Scripture: Psalm 31:9-16
Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am in trouble; my eye is consumed with sorrow, and also my throat and my belly. For my life is wasted with grief, and my years with sighing; my strength fails me because of affliction, and my bones are consumed. I am the scorn of my enemies, a disgrace to my neighbors, a dismay to my acquaintances; when they see me in the street they avoid me. Like the dead I am forgotten, out of mind; I am as useless as a broken pot. For I have heard the whispering of the crowd; fear is all around; they put their heads together against me; they plot to take my life. But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord. I have said, “You are my God. My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies, and from those who persecute me. Let your face shine upon your servant; save me in your steadfast love.”
A Note to You:
The final week of our devotional series has arrived. How are you doing? I ask because the Lenten journey can be long and arduous. It has been a long winter. Physically, the storms have hit hard, especially if you live in the East. Even in the Midwest, the piles of snow and ice linger, and the consensus among the folks who I talk with seems to be leaning in the direction of “wanting this winter to be over.” Of course, the snowmobile enthusiasts want another month or so of the white stuff. In either camp, folks are not too happy. Spring remains elusive. We yearn for Easter’s light.
But we are not quite there yet. Last week we looked at stories of imperfection and vulnerability. I shared stories from my life which remind me that I'm imperfect. They might have made you laugh. I know I got a chuckle out of some of them; from some, I just moaned. You are welcome.
From stories of our brokenness, limitation, and vulnerability we move to this week’s focus. When the path gets rocky, we might give up and despair. If it is our human inclination to deny our imperfections and resultant powerlessness, then we might be tempted to just give in to the seeming meaninglessness of it all. If we are unable to raise our heads above the choppy waters of misfortune that pull us down, then why should we continue? Why shouldn’t you and I just give up? Why not give in to the rising swell of despair?
This week, I will be sharing stories of despair and hope from Mark and me. The location of the Markan stories is the last two days of Jesus’ passion. If you listen closely, you will hear the voice of despair coming from Jesus’ followers - Judas and Peter, from a Roman Governor, from the crowd, from religious leaders, from bystanders, and from a soldier. You will find yourself at the foot of the cross, and you will hear Jesus’ desperation as he cries out in a loud voice, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me!” You will also hear a non-believing Centurian announce, "truly this man was God’s Son." It is the first time, in the entire gospel of Mark, that a human makes this claim.
In Jesus’ death on the cross, Christians have found a message of hope and life. For some, this life is understood exclusively as a forgiveness of sins that would otherwise keep us out of eternal punishment. Jesus substitutes his life for our own. It is an idea that hearkens to the theology of Anselm at the end of the 11th century. The basic gist goes like this - God demands justice. Our sin creates a chasm between us and God’s justice that we can never cross. God demands that we pay up but we can’t. Enter Jesus - human/God - who is able to pay the price. Jesus dies and with his blood our debt is paid. Jesus atoned for our sins. God saves those who believe in the mechanics of salvation. Those who don't believe, remain in trouble and apart from God. It is the classic atonement theory, and it has been so ingrained in us that to suggest anything else seems to be blasphemous.
I am grateful for the work of contemporary theologians who have the courage to question. I too am troubled by what Anselm’s idea says about God - that God has a bloodlust that must be satisfied. It is inconsistent with the life of Jesus that sought non-violence. Sadly, the idea has contributed to too much violence. It certainly seems to add an element of despair to the whole concept of salvation. What if you or I cry out with a sense of abandonment using the words of Psalm 22 - like Jesus did on the cross? Will God stay at arm's length with me, with you? Will I die apart from God because of my inability to believe?
There must be an alternate path. We must be missing something from the good news of Jesus. This week, we will dig into the love, the passion of Christ. Will you remain open and put the “Jesus must die for me” thought aside for a moment? Instead, can you stay open to what other lessons might be waiting for us along the rocky path that Jesus takes to the cross? Together, let’s hear the gospel anew and ponder what it means for Jesus to be in the place of despair. What glimpses of hope for renewal might we see in this dark and disturbing moment? With open hearts and minds, let’s explore this together beyond arcane theories, violence, and formulas that leave us ultimately in despair. Where is the hope that brings renewal?
This week, you will read stories about and be asked to consider the following focal statement:
When the path gets rocky, you might despair and give up. Jesus invites you to turn to God by hoping in God’s renewal.
Thank you for opening your emails, breathing, reading, reflecting, praying, and making a plan to connect with others during this coming week.
In Christ,
Walt