John Mark Hicks

Text: Philippians 3:4-14

That can’t be a commendable hunger, can it? To hunger for power.

It depends on what kind of power we are talking about. To hunger for Caesar’s power (or wealth or status) is ungodly, but to hunger for the power to become like Jesus is something different.

This is not a hunger for a credentialed status, even a religious status. Paul refuses to find his confidence in the “flesh,” that is, his credentials—ethnic, pure-blooded Jew from the elite tribe of Benjamin whose obedience and zeal for the Torah was exemplary, even for a Pharisee. Among God’s covenant people, few—if any—could top that resume. But Paul regarded it as garbage in comparison to knowing Christ.

This is Paul’s hunger—to know Christ. This hunger is partially satisfied through being found in Christ where the faithfulness of Christ has achieved for us a status of righteousness. It is the gift of God which we receive by faith. This is worth the loss of all our fleshly credentials.

But Paul hungers for more than a declaration that he has been “set right” (righteousness) in Christ. He yearns to be credentialed beyond a declaration. He wants to know Christ and the power of his resurrection. He wants to become like Christ. He wants to share the path that Christ walked through suffering, death and resurrection.

This hunger pushes Paul to press on toward maturity. It moves him to pursue the goal. Paul races toward the finish line, toward the full experience of God’s gift—not only through a declaration but also in existential reality, that is, in a sanctified, mature life that mirrors the image of Christ.

This is the tension in which believers live. We are declared righteous in Christ but we press on toward the goal. We know Christ but we desire to know him more fully. We are possessed by God but we yearn to possess Christ. We “set right” by faith but we also hunger to live by faith.

The Lenten season does not forget that we are “set right,” but renews our hunger to become what God has called us to be. The Lenten season does not undermine the faithfulness of Christ or replace our work with Christ’s work, but rekindles the yearning to share Christ’s life, to become like Christ.

The practice of Lent is not a fleshly credential, though it can become that for some just as practicing Torah was that from some in Paul’s day. Lent is not works righteousness. Rather, it is pressing forward. It is a letting go of the past and present hindrances in order to pursue (or strain toward) the goal of becoming like Jesus. Lent provides an opportunity to focus our pursuit.

Lent should never serve the goal of securing God’s gift of righteousness. Believers, rather than unbelievers, practice Lent. Believers, who have already been “set right” by faith, use Lent as an occasion to embrace and deepen their fellowship with God. Knowing Christ, believers hunger to know Christ better. They hunger for the power of the resurrection which transforms them into the likeness of Christ in soul now but also in body later.

Discussion Questions:

1. What are your credentials according to the “flesh”? Socially? Vocationally? Religiously
2. What “credential” does Paul desire in this text? How would you describe it? What does it entail?
3. Name something for which you “hunger” in Christ for your life? In what ways do you hunger to become like Jesus?
4. How does your experience of Lent or your pursuit of God move you forward in satisfying this hunger? What practices, values or experiences in life have brought you closer to becoming like Jesus?

The book of Revelation portrays an eschatological community worshipping the one who sits on the throne. It is eschatological in the sense that Revelation portrays the present and future celebration of God’s redemptive work as it is experienced around the heavenly throne. The present worship of the church participates in the present and future worship of those gathered around the throne of God. The church is lifted up into the throne room to experience glory through a gathered assembly and we receive a foretaste of what it will be like to worship in the new Jerusalem on the new earth.

Revelation is read to an assembled people and John’s vision is received on the “Lord’s Day” (Rev. 1:3, 10). A few see Revelation in the context of a Passover liturgy with the Eucharist as the climax.[1] Others at least understand the liturgical setting of Revelation as a dramatic presentation of heavenly realities—it is heaven’s worship on earth.[2] Indeed, some believe Revelation is key to a biblical theology of music as the church worships around the throne.[3]

Revelation 4 introduces the throne room of God where the one who sits on the throne is surrounded by the angelic hosts as well as the representatives of God’s people (the 24 elders). They praise God for his creative work.

Revelation 5 shifts the focus. Here the Lion of Judah enters the throne room but appears as a Lamb that has been slain. However, the appearance of the blood-stained Lamb does not generate sadness among the heavenly hosts but joy and praise. They experience the slain Lamb as redemptive rather than as horror; it was a joyous event rather than a sad one. They praise the Lamb and ascribe worth, honor, and glory to him. All of heaven–and every creature on earth–breaks out in praise for the redemptive work of the Father and Son.

In Revelation 7 the great multitude that cannot be counted surrounds the throne singing “Salvation belongs to our God.” In Revelation 14 the people of God sing a “new song before the throne” (14:3). It is a song of redemption much like the song of exaltation after the destruction of the Egyptian army in the Red Sea (cf. Ex. 15).  The Lamb stands on Mt. Zion, slain but triumphant. In chapter fifteen, they sing the “song of Moses the servant of God and the song of the Lamb” (15:3): “Great and marvelous are your deeds, Lord God Almighty…All nations will come and worship before you, for your righteous acts have been revealed” (15:3-4). The Passover imagery is unmistakable and there is a new Lamb—slain but triumphant. This is the Lamb Revelation knows and celebrates. The worship of Revelation—and its Passover hymnology—does not leave the Lamb on the cross but rather place him upon his throne as one who had “overcome” and won the victory.

“Hallelujah” only occurs in Revelation in the New Testament, and it occurs in chapter 19 as heaven celebrates the victory of God. It is similar to the refrain in chapters 5 and 7: “salvation and glory and power belong to our God” (19:1). Heaven, the angels, the elders and all nations, cry “Hallelujah…Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready” (19:6-7). The “Hallelujah” is a liturgical connection with Psalm 113-118 and the Passover festival. As a result, everyone is “invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb” (19:9). The “supper” is the same word Paul uses to describe the Lord’s Supper. It is a kind of Messianic banquet.

Theologically, heaven remembers the slain Lamb, but it does not remember him with sadness or solemnity. Rather, heaven rejoices over the victory of the Lamb and invites the redeemed to the supper table. The Lamb has overcome evil through suffering. The Lamb is slain but alive; blood-drench, but victorious. The redemption is won and heaven rejoices. As a result, the saints are invited to the “supper of the Lamb.”

The hymnology of Revelation celebrates God’s redemption in Christ.[4] It is the worship of heaven in which the saints on earth participate through John’s vision. The assembly of the saints upon earth is eschatological in nature—it participates in the heavenly reality. It joins the angelic chorus of praise for the Father and the Son. We sing “Holy, Holy, Holy” with the heavenly hosts–the traditional Sanctus. The church comes to the supper table rejoicing in the victory of the Lamb over Satan and the world.

Perhaps…just perhaps…the hymns of the church at the table should–at least occasionally– reflect the triumphant victory of the Lamb though at the same time the church’s hymnology should also  lament the brokenness of the world still experienced with the saints under the altar (Revelation 6:10). We bring our laments (Fridays) into the presence of God who transforms them into “Hallelujah’s” at the supper of the Lamb (Sundays).

[2]W. Hulitt Gloer, “Worship God! Liturgical Elements in the Apocalypse,” Review and Expositor 98 (2001), 35-57; Nakhro Mazie, “The Manner of Worship According to the Book of Revelationi,” Bibliotheca Sacra 158 (2001), 165-180; Marianne Meye Thompson, “Worship in the Book of Revelation,” Ex Auditu 8 (1992), 45-54; Donald Guthrie, “Aspects of Worship in the Book of Revelation,” in Worship, Theology and Ministry in the Early Church: Essays in Honor of Ralph P. Martin, ed. Michael J. Wilkins (Sheffield: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Press, 1992), 70-83; Lucetta Mowry, “Revelation 4-5 and early Christian Liturgical Usage,” Journal of Biblical Literature 71 (1952), 75-84; and David Peterson, “Worship in the Revelation to John,” Reformed Theological Review 47 (1988), 67-77.

[3]Thomas Allen Seel, A Theology of Music for Worship Derived from the Book of Revelation (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1995).

[4]John O’Rourke, “Hymns of the Apocalypse,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 30 (1968), 399-409; Charles M. Mountain, “’Glory and Honor and Blessing’: The Hymns of the Apocalypse,” Hymns 47 (1996), 41-47; and David R. Carnegie, “Worthy is the Lamb: the Hymns in Revelation,” in Christ the Lord: Studies in Christology Presented to Donald Guthrie, ed. Harold H. Rowdon (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1982), 243-256.

The New Testament offers little liturgical help for conducting the Lord’s Supper. This is especially true regarding hymnology. No account of the Lord’s Supper, except the Last Supper itself, connects music and the Supper (Matthew 26:30). Other than the fact that the Jerusalem community praised God as they ate—and presumably this included songs as well as prayers or some mixture of the two as in chants (Acts 2:46-47), there is no other explicit linkage between the Lord’s Supper and the ministry of music.

However, we are not left without guidance if we take seriously the redemptive-historical trajectory of Israel’s festivals and the future Messianic banquet. We have significant information about the relationship between these meals and the music that surrounded them in the context of both Israel’s table and the future table. This post will look at the musical dimensions of the Passover at the time of Jesus, and my next post will focus on the future table through the lens of the Apocalypse and the Messianic banquet.

The use of the Psalms has a long history in Christian worship. More specifically, the use of Psalms in connection with the Lord’s Supper is quite prominent. However, my interest is specifically the Psalms that were used in the context of the Passover as a window into the nature of the redemptive celebration that should accompany the Lord’s Supper. As a fulfillment of the Passover, the Lord’s Supper is directly linked to the liturgical assemblies of Israel and thus we should ask the question: What did Israel sing at the Passover?

Psalms 113-118 constitute the Hallel (Praise) of the Jewish festivals. It appears that during the Jewish Passover meal of the first century, Psalms 113-114 were sung before the final meal blessing and Psalms 115-118 were sung after the final blessing. These were most probably the hymns that Jesus and his disciples sang in the context of their Passover (cf. Matthew 26:30; Mark 14:26). The theology of these songs is directly related to the theology of both the Passover and the Lord’s Supper.

Psalms 113-118 are all thanksgiving songs. Israel sang them as thanksgiving for God’s redemptive deliverance of Israel from Egyptian bondage. They remembered and rejoiced over the Exodus. Israel also sang them in anticipation of the Messiah. Every Passover anticipated the Messianic banquet and thus was filled with hope and expectation for the final deliverance of God’s people.

In Psalm 113 Israel is the barren woman whom God has delivered from Egyptian bondage and given fruitfulness in a new land. God’s redemptive work transforms fallen circumstances. God breaks into the hurt and pain of life with new life. He redeems what is lost. The Psalm opens and ends with a “Hallelujah.”

Psalm 114 rehearses God’s redemption of Israel from Egypt. God acted in history to redeem his people. God came near to redeem. Israel is reminded that their situation is the direct result of God’s gracious work, and they are part of God’s story with the whole earth. The earth is awed by what God is doing in Israel, and Israel is overwhelmed with praise.

Psalm 115 reminds Israel that among the nations only they serve the true God while the nations serve idols. Unlike the idols, God reigns over the earth. God is the help and shield of the people of God. God has remembered his people, so Israel remembers and praises Yahweh. Israel remembers that God has always remembered his people and thus they are confident in their relationship with him.

Psalm 116 gives thanks for God’s redemption whereby he saves his people from death. As one Psalmist remembers God’s work for him in his individual life, the congregation of Israel remembers how God saved them from the bondage of slavery. Through the festivals, Israel makes this individual thanksgiving a communal one. At the Passover, then, Israel lifted the cup of salvation and rejoiced in God’s gift of life. Israel ate the “thanksgiving” offering as it sat at table with God and communed with God. This “thanksgiving” Psalm is offered in the context of a thanksgiving sacrifice. The cup and meal are blessed in the context of a communal communion with God.

Psalm 117 invites all nations to share in the praise of God at the meal. It is a universal table—open to all ethnic groups, all nations. The work of God is universal. The nations learn who God is from his faithful love to Israel and Israel invites the nations to seek God at his temple (cf. aliens at Hezekiah’s Passover in 2 Chronicles 30:25). The temple of God is a house of prayer for all nations (cf. Isaiah 56:7; Mark 11:17).

Psalm 118 gives thanks for God’s deliverance. He saved his people from disaster and their king from death. God has made a new day. He has delivered his people because of his steadfast love. Since God has brought deliverance (it is the day he made), the people engage in self-exhortation: “let us rejoice in it.”

Psalms 113-118 inform the theological meaning and mood of the Lord’s Supper. As the new Passover, the Lord’s Supper remembers God’s redemptive work in Christ, celebrates our liberation from sin and death, and praises Jesus who though rejected by some was redeemed by God. Sunday is the day the Lord has made. It is the day of redemption, thanksgiving and celebration. The table needs hymns that rejoice, remember and give thanks for the new day that God has made. The Psalms reflect the mood of thanksgiving, joy and communion that characterize the theology of the Lord’s Supper. In this way, the Passover hymns provide a guide for the church’s own communion hymns and the mood of its table.

Text: Joshua 5:9-12

[This is part of a small group series for the Woodmont Hills Church in Nashville, TN, which is prepared in conjunction with Dean Barham’s homilies that are based on the Lectionary texts for Lent.]

A new generation had emerged during the wilderness trek. Their parents had refused to enter to the promise land because they were afraid and lacked faith in God’s promises. This new generation, however, had been humbled, tested and refined by their time in the wilderness (Deuteronomy 8:1-5).

This new generation, however, had never been circumcised nor celebrated the Passover throughout their whole time in the wilderness. Though they had been watered and fed by God, though they had seen manna—the bread of heaven—rain daily from the sky, they had not been fully vetted in the covenantal experience. They were Israel, but they had not yet covenanted with God.

The movement from Shittim to Gilgal has changed that. This generation now has its own Exodus experience—they walked across the Jordan on dry ground (Joshua 3). They consecrated themselves, walked by faith and camped at Gilgal. They have their own Moses—Joshua, who has his own “holy ground” experience near Jericho (5:13-15). The ark of the covenant, the mercy and presence of God, secured their passage.

Gilgal, that is what they named the place where they camped. The Hebrew verb galal means to “roll” and their encampment on the west bank of the Jordan was a witness that the Egyptians were wrong. They had mocked and ridiculed Israel for launching out into the desert, but their encampment in the promised land had “rolled away” that disgrace. By the grace and provision of God, they had made it!

They had entered the promised land but they had not yet possessed it. It belonged to them but it was not yet in their hands. They were on the “other side” (of the Jordan) but they did not yet made their home in the land.

Now, in this “no man’s land,” they covenanted with God. The men were circumcised at Gibeath-haaraloth (look that one up!). It was as if they were at Mt. Sinai all over again. God renewed his covenant with his people. They celebrated the Passover for the first time in forty years. They had experienced their own exodus in crossing the Jordan and as covenanted people they celebrated the love of God for his people by observing the Passover. The communal acts of circumcision and Passover were the final acts of the wilderness but the first acts of the promise. It was covenant and feast, a celebration of God’s redemption!

This was a transition moment. The wilderness wandering is over but the promised land is not theirs. But now they were no longer a nomadic people, now they had entered the land in which they would plant crops and live in houses instead of tents. They would no longer depend on manna for their bread but would eat from the produce of the land in which they lived. But the fullness of joy was not yet theirs as they looked at the imposing walls of Jericho and the other walled cities of Canaan. The fullness of the promise was yet future but the goodness of Gilgal was sweet. Israel still lived, at this moment, between the Jordan and Jericho.

The season of Lent is something like that. It is the anticipation of joy but the sweetness of divine presence. It is a season when the covenant people of God learn again the lessons of the wilderness and the joy of the exodus, but also yearn for the fullness of the promised land. It is living between the times—between the baptism of Jesus and his Easter.

Lent is a season to watch our past roll away and become something new. God removes the disgrace of his people and offers a new beginning in a new land. Ritual marks the new beginning—waters of Jordan, covenantal dedication and feast. It is typological of Christian rituals—baptism, Lent and Lord’s Supper. We relive the story of Israel within the story of Jesus.

The promise will come. The joy of dwelling in the land will come and is already here. The disgrace has been removed and the land is coming into their—and our—possession. We no longer live in shame but in hope. This is part of the meaning of Lent.

Discussion Questions

1. What meaning or significance to do you see in the major events of Israel’s life in this section of Joshua (chapters 3-5)?
2. Why is circumcision and Passover emphasized here? What do these mean to Israel?
3. What is the significance of living “between the times” for both Israel and us?
4. How does this story give you a perspective for living through the season of Lent? How does this text impact your Lenten season?

Text: Genesis 15:1-18

[For an amplified narration of Genesis 15 read my previous post.]

Abraham waited for a child. And then his descendants waited 400 years in slavery for the land. Waiting is part of every believer’s journey. The Psalms overflow with the language (e.g., Psalm 25). “Wait for Yahweh,” the Psalmist writes (Psalm 27:14). The apostle Paul characterized our life between the ages—the present age and the age to come—as waiting (Romans 8:25).

But waiting is precarious. It doesn’t always feel safe. Indeed, it is perilous at times and often uncertain. Waiting is painful. Waiting opens the door to fear. Waiting tests faith.

Abram, the father of faith, was tested by the wait. Promised that his seed would bless all nations (Genesis 12:3) and though prosperous in possessions as well as victorious in battle, he was frustrated that he had no heir. “What good are all these gifts and promises when I have no son?” Abram asked. “You will have a son,” Yahweh assured him, “and they will be as numerous as the stars of the sky.” The stars gave him a way to connect with the word of the Lord. Assured, he trusted God.

Yet, when God promised Abram that his descendents would live in the land where he only sojourned, Abram’s faith was restless. “How can I be sure that this will come true?” Abram asked. More waiting? Faith can only take on so much and then it begins to wonder and perhaps wander. Faith needs something to hold onto, something to grasp. Faith needs something concrete, physical, material.

God, gracious with our weaknesses (we are dust) and accommodative to our needs (we are flesh), gave Abram’s faith something concrete. It was a symbol, but more than a symbol. It was physical, but deeply connected to the reality of God’s own Spirit. It was material, but it was not mere dust.

God “cut a covenant” with Abram. Animals sacrificed and cut into halves. Birds released into the air. A covenant was ratified; a promise was made. And God passed between the halves—not in mere symbol, but as a smoldering pot and a flaming torch. God was present between the halves, just as he was present at the Red Sea and in the wilderness with Israel (cloud and fire). God assured Abram by a self-imprecation. “As surely as I pass between these halves, may what happened to these animals happen to me if I do not keep my promise.” Abram tasted the future in that moment.

The covenant gave Abram a taste of the future but it did not take away his hunger for that future. Abram still waits—sometimes fearfully, sometimes expectedly—but he waits for what is to come. The covenant reassures, removes fear, and emboldens faith. Abrahm believed and his relationship with God was sealed.

During the season of Lent our wait is accentuated. We wait for Easter. As we follow Jesus into the wilderness for forty days, we also anticipate the future for which Jesus waited. We learn to hunger again for the future as we wait for Easter. By faith we lean into the future.

Lent is not about doom and gloom. It is punctuated with the future as we pass through each Sunday, each “mini-Easter” (if you please). On Sunday—resurrection day, the first day of the week—we get a taste of the future. It is a day to relax our Lenten restrictions. (That is why Lent is not about giving up sin! We are supposed to have already done that. Rather it is about giving up some normalcy, some comfort, in order to pursue God in a focused way.) It is a day to experience the future—the coming of Easter, but also the coming new heaven and new earth in the resurrection.

We do not fast on Sunday because on that day we eat the Supper of the Lord. We eat the body and drink the blood of Jesus. It is symbol, but more than symbol. It is physical, but deeply connected to the reality symbolized by God’s own Spirit. It is material, but it is not mere dust. The bread we break is a participation in the body of Jesus and the cup which we drink is a participation in his blood (1 Corinthians 10:16). It is covenant in the body and blood of Jesus.

God “cut a covenant” with us at the cross of Jesus and promised us a future in the resurrection. When we eat and drink, we are assured of that future. We eat and drink with the Living Christ and sit with him at the right hand of the Father. And he promises us that we will live and reign with him in the new heavens and new earth. At the Lord’s Table we taste the future but yet hunger for it. We hunger for Easter, not just that single Sunday every year, but for the Easter that will unveil the new heavens and new earth. That Easter will unveil our transformed bodies when God reaps the full resurrection harvest.

And, with Abram, our faith testifies that it is worth the wait.

Discussion Questions:

1. Where do you see fear and faith, uncertainty and waiting, in the text of Genesis 15?
2. Why does God come to Abram to assure him? Is faith something that should not need such assurances?
3. For what do we “wait” during Lent? What characterizes our wait? How does symbolize our life in Christ as a whole even when we are not practicing Lent?
4. Do you experience the Lord’s Supper as assurance? What is the nature of that assurance? How is faith strengthened through eating and drinking?

Text: Luke 4:1-13

Lent is forty days of letting go of some of our normal habits in order to pursue God with a special focus. The pursuit of God during these forty days comes in various forms: repentance, meditation, Scripture reading, prayer, immersion in sacred music, communal worship, almsgiving, etc. Lent was originally named “Forty Days” (quadragesima) and only became known as “Lent” (meaning Spring) in later years.

Lent is a season where we, in some sense and to some degree, follow Jesus into the wilderness for forty days. We followed Jesus into the waters of baptism and so now, in the narrative of Luke, we follow Jesus into the wilderness. Before Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, Moses spent forty days on the mountain with God (Exodus 32; Deuteronomy 9:9), Israel spent forty years in the wilderness where God probed and tested their hearts (Deuteronomy 8:1-5) and Elijah devoted forty days to God at Mt. Sinai (1 Kings 9:8).

It is not surprising, then, that the ancient church decided “forty” was a good number for a season of renewed dedication to God. The roots of this practice are baptismal, though there are also penitential backgrounds where those seeking reunion with the community fasted for a period of time. Those preparing for baptism would spend a specified time (usually three days or 40 hours) fasting. As Easter Eve became an annual baptism festival, the practice of “forty days” of preparation emerged. Eventually, the whole church was invited to fast for forty days before Easter (late fourth century). The form of this fasting varied and was not necessarily a total fast on every day of the forty. Indeed, the tradition arose that Sundays during Lent were “mini-Easters” which celebrated the resurrection of Jesus and thus were not fast days. Consequently, “Ash Wednesday” arose in the West (probably eighth century) as a way of adding days to compensate for the loss of fast days due to Sunda. This kept the number of fast days at forty. It is called “Ash” Wednesday because ashes are used as symbols of penitence and death as we humble ourselves in preparation for the Forty Days.

The Forty Days, most significantly, connects believers with the life of Jesus as they join Jesus in the wilderness in some small measure. Just as Jesus was led to fast for forty days, so believers seek to follow Jesus into the wilderness for forty days. It is a specified time dedicated to seeking God. It was valuable for Jesus, and many believers find it valuable for their own relationship with the Father.

Though Jesus had regular habits of spiritual discipline (e.g., being alone with God), it was nevertheless important for Jesus to experience these forty days as a way of probing his own heart, being tested by Satan, and hungering after God. We, too, need special moments, days or seasons to devote ourselves to probing, testing and hungering. Lent is a season which many believers choose to practice for this very purpose.

What did Jesus discover about himself in these days of probing, testing and hungering? He learned existentially what perhaps he only knew provisionally or intellectually previously. He learned to feed on the word of God rather than bread. He learned that devotion to God is more important than power among the nations. He learned trusting God rather than testing God is the way to peace and joy. He experienced the wilderness—he experienced his faith in action as he connected with the Father and his own soul.

He had other options. Satan provided opportunity and attempted persuasion. But Jesus chose God. He quoted Scripture, but the effect of quoting Scripture was not the cognitive information he articulated. Rather, Scripture pointed to God. Jesus hungered for God rather than food, power or fame.

Jesus chose the way of the cross rather than the spectacular, the power and the luxury. He owned his baptismal vocation when he rejected the Satanic offers and embraced his identity as Son of God.

Lent is an opportunity, not an obligation. No one is forced to practice the Forty Days. We are led into it for the sake of embracing our vocational identity as children of God. These are days when we seek and hunger after God; days when we spend time with Jesus in the wilderness; days when we, too, may discover again our own souls, own our baptism and encounter God anew.

1. Read the text of Luke 4:1-13 slowly several times. What are the significant lines and repeated ideas in the text?
2. How do you think Jesus experienced the different temptations or testings? What was the draw or allure of each?
3. What do you think Jesus “learned” through this experience? Why was it important for the Spirit to lead Jesus into the wilderness? Why do we need wildernesses in our own faith journey?
4. How does Lent pattern itself after Jesus’ own experience? How does this deepen the significance and importance of Lent for those who choose to practice it? How is Lent similar and dissimilar to the experience of Jesus?

What is salvation?

In my first post in this series I proposed the below chart as a way of answering that important question. In this post I will comment on the ninth sector (9).

Sector 9 identifies salvation as the liberation of the comos from its bondage to decay and destruction. The whole cosmos groans, along with humanity, for relief from the frustration to which the world has been subjected. God saves the comos by renewing it, by ushering in new heavens and a new earth.

The root of this expection is the promise to Abraham. The land, the whole world, is the inheritance of Israel.  The creation belongs to the Son of David, the  Son of God. As co-heirs with Jesus, we, too, are heirs of the world.

Too often Christians have thought they must escape the creation and fly away to glory in heaven.  If, of course, one means that they want to escape the “present evil age” or escape the decaying, destructive powers of death, then I understand their meaning. I, too, want to escape that. But the biblical story is not about escape but redemption. The picture drawn in Revelation in 21 is that  heaven will come down to earth. Then the whole earth will be filled with the glory of God. Heaven will be on earth as heaven and earth are one.

That union of heaven and earth–the union of the dwelling of God with the dwelling of humanity within the creation–is the moment when the glory of God will fill the earth. Everything within it will be called “holy” and the earth will know the righteousness, justice and peace of the fullness of the kingdom of God.

This was the hope of Israel. They yearned for a time of peace and justice, of righteousness and love (hesed). They hoped for a time when the lion and the lamb would lie down together. They expected a time when all the nations would bow before Yahweh. They trusted that God would reign fully in his earth. These are the promises and prophecies that will be fulfilled when God renews the heavens and the earth and comes to dwell with the heirs of the promise.

The goal (telos) of the creation is not annihilation, but redemption.  For some God created materiality in order to ultimately destroy it. In this view God created materiality as some sort of probationary period to prepare people for lliving as purely spiritual beings. Humans, then, reach their goal in spiritual existence without materiality. Consequently, at some point, creation itself will not only be unnecessary but inherently inferior, a lower level of existence.

But this is not the Biblical story that I read. God created the cosmos in which to rest, delight in, and enjoy. He did not create it to snuff it out of existence. Though subjected to frustration, God will redeem it and the resurrected saints will enjoy the harmony, peace and wholeness of both creation and community as they bask in the love of God. Resurrected saints need a resurrected (renew) cosmos in which to dwell with God.

I do not know what that will look like. I’m not sure what resurrected bodies will feel like and look like. I don’t know all that a renewed creation will be or become. But I do think there will be substantial continuity between what is and what will be just as there is continuity between our present bodies and our resurrected ones.  Just as God will redeem our bodies, so he will redeem creation.

Lent, a historic part of the Christian calendar, is a season of “letting go” (fasting) and seeking God in humble submission. It is a time for repentance, confession, prayer, abstinence, and sharing our resources with others. It is not a time to simply give up something for the sake of abstinence (e.g., giving up coffee), but to give up something for the sake of replacing it with time with God. Lent is not merely about abstinence but also about replacing that which you are giving up with something positive. The purpose of Lent is not self-improvement but seeking a deeper relationship with God and loving our neighbors.

Lent begins on Ash Wednesday (February 17) and lasts 44 days, which includes 40 days of fasting (giving up something in order to devote time and energies to God) and four Sundays. On Sundays believers enjoy what they have given up in order to celebrate the joy of the resurrection (so if you have given up coffee, you may enjoy it every Sunday throughout Lent!).

Below are ten suggestions from which you might choose in order to practice Lent during this season.

1. Give up Starbucks Coffee or caffeine (including Cokes, Pepsis, etc.) and save the money you would have spent in order to give to some charity.
2. Make a commitment that when you feel the urge to surf the internet, you will replace that with fifteen to thirty minutes of prayer, meditation, reading Scripture, or reading godly material. Instead of surfing, perhaps meditate on Chris Altrock’s 40 days of Lent through praying the prayers of Jesus.
3. Commit to giving up some sleep by rising fifteen minutes (or more) earlier or going to bed fifteen minutes (or more) later to spend time in prayer, meditation, reading Scripture, or reading godly material. You could read the morning or evening Divine Hours or download them free on I-Tunes.
4. Give up television altogether or for a specified time each day (e.g., 8:00-9:00pm) and devote that time to a devotional plan of some sort (e.g., reading Scripture according to the plans Dean Barham has offered). Or, sit silently and listen to music for an hour that takes you into the presence of God for meditation and reflection.
5. Instead of eating out for lunch each day, bag your own lunch; as you prepare your lunch, recite a prayer from memory (e.g., the Lord’s Prayer) and devote the money saved to charity.
6. If your family was planning a major purchase or if your family regularly spends money on unnecessary daily desires (e.g., eating out, renting movies, etc.), delay doing so until after Lent and use the money you would have spent to save for a charitable donation.
7. Every day of Lent write a letter or note to a significant person in your life in order to thank them for their presence in your life, or every day during Lent write a note to a person who needs encouragement or blessing, or every day write a letter of amends to people with whom you have had difficulty. This gives up time you would have spent doing something else and replaces it with loving ministry.
8. For the forty days of Lent, give up time doing something you might normally do to devote to journaling: confess sin, reflect on where God was present in your day, and write a prayer to God.
9. During the forty days of Lent, journey through the story of Jesus with your children by spending fifteen minutes a day reading the Gospel of Luke together or watching a clip from a movie like “Jesus of Nazareth” in order to talk about what you read or saw.
10. Take thirty minutes each day to inventory your house: clean the closets, sort through your clothes, etc. Give to others (e.g., Goodwill) what you have not used in the last year.

And, of course, there are many more possibilities.  Do you have any suggestions?

We all live with multiple and varied calendars. My work life is regulated by an academic calendar—a schedule of convocations, breaks, exams and class schedules. My national life is regulated by a federal calendar that has declared certain days as “holidays”: Martin Luther King’s birthday, President’s Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Veteran’s Day, and Thanksgiving Day. My family life is flavored by a “Hallmark” calendar: Valentine’s Day (it’s coming boys!), Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, etc.

As part of the Stone-Campbell tradition, particularly Churches of Christ, I grew up with little or no knowledge of a “Christian” calendar. Indeed, we not only neglected it but opposed it, at least those that had any public consciousness such as Christmas and Easter. Galatians 4:10 was almost a rallying cry.

At one level I understand that opposition since all time is God’s time. Is there a need for “special” days or “holy days”? At another level, if someone wants to keep a day to God, let them honor God. Does not Romans 14:5-8 give a person that liberty?

But neither of those considerations really get to what I think is the root value of living within a Christian calendar. Consider Israel (as Paul tells us to do in 1 Corinthians 10:16). The Torah (e.g., Leviticus 23) gave Israel a rhythm of life that rooted their calendar in the mighty acts of God in nature and history. The Sabbath reminded them of God’s creative (Genesis 1-2) and redemptive (Deuteronomy 5:12-15) work for them. The Passover relives the Exodus from Egyptian slavery, the Pentecost celebrates the winter harvest, the Feast of Tabernacles remembers their wilderness experience, and the Day of Atonement receives the forgiveness of sins. Israel’s calendar grounded their lives in the story of God.

The Christian calendar roots life in the story of Jesus. The calendar has “seasons” patterned after the life of Jesus so that a Christian may relive the life of Jesus every year. The Season of Advent (Coming) anticipates the birth of Jesus leading to the Christmas season. The Season of Epiphany celebrates the revelation (appearing) of Jesus, particularly his baptism and transfiguration. The Season of Lent (which means “Spring”) is traditionally a season of fasting (thus 40 days) which prepares Christians for Easter. The Easter season begins with Resurrection day and ends at Pentecost as a celebration of life and new creation. Between Pentecost and Advent is “ordinary time” which focuses on living the life of Jesus in day to day ministry and worship.

The calendar gives Christians an opportunity to liturgically and ritually shape their lives by the story of Jesus. It provides a rhythm that lives in the light of God’s gracious redemptive presence and work for us.

Is the calendar necessary? No, no more than a national calendar is. But calendars do have value. They are tools. They provide a framework for living through seasons—whether they are seasons of nature, or seasons of national life, or seasons of Christian life. The Christian calendar reminds us of what God has done for us, calls us to imitate the life of Jesus and focuses our liturgical energies in line with the historic church through its lectionaries.

Ash Wednesday this year is February 17. That is the first day of Lent. The “ashes,” which are placed on the forehead, is a penitential act by which we remember that we are but “dust and ashes.” Lent, then, becomes a season of seeking God and opening our hearts to God in humble submission.

During Lent, believers following the Christian calendar focus on “letting go and seeking God” out of a hunger for God. We “let go” of whatever hinders us in our union with God and we renew practices in our life—and perhaps focus on particular practices for the season—for the sake of spiritual formation and relationship with God.

Questions for Discussion:

1. How is your life “regulated” by different calendars? What “rules” your life in terms of calendars? What do you know about the “Christian” calendar?
2. Read Romans 14:5-8 and Galatians 4:10 together. Is Paul confused? Why the difference? What different situations would result in these two polar opposite admonitions? What was the important point for Paul in both readings?
3. How is the Christian calendar a tool? What would that look like in your life, or how do you use it as a tool? What have you found valuable or problematic?
4. Would you consider attending a Lent “Ash Wednesday” service? What do you think about the potential value of practicing Lent this season? What does “letting go and seeking God” mean to you?

What is salvation?

In my first post in this series I proposed the below chart as a way of answering that important question. In this post I will comment on the eighth sector (8).

Sector 8 identifies salvation as the redemption of creation through the emergence or in-breaking of new creation into the present cosmos. This is cosmic sanctification as the groaning and frustrated creation is progressively liberated from the bondage of decay.

The church is a means toward the redemptive emergence of new creation because it is sustained by the power of the eschatological Spirit dwelling in it.  The church serves the goal, which is a creation filled with shalom, that is, a creation filled with righteousness, justice, peace, wholeness and joy. This includes not only social transformation (social ethics) but also the care, enjoyment and protection of the creation itself.

Herein lies the importance of vocation (or a theology of work) in Christian theology. Through vocation believers (and non-believers as well by God’s grace) participate in the mission of God to redeem the creation and further the goals of God’s creative act. Believers are a redemptive presence in a broken world. They work for reconciliation, to care for the creation, and to develop the potential of creation.

God did not create a perfected static reality.  He invested it with (indeed, commanded it to) change–be fruitful and multiply.  Nothing changes the world like children!  But this dynamism is not limited to procreation. Rather, it is filling the earth with the glory of God through participating in God’s agenda for the creation. It is pursuing our vocation, and the many vocations (careers) that flow from that vocational identity as divine imagers. God intended the creation to emerge, grow, develop and become with a view toward a glorious reality. This is the telos or goal of creation.

God created humanity to share the task (the mission) in achieving that goal. As junior partners with God, as co-regents in the creation, as co-creators of the future, God has invested in us the dignity, joy and value of joining God in the divine mission.

We participate in this adventure by living out our identity in vocational mission. Our careers become vocations by which we move the creation forward in redemptive, reconciling and orderly ways. Believers should not choose their careers lightly nor should they reduce their careers to money-making schemes.  Rather, careers are vocational, that is, they are callings into the mission of God. Through their careers believers become ministers in the kingdom of God as they use their careers to further the divine goal for creation. Through this giftedness, expressed as love for neighbors and the creation, God redeems, renews and reinvests in the creation.

Nevertheless, creation will groan until the final liberation from death itself. While medical advancements cheat death, they do not defeat it.  While justice grows, slavery still exists.  While moments of reconciliation bear witness to the glory of God (as in South Africa), much of humanity is still alienated from each other. The church and other human acts graced by God bear witness to and work toward the goal. But the full reality of that goal can only be achieved by God’s apocalyptic act whereby God reverses the curse and makes everything new.

Thus, while the church is an authentic means of grace within the world and for the sake of the world as the new creation already lives and moves within the world through the church, the full renovation and regeneration of the cosmos will only arrive when the kingdom of God fully comes in the coming of our Lord Jesus. We yet wait–patientily, but actively (not passively)–for that climactic and glorious moment.