The View from the West Mesa

Lazarus is dead. In fact he’s been dead four days or so when Jesus finally arrives. When Lazarus was sick, Jesus was told that he was. It wasn’t some head cold or allergy with which Lazarus was dealing. Folks wouldn’t have sent word to Jesus for that. No, Lazarus was severely ill, and Jesus had been summoned to heal him. But Jesus hadn’t gone. He had tarried for a day or two before heading back to Lazarus. What he found when he arrived was two distraught sisters who lash out at him, accusing even, that his delay had resulted in Lazarus’s death. They were hurting, and so were a great number of their friends. The sisters even accost Jesus saying “If you’d been here, this wouldn’t have happened!” As if to say, “What took you so long!” As it turns out, Jesus raises Lazarus and returns him to his family; there is much rejoicing. But through the story, we learn that Jesus knew Lazarus was terminal, that he was going to die, and He took his time getting back to Lazarus on purpose. In fact, Go

The Christian life has never been intended to be expressed primarily in church buildings. Oh, don’t get me wrong, worshiping with one another is something Christians do, and rightly so. But despite our penchant for doing church, structuring staff, and making sure our various rituals are completed, they form a significantly small percentage of what Christian life entails. In fact, I suspect they aren’t nearly as important as we seem to think they are. The Christian life, it seems to me, is more about who we are, what our desires are, where our life focus is. These others, assemblies, staff, rituals, are all tools to remind us or to move us closer to where we are meant to be. As tools, they are not the substance of life, and we endanger ourselves if we allow them to become the substance. Throughout Scripture, God makes it clear that he expects his people to do what he says, to pay enough attention to him to form themselves into his likeness. But event in the expectation of doing, there i

The question of when someone is saved, or who can we say is a Christian, comes up from time to time in my circles. The ensuing dialogue usually includes points concerning faith, repentance, baptism, Calvinism, free will, grace, and a few other topics. The discussion seems to revolve around a point in time, a place where, on one side, someone is not a Christian, and on the other side, one can safely be said to be a Christian. This is important, it seems since it directly affects fellowship, communion, membership in a local congregation, and participation in assemblies. This question has been debated for centuries, and I don’t presume to settle it in this short essay. I do however, believe that it has taken a lot more ink, blood, and hurt feelings than it deserves. It seems to me that salvation is not so much about having completed a complete ritual, but is rather a state of being in which we live with, in, and for God. It is, quite frankly, being allowed by God, through our submission t

As learning to live out of the image of God transforms the way we live and see one another, it must also transform the way in which we do church. I come to worship fully cognizant of my relationship to and in God and therefore my worship becomes more personal and more relational. I not only worship God by myself, but within the community of believers with whom I share the image and relationship with God. Just as a more fully understand the real spiritual connection I have with God, I come to our assemblies with the same mind of God and I see my brothers and sisters as God sees them. I see them as a shepherd would; as sheep who need nurturing and safety. In a real sense, I join with God and our assemblies become opportunities for me to share Him with the others here, regardless of their station, their challenges, or their failings. I see them as God sees them, and my worship and our assembly becomes ministry to them. Because I live my life in this same way, in recognition of my relation

The previous post, Radical Christianity?, posited the idea that Christianity isn’t as radical as we sometimes want to make it seem. Rather, Christianity is the most natural and normative way to live since we are made in the image of God. If we can grasp the idea that it is this image in which we were made that actually defines both who we are, and the most natural drives and cares we have, we gain a different perspective on Christianity and the Christian life. Christianity becomes not something strange to which we must convert people, but a natural way of living that frees us from chasing unnatural things, and allows us to share with others a way of life that satisfies, and a God that blesses those who can see the blessings. Rather than a God that seems to have lost control of humankind and who seeks to judge people if they don’t jump through the correct hoops, we see a God that made us, and we can see (and experience) ourselves as most contented and happy when we live in concert with

We hear a lot about radical Christianity these days. Whether from the Emergent church world, or from social religionists, people like Brueggemann, and others, we hear that true Christianity is radical – that it goes against the grain, against the status quo. If we really buy into Christianity, our lives would be counter-cultural. Sometimes we get the idea that if we were real Christians, we’d live in communes - maybe in the forest, dress like monks, and cease most interaction with those outside our community. I know that is an extreme caricature, few people would advocate eliminating outside contact, and most don’t espouse communal living. Most advocates of this style of spiritual living aren’t arguing that you can’t work on Wall Street and be a Christian, but they do want us to think about others (and the environment) first, rather than buying the latest Lexus. The picture created is that true Christians have a different set of priorities, different views of what is important both ete