^“Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home.”  He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them.  He was amazed at their lack of faith.”

Sometimes it takes awhile before a set of verses catches my attention.  Sometimes it happens right away.  In this instance, these verses struck me immediately because they have continuity with thoughts I expressed when reviewing Mark Chapter 1.

When the Gospel says “He could not do any miracles,” it once again appears that Jesus’ actions are being dictated by sinful people.  But we already established this is not the case.  Here, as in Chapter 1, Jesus chooses to honor the freedom of those surrounding Him.  When they push him away, He accepts their choice so that the integrity of the “love expansion via free will” system remains uncompromised.

So far, so good.  Seems like this post should have been easy.  Yet its been more than a month since I last wrote.

And for that entire time I have been hung up on the next verse.

“He was amazed at their lack of faith.”

As I pondered these words it became clear this one verse might very well encompass my entire view of the current relationship between religion and government in our country.  How do I express such a big idea in a blog post?

For openers, I must acknowledge a couple things.  Each of us is a brother or sister to Jesus.  Or, in the terms of the Chapter, we are all his relatives.  He is present to all of us, all the time.  Or, in the terms of the Chapter, the entire world is his home town.  He dwells within us.  Or, in the terms of the Chapter, our souls are His home.

These acknowledgements make it apparent that Jesus is not speaking to the people of his day.  He is speaking to us, today, right now.  Issues like abortion and the current attempt within the health care regulations to force the Church to compromise its conscience make it all too easy to see Jesus as “amazed by our lack of faith” on a national or global scale.

When freedom is attacked directly via unjust laws or regulations, or even indirectly by using the tax code to redistribute resources, God’s core purpose and will are at stake.  Without freedom, our ability to act for the expansion of love, or to use our resources for that same expansion, is hampered or even destroyed.  The expansion of love that God desires can not happen the way it should when freedom is restricted.

Perhaps one reason it has taken me so long to tackle this post is a personal weakness when it comes to hope.  I know intellectually that God must triumph in the end, but when I look out at the country and think about how little freedom seems to be valued these days, I experience a paralyzing distress.

I wish I knew what I could do.  Even if I give government the benefit of the doubt and assumes it motives are pure, I know beyond questioning that solutions that limit freedom are doomed to failure no matter how good the intentions might be.

The country is at a crossroads.  In an attempt to meet need, we are spending at an unsustainable rate and there is no will to bring that spending under control despite the dubious results.  Since the great depression government has been ascendant and the Church descendant when it comes to the basic care of the people.  Now their exists an unchallengeable assumption that government is responsible for the welfare of the people.

But I know this responsibility properly rests with God and His Church.  The role played by a highly intrusive government is against the natural order of creation, and thus it is doomed to failure.  When it fails there will be no other structure in place to meet the needs of the people.  The role of the Church has been minimized to such an extent that it can not fill that void adequately.  The consequences to individuals of that failure are daunting, even indescribable.

I would forestall this failure and those consequences if I could.  I would help establish a proper balance between the role of government and the role of the Church when it comes to the moral and economic integrity of the American system if I knew how.  But I have no idea where to start.

I can acknowledge that, indeed, Jesus must be “amazed at our lack of faith” as He watches government influence expand exponentially at the expense of the Church.

I can also acknowledge that He must have a plan to place His Kingdom before earthly kingdoms.

I just wish I knew how I could help.

“And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse.  When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.”

I often suggest that when you pray over a passage from scripture, you should attempt to place yourself in the scene.  So I would encourage you to assume the role of this woman for a moment.

When I do this, its easy at first for me to identify with her.  I suffer from chronic allergies, so I empathize with the need for physical healing even if my ailment is not as debilitating as hers.  I also quickly relate to her turning to worldly sources as the first reaction to her need.  Modern medicine (as opposed to prayer) is obviously our first choice for physical healing when we require it.

But in all honesty, I lose my ability to identify with her when faith takes over.  As hard as I try, I can’t bring myself to reach out for the cloak of Jesus with an actual expectation that this will lead to healing. I know people who have personally experienced miraculous healing or have seen it happen to others.  But I can not shake my skepticism no matter how much I believe, in the abstract, that such miracles are possible.

I am conflicted.   On the one hand, I don’t even think the gesture of touching the cloak is required.  I think Jesus could heal my allergies today if He willed it, just as He healed the centurion’s servant from afar.

On the other hand, I am too well conditioned to modern views for me to actually accept that my prayers for healing will result in a personal miracle.  I have been fighting the flu for the past two weeks.  In that time, I tried to voice such prayers, but I could not muster any enthusiasm as I did so.  Even with a clear and present need, I have not been able to find enough faith to develop a true expectation that healing would come.

I hate to say it, but perhaps my inner conflict will not be resolved unless I experience a healing miracle personally.

As I consider that, I arrive at this conclusion:

My true ailment is spiritual, and it takes the form of a catch-22.  The lack of faith that prevents me from accepting that a personal healing miracle is possible is a much more serious ailment than the allergies I suffer.  But it would seem that I must have that faith before my lack of faith can be healed.

The bad news is I don’t understand how this catch-22 gets resolved.

But the good news is I accept that God is a mystery beyond my understanding.  The limits on my understanding are part of His plan for creation, and I affirm that His plan is good by definition.

I don’t know how you will do it, but Jesus, I ask that you please heal my lack of faith.

If it is at all possible within the plan of creation, please hit me upside the head as you do so, so I don’t miss the healing when it comes.

But also be assured that if that’s not possible, with the help of your grace, I will continue to love you with all my heart just the same.

“Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful.”

In the post “Putting Prayer and Devotion First”, I lamented the state of American culture.  These two verses, as soon as I read them, reminded me of that distress.

“The word” is not some inanimate manifestation of scripture in the corner of my mind or soul.  Its not what I hear when the Priest gives his homily expounding on that scripture.  Its not even the personal graces I receive when prayer over that scripture bears fruit.

“The word” is nothing less than Jesus incarnate.

In the last chapter, when I read of Pharisees plotting to put Jesus to death, I assumed a large distinction between myself and these schemers.  “I would never do that.  If blessed to be in the physical company of Jesus, I could never do anything to bring Him harm.”

Maybe I need to be careful in making such a proud assumption.

Because I am regularly consumed by the worries of this life.  I still succumb to the deceits of wealth and the sins that follow.  Desires for other things creep in daily, if not hourly.

Once again, these distractions are common in the culture.  Common enough that the culture would not typically label them distractions.  Few would take me to task for skimping on my spiritual life in order to concentrate on work, money, generating opportunities for my kids, etc., etc., etc.

Yet whenever I am distracted by the worries, deceits, and desires of my everyday life, whenever I lose mindfulness, the result is harm to “the word.”  “The word” is choked and its fruitfulness is diminished or even lost.

And if “the word” is the incarnate Jesus, how far am I from the company of those Pharisees?  “Choking the word” is not the same as flogging the incarnate Jesus and nailing Him to a cross, but the violence inherent in that image is enough to give me pause.

I may not be consciously seeking to harm Jesus, but a loss of mindfulness also means I am not consciously, consistently, actively engaged in the perpetuation and support of His life so that anyone who encounters me, encounters Him.  If He does not have life in me, then where does He have life?  If I am not His face to all I meet, then where will others immersed willfully in this culture ever meet Him?

I can’t escape the feeling that no matter how hard I try, the worries and deceits and desires will get the best of me and cause me to fail.  The balance between being a positive force in the culture and a man drowned in the culture is hard to find, and even harder to maintain.

I don’t want to fail.  I don’t want to drown.  But often I feel as if I don’t understand how to succeed, how to keep my head above water.

So I pray, and trust, and hope, over and over.

• Jesus, I need you.  Jesus, I love you.  Jesus, heal me.
• Jesus, guide me.  Jesus, strengthen me.  Jesus, transform me.
• Jesus, hold me.  Jesus, help me.  Jesus, keep me.

]]> http://emboldenme.com/2012/03/mark-chapter-4/feed/ 0 http://emboldenme.com/2012/02/mark-chapter-3/ http://emboldenme.com/2012/02/mark-chapter-3/#comments Wed, 29 Feb 2012 17:05:24 +0000 Tim http://emboldenme.com/?p=1339 Continue reading →]]> Here are verses 2-6 from Mark Chapter 3.

“Some of them were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched him closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath.  Jesus said to the man with the shriveled hand, “Stand up in front of everyone.”  Then Jesus asked them, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” But they remained silent.   He looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored.  Then the Pharisees went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus.”

In the last post, I focused on the faith of the friends of the paralytic.  Here we get the utter opposite.  We get men so disinterested in faith that their response to a healing miracle is to plot the death of God.

As with the last post, I turn to my Franciscan formation materials as a starting point.  The chapter we reviewed last weekend began with paragraph 5 of the SFO Rule:

“Secular Franciscans, therefore, should seek to encounter the living and active person of Christ in their brothers and sisters…..”

The material makes it clear that “brothers and sisters” is all inclusive by stating this:

“We understand this simple statement leaves no one out of the circle……...”

Then it instructs us that enemies are part of that circle by quoting Henri Nouwen:

“When we meet the “other” in our lives, and label him/her as enemy, our heart must change from suspicion to welcoming, from hostility to hospitality.”

Does this instruction extend all the way to the Pharisees who are plotting the death of Jesus?  During my prayer, when I put myself in the synagogue, I am easily able to gaze upon Jesus.  But can I also see Jesus when I turn and look at the silently sitting Pharisees?

Does Jesus see Himself in these men even as they look for a reason to accuse Him, and then again as they exit the room to begin plotting His death, breaking the sabbath themselves in the process, by the way?

What is the nature of Jesus’ anger and distress?

The Gospels are supposed to be relevant to today’s world.  There are equivalents to the Pharisees holding power now.  God is under attack today just as He was in the Gospels.  No doubt some even seek His death as part of their agenda.

How would Jesus have me react to these modern day Pharisees?

Am I supposed to somehow emulate the anger and distress of Jesus?

Or is the most important thing what happens next, the act of love and healing that follows the anger and distress?

When I look at the Pharisees I see men that are, at best, deluded.  They think they are doing the right thing by challenging a blasphemer, but their stations and worldly concerns make them blind to the truth.  At worst, they are intentionally pursuing a course of evil.  They recognize who Jesus is, they view him as a threat to their worldly position, and they seek to preserve what is important to them, ignoring what is important to God in the process.

Either way, I have hard time seeing Jesus in them.  I am going to suggest that Jesus’ anger and distress is rooted in a similar difficulty.  I think, perhaps, that He looks at these men and sees an ocean of rejected potential.  If they emulated Jesus in their public lives they could accomplish so much.  But, instead of serving God and His people, they choose to serve themselves.  They deliberately disfigure themselves by that choice.  Jesus is angry because His likeness in them is hidden, so distorted that, even though it remains, it’s next to impossible to see.

It is similarly hard to see Jesus in many of today’s leaders.  They are similarly distorted by poor choices in who or what they serve.

This makes me angry.  It causes me distress.

But I cannot get lost in the anger and distress.  I have to follow the example of Jesus, who let go of the anger and distress in order to transform bad to good by healing the man with the shriveled hand.  He used the opportunity given Him by the Pharisees to increase the amount of love in the world, offering them a miracle as the basis for reforming themselves, and prefiguring His passion in the process.

To follow His example, I have to look for ways to embrace healing and increase love in the world.

Maybe I even have to be willing to embrace the possibility of a modern day miracle.

Becomes sometimes it seems it would take a miracle for enough people to let go of their anger and distress, their worldly concern, for a focus on healing and love to take flight.  A miracle for enough people to comprehend that political leaders of all stripes are most often an impediment to healing and love, not its source.  A miracle to grasp that nothing prohibits the Church and the faithful from demonstrating so much love outside the current political structure that no one who encounters us could doubt that government and its distorted figureheads are not the source of hope, and justice, and everything good.

God is.

A miracle to understand this simplest of truths is just as applicable now as it was when Jesus proved it true by healing that hand despite the threat of the Pharisees.

The question is, how can a sinner such as I help enable such a miracle?

Mark Chapter 2

“When Jesus saw their faith…..”

The night of Ash Wednesday I woke up about 3 AM with a sore throat and could not go back to sleep.  In the morning, I stayed home from work to try and catch that sleep up, hoping I would feel better.  I read this chapter, and then I napped for awhile.

When I woke from the nap, I was thinking about the chapter.  It occurred to me that I should just ask Jesus to heal me.

But I hesitated.

I have long refused to ask for things for myself in prayer.  I explain my refusal away as an act of humility.  I think of myself as unworthy and I rationalize that God already knows my needs.  If it suits Him to heal me, He will do so.  If not, I will stoically bear the burden.

But after praying over these words, I wonder if my refusal indicates a weakness in my faith?  Perhaps not asking is actually an act of pride, not humility?  Perhaps I take pride in my supposed embrace of humility?  By not asking, I am determining my worthiness instead of opening the door for God to make the determination.  That is surely an act of pride, is it not?

The Gospels are full of incidents where a request of Jesus is equated to an act of faith.  The blind and the leper are healed because of their faith.  The Centurion’s faith leads to his servant being healed.  The woman who touches his cloak is healed because of her faith.  The faith of a Canaanite woman leads to her daughter’s healing.

In all honesty, in this modern world, I have a hard time believing in miraculous healing.  Is my doubt the reason I do not ask for healing for myself?  Do I not have enough faith to believe that Jesus can heal me if He wills it?

Am I perhaps afraid that I do not have enough faith to endure His inaction if that is how He responds?  If healing does not come, is my faith strong enough to accept that Jesus loves me all the same, and His reasons for withholding the healing are just even if they are a mystery to me?

I don’t think I actually prayed for healing directly.  But by Friday afternoon I was feeling well again.  Did He heal me, or was it the two days of rest?  I don’t know the answer.

But I think I will ask for healing going forward.  Not just physically healing, but spiritual as well.  Perhaps I can even embrace confession in a way I have not been able to before.

It is easy to not ask, and justify it as humility.

But it takes faith to ask when I am not sure it is possible.  And even more faith to trust in the result whichever way it turns out.

No longer can I refuse to follow the example of these truly humble people in the Gospels, people humble enough to trust entirely in the decisions of Jesus.

Mark Chapter 1 ends like this.  (I have used the alternate language for Verse 41):

“A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”  Jesus was filled with compassion. He reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cleansed.  Jesus sent him away at once with a strong warning:  “See that you don’t tell this to anyone. But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your cleansing, as a testimony to them.” Instead he went out and began to talk freely, spreading the news. As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places. Yet the people still came to him from everywhere.”

Recent materials for my Franciscan formation group include this quote in reference to Jesus’ incarnation:

“…..since God’s nature is love, it would be impertinent on our part to give sin the power to dictate to God.”

I agree with this quote.  I do not think the presence of sin in the world dictated to God the need for the incarnation.  I believe God came amongst us because He loves us.  That He dealt with sin while He was here is a happy side benefit of His loving desire to be present in our lives.

At first pass, this gospel passage seems to be in conflict with the sentiment expressed in the Franciscan quote.  How could the sinful response of the cleansed leper dictate to Jesus that He could not enter a town openly? Would Jesus let such an action interrupt His ministry if He truly desired to enter these towns?

Here’s my attempt at reconciling this seeming conflict.

The leper is each of us.  His leprosy represents our sinful state.  Jesus cleanses him (us) of his (our) sinful state when he (we) sincerely desire it.  But he (we) often fall back into sin immediately.

What does his (our) relapse say to Jesus?  Is it an invitation for Jesus to stay close?  Or is it an act that tells Jesus “thanks, but no thanks.  As much as I wanted to be cleansed, I am not willingly to give my will over to yours.  Please stay distant from me until I feel the need to be cleansed again!”

I don’t think it was crowds or fame that led to Jesus no longer being able to enter towns.  I think Jesus chooses to honor our free will.  He does so because our ability to love is dependent on that free will.  We would not be able to love Him if He forced himself into “our town” when our behavior indicates He is not welcome.

When we push him away, He is content to follow His own rule, the rule that allows an unstoppable expansion of love when we choose it.  He “stays outside,” where He is truly “lonely” as He awaits our change of heart in order to make the expansion of love possible.

The key to our hope (His as well) resides in the last paragraph of this passage.  No matter where our actions locate us, we can still go to Him.  Even when He is in “lonely places,” He is immediately accessible from “everywhere.”

In the last couple posts I have been writing about mindfulness.  The lenten season lays a requirement of prayer upon us.  I encourage you during this lenten season to go to Jesus in His “lonely places.”

Pray over the Gospel every day so that He will be lonely no more, at least where you are concerned.

Create as much love as you can by using the Gospels as a tool to keep Jesus at the forefront of your mind as this Lenten season unfolds.

If you could wave your magic wand and change one thing about American culture, what would you change?

I have spoken against American culture in a couple of these posts on my work life.  If it were my wand, we would have a prayer siesta at some point in each work day.  An hour where it was culturally taboo to make calls or carry out work.  An hour where every worker could experience enough quiet that he or she could see to their spiritual health in whatever fashion they saw fit.

If we want to start an hour earlier or finish an hour later in order to keep the same numbers of hours in the work day, I’m fine with that.  But I emphasize that the prayer siesta must come in the work day.  The interruption must be used to make it culturally clear that our spiritual well being is more important that our financial or career well being.

I would probably opt for mid morning or just before lunch.

Think of yourself within this proposed cultural norm.  How would you be different today if the culture made it clear through this prayer siesta that your relationship with God was more important than any other relationship in your life?

How would this practice of spiritual mindfulness within the work day change who you are, both as a person and as a worker?

How would it change the country?

Could it ever come to be?

If the idea resonates with you, can you make it true, at least for yourself?

“Those brothers whom the Lord favors with the gift of working should do so faithfully and devotedly, so that idleness, the enemy of the soul, is excluded yet the spirit of holy prayer and devotion, which all other temporal things should serve, is not extinguished.”

I love every word of it, right up until the last three.

When I get there, I can’t help but feel that “is not extinguished” is weak language compared to how Francis normally expressed himself.  Surely Francis would not have been content to simply be certain that “a holy spirit of prayer and devotion” survived within the context of work.  As passionate as he was, he would have meant to convey more than this.  He would have expected his followers to match his own passion in how they went about their work.

Those words make me wish I could read the passage in the original tongue, that I might check the translation for myself.  My suspicion is that Francis would have preferred a much more positive and authoritative message be conveyed at the end of his instruction.

So now I find myself praying this instead of the translation above:

“yet the spirit of holy prayer and devotion, which all other temporal things should serve, flourishes.”

That just sounds more like the optimism that Francis embodies to me.

I hope he doesn’t mind.

“…..the spirit of holy prayer and devotion, which all other temporal things should serve, …..”

These fourteen words capture the reason I have struggled so much with work ethic as it relates to my career.

This is because I do not believe that American culture supports this point of view.  I do not think that when push comes to shove, American workers are expected to put “a spirit of holy prayer and devotion” ahead of temporal concerns, particularly when those temporal concerns involve money and profit.

Perhaps working in the construction industry, which is highly money centric, distorts my outlook.  But I will share a couple anecdotes (among many I could offer) to demonstrate my point.

I was managing a renovation project on a building that had a shingle roof and aluminum gutters.  During the summer, we replaced both.  When the first heavy snow came, the gutters became filled with ice, and were damaged.  The cause of the ice dams was insufficient insulation in the roof, but the renovation plans had not called for the insulation to be supplemented, or even checked.

The owner, even though he understood this, asked me to find a way to force the contractors involved with the project to perform the repairs at no additional cost.  When I refused, he further pressured me by informing me that I would not work for him on future projects if I did not do as he asked.  And as a result, I no longer work for him.

I recently had another owner ask me to ignore the requirement for an occupancy permit prior to a closing because he was desperate for the cash flow.  The final inspection ahead of this permit includes the fire department signing off on life safety issues.  Plus its how they become informed that a new building is being occupied.  When I mentioned the liability if a fire occurred, I got an answer that included the words “so be it.”

How am I supposed to be enthusiastic about my career when such things occur?

And even more importantly, how am I supposed to be enthusiastic about my culture if such occurrences are more norm than exception?

I think Francis is exactly correct in what he has expressed here.  I desperately want to live a life where all my temporal activities (and especially my work activities, since they take up such a large part of each day) support a spirit of holy prayer and devotion.

In this America, it’s not easy, and its getting harder.  Often it feels impossible.

But I remain hopeful.  I trust that if I keep God at the forefront of my approach to work, He will guide me to a place where I can reconcile the need to support my family with the need to be faithful to His will.

I just have to stay mindful, so I recognize His hand when it presents itself.

My other major revelation concerns my personal definition of work.

When I thought of work as a material idea, I associated work exclusively with my secular career.  I started working in the construction industry as a laborer when I was in college.  By the time I was in my mid thirties, I was the Vice President of a $40M a year construction company.  I pursued the American dream just like I was supposed to, achieving significance career advancement and financial security at a young age.

But I could not escape the sense that something was missing.  My perfunctory spiritual life left me unsatisfied despite my successful career.  Unable to shake my unease, I started looking for spiritual answers.

As my spiritual life grew, I left my job, forming a one person consulting company.  My career was still in the construction business.  I still provided for my family.  I had changed venues, but I still chased that same American dream.  And still I felt unease.  In response,  I sought more spiritual progress.  The more gains I made, the more uncomfortable my career became, until I reached the conflict I am now writing about.

The current gain is the notion that work is essentially a spiritual idea.  No longer do I associate work solely with my career.  My work definition broadens to include any task associated with my vocation as Christ follower, and my sub-vocations as husband and father.

Instead of work being primarily about building construction projects, my definition of work now hinges on my vocation as Kingdom builder.  My career is just one subset of work within the greater work that I am called to.

This list is just a hint at all the things associated with my family and my faith that now fall under the heading of work.

• Writing this Blog
• Teaching Franciscan formation
• Coaching youth athletic teams
• Grocery shopping, washing dishes, doing laundry, preparing meals
• Taking care of the family finances
• Exercising

I am extremely fortunate that my career is flexible.  The move I made from employee to consultant allows me to work regularly from home, and to work odd hours.  I am also extremely fortunate to have a wife who is willing to take on her own career.  Without her support and sacrifice, I could never have the freedom to delve into the ramifications of this expanded view of work.

This good fortune, when combined with this expanded view of work, gives me a much better shot at happiness.  I can address the demands of this stressful life, understanding that the vocational demands carry at least as much weight as the career demands, without feeling guilty that I am avoiding work when I choose a vocational activity over a career activity at 10 AM on a Tuesday morning.

Some components of living in this American culture simply can’t be eliminated.  In order to fulfill my vocational responsibilities to my family I do need the money that my career provides.  But being a father with three active boys means the stress of my vocation doesn’t fit real well with the typical 8-5 job.

Embracing everything associated with that stress as the spiritual work I was created to do is freeing and rewarding all at once.

Receiving the grace to understand this is, once again, a gift I don’t know how to say thank you for.