11 Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands— 12 remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. 13 But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. 14 For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down tin his flesh the dividing wall of hostility 15 by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, 16 and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. 17 And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. 18 For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19 So then you are no longer strangers and aliens,4 but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, 20 built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, 21 in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. 22 In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

Last night at Redemption Church, Gary Alloway was preaching on Jonah 2 and posed the question: Did Jonah ever repent? It appeared to Gary based on Jonah 2 that Jonah did not. I am inclined to agree. Jonah seems to quotes Scripture rote, even blames God for his situation (e.g., v. 3: “You hurled me into the depths.” Unless you are a good Calvinist, the sailors threw Jonah into the depths). And then, the fish vomits Jonah out!

Objects do not “vomit” out righteous people from the biblical point of view. Revelation 3:16 reminds the lukewarm church at Laodicea that “I [God] will vomit you out of My mouth” (NKJV). Based on the word study I did on the Logos app on my iPad, the Old Testaments makes quite a few references to the unrighteous (never the “righteous”) being vomited out (see below).

What do you think? Did Jonah repent? If not, I need to call my Sunday School teacher.

“vomited” word study:
Le 18:25 and the land became unclean, so that I punished its iniquity, and the land vomited out its inhabitants.
Le 18:28 lest the land vomit you out when you make it unclean, as it vomited out the nation that was before you.
Le 20:22 “You shall therefore keep all my statutes and all my rules and do them, that the land where I am bringing you to live may not vomit you out.
Job 20:15 He swallows down riches and vomits them up again; God casts them out of his belly.
Pr 23:8 You will vomit up the morsels that you have eaten, and waste your pleasant words.
Pr 25:16 If you have found honey, eat only enough for you, lest you have your fill of it and vomit it.
Je 25:27 “Then you shall say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Drink, be drunk and vomit, fall and rise no more, because of the sword that I am sending among you.’
Jon 2:10 And the Lord spoke to the fish, and it vomited Jonah out upon the dry land.

Too many Christians jump over Good Friday to get to Easter. Friday: God experiences pain like we do. God, Almighty, is very “human” on Friday. The Father feels the wrenching pain in his stomach. The Son experiences loneliness (where is God?). And (I imagine) the Spirit is paralyzed. Sunday: God proves everyone wrong. Death does not have the last say, and Christ is the firstfruits of the redemption of our world. But if we jump to Sunday, Friday loses its importance.

PBU has been hit with a good amount of pain this year: three deaths by beloved individuals at the university (Dr. Hsu, Dr. Hirt, and Lisa Weidman) and students experiencing death in their families. We aren’t sure why this has happened. But we are aware what God has done and will do about it.

I take no consolation in the “they’re in a better place.” I do however take consolation in knowing that God will do something about death (see Romans 8, 1 Corinthians 15, Revelation 21). I don’t take consolation in “they are no longer in pain now.” I do take consolation in that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit experienced pain, loneliness, and emotional paralysis like I have.

Somehow, for me, that makes pain easier.

“The LORD had said to Abram, ‘Go…’ [Genesis 12:1a]

What Without Where

I have found numerous times in my life that God will tell me what to do without telling me where to go. And again, I am in that situation: Amanda, the kids, and I will be moving on from Redemption Church in May. I will no longer be pastoring there, and, while my heart breaks over this decision, I believe God is asking us to move. But (frustratingly) he hasn’t told us where.

I don’t have much of a “father-son” relationship with God. God and I have more of a “fighting siblings” relationship. I really identify with Jacob in Genesis, Israel throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, and the disciples in the New Testament with Jesus–they wrestle with God and his plans. God and I wrestle. We argue. As much as he always loves me, I (to be honest) can get sick of him. But we are family so we stick it out. We still love each other. Because I know: God will come up big.

When our family came to Redemption, I had no job and took a volunteer leadership role at a church plant we weren’t too sure would actually work out. We did it (and again, I had to wrestle with God) because we believed that this was what God was asking us to do. After we were faithful to what he was asking us, I got a job at Philadelphia Biblical University as a Resident Director, and it is a job I have grown to love more than I ever expected. God came up big. Redemption Church has blessed us in many ways, but God is asking us (similarly to Abram) to “go.”

So, again, we are moving on because we believe God is asking us to. We don’t know where we are going. I will remain at PBU. But we are losing our church family, and that will be hard. Again, God has given us a “what” without a “where.” And again, we hope that God will come up big.

Jesus washing the disciples' feet

Today, on Maundy Thursday, we remember Jesus’ institution of the Eucharist (or Lord’s Supper), and we wash each others’ feet as Jesus did: “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet” (cf. John 13:1-17). Two beautiful rituals that are set as reminders of Christ’s servant posture.

It is interesting (don’t you think?), though, that both of these rituals make people uncomfortable. Protestants for years (especially in the Free Church tradition) have been uncomfortable with the Eucharist. I don’t always deal with the theological reasons for why because they appear to me (cynically) to be products of the thought: “Well, we don’t want to be like Catholics.” Since it is a “memorial,” we do it once or twice a year, or the first Sunday of each month, or when we feel like it. I know Calvin and Luther would turn over in their graves if they knew we thought like that, but, nonetheless, Protestants have become uncomfortable with the Eucharist (can the uncomfortable feelings toward a violent atonement be a product of remembering his broken body and blood? That’s a question for another day.) .

Also, some people just don’t like feet (however, some people like the butler from Adam Sandler’s Mr. Deeds love feet). It’s uncomfortable for me to take off my shoes and be humble enough to allow someone to wash my feet. It’s even more uncomfortable for the one washing your toe-jammed, stinky feet. Now, if “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet,” is true. Perhaps, we should just “get over it.”

However, why are we uncomfortable with both? Why does this eating bread and drinking wine/juice make us uncomfortable unlike when we are at an Italian restaurant drinking red wine and eating the bread on the table? Why does exposing my feet make me uncomfortable (it’s not like I am taking off my shirt)? It might just be that it is because both of these deeds take the attention off me and put it on someone else. Christ’s death is about him–his obedience to the Father–and about us–the people of God together in unity taking part in the gift of God. Washing each others’ feet is about us–the people of the Messiah following the ways of the Messiah for the benefit of each other.

It might just be my attitude, but, perhaps, we just need to get over it. Jesus seems to take both of these things pretty seriously. There is something incredibly spiritual and cosmic happening in those moments when we take the bread and dip it into the cup and when we humble ourselves (Peter had trouble with this, remember?) to the point off exposing our crusty toenails to each other.

It might just be–that it’s not about me. I think I’m starting to realize this.

Mark 15:39 And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!”
40 Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joseph, and Salome. 41 In Galilee these women had followed him and cared for his needs. Many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem were also there.

The Roman centurion and the women present highlight again, in Mark’s Gospel, that Jesus’ closest disciples fail to see who he really is. Ben Witherington quoting Ched Meyers says about Mark’s inclusion of these three women,

“The world order is being overturned, from the highest political power to the deepest cultural patterns, and it begins within the new community. It will be these women, the ‘last’ become ‘first,’ who will be entrusted with the resurrection message.’” (Witherington, The Gospel of Mark: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary, p. 401).

Jesus setups up an alternative reality, where the last become first, where one’s gender does not keep him or her out of the inner circle, where its people turn the other cheek, live by the law of loving God and others, and live as true light and salt. It is not Peter, James, and John who are there to the end, but it is Mary Magdalene, Mary, and Salome—women, second-class citizens.

When I was in third grade, I remember my friends making fun of me because my shorts were too short. I must have missed the memo that went around but my friends went from wearing shorts at mid-thigh to down to the knee. I was embarrassed when my friend pointed it out—how different I was to everyone else. My immediate thought was: I need to get new shorts! I was different and that scared me.

But the cross is different. It is the way—the way no one expected—for God to bring about his kingdom. Jesus lived an alternative life and died an alternative death so that the kingdom of God might be seen. John Howard Yoder puts it this way,

“Here at the cross is the man who loves his enemies, the man whose righteousness is greater than that of the Pharisees, who being rich became poor, who gives his robe to those who took his cloak, who prays for those who despitefully use him. The cross is not a detour or a hurdle on the way to the kingdom, nor is it an event on the way to the kingdom; it is the kingdom come” (Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, p. 51).

Jesus on the cross

On the cross, Jesus shows that in order for God to be victorious over sin and death, Jesus must lose this battle. For God to win, Jesus must lose. God is victorious in Jesus’ death. His kingdom, his rule on earth as it is in heaven, has now come. So, in his death, Jesus experiences God’s victory, and we do too. The apostle Paul says in Colossians 1 that God’s fullness dwelt in the person of Jesus and in him God was reconciling all things—in heaven and earth—to himself.
And God wants us to be a part of this, too. He wants us to be people of reconciliation. This is the start of God’s new creation. The old way of doing things, where evil reigns and has a hold on this world, has been eradicated and replaced with the kingdom of God—God’s rule on earth as it is in heaven—and this all begins with Jesus’ death. 2 Corinthians 5 puts it this way,

17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! 18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: 19 that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. 20 We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors…

The Church—the followers of Jesus—is the agent of the new creation. We are its agents. We are its ambassadors. We are its “people of reconciliation.” We are the alternative to the world. We are so because Jesus was so. Jesus heals the leper and is not allowed back in town. He takes the leper’s status. He is an alternative so his followers must also be.

If we are honest the world needs something different to its own way. What does it look like for us to be the alternative reality to the world’s reality? What does it look like to be the alternative to a world that believe in redemptive violence—that killing someone will make everything better? What does it look like to be the alternative to a world where racism happens and sex trafficking happens? What does it look like on a day-to-day basis to be the alternative to the Rat Race? Or consumerism? Or to be the alternative to cheating and backstabbing to get ahead? What does it look like to be the alternative to gossip? Or apathy? Or cyncisim?

Jesus has set up his alternative reality, which is God’s alternative reality. The alternative reality to the world looks like the cross. It looks like the Son of God dying to save Israel and the world. It looks like forgiveness. It looks like the end of exile. It looks like a man wrongly accused. It looks like the King of the Jews mocked and laughed at. But surely this man, Jesus, is the Son of God, who was abandoned and judged for the sake of the world so that we might live an alternative reality for the sake of the world.

May you be different. May you be the alternative reality. And may we live the life of the cross and see God’s kingdom come.