We can approach Him. To do so is to be rescued from the typical  and baptized into the extraordinary. We can come boldly because He replaced the burden of our shame with the throne of grace. May we not miss the bliss of God’s pleasure and purpose in our calling. We can run to him for mercy in our time of need. Unlike some who treat God as an angry tyrant, we know the truth. He is Abba, our loving Father. He is both perfect and good. Again, we can approach Him.

Perhaps the greatest mystery is when we realize that God wants us, as profoundly flawed as we are, to approach Him. The greatest adventure known to man is revealed when we say, “I want to know Him.” Our hearts yearn for His advent, and we are captivated by his holy purpose in our lives. Every step we take toward the sunset of our days will bring us closer to him. “Come close to God and He will come close to you.” Again, approachable. 

And what devastates every smallish notion of God is this: The God who created everything-the One who crowned Kilimanjaro with snow and taught each cardinal to fly, is approachable.

This is the mystery of our Great Divine Savior.

We can approach him in our grief, joy, shame, destitution, poverty, ecstasy, loneliness, or thanksgiving. We were created to approach, to enter into the gravitational pull of the glory surrounding His presence. But we must come to him as little… always little. When we come little, His glory is seen as great and exalted.

Beware: Approaching Him is not safe. We approach through sandpaper corridors that rub out all the things that we once held dearly. But the closer we get, the more we realize the shaping brings transcendence and purpose which is what our hearts yearn to find.

Some hide out in the far reaches of the garden like Adam, grasping for fig leaves and folly. The fallen world instinct betrays us. We labor in our workshops, sweating away, trying to construct our own significance. It’s a fool’s occupation.

Do not hide.

Approach.

We have more ways to hear God’s Word than any generation before us. Me? I have three Bible apps, several audio bibles, and e-bibles on my phone. That phone also sends me a chime and a verse every morning at 6:00. I have a great church family with access to daily resources, great Sunday worship and a Sunday School class.

Hearing the word?
No problem.

I can nail that every day and twice on Sunday. But then James reminds me, “But be doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.” I shudder a bit when I read James 1:22. Being a veracious hearer of the word but not a doer of the word is utter craziness, but I’m so good at the “hearing of the word” part! It’s my jam. But doing the word trips me up every day. Now that I’m in my 60’s, you’d think I would have arrived. I haven’t. The difficulty is in the doing.

What is Easy?

It’s so much easier to label than to love.
It’s so much easier to be entertained than to be involved.
It’s so much easier to hoard than give.
It’s so much easier to fear than to have faith.

It’s so much easier to win the internet with half truths, mocking memes, and snarky comments than it is to step into the middle of another real person’s trauma and offer grace through our acts of Christian charity and mercy. We often build walls to keep us away from the people He called us to love and reach.

What is Difficult?

Our words are deadly serious: “But I say to you that for every idle word men may speak, they will give account of it in the day of judgment. For by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” (Jesus Christ, Matthew 12:36)

This is a difficult saying that I have to remember every. single. day.

Because we don’t have much time, it’s important that we become acutely aware of our spiritual illnesses and give them up quickly. We should be throwing off the chains of dead religion with hilarity and abandon so that we can enter into the narrow, eye-of-the-needle Gospel.

What is Impossible?

Like the flabbergasted disciples said after another of Jesus’ revolutionary challenges, “Then how can
anyone be saved?” I completely relate to their astonishment. But how amazing would it be if we all were a different kind of crazy! For instance, when Jesus said, “love your enemies,” what if we actually loved everybody–even our enemies, to the extent that our enemies would actually look at us and say, “Wow, those crazy people love me!” What if we listened to people like Jesus listened to them instead of feeling like we had to win debates and put people in our own neat little categories? Our magnificent obsession would be to see how much time, money and encouragement we could give away. We would be more compelled to “go” than we’d be to “stay.” We’d seek to serve more than to be entertained. Our heroes wouldn’t be found in the Marvel universe, but missionaries in mud huts and rice fields half a world away. We’d have the audacity to believe that all things are possible. And when we have that kind of faith, they absolutely are.

What about you?

Do you long to see your ideological villains embarrassed and humiliated? Do you enjoy the rhetorical violence of politics? Do you love it when you get the applause or become the preferred? Do you relish the time you spend on the pews of your amen corners? Are you constantly designing your argument or apologetic strategy before listening, really listening to people?

If you read the Word and stop there, you are safe, at least for a few years. If you obey the Word, you are a revolutionary. Every revolution begins in the soul. Revolutions are dangerous, unpopular, and messy but in 10,000 years from now, you will have no regrets.

This is the first episode of seven on “A Scattered Feast” Season three.

____

I fell headlong into the chasm of my willful atrocities.
Some subtle and slight. Under the surface. Others are so visible I must tremble. 
The level of my careless rebellion is undeniable.
Without a word of recompence I have stood, not knowing the grief I impose on almighty God.

But then

My soul is transported through time to thorn-crowned head of the dawn creator.
He remains
I hear his voice from the hill of mankind’s transgression
His voice reverberates through the centuries

Through wars, idolatry, conspiracy, and flesh borne insurrection.
Like the deep voice of a billion sorrows crystalized in that one moment of suffering
Father, the voice cries above the unseen hoards of demons and  all too visible tormentors
Father, forgive them. They know not what they do. 
Bludgeoned, beaten, challenged, ridiculed
His power unparalleled
Yet he remains
Yet not only remains. He calls for amnesty in the midst of annihilation 

Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.
We hear Jesus uttering this prayer while enduring unthinkable agony
It’s personal. It’s unimaginable. But most of all, it’s mercy.
Mercy of the greatest kind.
And when I think of God his son not sparing sent him to die, I scare can take it in. 
Father forgive them.
Father forgive the dogs that surrounded him
Father forgive the religious bigots who spewed malicious venom and mocking rebukes
Father forgive Thomas who doubted
Peter who denied him.
And disciples who deserted him
Father forgive them.
And as he scanned the ions of centuries to come 
He gazed through history.
He saw me and he saw you
Father forgive them. 
They know not what they do.

He leads me each day,

(Provider God)

He created me needy,

and messy.

i see

beauty and brokenness,

abandonment and acceptance,

hope and dread,

mourning and dancing,

weeping and laughter,

death and resurrection,

blooming and wilting,

wonder and monotony,

smiling and wincing,

emptiness and abundance,

darkness and illumination,

saying and silence,

complexity and simplicity,

embracing and boxing,

torment and ecstasy,

wandering and epiphany,

sudden moment and long advent,

and everything in between—

day by day.

This is the table He prepares before me, temporary, ephemeral, and moveable

though it may be. The meal is sure. The menu is unknown.

i am a dependent of God.

and life is a scattered feast.

It’s Friday and He’s there… Suffering unimaginable traumas. He is deserted by fearful disciples, surrounded by tormentors, thieves, murderers, and religious provocateurs. Soldiers gaming over the final scant possessions of the Master of creation, ignore the darkening sky.

Jesus cries out: “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?”

• Some churches are more like a country club, complete with secret handshakes, special membership privileges, and perks for members based upon you seniority and attitude. But we are not called to be a Country Club.
• Some churches are more like a fashion show where once a week we are concerned more about what the members look like on the outside than who we are on the inside. But we are not called to be a fashion show.
• Some churches are like a spa where healthy people come to be pampered with a painless personality makeover and self-help rallies devoid of the power of God. They’d never think about service or sacrifice because the church is meant only for enrichment—not spiritual warfare. But we are not called to be a spa.
• Other churches are like courtrooms full of authority and judgment. Stern faces and hushed whispers are prevalent.  Some believe that these churches are holy because of the formal atmosphere and the lack of tolerance for things like laughter, celebration and dancing.  These churches are dead they just haven’t gotten the good grace to lie down. But we are not called to be a court.
• And on the opposite side, we find the church of cool, where musicians display their gifts not to the glory of God but rather to the glory of themselves.   The tendency toward outlandishness knows no bounds. They are different just for the sake of being different. Messages aren’t centered on the God or the Bible. In fact, some sermons might cause you to wonder if there is really is a point beyond the emotions and the glitz of atmosphere. What is the vibe? This is the main question in the church of the cool.  But we are not called to be cool.
• Each model apart from the work of Christ is like a cemetery. You can put flowers on the graves, you can have tea parties next to the tombs, you can pipe in the best music and serve the best meals but without Christ, the cemetery is still full of rot.  But we are not called into death.

There are many universal sayings that all mothers end up reciting at least once if not a thousand times.

Wash your hands before eating.
Play fair.
Don’t follow the crowd.
Be yourself.
Trust me.
Get some rest.
Pull those weeds in the back or they’ll kill the tulips!
Listen to your father.
Don’t go out with a guy just because he asks.
Stop whining.
Don’t cross your eyes. They may stick.
No throwing frisbee in the house.
No snacking before supper.
Don’t wear that much make-up.
Show respect.
Don’t do that!  You might poke your eye out.
You might get worms. You don’t know where that’s been!
Give it your best.

But perhaps the greatest advice from a mother is recorded as a side-note tucked away in the Gospel of John. It came from the mouth of the mother of our Lord. It was at a party.

It wasn’t a life or death situation. The words had very little to do, at first glance, with eternal destinies or climactic discoveries. Just a simple statement in the midst of uncertain, perplexing, awkward circumstances.

When the celebration of a marriage hit a stump, and the pitchers of refreshment were depleted. Mary, the mother of Jesus, turned to the servants and simply said, “Do whatever He tells you to do.” She knew exactly who her Son was. She could have expounded upon the majesty of her Son, the royal blood that ran through His veins, His very nature as Creator and Master of the universe.

She was well aware of the glory of Jesus. But instead, she simply pointed to Jesus and with determination and authority in her voice, she said, “Do whatever He tells you to do!”

Jesus turned, furrowed His brow, and then, He honored her despite the whole timing issue of when the Messianic works was to begin.

“Fill the pots,” He told them.

“But you don’t understand, Jesus. Those clay pots are for the ceremonial washing of hands and feet!”

Mary looked on, perhaps assertively, with her arms crossed. Her attitude was unchanged by Jesus words. She said it again. “I said – do whatever He tells you to do.”

“It is glorified bath-water,” one servant said, as he gritted his teeth.

“Do whatever He tells you to do.” Mary replied, this time politely with more grace. Mothers have a way of overseeing the details.

They filled the pots.

Then Jesus said, “Now, draw some out and take it to the master of the banquet.”

“You’re joking, right?” a cynical servant asked with a coy smile.

“Do whatever He tells you to do.” Mary repeated.

And at that moment bath water became the toast of the town. And if you listen closely, perhaps you can hear the words of that proud and courageous mother. Her words still apply.

Do whatever He tells you to do.

Minister to the homeless. Do whatever He tells you to do! Follow Him to a foreign land. Do whatever He tells you to do! As you budget your time and resources. Do whatever He tells you to do! As you proclaim the Good News in your school. Do whatever He tells you to do!

The mother’s advice through years of weddings, funerals, challenges, and crises, in the big things, in the little things, in the plans for today and the dreams of tomorrow – it’s really some very good advice.

Do whatever He tells you to do!

It may seem like something strange. It might go against your natural instincts. It won’t be the first time. He’d startled his people before with his plan:

Reach in the mouth of that fish and pull out a coin.

Here’s some mud for your eyes.

Sell everything and follow me.

Drop those nets.

Lay off 80% of the army and give the rest lamps and horns. That ought to do it!

Avoid becoming a salt lick. Don’t look behind you.

Five loaves and two fish will do. Let’s pray and start passing it out to them.

Hit it with your stick. There’s water in the rock.

Five smooth stones. That’ll teach him.

March around the wall.

Roll that stone away. He’s not dead. He’s just a sound sleeping miracle waiting to happen. Let’s wake him up.

Rise and walk.

Don’t bring anything with you.

Go and teach all nations!

Do whatever He asks you to do!

So what crazy thing is He telling you to do?

Has he called you to start a homeless shelter? Has He called you to memorize the Gospel of John? Has He called you to minister in the nursing homes, bars, the halfway house, the merchant marines, in India, China, Alaska, Greenwich Village or Congress? Has He called you to give up your stereo, your car, your cable? Has He called you to paint your neighbor’s house or scrub toilets? Has He called you to start a church? Has He called you to try to reconnect with that kid who beat you up and stole your milk money in the third grade?

Do whatever He asks you to do!

Why? It’s a no-brainer. Whenever Jesus tells you to do something, glory happens. He is worthy and when you close the book on your life, you will not have a hint of regret. When you dive into God’s plan, you will discover that He is more powerful, more trustworthy, more intelligent, and more intuitive than you could ever think of being.

So take a deep breath and dive in. You’ll be glad you listened to Mary’s advice.

Jesus remains on the cross, suffering unimaginable traumas. He is deserted by fearful disciples, surrounded by tormentors, thieves, murderers, and religious provocateurs. Soldiers gaming over the final scant possessions of the Master of creation, ignore the darkening sky.

Jesus cries out: “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?”

~

The tone of religion, more often than not, rings as a dirge of condemnation. We see the old crooked finger of legalism and malicious apologetics steadily pointing into the mass of stumbling sinners, almost relishing the chance to find a scapegoat for the brokenness of the world. But as we look at the cross and our Savior affixed to it, we hear these words: “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” His words were spoken in earshot of humanity.

Father forgive the traitor, the Pharisees, the Romans, the soldiers, the harlots, the fearful, the conspirators, the tax collectors, and, yes, even My mother.

And when we read this noble cannon of divine literature, it compels us to understand that these words would include the whole of humanity. He forgives them all: the extortion expert, the mob hit man, the pornographer, the mass murdered, the abortion doctor and the pastor. We all have an open invitation to be forgiven.  Something in the human heart wants to earn or achieve his forgiveness. Perhaps we could make amends for our humanity. But this is not the Gospel. This is not the Good News. The Good News is that Jesus accomplished everything on the cross and, frankly, He doesn’t need our help to finish the deal.

In the story of Gospel we read the revolutionary truth from the lips of God, “For God didn’t send his only Son into this world to condemn it, but that the world through Him might be saved.”

(John 3:17)

This Fire of Love
unquenched by Eden’s wreck
and flowing seemingly in perpetuity
toward all that soon will be
in all its violent beauty
He shall hold all hell’s poison and heaven’s glory.
Small beginning, love’s grandest story
from the heartbeat in a virgin’s womb
til one Sunday rising from the tomb
One
for all…
Once
for all…
This is the salvation from garrulous platitudes and languorous days
Advent… in slightest breath, in manger lay.
Ten-thousand kingdoms would bow through ages.
The cause of grace and recompense
From distant past to future tense:
Jesus