He suggests that we can read any particular passage in light of both covenant and kingdom. While biblically and theologically covenant and kingdom are definitely overlapping realities (and I wouldn’t want to stress the difference between the two nearly as much as Breen does), I think his distinctions can be helpful for us in our personal reading of Scripture.

The word “covenant,” Breen suggests, focuses on our relationships with God and each other, while the word “kingdom” points to the responsibilities we have in representing God’s interests in the world.

Both are referred to in today’s Hebrews reading: “And so [Christ] is mediator of a new covenant….” And then, “But now he has appeared once and for all at the consummation [i.e. coming of the kingdom] of the ages….“

In addition to relationship/responsibility, other words to describe the difference between covenant and kingdom might be:
connection/commission
affection/authority
communion/consummation

Some of us are more naturally bent toward a covenant or relationship emphasis when we read the Bible. Others may tend to zero in on our kingdom responsibilities. By keeping both these words before us, maybe we can strike a better balance in our listening to God and hear more of what he has to say to us.

As biblical people, we need to remember that our relationship with God is always connected to our place in the Story. That’s why covenant and kingdom are two sides of the same coin. So when Jesus called his disciples to live with and learn from him, he also told them that he was going to make them fish for people. Their communion with Jesus was intertwined with their role in the consummation of the age.

Good food for thought, I think, that may help us read Scripture in a more meaningful and fruitful way.

Sorry, but I beg to disagree. I think some of us want the fruits of growing, but not the growing itself. That’s because growing always – let me say it again, always – requires suffering, and more than suffering, death. Jesus himself said that a seed has to fall into the ground and die before it can bear fruit. And he was talking about himself. It was Jesus that the writer of Hebrews was referring to in today’s lectionary: “Although he was a son, he learned obedience through the things he suffered.“

Again, some of us want the fruits of growing, but I don’t think anyone wants the growing itself. I think we all do quite a bit to resist growing, either consciously or unconsciously. And it’s probably time we admitted it.

I love reading books about growing. I’ve pretty much convinced myself that reading books about growing will make me grow. Books about growing spiritually can make me think I’m growing, which may be the greatest deception of all – to think I’m growing, when I’m not; to think I really, really want to grow, when I really don’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I think books are good, especially good books. It might be my professional prejudice (not to mention my need for an income) speaking, but I also think that sermons can help us grow. Certainly reading the Bible can be a catalyst for growth. But none of these can do the growing for us. The seeds or potential for growth can only take place in the soil of our everyday lives. It’s there that we ‘learn obedience through suffering.’ I don’t know anyone who wants to suffer, which is why I don’t think anyone wants to grow. Again, it’s the fruits of growing that we want.

And sometimes we don’t even want the fruit: “Now this is the basis for judging: that the light has come into the world and people loved the darkness rather than the light.” A part of us is afraid that the new self might be boring compared to our old self. We’ve become quite attached to old desires and the old order. The New Creation is something we don’t mind looking forward to in the next life, but we’d prefer to have a tad bit more of the old creation before we have to let go of it altogether.

So I think most of us, no all of us, are at best spiritual schizophrenics. It’s like that great spiritual teacher Yogi Berra once said: “When you come to the fork in the road, take it.” We don’t mind being slightly altered (as long as it’s not too painful), but a complete transformation is out of the question. And you can just forget about our taking up our cross daily (Luke 9:23) to follow and learn from Jesus. Because if we did, well, it’s like the writer of Hebrews said, we’d all “in fact be teachers by now.”

And that would be too bad, because then I might be out of a job.

And it’s surrounded by controversy.

I mean, what’s God doing using astrology to announce his Son’s birth? Astrology is a forbidden practice in the Old Testament, and is always seen in a negative light. The Hebrew word for astrology literally means “divining by the heavens.” In Leviticus 19:26 we read, “Do not practice divination or sorcery.” Just this week I talked with a friend whose mind was twisted into a spiritual knot because of what a Christian astrologer told him. He had no idea, being a young Christian, that “Christian astrologer” is an oxymoron.

So how do I explain how God got the attention of the Magi? (I was glad my friend didn’t think to ask.)

And then there’s what happened because the Magi stopped in Jerusalem to get their bearings for the last leg of their journey. It’s because Herod found out about the reason for their quest that all those little boys got murdered in Bethlehem.

(Can we just jump to Lent?)

Since the day is already so controversial, I thought I would toss in a couple more thoughts to stir the pot. They have to do with what Epiphany teaches us about the mission of the church.

For some readers of this blog, the issues that I’m about to raise aren’t on your radar, and may hardly stir any interest much less any controversy. If you’re one of them, feel free to take a nap while pretending to read this unusually long (even for me) post. Other people may be aware that the issues I’m raising are related to why the larger church of Christ, including the Reformed Church in America, is so divided. I expect that some of my good friends, people whose ministries I respect and appreciate, will disagree with me. I hope to learn from their responses (if any of them happen to read this).

The word “missional” is an adjective that’s used a lot these days. Any church that’s really “the church” is supposed to be missional. I like the word, and would agree that if a church isn’t missional… well, let’s just say it has a lot of explaining to do.

What does it mean to be missional? I sense that we usually use the word to refer to churches that are outward focused, engaging in ministry with and for people outside the church. The meaning is that general and that vague. I get the impression that what the mission is matters less than having a mission.

And that’s certainly a step in the right direction. I mean, the word “mission” does mean to be “sent.”

Of course, in order to be sent, someone has to do the sending. To be truly missional, biblically speaking, doesn’t mean to send ourselves. It means to be sent by God. As Christians, it seems appropriate that we do the specific things Christ sent us to do — not just the things we would like to do, or things that strike us as a good idea.

So what did Jesus send us to do? His parting words to his disciples were to go into all the world in order to bear witness to his resurrection and lordship (Acts 1:8), as well as to call people of all nations to become his disciples, get baptized in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and learn how to live like kingdom people (Matthew 28:18-20).

That, as I see it, is the mission. As I read the book of Acts and the rest of the New Testament, that’s how the early church seemed to understand its mission as well. It’s because they carried out this mission, and Christians after them carried out this mission, that pretty much everyone reading this blog is a Christian today.

The fact that Epiphany follows so closely on the heels of Advent and Christmas supports this emphasis. Here are these magi, Gentile magi, Gentile astrologer magi (oy vey!), traveling what seems to have been a considerable distance, at great risk and expense, to acknowledge and worship Jesus Christ as Lord.

End of story. Yes, that’s how the story is going to end, with every knee bowing and every tongue confessing that Jesus is Lord (Philippians 2:9-11).

So what again is our mission? To do what Jesus said, which is to bear witness to the risen Christ, make full-fledged disciples of Christ, learning from Christ himself how to live in the kingdom of Christ, or the kingdom of God. Granted, there are a lot of things that need to happen for this mission to happen – things like Christlike living on the part of those delivering the message, authentic worship, strong, vital Christian communities, ministry to the poor, coming to the aid of the oppressed and, of course, verbally and creatively communicating the gospel. While each of these is important in themselves, in this brief time between the two comings of Jesus, their between-ages-designed purpose is to help accomplish the mission – which, in short, is to bring people under the lordship of Christ.

In a recent post, New Testament scholar Scot McKnight suggested that the church has often become divided between those who focus on justification and those who focus on justice. But the primary focus of the New Testament is on neither. It’s on Jesus.

According to Paul, through our baptism, we’ve died, been buried, been resurrected and been raised to heaven where we are seated with Christ. So what on earth are we doing on earth? We’ve been sent to bear witness to the risen Christ who is our life and is the world’s only true hope.

Part of our mission is to tell (and show) the world where everything is headed – New Creation, new heaven and new earth, when “all things in heaven and on earth [will be brought] under one head, even Christ” (Ephesians 1:10). But again, everything eventually points to Christ, which makes Christ the point.

That’s why Jesus said, “Follow me.” That’s why he said, “I am the way, the truth and the life.” That’s why Paul and the rest of his compatriots were forever calling people to repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus.

“It is Christ whom we proclaim, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone complete in Christ. To this end I toil and struggle with all the energy he powerfully works within me” (Colossians 1:28-29).

Okay, here comes the controversial part (at least for mainliners in my neck of the woods). I don’t believe that our mission is do justice. One of the reasons I believe many of our churches aren’t growing is because we’ve made justice our mission. (There are clearly other reasons as well, such as clinging to our old wineskins.) And because we’ve made justice our mission (I say “our” partly because this used to be how I understood the mission), we aren’t doing justice to the mission Christ sent us on. What’s more, our neglect to carry out the mission Christ sent us on means that we’re not even doing justice as well as we could.

As I see it, social justice isn’t our mission, but one of the ways we carry out our mission.

Another way to put it is that social justice is our mandate (which obviously suggests that it’s not only important but imperative), not our mission. I really don’t mean to be splitting hairs. I believe that what we call our “mission” will affect how we carry out and evaluate the many mandates that Christ has given us. For example, I believe that as Christians we are mandated to worship God, but I don’t see worshiping God as our mission. On the other hand, keeping focused on our mission will influence how we worship God.

Another mandate Christ gave us is for Christians to learn how to love one another. It’s a mandate, but not our mission. Our mission gives this mandate a particular urgency that I sense most churches lack, because they’re neglecting or forgetting the mission.

Likewise, living just lives among ourselves and planting seeds of justice in the world is a clear biblical mandate from beginning to end. (One could say that justice is basically helping  people love one another.) But it’s not our mission.

As I see it, all of the above come under the sphere of the Great Mandate, or Great Commandment — which is to love God with our whole being and love our neighbor as ourselves.

But love isn’t our mission, it’s our mandate. I believe that forming a healthy, strong body of Christ is absolutely essential for our mission; but it’s not the mission either. I plan on spending a lot of time talking about “the body”and experimenting with ways to be the body over the next year at Bellevue Reformed Church. For example, a Thursday night group called “Seekers” will start to meet together weekly on January 19 in order to explore and practice what it means to be the body of Christ.

But creating a healthy body itself is not the mission, it’s a mandate. When this “body work” is done with the mission in mind, it becomes an integral part of the mission. In fact, the mission can’t be carried out without this particular mandate being fulfilled and obeyed. The same can be said for working for social justice. Without obeying the Great Commandment, we’re putting ourselves out of position to fulfill our mission, which is the Great Commission. By themselves, neither creating vital Christian communities nor working for social justice are the mission. They are two of the essential ways we carry out our mission.

The mission of the church isn’t the Great Commandment, it’s the Great Commission. I know that sounds narrow, simplistic and old-fashioned. Of course, both are important, but in this time-between-the-times, we always carry out the Great Commandment with the Great Commission in mind. That’s what it means to be missional. Yes, we worship, we love one another, and we work for justice because each of these is important in themselves. But the primary reason we do them now, before Jesus comes back, is to point one another and the world to Jesus and his kingdom. And not just to point, but to invite people to come to Jesus.

The mandates are forever, but the mission is for now.

That doesn’t mean we just try to get people to say “the prayer.” We also get them baptized, and we teach them what Jesus taught, and join them in carrying out Jesus’ mandates and mission. If we stop with getting pre-believers to say “the prayer,” we haven’t completed our mission at all. In fact, it’s been aborted. The same is true for getting people baptized. Until people are revolving their lives around Jesus Christ as Lord — which includes worshiping with other believers, becoming actively involved in the body of Christ, and caring for the poor of body and spirit — the mission isn’t complete.

Likewise, if we make some inroads against the injustice in our world and never talk about Christ or invite people to follow him, we haven’t completed our mission. Sometimes social justice folks say that our call is to be faithful, not successful. But as followers of Jesus, we have yet to be faithful if we haven’t at least given people a chance to respond to Christ himself. Until then, our social justice work is incomplete. Social justice is important in itself, but within the kingdom in this time between the times, social justice is not (just) an end in itself. The same is true for all the mandates (whether they have to do with morality, family, healing, being the body or salting society).

Without our obeying the mandates of Christ, our mission will lack substance and appeal. But if we neglect the ultimate objective of the mission altogether, then our obedience to the mandates of Christ will have missed the point, the ultimate point of why we’re doing all this now, before Jesus comes back.

Yesterday’s gospel reading highlights both the mandate and the mission. First the mandate: “Here is my servant whom I have chosen, the one I love, in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will proclaim justice to the nations.” Then the mission: “In his name the nations will put their hope.” In his name. The hope of the nations is not in justice itself, but in the “name” of the one who alone can bring about lasting justice. The good news we proclaim to the poor is the good news of both Jesus and his kingdom.

As far as justice itself is concerned, the metaphors that Jesus uses suggest modest aims – our being the salt of the earth and the light of the world (a city on a hill). We don’t think for a moment that we will turn this world or even a single neighborhood into a completely just society. It’s all we can do to be a just society ourselves within our little Christ communities. But we also salt the environments where we live, work, play, learn, vote and volunteer with our little granules of mercy and seeds of justice; yes, because of our mandate, but also and ultimately because of our mission.

The mandates are forever, but the mission is for now.

A soft whisper. A still small voice. The “sound” of silence. How and where Elijah experienced God after his battle with the prophets of Baal and close escape from the queen.

As I read these words in yesterday’s Old Testament reading, my mind went to “The Hut,” a small, single room cabin I used to visit for monthly overnight retreats. It’s on the property of a retreat center in Three Rivers, Michigan called The Hermitage. No electricity, no indoor plumbing, just a wood stove to ward off the winter chill. The Hut stands by itself in the woods, about a half-mile from the main retreat complex.

After reading the lectionary yesterday, for “some reason” my mind pictured The Hut and I wrote something about The Hut in my journal. When I checked my Facebook page a little later, I found a message from a friend in Kalamazoo telling me that Gene Herr had died the previous day. Gene and his wife Mary were the founders of The Hermitage. Gene used to be my spiritual director, and both Gene and Mary conducted Sharon’s and my wedding ceremony.

Gene was a gentle soul. He was also a Mennonite. Mennonites tend to be active people, very practical. Gene and Mary, after many years of being pastors and denominational staff, felt the call to help lead their denomination to that place of stillness which Elijah experienced. They enlisted the help of a friend with Amish roots to reconstruct an old barn into a retreat house (photo on right). The retreat center became a place for thousands of people from many denominations to draw apart and encounter God. (Gene’s obituary states that there will be both a Mennonite memorial service as well as a Catholic funeral mass, which is reflective of Gene and Mary’s ecumenical spirit.)

After many years of not thinking about it, the picture of The Hut has surfaced often in my meditation lately. Sharon and I will be spending a few days at Fowler’s Vrede Prayer Cabin next week where we hope to hear the “sound” of silence, the soft whisper of our Creator and Lord.

Thing is, the apostle Paul probably had at least as many reasons to feel frustrated, embarrassed and angry. Frustrated because he had to spend a lot of time in prison, and couldn’t “go to church,” and because the churches he’d planted were constantly plagued by heresies, divisions, personality conflicts and competing agendas. Numerical growth was slow. Mostly they were immature.

But the apostle Paul just keeps reminding the churches of their call — their call to be the body of Christ. For Paul, no matter what the chances of success, this is too high a calling to neglect, too high not to pour out one’s life for. (It is the body of Christ, after all.) Today’s epistle passage reads: “As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Become completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit…” (Ephesians 4:1-4a). Make every effort. Paul says that, while recognizing that our efforts aren’t nearly enough. This passage is preceded by the words, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us….”

Then there is today’s gospel reading — the feeding of the 5000. In John’s gospel, this story clearly has sacramental overtones. (A little later in the same chapter Jesus will refer to himself as the bread of life.) Initially, Jesus asks his disciples to do the impossible; find a way to feed 5000 people — now. All they can come up with is this little kid’s lunch. Ends up, our poverty is Jesus’ opportunity. After everyone is fed and satisfied, Jesus tells his disciples, “Gather the pieces (literally, “broken pieces”) that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.” These broken pieces manage to fill twelve baskets.

“Let nothing be wasted.”

Symbolically, the number twelve represents the people of God, or the body of Christ,  the broken body of Christ.

How do these fragmented pieces become a single loaf? How do spiritually impoverished, broken people become a single Body? That’s the miracle I’m choosing to believe in these days. Have to. Jesus requires me to. Of course, we already are his body. That’s the thing, that’s the truth. Now it’s simply a matter of becoming what we are. And we are, I’m happy to say. There’s so many signs of it actually happening in our little community called BRC. Signs to encourage us, signs to inspire us to keep moving in the direction of becoming  what we are — the body of Christ.

Paul says we’re not to rest on our laurels. The goal is to “become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” For that to happen, says Paul, there has to be strong, gifted leaders who can equip each member of the body to do their part, to use their gifts (4:11-12). Please be praying for our elders and deacons as we reflect on biblical leadership at our consistory retreat in January and during our meetings over the next few months.

And be praying for “Seekers,” the Thursday night event that will begin on January 19. Pray and please come. Like those Magi, we will be seeking the body of Jesus. We will be learning from the early church, without idealizing it. We are calling it Seekers because we realize there is a lot we still don’t know about what it means to be the body of Christ. The purpose for Seekers isn’t to create an elite group of BRC members or to create a separate church. (I love our church.) It’s because the rest of the church is doing all the stuff it’s doing that this Thursday night gathering will be freed up to explore, wonder, wander, repent and experiment. We’ll be sure to share with the rest of the body at BRC what we learn.

And none of this is really about BRC. It’s about Jesus, about being the body of Christ — the impoverished but “blessed with every spiritual blessing,” broken but unified, imperfect but becoming mature, improbable, impossible body of Christ.

The following poem is based on today’s gospel (John 4:43-54), and is a follow-up to yesterday’s post as well as a blade to till the soil for this coming Sunday’s sermon.

A second wonder in Cana.
A second word to give one pause.

“Unless you people see signs and wonders, you will never believe.“

Miracles – signs that bolster our faith,
a faith that ultimately rests on a death allowed –
the death of the Most Royal Official’s Son.
His death revealing how beyond self-saving we are;
how wretched our sin,
how whelming the flood of our suffering,
now engulfing the Son of the Most High.
Such love, such love.
(almost enough to make one believe)

Such power!
To alleviate and liberate,
to heal the sin-sick soul,
to transform all creation.

Resurrection! The fruit of dying.

“Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies….“
A mustard seed faith that grows out of a death allowed,
our own.

“Woman, why are you saying this to me? My time has not yet come.”

Distance from family. (“Woman.” That’s no way for a son to address his mother.)

Distance from circumstances. (“What does this have to do with us?”)

Distance from the tyranny of the urgent. (“My time has not yet come.”)

Distance that’s necessary to hear God…

who may end up telling us to do the expected after all,
but for reasons others don’t detect
and for purposes that will only later be known.

I’m intrigued by what this parable teaches about what it means to be “lost.”

When I grew up, the term “lost” referred to people who were going to hell. But that doesn’t seem to be the meaning in this parable. So what does it mean that the sheep was lost?

First, it had lost its way. You could say it became lost to itself. It didn’t know where it was or how to get back.

Second, the sheep was lost to the shepherd. The shepherd seems to take this loss personally, maybe even taking responsibility for it. This sheep was clearly very important to him, even though he still had ninety-nine sheep left. You almost get the impression that the shepherd himself felt lost without the sheep, which is why he threw a party once they made it back.

Finally, the sheep was lost to the rest of the flock. A shepherd doesn’t have just one sheep, but a flock of sheep. A shepherd isn’t a shepherd without a flock. The sheep wasn’t completely restored until it was restored not only to the shepherd but to the flock.

This communal aspect of being lost or going astray is emphasized in the teachings just before and just after the parable. In the previous verses Jesus tells us to be ruthless with the sin in our lives (e.g. “if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away”) not only for our own spiritual well-being, but so as not to cause others (especially children) to stumble.

Then right after the parable of the lost sheep Jesus talks about what to do when someone sins against us. If the person who harmed us doesn’t respond to our personal attempt at reconciliation, we’re to bring in the rest of the church; presumably because the rest of the church is affected whenever two brothers or sisters are at odds with one another.

Finally, Jesus says that if two of us agree about anything we ask for, it will be done by our Father. “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.”

In other words, a Christian who’s not vitally connected to the body is considered lost: they’ve gone astray and lost their way. If we want to be connected to Christ, we need to be vitally connected to the body of Christ.

I know that there are a lot of people who consider themselves Christians and aren’t attending worship or getting involved with a local church. I wonder what that means — both why it’s happening and what can be done about it, given the New Testament’s emphasis on the body. What does this say about the state of the church today, and also our understanding of the gospel?

Of course, in order to have a vital connection to the body, the body itself needs to be vital and to be functioning like a body.

I’m grateful for the degree to which that’s true at BRC. I see signs every week, even every day, that we are functioning as a body, signs for which I am profoundly grateful.

I also sense that God has more to teach us about how to be the body of Christ. Two places where discussion will be happening around this subject will be at our consistory retreat in January (and I’m sure at subsequent meetings) as well as on Thursday nights, beginning on January 19. We’re still deciding on a name for the Thursday night gathering, but our focus will be on exploring further what it means to be the body of Christ.

How do you understand what it means to be the body of Christ? Where do you see your place in that body?

In today’s epistle reading the apostle Paul talks about Abraham and quotes the Old Testament where it says that “the righteous shall live by faith.” Both Mary and Abraham believed the word and promise they were given. Just as we know little or nothing about Abraham before his divine encounter, we know almost nothing about Mary. What made both of them “righteous” was their faith in God’s word and their response to God’s call. As Jesus “grew in wisdom and stature,” so did Mary grow in spiritual wisdom and stature. Within weeks of her son’s conception, she would be inspired by the Holy Spirit to proclaim that wonderful Magnificat when visiting her relative Elizabeth. Later she would jumpstart Jesus’ ministry by prompting Jesus to do something about the wine running low at a wedding.

Sure there were times when Mary’s anxiety got the best of her — like when she solicited Jesus’ brothers’ help in an attempt to rescue him from his overheated public ministry. (We remember the times Abraham’s anxiety prompted him to make foolish decisions regarding his wife.) But overall, the Scriptures present a glowing (though not deified) picture of Mary, one that we can emulate and imitate.

Zechariah had lived a blameless life according to the law, but failed to believe the angel’s promise. Eventually he came around, and like Mary was inspired to exclaim what is often called Zechariah’s Song. What made Mary righteous wasn’t ultimately how well she lived the law, but how much she believed God, and was willing for whatever that required of her.

On Sunday I mentioned that after my wife Sharon made her covenant for this next year, she realized after a few days that it wasn’t going to work. So she snuck back into the church, took her covenant out of the manger, and wrote a new one. What I didn’t mention was that the revised covenant listed all the ways that she was going to trust God in this next year. So far this has felt more “righteous” to her than the specific disciplines she had initially written down. (She already does plenty in this regard, so don’t start worrying about her salvation!) And this righteousness is working for her. It’s setting her free from the anxiety and worry that keeps her from hearing God. This righteousness is giving her peace and joy.

I like it.