Sunday, December 22, 2013

Forgotten Ramp, or Why I Almost Died Today

Advent - Week 4

I am amazed, after living almost my whole life in the Great Lakes, how surprised we still are by winter.  It's as if we were unsure that it was coming, and when it hits, we're not prepared for its awesome intensity.  I've had many years now, white knuckle car-skiing to work.  I step out of my little car, my teeth ground down to the size of corn niblets, trying to unclench my jaw.  And yet, our house is here.

What makes it so treacherous is that the one exit ramp I take to get off the highway is routinely forgotten.  If I were to go east, salt.  Going west?  Well, it's a crap shoot.  It leads to the largest artery west out of town, and yet...good luck to me.  I don't understand it.  I pray my way through it every winter.  My son gleefully yells from the back, "Weee!"  And when I'm in the car by myself...I pray for forgiveness.

How can that circular piece of important winter driving chicanery get passed over so often?  Unbelievable!

Today, as I was trying not to curse on my way to work, I was convicted.

That yawning, punched by Jesus in the gut convicted.  I sat in the church parking lot feeling a bit like a phony.

You see - there's only one ramp to understanding the big deal about Jesus.  It's the lavish love of the Father.  Jesus becomes not only a big deal, but THE deal, when we understand how much God loves us in such an insane way.

It's the forgotten ramp to the Father.

I would rather believe in a God that is impressed by my good works, angry at my horrible thoughts, and possibly slightly indifferent to the times when I'm lost.  How is that even possible?

Paul tells the church of the Colossians and those in Laodicea that he is contending hard for them.  He reminds them that God, when they were in the middle of their ultimate corruption and sin, made us alive in Christ.  "He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it ALL away, nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13 - 14).  That is insane love, lavish.

So why do I trade that away for a cheap replica of Jesus?  Why would I think that God, as my Father and redeemer of my soul, would now tell me to get it together - shape up or ship out.  Earn it.  Do more.  Get it together.  I am driving at some ridiculous pace of self-management that I completely miss THE on-ramp to understanding the loving grace of my good God.  It's what separates us from every other religion.

We don't get to earn it.  We just don't.  Because that would mean God is not enough. That Jesus didn't cover everything on the cross.  It makes God cruel - to send his only son to kinda cover all my errant ways, but maybe not, through a horrific death.

So there I sat in the parking lot, in the dawn's early light.

Merriam-Webster has this for the definition of lavish: "bestowing profusely", "produced in abundance", "marked by profusion or excess" - see PRODIGAL.

The love of God is bestowed - given, not earned.  It is produced in abundance - made over and above what is necessary.  It is profuse, excessive.  It is prodigal.

That is why Jesus is such a big deal.  That is love.  That's the only ramp - the only way to get out of the behavior management we've dumbed down Christianity to.  Let's get out of it together.  Let's experience love.  Let's experience Jesus.

"But God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." - Romans 5:8

Merry Christmas.

Eliza Cortes Bast


Sunday, December 15, 2013

2, Maybe 3 Awkward Gifts

As I anxiously opened the festive wrapping, my fifteen year old heart could barely keep it together.  We were crowded at Grandma's who had spent extra time this year making sure she got us "cool" gifts.  I was optimistic.

I was also baffled.  Cool is so relative.  And fickle.  And fleeting.

"Thanks G-ma."  I couldn't believe my eyes as I sat holding a crimper.  My late 80's counterparts - I can hear you crying foul on me right now.  But ladies and gents, you have to understand.  You see, I'm Puerto Rican.

I mean, tan skinned, brown eyed, wild haired Latina.  If there is one drop of moisture in the atmosphere, my hair immediately looks like broccoli or Dora the Explorer.  There's no in-between.  It is the epitome of curled frenzy.

A crimper for ANYONE else would have been a cool gift.  As I looked at the hot pink handle and my Grandma's beaming face, it was just...well...awkward.

We've all been there.  In the face of a beloved person who has bestowed on us the very best of what they offered, only to be shocked at the complete randomness of it all.  I've seen t-shirts with the taco bell dog given to grown women, living room throws with kittens, and a sweatshirt (yes) with an attached hand-sewn Christmas tree made out of some sort of rag material.  Well meaning gifts.  Heartfelt gifts.  But believe me when I say the names are left out to protect both the guilty and their victims.

When the writer of the Gospel account of Matthew starts into the second chapter, we see wise men visiting the baby Jesus with gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  We sing about it every year.  And just this morning I was stopped cold.  What kind of gifts are those?  Gold, sure.  No one is going to say no to gold.

Frankincense and myrrh?  Sounds like a crimper to me.

Both are derived from particular trees found in Northern Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, and possibly China.  Used in ancient rituals, both were used for medicinal purposes and were highly sought after.  Frankincense was believed to cure almost everything from a toothache to leprosy.  Myrrh, on the other hand, was also used for embalming.  At the time of Jesus's birth, it is believed that these were more expensive and valuable then the gold.

A cure-all and a balm for the dead.  Was Joseph thinking he could sell this stuff if times were tight?  Was Mary wondering if there was sickness in the air?  Did Melchior turn to the other wise men and say, "Seriously, guys?"

Yet who knows if this is the gold that helped them survive their exile in Egypt while they fled the hateful Herod to protect their infant son.  Who knows if this frankincense was a sign that this little baby would become the great Physician to heal those wounded in body and broken in heart?  And who can say that the myrrh didn't sit on a shelf in the house, where a growing Jesus would look at it and be reminded that he would die one day for his mom, his dad, those wise men, and the rest of the world?

Two, maybe three awkward gifts - precious.  Purposeful.  Prophetic.

So perhaps Joseph saw the gold and realized they would need to run.  Mary saw the frankincense and realized there would be no hometown physician to help her and her infant son - they would need healing on the go.  And maybe both looked at the myrrh and felt their heart ache as they realize every dream, every visitation would be true.  They gave birth to one who would pay the ultimate price.  Life for lives.  Until death.

Eliza Cortes Bast

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

The Thick of Foes

This may not seem much like an advent post.  It may seem completely incongruous with the Spirit of Christmas.  The "thick of foes" feels way more epic, like a Lord of the Rings chapter or something from the Game of Thrones.

And here we are.  It's Christmas.  And I'm reading Bonhoeffer.

He opens with, "Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies."  As the staff prayed together for Sunday's sermon, I'm struck by the Jesus who not only lived in the midst of his enemies, but was born in the midst of the enemy Herod and died in the company of a mocker.  The gospel accounts are no less expressive with stories pock-marked by people who wanted to throw him off of cliffs, friends who deserted him, family who questioned him, people who talked about his "shameful" conception, and those that just plain hated him.  The thick of foes.

We think of places around the world that are still hostile to the life-giving, life-breathing message of Jesus.  Foreign places with foreign names that we may never see but we pray for or send money to.  Enemies of the gospel, enemies of the message of hope.  But Jesus would be there.

And in familiar places, like Michigan, Kalamazoo, Portage, Dowagiac, Grand Rapids...places I drive to on the weekends, shop in, eat at.  They are full of enemies too.  Friends of Jesus that deserted him.  Family members who are now hurling hateful questions.  People that talk about him shamefully.  People that hate Jesus.  Yet he would be there too.

So where am I this Christmas season?  I can say I've been to the far off countries.  But where am I here, with my familiar foes?  Worse yet, what are those things that sit quietly in the corners of my heart that turn it from fertile soil to enemy territory?

James 4:4 warns us about friendship with the world making us enemies of God.  When I buy into the worldly way of doing business, desiring revenge, bypassing grace, putting myself first, I embrace the fast friendship the world has to offer.  When I worry more about buying the right gifts, giving with regret, having things my way, I introduce to the Christmas table a new friend and a new enemy.

I am so grateful for a Jesus who did not shy away from his enemies.  I can't sanitize my corrupted Christmas heart and make excuses.  There are days when I have to ask the prince of peace to be reborn anew in the unfriendly fire of my weary holiday heart.  And he doesn't shrink or shake.  He comes and corrects and cleans.  He cares.

I'm not going to nail it everyday.  I'm grateful for the grace that says that that is ok.  But I DO know that I want to be more friend than foe.  And I want to bring that friend to everyone I know, right here, right now.  Paul sums up this epic struggle to live everyday in that grace to the church in Galatia, and tells them how it's possible - the great mystery and love of our King Jesus: I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. - Galatians 2:20

Eliza Cortés Bast