Abduct 'em

The helpful section on the "abductive" method is on
page 31-33 here

Chiasm and Inclusio

A principle of spiritual warfare is there's not a demon behind every bush.

But sometimes some bushes hide demoms.
And there's not a bush behind every demon, either.

So it is with structural techniques like chiasm and inclusio. Once you are attuned to seeing them in Scripture (and most ancient literatiure) it seems they are everywhere.

Sometimes they are. Who can argue that "the first shall be last/the last shall be first" is one.
A-B-B-A, X pattern. But often the chiasm is wide enough to spotlight and intended embedded theme in between the endpoints.

And to really help us get what the Spirit is saying...structurally.

People remember how to performa piece of music by using musical notations on scale. A similar solution to the problem of remembering how to perform a piece of dance has been solved with the use of Labonotation. In antiquity, it seems most written documents were intended to be read aloud, hence to be performed. The purpose of writing was to facilitate remembering how the document went when one read it aloud. But how did one make paragraphs or mark off units in a document read aloud? It seems that the main way to mark off a unit was to use repetition of words and/or phrases at the beginning and end of a unit, either alone (as in Matt 5:3, 10,"...for theirs is teh kingdom of heaven) or in parallel bracketing fashion (as John 1:18). The Greeks called such parallel brackets a chiasmus, after one half of the letter "chi" (our 'X"), thus ">."
-Social Science Comementary on the Gospel of John, p. 295, emphasis mine.. a free read online here.

Here is just one of many charts one can find online. This Noah one is classic; most Bible teachers know it's really there, but we fear showing you stuff like this, as soon you'll find it even where it is not! (:






















The chart above is found here, and the accompanying article offers several more helpful examples.

Check out the entire gospel of John structured chiastically on p. 295ff of
this click
through
to the book quoted earlier (p 295ff).




Amazing!

And the point being...well, between the points, the midpoint.
God rememembering Noah is meant to be seen as the point of the passage,

And inclusio:
Len Sweet is on to something, suggesting a Bible-wide inclusio. How wide and big can these things get? Wouldn' this cue us and clue us in to the heart message of the whole Book?
Check it out.

Ever notice Matthew starts with "His name will be called Emmanuel, which means 'God with us.'
And ends...very last sentence...with "I will be with you."?

No accident.
And neither is the midpoint and message of the gospel: "I will be with you" (18:20).
In Jesus, God is with us.
Jesus is the With-Us God.

Inclusio with chiasm, baby.

You knew God was with us in Christ.. But now you see it as you look at Matthew structurally..

Now, go and do likewise...

but remember, once in awhile a cigar is just a cigar, a demon is not behind every bush.

But more often than not, we miss inclusio and chiasm that have been waiting for us all along.

Even though I once went shopping with Paul Newman..

submitted to Leadership Journal
----------------

Even though I once went shopping with Paul Newman, I never set out to be a pastor to household names.

I have had to ask forgiveness for being a pastor who sometimes parades and secludes himself like a rock star.

Even though I once prayed for and with Ray Bradbury, I never planned to become a spiritual advisor to famous writers.

I have had to admit the vice of acting as if my ordination papers entitled me to be treated like one.

Even though I once received actor Dack Rambo--as he was dying of AIDS--into my pastor's study; shedding tears as my heart broke with the news, I never imagined becoming spiritual advisor to movie stars.

I have had to repent for pigeonholing AIDs victims as lepers, including tossing out the glass Dack drank from that day.

I am no star. Just a pastor wishing he'd become a better one to whomever God brings across his path, and into his life and church.

Which is why a recent return to a classic Leadership Journal article-- by someone who is a household name for many of us in ministry: Gordon McDonald--somehow summoned those three encounters with the well-known from my memory banks.

More on those three intriguing stories later.

That startling wake-up and shake-up call of an article from the May 2004, "Pastorable Moments"-themed issue (Thank God for online archives at christianitytoday.com; or in my case, a stalwart refusal to toss out, or give out, any archived issues of LJ) was penned by a seasoned pastor to pastors.

If I dare to even claim to be a pastor to everyday people, let alone to pastors...or ever again to the rich and famous, I find myself needing to re-read, and re- heed, these startling pages afresh every year or so.

McDonald's piece is a fictional (but far too true) depiction of two life-changing days from a busy large-church pastor's journal and life. One convicting vignette:

In the grip of that day's schedule, Richard bumped into a woman standing at the receptionist's desk. Not recalling her name, he offered his generic, "Hey, how're you doing? Being taken care of?"


She was supposed to say, "I'm fine. Good to see you, Pastor. So appreciated the sermon last Sunday," and then allow him to move on. But she didn't.

"Pastor," she said, "I was so hoping I'd find you here. Do you have a few minutes?"

Honestly? No. The finance people were waiting to talk budget with him, and the PDA showed only 45 minutes to the next chirp. Richard ratcheted up the charm.

"You know, I'm afraid I don't. Why don't you see if my assistant can get you on the calendar for later," he said, half-knowing it wouldn't happen. The next open slot for appointments with church members was two or three weeks away. She could meet with one of the pastoral care people, he was sure.

When will people get used to the fact that senior pastors in large churches can't get into unscheduled conversations? Soon he was into budgeting, the encounter forgotten.

Three days later Richard's assistant informed him that a church member had taken his life. When he heard the name, he recalled the woman in the reception area. She was the dead man's wife.

When he saw her at the funeral parlor (his guilt induced the visit; he normally didn't attend wakes), Richard learned that she had come that Monday seeking counsel about her husband who'd been out of work for six months, was drinking, and seemed unusually withdrawn. She'd thought that, maybe, if the pastor called him, it would lift his spirit.

"He always admired you and hoped that he could one day have a talk with you. But everyone knows how busy you are," she said as they stood by the open casket.

"Everyone," I hope no one can say tome, "knows how busy you are." That indictment would be devastating to the demands that I...and only I...sometimes place on myself.

"Pastor Dave! Pastor Dave!," the excited employee of the thrift store (where I had stopped on my way home from a busy day to shamelessly feed my addiction to used books)
enthusiastically called out to me. "It is so good to see you; your sermons have changed my life!"
I had no idea who this gal was, only that she was obviously from my former church, which was far too large for me to know most attenders (I had since moved on to pioneer a new church). I was not even getting a hazy, 'Oh yeah, she sat in the 22nd pew in the second service,' but I was thrilled and humbled that the Lord had used me in her life. She still vividly remembered sermons I had almost forgotten, or written off as failures.

Every preacher needs those moments.

But here's the point and pain:

She and I both knew we had never personally met (At least I don't think so; which is central to my dilemma). But I intuitively knew that if I ventured something like an apologetic, polite, and half-true (read:"lying through my pastoral teeth"), "I'm sorry, I'm not remembering your name," she would respond with confusion; maybe even offense. Of course, her reasonable (!) argument would go, the senior pastor knows all the sheep by name; he or she is endowed with omniscience by mere virtue of their high and holy calling! I copped out with the same lame line, and switched-on charm, that Pastor Richard offered up in McDonald's article: I avoided naming her name.

I have a hard time imagining Pastor Jesus doing that.
In fact, he once claimed that a shepherd knew his sheep by name.

Big gulp.

I am certainly aware that the senior pastor of a church over a certain size simply can't do that, and there are surely ways to manage that lack of omniscience. But for me, it was a defining moment; even a decision that I did not want to pastor a church that large again. At the very least, I cut a deal to seek real relationships, so that I would never stand by a coffin in regret , as the fictitious Richard had.

In McDonald's article, a retired pastor drops by Richard's office unannounced with unsolicited words of wisdom for Richard...and us (How sneaky of Gordon McDonald):

"Richard, this isn't about large or small churches...it's about resisting the temptation to lose touch with real people with real issues. If ministry has become all about programs, you'll dry out."

Ouch and amen.

"Well, I've got to get back to work," the thrift store employee smiled, "but I just had to say thank you."

I should have; could have thanked her by name at that point. But I am sure she escaped without the revelation that though my sermons were practical, I was clueless.

I hope you're reading, whoever you are, for I have now gone back to work, and it was your sermon that changed my life. In the sovereign timing of God; by a Spiritaneous set-up, you 'randomly' ran into your former pastor, and informally and effecively pastored him. Pastorable moments, indeed.

"Jesus had to go through Samaria," John 4 notes.

Uh, no he didn't.

Not geographically he didn't, but theologically he indeed had to, if he were to keep his divinely decreed appointment with the Samaritan, and surprisingly pastorable, woman at the well.

And so it is with you and I, if we are to be shepherds truly led by the Spirit into the Samarias, thrift stores, and serendiptous pastorable places we are God-beckoned to.

Last week, I found my car almost driving itself.

No, don't call a psychiatrist or a mechanic.
That was too string a phrase, I don't want this experience to sound spooky or overly mystical, as if I was carjacked by The Almighty.

Even though I essentially was.

It just felt--in naturally supernatural way-- that I was being prompted to turn in a certain direction.

I guess I had prayed that morning to be in the right place at the right time.

Which is likely why I had (thankfully) no appointments the next hour.

Or so I thought.


It was simultaneously freaky and freeing to wonder where I was headed. I pulled into a mall I hadn't been to for months, if not years (It was in a Samaritanish neighborhood). I got out, and creatively mallwalked.... wandered and wondered prayerfully and carefully around, rather. Of course, my imagination and hopes ran wild: maybe a depressed and lost person would eagerly run up to me with "What must I do to be saved?" or a zillionaire would appear: "I've been praying about which church to give my fortune to, can you help?"

My walk was not that eventful.

As I was about to give up and head back to the car, scratching my head, I heard....... my name being called out from the food court.

It was a parishoner from my current congregation...a dear friend whose name I knew, this time. So with reckless joy and exuberant curiosity, I called hers out in return.

I knew (and you can predict) exactly what she would say next; and precisely how I would reply.

To her quizzical, "What are you doing here!?," I slyly smirked and managed something like "Well, would you believe God sent me here to see you.?"

She was not suicidal or sick, but she was eating lunch all alone, and studying for an exam, and in need of some encouragement and prayer in that clearly pastorable moment.

As promised, I'll weave back into my opening stories. For in each one, I was being taught and prepped for mall moments like that.

You'll recall the rumor that Paul Newman and I went shopping together. I confess; that statement, "Paul Newman and I went shopping together," though literally true, was a teaser. I was all by myself, walking in an open field, in between sections of an outdoor food market in my (and Paul Newman's) old stomping ground of Connecticut. Suddenly, right in my path, headed toward me, with no fanfare, Joanne Woodward, bodyguard or papparazi, was Paul Newman. As we passed, he flashed his trademark smile, and yes, I couldn't help but notice his equally-reported ice-blue eyes. We had a delightful and friendly conversation.

"Hello." I calmly offered.

"Hi there," he smiled warmly.

Paul Newman continued on his way, and I on mine.

He was very real, and inevitably smaller than life.

It was one of my first reminders that all people, no matter how larger than life onscreen or in church, are still mortals who walk on terra firma like the rest and best of us.
Upon Newman's death a few years ago, I read of how painful his cancer was, and how, despite the ever-enthusiastic personality that I encountered that day years ago, certain experiences in his past had plagued him; doubts and fears that he may have had no pastor (but me?) to cross his path, and process with.

A decade later, in my second pastorate, a leader in our body phoned me, and asked if I had time to offer the prayer at the Friends of the Library meeting that she was on the planning team for. I am sure she was half-expecting me to say no to such a trivial and token-sounding request. I might have even been about to do so, but suffice to say her casual qualifier secured my yes: "Oh, by the way, the speaker on the program that day will be the Ray Bradbury; he's a fantasy writer, I don't know if you've ever heard of him."

"Heard of him!? I grew up on his books; I've probably read them all, " I gushed.

Uh, that's not what I said...aloud, anyway.

When the day came, I was blown away with Bradbury's grace and humility, as well as his wonderful talk (a challenge to recapture the gift of imagination). But what I really remember is that during my invocation... praying of course with one eye open, to see if my hero had eyes closed (he did)... is the heartfelt amen and hearty agreement of one of the twentieth centurie's most respected writers with the prayer of blessing I prayed over him.

But when we watched him get in the back seat of his car, to be driven home, it hit me.
I had read about the great irony of Ray Bradury: This dreamer who writes of rocket flights to Mars and the fathest reaches of space and time; and had just preached to us of the limitless and fearlessness of imagination, due to having once witnessed a terrible car wreck, was emotionally unable to fly in a plane, even drive a car.

That did not make him less legitimate in my mind, but more.


And Dack Rambo? Though not the mega name Newman was, nor as well-known as Bradbury, Rambo had a recurring role on television's "Dallas, " and starred in several B-movies, such as "The Guns of Will Sonnet."

He is one of those actors where most Americans would recognize his face, if not his name.

Kind of the underside of pastors knowing faces (or pew numbers) but not names.

Dack also happened to live in our town; and to have recently come to faith in Christ, but not before receiving the death sentence of AIDS.

His house was soon shuttered by stigma in our small town.

Townsfolk, in these early days of AIDS, were fearful, and didn't question the self-imposed quarantine.

I mention that this was several years ago, not to justify what I, to my shame, did (dispose of the very glass of water I had given him in my office) in an era when confusion and misinformation reigned, but to pray in front of my readers that I have since learned my lesson:

Everybody and their mother, no matter how famous or infamous; how healthy or wealthy is hugely and only human.

Everyone on the earth, if all truth were told, harbors inarticulable pain, parallel at some point to that of Paul Newman's.

Everyone alive, whether in or out of church, is hallmarked some where in their history, by the equivalent of Ray Bradbury's car crash memory (For some, it was watching heplessly as their parents fought, recalling the nightmare of marriage, career, finances, dreams...or literal cars or planes... crash and burn.

Every soul, whether you know them by face, name (or neither) has been diagnosed with an unspeakable version of Dack's diagnosis, or been labeled with the likes of "leper," "unclean," "divorced," "you'll never amount to anything."

A nameless woman in a thrift store was a literal Godsend to me; even if I didn't even know her as member 589, pew 22. A saint in a foodcourt was sent by the Spirit to make my day as well as hers.

Pastors aren't pastors unless they encounter, and are encountered by, pastorable moments
that significantly reset the trajectory of our motives and realign the metanarrative of our ministry.

I aim now to know as many names and stories as possible, and pray to be willing to let circumstances send me circuitously into thrift stores, food markets and food courts; into sanctuaries, sanitariums and Samarias; as one widely and wildly open to the precious people I will "need to" meet.

I am renewing my covenant to read that annoying and anointed Gordon McDonald article
again and again.

And I had better also ask God and you that I do not do what I did as recently as (blush) today:

I had not yet turned the key in the ignition yet; partly as I was still gathering my books (remember my addiction) after a pilgrimage to Starbucks's (St. Arbuck's). An older, weathered man was pacing on the walkway in front of me, as he talked on his cell phone. I could not help but overhear, and piece together his spellbinding story:

He had just just finished filling out police reports, as his car had been stolen and recovered; the dangerous and wanted criminal who had stolen it had first thrashed, then crashed this man's car.

The rugged caller had just spent his last two dollars (loaned from his daughter) on gas to make the trip (in a loaner car) to the tobacco store next door to the coffee ship; his only solace at this point a cigarette. He swore (literally) to whoever was on the other end of the line that the (expletive deleted) tobacco store was not open yet, so he would have to resort to hanging out and bumming a smoke from a passerby.

At this point, as you can imagine, I was inescapably drawn into this stuff-of-the-movies story.
Yet, I said, I had neither silver nor gold to help out; not even a cigarette.

One can't make stories like this up.

Well, actually you can, and maybe he was.

But what he said next, whether he meant it sarcastically, literally, or as a futile grasp at divine (or snooping pastor passerby) intervention.

"Heck!" he shouted (Okay, he used a more colorful exclamation), in response to his conversation partner. "Tonight!?," he asked, incredulously.... I don't even know if I will be alive tonight!"

And there I was, the eavesdropping shepherd in the car, whose vocation has quite a but to do with...well, wanting all people and all nations to find glorious Hope for being alive tonight, and for eternity, did what I can often default to:

Nothing.

Sure, I prayed.

And I comforted myself by taking note that the crabby old guy didn't look like he really wanted to talk to anyone, let lone a man of the cloth.

But that cantankerous crank and his call to prayer jarred me into reality and realization of two facts:

-Everybody--whether celebrity or charlatan, sheep or goat; whether we know their name/fame or not-- has a story and is thus pastorable at some point in their pain.

-Pastors, of all people, desperately need God to send us real live people, whether superstar or Samaritan, action-film star or porn-film addict..,to pastor us, pray for us, prophesy to us in our (hopfully) pastorable moments. To remind us that if we are to reach people in said moments, we must let God reach, rescue, and recue us in ours.

Maybe I'll see you at the mall.

"Some Confessions from a Christian Pastor"

Published in The Fresno Bee, Valley Voices column 7/11/09 (online here):

"Some Confessions from a Christian Pastor"
by Dave Wainscott

Dave Wainscott is pastor of Third Day Fresno, adjunct Bible instructor in Fresno Pacific University’s Degree Completion Program and professor of ministry for Latin American Bible Institute’s Sanger Campus.

I have a confession you may be surprised to hear from a Christian pastor:

I’m sorry.

And two words you may have assumed we clergy-types never utter:

I repent.

No, no need to “google” my name to find the scoop on a scandal of the kind all too frequent among preachers and televangelists. If that were the case, you would have already found my name on another page of today’s Fresno Bee.

But I am sorry, and I do hereby repent, of an equally scandalous situation:

I am aware that sometimes I…sometimes we clergy… can inadvertently (and I fear, even intentionally) communicate that we are holier than thou; that we only care about you if you attend our church, believe in Jesus right down to our denomination’s footnotes in doctrine, or voted a certain party line on a particular proposition.

That’s ridiculous.

And it’s ridiculous that I haven’t publicly repented sooner.

Please forgive me.

You are my neighbor.
I have been a bad example of a Good Samaritan.

I need you more than you need me.
Even if--especially if --you are not of my tribe, tongue…..or faith.

"Pastor, can you come over right away?," came the voice over the phone. "I have a terrible confession to make!" I took the trip across town, puzzling to myself, "What in the world is she going to confess? She’s a sweet older saint! What did she do, accidentally swat a mosquito, and now she needs to confess being a murderer?" When I arrived, she sat me down and spilled it out; right to the point: "I am an occasional atheist!”

I did not laugh, for I was privileged to be priest-pastor in a holy moment, but took and shook her hand….signifying that I, too, belonged to that club (humanity). All have sinned. As if occasional doubt was a sin! I see it more as a signpost of honesty and humility.

I confess church has not always honored those twin virtues.

Forgive me…us… for any sermon title, Fresno Bee column, political yard sign, brochure on your doorstep, that led you to believe that we pastors believe we are perfect, and you must be, too.

If you have attended the church I am privileged to pastor, and I made you feel like a number instead of a neighbor; I take the blame and shame.

We too are only human. But we are also required to treat and greet you as if you were more than.

I want to let one more secret out.

I just returned from a citywide pastors meeting. As usual, men and women of different denominations and various races were there. Mega-churches and micro-churches were represented. The movers and shakers were there, seated next to faithful bivocational pastors you have never heard of, but should have.

No, we weren’t plotting creative ways to be annoying to our city; of arrogantly projecting our morality onto the unbelieving masses of our citizens, of bullhorning and shoehorning you into conversion.

We weren’t even planning new means of getting you to darken the doors of the church.

We were repenting.


For ways we have let you, our city, and our God, down.

For times we have not proactively loved our neighbor, no matter which side of the tracks you live on; no matter which side of Blackstone and Shaw you stand with signs.

I reveal all this, not to brag on us; but to let you know that, though we have not arrived, we are on the way.

I must add two words for not letting you know sooner:

I’m sorry.

Of course it opens a door to heresy...do it anyway!

If penguins are "open source," when will we sheep catch up?


Every so often, one hears the concern that churches with more open-source, participatory sermons
open themselves up to heresy.

Of course they do.

But they also open themselves up to what God is saying through the ministers.

I love University Chrsitian Fellowship; especially their classic tongue(s)-in cheek "order of worship (see "Virgin Sacrifices...That's "postmodern" worship!"):

We like to share the wealth. Seeing as most of our ministers with bible school training got it via mail order, we don't feel that hearing from God is something only one of them can do. Everyone in our church could potentially be sitting on a great sermon, so we like to let everyone get a chance to speak. So we have a five minute slot. Occasionally we get some weird discourse on helicopters and UFO's, but 99.9% of the time or more it is a good message.
link

Doug Pagitt, in "Preaching Reimagined," comments on this at least three times:

• There are those who assume that if more people are allowed to share...then there's a greater risk of the church losing truth. But the history of heresy shows it's most often the abuse of power--not an openness of power--that creates envirins ripe with heresy. The church is at greater risk of losing its message when we limit those who can tell thes story versus when we invite the community to know and refine it. (43)

• When I've talked with other pastors about progressional preaching, their concerns are almost always about heresy..They're concerned all hell--literally--will beak loose. I understand this concern. As pastors we spend years in theological training...(so) we won't toss out crazy ideas about God to the masses...But I've found this concern to be unfounded. Far from pulling us in the direction of heresy, including collective conversation in our sermon time has in many, many instances led to greater understanding....and actually prevents the heretical thinking so easily found in individuated expressions of faith. When people set their ideas on the table, thoss who might lean towards heresy or idiocy are quickly called out by the group (53-54)

• We may not agree with the conclusions people draw, but we're better when we're moved to additional ways of seeing the world (137)
  

And Tony Jones, who attends the church pastored by Paggit, comments that 99 percent of churches don't let just anyone talk...

“..but because anyone, including Trucker Frank, can speak freely in this emergent church, my seminary-trained eyes were opened to find a truth in the Bible that had previously eluded me.” -Tony Jones, The New Christians, p.92

That truth emerged in a discussion of Matthew 18's "treat the unrepentant brother like a tax collector or sinner.":
"And how did Jesus treat tax collectors and pagans?" Frank asked aloud, pausing, "as of for a punchline he'd been waiting all his life to deliver,"....., "He welcomed them!""

More on Trucker Frank here; he can interrupt my sermons anytime..

Brian McLaren on the real "bridge to nowhere"

I am so glad Brian McLaren finally posted a video about the Choluteca Bridge.

I had added it below, and to my previous post about this:

"Water...uh, over the bridge"(click)

Drunk on Gilligan's Island, Clay's sermon, Church 2.0

All real church meetings that matter happen in parking lots...

.... after the closing prayer of the official meeting.

Sometimes such meetings are satanically subversive
(see "A Crash of Rhinos...a Committee of Buzzards"):
as in plots to fire a staff member, hijack an agenda etc);

sometimes they are sovereignly subversive;
as folks are free to let their hair and guard down,
and dream out loud...
not worrying what any squeakers or buzzards in the bigger meetings would say.

I am thrilled that in the church world (at least a growing subset and underground alliance of orthopractical freelance wikitribesters) are beginning to wake up from our big bender and at least asking the right questions.

More on the bender in a minute.
Hint: it's largely Gilligan's Island's fault.

It was so refreshing to hear a local ministry leader at the citywide pastors/prayer meeting say something like:

"The day of the one expert standing up front giving a lecture to people sitting down and not participating is long over."

Of course you have guessed by now that this real comment was offered to a small subset group in the parking lot conversation after the real meeting.

So delightfully subversive was this small group that one of them told about how he was inviting people in his congregation to text-message him during the sermon about the sermon (Looks like you can hear the podcast of a sermon where that happened here; also read Creps on "If they are not texting, they are not listening.")

What would have happened if the official indoor conversation had been peppered with versions of these same comments. Would it have been seen as a temple tantrum?

Maybe; maybe not.

Maybe I will send everyone in the larger group a text message of the comments during the next meeting. (:

Maybe we are all unlearning everything we have learned in seminary.

Or unpacking the far deeper theological/epistemological education of watching Gilligan's Island.

Which brings us to this short speech recently given by Clay Shirky (author of
"Here Comes Everybody:The Power of Organizing Without Organizations”),
at the Web 2.o conference.


A transcript is available here;
an outline by Tim Bauer here,
but since media is message/messenger massage
and that is part of the point,
I would recommend watching it first.

Especially for those who think they "don't have the time," 13:00-15:32.

I am thrilled this

clip is being picked up on the web by pioneering Kingdom bloggers like

• Len, (who wiki-participated in the pioneering wikichurch "book" here)
• Bill (whose book, "A Networked Conspiracy is downloadable here)
• Mike, (who has written what should be a book here)

These are heroic and humble dudes who would make a great parking lot group.

Suffice to say any video made by a speaker to a non-church audience which notes that

• the shift we are in is analagous to the Industrial Revolution..
• we have been masking out cognitive surplus andfor fifty years.

and even mentions

the "architecture of participation"

let alone

the "physics of participation"

is amenable and amen-able in my book.

Besides, if Tipler is right, and Christianity is becoming a branch of physics,
that is a good thing!
(Should I drop that thesis at the pastor's prayer meeting?)

The video (sermon) is worth watching for the story at the end which ends with the quote
(great sermon style, Clay....and it's fifteeen minutes!):

"Media that's targeted at you, but does not include you may not be worth sitting still for."

My only potential beefs:

• for all the talk about participatory messages, this is still mostly a talking head...
• like many preachers, be sure to get the history right (see Ben B's comments here)
  

Anyway, as a bonus, after watching this I finally have an intelligent answer to folks who say:

"postmodern, emerging church...yada yada ..it's just a fad."

"But isn't this all a fad? Kind of the flagpole sitting of the early 21st century?

and

"But where do you find the time to do all that stuff online?"

The answer, my friend, as you will find in the clip,
has to do with

Gilligan's Island.



But "it's all asset, not crisis."

Mark Art

What an honor to have artist Mark DeRaud in class tonight to talk about the role of the sermon, the role of art, and the role of culture.

Mark DeRaud is a full time artist and muralist living and working in Fresno, California. He completed massive murals for Holy Spirit Catholic Church in Fresno (18’ X 37’and 7’-14’ X 100’...complete slideshow here.)

He has a degree in Biblical Studies from Westmont College where he emphasized early church doctrinal development, and served as a professor of art at Fresno Pacific University.

Mark DeRaud has been painting in Fresno for the past 15 years. He has shown in galleries, painted numerous commissioned pieces, and his decorative murals and trompe l'oiel works are in Fresno's finest homes.

You can also see some of his humorous paintings in the Me 'N Ed's pizzerias and Slices locations throughout the Valley.The bulk of Mark's large masterpieces were purchased at a gallery in Coarsegold in 2003. Since then, he has shown in a gallery in Los Angeles where he has also done "Live Art", even in the pouring down rain.

Mark and his wife Wendy founded Art n’ Soul Institute to bring together Christian spirituality and creativity... hosting small groups of artists, seminars and showcases of artist's work. Mark's passion is speaking about art, culture and spirituality and occasionally is able to speak to groups and at conferences.

Here is his biography:

We are not called to be imitators of this world, but of the unseen spiritual
domain, imitators of the unseen Christ dwelling in our hearts. Art can express
this, our corporate identity, as a focal point for unity (Ala. 'gangsta rap' for
gangs) and present to the secular world the distinctives that make the Christian
life and world -view compelling.

Within this purpose, I believe God will
speak to His people and the world through the visual arts by restoring the
"window of art" through which to view the spiritual realm, to reveal the reality
that is unseen.

In the early seventies, during a time of great personal
distress, I was praying, when, quite unexpectedly, the image" The Christ of
Intercession", appeared full and clear in my mind. This was a word from the
Lord, expressed to me as a picture. His hands were holding my praying hands. I
was the distressed soul protected in His arms, as He presented my case to the
Father. This was the reality that I could not see but was the real grounds for
my trust and comfort.

For many years I have resisted the impulse to paint as
suspect, taking my instruction from the void of art, or culture of any sort, in
the little churches I am drawn to. After all, how do you evangelize with a
painting and is not evangelism the only duty to which we should be about?
The answer to that question is still "yes". Evangelism is our high calling.
However, while art cannot evangelize, the word of the Lord does. The picture I
received twenty years ago was a word of the Lord expressed as an image
representing profound, universal longings in each of us. A spiritual vision, or
strong image, side-steps the mind, cutting to visceral responses the mind
prefers to control but cannot.

The visual word given to me, though hardly
novel, speaks that unseen truth, especially unseen by the world. People have
been drawn to the painting, some without knowing that what they felt was the
stirring of their spirits. They have asked me why they felt drawn, and have
wondered why the image continues to captivate them. Of course, it is not the
image but the truth the image personifies, the longing for our creator.

The strength of God's renaissance will be its link to prophetic gifting, not of
merely attracting geniuses to vaunt their skill, but of true inspiration, of
seeing visions and understanding insights, of being able to report those visions
and insights in new and startling ways, to provide windows into spiritual
realities. · Like every endeavor of the Kingdom, the arts of the Kingdom will
find their effectiveness in Christ. This is no cliche' but a realization that
apart from Christ we cannot assault the spiritual darkness of this world. Apart
from Christ, we can only pretend that we are soldiers, marching about boldly
among ourselves, rarely engaging the enemy face to face.

The forces of this world look powerful until, like Elisha's servant at Dothan (2 Kings 6: 8-22) we
are given the spiritual sight to see the "hills full of horses and chariots of
fire all around...". It is my privilege to "paint what I see", and, like you, I
"would see Jesus."

Revelatory Art is nothing new.

In composing "The Messiah", Handel "received" the score by "revelation" from God. Many visual
artists, composers, writers and other artists of the past relied on divine
inspiration and revelation in the production of their work. The spiritual
practice and discipline of stillness and contemplation in order to "hear" from
the unseen realm was a common practice. But this art has been lost. Through the
secularization of our culture, revelatory art has lost its place in the
Christian Culture. It is doubtful if there even is a Christian Culture. And yet,
we believe there is a "Renaissance" of art in which the Spirit of the Living God
wants to breathe it's Life. There are artists who have a desire to say
something, not of themselves, to the church and to the culture at large. There
is something that needs to be said, proclaimed, that no human voice knows how to
express. It is only by Revelation that we are given the language of the Spirit.
Across the land, artists are receiving dreams, visions, words of knowledge and
wisdom that they have been given in order to express, not in the context of a
church setting, through a sermon, nor in a Prophetic Word during a prayer time.
Instead, they are compelled to paint the word, the dream or the vision, they are
led to write lyrics or melodies, even a dance or mime.

link

Click here to read Mark's important three-part blog on to topic of sacred space.

Click Art n Soul podcasts to hear more from St.Mark.
Here is an actual recording of an Art N Soul gathering at our church.

JRR Tolkein on sermons

by JRR Tolkein..

yes,the guy who wrote "Lordof the Rings"

"They are bad, aren’t they! Most of them from any point of view. The answer to the mystery is prob. not simple; but part of it is that ‘rhetoric’ (of which preaching is a dept.) is an art, which requires (a) some native talent and (b) learning and practice. The instrument used is v. much more complex than a piano, yet most performers are in the position of a man who sits down to a piano and expects to move his audience without any knowledge of the notes at all. . . . But preaching is complicated by the fact that we expect in it not only a performance, but truth and sincerity, and also at least no word, tone, or note that suggests the possession of vices (such as hypocrisy, vanity) or defects (such as folly, ignorance) in the preacher.

Good sermons require some art, some virtue, some knowledge. Real sermons require some special grace which does not transcend art but arrives at it by instinct or ‘inspiration’; indeed the Holy Spirit seems sometimes to speak through a human mouth providing art, virtue and insight he does not himself possess: but the occasions are rare. In other times I don’t think an educated person is required to suppress the critical faculty, but it should be kept in order by a constant endeavour to apply the truth (if any), even in cliché form, to oneself exclusively! A difficult exercise . . . ”

- J.R.R. Tolkien in a Letter to his son Christopher, 24 April 1944

Tonight's videos

Full sermon of the above through a translator here (definitely watch the intro and then 54:00ff)










Chris Erdman on Augustine, Preaching, Prayer, and the Principal of Love: here.http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=118946114593

Ray Van Der Laan video transcripts

It's too bad hardly any of the Ray van Der Laan videos are online, but I just realized the transcripts of some of the videos we have watched are available on his website, FollowtheRabbi.com.

They are nothing like watching the real thing...but way better than
nothing...and very helpful memory joggers.

Click title to read:

• "Wet Feet: Crossing the Jordan"
• "The Language of Culture"
• "When Storms Come"
• The Gates of Hell

and the clips we will show tonight,

• "Living Water"
• Elijah: Who is God?

Many want to save the dates when Ray comes to Visalia. The info on the Jan 8-10 visit is here.
Can anyone say "ROAD TRIP"?

"The Story of Anthony"..inductively told

Mike Furches, who pastors not only online via The Virtual Pew, but now also for Mosaic Church ("a church for people who have given up on church") in Wichita, spoke at a home meeting for our church a few years ago. He has been asked to tell the story you hear here, "The Story of Anthony," in both secular (corporate conventions) and church settings. It is a classic example of inductive preaching/speaking style. Watch the clip, and discuss why:


Mike was a founding member of the pioneering contemporary Christian band, The Rob Cassells band...a band that amazingly (for those days) opened up for huge secular groups like Steppenwolf. Here is Mike, at the same meeting,sharing some of his story, and the history of his call:


PS: When Mike was with us, he had just finished a presentation on Faith and Film for the Mennonite Church USA convention. He introduced me to this clip from "South Park," which he (bravely) showed in his seminar there. It's entitled "Do the Handicapped Go to Hell?." If you know anything about the show, not all episodes (even this one) can be shown in a church setting. But the section linked below does an amazing job of satirically...and inductively.. getting to the heart of some live biblical issues...including the question in the title. The episode is here

why can't the church/preachers be honest

These honest testimonies from some vulnerable saints raise multiple questions for us as church..and as preachers:

"How could I sit on national television [as CBN's 700 Club co-host] every day, and tell people that if they put their faith in Christ, everything would be all right, when things were far from all right with me?..

I had a conversation with someone who wanted me to consider the possibility that Satan was using me to try to try to attack CBN..

...Before I entered the hospital, many at CBN saw the pain in my face and simply stayed away. I know that divorce is a sin, and I understand that it was heartbreaking for those who knew me to see that become a reality in my life, but as much as I liked to avoid anger, I found it easier to deal with those who were at least openly angry and confused than with those who simply stopped calling.
I read their distance as an assent to my belief that I was simply a bad person.

Many of these same people have since said they are sorry, that they just did not know what to say.."
-Sheila Walsh, "Honestly," p, 22, 99

--------------------------------

"I guess my Christian experience has been different from a lot of people's. Every now and then, I force myself to watch one of those Christian TV shows like the 'PTL Club.' Sincere guys come on saying, 'I was a drunkard, and I lost my my job. Then I found the Lord, and all of a sudden, my marriage was saved; my job was saved; I don't drink any more; and I'm a millionaire.'

I have no reason to doubt those folks' sincerity. I could go on that show and say, 'Well, I started out as an agnostic, went through Buddhism and black magic. Then I became a Christian -- and my marriage fell apart'. For me, my faith is a whole other thing than those PTL guys' faith. And, although I have to say this with a certain caution, I know that no matter how much I screw up, God is still going to be there. A large part of my faith is trusting that God won't let me screw up beyond a certain point."
-Bruce Cockburn, see "God loves you and has a wonderful plan: to wreck your life"
-----------------------------------------

In the post linked below, I tell stories about two of my favorite people, on whom I may have failed,
as I passed the potatoes, and could've asked "Hey, how are you REALLY doing?"
He killed himself a few days later:

Two Smiling St. Vincents ( Ebo & Vera) saved my life....or at least my preaching

Sermon: “The Lord Be With You...Even When He’s Not”

“The Lord Be With You...Even When He’s Not”

Good Friday 2006
Expanded version of a message preached at a Community Good Friday service
North Central Pastor’s Cluster, Fresno California..

Qualifier: I never type out manuscripts for sermons, I go from brief scribbled cryptic notes; if anything. So I have tried to write in somewhat oral style; as if I had preached this whole thing (Right! In the seven minutes I was allotted as the third of three preachers preaching through Psalm 22 that day!)

-dave ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a church that was not very liturgically oriented; in fact they were decidedly “low-church.” So the pastor wanted to teach his flock a bit of the richness of the liturgy tradition. He figured he’d start them out with a “win-win” that would be easy; the classic responsive that begins with the leader saying:

“The Lord be with you.”

You know the response:

“And also with you.”

And the pastor thought he’d have the congregation practice the responsive for several weeks, and then officially inaugurate it on Easter; a high attendance Sunday with lots of guests.

So every week they walked through it:

“Now when I say, ‘The Lord be with you,’ remember that you say And also with you.’” Let’s practice…”

They practiced. They were primed. Pumped. Throughout the countdown weeks of Lent, they became quite prepared.

Then came the big Sunday; Easter in all its glory. Lots of guests; an air of expectancy in the room; especially among the well-trained saints knowing they were about ready to show off what they had been practicing.

So the pastor stepped up to the pulpit with a knowing smile. But he noticed that something was wrong with the microphone. So before he realized it, he said aloud just that:

“There is something wrong with this microphone.”

Well, the congregation was so primed and practiced that they immediately shot back, before they realized it, with one loud and clear voice:

“And also with you!”

There’s nothing wrong with my microphone today!

But we can’t help but feel there’s something deeply wrong with us when we are forced to admit what we have been told is unthinkable, impossible, heretical and horrible:

The Lord is not with us.

Or so it feels if we are daring enough to be honest.

I might even contend that until a Christian has said; meant; felt; prayed that unspeakable thought that must be spoken..… they may not even be a full follower of Jesus…

The One who was and is God.

The One who modeled for us how to live, how to pray, how to feel…

The One who dared enough to be honest.

The One who said, and I quote:

“God, God . . . my God!
Why did you dump me miles from nowhere?
Doubled up with pain, I call to God all the day long.
No answer.
Nothing.”

!


Did you know that’s what the Almighty Jesus Christ said, felt, prayed on the cross?

No answer.
Nothing!

It gets worse.

Be sure you catch the condemning; the accusatory, angry, agnostic tone and tenor. The next two words must by necessity be read with all that volume and venom. If fact, the Bible specifically mentions that Jesus prayed this “in a loud cry.”
He prays on:

“And You!!

Are You indifferent, above it all, leaning back on the cushions of Israel's praise?
We know You were there for our parents!

They cried for Your help and You gave it; they trusted and lived a good life.
And here I am, a nothing--an earthworm, something to step on, to squash.
Everyone pokes fun at me; they make faces at me, they shake their heads:
‘Let's see how GOD handles this one; since God likes him so much, let him help him!’
And to think You were midwife at my birth, setting me at my mother's breasts!
When I left the womb You cradled me; since the moment of birth You've been my God.
Then You moved far away and trouble moved in next-door. I need a neighbor. “
This graphic and earthy (and astoundingly accurate) rendering of Jesus’ prayer from The Message translation is stunning, shattering; and yet not as devastating as the original language portrayed it. Somehow the whole scene changes, and is dialed down; is in effect censored; through standard translations such as the NIV:

PS 22:3 Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;
you are the praise of Israel.

PS 22:4 In you our fathers put their trust;
they trusted and you delivered them.

PS 22:5 They cried to you and were saved;
in you they trusted and were not disappointed.

PS 22:6 But I am a worm and not a man,
scorned by men and despised by the people.

PS 22:7 All who see me mock me;
they hurl insults, shaking their heads:

PS 22:8 "He trusts in the LORD;
let the LORD rescue him.
Let him deliver him,
since he delights in him."

PS 22:9 Yet you brought me out of the womb;
you made me trust in you
even at my mother's breast.

PS 22:10 From birth I was cast upon you;
from my mother's womb you have been my God.
PS 22:11 Do not be far from me,
for trouble is near
and there is no one to help.”


I know.

That sounds devasating…and dangerous… enough.

But “In You” has lost all of its darkness, its near-atheism, its anger. It has been prematurely resolved into a peaceful surrender. The whole tone of voice has been twisted into trust.

Way too soon.

Let Jesus be ticked. Let him accuse God.

Let him curse. Let him yell at God that he has abandoned him miles from nowhere.

Otherwise I am sunk.

As are you.

I must fully embrace, pass through, pray through ..and feel through that Scripture; thos Psal,…uncut…before I can…in a way that is not cliche, contrived, and.indeed denial…find a mature and wrestled-through-the-crucible confidence in God’s sovereignty.

We quote Romans 8:28 too tritely and too soon.

We quote Psalm 23, and post it on on our refrigerator doors, slap it on our bumperstickers; without its context and it’s immediate predecessor in the Psalter.

We cannot have Psalm 23 without this Psalm we have been quoting:

The devastating, glorious Psalm 22.

The one that starts not with a resolute “The Lord is my shepherd,”

But with a ruddy “Yahweh has dumped me.”

----

“I’ve got nothing left to give,” the professor said.

Several years ago some other pastors and I had responsibility for a pastors retreat. We decided to bring in a deep, profound, distinguished man of God; a professor renowned in the field of spiritual formation.

We were busy pastors, some of us bordering on burnout; we badly needed retreat…and training in the meat spiritual formation .

So there was indeed a huge hunger and holy hush in the room, when after weeks of waiting, the respected PhD, whom we were thrilled had said “yes” to flying out the 3,000 miles from his seminary to enlighten our relatively small but serious group, opened his mouth that first night.

Bibles and notebooks in hand , we leaned forward to receive what the master would say; what gleanings the guru had studied and prayed hard to impart.

His opening line broke the silence, the mood, and all the “rules” of grad-school-level spiritual formation 701:

“I have nothing to give.”

“Excuse me?,” I am sure we all collectively thought.

He continued, oblivious to our headscratching; indeed not even acknowledging the question marks hanging over us.

“I almost didn’t come. I almost cancelled, but I figured this retreat was booked, and I had better keep my commitment.

You see, the other day, I woke up to my wife saying ‘I’m leaving you.’

And she did.

I was so distraught that all I could do was immediately, and in a daze, drive the thousand miles to my best friend’s house.

When his wife answered the door, she could only manage: ‘How did you know?’

‘Know what?, I asked.

‘He just killed himself!’

I could only jump shellshocked into my car, drive all those miles back home..

..To find my house had been struck by lightning and burned to the ground.”

The question marks over our heads were gone.

He matter-of-factly concluded:



“So all I could do is keep my commitment and make this retreat where you want me to teach you spiritual formation. I’m sorry if I’ve made the wrong choice in coming; if I’m wasting your valuable time and money. I am here to teach spiritual formation, and maybe I can do that…

The only problem is I’m not sure I have anything left to give.”

That was the most profound lesson and lecture in spiritual formation that I have ever received.

As you can tell, I remember every word of that opening lecture.

----------------

“God, God, my God! Why?...

No answer. Nothing.”

Jesus prayed that.

“And You, God…Traitor!”

“I’ve got nothing left, and it’s Your fault.”

“To think You were there at my birth!!” Jesus cried out.

“I need a neighbor.”

My God, My God, Why oh Why have you forsaken me?

One translation is daring enough: “Where the hell are You, God?”

I mentioned that all this seemingly blasphemous prayer was a prayer Jesus actually prayed.

Indeed he did.

On the cross, of all places. Jesus owned, recited, and prayed Psalm 22.
Incarnated it incredibly.

You don’t remember Him praying such a long prayer? You only remember the “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” part; the opening salvo?

Your memory serves well. But I am probably preaching to the choir to remind you (Note: here I turned to the choir, and laughed that I was now literally preaching to the choir) that in biblical days, when a Jew quoted the first portion or line of a Scripture, it implied she or he was quoting and implying the whole passage.

The opening verse stood for the rest.

But they had no atomized verses; they visualized only sections; memorized only passages.

There were no “memory verses.”

So much so that to quote one part of the passage implied an acceptance and implication of the theme and flow and content…. and emotion….of the entire thing.

In a way, this is not much different than if I were to say as a rhetorical device in this sermon, “For God so loved the world…” you would understand I would mean imply all of what we have memorized as “John 3:16.” You would fill in the blank. But how many know John 3:15 and John 3:17 from memory?

That’s what I thought.

“Our Father who art in heaven….” I know you know, and can finish. that prayer without a cheat sheet.

“The Lord is my shepherd….” I know you know the rest of that as well as you know the answer to “The Lord bewith you…”

“And also with you!”

So the reason we three preachers are “also with you” today , and are preaching through Psalm 22 sequentially, is to help us all remember or realize that there is no doubt that what Jesus the Jew was doing on the cross as he recited what we now call Psalm 22, verse 1. He was praying…uncensored…the entire glorious, gory, gutsy, God-forsaken Psalm.

True, only the first line is mentioned as having passed his lips in the gospel accounts;
But there is no question that he was saying not just “I am the Messiah, and I am fulfilling this ancient Scripture,” but…“I am praying, I am feeling, this whole rugged, ruthless Psalm. Psalm 22 uncut.

Everyone around the cross who was versed in Scripture knew what he was quoting, and thus suggesting: the entire emotive Psalm was his liturgically-correct prayer that day; agnostism, angst and all.

Whether or not he literally verbalized aloud from the Place of a Skull every “verse” of that psalm (which is possible, perhaps probable, as we will see), or just was able to utter
and sputter the blunt first line.. .it’s microcosm and thesis statement…. the effect;and affect; is the same.

Jesus Christ, Lord of the Universe felt …

Abandoned, betrayed, used.

Agnostic. Angry.

Hear this explosive good news: You are allowed to feel that way…on Good Friday, or any day it fits.
-------------------------------------------

“Jesus, I know You’re looking out for us…”

So the prayer started. So far; so good.

“…but maybe Your hands aren’t free.”

Excuse me?

It gets worse:

“Wake Up, Dead Man!”

A man once prayed, felt, this devastatingly honest prayer.

He even was bold and honest enough to include a four letter word as he was reminding the Lord how messed up his life and world was.

“Is there some order in all of this disorder? Is it like a tape recorder? Can we rewind just once more?”

Tell me you have never felt something like that.

Let me phrase it another way: All who have ever felt something like that; please be seated.

Ah, that’s what I thought.


This prayer is a cheerful little worship ditty, put to music and recorded under the title “Wake Up Dead Man.” It’s based on another Psalm we’d be tempted to excise and excuse: 44. Written and sung and prayed by Bono of U2.

“Yes, Bono’s a believer. I know him and have even worked with him on mission projects,” the famous evangelist strongly told my friend and I.
.

He continued to address my friend’s question about Bono being a professed believer and using such “salty language. ” Tony Campolo, the evangelist (a Baptist , no less), shot back unapologetically, “Sometimes our language is not salty enough.”

No, parents, I am not asking your kids to swear in prayer or Sunday School.

But letting Bono break the barrier for us; maybe you can finally admit, however colorfully and candidly, what you may actually fear saying aloud even more than a four-letter word: that…like Jesus!...I still haven’t completely “found what I’m looking for.”


I am allowed to; in fact commanded and called to, at times; feel and taste the same.

With or without the salt of the psalter.

------------------
Surely you have noticed that many psalms begin with inscriptions, denoting for example that they are to be put to music for liturgical and prayer use. Sometimes even naming the tune it was to be set to is named. Have you ever noticed the suggested tune title to the Psalm 22? The psalm Jesus prayed…uncut...on the cross? It rings amazing, sounds ridiculous…and makes perfect prophetic sense.

It’s…you could never guess this, but look at it yourself in your Bible:

“Doe of the Morning”

Excuse me?

Doesn’t that title conjure up the happiest, most peaceful serene scene imaginable? What’s more beautiful than a doe? Or uplifting than a new morning?

What gives, O God?

Can you imagine a melody by that title as anything else but upbeat, uplifting? And maybe in God’s…and the psalmwriters…ironic and irenic sense of holy humor, it was! And maybe it was. Some of U2’s most droning laments lyrically are set to very positive music and major chords. This is not denial; or an attempt to hijack pain and make it land prematurely as unfettered joy. It’s acknowledging irony, faith and doubt as a package deal…especially while hanging on crosses. Jesus, no doubt in more excruciating pain anyone in history endured it all, Hebrews 12:2 claims, because of the….fill in the blank… set before him?

Joy!

Huh?

“Doe of the Morning”? On Good Friday? Go figure.

I have a hard time living, singing, praying in the beautiful tension, dreadful and healing paradox, and ruthless reality.

Picture “My God, My God, Why have You forsaken Me” sung to the tune of “This Little Light of Mine”?!

Hear again Psalm 22 in the Message:

“God, God . . . my God! Why did you dump me miles from nowhere?

Doubled up with pain, I call to God all the day long. No answer. Nothing”

Now set it to the tune of “Shine Jesus Shine”.

Ridiculous? Perhaps. Revelatory? Just maybe.



Bono, as you know by now has been, sometimes rightfully, accused of being too real and rough with his language, prayer and theology. So you won’t be surprised to hear him say in an in interview which we’ll now listen to (Now, don’t worry…no salty words ahead, but don’t let your musical preference trip you up so you miss the point; he may be overstating, but he is speaking truth in love to say):


"God is interested in truth, and only in truth. And that's why God is more interested in Rock & Roll music than Gospel... Many gospel musicians can't write about what's going on in their life, beacuse it's not allowed ..If you can't write about what's really going on in the world and your life, because it's all happy-clappy... Is God interested in that? I mean, 'Please, don't patronize Me! I want to go the Nine-Inch-Nails gig, they're talking the truth!"

-Bono, audio here

Jesus Christ prayed, at least implied, the whole gamut of emotion in Psalm 22.

So can we.

If we are interested in truth, and only truth…wherever it takes us (look at cross).
-------------------

The account of Jesus’ dying words in John actually could be made to infer that Jesus did in fact pray aloud the entire Psalm…or at least the first and last line… to give context and coutour, no matter how real...and really troubling...the fulness of what he was experiencing.

Jesus, as John tellingly tells us, cried out the famous words…the “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?” line “in a loud voice.” Then it is relayed that someone offered him a sponge with wine vinegar. (Matthew, not John, notes that Jesus had said “I thirst.) Then a fascinating, intriguing fact that only John highlights: “And then, after receiving the drink, he cried out again in a loud voice”
(emphasis mine). This second crying out has puzzled Bible readers for years: What did he say? Was it anything audible? Was it the “eighth saying from they cross”, just one that never got transcribed?

There is actually a chance that we know exactly what he cried out that second time.

With the help of John.

The mentioning of the wine vinegar sponge being lifted to Jesus is immediately followed…not in Matthew, but only in John… not by Jesus offering up a generic loud cry. Jon alone tells us exactly what Jesus said. I’m reading it now; watch this: “The wine was lifted to his lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said…..

‘It... is…. finished.’

With that , he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”

So according to John’s journal, the literal last words of Jesus were not a helpless “My God, Why…” but a hearty “It is finished.”

Three words which are strikingly similar to the literal last words of Psalm 22.

Look at them. One version even translates the last line of Psalm 22; “It is finished”

Many scholars recognize the similarity in the structure of the Hebrew (of Psalm 22)
This last line is usually rendered something like in the NIV “He (God) has done it.”

Jesus’s cry on the cross, “It is finished” doesn’t specifically mention God having done or finished something; so we often assume it means “It is finished…I, Jesus, have finished the saving act of dying on the cross.” That of course, is true and key. But in the Greek language grammar, it may well be what we call a ”divine passive”…a sentence that doesn’t specifically mention God, but implies it. Like we might say “Someone is watching out for you.” Or “I was touched.” So it may be “It is finished; God has done it.”

The last line of Psalm 22 may have been the last line of Jesus on Friday.

He may have forced himself, as he was dying, to say and pray aloud, the whole thing.

Did you ever wonder why Jesus said “I thirst” right in the middle of dying? Maybe he was right in the middle of a long Psalm, but he knew he had to get it all said.

For our sake.


Again, whether or not Jesus literally prayed the first line only, the first and closing line (a common framing technique in Bible days, a framing device, an “inclusio”), or the entire psalm, the message is the same salty one:

“I feel this whole psalm. My guts are literally being wrenched. I wonder why God is doing this to me. But I am sensing it will work out; that God is finishing something.”

Maybe there are “does of the morning” visible from Golgotha; from Good Friday after all.

Or to quote Tony Campolo again; from his most celebrated sermon refrain. Who knows it? “It may be Friday…”

“…but Sunday’s coming!”


Maybe Jesus prayed Psalm 22…all of it…as a way of saying “It is painful, but it is finished. Yet I can only wrestle my way to resolution and full faith in the Father and the future by facing the forsakeness and abandonment that I feel in my heart…and body..is even more real.”

As you have heard the whole flow of Psalm 22..you have walked through all that Jesus felt on the cross..what started in abnandonment and anger traveled to confidence and faith.

But it never would have arrived without it’s doubt.

----------------------------

I fear that many Christians are walking time bombs.

We have been told, even if between the lines, that we should never question God, doubt God, or admit our feelings, even our anger. Enter our emotions. Take up our crosses and admit our Psalm 22 days…even if everyone else in church is having a happy clappy Psalm 23, Romans 8:28 day.

It could be that until we realize…emotionally…that we have nothing left to give, we have nothing to give.

That is a lesson in spiritual formation worth receiving.

Such might even be the only path to Sunday coming.

There is a simplicity on the other side of complexity that is deeper, wider, and the very beginning of faith and resurrection.

Eugene Peterson, translator of the Message Bible we have been using, has an amazing book on the Psalms called “Answering God.” It’s about the Psalms as a prayer book..uncut. In it he maintains, “Anger is not to be sublimated; it is to be prayed.” And he is a Presbyterian! (Note: look teasingly at the Presbyterian pastors on the platform)









My pastor in college was such a strong preacher, but true to his style he hardly ever told a joke in a sermon. So passionate; so convicting and dynamic a preacher was he. (And he was a Methodist!) He was so phenomenal and engaging that he never had to tell a joke. I still remember the time he tried to throw in a light-hearted reference: “Sometimes I feel like Roger Dangerfield; I get no respect.”

I’m still not sure he realizes that the only reason we laughed is that he said “Roger,” when the comedian’s first name was “Rodney.”




Eventually this great preacher found a great joke that worked wonderfully. He preached it around the world. Here it is:

Wilbur wakes up in the morning, and stubs his toe on the bed.
“God, Why me?” he cries out.

Wilbur goes out to start his car….it doesn’t start.
“God, Why me?” he asks.

He finally gets to work..and gets fired!
“God, Why me” he screams.

At which point the sky finally splits open, and the divine silence is broken, as the voice of God booms down:

“Well, Wilbur… There’s just something about you that ticks me off!”

In a delightful twist, years later, after telling this joke literally all over the world, Pastor Al told it, and told it well, at a men’s retreat at which there was…against all odds, for the very first time anywhere...a member of the church I was pastoring...named …you guessed it: Wilbur!

We are all Wilbur.

We have all felt that, prayed it, though likely never aloud…as we hear it’s not allowed.

Hear the good news: it’s allowed to say that aloud. In church.

If Jesus can say it from a cross; surely we can say it in church.

We fear fear to face the…albeit false… feeling that God is ticked off at us; we fear facing the flipside; what seems an even worse offense: We are ticked off at God.

If we are, I mean since we are; we are in good company.

I’ll bet even Pastor Al has felt fleetingly like that.

Like most pastors do on Monday.

“It’s Sunday, but Monday’s coming!”

Every Wilbur in the word has felt a version of that.

Let alone Jesus.

It may feel like one thing after another. Like the poor man I am about to tell about; .this story..unbelievably… is no joke; totally and tragically true.

Brace yourselves and imagine this.

One day when this humble believer and farmer was enjoying an innocent family party; a messenger came to the door with the message: “Your cattle, and all your ranchers, have been killed…I’m the only one who survived!”


And while this messenger was still speaking, another arrived and knocked on the door with more news: “Fire from heaven just came down and killed all your sheep and shepherds. I am the only one who survived!

While this second messenger was still speaking, a third came to the door: “A mighty wind just descended on your house and killed all your children. I am the only one who survived!”.

Do you feel that? Is that you?

To which the man…one named Job, you may recall…replied:

“The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.”

BUT not before he (we dare not skip verses, remember?) he tore his clothes in remorse, and morning.

Got honest.

Real..

Emotional.

He may have even felt the absence of the omnipresent God.

He might well have succumbed to his wife’s advice (“Curse God and die!”) if he had not been righteous and real enough to know and work the secret.

The secret the spiritual formation professor found via a frighteningly similar three-chaptered experience.

The secret Jesus used and utilized as he prayed Psalm 22…uncut…on the cross.

The only other option to being honest is to lie.

And we who mistakenly fear that allowing our occasional agnosticism, almost atheism, and anger to surface and verbalize itself aloud, is a sin nearly unpardonable; do well to remember what sin it actually was that did indeed cause God to literally strike someone…..two someones..dead.

“Well, Anananias and Saphira, there’s just something about you that ticks me off!” if you will.

They lied.

Like I do when I violate Scripture, and reality itself, by jumping to the happy clappy faith-formula before embracing and even celebrating the redemptive depth of honest anger and passionate prayer. Doesn’t God know what you’re thinking anyway? Might as well be honest and say it; pray it!

This is not a touchy-feely anger therapy; though there may be value in that.

This is just being honest enough to tell…and pray…the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you, God.

Put that in your Christian songbook and smoke it.
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I’ll never forget the first time I heard the lyric; I had to do a double take before I embraced it. It was an upbeat Matt Redman song; I bet you know it. “Blessed be the name of the Lord....” That part sounds good and kosher and evangelical…if not happy-clappy.

But the next line did me in: “You give and take away! Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

But as you know by now, it’s just quoting Job.

And Jesus.


Walter Wangerin writes in novel “The Orphean Passages,” of a pastor who got up to preach on Good Friday, and suddenly realized the gravity of all Jesus went through on what we call Good Friday, and thus…. couldn’t say a word.

Sometimes we have to stay in Friday, even if it feels Sunday is not coming.

I wrote in my journal after reading how affected the pastor was; “Do I love or know Jesus?”

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One last clue and evidence could clinch the argument that Jesus literally prayed aloud all of Psalm 22 on the Good Friday tree. We have heard how he definitely quoted the first verse; we have provocatively proposed that he also prayed aloud the last verse. How many realize that a biblical writer also says clearly that Jesus quoted Psalm 22, verse 22, obviously in the middle of Psalm 22?

I’m not making this up; It’s Hebrews 2:12, which says:

“Jesus says,

‘I will declare your name to my brothers;
in the presence of the congregation I will sing your praises.’"

Your footnote will call attention to the fact that this sentence, which Hebrews 2:12 says that Jesus says, is Psalm 22:22.

But does anyone remember Jesus saying that?

When, where, why does he say that?

It’s nowhere in the gospels.

The context is unclear.

So the jury is out.

One obvious and overlooked theory is …

He said it…literally….on the cross.

Especially if he prayed liturgically the whole thing from memory as we have suggested is possible.

How could he pray something so downright optimistic while nailed, bleeding, thirsting, choking, dying?

Makes perfect sense, as does a later verse in Hebrews (12:2)…remember?…which sheds incredible light on all this: “Jesus endured the cross, despised it’s shame for the….joy (!) set before him!”

How is that possible? He must have seen the doe in the morning, the light at the end of the tunnel, the prize that made it all the Godforsakenness and pain of the torture stake worth it.

What in the world was the joy that got him through?

Namely, you! Even me!

I dare to believe he loves us that much!

That’s why you have Hebrews 12:2 in the Book.
Insert your name: “For the Tom set before him; Jesus endured the cross and despised its shame”

That’s why Psalm 22 ends so astoundingly upbeat, seizing such faith in the future…all while bleeding to death.

Ironic and intentional. As the footnote to this section in the NIV Study Bible says, “No psalm or prophecy contains a grander vision of the scope of the throng of worshippers who will join in the praise of God’s saving acts.”

Grand vision…from the cross?

In fact, let’s pick up at Psalm 22, verse 22. Remembering this is the conclusion of the radically emotional angry burst and blare at God. This is the other end of “God, God, My God, why have you rejected me?....” Remember Hebrews tells us Jesus said this, too:

S 22:22 I will declare your name to my brothers;
in the congregation I will praise you.

PS 22:23 You who fear the LORD, praise him!
All you descendants of Jacob, honor him!
Revere him, all you descendants of Israel!

PS 22:24 For he has not despised or disdained
the suffering of the afflicted one;
he has not hidden his face from him
but has listened to his cry for help.

PS 22:25 From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly;
before those who fear you will I fulfill my vows.

PS 22:26 The poor will eat and be satisfied;
they who seek the LORD will praise him--
may your hearts live forever!

PS 22:27 All the ends of the earth
will remember and turn to the LORD,
and all the families of the nations
will bow down before him,

PS 22:28 for dominion belongs to the LORD
and he rules over the nations.

PS 22:29 All the rich of the earth will feast and worship;
all who go down to the dust will kneel before him--
those who cannot keep themselves alive.

PS 22:30 Posterity will serve him;
future generations will be told about the Lord.

PS 22:31 They will proclaim his righteousness
to a people yet unborn--
for he has done it.

Even from the cross, he knew it was finished. God has already done it.

Such was the vantage point of the rugged cross, somehow. Such was the vista from hell.

He said all this, shamed and naked.

That’s right, no mater how many paintings of Jesus on the cross with a strategically placed loincloth…don’t believe it. He almost surely died, and prayd this for you, dressed like most all crucifixion victims: naked. If a person to be crucified was to be stripped of their dignity, thay had to be stripped, literally! Remember earlie the psalm (verse 18) his clothing is gone!

Many of you will remember that the sudden memory that Jesus was naked on the cross empowed Corrie Ten Boom to endure and submit to forced nakedness in the Ravensbruck concentration camp.

So you see this amazing visionary faith in the future…and in us…is not just wishful thinking; not the power of positive denial.

It was the radical optimism that is only won and wrestled through to praying in pain, naked and shamed, spit on; admitting and visiting anger and pain , so it can all be morphed into untold joy.

And we can’t get there without praying the whole Psalm..uncut. The joy comes is collective..did you notice how everything hinged on verse 22 when the pray-er imagines himself surrounded by the encouragement of the worshipping faithful. That’s why we are gathered across race and denomination today..to Pray collectively and corporately..the whole Psalm.

The brother in Afghanistan who narrowly escaped with his life; under death sentence for his faith in Christ, is a chilling reminder that in recent years, over a hundred thousand Christian believers are killed every year, somewhere around the world, just because they are Christian. In countries like Sudan and Indonesia. This year, believers have been literally crucified due to their allegiance to the Crucified One. Their stories are inspiring. But one of my favorite such testimonies happened in ’55.

That is, 1555. In England.

Thomas Hauker, brave Christian, was slated to be burned at the stake the next day; all for his relentless faith in Christ.

A friend of his begged, “Thomas, I have to know if this thing; this Christian faith you have; is real.

Will you do me one last and huge favor? Tomorrow, when you are burning on that cross; right before you die…if the pain is bearable and your faith is still alive…will you simply clap your hands? Then I’ll know if it’s real. I beg you, Thomas.”

Thomas Hauker agreed.

The next day, the fires were lit. Hauker was placed on the stake like his Lord.

After awhile his hands were completely burned…even fell off.

The crowd gasped.

But they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Thomas Hauker had to keep a promise.

His friend watched, horrified yet hopeful, as Thomas raised his hands…better yet his burning wrists…and clapped them loudly and firmly together.
Not once.

Not twice.

Three unmistakable and unforgettable times.

Thomas Hauker’s friend could only say..and pray:

“I know that it’s real.

I believe.”
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I can’t pretend to know all that you have been through, or are going through now.

Maybe like my professor friend…your spouse has walked out, your best friend has been stolen; your house or your dreams struck by lightning or circumstances and gone.

It could be that like Job, your possessions and family have been ripped away.

It might even be that like Jesus, your only prayer is:

“Why, God?”

And it may well be that Sunday is not coming until we feel and temporarily believe that it is not.

Lament not lamenting.

Life is hard. It’s sometimes hell.

Might as well be honest.
Jesus was.

But remember, he prayed the psalm through to its outrageously hopeful end.

Sunday came.

I hesitate to tell the end of one of my previous stories, because unfortunately I can’t promise an equally happy ending.

Remember the spiritual formation professor? Wife left? Best buddy dead? House destroyed?


Some years later, I heard he was happily married. You might guess to who.

To the wife of his best friend, the one who killed himself.

I can’t promise and identical ending to your story.

But I can promise one thing.

You can make it.

This thing is real.

It works.

And someone who is not yet saved will be saved because they’re going to witness you clap your spiritual hands…not in some happy-clappy farce; remember your hands may be burned….

Your wife or husband may have walked out. Your best friend or best plans may have killed themselves. Your house; your life; your dreams may have burned to ash.

You may have no fingers; no hope, little faith left.

But you have earned the gift and grace of “persisteverance” through praying the full gospel; the full Psalm 22 . Before Psalm 23.

What’s the worst they can do: kill you?

You are indestructible until the will of God is accomplished for your life!

Everything God allows always has something to do with someone’s salvation.

Someone in your life is about to say to the Lord, because of you and your honest faith:

“I know this thing is real.

I believe.”

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

The Lord be with you!

(motion for congregation to respond with:)

“And also with you.”