Monday, April 20, 2020

Simon the Black


Simon the Black                      Easter as Earthquake 
 
The References:                      Mark 15:21  They compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, the father of Rufus and Alexander, to carry Christ’s cross.
                                                Acts 13:1  There were in the church in Antioch prophets and teachers, among whom was Simon who was called The Black.
 
The story that emerges:
The connections of this Simon touch Rome, Cyrene, Antioch, and Jerusalem. They pull together friends Paul knew in Rome and Antioch where Simon’s family hosted him, and produced evangelists from Cyrene who became leaders in Antioch.
 
These links technically belong in the category of conjecture, but the New Testament scholar F. F. Bruce raises them to “guesses with good foundations.”
 
Mark, addressing believers in Rome, was saying, “Yes, this Simon that you know, the father of Rufus and Alexander.” Paul refers to Rufus at the end of Romans, “Greetings to Rufus, and his mother and mine.” That leads Bruce to the guess that when Paul was in Antioch, he stayed with Simon and his family.
 
That was the Simon, the Cyrenian, who was “coming in from the country and forced to carry the cross of Jesus.”
 
Arriving at Golgotha, Simon witnessed all that took place at the crucifixion. He saw Jesus nailed to the wooden cross and read the sign, “Jesus, King of the Jews." He heard the wailing of the women and His friends from Galilee, the taunting of the Temple priests, and the cries from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.” Then he felt the tremors of the earthquake. 
 
Simon’s acquaintance with Jesus from His baptism to His resurrection came from one of the disciples, perhaps Matthew or Mark or Peter. At some point it all came together and he received “the right to be born by the will of God as His child.” 
 
His late appearance into the Passion Story singles out Simon as one who entered the city as total stranger to all the events of the week, only to have the sacred blood of the Savior on his own body and then on his heart.
 
 
It was a distinct honor to sit with him in heaven for our interview. He knew of my interest in his Good Friday experience but wanted to put the attention on Him whose cross he carried. I let him speak about what stood out of that most unexpected event.
 
“The earthquake. In fact, that cataclysm symbolized the whole experience.”
 
Novel, I observed. Not heard that one before. Would he please expand? And he did.
 
“What happens with an earthquake? Tectonic plates shift. Some rise out of the ground, others sink below. But both come into view for the first time—the old and the new. Isn’t that Easter? ‘The old has passed away and, behold, all things are made new.’ Now can you see where this is going?”
 
Yes, you have put forward an image that is a treasure of truths.
 
“But for me, remember, I was coming to it all with an expectation of Passover, so the image carries more than for you. After the Hebrews passed through the waters, Moses sang his paean of praise. In it he told how God, “in the greatness of His majesty would overthrow all His adversaries” (Exodus 15:7). That would not only be the idols of Egypt, but also the faithlessness of the Hebrew nation, and then idols of each one of us.
 
"For me, then, the Easter fulfillment carries Passover judgment before it points to new life. After all, think of the Easter phrases. How can you have new life unless we leave behind the old? How can we “live with Christ unless we first die to sin?” How can we “seek those things that are above” unless we cease seeking those things that are below? Those adversaries, our idols God wants to crush and then show us into His kingdom. Get it?” 
 
Yes, I do. Great image, the earthquake and Easter.
 
“It can sound harsh to see that Easter calls for judgment before joy, but missing that is the recipe for a glib echo of platitudes. Sure, Easter tells us of the love and the power and the presence of God, but not until we know where we need to die. It is not harsh. We hear the tender voice of a loving Father who is kindly helping us to see things we need to cast off before we can take in the heights of his redeeming salvation.”
 
Thank you. Your image, your Passover faith, your humility all bring a brighter light to Easter.
 
“You are welcome. Now, my turn. I notice that your guest last week, Damaris, asked you a question. May I?”
 
OK. But there was a hesitation in that reply.
 
“Like Damaris, I want to put this back into your time and the crisis of Covid-19 pandemic.  You have had an earthquake. Things have erupted to the surface. And we hear now as then, ‘Everything will be new. All things will be changed. The landscape will be different.’ OK, so what are the fault lines you are seeing?”
 
Hmmm. Now you are gettin’ to meddlin’.
 
“I know, but the exposed fault lines can define the paths ahead. The lockdowns may let you protect your self-preservation, your small worlds, and your material forms of security, but God still wants to crush His adversaries. The message must be more than about God’s love and care. Where are your idols, the wrongs of your societies? Do you not see new fault lines? New ways to live that will not fit the old normal? I can hear Isaiah saying, 'Are not these the fast God wants--to rebuild community and friendships; to remove obstacles that deny some food and health care; to expand your world to love and pray for refugees and slums; to reignite your legacy of sacrifice and service; and to seek God and His goodness first?' 
 
Looking back from my perch, I can tell you that you have a long haul ahead of you, a future with severe aches and pains. The earthquake image can be your friend, even with its judgment. Those new lines can open you to the reshaping of the future that the resurrected Christ wants to do.”




Damaris in Athens and Yemen

The reference:            Acts 17:34       After Paul preached in Athens, a few men believed, also a woman named Damaris.

The story that emerges:
Paul stopped in Athens on his way down the Greek peninsula from Berea to Corinth. He waited there for Timothy and Silas whom he had left in Berea. Ever the evangelist, Paul found philosophers at a meeting place called the Areopagus, also known as Mars Hill. This promontory rises just off one corner of the Acropolis where, in august presence in the Parthenon, stands a statue to Athena, patron of the city.

Paul eagerly engaged the philosophers in dialogue, generating interest in his description of the God and Father of Jesus Christ. This God he presented as a response to the inscription at an altar, “To an Unknown God.” 

Those philosophers listened as Paul spelled out God as creator, ruler of the world, and finally judge of all. This judge, he proclaimed, was Jesus, the incarnation of God, who died on a cross and was resurrected. He, Jesus, will return as the world’s judge.

Luke tells us that some of those listening sneered when it came to the resurrection. Others were curious. Some, however, became followers or Paul and believed his message. Among these was the subject of this profile, a woman named Damaris. 

After the stay of Paul in Athens, we hear no more of Damaris. What moved this woman, living in the shadow of the crown of Greek culture, to follow Jesus Christ? The answer promises a hearing of great worth.


When Damaris joined me on my heavenly bench, I knew I was with someone of serous faith and kind heart.

My opening question was quite simple: “What was it in Paul’s preaching that caught your attention and moved you to faith?” I confess that her answer surprised me. 

“Repentance. When Paul said that God called us to repent.”

Not what I expected. All that expert maneuvering with the philosophical concepts--no, not that, but the call to repent. You will need to expand on that.

“I will. As I was listening to Paul, over his shoulder I saw the epitome of the Greek gods and religion—Athena. The pantheon of gods and goddesses had been the subject of our playwrights and poets for centuries. And what do we see of these gods? They squabble, compete, take sides in battles, and claim powers over heroes and villains. Paul’s God was different.”

Yes, I am sure of that, but I don’t see how that leads to repentance.

“It’s all because of who God is, the God Paul was describing. Those gods, the ones we read about, they don’t invite us to close relationship with them. God does. And this God who wants us to be close to Him, He is holy. He is the real thing. Tested and tried through and through. He is pure, fair, honest, right, wise. That is the connection. 

This holy God could have turned us loose and abandoned us. We certainly deserve that. But He doesn’t. He wants us to come to Him and find Him. Yes, we have established this distance with our sin, but He is a God who is driven by love for us. He wants us. Such love that He would let His Son die on the cross for the means of forgiveness.

So  that makes repentance our gateway to this God. He is waiting for us; He is wanting us to want Him. We find Him when we deal fairly with our sin, and that is when we repent. That is why repentance caught my attention. It is the God to whom repentance takes us.”

 “A second thing caught me, something just as stunning. He suffered. He actually became a human—fully, altogether—and suffered as we do. No safety zone protecting Him from our hurts and fears. No exemption from our pain and our trials, our temptations and our disappointments. I cannot impress upon you how precious that is. When I take Him my hurts and fears, I am certain He hears and He understands.

I figured that if these insights were true of Paul’s God—that He is holy, wants me, sent His Son to the cross, and suffered as we do—I will follow that God.”

Thank you, Damaris. I knew your hold on Jesus Christ would be clearly reasoned. 

“Now let me ask you a question.”

Sure.

“Back in the time you are living in, you have a global crisis. The coronavirus and Covid-19. If you were hearing Paul’s sermon back then, what would catch your attention?”

Hmmm. Fair question. I guess it hadn’t occurred to me. Easier to see God through the eyes of a distant and different culture than my own.  

“Pardon me, but from my perspective I do believe there are connections.”

How true. The two things that caught you are the very things that will hold our faith. First, suffering.  Our grief is personal and it is global. The stories, from very near to very far, stir deep sadness. Knowing how He, our Father, suffers over what we, His children, are going through is comfort of the strongest and sweetest balm.

And like you, repentance. But with a deeper sphere than just my self-absorbed sphere, my needs, my safety. Our world is in pain for reasons that precede the covid-19 disease and will be in evidence afterwards. Our greed, our abuses of power and position, our aversion to others’ straits—these bring a global context to repentance. The results are calamities, calamities like the people of Yemen. Where are they and, anyway, who cares? Our attention is fixed on social distancing and $2 trillion. Yet for 20 million Yemeni, their daily issues are food, sanitation, water, and health care. That’s because of their daily starvation, cholera, and bombed homes and hospitals. Yemen also reveals our fallen nature and begs our repentance. 

Back in our times we are as baffled by what  is happening as by what will be left. The evidence of the holy God, however, is not eradicated by what we are experiencing but rather verified by the suffering and the cross of His Son. And that is as true in the Greek world as in ours, convoluted and frightening as ours is. 

Thank you, Damaris, for the clearness of your faith in Athens and your encouragement to us here. We need that.

Friday, April 3, 2020



Spotlight on two shadows - Artemas and Crete

The Reference:           Titus 4:12        I am sending Artemas and Tychicus to you in Crete.
                                    
The story that emerges:
This profile addresses two insignificant entries in the New Testament: Artemas and the church in Crete. We know of Artemas because of half of one sentence by Paul. We learn of the church in Crete only by an off-hand reference in this same epistle.

Yet, these two bring to the foreground unexpected realities that deepen our appreciation for God’s mission. This will become more visible as we learn what we can about each shadow.

First, the church in Crete.  Nowhere in Acts does Luke tell us when Paul went there. In my books on early church history not one mentions Crete in any index. Apparently, Paul did visit Crete and was able to establish a church there. He had sent Titus to appoint elders and to correct misunderstandings and to address  “urgent needs.” But that is the only hint of Paul on Crete, the only indication of a congregation on that island.

Second, Artemas, and here I will indulge in a hunch. My hunch is that Artemas was originally a native of Crete, the very place Paul sent him. It is safe to say that Artemas was a devout follower of Jesus Christ. Since he was returning to Crete, we may assume that he became a convert somewhere away from Crete. Maybe Antioch, or Tarsus, or Caesarea. All of those cities are near Crete and had congregations. Somewhere or other, Artemas became a well-disciplined Christian, eager to serve the Lord. When Paul was reflecting on how to strengthen the young church on Crete, he thought of Artemas and sent him.  

End of story. Two entries that barely have any light upon them at all, known by inference (and hunch) but otherwise in the shadows of prominent churches and well-known leaders. But two entries that shine light upon God and His mission.


That Artemas was tentative when he arrived at my heavenly bench would be understatement. He looked around, clearly puzzled that he was expected. Before I could open with a welcome, he asked his question, “Well, did I win the lottery?”

I was a bit taken aback, though a couple of smart responses did come to mind. Like, “Lucky you, if you did. No taxes taken out up here.” Or, “Nope. Besides, what would you need all that money for? And by the way, just what is the name of the currency up here? Shekels?”

I restrained myself and assured him that I was the one who requested to see him. Apparently Artemas was not the only one taken by surprise.  The dispatcher at the kiosk where I paged him wanted to know how come we know each other. No one had ever wanted an interview with him.  We both got the same reaction at the kiosk: “Who? Artemas? Really?” And then again, “Who?”

We settled down, and I asked the question on my mind:  “Why did Paul want to send you in particular to the church in Crete?”  His answer verified my hunch. Yes, he was originally from Crete. God was returning him to his own people. These, then, were God’s key players: the unknown man, Artemas, and the overlooked church with great needs, Crete. When we put these pieces together, we see what God was orchestrating.

In fact, that could be the caption to the picture below, with the names and location changed, as a parallel to current circumstances:

Actually, this picture requires two captions, each truthfully describing what is happening. 

This photo captures some of the thousands of migrant workers on the outskirts of Delhi, India, trying to return to their home villages. Their survival has been threatened by the lockdown of all India, a move announced one day before going into effect. The lockdown has resulted in the elimination of jobs, food, and shelter. All have vanished almost overnight. Shops were closed, and business came to a sudden standstill. These low-paid workers had no hope but to take the journey back to their homes, miles and miles away. The lines of these workers go for miles. This migration is said to be the largest in South Asia since the Partition between India and Pakistan in 1947.

But there is another caption, one that shows what God is doing. 

In Delhi are hundreds of small house churches. These have given birth to hundreds of followers of Jesus. Many of these converts are among the migrant workers displaced from Delhi and walking among the throng returning to their villages.

They are displaced as workers of menial jobs in Delhi, but they are strategically placed as witnesses among those in “urgent needs,” the only source of hope and love. They are walking among their own as lights of heaven in the darkness and despair in the hearts of those around them.

In the last three months the Global Prayer Digest (http://www.globalprayerdigest.org) has carried names and descriptions of dozens of obscure and unreached peoples in India. The frequent prayer request is for Christian witnesses to rise up among these peoples and show the Father’s love in Christ. The best answers are those who come from these villages, speak their dialect, eat their food, and honor their customs. These are the ones God is placing as His missionaries. Many of them are among the throngs walking to their home villages.

And that is the light that God is shining on the overlooked villagers of India through unknown followers of Jesus who are loving many of their people into God’s kingdom.






Eutychus and Virtual Worship


Eutychus                   Virtual Worship

The References:                       Acts 20:7-12    A young man named Eutychus was asleep and fell out of the window as Paul was preaching a very long sermon.

The story that emerges:         (And it will be a short one. Eutychus has no mention in any index of my sources nor any reference in my books on Paul’s friends.)

The incident takes place in Troas, at the gathering of the Christians there for Paul’s final time with them. At Troas he went on quite a bit. Actually, until well into the night. 

A young man named Eutychus was perched in a window. So comfortable was he that he dozed off. In his sleep he lost his balance and fell the three stories to the ground. When Paul and the others went to his aid, they discovered that he was dead. Paul, declaring that life was still in him, prayed over him and Eutychus revived. He was taken to his home where there was great comfort.

And that is beginning and end of the tale of Eutychus.



When we sat down together in heaven, he seemed a bit sheepish, fully aware of why I knew him.  My first question was to satisfy my curiosity and asked about the topic of Paul’s sermon. Eutychus gave me a strange look and replied, “How would I know? Remember, I was asleep.”  Oh, right.

Pushing a little bit, I ventured that Paul did speak to the distress that this parting would bring. To which came this reply: “Yes, true. But if you are looking for a lead-in that connects your profile with the coronavirus, this won’t do it. We knew we would see Paul here in heaven. You all, on the other hand, have a virus that brings fear and death.”

OK; our future has more angst than yours did and is absent of things eternal, but, knowing that, what would you say to us? Or, what would Paul tell us?

“Kiss the rod.”

Excuse me?

“Kiss the rod. That is the way forward under God’s hand in all circumstances, even yours. It’s a theme that goes back to the 23rdPsalm and Hebrews 12. The disciplining rod of the Lord is to be valued for what it discloses and where it leads us. It’s the same sentiment as the old saw, ‘Don’t waste a good crisis.’ That is variously traced back to Churchill, Rahm Emmanuel, John Piper, and no doubt many others. God has your attention; you have things He wants you to address. Kiss the rod.”

I’m with you there, all the way. As a matter of fact, I have written a compelling list of 14 corrections that the virus exposes. It has gotten a wide reading.

“Come on. You didn’t write that. Bill Gates is the author.”

Apparently not. It was a widely disseminated article but is a hoax that bears his name. No one knows who the author is, so I figured why not.  I would claim it for myself for now, until the real author comes forward. It is thoughtful, even if not written by Gates and with no overt reference to God. The theme could well be your point, “Kiss the rod.”

I’ll abridge the list to 9, in honor of the 9 players on baseball teams we will not see for several weeks. These are really good. You will see why I claim authorship.
1) The virus is reminding us that we are all equal, regardless of our culture, religion, occupation, financial situation or how famous we are. This disease treats us all equally, perhaps we should to. If you don’t believe me, just ask Tom Hanks.
2) It is reminding us that we are all connected, and something that affects one person has an effect on another. It is reminding us that the false borders that we have put up have little value as this virus does not need a passport. It is reminding us, by oppressing us for a short time, of those in this world whose whole life is spent in oppression.
3) It is reminding us of how precious our health is and how we have moved to neglect it through eating nutrient poor manufactured food and drinking water that is contaminated with chemicals upon chemicals. If we don’t look after our health, we will, of course, get sick.
4) It is reminding us of the shortness of life and of what is most important for us to do, which is to help each other, especially those who are old or sick. Our purpose is not to buy toilet rolls.
5) It is reminding us of how materialistic our society has become and how, when in times of difficulty, we remember that it’s the essentials that we need (food, water, medicine) as opposed to the luxuries that we sometimes unnecessarily give value to.
6) It is reminding us of how important our family and home life is and how much we have neglected this. It is forcing us back into our houses so we can rebuild them into our home and to strengthen our family unit.
7) It is reminding us that our true work is not our job, that is what we do, not what we were created to do. Our true work is to look after each other, to protect each other and to be of benefit to one another.
8) It is reminding us to keep our egos in check. It is reminding us that no matter how great we think we are or how great others think we are, a virus can bring our world to a standstill.
9) It is reminding us that the power of freewill is in our hands. We can choose to cooperate and help each other, to share, to give, to help and to support each other or we can choose to be selfish, to hoard, to look after only our self. Indeed, it is difficulties that bring out our true colors.
“Not bad. And there is a parallel with my story. God brings life out of death. That was true with me physically, and will be true for your health and your economy. Kiss the rod. David had it right: With the Lord’s rod we may fear no evil and live in the presence of our enemies. See that you take heed, or you may find yourself in my story and sleep through the message.”

Special Coronavirus Issue


Special Coronavirus Issue of “Friends of St. Paul”
With a tilt toward humor and wisdom from an expert

The humor – Be sure to “load all images,” and you will have before you the satirical wit of the keen observer of the church, William Hogarth. Details at the bottom.
The expert for this issue is Epaphras, church planter of Colossae, Laodicea, and Hieropolis.

The References:          Col. 1:7            You understood the grace of God from Epaphras.
                                    Col. 4:12          Epaphras struggles on behalf of you through prayer.

The story that emerges: 
In the years 52-55 when Paul was in Ephesus, one of the men he discipled was Epaphras. He came from Colossae and began the church there, as well as the churches in Laodicea and Hieropolis.  These cities were in the Lycus Valley, about 75 miles from Ephesus.

Paul opens his letter to the Colossians describing the spiritual condition of the Christians in Colossae. These were “love for all the saints,” “hope laid up in heaven,” and “knowing the grace of God in truth” (Col. 1:4, 5, 6). But that was not what Epaphras found in his valley. He worked in a population that was largely pagans, motivated by greed, self-preservation, fear of death, and hostility to the Christian gospel.

Somehow Epaphras brought the Holy Spirit’s power in ways that overcame the staunchest resistance of the inhabitants of the Lycos Valley.

Maybe this man has some wisdom for us living under the shadow of the coronavirus.


The moment he joined me on the heavenly bench, I sensed his compassion towards what we are living with. (I did ask him if he had used hand sanitizer before sitting down. He just rolled his eyes. I get it. So we didn’t bot her with the six feet of social distancing.)

He asked about how things are going. I mentioned two things. First, we wash our hands while singing “Happy Birthday” twice, though I doubt if any get all the way through the second time. Second, I told him that my sisters and I were setting up a virtual dinner party for the six of us. This will be challenging since one of us has given up the grape for Lent and another is vegetarian. “Sounds weird,” was his comment. I asked how come he knew my sisters so well!

I went on to report that churches are relying on services online, and the prevailing message is to trust God in this crisis. But, I observed, there could be little resemblance to his three cities and their pagan environment. 

“Quite the contrary,” he said, and moved into some lessons that bridge the time and culture.

There is opportunity, he assured me, but it will only come with the effort to recast our imagination. Well, that phrase intrigued me and made me listen closely. He went on to point to three similarities: the house church, love for the saints, and showing hope. 

The “church” we read about in Colossae met in the home of Nympha (Col. 4:15). That made it no different from the virtual groups that meet today. This reduced size of congregations need be no impediment to fellowship and community. If you can have your virtual dinner party, then you can have virtual groups that meet for other reasons. Bible studies are obvious ones, and AA. But why not virtual groups of walkers, virtual meetings over coffee, follow up patio conversations, as well visits with elderly who are alone. None of these requires social distancing. Take it from there in your imagination. 

As for “the love in the hearts of Christians,” discard the silly “Happy Birthday” song; instead while you are washing, recite these three Beatitudes:
            “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
            Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
            Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” 
That’s not quite the 20 seconds, but they need a pause afterwards. That is when you reflect on the people who come to mind, the needs that they live with, and the ways that you can touch them. You will see friends long forgotten, lonely neighbors, sick people on prayer lists, and masses who come to us only by generalizations.  Examples of these would be the 900,000 Libyans forced to shelter in schools and temporary centers; the 20,000 refugees on Lesvos of Greece; the prison populations, and – well, back to your imagination. 

“The hope that is alive in Christians” goes much further than trusting that God is in charge. It frees us to acts of love that stand in contrast to feelings of abandonment, hearts that have shut down, motivations of self-preservation, fear of the future, anxiety in the present. Hope lets us visit and return, listen and pray, show sacrificial kindness, speak peace to despair, and explain “what is laid up for us in heaven.”

Epaphras reminded us of one more thing that Paul wrote about him – how he “agonized” in prayer over his people. If prayer dries up, our love will diminish and our hope disappear.

The opportunity is to put on the best show in town, highly valued now and remembered later. And at the center of the show is the one who is the source of hope and love, Jesus Christ. 


The Hogarth print I stashed away for myself to keep from other interested clergy in the family. That would be “PK,” preacher’s kid (1), brother-in-law (1), nephew (3), and first cousin (3). You got it—the family business. But I have the Hogarth.

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