Thursday, March 29, 2012

Book of Faith - Luke 13:10-30 - The Narrow Door

The opening story of the woman, who had been crippled for 18 years and then was healed by Jesus, seemed straight forward to the group.  The only wrinkle was that Jesus does the healing on the Sabbath, and since the woman's being crippled was not an emergency, the law would have prescribed that the healing should have taken place on another day.  The leader of the synagogue raises this issue, but Jesus challenges him, and anyone else who agreed with him, calling them "Hypocrites!"  The group spotted a difference in the translations after Jesus' response.  Were people shamed or felt ashamed?  This is an important distinction.  If they were shamed, they may never have felt they were wrong, but were publicly embarrassed.  If they felt ashamed, they they realized they were wrong.  

Jesus talking about the mustard seed and leaven in connection with the Kingdom of God opened the door to talking about the surprising way the Kingdom unfolds in the world and in our lives.  There is almost an invasive quality to the mustard plant, which you would not plant in a garden, and the adding of leaven to bread.  Certainly, the Kingdom Jesus was announcing turned things upside down.  Healing on the Sabbath was, in an of  itself, radical to some.  

Where we spent most of our time was with the narrow door.  Jesus says we are to strive for the narrow door and that many will be barred by the owner.  Jesus is saying we should not assume we are inside looking out, but rather outside looking in.  Again, Jesus is challenging us to face the truth of our lives.  The door to the Kingdom is narrow, and, on our own, we will not squeeze through.  We try to widen the door by our justifications, or assume we are good enough to get into the banquet.  We certainly can feel that way in comparison to others.  Jesus knocks down those ideas.  In the end, we are at the mercy of God.  We are powerless.  The amazing news is that is where God meets us in grace.  In the movie, An Officer and A Gentleman, Mayo, who is training to be an officer, tries to work the system.  He does everything he is suppose to do, but he's still playing a game.  The Sargent keeps pushing him, saying he should quit.  One day, he's pushing Mayo, yelling, "Why do you want to stay?"  Finally, Mayo breaks and says, "I have nowhere else to go."  Everything changes at that point.  The same dynamic can be found in AA.  You have to hit bottom and own your helplessness before you can truly begin recovery.  This is never easy.  The group asked the question, "How you can own the truth and not give into despair?"  When you face the darkness of your life, how can you see the light? There are people who never seem to see the light.  How does the grace of God break in?  Our conversation ended with these questions.  We will take them up next Wednesday.  How appropriate is it that we explore these issues during Holy Week.

Peace,
Pastor Summer

1 comment:

Colin said...

We've been reading several stories of Jesus challenging those around him to live their lives in a very different way than they have been. I imagine that "frustrating" does not quite encompass what it must have felt like to be in that crowd. Even those who thought they were "being good" obeying the laws they were taught were told that they just didn't get it. It seems like no matter how you are doing, there's always room for improvement, and sometimes the goal of entering the Kingdom seems just about impossible.

So how do you not despair that you’re just never going to be good enough? Maybe you actually do have to despair that you’re never going to be good enough, admit you’re a sinner, and fully rely on God's grace, not anything you can control yourself, to deliver you. Of course, despair – "the darkness" – is not a place you want to be. I’ve spent some time there, and when I did, I thought there was never going to be a time when I didn’t feel so lost. When I was struggling, I wondered why many of my friends didn’t call, and seemed to be staying away, like they were going to catch something. Of course, just like when someone asks how you’re doing, it’s easier to say "fine", when you ask someone how they’re doing, I think most times you really hope that they just say "fine" and you don't have to do anything more. Now that I’m "back", I know it’s hard to be that friend of someone who has lost his way. I’ve lost friends to the darkness, and there were times I could have called but did not. This Holy Week, when the lights go out on Good Friday reminding me of the moment when all was lost, and we see that single light come up the aisle towards the altar, I will remember that sometimes I have to be that light for others.