The Waking Dreamer: Selfishness

Showing posts with label Selfishness. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 04, 2026

Open Hands

You may have gathered that I’m something of a people watcher. I find it fascinating to observe the way our society functions. Of course, all that observing I do is from my perspective, and therefore it’s limited and biased! Unfortunately, I’m not always as aware of that fact as I should be, and as a result, I have an unfortunate tendency to pass judgment on people about whom I really know very little! I’m afraid that the inconvenient truth is that we all can do that from time to time. The hard part of it is that it’s not a very generous outlook. I have to confess that I’m not very “generous” when it comes to “Superbowl Sunday.” I must admit that part of that comes from the fact that some of the players in the game will make more in one evening than most people will make in their whole lifetime. But then that can be true of a lot of top athletes in other sports as well, including the ones that I love to follow.

I think what concerns me about what I see in connection with the Superbowl is how much money we’re spending this weekend—essentially on our own entertainment. For example, this year retailers are projecting that we will spend twenty billion dollars in connection with the Superbowl. That’s just consumer spending. That’s just what we’re expected to spend on TV’s, fan gear, and food for hosting parties. To put that in perspective, the agricultural production in the state of Nebraska for the whole year is around twenty-five billion dollars, if I have my figures correct. We’re going to spend that in one weekend. When you think about everything that goes into “Superbowl Sunday,” I’m not sure anyone can measure the total amount of money that we Americans will spend on this event. To my eyes, eyes that admittedly can be judgmental at times, that can seem like an awful lot of self-indulgence.

By contrast, when I read our Scripture lessons for today, I’m reminded that one of the central messages of the Bible is that we who claim to be people of faith in the God of Exodus—the God who looked on the oppressed people with compassion and who liberated the captives—are called to embody that spirit in the way we relate to people around us. And over and over again, the Bible defines that in terms of practicing “justice.” What I find striking in our lessons for today is the clear and concrete way in which they define practicing justice! The prophet Isaiah says this means that we’re to “free those who are wrongly imprisoned”; we’re to “lighten the burden of those who work for you”; we’re to “let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people” (Isa. 58:6, NLT). More than that, we’re to “share food with the hungry,” “give shelter to the homeless,” and “give clothes to those who need them” (Isa 58:7, NLT)! It seems clear that “justice” means “compassion” and “generosity.”

Unfortunately, we tend to take a different approach toward the needy in our world. That’s especially true with those who may challenge our sense that the world is an ordered and predictable place where we can rest assured that everything will turn out the way we want it to as long as we “follow the rules.” When we feel threatened by someone like that, we tend to fall into the pattern of judging them. We analyze them and assume we know why they “fell through the cracks.” When we adopt a “judging” mindset, it’s impossible to practice “justice.” Rather than opening our hands to share generously, when we live out of fear we tend to close our fists to protect what’s ours. But as I read our Scripture lessons for today, it occurs to me that the prophet Isaiah was trying to encourage people recover a spirit of generosity as a way of restoring their relationship with God and as a way of restoring their community.

The hard question that our Scripture lesson confronts us with is how we can find a way to open our hands to give the gift of generosity to the people around us. I would say it starts with faith. To learn generosity toward others, we have to overcome the fear that there might not be enough and trust that God will provide for our needs. There are times in our lives when we wonder whether there will be enough, and it can be hard to trust that God will provide. But as I look over my life, I realize that there was always enough. Learning generosity starts with trusting that God will provide for our needs. I think generosity also comes from cultivating a spirit of gratitude. When we recognize that we have received far more than we could deserve or expect, it leads to sincere gratitude. And when we’re grateful for our lives, we can be a lot more willing and able to relate to others with generosity. And I think practicing generosity takes a good dose of humility. When we remember how many times we’ve failed and instead of getting what we deserved God’s grace has let us off the hook, we’ll be more likely to extend that grace and let others off the hook.

Generosity is not easy to learn. And it can be even harder to practice. It’s hard to know when someone is truly in need and when they’re just scamming you. And it’s hard to know how much you should give a person who is destitute. And it’s risky, because you can’t control what they’ll will do with the help you give them. But for my part I would say I think practicing generosity is worth the risk. Again, I think it’s important to hear what the prophet Isaiah says about practicing generosity as a way of restoring our not only relationship with God, but also as a way of restoring our community and our society.

At the end of the day, we who profess faith in the God of Exodus, the God who liberated his oppressed people out of his great love for them, are called to practice the same generosity toward the oppressed people in our world. We who have received the gift of being let off the hook time and again by God’s grace are summoned to extend that same grace to those who fall short, for whatever reason. We who have experienced the open hand of God giving us all that we need and more can do no less than open our hands and extend them to the people in need around us.

The Bible can get uncomfortably specific about whom that includes. Isaiah says that we practice the generosity we’ve received from God when we stop hiding from those who need our help (Isa 58:7, NLT). I don’t know about you, but I’ve been there, and it can be uncomfortable. It can be hard to practice generosity, but when we open our hands and offer generosity to those around us, particularly those in need, we’re demonstrating the difference God’s grace has made in our lives. Jesus calls that living as the salt of the earth and the light of the world. The good news is that in 2024, the last year for which we have statistics, our charitable giving as a society totaled almost 600 billion dollars. The not so great news is that’s only about two to three percent of our national economy. Of course, it’s hard to measure generosity simply in terms of dollars. It’s clear that there are a lot of people who are giving a lot to help a lot of people. But there’s always room for improvement. I think we all have room to grow when it comes to practicing generosity in our daily lives. I think that’s at least part what Jesus had in mind when he said, “you are the light of the world.” I think he wants us to show the difference God’s grace makes in our lives every day by opening our hands and giving the gift of generosity to the people we encounter.

Monday, November 01, 2021

At the Center

Mark 12:28-34[1]

It’s hard to avoid the truth that most of us live our lives with ourselves at the center. We may choke on the very words if we try to say it out loud. I think that’s one reason why we have always used the “younger generation” as the scapegoat for our selfishness. But the truth of the matter is that humanity has always lived with themselves at the center. Even when we do something to help someone else, we often do it for approval or simply to feel good about ourselves. Of course, there are those among us who rise above this and truly serve others. But if we’re honest we have to admit that they are the exception that proves the rule.

Although we prefer to locate “selfishness” in someone else, anyone else, it’s something we all have to deal with if we are going to try to follow Jesus as his disciples. That’s why week after week we gather here and confess to God, to one another, and to ourselves that we live with “self” at the center of our lives. That’s one of the basic definitions of the “sin” we try to confess together every week in worship. Our confession is not only an attempt to acknowledge that we all fall short. It’s also a way of trying to reorient our lives with God at the center.

That’s what our Gospel lesson for today is about: the question of what it looks like to live with God at the center of our lives. The question comes at the end of a debate that the religious leaders had been carrying on with Jesus, hoping to make a fool out of him in front of the people who followed him. One torah scholar asks him which of God’s commands was the “first,” or most important. You may find it surprising that I don’t believe this scribe was trying to trip Jesus up. Mark says he asked this question when he saw that Jesus answered “well” those who were antagonizing him. I think the scribe noticed that he was “on the same page” with Jesus, and so he was genuinely curious about how Jesus understood the heart of what God wants from us.

It was no coincidence that Jesus chose love for God and love for neighbor in reply. The “first” commandment came from the Shema, which was and still is the heart of the Jewish faith (Deut 6:4-5): “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one;you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mk 12:29-30). And the “second” commandment (Lev 19:18), “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” is part of a summary of God’s mandates in Leviticus called the “holiness code”. It’s called that because its theme is “you shall be holy for I the Lord your God am holy” (Lev. 19:2). While we assume these two commands go together, what we should understand is that it’s very likely Jesus was the first one to put them together like this.

But in one sense, Jesus wasn’t really breaking any new ground here. These two “great” commands reflect a fundamental framework of faith that runs throughout the whole Bible. It begins with the fact that God loved the family of Abraham and Sarah, and chose them to be a blessing to all the families of the earth. This is called the “covenant” in the Bible, and it speaks of a relationship that God established in his grace and mercy. When we miss the fact that everything else is based on God’s love, we can get on the wrong track about God and about what it means to live with God at the center of our lives.

The next part of that framework is that the Bible insists that those who have experienced God’s love, those who are fortunate enough to live in a relationship in which they know that God loves them unconditionally and irrevocably, will respond by loving God so much that we will put God at the center of life. That’s what it means to love God with all your heart. We may find it surprising that the way to do this is by following God’s ways, by putting God’s commands into practice in our everyday lives. We get confused about this because we think a life of obedience somehow earns for us the right to God’s love. But that’s not it at all. We live this way because we know God loves us, not to gain God’s love.

The next step is that we who love God in this way will demonstrate it by the love we show others. This way of loving God by loving others isn’t just about how we feel about people. It’s about what we do. And the Bible gets very practical, very specific, and very down to earth about what that looks like. We love others when we show them mercy and justice, when we treat them with dignity, respect, fairness, compassion, and kindness. We love others when we feed the hungry and welcome the stranger. That whole framework, responding to God’s love by loving God in such a way that we love others is what living with God at the center of our lives looks like.[2]

I’ll be the first to admit that living this way isn’t easy, and it isn’t something we learn quickly. I find that the farther I go in my journey toward discipleship, the more aware I am of how I fall short. The lure of trying to satisfy our own desires is one that can be incredibly difficult to recognize, and even more so to avoid. But I don’t think that God expects us to be perfect in this life. I think the point is that we take seriously the call live in a relationship with God, a relationship that is grounded in God’s love for us. The way we do that is by loving and serving God through loving and serving others. That’s what living with God at the center looks like, and it’s a challenge that takes a lifetime to master.

[2] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4.1:54-66, where he maintains that this has always been God’s intention against all efforts to “break up” this “one covenant” of grace into a series of different “covenants.” He disputes the “federal theology” of Johannes Cocceius, whose ideas are probably best known today in the “Dispensationalism” of Tim LaHaye and Hal Lindsay.

Monday, October 22, 2018

Giving Ourselves Away

Mark 10:35-45[1]

When you look at the way we live our lives these days, it’s hard to dispute the conclusion that we as a people are to a great extent driven by our own self-interest. All around us we can see evidence of the fact that “self” exercises a powerful influence. From the way we spend our money to the choices we make about our time to the challenges of getting along with the others, “self” seems to raise it’s ugly head wherever we look. The simple truth is that we want what we want, and we don’t want anyone to stand in the way of our getting it. We are a people for whom “self” is at the center of much of our lives.

The sad fact about that is that we pursue our own wants and desires because we think that by doing so, we will find fulfillment and meaning in life. But whatever satisfaction we may gain is short-lived. When I was in seminary, I worked as a security officer for a family of billionaires. They had the money to get whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it. But the individual families within the clan couldn’t stand to even talk to one another. Taking this approach to life misses one of the most fundamental lessons we can learn: our lives are not just about us and getting what we want. They are about much more than that. In particular, they are about serving others by giving ourselves away.

In our Gospel lesson for today, James and John, two of Jesus’ “inner circle” of disciples along with Peter, denied him in their own way with a rather audacious request. They asked Jesus to do for them “whatever we ask of you” (Mk. 10:35)! Now, he had already taught them that if they wanted to follow him they must “deny themselves” (Mk. 8:34) and “lose their lives” for his sake (Mk. 8:35). He had also already taught them that “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mk. 9:35). So I think it’s safe to say that their request shows they had missed the point just as much as Peter had when he denied even knowing Jesus.

What they asked of Jesus is truly astounding. They ask for the privilege of sitting at his right and left hand when he came in his “glory.” James and John, like the rest of the disciples, still thought that Jesus had come to restore the glory of David’s kingdom in all its might, wealth, and prestige. Even though Jesus had just warned them again that he was going to be condemned and beaten and killed, they simply could not hear that. That doesn’t happen to the Messiah. In their minds, when the Messiah comes, he ascends to the throne of David, throws off the yoke of their enemies, and reigns forever!

This was no small favor that James and John requested. They expected him to rule over the Kingdom of God forever, and they wanted to be the ones to sit at his side. In other words, they wanted their share of the glory they expected him to receive! To grasp the audacity of this request, we only have to think about all the heroes of the faith that had gone before them: Abraham, Moses, and David, not to mention prophets like Jeremiah. And there were James and John, wanting Jesus to move them to the head of the line so they could share his spotlight. It’s hard to imagine a more selfish request.

In response, Jesus tries again to teach them. He points out how “among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them” (Mk. 10:42). The way he words this statement implies a critique of power at all levels. On the surface, it’s clear what Jesus thought about the way in which those in power throw their weight around. Beyond that, the phrase “those whom they recognize as their rulers” could be translated more literally “those who seem to rule.” That could simply mean that they’re the ones in charge. But the way Jesus worded that phrase was a strange way to put it if that were all he meant to say. It is likely that he was alluding to a significant theme in the Jewish thought of the day: the rulers of this world only “seem” to rule, because God ultimately rules over them all, and God’s rule has the last word.

I think Jesus was trying to help the disciples see through the external trappings of power and glory for the sham that it is in the light of God’s Kingdom. And so he tells them bluntly: “it shall not be so among you” (Mk. 10:43, RSV)! Once again he tries to break through all their pre-conceived notions of what he had come to do. More than that, he tries to break through their own egos to impress upon them that if they want to follow him, they must be prepared to give themselves away as servants and even “slaves” of all (Mk. 10:44). And to reinforce the lesson, he once again pointed to his own destiny—giving his life on the cross for the sake of us all. Following him would entail no less for them. It would mean giving themselves away for others.

We still seem to be dazzled by power and glory. It appeals to the selfish desires of our egos: to have whatever we want in this life. But that is not the way of following Jesus. The way of following Jesus is the way that leads to a cross. It is the way that leads to becoming the last of all, the way that leads to becoming the servant and even the slave of all. I would say that just about everything within us resists this kind of self-denial. But Jesus not only called us to give ourselves away, he also demonstrated what that looks like by laying down his own life. If we are going to follow Jesus, it means that we will have to give ourselves away. That’s not an easy path. I can guarantee you that if you choose to follow Jesus in this way you will find yourself weary and frustrated and discouraged at some point. But Jesus didn’t promise that following him would be easy. He promised that if we follow him in the path of giving ourselves away for the sake of others, we will truly find life.

Monday, February 06, 2017

Following Jesus

Matthew 4:12-23[1]

I think most of us would have to admit we don’t much like being told what we “have” to do by someone else. We like the notion of being in charge of our own lives, free to do as we please. This isn’t something we have to learn. We see it emerge as soon as our children learn the words “me,” “my,” and “mine.” When our children insist that something is “mine,” we remind them that they must learn to share. And when they make the demand, “me first,” we teach them to take turns. Unfortunately there are many in our society who have intentionally embraced “Me, my, and mine” as a way of life. And there is a whole philosophical rationale for why “me first” is a valid approach to relationships.[2]

It may come as a shock to you how popular this point of view is in our society. What I find truly astonishing is how many self-professed Christians actually embrace this version of “morality.” And yet, I cannot think of anything more completely opposed to the teaching of Jesus. Jesus said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24).[3] By contrast, the prophets of self-interest advocate pursuing one’s own desires no matter what the cost or whom you may hurt in the process. Many of them actually believe that it is immoral to give up your own selfish interests to benefit someone else.

On the other hand, as our lesson reminds us today, Jesus came preaching a very different message. He called those who would follow him to devote their lives to loving others, to trusting God for their needs, to putting justice and mercy into practice for the “least of these.” Jesus called his disciples to “do to others as you would have them to do you” (Matt. 7:12). He called them to follow him in “laying down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:12) and in “loving your neighbor as yourself” (Matt. 22:39). Again, I must say that I cannot think of anything more different from the “philosophy” that defines selfishness as the greatest virtue.

The way Jesus expressed that call in our lesson for today was “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near” (Matt. 4:17). It could be said that this was a kind of “mission statement” for Jesus. All that he was about related to the rule of God’s justice, mercy, peace, and freedom. I will admit that “repent” is not a word that we use much in our daily vocabulary, except perhaps at church. But it was an integral factor in Jesus’ call to those who would follow him. In order for them to do so they would have to undergo a “radical change of heart and mind.”[4] The reason for this is that the only way they could follow him was by adopting a way of living that shuns the selfishness and self-interest that lies at the heart of so much of what is wrong with our world. I think most of us know that’s no easy task.

The reason for this radical change of life was that “the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Although “the kingdom of heaven” was the main subject of Jesus’ teaching, I’m afraid many of us may find it confusing. It sounds like something that exists in an otherworldly realm, some kind of home for angels living in a cloud city. But nothing could be further from the truth. The kingdom of heaven refers to the same thing as the “kingdom of God”: it’s God’s activity of reigning over our lives. And it’s something that happens here on earth. When the kingdom comes, God comes to rule in such a way that God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven.[5]

But that’s another part of the message that may not be so clear. Jesus says that the kingdom “has come near.” If you’re like many, you might be wondering whether it’s here or not. In part, Jesus recognized that God’s will is not yet fully done on earth as it is in heaven. That means that God’s kingdom is still on the way. According to the New Testament, it awaits its true fulfillment on the day when Jesus comes not as a humble servant but as the Lord of all creation. On that day, God’s kingdom will have come fully, because the prayer that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven will become a reality.

But the more pressing claim in Jesus message was that the kingdom of God is here. And the reason he knew that was because he was the one who was bringing it. In his teaching, in his healing miracles, in his very presence, Jesus brought the kingdom of God to all who would receive it.[6] In the light of this “Good News” Jesus called those who would follow him to radically change the way they lived. No longer could they go about their own business: they had to leave everything behind and follow him. When he said to the first disciples, “follow me,” it was not so much an invitation as a summons.[7] And they responded by obeying immediately. In fact, part of the point of this story is that this is the only appropriate response to the call to follow Jesus.

In our day, it would seem that not every follower of Jesus has to leave behind home, family, and livelihood in order to serve the kingdom. Some do receive that call. But all of us are called to the radical change of making the kingdom of God the primary focus of their lives. Following Jesus requires self-sacrifice: “denying ourselves and taking up our cross.” The kingdom of God demands that we serve not our wants and desires, but the needs of others. Obeying that call means putting into practice the mercy and compassion of God for the sake of the least and the lost and the left behind.[8] The message is clear: taking a “me first” approach to life is incompatible with following Jesus.

[2] The Russian-American author Ayn Rand is the current apostle of this self-interest taken to extreme. Among other fairly shocking facts, she infamously celebrated a cold-blooded murderer—not because he committed murder but because he believed that “what is good for me is right.” She wrote of him that “Other people do not exist for him, and he does not see why they should.” The disturbing part of this is that of many in our society and in our political context have embraced these ideals as expressed in her novels Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.

[3] Cf. Luke Johnson, Learning Jesus, 201: “The imitation of Christ in his life of service and suffering … is not an optional version of the Christian identity. It is the very essence of Christian identity.”

[4] Cf. W. D. Davis and Dale C. Allison, Matthew 1-7, 388.

[5] Cf. Davies and Allison, Matthew 1-7, 391-92, where they point out that in Matthew’s Gospel the phrases “kingdom of heaven,” “kingdom of God,” “kingdom of my Father,” “kingdom of the Son of Man,” and “the kingdom” all refer to the same thing: “God’s rule, present and coming.”

[6] Cf. Davies and Allison, Matthew 1-7, 390, where they summarize the “now but not yet” aspect of the kingdom of God in Jesus’ teaching by saying, “When Jesus announces that the kingdom of God has come and is coming, this means that the last act has begun but not yet reached its climax: the last things have come and will come.”

[7] Cf. Davies and Allison, Matthew 1-7, 397: “Jesus’ words, which contain no why, are not invitation. They are unconditional demand.”

[8] Cf. Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 283, where he says that following Jesus means that “I am learning from Jesus how to lead my life, my whole life, my real life.”

Monday, June 27, 2016

Tunnel Vision

Psalm 42[1]

One of the great pitfalls in any spiritual practice is that it can narrow our focus. If we’re not aware of this potential problem, it’s easy to fall into a pattern of thinking and praying primarily about our own concerns. When we do not find a way to check this tendency, our “spirituality” can actually become an extension of our self-interest, if not a kind of self-absorption.[2] I think one test we can apply is to pay attention how often we find ourselves praying with words like I, me, my, and mine. I would imagine most of us probably use those words in our prayers more that we realize, or would be comfortable admitting.

To some extent, I would have to say that when we use the Psalms as a source for our spiritual practice, they can actually contribute to this problem. So often the Psalms express the prayers of individuals, many times pouring out their hearts in fear or anguish or grief or even anger to God. We can learn a great deal from the way the psalmists pray—namely that we can bring all of our concerns and thoughts and feelings to God, and God is not offended by them. But if we’re not careful, we can also fall into a pattern of praying mainly for ourselves. We can develop a kind of spiritual tunnel vision.

Our Psalm for today is a beautiful prayer. It is actually one of my favorites. The psalmist pours out his heart to God in prayer, expressing a deep longing for God’s presence. The words are beautiful: “As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God?” (Psalm 42:1-2). This prayer conveys the psalmists longing for God’s presence in his life.[3] In fact, the psalmist is asking for God to restore him.[4] We don’t know what has happened, but apparently he is no longer able to take part in the procession to worship God. He has encountered some kind of significant loss.[5] And for that reason, he says “my soul is cast down within me” (Ps. 42:6).

It is a natural and healthy thing to turn to God in that kind of situation. Many of us have found ourselves in precisely that position, and may have voiced our prayer to God using the words of this very Psalm. And the hope in this Psalm is expressed in the refrain, “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God” (Ps. 42:5-6). It offers a reassurance we all find ourselves in need of from time to time—the promise that God has not abandoned us, and that at some point in the future we will indeed find our lives healed, restored, and renewed.

It is precisely because the Psalms express these sentiments in such beautiful ways that many throughout the ages have used them as a basis for pouring out their own prayers to God. And that is a good thing as well. But I’m afraid the fact that the language of the Psalms can at times take on an individual perspective—using words like I, me, my, and mine—is a factor that we have to be aware of if we’re going to use the Psalms in our prayers. If do not use them thoughtfully, we can find ourselves falling into a kind of self-absorption that is indeed one of the pitfalls of any faith.

In our lesson from the Hebrew Bible for today, we see precisely that kind of self-interest reflected in no less than the prophet Elijah! The ministry of Elijah marked one of the times in which the word of the LORD was most effective in the life of Israel. Among the prophets, he stands with Moses, Isaiah, and Jeremiah. And yet, after his dramatic stand-off with the prophets of Baal, he finds himself running for his life from Queen Jezebel. He flees into the wilderness, where he collapses from exhaustion. After being fed by an angel, he goes on to the mountain of God, and when God appears he asks Elijah, “What are you doing here?”

Elijah’s answer reflects the kind of tunnel vision we’re talking about today: “I have been very zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away” (1 Kings 19:10). This is one of the most common tendencies with spiritual tunnel vision: thinking that “I alone am left”! The LORD God reminds Elijah dramatically that in fact he had seven thousand faithful followers in Israel—Elijah was far from the only one![6] But after all the conflict and struggle he had been through, it was easy for him to think that he was alone.

When we go through hard times, we can feel like the Psalmist—we’re thirsty for God’s presence like one who is wandering in the desert. And in those times, it’s a good thing to turn to the words of the Psalms to give voice to our prayers. In fact, they have been a “school of prayer” for countless faithful believers throughout the ages.[7] But as we use the words of the Psalms to voice our prayers, we have to be aware that while they are the words of Scripture, they are also very human prayers. The benefit in the humanity of the Psalms is that we learn we can pour out our hearts to God, no matter what we’re feeling or thinking. The problem is that we can develop the kind of spiritual tunnel vision that Elijah displayed in his complaint to God. I think part of the answer to this problem is that we keep our focus on the God who is our hope and our help. God’s purposes in this world are much larger than our personal lives, and keeping our focus on that larger purpose can help us avoid the tendency we can all have to fall into tunnel vision.[8]

[2] Cf. Frederick W. Schmidt, What God Wants for Your Life, 3, where he laments that we live in “an increasingly first-person-singular world” and says (ibid., 4-5), “That is why the lives of some otherwise very sincere people often appear self-serving or self-absorbed—in spite of their interest in the will of God. They may focus energy on spiritual concerns in a way that they never have in the past, but the first-person-singular is still there, deeply at work in their spiritual DNA. The result is dissonance: spiritualized conversation about self-seeking goals, self-actualization disguised as service, lives that lack everything except the appearance of piety.” Cf. similarly, John D. Caputo, On Religion, 2-3, “a lot of supposedly religious people love nothing more than getting their own way and bending others to their own will (‘in the name of God’).”

[3] Cf. H.-J. Kraus, A Continental Commentary: Psalms 1–59, 439, where he says the image of an animal yearning for water is “an effective picture of the torment and the consuming desire with which the petitioner stretches out toward Yahweh.”

[4] Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 173: “The prayer is about the need of human life for the life that the living God bestows, revives, and preserves. Here it is understood and said very clearly that life depends on God.”

[5] Cf. Mays, Psalms, 174, where he points out that the question “Where is your God?” indicates “a situation in which those who trust in the LORD are put to shame in the presence of others because of some trouble that calls their faith into question. … The social, personal, and theological experience of the absence of God is the soul’s thirst.” Cf. also Peter S. Hawkins, “A Howl of Despair,” The Christian Century (June 6, 2001): 12, where he says, “The psalmist recalls times when his sense of the divine presence was so immediate and full that he felt as if he were beholding nothing less than the face of God. But that was then. Now all that he hears is the sound of his own dereliction—‘Why have you forgotten me?’— coming back to him in the relentless taunts of others: ‘Where is your God?’” Cf. further Kraus, Psalms 1-59, 439, where he mentions the common suggestion that the affliction involves some kind of physical illness.

[6] In the text of 1 Kings 19, Elijah experiences a great wind, an earthquake, and a fire, but “God was not in” any of them. Finally, he experiences a “gentle whisper” (1 Kg. 19:13, NIV) or “a hushed sound” (cf. Choon-Leong Seow, “The First and Second Books of Kings,” New Interpreters Bible III:142). Cf. Volkmar Fritz, A Continental Commentary: 1 & 2 Kings, 198: “Elijah recognizes the presence of Yahweh only in the hardly audible murmur. This statement is influenced by a reflection on the event of the presence of Yahweh and thus mediates a new image of God that moves beyond traditional views. One can experience God only in the silence that focuses the individual on himself or herself and on the act of listening; this silence is appropriate to the nature of God and to the experience of God through his word. God reveals himself mysteriously.”

[7] Cf. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, 47: “The Psalter is the great school of prayer.” Cf. Mays, Psalms, 126: “The life of prayer is incomplete unless there are supplications that say, ‘Teach me, instruct me, guide me, let me know.’” Cf. further Lawrence S. Cunningham, “Praying the Psalms,” Theology Today 46 (April 1989): 42, where he says that we are “members of a believing community who have inherited [the Psalms] as the prayerbook of the church. They are part of our lives because they were the prayers with which Jesus was familiar. They are part of our worship because they form an essential part of the church's fabric of prayer.

[8] Cf. J. Clinton McCann, Jr., “The Book of Psalms,” New Interpreters Bible IV: 641, where he recounts the story of how after Secretary-General of the United Nations Dag Hammarskjöld’s tragic death in a plane crash in 1961, they recovered among his personal effects a copy of the New Testament, a copy of the Psalms, and a copy of the United Nations Charter. He says, “Hammarskjöld apparently understood—quite correctly—that the book of Psalms presents nothing short of God’s claim upon the whole world and that it articulates God’s will for justice, righteousness, and peace among all peoples and all nations.” Cf. also Schmidt, What God Wants, 10-11: “Both the best and the worst of every culture and religious tradition either enlarge or constrict our ability to discern the presence of God in the world.” Cf. also ibid, 27, where he says that when we don’t focus on God’s larger purpose in this world by seeking to give the kind of love that meets others needs, “Our prayer life and our spiritual life becomes little more than the quest to find a life that we can find gratifying.”

Saturday, April 04, 2015

He Saved Others

Mark 15:22-39[1]

As we come to the conclusion of this season of introspection, not only must we confess that we can be strong-willed people. We must also confess that we can all be people driven by our self-interest. Or perhaps we should simply use the word we’d rather avoid: we can have a tendency to be selfish. Now, obviously, a certain amount of self-interest is healthy. Without it, we can simply become a doormat for anybody and everybody to walk all over. But the kind of self-interest I’m talking about doesn’t have anything to do with that. It’s what compels us to “look out for number one,” even when that means we ignore the consequences our actions have on others.

I think most of us would rather not have to admit that we can be selfish at times, but it is a part of our human condition. Often, I think we can be most selfish when we are least aware of it. Something triggers a deep-seated fear, or something makes us angry, and all we can see is our own concerns. We go into a kind of “tunnel vision” where we lose our ability to understand or even be aware of the needs and concerns of others. And the fact of the matter is, when we get into that mode, we can be incredibly unkind, thoughtless, and even downright mean. It’s a reality of human existence we’d rather not have to admit, but the truth is that we all have a selfish streak.

I guess the real question is what to do about it. Of course, the proverb that being aware of a problem is the first step in the right direction certainly helps. But I think if we really want to learn to step out of our selfish tendency, we need an example of how to do life differently. I think that’s where our Gospel lesson for today can help us. In it, we find a particularly distasteful episode where those who were present at Jesus’ death were ridiculing him. The soldiers mocked him by dressing him up like a king. The crowd made fun of him for claiming to be able to destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days. And the religious leaders scoffed at the idea that he could save anyone: “He saved others; he cannot save himself” (Mk. 15:31). In their minds the very fact that he was hanging on that cross meant that he couldn’t save anyone.[2]

And yet, I think that there is some irony going on in the way Mark tells the story of Jesus’ passion. We may not be used to seeing irony in the Bible, but I think it’s fairly common, especially in the Gospels. For example, in John’s Gospel, when the Jewish authorities decide to have Jesus executed, the high priest says, “You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed” (Jn. 11:50). John is quick to point out that the High Priest wasn’t aware of the real truth of what he was saying. I think that there’s something like that going on in our lesson for today.[3] Think of it: of course Jesus couldn’t save himself. If he had saved himself, he wouldn’t have saved “others”, which includes the ones who were mocking him, and all the rest of us as well.[4]

What the crowds at the foot of Jesus’ cross failed to recognize was that our God is one who saves us through suffering love. The God who never quits loving us is a God who suffers with and for us.[5] Part of the mystery of our faith is that it was God who was suffering on that cross. God suffers on behalf of people like you and me because that’s who God is—a God of suffering love. The reason why God suffers for us is because the only real way to break the power of evil in this world is to absorb it.[6] As one of our confessions puts it, in the cross, an “abyss” of sin and violence and anguish has been “swallowed up by the suffering of divine love.”[7]

The challenge is that all this runs completely contrary to what we expect from our faith. The fact of the matter is that when we make the decision to follow Jesus, we are choosing to follow a man who was ridiculed, humiliated, and ultimately executed.[8] That’s not what we expect as the “reward” for our piety. Like others before us, we assume that if we practice our faith, we will benefit from it not only spiritually but also tangibly. Our lives will be “blessed by God,” which means we will be spared the suffering of those who go their own way and ignore God’s truth. But the plain truth is that we live in a world where following Christ—really following Christ and not just “playing” at discipleship—means that we must expect to face the “contradiction” of the world in which we live.[9] If we follow a Savior who was ridiculed and humiliated, opposed and executed, then we must recognize that we are exposing ourselves to ridicule and humiliation, opposition and even hostility.

I think it also means that we are called to follow Jesus in his willingness to save others rather than saving himself. Jesus said it this way: “those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it” (Mk. 8:35). The suffering Savior who served the suffering God calls us all to be suffering servants, taking on the suffering of others in order to help them find the salvation Jesus offers.[10] That’s how we “deny ourselves and take up our cross and follow him” (Mk. 8:34). That can be difficult. It can be painful. But giving up our self-interest on behalf of those around us is how we become part of our Savior’s work of saving others.

[2] Cf. Craig A. Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, 505: “If Jesus can’t save himself, how can he build another temple? How can he restore Israel? The mere fact of the crucifixion appears flatly to contradict Jesus’ previous preaching and prophesying.” Cf. similarly Joel Marcus, Mark 8-16, 1052: “the chief priests and scribes imply that Jesus cannot be ‘the Christ, the King of Israel,’ because he cannot save himself.”

[3] Cf. also Adela Y. Collins & Harold W. Attridge, Mark: A Commentary on the Gospel of Mark, 748, where they point out that “For the evangelist and his audiences, however, the inscription [“the king of the Jews”] is ironic, because it unwittingly expresses the truth that Jesus is a king.

[4] Cf. Marcus, Mark 8-16, 1052: “the mockery in 15:31-32a ironically expresses the deepest secret of Markan soteriology: the compassionate deliverer of his people, ‘the Christ, the King of Israel,’ must save others through his atoning death, and therefore he cannot save himself by descending from the cross.” Cf. also Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.2:602: “His mission as Messiah and Son of Man is fulfilled along the lines of Is. 53. There is no question of His by-passing death and the grave. He has to tread this road to the bitter end. He is as helpless in face of death as any other man. Nor would he be the Son of God—of a God friendly to man—if he were not ‘obedient even unto death’ (Phil. 2:8).” Cf. similarly, M. Eugene Boring, “The Gospel of Matthew,” New Interpreters Bible VIII:491.

[5] Cf. also Paul Knitter, Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian, 126: “The God embodied in Jesus suffers not only for the victims of the world; this God suffers like them and with them.”

[6] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 91, 95; Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, 246, 277.

[7] Cf. “The Study Catechism, Full Version” Approved by the 210th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (U. S. A.), (1998), question 45.

[8] Cf. Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.2:167: “His power is present to men in the form of weakness, His glory in that of lowliness, His victory in that of defeat. The final concealment is that of His suffering and death as a condemned criminal. He who alone is rich is present as the poorest of the poor. As the exalted Son of Man He did not deny the humiliation of the Son of God, but faithfully represented and reflected it even to the minutest details.” Cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 109–110: “On the cross [Jesus] dies in forsakenness by God and man. Or is this the greatest of all the miracles, the all-embracing healing? ‘He bore our sicknesses and took upon himself our pains … and through his wounds we are healed’ (Isa. 53:4, 5). This was how the gospels saw it. So Jesus heals not only through ‘power’ and ‘authority’ but also through his suffering and helplessness.”

[9] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 21: “Faith, wherever it develops into hope, causes not rest but unrest, not patience but impatience. It does not calm the unquiet heart, but is itself this unquiet heart in man. Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it, to contradict it.”

[10] Cf. Walter Wink, The Powers That Be, 124, 134-35.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Truly Free

1 Corinthians 9:16-23[1]

A recent column in the local paper bemoaned the sad state of affairs in the generation of people born between 1980 and 2000, known as the “Millenials.”[2] In it, the author complains about the fact that they are more interested in the number of their Facebook friends than in actually working for a living. While I realize the column was meant to be somewhat tongue in cheek, I also know that much of what was said there is repeated over and over by those of us with grey in our hair. It’s true that many young people have a different outlook on life than people in my generation. But then my generation had a different outlook than those who preceded us. It seems every generation has challenges with their children and grandchildren.

Often the complaint that we level against younger generations is that they are narcissistic or self-absorbed. The common gripe these days is that they have a sense of entitlement. They think they “deserve” a spot on the team or a good grade or a job with a good salary. And yet, I’m not so sure that those of us criticizing them have a better attitude in this respect.[3] I would say we all have some sense of entitlement. We all believe we have certain rights that ought not be violated. Just think about how you feel when someone cuts you off while driving by pulling into “your” lane.

I think that we as a people tend to believe that’s what it means to be truly “free”: we have certain rights that others have to respect.[4] In fact, our whole culture is founded on this notion that we possess certain “inalienable” rights. But as the world changes and especially as our economy changes some of us realize that the “rights” we thought we were guaranteed are evaporating before our very eyes. If we define our freedom by our rights, I’m afraid one day most of us are going to wake up and be deeply disappointed. When we define our freedom by the “rights” we can assert, it seems to me that we’re not truly free at all.

But our lesson from St. Paul for today casts freedom in a totally different light. Rather than grasping tightly to his rights as an apostle of Jesus Christ, St. Paul defined true freedom in terms of giving up whatever “rights” he might be able to claim. This is a continuation of our lesson from last week, where Paul insisted that the true meaning of our lives is to emulate the love God has poured into our hearts through Jesus Christ by choosing to love others. In that context, he was addressing a problem in the church at Corinth: some of them felt “free” to take part in idol feasts, while others were definitely troubled by such behavior. And so Paul urged those who were claiming the right to exercise their freedom in Christ to forego that perceived “right” and to think not just about themselves but about the welfare of others.[5]

Here he presents himself as a prime example of that kind of life. As an apostle, there was an expectation that he had the “right” to receive financial support from the churches he was serving. Although St. Paul did occasionally receive gifts from churches he had formerly served, he made it a practice never to accept support from the church he was currently serving. Instead, he worked to provide for himself as a tent-maker, which was considered a rather menial job. In fact, some of the people in the church at Corinth probably saw it as beneath the stature of an apostle.

And yet, St. Paul insisted on carrying out his calling in this way, even though it caused problems on more than one occasion.[6] One reason for this was that Paul felt himself compelled by the free gift of grace he received from God, compelled to offer the gospel to others as a free gift.[7] In our lesson for today in fact he says that his service as an apostle was not something he chose to do “of his own will,” but rather that he felt a certain obligation because he was “entrusted with a commission” (1 Cor. 9:17). In fact, he felt so strongly about this that he could say, “woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel!” (1 Cor. 9:16).

Another reason for Paul’s unusual and somewhat controversial practice was that he felt it was essential for promoting the gospel.[8] He makes it clear that he found his freedom not by insisting on certain rights as an Apostle or as a Jewish Christian with a distinguished heritage, or even as a Roman citizen. Rather, he makes it clear that he could “become all things to all people” (1 Cor. 9:22) for the sake of the gospel. He could do this, he could hold even his cultural roles and personal identity loosely, because he believed that being truly free means letting go all those structures and defining lines and giving up any “rights” that might go along with them in order to serve the body of Christ.
Our world seems obsessed with “rights.” But as St. Paul makes clear, we do not find true freedom by insisting on our “rights.” In this, the Apostle is not striking out on a totally new path. Rather he can say later that he essentially wants them to “follow me as I follow Christ” (1 Cor. 11:1).[9] Jesus set the example of giving up what one might be able to consider “rightfully mine” in order to serve others (cf. Phil. 2:5-8). His is the ultimate story of giving up his “rights” in order to serve others. I think the same principle applies to our lives. If we want to be “truly free,” we will not find that freedom by grasping our “rights” as if we are entitled to them. Rather, when we give up what we might consider “rightfully mine” in order to serve others, then we will be “truly free.”[10]

[2] Lee Pitts, “Generation Why,” Voice News 8 January 2015, p. 7.

[3] Cf. Drew Foster, “Millenial Entitlement Is A Myth,” Salon, Saturday, September 28, 2013, accessed at http://www.salon.com/2013/09/28/millennial_entitlement_is_a_myth/.

[4] Cf. John Paul II, in “The Gospel of Life,” 19.3, said that we have “a notion of freedom which exalts the isolated individual in an absolute way, and gives no place to solidarity, to openness to others and service of them.” See J. Michael Miller, C. S. B., The Encyclicals of John Paul II, 808.

[5] Joop F. M. Smit, “The Rhetorical Disposition of First Corinthians 8:7-9:27,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 59 (July 1997): 486: “If Paul and Barnabas renounce at all costs their legitimate and undisputed right to eat and drink, in order not to be of hindrance to the gospel, then in imitation of them the Corinthians certainly ought to renounce their presumed right to eat and drink, in order to avoid putting a stumbling block in the path of their weak brothers.” Cf. also Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians, 148.

[6] Cf. Hays, First Corinthians, 147: “Paul did not fit readily into any recognizable job description within the culture of the Corinthians.”

[7] Cf. Hays, First Corinthians, 147: “Paul decided early in his apostolic career to … [work] with his own hands to earn his living … supplemented by occasional unsought gifts from some of his churches …. This was a relatively unusual choice …, and the Corinthian correspondence shows that it proved controversial.” Cf. also Hans Conzelmann, 1 Corinthians: A commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians, 158; Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.2:203.

[8] Cf. Hays, First Corinthians, 148: “Paul’s self-description serves as a model for the conduct that he is urging on the strong: like him, they should be willing to surrender their exousia [right/authority] for the sake of the weak in order to promote the gospel.”

[9] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, On Human Dignity: Political Theology and Ethics, 43: “in correspondence to the servanthood of Jesus, Paul conceived of his own apostolic activity as work. The proclamation of the gospel is a necessity (ananke), which he cannot escape (1 Cor. 9:16f.). Therefore in this service he becomes a “servant of Jesus Christ” (Rom. 1:1). The apostolic work carries all the marks of the servanthood of Christ.”

[10] See especially Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit; this is a theme that runs throughout his discussion of the church’s identity and calling. He begins the idea that Jesus establishes the freedom of God’s kingdom by sacrificing himself for others (117), by breaking the powers of oppression through the resurrection (98-99), and by assuring us that we are accepted by God, and therefore enabling us to accept others (188-89). On this basis Moltmann understands the freedom of God’s kingdom as that which enables us to serve one another in the effort to bring freedom to others (84, 195, 278, 283-84, 292); he construes this life under the concept of “friendship” which Jesus models and we are called to emulate those who are “open for others” and who “love in freedom” (121, 316). I would suggest that this idea of freedom to love is a central theme in Moltmann’s understanding of the Christian life.

Saturday, October 04, 2014

Forgetting Ourselves

Philippians 2:1-13[1]

I find it interesting that the people who study social trends in our culture identified the generation that came of age in the 1980’s as the “me generation.” After the oil shortages of the late 70’s ended, the decade of the 80’s was a time of unprecedented prosperity for many in our country. What were once luxuries became necessities. More and more homes had microwave ovens and personal computers. Cars became increasingly more “loaded” with features, which also “loaded” the price tag. For the first time, “Upward Mobility” became clearly visible, as couples with two careers and no children began buying cars and houses that were more expensive than anything their parents ever dreamed of owning. There were a lot of people living “Life in the Fast Lane.”[2]

And yet, I’m not sure calling that age group the “me generation” is fair. Yes, it was an age of excess, but I think to some extent they got a bad rap. It seems to me the truth is that every generation has its own version of self-serving behaviors. We may not acknowledge that our actions are self-serving, even to ourselves. But the sages and prophets throughout the centuries have been able to see through our disguises and have pointed out that being self-serving is fundamental to the nature of what it means to be human. They’ve done so, and they’ve called us to a different way of living, a way defined by setting aside our selfish obsessions and serving others.

I believe that’s a major part of what St. Paul was telling the believers at Philippi in our lesson for today. He used the example of Jesus humbling himself, emptying himself, ultimately giving up his life for us all as the pattern for the kind of “mindset” that defines the Christian life.[3] And on the basis of Christ’s example, he called those who professed to follow him to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil. 1:12). That may sound strange to those of us who are used to hearing that salvation is a gift from God. But I think what St. Paul had in mind was that our salvation is a process by which we are continually being conformed to the character that Jesus Christ exhibited in his life.

If you’re wondering what that looks like, I think Paul answers that question at the very beginning of the lesson. I like the way Gene Peterson puts it in The Message: “If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care--then do me a favor: ... Don’t push your way to the front; .... Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. ... Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand” (Phil. 2:1-4). When you hear it that way, it sounds like quite a challenge!

So, if the sages and prophets are right in pointing out that we all are fundamentally self-serving, then how do we accomplish this feat of “forgetting ourselves,” or “putting ourselves aside”? It might seem like that kind of conversion, a transformation that runs to the very core of our being, would be impossible for us to achieve. Who of us ever really ever gets past our selfishness? And yet, even in the midst of the challenge Paul proposes, he reminds us that “it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:13). Or as the Contemporary English Version puts it: “God is working in you to make you willing and able to obey him.” In other words, salvation is still something God does in us, even when it comes to “forgetting ourselves” and serving others. It is God’s marvelous and mysterious work of “conforming us to the image of His Son” (Rom. 8:29).[4]

And yet, even though this is God’s work in us, we still have a part in “working out our own salvation.” Some call our part in this ongoing conversion process “becoming what you are in Christ.”[5] Or as another translation puts it, this is a matter of “putting into action God’s saving work in your lives” (Phil. 2:12, New Living Translation). It is always true that salvation is a gift that comes from God’s grace and mercy. But at the same time it is also true that we have to respond to God’s grace.[6]

Again, if you’re wondering what it means to “put into action God’s saving work in your life,” then I think we have to go back to what St. Paul’s point was in the beginning. He calls us all to “put ourselves aside.” He calls us all to move beyond the selfishness that is our fundamental nature. He calls us all to get past our own self-serving behaviors. And I think the essential clue to how we do that is found in his description of what Christ did. St. Paul says that he “emptied himself” (Phil. 2:7). That might make it as clear as mud for many of you. Just how does one “empty oneself”? In Jesus’ case, he did so by surrendering his rights and claims and giving his life for us all.[7]

I think that the key to all of this is a matter of surrender.[8] At some point in life, if we’re going to get past our inherent selfishness, we have to surrender. We have to surrender what we think we want out of life. We have to surrender the willfulness of thinking we should get our own way. That opens up the door for us to be grateful for life as it is. It makes it possible for us to be thankful for the new life God is working out in us continually. And it seems to me that when we become grateful people, then we can follow Christ’s example in the way we live and interact with those around us. Then we can “put into action God’s saving work in our lives.” Then we can “forget ourselves” and serve others.

[2] For further details, see the Wikipedia article, “Me Generation”; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Me_generation. The phrase “Life in the Fast Lane” is the title of a song recorded by The Eagles on the album “Hotel California,” Asylum Records, 1976

[3] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 2.1:517; 4.1:635. Cf. also Jürgen Moltman, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 103, where he describes this in terms of “selfless service” that follows the example of Jesus’ sacrifice. See also Morna Hooker, “The Letter to the Philippians,” New Interpreters Bible XI:499, where she points out that this kind of humility was not viewed as a virtue in the Greco-Roman world, but rather as a kind of servility.

[4] Cf. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship (DBW 4), 282: “To those who have heard the call to be disciples of Jesus Christ is given the incomprehensibly great promise that they are to become like Christ. They are to bear his image as the brothers and sisters of the firstborn Son of God. To become like Christ--that is what disciples are ultimately destined to become.”

[5] Cf. Morna Hooker, “The Letter to the Philippians,” New Interpreters Bible XI:499

[6] Cf. Hooker, “Letter to the Philippians,” NIB XI:512: in Phil. 2:5-11 Paul outlines “the gracious action of God in Christ, but that gracious action demands a response—what Paul elsewhere describes as ‘the obedience of faith’ (Rom 1:5). The Philippians are to complete what God has done by living it out in their own lives.”

[7] Jesus’ ultimate surrender came in facing his impending death with the prayer “Not my will but thine be done,” and by dying with the prayer, “Into your hands I commend my spirit,” both of which reflect ultimate trust in God. Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 144, where he paraphrases the latter prayer as “it is up to you, God, what becomes of me, and I am willing to have it so.” Cf. also Gerald F. Hawthorne, Philippians, 122: Jesus’ whole life “was characterized by self-surrender, self-renunciation, and self-sacrifice.” Cf. further Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, 360.

[8] Cf. John Caputo, On Religion, 9, where he observes that our encounter with God moves us “beyond the sphere in which we have some mastery….” Cf. also Richard Rohr, Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, 8: “To finally surrender ourselves to healing, we have to have three spaces opened up within us--and all at the same time: our opinionated head, our closed-down heart, and our defensive and defended body.” Cf. further Paul F. Knitter, Without Buddha I Could not Be a Christian, 185-86.

The Waking Dreamer