begin next week, next month, next year, after the holidays – whenever. But then suddenly you’re old and the scheduled life didn’t arrive. You find yourself asking, “Well then, exactly what was it I was having ‐ that interlude ­– the scrambly madness –­ all that time I had before?” “Life After God,” by Douglas Coupland, p147

Maybe you've felt something like this – you've wondered when your life was going to begin. (Cue the song from Disney’s “Tangled.”) As a result of living for the future, we aren't fully present to what is happening right here and now. It's like we’re sleepwalking through our lives. We are here, but at the same time, we aren’t here – we’re somewhere else. But what all of us are really after is contentment. When we’re content, we’re at rest, we’re a non-anxious presence, we are fully present to the present moment. 

I’m not there yet, but it’s where I’d like to be.

It’s like the parable of the monk who is running for his life from a ferocious tiger. The tiger chases him to the edge of a cliff, but the monk evades the tiger by climbing down a vine. But while the monk is hanging there, mice begin to chew the vine. In a matter of seconds, the monk will fall to his death, where there are sharp rocks below. He is caught between the tiger and the rocks. But then, the monk sees a strawberry growing out of the cliff face. He takes the strawberry and eats it. His eyes brighten, and he smiles with delight.

The tiger is the past. The rocks are the future. The vine is our mortality. The strawberry is the gift of this present moment.

Last week, we saw that a man named Jacob was also on the run. His “tiger” was a huge mess that he had created in his own family. God finds Jacob asleep in the middle-­of‐nowhere, and through an incredible dream, tells him, “You have my favor. I am with you. I will watch over you. I will bring you back. I will not leave you until I have done what I’ve promised.”

After Jacob woke up, he set up the rock pillow as a symbolic memorial of the night that God interrupted his life. In one way or another, this is the kind of response that all of us have to an important moment. It's just a rock in a certain place, but it's much more than that ‐ it marks the site of an extraordinary encounter with God.

That’s what Jacob saw: a stairway. Now let’s look at what Jacob said.When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.” (Genesis 28:16)

What has Jacob just realized?

God has been present to Jacob this whole time, but only now is Jacob waking up to that reality. God has been with him, but Jacob had been asleep – deaf to His voice and numb to His touch.

This is something all of us are susceptible to – apart from a gracious interruption, we can be asleep to the present moment. We can run from our past, and miss the present. But we can also miss the present by living for the future.

Have you ever noticed, in our conversations, the way that we talk about something that we’re planning to gain or experience or accomplish? 

What life will be like once we get that job? Or we're accepted to our dream school? Or we're married? We get the body we're working towards? We go on that overseas adventure? After we that new skill? Or shake this addiction? Pay off our debt? Move out of this town? 

Some part of us believes, “Once I get to that next chapter in my life, that’s when my life will really begin!”

It’s like the past is a place called “Point A,” and then there’s someplace, off in the future – “Point C.” But right now – this is just “Point B.” 

Just.

We think there's nothing special about Point B, it’s like being at a gas station in Bakersfield, but you really want to be at Space Mountain inDisneyland. (No offense to people who live in Bakersfield, but wouldn't you rather be in Disneyland too?) We think that our time at Point B is just the means to some future end, and we'll be so glad when this time is over and our life really begins.

For Jacob, Point A was back home with his dad, mom and brother. But home is in the past, and even if he wants to return home, he burnt that bridge to the ground. It seems like Jacob will have to find a new home and a new start because he’s not welcome at Point A anymore.

Jacob is on his way to Point C.

Point C is a place called Paddan-­Aram. It's the place where his dad and mom met, and he’s hoping to have the same kind of luck. I can imagine Jacob thinking to himself: Paddan-­Aram is where I’ll meet my wife, start fresh, create my own family, and this time – this time – I’m going to do it right! But this middle-of­-nowhere place is Point B, and I’m not really expecting much from it. Point C – here I come!

Can you relate to Jacob? How do you feel about your own Point B? 

Personally, I've never done well with Point B. I get grumpy, I feel sorry for myself, and I can’t wait until it’s over with. When you’re at Point B, doesn't it seem like everywhere you look, people are getting married, going on adventures, going to their dream school, starting their dream family, going to their dream job? It seems like everyone else has arrived! And I think to myself: When’s it going to be my turn? Soon – I hope. But not yet – obviously.

But the story tells us that Jacob woke up from his sleep, and the place where he was sleeping suddenly took on fresh significance. Jacob woke up. And this “waking up” – it’s a physical act – he physically woke up and rose from where he had been sleeping. But there's a lot more to it than that.

Paul, a disciple of Jesus, probably quotes from an early Christian song when he writes: Awake O Sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you! (Ephesians 5:14) Ultimately, this song is about resurrection, but these words also acknowledge something that is true for all of us: all of us run the risk of sleepwalking through life. We can miss all of the ways that God is at work. But he could shine on us – he can wake us up from all of that. He could open our eyes, show us what he has been up to all along, and call us to be a part of it.

This speaks to Jacob's story. Until God introduced himself, Jacob had been asleep. He had been dead to the only One who could give him life. In the middle of Point B, Jacob had been totally unaware of the reality that God had been with him the entire time. It's something that all of us are susceptible to, and it reminds me of a movie recommendation I have for you: The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Have you seen it yet? I can't call myself your friend if I don't recommend it to you.

Walter Mitty tends to zone out from time to time. When life isn’t going the way he wants it to, or when he wishes he could handle a situation differently, but he doesn’t have the courage to actually do it, he just imagines things playing out however he wants. But it's just an escape tactic, he’s just zoning out. But then, there comes a point when he begins to really live his life, to be fully present to what is going on. He comes to life. He wakes up.

And at this point in Jacob's story, he wakes up. And we could too. 

Last week I told you about how my plans fell apart at the beginning of my adventure in Canada. But now I believe that God wanted to wake me up. I like to feel that I'm in control, and one of the ways that I feel a sense of control is when all of my plans are falling into place. But the control that we think we have over our circumstances is an illusion. When I think I'm in control, a negative side effect is that I don't think that I need God. If I have everything in order, I can manage my own life just fine. My need for control is a form of sleepwalking; it makes me unaware of how God is at work in my life because I've been trying to live my life outside of the Source of Life.

(Seriously, does anyone still wear those old-timey sleeping caps? Probably not, but I find them endearing, and so this doodle includes a sleeping cap.)

But I digress.

Looking back, it was a gift that my plans fell through. It was an opportunity for God to show me that he can be trusted and that he never meant for me to live my life apart from Him. Sufjan Stevens sings: I was asleep, but he woke me up again. 

If you'd like to wake up and fully experience this life, can I make a suggestion? It has to do with how we talk. 

I'm a pastor, and so I'm around a lot of Christians on a regular basis. And lately, I hear a lot of Christians using the phrase "and then God showed up." Or they'll say that "it was such a God-­thing." (If you're not around Christians, I'll translate our Christianese.) When Christians talk like this, essentially we're saying that God did something surprising or miraculous. Maybe we’ll talk about how God “showed up” by providing us with a job, or God provided a needed encounter with another person, and that was “such a God-thing.”

But then what do you do with all of the terrible things that we hear about on the nightly news, or for our friends down the street? Where was the God-thing that they needed? Why didn’t God show up for them?

Here's my suggestion: if you've never talked like this, then don't ever start. But if you do talk like this, it doesn't take too long to form a new habit, and I wish you would. (Seriously, I will unfollow you on Twitter, and you don't want that because I check my feed at least two times a year, sometimes three.) 

But why is this a big deal? It's important to change our language if it doesn't line up with how God works. How we talk has everything to do with how we think and live, and this is one of those ways that we talk that can cause problems in our understanding of what God is really like. The people who wrote the Bible never talk about God “showing up,” as if he was somewhere else, but then he dropped in for a surprise visit. Whenever it seems like God showed up, the people in those stories wake up to the reality that he has been here and at work all along. Showing up and waking up are very different things. 

In Psalm 139, the poet asks if there is anywhere we can go where God is not present, anywhere that we will be hidden from his sight or too far for him to reach us. And joyfully, the poet concludes that there is no place where God cannot reach us, and nowhere that God cannot be found.

In Romans 8:38, we are told that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God, not even the present. That seems a bit strange to me – that the present could separate us from the love of God, but it can. There are times when we put imaginary limits on how God works, believing that Point B is a God-­forsaken place, and this false belief makes us numb to his love and presence at Point B.

This happened in my own life after my adventure in Canada came to a close. I came home, with my heart full of dreams about the spiritual revival that I was going to single-­handedly bring about in the San Francisco Bay Area. (I have my fantasies, and you have yours.) And then reality set in. The economy was at its lowest point, and all that I could find for employment was a minimum wage job at a coffee shop. Now, I love coffee, but this was far from what I had been dreaming about in all of my theology classes. After several months of explaining to customers the all-too-critical difference between “Grande” and “Medium,” disappointment and boredom kicked in, and the fire in my heart began to die.

I was rescued out of my self-­imposed funk by a pastor friend of mine named Adrian. He drew my attention to all of the other people around me who were fellow residents of Point B. We formed several living room Bible studies and began friendships with fellow pilgrims in a coffee shop setting. While I still had so much to learn about caring for a group of people, all of us were being called out of our isolation and discovering that Point B wasn't a God-­forsaken place after all; it was sacred and significant. God was in that place, we just weren't aware of it.

I met my wife at Point B – that alone is proof that I was wrong about “this place.”

Even if we don’t think this particular chapter of our life is all that significant, God is here. Even if we've made a huge mess of things, he will meet us in the mess. Even if Point B seems mundane and boring, we can wake up to his presence, which shakes us out of our slumber and brings us back to life. 

Here's what is true: we don’t need to have “arrived” at Point C for God to make himself known to us. Point A, Point B, Point C – God can meet us anywhere. But do we actually believe this? We might feel that God is only at work in our lives once we've arrived at our intended destination, but the truth is that he is the God of our journey. 

Someone who is growing into a mature faith in God has come to see that he is in this place, even if we've been asleep to that reality. I don't know about you, but I don’t want to live as if Point B is nothing. I've come to realize that 'Point B Thinking' is a destructive way to think about our lives because it's out of touch with the truth. Point B Thinking is not how God thinks. He is not limited by any point or place. But since we are limited in this way, we can put this kind of limited thinking on God, but it has to stop if we want to have our eyes opened to his presence in our lives. 

What would it look like for us to live as if God is in this place? What if we could experience God long before we arrived at our ever-­elusive final destination? 

What if we knew the God of the Present Tense? The God of Point B?

I have found a lot of help from a man who followed Jesus a long time ago, Ignatius of Loyola. He taught me the Prayer of Examen. The word Examen is a clue to what the prayer is - reviewing your day in the presence of God. 

It’s easy to do; I’ll teach it to you now:

At the end of your day, go somewhere that you won't be disturbed. (Your backyard or favorite chair will do.) Remind yourself that God is with you, and review your day in his presence. Ask questions like:

When was I a gift to someone else?  When were they a gift to me? When was I most aware of God's presence? When was I least aware? When was I most alive?  When was I numb? When was I the most like Jesus? When was I the least like Jesus? Tomorrow, how could I become more like Jesus? Today, how was Jesus enough to overcome what I still lack?

The questions are great because if we tend to fixate on the ways that we aren’t enough, or if we tend to make light of things that were difficult or painful, there is a corresponding question that counters that impulse.

After you’ve reviewed those questions in God’s Presence, ask yourself: what has God revealed to me? Is there anyone I need to forgive? Is there anything that I will resolve in my heart to do? How will I need God’s help to carry this out?

This prayer trains your eyes and ears and heart to see the strawberries that are right in front of you, those gracious gifts of God. Over time, it will train you to see all of life this way: All is Grace. All is Gift. I live in abundance because the Father knows what I need. And so, anxious striving is totally unnecessary. I am His, and He is mine - and so I already have everything I really need. Everything else is frosting.

This sets me free to accomplish things without striving. To love people without using them to fulfill unmet desires. To learn from the past and dream about the future without missing the gift of the present.

He is waking me up; and he will wake you up too.

Awhile ago, I borrowed a pair of men’s dress socks, and I never plan on returning them. Before you judge me, let me at least defend myself with a story. 

I imagine that in the place where you live, there is a shelf, or a wall, or a sock drawer that holds a seemingly ordinary object: a photo, or a seashell, or a coin. As your roommate or your spouse, I don’t know how important it is to you until I’m doing some spring-­cleaning, and I’m about to throw it away, and you object, “Wait! Don’t touch that!”

And I reply, “What?! It’s just a ________.”

But you tell me, “No, it’s more than just a _________.”

Apparently, I have stumbled upon an ordinary object that has extraordinarymeaning for you. There's a story attached to it that others might be lucky to hearone day.

For me, my seemingly ordinary object is a pair of socks. The socks remind me of thetime when I moved to Canada. I was planning to live in Vancouver for several yearswhile I went to school, and I had made all the arrangements for where I'd live. My mom and I thought it would be fun to make a road trip out of it. But when we arrived, my housing situation fell apart. I was stranded, with no place to live, and school was days away from starting. I’m thankful to say that some people whom I had never met before sheltered me and my mom while we searched for housing in a foreign land. I should also mention that our car broke down along the way, and so we hastily stuffed all of my belongings into a rental. This meant that every morning, I had to reach into the passenger window of the car and feel around for that day's outfit. 

Shirt? Check. 

Jeans? Check. 

As you can imagine, I was forced to put together some very interesting fashion combinations.

But one day, I was digging around and I couldn't find any socks. Barefoot in the driveway, I was wondering how I was going to make it through the day without any socks. Thankfully, the man who was hosting us gave me a pair of his dress socks. I thanked him and we continued our search for housing.

Most of the craigslist postings were requests like: Female Roommate. Quiet. Must like cats. To which I thought, "No, no, and definitely no."

But then I found an ad that caught my eye: Three Ridiculously Good-­Looking Guys Looking For Roommate With Sense of Humor. I had a strong sense that I had found my people.

The guy who had written the post answered the door in his bathrobe, and nonchalantly toured me around their living room, complete with a foosball table, disco ball, and for some inexplicable reason, two life-­size paper mâché penguins hugging each other while wearing ugly Christmas sweaters. At this point, maybe you would have reconsidered living with the cat lady, but not me. I was home sweet home.

A few days later, I began three years of pastoral training, and our first chapel service kicked off with the Christian hymn "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." Part of the song sings: All I have needed Thy hand hath provided — Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me! The song deeply resonated with me. I had been holding it together while my mom and I searched for housing, but now, with a great living situation and a new chapter full of promise, I sobbed tears of relief and thanked God for his provision. That experience sealed in me a deep well of trust in God.

At some point, I realized that I still had those borrowed socks, but I didn't want to give them back. For the man who had sheltered me, they were probably just a pair of socks that he had forgotten about. But for me, they were a tangible reminder of God's provision.

A moment in the journey of the people of Israel spoke deeply to me, where God says, "The entire time I led you on your journey, your sandals did not wear out" (Deuteronomy 29:5). In my case, God would say, "your socks did not wear out." 

Do you see why I never gave them back?

There’s a similar story in the Bible where an ordinary object will take on symbolic meaning. Along the way to his Uncle Laban’s house, a man named Jacob falls asleep for the night in the middle of nowhere. And in the middle of nowhere, God visits him in a dream. God stands at the top of a stairway that connects earth and heaven. Angels are ascending and descending this staircase – it’s an incredible vision. And then God speaks to Jacob and essentially says, “We haven't been formerly introduced, but I am with you and will watch over you for your entire journey, and I will bring you back to where you are now. I will not leave you – I promise.”

First of all ‐ wow! Probably for the first time in his life, Jacob knows that Someone else is with him on his life’s journey. Jacob still has so much to learn about who this Someone is, but what I find so powerful about this moment is that Jacob wasn't out looking for God. However, you could say that God was looking out for Jacob. God interrupts Jacob's mess of a life by meeting him in a dream.

There are countless stories in the Bible about God doing incredible things while people are asleep... When God put Adam to sleep, God made Eve to be his wife and partner and friend (Genesis 2:21). When King Solomon fell asleep, God visited him in a dream and told him that he would give him the gift of wisdom to rule with a discerning heart (1 Kings 3:12). When Jesus was asleep in a fishing boat, a storm threatened to drown him and his followers. Jesus woke up, told the storm to shut up, and his followers began to wonder if he might be more than just a great teacher (Matthew 8:27). Jacob wakes up from his dream, and he says, "God is in this middle-­of‐nowhere place, but I wasn't aware of it. It was a complete surprise, but God's reality met my reality" (Genesis 28:16).

This is a really important moment, so let's camp out here for a bit. God met Jacob in a very strange dream. What did it all mean? There was the dream of a stairway, and then Jacob said: “God is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”

This week, let’s look at the stairway, and then next week, we’ll explore the words “this place.”

When I think about the stairs that connected heaven and earth, I think of one of my favorite places in the Bay Area of California: The Cathedral of Christ the Light. If you ever find yourself in Oakland, go see it for yourself. Craig Hartman designed the cathedral, and he really knows his stuff when it comes to sacred space.

When I first stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn upwards to the back wall, where there was a gigantic image of Jesus. At first, I thought that the image was being projected from an LCD screen, because light was radiating out of Jesus in the most beautiful way. But as I got closer, I saw that it wasn't an LCD screen, but instead, thousands of holes had been drilled into a metal sheet, and the spacing and size of the holes created a 3D effect, so that this image of Jesus shone into the building during the day, and out into the street at night. This light effect always speaks to me about how Jesus is the Light who shines into his followers, and how his followers are meant to give the gift of light to the watching world.

Brilliant.

There's more to this sacred space. When I stood in the middle of the room and looked straight up, I saw that the shapes of two circles were overlapping. Almost like a Venn diagram, the intersection of these two circles created an almond shape. Had you been with me, I would have told you that this almond shape is significant in sacred artwork; it's called a mandorla. When you see the shape of a mandorla in religious artwork, it’s meant to convey the intersection of two realms: Heaven and Earth, Divine and Human, Invisible and Visible. The mandorla is a symbolic version of a stairway to heaven.

The ancient world had their own version of this too – a building called a ziggurat.

Ancient people in the Middle East built their temples as a stairway that touched earth and led up to heaven. The idea was that this was a place where these two realms could meet and the divine could be encountered. That’s essentially what Jacob sees in his dream. A stairway, connecting heaven and earth, with angels ascending and descending, and above it all, God, who speaks directly to Jacob and tells him that he is watching over him in his journey.

Jacob might have expected God to be present at a temple. We might be open to encountering him at Christ the Light, or in a natural cathedral like Yosemite National Park. But the story says that this happened to Jacob in 'a certain place' where he fell asleep for the night on a rock that he used for a pillow. It's just a rock in a certain place - a place with no name, with nothing special about it. 

But it’s not just a rock, is it? An ordinary rock pillow became a reminder of a life-­changing moment. It’s a very human impulse to attach meaning to objects, and places, and people. We do this because some experiences are beyond describing, but still, we want to represent it because we don’t want to forget it. And so we inscribe plaques and create baby books. We wear wedding bands and get tattooed. We eat bread and drink from a cup. It’s all pointing beyond the symbol to something that is real, but difficult to get our hands and minds around. 

What about you? What are the objects, or places, or relationships in your life that have taken on extraordinary significance? Do any of them represent the ground where a divine encounter took place?

Who is it, that when you’re introducing them to your friends, you would need to give a long and detailed backstory if others were going to understand why they are so important to you?

What is it, that when your roommate is about to throw it away, you have to explain, “No, it’s not just a _________.”

Where is it, that when you visit that very spot, all of the original emotions and sensory memories come rushing back to you?

After Jacob woke up, he set up the rock pillow as a symbolic memorial of the night that God interrupted his life. In one way or another, this is the kind of response that all of us have to an important moment. It's just a rock in a certain place, but it's much more than that -­ it marks the site of an extraordinary encounter with the Really Real.

Church gatherings can and should be like that – we practice symbolic rituals with songs and words and bread and wine – but have the rituals ever become empty and meaningless for you?

Relationships can and should be like that – we get together to eat and laugh and play and tell stories – but have your relationships ever become stuck and lifeless?

Whenever that happens, here’s my recommendation for you: remember that your religion and your relationships have meaning that transcends any of the familiar rituals. Perhaps the rituals have lost their ability to connect you to what’s real because they have become disconnected from their story?

It’s like what Jesus says to his people in the city of Ephesus, “You have forgotten your First Love! Consider what has caused the gap between us to grow – and then recover the dear, early love we had for each other.” (Revelation 2:4)

So this week – retell the story. Maybe you’ll do this around a kitchen table, or at a coffee shop, or on a walk, but if there is a story or symbol that represents your relationship to that place or that person, do a little show­‐and‐tell. Revisit the story again, and see if that doesn’t help you and those other people to reconnect to the reality behind the ritual. Whoever it is, or wherever it is that has become lackluster, don’t give into the temptation to abandon it in search of something new. You can renew the symbol by retelling the story.

Jacob saw a stairway, where he had a divine encounter. An ordinary rock pillow became a reminder of a life-­changing moment. It’s a very human impulse to attach meaning to objects, and places, and people - because behind that symbol is the memory of a very real encounter that we had, and would like to have once again. 

That’s what Jacob did. Next week, let’s look at what Jacob said.

me: Who likes Venn Diagrams?

large blog fan base that only exists in my imagination: Me! Me too! All of us!

You probably know what a Venn Diagram is, even if you aren't familiar with the name. Essentially, it's a visual way of mapping out the similarities and differences between different things.

For instance, you might not think that the male torso and horses have a lot in common, but...

When you put these two seemingly different things into a Venn Diagram, you see that a large part of the male torso "realm" has absolutely nothing to do with the realm of horse legs, but in the overlap, there's a funny connection.

Here's another one...

Now, to be fair, my grandpa Ron (A.K.A. "Bonka") always smells freshly showered, and he prefers the golfer cap over the fedora, but wasn't the "Hipster" overlap kind've great? I thought so.

One more...

Maybe you're of that rare group of people who hasn't used Facebook to see if your high school girlfriend has gained 10 lbs., or binge-pinned the entirety of your ideal-yet-impossible wedding on Pinterest, or Instagrammed the unrecognizable remains of the amazing burrito that you just devoured. 

But so you can at least understand the rest of us, please read on.

This Venn Diagram makes a great point in a funny way. All of these social media outlets can be fun, and they can keep us up-to-date with the goings-on of other people we know... but they run the risk of making life all about me.

There's a story in Scripture that speaks to this. In Exodus 24:12, God says to Moses, "Come up to me on the mountain and stay here..."

Two things about this story that have a really important message for people who live in the Digital Age: the words stay and me.

Stay.

If you've been on a hike anytime in the recent past, you know that you'll do all of this climbing and sweating to get to an amazing view. But then, pretty quickly, you start back down the hill because there's things around the house that need fixing, there's e-mails that need to be sent, kids that need to driven to soccer tournaments, and burritos that need to be Instagrammed.

QUESTION: When was the last time you went somewhere, and just stayed there for a good long while, and you didn't move on too quickly to the next thing?

The original Hebrew language of this story takes us even further...

What God literally says is, "Come up to me and be here... exist here."

Being our Creator, God knows us pretty well; he knows that we have this capacity to be somewhere physically, but in our head and our heart, we're somewhere else.

Because we can be somewhere without actually being there, can't we? 

Has anyone ever caught you spacing out when you were supposed to be on a romantic date, or reading a book to your child, or enjoying a meal with a good friend? At some point, was their objection or facial expression asking: "Where are you right now?"

Because when you're not here; you're somewhere else.

This is an age-old problem... it existed long before Wi-Fi was invented.

God says to Moses, "Come up to me and be here; here and nowhere else."

Now, if you know anything about Moses, you know that he's a busy guy with a lot on his plate.

God had recently worked through his life to release about a million people from slavery (no small feat!) And now, all of these people are living day-to-day, hand-to-mouth, in the harsh Arabian desert as they journey to a land that was promised to them.

In the desert, there are snakes and scorpions, people get thirsty, there are kids and older people who can't walk as fast. And did I mention that there's about a million of them?

I think it's fair to say that Moses has a lot on his mind. 

And yet God says, "Come up to me."

Me.

God wants these recently freed slaves to be truly free, and so he says to their anxious leader, "Come up to me, to a place where you'll be out of range for the Wi-Fi signal in the Hebrew camp." (I added that last part.)

QUESTION: Is it good for Moses, good for us, and good for the people that we are looking after, when we have time and space where we are unreachable and unavailable? 

God tells Moses, "Come up to me, and focus on me, and that will be very good for you."

That's the opposite message that we're receiving from our culture. All of the most popular apps are centered on us.

All of the social media outlets can be fun, and they can keep us current with what's going on in the lives of the people we know and love... but they run the risk of making life all about me.

But life isn't all about me.

Have you ever been around a person who was the center of their own universe? And I don't mean a 2 year old, I'm talking about a person who never grew out of that key developmental stage, and life is still all about them.

Isn't it exhausting to be around them? Afterwards, do you find yourself drained and anxious?

Moses has a massive responsibility on his shoulders, and yet, God says, "You might suppose that the solution is to multi-task, to do more with less time. But I'm telling you, it will be very good for you - and all of those people you are caring for - to do one thing. That one thing is to come away to be with me, to focus on me."

QUESTION: Is multi-tasking actually all that it's cracked up to be? Do we actually get more done? Even if you got more done (quantity), did you fully experience it and do it well (quality)?

So I think we can all agree that as great as social media and smart phones can be, if their influence on our lives goes unchecked, we become distracted and self-centered people.

Another risk of social media is that it becomes a means of comparing our lives to the lives of other people, which plants seeds of dissatisfaction with our own lives.

Last week, we explored how formulas are the pilgrim’s poison for the female journey.

What poisons the journey for a man is comparison. To all my brothers-from-other-mothers, this is for you.

There's a funny biblical story about comparison in John 20...

A few things you need to know about this story:

The events take place after Jesus' death and resurrection.

It won't be long until Jesus returns to Heaven.

After that, his disciples will carry out their mission to make other disciples of Jesus in every nation.

This story involves two disciples: Peter and John.

Peter and John had a very competitive relationship.

Mary Magdalene discovers the empty tomb, and she panics. She runs to Peter and "the other disciple, the one Jesus loved," and says, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have put him!"

We definitely need to talk about the "one Jesus loved" part, but first let's hear the rest of the story... 

Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in.

Then Simon Peter came along behind him and went straight into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, as well as the cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus' head. The cloth was still lying in its place, separate from the linen.

Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.) Then the disciples went back to where they were staying.

So, I put a few details in this story in bold type. Does any of it clue you in to the competition that was going on between Peter and John? What fueled this competition?

Both Peter and John had crucial leadership roles in Jesus' ministry. 

You've probably heard pastors make jokes about Peter's propensity to put his foot in his mouth on a fairly regular basis.

Pastor: There he goes again, fumbling and stumbling all over the place! But doesn't it give you hope that if God can work through the life of a knucklehead like Peter, he can work through us too?

Congregation: (laughs and nods their heads.) Oh Peter! When will you ever learn?

But have you ever wondered why Peter is always the first to speak and the first to respond, even if he gets it wrong most of the time? Is he just a rash and impulsive guy?

That might be part of it, but you might also find it interesting to know that in the rabbi-disciple relationship, the rabbi had a prime disciple, a primo ballerino of sorts. (My wife Sarah, who loves to dance, would like to point out that primo ballerino isn't a real thing, just like a male barista isn't called a baristo. But I digress.) For any key teaching moments when the rabbi wanted to impart something to the whole group of disciples, there was one disciple who was the lab rat, the test drive dummy, the one who took the brunt of a new discipleship lesson. They're like CHAPPiE, they take a beating on our behalf.

It's like when I took a karate class in college. Anytime our sensei wanted to teach us a new move, he'd ask for a volunteer. And I was that volunteer. For the sake of the entire class, I'd endure the humiliation of being folded into a human pretzel, but then all of us knew what the proper technique should look like.

Peter was that human pretzel, the prime disciple, who would speak and act on behalf of the entire group. What he learned the hard way, he learned for the sake of all the other disciples, who were probably thinking, I'm really glad that it's Peter, and not me, who is being contorted into that painful shape.

It might hurt, but who truly learned from the rabbi, the volunteer, or the audience? This is a crucial leadership role, and Peter went on to be a key pillar in the early Christian movement.

But John had an important role to play as well. He was "the disciple that Jesus loved." Again, you'll hear preachers make all kinds of jokes about how the other disciples must have felt to keep company with a guy who referred to himself this way. It's probably how the members of U2 felt when David Evans wanted to be known as "The Edge," or how The Police felt when Gordon Sumner wanted to be called "Sting." 

How did that conversation go down? How much backlash did they get from other members of the band before it became a thing? And what did the other disciples think when John wrote himself into his own Gospel as "the disciple that Jesus loved"?

Does John believe that Jesus played favorites, or is there something else going on when John calls himself by this title?

In the ancient world, if a great teacher knew that at some point, their life was drawing to a close, they would designate one of their followers to be their designated interpreter. This was the one who knew your heart well enough to carry your message into new contexts, long after you were gone. Socrates had Aristotle, Aristotle had Plato, Jesus had John.

To be "the disciple that Jesus loved" is not something to be taken lightly. Whereas the other Gospel writers (Matthew, Mark and Luke) would put together their accounts of Jesus' life that looked very similar to each other, John's Gospel is really different. And I mean really different. This is because John had a mission to take the message of Jesus beyond the realm of the Jews, to the surrounding nations. And if you're going to take the message of Jesus from one culture to another, you're going to have to translate, you're going to have to interpret. You had better know what you're doing.

The opening of John's Gospel tells us that Jesus came from the heart (Greek: kolpos) of the Father. (John 1:18) And then at the end of Jesus' life, when he is sharing some of his most intimate and important teachings with his disciples, John tells us that he was resting on Jesus' heart (kolpos). (John 13:23)

John is saying, Jesus came from the heart of God, and I rested on that heart! 

To people like you and me who are outsiders to the Jewish world and way of thinking, there's a lot of things that aren't going to make sense to us. But John is the one who has been authorized by Jesus to change the language so that it makes sense to people like us. John is the Beloved Disciple, he is the one who knows Jesus' heart, and so he can translate the message that came from that heart so that we too can have the life of God.

Peter is the Prime Disciple, and John is the Authorized Interpreter. Can you see the potential for some serious competition between these guys?

And so, in John 20, we hear that the tomb is empty, Jesus is resurrected, human history will forever be altered on the basis of this day, the New Creation is breaking through in the shell of the first, broken creation and LOOK HOW FAST I CAN RUN!

I think this is pretty comical, don't you?

People talk about the inerrancy of Scripture, how it's perfect just as it is. Is it perfect, or is it realistic? Do we have an unflawed account of Jesus' life, or do we have the best news that the world has ever needed to hear, with a dash of teenage adrenaline thrown in just for fun?

This story is so divine, and so human.

And so, the last story of John's Gospel also involves Peter and John, and they're still trying to outdo each other.

In John 21, Jesus has resurrected, and he's already appeared to his disciples a few times already.

Jesus and Peter take a walk together down the beach, away from the other disciples, because Jesus has some things to say that are for Peter's ears only. Keep in mind, that this is right after the famous scene where Jesus has asked Peter 3 times, "Do you love me?"

Those three questions, asked by a campfire, connected to three denials, spoken by another campfire. Jesus is healing Peter from the wounds of shame.

So as you can imagine, fresh on the heels of that conversation, Peter is feeling a bit fragile and defensive.

As they walk along the beach, Jesus tells Peter about what his pilgrim journey has in store. One day, Peter is going to be imprisoned, and crucified for his faith in Jesus.

And what's Peter's response? Does he say, I'm in Lord! I know that I betrayed you once, but it won't happen again! I'm with you to the very end!

Actually, Peter turns around and sees that the Beloved Disciple is following them! 

This is pretty great. What's John thinking? Hey guys, what are you talking about? Can I come? (Apparently, FOMO was a real problem back then too.)

And Peter asked, Lord, what about him?

What about him?

I don't like the script that you've written for me. But maybe, if I know what's going to happen to John, and it's relatively equal, then my path will be a bit easier to accept. I've been on John's Instagram feed, and it looks pretty sweet so far. I know he has a really cool relationship with you, and I do too... but sometimes, I wonder if I'm getting a raw deal. What about him?

And Jesus' answer is so sharp, but it's for Peter's own good...

What is that to you? You must follow me.

What's it to you, Peter? Eyes on me!

Jesus knows something that we can easily forget, and it's this...

Comparing ourselves to other disciples of Jesus is a discipleship KILLER. If we're concerned about how someone else is following Jesus, then we aren't paying attention to how Jesus has called us to follow him.

Do I fall into the comparison trap? All the time.

I'm a pastor, and so I look at the journey of other pastors that I respect and admire. Guys who have started amazing churches, written best-selling books, preached compelling sermons. From where I stand, it seems like they're on an amazing journey.

And I think, Lord, what about him?

What I'm really asking is, Lord, what about me?

When's it going to be my time? When is my life going to look like his? Why hasn't that happened for me yet? Am I behind schedule for the good life to arrive? Did I miss something?

Lord, what about me?

Earlier, we looked at a key moment in Moses' life. God says, come up here and stay here with me. And then God gives Moses the famous 10 Commandments.

The very last commandment says this: You shall not covet your neighbor's house. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his male or female servant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

Living in the Digital Age, we have even more opportunity to look in on the different aspects of someone else's life, and compare, and become discontented with what God has given to us.

But here's how the last commandment is different from the ones before it.

If you murder someone... you can be found out.

If you lie... someone can catch you in the lie.

But coveting... you can do it and no one will ever know. You could be coveting right now, and I would have no idea. 

The only ones who know when you are coveting are you, and God.

The Jewish sages said that the last commandment is a blessing. "You shall not covet" is a blessing. How is it a blessing?

Because if God can do such a work in my heart that I don't want anyone else's life except the life that God has given to me... that is a truly blessed life.

I am set free to be grateful, content, generous, and full of joy.

QUESTION: What kind of person would you be if you didn't want anyone else's life? What would you conversations be like? What would your demeanor be like? What would people experience by simply being in your presence?

Not wanting anyone else's life but the one that God gave to you... that's the kind of life that God created us for.

So in a world of screens and pinning and posting and liking and friending and trending, Jesus speaks into our propensity for comparison and says, What is that to you? You must follow me... and I'm not talking about Twitter.

Did I kill the ending with that cheesy joke? Probably. 

When Jesus calls us to follow him on the pilgrim journey, that call begins right where we are. But we might question God's call.

When God called Moses, he begged God to choose someone else who could speak well. But Moses was a shepherd, and so God called him to shepherd the people of Israel.

When God called Mary, she couldn't understand how a virgin could become the mother of God. But she said, "I am the Lord's servant," and so she gave birth to Jesus, the great Servant-King.

When God called Peter and Andrew, no one was expecting too much from them. But since they were fisherman, Jesus told them that now, they would be fishing for people.

When Jesus calls you to follow him on this pilgrim journey, his calling will be as unique as you are.

But oftentimes, we compare ourselves to other people: "I don't have his charisma.

or her intellect.

or his bank account.

or her family upbringing.

But who you are not is a really boring topic; God isn't interested in discussing it whatsoever. Even the possibility of a conversation about who you aren't makes him yawn a divine yawn - so why bring it up?

God is interested in who you are, and who he has called you to become. And his call begins with the words, "Follow me."

The sooner we can stop talking about who we're not, the better. When we want to start talking about who we are and who we are becoming, our pilgrim journey gets back on course. But it's not easy to stop focusing on who we're not; ours is a world of formula and comparison.

Formula.

Go to any supermarket checkout line, and since it's the beginning of a new month, you'll find a bunch of brand new magazine issues. They're brand new, but trust me, they have nothing new to say, especially to the women.

Here are the topics of this month's issue of any women's magazine:

sex tips

women who are richer than you, wearing things

yet another way that you need to fight off old age

how to run in heels

he's definitely cheating

the word "NAKED" (all caps, pink, size 48 font.)

the state of modern feminism (just kidding! more sex tips.)

There is a sure-fire formula for the magazine cover that will sell, and this is it. Why? Because the publishers have done their research, and these are the topics that prey on a woman's deepest longings and insecurities.

Longings for things like true intimacy, and relationships that you can count on. Insecurities that sound like, "Am I pretty enough? smart enough?"

However you would fill-in-the-blank for "am I _______ enough?", there is an article that promises to help you, but will probably just reinforce your fear that you are not enough. But this magazine cover formula continues to sell, and so I don't imagine that Vogue or Cosmopolitan will change their strategy anytime soon.

For the female journey, formulas are the pilgrim's poison. 

Next week, we'll talk about what poisons the journey for a man, which is comparison. But this week, I had some things I wanted to share with my sisters-from-other-misters.

Last night, my wife Sarah and I were joking with each other about how I'll never be able to empathize and validate her as well as her best girlfriends can. Men and women are very different from each other, and that can make things both fun and frustrating. However, being a guy affords me a unique perspective on the female journey that comes from a desire to not just empathize and validate, but to protect. Ladies, because I'm an outsider to your world, in some ways I won't understand you, but in other ways, I might be able to see some things that are blind spots for you.

I want to protect all my sisters and my wife from pilgrim's poison, because you women are amazing.

Has anyone told you that lately? You are amazing.

Your God-given radar to detect what's really going on under the surface of a comment or a gesture. Amazing. (And terrifying, because I can't hide.)

Your understanding of how everything connects - my bad mood, how things are going at work, my sleep patterns - how did you know how it was related? Sometimes, it helps me to keep things organized in mental "boxes," but when my boxes fail me, you see how everything belongs and interlocks. Amazing.

How do you do it? You are a mystery to me. An amazing mystery, but a mystery nonetheless.

Nevertheless, for all of your strengths, I detect a weakness that is easily preyed on, and this attack on the deepest parts of your identity is poison for your pilgrimage. I'm talking about formulas.

Not only do your magazines have you figured out with a marketing formula, but they offer you formulas to succeed in the ways that you feel like you're not enough.

I'm a pastor, and so one of the ways that I'll see formulas at work is in some unhelpful preaching that comes largely, from males. And one story that comes up often enough is the story of two sisters: Martha and Mary.

Their story comes from Luke chapter 10. Here's how this story is usually taught...

Martha and Mary are sisters.

But they couldn't be more different.

One day, Jesus is at their home, and this is where the conflict begins.

Martha is what you might call "Type A." She's a list-driven, task-oriented, D.I.Y. kind of lady, but she's wound pretty tight.

Her sister Mary (not Jesus' mom) is slacking on her half of the chore list. (How do you solve a problem like Maria?)

There are things to be done, a meal that needs to be prepared for the guest of honor, but Martha is left all alone to do the work.

At some point, Martha can't take it anymore, and she bursts into the living room and really embarrasses herself, asking Jesus to scold Mary for not being more helpful in the kitchen.

But Jesus scolds Martha, because Martha is all worked up, and Mary has chosen what is better - the "spiritual thing" - which is to sit at Jesus' feet while he leads an amazing Bible study.

And the moral of the story is: All of you Martha's out there need to be less like you and more like Mary. And all of you Mary's - keep doing what you're doing girl!

Essentially, Martha and Mary are pitted against each other with sermon titles like "Being a Mary in a Martha World." What results from sermons like this is that any task-oriented Martha types in the congregation need to feel really bad about their Martha-like tendencies, and work on being more "spiritual."

Now, I recognize that this is a pretty extreme caricature of how these sermons can go, but I'm guessing that many of you have heard something like this before. And honestly, there's a lot to this interpretation that is valid and helpful. For instance, the church community that I'm a part of is walking through the letter to the Ephesians, and the message of Ephesians can essentially be organized into two halves. The first three chapters are about who we are and what God has done, and there's not one word about what we should do. The second three chapters is where we start to hear about our calling, and we finally hear a lot of action-oriented words to the church. But anyone who could relate to Martha's personality is going to have a hard time with the first three chapters, because they need something to do, a list to check off. But bad religion wants to tell you how you're not doing enough and how you aren't enough. The message of Ephesians tells us who we are, and only then, are we told what to do. Because when you know who you are, what you are called to do makes perfect sense and flows out of your true identity.

This is a totally valid and helpful way to understand how some of us will approach the message of Ephesians like Martha or Mary, and we need to be self-aware of our natural tendencies so that our pilgrimage doesn't turn into a list of do's and don'ts. Jesus didn't give his life so that we could have a list.

However, is there more going on under the surface of the Martha and Mary story? I think so.

Women followed formulas back then too. And back then, women were not held with the same level of esteem as the men. A friend of mine works at the shipping ports, and she has to deal with a lot of men who come from other countries where women are still viewed as subordinates. She could throw her badge around if she wanted to, but she's figuring out how to handle this disrespect in a manner that honors the way of Jesus, and doesn't play into the age-old power games that never lead anywhere redemptive.

In Jesus' world, women were the babymakers and the homemakers. God knows we need great families and great homes; it is a noble calling to raise little image-bearers to know and love and imitate their Creator, and to create order out of chaos and make a house a home. This is no easy task, and the women who can do this are so impressive. That said, if you were a woman in Jesus' day, you could be a babymaker and a homemaker, but that was as far as you were going. Doing anything else was to cross a cultural line of what was acceptable for women. You have your formula, so stick to it!

In Jesus' culture, one of the rarest and most respected occupations was to be a rabbi. Through years of rigorous study and shaping of your character, only the best of the best could become a rabbi. And only the best of the best were called by the rabbi to be his disciples. And even though girls were given a first-rate education in the words and life of God, at a certain age, they graduated into making a home and a family. There were no female disciples.

Until Jesus.

There was a phrase that was used to describe the rabbi-disciple relationship. If you were called by a rabbi to follow and become just like him, you would "sit at his feet." This meant that the whole posture of your life was at the feet of your teacher; not only were you listening, but you were realigning the whole of your heart and life to take on the "yoke" of your rabbi, which was his interpretation of how best to fulfill the words and life of God. (There was this one guy who came along and said that his yoke was easy.)

And so, I find it fascinating that in Luke 10, we're told that while Martha was making preparations in the kitchen, Mary was sitting at Jesus' feet.

I think this casts new light on the conflict. Was it the case that Martha was just wound too tightly, or is Martha trying to help her sister out of a controversial and taboo situation? "Hey Mary, why don't you come help me, in the kitchen, where you belong? Have you forgotten your place?"

Because back then, women had a place. And that place was not at the feet of a rabbi. Until Jesus.

This also casts light on Jesus' response to Martha. Is he chiding her for being uptight, or is he telling her that he's bringing a brand new thing for women? What if he is saying, "What Mary has chosen - to sit at my feet and become just like me - won't be taken from her"?

Let's take this one step further, what if this is also an invitation to Martha? "Martha, Mary has chosen what is better." The implication being, "and you could too - you just didn't know that it was an option for you."

If that's the case, then I'd like to suggest that we stop pitting Mary and Martha against each other, and we stop making the task-oriented people feel bad for being so. Following Jesus isn't a formula that creates disciples who all look like Mary. What's amazing is that 12 people could follow 1 Jesus, and each of them will answer his call in a unique way. There will be a way to follow Jesus that fits who Mary is, and a way that fits who Martha is.

If you're a woman, and you have heard Jesus say that you can become just like him, then girl, you sit at his feet and become just like him. If you're more like Mary, be like Mary. If you're more like Martha, then follow Jesus how Martha would. We need you to be who Jesus has called you to be - and not who he has called your sister to be. 

God wants to tell a great story. What makes him such a great storyteller is that he's able to do this through the lives of deeply flawed people like me and you. But when we hear the word "story," let's not assume that he wants to merely entertain us (although the Bible can be incredibly entertaining). God wants to redeem us, to call us to a life where we become more like him every single day, to the point where we are not just being restored, but we are bringing his restoration to the whole world! 

So what does it look like for God to redeem us and restore the world through us? I don't think that it's a quick, snap-of-­the-­fingers restoration, but it's a process, a journey. This process of redemption wouldn’t rightly be called The Hero’s Journey - the Bible’s main characters are far less than heroic. It also couldn’t be called The Antihero’s Journey - the Bible talks too much about redemption, reconciliation, and restoration to allow for that kind of nonsense. So what if we called it The Pilgrim's Journey? Can we call ourselves pilgrims? _________  pil·grim (pil‐grәm) n.

1. A person who undertakes a journey to a sacred place as an act of religious devotion. 2. One who embarks on a quest for something sacred.  3. A traveler.  _________ If we've whispered even the most reluctant "yes" to our call to adventure, then I think it's fair to say that we are on a journey. If you sense that it is God himself who has called you to this sacred quest, then you are a pilgrim. 

So what is the Pilgrim's Journey and how is it different from the Hero's Journey? First, how.

The Pilgrim's Journey is different from the Hero's Journey because of a Person. The key element that distinguishes the Pilgrim's Journey from the Hero's Journey is Jesus himself. He is the author of this redemption story, and he wrote himself into the story as the central character upon which everything else hinges. (When you're the author, you can do things like that.) 

In true heroic fashion, Jesus went on a journey. A divine journey. And it is Jesus' divine journey that makes the human journey possible. For all of the ways that we have been hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and for all of the ways that we have disqualified ourselves and made a mess of things, Jesus enters into that mess. He leaves his THRONE in Heaven and fully owns our situation: all of our darkness, brokenness, and flaws. The theological word for this is incarnation, or as The Message translation of the Bible puts it, God “became flesh and blood and moved into the NEIGHBORHOOD.” After he moved in, he fully owned the human situation on the CROSS so that he could take it to the grave, and three days later, RESURRECT as the prototype of a brand new humanity. An early Christian named Gregory of Nazianus put it this way: that which was not assumed is not healed, but that which is united to God is saved. Jesus assumed it all so that he could heal and save it all – he took up our failed, incomplete stories in order to bring the human story to its fullest, truest, deepest expression. Through his life, death, and resurrection, he assumed everything that makes us human so that he could save everything that makes us human. And that’s why he is worthy of the name LORD, which means that he is King of all and God of all.

And what does all mean if not everything? Because he plummeted to the depths, there is no one and no thing that is beyond the reach of his redemption.

That was how, now a bit on what. What is the Pilgrim's Journey?

While the Hero's Journey is a CIRCLE, the Divine Journey, the Pilgrim's Journey, is a DOWNWARD ARC. This is the path that Jesus walked, and he has also made it our path. This downward journey reminds us that God never gives up on us. God redeems what he creates. He created our humanity - heart, soul, mind and body. He created it. He loves it. He is at work to redeem it. Because of Jesus, the human journey can go further than what we ever thought was possible. 

The biblical story is that human failure no longer gets the last word. The Creator God gets the first and last word. The biblical story starts with: Let there be (Genesis 1:3), and it concludes with: I am making all things new! (Revelation 21:5). God redeems what he creates. He doesn't give up on us. And into our fears, failures and regrets, Jesus speaks a new word over us. He calls us to an adventure. On this journey, we are the pilgrims, and Jesus is the pioneer. He has made a new kind of path possible for humanity, and he has walked this road before us. By his death, he willingly served and redeemed the creation that he dearly loves. This was his purpose and path. Jesus himself would say, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:45) 

Here's the thing: Jesus walked this path, but he also calls us to this same adventure. Jesus our Pioneer said, "I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you." (John 13:15) Jesus calls us to do more than merely admire him; he calls us to imitate him. Apparently, the downward path of Jesus' divine journey is also the best path for the human journey. And so, just like Jesus, we put others first. We practice self­‐forgetfulness. We descend to greatness. All of us can find the fullest expression of what it means to walk the pilgrim path when we ask, "Where can I move downward so that others can be lifted up?" How we answer that question is how we will follow Jesus our Pioneer on the Pilgrim's Journey. And as we follow him, we will become just like him. 

One final thought... 

It may be that even after all of this has been said, there are still those of us who will refuse their call to adventure. We refuse it, but not because we are rebellious or stubborn; it's because we could list all of the reasons why we are disqualified to take this journey. If that's you, if you hesitate because you think you are disqualified for this adventure, my hope is that something in the forthcoming stories of biblical pilgrims will speak to you about how Jesus has qualified you. My intention is to focus on the stories of the scoundrels and oddballs so that you would say, "Wow! If God can redeem them, there must be hope for me!"

Still, comparing yourself to another pilgrim will only get you so far. Do that long enough and you might just conclude that we're all hopeless. Again, what distinguishes the Heroic Journey from the Pilgrim Journey is a Person. It's in a Person, not in comparison, that we find hope for our redemption.

My prayer is that you will see that Jesus doesn’t call you to go anywhere that he has not already walked, anywhere that he himself has not struggled, and overcome. And so, before you go on with your day, can I bless you? 

May you see that failure and regret and disappointment don't get the last word. God gets the last word, and in Jesus, he will speak a new word over you. He will give you a new identity that comes from who he is and who you will become in him. Jesus sees who you are, who you are going to become, and he will be with you for every step of that journey. Come, and you will see. 

More on that - next week.

There is a stark difference between the biblical story and the stories that our culture tells us, and it's worth exploring. The difference is that our culture gives us heroes, but the Bible gives us pilgrims. I'll explain what I mean.

First, heroes. 

In his bestselling book, The Hero With A Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell offered a theory of storytelling structure that has influenced the work of J.J. Abrams, J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, Peter Jackson, Suzanne Collins, and many other modern storytellers. Joseph Campbell was a mythologist, and so he looked at many of thestories that have been told across human history and culture, and hebecame convinced that there are some key elements that you can find in any fictional story, in any time or place. If any of these key elements are missing, he would argue that your audience will find your story a bit wanting – even if they're not sure what your story lacks, they'll know that something is off.

I think it’s fair to say that we've all suffered through a poorly told story. Maybe this has happened to you, but sometimes when I'm in the middle of telling a joke, I have the awful realization that I’ve forgotten the punch line. Has that ever happened to you? I try to improvise and rescue the story, but it's too late, and I'm boring or confusing my captive audience. I’ve butchered the story, and there's no way of fixing it. But the well-­told story, according to Campbell, could be called The Hero's Journey.

Essentially, the story’s hero is introduced to us in their ordinary world, where they receive their CALL to adventure. At first, they are RELUCTANT to answer the call, but with the help of a MENTOR, they cross the first threshold that leads to the extraordinary world of adventure, where they encounter TESTS, ALLIES, and ENEMIES.

Eventually, the hero reaches some kind of CAVE, where they endure their supreme ordeal. They emerge from this cave with some kind of SWORD (or reward/treasure/medicine) and take a MAGIC FLIGHT that helps them cross the threshold back to their ordinary world. 

At this point, the story concludes rather quickly. The hero takes the ROAD HOME to their world, with some sort of knowledge/weapon/ability that will benefit their world. Their journey has RESURRECTED or transformed them – they have become a MASTER of both worlds – free to live as an altogether different kind of person in their ordinary world.

Whether or not we realize it, this story structure has shaped how our modern stories are told. Campbell's ideas have become the foundation for how a movie, or episode, or even an entire television series is laid out.

A great example is The Hunger Games trilogy. In the second book of the series, Catching Fire, Katniss Everdeen has just survived the Hunger Games, a televised fight to the death between randomly chosen youths from 12 districts that live under the dictatorship of Panem. The Hunger Games are the means by which the dictator, President Snow, feeds the districts a steady diet of fear and despair to remind them that he is in charge. This is Katniss’ ORDINARY WORLD. 

Still with me?

Katniss and a fellow survivor, Peeta Malark, are forced to take a train ride "Victory Tour," where they have to make public appearances at all of the districts, reinforcing the government propaganda that they are grateful and loyal subjects. Their story intensifies when Katniss and Peeta, along with the survivors of previous Hunger Games, are CALLED up to fight each other in a special edition of the Hunger Games that will wipe all of them out, except for one “victor.”

Understandably, Katniss is TERRIFIED, but she has no choice but to participate. However, with the help of her MENTOR Haymitch, a former Hunger Games survivor, she unwittingly becomes a symbol of a revolution that is brewing in Panem. After she crosses the first threshold into the Capitol, she steps into an EXTRAORDINARY WORLD where her courage is TESTED. She discovers that she has ALLIES who want to help her get a revolution going, but there are OTHERS who want to silence and snuff her out.

Her greatest test is the Hunger Games themselves, where she and the other competitors battle each other in a gigantic rainforest ARENA. Using an invention that one of her friends has designed, she turns the power of the arena in on itself, which collapses in a massive electromagnetic EXPLOSION. She is rescued out of the arena in a HOVERCRAFT where she discovers that all along, her friends have been working behind the scenes to spark a rebellion against the power of the evil dictator. She is the MOCKINGJAY – the symbol of the revolution. So that I don't spoil book three (or movie 3 - part 2) as well, we'll stop there. May the odds be ever in your favor.

The Hunger Games trilogy, like many modern movies, uses Joseph Campbell's storytelling formula. Look for it in some of your favorite TV shows and movies. Now that I've fully equipped you to become that annoying person who can predict everything that is just about to happen on screen – and whispers their predictions all the way through – as fun as that will be, I have to tell you that this story structure is flawed.

Awhile back, my wife and I went to see Snow White and the Huntsmen. While we both enjoyed it, my wife brought up one key thing that bothered her. It was totally unrealistic. Why? Because there were trolls and enchanted forests and Kristen Stewart has worn out her trademark lip‐biting thing? Nope.

It was unrealistic because the hero, Snow White, sees her father murdered before her eyes, is imprisoned in a dungeon for nearly a decade, and yet, she escapes from her prison cell with zero post-­traumatic stress disorder, abandonment issues, or emotional scars, and she's miraculously able to wield a sword, ride a horse, inspire loyalty, and challenge the evil queen, all while reciting the Lord's Prayer. In the words of Dr. Evil, "Riiiiiight."

Snow White and the Huntsmen, like many stories, is told within the Hero's Journey framework, which revealed a key flaw in the screenwriting formula. The heroic journey is totally unrealistic if your hero has been deeply flawed, wounded, or handicapped in any way. Which, let's be honest, rules out most of us from the heroic life.

I find it interesting that this new Golden Age of television has seen a resurgence of the antihero – characters like Thomas Shelby or Walter White who aren’t necessarily all good, but they aren’t all bad either. They’re a mix of the two. While we cheer for them, we’re also disgusted with many of their choices.

Our culture is resonating with these antihero stories, because some part of us knows that real humans aren't cut out for a Hollywood story. Even Disney is poking fun at their perfect princess paradigm with movies like Enchanted. Nevertheless, that’s why these kinds of stories are labeled as entertainment. We put our 3D glasses on, and for an hour or so, we vicariously experience a story that will never be our reality. After the ending credits roll, we stumble out into the blinding daylight of our mundane existence.

Was Thoreau right when he said that most of us live lives of quiet desperation? We crave significance, but we address this longing with TV shows and movies about other people who are living the heroic life. Popular media recognizes our hunger for significance, and provides a shallow distraction: the celebrity. In the movies that we watch, on the magazine covers at the grocery checkout, there they are: beautiful, exceptional, airbrushed. They drink Starbucks just like the rest of us! But we know that we could never be like them. So what about the rest of us ordinary folk? Are we disqualified to be a part of something great?

In the biblical story, a man named Moses doesn't hesitate to point out his flaws and failures when he receives his call to adventure (Exodus 4). Essentially, Moses says, "Sorry God, you've got the wrong guy. Send someone else!" And when we read his story, Moses will have his moments when we'll agree with his self-­assessment and say, "Yep -­ wrong guy!"

And if we haven't already heard our own call to adventure, we're going to have a similar moment when we say, "Sorry God, you must have dialed the wrong number. Send someone else. Save someone else. Work through someone else. I don't have what it takes. And I never will." We reject our call to adventure because it doesn't seem humanly possible. And we're right -­ God's call isn't humanly possible. But a calling that seems humanly possible isn't that great of a story to begin with, is it?

God wants to tell a great story, and what is so great is that he can do this in the lives of flawed people like us. He wants to do more than merely entertain us (although the Bible can be incredibly entertaining). God wants to redeem us, to call us to a life where we become more like Him every single day, to the point where we are not just being restored, but we are bringing His restoration to the whole world!