Month: April 2020

Above Mirkwood

‘I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint’ – Jeremiah 31:25

‘Is there no end to this accursed forest?’ – Bilbo Baggins, in The Hobbit

Bilbo and the Dwarves were spent.  Passing through Mirkwood had proven to be even more of a challenge than expected.  During the opening days of their passage, they experienced occasional beams of sunlight that slipped through the canopy above, but as they moved deeper into the forest, light became a memory.  Tolkien writes:

‘The nights were the worst.  It then became pitch-dark – not what you call pitch dark, but really pitch; so black that you really could see nothing.  Bilbo tried flapping his hand in front of his nose, but he could not see it at all.  Well, perhaps that is not true to say that they could see nothing; they could see eyes.  They slept all closely huddled together, and took it in turns to watch; and when it was Bilbo’s turn he would see gleams in the darkness round them, and sometimes pairs of yellow or red or green eyes would stare at him from a little distance, and then slowly fade and disappear and slowly shine out again in another place.  And sometimes they would gleam down from the branches above him; and that was most terrifying.’

Before many days passed, they ran low on supplies, and then, following a most unfortunate attempt to cross a stream, lost what little remained.  They were out of food and water, and nearly out of hope.  It seemed the journey through the darkness would never end. 

Finally, Thorin Oakenshield, the dwarves’ leader, suggested that ‘someone’ climb a tree to see if the edge of the forest could be seen.  ‘Someone,’ of course, meant Bilbo Baggins. 

And so up Bilbo went.  He didn’t have much experience climbing trees, but he made the best effort he could.  This too was hard going.  He had to push his way through branches, catching many a ‘slap in the eye’ as he did, and nearly fell several times.  But at long last he made his way to the top. 

Where he was amply rewarded for his trouble.  At first, he was nearly blinded by the light after having lived in darkness so many days.  But as his eyes adjusted, he took in a brilliant view.  The sun shone in all its glory.  He felt its warmth upon his face.  Beneath and all around he beheld a sea of dark green, rippling with every breeze, and thousands of butterflies.  Bilbo looked at the butterflies a long time, basking in the sunlight and breeze.  After so many days in a dark forest, it was a taste of heaven. 

Sadly, he didn’t see the end of the forest, and so, when he went back down, didn’t have any definitive answers for the dwarves as to how much longer their dark journey might last.  But the beauty he glimpsed atop the boughs of Mirkwood were lifegiving and sustaining, which may explain why, for those who know the story, while the dwarves would lose their heads in coming days, Bilbo would be able to keep his. 

Walking through this weird COVID-19 experience, my mind has returned over and again to this episode in The Hobbit.   I find myself yearning for, and thankfully finding, moments ‘above Mirkwood.’  At times it feels as if we are traveling through a darkness that seems to have no end, or at least no end in sight.  And once in a while, we look out and see ‘eyes:’ nasty tidbits in the news; reports from hospitals; stories of friends, neighbors and even family who are infected; bills we may not be able to pay; pantries running low on supplies and grocery stores with bare shelves; outrageous remarks from leaders who should be leading but are instead grandstanding and acting like fools (yeah, I’m talking about him); and other nonsense that only serves to heighten our anxiety.  The eyes disappear for a time, but then reappear, and it is eerie beyond belief.  Indeed, it is at times most terrifying. 

Which is why it is so important to find time above Mirkwood.  How do we do that?  Well, climbing trees might help, but I think the idea is that we need to rise above the darkness and stand in the presence of the One who makes all things bright and beautiful.  Perhaps you don’t have much experience in doing that, but that’s OK, just be like Bilbo and do your best.  Perhaps you are so overwhelmed with things to do that it seems you cannot find time for God.  That’s OK too.  Just push your way through the branches.  If you slip a few times and fall short, just try again.  Eventually you’ll make it. 

When you do, I promise you will be rewarded for your effort.  You will feel the warmth of God in the core of your being.  You will sense signs of beauty and new life around you.  You will sample a taste of heaven.  And even if, when you come back down, you are still unable to know when things will ‘get back to normal,’ you will at least have found strength for the journey, and be better positioned to keep your head in the days to come.  The lifegiving and sustaining experience of God works wonders for the soul. 

Folks, these are dark and scary times, and we won’t make it if all we do is stare into the darkness.  We need to spend time in the presence of the God who refreshes the weary and satisfies the faint. 

We need to spend time above Mirkwood. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

The Greatest Wake Up Call Ever – a Word for Holy Week

‘Pilate replied, ‘You are a king then?’  ‘You say that I am a King, and you are right,’ Jesus said.  ‘I was born for that purpose.  And I came to bring truth into the world.  All who love the truth recognize that what I say is true.  ‘What is truth?’ Pilate asked (John 19:37-38(a) NLT). 

Pilate was a cruel and brutal man.  History records that he routinely executed men without benefit of trial.  He was the kind of guy who would as soon crucify you as look at you, and not lose a wink of sleep.  His delighted in provoking the Jewish people at every conceivable opportunity.  This style of governance resulted in many savage outbreaks of violence, followed by just as many bloody crackdowns, and the historical evidence suggests that he had been warned by Rome that no further mistakes on his part would be tolerated. 

One might therefore have expected that when asked to deal with Jesus, a man who had purportedly defied Caesar by claiming to be ‘King of the Jews,’ Pilate would have ordered a summary execution.  Instead, he equivocated.  Not to his credit, unfortunately.  His equivocations were most likely due to concern for his own skin.  Jerusalem was a tinder box.  The city had swelled to the point of bursting with Passover pilgrims.  Of all the times for a riot to start, this was not it.  And so, it seems that Pilate’s hesitation in deciding Jesus’ case was simply to ascertain the direction of the political wind.  Would a riot be more likely if he killed Jesus, or if he set him free?  By morning’s end, it was clear his safest course of action was the former.  Jesus was a man of peace, neither he nor his followers would riot if he were killed.  On the other hand, as the religious leaders had not so subtly threatened, if Pilate released Jesus, word would surely reach Caesar that he had failed to execute a man who challenged Roman authority (see, John 19:12).  And so, Pilate’s decision was made.  He sentenced Jesus, as he had sentenced many others, to death on a cross.   He might have at least had the decency to spare him the flogging.  But remember, Pilate was a cruel and brutal man.

And yet.  When we look at the Gospel narratives concerning the encounter between Pilate and Jesus, we see two things happening simultaneously.  First, Jesus reached out to Pilate.  He explained to Pilate the nature of his Kingdom.  He practically begged him to listen to his voice and hear the truth.  When Pilate asked his famous question, ‘Que Veritas?’ or ‘What is truth?’ Jesus just stood there.  Get it.  He just stood there, as if to say, ‘Here I am Pilate.  I am the truth.’  You must remember, of course, that Jesus gave his life for Pilate as much as for anyone else.  Remember John 3:16: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son that whoever [Pilate, Caiaphas, Judas…] might not perish, but have everlasting life?’    Yes, in the encounter between Jesus and Pilate, Jesus reached out.  He wasn’t going to force himself on Pilate, but if Pilate wanted him, well, he was right there. 

Secondly, as Jesus reached out, Pilate’s world was seriously disturbed.  True, his ultimate decision was cold hearted, practical and selfish.  But it is impossible to read the accounts of the encounter between Pilate and Jesus and not sense that Jesus had called into question everything Pilate had ever believed, and Pilate felt it.  So much so that even a cruel and brutal man like Pilate was given pause. 

A few years back a woman named Susan Boyle auditioned for Britain’s Got Talent.  She was 47 and in no danger of being asked to pose for the cover of Glamour Magazine.  As she took the stage, the audience snickered.  They were, like Pilate, proud, hard-hearted, cynical, and cruel.  Nonetheless, the judges (feeling rather smug themselves) let Susan sing.  Her song choice was I Dreamed a Dream from Les Misérables, and the audience laughed out loud when she announced it (who was she to have dreams?).  

But then the music started, and she began to sing. 

Susan Boyle sang with the voice of an angel.  Five notes in, and the once cruel and cynical audience was cheering wildly.  The judges were stunned.  Mean old Simon Cowell looked like a schoolgirl who had just caught her first glimpse of the High School Football Captain.  Ms. Boyle literally took his breath away.  By the time she had finished, everyone was on their feet.  Every member of her audience, the proud, the glamorous, the hard-hearted, the cynical, and the cruel, had been won over by the beautiful, yes, beautiful, Susan Boyle.  Susan’s performance was, as one of the judges said so well, the biggest wake-up call ever. 

As soon as she finished, she put the mike down and began to walk off the stage, as if she had done what she had come to do, and that was that.  But of course, that wasn’t that.  The judges and audience begged her to come back.  And of course she did – she wouldn’t force herself on them, but if they asked, well, she was more than willing to come back into their lives. 

Keats said that beauty is truth, and truth beauty.  And if that’s true, and it is, I wonder if perhaps behind Pilate’s question, ‘what is truth?’ may have been his desire to discover the true and beautiful.  I wonder if perhaps, as he stood in the presence of Jesus equivocating, deep down there a part was reacting like that audience when they first heard Susan Boyle sing.  True, it wasn’t a large part of him that day.  He didn’t have his breath taken away by Jesus, as Simon Cowell did by Susan Boyle.  Clearly, he did the wrong thing.  But I have always wondered if, at some point, the memory of Jesus might have eventually taken his breath away – and brought him to his knees.  If perhaps Pilate, thinking back on the song that Jesus had sung on that dark day of Calvary, thinking back on both the truth and beauty that Jesus was and is, perhaps experienced his biggest wake-up call ever.  If perhaps Pilate, realizing that everything he had ever believed had in fact been wrong, finally got it, and embraced the truth and beauty of Jesus. 

We have no way of knowing, of course.  At least not until we touch eternity, or perhaps I should say, until eternity touches us.    It may well be that Pilate’s heart was too hard.  Not everyone appreciates the beauty of Susan Boyle.  And not everyone appreciates the beauty of Jesus.  But make no mistake people.  Jesus is beautiful.  Jesus is truth.  And in the final analysis, I believe that most people – if given the chance to see Jesus in all his beauty and truth, as someday all will – will have their breath taken away.  Most will fall to their knees.  Yes, in the final analysis, there is hope for everyone, Pilate included.  And if there is hope for a brutal, cruel man like Pontius Pilate, surely there is hope for you.

Do me a favor, will you?  Just for a moment, close your eyes.  Imagine the cross of Jesus Christ.  Do you see him?  Do you see his love?  Do you see his beauty?  Do you see his truth?  Do you?  It surely takes your breath away doesn’t it?  It surely is the biggest wake-up call ever.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

The Value of Dots

Would you feel pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever? – Harry Lime, in The Third Man

Harry Lime was a scoundrel.  Working in post WWII Berlin, he made a killing stealing penicillin from military hospitals, watering it down, and then selling it on the black market to desperate people who could not afford it elsewhere.  People were dying as a result. 

Such is the plot of the film, The Third Man, an intense drama starring Orson Welles and Joseph Cotton (and written by Graham Greene).  The film is perhaps best known for its ‘Ferris Wheel Scene,’ in which Lime (Welles) is confronted with his crimes by his long-time friend, Holly Martins (Cotton).   The two men ride a Ferris wheel to its apex, at which point Martins asks Lime if he knows any of his victims.  Lime derisively directs Martins’ attention to the fairground far below, where people appear as mere dots moving around, and says the following in defense of his crimes:

‘Would you feel pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever?  If I offered you 20,000 pounds for every dot that stopped, would you really, old man, tell me to keep the money?  Or would you calculate how many dots you could afford to spare?  Free of income tax, old man…free of income tax.  It’s the only way to save money these days.’ 

Such is the moral system of Harry Lime.  Dots, that is, human lives, are expendable. At least from a distance.  And for the right price. 

I hear echoes of Lime’s philosophy in our world today.  Ours is a time of crisis.  A novel virus is spreading, and the government has sensibly imposed certain restrictions.  Social distancing.  Stay at home orders. The closing of non-essential businesses.  All designed to slow the spread and save lives.  The science behind such moves is indisputable.  But these steps come with an economic cost.  People have been laid off, some temporarily, some perhaps permanently.  Businesses are on the brink.  The stock market has plunged.  There may well be a global recession, or worse, a depression.  The actions we are taking to save lives are having a deleterious effect upon the economy. 

And that has made some people angry.  In an infamous post on social media that has generated tremendous debate, a California attorney made the case that we should not sabotage the economy to save lives.  Especially because, in this attorney’s view, those most at risk are unproductive.  In other words, the elderly, the immune-compromised, and the weaker ‘dots’ in our society are expendable, all in service to the national economy.  And he is not alone.  Many in our society, and our government, are echoing the same sentiments, even if expressed in more subtle terms.  Heck, even some Christians, who supposedly follow a Savior who cherished the most vulnerable, have come down on the side of saving the economy over saving lives. 

And so the question resounds across our land – and in the church: is it worth risking the economy to save lives?

Before answering that question, I want to acknowledge that I know this is not just a question of what happens to the money of billionaires.  Ordinary people are hurting.  Workers have lost jobs.  Small businesses face closure.  In all of this, it will surely be the poor who suffer most.  This is real.  It is therefore encouraging that there are many in government who are at least trying to ameliorate the effects of social distancing on the economy.  I applaud the effort, and encourage elected officials on both sides of the aisle to use this opportunity to not only aid those impacted by this crisis, but to restructure society and systems to ensure that everyone, and especially the poor and vulnerable, in both times of prosperity and times of crisis, has enough.  And I would certainly encourage the Church to use its resources to help those who are hurting.  John the Baptizer’s advice for people with two tunics to share with those who have none is crucial for these times (see, Luke 3:11).  If our neighbors are hurting, those in the Church with resources to help must give generously to ensure those most impacted by this crisis receive the assistance they need. 

But at the end of the day, the answer to the question of whether it is worth risking the economy to save lives is a resounding, ‘Yes!’  Of course it is worth risking the economy to save human lives!  Why?  Well, if you really need it spelled out for you, it’s because each one of those lives, each one of those ‘dots,’ even the weakest, most vulnerable, and unproductive, matter. 

They certainly matter to God.  During Holy Week, we remember that they matter so much to God that he was willing to send Jesus to die on a cross for every one of them.

And if dots have that much value in the eyes of God, if they matter so much that he was willing to pay such a price for them, then certainly we can stay home and watch Netflix, all the while looking out for each other, in order to protect them.  Can’t we?

Or are we no better than Harry Lime?

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Wind and Waves

But when he saw the wind and waves, he was terrified and began to sink – Matthew 14:30

In the fourteenth chapter of his Gospel, Matthew tells of a time when the disciples were overtaken by a storm at sea.  It was hardly the first time.  Many of them were fishermen, and even those who weren’t had at least once been in a similar situation (See, Matthew 8:23-27).  On that occasion, the disciples had simply run to Jesus, who had been sawing wood in the stern of the ship as if nothing were happening.  Jesus woke up, rubbed his eyes, looked around, and shouted, ‘Silence!  Be still!’  And just like that there was a dead calm.  The disciples learned that day that even the wind and waves obeyed their Master. 

But this time, things were different.  This time, Jesus wasn’t with them. 

He had insisted that they cross the sea alone while he went into the hills to pray.  Then, when the disciples found themselves far from shore, the storm hit.  They battled the wind and waves long into the night but were no match for them.  They were in over their heads.  All hope seemed to be lost. 

Jesus, however, had sensed their distress.  We can imagine that as soon as the storm arose, he looked seaward.  There, intermittently illuminated by flashes of lightning, he saw his struggling friends.  And so, he left the hills and walked to the shore.  And then kept walking – on the sea. 

As he drew close, he shouted, ‘Take courage!  I am here!’  

Simon Peter, filled with fresh courage, shouted, ‘Lord, if it’s really you tell me to come to you!’

Jesus beckoned to his impetuous friend.  ‘Yes, come!’

Simon Peter stepped from the boat and began to walk on the water, fixing his eyes on Jesus.  It was amazing.  But then, well, most of us know the story: ‘when he saw the wind and waves, he was terrified and began to sink.’

Jesus doesn’t let him sink of course. But we are going to stop right there for an important lesson. It’s a lesson many of us have heard before.  I first learned it as a kid in Sunday School.  In fact, it’s such a familiar lesson that you may wonder why I would take time to repeat it.  The reason is that sometimes, the simplest lessons are the ones that bear repeating.  So here it is:

Simon Peter was fine so long as he fixed his eyes on Jesus.  It was when he turned his attention to the wind and the waves that he began to sink. 

Right now my friends, there is a storm raging.  It’s called the Covid-19 virus.  It has us all scared.  We are doing our best to fight against it, but like the disciples battling the storm, we know that we are in over our heads. 

But just as Jesus saw the disciples in their distress, he sees us in ours, and as surely as he does, we know he will come to us. 

The question for us is therefore the same as it was for Simon: will we fix our attention on Jesus, or the storm. 

John Eldredge issued a short message the other day noting that in the current crisis, the battle is for our attention.  Will we focus on the storm and lose peace?  Or will we focus on Jesus and find it. 

As things continue to unfold in coming weeks, it will of course be important for us to pay attention, use common sense, and adhere to safe practices to ensure the health and safety of ourselves, our families, and our neighbors.  But as we do so, let’s not become so fixated on the storm that we begin to sink.  Let’s remember there is one who sees us with every flash of lightning.  There is one who comes to us in our distress.  There is one who calls us to fix our eyes on him and rise above the stormy sea. 

Fix your eyes on Jesus.  The Master of the wind and waves.  He is the one who will save us from the storm. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

P.S. – I continue to recommend John Eldredge’s Pause App as a tool to help keep your eyes on Jesus in this time.  It is free, and you can find it here or in the the App store.  It has been a tremendous help to me, and I hope it will be the same to you.