"The City Without a Church"

"I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb." (Rev. 21:22)

It is because to large masses of people Christianity has become synonymous with a temple service that other large masses of people decline to touch it. It is a mistake to suppose that (people) are opposed to Christianity: (they) would still follow Christ if He came among them.

- "The City Without a Church", Henry Drummond

Covenant Devotional #7 - 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

"Now concerning the times and the seasons, brothers, you have no need to have anything written to you. For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, “There is peace and security,” then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you are not in darkness, brothers, for that day to surprise you like a thief. For you are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness. So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober. For those who sleep, sleep at night, and those who get drunk, are drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, having put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing." - (1 Thessalonians 5:1-11 ESV)

Home is the place where they keep the porch light on for you. Where, even when you roll in late after a long time away, you know you'll find a plate wrapped in tin foil on the kitchen counter garnished with a hand written note. While it's true that "The day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.", that's the difference between a thief and a son: both may slip across the threshold well after midnight and as quietly as possible, but one has dinner waiting for him.

Jesus knows it's going to be quite a shock to creation when he finally returns - as the unveiled Lord of creation - to set things to rights. To a great many people, that moment couldn't come as more of a surprise. But he is not concerned about those whom he has called and whom he has known. Whenever it is that his journey brings him back across the threshold of our world, he knows that we'll be waiting, as we would for anyone whom we have loved and long expected.

Lord Jesus, we wait for you. May our lives be a table set in patient expectation for your coming.

Covenant Devotional #6 - Matthew 24:14-30

"... And this gospel of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.

“So when you see the abomination of desolation spoken of by the prophet Daniel, standing in the holy place (let the reader understand), then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. Let the one who is on the housetop not go down to take what is in his house, and let the one who is in the field not turn back to take his cloak. And alas for women who are pregnant and for those who are nursing infants in those days! Pray that your flight may not be in winter or on a Sabbath. For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been from the beginning of the world until now, no, and never will be. And if those days had not been cut short, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect those days will be cut short. Then if anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Christ!’ or ‘There he is!’ do not believe it. For false christs and false prophets will arise and perform great signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect. See, I have told you beforehand. So, if they say to you, ‘Look, he is in the wilderness,’ do not go out. If they say, ‘Look, he is in the inner rooms,’ do not believe it. For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. Wherever the corpse is, there the vultures will gather.

“Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then will appear in heaven the sign of the Son of Man, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory."

(Matthew 24:14-30 ESV)

We wait neither in vain, nor eternally. As short-lived and generally short-sighted as we modern westerners tend to be, it is easy, I think, to only half believe the truths we speak. Particularly when it comes to the ultimate, impending termination of this present age as it is washed over and categorically subsumed by the age to come with the return of Christ.

We struggle with perspective and we struggle with “forever”. To my five year-old daughter, a two hour car ride is “forever”. We Americans tend to think that a couple hundred years as a nation and a breathtaking defense budget means that we’ll be around forever. But destinations are ultimately reached, empires rise and fall, and this age of creation will one day be brought to an end. Just because it’s been two thousand years since Jesus said, “I’ll be back”, that doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it. He did. And he does. “They will see the Son of Man coming…”, Jesus says; and we will. As surely as the night gives way to dawn itself, He comes.

And so we pray: Come, Lord Jesus.

Covenant Devotional #5 - Matthew 9:1-8

"And getting into a boat he crossed over and came to his own city. And behold, some people brought to him a paralytic, lying on a bed. And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven.” And behold, some of the scribes said to themselves, “This man is blaspheming.” But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, “Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic—“Rise, pick up your bed and go home.” And he rose and went home. When the crowds saw it, they were afraid, and they glorified God, who had given such authority to men." - (Matthew 9:1-8 ESV)

What is it that you are waiting on Jesus for? A new job? Physical healing? A spouse? Emotional restoration? These things do matter to him. Jesus cares about any and all of our hurts and needs that we submit to his care, in fact. He invites us to cast our concerns upon him in order that he might make them his own. Jesus cares about our immediate and daily needs. But do you know what he cares about even more? That we would accept his forgiveness and embrace, and his restoration of us unto himself.

“Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven.“ This was not the paralyzed man’s most obvious and pressing concern. This was not the need his friends had in mind when they brought him to Jesus. But it was the chance to speak a word of forgiveness - even more than healing - that Jesus leapt upon with joy. More than anything, our savior longs that we would fall into his arms and receive HIM before receiving all else FROM him.

Lord Jesus, thank you for your forgiveness, in light of which all of our lesser needs dim by comparison.

Covenant Devotional #4 - Matthew 25:1-13

“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a cry, ‘Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those virgins rose and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise answered, saying, ‘Since there will not be enough for us and for you, go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves.’ And while they were going to buy, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was shut. Afterward the other virgins came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he answered, ‘Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.’ Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour. - (Matthew 25:1-13 ESV)

Inasmuch as what we wait for matters, HOW we wait matters, too. Children have much to teach us about what it looks like to live in a spirit of joyful (if often impatient) expectation. An upcoming birthday, a special outing, a visit from a loved one: we have to be careful how much advance notice we give our five year-old daughter about any occasion of note, because from that very moment, the countdown is on. “How many days NOW?” becomes the refrain, ad nauseam, until the time arrives. A test of patience and grace for us parents, to be sure, but there is something beautiful in her unfiltered longing. Adulthood tends to dim our expectations, doesn’t it?

“(We) know neither the day nor the hour.” How will our Lord find us when he comes? On tiptoe, brimming with joyful expectation for his arrival, or dozing off in the darkness of apathy and unpreparedness? The Lord knows his own, and they are those whose hearts beat with childlike longing until they see his face.

Lord, grant us hearts of unfettered longing, that we may embrace the joy of your coming.

Covenant Devotional #3 - Psalm 123

To you I lift up my eyes,
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
Behold, as the eyes of servants
look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maidservant
to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the LORD our God,
till he has mercy upon us.

Have mercy upon us, O LORD, have mercy upon us,
for we have had more than enough of contempt.
Our soul has had more than enough
of the scorn of those who are at ease,
of the contempt of the proud.

(Psalm 123 ESV)

Waiting. How much of life is consumed with waiting? Waiting for the next season. Waiting for this one to pass. Waiting for the “to do” list to shrink, for the house to be clean, for the next vacation, next holiday, the next moment of reprieve. How much of life is just spent waiting for relief, in one form or another?

“Carpe Diem! Live for the moment!”; our motivational posters cry out, but the truth remains that we are rarely - if ever - fully present for the day or moment at hand. We are simply biding time: waiting. How might we ever learn what it means to stop waiting and begin to genuinely live?

What we wait for matters. As people created for another kind of world, it may be that we are hard-wired for longing, but it is in discovering the rightful center of our ultimate longing that we are set free to live richly and fully in the midst of all our lesser wants. It is in waiting upon the LORD that we learn to wait well.

Covenant Devotional #2 - Matthew 23:1-12

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses' seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brothers. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Christ. The greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

(Matthew 23:1-12 ESV)

At every turn, Jesus wages war against the idol of self. Indeed, for the western world, this is perhaps his most troublesome characteristic. In a culture addicted to the exultation of self, the teachings of Jesus concerning self-regard are inescapably piercing. Thanks to the digitized and globalized projections of self enabled by the explosion of social media, I can’t even eat a sandwich without capturing, transmitting and caring what the whole world thinks about my gastro-existential experience. How, then, am I supposed to exercise the manner of self-regard that Jesus calls us into?  

The answer we are given is that idols are not simply laid down; they must be replaced. We do not achieve genuine humility by simply willing to regard ourselves less, but by regarding our Creator more. It is in the light of that preeminent glory that we are at once made laughably small AND eternally significant. This is the mystery of grace; that as we humble ourselves before the glory of the Lord, that very glory lifts and carries us Heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Covenant Devotional #1 - Amos 5:18-24

Let Justice Roll Down

Woe to you who desire the day of the LORD!
Why would you have the day of the LORD?
It is darkness, and not light,
as if a man fled from a lion,
and a bear met him,
or went into the house and leaned his hand against the wall,
and a serpent bit him.
Is not the day of the LORD darkness, and not light,
and gloom with no brightness in it?

“I hate, I despise your feasts,
and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the peace offerings of your fattened animals,
I will not look upon them.
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
to the melody of your harps I will not listen.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

(Amos 5:18-24 ESV)

Nobody likes a rude awakening. Surprise’s evil twin: all the shock, none of the joy; to expect the party but to get the empty house. To expect a joyful homecoming, only to be greeted on the front porch with a 12 gauge and a scowl. How did this turn out so much differently than we had imagined?

For a good many people - I dare say the vast majority, in fact - coming into the unveiled presence of God in eternity will be a much different experience than we have imagined. The Apostle Paul says, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face… then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” ( 1 Cor 13:12 ) A terrifying prospect, in truth. This is a holiness not to be trifled with, and we are so often triflers, you and I. 

What is the answer to this dilemma? To seek to know the Lord as he actually reveals himself to be, not merely as we might like to imagine him.

Easter Sunday: The Valley, the Victory, the Vision.

Part I - The Valley: Darkness (Luke 23:44-49)

“It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun's light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. Now when the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God, saying, “Certainly this man was innocent!” And all the crowds that had assembled for this spectacle, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts. And all his acquaintances and the women who had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance watching these things.” - (Luke 23:44-49 ESV)

By anyone's accounting it’s been a long, cold winter here in New Hampshire. According to the calendar we’re officially almost a full month into Spring at this point, but personally, I’m not sure I’m convinced just yet. You see, my brother and I spent from October through March this last year working on a big construction project up in the hills of Gilford, NH; framing in October/November, roofing in December/January, siding in February/March. It was pretty much always windy. It was always cold. It snowed, a lot. It will not come as any surprise to the sane among us, but roofing can be a little demoralizing in January. The days get a little rugged when your asphalt shingles are frozen planks, and it seems like every morning starts with shoveling 10 inches of fresh snow off of the roof you’re trying to work on. Not the timing I would recommend to any of you who may be thinking of becoming roofing contractors, when it comes down to it. But in the building trades you kind of just need to do what the project demands, when it demands it.

In any case, I feel like I’ve spent the last six months more or less constantly cold. So call me cynical, but the calendar telling me it’s spring doesn’t carry a whole lot of freight. On the first day of spring this year I showed up at the job site to a fresh 8 inches of snow, a lot of wind and the same old cold. At this point, it’ll probably take me till mid-july before this past winter is fully worked out of my bones; a few weeks of highs in the mid-forties just isn’t going to cut it.

But here’s the thing we cling to: even if Spring feels like it’s taking it’s sweet time, summer is an inevitability. It’s just physics; it’s an astronomical, planetary truth. Winter cannot hold on forever. You see, winter is a season of cold because it is a season of darkness. These two things are inextricably related. As our fourth grade science teachers taught us, the seasons come as a function of the tilt of the earth’s axis, and it’s orbit around the sun. Winter is cold because we get less, and more indirect, sunlight. Winter is a season of darkness, and of distance from the light, and so it is a season of cold. It is a season where growth and fruitfulness are hindered. On planet earth, light is life, and so winter is, naturally speaking, a season of death. But - in spite of the ten day forecast sometimes -  you and I know that it cannot last. Because the world keeps spinning, and the planet keeps moving around the sun. And as winter turns to spring - and spring to summer - our little corner of the world finds itself in the sun more and more each day. And so light, and warmth, and life are coming; we know this. There’s no stopping it.

Luke tells us that as Jesus surrendered his life on the cross for the sake of humanity there was an experience of super-natural darkness across the land. For three hours, he tells us, “the sun’s light failed”. What incredibly powerful language. In the death of Jesus the very source and sustainer of life gave up his own life, and darkness had it’s day. On the calendar, the darkest day of the year - preparing the way for the coldest season of the year - is known as the winter solstice. In human history, our darkest, coldest day is found at the cross of Christ.

The life-giving Word - that Voice that birthed the entire cosmos and called humanity into being in order that we might receive and reflect the inexhaustible love of this creator - became a human being, walking in our midst and putting on display what life actually looks like when fully and truly lived. His was the most complete, beautiful, compelling life the world has ever witnessed. So much so that, even those of us who can’t really make any sense out of the majority of his teaching still cannot help but gaze upon him in wonder. This is Jesus. Appropriately, the Apostle John referred to him, simply, as “the light”:

“The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.” - (John 1:9-11 ESV)

In our broken humanity, what do we do when confronted with a light and life that defies our categories; dangerously compelling and beyond our ability to comprehend and control? As a people who have rejected God because we have preferred the temptation to attempt being our own gods, what do we do when God suddenly shows up on the scene? We panic. Our knee-jerk reaction is one of terror and shame: we lash out in defense, snuffing out the light and striking down this terrifyingly vibrant life, left to wonder only afterwards if we could have responded differently. As Jesus gave up his life the world was covered in darkness, and the temple curtain was torn in two. Unlawfully executed, but offering no defense or resistance, as Jesus surrenders His life to the judgment that was rightfully ours the guards who put Him to death suddenly exclaim “Surely this man was innocent!”, and the crowds who had mocked him and demanded his life suddenly turn towards home, beating their chests in shame and mourning. They realized that they had missed it; but it seemed that it was too late.

We have rejected life itself; who, now shall come to our rescue and defense? This is the valley of shadow of death. This is fear and darkness and cold. But we stand here today as a people of hope because the cross is not the end of the story.


Part II - The Victory: Dawn (John 20:1-18)

"Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” So Peter went out with the other disciple, and they were going toward the tomb. Both of them were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. And stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen cloths lying there, and the face cloth, which had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen cloths but folded up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples went back to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb. And she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Having said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”—and that he had said these things to her." - (John 20:1-18 ESV)

Winter is marked by darkness: it begins on the day when our part of the globe sees the least amount of sunlight that it will all year. Summer is the mirror opposite; it begins on the day of the year with the MOST possible hours of sunlight. And, in between these polar opposites, we have seasons of transition and transformation: Spring and Fall, respectively.

I joked earlier about being pretty underwhelmed by the arrival of Spring this year, as the first day of Spring simply brought more snow and wind and cold to the place where I was working. It just felt like more of the same and, on an experiential level, it really was. We’ve had some record cold days this March and April; a lot of temps that didn’t look that much different from December or January. But this experiential reality obscures a deeper truth: the fact of the matter is, Spring really IS here, whether it feels like it or not.

Again, on our calendars, the start of winter is marked by the most significant absence of sunlight and the start of summer is marked by the most significant presence of sunlight. Winter is a season of darkness and summer is a season of light, but in between these watermark moments, there is a point where the tide changes. There comes a day in every calendar year when yesterday there were more hours of darkness in the world but tomorrow there will be more hours of light. We call this the Spring Equinox, and it marks the official beginning of Spring. From that day forward, it is a physical, astronomical, unavoidable fact that darkness is losing ground each and every passing day. The sun’s rays are becoming more direct and more effective each and every passing day. So, even if the polar vortex keeps March and April colder than it’s ever been recorded before, and it feels like I will never put away the scarf and gloves again, I know as an incontestable fact that it will only be a matter of weeks before we’re all scrambling to pull out the AC units because of the unbearable heat of summer. If you’re anything like me, that feels almost unimaginable at this point, but we know it’s true. As darkness gives way to light, winter gives way to spring and summer.

The cross of Jesus was a moment of darkness. The darkest moment in human history, in fact. We - humanity - had become so broken and backwards that when God showed up and put life itself on display we didn’t know what else to do but put him to death. But Jesus, for his part, willingly surrendered himself to this humiliation and suffering at our hands; willingly embraced the darkness and death that we handed him. Because he knew that, as we had rejected our creator God - and so found ourselves cut off from our source of life and fullness and purpose - that death was all we really had left to give. And he knew that if things were to ever change, if we were to ever become a people of fullness and abundance and life again that death had to be dealt with. We rejected God, and death was the consequence: a plague unleashed across all of creation. It couldn’t be ignored, it couldn’t be passed over, it couldn’t be wished away. It had to be faced and it had to be overcome. This is what happens on the cross, and this is what we celebrate in the resurrection.

If the cross - Good Friday - is the “high water” mark of darkness and evil, then on Easter Sunday we celebrate the turning of the tide. It is dawn; it is the the first day of Spring. It is the exact moment when darkness gives way to the victory of light, the moment after which the world will never be the same. In our own experience, things may not feel a whole lot different right away. There will be days when it feels like winter - brokenness and evil - will never relinquish their hold on the world. There will be days when we’re convinced that we will never again know what if feels like to be warm and alive. But as we remember and celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, we remember and celebrate the day when darkness gave way to light; when death gave way to life, and forgiveness and restoration was made possible for every person who would surrender themselves to the embrace of the life-giver: Jesus.

Don’t be fooled: summer is coming. The victory of light and warmth is an unavoidable reality, set in motion long ago. Likewise, we must not be fooled and we must not lose sight of hope: life and light and the restoration of all things is coming. Heaven is on a collision course with Earth. Jesus secured that victory a long time ago. At present, we live in a world in tension and transition; we experience both it’s beauty and brokenness almost every day. But we’re not on a treadmill; we’re heading somewhere, and our way is Jesus. As we cling to him, his victory becomes our own, and life itself is opened before us.


Part III - The Vision: A New Day (Revelation 21:1-7)

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment. The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son.” - (Revelation 21:1-7 ESV)


Here’s where the imagery of seasons breaks down in our story: seasons are cyclical, but this grand story of creation, fall and redemption is not. Whereas this coming summer will eventually and unavoidably give way again to increasing darkness and the return of winter six months or so from now, the victory of light and life that we find in Jesus, and that we celebrate today, will never be undone or overcome. There may be cycles that occur within smaller scales of human history - empires rise, empires fall - but History itself is not cyclical; it is going somewhere. And that somewhere is the restoration of all things in the power, grace and glory of the risen Christ.

All of us live in tension with our world, to one degree or another. If we’re living with our eyes open at all, we know that our world is defined by paradox. It is a place of great potential, and great pain. It is both a place of breathtaking beauty, and unspeakable brokenness. We are - all of us - beautiful, but broken, people. And we are a people with another world in our hearts. We are a people who know injustice when we see it; who can point at things like oppression and sickness and greed and poverty and hatred and somehow just know - in a place deeper than our conscious thoughts - that those things simply don’t belong in the world that we were created for. But if this is the only world we’ve ever known, and the only world that we will ever know, then where do we even get the idea that things ever could, or should, be different?

Scripture tells us that we have these longings and this knowledge because we have been created for, and are headed for, a different world. Scripture tells us that we are even now caught up in the grand story of human history. The story of a people created by and for a loving creator God, who in turn rejected relationship with this God in order to pursue lesser things, and in doing so unleashed death and chaos and brokenness upon the goodness of creation. The story of how the great love of God compelled him, rather than washing his hands of our mess and walking away, to enter our broken world, to face and claim victory over our death, and in doing so to make possible our ultimate renewal and restoration to the life we had once known but rejected. The story of the creator God who, in Jesus, places this life and hope of eternity within the hearts of all who would follow him, inviting us to journey with him as he brings light and life to bear within our world, here and now, even as we look forward to the day when all things are fully and finally made new in Christ.

This is Easter. This is our hope. And this is why we here at The Commons are compelled to gather together as a community; Journeying with God to see a World renewed, Neighborhoods transformed, and People brought to life by the Good News of Jesus Christ. Here on Easter we celebrate the dawn; the turning of the tide toward life and restoration. And, in response, we then seek to follow Christ in living as a people in light of this new day, with our hopes firmly set upon the horizon of eternity; the ultimate victory of the light. We’d love to have you join us on this journey.

*Guest Post* - "The Gospel in the Gardens"

A Guest post by my friend and colleague in the Gospel, Jared Deame. You can find his writings and reflections over at http://thecitynolongerdeserted.blogspot.com.

"The Gospel In the Gardens"

Eden

The story of God's communion with man begins in a garden. His infinite love cannot be contained so the Creator forms a human being in His image out of the dust and breathes into him His breath, His life. A love story planned before time takes shape in the midst of a quiet garden. God's will is done in the mystery and wonder of a man softly taking his first steps. Perhaps God Himself gently assisted the man to his feet, showed him how to walk, and showed him the beauty and peace of the garden that was made just for him out of God's deep compassion and provision. Everything the man needs is present in the garden and God dwells with Him in holy and undisturbed communion. On Earth as it is in Heaven.

God the Creator gives His human creation the task that He has just undertaken-to work and continue the creative process. In the cool of the garden, the man follows the example of his Father to bring beauty and purpose into the world.

But God sees that it is not good for the man to be alone so He finishes His creation with the provision of a partner. The garden is filled with their love and it brings joy to the heart of the Father as it reflects His love. Everything is as He intended. They know God and are fully known. Unashamed in their nakedness, they share space with the Creator of the universe and call him "Abba, Father." Unadulterated access to God and dwelling with Him are the marks of their existence. The Jews call it "Shalom"-the right order of things; everything as it should be. Complete wholeness, peace, rest, and fulfillment.

And yet, God allows His Creation to choose to love Him. He does not force them. They are not automatons responding to a God pulling the strings. Out of His deep love, He allows for them to decide. He is vulnerable and His love is risky.

The human beings He created decide that they want His job. They allow mistrust and pride to invade their paradise. They believe that God is withholding something from them; that He is not enough; that there is something that may be better than their relationship with Him. So they rebel. They trade their holy and perfect communion with God for a deception. The humans fatally damage their relationship with their Creator God and break His heart. He longs to be with them but they tell Him, "Our will be done." Their lives are ripped to shreds by the decision to live against the design and purpose that God lovingly gave them. Harmony with God is destroyed and His beloved leave the garden. Creation groans under the break of this relationship and the ground is cursed. The breaking of the union between God and His Creation starts in the garden and emanates through every molecule of the created order. No longer is there Shalom.

Gethsemane

Thousands of years pass. God has continued to engage with His people but their access to Him has been broken. His holiness, love, and hatred for what harms and, ultimately, destroys His children keep Him from being able to interact with them on the level that He originally designed. The people's sin keep them from Him, though He continues to work through this damaged relationship. God has had His heart broken. He has been wounded.

When someone is wounded or offended by another, there are two possible outcomes that both require a debt to be paid and an absorption of the pain. The first course of action is for the wounded party to
retaliate-to put the pain and wounding back on the original offender. The original offender "pays" for what they've done. The second course of action is for the hurt party to absorb the wound and accept and pay the debt of pain while the other person goes free.  The wounded party does not retaliate which is a great cost to him or herself. This is forgiveness.

Because it is literally impossible for the pain to just be ignored and for the relationship to just continue, true restoration requires forgiveness. Forgiveness is costly and deeply painful for the person doing the forgiving.

It is here that we find the Creator on His knees in another garden. God has put on human flesh to restore the relationship between Himself and His human creation to the state it was intended. But there must be a payment. It is costly. It is excruciating. The weight of all of humanity's rebellion-all the mockery, idolatry, pride-is on the shoulders of Jesus Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night before He will bear the cost and pay the debt that is required for forgiveness.

Jesus is in sheer mental anguish. The Gospel of Luke tells us that Jesus even sweat blood because of the unimaginable stress and agonizing anticipation He was experiencing. In the dark of the garden, Jesus, the holiest of all petitioners, pleads to the Father for this seemingly unbearable cup of suffering to pass from Him. But, unlike the man in the first garden, this Man says "Yet, not my will but Yours be done."

His submission leads Him to a cross where He is hung by nails through His hands and feet. Jesus Christ absorbs the costliest of costs. He pays the greatest of all debts. Rather than retaliate against the evil done to Him and the breaking of the relationship with His creation, God hangs on a cross to give forgiveness and bring restoration. In His death, Jesus Christ willingly accepts the pain of forgiveness. He lays down His life for His beloved. With His final breath, He proclaims that it is finished.

The Garden Tomb

Jesus' body is taken from the cross and laid in a rich man's tomb. The world is unaware of what has just happened. God Himself has entered His creation and taken the penalty of egregious offense and rebellion upon Himself because of His unmeasurable love. But it doesn't end there. There is no joy in a wound that kills. There is no restoration to a relationship and redemption of brokenness without renewal. There must be resurrection.

In another quiet garden outside of His tomb, some of Jesus' closest friends come to bring spices to properly embalm Jesus' body. On a still Sunday morning, still in mourning, His friends arrive to find that the massive stone blocking the tomb has been rolled away. They are greeted by two angels who announce the good news of the Gospel for the very first time to humanity. He. Is. Risen. Just as He said He would. Death could not hold Him down. They are invited to see the place where their Lord was laid to discover it is empty with only His grave clothes remaining.

In bewilderment, all but one of the friends leave the Garden. But Mary Magdalene stays behind, weeping. She is confused and frightened, believing that maybe this isn't actually true; that perhaps someone has stolen the body.

A man's voice from behind her asks, "Why are you weeping?" Mary, believing that it is the keeper of the garden tomb, says that if he has taken Jesus' body to tell her and she will take it away. The Gardener--the One Who planted the original garden with all of its beauty, rest, and peace; the Gardener Who was wounded and rebelled against; the Gardener Who took upon Himself all of the guilt, pain, and shame of all of humanity's sin; the Gardener Who conquered death, was resurrected, and invites His children back into a restored relationship and abundant life--simply says in a gentle, loving, and reassuring voice, "Mary."

The Garden-City, New Jerusalem

After His resurrection, Jesus appears to His disciples multiple times. Before His ascension to heaven, He calls them to Himself and instructs them to go into all the world and proclaim the restoration of His kingdom to all people. Jesus invites those who repent of their sin and the ways they have damaged their relationship with God into His restorative, creative, and redemptive work in the world. His resurrection inaugurates His kingdom into this world. Just as the sin of the man in the garden affected every part of creation, so Christ's sacrifice and restoration begins to reverse the process and bring beauty and peace back to the world He created. A beachhead has been established and Jesus calls His people into His service to advance His kingdom, not through force or violence but through service, love, and justice. Those who are found in Jesus are part of His kingdom building work. Here. Now. His disciples are not in a holding pattern waiting for heaven. Heaven has broken into this world and God's people are tasked with the responsibility of ushering it in on this planet. Here. Now. The smallest acts on behalf of the Kingdom stretch into eternity. What God's people do now matters. They are His co-laborers in joyful redemption.

At the end of Scripture we are given a picture of a new garden that is to come. The perfect restoration of the created order is achieved and heaven is brought down and joined with the Earth. The Earth is restored to the way it was intended. God's dwelling is again with His people and it will never end. They are His people and He is their God. He exclaims, "See! I am making all things new!" There is no more pain, no more tears, no more brokenness or shame, no more rebellion or emptiness, no more fear or despair. Eden is recovered and blossoms into a beautiful garden-city, the New Jerusalem. God's people are again charged to work the garden and continue in an eternal perfectly satisfying and intimate relationship with Him. This is the hope and joy of the resurrection. God, through Jesus, invites us back to His garden.

A Word to our church about "Being the Church".

Believe it or not, Palm Sunday is less than a week away. And, here at The Commons, we're going to celebrate the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem by stepping out into OUR city to joyfully declare Christ through some tangible acts of service.

One of the themes that seems to be coming up again and again for me as we press into this Launch Team season together is the conviction that God is calling us to learn how to BE the Church, before we make the leap to "DOING church". The trouble is that being - and tangibly living into our identity and call as - the Church is a much steeper, more challenging path. I love preaching and teaching. I love music and singing and leading people in worship on a Sunday morning. And those are good things - important, life giving and holy things; expressions of love and joy and of our corporate journey towards deeper and fuller intimacy with Christ. We should never forsake those things. However - relatively speaking - those are also EASY things for those of us who are familiar with and comfortable in traditional church settings.

But to BE the Church? That's a challenge. To meet people we haven't met yet, and serve people we haven't served yet, and to engage broken systems and families and neighborhoods because that's what Jesus himself would be - and is - doing? That'll stretch us. That's a road that will quickly find ourselves at the end of our comfort zones, experiencing the sort of risk that seems to settle in the pit of your stomach like the feeling of riding a roller coaster as it crests that first big hill. There is fear to be found on this path, and resistance. The Enemy has a vested interest in seeing the lost remain lost, and the broken remain broken. But scripture tells us that perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18), and that it is the love of Christ that compels us (2 Cor. 5:14) to press through whatever resistance we may face - internally or externally - to see those who Jesus loves come into his embrace in a new and deeper way. Yes, there is fear and there is risk on this path we are called to as the Church, but there is also life: deep, profound, abundant life.

I will confess, as I consider how the mission of God will press us beyond the ends of ourselves together over these next months, I have never been more terrified. Because it's a terrifying thing to come to the point this journey of faith where your own strength and competency and easy, natural compassion meet their end. To follow Jesus into a place where you would never have gone otherwise? That will make one wrestle with the definition of faith and trust. So, I'm terrified. But I've also never felt more alive, or more close to the heart of Jesus, than when I am on mission with him; out beyond the raggedy edge of strength and competency, where only His strength and His Spirit could do the work. That's where a life worth living is to be found, and I'm excited to go there with you all.

A Hope Beyond Circumstance

This passage spoke to me again this morning, as it has many days in the past. I just love the refrain, reminding us of the source and foundation of a hope that is able to stand, over and against whatever circumstances we may happen to face:

"As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?...

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you... Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life...

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God." - Psalm 42 (selected)

When God's Word to us is a Hard Word...

A pertinent word from the morning reading. Regarding speaking words of truth and serving one another through loving admonishment as brothers and sisters in Christ, and in Christian community:

"God's Word serves humankind by judging it. Those who allow God's judgment to serve themselves are helped. This is the place where the limitation of all human action toward one another becomes obvious. "Truly, no ransom avails for one's life, there is no price one can give God for it. For the ransom of life is costly, and can never suffice." (Psalm 49:8f.) This renunciation of our own ability is precisely the prerequisite for, and the acknowledgement of, the redeeming help that only the Word of God can give to others. The ways of other Christians are not in our hands; we cannot hold together what is going to break into pieces. We cannot keep alive what is intent on dying. But God joins together in breaking, creates community in division, confers grace through judgment."

(Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "Life Together"; p.106)

The End(s) of Discipline

"This is not good."

That's the thought that was running through my head this past Monday morning at around 8:30am. It was President's Day, and my brother and I have this running annual tradition of winter hiking/mountaineering Mount Washington on President's Day. Each year we set out to give our best attempt at reaching the summit, taking the Lion Head trail around the north edge of Tuckerman Ravine. Landing on conditions that make for a successful, complete ascent is never guaranteed; on Washington in February, wind and snow are pretty much the two things one can bank on. When they combine in the right way - which they often do - visibility above the tree line can drop to under a few feet, making any sustained effort at the summit unsafe and untenable. In the past three years, we have had to turn around below Lion Head - well below the summit - for various conditional reasons, twice. And that's all part of the experience: knowing when the conditions are right, and knowing when they're just not. This past Monday, though, conditions were good: sunny and clear, highs in the twenties, and not enough fresh powder for the winds to blind you with. It was a beautiful day for a climb.

That is to say, the WEATHER conditions were good. My own condition, on the other hand, was a bit wanting.

Around 8:30am, about an hour into our (eight hour) climb, I already knew I was in for a rough day. While I would consider myself an outdoorsman of a limited sort - camping, fishing, hunting are all things I enjoy, and spend a good deal of time doing - hiking mountains is not something I've been in the regular habit of since high school. In case you haven't noticed, for those of us north of 30 years old, high school is surprisingly well into the rear-view mirror, more and more so every year. So, while my brother and I do have this annual tradition of tackling Washington in February, this past Monday officially marked the one year anniversary of the last time I had strapped on hiking boots. Suffice it to say, that doesn't really constitute much of a conditioning regime. Additionally, while I would say I was in pretty good physical condition a few years back, that was a 'high water mark' of fitness for me. Over these past 2 or 3 years, the 'tide' has retreated considerably, while  - funny enough - those numbers on the scale have advanced by 25 pounds or so.  On top of that, it had become clear the night before that the Bannon family February cough and cold, that the kids had been trading back and forth for the past month, had finally decided to grace my respiratory system. So there I was, an hour into a full day of more or less continuous, reasonably strenuous physical activity, breathing hard, beginning to sweat under my layers of clothing, and feeling the weight of my pack bearing down on shoulders and legs that were already beginning to complain. We were nowhere near the challenging part of this hike. This was not good.

As tends to happen, it was in that moment that I was suddenly struck by a renewed appreciation for physical conditioning. While much of our daily motivation for bodily discipline and physical training, to what degree it exists at all, tends to gravitate towards greater or lesser degrees of vanity - the number of notches available on our belt, or how the torso above that belt is going to look when we find ourselves shirtless at the beach this coming summer - there are actually much better reasons for good management and stewardship of our bodies. Namely, that they will be prepared and able to DO things that we may want or need them to do when the time comes. To hike a mountain, run alongside our children, lift an object, to build or plant or carry, or simply to live a life to the fullest extent possible, unfettered by unnecessary illness or injury; our bodies have been given to us in order that we might live and DO, and to the extent that we fail to care for and train our bodies, we limit their ability to fulfill that end. As I set my feet upon the path to Washington's summit, I quickly knew that these past couple years, absent of physical discipline, were coming home to roost.

There's a pretty easy spiritual-journey parallel at work here, but it took me a couple more hours into the hike - and a good deal more exhaustion - to arrive at that epiphany. We'll get there momentarily.

We made our way up the wide, groomed trail from Pinkham Notch - struggling more than we ought to have been  - to the point where the Lion Head winter trail breaks off, and we stopped to put on crampons and get out the mountaineering axes. For the next half mile or so our path would consist of steep mixed climbing, up snow, rock and ice. Still below the tree line and out of the wind; the fresh snow clinging to the stunted alpine evergreens, the brilliant blue sky and sun, and the breathtaking panoramic views that improved with each carefully chosen step, were enough to remind one why this was a worthwhile endeavor. It was the kind of joy-inspiring beauty that mutes the challenge and the experience of physical strain. It was slow-going, but in the sort of surroundings that encourage you to take your time, anyway.

Emerging from the tree line some distance below Lion Head, you encounter for the first time what the second half of this journey will be like: the terrain is rocky and slow, and there will be no more shelter from the wind. Suddenly, I was reminded how tired I was. Buffeted by the arctic winds, gusting anywhere from 50 to over 85mph that day, just keeping our feet became a task requiring concerted focus and effort. In spite of this, visibility remained excellent. Which, among other things, meant that the conditions were right for summiting; the only thing that could stand between us and our stated goal that day were our own limitations. In the end, I think, it was that realization that pressed me onward. In the two years previous, we had been forced to turn around by conditions beyond our control. As such, on both those occasions I could happily say that I'd given it my best shot, but that it just wasn't the right day to summit. And that was fine. But on this day, I knew that if I was going to turn around it was going to be because I was admitting that I just didn't have it in me, and that was going to be a tough pill to swallow. So, onward we went.

We stopped to rest and eat something against some large rocks at the base of Lion Head around 10 or 10:30 that morning, getting out of the wind as best as we were able. It felt good to get off my feet, but I could feel the circulation slow and the cold begin to creep into my fingers almost instantly. We couldn't stop moving for very long. From here forward, though, every step was taken with the distinct impression that the next step remained a very much open question. Would I open my mouth to verbalize the message that my body was speaking to me? Would I concede defeat, there on the mountainside, turn and descend? Two more hours would pass while this debate raged internally; in the meantime, one step followed another, carefully and deliberately, as I could not find the will to stop or speak that word of defeat.

We crested Lion Head and made our way across the plateau of the Alpine Garden, with Tuckerman Ravine gaping majestically just off to our left. In the spaces between gales of wind, the February sun was almost warm. Incomparable views greeted us in every direction, and once again the beauty of our surroundings was such that the struggle of the moment was nearly forgotten. What grace, and what a privilege it was, to be two people immersed in the glory of the Creator in that place on that day! Exhausted as I was, I could not help but smile as I breathed deeply in that moment; I gave thanks to God for the richness of His blessings. And that is significant, because it was right about that time that this excursion would shift to become a distinctly more spiritual affair. God was about to draw back the internal curtain and put on a show.

There on the Alpine Garden, my already limited physical abilities took a turn for the worse; the hours of anaerobic strain suddenly reached a threshold, and my legs began to cramp. Every step became shaky and questioning. Gritting my teeth in discomfort and frustration, I began to realize that this could very well spell the end of our ascent. With more than a mile of steep, rocky terrain still ahead of us, I just didn't know how I could possibly continue if my own legs turned traitor to the cause. And so I stood there, stretching and massaging my quadriceps, while staring down the path ahead of us. From there on that rocky plateau, the steep and imposing Snow Field rose up directly ahead of us. Beyond that, our trail would merge with the Tuckerman Ravine trail to make for the summit via Split Rock; appropriately named, and 50% steeper, still. From where I stood, the ever-distant summit appeared as a mountain upon a mountain. As far as we had come, and as much energy as we had spent, there was still a mountain - steep, jagged and imposing - between us and our goal. And in that moment, I realized that I just couldn't do it. I was not in any way equal to the path, and I could look nowhere else but to my own weakness and personal limitations for the reason. Others were suited to the task that day - guides with clients, experienced winter hikers - but I was not. They were prepared for the challenge before them, though personal conditioning and an intentionality of experience, whereas by contrast I was merely a cavalier tourist on this mountain, aiming for a prize that my preparation simply did not merit. This was a humbling and illuminating realization.

Maybe it was just exhaustion, or maybe it was a spiritual epiphany, but in that moment the impossible height before me suddenly came to represent our present journey of life and church in a pretty profound way. As a newly 'minted' church planter, I know that the journey of church planting is, in the very best case, a five year journey toward sustainable vitality. Thinking of our fledgling community, The Commons, it came home to me the degree to which we stand just before the trailhead of this path that Jesus is calling us to undertake. There is a mountain standing before us; it cannot be avoided. It is, in fact, the very essence of the call itself. But standing there, more than a mile below the summit of Washington and having already spent every ounce of energy, I came to the stark realization that I was not remotely prepared for the demands of this journey of faith that lies ahead, any more than I was conditioned to take on New England's highest peak in February. Even as I have striven to be faithful in hearing and responding to this call, I know that I have often failed to prepare myself for the journey itself. Even now, standing at the trailhead, I can feel the limits of my own wisdom, competency and piety stretched to the point of breaking by the demands of the path. And I am afraid. Afraid of being betrayed by own weakness, stranded somewhere along that height, far short of the goal. And I long for a heart and mind disciplined and honed so as to be fit for the task before me. I resonate with the words of Paul to the Corinthian church as he reflects on his own need for discipline, both physical and spiritual:

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified." (1 Cor. 9:24-27, ESV)

In the end, our only hope is the grace of God, embodied and given to us in and through Jesus Christ. I know that no amount of will, wisdom, strength or personal piety could ever make me fit for the task ahead. I know that, unless God himself does this work and builds this house, all our labor and sacrifice will have been in vain. And so, I cast myself upon the grace of Christ, confessing my weakness and sin, and thanking him that his love is such that he inclines to our weakness in order to lend his own strength. This is Grace, and it is the only rightful foundation of our hope and work.

That said, the temptation is to cheapen the gift of grace; mistaking the freedom with which it is offered for a lack of cost in both the giving and receiving. The paradox of the grace of Christ is that it is a totally free, undeserved gift, that also costs us everything. We cannot receive the gift of Christ without simultaneously giving ourselves to him; we cannot accept his embrace without surrendering ourselves to his arms. And so, while we rejoice that on this journey ahead will never need to rely upon our own strength, we also know that the Savior who meets and calls and inclines to us in our places of weakness simultaneously begins a transforming work, in order to lead us from that weakness to a place of fitness and life. We engage in spiritual disciplines (rhythms of prayer, scripture reading, sabbath, and the like) , then, not in order to merit the favor of God, or to establish his Church on the basis of our own strength, but in order to know the joy and fulness of that life of Christ himself as it is birthed within us and begins to bear fruit for his Kingdom.

As I consider the path and challenge before us, I am convicted by the thought that I might, through lack of discipline, risk a life of stunted fruitfulness by presuming to cheapen the grace of Christ, rather than surrendering to it. I fear that, through laziness or presumption, I might miss the richness of fruitfulness and life that Jesus has purchased for me. I long so much that I (and we) would not merely stumble through life, half asleep, and miss the unspeakable abundance that Christ so longs to place in our hands! The vistas are far too beautiful to not risk the climb. And so my heart cries out with the Apostle Paul:

 "Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

In the end, we did manage to make it to the summit of Washington that day. I'm not really sure how. Surely, pure stubbornness and force of will were really all we had left to go on, humanly and physically speaking, so I'm willing to admit that God probably just took pity on us. By the time we reached the summit the wind, the cold, and the climb had sapped us of any residual vitality. Our victory was an empty, humorless one, endearing only in hindsight. We rounded the corner into an arctic gale, sat for one scowling moment at the top of the world, then began our descent. I would like to imagine that I might finish this race of life in somewhat better form.

All told, it was driven home for me in a profound way that, inasmuch as to discipline ourselves physically is not a matter of mere vanity but of preparation for the journey ahead, so too for our souls. Too often we are cavalier tourists within this community of Jesus, stricken with laziness and presumption. In the end, we will merely undermine our own Kingdom fruitfulness and joy. So as we prepare to enter the season of Lent I would exhort us all, beginning with myself, to take this opportunity to (re)discover the blessings of a rhythm of spiritual discipline and preparation, in whatever form that might take for you. There is a journey ahead of us, and the horizon is eternity itself; along the way, we will certainly find ourselves grateful for the improved fitness.

It Takes a Church...

"Then Eliashib the high priest rose up with his brothers the priests, and they built the Sheep Gate. They consecrated it and set its doors. They consecrated it as far as the Tower of the Hundred, as far as the Tower of Hananel. 2 And next to him the men of Jericho built. And next to them Zaccur the son of Imri built.

3 The sons of Hassenaah built the Fish Gate. They laid its beams and set its doors, its bolts, and its bars. 4 And next to them Meremoth the son of Uriah, son of Hakkoz repaired. And next to them Meshullam the son of Berechiah, son of Meshezabel repaired. And next to them Zadok the son of Baana repaired. 5 And next to them the Tekoites repaired, but their nobles would not stoop to serve their Lord.

6 Joiada the son of Paseah and Meshullam the son of Besodeiah repaired the Gate of Yeshanah. They laid its beams and set its doors, its bolts, and its bars. 7 And next to them repaired Melatiah the Gibeonite and Jadon the Meronothite, the men of Gibeon and of Mizpah, the seat of the governor of the province Beyond the River.8 Next to them Uzziel the son of Harhaiah, goldsmiths, repaired. Next to him Hananiah, one of the perfumers, repaired, and they restored Jerusalem as far as the Broad Wall. 9 Next to them Rephaiah the son of Hur, ruler of half the district of Jerusalem, repaired. 10 Next to them Jedaiah the son of Harumaph repaired opposite his house. And next to him Hattush the son of Hashabneiah repaired. 11 Malchijah the son of Harim and Hasshub the son of Pahath-moab repaired another section and the Tower of the Ovens. 12 Next to him Shallum the son of Hallohesh, ruler of half the district of Jerusalem, repaired, he and his daughters.

13 Hanun and the inhabitants of Zanoah repaired the Valley Gate. They rebuilt it and set its doors, its bolts, and its bars, and repaired a thousand cubits of the wall, as far as the Dung Gate.
14 Malchijah the son of Rechab, ruler of the district of Beth-haccherem, repaired the Dung Gate. He rebuilt it and set its doors, its bolts, and its bars.
15 And Shallum the son of Col-hozeh, ruler of the district of Mizpah, repaired the Fountain Gate. He rebuilt it and covered it andset its doors, its bolts, and its bars. And he built the wall of the Pool of Shelah of the king's garden, as far as the stairs that go down from the city of David. 16 After him Nehemiah the son of Azbuk, ruler of half the district of Beth-zur, repaired to a point opposite the tombs of David, as far as the artificial pool, and as far as the house of the mighty men.17 After him the Levites repaired: Rehum the son of Bani. Next to him Hashabiah, ruler of half the district of Keilah, repaired for his district.18 After him their brothers repaired: Bavvai the son of Henadad, ruler of half the district of Keilah. 19 Next to him Ezer the son of Jeshua, ruler of Mizpah, repaired another section opposite the ascent to the armory at the buttress. 20 After him Baruch the son of Zabbai repaired another section from the buttress to the door of the house of Eliashib the high priest. 21 After him Meremoth the son of Uriah, son of Hakkoz repaired another section from the door of the house of Eliashib to the end of the house of Eliashib. 22 After him the priests, the men of the surrounding area, repaired. 23 After them Benjamin and Hasshub repaired opposite their house. After them Azariah the son of Maaseiah, son of Ananiah repaired beside his own house. 24 After him Binnui the son of Henadad repaired another section, from the house of Azariah to the buttress 25 and to the corner. Palal the son of Uzai repaired opposite the buttress and the tower projecting from the upper house of the king at the court of the guard. After him Pedaiah the son of Parosh 26 and the temple servants living on Ophel repaired to a point opposite the Water Gate on the east and the projecting tower. 27 After him the Tekoites repaired another section opposite the great projecting tower as far as the wall of Ophel.

28 Above the Horse Gate the priests repaired, each one opposite his own house. 29 After them Zadok the son of Immer repaired opposite his own house. After him Shemaiah the son of Shecaniah, the keeper of the East Gate, repaired. 30 After him Hananiah the son of Shelemiah and Hanun the sixth son of Zalaph repaired another section. After him Meshullam the son of Berechiah repaired opposite his chamber.31 After him Malchijah, one of the goldsmiths, repaired as far as the house of the temple servants and of the merchants, opposite the Muster Gate, and to the upper chamber of the corner. 32 And between the upper chamber of the corner and the Sheep Gate the goldsmiths and the merchants repaired. "

(Nehemiah 3, ESV)

That's a lot of names. A lot of archaic, difficult-to-pronounce names. But for all the challenges, this is a passage with a very timely message.

Back in 1996, then-First Lady Hillary Clinton published a book entitled “It Takes a Village: and other lessons children teach us”; a title inspired by a conglomerate African proverb along the lines of, “It takes a village to raise a child.” Hillary’s socio-political ideology aside - and not even to open the conversation about whether or not you or I happen to agree with the sentiment of the proverb in question - it’s this proverb that came to mind as I was thinking about Nehemiah 3 this past week.

I don’t know if it takes a village to raise a child. But as I was reading Nehemiah I was struck by the conviction that it takes a Church to raise a City. And I think this has some pretty significant implications for us here at The Commons, as we come together and figure out what it means to build a church.

To vastly understate the situation, Jerusalem in the time of Nehemiah had seen much better days. Once a beacon and witness to the Creator God and his mission to reveal himself to the world in and through the people of Israel, it was the city of kings, and the city of the Temple where the name of the one true God dwelled in a special way. It was a city where the nations would be drawn to experience and come to know the name and nature of that God. But Israel’s faithlessness and infidelity towards this God - who had called them and sustained them and nurtured them as a people precious to himself - had led them into decline, defeat, and ultimately total desolation. Crushed by Babylon, and now overrun by Persia, Jerusalem was a joke, a byword; with it’s walls torn down and temple laid waste, it was warning to anyone who would consider standing up to the powers of the day.

This a parallel to our own world in many ways. Our world is a beautiful, broken, place, and our communities are beautiful, broken places made up of beautiful, but broken, people. Our world is a place where the memory and the essence of that abundantly good creation that God handed to us to steward and develop into the fullness of it’s potential still clings and cries out. But it is a world wracked and broken by our sin, our faithlessness, our rebellion against life itself. Over and against all that inherent beauty and potential, there is obviously much in our world that simply ought not be; ugly things, broken things, many things too terrible to mention.

The goodness of God is such, however – and the Good News of Jesus Christ is such – that in His great redeeming, rescuing, restoring love, God was not content to simply abandon this people - this world and creation that He had established as a place for His name and His glory to dwell – to remain trapped in death and hopelessness. But that in Jesus our rebellion and brokenness and death were met head on (on the cross) and defeated (in the resurrection), and that hope and life and redemption and restoration have been made possible. And Jesus, subsequently, establishes His Church to be the expression and outworking of this new reality in the world, until that day when he comes again to bring this new creation work fully to bear.

Nehemiah 3 is great passage, as awkward as it is to read. It’s beautiful, because it’s a picture of a church, shoulder to shoulder, rebuilding a broken city, against the odds, for the sake of bringing honor to their God. Every awkward, archaic name in list is powerful, because each name represents a person, as real as you and I. And that’s when it struck me: It takes a Church to raise a City. And I think this is true for any city, any community, but it really comes home when I think about the call it seems that God is placing on us for the Rochester area. Because our city is a city with some scars. Our city is a city that is searching for hope, searching for it’s identity, trying to find vision for it’s future. And I’m convinced that Jesus has something to say to our city. I’m convinced that Jesus is the hope and the that our friends and neighbors are desperately searching for, whether they can name that search or not. Our vision, here at The Commons, is that we might be a hope-embodying, city-building community of Jesus here, in this place.

And I love how practical this story is, too. Because rebuilding a broken city, never mind restoring a broken world, is an overwhelming, daunting task. Where do you start? So much rubble, so much to overcome, so much work to do… It’s too much, to be honest. What would Jesus have us do? I believe He would simply have us be faithful to begin with that which he puts in front of our face. It stands out to me that in Nehemiah 3 there are five specific mentions of individuals or groups who focused on the repairs that were needed in immediate proximity to their own homes. It seems to me that being a people of hope and restoration begins in our own living rooms. It spills out onto the streets where we live. It will come to define our presence at work, in school; in whatever spaces we occupy as friends, neighbors, and citizens. We’re going to be a people who are serious about engaging the brokenness of our world that we find at the end of our own driveways, asking Jesus to give us the wisdom and resources to build a city that honors Him: one brick, one person, one family, and one neighborhood at a time. It takes a Church to raise a City.

Our vision is to be a people who are: Journeying with God to see a world renewed, neighborhoods transformed, and people brought to life by the Good News of Jesus Christ. I'm excited to be on this journey with you all.

More than We can Handle.

(A *First Ever* guest post, from the charming, lovely and wise Rebecca Bannon. I trust you will find it a blessing. )

Have you ever heard someone say, “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle”?  I seem to be running into this idea a lot lately.  Someone will mention something difficult they are facing and then try to encourage themselves by saying, “Well, God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, right?”  Or, to paraphrase the opening to a song on the radio, “God must think I’m pretty strong to give me all this junk to deal with.”  I’m usually pretty skeptical about theological ideas that fit on a bumper sticker, and this one in particular has been bugging me lately because I think it’s off the mark from Scripture.

I think the concept of “God won’t give me more than I can handle” comes largely from Philippians 4:13, “I can do all thinks through him who strengthens me.”  This is everyone’s favorite Bible verse, right?  Everyone wants to be told, “You can do anything!”  And if we can find it written in a Bible verse, all the better!  But I think our problem is that, short as this verse is, we only read half of it. 

Let’s look at the verse in some context.  Paul writes, “I rejoice in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity.  Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.  I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:10-13).  Contentment is a different posture than buckling down to tough something out because you are strong.  Contentment in difficult circumstances is a posture of rest, trusting that God is working to accomplish His purposes and ultimately to glorify Himself.  

Paul says he can be content in every circumstance because God enables him to be content.  The danger of the “I can do all things” attitude is that at the end of the day, we still rely on our own strength.  We want God to give us the inner fortitude, but we still plan on doing the heavy lifting.  It’s a way for us to retain control.  But Paul can be content because he knows he is not the one in control.  Paul submits himself to the will of God, no matter what the circumstances, knowing that God will provide him with whatever is necessary.

  

I think we like the idea that God must think we’re strong if he’s willing to give us so much junk to deal with.  But thinking, “Wow, this weight I’m carrying must mean God really likes me!” is totally the antithesis of “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7).  Jesus said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).  The Gospel is that, actually, you aren’t strong enough, and you can never be strong enough. God is strong enough.  You are released from the responsibility of having to be strong.  You are released from the responsibility of figuring out a way to handle all of your mess on your own.  On the cross and through his resurrection, Jesus defeated everything that is wrong with this world.  So our responsibility is to look to the One who provides.  We lay the brokenness of our lives and the brokenness of our world at his feet.  We ask for forgiveness for ways we have contributed to brokenness and we ask Jesus to be Lord over our lives. 

Another verse comes to mind because it contains the phrase, “beyond what you can bear.”  In 1 Corinthians 10:13, Paul writes, “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind.  And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”  Paul has been warning his readers to stand firm against sin.  He reminds them that they are not unique in being tempted, that all people face similar temptations, and that God will provide them a way out of every temptation.  So once again we are reminded that God will fill up what we lack.  God provides the strength to endure temptation and make wise decisions.

I think when we are honest, we know that life is more than we can handle.  No matter how many times we repeat the words, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me,” many of us deal with things on a regular basis that are more than we can take.  Some of us continue to put one foot in front of the other, but we aren’t really living.  But a recurring theme throughout Scripture is that God is our provider.  Time and again, God stepped in to provide deliverance from enemies, food in famine, guidance for the lost, and healing for bodies, minds, and spirits.  Not only these, but He promises the constant presence of the God Who Sees (see Genesis 16).  Jesus died on the cross to redeem what is broken in our world.  We need to look to him as the only one who can supply what we need.  We need to cultivate our relationship with him so that we learn to trust his goodness and his sovereignty.  And when life is more than we can handle, we can stand confidently and rest contentedly in the care of the God who is our provision.  

I hear the Savior say, “Thy strength indeed is small.

Child of weakness, watch and pray; find in Me thine all in all.”

- Elvina M. Hall, “Jesus Paid it All”