“Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.” (Gospel of Matthew 1:18-19)

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It is easy to look back once you know the whole story and think of how inspiring it is. Living a story real-time, however, can feel like hell. Put yourself in Joseph’s sandals for a moment. He was just living his life, and then suddenly, without warning and without explanation, he is handed a story he didn’t choose.

Joseph’s fiancée, Mary, reveals that she is pregnant and the child is not his. To add insult to injury, she claims the impossible - that in some mysterious way God and not another man is responsible for this. I’m sure there have been many over-the-top excuses and explanations to cover up unfaithfulness throughout the ages, but to claim that what happened is somehow God’s plan cuts extra deep.



As far as Joseph can tell at this point, Mary has cheated on him. Let that sink in. That’s really heavy. Joseph didn’t choose this story but now he gets to choose how he responds. He has options, including publicly denouncing her and even seeking the death penalty for her adultery. This would have been a perfectly acceptable and lawful decision according to the spiritual leadership of his time (think of how the Pharisees dragged the woman caught in adultery before Jesus).

Maybe this seems barbaric to us, but then I also think of how our culture relishes in breakup songs and revenge movies and instant karma. We take pleasure in cheaters (fictional or not) being eviscerated and getting what they deserve. We even experience a sense of empowerment when we put down those who brought us down.

Joseph makes a very different choice, though. He chooses a path of gentleness. He chooses to divorce Mary quietly, seeking as much as possible to avoid exposing her to any shame or disgrace. Even though he has done nothing wrong, he loves Mary enough to seek her good even amidst his hurt and confusion.

I can see why God chose him to be the earthly father of the Messiah. I’m not entirely sure why God let Joseph go through this phase of turmoil before sending an angel to reveal the truth, but it gives us a powerful glimpse at the strength of Joseph’s gentleness and love.

Even after the truth is revealed to Joseph, we get to see even more of his character. I admire the incredible humility of Joseph in receiving the angel’s words and in taking Mary to be his wife - and along with her, to take Jesus, a child he did nothing to create, as his son. Even though he has no earthly reason to do so, he is fully invested. He exemplifies the adoptive and self-sacrificial love of the gospel.

Just imagine what gossip would have been circulating - people would either assume that Joseph had been dishonorable in sleeping with Mary before they were married or they would assume that Mary had been unfaithful, both of which would have brought a lot of shame upon Joseph. But in spite of what others would be saying, Joseph humbly accepts this word from the Lord and boldly loves Mary (and God), serving them both in a life he had not chosen.

Joseph truly lives out the servant leadership that Jesus will feature so prominently in his life and teachings. In the stories of Christmas, Mary and Jesus take center stage, and I think that is beautiful. Joseph is there, but always in a supporting role. He is off to the side or in the shadows, doing the little and yet important things necessary for Mary and Jesus to thrive. I love this picture of Joseph leading Mary on the donkey, his face unseen like any common character on the streets, yet he moves with determination in his steps to take care of his precious passengers.

The strength of Joseph in this story is that he doesn’t take center stage. He doesn’t demand the spotlight in order to find meaning and significance. He receives a story he didn’t choose, and instead of carrying it as a burden, accepts it as a gift from God.

By leaning into the role God offers Joseph, he chooses to partner with God and unite himself with Mary, who is also living out this experience in bold faith. It is a beautiful picture of how we can live as well. In the twists and turns that our own stories take, how will we respond to the unexpected and the unexplained? Will we trust God when the story isn’t going according to plan? Will we partner with those God brings us, even when unity defies earthly expectations? Will we find purpose in the unconventional and unmatched gifts of God?

May we all, like Joseph, respond with such gentleness and humility and trust in God.

Imagine that you could choose to be born. What if, floating in some kind of state of pre-existence, you could look out over the whole of history and pick a period to be born into? When would it be? What country would you choose? Knowing how much our family and our family history shapes us, who would you pick to best set you up for success? Would you pick a mighty royal dynasty or a family of wealthy influencers or a brilliant circle of scientists or philosophers? It is kind of fun to think about how we could, to a large extent, choose the story we would get to live.

In the history of the world, however, only one person ever chose to be born: Jesus. And he made some distinctly curious choices. He chose to be born in obscurity, from a broken lineage, into a time of great spiritual darkness.

(University of Pennsylvania Archives and Records Center)

In the first chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, we find the genealogy of Jesus as traced through Joseph, the man who would serve as his earthly father. About halfway through, I stop recognizing most names. Famous figures are rapidly replaced with men who lived lives that we know little or nothing about. Jesus waits and chooses to be born into an unremarkable, modest family. He isn’t born amidst the luxuries of Abraham or Jacob. He isn’t born in the palaces of David or Solomon. He isn’t born in the spiritual revivals of Josiah or Zerubbabel. He is born as the son of a common man, grows up in a town of questionable integrity, and lives a life of general poverty.

Even in the grander moments of his family tree, we find a scandalous series of ancestors. Generations of habitual liars, adulterers, murders, prostitutes, polygamists, rapists, slave dealers, idolaters, and child-sacrificers. Yikes. That sounds like a seriously scary family reunion. Jesus didn’t come from a perfect family by any stretch of the imagination. This is all too familiar for many of us who carry around a lot of family baggage we didn’t choose; but Jesus did choose, and he chose this messy, mangled family tree.

Finally, Jesus is born into a time and place of profound spiritual darkness. The 400 years of silence between the Old and New Testaments reflects more on the deafness of humanity, particularly the Jewish nation, than on the voice of God. As the story of Jesus unfolds, the depravity of the spiritual leadership found in the Pharisees, Sadducees, and scribes makes it clear just how deep this darkness is: dark enough to crucify God on a cross.

This is the life (and death) Jesus chose. There is stunning humility, not just in the act of God becoming human, but in this specific type of incarnation. In laying aside what he could have claimed for himself, and choosing the life of Jesus of Nazareth, he chose to align himself with our brokenness. Jesus knows our suffering and is touched by our weaknesses because they are his own. When Jesus was born, he truly came to be Emmanuel, God with us. Not just God near us or around us or next to us, but God with us, as one of us.

Jesus laid aside his clothing of light too powerful for sinful humanity to bear, in order to be with us. This incredible embodiment of love is so strong, and so gentle. To lay aside his glory is a truly humbling act of gentleness. I can only imagine how vulnerable this must have felt, like being stranded outside in the winter without clothes. Yet Jesus became Emmanuel with a grace that shook the world.

When I see the humility and gentleness of how Jesus chose to be born, I am challenged to want to live like that. Yes, even though all that is within me and around me tells me that this path leads to a story of less power and less control, I cannot help but believe it is the way to true life. I want to let brokenness and baggage (in myself and others) transform into compassion and empathy inside me. I want to be willing to lay aside my power and the things I have the right to, in order to serve others with humility and gentleness. May we all receive this gift from the healing hands of Jesus and, in turn, share this grace with all around us.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Jesus, as recorded in Matthew 11:28-30)

Have you ever felt the kind of tired that no amount of sleep can cure? It is like carrying around a heavy weight with nowhere to put it down. Sometimes these are burdens that others have placed on us. Other times it isn’t so much what we carry, but how we carry ourselves - the posture of our spirits. I have found that I’m quickly exhausted by a life that is not gentle or humble. I have also found that too often I don’t have the emotional or spiritual resources to be truly gentle and humble when I need it most.

And that is why these words of Jesus are so powerful and life-giving. It is refreshing that Jesus doesn’t say: you just need to try harder. Rather, he says: Come to me, and I will give you rest.

I need this. I need more gentleness and humility in my life. I need rest for my soul.

Jesus invites us to come to him and find this rest. In his presence, we can both learn and receive from Jesus how to be gentle and humble of heart.

Journey with me, if you will, as we explore these themes throughout the Gospel of Matthew. We will begin this month with the Christmas stories which really set the stage in beautiful and challenging ways. We’ll look at the messy family tree of Jesus, the understated strength of a man who did not choose his own story, the radical reality of Emmanuel, and finally the tension of a shepherd born into a world of kings.

Jesus said to him, “Do you want to get well?”

“Sir,” the sick man answered, “I don’t have a man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, but while I’m coming, someone goes down ahead of me.” (John 5:6-7)

Jesus asks one of his famous questions, and the crippled man’s response seems almost patronizing. Like, “Clearly you don’t understand how this thing works. Let me explain it to you. These are the steps necessary for me to achieve healing, and yet clearly they aren’t working for me.”

He is answering with methodology and inability. Jesus is asking a question of desire and faith.

How often I have this same idea in my mind about how things should work, how to get from A to B. How to be healed. How God’s promises should be fulfilled. But, like this man’s idea, many of mine are rooted in works, not faith. Jesus offers a gift, but so much more than just the gift of the end result – Jesus offers freedom from a crippling, enslaving way of thinking. Jesus offers the freedom of faith. Jesus offers freedom through and through.

Jesus asks a question that cuts through to desire, to worldview, to understanding and perception of God – how he works, his character. He wants to reveal to us how small our view is of his love and his graciousness. He wants us to see that his gifts are better than anything we could earn.

May Jesus open our eyes to who he really is. May he awaken faith in us, trust in him and his goodness, not some formula or process. May our hearts be opened to his gifts – more than we can ask, more than end results, but a new creation from start to finish.

 

(Outline/manuscript of my message at church on 11/12/16)

Intro: If you’ve been watching the news or checking your social media feed, or just generally alive, you’ve probably noticed that this week has been a time of great unrest and uncertainty. Every four years, about half the nation is upset about the results of the election. But I’ve never seen this kind of fear and division before. This is especially upsetting as Americans because, at least at the surface we have perceived this country as a place of relative safety. The reality of discrimination and oppression that have been going on since Europeans first arrived in this country is another story. Racism, at least, has been a part of our story since day one. Still, many of us are not accustomed to the kind of division and fear that most of the rest of the world knows, and, for that matter, that most of the rest of people in history have lived with all their lives.

I’m not interested in blaming any political party. But I think it is clear that, as a country, we have a problem, from the common man on the street all the way up to the top of our government.

This puts us in an interesting position as both Americans and Christians. When it comes to our response, it is helpful to take a step back and look at the whole of human history. It is helpful to realize that the people of God have almost always lived under the rule of corrupt men.

Jesus himself was born under the rule of Herod the Great, who slaughtered innocent children in Bethlehem. And Jesus was crucified under the rule of Herod Antipas, who stole another man’s wife and later had John the Baptist executed because of the request of a woman who danced impressively for his friends.

The early Church grew and expanded under the rule of terrible men like Nero (who blamed Christians for the Great Fire of Rome, which, supposedly, he himself ordered), and others like Domitian and Trajan who brutally persecuted the church.

And looking further back in the Old Testament, God’s people lived under the rule of countless corrupt men. From the wicked kings of Israel to enslavement under Egypt to exile in Babylon, the rule of thumb is that God’s people have lived under the rule of corruption and oppression. And yet even under the kingdoms of corrupt men, the kingdom of God continues on. There is a certain comfort in knowing that our mission as a church has not changed in the last two-thousand years, or the last two hundred, or since last week. So today I want to take a brief look at the question of “How then do we live?” How do we continue to live as children of the kingdom of heaven while living in a kingdom of earth? How do we live as children of God under the rule of men?

1. Grieve

It is okay to be angry, to be sorrowful. Injustice breaks God’s heart too. Emotion is a natural response to brokenness in the world. What matters is how we respond to that emotion. But feeling it is good; if you saw or experienced injustice and felt nothing, it’s probably a sign you’re growing desensitized to suffering, which can feel safer but is actually more concerning. If injustice or tragedy occurs, as Christians it is natural to feel and express the weight of that brokenness.

So I want to take a look first at God’s view of injustice, about those he repeatedly says to take care of in society, and why.

Jeremiah 22:3

Deuteronomy 10:17-19

Zechariah 7:8-12

Ezekiel 22:6-7

Malachi 3:5

Jeremiah 7:5-8

Psalm 146

Again and again, this is God’s stance: protect the foreigners, the fatherless, and the widows. Stand up for those who are in need. These are the people who were vulnerable in society. Especially in the agricultural, patriarchal society of the Old Testament, the fatherless and widows had no way to take care of themselves without a family or property; foreigners, too, often were without land of their own and were often treated unfairly and with disdain. (Think of the story of Ruth and how rare it was that Boaz treated her, a foreigner, with such generosity).

The parallels to our current society are obvious, and it is interesting to note that, unfortunately, what we’re experiencing is nothing new. It is also interesting to note what the beginning of Psalm 146 says: “Do not put your trust in nobles, in man, who cannot save.” If the current government wants to work in cooperation to help the poor and marginalized in society, then great, but if not, that doesn’t change our mission as a church. Our hope is not in government or human leaders. Our hope, instead, is with God and with what he calls his church to do on earth.

2. Stand up for the weak and vulnerable

God cares for the weak and the vulnerable; for the marginalized and the minorities in society. If these are things which matter to God, what are what are we going to do about it?

James 1:27. Pure and faultless religion: take care of the vulnerable and don’t be corrupted by the world. This is, according to James, the practical living out of our religion.

James 2. The first half of chapter is about living in a just and fair manner; about not discriminating against people based on what they can offer us. But he goes further. He says it isn’t enough to just believe these things. It isn’t enough to just talk about loving one another. It has to be connected to action.

James 2:15-17. We can't just say "Good luck, I hope things turn out ok for you." A stationary, intellectual concern for another's well-being is no concern at all; true compassion is active. In the same way, faith that does not reach out and take hold of the gift of salvation from God is as good as dead.

So James is saying that we live out the mission of the church by caring for the vulnerable and that caring for them means more than nice words. This means taking a stand with them and for them through both our words and actions. It is our responsibility as Christians to stand up for those who are outnumbered, for those who are vulnerable, for those who are being discriminated against.

I believe this also means standing up for both those you agree with and those you may not agree with. The story of the Good Samaritan is not a story about one Christian helping another who completely agrees with him. It is the story of caring for someone you disagree with. The Jews and Samaritans had distinctly different views of what it meant to follow God. It means putting your life at risk to stop and help someone in a dangerous position; also putting your money out there to support them. We are called to come and stand beside those in our society who are discriminated against and who are afraid – regardless of whether we agree with them or not.

This means we stand up for the Muslims. We stand up for the poor. We stand up for immigrants. We stand up for women. We stand up for blacks. We stand up for the LGBTQ community. We stand up for and with all these children of God. If we really believe, as our vision statement says, that this church is a place where ALL people can encounter Jesus, that means that we must do more than speak these words, we must show them to be true in our actions, in who we welcome into our doors and how we treat people in the streets.

And we must go further than this. Because God calls us to love our enemies – even the oppressors of the weak and vulnerable we’re trying to protect.  It doesn’t mean you have to support them, but because we know that our fight is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers of darkness, we recognize that even the oppressors are also children of God. And that means that we fight with love – a love that listens and seeks to understand and that calls them towards justice. We love the oppressor, not by letting them do whatever they want, but by opposing them in firm but non-violent ways, and by seeking their good, even as we seek to protect the oppressed.

3. Proclaim a message of justice and hope

But if we’re honest, and if this world is all we have, in the end, there is one oppressor we cannot protect people from, and that is death.  

We do our best to make this world good, but we also recognize that it will one day end. For me, this doesn’t take away the urgency and importance of the cause of justice in our world, but it does remove some of the unbearable weight of despair that comes from looking at the impossibility of resolving every case of injustice we face. There is hope, not just that God will one day return, but that in the Second Coming of Jesus, he will bring an end to the rule of men and all the corruption therein.

This is what we proclaim as Adventists. Contained within the Three Angels’ Messages are promises of justice. These are proclamations of hope. Promises of the good God is about to accomplish.

Revelation 14:7 “Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of his judgment has come.” A promise! The God who is a defender of the weak, of the fatherless, widows, and foreigners is coming to judge and to bring about justice. (We are sometimes uncomfortable with God as judge; yet we also look at suffering and complain that God isn’t doing anything. God will do something as judge once and for all when he returns, and until then you and I are his hands and feet for justice).

Revelation 14:8 “Babylon is fallen!” A promise! That corrupt religious systems will fall. That systems which do not show and live the true love of God’s gospel will come to an end. I was asked this week why some people don’t seem open to the hope of the Second Coming even in light of these times. So much religious rhetoric has been used to justify injustice, it can be hard for people to see the good in religion. Why would they look forward to the return of a God who is represented by many of his people as hating and seeking their destruction? Jesus promises that these false portrayals of him will soon be judged, removed, and forgotten. Only the truth will remain. Until then, it is our responsibility to keep proclaiming the truest view of a God of love and justice we know.

Revelation 14:9-10 “Anyone who worships the beast and his image and receives a mark on his forehead or on his hand” will be destroyed. A promise! Not just religious systems, but all who are workers of oppression and injustice (which is the outworking of false religious systems and false portrayals of the character of God) will fall. God will one day bring about total justice and peace.

We get to decide now, before that day comes, if we want to be a part of that world or not. This is why God calls out to us in Revelation 18:4 “Come out of her, my people…” A promise! And an invitation. God calls his people out of corruption into freedom. He calls us into relationship with him, and promises to bring about everlasting peace. We don’t have to place our hopes in false religious and worldly systems; we can place our hope in God.

Conclusion: God is calling you to stand up. He is calling for you to grieve over what grieves him. He is calling you to stand up for the oppressed. He is calling you to tell the world about his promises for justice in his return, and invite them into a relationship with the only true and fair judge who is coming to bring unending peace to this world. Will you stand with the God who stands for you?

It has been almost two weeks since the horrific mass shooting of the LGBTQ community in Orlando. It still weighs heavily on me, not just the tragedy itself but also many of the hateful reactions that have come in response, especially in the name of Christianity.

In our church, we are studying the book of Genesis together. These past two weeks we've been looking at the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. This seems especially relevant in light of what happened at the Pulse nightclub since many Christians have traditionally held the interpretation that the primary sin resulting in the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was homosexuality. I wanted to take a look and see what the Bible actually had to say. I haven’t studied this in depth by any means, but here are a few quick notes on what I discovered.

 

1. Ezekiel 16:49 identifies the sins of Sodom as "pride, fullness of food, and abundance of idleness; neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy." In verse 50 it says that they exalted themselves and “committed abomination.” Some think this refers to the verse in Leviticus about a man lying with another man. However, there is no evidence that this particular verse is being referenced, as there are many “abominations” listed in the Old Testament, such as sacrificing blemished animals, eating certain types of unclean meats, remarrying a former wife, greed, dishonest trade, etc.

2. In the actual story of Sodom and Gomorrah, where they threaten to rape the angels disguised as men, it says in Genesis 19:4 that "the men of the city, even the men of Sodom, compassed the house round, both old and young, all the people from every quarter.” The Hebrew word we translate as "men" here is really a more general word which can also be used to include both men and women, as seems to be indicated by the phrase at the end of the verse: "all the people." Even if the passage does refer only to men (which it seems improbable that all the men of Sodom were gay), it is strange that Lot would offer his daughters to them if they were all gay.

Thus, rather than being a story about homosexuality, it seems instead to be about men (and possibly women) with the intent to rape. This is, unfortunately, not an uncommon method for inflicting violence and humiliation on another person. There are countless cases of heterosexual men using rape against other men as a means to assert dominance over other men. In war, especially in ancient times, it was common for soldiers to rape their defeated enemy male soldiers. We also see this use of rape to dominate and humiliate in our world today, notably in but not limited to the prison system.

3. In Jude 7, it says that Sodom and Gomorrah had given themselves over to sexual immorality and had gone after “strange flesh.” Some have interpreted this to mean homosexual behavior. The word we translate as "strange" means "other, different" (ironically, the Greek word is heteros… so maybe the sin of Sodom was heterosexuality, right?). Actually, this is a somewhat obscure phrase with a variety of potential interpretations, most of which seemed lacking. However, there are some Hebrew words similar to this Greek one, which shed some light onto the translation. In passages like Judges 11:1-1 and Proverbs 7:5, the phrase “strange women” is used to refer to prostitutes, as in "other women," as in “other women than your wife.” This lends some credibility to the translation of the word "strange" as “other,” as in “other than what we are supposed to have” or “other than your spouse.” This could apply to any sexual deviation, including that which seems likely to be true of Sodom and Gomorrah: rape as a means of domination and humiliation.

In conclusion, from what I’ve found so far, the evidence for homosexuality as the reason for the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah is lacking at best, and likely nonexistent. Regardless of what you believe the Bible teaches about homosexuality, I think we’d all agree that it is important to be honest with the textual evidence. Too often we bring in our own cultural experiences and impose them over the actual context of a passage, usually without even realizing it.

Here’s why I think this matters. Sometimes this unawareness just leads to misinformation; other times it can lead to justification of misguided approaches to fellow human beings. This puts us more in line with the sins of Sodom listed in Ezekiel than we’d like to acknowledge. I know I’ve been guilty of this more times than I’d like to admit. But my hope is to keep learning and discovering more about what Jesus is really calling me to in life. I would welcome your company on this journey, whatever perspective you’re coming from, as we learn and grow and walk together.

(shared from DarkLight)

“Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night… brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds.” (John 19:39)

Nicodemus, who first visited Jesus in secret, now comes to serve Jesus in the open. But Jesus is dead. Nicodemus proclaims his faith over a dead God.  In his own way, he proclaims faith in a dead God. Even more, in a dead God who, by all appearances, has failed to fulfill his promises.

That is a dark place to be. How do you have faith when the source of all light has gone out? How do you have faith when the things he has promised you are buried with him in a tomb? How do you have faith when God is dead?

 There is something profoundly beautiful about Nicodemus throwing his lot in with a man who claimed to be God but who was just crucified as a criminal. It feels like an act of defiance, like a bold stand taken against all the darkness and death that weigh heavy over all the earth.

I want to believe like that.

On the personally apocalyptic album Pale Horses, Aaron Weiss (lyricist/vocalist of mewithoutYou) sings, “This is not the first time God has died.” It is a powerful and helpful reminder. For those moments when the promises of God have not come through as expected, for those moments when all you hoped for is clutched securely in the hands of death, for those moments when God has died in your life, it is encouraging to remember that God has died before.

But the God who died also came back to life again. The tomb, not his promises, is empty. He will come back to life for you, too. Until then, however, you have an opportunity to stand courageously with Nicodemus and proclaim your belief in a dead God to fulfill all of his promises.

This is not the first time God has died. And it won’t be the first (or last) time he conquers death.