12 Days of Christmas - Day 11 (Reflection by Ross Bentley)

Favor

by Ross Bentley

“The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God.”

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,

And on earth peace to those on whom His favor rests.” 

Luke 2:14

The Gospel message, as it is told, even in the Christmas story, is a story of favor.  It was a primary message of the angelic messengers to the people who would receive it.  We see it here when Gabriel brought the wonderfully disruptive message to Mary, that God had chosen her to form, deliver, raise, nurture and love His Son. He was bestowing favor on her.  Again, as the angel delivered the message to the shepherds outside the city, he was joined by a resounding choir of angels proclaiming the message of God’s favor to those recipients of his grace. These shepherds were not used to the favor of anyone, let alone God Almighty!

What is favor?  Websters defines it as:

-friendly regard shown toward another especially by a superior; a gracious kindness

The Greek word has as its root the same word that is used for ‘grace’ as well as ‘charisma’ - a heavenly gift of grace.

One of my pastor friends would often say to his congregation - “You are one of God’s favorite children.  He has your picture in His wallet!”  These days, a modern translation of this might be -"He's got your picture saved on His phone!”

After Jesus' baptism and 40 days alone in the wilderness, He returned home and showed up in the local synagogue to announce the start of His ministry. To do this, He used a quote from the prophet Isaiah:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, 

because he has anointed me 

to proclaim good news to the poor. 

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners 

and recovery of sight for the blind, 

to set the oppressed free, 

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Jesus declared that with the coming of the Kingdom of God, all of humanity can enter into 'the year of the Lord’s favor.’  Paul goes into a little more detail about this favor from God:

17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! 18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: 19 that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them.  

2 Cor 5:17-19

God is no longer counting our sins against us. Now that is favor! And that is good news! It doesn't always come across that way, does it?  But this truly is the message God has for all of us.

This reminds me of a story from 2 Kings 7.  

During the time Elisha served as a prophet of God, the nation of Israel was at war with the Arameans, and they had laid siege to the city of Samaria.  It was an horrific situation for the entrapped people.  There was great famine, and the people were desperate.  Then Elisha boldly prophesied to the king that the siege would be lifted by the next day.  

At this time, there were 4 men who suffered from leprosy and lived outside the walls of the city.  They were waiting by the city gates for food to live on, but there was none.  They finally said in desperation, “Why wait here and die?  Why not go over to our enemy’s camp?  If we die, no difference, but if they spare us we will live.”  So they went over to the place where the Aramean army camped at dusk.  As they entered the camp, they found it had been abandoned - there was no sign of the enemy anywhere in the camp.  They had fled in fear of the Lord.  The tents were left empty, fully stocked with food and wine and plunder.  The 4 lepers feasted and drank in that first tent, and took the plunder and hid it, then came back to do it all again on the next tent.  All this for them, and why not!  Didn’t they deserve it?  Hadn’t they suffered enough?  Why not take this all for themselves?  After all, they had been rejected by God, and had been outcast by their own people - banished outside the city because of their affliction.  They had finally found favor!

But in a moment of gracious revelation, they said to one another - “This isn’t right. This is a day of good news and we are keeping it to ourselves… Let us go at once and report this...” And so they did, and the result was that the whole city became beneficiaries of this gracious provision.  

How wonderfully true that God has bestowed His favor and grace on us.  We absolutely are some of His Favorite Children!  And this message is meant for the whole world - our family, friends, neighbors, strangers and foreigners alike!  God has declared the time of His favor through Jesus.  And this is our message for others - God is no longer counting our sins against us!  Your sentence has been commuted, you’ve been pardoned, you are free!  This is the year of the Lord’s favor!

12 Days of Christmas - Day 12 (Examen by Gavin Linderman)

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

A Christmastide Examen

1. Begin with a moment of silence and stillness. In this moment take a few deep slow breaths, taking in the light of Christ, the gift of God and the presence of the Holy Spirit. Exhale your battles, your worry, your burdens and your sins you can always come back to them later. When you sense you are ready to reflect with God proceed.

2. Consider these first days of 2021 as if you were a newborn child. As you take on infant eyes, what do you see in the light this year so far? Has something bright been spoken, is there anything that has surprised you with joy? What is the light revealing to you? How does the light of Christ make you feel? Breath Deep, Exhale Slowly.

3. God has given you the gift of Jesus in your life. Take a moment to reflect on Gods gift to you. Imagine receiving Him and acknowledge your feelings about this Gift from God. Do you sense that you have the freedom to receive all of Him? How have you received or experienced the gift of God today? How have you been a gift to others this day? Breath Deep, Exhale Slowly.

4. You are in the presence of Gods Spirit. How does the Spirit of God see and experience you in this moment? How do you see and experience the Holy Spirit right now? What hope does the Spirit of God offer you in this moment? How might you share that same hope with others this year? Breath Deep, Exhale Slowly.

5. Give thanks to God. Ask God to bless those in your life this year and ask God to be with you this day and everyday as you seek to experience Jesus in 2021.
   
   

Emotional Hijacking and the Psychology of Fear

By Jason Gillespie

Life is a comedy for those who think

and a tragedy for those who feel.

                                                                                 Horace Walpole

The advances in neuroscience, especially over the past thirty years, have yielded groundbreaking insights into the neural architecture of the human brain. But with this new understanding, we find both opportunity and warnings in service to the human advance toward a better, yet unknown future.

Perhaps most powerful is the newly discovered role of the amygdala in the human brain which is derived from the Greek word for “almond”. It is located above the brainstem, near the bottom of the limbic ring. There are two amygdalas, one on each side of the brain, nestled toward the side of the head. And where the limbic structures do much of the brain’s learning and remembering, the amygdala is the specialist for emotional matters. Moreover, the amygdala acts as a storehouse of emotional memories and is the locus of significance and personal meaning in our life; more than affection, all passion depends on it. 

We have all been confronted with predicaments, tasks and fearful life experiences that elicited emotional upset and a feeling of imminent threat or danger. In those moments we also discover ‘automatic’ (i.e., instinctive) reactions that are commonly referred to as a fight, flight or freeze behavioral response. Likewise, we can all attest to the efficacy of our response based on the ensuing outcome. 

After the danger has passed, we inevitably perform a personal assessment (or others do it for us) of our verbal and behavioral posturing in the face of the crisis. Did we overreact, underreact, or were we just about right in our actions? The answer we give ourselves is of course subjective and based on a multitude of factors that are too lengthy to discuss here. 

But we do come to realize that there is something going on in our brains that is on full display; we find ourselves trying to mobilize an appropriate (rational) response in the face of a physical threat whether real or perceived. In such moments, when anxiety and fear and anger are such overwhelming emotions, we are left vulnerable to a neuropsychological event known as emotional hijacking. [1]

As mental health professionals with over 60 years of combined clinical practice, my wife and I have encountered a wide range of mental health problems. This is less a statement of pride and more a confession of the amount of human emotional suffering we can give witness too as frontline clinicians. And in that experience, we can both attest to our observation that the most prevalent reason for mental health referrals is a poor coping response to stress. 

Symptomatic behaviors typically include (but are not limited to) the following:      anger outbursts; physical and emotional withdrawal or isolation (depression); increased rumination (worry) with or without panic attacks or phobias; drug and alcohol abuse; process addictions (e.g., pornography and overeating, etc.); and suicidal ideation and gesturing. 

Further, poor coping responses are also seen in the context of a couple or family referral. However, this requires a more comprehensive treatment approach that addresses communication, interactional and structural problems that are contributing to the presenting complaints and manifested in the symptoms above.

Upon individual interview, complaints emerge that reveal important patterns of feeling and thinking that are contributing to self-defeating behavioral responses. The patient’s degree of emotional stress can be roughly quantified on a scale from low to high much like physical pain. The initial clinical interview(s) then, focuses on a more formal assessment of the intensity and the source(s) of the patient’s (dis)stress.

Treatment using Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and its variants, begins with educating the patient as to how the human brain reacts automatically when presented with identifiable environmental triggers (as explained earlier). Patients are then introduced to the most common types of Negative Automatic Distorted Thoughts that contribute to self-defeating behaviors and the ensuing emotional upset. Patients discover even in the initial phases of treatment, that they have been caught in a repetitive and predictable cycle of negative thinking that is driving their emotional upset; and will contribute to further symptom development over time.

The introduction of a cognitive behavioral treatment approach is frequently received with skepticism. But a simple illustration is offered to quickly and effectively demonstrate the way our brains react to stress. It goes like this:

[therapist to patient] … “I want you to focus on a really negative thought (idea) that is very upsetting to you. Keep it simple and just keep thinking about it. Do you have it? Good. Now I want you to make yourself feel good (positive) about that thought.”

[patient to therapist] … “I can’t feel good about it!”

[therapist to patient] … “Exactly! That’s because you cannot have an upsetting feeling without FIRST having an upsetting thought. The sequence is hard wired in your brain (the amygdala). First comes the thought then the feeling. So if you want to learn how to feel better when you get upset or stressed, you will have to learn how to work with your brain rather than pretending you can change the way you feel without first changing your thinking.”

It is always a moment of joy when patients acquire this simple but factual insight. But then the real work begins by helping patients identify their particular Categories of Automatic Distorted Thought patterns. Here are some of the more common distorted thoughts that we have all experienced at various times but are especially destructive when you are under any kind of duress:

1. Mind reading: You assume you know what people think without sufficient evidence of their thoughts. “He thinks I’m a looser.”

2. Fortunetelling: You predict the future negatively. “I know I’m not going to get the job.”

3. Catastrophizing: You believe that what has happened or will happen will be so awful and unbearable that you won’t be able to stand it. “It would be terrible if I fail that test.”

4. Labeling (Name-calling): You assign global negative traits to yourself and others. “He’s really a jerk” or “I was an idiot for believing her.”

5. Overgeneralizing: You perceive a global pattern of negatives based on a single incident. “This happens every time I’m in rush hour traffic.”

6. Dichotomous thinking (black and white): You view events or people in all-or-nothing terms (good or bad, right or wrong, etc.) “That was a complete waste of time.”

7. Shoulds: (shoulda, woulda, coulda): You interpret events in terms of how things ‘should be’ rather than focusing on what is. “I should have done better.”

8. Blaming: You focus on the other person as the source of your upset and refuse to take responsibility for changing yourself. “She caused this and she’s to blame for what happened.”

9. Unfair Comparisons (apples to oranges): You have standards that are unrealistic and find yourself inferior or superior in the comparison. “She’s prettier than me.”

10. What if?: You keep asking a series of questions about “what if …”  

      something happens and you fail (refuse) to be satisfied with any of the 

      answers. “But what if I have a panic attack” or “What if they don’t hire me.

These are among the most common categories of distorted (negative) thinking but there are more. Patients find both insight and humor when exploring how this type of thinking manifests itself in their daily encounters with their world. Some become so masterful at recognizing when they are engaged in negative thinking that they start pointing it out when they observe it in others. They are, of course, instructed to avoid this and focus on what they can control.

The addition of Mood Logs (documenting negative thoughts) augments the treatment effort by giving homework to patients between interviews. Logging an upsetting situation holds the patient accountable for their negative thinking whenever and wherever they encounter emotional upset. The CBT treatment effort is typically concluded in 8-10 interviews depending on the severity of symptoms and the patient’s compliance with the treatment protocol. Additionally, a referral for further psychiatric follow-up for medication assessment can be a useful tool if there is evidence of familial (genetic) predispositions toward anxiety and mood disorder.

In summary, we must always take note of the reality that the Creator endowed us with two minds. The rational mind is prominent in awareness, thoughtful, able to ponder and reflect. But we are also given another system of knowing; impulsive and powerful and sometimes illogical … the emotional mind. The spiritually minded know this as the “heart” and the “head”. In most moments, these minds are exquisitely coordinated. But when passions surge the balance tips and the emotional mind rules supreme. The ancients knew this well:

Anyone can become angry ─ that is easy.

But to be angry with the right person,

to the right degree, at the right time,

for the right purpose, and in the

right way ─ this is not easy.

Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics

We are living in trying times. The historical reality is that we have always lived in trying times. Our Humanity is as resilient as it is fickle. Along the way we innovated ways to mitigate danger and increase survival by storing information in our large brains and translating it into words and then writing which advanced knowledge. That knowledge now reminds us of the delicate balancing act our brain performs in service to our individual well-being and the well-being of our neighbor.

The next time you find yourself upset, pause and take a moment to evaluate how your amazing brain has just tricked you into some category of negative and irrational thinking. Laugh at it and then make the necessary correction and move forward while remaining open to the possible need for additional help and support. And in that moment, you will discover how wondrously we are made in His image.

[1] Adapted from Daniel Goleman, Emotional Intelligence, October 1995

A Faith Beyond Belief

by Jason Gillespie 

A few years back, I found myself fortunate to be lying under a palapas on a third world beach. Some form of consciousness expansion was taking place as I peered out at the ineffable beauty of God’s creation. The Recreation Director was making his afternoon rounds with the guests and he happened by my little patch of paradise. He was wearing a small unassuming wooden cross around his neck, similar to Pastor Gavin’s. I asked him if he was a “Believer?” He paused, knelt down under the shade and said: “No, I am not a Believer. You can believe anything. I live my faith every day in everything that I do.” He went on to provide various examples of how he “lives” his faith in Christ. There was an obvious contrast that he was highlighting for me that I chose not to dismiss. I have taken stock of that interaction ever since.

We use the word “faith” in numerous contexts: “I have faith in you” or “I have faith in God” or “I have faith that everything is going to work out” or more simply “Keep the faith” and so on. But the word “faith” could be easily substituted with the word “believe” or “belief” and nobody would really take notice or be offended and rightly so.

Faith is most typically defined and associated with religion involving a belief and trust in something for which there is no proof. In fact, we are all familiar with Hebrews 11:1 which teaches us just that: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” In fact, reading the complete narrative in Hebrews 11 is a living historical testimony to just how much God teaches us and reveals Himself through acts of faith as opposed to a belief or believing in something. But did you catch that … “acts” becomes almost synonymous with faith, and scripture is replete with examples in this regard. 

These acts of faith envisage a kind of ‘knowing’ that almost always implies certitude even when there is no evidence. Whereas, faith based solely on belief may leave you equivocating on your course of action. I am now confident that this is what my third world friend was alluding too.

I have concluded that it is in a ‘knowing’ (certain) faith response that we dare to act without evidence of a positive outcome. This is a uniquely human phenomenon and it may be built into our individual and collective consciousness as a species. 

Further, while faith is the mechanism that presupposes all religious rites, rituals and worship, it is unequivocally a universal pursuit in all human endeavors. Could it be that faith is endowed by the Creator to all of humanity? Not as a mental construct that we access solely in service to the “religious” enterprise but a gift intrinsic to our very nature as human beings.

Emile Durkheim was one of the great Social Scientists, among many, that emerged in the modern era of the 20th century. He is one of the few who explored the humble origins and vital role of ancient primitive cults, with their feasts, rites and rituals, and how this gave rise to early societies and a collective thought life.

These early human gatherings coalesced in service to the particular rite or ritual that was found worthy of their devotion. Acts of worship became a unifying social force that could and would meet the growing demands of a human mind that was observing the vast mysteries of the Creation that lay before them. These collectively prescribed manners of acting aroused thoughts and sensations and the desire for communion and culminating in the apotheosis of objects, abstract forces, and conscious personalities.

Concomitantly, these same early gatherings became an incubator for ideas and sentiments that ranged from the sacred and the profane; love and abnegation (surrender); the good, the beautiful and the ideal; legal and moral codes; to speculative notions of the divine that gave rise to religious thought and later to philosophy and science.

In undergraduate study and long before I became a Christian, I remember being sort of God struck by Durkheim’s exhaustive study on The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life (1912) that is referenced above. In his lengthy summary, Durkheim is eventually compelled to confront the divide between Religion and Science, and he concludes with this remarkable insight: 

“….But howsoever important these facts taken from the constituted sciences may be, they are not enough; for faith is before all else an impetus to action, while science, no matter how far it may be pushed, always remains at a distance from this. Science is fragmentary and incomplete; it advances but slowly and it is never finished; but life cannot wait.” (page 431). 

And for this reason, religion will always precede science. It always has and it always will.

While Durkheim was certainly referencing “religious faith”, his treatise lays the groundwork for a more broad and thorough examination of the faith response. His insight makes no reference to a belief or a belief system. Neither does he make any reference to “hope” which is the anticipation of a positive outcome. An appeal to “love” could have been made by Durkheim. But he reminds us that ideas and sentiments are separate from ritualized practices that command a collective body to first act in devotion.

The impetus to action that religious faith engenders can be applied then to mobilize us to act not only in service to the Divine but also in service to others. And to that end, God in Christ Jesus is the focus of our worship and glorified by our acts of service in faith to the Kingdom.

The sheer power of faith is mentioned time and again by our Lord Jesus: “… I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Mt 17:20). And again Mk 11:22-23; Mt 21:21; Lk 17:6; 1Co 13:2. Faith fills the void when fear and trembling and all manner of understanding fails us. By faith we bow our head and invite the Unseen into our heart and mind; and in so doing receive a peace “… which transcends all understanding …” (Php 4:7). 

So, if this faith, of which so much is written, is in fact, a gift from the Creator, does it terminate at Heaven’s door and only for those who knock? Can there be even broader application in service to the advance of Kingdom come? There must be some semblance of a faith response that also resides in Science.

I made a previous reference to religious faith demonstrating a “kind of knowing” that motivates us to action. Similarly, scientific inquiry always begins with the unknown in pursuit of knowing. In fact, the word “science” is derived from the Latin scire and scio … ‘to know’. So is there room for Science in this faith enterprise, of which I have been speaking? Or shall religion covet that which is a gift from God to all His creation?

My embrace of Science is a unique treasure that informs my faith less I succumb to ignorant bliss. Humanity owes much to science in its multifarious forms and modes. Every day we can recognize the “miracles” of science that we take so obliviously for granted. The list of accomplishments that have been born of human innovation through the application of science is immeasurable. The Bible and its dissemination to all the world is the product of science. The synagogues and cathedrals and temples from small to great are all the product of science and its craft. Societies and culture in every corner of our world are the product of humans seeking ways to survive and to advance toward some indeterminate outcome by grasping and then applying the laws of nature with a leap of faith. Mysteries abound and life cannot wait, and faith moves us to act. Whether in worship and devotion or with innovation for the common good.

And so, it is the call of faith that moves the human mind to action. We can make predictions, but we do not know the exact outcome of any action we take. We cannot know the future. It is revealed to us moment to moment as an enduring and irresistible process of perseverance through faith. 

However, if this is a useful insight into the utility of faith then how can it be maximized in service to discipleship so as to advance the world forward in pursuit of God’s Kingdom on earth as it is in Heaven? 

I am learning, ever so slowly, that my (spiritual) faith in action requires constant course corrections, diligence, and guidance from the Holy Spirit. Centering and collective prayer, worship, scriptural study, fellowship and a host of other practices handed down from our Lord are required. To do otherwise is to risk a pursuit in faith that can be to your own peril and others. The colloquial reference is “Blind faith.” 

Some of these changes in course are moment to moment and others require less scrutiny based on the degree of “knowing” in your faith response. I am finding that devotion to discipleship in Christ through the Holy Spirit increases knowing; easy for me to say but I must confess my failures every day in this pursuit.

My faith walk has always suffered from an inordinate focus on observing and understanding the world and the humans that make it home. Indeed, I am tempted daily to view Jesus’s ministry as an innovative and novel way to view the world and all of Creation as a transformative exercise, but we are warned against this. Jesus says: “The Kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor will people say, ‘Here it is’ or ‘There it is’ because the Kingdom of God is within you. (Lk 17:20-21).

Indeed, it is tempting to relax on my third world beach in hope of expanding my consciousness and to try to observe how the Kingdom of God is manifest before me. My daily confessions to Jesus generally include, time spent trying to grasp the complexities of my subjective experience of my world and particularly, the human creatures that call it home; all the while deluding myself with the importance of observing and understanding their behavior as a justifiable pursuit of knowledge.

But God is clear that His Kingdom does not come from observation or knowledge. It does not come from rites or rituals or theologies built from well-organized and thoughtful tenets; and it is not elusive or mystical. His Kingdom is in each of us, in the here and now, and awaits our efforts to mobilize a knowing faith response that acts because the outcome is already known. And that effort begins as an act of faith when I reach out, to meet another exactly where they are and attend to their needs. Then and only then is my faith response revealed as a tangible act of empathy and compassionate care; and dare I say, an act of love that can change the course of a human life. This is the call of faith that Jesus always responded too from the Father and was demonstrated in each moment of his earthy life. 

For in the gospel a righteousness from God

is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith

from first to last, just as it is written: 

The righteous will live by faith (Ro 1:17)

The Problem of [Penal Substitutionary] Atonement

By George Trifanoff

What is atonement? And why is it important for the Christian practice?

The question of atonement is critical in our understanding of the gospel.   

Why did Jesus die and what is the meaning of his death?

Let me preface this with a note that these are mental constructs to aid our understanding, and were not codified as essential church doctrine by the early church councils.

The prevailing model of atonement in the western church today is penal substitutionary atonement [PSA], that Jesus paid the price to satisfy a debt to God that we humans could never meet. On the surface, this seems logical, just as how we talk about a person who has served a prison term — we say that they have atoned for their crime. And satisfied their penal obligation to society.

While it is the dominant view of contemporary Christians, it is not, as we will explore later, the atonement model championed by many other Christians, including Eastern Orthodox, order of Franciscan Catholics, and even Protestants belonging to various “peace” church denominations.

We are going to look at these terms more fully — atonement, sacrifice, satisfaction, substitutionary, redemptive, etc., but first, let’s take a quick dive into the history of the Christian faith, and how we got to where we are today concerning atonement.

BC: Sacrificial Religious Practices

Sacrifice has comprised an essential piece of every world religion since the dawn of humanity. Human sacrifice, revolting to us now(at least most all of us, I hope), was a standard religious practice, and this truth was reflected in early Bible verses. Eventually, human sacrifice was supplanted by animal sacrifice. And these rituals could be quite elaborate.

James Alison on ancient Jewish liturgy practice: [1]

For this liturgy the high priest would go into the Holy of Holies.… He would then go into the Holy of Holies, taking one of two goats – a goat which was the Lord, and a goat which was Azazel (the “devil”). He would take the first with him into the Holy of Holies and sacrifice it to the LORD; and with it he would sprinkle the Mercy Seat, and all that was in the First Temple, the throne on which were the Cherubim. This was a place that only the high priest was allowed to enter. Now the interesting thing is that after expiating his own sins with the bull, he would then don the white robe, which was the robe of an angel. From that point he would cease to be a human being and would become the angel, one of whose names was “the Son of God”. And he would be able to put on “the Name”, meaning “the name which could not be pronounced”, the Name of God. With the Name contained in the phylacteries either on his forehead or wrapped around his arms, he would be able to go into the Holy of Holies. (Remember the phrase, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord”? This is a reference to the rite of atonement, the coming in of the high priest – one of the many references to the rite of atonement we get in the New Testament – and of which we are largely ignorant!). So, he becomes an angel; and one of the angel's titles is “the son of God”. He sacrifices the goat that is “the Lord”, and sprinkles his blood about the place. The purpose of this was to remove all the impurities that had accrued in what was meant to be a microcosm of creation, because the Holy of Holies, in the understanding of the Temple, was the place where the Creator dwelt. The rite of atonement was about the Lord himself, the Creator, emerging from the Holy of Holies so as to set the people free from their impurities and sins and transgression. In other words, the whole rite was exactly the reverse of what we typically imagine a priestly rite to be about. We tend to have an “Aztec imagination” as regarding the sacrificial system. The hallmark of the sacrificial system is that its priest sacrifices something so as to placate some deity. …After which, as the person who was bearing the sins that had been accumulated, he places them on the head of what we call “the scapegoat”, Azazel, which would then be driven to the edge of the cliff and cast down, where it would be killed, so that the people's sins would be taken away.

So throughout human history, scapegoating and sacrifice have served as societal providers of cultural purifying agents. Transferring the sins of the guilty and/or scapegoating an innocent victim to cleanse and maintain group order served as a regular societal tonic.

Early Christians and Christus Victor

The early Christians shared the belief that Jesus set people free from the bondage of Satan. Christus Victor, is the atonement model label, where Jesus triumphs over the forces of darkness and the powers and principalities.  

Still, seeds were already sown for later revisions to atonement theory. How did Satan hold power in the first place? Did God have to trick the devil, like one would with a mouse, cheese and mousetrap? (St. Augustine advanced this very image. [2]) Was Jesus the cheese that baited Satan?

This focus on the devil set the stage for the next big development that happened in the 11th century.

2nd Millenium: Anselm and Satisfaction

In 1096, a priest named Anselm, the Archbishop of Canterbury, authored an epic manuscript that would change the debate on atonement henceforth. It was titled Cur Deus Homo (“Why God Man?”) and was written as a response to educated Jewish scholars who claimed that Jesus-as-God-made-flesh was demeaning to God. Anselm argued that dishonor displayed to God was made right by Jesus death and honor restored.

It is not coincidental that 1096 also marks the year that Pope Urban II proclaimed the 1st Crusade, to recapture the holy land from the Muslim infidels. Reportedly, Anselm wrote part of this document on the battlefield.

“I demand satisfaction.”

Honor is the centerpiece here, and looking at societal relations in that age, it made some sense there. Consider a world full of kings, queens, knights, and feudal lords. Swearing fealty to an overseer, pledging your life and work, and in return, receiving protection and administering of justice. This honor-debt calculus constructs a Jesus who fulfilled a debt for which humankind could never satisfy.  

Honor is to be upheld, and if fealty is cast aside or the powers that stand in the stead of God are offended, they must righteously channel divine violence to put these affairs back to their natural order.

Protestant Reformation: Honor and Wrath

The Protestant Reformation added “penal” to “substitutionary”. In the reformed view, Jesus is the stand-in for a holy terror that is the just deserts of what humans deserve from God. Humans sit in the crosshairs of divine violence, only spared by the blood of the crucified Christ.

This is the arc that carried us to circa 2020. But like stated above, not all Christians believe PSA to be the one true atonement doctrine. Eastern Orthodox Christians, for example, rejected or never accepted a good number of Roman Catholic and Protestant theological developments. By and large, Christus Victor is the operative atonement model, though to be fair, there are elements of ransom and substitution in their theological constructs.

The Trouble with PSA

Some critics of penal substitutionary atonement liken the concept to “divine child abuse”. I think that is overly harsh, not totally accurate. PSA does get half of things right — the redemptive blood of Christ does indeed wash us all clean.  But I don’t believe it is transactional, based on an economy of exchange. This thread is not consistent with a heavenly creator that requires mercy, not sacrifice [3].

In the PSA model, God is a petty tyrant, offended in the same manner than humans are, and can pour wrath onto us at the slightest beckoning. Violence reigns, and whoever is anointed with the mantle of God’s blessing can inflict righteous violence for the “holy glory” of God.

But as Richard Rohr eloquently puts it: Jesus was not changing God’s mind about us; he was changing our minds about God [4]. 

We don’t need to be saved from an angry God, we need deliverance from fallen human anger.

A Better At-ONE-ment

Jesus is the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. [5]

The purpose of Jesus’ death is to shine forth the glory of God; to transform our web of human relations into a manifestation of the kingdom Jesus pronounced was at hand. Resurrection fulfills this glory. It is not just about the hereafter, it is also about transforming life now.

Jesus walked the human journey of failure and rejection — while forgiving his enemies — and then asked us to follow Him. Jesus was the final, ultimate sacrifice to end the practice of sacrifice. Whether it is the innocent or the enemy.  

The redemptive grace, mercy, forgiveness, love, etc. of God is not to be earned at any price. It is a priceless gift. One can either walk in its radiant light or remain oblivious to it. It is not cheap, it is not expensive, it is priceless.

Contrast the Kingdom gift with an economy of exchange: debts are absolved, trespasses forgiven. 

Salvation is not a one-time transaction but a continuous transformational experience. It reveals the redemptive and participatory love of a beautiful heavenly univocal creator, not a blood offering required by a Janus-faced God.

[1] James Alison, “Some Thoughts on the Atonement”, http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/texts/eng11.html

[2] Richard Beck, “Mousetrap”, https://experimentaltheology.blogspot.com/2012/05/mousetrap.html

[3] Matthew 9:13, Hosea 6:6

[4] Richard Rohr, “Salvation as At-One-Ment”, https://email.cac.org/t/ViewEmail/d/97EB35EAD45EFFF7/7BA1CB974E49B6F4C67FD2F38AC4859C

[5] John 1:29

Relating to Easter in a Culture of Transaction

by Pastor Gavin Linderman

Have you ever given a gift to someone only for them to turn and express remorse for not getting you something? They confess, “oh, you shouldn’t have—I didn’t get you anything,” as you then sit there awkwardly expressing that you didn’t expect anything in return.

In the midst of Holy Week, Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection are on full display in such a concentrated way. As trivial as it may sound, “gift” is the most direct term I can think of to adequately express the meaning of it all. But I can’t help but think of the various ways we relate to this gift of His perfect life, the crucifixion, and the empty tomb. Is it all just a recipe for our salvation? Is it just an exchange of services? How we understand Easter morning must leave us not with the burden of doing our part, but with the humble posture of receiving.

A great deal of our life with God is understood in terms of calculations. Have we done enough? At what point have I exhausted His forgiveness? Even words like “forgiveness” connote debts to be paid or actions that are owed. The starting point of our relationship with God is established in our minds as a transaction. If I do this, He will do that—the quid pro quo of Easter morning. While it would be easy to blame this association on a culture under the spell of capitalism, some scripture leans on these analogies as well. “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life...” (Romans 6:23). The issue here, though, is not whether this lens of viewing our life with God is good, but whether it is sufficient for understanding the dynamics of our relationship with God or the fullness of life post-Easter morning. For if we allow this worldview to color the whole of our understanding or even more, our experience of God, it is, in fact, a problem. The gift may no longer be a gift at all.

Let’s go back to the passage in Romans. Here in this statement, we see that sin is linked to death. The “wages of sin” simply means that death is sin’s payout. Sin is the enemy of life. We all know this innately. That which sin produces on its own accord and the fruit that it bears is death. Say it however you want to—sin and death are synonymous and even quantifiable. But the “gift of God is eternal life,” not the “wages” or “earnings,” but the “gift.” Two different worldviews. One appropriately limited to its intrinsic value and the other to the extrinsic value of God’s love. A gift cannot be quantified any more than eternity or God’s love can be. So do we experience our life with God through the perspective of our sin or God’s gift? Do we experience and even interpret Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection through the eyes of transaction or the eyes of God?

When discussing the victory of Christ on Easter morning and the forgiveness that it freely offers, we are left to battle between the compulsion to justify the gift with a deserving response or to surrender to the nakedness of receiving that which we don’t deserve. Will we use the hermeneutic of the gift of God or the wages of sin? The truth is found in both, but one has limitations. For the wages of sin is overcome by the unquantifiable gift of God (Hebrews 10:14). Death is awash in the ocean of eternity. Forgiveness through the eyes of benevolence is not a quid pro quo. If it was it would not be a gift. A gift eliminates the burden of economics. It is not payment to something, it is pardon from something. It is pardon because Jesus has conquered death—not paid for it—and He has done so through His life against the transactional worldview of Satan and death. The only thing that “pays” is sin and sin pays in full, but Jesus has conquered what sin has paid for. Jesus did die and suffer in our place because He desires a relationship free from the obligation of transactions (1 John 1:7). After all, what’s a relationship if you have to pay for it?

Friends, my hope is that this Easter we might step out of the shadow of death and step into the kindness of our victorious God in Christ. Might we leave the tomb of transaction and rest freely in the gift of our glorious God.

Politics of Jesus 2020

by George Trifanoff

Reflecting over recent Axiom Sunday messages, I’ve been thinking a bit about those passages in Matthew 5, particularly the utterances of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. It is easy to fall into a trap and see these just as moral aphorisms, detached from the Gospel arc. But these are radical prescriptions that should deeply influence how any Jesus follower interacts with the world.

• Blessed are the oppressed, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

• Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

• Blessed are the nonviolent, for they will inherit the earth.

• Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be filled.

• Blessed are the compassionate, for they will receive compassion.

• Blessed are the contemplative in mind, for they will see God.

• Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

• Blessed are those who are persecuted for justice’s sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

How can we read these eight “Beatitudes” and come to the conclusion that Jesus wasn’t political?

I realize that any reference to politics in the church (or the church in politics) is laden with landmines, but here I venture into that space, and I hope to honor God by going there in a spirit of Christlike love.

For many, the word “politics” has become so polluted, so tainted, that we come to associate it with television talking heads yelling at each other or the vile derisive messages posted on social media timelines. But the etymology of the word comes from the Greek word polis, meaning “affairs of the cities.” Technically, every act and decision made in a community setting is of a political nature. But we’ve siphoned the positive aspects of the term and rendered it an ugly, confrontational noun. To say “I’m not political” is to assert “I’m not responsible for anything happening around me.”

Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, is issuing a harsh critique of the values of his culture. He flips upside down the overarching allegiance to the dominant institutions of family, religion, power, and the economic system. He challenged his hearers to embrace a different reality—a loyalty to a Kingdom of God. Most seemed unready for this radical transformation of consciousness, and this cost Jesus popularity, scorn from the authorities, immense inner agony, and eventually his human life.

Is our culture today that radically different from that of Jesus’ time? Sure, we inhabit a world light years ahead, technologically speaking, with all of the modern comforts and miracles of electricity, the internet, and other wonders the ancients could only dream of. Yet in our age, money and power might be more dominant frames than they ever were. An ethos of production and consumption rules the Christian world. But followers of Jesus are called to embrace a radically different worldview—one of sacrificial love, one that honors the lowly over the exalted of society, one that takes the side of the oppressed over the ruling class. When you bear the yoke of Jesus, it should be accompanied by an all-encompassing metanoia that revolutionizes how you interact with everything in your life.

Whatever your political tilt, be it conservatism, liberalism, libertarianism, or whatever-ism, a committed Jesus follower should wrestle with Gospel implications on all the political and social community concerns in both the local and global environment.

For myself, it leads me to ponder questions like these:

• Why is it only class warfare when it is the poor against the rich?

• Is our economy oriented toward restoration over exploitation?

• Do we have an economy that is based on healing the future instead of stealing it?

• Why do most Christians disregard the teachings of Jesus on nonviolence and his admonition to love your enemies and instead are no different than the non-believer on beliefs regarding war and torture?

• How can many Christians not see immigrants and refugees in the light of how the Bible frames what our attitude should be in welcoming strangers?

• How can we treat all of our brothers and sisters as beautiful image-bearers of God? How do we truly foster a culture that honors the sacredness of life?

The justice agenda for Jesus was humility and loving thy neighbor. It is our job as Kingdom servants to tear down walls and build bridges. Our identity as Jesus followers is not one of nationalistic emblems, icons, and slogans, but a new identity with space for everyone to belong and be loved. Truly transformed people can change the world, while those unchanged serve only as cheerleaders for the status quo.

A caution here though—we must be vigilant not to be overcome with a certainty that has us acting as if we were gods ourselves.

What I submit to you is this: the very darkness which Jesus came to shed light on was our habit as human beings of seeing things in terms of light and dark. In other words, we have this habit of setting ourselves up as the judges of who belongs to the light and who belongs to the darkness. We see ourselves as belonging to the light and someone else as belonging to the darkness. It is this habit of ours which is itself the darkness that Jesus came to shed light on. Why else would Jesus let himself be judged so, as a person of the dark? First, he was accused of hanging around with sinners, with those of the darkness. Then he was condemned as one of the darkness and executed accordingly. It is only the light of Easter morning which begins to open our eyes to the darkness of our entire game of deciding who’s in the light and who’s in the dark.

As a Jesus follower, when I enter into the realm of the political, I strive not to conduct myself in a partisan or polarizing manner. I’d like to boast that I always hit the mark here, but I do not always act in accordance with my better angels. But we urgently need to address politics in the language of the heart—that we’re all in this together, that “us and them” does not have to mean “us versus them;” it should just be “us.” And we need to develop an ability to hold political tension with those holding different views in life-giving ways.

As the 2020 US election year unfolds, the forecast is for a heated and turbulent season. My prayer is that we who pledge allegiance to the way of Jesus would inscribe on our hearts the instructions of Jesus on loving our enemies (or our friends and acquaintances who differ with us on the issues), the practice of forgiveness, and conducting political dialogue in a spirit of love.

The call of Jesus, for me, is to be a Kingdom servant in God’s politics—by compassionately focusing on the least in Jesus’ family, by being intentional in helping forge the beloved community, and by committing to be an agent in advancing the Kingdom. The Kingdom Jesus pronounced was at hand.

1 The Axiom Church Podcast, https://axiomchurchaz.podbean.com/

2 Epiphany 4A, http://girardianlectionary.net/reflections/year-a/epiphany4a/

3 Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polis

4 David Dark, Beloved America, https://chapter16.org/beloved-america/

5 Center for Action and Contemplation, “Bias from the Bottom”, https://cac.org/changing-our-minds-2016-03-29/

6 Paul J. Nuechterlein, “Rise, Shine, You People”, http://girardianlectionary.net/reflections/year-a/epiphany5a_1999_ser/

Theology of the City

by Michael Denson

After the birth of our son in March of 2017, my wife Charith and I went into panic mode. The walls of our tiny 900 square foot historic home in downtown Phoenix, seemed to suddenly close in on us. The traffic in our concrete jungle was now impending and dangerous. Even the air we breathed became thin and choking. We didn't know what was happening. This had been our home for almost 2 years and we loved everything about living in the city. But our little 9-pound bundle introduced certain fears that reframed our view of the city and our future as city dwellers.

We ventured to find a new place to belong. We wanted space, safety, parks, good schools, diversity, and most important of all, we wanted people like us; a mixed- race, young married couple with a biracial child. People who think differently, celebrate diversity and community. People who are creative, who challenge systems, and take risks. People who love Jesus and love their neighborhood just as much. 

Charith and I have always believed that the “city” is equivalent to The Garden. Cities are teeming with life, creativity, culture, diversity, discovery, and beauty. Phoenix was a city we felt called to, a place where we felt rooted in, and a place where we were to grow and produce fruit. So our migration to suburbia in 2017 was met with anxiousness and timidity. This uncertainty was much more magnified when we finally found our new home in suburban Glendale, AZ. But soon after moving, we began to notice the very prominent dividing lines and walls that kept our new neighborhood segregated. We could see how the fixtures of our city, the roads, gated communities, proximity to highways, and expensive mountain base homes shaped the collective understanding of our lives together (Leong 27).

We quickly began to survey our new location, piecing together the physical makeup of our neighborhood and city. Very early on we were struck by what we observed on our daily commute home from work. In the 20 min drive directly west, from the I-17 freeway toward the base of Thunderbird Mountain, we notice 2 things; the houses get bigger and newer, and neighborhoods get whiter and richer. 

We were so challenged with this idea of belonging. Was this the place that we “belonged?” Not soon after we moved into our new home and began to “do life” in our new neighborhood, we found that the place where we now dwelled did not feel like a place where we belonged. Whatever belonging is, it involves belonging with and to others in a place (Leong 35). However, we felt that the people around us were not “our people.” 

There was not much diversity. Everywhere we turned we saw predominantly middle-class, white Americans. Churches had been erected at almost every major intersection, and though the denominations varied greatly, we noticed the same demographic of people coming and going every Sunday. Restaurant and grocery store workers varied in ethnicity, but the question remained, “where did these individuals live and play?” Rarely had we seen these same people dining, shopping, or communing outside of the places they worked. If God has always placed importance on the location of his people and the space they occupy, then where we are (or where we were placed) is no accident and has little to do with our desire for “sameness” as it relates to our personal preference for space, aesthetics, opportunities, and demographic of people. 

The first place my wife and I sought after was a church. Surely communing with like-minded, contemporary Christians every week we give us that “belonging” feeling we were seeking. And surely the Church is in some ways was addressing the social-economical issues of the city in which it existed, hopefully in new and radical ways. This is what we believed to be the call of the church. To seek to reconcile communities to look more like the kingdom of God by embodying the beauty, goodness, and truth of Jesus. However, our perspectives on how this could be accomplished were dramatically changed. 

My wife and I spent several months searching for the perfect church. Sunday after Sunday we tried church after church. Like Goldilocks searching for the perfect bed among the bears, we found ourselves making weekly confessions of, “this church is too big. That church was too white. This church was too boring. That church was too charismatic.” Among our nit-picking, we found no church that valued diversity, racial and gender reconciliation, social awareness and responsibility, and the fight for justice. And even still, we were hard-pressed to find a church that just valued people. At the very least, we would have hoped to walk into a church and simply be noticed, accepted, and loved just for showing up. 

  Early in 2018, we were introduced to Axiom church. Before our initial attendance, we decided to do some research. Who are you? What are you about? What’s your mission? What kind of people (Christians) are you? The church seemed to score high in all of our shallow requirements for a place we would want to spiritually root. Additionally, it proposed new questions that we would need to be answered before we would commit. Who are the Mennonite Brethren? What does it mean that you are a community of pioneers? What does it look like to “value your neighbor?”  

On March 18th, 2018 we got dressed and headed over to Axiom for the 10am service. Running a little late, my wife and I, along with our 1-year-old, walked into a small sanctuary where people were already worshiping. At the time I couldn’t quite nail down why but I instantly felt overwhelmingly relieved. I was so incredibly thankful that the song the worship band was playing was one I had never heard before. I loved that I could look across the room and almost count the number of people present. And I loved that, from what I could tell, the faces of the people present varied in race and age.  

As the band finished their third song the bass guitarist put his instrument to the side, walked up to the main microphone and introduced himself as the pastor. His retro 90’s t-shirt, sleeve tattoo, and trucker hat hinted that Pastor Gavin was someone who was consciously working against the stereotypical pastoral image I was accustomed to, even among “hipster” churches.  He had an authenticity that I had not experienced before in the role of a lead pastor. And that same authenticity was prevalent among the congregation. 

After service, before we could even exit our isle, Gavin stopped Charith and asked our names and thanked us for joining Axiom for service. After we talked for just a moment, Gavin gave us his phone number and offered us to join him for coffee. This was a radically different interaction either of us had experiences in our search for churches over the course of several months. And an even stranger experience with anyone in a pastoral role. This was truly a place that valued authentic hospitality and its importance was modeled by those in leadership. This is truly what kept us coming back.

Over the next year I learned much about the heart of the church I now call home and its mission to become a part of the surrounding community. One thing Axiom is very intentional about is, first and foremost, being good neighbors. Our church is situated among some neglected and abandoned homes, spanish speaking families, vacant lots, a few businesses and not much else. Beyond this area, moving west and north, one can see newly built 2 story homes protected by 6 to 8 foot block walls. And not far beyond that is a massive sports complex and entertainment district. It is clear that there is a disconnect in this space. There is a story here that we have not yet learned. 

This idea of practicing Christian discipleship that is more attentive to the places and patterns of exclusion that divide our communities (Leong 56) is foundational to the work of Axiom. We are one of about ten churches in a very condensed area. The place we occupy is a shared space. Between these churches and the community, we are continually seeking out ways to invite our neighbors into our physical location, as well as become a part of their space and common areas. This includes community potlucks, family movie nights, using the parks as venue space for free music events, neighborhood cleanup efforts, art walks, and simply just meeting people and asking them their story. In this, I have witnessed a new sort of Christianity. A faith that seeks to be informed by its location and not one that desires to create social homogeneity. One that is void of overspirtualizaiton and “soul-winning.” One that is closer to the church we read about in scripture. 

Axiom is considered a church for the unlikely. Those who are weird, different, forgotten about, misunderstood, and those who don’t fit into the mold of cookie-cutter suburbia. Because of this, I believe that we are a community of believers that have a keen sense of the damaging effects of “sameness” and uniformity. The church is a place where God is forming a family out of strangers (Leong 159). Welcoming and communing with “different” people necessitate patience and perseverance-this produces true kinship (161). This is the beginning of reconciliation and a clearer image of the Kingdom of God.

Jesus modeled this very character of meeting strangers with hospitality, acknowledging differences and redefining the idea of “neighbor,”  all while understanding and functioning within the framework of the local environment. Nowhere is this clearer than in Jesus’ well-known and controversial conversation with a Samaritan woman at as well (Leong 54). Jesus undoubtedly understood the history of Samaria and what kept them as “other.” However, he acknowledges the cultural conflict and reframes the story by allowing the Spirit to prompt radical neighborly interaction.  

Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” (John 4:7). Why would Jesus, a Jew, make this request from such an impure and immoral Samaritan woman? Furthermore, on a more intimate level, Jesus “sees” this woman, her history and her lifestyle, addresses it and provides grace in spite of her circumstance, culturally or otherwise. I believe this was (and is) the foundational work that led to the reconciliation of the Samaritan people. Leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” (John 4:28-29). I believe that Jesus’s tendency to push social boundaries and boldly engage with those who were racially, culturally, and biologically different is the rootedness of salvation and social reconciliation. It is the clearest visualization of true discipleship. 

Though, in no way is Axiom a “perfect church,” (and thank God no church is)  it is a place where we belong. I am continually affirmed, though sometimes uncomfortably so, that this is the place where we have been sewn and the place where God requires us to take root. And with a community of radically different believers who are patiently working toward reconciliation through neighborliness and hospitality, I am hopeful that the future of the place I now call home will have a growing number of scattered people. People who intentionally occupy space with whoever is considered “other” and begin to create a new city narrative through the common experience of shared space. 

Bibliography

Leong, David P. Race and Place. Downers Grove, InterVarsity Press, 2017.

New International Version. Bible Gateway, www.biblegateway.com. Accessed 20 

April 2019.

Stranger Kings

For many followers of Jesus, Advent is the start of our New Year and a joyous season of hopeful expectation. It is worth pausing for a moment to reflect on and clarify just exactly what it is that we are expecting. What implications do those expectations carry? How might those expectations manifest in our lives as we move into this next season?

Expectation is an abstract and peculiar thing. At its best, it is a well of hope we draw from as we anticipate some future event. At its worst, it may fuel feelings of disappointment or despair when things don’t play out as we had hoped. Many first-century Jews might have experienced both of these extremes surrounding the coming of the prophesied and long-anticipated Messiah. To really understand why, we might first need to rewind a bit.

Rejecting the King of Kings

About 1,000 years before Jesus’ birth, the elders of Israel came to their prophetic judge, Samuel, and demanded he appoint a king to rule over them (1 Samuel 8). Samuel, knowing this was a bad idea, brought the issue to the Lord in prayer. God, also knowing this was a bad idea, asked Samuel to warn Israel about how their lives would likely change for the worse under a human king. The people of Israel, ignoring Samuel’s warning, were insistent and God ultimately accommodated their request by anointing Saul as Israel’s first king. We don’t need to read much further into 1 Samuel before we see Israel regretting that decision. It was, indeed, a bad idea.

Original Engraving: Israel Demands a King by J. Winter (Dutch, Eighteenth Century) / Cartoon by Johnny Kerr

The thing is, Israel had always had a mighty King, one that far exceeded the best the world could offer. But they didn’t fully recognize Him as such because their perspective was compromised by their envy of other nations. Lest we be too hard on ol’ Israel, I think it’s only fair to recognize that humanity still struggles with these same issues even today. In fact, we can trace this problem all the way back to the beginning; Adam and Eve ultimately rejected God’s rule when they gave themselves over to the serpent’s temptation, subjugating themselves to another, lesser ruler.

God has always desired for humankind to live in intimate relationship with Him, to experience His care and goodness firsthand. After the Fall, He tried again to establish that relationship with humanity through His covenant with Abraham. But Abraham’s descendants insisted on a kingdom modeled after the other nations of the world. They couldn’t see that life with God in charge was real life, that the other kingdoms of the world had it upside-down and backwards.

As we fast-forward back to the time near Jesus’ birth we see a fractured nation in the wake of dozens of human kings (most of them awful). In addition to the divided kingdoms of Israel and Judah often being at war with each other, they also endured multiple external wars, conquerings, exiles, returns from exile, and dispersion. The temple of the Lord had been destroyed and rebuilt twice and Jerusalem was occupied under Roman rule.

Expecting The King of Kings

Jewish prophets had foretold the arrival of the Messiah and the faithful remnant of Israel were desperately hoping for delivery. But they still seemed to be stuck on the idea of a human warrior king—like David from the “good old days”—to march into war, conquer Rome and make Israel great again. As we now know, the humble carpenter from Galilee didn’t exactly fit the picture most of them had in mind. When our expectations are misguided, even good things can be missed, poorly received, or rejected outright.

“So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

2 Corinthians 4:18 (HCSB)

As we look back on the narratives of Jesus’ birth as described in Matthew and Luke, we have the benefit of hindsight that Jews in Jesus’ day did not. Even still, we can wonder at how our mighty King chose to reveal Himself to us under such humble circumstances. We can read in all four Gospels about how he lived in humility and loved boldly. These things should color our expectations for what is yet to come. Our King does not operate in accordance with any of the kingdoms of this world.

Jesus came to fulfill the law and the prophets but he came to do it on the Father’s terms, not the world’s. Because of this, Jesus’ ways often confounded the world. It is not that Jesus is a strange King, but that all of the other kings and kingdoms of this world are strange. Again, lest we pick on Israel too much, today we still find it challenging to do things Jesus’ way (loving our enemies, for example). In similar fashion to Israel, we often place our hopes in charismatic or powerful human leaders to fix what is broken. But the “wisdom of the world is foolishness” (1 Corinthians 3) and we cannot expect to right the world using its own foolish, upside-down methods.

Assuming you’re familiar with the Netflix phenomenon, Stranger Things (which the main image and title of this post playfully pay homage to), you might know where I’m going with this analogy. For those who are unfamiliar, I’ll first offer some context. The primary conflict in this sci-fi series set in the 1980s has to do with an alternate parallel dimension known to the main characters as “the upside-down.” In the upside-down, the same locations and infrastructure exist as in the human world, but it is always dark, cold, and foggy. It is a place where an evil presence reigns. It is devoid of life as we know it, instead being overgrown with ambiguous membranes and root-like tendrils with ashy spores ever drifting through the air. The upside-down is merely a shadow of what the world should be.

Much like the fictional group of main characters in Stranger Things, we find ourselves in this present age caught at the intersection of two parallel dimensions: the real world and a shadow world. Although this world in some ways resembles what God created it to be, it is presently a shadow of that, corrupted by darkness. We, like Jews in the ancient Near East, are waiting in expectation for our deliverer.

Anticipating The King of Kings

The word “anticipation” is unique from its near-synonym, “expectation” in that it carries the connotation of action. To anticipate is to prepare and take action based on the belief that what we expect will come to pass. We are in a fallen shadow world but we can still move through it acting as though Jesus is King, because He is! Jesus came to usher in a new era, establishing God’s rule on earth as in Heaven. Something actually changed when Jesus conquered death on the cross, and the world has not been the same ever since. We have been set free.

As followers of Christ we still encounter the darkness of this upside-down world, but we see it for what it is and keep our eyes focused on Jesus. To borrow an illustration from Pastor Gavin, we cannot walk a straight line without something on the distant horizon to fix our eyes upon (December 8, 2019 sermon). Paul similarly charges us in 2 Corinthians 4 to fix our eyes on what is unseen, reminding us that what we see is merely temporary, but the unseen is eternal. When we fix our eyes on Jesus, we can trust that His ways are good, and that where He is leading us there is fullness of life.

During this season of Advent we may find it helpful to look back in reflection on the birth of Christ, but we also look forward to His promised return. As we look forward in expectation, let us ask the Spirit to continue revealing to us the eternal unseen. Let us listen to the voice of our true King so that we do not become distracted by lesser kingdoms and their upside-down ways. Let us anticipate the arrival of our King, knowing His rule is already established, and that we can trust His promise to return. May our anticipation move us into action, making the ways of our good King manifest, on earth as it is in Heaven.

by Johnny Kerr

The Vaporizing One

by Tiffany Heath

As a child, fear plagued me. Being alone in any room caused me to tremble and long for escape. I prepared for bedtime as a soldier entering battle. Flashlight, socks, nightlight, radio, stuffed animal bodyguard, cordless phone, and a spray bottle. Blame the active imagination. It is as much a curse as a blessing. Did you know that there was an actual creature who lived beneath my bed and lurked when the lights went out? He persistently loomed over my thoughts. If a foot slipped out of the covers for more than five seconds, I would be pulled below and gnawed to pieces by his thrashing teeth. Fact. Luckily, my wandering feet always found redemption under the covers in four seconds or less. Wearing socks to bed ensured safety. Creatures don’t touch blankets or clothing—only human flesh…pretty serious creature business. Keeping the socks on your feet all night was a true act of God, though. He always had his hand of protection over my tiny feet. Triumphantly, the creature vanished (although I choose to believe he was eventually vaporized) after I learned to recite Psalm 23. Creatures pale in comparison to scripture. 

For years at night, I was battling creatures and nightmares. During the day, my vaporizing scriptures didn’t always vanish what I feared. In totally real life, I hadn’t met a slimy green beast who stalked me in pursuit of dining on the delicacy of my toes, but it certainly felt that way after moving and beginning anew in a different city and school. I was always prepared with my “vaporizer” and “socks.” Metaphorically speaking. SoCal kids wear flip flops, even in wintertime.

Through thick and thin, I trudged through life as my own superhero, vaporizing junior high bullies, failures, breakups, moves, health problems, disappointments, the prolonged loneliness of solitude, and even normal seasons that brought reluctance. As you age, your fears become more complicated and interwoven in the fabric of your identity and independence. That which could not be defeated would henceforth be avoided. Fun coping mechanisms for adults. Weeeee! 

Eventually, I understood that avoiding a fearful situation will not dissolve it but prolong it instead. In my experience, it also intensifies fear. My heart became hardened and I was weak from preparing for battle constantly. I didn’t interact without my “vaporizer” and personal superhero cape. Always ready to save myself. Not surprisingly, family and friends notice the figurative vanishing techniques that keep you at arms distance. They will refer to this as “too many walls.” As empowering as courage and bravery are, always being your only hero is sad. What happens one day when you are not strong enough anymore to defeat the creature on your own, but you don’t know how to ask for help? Fear conquers when pride is your protection.

Two years ago, I met my greatest foe, and fear, face to face. My family, the greatest piece of my heart, separated. I wasn’t figuratively alone anymore. I was physically alone. The pain of extreme loneliness amidst the chaos of conflict shattered my life into pieces. Worse yet, I could not vaporize the creature of divorce. I could not fix anything. This loss coupled with the passing of my beloved uncle and a friend left me breathless. I grappled to the social safety of workaholic syndrome and the completely secure world of dating. Filling the void of grief is never that easy. Simultaneously, my career imploded and each relationship that began rejected me. I always knew there would come a day when I wouldn’t be living in the fear of being alone again…but would physically be living it.

When I faced the giant of loneliness, I trembled. I shook, bargained, avoided, ran, suffered from the depression of isolation, and eventually realized that I could not take away the pain of my fear. No matter how hard I tried. I was not going to escape it and would not be able to vanquish this creature. Anger boiled up within me at the lack of control I had and life continued to bring further loss.

Losing what I valued most humbled me. Facing my fear reminded me that I am still the child hiding under her covers with a spray bottle and layers of socks on her feet. Just as I needed my vaporizing Psalm once upon a time, I needed to acknowledge the promise of that Psalm.

God is my shepherd. I am not without when he is beside me. He leads me, protects me, provides for me. He REFRESHES my soul and leads me on right paths for his glory. EVEN WHEN I WALK THROUGH THE DARKEST PLACES, I WILL NOT FEAR. GOD IS WITH ME, PROTECTING ME. He welcomes, blesses, and gives me provision in the presence of my enemies. I have everything I need in him and more.

His goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will live in his home forever.

We will never be alone because God is always with us. The promise of Psalm 23 vanquishes all fear.

Facing my foe allowed me to see how great God is. It taught me to set aside my pride and ask for his help. I pleaded, “Help! I am lonely. Send me friends.” He sent friends. In spades. “Send me responsibility. I need motivation and purpose.” He sent a stubborn puppy. “I miss my family. My heart is in pain without them.” He provided me with the wisdom, compassion, and love to reach out to them. With humble hearts, he is teaching us how to forgive and support each other. “Send me a job that provides and encourages.” He led me back to a job in a loving community. “God, I need a support system that will keep me close to you.” He sent friendships that anchored me and pulled me out of the pit of depression. He sent me a lighthouse, a guide, a place of safety, full of his love for others, and connection with him. He sent me Axiom Church.

I don’t believe that God wants us to stop vanquishing creatures. In fact, I believe he blesses this and I choose to believe that he is a mega-fan of this! May we always do what we are afraid to do (with him). But when our fears are completely demolished, we should rejoice that we weren’t holding the vaporizing spray bottle on our own. A strong and powerful God has his hands of protection over us.

Even when life smacks us in the face, we can call him, beep him, if we wanna reach him (Kim Possible reference). He’ll be there, one step ahead, and *pew pew pew* (vaporizer noises).

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. (Deuteronomy 31:8)

The Gift Of Hope

by Johnny Kerr

I find that my Creator often speaks to me when I am engaged in the creative process. Photography has helped me to be more aware, to see metaphors everywhere. Those metaphors often become a conduit through which the Spirit speaks to me. Psalm 66 says, “All the earth worships You and sings praises to You.” I suppose practicing photography has helped me listen more attentively to these songs of praise, allowing creation to teach me about it’s Creator.

Initially, in capturing and reflecting on this image of a small boat grounded on dry land, I became stuck on the obvious imagery of an ark. But that seemed too obvious. I felt a nagging urge to spend time looking deeper for a more profound meaning. During my reflections, I found myself writing a haiku to help figure out what this image had to tell me. I am not a poet, and don’t typically attempt poetry, but I followed the impulse:

I dreamed of a boat

A captive, held from the sea

The rain comforts me

To some, this poem may sound dreary. But for me, it is an expression of hope. What I see and feel in this metaphor is the tension between my renewed identity in God’s covenant family versus my limited perception of the present age. On one hand, the Gospel says we are alive in Christ. He invites us into the fullness of life here and now. On the other hand, we still find ourselves in this fallen world, struggling with the difficult reality that, while God’s Kingdom is here, it has yet to become fully realized. Life can be pretty good. Yet we still face harsh realities like tragedy, disaster, and death.

In wrestling with that apparent contradiction, this image of a boat stranded on dry land began to really speak to me. We are, if you’ll indulge my metaphor, boats that were designed for water, sailing freely through a vast ocean, above the guiding sway of mighty waves. And yet, sometimes we might feel more like boats who are out of our element. stranded on dry land.

But, just when we are about to lose hope, the rain comes! We feel that life-giving water again! It’s not the fullness of the ocean we were made for, but it’s enough to stimulate our senses and remind us of what will one day be again. We are called out of despair and into hope.

The funny thing about hope is that we wouldn’t need it if all was well. We sense that things aren’t quite right with our current world, precisely because God created us for something better. We need hope because things are not as they should be. That’s why my poem has elements of despair in it. It’s okay to feel that tension, but we don’t want to live there. We need the lifeline that hope offers, but what we place our hope in matters. We might even go as far as saying that misplaced hope is what got us into our current predicament in the first place.

A.W. Tozer said, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.” The Gospel teaches us that God is good. Unfortunately, throughout history the church has picked up and taught some pictures of God that make His goodness difficult to accept.

Most Christians would agree, at least on an intellectual level, that God is good. But our practice doesn’t always align with our ideology. Many of us also carry pieces of the mixed-up narrative of an angry God kicking Adam and Eve out of the garden for breaking some seemingly arbitrary rule. Generations later, He is still so angry with humanity’s wickedness that He has to vent His wrath on someone, so God sends Jesus to take our place of punishment on the cross. Thank you, Jesus, for saving us from your angry Dad!

I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time finding hope in that story. Hasn’t the time come that we divorce ourselves from this ugly narrative and replace it with the good news that God is as good as Jesus reveals Him to be on the cross? Here’s another look at that story, this time through a Jesus-centered lens:

God created us out of love. He desired for us to experience His love first-hand, to share that love with His creation, and to love Him in return. He gave us freedom so that our loving relationship would be authentic; a mutual choice, not mindless or coerced. He only asked that we trust Him and His goodness (i.e., eat from the Tree of Life). But we allowed our picture of God to become sullied by deception. We misplaced our hope in the lie that we could know better than God (i.e., we ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil). We chose to see God as withholding some secret knowledge from us rather than trusting Him as the source of all good things. We gave away the power and fullness of life He had given us. Despite us having rejected Him, God continued to pursue a loving relationship with us, even to the point of entering into our humanity in the person of Jesus to overcome death, to save us from captivity by laying down His own life.

Not only does God recognize our need for hope, but He also gives us Himself to place our hope in. Jesus built us a bridge back to the Father using His own body. He offers us the opportunity to once again eat from the Tree of Life. We are, however, still faced with the unfortunate ramifications of our own rebellion. The good news is that Jesus is our manna in the desert, our living water in a seemingly impossible drought. He gives us the gift of hope.

I feel the painful realities of our fallen world, our separation from God, our stubbornness and habits of destruction. It hurts in a tangible way, and it takes me to some dark places at times. In our postmodern world, the idea of hope is often dismissed as a form of head-in-the-clouds self-foolery or Pollyanna naïveté. Our cultural narrative is that we just need to try harder, to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. But the attempt to be self-reliant is to continue choosing the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil instead of the Tree of Life. Instead, we need to entrust ourselves to the One who truly sustains life and is the source of all good things.

We desperately need hope. But what we place our hope in matters. We can’t put our hope in the ways of the world; in possessions, people or politics. We also can’t place our hope in a culturally misguided picture of who God is. Our hope is in a good, loving God who is actively working to reconcile His creation to Himself; a God who is still inviting us to partner with him in that loving relationship. We need to place our hope in The One who gives us the gift of hope, who can actually fulfill our hope. Our hope is in a God that looks like Jesus. Our hope is Jesus.

Not Created To Be Alone

by Johnny Kerr

In the Western world, America in particular, the notion of self-sufficiency has been idealized to a potentially unhealthy degree. We have countless examples of “self-made men” who overcame adversity and fought their way to wealth and influence. Professionals who work 50+ hour weeks—often sacrificing physical and mental health, personal leisure, social life and family—are lauded as hard workers committed to their careers. People who silently endure immense suffering are revered for their strength and perseverance in made-for-TV movies. The market for self-help books has been booming since the 1970’s. 

None of these things are inherently bad. But their emphasis has made our culture sick. Loneliness, depression and suicide rates are reporting at an all-time high. Although we live in relative abundance and security compared to much of the world, our model of individualism has significantly reduced our quality of life. Despite the vast potential for virtual connection via the world wide web and social media, many are experiencing real life in isolation. We have traded the benefits of community thriving for a romanticized caricature from a dime-store cowboy novel. We’ve become convinced that all we need is ourselves and some good old-fashioned grit.

The postmodern church has not been immune to these ills, even with a rich history of community going back to ancient Israel. We’ve become pretty good at using buzz words, pretending to be in community without really going all-in. Our church buildings have names like “fellowship hall” and our volunteer committees have names like “hospitality team.” Unfortunately, many times these efforts amount to little more than providing donuts and coffee for people to grab as they rush in before service starts, or a quick handshake during a worship invitation. When the service is over, many of us go home and live our separate lives until next Sunday.

Again, it’s not that fellowship halls, hospitality teams, donuts, and handshakes are bad things. But they are incomplete. They are lacking the wholeness we see exemplified in God’s desire for the nation of Israel, or the early church as recorded in the book of Acts (ex: Acts 2:42-47). Just as predators in the animal kingdom try to isolate potential prey from the heard to increase the chances of a kill, the Enemy knows that isolation weakens both the individual and the body. Our modern myths of self-reliance are hindering us from experiencing Heaven on Earth. We are missing out on the richness of life in God’s Kingdom which He has called us to usher in, here and now, together as His body of co-laborers.

Orthodoxy recognizes God as a triune being, a community of Father, Son and Spirit. From the very beginning of our creation account God reveals Himself as inherently relational. Genesis depicts God in the act of creating saying, “Let Usmake man in Our image…” (Genesis 1:26, emphasis added). Humanity’s need for relationship is immediately recognized (“It is not good for man to be alone.”) and fulfilled through Eve, a suitable co-laborer for Adam (Genesis 2:18-25).

In Exodus we see, laid out in excruciating detail, a list of guidelines given to help Israel navigate the conflicts that arise in community life (Exodus 20-23). Later, Jesus sums up that entire code of law with two simple, relational commands: love God and love your neighbor (Matthew 22:34-40). When Jesus began His ministry of reclaiming and establishing God’s Kingdom on Earth, one of His first actions was to build a community. He called the disciples together and began teaching and living life with them. Scripture is replete with themes of relationship, community and covenant.

God’s Kingdom is based on community relationship. Community is not possible without humility, vulnerability, a degree of transparency and accountability. It may feel like we are dying many small deaths as we rip ourselves out of conformity to the patterns of our modern world. It will be uncomfortable as we lean into vulnerability, allowing others to see who we are beneath the surface. It will get messy as we navigate the challenges and uncertainty of life together in community as God’s family.

Lest we swing the pendulum too far in the opposite direction, it is worth noting that, when implemented appropriately, boundaries are also a healthy part of communal living. Although vulnerability and transparency are necessary in a thriving community, they come with their own limitations. Researcher and author Brené Brown makes this important distinction:

“Oversharing is not vulnerability. In fact, it often results in disconnection, distrust, and disengagement.”

— Brené Brown

Vulnerability without boundaries is unhealthy. There are personal matters that are appropriate to share with a spouse or an accountability partner but should not be casually mentioned to a stranger as you shake hands over donuts in the foyer or fellowship hall. Some personal struggles might be appropriate to share with a small, closely knit home group but not with the whole church body (or on social media, for that matter!).

As the images accompanying this article playfully portray, there are things we can (and probably should) do on our own. A degree of independence is certainly healthy. However, there comes a point for all of us where we meet the limits of our physical ability, skill set, cultural perspective, spiritual maturity, etc. As I looked at the next number painted on the asphalt, spot number 5, I knew I had run out of limbs to continue this picture series on my own. Similarly, there are times in life when we need to rely on others in the larger church body to come alongside us and lend a hand. There should be no shame tied to needing and asking for help. We were not created to be alone. We need to do life in community.

Finally, as we begin to shed the Western notion of going it alone, don’t make the mistake of thinking about community only in terms of receiving. Receiving can be a great act of humility, and a great blessing. But giving, sacrificial giving, is also at the heart of Jesus. Live a life rooted in deep love for God and your neighbor. Take care of each other and be proactive instead of just reactive, always looking for opportunities to be ministers of reconciliation. 

When we look at Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s vision of the Beloved Community, or Jean Vanier’s L’Arche communities we can see that God’s Kingdom is indeed established, and being established, on Earth. These are not merely lofty ideals or Utopian fantasies, but pictures of what it really looks like when Jesus is at the center of all that we do. Cultivating community with Christ at the center doesn’t guarantee perfection. It will still involve navigating conflict and pain, just as in family life. But it will also lead to flourishing, a richness and fullness that can only be experienced when we fulfill our roles as image bearers and ministers of reconciliation in God’s family.

The Beatitudes of Creativity

by Michael Denson

Blessed are

those who create and recreate and recreate until the unseen is seen.

Those whose agony is the birth of something new;

something different, something good and true.

Blessed is

the one who captures life in stone and iron.

The one who shapes and reshapes the world around us.

The builder of shelter and space.

Blessed are

those whose bodies fill space with extended arms and swift feet.

Those covered in international silhouette.

Those who personify the thoughts that remind us how to move and

feel and find our freedom.

Blessed are

those whose voices become notes, become harmonies, become ballads of a people.

Those who make noise that echo throughout our bodies, and deeper still,

And deeper still

Blessed are

those who shape lines and curves into words and stories.

Those who imagine fantastical worlds of beings and being.

Blessed are

those whose flickering frames reveal to us the wisdom of yesterday

and give us the wonder of tomorrow.

Blessed is

the one overcome by color and light; whose eyes dance around form and shadow.

The one who etches paper with wood and pressed stone.

Blessed are

The ones who mirror the image of the Maker.

Those who plunge hands deep into soil and find humanity.

Those who inhale life and breathe out beauty.

Ars Moriendi in the City of Angels (a meditation)

by E. Lundin

[God said:] For dust you are, and to dust you shall return.

-Gen. 3:19

[Jesus said:] Wherever there is a carcass, there the vultures will gather.

-Mt. 24:28

But God remembered Noah…

-Gen. 8:1a

Then the criminal said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

-Luke 23:42

I remember living in the City of Angels.

Old Los Angeles. Land of silver screen. Screenland. Hollywoodland. Mecca for dreamers.

Wide swaths of suburban housing inlaid with a webwork of sidewalks and dead asphalt. Skies disrupted by the constant rumble of jets entering and exiting hive-like LAX. The great ashen “Hollywood” sign presiding over things like the ghost of some dead avatar. Eighteen million dreamers gathered around that avatar. Eighteen million, approximately. Acting out their lives there. Dreams intersecting dreams…

When I lived there the thought of life and death happening on such a scale was unnerving.

Eighteen million. Approximately.

But it was the murders that really unsettled me.

At the time there was this killer driving around to 24-hour donut shops near Culver City, the so-called “Heart of Screenland.”

The killer would stop folks in the early morning hours with their donuts and end their dreams with a single shotgun blast. I forget how many people he killed exactly, but it was more than one.

Other murders happened in the city too. Each one made the city feel more and more forsaken to me. Like it had been abandoned by God. 

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?

At night I’d sometimes stay up reading homicide reports online. I thought that by absorbing every hideous detail of every hideous act to occur in the city I’d suss out some greater kind of meaning in it all. As though God would be underneath all the dead bodies, laying out an elaborate groundwork that I could begin to comprehend. 

Of course, I didn’t find Him beneath the bodies. Not in any literal sense, anyway. I didn’t find anything. Only more dead. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about those reports. My dreams became tainted by their poison, so I’d end my nights walking the streets, aghast by the apparent emptiness and futility of everything.

I’d walk and walk until I came to this one hilltop neighborhood. From there I’d stare down at the City of Angels and shiver, scared by the thought of dying and being forgotten. Memento mori.

I’d circle around the empty cul-de-sac there at the top of the hill like some brooding vulture, smoking and wandering. I kept returning to the view of the city and its pulsating rhythm of lights and traffic. That “Hollywood” sign hovering in the distance…

Eighteen million local angels beneath me…

Lives wending their myriad courses through time’s vanishing landscape…

Life and death. Dreams flourishing. And expiring. 

Seeds rooted to the soil; seeds scorched among the rocks. 

On those nights I became a kind of urban mystic. Shuffling through the midnight streets of Screenland in my flannel shirts, like some hipster mendicant, listening idly to The Weeknd and waxing philosophical over a flask of expensive whiskey…

What could you do with death?

At the funeral of his young son, 19th-century pastor and theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher called those gathered at the grave to love mightily, ever mindful of the fact that those they love may soon be gone. For dust thou art, and to dust thou shall return.

Schleiermacher found conciliation in the fact that those we love are never lost. That they are preserved. Forever. In what he called “memory.” 

This thought has always struck me. A father saying this at the funeral of his child…

“Memory” is an interesting word. One often relegated to the same space as “fiction,” “fantasy,” and “dream.” “It was only a memory,” someone might say. Only a dream. Only.

But the truth is that anyone who has experienced trauma, or love, knows that memory is no fictive thing. It has a life. Memory can be physical and invasive. Moving up from the past, thrusting itself into the present.

A single memory can crumple you with the unnerving force of a concussive blast. 

What happens in memory can be visceral. Real. You feel it in the body. And the body responds. It’s possible for a person to die from the shock of memory.

God made human beings to be remembering creatures. He made them to wander about in time, remembering time as they moved through. And being made in His image, they were called to remember their God, even as He promised to remember them.

Yes. Our God is a God who remembers. And that Divine Memory has power. One that reveals God’s Truth to the world.

Christians rely on memory to process and to understand Truth. We know Jesus and the Resurrection of the dead, in part, because we remember them.

Did Jesus conquer death? Yes. We remember.

Is Jesus more than memory?

Certainly.

But He is also Memory. Memory of mind, of body, and of Spirit.

And in His death, Jesus is reshaping our memory to conform to His Divine Memory.

So that we might be transformed…

Into what?

Into a kingdom.

An Eternal Kingdom.

But isn’t death still a tragedy?

Yes. Emphatically. Yes.

If there’s one thing the Book of Job teaches us, it is that we should definitely doubt the goodness of death and of suffering. But in doubting we mustn’t lose sight of the whole picture. The greater story. That death is just a single moment in the midst of time’s elaborate unfolding. It is not time’s end. It is a piece, a single piece of Divine Memory.

Its power will not prevail.

Now as I look back on those nights in the City of Angels, I feel the presence of Jesus and His Divine Memory there. Presiding over everything. Experiencing it all. And preserving it.

He remembers everything. Every dead child. Every victim in every homicide report. Every light. Every vulture. Every jet rumbling through the Los Angeles sky.

Even amidst the city and its noises, amidst the donut shop shotgun blasts, and amidst the tragedy of it and every other heinous thing that has ever befallen this world. Every local angel. Those who live and die in this strange landscape called time. He remembers every dream whose moment has come. And gone. Eighteen million. Eighteen zillion. Name your number. He remembers them all.

Hey Schleiermacher, hey you City of Angels…

He remembers all of you.

Every single one.

Now, and Forever.
Amen.

3 Easter Poems

by Ross Bentley

Sonnet of the Cross

What causes God to want to die for man?

What moves Him to such passionate display?

That Christ Himself would orchestrate this plan?

That He'd endure the darkness of this day?

And who are we to warrant this kind grace?

Why should He show us any love at all?

Humanity who just spit in his face

His lowly creatures suddenly so tall

They stand o'er Him with clenched fists in rage

'Who hit you, Christ?!' they shout in mocking tones

And strike the whip across his bare rib cage

Thus ripping tender flesh off of His bones

With mad vengeance we nailed Him to that Tree

Incomparable Love's own destiny 

Silent Saturday

A dark despair has overtaken me

I've lost all valid reason to go on

I'm in a place I thought I'd never be

I simply can't believe the Master's gone.

He talked of Kingdom turning over kings

I had such promise built up in my mind

I didn't understand so many things

And in a darkened haze they're left behind

We argued who was greater, who was best

We spoke of things with such an arrogance

We thought that we were better than the rest

He cautioned us to serve when giv'n the chance

He said he'd suffer and that trials would come

He warned us we were drawing near the end

That we who loved Him would deny and run

Betrayers kiss his cheek and call Him 'friend'

Oh run I did until I could no more

And crumbled weeping, gasping for a breath

I rose and made my way back to my Lord

And watched in horror Him succumb to death

I can't stop thinking 'bout the loaves and fish

And treasures lost and found and sons restored

Was all of this to dissipate like mist?

Just dashing all my trust, and nothing more?

This dark despair may be my only friend

As I consider what is left for me

Where once a way now only lies an end

Then hopeful joy now faithless misery 

Hope Springs

Out of the darkest night this world has known

While souls resigned to sleep eternally

The seed of Life the Godhead previous sown

Has sprouted to a new reality

For Love had come to show a better way

And humbly Man's methods to defy

But soon enough His kindness we'd betray

And vi'lently demand Him crucified

He silently endured blasphemous calls

Man's blinding hatred swearing death's decree

He took upon Himself the sin of all

And bore those scars through death upon a tree

He plunged into Death's darkest catacombs

Securing for those gone a sweet release

And surfacing from far beneath the tombs

His pierced hand was clutching Hades' keys

The Son dispels all shadows on this morn

Where once we cowered in mortality

And Darkness' grip is vanquished by the Dawn

And Death is swallowed up in victory