Empty Tombs and Churches

An empty tomb is always something to celebrate. My husband's grandfather was very financially responsible.  He was never indebted to anyone and used his money wisely. When he looked into buying a burial plot, he found that he could get a better price if he bought in bulk.  So he bought ten, one for him and his wife and one for each of his children and grandchildren.  A few years ago, I was at that cemetery for a funeral, so I decided to visit his grave. I looked at the names of my husband's grandparents, and I thanked God for the way they lived their lives. What really caught my eye were the empty spaces next to them. Each of those empty plots represented a cherished family member, someone alive. Yes, an empty tomb is something to celebrate.

When my father died, my mother and I went to the cemetery to buy his headstone. In a time of sorrow, headstone selection feels like it is filled with endless decisions: What color stone, what font, what image, and what remembrances.  We wanted the headstone to be attractive and to properly reflect his life. However, when I was younger I couldn't fully wrap my head around that symbolism. It made me uncomfortable to walk through a cemetery because each headstone I saw reminded me of what was happening underneath the ground. Jesus used a similar metaphor to hold the religious leaders of his day accountable:

“You are like tombs that are painted white. Outside, those tombs look fine, but inside, they are full of the bones of dead people and all kinds of unclean things.  It is the same with you. People look at you and think you are good, but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and evil" (Matthew 23:27b-28, NCV).

When the women went to the tomb that first Easter morning, they did not find what they expected. Unlike the religious leaders who had pretty outsides and ugly insides, the outside of Jesus' tomb had been disturbed, but the inside was perfect. It was empty.

Like Christ, we who are believers are being resurrected.  We are being called out of our tombs to a new life. That life does not exist in the buildings we call churches, but rather the body we call The Church.

Today our churches are as empty as the tomb was, but I thank God that Jesus is alive.  And so is The Church.

FMF: Patient

When I participate in Five Minute Friday writings, I always think about the prompt for a while before I actually start writing. If I only have five minutes, I need to have a good idea of what I want to say before I start. I often look up Scripture, and think about how the prompt applies to what is going on in my life right now.

As I looked up the word "patient" I was surprised to see that it is only in the NASB translation twelve times. That just didn't seem right to me. Patience, as they say, is a virtue. I was sure it was in the Bible more than that.

Then I looked up the word "wait." Yes, that's more like it: 142 times. That makes more sense because the story happens in the wait. Patience is a skill already attained; it is acquired in the waiting.

Today is Good Friday, but the event that we remember, Christ's crucifixion, did not seem very good. Those early believers did not know they only had to wait until Sunday.

We know Sunday is good. Sunday is very good.



This post is a prompt from Five Minute Friday and was written in approximately five minutes. For more information, visit fiveminutefriday.com.

Jesus Messed Me Up

I walked into work at 8:37 (23 minutes early, woo hoo!) praying the prayer, "Jesus, mess me up."  I've been reading Jen Hatmaker's book 7 in which she takes 7 months to focus on 7 areas of her life.  She is big on social justice - which admittedly I'm less interested in than I probably should be because it always feels so political - and through this process of 7-ing her life she has questioned her priorities, her motives, and her faith.

In the chapter she discusses the month she spent giving away her possessions, she makes the statement how her husband sent Shane Claiborne (an activist/author/preacher) "an email through dubious channels basically telling him The Irresistible Revolution was messing his wife up."  She goes into a beautiful narrative of the Easter service in which Shane asks for those in attendance to leave their shoes at the altar to be give to the local homeless population.  In similar sentiment to Jen's observation, I must candidly admit we've done a lot of unique things at Easter services (and through the year, too), but never once have we had a service where we took the clothe off our back, err feet, as a tangible sacrifice to the will of God.  And so with this in mind I prayed that prayer: Jesus, mess me up.  Make Your will, my will.

And then it began, the work day.  I love my job and the fascinating information I learn about people (hey, you'd learn a lot about people too if you reviewed their tax returns and bank statements).  But today was different, I had the task of reading a lawsuit against a Home Owner's Association.  Oh joy!  I've read these before, dozens of time.  So and so did such and such... things like, Sally Smith in Unit 3B won't mow her grass and now my unit looks atrocious sitting next to hers.  Or there was one that went something like Bob and Linda, located in the unit directly above mine, removed the carpet from their unit and now the noise in my home is unbearable.  I'm not joking, people sue over these things!

Today's reading was something entirely different.  "David" and "Michael" are a homosexual couple who were physically and verbally assaulted at an owner's meeting.  In great length, the verbal insults were detailed (none of which I would feel comfortable writing here) and the step by step physical assault played out.  Oh, and did I mention the private security company not only was present, they held back those who were trying to help?

This messed me up.

As it should.

Agree with a lifestyle or not, no one should act this way.  I began to think about all the types of assaults that occur regularly and quietly get swept under the rug.  And then worse, how often have I been the one to say something against another undeserving of such judgement?  Sure, I've never physically kicked a person that I disagree with, but I may have verbally kicked them.  What would I have done if I had been in that meeting?  Would I have been a peacemaker or would I have quietly slipped out?  If I had to fathom a guess, I'd be embarrassed to admit which is more likely.

Jesus, continue to mess me up.  Open my eyes to the truth around me.  Don't let me closed minded to opportunities to serve You by serving my neighbor.

But who is my neighbor? Someone once asked Jesus that:

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?"

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead.  A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.  But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.  He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.  The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:29-37, NIV)