The preparations have been made. The Passover Feast has begun. Jesus knew this would be his last Passover with the disciples, and this meal certainly wasn’t the only thing on his mind. The cross loomed tall and imposing in his near future, and he knew his time was short.

The disciples on the other hand were clueless as usual. Maybe they were semi-conscious of the strange things Jesus kept saying and how he’d been acting, but the one thing you could count on with the disciples was how oblivious they were. Typical males, right?

The disciples were looking forward to celebrating another Passover with Jesus. It was always a memorable time of eating and laughing, relaxing around the table, and reflecting on the goodness of God.

So here they are again, gathered together, gathered round the table, ready to begin the ceremonial meal. We are familiar with how the story begins. Jesus gets up from the table, wraps a towel around his waist, pours water into a basin, and proceeds to wash the disciples’ feet.

Now this would have caught the disciples off guard; this was out of the ordinary. It seems out of the ordinary for us, too, but for different reasons. We are not accustomed to this custom; we are used to washing our own feet, not having someone else do that.

In Bible times, when you were a guest in someone’s home, they took it upon themselves to wash your feet. The purpose was to be hospitable, to be a good host, and to honor your guests and make them feel welcome, comfortable, and at home during their stay in your house. And after a long day of walking dirt roads in sandals, having clean feet makes everything better.

This practice of being a good host to guests is one we still practice today, even if it looks different. We welcome our guests when they arrive, we take their coats, we invite them to sit down, we offer them food and drink. Things really haven’t changed that much.

While our Bible-times-host wanted to make sure his guests had clean feet and were comfortable, the actual washing of their feet was not something the host ever did. It was beneath the host; it was not proper for a free man to stoop so low.

So the job of washing feet was given to the servant or the slave, and always the lowest one on the totem pole. If a family did not have the means to have their own servants, the job fell to the lady of the household or the children. Never the man of the house.

This is why the disciples were shocked. This is why Peter resisted. The one they held as their King was stooping down to do the job of a worthless slave? Not on Peter’s watch.

But let’s look at this event from the perspective of Jesus.

More than likely, this is the first meal Jesus has hosted for his disciples. Jesus still lived at home with his mom. He didn’t have a place of his own, so he would not have had occasion to be a host.

But Jesus is hosting this meal. He ordered the preparations. He rented the space.

And as host, the responsibilities of taking care of the guests fall to him. Finding someone to wash everyone’s feet is his job.

But he doesn’t find someone. Whether this slipped his mind or was part of his plan all along, there is no servant in the room to wash feet.

I wonder if the disciples picked up on this. I wonder if they kept looking around the room nervously, trying hard not to make eye contact with Jesus, afraid he would ask them to get up and do this humiliating job?

I imagine it might have been similar to when you go out to eat with friends, and the food arrives, and everyone just stares awkwardly at their plate until someone finally offers to pray for the meal. I imagine it might have been like that.

So then Jesus gets up and does what comes naturally for him. He doesn’t think twice about it. He does not see it as something beneath him.

Of course he doesn’t. He himself once said, “For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve.”

It is perfectly natural for Jesus to wash their feet. It is his very nature, his character, to humbly serve others no matter if it costs him his time, his reputation, or his life.

And he does not limit his service only to those who would call him friend. He lowers himself even before Judas, and serves and loves and hopes for the best while being aware of the worst.

Afterwards, he says to his followers, “I have given you the ultimate example of how you are to be. Serve each other just as I have served you.”

While we may or may not literally follow Jesus’ example of washing feet, we are not to just be copycats of Jesus. We are called to be like Jesus. Just as his natural response and reaction was to serve his neighbor, so we should be seeking to become more like him so that our natural responses and reactions look like his.

Our kids ate it up. They absolutely loved it.

I was surprised by how much it affected them. They were so excited to see what they used to be like, and enjoyed laughing and mimicking themselves. But what seemed to affect them the most was seeing how enthralled Kelly and I were with them on the video. At different times they would snuggle in closer to us, and this whole past week they have been extra cuddly and loving.

But the thing is, our kids have no idea how we really feel about them.

They know they are loved, but they don’t know we love them to the moon and back. They can’t grasp the intensity of our feelings for them. They don’t realize we would do anything for them, that we wouldn’t hesitate to die for them, or how impossible it would be for us to live without them.

I resonate with what Elizabeth Stone once said about being a parent: “It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

At this stage of their lives, they simply don’t have the perspective to fully understand how loved and cherished they are. And it really has nothing to do with anything other than that they are our Addi, Levi, and Micah.

Maybe someday if they have children of their own they will know these kinds of feelings.

You and I are in the same boat when it comes to how God, our Heavenly Father, feels about us.

You have no idea how God really feels about you.

Sure, you know He loves you, and maybe that thought moves you to tears, but you still can’t fully grasp how loved and cherished you are.

Sure, you know all about Christmas and Easter, and maybe you have experienced some of the most overwhelming, intimate times with God, but you are still incapable of comprehending the fullness of God’s love for you. And it really has nothing to do with anything other than that you are His.

Maybe someday when we are finally face to face with Him we will be better able to understand that kind of love. But I would guess not.

It will have to be enough to know we are loved. And to long for those times of intimacy and enjoy those grace-filled moments when we feel His love. And to share that love with the world that God loves just as much as He loves you and me.

Our theme was ‘IKON,’ unpacking what it means to be made in the image of God and what it means that we are being re-made in the image of Christ. Our speakers did a great job making the concepts understandable and applicable, and students were embracing it!

We, the church, are the image-bearers of Christ to the world. We are to live as He lived and be the place where heaven kisses earth. This is the mission He gave us; this is why the Spirit of God has been sent, that the power and presence of God goes where we go.

But last Friday, as we ended the last session and went our separate ways, was bittersweet. Early that morning, I had received a text from my wife asking if I had heard about the shooting in Aurora. The bubble we had lived in all week suddenly burst. The reality of life in this world was a cruel slap across the face.

We stopped at an Arby’s for lunch on our way back home, and there were televisions on reporting what had taken place in that movie theater in Colorado. I couldn’t take my eyes from the screen, and I couldn’t keep my mind from spinning.

A thought flashed through my mind. And not the typical, “Where’s God?” thought we have when we come face-to-face with evil and horror of this magnitude. We ask how God could allow this to happen. We wrestle with the problem of evil and a good God who is supposedly in charge of this world.

But what flashed through my mind was a different thought:

This is my fault.

This is our fault.

Where was the church? 

If the church was being who the church has been called by God to be, this could have been avoided.

What if someone had come alongside James Holmes at some point in his life, and God had gotten ahold of him?

What if at the tipping point of his life, the people of God had been walking beside him, sticking with him and being God-in-the-flesh for him?

Where was the church? It’s the same question we should ask ourselves as we hear about the ripple effect taking place at Penn State.

I know it’s all speculation, and at the end of the day people choose to reject or follow God of their own accord, but I also believe it’s the right question for us to be asking at times like this.

And I believe we can see that this is the right question as we trace the storyline of Scripture and look at God’s history with the earth and His plan for mankind.

We must begin by stating the obvious: heaven is not earth.

The differences between heaven and earth are not simply due to the Fall in Genesis 3. From the very beginning, how God ruled in heaven was different from how God planned to rule on earth (Genesis 1:26-28). God created humanity to rule on earth for Him.

It was the responsibility He gave to Adam and Eve that they subsequently rejected in their rebellious act of spurning God’s headship over them and choosing their own path.

It was the responsibility He gave to the people of Israel (Exodus 19:3-6) that they also failed to fulfill and led to their exile to Babylon.

It was the responsibility that Jesus the Christ perfectly fulfilled, fulfilling perfectly the covenant God made with Abraham and announcing to all who would listen that finally in Him the Kingdom of God was here.

It was the responsibility Jesus passed on to His disciples, breathing into them the Spirit of God, re-making them to carry out this mission (John 20:22-23).

Today, it is still the responsibility of the church to fulfill to the best of her ability until the day Jesus comes back and makes all things new (Revelation 21:1-5).

When we ask the question, “Where’s God?”, we are putting at least some of the responsibility on God for allowing this to happen. I would contend that as the people of God we should be taking responsibility for not preventing it from happening. We need to realize the heavy urgency of the mission we have been given, and maybe we need an act of evil of this magnitude to rouse us from our slumber of complacency.

Not to beat ourselves up for our past failures or to wonder what might have been, but to humbly recognize what God has asked of us and rise up out of these ashes and become at last who we have been called to be.

May it be through the church that God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven. 

We’re back in the Dominican, and it’s good to be back. I will never get tired of seeing students getting a taste of serving others, seeing their arms and their hearts go out to these little ones.

I will never get tired of giving myself in this way either. We are so limited in what we can do in such a short time and with the language barrier, but what a blessing to pour ourselves out in an effort to show our love and share God’s love. It is sweet water to my thirsty soul.

We head to English church this morning, then Bombita this afternoon for home visits. Monday and Tuesday we will do VBS both mornings and visit two other neighborhoods in the afternoons. We get to pass out many of the things we brought Tuesday afternoon at Palm Village, one of the places I’m most looking forward to returning to.

And then we leave for home. It will all be over much too soon.

But we will carry these people in our hearts, and the contagious bug of serving others will come home with us, too.

Just another day at the office.

I’ve had poison ivy for two weeks now. I’ve never had poison ivy before. Some people can roll in poison ivy and never get it. Apparently, I’m not one of those people.

I’ve been on Prednisone (a steroid) to take care of it. One common side-effect of this happy drug is an inability to sleep. Apparently, I get this side effect.

Between the incessant scratching and the not sleeping, this has been the Best. Time. Ever.

Nighttime has been weird. I sleep for a couple hours, but not well. I’ve had a couple strange dreams.

Four nights ago, I had a dream I was a samurai fighting other samurais. We were fighting normal until I “realized” I could easily defeat them by scratching myself.

I woke up ripping my claws into my arms and chest.

A few nights before that, I had an even better dream. It was about the Avengers. I’m not sure if I was one of the Avengers or not, but they were in an epic battle. They were keeping the bad guy from destroying the world and of course sharing witty dialogue all throughout, when they somehow got tricked into thinking if they scratched themselves in strategic places victory was theirs.

Bad idea, Avengers. As soon as one started in (I’m pretty sure it was the Hulk: “Hulk, Scratch!”) there was a domino effect, and it was quickly all over.

They had not won, and I was fully awake and feverishly scratching all over my body.

When I first realized I had contracted poison ivy, we did not know if it was contagious. We heard conflicting reports from different people, and Dr. Google wasn’t extremely helpful, not to mention that each day the itchy bumps showed up in a new place on me.

So for those first few days, I was a leper. Since we were unsure if it could spread, we played it safe.

And I got a taste of what life would have been like for those with leprosy in Bible times. Diagnosis of leprosy was a social death sentence. Not only were you cut off from human touch, you had to actually leave your family and live outside of town. And leprosy doesn’t go away after a couple weeks.

We don’t realize how important something is until it’s taken away. Not being able to hug Dad was especially hard on my kids. To the point of being willing to take a chance.

A few days in, Levi had had enough. I was sitting on the couch, and he came and sat beside me, scooted right up, put his little arm around my arm and nestled in.

I didn’t mind one bit.

One of my favorite stories from the Gospels is in Mark when a leper asks Jesus to heal him. Jesus responds by touching him first, then healing him. Jesus’ action is an illustration of God’s reckless love and odd commitment to humanity. That, through the incarnation, He would willingly put aside His personal well-being in His pursuit of us, His beloved.

It gets me every time.

Life is messy, and getting involved in someone else’s life is messy. But we do it anyway, because people are most important.

However there are still certain segments of society that for all practical purposes could be classified as untouchable. Whether it’s the homeless or the homosexual, we tend to keep our distance. Because it’s safer.

Do you know who else tends to be overlooked?

Middle schoolers. Do you remember your middle school years? You might not because you’ve worked so hard to block those memories out. For 99% of us, they were probably not the most pleasant years of our lives.

Middle school is rough, and for some reason (okay, maybe there are legit reasons) most adults tend to keep their distance from middle schoolers.

When they need us the most we are not making ourselves available to them.

They need more than their parents, teachers, coaches, and pastors. They need adults, with no agenda, making an investment in them. Adults who know their names and are taking an interest in their lives.

They need our encouragement and support. They need to know we are beside them and not going anywhere no matter what. They need to know we believe in them.

If the next generation fails to be the kind of doctors, lawyers, parents, and Christians we need them to be, it will not be because they are failures. It will be because we have failed them.

Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.

Photo via Russ Morris

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’

So they began to celebrate.”

Luke 15:22-24

Here is lavish grace: unwarranted, unexpected, unparalleled.

Here is sweet forgiveness: reconciling, restoring shalom, putting things back in their proper order.

Here is salvation.

This story reveals how Jesus understands the gospel, and there are two things that stand out from the father’s words and actions.

Salvation is not forgiveness of sins for the sake of sins being forgiven. In other words, it’s not an impersonal transaction in which I receive a ticket to heaven.

Salvation for the prodigal in this story is the restored relationship with his father.

“This is eternal life: that they know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom You have sent.” (John 17:3)

This restoration is complete and final; there is no second-guessing the son’s motives or being skeptical of his future faithfulness. This reconciliation flows from the father to the son; it is solely contingent on the father’s directives. The son cannot in any way make it happen, but he does need to embrace it.

The second thing to note is what is re-created by the father’s actions. The father has set right the things he allowed his son to break in the beginning of the story. The world of the father and the son is now back in order. The father is the father; the son is the son.

Again, this comes from the father and is then embraced by the son.

This is the Story of God. A broken world made right. Grace, forgiveness, and salvation. Restoration and re-creation.

Do you see yourself in this story? Do you see God? Do you see the gospel?

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’”

Luke 15:20-21

The story takes another unexpected turn. Jesus gives us a glimpse of God’s heart.

The father is impatient and undignified in his desire for his son. He has been waiting a long time, who knows how long, refusing to believe his son was not coming back. So when he sees him, he runs to him.

Now we’ve all seen plenty of movies in which two people who have been separated are reunited. And it’s usually the same scene: At first they don’t see each other, then there’s the double-take and recognition, followed by a look of glorious shock, and finally they drop everything and run in slow motion into each other’s arms.

When we read that the father runs to his son, in our minds it’s the natural thing to do. We probably don’t realize how undignified the father is making himself. Running is not something a man of his stature would do. It would showcase his legs, which in that culture was one of the most humiliating things you could do to yourself.

This probably caused another gasp from Jesus’ listeners, these highly respected, sophisticated, proper gentlemen.

Isn’t it amazing what this says about God? He is not concerned about His reputation. He is willing to embrace humiliation if it means He can embrace us as well.

Isn’t that the message of the cross? That God would die in the most vile of ways, alongside common criminals, being spat upon and cursed, and He is not bothered to stand up for Himself. He embraced the cross, because He knew doing so meant He could embrace you and me.

He is impatient and undignified in his love for us, so why do we hesitate to return to Him?

Photo via Matthew Wynn

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son, make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.”

Luke 15:17-20

The prodigal has come to a point of repentance.

The common understanding of repentance in the Christian world is a 180-degree turn from sin to God. This is true, although it has resulted in limiting the word to the realm of moral transgressions.

Repentance is more than feeling really bad about the bad things you’ve done.

The word repentance, as it’s used in Mark 1:4, Acts 11:18, and many other places in the NT, comes from the Greek word metanoia. Breaking this word down literally gives us “after perception” or “beyond understanding.”

So metanoia, a.k.a. repentance, is a shift in someone’s perception and understanding. Therefore as I go through life, I can experience repentance in my relationship with rap music, Sunday afternoon naps, and pistachio nut ice cream, just to name a few random things. I can repent of anything.

What is happening in the story Jesus is telling is that the prodigal has undergone a radical change in his worldview. His change of perception revolves mainly around his understanding of himself and his father.

He has gone from believing he needs and wants nothing from his father to understanding he must go back to his father. He remembers his father’s care and providence. While he does not feel worthy to be taken back as a son, he knows his father is a merciful man and will likely take pity on him and hire him as a servant.

The prodigal has been re-educated by his experience. He has learned his lesson well and is ready to go home. He hopes to once again dwell in his father’s house, and he is willing to submit to his father’s authority.

He has repented; his worldview has shifted, and he is no longer the same.

Photo via Nadjib Aktouf

It’s hard to learn from others’ mistakes. We may cognitively understand the path we should take, we may be well aware of the dangers that lie on that other path, the history of human foibles and failures may be embedded deep in our minds, but we still choose to learn life’s lessons the hard way.

“You can’t tell me how to live!” is the cry of the toddler, the teenager, and everyman.

The prodigal son was no different.

We pick up our story here:

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went out and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.”

Luke 15:13-16

He thought he knew best. He forsook his upbringing, the way of his father. He embraced every whim and desire he had, and it was fun while the fun lasted. It might have been short-lived, but those temporary pleasures took the edge off his loneliness and emptiness.

Until the party stopped.

And he realized he was in need.

The physical needs must be met first, and here Jesus goes into detail of how low life had become for this young man.

I don’t need to remind you that Jesus is speaking to Jewish people, so as they imagine this story, the prodigal is of course Jewish.

He has traveled to some horrible Gentile country and is living among vile pagans. And the only job he can get is to feed dirty, unclean animals that his people will not touch. No self-respecting Jew would ever take a job like this.

Again I imagine Jesus’ listeners would gasp at this turn in the story.

This prodigal, who was once a rich young ruler, has hit rock bottom.

But it is here at the bottom that the most prideful and the most stubborn are finally broken and willing to look up.

Photo via Emre Danisman

Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.”

Luke 15:11-12

When you read a passage like that, how do you hear Jesus’ voice? Is he speaking casually or earnestly? Does he have the big booming voice of a hellfire preacher, or the soft-spoken voice of a father to his infant son?

Do you ever wonder how his listeners are responding? We get no sense from the text here. Verse 13 on just continues the story Jesus is telling. But what he said most likely shocked his audience, even though we don’t necessarily get that from the passage.

You are probably overly familiar with this story. You have probably heard before how the younger son is not simply asking Dad for money to go live on his own. He is saying something much harsher.

Essentially he is saying, “Father, I want nothing more to do with you. I want to completely sever our relationship. You are dead to me.”

This would not necessarily shock Jesus’ audience. This would not be unheard of. There were sons that hated their fathers. There were sons that wanted their fathers dead, some who had even killed their fathers themselves. It was rare; it was tragic, but not unheard of.

What would have shocked them was the father’s response, which Jesus seems to mention so casually, as if it’s the most natural reaction to the prodigal’s request: “So he divided his property between them.”

In the real world, this is crazy. Who responds like this?

“You want me dead, child of my heart?

“Though this will kill me, I will be as one dead to you: you are released from all your obligations as my son, and I will immediately bestow upon you your share of all I presently own.”

In the face of such outright disrespect and hatred, what human father would respond like this? And with such humility and strength of grace?

This would have caused the Pharisees to audibly gasp. Especially because they understood Jesus’ story was not about a human father, but about the Most High God.

And the prodigal’s request coupled with the father’s response reveals the great mystery of life.

When God created earth and humanity, He did something remarkably vulnerable. I’m not sure vulnerable is the right word, but it’s the best word I have.

God made it so we would rule the earth for Him and under Him, but He also made it possible for us to say to Him, “I want nothing to do with you. I want to completely sever our relationship. You are dead to me.”

He made it possible for us to, in a sense, kick Him out of being in charge here on earth. To put it another way, He allowed us to create hell on earth.

This is the worst about the human race. The worst about you and me. We have all had the same conversation the prodigal had with his father.

And God always answers the same.

Though His heart breaks each time, He lets us go.

Though He controls all, He willingly relinquishes controlling us, even though it leads to our death.

He lets us leave, but the story does not end here…