A Message of Release

In Luke 4, following His trial in the desert, Jesus returns to His hometown of Nazareth.  While He is home, Jesus attends the weekly synagogue service, something it seems He did on a regular basis.  As such, He is asked to read from that week’s assigned text and provide a teaching on the meaning of the text.  In the text for his sermon, Jesus links Isaiah 61:1-2 with Isaiah 58:6.  Together these passages herald the coming of the Messiah, the one who will “bring good news to the poor.”  The poor in Luke’s Gospel are not only those who are poor financially but also those who poor in spirit.  Jesus says that He will overturn the social status of the poor and redefine the term as a cultural term rather than an economic term.[1]  The Messiah will not only “bring good news to the poor,” He will also “proclaim release to the captives.”  Later, in Luke 5:20, Jesus heals a paralyzed man by proclaiming that the man’s sins have been forgiven.  The Greek word from which we get “forgive” can also mean “release.”  Therefore, Jesus literally released this man from his sins!  When He came “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,” Jesus came to proclaim a message of forgiveness and release from sin.

You may be wondering why I offer these thoughts from Luke 4.  Well, on one hand, I am teaching a summer class on Luke and Luke 4 was today’s reading.  Preaching and teaching, after all, finds its genesis in our own daily disciplines.  On the other hand, this reading causes me to stop and reflect on what message I offer to people each week in my preaching and teaching.  The air in religious circles is always thick with debates and discussions.  The battles that are waged in pulpits across the country today over the theological and political definition of marriage or the role of women in church leadership are not new topics, just this week’s or this year’s topic.  These are important theological and political issues that church-folk need to address.  However, let us not get so bogged down in counting how many angels can stand on the head of a pin that we forget to “bring good news to the poor” and “proclaim release to the captives.”  There is a time and place for defining the particulars of our doctrines and practices.  We should and must do so if we are to consider ourselves pious (i.e., practicing) Christians.  Yet, let us not forget our mission.  For as long as there is breath in our lungs, our mission is to “proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,” which means bringing “good news to the poor” and proclaiming “release to the captives.”

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[1]Joel B. Green, The Theology of the Gospel of Luke, New Testament Theology (Cambridge, UK/New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 81-82. 

Laying with the Dead

I spent some time as a hospital chaplain in between the times that I served in full-time congregational ministry and teaching at the university level.  The period was about four years, and I could share some stories with you that would likely turn even the most stout-hearted reader of this meager weblog pale.  Not all of those nights, however, were traumatic.  In fact, some were quite funny. . .or could have been.  I remember one evening when the Emergency Room was slammed with patients, and I was finding it difficult to retire to my on-call room for some sleep.  Sensing a lull in the action, I asked the charge nurse if I could crash in one of the empty overflow rooms.  At least I would be close by if and when something came up.  Fortunately the lull lasted long enough for the hardworking nurses and physicians to get their work completed and for me to get some much-needed sleep.  However, I did wonder what the reaction would be if someone had accidently entered that room and found someone laying on a stretcher covered up with a sheet.

Another part of pastoral care in a hospital, of course, is ministering in times of death and grief.  There is no cookie-cutter approach to this area of ministry.  Although I consider myself somewhat of an expert in this field, my only piece of worthy advice is simply to be present with those who are mourning.  And, sometimes, that means being literally present with the one who has died.  In one particular instance, I was asked by a family to stay with the patient’s body until the funeral home attendants could arrive.  The family had traveled some distance to our facility, and it would also be several hours before those from the funeral home could come and collect the body.  Knowing the hospital policy for ushering the bodies of patients to the morgue after a certain amount of time, I informed the family that I could not stay with the body the entire time.  This brought about some concern from the family.  They were simply afraid of leaving their loved one alone.  It’s an irrational thought, I know; yet it was a legitimate thought.  Ministry, it seems, occurs most often in those moments.  So I agreed to sit with the body as long as I could, which was satisfactory.  The family departed peacefully, waiting their eventual reunion with this loved one.

As I sat there in the room with this covered body, I began to think about the time that Jesus spent in the tomb.  The accounts of Jesus’ death in Mark and Luke inform us that the bodies of those crucified had to be removed from their crosses before sunset in order to avoid a violation of their civic and religious customs (Mark 15:42; Luke 23:54-55).  Jesus’ body was removed from the cross, wrapped in the appropriate burial clothing, and placed in a sealed tomb that was guarded by a contingent of soldiers (Matthew 27:57-66).  Have you ever wondered what happened between the setting of the sun on Good Friday and the rising of the sun on Easter Sunday?  To be honest, we have no idea what happened.  Some have suggested, based on Peter’s curious comment that Jesus preached to those who were imprisoned in the Underworld (1 Peter 3:18-20).  However, as Allen Black notes, whatever that passage means, it is unlikely that this has anything to do with Jesus’ “three days in the tomb.”[

So what exactly are we supposed to do with the Saturday in-between Good Friday and Easter Sunday?  In one of his more famous sermons, Tony Campolo proclaimed that we should not mourn for long on Friday because “Sunday’s coming!”  And I certainly agree with him.  Sunday, the day of resurrection, is coming.  Yet, what are we to do with Saturday?  Perhaps John Mark Hicks, in his post from yesterday (Friday) said it best:

Saturday, however, is a lonely day.  Death has won.  Hope is lost.  Jesus of Nazareth lies in a tomb.  His disciples are afraid, hiding, and deeply depressed.  Everything they had invested in for the past three years seems pointless now.   They forsook their Master; they lost faith in that moment.  They are leaderless, hopeless, and aimless. 

Holy Saturday is the day we sit by the grave.  It is the day to feel the gloom of the grave, to face the reality of death itself.  It is a day to weep, fast and mourn. . . .Holy Saturday reminds me to grieve, to lament.  It reminds me to rail against death, the enemy of both God and humanity.  It reminds to protest death and renew my hatred for it.  It reminds to feel again and sit with the disciples in their despair.[2]

Perhaps there is not much we can say except this—sit and wait; pray and lament; be angry at Death and hope for the best.  For the moment, it would seem, we must be quiet, be still, for we have nothing else to say.

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[1]Allen Black and Mark Black, 1 & 2 Peter, College Press NIV Commentary (Joplin, MO: College Press Publishing Co., 1998), 102.

[2]John Mark Hicks, “Holy Saturday…Lest We Forget,” http://johnmarkhicks.com/2013/03/29/holy-saturday-lest-we-forget/; accessed 29 March 2013.

"Good" Friday?

Although we are celebrating the Good Friday holiday at the university where I teach, I am sitting in my office working.  To be honest, I am not really sure what to make of this particular holiday.  First of all, is it really a holiday?  If we are referring to the original meaning of “holiday” (that being “holy day”) then every single Christian or non-Christian seeker should be worshipping today.  Whether it is an elaborate liturgical service at the community cathedral or a small, private vigil in the village chapel, all people of faith should be gathering to remember Christ dying on the cross for all humanity.  However, today is more of a civic holiday for those of us who are employed in institutions that are religiously affiliated, giving many a three-day weekend so that consumers can take advantage of some extra spring sales while their business counterparts pine away for 5:00 to come.  In this reality, the only good to occur will be the green that is exchanged in bookstores and boutiques across our land.  Sure, a pretty dress or handsome tie may be purchased for Easter Sunday worship.  Yet, is that really a reason to call today “Good Friday?”

Second of all, is it really “good?”  This word is an odd duck in the Bible.  God defines “good” as something that He creates to proclaim His majesty and compel humanity to seek Him for life and purpose.  Creation is the beginning of Gospel.[1]  This, then, becomes the theme of the Hebrew Scriptures—“For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations” (Psalm 100:5).[2]  Therefore, it should not surprise us when Christ questions the motives of the young politician who refers to him as “good:” “Why do you call me good?  No one is good but God alone” (Luke 18:19).  Jesus asked the young politician if he really understood what divine goodness means.  As Kierkegaard once said, the acceptance of God’s goodness compels us to “fear and trembling” because we realize that nothing is greater or more good than God.[3]

Also, how can we remember this particular day as “good?”  When God created, he referred to his work as “good.”  Yet, on this particular Friday, I struggle to see goodness.  I am writing this around noon.  By this time, Jesus, exhausted physically and spiritually, has endured an all-night trial, been beaten and spit on, shuffled between the palaces of Pilate and Herod, whipped to the point of death, paraded through the streets of Jerusalem, nailed to the cross, and abandoned by just about everyone who knows him.  “It was not about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two.  Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice said, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.’  Having said this, he breathed his last” (Luke 23:44-46).  What is the “good” in this situation?  “This has to be the Son of God,” comes the feeble cry from the back of the room.  What is that?  Speak up!  What was that you said?  “Truly this man was God’s Son” (Mark 15:39)!  Ah, perhaps there is something “good” about today after all.        

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[1]Walter Brueggemann, Genesis, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), 20, 26.

[2]Robert Davidson, The Vitality of Worship: A Commentary on the Book of Psalms (Grand Rapids, MI/Cambridge/Edinburgh: Eerdmans/Handsel Press, 1998), 327-328.  

[3]Soren Kierkegaard, Training in Christianity and the Edifying Discourse which “Accompanied” It, trans. Walter Lowrie, ed. John F. Thornton and Susan B. Varenne, Vintage Spiritual Classics (New York: Vintage/Random House, 2004), 75.

Book Review: The Prodigal God

Book Review: The Prodigal God
By: Rob O'Lynn, MDiv*


The Prodigal God: Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith
Timothy Keller
New York: Dutton (Hardcover; 11/08); Riverhead Books (Paperback; 03/11)
Paperback $14.00; ISBN: 978-1-59448-402-5

During my clinical residency, I served as the chaplain for a local psychiatric facility that served a number of adolescents. One of my duties was to conduct a worship service on Sunday evenings for the behavioral therapy unit. Since the population changed over every couple of weeks, one of my favorite passages to use was the "Parable of the Prodigal Son" in Luke 15. I found that it resonated with many of them, or least those that allowed themselves to be pierced by the message of rebellion and reconciliation. They were young men and women who, due to nature or nurture, had gotten themselves into quite a lot of trouble. Rehabilitation was their sentence for their crimes. Several of them spoke about leaving home and engaging in riotous living. However, instead of returning home, they only spiraled further down until they landed "at the Park." Yet, through the story of the young man and his wayward ways, they found hope and possibility, that forgiveness and restoration was possible--if they were willing to seek after it. What is really ironic is that, after nearly 10 years in ministry, I firmly believe that these troubled youths understood the message of this parable better than those who have packed pews for years.

I will admit that I have been guilty of only preaching half of this parable. So often, because we want to focus on the younger brother's restoration, we will only preach his side of the story. However, as Keller points out, this is only half of the story. We really never know what to do with the older brother. In sermons and class discussions, I turn to the older brother in a kind of "Here's how I would end the story..." scenario. Yet, the reality is that the older brother is just as lost as the younger brother. Keller adeptly notes that the two brothers are symbols for two ways of living--irreligious and religious. The irony is that staying at home is often just as dangerous spiritually as leaving home: "His story reveals the destructive self-centeredness of the younger brother, but it also condemns the elder brother's moralistic life in the strongest terms. Jesus is saying that both the irreligious and the religious are spiritually lost, both life-paths are dead ends, and that every thought the human race has had about how to connect with God has been wrong" (p. 13).

Keller spends the majority of his brief book illustrating through the words of the parable and through real-life examples from the people who attend Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City how both approaches to life end up in lostness. What was most striking to me is his emphasis on the older brother, an emphasis that is lacking from most treatments of the parable. As one is more "older brother" than "younger brother," I found myself agreeing with the legalism that oozes through the older brother's comments to his father. In the words of Dennis Kenny's book The Promise of the Soul (Jossey-Bass, 2002), we "older brothers" have made a conditional agreement with God: "If I obey, then I will accepted by God." Keller, however, says that our agreement should be "I am accepted by God, therefore I obey" (p. 128). In the end, salvation is only possible through God's reckless abandonment of conditions to forgiveness. He becomes "prodigal" in that He showers us with grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. The parable, then, is more about the Father than about either of the two rebellious sons.

In terms of an evaluation of this book, Keller is again spot on in his writing. When his previous book The Reason for God (Dutton, 2007) was released, Newsweek heralded Keller as "a C. S. Lewis for the twenty-first century." I agree with their assessment. Keller not only writes in a way that is both easy on the eyes yet strong on the heart, he does it in a way that proclaims that he is not ashamed to be an "educated" Christian. So much Christian writing today is simply fluff and a proverbial "flash in the pan." Yet Keller, with his conviction and charm, masterfully pulls the reader in with his carefully crafted words and lays the message of grace and truth bare before the reader. As Roy Zuck says in his review,^ "Keller frequently brings the reader back to the gospel" (p. 490). There is no "Pray this prayer and this will happen" sappy sentimentalism here. There is no "Here's how to live the best version of your life" bad pop psychology here. There is only the passionate plea of our finest orator to accept the grace of God.

If I have any critical word about this book, it would be this--I wish it were longer simply because I loved reading it so much. As I told Reverend Keller personally (well, in an email), because I am cheap, I wait with anticipation for the paperback release of his Counterfeit Gods and Generous Justice.

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Footnotes:
*Rob O'Lynn is Lecturer of Christian Ministries and Communications at Kentucky Christian University in Grayson, Kentucky.

^Roy B. Zuck, review of The Prodigal God: Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith by Timothy Keller, in Bibliotheca Sacra 167 (October-December 2010): 490.