Feel the Spirit

 

In the first chapter of the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is baptized by John the Baptist in the Jordan. As he is coming up out of the water, "he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him" (Mark 1:10). That's pretty powerful, but it gets better. A voice calls down from heaven, saying, "'You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased'" (Mark 1:11). Immediately after this awe-inspiring moment, the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness.

I can't even imagine what Jesus must've felt. I have never been filled up with the Spirit, or seen it descend on me like a dove. I have never seen the heavens open up or heard a voice call to me. But this is what we want, isn't it? We want real results when participate in church. We fully expect that at some point, we're going to hear the voice of the Lord as clearly as if whispered in our ear. We want to be claimed as part of the family. We want to have our existence affirmed and  have God's seal of approval stamped on our forehead. Perhaps most importantly, we want to be physically, mentally, emotionally, and of course, spiritually moved by the Spirit from apathy into action. We want purpose and direction.

However, most weeks, I walk out of the Sunday evening service at LCM feeling no different than when I walked in. I don't feel transformed. Sometimes, I feel like I'm trying too hard. I know I can't force myself to have an experience. All I can do is be open to the possibility that I will internalize a little of the Spirit.

Still, while I don't expect the sky to open for me anytime soon, I cannot shake the sensation that sometimes, I'm alone in the room; the Spirit didn't show up at all. I don't know how to feel about that or if it's even true. Like most mysteries in this world, I may never get an answer.

The 21st Century Church, Part Four: Re-Formation

Exactly 494 years ago today, an insolent monk in what we now call Germany nailed a notice to the door of a church. There were 95 things he was ticked off about and he listed off every one. One scathing indictment of the Roman Catholic Church after another. Martin Luther had guts (and he was probably a little stupid). At the time, the Church was the most powerful institution on Earth. Making it angry was likely to get you excommunicated or even executed. But Luther stood firm in his beliefs.

At the heart of his 95 theses about what was wrong about the Church were five key conclusions that Luther had gleaned from careful study of the Bible. The basis on which he challenged the Pope's monopoly on salvation now forms the foundation of modern Protestantism, something he never imagined or wanted.

Martin Luther believed that the road to being saved was very different from the path prescribed by the Church, encapsulated by his five core principles:

• The first was sola scriptura — by Scripture alone. The authority of God does not lie in any person, office, building, or institution, but only in the words of the Bible.

• The second was sola fide — by faith alone. You can't buy your way into Heaven (despite what Pope Leo X would've told you). God has no use for money and does not require good works. You get in on your faith, in a transaction that skips the middleman (Rome) entirely.

• The third was sola gratia — by grace alone. This one is my favorite. No one forgives sins but God himself (of course God is beyond gender, but that's another blog) and nothing we do can make us worthy of this forgiveness. The good news is we don't have to do anything. God is merciful and gives us his forgiveness as a free gift.

• The fourth was solus Christus — by Christ alone. This is gift of grace is given through God's son, who died so that we might live. That's how great his love is for us.

• The fifth was soli Deo gloria — glory to God alone. I imagine this one really angered Luther. In his day, the Church held all the power and influence in Europe and was in the process of violently converting the native peoples of Central and South America. The Pope lived opulently. The glory was to the Church...and if there was any left over, God could have that.

It has been 500 years since Martin Luther took his historic stand against the Church. A Protestant branch of Christianity swept the globe, inspired by his theology. A whole new church was named after him. The Catholic Church survived and thrived. It, too, was reformed by the Reformation. Martin Luther became a mythic figure, a champion of intellectual and philosophical rebellion and one of the first men in history to assert his individuality against the hegemonic ideology of his time.

In 1517, Luther saw that the Church was broken and he sought to give it form again. In 2011, our church is also broken. People are leaving in droves. Our stance on social justice issues is largely limited to words and resolutions, but lacks any real action. The stances themselves are deliberately vague to keep from alienating a diverse base of financial support that covers the entire political spectrum. We have trouble practicing what we preach and we get so caught up in the trappings of modern Christianity that we ignore or forget about the meat of our beliefs. We don't question. We don't debate. We don't grow in our faith through serious reflection and discussion. We are stagnant, without form.

We need to re-form our church. We need to give it life again, the same way Martin Luther did. We need the courage to say that the institution is wrong. We need to take a good, hard look at the scriptures and remind ourselves of what we believe. The time has come — time for a new Reformation.

Grace to a Sinner

On that dark day at Calvary, Jesus was crucified alongside two criminals. In Luke 23:39-43, one of the criminals is indignant. He yells at Jesus, saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!"

The second criminal rebukes him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? ⁴¹And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong."

There are times when I wonder who I am in this account. Am I the bitter criminal hurling insults at God? Or am I the man who knows that I am rightfully condemned and have no one to blame but myself?

I will admit there are times when I am bitter. I get angry at God. I feel abandoned when things don't go right; when it feels the entire universe is conspiring against me. And so I scream to the heavens and demand an answer and compensation. I feel that God owes me something and is denying me the good that I deserve. After all, how many tests am I supposed to silently suffer through before I can ask when it will all pay off?

It's about this time that I remember how much I am like the second man on the cross that day. When I look at my life, I am often ashamed of what I see. I have the capacity to be a very un-Christian person. I am judgmental, lazy, cruel, selfish, hateful, lustful, and gluttonous. I don't consider others before myself. I put earthly gains over spiritual pursuits. I'm not just a sinner, I'm a repeat offender — taking forgiveness and then slipping back into my old ways. There is evidence to put me away. I'm guilty and I know it.

The criminal understands that he belongs up on a cross, dying slowly and painfully for his crimes. He takes a chance in what he says next: "Jesus, remember me when you come into^* your kingdom."

Surprisingly, Jesus' words to this man are not words of judgment or condemnation. He doesn't call down fire and brimstone, but instead offers words of comfort and grace. "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

We don't know what this man did to deserve his punishment. Jesus doesn't ask and it really doesn't matter whether he participated in a rebellion against the Empire or committed a murder — because he's us. Yet, Jesus is merciful to everyone, even those of us who count ourselves among the worst of sinners. That grace is something I don't fully understand. My sentence is just, yet Jesus says that I will be with him in Paradise.

I don't feel like I deserve it. I feel terrible, like I'm taking advantage of the system. But grace is a free gift, given to sinners like me. It's a promise that even when the world appears to be crashing down — when I'm condemned — God is with me, suffering with me. Even when I curse his name, he loves me. His grace truly is amazing.