The Ending Is a New Beginning (Week 52, August 20)
Readings
Zechariah 14
Revelation 21–22
Silent Reflection
Remarks
What is interesting when you read the prophetic and apocalyptic accounts of the new heavens and new earth is that they are anything but a static ending. Instead, the picture is of a dynamic creation, full of God’s original intent.
On one hand, it’s like we’ve gone back to the Garden of Eden in Genesis 1 and are seeing a do-over. You can feel the return to that original intent.
On the other hand, this is not a return to where we were, because so much movement has happened. We started in a garden, naked and completely from scratch. We end in a garden, but also in a city. You can feel the progress and the development that has taken place in God’s world. So this eschatological ending isn’t something that takes us back at all. It’s actually an affirmation of all the good that has been taking place in God’s world all along the way.
Like we looked at last week, the ending is a permanent expulsion of an intruder, not a wiping of hard drives. And of course we wouldn’t want to wipe them, would we? What if suddenly our moments of mercy and tenderness and generosity and celebration were erased from our memories? There is so much to keep—so much that should and will survive the purifying fire of God’s presence.
To state it another way, the ending actually feels like a new beginning. It feels like there is still so much more to come. Who knows what that actually looks like! The Bible doesn’t spend time mapping out the details, but it is fun to dream. We ought to spend more time cultivating the discipline of hopeful imagination.
The disciples were told that they would “reign” with Jesus on twelve thrones. While I think we often hear the idea through the lens of triumphant arrival and picture something more akin to the ending of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the idea of “reigning” is much more active and dynamic than that. It’s an idea that communicates participation; it conjures up memories of standing on the banks of the Red Sea, where the people of God exclaimed, “The Lord is reigning, forever and ever!” as they stood victorious over the Egyptians dead on the shore. The idea is that the people joined God in His reign.
We are told the lion will lie down with the lamb in a picture of perfect harmony within creation.
We are told every person will sit underneath their own vine and their own fig tree, with more than enough to go around and blessing to be enjoyed.
We are told there will be a city, and her gates will never be shut—no need for defenses.
We are told there will be a wedding. And if there is a wedding, then there is a marriage—an unending intimacy between bride and Groom.
We are told there will be a party, a banquet, a feast that is only ever just beginning.
We are told of an end—a door just barely cracked as we see the light of eternity shining through, because the end is really just a new beginning.
Silent Reflection
Response
Do an additional reading of 1 Corinthians 3:10–15.
What experiences from your life will last in the fire on the day of the Lord? We often say you can’t take it with you when you die, but actually there are things that won’t be destroyed by death—they will only be purified in the Age to Come. What are those things? Celebrate them and rejoice together.
Do an additional reading of 1 Corinthians 3:16–23.
What does this mean for your group? What are the takeaways for how this instructs you to conduct yourselves today?
Reflect on verses 21–23. What do you suppose this means?
Conclusion
Watch the Conclusion to Part D by Marty Solomon.
The Removal of the Intruder (Week 51, August 13)
Readings
Revelation 7
Revelation 14:1–5
Revelation 19:1–10
Silent Reflection
Remarks
In week 43, we reflected on the great “Hall of Faith” found in Hebrews 11. It’s incredible to think about all the people who have gone before us and decorated the pages of Scripture. Imperfect as they may have been, they persevered and trusted the story, waiting on a promise that they could only greet from a distance. And so, we’re told, it’s only together “with us” that their stories will be made complete. Just as we need their example to inspire us, they need our lives to carry forward their endeavor.
I once stood in an ancient arena with one of my teachers. He asked the group to picture different Bible characters sitting in those stands. Across the way, we saw Abraham and Sarah. In the next section, seated a little higher, David and Jonathan. Down in the front, Peter and his best friend John. And over there, Esther. And is that Deborah and Jael?
He then invited us to get more personal and consider the people who weren’t biblical characters, but had played major roles in our own faith and were no longer with us. Grandparents who had passed on their faith to our parents who passed on their faith to us. A mentor who invested in us years ago. That pastor from your childhood church. The woman who taught your Sunday School. A best friend who died too young.
“They all sit there, cheering you on, telling you to keep running. Don’t stop. Don’t give up. Finish the race; we all did.” It was one of the most moving moments I’ve ever experienced, sitting there on those ancient stones, seeing all those people in my mind’s eye.
Whenever I hear these passages out of Revelation, I always think of that same cloud of witnesses. Those multitudes who stand around the throne singing the Song of Moses to the Great Lamb. All those who gave their lives in persecution to preserve the faith. These were people who actually heard those words of John read aloud in their house church for the very first time.
It’s become cliché to talk about being part of something “bigger than ourselves.” But clichés don’t begin as clichés; they have to be repeated often enough to become them. And the reason they are, typically, is because they contain some kernel of truth. In this case, the fact of the matter is, no matter what we do or think, we really are part of something bigger than we could ever imagine. We all play our part to move God’s story along. I would imagine that someday, each of us will sit in those same stands, cheering on our own children and those who are coming behind us.
It may be good to spend some time remembering today.
Take a moment to sit and consider different people who have come before us. Consider the Bible characters. Consider those anonymous names known only to history and to God. Consider those who you knew personally. Remember them and think about the legacy they left behind. What does it mean to honor them with your own journey? And in this way, honor God.
Silent Reflection
Response
Have a few members share stories of someone who sits in their stands. Why are they an encouragement or inspiration to you?
What is the message you struggle to hear, but this cloud of witnesses has the ability to tell you with authority?
What are the things you hope people say about you when you sit in their stands one day?
Is there somebody who is not yet in your stands, but you know will be one day, and you need to reach out to them and encourage them and thank them for the way they walk their path of faithfulness?
A Great Cloud of Witnesses (Week 50, August 6)
Readings
Revelation 7
Revelation 14:1–5
Revelation 19:1–10
Silent Reflection
Remarks
In week 43, we reflected on the great “Hall of Faith” found in Hebrews 11. It’s incredible to think about all the people who have gone before us and decorated the pages of Scripture. Imperfect as they may have been, they persevered and trusted the story, waiting on a promise that they could only greet from a distance. And so, we’re told, it’s only together “with us” that their stories will be made complete. Just as we need their example to inspire us, they need our lives to carry forward their endeavor.
I once stood in an ancient arena with one of my teachers. He asked the group to picture different Bible characters sitting in those stands. Across the way, we saw Abraham and Sarah. In the next section, seated a little higher, David and Jonathan. Down in the front, Peter and his best friend John. And over there, Esther. And is that Deborah and Jael?
He then invited us to get more personal and consider the people who weren’t biblical characters, but had played major roles in our own faith and were no longer with us. Grandparents who had passed on their faith to our parents who passed on their faith to us. A mentor who invested in us years ago. That pastor from your childhood church. The woman who taught your Sunday School. A best friend who died too young.
“They all sit there, cheering you on, telling you to keep running. Don’t stop. Don’t give up. Finish the race; we all did.” It was one of the most moving moments I’ve ever experienced, sitting there on those ancient stones, seeing all those people in my mind’s eye.
Whenever I hear these passages out of Revelation, I always think of that same cloud of witnesses. Those multitudes who stand around the throne singing the Song of Moses to the Great Lamb. All those who gave their lives in persecution to preserve the faith. These were people who actually heard those words of John read aloud in their house church for the very first time.
It’s become cliché to talk about being part of something “bigger than ourselves.” But clichés don’t begin as clichés; they have to be repeated often enough to become them. And the reason they are, typically, is because they contain some kernel of truth. In this case, the fact of the matter is, no matter what we do or think, we really are part of something bigger than we could ever imagine. We all play our part to move God’s story along. I would imagine that someday, each of us will sit in those same stands, cheering on our own children and those who are coming behind us.
It may be good to spend some time remembering today.
Take a moment to sit and consider different people who have come before us. Consider the Bible characters. Consider those anonymous names known only to history and to God. Consider those who you knew personally. Remember them and think about the legacy they left behind. What does it mean to honor them with your own journey? And in this way, honor God.
Silent Reflection
Response
Have a few members share stories of someone who sits in their stands. Why are they an encouragement or inspiration to you?
What is the message you struggle to hear, but this cloud of witnesses has the ability to tell you with authority?
What are the things you hope people say about you when you sit in their stands one day?
Is there somebody who is not yet in your stands, but you know will be one day, and you need to reach out to them and encourage them and thank them for the way they walk their path of faithfulness?
The Perseverance of the Saints (Week 49, July 30)
Readings
John 15:18–20
Matthew 5:10–12
Matthew 24:9
2 Timothy 3:12
Luke 21:12
Colossians 1:24
1 Peter 4:12–13
1 Corinthians 12:12, 21, 26
Silent Reflection
Remarks
For this week’s gathering, we are going to do something different. Print out the following excerpts, cut them up, and pass them out among all the members at your gathering.
Have people silently read and reflect on what they see in their excerpt.
Then have people slowly share their portion out loud.
Excerpts
Polycarp, disciple of John, was once brought to the arena of Smyrna, tied to the stake and ordered to deny Christ and affirm the lordship and deity of Caesar. He replied, “For 86 years I’ve served Jesus and he has never wronged me in any way; how then, could I possibly curse my very King and Savior?”
The soldiers began piling wood around the stake and nailing down Polycarp’s limbs. He assured the soldiers, “Leave me as I am. The one who gives me the strength to endure the fire will also enable me to remain motionless against the stake without being secured.”
After allowing Polycarp time to pray, the soldiers lit the wood on fire.
———
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”
–The Apostle Paul (2 Timothy 4:7)
———
“Blessed ones, … you are about to pass through a noble struggle in which the living God is your manager and the Holy Spirit is your trainer. The prize is an eternal crown. … The prison does the same service for the Christian that the desert did for the prophet. … The leg does not feel the chains when the mind is in heaven.”
–Tertullian (AD 200)
———
The Prefect Rusticus says, “Approach and sacrifice, all of you, to the gods.”
Justin Martyr says, “No one in his right mind gives up piety for impiety.”
Rusticus threatens, “If you do not obey, you will be tortured without mercy.”
Martyr replies, “That is our desire, to be tortured for Our Lord, Jesus Christ, and so to be saved, for that will give us salvation and firm confidence at the more terrible universal tribunal of Our Lord and Savior.”
———
All the martyrs said, “Do as you wish; for we are Christians, and we do not sacrifice to idols.”
The Prefect Rusticus read the sentence: “Those who do not wish to sacrifice to the gods and to obey the emperor will be scourged and beheaded according to the laws.”
The holy martyrs, glorifying God, went to the customary place and were beheaded, consummating their martyrdom and confessing their Savior.
———
“Besides being put to death, [the Christians] were made to serve as objects of amusement. They were clad in the hides of beast and torn to death by dogs; others were crucified, others set on fire to serve to illuminate the night when daylight failed. Nero had thrown open his grounds for the display, and was putting on a show in the arena, where he mingled with the people in the dress of a charioteer or drove about in his chariot. All this gave rise to a feeling of pity, even toward men whose guilt merited the most exemplary punishment; for it was felt that they were being destroyed not for the public good, but to satisfy the cruelty of an individual.”
–Tacitus, Roman historian
———
“Men and women, young and old, maidens and matrons, soldiers and civilians, of every age and race, some by scourging and fire, others by the sword, have conquered in the strife and won their crowns.”
–Dionysius, Roman historian
———
“I am writing to all the Churches and I enjoin all, that I am dying willingly for God’s sake, if only you do not prevent it. I beg you, do not do me an untimely kindness. Allow me to be eaten by the beasts, which are my way of reaching God. I am God’s wheat, and I am to be ground by the teeth of wild beasts, so that I may become the pure bread of Christ.”
–Ignatius of Antioch (AD 108)
———
“From Syria even to Rome, I fight with wild beasts, by land and sea, by night and by day, being bound amidst ten leopards, even a company of soldiers, who only grow worse when they are kindly treated.”
–Ignatius of Antioch (AD 108)
———
A man in China once said, “The chains keep me from signing this.”
The officer protested, “But you are not in chains!”
“I am,” said the prisoner. “I am bound by the chain of witnesses who throughout the centuries gave their lives for Jesus Christ. I am a link in this chain. I will not break it.”
He was put to death.
———
In China, a sword was put to the chest of a professing believer. He was asked, “Are you a Christian?”
The man answered, “Yes.”
He would have been killed if an officer had not said, “Free him. He is an idiot.”
Someone later asked him, “How could you confess Christ with such courage?”
He replied, “I had read the story of Peter’s denial of Jesus, and I did not wish to weep bitterly.”
———
“If we died with Christ, we will live with him. If we don’t give up, we will rule with him. If we deny that we know him, he will deny that he knows us. If we are not faithful, he will still be faithful, for Christ cannot deny who he is.”
–The Apostle Paul (2 Timothy 2:11–13)
———
“I tell you this so you won’t be ashamed by my death. If you love me, you will rejoice that God has called me to this honor, which is greater than any earthly honor I could ever attain. Who wouldn’t be happy to die for this cause? I trust in my Lord God, who put His mind, will, and affection in my heart, and choose to lose all my worldly substance, and my life, too, rather than deny His known truth. He will comfort me, aid me, and strengthen me forever, even to the yielding of my spirit and soul into His hands.”
–Bishop Nicholas Ridley (burned at the stake in England, 1555)
———
In AD 258, Cyprian of Carthage declared, “This temporal and brief suffering, how shall it be exchanged for the reward of a bright and eternal honor!”
Blindfolding himself, he was beheaded under Emperor Valerian.
———
“Though beheaded, and crucified, and thrown to wild beasts, and chains, and fire, and all other kinds of torture, we do not give up our confession; but, the more such things happen, the more do others in larger numbers become faithful.”
–Justin Martyr
Silent Reflection
Response
What are your responses to the exercise? Graciously and compassionately debrief together.
Living Stones for a Living Hope (Week 48, July 23)
Readings
Isaiah 51:1–6
1 Peter 1:1–12
1 Peter 2:4–12
Silent Reflection
Remarks
It’s always been God’s plan from the opening chapters of Scripture. God was looking for a partner and He found a unique sojourner in the person of Abram. After watching humanity descend into chaos, after watching evil organize itself, even after the Great Deluge, God found the antidote to the evil that was ravaging all creation.
The antidote would take the form of an imperfect human who was willing to trust the story God was telling in the world and partner with Him to pursue justice and righteousness. God was so confident that partnering with humanity would not ultimately fail, He made a promise banking on it. He promised the great redemption project would be founded in normal people like Abram who were willing to believe in the impossible and lay down their lives on behalf of others.
Not only that, though. God made many more promises, continuing to bank on this partnership. And despite enormous human failures along the way, God wouldn’t quit. God kept making promises and kept calling the best out of Abram. Even centuries later, after this little family had become a great nation, turned into an empire, and fallen apart, even after they sat in exile in Babylon, the words of Isaiah the prophet called them back to this truth.
Look to the rock from which you were cut
and to the quarry from which you were hewn;
look to Abraham, your father,
and to Sarah, who gave you birth.
When I called him he was but one,
and I blessed him and made him many…
Isaiah says this call and this blessing will go beyond just this family. A few verses later, he references “the islands,” which is an allusion to the Gentile, outsider nations. Isaiah says, “the islands will look to me and wait in hope,” reminding us of the promise that God will bless all nations through Abram and his seed.
Centuries later, God’s people sat in the light of the resurrection shining in the darkness of persecution. They found themselves continually counting the cost and grieving the stories of those who paid the ultimate price. Why? Because they chose to do good. Because they stood against the lies and the imperial systems that oppressed their neighbor. They chose to show the world a better way.
“Live such good lives among the pagans,” Peter said to a world that was dying for this faith and this work. Yet Peter, and others, believed in a promise made to Abraham long, long ago with the words of Isaiah ringing in their ears: Look to Abraham, your father, and to Sarah, who gave you birth…
God had used them to build a nation that He promised would bless all nations—a nation through whom God said He would put the world back together. This family had seen drought and defeat, victory and triumph, hard times and blessing. They had seen a temple built and a temple destroyed.
But now Peter was suggesting God is building a new temple, and as people came to Christ, the Living Stone, they in turn would be used as living stones to build a temple—a spiritual house. And this temple would be the place where God lives. God would live in their midst, in their community, in their fellowship. And God would now work through them to put the world back together.
Peter called it “living hope.” It was not abstract and static. This hope was concrete and dynamic. This hope was experienced and real. And it was the promise of Abraham realized.
So now here we sit, almost 2000 years later, in the shadow of this great spiritual house. Yes, it may seem like an old house in disrepair, but the material required for the remodel is already here lying on the pavement. You are that material: a living stone. And as you, yes you, come to Him, the Living Stone—rejected by men, but chosen by God and precious to Him—you also will be built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, even now, in this time and place.
Silent Reflection
Response
As you consider the “spiritual house” God wants to dwell in, what do you see? Describe it to the group.
Do you see yourself as an integral part of God’s mission?
What are the defining characteristics of “the quarry of Abraham and Sarah”?
What is the one thing that you (as a group) can do this week to make sure the presence of God is living in your world? What does it mean to live such good lives among the pagans in your world? Do that and report back and debrief next week.
A Big IN, a Bigger FOR, and a Huge WITH (Week 47, July 16)
Readings
Genesis 50:15–21
Micah 7:8–13
Romans 8:18–39
Silent Reflection
Remarks
In all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
Romans 8:28 (NIV)
Does it ever make you wince? This verse from Romans 8 has been slung around so flippantly, so uncritically, so often—it can start to make you cynical. So many times, too many times, it’s been wielded as a catch-all approach to suffering, both small and great. It’s one of those verses that—although (possibly) theologically true—just seems to step out of bounds in some way.
There is deep truth here, though as is the case with many verses, it is difficult to catch in an English translation. I want to highlight three words that have stood out to me as I learned them from others: in, for, and with.
First, there is the idea of God working in all things. In John 5, when Jesus is discussing Sabbath with the Pharisees, he makes the statement that God is always at work and that He never stops working. This isn’t a detail about God’s relationship with the Sabbath; it’s a statement about God’s relentless, inseparable relationship with work that aims to set things right. No matter the circumstances, no matter the challenge or timeline, God is always at work in all things. That’s a big “IN.”
Second, we are told that in all those things that God is working in, He is committed to working for goodness. God isn’t just arbitrarily having fun with the details. He is committed to bringing about repair and restoration. And while the Text spends very little time trying to discern whether God caused or allowed the bad things to happen, it is very committed to expressing that whatever is happening, God is at work in all things for the good of all creation. This creation that groans for redemption, this creation of which you and I are a part of—God is for it. He is absolutely working in all things for the good. That’s an even bigger “FOR.”
But there’s an even bigger word, often translated away in many versions. It’s nowhere to be found in my old 1984 NIV (or the 2011 version, either). But it does contain a footnote that says the verse could easily be rendered as such:
And we know that in all things God works together with those who love him to bring about what is good—with those who are called according to his purpose.
Well now… hot dang! That’s a big grammatical shift, isn’t it? And it majorly changes what this verse means for us, doesn’t it? Some translations will try to catch this with by translating the idea that God works together for the good—but rendered without us as the object, it raises the question: together with what? Or whom? But consider where the conversation goes in the following verses and the next paragraphs.
For those God foreknew he also predestined…
The work God is doing in all things for the good is work He plans on doing with us as we are conformed into the likeness of Jesus. As Paul says in Ephesians, with those who are predestined for good works. Being “predestined” isn’t exclusively about privilege, and it’s not about who is in or out of whatever afterlife. It’s about responsibility and partnering with God. With this admittedly challenging call now placed on us, it makes sense that Paul would go on to talk about how we are more than conquerors and how nothing can separate us from His love. We’re going to need that reminder time and time again.
As we’ve been meditating on the Text the last few weeks, it sounds like you and I have an awful lot of work to do. Maybe we are going to have our belief in resurrection tested. Maybe we are going to need to take a look at our father Abraham as an example.
May we remember that God is at work in all things. And whenever God is at work and whatever God is up to, we can be confident that all His dealings and workings are for the good. But it’s also possible that this work needs a team, and that it’s able to accomplish a lot more for others when it finds a partner—when God is able to work with those who called according to His purpose and predestined to be conformed into the likeness of Jesus. And that’s a huge “WITH.”
So maybe this verse isn’t about how God is using your suffering or about trite explanations of how God is always going to make something good out of everything. Maybe this verse is actually a call to make sure we’re participating in the messy work of redemption. Because everything around us is groaning for it.
Silent Reflection
Response
Have the group use their different Bibles (or search the translations on their Bible apps) to find different renderings of this verse. What do you observe and hear?
Have the group identify a place where it’s hard to see what God is doing.
Talk about our belief that “God is always at work, so He must be doing something here.” Try to stay away from identifying what those things might be; just identify that He is.
Reaffirm together as a group that God is always working for the good; it can be as simple as turning to your left and right and saying, “God is always working for the good.”
Now consider if there is any way in which God is extending His hand, wanting to work with all of you.
… and now what?
The Faith of Abraham in the Light of the Resurrection (Week 46, Jul 9)
Readings
Genesis 15:1–8
Romans 4:13–25
Hebrews 11:1–3, 8–16
Silent Reflection
Remarks
Think about many of the ideas we followers of Jesus take for granted: that there is one Creator and God of the cosmos, that this God created humans and wants to partner with them to bring goodness to the world, that being human is first and foremost a matter of trusting the love this God has for us, and that this God is merciful and gracious. What if no one had ever told you these things? Further, what if you lived in a time and place where no one had ever told anyone these things? Enter the world of the gods of Abraham’s father.
Abraham truly was a man ahead of his time. Yes, his father, Terah, may have been a man leaving convention behind as he forged a way west out of Chaldea, but when the family stopped and settled in Harran, Abraham took his nephew and a wife and set out for even newer frontiers. Why? Apparently he heard a word from this strange new God whom neither he nor his father knew, and that was enough for him.
In his great work, The Gifts of the Jews, Thomas Cahill paints the picture of Abraham, a true pioneer who was aware of the fact that there was something much deeper going on in this universe. He trusted in some greater truths—or had a sense of a Greater Truth—that drove him to keep going. This pioneering spirit was coupled with a unique ability to truly see the needs of others and be selfless, and God capitalized on this unique opportunity by forming a partnership that would change the course of human history.
Abraham seemed to be able to see things that most of us wouldn’t be able to see throughout the next two millennia. Abraham was able to trust in a way that epitomized the idea of hope. From our perspective, with the advantages of history and a dash of divine revelation, things make more sense. We’ve come to expect a response of hopeful trust to God because we’ve heard how Abraham’s and many other stories turned out. But if you were in Abraham’s shoes, such drastic responses to a God hitherto unrevealed would be rash, illogical, and insane.
“Dear sir or madam, you’re 90, and you’re going to have a child.” What would anyone say to such a voice?
And Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.
This is the definition of hope. This is what trust looks like. And this is why Abraham is one of the most frequent examples of faithfulness in your New Testament. He had the ability to see potential and possibility against all odds, not as airy, cosmic forces, but because he had an unwavering trust in God when He said He would do something.
And all this in a world that hadn’t even seen a resurrection yet.
When the writers of the New Testament wanted to testify to the resurrected Christ and help the early Christian community understand what it meant to live as children of His resurrection, they held up Abraham as an example. When they wanted to illuminate what it meant to live as part of a new creation, they pointed back to Abraham.
Just as Abraham was able to hear God and trust in a better reality than the one that had been handed to him in Mesopotamia… Just as Abraham believed that maybe the whole cosmos was structured differently than our assumptions, differently even than our long-held beliefs… So we people of the empty tomb now live in a new and different reality. How much more should we be able to hear an incredible promise and trust God? How much more can we stare the deepest corners of darkness square in the face and walk in triumph? How much more can we endure as a testimony to the goodness of God and the new creation He is bringing forth?
Maybe this is at least part of the reason Paul insists on the acceptance of outsiders as—specifically—children of Abraham. Paul could have saved himself a lot of headache by simply shaping the story away from that statement, but he insists on it. Why?
This whole story we are a part of is built on promises, and Abraham is the father of trusting the promises. The promise of children to the infertile. The promise of blessing to all nations coming through God’s partner. (Is this why Paul insists on the acceptance of outsiders specifically as “children of Abraham”?) The promise of rescue to a nation of slaves. The promise of land to homeless wanderers. The promise of goodness at the foundation of the universe.
This has always been a story of promises. To see the promise, you only have to walk in hope, in trusting faithfulness. Yes, there is plenty to despair about in this world. There is plenty to lose hope over. But we are invited to be people who live in the hope of an Age to Come. As people who have witnessed a resurrection, we are invited to be people who live on the far side of death’s defeat.
And they believed God, and it was credited to them as righteousness.
Silent Reflection
Response
What is it that threatens to steal your hope?
What does the resurrection have to say about that?
If you imagine Abraham and Sarah sitting in our cloud of witnesses tonight, what do you suppose they would tell us?
As a group, think about some act or project (a service, a pilgrimage, a celebration) that can give testimony to the resurrection in your world. Plan and execute this idea before the year is up, and let it be a taste of the way we are invited to walk every day.
Empowered to Walk in the Truth of the Resurrection (Week 45, Jul 2)
Readings
Joel 2:28–32
John 14:1–14
Romans 6:1–10
Silent Reflection
Remarks
In the beginning, the Spirit of God hovered over the surface of the deep, over a world unformed and disordered. The Creator spoke a word through that Spirit and creation erupted into being. It was a powerful moment as the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God (angels?) shouted for joy.
As the story tells it, this same Spirit is that which God personally and intimately breathed into mankind at our creation. But not just once in the beginning. Throughout the scriptures, God continues to give this Spirit to various people in some kind of special way. This creative “energy” or “life-force” (thank you, BibleProject!) comes upon particular people in particular moments, like Samson and the other leaders in the book of Judges, or King David.
This same Spirit empowered the prophets to endure a special relationship with the Creator. Prophets didn’t simply articulate a message; by the Spirit they experienced the divine pathos and poured it out to His people. They stood up to kings and priests and spoke truth to power. They revealed the heart of a betrayed and jealous and longing God to a people who had cheated on and abandoned Him.
Then Jesus came and the same Spirit came upon him at his baptism, drove him out into the desert to be tempted, and compelled him to preach good news to the poor, heal the sick, cast out demons, and ultimately finish the work for which he was sent.
Then this same Spirit raised Jesus from the dead.
Before his death, Jesus told his followers about a coming time of ministry assisted and empowered by this Spirit, and he instructed them to stay in Jerusalem until it had been given to them. Could this have made much sense to his followers, either before his death or in the days that followed? Likely not, because explanations and instructions about this Spirit tend to fall short until one has experienced it. Which is why it was not until Pentecost that the lights came on for them. After that day, though, the same Spirit that created the world and empowered the prophets and raised Christ Jesus from the dead was now living in them together as a people.
The same Spirit, but with a new angle. No longer was this simply a Spirit given to a special anointed leader for a unique time. The resurrection had turned this Spirit loose. The curtain had been torn and God had changed addresses. He was now living in and through his people—the children of the resurrection.
And the resurrection certainly had changed everything, hadn’t it?
Things that we had always known for sure now had all sorts of question marks surrounding them. Until that moment, death was the most final, the most finite thing a person could experience. It was the great constant. There was nothing more real than death. But if death is now no longer as final as we thought it was…
Maybe hope has a whole new meaning.
Maybe this “new creation” is about more than just “not sinning as much now that I follow Jesus.”
Maybe this resurrection is really capable of changing everything about the world. Maybe all of creation is being renewed and this new way of living impacts all of our relationships and the way we use money and the way we engage the work of justice and the way we notice and see people. Maybe it eradicates our biggest fears and insecurities.
To phrase it in a more poetic way, Paul told the Romans, “We know that we also live with [Christ]. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God.”
Now that’s a thing! Think about all the things that belong to the order of death that you’d love to die to: all your mistakes, failures, struggles, hurts, and diagnoses. In the resurrection, you join Christ in putting all those things to death and walking in a new way, a new life—a resurrection. This Spirit empowers you to find a whole new reality and share it with others.
A life that sees hope where there should only be despair. A life that believes cancer or greed or abuse or sickness doesn’t get the last word; instead, the Spirit insists on healing and compassion and generosity and forgiveness and protection and justice. God’s people filled with the Spirit now stare the old order in the face and find they have a steely resolve, because we have been empowered as a people, together, by the same Spirit that came upon David and Joseph. The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead is raising all of us from our own tombs, as well.
And there’s a new creation bursting forth in the midst of this one.
Silent Reflection
Response
Where does the Order of Death have its talons in your life, or where does it threaten to define what you see?
What does a resurrected Christ have to say to that situation? What does Jesus, standing outside an empty tomb, have to say about the challenges you long to address in your life?
What about the challenges in your community? What does the resurrection invite—or even compel—us to do in response to chaos? What does the resurrection have to say to our local world?
Do you feel like you are empowered to address these things? If not (which is completely true much of the time), how do you feel? Jaded? Exhausted? Unconvinced? Defeated? Overwhelmed?
What is the next step that the resurrection invites us to take (first as individuals, then as a group)?
The Faithfulness of Christ (Week 44, Jun 25)
Readings
Isaiah 53:7–12
Philippians 3:7–14
Hebrews 2:9–18
Silent Reflection
Remarks
What does “faith in Christ” mean?
Easy question, right? Considering the most common appeal Christians make is to put your faith in Christ, we ought to have a simple, straightforward answer for it… Right? While the words we use vary quite a bit, many of us circle around the same basic idea: to have faith in Christ is to put our trust in the work of Christ and in the person of Christ Jesus. What does that mean? It gets a little murky here, but in response to that question, many of us would probably start talking about atonement theory, the work of Jesus on the cross, and the reality of the resurrection.
And we’d be right to talk about those things. They’re beautiful; we bless God for them.
But is that what Paul meant when he wrote “faith in Christ” (pistis Christou in the Greek)? From a literary or academic perspective, this gets trickier, and it may be that, while not necessarily untrue, the things we’ve assigned to the meaning of “faith in Christ” aren’t actually what Paul intended to communicate. First, we assume a lot of answers are firsthand biblical responses, but they are actually the result of centuries of theology—things Paul certainly would not have been leaning on when he wrote those words. Often, we default to an understanding of the phrase that’s actually credal and wouldn’t be defined in that way for another few centuries after the New Testament was written. Paul couldn’t be referring to that.
So what does the Greek mean? Well, it’s complicated (as Greek often is). The phrase can mean “faith in Christ” or “faith of Christ” or “the faithfulness of Christ” (and a few options in between). In some usages, the grammar forces a particular translation. There are times when “faith in Christ” is pretty much the only option. But what about the others? What about today’s reading from Philippians? What about the lively theological debate surrounding this same issue in Galatians?
We’ll leave the details of the debate to the scholars, but it does lead to a wider reflection of what the New Testament, at least in some places, might be calling us to—not to have only a theological “faith in Christ,” and to agree with certain things about him, but to have the faith of Jesus and to live our lives with the same trust with which Jesus lived. Because Jesus trusted the story, because he trusted God completely and perfectly with his life, he lived a life that wasn’t just sinless—it was an example without blemish.
Jesus’s faith was seen in his faithfulness. The Hebrew concept of “faith” is tightly connected to “trust.” Faith is an action word; it’s trust in action. Because he trusted, he was able to see others rather than himself. Because he trusted, he was able to embrace the interruptions. Because he trusted, he was able to pull away from the demands and find a quiet place. Because he trusted, he was able to stay silent when being provoked. Because he trusted, he was able to speak up when such a confrontation would create conflict. Because he trusted, he touched lepers and ate with sinners. Because he trusted, he was able to do miracles. Because he trusted, he was able to be patient as he shaped and taught his disciples. Because he trusted, he was able to suffer. Because he trusted, he was able to confront imperial power and religious corruption. Because he trusted, he was able to lay his life down on behalf of others daily—and ultimately.
This is “the faithfulness of Christ.”
So, when we read the phrase pistis Christou in our New Testament, we should reflect on what the apostolic author is calling us to beyond an intellectual affirmation of who Jesus was and what he accomplished on the cross. Sometimes pistis Christou is an invitation beyond thinking something about who Jesus was to actually living like Jesus lived. Sometimes it’s the observation that God actually does things with our faith, and does things with us through our faith. When we live like Jesus, God is able to move in us and through us.
So, again we’ll consider, what does pistis Christou mean?
Silent Reflection
Response
What does it mean to be justified by faith IN Christ? Reflect on what you hear and understand with that reading.
What does it mean to be justified by the faith OF Christ? Reflect on what you hear and understand with that reading.
What are the implications of this in how you understand your daily walk and apply what it means to follow Jesus?
Reflect on today’s reading from Hebrews (and maybe have someone read it again). What is the relationship between this passage of Hebrews and the discussion surrounding the faithfulness of Christ?
Radical Faithfulness (Week 43, Jun 18)
Reading
Hebrews 11:1 – 12:13
Silent Reflection
Remarks
None of this matters if we give up. And, make no mistake, the temptation to give up is unbelievably real. The very word radical is enough to remind us that remaining committed to this ancient rootedness is not easy. It looks crazy. It feels foolish. It sounds counter-intuitive. And, to be fair, from a certain point of view it is all those things.
If what we’re after is being on the winning side, then love feasts and the fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, and the rest—don’t seem like great prospects against the empires of the world, led by a great dragon commanding a multi-headed beast devouring everything in its path.
Yes, we have a new King and a new Kingdom, and yes, our King in Revelation goes to confront the dragon. At first, it seems promising. We hear a loud proclamation: “Behold! The Lion of Judah!” A real lion! The king of beasts! But in the eye of our imagination, reality sets in: what can a lion really do against a dragon and his beasts?
It gets worse. Our lion, it turns out, isn’t really a lion at all. We hear the proclamation of a majestic lion, but when we turn to look with our eyes, what we see is a lamb. And not only that, but a lamb “standing as though slain.” To reference some of our favorite British fiction, what the cosmic battle of the ages essentially comes down to, then, is Smaug the Dragon vs. Shaun the Sheep. What hope do we in this new Kingdom have of being on the winning side now?
None, it turns out.
But winning, it turns out, is not what true victory is about in this Kingdom.
The Apocalypse of John in the book of Revelation is an invitation to consider what we truly believe about power. Is Dragon Power really power? Laying waste to everything in your path sure can strike a lot of fear and get a lot of compliance, but can it truly change the heart? Can it inspire love? Or is that what happens when someone is sacrificed for? When they are shown grace? The Power of the Slain Lamb risks everything. It risks being rejected, trampled on, rebelled against, despised, or even simply unnoticed altogether. But it is the only power that is really real, able to cast the mountain of a stone heart into the sea.
Revelation is a call to believe this power, this grace, this love and sacrifice, and to live faithfully out of it despite all our eyes are telling us. If we’re honest, this is a very difficult thing to do, and the perseverance required is massive. Thankfully, it’s not something we are ever asked to do alone.
The great “Hall of Faith” reminds us of the stories of all those who have run the race before us. The writer of Hebrews reminds us that there have always been faithful, persevering people going far back into the past who chose to lean into the unlikely Power of the Slain Lamb. The character of the people in this hall is itself a testimony to this subversive power. See, the Hall of Faith is not a list of perfect people with immaculate résumés and shiny trophy rooms. This isn’t a list of characters who wore capes.
They are people who had unbelievable struggles and were far from perfect. They were people of faith and people of failure. They were also finishers. They ran the race to the end. They kept the faith. They continued the story. They do that even now, we are told, as they go on forming a great cloud of witnesses around us, cheering us on and reminding us that our faith and our failures and our struggles and our victories and our trials and our temptations—they’re worth it. “Don’t give up. Don’t give in. Keep running.”
The Slain Lamb might look like a colossal failure, and in one sense He is, but in a much deeper and realer sense, He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Creator of the Universe, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. We are told the heavenly hosts surround this Prince of Peace and sing the Song of Moses for all of eternity.
Yes, there is a new King and a new Kingdom. They are the hope of the world. Life, not death. Hope, not despair.
And so we remind ourselves that radical community is very difficult. We acknowledge it will feel like too much work and commitment.
And we remind ourselves that sharing all we are and all we have with others will seem like a fruitless endeavor that doesn’t work.
We remind ourselves today that radical inclusion is unbelievably messy and difficult and raises a ton of questions. It is so much cleaner and effective and efficient to create rules and structures and traditions to define who is truly in and exactly how to be them.
And yet, we remind ourselves, in full light of all of that, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain!” We must remain faithful because the proclamation of a new King, the building of a new Kingdom, and the declaration of the Good News depends not on our being able to explain it and define it, but to live it out with passion. Whenever we find it hard to remind ourselves, may we remember the great cloud of witnesses, who remind us by their lives, who gave up the efficient and the easy and the clean for a better city, and who await our part in this grand narrative. May we see that only together with our faithfulness will theirs be made perfect.
Silent Reflection
Response
Have somebody in the group look at each member and say, “Radical community is very difficult; it will feel like too much work.” Have each member respond with, “Faithfulness, with the help of God.”
Have somebody else in the group look at each member and say, “Sharing with each other will feel fruitless and ineffective.” Have each member respond with, “Faithfulness, with the help of God.”
Have someone else in the group look at each member and say, “Radical inclusion is messy; it will raise questions that are hard to answer.” Have each member respond with, “Faithfulness, with the help of God.”
Have another in the group look at each member and say, “At times we will be tempted to return to Egypt and the pots of meat, to the leeks and melons and cucumbers of systems and traditions and structure, and we know those do not breathe life into dry bones.” Have each member respond with, “Faithfulness, with the help of God.”
Radical Inclusion (Week 42, Jun 11)
Readings
Genesis 12:1–3
Isaiah 42:1–9
Acts 10:9–38, 44–48
Silent Reflection
Remarks
This “radical” return to the roots of our faith’s expression is not simply an extreme commitment to taking care of others’ physical needs. Though this practice may have been the way for others to see the truth of the community’s faith most immediately and practically, by itself it was not what gave this community its power.
The power came from the Holy Spirit, living and moving in and through God’s people. The Spirit bore fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. This fruit was expressed in many ways: feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the sick, visiting the prisoner—these were all practical expressions of the fruit of the Spirit that we reflected on (and experienced) last week. But this fruit was manifested in many other ways, as well.
One of those ways was this early community’s commitment to radical inclusion. They offered a place of belonging to anyone needing it. This belonging, love, and acceptance came free of charge and with no strings attached. People did not have to say a prayer, go through a ritual, pass a test, or demonstrate a certain level of morality to receive the embrace of this Spirit-empowered community. As new “initiates” found their way into public commitments to this community, we do find some systems that were set up to aid their commitment to a new Kingdom—we can read about some of their early understandings in places like the Didache.
But the family, the acceptance, the belonging, the embrace itself was available to anyone, and it was offered to those who found themselves on the outside looking in. This community was growing and stretching its arms far beyond what they had imagined God desired. But they let God lead them to new understandings, they tested these leadings against the teachings of Christ and the ministry he modeled, and then they pursued the same.
This New Testament Jewish community understood God’s mission was to be a light to the Gentiles, to spread blessing to all nations, and to partner with God in the repair of the world.
But they also knew they had commitments, tradition, and structure. They had things that held their experience of worship together, things that made sure they didn’t compromise their vision of God. This devotion to tradition and the truth of God wasn’t inherently bad, but it became twisted, so God showed up and informed them that they had allowed these commitments and structures and traditions to get in the way of the most central parts of His mission. They had let some well-reasoned assumptions disrupt the desires God had for their walk.
As an example, God wanted them to have a commitment to clean food so they could understand their own “set apartness” for the mission. But God never desired for this missional identification of food to spill over into categories of cleanliness for people. People were always the mission from Day One. People, not some abstract code of morality, were the very reason this structure existed in the first place. The mission was always about people. It seems we still have a tendency to forget this.
So it might surprise us to read that, when God reminded His new, Spirit-filled leaders about this and corrected them, they listened. They changed. They grew. This movement wasn’t just for the set apart. It wasn’t just for the Jew, it was for the Gentile too. It wasn’t just for the free, but also for the slave. It wasn’t just intended for men, but also for women. This new Kingdom was good news for everybody.
What might not surprise us to find out is that this was not easy. It didn’t happen overnight, and it involved a lot of stress, frustrated conversations, and disagreement. Nevertheless, the people remained committed to the mission. They would not be shaken.
There was a new King.
There was a new Kingdom.
This pronouncement was called a gospel—a good news.
And, as I once heard one of my teachers say, if this gospel isn’t good news for everybody, then it isn’t good news for anybody.
Silent Reflection
Response
Practically speaking, is there anybody who this gospel is not for in your community?
Could you honestly say that any person would be welcome in this community? (This assumes their acceptance of mutual love and respect.)
What do you do about the answers for the previous two questions? Celebrate? Make adjustments? Confess/repent?
What group feels most neglected from this gospel experience? What group lacks accessibility to this Eucharist Table?
What are some ways in which you can increase that accessibility and include those who are excluded?
If the Kingdom were here in its fullness today, would it look like our group?
Radical Commitments to Radical Community (Week 41, Jun 4)
Readings
Leviticus 25:8–55
Isaiah 61
Acts 2:42–47; 4:32–37
Silent Reflection
Remarks
Radical is an interesting word.
As somebody who was born in the early 80s, grew up with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and wore Hammer Pants of many neon colors, the word radical has meant many things to me. Edgy slang. Cartoon catchphrase. Awesome fashion.
As others have pointed out, the term shares an etymological lineage with the word radish (a despised root vegetable of my 80s childhood years). To be radical, then, is to be rooted. While we often use it in reference to people who are “out there” on the fringes, the term actually refers to somebody who is deeply rooted in what is true—what has been around for a long time. Despite our common misunderstanding that to be radical is to be on the fringes, it’s actually nearer to the core. Radical is something old, not something new.
I have no doubt that a true practice of our faith, one that really stuck close to our faith’s “roots,” would be seen as largely fanatical in our culture today. These ancient followers of Jesus were so committed to each other that they were willing to give up anything for others. They sold their possessions, shared their wealth, gave their time, and made the thriving of their neighbor their number one priority. They regularly sacrificed comfort, privilege, power, and leisure for no reason other than to bless others. And not only that—they counted it as pure joy to do so.
One example noted by more than one historian is the practice of “love feasts.” Apparently, early believers would gather for feasts where they celebrated the belonging of all people from all socioeconomic realities and sought to make sure the Kingdom was realized by and in everyone present. Before anyone would eat, they would make sure everyone’s needs were met.
Not enough food? We’ll be covering the groceries.
Nowhere to stay? You may stay with us for as long as you need.
Your mother is sick? We’ll help share the load of caring for her.
Only when all the needs of the room were met would anybody take a bite of food. Often this celebration came with the practice of “breaking bread.” While this term has obvious connections to the celebration of the Eucharist for early Jesus followers, the expression also predates that practice and has more political overtones and understanding. Since the days of Caesar Augustus, the emperors would often practice what was called “bread and circus,” where the imperial representatives would come through your city providing free bread and other resources. They did this to make a statement that the empire is providing for you and taking care of you.
To word it another way: Caesar is bringing us peace.
But most saw this for the sham that it was, and these early believers took bread and “broke” it, making a statement that Caesar does not provide for our needs, God does—through us, to each other.
You see, these early believers came proclaiming a gospel not merely with their words, but with their lives. This was an announcement of a new King and a new Kingdom. And if there was a new King, that meant it wasn’t Caesar. And if there was a new Kingdom, that meant it wasn’t Rome. It meant there was a new order, a new economy, a new reality bursting forth in the midst of this Roman one.
But this experience could only have happened if these early believers were committed to a different value system with different priorities. This pronouncement would be empty if it wasn’t accompanied by a different practice. Jesus the Bread of Life was made real in the bread breaking at early Christian love feasts. His love was truly experienced when his followers chose to live out a new narrative—one not built on self-preservation, one that did not step on others to advance. This new Kingdom ran on the fuel of self-sacrifice and a lifting up of those found below us.
And this was good news.
Silent Reflection
Response
Consider practicing your own “love feast” as a group. Have a meal, but before you eat, make sure everyone’s needs are met. At first, this can be uncomfortable because we have been taught to feel shame at exposing our needs. After that, it can feel tricky as we have to evaluate what real and true “needs” are before we share. Once we start to share, this can be unbelievably overwhelming—medical bills, late rent, therapy appointments, child care… How can we address all these needs? Yet, whenever I’ve been in similar spaces, the people of God have never failed to come through and have enough. Consider giving it a shot with your own group and then thinking critically and discussing what the exercise evokes in you as individuals and a group.
Giving God a Chance (Week 40, May 28)
Introduction
Watch the Introduction to Part D by Marty Solomon and Elle Grover Fricks.
Readings
1 Samuel 17:26–50
John 20:19–31
Acts 2:1–12
Silent Reflection
Remarks
It’s a difficult thing to piece together the post-resurrection timeline in the Gospel accounts. There are so many incredible stories about what happens between Jesus’s resurrection and ascension. While many of the other stories remain consistent between Matthew, Mark, and Luke, the synoptics vary quite a bit when it comes to what they record of what follows the resurrection. So just how does the timeline work?
While it’s worth acknowledging that ultimately we may never know, it’s nevertheless worth wondering about. As the stories go, it seems that after the crucifixion, the disciples retreated to the Essene home they had been in just before Jesus was killed. Not only that, but even to the very same upper room in which they observed the Passover. They stayed there, understandably scared for their lives, trying to understand what just happened. We read this account in John.
When Jesus was found in the garden by Mary, she was told to go and tell the disciples to meet him at the mountain in Galilee. But they were stuck in that upper room, not going anywhere. They heard the report, but they didn’t believe it. Even after Peter and John investigated, they appeared to be stuck behind those locked doors. I am reminded of how many times I stay locked behind closed doors, playing it safe in my spiritual life in the face of fear.
If all of those disciples are behind locked doors, who is Mary supposed to go and tell? There must have been others. Some who took a road to Emmaus and had dinner with the resurrected Christ. Others who weren’t hiding in that same upper room with the Twelve. Or did the forty-day “teaching on the Kingdom” happen in that upper room, behind locked doors?
Eventually the disciples muster what it takes to leave. They head out to the Galilee and meet Jesus on the mountain where they receive the Great Commission—which, as it turns out, may not be the Mount of Olives where the Ascension happens. I used to think the Great Commission and the Ascension happened in the same place, but then my teacher pointed out to me what the Text actually says (and doesn’t say). So, which mountain did they go to? Mount Arbel? Mount Hermon? I like to imagine these disciples heading back to Mount Hermon, all the way to the northernmost point of Jesus’s ministry. At several days’ journey, this would have forced them to walk back through their entire experience with Jesus in a very real and geographical way, passing the places where Jesus ministered, reliving all the moments of joy and sorrow and confusion and wonder, now having to reconsider them all in light of the resurrection on their way back to Jerusalem.
And when they got there, what did they do? Did they go straight to the Mount of Olives for the Ascension? How soon after that did the day of Pentecost happen? Days? Hours? Did they go back to the upper room? Did they secure themselves behind locked doors again? Or did the journey past all the places of ministry embolden them?
At the end of the day, we simply can’t be sure. But eventually they showed up at the Temple for Pentecost. Have we ever considered how hard that would be for them, showing themselves in public for the first time after their infamous leader had been executed? It’s easy to imagine the shame and ridicule they must have feared. Even if they had seen the risen Christ, the embarrassment would have been palpable. After all, who was going to believe this tale?
I picture them showing up for the festival with shawls on and hoods up, trying to remain unseen, hoping nobody would point them out.
Either way, though, they showed up.
And in the end, there would be no such secrecy, because the very fact that they were willing to show up meant God was able to go to work. And when God went to work that day, there was no hiding it. What this tells me is that God can and will do unbelievable things in spite of me, my fear, my hiding, and my locked doors—but what He wants in order to put His grace on display in an unforgettable way is for me to head out to the Temple courts and let Him get to work through me.
Silent Reflection
Response
Close your eyes and consider what it must have been like to walk to the steps of the Temple that day with the disciples. With your eyes closed, give one-word descriptions of how it feels to be there in your mind.
Consider the places God is calling His Church to engage today. What are some of those places? Where are the places God needs His people to show up in order to use them?
Now pick one of those places. Close your eyes again and show up to that place in your mind. With your eyes closed, give one-word descriptions of how it feels to be there.
Now, discuss. Repeat the exercise if meaningful to the group.
What are some ways in which you feel as though you are playing it safe in your life right now?