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Week in Review: April 22-27
By Mark D. Roberts | Saturday, April 28, 2007
My Blogging
Sunday: Sunday Inspiration from Pray the Gospels, Matthew 4:1-11
Monday: Handel’s Messiah: A Closer Look (cont)
Tuesday: Sainthood, Service, and Suffering: An Introduction
Wednesday: Why You’re Like Saint Truman Burbank
Thursday: A Member of God’s Holy People
Friday: Called to Holiness
Links
The High Calling of Our Daily Work: This website is full of wisdom for Christians who are seeking to live out their faith in their work environment. It features personal stories, Bible studies, interviews with fascinating people, short pieces by business leaders, and lots more. For example, check out this interview with Mark DeMoss.
Mere Mission. Here’s a great interview of N.T. Wright by Tim Stafford, from the Christianity Today website.
Photo
No, I haven’t been doing any snorkeling or scuba diving recently. But, yes, I did take this picture of a White Spotted Rose Anemone. It was in one of the many aquariums of Sea World, in San Diego, California. What a stunning bit of God’s creation!
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Called to Holiness
By Mark D. Roberts | Friday, April 27, 2007
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In my last post I explained that all Christians are saints, in the biblical sense of the word. All who put their faith in Jesus Christ have been set apart by God for relationship with Him and to serve Him as special people in the world. So, if you’re a Christian, you are a saint, no matter whether you live like it or not.
Of course the ultimate Saint, the One who is uniquely set apart from creation, is God Himself. In Scripture, God claims to be holy (Lev 19:2), is worshipped as holy (Ps 99:9), is called “the Holy God” (Isa 5:16) and “the Holy One of Israel” (Isa 43:3). God’s holiness embraces, not only His distinctness from creation, but His utter perfection: morally, spiritually, and aesthetically.
For those of us who belong to God, acknowledgment of His supreme holiness leads to a surprising implication. In the Old Testament book of Leviticus God calls His people to be like Him in holiness: “You must be holy because I, the Lord, am holy. I have set you apart from all other people to be my very own” (Lev 20:26). The context for this passage shows that Israel’s holiness impacts how people live, in a moral and spiritual excellence modeled after that of God.
Lest we think that this standard applies only to the Israelites, in the New Testament Peter applies it to those who are God’s children through Christ:
Obey God because you are His children. Don’t slip back into your old ways of doing evil; you didn’t know any better then. But now you must be holy in everything you do, just as God—who chose you to be His children—is holy. For he himself has said, “You must be holy because I am holy” (1 Pet 1:14-16).
That which the Lord once applied to Israel now directs our lives. We must be holy because God is holy. Our holiness comprises, not just our religious activities, but everything we do. Since we have been set apart from the world, we must no longer engage in the evil behavior that characterized our “old ways,” but instead we must live in obedience to God as his children.
Returning to the Olympics analogy, every now and then we hear of scandals in which athletes test positively for illegal drugs. These stories make news, in part, because they are so rare. The vast majority of Olympians recognize that their “sainthood” or “set-apart-ness” requires a “holy” or “set-apart” lifestyle. They refrain not only from illegal substances, but also from the junk food the rest of us love to consume. They don’t abuse their bodies through inactivity. They live differently because they have been dedicated to a special, higher athletic purpose. (Most Olympic athletes don’t choose to be couch potatoes.)
And so it must be for us, as God’s holy people. Many of the activities we once enjoyed are now seen in a new light, as compromising our sainthood by drawing us away from God and God’s purposes. Consider Sunday mornings, for example. Most non-Christian people I know fill their first waking hours of Sunday with “doing nothing” — eating food, relaxing over the morning paper, or watching news shows and sporting events. None of these activities could be counted as obviously sinful. In fact, they sound pretty attractive, to tell the truth! Yet, even new believers in Jesus understand that their sainthood requires a change in Sunday morning behavior. They start attending worship services, often rising early enough to join an adult class or fellowship group. Sleeping in and lounging around in slippers become some of the “old ways” left behind by new believers. Even though a part of us may still yearn for such leisurely moments, we nevertheless commit ourselves to the “set-apart” disciplines of Christian community and celebration. That’s part of what is means to be a saint, a person who is holy even as God is holy.
There are a couple of dangers in what I have just written. First, by choosing the example of church attendance, I might have wrongly implied that holiness is mostly a matter of “doing religious stuff.” Nothing could be farther from the truth! Holiness encompasses all of life.
Second, given what I said about changing your Sunday behavior, you might conclude that being holy is simply a matter of your own effort. Even if you’d rather sleep in on Sunday mornings, you must grit your teeth, drag yourself out of bed and into church because God demands it. To be sure, God expects us to invest our hearts and bodies in living as holy people. But this perspective neglects the true source of our holiness. We are to be holy, not only in imitation of God, but also by His power. In another passage in Leviticus, God says:
So set yourselves apart to be holy, for I, the Lord, am your God. Keep all my laws and obey them, for I am the Lord, who makes you holy (Lev 20:7-8, emphasis added).
Here God commands our holiness, but also claims to be the one who makes us holy. Not only does He set us apart for Himself, but He also supplies the motivation and ability to live holy lives.
I realize that holiness is not a familiar concept in our world. That’s one reason why I’ve used the illustration of Olympic athletes. In your own mind, you might find it helpful when you hear the word “holiness” to replace it with “set-apart-ness” or “specialness for a purpose” or something like this. Indeed, holiness is more than this, but for many of us the word “holiness” sounds old-fashioned and narrowly religious.
When we think of holiness, we might wrongly envision a kind of reclusiveness, something that involves being wholly cut off from the world. In my next post in this series I’ll talk about what it means to be “in the world, but not of the world.”
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A Member of God’s Holy People
By Mark D. Roberts | Thursday, April 26, 2007
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In my last post I explained that every Christian, regardless of the quality of his or her discipleship, is a saint, a person set apart by God for His purposes. Each and every believer in Jesus is a member of God’s holy people. But what does this mean? And what does it imply?
From the very beginning of creation, God intended to form a people with whom to have intimate fellowship. According to Genesis 1, God created the man and the woman in His image, telling them to “multiply and fill the earth” (Gen 1:28). In other words, they were to make babies, who will make babies, etc., so that the earth would someday be filled with a people for God.
When God called Abram (later called Abraham) to leave all that was familiar to him, God promised that he would “become the father of a great nation” (Gen 12:2). Indeed, “All the families of the earth will be blessed through [Abram]” (Gen 12:3). God set him apart, not only so that he would be special to God, but also so that through Abram a nation would formed that would be special to God. Abram was a saint in order to become the father of a saintly people.
After the descendants of Abraham fell into captivity in Egypt, God set them free through the leadership of Moses. When Israel’s freedom was finally secured, God revealed to Moses His plans for His people:
Give these instructions to the descendants of Jacob, the people of Israel: “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians. You know how I brought you to myself and carried you on eagle’s wings. Now if you will obey me and keep my covenant, you will be my own special treasure from among all the nations of the earth; for all the earth belongs to me. And you will be to me a kingdom of priests, my holy nation.” (Exodus 19:3-6)
God chose Israel to be His own special treasure, His prized possession. The Israelites were to be a “holy nation,” or, one could say, a “saintly nation,” a nation set apart by God for His unique purpose in the world.
Centuries later the Apostle Peter wrote a letter to a bunch of Christians scattered throughout the land we know as Turkey. Peter described their specialness as believers in Jesus by borrowing God’s language to the Israelites in Exodus 19:
And now God is building you, as living stones, into his spiritual temple. What’s more, you are God’s holy priests, who offer the spiritual sacrifices that please him because of Jesus Christ . . . . You are a chosen people. You are a kingdom of priests, God’s holy nation, his very own possession. This is so you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light (1 Pet 2:5, 9).
When we believe in Jesus, we are joined to the people of God, God’s holy nation. We serve as “holy priests,” offering sacrifices of service to God and telling others about God’s all-surpassing goodness.
As saints, therefore, we are set apart from the world and yoked to the community of saints, to the church of Jesus Christ formed by the Holy Spirit. Paul underlines this point in his address to the Corinthians:
To the assembly of God that is in Corinth, to those who have been set apart in Christ Jesus, to those who are called “saints,” along with all of those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, our Lord and their Lord (1 Cor 1:2).
As Christians we share sainthood with other believers everywhere. It would be accurate to say, therefore, that a Christian saint is a person set apart from the world, by God through Jesus Christ, to be a member of God’s special people and to serve God in a special way in the world.
The Olympic games provide an apt analogy for the biblical concept of sainthood. The athletes who gather for the Olympics every few years are special people, set apart by their individual nations for the purpose of competition. When they arrive at the city that is hosting the games, the athletes are not allowed to mix with the crowds who come to watch the competition. On the contrary, they are sequestered within the Olympic village, a fortress that keeps the athletes in and the others out. They are literally kept apart from the masses so that they can focus on their particular sport. If we were to speak in biblical languages, we might refer to the Olympians as “saints,” people set apart for something special. They live “holy” lives in order to fulfill their unique, “holy” purpose. Yet they do not live in isolation, but in a community of others who have been set apart for a similar purpose. And they don’t compete as individuals, but as members of a national team. They are saints together with other athletes. (The picture to the right is from the closing ceremonies of the Winter Olympics in Turin, Italy.)
We who believe in Jesus Christ have also been set apart from common folk and dedicated to a specific purpose, though, as we’ll see, we are not separated from the world because the world is the arena in which our competition occurs. We fulfill our purpose in fellowship with other saints who share our identity and calling. We live out our sainthood by serving God in the world, by extended His love and justice throughout creation.
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Why You’re Like Saint Truman Burbank
By Mark D. Roberts | Wednesday, April 25, 2007
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In the hit movie from 1998, The Truman Show, Jim Carrey plays the role of Truman Burbank, a happy-go-lucky insurance salesman who lives in the perfectly manicured town of Seahaven, “the best place to live on earth,” according to the headline of the local paper. So it would seem to be for Truman, his “perfect” wife Meryl, his best friend Marlon, and all of their flawless, sparkling neighbors.
As the movie begins, Truman goes about his simple daily routine, having no idea that everything around him is a farce. In fact, he lives on an elaborate stage set filled with professional actors. Even his wife and best friend are paid to co-star in the wildly successful television hit, The Truman Show. Poor, sweet, idealistic Truman is completely unaware that he is the most famous man in the world, the star of a 24-hour-a-day, 365-days-a-year show about his life. He lives each day without realizing that every moment is being broadcast to the world (with some careful editing to keep the show PG).
Living his apparently ordinary life, Truman never imagines that he is a special person, someone set apart by “the powers that be” for a particular purpose. He does not understand that he is fulfilling the vision of The Truman Show’s creator and producer, an enigmatic genius named Christof. His entire life has been dedicated to something far beyond Truman’s wildest dreams, a fact that eludes his grasp until strange happenings finally begin to reveal the truth.
Christians are like Truman Burbank. I’m not suggesting, thankfully, that our lives are being televised to the world. Nor am I implying that our world is simply a complex stage set. But we are like Truman because we too have been set apart by “the powers that be” for a purpose far beyond what we may imagine. We too can go through life unaware of our specialness, never understanding that we have been designated to fulfill the vision of our Creator and Producer, the God of the Universe, the Lord of History.
If this comes as a bit of a surprise to you, you may be even more startled to learn the title that the Bible has given you to indicate your specialness. According to Scripture, you’re a saint. That’s right, a saint!
In the beginning of the letter we call 1 Corinthians, Paul addresses believers in Corinth in a peculiar manner:
“To the assembly of God that is in Corinth, to those who have been set apart in Christ Jesus, to those who are called “saints,” along with all of those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, our Lord and their Lord (1 Cor 1:2). The Corinthians are called by God to be “saints.”
The Greek word translated here as “saints” refers to people who are set apart for some special purpose. It can also be translated as “holy ones.” (In Greek, “saint” or “holy one” is hagios. You sometimes hear this root in the English word hagiography, which is a biography of a saint.) In the ancient world, “saints” were usually priests and priestesses, those who were set apart from common people to serve in the holy precincts of a temple, offering holy sacrifices to the gods. Analogously, believers in Jesus are saints, though they don’t exercise their sainthood in some secluded temple. Rather, they serve God in the world with the sacrifices of their worship and obedience to God (Rom 12:1-2).
We typically use the word “saint” in a way that differs considerably from Paul’s practice. We tend to label as “saints” those few Christians who demonstrate moral and spiritual excellence. For us, saints are extraordinary human beings, believers in Jesus who have lapped the rest of us in the race of the Christian life. But Paul identifies all believers in Jesus as saints, without regard to their moral or spiritual achievements. We receive the title of “saint,” not because of our exemplary lives, but because God has chosen us to belong to Him and to do His work. To be called a saint is not to receive an honorary degree in Christ’s kingdom, but rather a letter of admission to his school of discipleship. It’s the starting point, not the goal. Our goal should be to live consistently as a saint of God because that’s what we already are, not because that’s what we want to become. The fact that Paul refers to the Corinthians as saints underscores this point. As the rest of 1 Corinthians reveals, the Corinthian believers are exemplary of everything we ought not to be as Christians. Their sainthood has nothing to do with getting a high grade in Discipleship 301, since most of them are stuck repeating Discipleship 101. They are caught up in divisiveness and self-centeredness, not to mention sexual immorality and idolatry. Yet the Corinthians are still saints, people set apart by God for him and his work.
So, when I say, “If you’re a Christian, then you’re a saint,” I’m not really complimenting you. Instead, I am noting that if you have put your faith in Christ, then you have been “set apart” in him (1 Cor 1:2). You are special to God, and, importantly, you are a member of God’s special people.
In my next post I want to examine what it means to be one of these special people.
Topics: Christianity and the World | No Comments »
Sainthood, Service, and Suffering: Introduction
By Mark D. Roberts | Tuesday, April 24, 2007
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Sainthood . . . service . . . suffering. What do these have to do with each other? What do they have to do with our hurting world? How can a better understand of sainthood, service, and suffering make a difference in our lives, and through us in the world?
These are questions I hope to answer in this series.
I’ve chosen to address these topics, in part, as a response to last week’s rampage at Virginia Tech. The actions of one terribly disturbed human being have caused widespread suffering, most of all to the families and friends of those who were killed, but also to all who are part of Virginia Tech, and in many ways to all of us in this country. In the last week, there has been much discussion of what we can do as a society to prevent such tragedies from happening again. This is an important conversation, and it will surely continue for many months.
This blog series is a part of that larger conversation, though it focuses on an area where I believe I can say something of value. I’m not going to talk about a security on university campuses, or about how to deal with people who are mentally ill, or about how our society can keep dangerous people from possessing guns. Rather, I want to focus on the question of how Christians can live in the world in such a way that we can make a tangible difference in it. At times that difference will help to comfort the grieving. And at times we’ll be able to bring God’s love and peace to troubled souls, perhaps even keeping them from doing terrible harm to others or to themselves. (The painting to the right, by Giotto, pictures St. Francis and St. Clare, two so-called “saints” who made a major difference in the world through their service.)
I say perhaps, because there’s no way of knowing what our efforts to care for people, troubled or not, will produce. Christians are called to love people in response to and imitation of a loving God, not because our efforts to love will necessary make people’s lives better. But I have seen many instances in which God’s love, mediated through caring Christians, has transformed the lives of hurting people. I’ve seen withdrawn people come out of their shells, mean people become more kind, and self-centered people start to have compassion for others because of compassion they have received.
This series on Sainthood, Service, and Suffering will discuss how Christians ought to live out their faith in the world. Thus I will be speaking primarily to my Christian readers. But there will be much of relevance to non-Christian folk as well. If you are not a Christian, not only will this series help you understand more of what Christianity is all about, but also it may encourage you to live differently, no matter what you religious beliefs may be. If you are a Christian, I hope this series will help you grasp your distinctive identity as a “saint” and see, perhaps in a new way, how you might live out this identity in the world.
(Note: This series includes elements from my now out-of-print book, After “I Believe.” If you’ve read that book, you might recognize some parts of this series, though much will be new and all of it will be re-worked.)
Topics: Christianity and the World | No Comments »
Handel’s Messiah: A Closer Look (cont)
By Mark D. Roberts | Monday, April 23, 2007
Part 3 of series: Handel’s Messiah and Easter
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(Note: I had originally intended for this post to appear last Wednesday, but the tragedy at Virginia Tech pre-empted my plans. Today I’m finishing off my short series on Handel’s Messiah and Easter. If you’re just tuning in, you may want to start at the first of the three posts.)
In my last post in this series I began examining the libretto (words) of Handel’s Messiah, showing the Easter focus of this piece. Last time I summarized the first two parts of the composition. Here’s a quick review:
Part 1: Prophetic expectation of the Messiah; the birth of Jesus; the shepherds; the ministry of Jesus.
Part 2: The passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. His exaltation in heaven and sending of preachers into the world. “Hallelujah, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.”
Today I’ll focus on the conclusion of the Messiah and some general comments.
Part III
Part III returns to the theme of resurrection, at first citing the beloved text from Job: “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth” (based on Job 19:25). (To hear a clip from this song sung by the world-renowned soprano, Dame Kiri te Kanawa, click here [.mov, 324K]. To purchase the majestic version of the Messiah in which she sings the soprano part, click here.)
From this confession that Christ the Redeemer lives, the Part III of the Messiah transitions into an extensive exposition of the final resurrection of all people, using many verses from 1 Corinthians 15. It begins by connecting the resurrection of Christ with our own future resurrection: “For now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep” (based on 1 Corinthians 15:20). From this point onward Part III includes some of the most joyful and triumphant music of the Messiah, backing up such words as:
“The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible” (based on 1 Corinthians 15:52).
“O Death, where is they sting?” (based on 1 Corinthians 15:55).
“But thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ” (based on 1 Corinthians 15:57)
The final chorus of the Messiah is one of unabashed worship:
“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by his blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing and honour, glory and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever.” (based on Revelation 5:12-13)
What could possibly follow this, other than 3 minutes and 22 seconds of “Amens”? (To hear a clip of the “Amen” chorus, click here (.mov 264K).
Concluding Observations
A performance of Handel’s Messiah lasts somewhere around 137 minutes, give or take five minutes depending on the pace of the conductor. The birth of Jesus (”For unto us a child is born”) comes just about 25% into the performance. The resurrection (”But thou didst not leave His soul in hell”) occurs just before the 60% point, which leaves 40% of the entire Messiah to focus on the fact and the implications of the resurrection. A substantial portion of this 40% concerns the resurrection, not of Jesus, but of those who believe in him.
I’ve often wondered if one reason we tend to ignore the post-Christmas portions of the Messiah is that a performance of the whole piece takes so long. This, in addition to the difficulty of the singing, would discourage many choirs, especially church choirs composed of volunteers with limited time on their hands. When my church choir, along with two guest choirs, performed the Messiah last month, they actually performed an abbreviated version that lasted about 75 minutes. It included all the major choruses and solos, but not some of the narrative. This was read from the libretto (or the text of the New Testament Gospels, in some places.)
Thus, from a structural point of view, the death and resurrection of Jesus are the denouement of the Messiah, with everything prior leading up to this moment, and everything afterwards following from it. In this sense Handel’s composition mirrors the history of salvation, in which the death and resurrection of Christ are the very center of time, the place in which God defeats the power of sin and death.
What I find particularly impressive about the Messiah is that it doesn’t end with the empty tomb or the resurrection appearances. In fact, these aren’t even mentioned. Rather, Handel carries the story of Easter forward to Pentecost and the preaching of the word, and even as far as the final resurrection of all people. Thus the Messiah is not an Easter Sunday composition so much as an Eastertide masterpiece. It points us to the broader and deeper implications of Christ’s resurrection, while leading us before the throne of God where we offer “blessing and honour, glory and power” to the One who sits on the throne and to the Lamb.
If you haven’t listened to Handel’s Messiah recently, I’d encourage you to do it. And as you do, celebrate the full blessing of Easter in this season of Eastertide.
Topics: Holy Week & Easter, Music | 1 Comment »
Sunday Inspiration from Pray the Gospels
By Mark D. Roberts | Sunday, April 22, 2007
Excerpt from Matthew 4:1-11
Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.
Matthew 4:1
Click here to read all of Matthew 4:1-11
Prayer
Dear Lord, the basic truth of this story is Your temptation. You were tempted. It couldn’t be much clearer. But, I confess that for much of my life I never quite believed it. Oh, I believed the basic facts of this narrative. But I didn’t really think that You were truly tempted, that You actually felt a magnetic pull to do that which is wrong. Your temptation always seemed to be in form only, not in substance or in heart. Forgive me, Lord, for shortchanging Your humanness, for underestimating what it meant for You to become a human being in every way, except that You never gave in to temptation.
Today, though I’m still amazed at the fact of Your temptation, I rejoice in its reality. Because You know how temptation really feels, You are there to help when I am tempted. I don’t have to feel ashamed when my heart is drawn to sin. I can turn to You, confident that You understand, and assured that You will help me overcome temptation.
Thanks be to You, dear Lord, for facing and defeating temptation.
Amen.
Postscript
Because God’s children are human beings—made of flesh and blood—Jesus also became flesh and blood by being born in human form. For only as a human being could he die, and only by dying could he break the power of the Devil, who had the power of death. Only in this way could he deliver those who have lived all their lives as slaves to the fear of dying.
We all know that Jesus came to help the descendants of Abraham, not to help the angels. Therefore, it was necessary for Jesus to be in every respect like us, his brothers and sisters, so that he could be our merciful and faithful High Priest before God. He then could offer a sacrifice that would take away the sins of the people. Since he himself has gone through suffering and temptation, he is able to help us when we are being tempted.
Hebrews 2:14-18 (NLT)
But remember that the temptations that come into your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will keep the temptation from becoming so strong that you can’t stand up against it. When you are tempted, he will show you a way out so that you will not give in to it.
1 Corinthians 10:13 (NLT)
Paolo Veronese, “Baptism and Temptation of Christ,” 16th century.
Topics: Sunday Inspiration | No Comments »
Week in Review: April 15-20, 2007
By Mark D. Roberts | Saturday, April 21, 2007
My Blogging
Sunday, April 15: Sunday Inspiration from Pray the Gospels
Monday, April 16: An Unexpected Easter Masterpiece
Tuesday, April 17: Handel’s Messiah: A Closer Look
Tuesday, April 17: How Do We Respond to the Tragedy at Virginia Tech?
Tuesday, April 17: Resources for Thinking About Suffering and Evil
Wednesday, April 18: Caring for People Who are Grieving
Thursday, April 19: What Can We Learn from the Virginia Tech Tragedy?
Friday, April 20: An Image to Remember from the Virginia Tech Tragedy?
Links
Ten Great Christian Biographies: Albert Mohler, Jr., has some valuable suggestions.
On Faith: This Newsweek/Washington Post blog has collected some of the top religious (and irrelgious) leaders from throughout the world, who weigh in on various questions. The most recent question: Do you think Islam is a violent religion?
Photo
During a recent spring break trip to San Diego, my daughter and I visited Sea World. There, we made sure to check out the main event, the “Imagine” show staring Shamu, the killer whale. Besides getting drenched when Shamu and his/her colleagues splashed the crowd, we saw a fascinating display of animal and human talent. The picture to the right was in no way doctored. Now that’s what I call a thrill ride!
Topics: Week in Review | No Comments »
An Image to Remember from the Virginia Tech Tragedy
By Mark D. Roberts | Friday, April 20, 2007
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Pictures of Cho Seung-Hui are now everywhere, thanks to NBC’s regretable decision to give the Virginia Tech shooter the publicity he desired. Even though I haven’t spent much time looking at them, I doubt I’ll soon forget the face of the cold-blooded murderer. I’m reminded of how I felt looking at the omipresent images of Charles Manson when I was a boy. I can’t even imagine how much additional suffering NBC has inflicted on the families and friends of the victims by parading Cho’s images before the nation. Is there no wisdom left in America? Or even shame?
I don’t want to remember the image of Cho Seung-Hui.
The New York Times distinguished itself by focusing our vision, not so much on the killer as on the victims. (HT: Hugh Hewitt) Seeing the faces of those who lost their lives on Monday and reading their short bios fills us with an appropriate sense of loss. I doubt I’ll soon forget the image of the collection of photos at the Times website (see image to right). Indeed, I don’t want to forget it.
But this not the image I most want to remember.
Other memorable images have shown the grieving students, friends, and family members of those who died in the Virginia Tech massacre. These help us to empathize with those who have lost their loved ones. They make connections of the heart in a way that words cannot. I doubt I’ll soon forget the images of the grieving people of the Virginia Tech family.
But these are also not the images I most want to remember.
The image I do want to remember is a most unspectacular one. It’s grainy and, apart from the events of this week, utterly forgettable. It’s the image of Liviu Librescu, a professor of Engineering Science and Mechanics at Virginia Tech. As I’m sure you know by now, Dr. Librescu sacrificed his life so his students could escape. As he barred the door to prevent the killer from entering his classroom, Librescu was fatally wounded. But his sacrifice allowed his students to jump from the windows, thereby preserving their lives. Were it not for the courageous actions of this one man, many more would have been murdered.
Liviu Librescu looks very ordinary. In fact, he looks just about like a professor of engineering ought to look, if you’ll pardon my stereotype. His photo shows nothing that would suggest extraordinary bravery. It doesn’t reveal his history as a Holocaust survivor, nor his love for his students. But behind the relatively expressionless face of Dr. Librescu was a man who loved to learn, who loved his students, and who loved life so much that he was willing to offer his so others might save theirs. Ironically, I might easily forget the image of Liviu Librescu, but I hope not.
This is the image I most want to remember, the image of a person ordinary in appearance but extraordinary in soul, the image of a person of courage and honor, the image of someone I would like to be. Of course I hope I’m never in a place where I literally have to lay down my life for the sake of others. But, nevertheless, I want to live with such a self-giving spirit each day.
I’ve heard people speculate that it was Dr. Librescu’s experience of evil in the Holocaust, together with his experience of the sacrifice of those who helped to set him and his people free, that prepared him to offer his life last Monday. This may well be true. But I wouldn’t be surprised if this man prepared himself for the ultimate sacrifice by serving others throughout his life. One doesn’t live selfishly for 76 years only to redeem such a life by a moment of extraordinary servanthood.
So, though you and I don’t have to live through the horrors of the Holocaust, we can commit our lives to serving others, to making sacrifices for the good of others. My prayer is that the example of Liviu Librescu, and even his otherwise nondescript image, will encourage me to “present my body as a living sacrifice” each day as I seek to serve God and people (Romans 12:1).
Topics: Suffering and Evil | 3 Comments »
What Can We Learn from the Virginia Tech Tragedy?
By Mark D. Roberts | Thursday, April 19, 2007
Nothing can ever fully redeem the massacre at Virginia Tech. The tragic loss of so many lives is too great a price to be paid for any gain. But if we can learn from this terrible situation, if we live better lives individually and corporately because of what has happened, then the loss won’t be completely in vain.
Learning from this tragedy can and should happen in a wide variety of ways. In my recent posts I’ve been trying to help folks learn how better to respond to people who are grieving. I’ve put my effort here because this is something I know something about as a pastor, and therefore may be able to contribute positively in the learning effort. There are many lessons to be learned about which I have no expertise, and so won’t say anything in public. I doubt you’ll find me weighing in on issues of gun control, school security, treatment of mental illness, or how to deal with a person who seems to be emotionally disturbed in a major way. I’ll leave these important conversations to others who have things worth saying.
Today I want to address one significant kind of learning that comes when we encounter suffering in general, and death in particular. I know something about this not only because I’ve experienced personal losses, like the death of my father when I was 29, but also because, as a pastor, I’m regularly involved with people who are dying and their families.
When I serve as a pastor for a memorial service, my chief concerns are to bring comfort and hope to the family and friends of the one who died, and to help them experience God’s presence and peace. Yet after every memorial service I attend, whether I’m in charge or simply a member of the congregation, I find myself thinking about my own life. I wonder what, in the end, my life will add up to. I ask myself if I’m living for what truly matters, or if I’m squandering my days on petty and trivial things. (You might think that pastors have it easy here, and perhaps we do in a way. But I sometimes get caught up in the tiny details of church life, forgetting the big picture and obsessing over that which has little or no eternal value. And in my personal life, I can get disproportionately upset by things like my car breaking.)
What I receive from being present in more memorial services than most people is the chance to have my perspective on life altered. I’m reminded of what life is really all about. I’m confronted with my own tendency to waste my life rather than living it to the fullest. Thinking about death, even and especially my own death, gives me the opportunity to think about life, real life, abundant life.
For example, on Monday when before I heard about the shootings at Virginia Tech, I was fretting about the normal stuff of life. One might even say I was feeling pretty cranky about next to nothing. But then I glimpsed the headline that spoke of a shooting at Virginia Tech. Soon that headline spoke of twenty deaths. Then thirty. All of a sudden the things that were bugging me found their proper place in my consciousness. They didn’t really matter at all. But I had been letting them rob my joy and keep me from being the kind of person I really want to be.
Chances are I won’t be able to make a difference in the lives of those who are suffering because of the tragedy in Virgina, other than by praying for them, which counts plenty in my book. But I can make a tangible difference in the lives of people in my own sphere of influence. I can hug my own children a bit tighter. I can do a better job overlooking their trivial shortcomings and prize them for the wonderful people that they are. I can pause to be thankful for my wife, even though our anniversary passed a few days ago, so the time period for official gratitude has passed. I can treat her with an extra measure of kindness. I can look around me for people who are having a hard time fitting in, the kind of people who aren’t easy to talk to or be with. I can reach out to them with grace even if they can’t return it. I can try to share the love of God with them, not just in words, but mostly in deeds. Moreover, I can focus my life more on the things that really matters, issues of justice, peace, truth, and love.
Nothing can make up for the pain that has now invaded hundreds of lives because of the senseless killings in Virginia. But if we let this tragedy help us to live more significantly, more graciously, and more lovingly, then something good will have grown out of something horrible. This is my hope, for myself and others, even as I continue to pray for God’s presence and comfort for those who are grieving today.
Topics: Suffering and Evil | No Comments »
Caring for People Who Are Grieving
By Mark D. Roberts | Wednesday, April 18, 2007
I want to say a few words about responding to people who are grieving. Most of us won’t have the opportunity to be personally involved with those who lost loved ones in the tragedy at Virginia Tech. But all of us will, in time, have the chance to reach out in love to people who are going through difficult and painful times.
People grieve in different ways. This understanding is crucial if we want to love in ways that will be helpful. Some need to talk and talk and talk about their pain. Others prefer to be alone, at least a times. Most people need times of solitude and times of togetherness. (But, as Dr. Mike rightly points out in wise a comment below, “We need one another; we need community,” especially in times of sorrow.) Often they don’t know what they need. Grief can almost obliterate consciousness for a while.
The most important thing we can do is be present with those who hurt. Sometimes our presence will be literal. Sometimes it will be expressed through a card or a letter or a meal. Presence says “I am with you. And I will be with you through this process.” Presence doesn’t try to make things better. It doesn’t offer explanations or solutions. Presence doesn’t try to fix things. Rather, it offers love in tangible, faithful, and non-invasive ways.
Our American tendency is to want to help people feel better, to take away their pain. Thus we’re often tempted to “cheer people up.” We want to say things like, “I’m sure God will work good things out of this tragedy.” Now this might be true. Indeed, I believe it is. But when people are in the midst of deep grief, such words, even when true, can seem terribly superficial. Worse yet, they can feel like a knife cutting an even deeper wound. Let your words be few.
When my dad was dying of cancer, his friend Bob would come and visit him in the hospital. Sometimes Bob would sit with my dad for hours, not talking, not expecting my dad to do or say anything, but just being there as a friend and a brother in Christ, sharing in my dad’s pain. This was presence, and it was a wonderful gift. Now, twenty years later, when I see Bob, I still remember his hours at my dad’s bedside, and I feel deep gratitude for Bob’s presence.
Because people grieve in such different ways, we must try to listen to them, to what they are wanting and needing. At times our listening will be literal, as we hear their cries and complaints and fears and hopes. Yet we must try to “listen” with our hearts, to sense what people are really saying and feeling. A person might say, “God hates me” when, indeed, she means, “I feel so horrible I can’t stand it. I don’t sense God’s comfort. I’m so alone and afraid.” If we take “God hates me” literally and try to prove that God doesn’t hate her, we may miss the opportunity to empathize and be present.
People who are in the midst of suffering find different expressions to be helpful. Some appreciate a hug. Others might prefer an offer of help (Let me bring dinner. Let me take the kids for a while.) Still others might find relief from a walk on the beach. Or . . . .
Since American culture tends to be uncomfortable with grief, we often want to rush people into recovery. We want them to get better . . . soon. We’re afraid that they might be stuck in sorrow. Though it’s occasionally true that people can let their grief turn into depression that requires outside help, usually what people need most is the freedom to feel sad for a longer time than we might expect. This isn’t true for all people, of course. But most of us take time to get over major losses.
By the way, when I saw “get over,” I don’t mean to imply that people are ever “all better” or “good as new.” Parents who lose their children to death, for example, are never “all better,” even though they can live full, delightful, and meaningful lives. But a part of them will always miss their child, and will at times grieve over their loss, especially on special occasions, such as birthdays and key anniversaries.
When you’re in a difficult place, hearing that somebody is praying for you can make a huge difference, especially if you’re “all prayed out.” So I’d encourage you to let folks who are hurting know that you’ll be praying for them. And then be sure to follow through! (On rare occasions, somebody who’s feeling angry with God will say something sarcastic in response to an offer of prayer. If this happens to you, don’t try to fix things. It’s not the time for a theological debate.)
Today I was on the Hugh Hewitt radio show talking about these issues in response to the Virginia Tech tragedy. I mentioned some books I’ve found helpful when dealing with grief, both personally and theologically. (You can find these books in one of yesterday’s posts.) After the show, a man named Ed recommended another book. He said it helped him a great deal when his son died at 15 years old. I have not read this book, but I trust Ed’s recommendation and also the publisher (Baker Books). So here’s another book that might be helpful:
June Cerza Kolf, When Will I Stop Hurting? Dealing with a Recent Death
Ed also mentioned another book by this author. It seems useful to those who are wanting to help people who are grieving. Again, I haven’t read this book, but it appears to be a valuable resource. I ordered it myself today, along with the first book:
June Cerza Kolf, How Can I Help? How to Support Someone Who is Grieving
There is so much more that could be said about grief and caring for people who are grieving. But I’d sum up with these bits of advice: Reach out in love. Don’t be afraid. Don’t talk too much. Be present. Listen. Give permission. Pray. Be present some more. Listen some more. Give more permission. Pray some more. Love some more. And then love even more.
Topics: Suffering and Evil | 4 Comments »
Resources for Thinking About Suffering and Evil
By Mark D. Roberts | Tuesday, April 17, 2007
In light of the tragedy at Virginia Tech, I thought it might be helpful to put up some resources for people who are looking for answers to the tough questions having to do with suffering, evil, God, and faith. Though there are limits to our understanding, and thus to the satisfaction will find in this conversation, nevertheless I believe there are some truths we can know that will help us find guidance and even solace.
In my last post I mentioned several recent contributions to Newsweek’s “On Faith” website, in response to the question: “How does your faith tradition explain (and respond to) senseless tragedies such as the Virginia Tech shootings?” Once again, they are:
“God With Us, Grieving,” by N. T. Wright
“God of Hope and Healing” by Chuck Colson
“Facing the Reality of Evil” by Albert Mohler, Jr.
“God Cares. God Loves. We Choose” by Bishop Desmond Tutu
Some of the best books on the subjects of suffering and evil are:
N.T. Wright, Evil and the Justice of God
Jerry Sittser, A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows through Loss
Over the years I’ve done quite a bit of speaking and writing on the subjects of suffering and evil. You can find some of this at the following links:
Sermons
“Finding God When Life is Hard”
“The Strangest Thing About God”
Blog Series
My book, No Holds Barred: Wrestling with God in Prayer, is not about the problem of suffering. But it does encourage us to be honest with God, even in our anger and doubt. If we take our true feelings and thoughts before the Lord, He will meet us, teach us, and grant us the peace of His presence.
Topics: Suffering and Evil | 5 Comments »
How Do We Respond to the Tragedy at Virginia Tech?
By Mark D. Roberts | Tuesday, April 17, 2007
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How do we respond to the unbearably tragic crisis at Virginia Tech? There are no simple answers. Our first responses are visceral: shock, horror, sadness, fear, grief. Thank God we aren’t immune to evil in such a way that we no longer feel such revulsion and pain.
As a person of faith, part of me wants to run to God to demand an accounting for such evil. There is a place for this conversation, to be sure, but I believe we should begin by praying for those whose lives have been ripped to shreds by this tragedy. I’m thinking mostly of families and friends of the dead. We must also pray for the healing of the wounded, for all who are connnected to Virginia Tech.
Though I’m not surprised, I’m grieved once again by the tendency of some to use such a crisis for personal or political advantage. Predictably, both sides of the gun lobby were quickly using this tragedy to argue for or against gun ownership. This is an important debate, to be sure, and one we must have as a nation. But, in my opinion, now is not the time for punditry, but for prayer.
There is a place, I think, for thoughtful and sensitive reflection on the implications of the Virginia Tech tragedy. Newsweek’s “On Faith” website asks its contributors: “How does your faith tradition explain (and respond to) senseless tragedies such as the Virginia Tech shootings?” As usual, there are a variety of answers from a wide range of religious (and non-religious) perspectives. I have found the following submissions to be particularly wise:
“God With Us, Grieving,” by N. T. Wright;
“God of Hope and Healing” by Chuck Colson;
“Facing the Reality of Evil” by Albert Mohler, Jr.,
“God Cares. God Loves. We Choose” by Bishop Desmond Tutu
Here’s my prayer for today:
God of love and justice, our hearts are stunned today by the horrifying events at Virginia Tech. We struggle even to know how to pray. Yet we ask You, above all, to let Your gracious presence be known to all who suffer this day, especially the families and friends of those who have died. Grant them Your peace that passes all understanding.
Help us, dear Lord, to learn what we must learn from this crisis. Give us hearts open to You. Keep us from using the pain of others to manipulate or callously advance our personal agendas. Help us to listen to each other, and most of all to You.
Thank You for being a God who is not watching us from a distance. Thank You for entering into the pain and sorrow of this broken world. Thank You for being present with us when we suffer. Thank You for giving us hope when all seems hopeless, through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Topics: Suffering and Evil | 3 Comments »
Handel’s Messiah: A Closer Look
By Mark D. Roberts | Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Part 2 of series: Handel’s Messiah and Easter
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In my last post I explained why Handel’s Messiah, a piece we ordinary associate with Christmas, is really an oratorio for Easter. Today I want to examine the libretto (the words of the composition) to show the strong Easter themes.
The Messiah comes in three parts. I’ll provide a short summary of each part.
Part I
Part I focuses on the birth and life of Jesus. It begins with prophetic promises of the birth of the Christ, many from the Old Testament book of Isaiah. These include, for example, the Alto recitative: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel: God with us” (based on Isaiah 7:14). The actual birth of Jesus is revealed, not through the words of Luke 2, but through the prophecy from Isaiah 9:6: “For unto us a child is born . . . .” Then the Messiah narrates the experience of the shepherds outside of Bethlehem, completing the birth story.
The next section of Part I describes the ministry of Jesus as a fulfillment of prophecy, “Then the eyes of the blind be opened. . .” (based on Isaiah 35:5); “He shall feed his flock like a shepherd” (based on Isaiah 40:11). Part I finishes with the invitation of Jesus in Matthew 11:28-29, though this has been rephrased into the third person, “Come unto him all ye that labour” rather than “Come unto me.” The final chorus of Part I celebrates the fact that “His yoke is easy and his burden in light” (based on Matthew 11:30).
The photo to the right shows a portion of the Messiah in Handel’s own hand. It is the chorus in Part 1 that begins: “And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.”
Part II
Part II of the Messiah jumps immediately to the Passion of Jesus: “Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world” (based on John 1:29). We are prepared for Jesus’s death by Isaiah’s prophecies of the Suffering Servant: “Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (based on Isaiah 53:4-5). As in the case of Jesus’s birth, his actual death isn’t narrated using texts from the New Testament gospels. Instead, Isaiah 53:8 delivers the news of Jesus’s demise: “He was cut off out of the land of the living, for the transgression of thy people was he stricken.”
Part II delivers the good news of the resurrection in a manner similar to its telling of the birth and death of Jesus. The resurrection isn’t described so much as alluded to through prophetic Scripture, in this case, Psalm 16:10: “But thou didst not leave his soul in hell, nor didst thou suffer thy holy one to see corruption.” (To hear the beginning of this Easter aria, click here [.mov 172K]. To purchase this marvelous recording, click here.]) Following this sweet soprano confession, the whole chorus bursts forth with Psalm 24:7-10: “Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in.” Now all of heaven is being summoned to receive the risen Christ into glory.
As Part II draws to a close, the libretto connects the victory of Jesus with the sending out of preachers into the world. Thus the Messiah blends the story of Easter into the story of the Pentecost, just as Eastertide bridges Easter Sunday and Pentecost Sunday. Part II ends most gloriously, with the beloved “Hallelujah Chorus.” Yes, it comes, not in the Christmas section, but in the Passion/Resurrection/Pentecost section. “The kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ” not in the birth of Jesus, but in his death and resurrection. This will be communicated to the world, so that God “shall reign for ever and ever.”
One could almost accuse the Messiah of indulging a bit too much in realized eschatology here – the belief that the presence of Christ in the church and through the church in the world is equivalent to his second coming. But Part III of the Messiah keeps us from drawing this conclusion.
Tomorrow I’ll finish up this summary by examining Part III and then making some general comments about the Messiah and the deeper meaning of Easter. Stay tuned . . . .
Topics: Holy Week & Easter, Music | 2 Comments »
An Unexpected Easter Masterpiece
By Mark D. Roberts | Monday, April 16, 2007
Part 1 of series: Handel’s Messiah and Easter
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I ended my last post by promising to discuss one further piece of Easter music. Today I begin to keep my promise.
Recently the choir of my church, along with a couple of guest choirs, did something you might consider odd. They sang a wonderful, well-known piece of music. This isn’t odd, of course. But the strange part, at least in the perspective of some folks, was the timing of the concert. For the choirs sang Handel’s Messiah in Lent, a couple of weeks before Good Friday and Easter.
Most of us associate the Messiah with with Christmas, or perhaps with Advent, the season of preparation for Christmas. In fact, a few of years ago I was blessed to join my church choir as we sang a substantial proportion of the Messiah for our Christmas concert. (To hear a short clip of our choir singing the Hallelujah chorus, click here [.mov 284K]). Moreover, I make it a habit to listen to the entire Messiah during Advent to prepare myself for a deeper celebration of Christmas.
But, in truth, Handel did not write the Messiah as a piece of Christmas music. We know this for a couple of reasons. First, if you pay close attention to the words of the Messiah in the libretto written by Charles Jennens, you’ll discover that only the first part of the composition has to do with the birth of Jesus. The second and third parts focus on His death, resurrection, sending of the Spirit at Pentecost, and the final resurrection of all believers. Second, the first performance of the Messiah occurred, not during Advent or Christmas, but in Eastertide. Handel’s masterpiece was first performed in Dublin on April 13, 1742, 19 days after Easter. This is surely no accident. If Handel had envisioned the Messiah as a piece for Christmas, it would have been introduced in this season. (Picture to the right: George Frideric Handel [1685-1759])
Although you may be familiar with the Messiah, it offers many surprises if one carefully examines the libretto. For one thing, the lyrics of this piece are entirely from the Bible (though in a few spots Jennens paraphrased the Authorized Version). For another, though the story of Jesus is a New Testament narrative, the majority of the words in the Messiah come from the Old Testament. Moreover, the key events – the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus – are not told with New Testament texts, but with prophetic passages from the Old Testament. For example, the Messiah doesn’t include the words, “And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him swaddling clothes” (Luke 2:7). Instead, it celebrates, “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given,” quoting Isaiah 9:6.
For centuries people have loved Handel’s Messiah, and for good reason. In fact, a reviewer of the first performance of this piece wrote, “The sublime, the grand, and the tender, adapted to the most elevated, majestic and moving words, conspired to transport and charm the ravished heart and ear.” Now that’s some review!
In my next post I will begin to inspect the libretto of the Messiah, looking especially at its presentation of the death and resurrection of Jesus, the composition’s Easter core, if you will.
Topics: Holy Week & Easter, Music | No Comments »