Relevant Church

I learned quite a lot from Paul’s message this week. Sure, I’ve known the story of Holy week since I was a child— people honor Jesus as he arrives in Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday, then comes the Last Supper, the Garden of Gethsemane, the trial, the crucifixion and the resurrection. I know and believe all of those things happened and that Jesus is indeed the Messiah. But I think that my knowledge of those events from a historical perspective has prevented me from really seeing some of the larger “life application” lessons in Luke’s account of Jesus’ death and resurrection.
I love the way that Luke notes how Jesus’ uncle, Cleopas, called him “the man from Nazareth.” (You gotta love the way Luke, the physician, gives attention to every little detail… that’s how I like my doctors, too!) It’s also interesting to me that Cleopas and his travel buddy didn’t have any rebuttal for the man they were walking with (Jesus) calling them foolish for overlooking prophecies. Instead their only response was to beg him to stay the night with them.
I also find it difficult to overlook the parallels between this part of the story and how so many people come to meet Christ these days. Many of us who have received Jesus in our lives have testimonies of hearing the story of the gospel, acknowledging that Jesus is Lord, receiving Him into our lives through prayer, and then not much else happens. We sort of go back to life as usual. It’s almost as if we invite Jesus into our lives and then add him in with all of the other things on our plate.
Similarly, in this story, Cleopas and his friend have to invite Jesus and receive him as a guest. I imagine them maybe giving the undercover Messiah some water to wash his feet and setting an extra place for him at the table, as they would any other evening when entertaining a guest. But, what I think they did differently than many people who have invited Christ into their lives, is that they allowed him to take that place at the head of the table and break the bread right away. Luke’s attention to detail says nothing of the men correcting Jesus when he sits at the head of the table or informing him that the job of breaking bread is reserved for the master of the house. Something within them simply seems to grant Him top honors without hesitation and then BOOM- as soon as they allowed Him to have His deserved place of honor, these everyday followers of Christ (who were not the esteemed apostles) have their eyes opened and they get to see and experience the risen Lord FIRST HAND!
Oh how I wish that we all would have the wisdom of Cleopas and his friend! So often we receive Christ but fail to begin a relationship with Him until months or even years later. And for what? If we would all allow God to take the top place in our life, we could then experience incredible things through Him. But instead, I fear that we all too often tend to add Him as one more thing on our plates of life. Whether it be having quiet time, praying, attending church, or serving others— I don’t think many of us would claim to truly allow Christ to rule in our lives. But I think we would all say we want to experience Him in a more real, first hand way. How silly of us to think that we can have one without the other!
Jesus asks us to remember Him, not on Easter, nor on Sundays, but in our everyday, routine task of eating. It seems as though He wants to be coming alongside us on the road of life, and opening our eyes to His goodness, but He is a polite and honest guest, who won’t force His way to the top (where He knows He belongs.)
I hope that, if you find that you have added Jesus as one more thing on your plate of life instead of taking everything on your plate from Him, that this Easter season will help you rework that equation. I pray that we will all remember Jesus as we break bread daily, and that we would allow Him to sit at the head of our table and fill our plates. If we’re going to invite Him into our lives, let’s let Him abide where He belongs.

- Christina

Last Sunday at church we had communion, which is not in any way an unusual thing for us to partake in, but Relevant does communion a little differently than other churches I’ve gone to. Instead of having a regular service, with a topical sermon or a segment within a series, we use communion to talk about the central message of the Gospel—Jesus sacrificing himself for us.

Of course, it’s always put into a context that is relevant to our modern day lives. This week that meant observations about how Super Bowl mania (which struck Tampa last week) is short lived and how The Passover of ancient Jerusalem was equally celebrated and likewise short-lived.

Then Paul pointed out that the Passover celebration in Luke 22 had a sort of cloud over it for Jesus, since He knew it would be His last. So, in a serious and not totally understood moment, Jesus asked that his friends remember him when they gather at the table and acknowledge that his body would be broken and his blood shed for their (and our) sins.

Yet the disciples didn’t seem to understand what He was telling them and were quickly distracted by the cloud of a debate over who among them was greatest. Paul gently pointed out that we too can tend to focus on “a cloud” and in effect prevent ourselves from really focusing on God.

I think I fell victim to a clouding like that on Sunday morning. And it can be tough not to when you really think about the price that the Lord paid for us. After all, like the song the band led us in again this week (and which has words that I think we cannot hear too often) says, “Jesus paid it all, All to Him I owe, Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow— Oh praise the One who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead.”

Perhaps you know that in your mind or in your heart, but to really spend time meditating on the price that was paid for us to be washed white can break your heart. That realization can lead even the toughest of tough into a tender and somber moment like our congregation shared on Sunday.

But I allowed this cloud of heaviness to over power another thing that I think is equally as important as understanding the weight of Jesus’ sacrifice: the opportunity to rejoice. Jesus literally wiped our debt away and asks for nothing in return but devotion.

I don’t know much about finance or economics, but I know that if the debt of the world I live in—the financial debt, that is—were to be wiped away, we would rejoice! If America’s deficit was suddenly wiped away, we would be dancing in the streets in celebration! So would people in Africa, folks on Wall Street and from every end of the Earth. Having the weight of financial burdens lifted could unite even the most opposite of humans in celebrations of equally undeserving joy and gratitude.

Why then is it hard for us to apply this same joy to an even bigger debt that was paid millennia ago? Perhaps some of us are numb to the age of this debt forgiveness. Perhaps some of us don’t truly believe it. Perhaps some of us are so focused on the cloud of sacrifice that we miss the sweet forgiveness that it awards us. Perhaps some of us just don’t remember that alongside the depth of understanding and gratitude we feel towards God for giving his Son for us, we should rejoice. After all, that’s what they’re doing in Heaven. (See Luke 15)

- Christina

I am a scientist. It’s something that I don’t often admit to people. I usually tend to go with songwriter or filmmaker (both of which I am as well). But the fact is that this May I will be graduating from USF with a bachelor’s degree in bio-medical science. We scientists have a tendency to want to figure everything out and we get frustrated when it proves to be an impossible feat. I’ve discovered that a lot of Christians (including myself at times) look at their faith this way.
This poses a problem when we are confronted with a divine being whose ways are far superior to ours. As the speaker on Sunday emphasized, our God has an unfathomable mind; it would be ludicrous to assume that we could understand it fully. While listening to the message at church, I was reminded of the first chapter in the book Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. The chapter is titled “Jump” and it’s basically about how God is inviting us to follow Jesus with all of our doubts and questions. God doesn’t say “You have to get all of your questions answered before you can come to me”. If you read scripture, God is saying something more like, “Listen, I know you have a lot of questions. That’s a good thing! I want you to ask them! Just know that you won’t be able to figure everything out because I’m a really big God”.
As Christians, we need to learn to ask questions while still embracing the mystery in our faith. Rob Bell put it this way: “Being a Christian then is more about celebrating mystery than conquering it”. Read through the Bible. Abraham, David, Mary; all of them asked God questions and what happened? He accomplished phenomenal things through them. It appears that God likes when people ask Him tough questions; it shows that they are engaged in their faith and their relationship with Him. If you look carefully though, you will notice that these people also acted on faith; even when they couldn’t comprehend God’s reasoning, they obeyed Him because they realized that His intelligence was much higher than theirs.
This idea that faith and doubt go hand in hand is something that I have been dealing with for quite some time. A while back, I realized that God is big enough to handle our questions and doubts. I wrote this song called “My Clever Hands” and one of the stanza’s goes like this:

We could stand around with our hands on our hips.
And try to make some sort of sense of all this
Or we could take a look in a book and find out
That faith isn’t faith if it’s absent of doubt.

Asking questions is something that is not only vital to our relationship with God but it’s also an important facet of our church community. I brought my friend Sarah to church this Sunday and afterwards she told me that she was excited to hear the speaker mention the names of people in Church history who questioned the actions of their peers. It is our responsibility as members of the body of Christ to sort through the traditions and procedures of the church and determine what is Biblical and what is not. We need to discern which ideas are coming from God and which are coming from man. Probably the most notable example of this was the protestant reformation (which the speaker also mentioned). If Martin Luther and others like him had not stood up all over Europe and pointed out what was wrong with the church, the majority of Christians today might still believe that you could get a persons soul into heaven by paying money to a priest. By questioning the practices of our church we purge it of corruption and insincerity. This makes us as members more secure when we worship and tithe and at the same time it shows unbelievers that followers of Jesus are concerned with being as true to His teachings as possible.
When it comes down to it, asking questions seems to be something that is at the core of our faith. When we ask questions to God, we are admitting that we cannot figure everything out and that His ways are too complex for our simple minds to wrap themselves around. When we ask questions to the rest of the church about the way we do things, we are showing people that worshiping with a sincere heart is important to us and that corruption has no place in the body of Christ. You know, maybe being a scientist isn’t that bad after all. As long as I keep in mind that I will never be able to completely figure out this experiment called life.

Trey

I was at the mall yesterday and I saw an amazing sight. Among the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping, there was a line of wide-eyed children eagerly awaiting their two minutes on Santa’s lap. You could almost feel the anticipation in the air. They were going to meet the man that they were working all year to impress. The one man who could make or break their Christmas. They were going to see magic with their very own eyes. No wonder kids cry, wet themselves, and throw up. The pressure is incredible.
I wonder if that same feeling was in the air on the night of Jesus’ birth? How wide-eyed were the wise men when they traveled to meet the Messiah they had so long anticipated? How excited were Joseph and Mary to receive the most precious gift possible and begin their journey with Jesus? How relieved was the world to finally receive it’s King? If there was ever a night where magic was truly in the air, this had to be it!
I remember telling my friend Stephanie that when you really listen to a sermon, it will almost always pertain to what’s happening in your life that week. God always speaks to you if you’re willing to listen. I proved myself right this week. (Sidenote: I’m a woman, and I LOVE being right!)
I wasn’t planning on going home for Christmas this year. I didn’t want to endure the drive, and do the whole “everybody is full of joy” routine. There is nothing I hate more than being fake. I decided to use Christmas as a free day off of work to catch up on some much needed rest. I’ve been channeling the Grinch, Scrooge and all other Christmas villains to put me in the mood. I’ve been practicing my best “Bah-Humbug” for weeks now!
Of course, God had other plans for me. Paul spoke this week about traditions that made me nostalgic. At the end of the service, the song that the band played kicked me right in the gut. The smallest line “Baby please come home,” melted away the frost that the season had put on my heart. It was as if my mother had said it herself. I’m still not thrilled about the idea of being with my family this year. Almost everything in me is telling me not to go. But then there’s that voice in my head that grows stronger every day. It’s saying that it’s not about me. It’s telling me that the most amazing things come out of sacrifice. It’s telling me to trust.
I’ll be home for Christmas….you can count on me. There won’t be snow or mistletoe. I’m not really concerned with presents under the tree. It will be bittersweet, and exhausting. I will inevitably question my decision to be there. Maybe I’m wrong, though. What if I saw a little magic of my own this Christmas? What if I went home and came back relieved and ready to start next year’s journey with my family and with Christ? What if my visit was the one that was anticipated, and it made the day a little more special for someone I love? What if I really am wrong? Maybe I’ll learn to love proving myself wrong as much as I love proving right. Well, maybe almost as much.

Tiffany