Dear church,

Our reading today – Ezra 4 – is an interesting one. It is interesting for the way in which it is written because it contains a large “aside” – basically a portion of narrative that seems slightly out of place and seems to tell a different story. But it is there for a reason. This is an “aside” with a purpose.

The chapter starts out describing the initial opposition by the local people to the rebuilding of the temple (4:1-5). And then the “aside” begins with a record of future opposition that would occur to the rebuilding of the city of Jerusalem and its walls (4:6-23). The three letters mentioned in 4:6,7,8 were written to the Persian kings Ahasuerus and Artaxerxes. Both of those kings reigned in the 400s BC, more than 50 years after the initial reconstruction of the temple.

I think Ezra wanted to paint the picture: The people of the land wanted nothing to do with the Israelites’ return. They wanted the work of rebuilding the temple and the city of Jerusalem to stop. They didn’t want this “nation” to be rebuilt. There was long-standing opposition to the Israelites. Forces were at work against them.

The thing that stood out to me as I read this chapter was the strength and weakness of God’s people. When the people of the land asked to share in the rebuilding of the temple, the Israelites rejected them. “You have nothing to do with us in building a house to our God.” That’s some pretty impressive fortitude.

In our modern ears, when we read this section, we might think the Israelites were being harsh, judgmental, and intolerant. We might ask, “Why not just be inclusive?”

The people of the land at that time were, essentially, pagans. They worshipped a range of deities. They probably worshipped the God of Israel from time to time, but it was not the kind of worship the God of Israel demanded. The God of Israel is the One True God. To worship him, a person must set aside all other gods. “You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God …” (Exodus 20:3-5).

We must remember that God had called his people to relational purity. His relationship with his people is supposed to be like a marriage. (How “inclusive” do you want your spouse to be in your own marriage?) And the people of God refused to include among them people who weren’t fully committed to worshiping the One True God – and only him. “You have nothing to do with us.”

And so these Israelites were strong.

And they were weak.

They were antagonized into stopping their work on the temple. “Then the people of the land discouraged the people of Judah and made them afraid to build and bribed counselors against them to frustrate their purpose.” On the one hand, the Israelites talked a big game. They gave a hard “no” when they needed to do so. On the other hand, they lacked perseverance. They were prone to discouragement. They were prone to fear.

They weren’t yet what they should be. They were a people in process. Maybe we all should examine ourselves in this light.

And then there is that long “aside” from 4:6-23. What caught my attention was how the people of the land, in writing to the Persian King Artaxerxes, reminded him of how “rebellious” Israel was before it finally was destroyed in 587 BC. Israel under the leadership of God – as the people and kings were faithful to him – was a powerful nation. The Persian king was encouraged not to forget that fact. Nor should we forget that fact.

And so there is strength and weakness here – a people who were striving to follow God but who couldn’t shake their frailty. And there is a memory. Do you remember what God has done for his people in the past?

I wonder if there are some lessons here for us as individual Christians – and perhaps even for us as a church. In what ways are you strong in the Lord? In what ways are you weak? As a church, how are we strong and weak?

Weakness doesn’t have to be a bad thing. We also have a memory. It is of Jesus Christ hanging on a cross. God’s power emerged from a moment of ultimate weakness. Sin was forgiven, death was defeated, the temple veil was torn in two, and the people of God were united with him. The way was paved for the coming of the Holy Spirit. Out of weakness came the glory of God.

All this was God’s doing. I remember our reading in Matthew’s Gospel: “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes” (Matthew 21:42). The rejected “stone” is Jesus. He was rejected by all. The world saw weakness there. Even God’s people saw saw weakness there – a thing to be rejected. But out of that weakness, he’s become the cornerstone for the new temple of God, the church.

So another question might be this – How might we let our weaknesses make way for the shining of God’s glory?

You might want to read Ezra 4 again, slowly and prayerfully, and let God speak to you.

Chris

Dear church,

Today’s reading is Ezra 3. It’s a chapter about worship and recognition. The worship goes to God and God alone. The recognition is of God’s holiness and our unholiness.

The people of Israel came to Jerusalem in the seventh month, Ezra tells us. That would have been the seventh month after the annual Passover celebration. Passover is the feast that commemorates the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt. The whole Israelite year revolves around the Passover – remembering how God brought the people out of slavery and into freedom.

But the seventh month is important, too. God ordained three holy festivals in the seventh month. You can read about them in Leviticus 23:23-44. Included in those is the Day of Atonement, which marks the cleansing of the people from their sins (Leviticus 16). Another of those festivals is the Feast of Booths when people would spend seven days living in “booths” to remember the exodus from Egypt and the time they lived in temporary shelters as they traveled.

These feasts point us to Christ. Jesus fulfilled for all time the Day of Atonement when he died on the cross – wiping away the sins of the world. And Jesus taught in Jerusalem during the Feasts of Booths. Specifically, he taught about the Holy Spirit. See John 7.

In Ezra 3, the people built an altar during this seventh month. We are told they set the altar in its place and “fear was on them because of the peoples of the lands.” The peoples of the lands were worshipping other gods, and they may have been worshipping other gods on that very spot, at the ruined temple. The people of Israel may have had to tear down another altar to build theirs. In any event, they were doing something – worshipping the One True God – that the people around them didn’t like.

God deserves our worship, and it shouldn’t matter to us what the world thinks. Before we do anything else – before we do any good work for the people around us – our first obligation is to God. The problem for Israel always had been the way in which the nation strayed from that first obligation and fell into idolatry by giving worship to false gods. And so the first step of the people of Israel in their return to the land was to offer worship to God as his holy people.

It makes me think about whether I do this today. Am I faithful in worshipping God first – and only worshipping him? Have I allowed other things to creep in and take my attention away from him? Is there anything that I’ve put before God in my life? Do I recognize that I am to be devoted only to him?

Seven months after the rebuilding of the altar, the people began work on the temple itself. Naturally, as I read this portion, I was drawn to the reaction of the people of Israel. The older folks – the ones who had seen the original temple – wept when they saw the new foundations. But this weeping was blended in with the rejoicing of others – weeping and joyful shouts that were heard from “far away.”

What a scene that must have been! My thought is the older folks wept because they began to realize more fully, as the foundation for the temple was put in place, that the cost of the nation’s sin was very high. The high price of sin was placed as a visual illustration in front of them. “Look at what happened to the temple,” they may have said. “It would still be here if it weren’t for our sin.” And, of course, the destruction of the temple meant God no longer dwelt among the people. His house was gone.

In Christ, weeping and rejoicing go together. If you recall from our reading of Matthew, Jesus’ first sermon was this: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 4:17). To enter the kingdom of God requires repentance – a turning away from our old lives, from our sins, and embracing the good news of forgiveness that Jesus brings.

And repentance is recognition. We recognize who we are on our own as people prone to sin. And with that recognition can come a holy grief. We weep for the time we’ve lost. We weep for the missed opportunities. We weep for the amount of “life” we failed to live because we were dead in our sins.

And then we rejoice. Never forget to rejoice – because the news is good! The “temple” of God has been rebuilt, and nothing can destroy it. God always will dwell with us in the temple that is Christ. Remember in the last chapter of Matthew how Jesus promised his disciples to be with them – “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). 

Chris

Dear church,

Ezra 2 might have bored you. It contains a list – and numbers. Why bore us with a list? A couple of things are worth noting as we look at this list and some of the commentary that Ezra gives us.

First, this is the remnant of God’s people. These are the ones who were left after the Babylonian invasion and exile. In other words, these are the survivors. This might be a good time to read Jeremiah 30. If you recall, the first lines of Ezra 1 mentioned the word of God given to Jeremiah would be fulfilled.

Here’s what it says in Jeremiah 30:8-9: “And it shall come to pass in that day, declares the Lord of hosts, that I will break his yoke from off your neck, and I will burst your bonds, and foreigners shall no more make a servant of him. But they shall serve the Lord their God and David their king, whom I will raise up for them.”

And so here was the remnant – the survivors of Israel – having the yoke of its oppressor (Babylon) broken off its neck. They were freed to return to the land. And they walked straight back to Jerusalem, to the ruins of the temple.

Second, you also might notice the number of people who returned. This truly was a remnant. Ezra tells us 42,360 people returned to Israel. For some perspective, Moses led a group of 603,550 of able-bodied men (not counting women and children) out of Egypt (Numbers 1:46). And King David, once the people had entered and lived in the Promised Land for some time, had a potential army of 1.3 million men (2 Samuel 24:9).

From 1.3 million able-bodied men to a “whole assembly” that consisted of 42,260 Israelites. The nation was depleted. This was a remnant. We should keep in mind, however, that the nation of Israel had NOT been destroyed. God had preserved this much. Because of their disobedience, they were disciplined. Affliction can bring purification. Things tend to shrink when they are purified.

Third, Israel had no king. There was, however, a very important name in the list of survivors who returned to Israel – Zerubbabel. He was a member of the royal family and a descendant of King David. Zerubabbel is mentioned in another important “list” later in the Bible (Matthew 1:12; Luke 3:27).

With all of that said, I read Ezra 2 and found myself drawn to the numbers. In some cases, they were quite small: the sons of Azmaveth were just 42, and the sons of Nebo were only 52. But they were present. They broke away from Babylon/Persia and headed home.

And they were counted. They were members of the family of God – members of the community of promise. God had said this was a family that he would bless, and this was a family that would become a blessing to the whole world. And the few dozen sons of Azmaveth and Nebo and Netophah were part of that family.

And there were some who returned to Israel who claimed to be part of the family, but there was no evidence of it. I found that interesting, too. “They could not prove their fathers’ houses or their descent, whether they belonged to Israel” (Ezra 2:59). It wasn’t for lack of trying. Some of them claimed to be priests – “These sought their registration among those enrolled in the genealogies, but they were not found there …” (Ezra 2:62).

Family mattered. Being “in” the family was a big deal. Purity was essential when it came to bloodlines.

When I think about this today, I puzzle over it. Isn’t God’s family based on more than flesh and blood? These were “blood relatives,” and couldn’t a person partake of the things of the family without being family by “blood”? Isn’t it enough just to “want” to be part of the family?

As Christians, we know that flesh and blood are important. These lists of family members are part of the Bible’s unceasing push to the “end” of the list – to Jesus Christ. Human beings in human families passed on a promise from God from one generation to the next until everything was fulfilled in one man. Human descent is a fleshly thing.

And fleshly things still matter today for us as Christians. In fact, one fleshly thing is of VITAL importance to who we are and where we place our hope. “By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God” (1 John 4:2-3).

There is a Spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh – that is, that Jesus Christ has come as a human to live and to die as a human. Flesh and blood are important because we are flesh and blood, and the only escape from the penalty for our sins is for another flesh-and-blood person – a sinless person – to take that penalty in our place. And so the Spirit of God is constantly reminding us that Jesus came in the flesh, as a man, to die as a man in our place. Only another person can take our place. Salvation comes to us through flesh and blood.

And you will notice that the family of God still matters for us as Christians today. Being “in” the family is a big deal. There is an “in” and an “out” of the family of God. Some are “in” and some are “out.” And because of what Jesus did in the flesh, we are not “in” because our names are written in the genealogies. Rather, we are “in” because we accept the testimony of the Holy Spirit about Jesus – that salvation came to us through the flesh and blood of a poor Israelite man, a man whose name can be found in the genealogies, whose lineage is tied to the promise of God. And it helps that Jesus is divine, too!

Are you “in” or “out” of the family? The Israelites came to the land as Israelites – they were bearers of the promise. We come to the “land” as Christians – also bearers of the promise. What do you believe about Jesus?

Chris

Dear church,

I hope you had a good Easter. Our family went up to the top of McClure Pass for the sunrise yesterday. What a great place to sing some songs and to read Matthew 28. It was nice.

Today, we are starting our all-church Bible reading of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah. You should have gotten the reading plan in our semi-weekly email on Friday. Basically, it’s a chapter per week except for Sundays when we’ll read two chapters. So today is Ezra 1.

The books of Ezra and Nehemiah record some of the last events of Old Testament times. The people of Israel had lived for hundreds of years in the Promised Land before they were conquered by other nations. This was God’s discipline for Israel’s disobedience to God’s commandments.

The people of the northern kingdom of Israel were conquered first, by the Assyrians. The people of the southern kingdom, known as Judah, were spared during that invasion (although it was a close call). But they later were conquered by the Babylonians in 587 BC. At that time, Jerusalem was destroyed – along with the temple and the city walls. And most of the people were carried off into exile.

The books of Ezra and Nehemiah record the return of the Israelites from that exile. This is sometimes referred to as Israel’s “postexilic” period. The book of Ezra focuses on the rebuilding of the temple and the renewed focus on the teaching of God’s law to the people, and the book of Nehemiah focuses on the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem. The two books are combined in the Hebrew Old Testament. Together, they are kind of like the sequel to what happened in 1-2 Chronicles.

So that’s the context when the story is picked up in Ezra 1 during the reign of Cyrus, king of Persia. King Cyrus invaded and conquered Babylon in about 540 BC and issued an edict in 538 BC – about 50 years after the destruction of Jerusalem – for the rebuilding of the temple. The first six chapters of Ezra cover a span of about 20 years following that edict. (Cyrus is talked about in Isaiah 45. Read it when you get a chance.)

If you haven’t read Ezra 1, read it now. Be prayerful about it. Look for words or ideas or phrases that catch your attention. Spend some time there.

As I prayed through Ezra 1, my eyes settled on the two instances where God was doing some “stirring.” The Lord stirred up the spirit of Cyrus to make his proclamation about the rebuilding of the temple. And God stirred up the leaders of the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, as well as the priests and the Levites, to go rebuild the temple.

This was the initiative of God. It wasn’t their idea. Cyrus didn’t dream this up on his own. The leaders of exiled Israel didn’t hatch this plan by themselves. This was God’s doing.

And God had set his sights on Jerusalem and the rubble in that city that once was the temple. This new thing God was doing was focused on the temple – the “house” of the Lord.

I can’t read that without thinking about what we just read in Matthew’s Gospel – more than 500 years after the start of the book of Ezra – when Jesus lamented over Jerusalem and predicted the destruction of the temple – again!

And that made me think about the “temple” of God. Ever since God rescued his people from Egypt, his interactions with his people always had a central meeting point. First, it was the mobile tabernacle that traveled with the people through the wilderness. Then it was the temple that Solomon built in Jerusalem, and Cyrus had rebuilt there. And, finally, the central meeting point was Jesus Christ and his church. (We ought not to read the Old Testament without considering its place in the full story of the gospel.)

In Ezra 1, God was making plans for a rebuilt temple for his people – a new place of worship and holy interaction. This is a God who wants to meet with us. He wants there to be an avenue for us to reach out to him.

And God stirred up the heart of a pagan king, and he stirred up the hearts of some leaders of the faith (who likely were discouraged), to build a holy meeting place. This was God’s original desire – not theirs. This is the God we worship. He takes the initiative.

It was out of that same initiative that sent Jesus to be born in that stable in Bethlehem and to proclaim the coming of the kingdom of God and to die on the cross and to rise again. Jesus became the ultimate temple of God. And that temple remains in place in the form of the church.

The apostle Paul wrote, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple” (1 Corinthians 3:16-17). Paul was writing to the church – a body of believers built by God’s own initiative to carry on the work of Christ until Jesus’ return. God wants his temple to remain holy, to continue to be built up, and to be a place (a people!) where the world can come as it seeks to reach out to God.

So these are the thoughts that I had as I read Ezra 1. It feels kind of like I went far afield – all the way into 1 Corinthians! But I don’t think so. The Old Testament and New are bound together by Christ, and the God who orchestrated the rebuilding of the temple is the same God who sent the Son to build the permanent temple – not a physical building but a physical people.

So what does it mean for me? Today, I feel a kind of sadness in my soul. I’ve felt this since the start of our stay-at-home order. We just had an Easter of no church services. We could spectate services online, but it’s just not the same. The church is still a people of flesh and blood – not usernames. Whether we want to admit it or not, the church in America and across the world is getting a good rattling – a testing. This is how I feel about it. You may feel differently, and I respect that.

These are hard times for the church, for the temple of God. And yet, our future is as secure as it ever has been. We serve the God who stirs up hearts, who has a vision for a holy temple, who sacrificed himself on the cross to make that temple a reality – and to defeat death once and for all.

Chris

Dear church,

Happy Easter. This is Resurrection Sunday. We celebrate today the fact that God raised Jesus from the dead. We put our hope in the resurrection of Christ because if he was raised, so we who have faith in him will be raised. He’s the firstborn from the dead (Colossians 1:18). That means there will be others.

Our Gospel of Matthew reading today is, of course, the resurrection story in chapter 28. The women – Mary and Mary – go to the tomb. I think they must have been expecting something. I think they must have been the only ones who took Jesus at his word. He would be raised on the third day. Jesus made that prediction three times. The women must have listened, and they must have believed.

The appearance of the angel must have been quite an experience – an earthquake, the rolling back of the stone, the white lightning of his clothing. It made the guards tremble with fear. According to Matthew, they became like dead men. People who thought they were alive suddenly discovered that this life they were living actually was a dead thing. There’s something about the resurrection that brings out the truth, that makes things clear.

And so the guards were scared to death. The angel then offered up an extraordinary explanation for what had happened. He spoke to the women. He said, “Do not be afraid.” The guards, strong men no doubt, were trembling with fear and looking quite dead. And the angel told Mary and Mary, “Do not be afraid.”

Here’s what it means to be a Christian. Those who seek Jesus have nothing to fear. Perfect love has made itself known to us, and it casts out all fear. No fear of death. No fear of sickness or disease. No fear of sin. No fear of condemnation by God. A core part of the gospel message is that we have no fear.

I bet the thoughtful and reflective Christian person can live his or her whole life and still uncover new implications each day about what it means to live with no fear. It’s like unwrapping a present over and over again – every time something steps in and tries to strike fear in us. The loss of a job. The loss of a loved one. A bad diagnosis. We don’t have to fear these things.

The terrorist attacks of 9/11 raised no reason for fear in the life of the Christian. The 2008 financial meltdown and the shaking of the economy didn’t make us tremble. The COVID-19 pandemic of today doesn’t make us become like dead men.

We have the ultimate hope. We seek Jesus who was crucified. And as we do – as we follow him like faithful disciples all the way to the cross – we find that the tomb is empty. “He is not here, for he has risen, as he said.” The one we put our faith in has conquered death. And we also know that we’ll find death has been conquered for us.

Because of Jesus Christ, humans need not fear death – because Jesus Christ was a human who overcame death. He was laid as a dead man in a tomb. And the women were invited to come see where he lay – to see where his decaying flesh and bones were left to rot. They were to come see that place, and to see that nothing was there.

And then they were told to go. They were told to gather the church. Tell the disciples. Be witnesses to the resurrection. Get ready. What a remarkable story the angel had to tell!

And on their way to gather the church, the women encountered the one whom they were seeking. They found Jesus. And they stopped, and they worshipped. It was the first church worship service – out there among the tombs, where dead bodies were placed and where people who thought they were alive suddenly discovered they were dead with fear. And that’s where the church held its first worship service.

What a story!

And Jesus uttered those words yet again. “Do not be afraid.” I think this is important. We should not be afraid. What does it mean today to live lives that are fearless? Today, people are scared to death. Our cultural “guards” are trembling with fear at the prospect of destruction. The ones who are entrusted with maintaining the status quo have become like dead men.

They may be too fearful, too dead, to notice – the tomb is empty today. And we are the witnesses, gathering the church and telling the story over and over to anyone who will listen. “He has risen.”

May God bless you today!

Chris

Dear church,

It is Good Friday. And our Gospel of Matthew reading has us in chapter 26 today. I spent some time in my own reading of this chapter paying attention to a particular literary technique Matthew used when he told the story of Jesus’ life.

After Jesus taught the Sermon on the Mount back in chapters 5-7, Jesus moved on. Matthew recorded it like this, “And when Jesus had finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished …” (7:28).

Later, after Jesus gave his disciples instructions about their apostolic work, Jesus moved on. Matthew recorded, “When Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there …” (11:1).

And then, after Jesus taught the people a whole string of parables, Jesus moved on. Matthew wrote, “And when Jesus had finished these parables, he went away from there …” (13:53).

And after Jesus finished teaching Peter and his disciples about forgiveness, Jesus moved on. Matthew wrote, “Now when Jesus had finished these sayings, he went away from Galilee …” (19:1).

And finally, after Jesus was done teaching his disciples about his coming, Jesus moved on. Matthew wrote, “When Jesus had finished all these sayings, he said …” (26:1).

Each time, Matthew gave us a transition. He gave us the people’s reaction to Jesus, and he told us what Jesus did next. The difference in Matthew 26:1, of course, is the word “all.” Jesus had finished “all these sayings.”

People who study these things note that Jesus was done (largely) teaching his disciples. He was finished with instructing his followers about the way of the kingdom of God and about how to be an apostle. He was finished with parables and moral teaching and instructions about his coming. In essence, Jesus had told his disciples all that they needed to know in order to be his disciples. That particular work was complete.

Jesus was done with “all” of it. And now he was moving on to something else. He was moving on to the cross.

Today is Good Friday. Today, we mark Jesus’ death on the cross. And we are doing it, largely, alone. But we know what to do because Jesus has told us. We have the Gospel of Matthew saved and handed down to us as our guide. These are Jesus’ words. These are his teachings – his “sayings.” We have “all” of them.

What a gift! Jesus left his disciples with that gift, with his words, and then he submitted himself to the will of his Father in order to save us. He would be “delivered up to be crucified.”

We keep in mind today that he was delivered up for us. We keep in mind that it’s impossible for us to keep up with all of Jesus’ “sayings.” It’s impossible for us to understand and fully abide by his parables. It’s impossible for us to maintain this standard for forgiveness.

And so Jesus gave us his words, all of them, and then he finished the job. It’s never been enough for God simply to give us his law. We are unable to keep it. We will fail every time. God’s people, on their own, have a long history of failing to stay by God’s side. Given “all” his words, we still tend to wander.

And so in Christ, God spoke his law, and then God acted. Jesus took on the penalty for our sins. He was delivered up so that we wouldn’t have to be delivered up. He was delivered up so that we could be saved by grace through faith, not a result of our good works but a result of God’s mercy. God gave himself up for us.

On this Good Friday, we can remember that Jesus was left all alone on that cross. His disciples had fled. He’d told them everything. They knew it “all.” And yet they fled. (Even Peter, so confident right up until the end.) They abandoned him. And still, Jesus moved on. He moved forward. For his first disciples and also for us.

Spend some time thinking about the cost of your salvation. Spend some time thinking about the penalty for sin. Spend some time in gratitude for your Savior.

Chris

Dear church,

Chapters 24 and 25 of Matthew’s Gospel should be read together. They comprise one teaching of Jesus, and he packed a lot into it. If you remember, this teaching was prompted by his disciples asking him the time and the sign that would mark his coming (24:3).

Jesus wants his followers to endure to the end – to remain faithful and diligent in all he has called them to do and to be. He wants his followers to be “faithful and wise servants,” giving food at the appropriate time to the household (24:45). I suppose this means we are to love one another and encourage one another and to be mindful of the needs of the church – and to live like our master lived, giving freely of ourselves to others.

We shouldn’t be like a “wicked servant” who gets harsh with others and lax in our responsibilities (24:48-49).

Jesus reeled off three parables in a row, starting at Matthew 24:45. I’m pretty sure the second two parables – of the ten virgins and the servants who were given the talents – are some sort of commentary on Jesus’ first parable of the wise and wicked servants. The transition statements at the start of the latter two parables seem to indicate Jesus was building those parables on top of the first one (25:1, 14).

In all three of the parables, there are contrasts – 1) faithful/wise v. wicked; 2) wise v. foolish; 3) good/faithful v. wicked/slothful. Read those three parables again to get your bearings. In each of the parables, people were waiting, and there was some sort of delay – or the return of the one for whom they were waiting was perhaps longer than expected.

And so Jesus is telling us what we ought to do as we wait. Be faithful to what he’s called us to do. Don’t get distracted by the world. Be wise in staying ready. Live life understanding that it’s a gift, and we shouldn’t fear losing the gift.

There’s a lot of stuff here to ponder. We are waiting for the return of our master – for the bridegroom. We have a responsibility to wait well.

As I prayed through these passages, the parable of the 10 virgins stood out to me. The image of the virgins waiting in the dark, getting drowsy in waiting for the delayed bridegroom, was vivid. It captured my imagination.

I could picture the excitement of getting their lamps ready and running outside, where they encountered the bridegroom in the darkness, his face lit by the light of their lamps. And there was joy there. The celebration could start. No one asked him why he was late. They simply were ready to feast. It was midnight. They must have been hungry!

For me, the bridegroom was the center of that parable. It all was about him. The ladies were waiting for him. They wanted to be ready for him – at least the “wise” ones did. And the wait was worth it.

The fact there were 10 virgins waiting probably points to the idea of community. They weren’t doing this alone, although each was free to make her choice. They could choose to be ready.

As a church, are we ready to welcome Christ? Is he the center of our attention? Are we prepared to light the way for him – to put him in the spotlight?

Chris

Dear church,

I’ve never been a fan of passages like the one we are reading today, Matthew 24. Jesus uses a lot of apocalyptic language, and some of what he is saying can seem very obscure – impossible to understand fully. And, of course, because he is discussing with his disciples the signs of his second coming, Bible passages like this one are used by people who try to predict the end of the world and the last days.

Of course, people who make those kinds of predictions are trying to do the impossible because, “concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” And so I’ve found it wise to ignore anyone who claims to have figured it out. Unfortunately, that’s also caused me also to lose a bit of my interest in Bible passages like Matthew 24. So today’s reading was a challenge for me.

I think Jesus would probably tell us it isn’t healthy to agonize over the timing of his return. The disciples wanted to know “when.” And they wanted to know by what “sign.” I’m not sure Jesus was as much interested in answering that question as he was in urging his disciples to wait patiently, to stick to their faith, and to endure to the end.

“But the one who endures to the end will be saved.”

I suppose that’s the line that captured me as I read this passage today. Do I have the capacity to endure to the end? When things get difficult and there is hatred and betrayal and deceit and lawlessness and love that grows cold – can I endure?

Endurance is an interesting thing. Physically, it is something that is built up over time. I like to run long distances. I’ve been doing this, off and on, since I was in the seventh grade. That’s almost 30 years now. And I’ve learned a person doesn’t simply go out and run 10 miles. You have to build up to it. Day in and day out, you run. And you gradually add distance to your runs – and, if you are so inclined, you might even add a little speed as you go. And some of those runs are painful. Your legs burn. Your lungs ache. But eventually your endurance is built up, and a person could run 10 miles, or 20, or even 100 without stopping.

But our capacity to endure long workouts like that doesn’t happen overnight. It is built up, slowly, over time. It takes discipline and practice.

Jesus wants us to endure to the end. And he makes clear that the road between here and there is marked by tribulation. It’s not all downhill. And there are choices to be made. Do we believe all the things we hear? When we see something dramatic, how do we respond? What’s the response to persecution, should it come? What’s the response to times of prosperity, should they come?

Am I, as a Christian, built to endure to the end?

We live today in a time when we aren’t having church worship services. We aren’t gathering each Sunday like many of us have spent our whole lives doing. And one question that came to mind in reading Matthew 24 is whether we as individual Christians have the capacity to endure in faith through this unusual time. And can we continue to build up our endurance even now?

That weekly gathering is important. It’s a command if Scripture for us to gather. And it’s a really important method for us to achieve growth both as individual believers and as the community of faith – the kingdom of God. But I know there are some (myself included) who rely perhaps too much on that Sunday gathering. For some, that’s their only spiritual “workout” of the week. And a person can’t run a marathon if he or she only runs once a week. It’s impossible to build up enough endurance. (Moreover, a church isn’t a church only one day a week.)

The Christian life is a daily, moment by moment, walk with Jesus. Jesus gathered together his disciples. He lived life in community. But he also stepped aside frequently to be alone with his Father. His prayer life was rich. Enduring to the end, even when the community fell away, was the way of Jesus – and it’s his enduring to the end that has saved us. His relationship with the Father was so rich and personal – and his devotion to his Father’s mission was so pure – that he could endure.

Is my relationship with Christ that strong? Have I built moments into my days to spend with him, to listen to him? Am I building up spiritual endurance even now, away from our worship gatherings, as I devote more time to prayer? Think about your own spiritual practices. Are your spiritual “legs” growing weak right now because your one “workout” of the week has been removed?

Maybe we can use this time when we aren’t meeting on Sunday to build up some other spiritual practices in our daily lives that will help us grow in Christlikeness – things like reading our Bibles and spending time in prayer and reaching out to our brothers and sisters in Christ with words of encouragement. Maybe those spiritual practices, new or old, will help us as a church when we finally are able to come back together in our gatherings. Maybe as we practice those disciplines on our own, our times together will be enriched.

With all of that said, we are made for community. There is no such thing as Lone Ranger Christianity. When we were called to Christ, we were called into community. I would go so far as to say we can’t live fully as Christians outside the community. People who say they are doing that – who say they love Jesus but hate the church – are people to be wary of.

Can we still be the community of the faithful in this time when we have temporarily lost our ability to gather? Maybe this is a time where we continue building up our community in other ways. Maybe we still can be “faithful and wise servants” and give each other what’s needed at the proper time – even in this time. I wonder what that means for me. I wonder what that means for you.

Chris

Dear church,

Jesus rebukes the scribes and the Pharisees in Matthew 23 – our Scripture reading for today. “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” That was Jesus’ refrain as he denounced them. Over and over he said it. He called them hypocrites.

This is not the warm, fuzzy Jesus of our childhoods. This is the Jesus who cares about purity.

As I prayed through this passage, that’s the word that came to mind, that floated to the top – purity. If I am a hypocrite, I confess to believe in some moral standard while actually living out some other standard. I don’t practice what I preach, as they say. If I am a hypocrite, I may claim adultery is wrong while I go about cheating on my wife. Or I might claim that living for Christ is central to my life while ignoring Jesus’ commandments when it is convenient for me.

And Jesus doesn’t like hypocrisy. The scribes and Pharisees were hypocrites. The lasting image there, for me, is that of “whitewashed tombs.” A nice, clean, shiny tomb. I picture one of those tombs in a majestic cathedral. It looks good. Impressive. But open it up. See what’s inside. Rot and the stink of death.

And Jesus doesn’t like hypocrisy. Stanley Hauerwas writes, “From the beginning Jesus has told his followers that what they teach and who they are cannot be separated. He is the sworn enemy of hypocrisy. We should be what we appear to be.”

Jesus, the “sworn enemy of hypocrisy,” must care then about purity. We know that is true after reading the Sermon on the Mount. Our actions are important, surely. But the heart behind the actions matter. Jesus wants us to be pure. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8). 

So the question for me today is whether I am pure in heart – or whether I am a hypocrite. It’s a sobering question. Do I know that Jesus knows my moments of hypocrisy?

There’s a well-known resurrection hymn called “He Lives.” The chorus goes like this:

He lives He lives
Christ Jesus lives today
He walks with me and talks with me
Along life’s narrow way
He lives He lives
Salvation to impart
You ask me how I know He lives
He lives within my heart

That tune has been in my head for the past couple of days as Easter approaches. We would sing that at our church in Kentucky, at sunrise on top of a natural stone “bridge” in the Appalachian mountains. “He walks with me and talks with me along life’s narrow way.”

What might Jesus be saying to me, as we walk and talk, about purity? What would he say about appearances? What would he say about hypocrisy? If there’s one promise in Matthew 23, it is that hypocrites will be judged. Purity of heart and mind matters to God.

In some ways, Matthew 23 also pushes me toward honesty. The notions of hypocrisy and purity should push us in the direction of honesty. There’s something deceitful about saying one thing but not really meaning it (and perhaps quietly doing another). Honesty and transparency, I suppose, are important to God, too. Take the lid off the tomb and see what’s really inside. Take a look inside that cup that’s clean on the outside and see if there is any filth on the inside.

All of this has application for our lives within the church. Are our hearts really for God? Are we really chasing after Jesus with everything we have? Most of us would say “yes.” But is that really true? And if it’s not, can I just go ahead and admit that – “Yes, I am struggling with my lack of passion for following Jesus right now. Or, yes, I’ve got some dark spots that I’m dealing with right now, some moments of desolation that I don’t really know what to do with?” Can we be that honest with our brothers and sisters in Christ? Or would we rather keep up the appearance that all is well?

A hypocrite is a person who says one thing and does another. The purity isn’t there. And there’s some measure of deceit involved.

Of course, we’re all like this. And we can thank Jesus who comes to us in our hypocrisy and offers us good news – “salvation to impart.” He even told the scribes and Pharisees – “hypocrites!” – that he would send to them “prophets and wise men and scribes.” I think of Peter and John and Paul, preaching the gospel to them.

There is salvation even for us hypocrites, if we will drop the appearances and come to Christ. We show him our box of rotting bones and flesh. We confess our helplessness. And he promises to make us whole.

Chris

Dear church,

I came to the church building today. Again, an empty sanctuary. I sang the best I could alone. I sang loudly this morning – much louder than normal. There were no people around to hear me. I could sing slightly out of tune without shame. It felt good. You should try it sometime. Find a big empty space and sing to God for all you are worth. I think God likes this. I imagine he also would like it if we did it together.

It is Palm Sunday. If Jesus were to ride into town on a donkey’s colt today, it would be a pretty quiet ride. His church is hiding. But never mind.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a quiet ride. There always will be some who will cry out, “Hosanna!” The little children cried out in the temple, after Jesus cleared out the money-changers and the guys who were selling pigeons and after Jesus started healing the blind and lame in the temple. The kids cried out, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” That’s part of our Gospel of Matthew reading today, in chapter 21.

“Hosanna” means “O Lord, save us.” And the kids were saying that to Jesus. Basically, they were proclaiming Jesus as the king – as the messianic king, who had come to save Israel from its enemies. Saying “Hosanna” was kind of like saying, “Hail to the king!” When Jesus was riding into Jerusalem, crowds surrounded him crying out “Hosanna.” Then, in the temple, it was the kids – “O Lord, save us.”

And again, it is the kids who emerge at the foreground the Gospel, doing the right thing. Jesus referenced Psalm 8, “Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babies you have prepared praise.” And this is where my mind settled as I prayed through this passage.

I saw a newborn baby this week, snuggled up against his mother. He was wrinkly and small – and very quiet. Sleeping, I think. Out of his mouth comes praise – comes “Hosannas”? Are the squeaks and squawks of such a little one actually praises for Jesus? I suppose so.

Psalm 8 is a cosmic psalm. It talks about big things – the majesty of God’s glory, the breadth of the earth, the heavens, the moon and stars. And yet, it is out of the mouth of babies and infants where the strength of God emerges. Helpless ones unknowingly utter the good news. Maybe it is in the very newness of life, in the epitome of weakness, where God thought it made the most sense to have the gospel emerge.

Because we’re all weak. We’re all helpless. We’re all ignorant. To be Christians, we must come to terms with that. We can’t actually be Christians UNLESS we come to terms with that. When we utter praise to Jesus, we can only utter it as people who know they are both helpless and ignorant.

But we also utter our praise to Jesus as kids – infants – with our whole lives in front of us and as ones who are fully dependent on Another. And we can’t help but praise Him. We don’t think it through. We just speak our Hosannas to the Son of David – come what may.

I hope you are enjoying your reading of Matthew’s Gospel as much as I am. I’d love to hear your own thoughts. God bless!

Chris