A Stumbler's Walk to Christmas | THE RULES

When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad... because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him.

- Luke 23:8

Christmas violates all the rules. 

God is not supposed to step into flesh. Or, if he does, he certainly could do better than a backwater town, no-name parents and a subjected people. 

If God were to step into flesh, he certainly would do so in a way that forced all (as in everyone throughout all time) to acknowledge him, to recognize his god-ness, to uncontrollably bend the knee. To bow. Wouldn't he?

If God were to step into flesh, he would certainly exert his power, reward his followers and trample his rejecters. Wouldn't he? 

But Christmas violates all the rules. Angels aren't supposed to give impromptu concerts on hillsides. Low-life run-of-the-mill shepherds shouldn't be the first to hear the greatest story. A stable can't house a universe king. Stars don't suddenly burst to life in an X marks the spot sort of way. Right?

Christmas violates all the rules. But then again, incarnation isn't a natural thing. God-in-flesh-in-a-baby-in-a-manger is a supernatural thing. And the Creator isn't interested in our rules. 

Nor does Jesus jump through hoops held up by arrogant men. Ask Herod. Herod thought Jesus a novelty. He hoped to be entertained. He wanted to see Jesus do something cool and memorable. A card trick maybe? Walk across a bath tub? Herod wanted Jesus to do something that made him feel better about himself, without having to deal with the depth of his own brokenness and depravity. Warm fuzzies are no substitute for humble open hearts. 

It is interesting and sad that Herod stood face to face with Jesus and missed Heaven's Kingdom by a mile. Herod's rules didn't allow him the need for grace... as Grace stood bleeding before him. 

Christmas violates all the rules.  Because Emmanuel (God with us) doesn't seem to make sense. Christmas songs make sense. Nativity scenes and sleigh-rides make sense. LEDs on evergreen trees make sense. They are all sentimental, and part of the story. But only part. 

The story that starlight and angels proclaimed is the story of Emmanuel. God of grace. God of intimacy. God the Son humbly born and horrifically dying; a sacrifice on my behalf and yours (and Herod's). It is the story of glorious resurrection and restoration. Christmas is the story of a grace offer to you and to me. A grace so powerful that it violates the rules. Grace that shatters even the bonds of the grave. 

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel...

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk to Christmas | UNCOMFORTABLE

"Are you the Son of God then?

"You say that I am."

Luke 22:70

I realize Christmas should be about comfort. Comfort foods. Comfort fires. Comfort family. Comfort songs. Comfort sentiments. Comfort.

As I read through Luke's account I am struck by the fact that our Walk to Christmas is Jesus' walk to the cross. And though I am warmed by accounts of healed beggars and returning prodigal sons, I can't fight off a sense of discomfort.

My discomfort comes from Jesus himself.

Jesus spoke in parables at times. At others his words were apocalyptic. And then there were the words that just seem harsh. His message centered on the Kingdom of God - both it's nearness (it's here-ness, if you will) and it's coming then-ness. He speaks of Temples crumbling, cities collapsing and the Glory of Heaven descending. He talks of betrayal and sacrifice; of resurrection and renewal.

And none of this is comfortable.

Remember in the next few days that babies in mangers are sentimental. Saviors on crosses alter history and hearts.

The God of all comfort is anything but comfortable. A comfortable Jesus is - if you'll allow - a tame Jesus. And the Jesus whose words I've been reading is not tame. He is not warm-hug status quo.

This week the world celebrates a baby's birth that caused stars to explode into being, wise men to journey and shepherds to freak out as angels, with full light show, cleared their throats to sing choruses in the sky.

On his last night Jesus shared his heart with those closest to him; and they argued about who among them was greatest. Then the God who glued molecules together to make the tongues of men, was mocked by mouths he could effortlessly close. He chose to be the Lamb led to slaughter. His accusers and tormentors didn't realize he was actually the Lion King wrapped in humility... for their sake (and ours).

Yes, he is a comforting Savior. But he is not comfortable.

God, you are the God of all comfort, but you are far too holy, glorious, and challenging for me to be comfortably self-righteous. Please continue to comfort me with grace as you reveal how uncomfortably awesome you are. 

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk to Christmas | LOST(NESS)

For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.

- Luke 19:10

Chapter 15: A lost sheep, a lost coin, a lost son.

Chapter 18: A wealthy and powerful, yet lost young man ("ruler").

Chapter 19: A crooked and conniving and lost little man. Three parables and two very real people, each of which is lost.

None of us likes to admit he or she is lost. Thanks to GPS and Google Maps men no longer have admit to it; at least in the geographical sense. (God wired the inability to ask directions into our - men's - DNA ). 

The lostness Jesus speaks of is much deeper. It is the lostness of the soul when separated from the God who created and loves. 

It is because of this lostness that Jesus came. Jesus entered the world with a mission: To seek and save the lost. Lost beggars, lost tax-collectors, lost you and lost me.

Max Lucado wrote: 

If our greatest need had been information, 

God would have sent an educator. 

If our greatest need had been technology, 

God would have sent us a scientist. 

If our greatest need had been money, 

God would have sent us an economist. 

But since our greatest need was forgiveness, 

God sent us a Savior.

Jesus came to seek and save the lost.

None of us likes to admit lostness - the dark incompleteness that nags down deep. But it is only in admitting lostness that foundness becomes possible. 

"Amazing Grace... I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see."

God, thank you for your amazing grace that turns my lostness into foundness. 

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk to Christmas | WHAT DO YOU WANT?

What do you want me to do for you?

- Luke 18:41

A blind beggar with no status, no means and no hope screams for Jesus' attention. He won't shut up, even though some who think they have the right, try to shut him up. 

He is making everyone uncomfortable. Everyone, that is, except Jesus.

Now the blind man stands before Jesus, and is asked, "What do you want me to do for you?" It seems obvious, doesn't it? (Paraphrasing now) "I want to see!" Jesus: "OK… see."

What if God asked you the question; "What do you want me to do for you?" How would you answer? Not genie-in-the-bottle stuff. Not lotteries and looks. What are your deep needs? What is your deepest need… hurt… desire?

Jesus again, "… your faith has made you well." We get a warped sense of faith from some celebrity preachers. The blind man's belief THAT he could see didn't give him sight. He could believe all day that he possessed sight; and still be blind. Biblical faith is not just belief. It is belief IN. Belief in a person. His name is Jesus.

Notice that the (formerly) blind man, when hearing Jesus was approaching, "…cried out…," and then, "… cried out all the more..." (vv38,39) When deep need mixes with faith it cries out all the more. 

Chapter 18 begins, "And he (Jesus) told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart." In other words, mix need and faith and cry out all the more.

It's getting late, so let me just ask: What if God IS asking you this question? Right now! "What do you want me to do for you?" What will be your answer?

Maybe our biggest failure of faith is that we simply fail to ask. 

God, I'm blind, I want to see!

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk to Christmas | TURNING BACK

Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back...

- Luke 17:15

Sometimes it's good to look back down,

We've come so far. We've gained such ground.

But joy is not in where we've been.

Joy is who's waiting in the end. 

- Petra, Road to Zion, circa 1982

I too often turn back. Come to think of it, sometimes I don't turn back often enough. 

- David Stanley, circa just now.

I can't conceive of living life with leprosy in the first century. Misery could probably find no greater depths; hopelessness no more arid desert. 

Ten lepers. No names. Lepers - that's all we need know. When facial features rot away and body parts become so disfigured names become inconsequential. The life of the first century leper was a slow painful march of ostracism leading to lonely solitary death.  

I'm guessing lepers didn't have much to look forward to. No upcoming holidays with family. No wedding celebrations or parties or social events. Their desperate time was very possibly spent desperately remembering; reflecting and reliving life. A life before the diagnosis, the pain, the isolation, the dank empty hopelessness. Time spent looking back down the timeline of life.

Jesus walks into town and heals them. That sentence does not do justice to the power, emotion and miraculous heaven-come-to-earth moment. But you can read the story. I'll leave it at that: Jesus walked into town and healed them. 

They are actually healed while walking away from Jesus. They asked. He sent them away: "Go show the priests..." All ten turned, and somewhere along the way, wholeness! The joy was overwhelming. The smooth skin breathtaking. The restored life ahead mind-boggling. For the first time in a long time they had reason to look ahead. To wonder. To hope.

One looked back. As a matter of fact he turned back. Not to become once again what he was. But to honor the one who gave him the opportunity to be what he could be. He had no desire to dwell in his past. He only desired to remember and glorify him who provided a new future.

Turning back too often can cause nostalgic short-sightedness. Turning back too seldom, forgetfulness.

Turn back to thank the one who forgives, sacrificed and heals. Now turn, look forward, to face the new-life opportunities he provides.

God, I turn back with an open heart so I can look forward with clear eyes.

For now…

D

A Stumbler's Walk to Christmas | GLUTEN FREE

Beware the leaven of the Pharisees...
- Luke 12:1

I'm a little behind in writing. So this post is like a little dollop of creamy peanut butter - and I'm spreading it over a pretty big piece of bread (chapters 12-14).

Think about this for a moment: Jesus spent his days with the worst of the worst of his time. Outcasts, tax collectors (way worse in those days than what you're thinking), and prostitutes became part of his inner circle. He touched the untouchable; lepers with missing facial features, demonic mad men, corpses.

He didn't shy away from the ugly need in people. He didn't condemn. He addressed the wrong, the debilitating sin in the person. He gave grace. He offered hope. He brought change.

When I read these chapters, and the entirety of the Gospels, I am struck that for all of Jesus' acceptance, there is one thing he did not accept. There is one thing he condemned. There is one thing he would not tolerate...   Gluten!

OK, not really gluten, that's word-play. He actually called it leaven, but again, that's just analogy for something that grows and festers and pervades. The true gluten/leaven Jesus' steers us clear of is hypocrisy.

The gluten/leaven/hypocrisy Jesus condemned - again and again throughout his brief time on the planet - was that of religious elitists who ACTED the part. Before I go on I should note it is easy to point fingers in labeling hypocrites. Be aware, sometimes our finger is more crooked than we know as we sit there on our high-horse, who strangely enough bears the name Hypocrisy. (I thought that was a fun way to write it, what I mean is: Look in the mirror first.)

I may be over-simplifying here, but I think the actors that Jesus time and time again rails against fall into two categories: 1) They are self-righteous; and 2) They misrepresent God.

Jesus calls them empty tombs, pretty on the outside and filled with decay. They have telephone poles in their eye sockets while railing on others for the specks of sawdust in theirs. They do things to be seen, to be noted, to be important. But they are frauds.

Worst of all, these actors misrepresent the heart of God. They always have and always will. They substitute rules for relationship. They add joy-killing lists that are unattainable and never ending. They kill grace. They say, "Do this... this... this... and be like me." And our hearts dull. And joy recedes. And hope dies.

The hypocrite seeks a kingdom of self-important glory. But he misses the Kingdom of Heaven around him. He seeks the adulation of people, while missing the joy and wholeness of community. He must be somebody. He is instead empty. And emptiness is breeding ground for bitterness, jealousy and all their ugly cousins.

Well, this has been fun, hasn't it? I want to wrap with this thought: There is hope even for the hypocrite. The actor. Grace is offered. God's loving grace is more powerful than hypocrisy. But grace must be received.

I attended a Christmas masquerade last night. One of the evening's conversation topics was how masks block vision. I continually bumped into chairs, tables, people. And when a handshake was offered - an extended grace - I didn't see it. I couldn't. Because of my mask. (By the way, masks are also hot and irritating.)

There are hypocrites everywhere. They are not my concern. The actor(s) in my mirror: they are the ones that must be de-masked.

God, help me see my masks for what they are. And by your grace help me remove them. I would rather authenticity over acting. 

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk to Christmas | TEACH US

Lord, Teach us to pray…

 - Luke 11:1

Let's face it; we tend to do anything and everything we can before we pray. You've heard someone say it (maybe you): 

"All we can do now is pray." 

Think about that for a minute. We are saying:

"In my limited power, with my minuscule resources, and with my microscopic understanding, I've done all I can. Now my only hope is to ask the One with unlimited power, infinite resources, and all-knowing understanding to invade the situation and take control."

When laid out, which of those two scenarios makes the most sense?

The disciples understood that Jesus' connection to the Father was his source. They heard his prayers… before demons fled and 5,000 were fed. So in a quiet moment one of them asked him how to pray. 

"Teach us..." 

They had seen miracles. They had even performed miracles in his name. But it was this connection and communion with the Father they wanted Jesus to pass to them.

So Jesus taught them. It was simple. We tend to complicate it. Then Jesus tells them a story with an "aha" moral. Again, simple; but profound. 

Ask... Seek... Knock...

God wants to answer your prayer. Maybe I should add... God IS the answer to your prayer.

God, all I can do now is pray. I wish I'd realized it before I wasted so much...

For now...

D