Change is a natural part of evolution. Sometimes it’s as simple as a change in weather. Or getting a new car when your old one dies. But then there are those changes that cost dearly. Right now, in the country that I know and love … life as we know has changed. Depending on where you’re morals and ethics stand, it’s either for better or worse. History will attest; empires fall. And all kings die. What they leave behind in their wake, will always create something new. So, if all this insanity that is happening around our country has left you feeling distraught or hopeless, consider this. Jesus’ entire ministry is rooted in change, moving us from our smaller ego-centered selves into full divine beings. As I stated last week, such transformation is a part of salvation. And as Jesus will show with his own life, … such salvation comes with a cost. From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Jesus doesn’t say it’s coming, but that it has come. And he says the only way to see it is to repent. For many of us, this word carries a lot of baggage. Stuffed with shame, guilt, and fear. I was taught it meant clean up your act, to stop sinning or else. And it was that “or else” part they loved to focus their attention on. But is that what Jesus meant? Most scholars agree the problem began when the Bible went from Greek into Latin. St. Jerome translated the word “Metanoia” as “due penance” which eventually evolved into the word repent. As I mentioned briefly last week, if we parse metanoia, we’d see meta means “beyond.” And noia means “mind.” So the most literal way to translate the word would be to say, “to go beyond your mind.” Change the way you see things. Think different. That doesn’t sound like condemnation, but liberation, transformation. Which seems to keep in line with Jesus’ teachings and ministry. For those of you who don’t like change, bear in mind that our minds are changing every day. By algorithms that reward outrage. By headlines designed to provoke fear. By comment sections that reduce friends to enemies. Social media has rewired us to react before we reflect. But still, Jesus offers us a new way. He calls for metanoia—a fundamental reorientation of how we think. Because it’s how we think that will change the way our heart and hands react. Jesus uses metanoia not just to get us to stop certain behaviors, but to re-center our focus away from the self and toward the kingdom he inaugurates. It’s a call to move beyond the ego and align the heart with God. Which brings us to the shoreline—and to two brothers we met last week. Only this time, Andrew and Simon aren’t searching for enlightenment. They’re working. Doing what they’ve always done. Casting nets. Catching fish. This was a family business, something they could probably do with their eyes closed. But still, it took skill. It took balancing on boats. Tossing large, heavy nets that required many hands working together in sync. Right there, in the middle of an ordinary workday, Jesus interrupts their routine and calls out, “Follow me, and I will show you how to fish for people.” On the surface, it sounds like a joke. And yet, for some reason they trust his word, drop their nets, and reorient their lives to follow him. You might not fish for a living, but we all have nets. Schedules. Expectations. The quiet belief that our worth is measured by how busy or productive, or successful we appear to be. So we keep casting—more hours, more output, more proof that we matter. Then Jesus walks into the middle of all that and says, “Follow me. I will teach you a new way of seeing yourself and others.” Which raises a real question for us all: Are we willing to take Jesus seriously? Are we willing to let go of what we think makes us who we are, to become like him? I’m not asking a rhetorical question. You follow Jesus. Or you don’t. Which takes us from the shoreline to the sidewalk. Things are happening in our country—done in his name—that are antithetical to his teachings. Human beings, beloved children made in God’s image, are being murdered, kidnapped, oppressed, starve, and terrorized at the hands of many who call themselves Christian. Do they not know what that word means, what responsibility it carries? If you claim to be Christian and use Jesus’ words to promote cruelty, brutality, and suffering than you are not Christ but anti-Christ. That’s the literal definition of the word. Case in point, the Department of War (as they call it now) created propaganda using the beatitudes to recruit soldiers to fight wars both abroad and at home. The freaking Beatitudes! The sacred blessings Jesus offers those hurt the hardest by the Empire. Is this what Jesus meant when he said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” The line is pretty clear. Jesus does not mince his words: You cannot serve two masters. You can’t call yourself Christian and ignore all that Christ is about. Which means, you can’t follow Jesus and march in step with Rome at the same time. So, where does that leave us? Richard Rohr writes, “Those who respond to the call and agree to carry and love what God loves—which is both the good and the bad—and to pay the price for its reconciliation within themselves, these are the followers of Jesus Christ.” In other words, to say yes to this life-changing invitation is to carry God’s love within you, at all times, for the salvation and healing of the world. Not pain, not suffering, not war, or murder. But life. And life abundant in the sacred name of Christ Jesus. History is full of people who’ve acted beyond their self-interest, for the good of others and the world. Gandhi, Oscar Schindler, Martin Luther King Jr. to name a few. Then there’s Mother Teresa, Dorothy Day, Oscar Romero, Cesar Chavez; each of whom were considered a threat to the state because of how they loved “the least of these.” Then there’s Renee Good and Alex Pretti, and all the other citizens who’ve been murdered at the hands of our own government. Why? For exercising their constitutionally protected rights? Or for exposing the sin that’s infecting our communities like the horrific cancer it is? There are countless unsung heroes who bear witness to the Way of Jesus every day. Ordinary people who responded to his call saying, “Here I am.” Men and women, who pick up their cross and follow Jesus, knowing the cost that comes with it. If you want to know who they are, just look at who they love. Our immigrant neighbors, our queer children, and yes, even our loudmouth, bigoted relatives blinded by their own privilege and rage. Following Jesus isn’t about amassing power or being right. It’s about being humble and vulnerable. It’s about being like him. Loving God. Loving others. Serving both. Love finds its strength, in unity and partnership with Christ Jesus, who shows us with his own life, how to stand with the powerless and hold up those who others avoid. Love refuses to dehumanize. It doesn’t turn a blind eye to injustice or ignore inequality. It speaks up for truth no matter the cost. Jesus was very clear, that this kind of love can be risky. Uncomfortable. And self-emptying. But he also said, it’s this kind of love that sets his followers apart from the status quo. Following Jesus has always meant choosing a different way. A way that changes us, reorients our way of seeing and being. When our eyes are open like his, our hearts and minds can become his. And that’s the point. To be like him. No matter how hard one tries to weaponize it, the word Christian will always mean being a follower of Christ. His way. His truth. His life. His love. Like Rohr points out, Christian faith has “little to do with believing the right things about God beyond the fact that God is love itself.” If it’s not love, it can’t be God. This can be difficult to recognize when our eyes are fixed on the world’s way of seeing rather than God’s. So in closing, I want to leave you with Paul’s encouraging words written to the church in Rome. “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). Jesus reorients our hearts, so that we will do God’s will, in this sacred kingdom called life. This change starts with call: Metanoia. And follow. This invitation isn’t for a select few who say a sinner’s prayer and profess a list of doctrine. Jesus still offers this invitation to everyone. And anyone who is willing and brave enough to drop their nets and follow him. So where do you stand?
0 Comments
Halfway down the hill, I saw a group of guys in a heated argument. I could see that fist were clenched and could tell something bad was about to go down. There was literally nowhere we could go, no alternative route but the one we were on, to avoid stepping into the fray. My heart started racing imagining at what Fiona might see unfold. But then something surprisingly happened. One of the guys spotted us and warned the others. And just like that there was a pause in their disagreement. They stepped aside to let us safely pass. As we did, my amazing daughter, in her pink princess dress and white gloves, waved and said “Hello” to each one as if she knew them. For just one brief moment, anger was transformed into peace. There’s an old saying: your eyes see what your heart wants to see. I saw danger. But Fiona saw something more beautiful. That’s the invitation I believe we find in our reading today. ...And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Chosen One.” AnamesaBelieve it or not, we’re given another baptism story to ponder. But John’s is different. It’s more of an eye-witness recount of what happened. His story picks up the next day, after the fact, with Jesus passing by. Seeing him John points and proclaims, “Look. There’s the Lamb of God.” Now, we don’t know if Jesus is coming or going, but when two of John’s disciples hear this, they rush off to follow. And what they find will forever change them. It's what Jesus calls, "a way, a truth, a life" (John 14:6) that will bring them back into the center of God’s heart. When Jesus sees them following behind, he stops and asks a simple, yet tender question: “What are you looking for?” But Andrew answers with a question of his own. “Rabbi, where are you staying?” Then Jesus says three little words that have echoed through centuries of longing hearts. “Come and see.” We live in an age where artificial intelligence makes it harder to believe what you see. News clips and people’s voices can be easily altered. Like I said, our eyes see what our heart wants to see. But people have been skeptical long before AI. But Jesus isn’t out to prove anything to Andrew or his friend. And still, his response reveals something beautiful about God. That’s to say, God doesn’t try to convince us or coerce us through fear or force. God just invites. “Come and see.” Now, in the Greek, this phrase implies movement. Not just observing something with the eyes but discovering its depth through experience. Jesus doesn’t hand them a doctrine. He offers them an invitation - to step closer; to walk with him; to stay awhile. When they accept it, something changes in them. We know this because the next morning Andrew runs and tells his brother, “We have found the Messiah.” Then he brings him to Jesus, who in turn sees Simon not just for who he is, … but who he’s becoming. “You are Simon… you will be called Peter.” You see, following Jesus isn’t just about belonging, it’s about becoming. His invitation is about transformation. I would argue that’s what Jesus’ mission is all about. That’s what he means when he says, “Repent, for the kingdom of God is here.” Metanoia, the Greek word translated as repent means turn around. Change direction. See differently. It’s a call to look at yourself and the world with a new set of eyes. When your heart starts to see like Jesus sees, it transforms. And begins to love like Jesus loves. I call that salvation. The transformation of your old life into something new. For Andrew and the other Disciples, they immediately leave their old life behind and follow Jesus. But for most of us, transformation rarely happens that quickly. Sure, some have had a profound experience that quickly changed their life for the better. More often than not, it takes many conversations, shared moments, and growing trust before most of us allow ourselves to change or evolve. Despite however long it takes, Jesus keeps saying, keeps inviting, “Come and see.” Which can be hard to do when the eyes of your heart are closed. Thirty years ago, I was walking through one of the hardest seasons of my life. The kind that doesn’t just challenge you—but reshapes you. A neighbor, who knew my story, was curious and asked me how I was able to stay so positive through it? Like Andrew, I answered her question with one of my own. “What are you doing Sunday morning?” Looking back, that was my own little come and see moment. I was inviting her be a part of me. Not just my pain or struggle, but into my healing and becoming. And she accepted. That next Sunday we didn’t just walk to church; we started walking together in a new life. A friendship transformed into something greater. All because Kathleen accepted my invitation to come and see. That's the funny thing we often forget. Love always invites. It always brings. And it always evolves into something better. This is imperative for us to remember as our country becomes more divided and frayed. There are some who throw gas on flames of hatred and bigotry in a poor attempt to stay in power. But Jesus says there’s a different, more powerful way that doesn’t harm, but heals. That doesn’t kill but gives life. “Come and see” isn’t about winning arguments or dominating people. It’s not about drawing a line in the sand. It’s about love and acceptance; drawing a circle wide enough for everyone to belong. It’s about opening our hearts so our eyes can truly see not strangers to hate but friends to call family. That’s where our real power lies. Henri Nouwen once wrote, “Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.” That’s what Jesus is doing when he invites us to come and see. When we come closer to him, we find a space that is holy, a place for relationships to grow inside of. Instead of shouting across the divide, Jesus says, “Walk with me.” Instead of demonizing others, Jesus says, “Come to me and let’s see what we can do together.” But this requires one to accept his invitation. Yet, who among us will? Who is willing to walk away from the old and truly step into this new way, new truth and life? Jesus makes it very clear: “Anyone who wishes to be my disciple must pick up your cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24) What many Christians have forgotten these days is that we don’t meet Jesus by climbing over one another. We meet him by going deeper—into our communities and relationships, into the places where love is needed most. This isn’t just a call to see the world through his eyes, but to actually see him in the world. In your immigrant neighbor, in the exhausted teacher, and overworked nurse. In the single parent struggling hold it together, or a kid trying to figure out who they are in a complicated world. Jesus’ invitation isn’t just to come to church and see. He calls us out to go and be. Go to the streets and struggles to be his light and love. Go to the places and people we’d rather avoid and try to overlook to be his healing presence. This is how we are truly transformed. How we move from our old self into something new. This is how we bring salvation into the world, in his name. In God’s glory. Redemption and transformation don’t happen in theory. They happen in relationships. In the hard work of taking Jesus for his word and applying it to our lives. Jesus calls us to walk together, to wonder together, and work side-by-side as we love God, love others, and serve both together. Andrew and the others don’t just find the Messiah, they find a community. Jesus doesn’t offer them certainty. But gives them a way that opens the eyes of a compassionate heart. That’s our invitation too. As we go out into the world, I invite you to look for Christ in one another. When you see with the eyes of a compassionate heart, you will see Jesus is still walking. Jesus is still inviting. So let us go from this place not as people with all the answers, but as people who see with the eyes of Christ’s heart, loving one another unconditionally and dangerously. For it’s in this love that God weaves us together - thread by thread, heart by heart - bringing transformation and salvation into Anamesa.
Because when it comes to Jesus, how much do we actually know? We come here every week to learn about him, to pray in his name, and even try to live like him. And yet, so much of his life remains a holy mystery. Last week as we entered the season of Epiphany, we talked about who we are — beloved children of God, named and claimed by divine love. Today, I want to take us one step deeper into that revelation. Not just who we are, but what we learn about ourselves by watching Jesus. I have a feeling he wouldn’t mind us sharing what we know about him because it reveals something beautiful about us as well.
For some reason we get this baptism story numerous times in the church calendar. And every time we get it, I wonder what went on in Jesus’ life that led up to this moment. Given the historical data, most scholars agree this event happened roughly 30 years after his birth. So what happened in between? The gospel of Luke gives us a birth story and one quick glance of a precocious 12-year-old holding an intense Q&A session with the Rabbis in the Temple. That’s it. Matthew skips over this stuff. The most he offers us is a visit from some stargazers a year or two after his birth. There’s nothing about a teenage Jesus having weird emotional mood swings. Or him dealing with pimples and peer pressure. There are no stories about him trying to find the words to ask someone on a date. Or of him sulking in his bedroom wishing that “someone would just understand him.” And that’s probably a good thing. I think if we knew those stories, Jesus might come off as a little too human for our comfort. But he was human. And yet he was more than just a man. As Jesus will discover, he’s God’s beloved son. And he’ll spend his short life revealing to himself and his community what that means. In his book “Lamb. The gospel according to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal” author Christopher Moore offers us a playful, satirical look at a young, recently bar-mitzvahed Joshua--a.k.a Jesus—trying to figure out who he really is and what his life is meant to be about. The young man is convinced the answers might lie with those mysterious Magi who showed up when he was a baby. So, he and his best friend Biff head out on a spiritual road trip to find them. Not long into their journey, the two pals come across Joshua’s crazy cousin John, who, as far as they can tell, is drowning people in the river. They try to stay clear of him. But John sees and seizes his cousin, shoving him underwater. Right there, in the middle of the splashing and the gasping for air, heaven opens. And voice speaks, revealing him to the world: “This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased.” When he comes up from the water, everyone is starring at Joshua, but no one will tell him why. And so his mission continues. Although it’s satire, it does remind us that Jesus is like us. Which suggests to me that we can be like him. Which means on any given day, God can reveal to the world who we really are: Beloved children. In whom, God is well pleased. Again, we have no idea what Jesus did up to this point to earn that title. But what it would take for God to say that about one of us? Or does it take anything? Maybe we’re born beloved. And maybe we just need to go out into the world to discover this truth for ourselves. Christine Chakoian suggests, we’d do better starting off the new year not with resolutions we quickly abandon but by recommitting ourselves to our baptismal vows. To trust in the mercy of God, to renounce evil and turn away from sin, to walk with Christ, obeying his word and showing his love. In other words, maybe this is the year to actually live faithfully to what we proclaim: That God is love. After all, “Jesus’ baptism didn’t end with him. It was only the beginning of the fulfillment of God’s promise to the world—a promise we are called to carry on in his name.” (Chakoian) Like those standing on the banks of the Jordan, we are a part of his story. Perhaps the gospel writers jump over the early years to point us to the water, so we’re not fixated on Jesus’ human side, but focus instead on his divinity. That's the part of him which awakens us to our truth and reveals our purpose, our calling: to be the human manifestation of God’s divine grace and love in all that we do. And we do this not just by proclaiming Jesus’ story but by living our own life in imitation of him. As John the Evangelist put it, “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him” (1 John 4:9 ESV). To live through Christ is to live into our own baptism where God affirms us, commissions us, and tells us to go and be fruitful. It’s here, in the space between the baptismal font and heaven, God sends us into the world to make a difference. To stand up to the injustices that are being committed on our streets. To place ourselves between those who are being cruelly persecuted and their abusers. To humble ourselves before others, to serve and not be served. This is the call of the church. This is what it means to be, in the flesh, the kind of love that transforms foes into friends, that turns weapons of war into tools for peace and prosperity for all. It might sound impossible given the darkness that has come over this world. But Christ came in as the light and the darkness could not overcome it. The thing is, God doesn’t need us to be perfect. But we have to be willing to participate. To accept our baptism and put it to good use, ministering and manifesting God’s glory in all the ways we love God, love others, and serve both. We set this as our vision for the church from day one because we believe this is the most important thing we are called to do. And we do it, knowing and trusting faithfully that God is leading us, watching over us, caring for us always. Because the way I see it, God needs humans like you and me, just like God needed a very human Jesus to put flesh and blood on God’s divine glory for all the world to see and receive. Jesus’ baptism is an epiphany moment in that it tells the world he belongs to God. This is the same truth about us. Our baptism is our reminder of who we are and to whom we belong. Jesus said it like this, “They will know you belong to me by the way you love one another.” Love is our outward sign of our baptismal promise. Our way of becoming a divine revelation in the world of the God who has knitted us together in love. As we reconnect with our own baptisms, we remember that we too are anointed and sealed into the body of Christ. Each one of us is a thread in this divine tapestry God is weaving. No one string is better than the other. We are all given the same relationship with the Father that Jesus had. We are all given the same power of the Holy Spirit that emboldened Jesus to enter into our pain and enlighten us with truth. And we are all called to bear the same responsibility giving ourselves completely, just as Jesus gave his life for you and me. So, let’s go out into the world as God’s beloved sons and daughters, to continue Jesus’ earthly ministry; longing for the day we can hear him say to us: “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world… When I was hungry you fed me. When I was thirsty you gave me drink. When I was a stranger, you let me in. When I was naked you clothed me. When I was sick you comforted me. And when I was in prison you visited me. For every time you do stuff like this in my name, I am well pleased.”
Epiphany is typically told through the story of the Magi visiting the baby Jesus in Bethlehem and at Jesus’ baptism when the Holy Spirit descends upon him like a dove and the heavens open with God declaring, "This is my beloved Son." But you don’t need a divine star or holy water to have one. They can happen in ordinary moments—holding someone’s hand, watching a sunset, or driving to work. They can pop up immediately or gradually appear over time. I like to say epiphanies hit you in those moments in your life where God awaken you to the mystery of Christ. And I believe our reading today does exactly that. It gives us a new vision of who God is—and who we are—in Christ.
Ephesians is a letter written as a call to Christian unity and wholeness. It was sent to the churches in Ephesus to remind them of their identity and who they are to God. That identity, as Paul notes, is this holy adoption that God did. I can still remember that time I really read these verses and had an epiphany of my own. One that was divine, profound, life changing. And yet, embarrassingly simple: For whatever reason, God chose me. I am loved. I am valued. I am blessed all because God adopted me as a child in Christ. And what’s true for me, is also true for you. And everyone else. Here’s just one reason why that matters. When I feel alone, or when I beat myself up, these words remind me that I have been chosen by God; redeemed by Christ; and anointed by the Holy Spirit. This isn’t something I invented to make myself feel better when I mess up. As Paul points out, this was God’s idea, built into the foundation of world. And that idea wasn’t a concept. It was and still is Christ. This epiphany was Paul’s biggest message. The phrase “en Christo”—in Christ—appears 216 times in his letters alone. Richard Rohr calls it “Paul’s codeword for the gracious, participatory experience of salvation.” This isn’t to suggest Christ was something God had to create to fix a mistake in universe…(that idea we call original sin). Christ is a part of the original design that keep us connected and close to God. My great epiphany taught me that God chose us long before we chose God. We are all in Christ, whether we know or not. Again, this is less about being rescued from our sins, and more about waking up to what Paul already knew—that God has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing, so sin longer has the final word. God does. God choses us to bless us in it. Like I have said before, spiritual blessings are not material ones. A person can have great wealth and still be spiritually bankrupt, lacking joy, peace, wisdom, contentment, or a right relationship with God. We are living in a moment when the stock market can surge, bank accounts can grow, and homes can be fill with the latest upgrades and still depression and anxiety are still at an all-time high. We have never had more access to information and convenience, and yet so many people remain exhausted, lonely, and spiritually undernourished. The thing is, God isn’t offering us better possessions. God is offering us deeper participation and connection with the entire universe. A life rooted not in what we accumulate, but in who we belong to. Henri Nouwen described, “The great struggle of the spiritual life is to accept that we are loved.” Why does that seem so hard to grasp? I think too many of us spend our lives chasing things worth far less than the spiritual blessings already given to us in Christ. We chase status, approval, likes, followers. We blend in to stand out. We shrink ourselves just to belong. Obtaining wealth, being a part of things and enjoying a good life isn’t inherently wrong. But God’s dream for us is so much bigger. Before the foundations of the earth were laid, God settled on you as the one to love. God didn’t just choose you for the team. God built the team around you. You are not a surprise to God. No matter what you’ve done, you are still and always will be God’s beloved. Instead of throwing in the towel and giving up on us, God came to be with us, as one of us, in Christ…in a small, vulnerable baby born in occupied land and threatened since day one, just to love us. Like Nouwen pointed out, “If you dare to believe that you are beloved before you are born, you may suddenly realize that your life is very, very special.” All because we are in Christ, we are redeemed—made holy, blameless, and whole. Which leads me to the last part of my epiphany: Because I am in Christ means I no longer need to live trapped by guilt or shame. And neither do you need to live that way as well. British journalist and atheist Marghanita Laski made an amazing confession on live TV. She said, “What I envy most about you Christians is your forgiveness. I have no one to forgive me.” In her words sits Paul’s great epiphany: That in Christ, God has already done this—for her, for us, for everyone—“according to the riches of grace that God has lavished upon us all.” This grace is the most valuable blessing of all. It’s not to fix a problem, but to create something better than what we find ourselves faced with. Grace is the main thread that is woven throughout the entire scriptures. And it’s just as important today as it was when Israel rejected God. Or when Jesus hung on the cross and said, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they’re doing.” I like to think about it this way: without grace, sick days wouldn’t exist. Being late to an appointment would be unforgivable sin. And every bad thing you ever did would forever define who you perceive yourself to be. Yet, because of grace, we can experience true Christlike transformation. And become, as I love to say, little Christs in the world. That is our calling, our role in this holy family. Years ago, I gave our church a mantra for the new year. Today, I’d like to give it to you again to take with you into 2026. Say this out loud: I am a beloved child of God, and I am worth more than any earthly treasure. God doesn’t just choose to love us, God loves us for a purpose. That purpose is to be the sacred gift of Christ to one another. We have to carry love and bring redemption into every situation and space we find ourselves. And this is where our faith plays an important role. As Christians, I believe our reason to have faith in Christ is so we can produce the faith of Christ. Faith that allows us to see others with his eyes, to love with his heart. Jesus taught us how to see an enemy as a friend, a stranger as family. When our eyes are on Jesus, our hands and hearts are quick to imitate his. Jesus, like Paul, reveals this important truth: we are God’s beloved children, knitted together by love in this great tapestry of life. Which means we are a family of forgiveness and reconciliation. A people called to heal wounds and tear down walls; to seek peace and stop wars; stand with the oppressed and demand justice and fairness for everyone. I think this is what it means to live in Christ as Christ lives in us. And if or when that seems hard to do, whisper to yourself: I am a beloved child of God. I am worth more than any earthly treasure. Hopefully that will remind you and empower you like it does me, to do the hard and necessary work of life. So as we move into the New Year, don’t worry so much about what you’ve done. Focus instead on what you can do…starting right now, knowing what God has already done for you in Christ. From that grateful place, I believe God will keep transforming you in the most unexpected ways—awakening epiphanies in you, so that others might discover who they are…in Christ. Work Cited: Nouwen, Henri. You Are The Beloved: Daily Meditations for Spiritual Living. Convergent Books: 2017. Rohr, Richard. The Universal Christ: How A Forgotten Reality Can Change Everything We See, Hope For, and Believe. Convergent Books: 2019.
I can’t say with any certainty where God stands on blessing material things. I like to think God is happy to consecrate our new toys and clothes knowing such gifts can bring people joy. And communities together. But scripture always nudges us toward something deeper—something less about what we unwrap, and more about what we put on. That’s where Paul comes in. Writing to a small, scrappy church in Colossi, Paul offers a vision of what it looks like to live as people shaped—clothed, even—by Christ.
Three days ago, we celebrated the birth of Jesus—a holy act that didn’t just mark a moment in history, but it inaugurated a whole new movement. A movement where God begins reshaping the very nature of what it means to be human. And with that new life, Paul says, comes a new wardrobe. Now, as I was having coffee with my dad this morning, he kept saying he had to go get dressed for church. Apparently, they do things differently than Anamesa where pajamas are an acceptable part of the dress code. Still, this isn't the wardrobe that Paul’s writing about. He paints a vivid picture of what it looks like to live as someone who is fully clothed in Christ. It’s not what we wear, but how we wear it out. Like many of you, I unwrapped a few new clothing items this Christmas. New shirts. New styles. Including this cardigan. I love it. It’s a new fit for me, but I think I actually pull it off. Or so my wife tells me. But if I wore it out to dinner, I doubt anyone would notice anything different about me. That’s the thing about material changes—they rarely leave a lasting impression. Paul isn’t asking us to put on a new sweater or upgrade our look. He’s inviting us to make an inward change—to put on the heart of Christ and then wear it out into the world. He uses clothing as a metaphor for a transformed life. One that sheds old habits and takes on a new way of being—marked not by vices, but by virtues. Now, I have no idea what kind of clothes Jesus wore. Outside of being swaddled as a baby and having his tunic gambled over at his death, the gospels tend to focus on his inner life. When I read Paul’s list—compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience—it’s impossible not to see Jesus in each word. You won’t find this list of the things in fashion magazines. But you will see Jesus modeling each one in public. We know the stories. Jesus hears the cries of the people—and he’s moved with compassion. He meets people right where they are. He heals the sick. Restores the broken. Casts out demons. Feeds the hungry. Gives sight to the blind. And as far-fetched as it sounds, he even raises the dead. If we want to live into Christ—Jesus shows us the way. If we wear his heart —his compassion will be ours as well. What I have learned, and wrote extensively in my book, Shit Jesus Says, once we really begin to know Jesus, and walk his Way, our old ways stop fitting. I think that is the main point of salvation. If we’re going to follow Christ, we have to put on his tunic. Wear his sandals. Walk his walk. Paul urges the church to be intentional about this—to set our minds on the way of Christ rather than the way of the world. Years ago, it was popular in Christian Evangelical circles to wear those colorful rubber bracelets stamped with—What Would Jesus Do? Given what’s happening these days within the church, it’s clear these bracelets have fallen out of fashion. But the truth behind them remains. If we could actually do what Jesus did, then maybe children wouldn’t go hungry or be afraid to go to school. The health and well-being of the community might take priority over more tax cuts for the wealthy. Paul seems to agree. It’s hard to look at this list and not shake your head at where we have strayed. I think we could all benefit from asking ourselves, Am I doing what Jesus has done for me? This is true for individuals as well as the church as a whole. Because Jesus has shown you compassion—be compassionate. Because Jesus has forgiven you—be generous with your forgiveness. Because Jesus has borne your burdens—help carry someone else’s. Or to say it differently, if you want a more peaceful world—be peace. If you want healthier relationships—initiate harmony. If someone you know is struggling, don’t leave them stranded because God didn’t leave you stranded. You might know of this common practice in Alaska where people pick up hitchhikers—no matter what because being stranded in that environment is often more dangerous than helping a stranger. In a vast wilderness that is sparsely populated, you might be the only car that comes by in a day. People stop and help because they know on any given day, they too could need a ride. Some people call that karma. In the church we call it Christlikeness. To take the blessing of God that is in you, to be a blessing for others. In his 15th-century classic The Imitation of Christ, Thomas à Kempis argued true spiritual clothing is found in inner transformation, prioritizing God’s approval over worldly status. I agree with this simply because I’ve been criticized for some of the things I have worn. Shirts mostly. From novelty t-shirts to my clerical wardrobe, my fashion choices always seem to offend someone somewhere. But again, it’s not what we wear on the outside that matters. Or how righteous we wish to be seen. It’s our response to the criticism, which begins in the heart. Jesus had no problem pointing out religious hypocrisy. Calling them white-washed tombs that appear beautiful on the outside but inside are filled with death and decay. He didn’t do it to be judgmental or mean. Jesus wants us all to be more mindful of our hearts, to look within ourselves as a way to change for the better. And so, he directs our attention inward before we look outward. Jesus knows that when our hearts are changed, everything else will follow. Clothing ourselves in Christ is not about personal piety or political posture. It’s about how we relate to one another. These virtues—compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience—are communal virtues. They shape life together. They are the strings God uses to weave us all together. The church is called the Body of Christ for a reason. We are part of him. His heart becomes our heart. His hands become our hands. We may not always be the best dressed, but when we live in imitation of Christ—when we wear his love into the world—we become part of God’s blessing to others. Here in Anamesa, we are called to be the visible presence of Christ’s love. To wear it as naturally as our own skin. Perhaps this is what it means for the word of Christ to dwell in us richly—to let love shape who we are, inside and out, so that harmony becomes possible. Jesus calls us into the space between us and them and invites us to fill it with God’s glory. So, as Paul writes: “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus.” That’s not a burden. It’s an invitation. An invitation to take inventory of our lives and ask: Is my life a blessing to someone else? If you don’t know the answer—when you’re unsure—just look to Jesus. Are you doing what he did for you? Is God’s love becoming incarnate in you, given flesh and blood for the care of others? Just as God has blessed the world through him—God continues to bless the world through us. So let’s go in his name with the peace of Christ adorning your heart. And be thankful. Because God’s love—one size fits all—still wears beautifully on anyone willing to put it on. |
Ian MacdonaldAn ex-copywriter turned punk rock pastor and peacemaker who dedicates his life to making the world a better place for all humanity. "that they all might be one" ~John 17:21Get the Book
Buy Today
“Prius vita quam doctrina.”
~ St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) * “Life is more important than doctrine.”
|
Copyright © 2011