Tax Collectors, Zealots, and Flower Guys

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Little Children

I heard a story once, maybe you've heard it as well, that comes from ancient Church tradition.

The Apostle John was Jesus' best friend on earth. The Bible even calls John the disciple Jesus loved. Of course, Jesus loves all men, but John held a special place in Jesus' heart as a dear brother. John would later go on to speak with a flaming tongue of fire over his head at Pentecost, and he would perform healings on earth very similar to how Jesus did. This warrior of the faith, along with the other disciples, spread the Gospel throughout the country and established Christ's body--the Church. He would go on to write several of the epistles found in the New Testament that we still study today. Also, it is a common belief that he wrote the book of Revelation after seeing the vision of the apocalypse.
John--preacher, teacher, miracle worker, witness of visions, disciple of Christ, pioneer of the Church. If there is anyone that I would like to sit at their feet and learn from, it would be John.
Years after Christ's crucifixion, John was exiled to the island of Patmos as a punishment for his preaching. However, his preaching would not be silenced, and he established his own Church on that far away island. It was there that John grew older and older and lived out his last days, all the while preaching the good news of Christ.
It is believed that John grew so old that he could no longer carry himself to stand in front of his congregation. Therefore, the men of the Church would carry him up front and place him in a chair facing the body of believers. As he looked out at the people much like a shepherd over a flock, John would muster all the strength left in his old, decrepit body to speak one last message. I'm sure he would reminisce over Jesus' teachings and times he spent with the Lord. He would remember all the other churches he planted and the visions he had seen and the letters he had written, the times he had been beaten and bruised for his faith.
This man of God who had accomplished so much and had so much knowledge that he was capable of imparting to his people would muster all his strength to say one sentence over and over to his flock. This one sentence would suffice as his sermon week after week repeated over and over. He would simply say,
"Little children, love each other...Little children, love each other."
I can almost hear his old, fading voice saying.
"Little children, love each other."
I can, also, see a slight smile come across his face as he remembers the tax collector and the zealot's first encounter, and he whispers,
"Little children, love each other," and he believes its possible.

In John's mind all his doctrine and theology and experiences that he wished to impart onto his followers could be summed up in that one sentence: Little children, love each other.
Why are we spending so much time reading the Bible, praying, tithing, worshipping, merely attending, debating, disagreeing, getting offended, dividing, and going through our everyday motions while missing the point that was central to John and to Jesus: "Little Children, love each other."

Who do you need to start loving?

Please, let us love each other, so that we can be true followers of Christ.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

24/74 We're All the Same

When I talk about the Church being united, I can hear all three of the people who read this collectively sigh, "So true." The average age of you who are reading is probably around, oh say, 24, and you all throw your fist into the air and say, "Yes! Here's to unity!" We all feel the same pain, the same persecution inflicted on us by the older generation who has stifled our worship and our freedom in Christ with their oldschool views on doctrine and Christian living. They are the ones who have created disunity rather than unity, and they are the embarrassments to Christ. They have ruined the name of the Church by sitting on the back pew with their arms crossed judging the boy with the long hair or the girl with the tattoo or the hippie who has walked in the door looking for Christ. Thanks a lot old people for all you've done to our precious Church!!
Well, friends, I guess it is up to us to bring back unity. First of all, let's either rid ourselves of the elderly or just persist in doing things our way until they shut up. I mean, it's all for the sake of unity, right? Together we will unite, and finally represent the Body of Christ as it should be: connected. That is to say, if we can just discconnect from everyone who does not see things exactly our way.


I beg you....


Pick up on the sarcasm. I'm talking to my generation when I talk about unity far more than I am talking to my parents' or grandparents' generation. I'm talking about more than disagreeing over doctrine or worship styles, but I am talking about how we love one another on a day to day basis. The beauty of a unified community is one who can revolutionize itself, transform, receive the previous generation's torch, and not be...butts.
There was a man who visited one of my ministry classes at Johnson Bible College, and he said, "Just because you are a rebel, doesn't mean you are a revolutionary." I think that is so true. My age group is definitely at fault for all the times we have judged the elderly for, we assume, judging us thus we created a rift between us.
You know what, give me the elderly lady who is crossed up for her worship style being changed and who wants people to still dress their best for Jesus on Sunday morning. I may not agree with her, but I can try to understand her. Give me her (who has been with the Church through think and thin) over a green Bible college graduate ready to cause rifts in order to make the Church more relevant (not to mention his whining over side issues). Jesus and the New Testament writers call us much more to unity than they do to relevancy. See, if we can all get on the same page and work together, then and only then will we best show the world Christ. We don't display Him at our best through relevant music, preaching, dressing, programming, reading, talking, or joking. We display Him best when we are unified. That means unity between the bitter 74 year old lady and you, my selfish generation.


Disclaimer: I freakin' love old people. Really.

Disclaimer #2: I'm a whiny Bible college graduate.

http://www.chronogram.com/issue/1998/11/photoessay/oldlady@altar.TIF.JPG

Thursday, August 24, 2006

But the Hippies Are Doing It!

Never before has American culture so greatly lacked and so greatly longed for community. Look around you next time you are in your car or on the Internet.
In the area where I am from, which is quite small mind you, I can think of approximately 8 coffee shops, not including some that I have seen open and close. Why are there so many of these shops, and why is the Starbucks "movement" so explosive? My theory comes from the community vacuum we are living in. Coffee shops are made for discussion groups, meetings, dates, or even for flingin' game at the girl sitting across the room. For the world, coffee shops are one of the only ways to experience community besides stopping by your coworker's cubicle to see how the kids are doing.
Also, look all over the internet at sites like myspace, eharmony, xanga, facebook, or even blogspot! Each of these are geared towards experiencing community. However, I feel like these sites are a perfect way to partake in a community without all the, well...people. We can encourage someone, slam someone, gossip, fall in love, find common interests, and get to know each other all within the comfort of our very own homes! (I use myspace, facebook, and obviously blogspot, so before you joke me...yeah! I know.) But look at it all. People are dying to connect, to touch, to love, so they are finding any and every way they know how.
Also, take a look through our not-so-distant history. There's the hippie movement, for example, where several individuals attempted to simply live in harmony with each other and to accept one another. However, there were mass quantities of what we call heroine required in order for all these dirty individuals to hang out. Let's, also, take a look at the communist movement which revolved around the vision of a utopian community. See, there were all these Russians and a few Germans, who thought, "Hey, we could all work together, and live in one perfect community. It's just as simple as equalizing all humanity." However, equality to them excluded Jews and involved quite a bit of unnecessary deaths, so Reagan went over, tore down a wall, and said, "Wrong!"
All men and women are in love with the idea of unity and connection, and human being longs for transparency among other human beings. We are all just dying inside to be real with one another, and I would say that this is, indeed, a one last wish from a dying nation.
Ok, so there's the longing…
Now, let's take a look at the Body of Christ which I am so proudly a part of. We see the need of the world, and we see it crying out for some kind of community to relate with, be real in, find acceptance in, and to fall in love with. So, what do we do as the world comes through the door with its hat in hand and its nose runny from crying about being lost in the dark? We bump into it on our way to tell the preacher we disagreed with his sermon, or to tell an elder that he's spending way too much money on the new building program, or we go looking for someone else who's more "In" while we disregard anyone who doesn't match our style. Perhaps, some of us even fall into this category: we are so bitter about being taken advantage of that we ignore the world as well as our own brother's and sisters.
The world stands at the door looking at this scene, and draws the conclusion that the rumor it heard about the Church holding the key to connection and fulfillment was all a bunch of crock. However, we are holding that truth, but we all run in a million different directions like a body that stumbled in front of an oncoming train—disconnected. Therefore, what does the world find? Nothing. Poor world.


"The very fact that you have lawsuits among you means you have been completely defeated already. Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be cheated?" 1 Corinthians 6:7

simple.

http://media.urbandictionary.com/image/large/hippie-48540.jpg

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

"Is it Awkward in Here?"

I don’t know who came into the room first, but I’m pretty sure James and John decided to go on ahead and slip out the backdoor when they saw the two approaching their first meeting.
When Rome overthrew the Israelite nation, the Jews divided into several different sects such as the Pharisees and Sadducees who spent most of their time disagreeing over issues such as water libations or whether contact with scrolls could cause your hands to be unclean or not. However, there emerged another group known as the Zealots who spent their time on more pressing matters such as kicking Roman butt. They spent all their energy on overthrowing the oppressive government through processes which did not consist so much of lengthy debates or running for office. Rather, they decided to do so with the modern equivalent of suicide bombings or assassination attempts.
In Matthew’s Gospel he lists off the twelve disciples like so:
“These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon (who is called Peter) and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector, James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.” (Matthew 10:2-4)
I almost let out a little chuckle when I read this list (but I don’t, because the old men playing chess by the window are trying to concentrate, and I don’t want to creep them out), because the only jobs listed are a tax collector and a zealot. I don’t know if you make money being a zealot, but I’m sure it occupies enough of one’s time for me to go ahead and call it a job. Why not?
Think about Matthew writing this Gospel account years later whispering to himself, “That Jesus was one funny guy.” To team up a tax collector and a zealot—unthinkable. I’m quite positive that it was not so humorous when they first met, however. Matthew represented everything that Simon hated and spent his time trying to obliterate. The bane of his existence, the oppression of his people, the discomfort of his life, and the danger of his family all summed up in the face of the lying, stealing traitor named Matthew.
However, the day they met neither of them were a tax collector nor a zealot, but they were new followers of the man named Jesus. Isn’t it funny how two people who hated each other so murderously were able to cooperate to accomplish the mission of Christ and to spend every waking minute with one other while following this teacher across the countryside?
Funny isn’t it? Followers of Christ have sure become quite a bit weaker seeing that we are divided about small issues such as drums in worship, carpet color, doctrine, ethnicity, gossip, breakups, forgetting to call a friend up, or whether an old lady is talking to loud in the coffee shop we are trying to write in.
God bless the Zealot and the Tax Collector that can decide to not murder or steal from each other anymore, and just follow Christ together. God forgive me for being so petty and for being so easily divided with my brother.
Finally, bless the name of Jesus who had enough power to allow us to see only Him rather than our differences. He had enough faith in us to work through it, and to still accomplish his mission.

We can still be restored to perfect unity. God, haste the day.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Matthew

I wonder if when he woke that morning, he knew that day would be different than the others, or perhaps he saw it as mundane as the days before. I wonder if, while he cheated and lied and stole, there was a nagging in the back of his heart. Did he wish that he could give it all up, or was he satisfied with who he was--a thief?
When I think of Jesus' love in approaching Matthew, I see it as the equivalent of me attempting to approach a mafia master mind or someone as godless as a pimp or porn star--the scorned, the condemned, the evil. He was a man whose life revolved around get-rich-quick schemes which consisted of preying on his own people: the Jews. Not only had he turned his back on godly living, he embraced a godless lifestyle that would enable him to acquire the luxury he so deceptively sought after. Matthew was, indeed, a turncoat.
However, his conversion story is summed up in three paragraphs. Jesus says simply, "Follow me," and what does the Bible say that Matthew did?
"Matthew got up and followed him."
The "godly" men of the day accused Jesus of being possessed with demons, because of stories like this. They couldn't imagine a Jewish rabbi lovingly interacting with a conniving Jewish traitor. Therefore, If I were a Jewish traitor who had been asked to join allegiances with a Jewish teacher, I believe I would enter with much hesitation, not because I was unsure of the teacher's motives but rather his acceptance. Would he always hold it against me that I had turned? Although he was willing to take me in, would the rest of his followers have the same open heart?
To top things off, Matthew (a traitor, thief, sellout, hypocrite, liar, turncoat, hoarder, conniving "UnJew") was called by Jesus, a Jewish revolutionary, to join His inner sanctum which included who else, but a Jewish Zealot. (Simon)

Do you ever feel like Matthew did when you attend Church--a tax collector among zealots? Do you ever suddenly feel out of your element, or that you come from somewhere else, you have a different story, you aren't as genuine a child of God as all the other Jesus followers around you?

Ah...community...

http://www.allaboutjesuschrist.org/tax-collector-faq.htm

Monday, August 21, 2006

Here's to the Flower Guy

If you were to travel to Knoxville, and if you were to visit the older section of the city, you would find an old coffee shop named New City Cafe. I've visited that shop several times to watch live acoustic shows from out of town bands and even to watch some of my very own friends perform. Now, the concert hall is set up in such a way that anyone who was to walk in the front door could be seen by everyone watching the band. On countless occasions, I have sat comfortably at my candlelit table drinking hot coffee, when in from the front door would walk the Flower Guy.
It was always the Flower Guy. He always wore a tattered hat with a long tattered beard and old grubby clothes. To top off his unbecoming appearance, he always carried under one arm a bundle of flowers, and he would awkwardly sit by the front entrance while everyone nervously noted his presence out of the corner of their eye. He would sit waiting for someone to buy his flowers, and as he sat waiting, we would sum him up in our own minds. There he is. There's the man that has resorted to selling flowers for a living. Loser. Failure. Eh...the Flower Guy....

...It was about a year ago. It was the most vague assignment I had ever received. The professor said that he simply wanted us to express ourselves creatively whether it was through poetry, music or some other creative activity we could conjure up in our moldable brains. To me it was incredibly lame.
However, Charlie tossed it around in his head and decided what he was to do. He approached me and asked me to go along. I said yes, because I figured it was adventurous and I'd want to tell my kids someday how I was a daring young man. However, in that moment I would've chosen a kick in the teeth over his plan. Charlie's idea was to go onto the streets of downtown Knoxville under the guise of homeless men for approximately 30 hours. We would write a report of what we experienced and hand that in as our creative project. Wonderful.
We asked our friend, Brent, to go along, because he knew a thing or two about the homeless lifestyle since he had worked so close with them and all. The appointed day came, and we put on old tattered clothes, and withheld from showering. We put dirt on our arms and necks and under our fingernails. Finally, after being dropped off, we crossed Henley Street Bridge into downtown Knoxville.
Throughout the course of the next several hours we were cussed out, yelled at, lectured to, and we even had people stick their upper halves out of car windows while pointing and laughing. It was utter humiliation.
As night fell, we found ourselves in Old City Knoxville, the older part of downtown. All the beautiful girls followed their beautiful frat boys into clubs filled with other beautiful girls and guys. The traffic whizzed by, and elderly couples strolled about very distinguished and comfortably arm-in-arm. All the while, we stared straight ahead at the passing traffic. We had walked miles at this point. We had begged, been yelled at (this time by other homeless men), we had also been asked to find prostitutes and drugs by these other homeless men. It was fearful as well as exhausting, and, as I stood on that dirty street corner, I realized that I had the least amount of worth on that street. Amidst all the clubs, cars, music, and people I held the least amount of value. No one cared and no one wanted to take interest in a young homeless kid who had done nothing with his life--who ended up a failure.
At that point I went down on one knee just to catch my breath and to give my legs a rest. As all the noise and chaos and partying whirled around me, I looked at the sidewalk in front of me as judgement after judgment was passed and after each condescending glanced pushed me lower and lower.
However, As I sat there gazing at the hot sidewalk in front of me, I saw them fall...a handful of flower petals.
After years of passing judgment and crushing this man with my own condescending glances. He reached down, destroyed his income, and lifted me out of my own worthless pit, so here's to the Flower Guy.

To listen to a sermon I preached based on this story please visit
http://www.jbc.edu/college/students_seniorsermons_brown.php