Tag Archives: Christianity

Dressing with dignity

I am almost finished with a remarkable book, the Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse. It was published in 1991, which made me sad and a little defeated. If people have been saying this for over 30 years now, why are things worse and not better? And what can my voice add?

Anyway – like all great books, it gets one’s mind whirling and meditating. The authors have a passage on Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead that stopped me in my tracks. I’ve been meditating on it ever since.

38 Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. 39 “Take away the stone,” he said.
“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”
40 Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”
41 So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”
43 When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.
Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

The New International Version (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2011), Jn 11:38–44.

The first question that the authors ask of the text is this: “Why didn’t Jesus use his almighty power to roll away the stone himself?”

And the second, “And why didn’t he just bring Lazarus OUT of his graveclothes himself?”

The answer to these questions speak of something very important in the life of the Church (not the outward corporation that has gotten so corrupt, but the people of God wherever they are found – usually in exile and hiding). In Ephesians 1:31, the people of God are called the “fullness” of Christ. The Son of God considers himself incomplete without his bride, his body, his people. We are so united to Jesus that his death is ours, his resurrection is ours, and his glory is ours. This is the point of Ephesians.

It also answers the questions so many people have about the Psalms. Are they about David, Jesus, or the people of God? And the answer is “Yes”. David was the type. Jesus was the reality. And we all, as his members, experience the same things in this life and the life to come. We suffer. We rise. We are glorified. We reign. We go to the abyss. We are rescued from the abyss. We long for God. We were born for another world. We are sinners. We are righteous. We are loved. We grieve our sins. We feel abandoned. We feel God’s love.

And we wait for the salvation of God. These realities are ours, and also belong to Jesus. And also to David in shadows.

But I digress.

Do you remember in Genesis where it was promised that the seed of the woman would crush the head of the serpent? We know that ultimately that crushing belongs to Jesus. But it also belongs to us, his bride.

20 The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.  Rom. 16:20.

Here is another example of our union with Christ our head (the head of our body, not our CEO – those are different concepts). He crushes Satan’s head on the cross. We crush Satan’s head taking up that same cross.

But I’m digressing again.

Jesus gives his people the astounding privilege of serving with him in his kingdom. He could, of course, have simply rolled away the stone. But he commissions his people to take their part in setting Lazarus free.

Only the Eternal, begotten Son of God can raise the dead. We can’t do that. But we CAN roll away the stone. We can remove the barriers. We can take away our own blinders, our prejudices, our hatreds and grudges – we can make sure that when the world stumbles, it is on the cross, not politics or laws or culture or gender wars or ANYTHING other that the voice of the Son of God who speaks and raises the dead.

Take away the stone and set the prisoners free.

And yes, they are still in their grave clothes. They are gross and they stink. We are all wrapped with the rags of all of those things that were our comfort in the tomb.

When you are dead, (using spiritual language) you still have the clothing of the dead. That clothing has brought your comfort. You thought that it would take away your shame and your disgrace. You thought that you could find significance, security and strength – and you hold really tightly to all of those things. It is terrifying to think of losing your graveclothes (still speaking in metaphor, people).

Before the voice of Jesus called you and made you alive, you tried to find dignity in the brokenness of this present evil age, and it wasn’t there. But it is even scarier to let those things go.

Remember C.S. Lewis in the “Voyage of the Dawn Treader” when he “undresses” the dragon skin off of Eustice? Eustice recounts that losing his skin was the most painful thing he could imagine, but that it also felt good watching it tear away like a scab.

This is what it is like to lose the grave clothes. And it is even worse when those called out of the tomb are ridiculed for their clothes. Shamed because of it. Excluded and disgraced because they didn’t get rid of them fast enough.

And how shameful it is when those called by God to “loose him and let him go” just stand by and say to themselves “I thank God I am not like that poor guy.”

The scribes and the Pharisees stood by and watched, then plotted to kill Jesus.

And when Lazarus and Abel and Jacob and Amos and Zechariah and Zacchaeus and Mary Magdalene and Bathsheba and Ruth and Junia and all the rest are called from the tomb, there will always be the scoffers, refusing to soil their hands helping a terrified loved one of Jesus remove their graveclothes.

But that brings me to the concept in the book that floored me. When Jesus rose from the dead, he left his grave clothes behind. He could have done the same thing with Lazarus. So why didn’t he?

Because Lazarus would have had to walk out of the tomb exposed and naked in front of everyone.

Wow.

By telling his people to “loose him and let him go”, he is preserving Lazarus’s dignity. The people of God can get him changed without exposing him to the ridicule and shame of the passersby, and that is huge.

Shame has never changed a soul. Reviling and disgracing anyone has never saved anyone. Jesus came that we might have life, and to restore the dignity with which we were created – human beings, image-bearers of God.

Men and women, slave and free, rich and poor – clothed with Christ, the grave clothes come off easily. But it still hurts. It still is terrifying. It is still a long process.

We need compassion and the people of God need that compassion – the same compassion that Jesus had when HE was stripped naked and crucified so that We might be clothed.

 

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The man’s man, who pisseth against the wall

It’s a curious expression. I was brought up on the King James Version and I remember giggling to myself whenever the old and venerable preacher would read it.

I would have gotten the tar knocked out of me if I said it. But if it is in the King James, it must be godly, right?

As I got older, I realized that there wasn’t any other English translation that uses that phrase.

Then when I studied Hebrew, I realized that the King James literally translates the Hebrew there. The Word of God does indeed say, “Every man that pisses against the wall.”

I started thinking about this a week or so back. Someone shared a clip of a southern preacher bemoaning the “lack of real men”. He said that the problem in America is that men pee sitting down, unlike what the Bible says. The Bible says that real men piss against the wall.

He was serious, by the way, and there are more problems with that exegesis than can be mentioned in this blog.

But it illustrates a serious problem in the way that the modern bearded dude-bro thinks. There is a worship of manly men. An obsession with authority. A lust for manly power. Pulpits mostly focus on men being men, and many careers have been made with the shaming of “effeminate men” who pee sitting down, and manly men who piss against the wall like men are supposed to.

You all know who I am talking about. A sermon shaming effeminate men and extolling manly men will go viral, if done well. And the manly man is equated with godliness, strength, courage, and power.

The horrible sermon about “pissing against the wall” was simply pandering to the spirit of the evangelical age of Trump, I’m afraid.

But here is the problem.

“Pisseth against the wall” is used 6 times in the Old Testament – all of them in the Age of the Kings.

And each time it is used, it is used as a promise of destruction.

David said that if Abigail hadn’t intervened, not one of Nabal’s men would have been left alive. All who pisseth against the wall would have been destroyed.

And then the curse on the house of Ahab – not one of Ahab would be left. Not one who “pisseth against the wall”.

If you think about it, the preacher was right about one thing. The man who “pisseth against the wall” is the manly man. He is outside the city, protecting the perimeter. He is with the soldiers. He isn’t inside on the couches and with the women. He is outside, pissing against the wall of the city, or the fortress, or the tower.

He is Nimrod, the mighty hunter. Esau, the hairy man of the field.
He is the mighty men of David. The soldiers.

And every time they are mentioned in the scripture, the term is used as a mark of contempt. You mighty men who piss against the wall, so proud of your manly strength. Not one of you will be left when the Lord finished his work.

Your armies can’t protect you. Your strength can’t protect you. Your authority and power can’t protect you.

A careful reading of the prophets shows a very important theme: Woe to all who put their trust in armies, strength, weapons, horses – or in the modern age – guns, tanks, politics, police, armies, patriarchs, men who pee standing up.

This is not where the kingdom of God is. Never has been. Never will be.

Where you find the spirit of God is where you find love and joy, peace and longsuffering.

I mourn when I see the established church lust after war and death. I hate seeing the people of God crying out for blood.

That is not what Christianity is. The kingdom is not advanced by armies and death and destruction.

God takes no pleasure in the legs of a man.

Like any other gift, the gift of strength can and has been used for God’s glory. God uses men of war for many different reasons, and many honorable men and women have served in the armed forces. That isn’t what this is about.

What this is about is trust. The problem with the “manly man” theology in the pews is that it drives the soul from Christ.

It makes us think that with strong resolve and will power, with strength and determination, we can overcome any obstacles and defeat any enemy.

And the bible calls this “pride”. We think that sin is something that can be overcome by strength of will. We think that the armies of evil can be destroyed by manliness and courage. We think that the problem in the country are those “other people”. When I was a kid, it was the hippies. Now, apparently, it is people who pee sitting down. How he got that information is beyond my imagination. But it all boils down to pride.  And God hates it.

God resists the proud.

But he gives strength to the humble. The humble one, in Biblical thought, is the one who is afflicted, without any resources, without any strength, without any hope.’ In the ancient Hebrew, the word for “humble” can also be translated, oppressed, afflicted, crushed, poor, or desperate.

It is the opposite of the one receiving a major award and saying “I’m so humbled by this award….”

Rather, it is the one with leprosy, cast out of the city without a cure.

It is the one who is destitute, begging for scraps at the temple.

It is the woman who reaches out to touch the hem of the garment.

It is the child stripped and dragged away as a captive.

It is the old man crushed under the wagon wheels.

It is the blind beggar that is shouting, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 

It is the rich ruler whose dearly loved daughter is about to die. He is destitute and his money and position can do nothing.

In other words, the one that God resists is the one who boastfully pisseth against the wall, spits on the ground, says to himself “At least I don’t pee sitting down”.

That has nothing to do with Christ. He didn’t come for those who have strength. When we were without strength, Christ died for the ungodly.

Those who pee sitting down because their legs don’t work.

The one who is so overcome with his sin and misery that he can only cry out, “Lord have mercy”.

Remember the cry of the desperate? “Whoever will call upon the name of the Lord will be saved.”

This is the gospel. The church was called to give that message. To teach who Jesus is so that the desperate know who to call out to.

Whosoever calls on the name of Jesus will be saved.

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“Christianity has a masculine feel…”

Thus spake John Piper, the wise. It makes me sad. There is a new religion that has entered through the American revivalists over the decades, and it isn’t Christianity. It is a religion of power, authority, money, influence and control. Its ugly babies are abuse, rape, violence, racism, and oppression.

This “religion” has a “masculine feel” – which is now defined as Christians taking dominion, conquering wives, controlling children, taking over counties, states, and eventually countries. (I believe that masculinity is a gift of God that can be used for much good, but that is another subject.)

It snuck in stealthily and some of us didn’t really wake up to it recently. And many, like me, have asked since “What happened to Christianity? How did it turn in to power and politics and hatred and blustering. How did it turn into abuse and oppression and coverup? How did the dynamic of authority and submission come to take the place of the gospel? What happened to the good news that the church was commissioned to proclaim?”

How could we have gotten it so wrong? Many have written on it and have done well. Most of them have been cast out of their churches, received death threats and suffered all sorts of abuse. All that does is prove the validity of the question. “When did Christianity turn into something so unlike itself?”

This is a blog. It isn’t a book. It is a short commentary designed to encourage thought. So I would like to simply modify Piper’s statement to something a little more Biblical, and leave it at that. If you like, you can compare these statements to Piper’s statement and determine for yourself, if you are willing to do so. Perhaps the answer to the question, “How did we get here?” might spring up in your mind.

Instead of saying, “Christianity has a masculine feel”, look at these nine more biblical alternatives:

“Christianity has a lover’s embrace feel” (Song of Songs)

“Christianity has a mothering hen and sheltering chicks feel” (Matthew 23:37)

“Christianity has a begging widow feel” (Luke 18:1-8)

“Christianity has a dying beggar feel” (Luke 16:20-21)

“Christianity has a babies and nursing infants feel” (Matthew 11:25; Matthew 21:16)

“Christianity has a big, warm, lying in each other’s arms feel” (Luke 15:20; John 13:23)

“Christianity has a desperate, helpless sinner feel” (Luke 18:13)

“Christianity has a hopeless prisoner, outcast, despised, mourning, fringe kind of feel” (Isaiah 61:1-3; Luke 4:18-19).

“Christianity has a safe, belonging, peaceful, nourishing, apron-wearing, serving one another kind of feel” (so, so, so many passages John 13; Romans 8; Revelation 20-21; Isaiah 2; Zephaniah 3)

There are probably many more, and the difference is crucial. There are those who have power, who are masculine in every cultural sense of the word; there are those who are in charge, who have money, who sit on thrones, who rule their houses, who have resources, time, authority and status…

But that isn’t Christianity. If you have those things, you must consider them all to be dung, be willing to give them all away, learn to wear an apron, become as a nursing child or begging widow, or you are, quite honestly, not worthy of Christ’s name. Nor are you worthy to use any of the power that God has given you until you first learn to lay it aside and take up an apron.

But on the other hand, those on the fringes, those who are unclean, those who are weak, beggars, cast-aways, despised, hated, thirsty, longing for love and for embrace and for belonging and safety, Jesus is speaking to YOU.

“Come unto me, and I will give you rest.”

Not “and I will teach you to be manly”

Not “and I will teach you how to have power over people”

Not “and I will teach you what you have to do to earn favor with God”

But “I will give you rest.”

I have heard that according to Babylonian mythology, the gods created humans because they needed workers.

God did not create us because he needed workers in his kingdom. He created us to rest in his bosom. He created us free to create, to plant, to reap, to sing, to dance, to rejoice in the love of the Holy Trinity, into which we have been sweetly drawn in by the power of the Holy Spirit.

When we turn it into a “masculine feel” of conquest, authority, power, control, we always end up in some truly ugly places.

Stop the idolatry of Babel, resurrected as Christian nationalism. Learn to rest in the bosom of the shepherd.

James 3:17–18 (NKJV)
17 But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy.
18 Now the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.

That can only happen when we learn how to rest in God’s love and stop trying to control everyone or make them our servants. Learn to wear the apron. Learn to rest in the embrace. Long for the lover’s voice. This is Christianity.

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