fitting that Andy Stanley chose the end The
Grace of God with the story of the prodigal son.
a familiar story. The younger of two sons asks his father for his inheritance,
squanders it in riotous living, repents and returns home, hoping to work as a
servant. The father welcomes him with open arms, and orders the fatted calf to
be slain for the celebration dinner. The dutiful older son resents this
favorable treatment for his brother, and his father has to take him to taks for
his attitude. We don’t learn what happened after that.
I’ve studied this passage (Luke 15) before, and I’ve heared preached many
times. We usually focus on the younger son, or the father, or the older son.
For some reason, reading the account as told by Stanley, it struck how like
both sons we are.
are the prodigals, and we are the dutiful sons – and often at the same time. It’s
the genius of the story – we can identify with both sons, because we are both
sons. We are the prodigal who indulges in sin, and we are the obedient older
son who keeps faithfully at what’s set before us.
there’s tension between these two sons, these two ideas, and Stanley calls it
the tension of grace. “It’s this tension that makes grace so slippery,” he
says. “Perhaps it’s this tension that has driven churches and Christians
through the centuries to add to and subtract from grace. There’s something in
most of us that screams, It can’t be that
easy. But as much as we want to qualify grace, it can’t be qualified.”
identify with the prodigal, because we are sinners. And his repentance was
genuine, and recognized by that father as genuine.
identify with the obedient son, because we have all been there. Like Martha
washing the dishes and preparing the food while Mary lounges around with Jesus,
we wonder why our contribution isn’t being recognized. After all, the older son
stayed with the father, stayed at the homestead, and worked beside his father while
his brother indulged himself in pleasures (however fleeting).
there it is – that tension. We want the younger son to be forgiven, because we
were forgiven. But shouldn’t he have to prove himself? Couldn’t God make this a
helpful to remember the context for the story. Jesus had been teaching and
preaching, followed by large crowds wherever he went. He was especially popular
among the tax collectors and known “sinners,” and that rankled the Pharisees
and the teachers of the law.
Jesus tells them three parables – the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost,
or prodigal, son. All three stories have the same point – the importance of the
sinner who repents. Telling three stories with the same point punched the point
home. Saving the story of the prodigal son for the last really punched it home –
there was no evading whom Jesus was talking about.
interesting thing about Jesus was that his listeners always understood his
message, even when it was clearly aimed at them. The Pharisees got the point of
the story. They knew Jesus was talking about them.
no matter which son we chose to focus on, Jesus is still talking about us.
by Jason Stasyszen and Sarah Salter, we’ve been reading The Grace of God. Today’s discussion concludes the book. To see
more posts on this final chapter, “How Sweet the Sound,” please visit Sarah Salter
at Living Between the Lines.
Painting: The Prodigal Son by Rembrandt
(circa 1669). Hermitage
Museum, St. Petersburg.
been reading a new edition of Federico Garcia Lorca’s Poet
in New York, and my understanding and appreciation of the dramatist and
poet is deepening.
I'm familiar with the basic outline of his biography – born in 1898, gained a name as a
young poet of some notoriety, died at the hands of General Franco’s forces in
1936. More than 20 years ago, I read an edition of his Collected
Poems. But I was not familiar with the poem written while he was in New
York, from 1929 to 1930.
time in New York was connected to his attending Columbia University, which was
apparently all of one semester. After that, he spent time with an American
friend in Vermont and then went to Cuba. His family had sent him to New York to
remove him from rumors of scandal circulating around him in Spain – connected to
a failed love affair with a sculptor. Garcia Lorca realized he had been used to
further the sculptor’s career, and he seemingly went willingly to New York.
is it that virtually every one of us wishes to have more of?
citizens of Western civilization, and likely Eastern civilization, find
ourselves living in internet time – when information increases exponentially at
warp speed, and our lives often seemed frenzied collections of non-stop activities.
mobile phones, our tablets, and our apps allow us to maintain schedules
unthinkable even one generation ago.
if we were asked what we would like to do with extra time, more than few of us
would likely say “rest.”
the concluding chapter of The Sabbath
World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time, Judith Shulevitz calls this “mobile time,” as
opposed to what for thousands of years has been “mechanical time.” And, she
asks, “Mobile time is the time we’re in charge of, and who would want to
I read that statement, and I thought
about raising my hand.
Mobile time – internet time – has erased
the boundaries between work and the rest of our lives, to the point where work
is becoming the rest of our lives. My cell phone was off on Saturday (the
battery had died and I had to recharge the new one for 24 hours). When I turned
it on, I had 24 new email messages from work, including one unexpected email
with instructions for work that had to be ready Monday morning.
Two months ago, I would have spent
part of Saturday or Sunday frantically getting the work done for Monday. But
now I’m drawing boundaries. The work will have to wait until Monday, replacing
work or meetings already scheduled. Or perhaps not happening at all.
Reading The Sabbath World has
helped in this drawing of boundaries, but it’s only been a contributing factor.
The most important thing has been my stubborn insistence that work is no longer
invading every other part of my life. If the work is not important enough to
resource properly, then it’s not important enough for me to blow my weekend
Will there be consequences? Likely
not. Internet time forces everything at work to be classified as urgent, and
everything to be considered a crisis. I know the work well enough to tell the
difference between the urgent and the important.
Internet time also erases any notion
of the Sabbath, of taking a day of rest whether we spend that day at church,
napping, or getting away from the cell phone.
Why is this important? Why did God
rest on the seventh day of creation? Shulevitz has an answer, and it’s a good
one: “God stopped to show us what we create becomes meaningful only once we
stop creating it and start remembering why it was created in the first place.
Or…why it wasn’t worth creating, why it isn’t up to snuff and should be
We can’t live for long in a world of
first drafts and “good enough to get by for now.”
child felt the sprinkle
the few cool drops, wetness,
however, to elicit
cry, momentary but slight.
over his head, pushing
his hair, his shoulders,
a moment but sufficient
remember the sprinkle.
I reviewed Litany
of Secrets by Luke
Davis – the first in what I hope is a long line of mystery stories
featuring Cameron Ballack, a disabled police detective. What I didn’t mention
in the review, likely because it would have detracted from what I was describing,
is how familiar I am with the geography of the novel.
story is set in the town of Defiance,
Missouri, which is about a 40-minute drive from where I live in St. Louis.
Defiance is the area Daniel Boone settled in a couple of centuries ago, and it
sits near the Missouri River, right on Highway 94, a windy road through the
state’s wine country. Every time we go to Augusta (a few miles to the west)
to visit the winery there, we drive right through Defiance.
Katy Trail runs right through
Defiance as well, and I’ve biked the trail a number of times. In fact, it was on
the Katy Trail where I had my crash in 2009 (four broken ribs and a partially
collapsed lung), and right on the wooden bridge crossing the Femme Osage Creek,
which is the locale of one of the scenes in the book.
headquarters the police work out of in the story is “east of the high school
and a minor league baseball stadium” in O’Fallon,
Missouri. The baseball stadium in question is the T.R. Hughes Stadium, and my
oldest son worked there for the minor
baseball team after graduating from college. One of the character’s parents
lives in Chesterfield, a St. Louis
suburb, and the character herself graduated from Parkway West High School.
references to highways in the book – Highway 94 in St. Charles, Interstates 70,
64 and 270 – are all real roads. Interstate 70 connects St. Louis and Kansas
City; Interstate 64 is the main highway through the St. Louis region; and 270
is the “belt” around St. Louis County.
scene has the detectives talking to a professor at Fitz’s restaurant in University City,
the area we call the Loop. Fitz’s is a real place, and something of a St. Louis
icon (think burgers, fries, root beer, and malts). And I got hungry reading the
references to Ted Drewes
Frozen Custard stand in the city of St. Louis.
Litany of Secrets is filled with
St. Louis references, but that won’t stop non-St. Louisans from enjoying it. It’s
a great story. A bonus for me was to read about places I’m so familiar with.
are missing from St. Basil’s Orthodox Seminary near Defiance, Missouri. The
seminary is undertaking an investigation but moving too slow for the diocese in
Kansas City. An administrative priest is sent to speed the investigation, and
is there only one night when he dies of an apparent heart attack.
weeks later, the bishop asks the county police to investigate whether the heart
attack might have been something else. The two detectives assigned are Tori
Vaughan and Cameron Ballack. And Ballack may well one of the most unusual
detectives I’ve encountered in mystery fiction. He’s young, with a photographic
memory and a mind like a steel trap. He’s also disabled, confined to a wheel
chair because of an inherited gene that is usually fatal long before your 20s.
His younger brother died from it.
in addition to never quite accepting the death of his brother and his own
disability, Ballack is struggling with faith, as in, he doesn’t have any but he
knows there’s something more.
and Vaughan set up shop at the seminary, and things begin to happen. What looks
placid on the surface is roiling underneath. And more violence is ahead.
is Luke Davis’s first
novel, and a totally engrossing one it is. It’s one of those books you carve
out time for and keep reading in spare moments, because you have to find out
what happens next.
has done his homework. The reader learns a lot about the Orthodox faith and its
various offices and services. The geography is almost exactly true to life –
Defiance, Missouri, in St. Charles County is just west of St. Louis County, and
Highway 95, the road to wine country, and the Katy Trail (bicycling!) run right
through Defiance. (The only difference is that there is no seminary in Defiance,
but there probably should be.)
he tells a fine story. Cameron Ballack is true to life, and Davis has fully
researched his disability, life in a wheelchair, and how technology has helped
people in Ballack’s position. But the research is kept restrained in the novel;
it doesn’t overwhelm the read. Davis has done it well and done it right. And Ballack’s
struggle with faith helps humanize the character, rounding him out so well that
it’s easy to forget you’re reading about a detective in a wheel chair.
who lives in St. Charles County, teaches at Westminster Christian Academy in
St. Louis (my youngest son graduated from Westminster). He describes himself as
“Presbyterian body, Lutheran heart, Anglican blood, and Orthodox spirit.” (As
someone raised Lutheran, now Presbyterian, and who writes about an Anglican
priest, I think I understand Cameron Ballack’s struggle with faith.)
of Secrets is well told, well done, and a great story. And I’m hoping the next
Cameron Ballack mystery won’t be too long in coming.
read Alan Kessler’s Shadowlands is to inhabit the mind of,
first, a child suffering both physical and emotional abuse, and, then, a young
man and adult who seems apparently normal but is falling what most of us would
an extraordinary, disturbing, riveting book.
begins with the adult Steve Goldblatt lured into a boat by a childhood best
friend. Goldblatt can’t swim. And the story is shaped around everything that
led to Goldblatt drowning.
Goldblatt family lives in small town, Ohio. Steve’s father owns a factory or,
rather, the factory owns him. He never speaks to his son or his two daughters.
He disciplines his son with physical abuse – kicking the boy with his leather
shoes. The abuse is so much a part of Steve’s life that he equates pain and
abuse with love.
large part of Shadowlands is about
Steve’s childhood, and slowly we begin to see the world through Steve’s very
distorted eyes, and how his dysfunctional family affects everything – friends,
school and teachers, girls, and all of his relationships.
as he grows older, Steve begins to emulate his father, wanting the things his
father has. Interestingly, his college years receive what he has learned, as he
continues his maintenance of a C average though more gifted than that; the C
average allows him freedom – the freedom to operate away from attention and
interest, the freedom to pursue the things he’s most interested in, things like
money and power. He simultaneously begins law school and working for a shady
attorney, an associate of his father’s, and soon manipulates the attorney to
achieve his own ends.
not a sympathetic character, this Steve Goldblatt. He’s broken in ways that can’t
be made whole, and so he constructs his own broken existence, hurting anyone who
tries to get close.
likely a bit of that brokenness in all of us, and that’s what makes the story
compelling (and difficult to put down). Kessler has drawn his hero, or
anti-hero, large, large enough to be uncomfortably recognizable.
reaching the end of Andy Stanley’s The
Grace of God, and I’m
hitting my first area of disagreement.
it’s not exactly disagreement. It’s more a case of I think he’s focused on half
I really say that about Andy Stanley? On I plunge.
chapter, “Commissioned by Grace,” asks and answers the question, “Is church for
everyone or is it just for church people?” Stanley doesn’t hesitate. It’s for
everyone, he says, and he paraphrases St. James in that the church sometimes
makes church too hard for people. “If the church is God’s primary vehicle for
dispensing the message of grace, then the local church is clearly not for
church people,” he writes. “It’s for everybody.”
he’s right. We can slip into our “godly” insistence on form and procedure and “this
is the way it’s always been done” and thus tell communicate to any newcomer
that they’re welcome as long as they get with the program.
that cuts both ways.
can make our church services so “seeker-friendly” that they resemble little
more than a toned-down rock concert, or sometimes even a toned-up rock concert.
I’ve attended churches where the hymnals had disappeared, replaced by words
projected on a screen that had a lot about I and me. And I’ve attended churches
where singing anything but what was in the hymnal was considered the equivalent
attended churches where the staff stifled any individual initiative from the
congregation, and churches where the congregation expected the staff to do
attended churches where no one greeted newcomers, and churches that replaced
Bible teaching with popular books.
attended churches that were so focused on “seekers” that they forgot the need
to make disciples.
of these things are signs of something wrong. And the answer may not be a happy
medium or compromise but something entirely different. And I don’t have an
answer as to what that might be.
clue might be how so many of us – young and old, disciple and seeker – are drawn
to liturgy. So much changes every day in this virtual, 24-hour-news-cycle world
that a church worship service, and a church, similar to the one from 2,000
years ago is not only welcome but stabilizing, an anchor in a world built upon
transience. Or saying the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm in the
language of the King James Bible connects me to believers or 450 years ago, and
believers scattered among a wide array of denominations today. (I will often pray
the “Jesus prayer,” both aware of and appreciating the fact that the meaning of
it, if not the exact words, connects me to Orthodox believers.)
the church is more than a style of worship, or what words we use in a prayer.
Stanley’s right – church is for everyone. But that doesn’t necessarily mean
that everything relating to church members should be excluded.
by Jason Stasyszen and Sarah Salter, we’ve been reading Stanley’s The Grace of God. To see more posts on
this chapter, “Commissioned for Grace,” please visit Sarah at Living Between the Lines.
It’s rather startling: a recurring line in a poem that reads “I could pee on that.”
Charles Bukowski, perhaps? Sandra Bernhard waxing softly poetic?
Her new sweater doesn’t smell of me
She’s gone out for the day and
left her laptop on the counter
Her new boyfriend just pushed
She’s ignoring me ignoring her
That’s the title poem of I Could Pee on This: And Other Poems by Cats by Francesco Marciuliano. You may have heard of him; when he’s not recording poems by cats, he’s co-authoring the comic strip Sally Forth. Marciuliano writes the strip; Craig Macintosh draws it. The strip has no cats; those are saved for this book.
was raised a Missouri Synod Lutheran. Some of my earliest memories involve a
Sunday School class at church, a small room (it was a small, new church) with
jalousied windows. Our teacher was Miss Gail. Whether accurate or not, the
memory that stands out is coloring scenes from Bible stories.
seventh and eighth grades, it was catechism class, every Tuesday and Thursday after
school. We were taught from Martin Luther’s
small catechism. The worship service included communion, a reading from a
Gospel and an epistle, hymns and a sermon. To this day there are certain hymns
that I always think of as “Lutheran hymns,” because I sang them many, many
times over the years at our church. Luther wrote a lot of them.
might say that by the time I enrolled in college, I had been thoroughly “Lutheranized.”
But it was during my freshman year that I discovered another Luther, one I had
never heard about.
should say up front that this was not the typical “Christian goes to college
and falls under the influence of evil, pagan professors” story. I was in a
small colloquium, mostly about history, literature and culture, and the
professor assigned us a paper on the Reformation – specific topic of our choice.
I decided to do some reading about Luther, and tripped over the Peasants Revolt
of the 1524-1525. Peasants all over the German states and beyond, influenced by
the overthrow of the Catholic Church in their areas, decided to attack another
source of tyranny – the landowners and the nobles. At first, the revolt has
been relatively mild, and Martin Luther openly supported it. Then it spread and
turned more violent.
Martin Luther, the Martin Luther who wrote the hymns I sang and the catechism I
had studied, turned against the revolt and began preaching sermons with themes
like “destroy the peasant vermin.” (The nobles obliged.) I also discovered he
could use rather earthy language, something else we never heard in catechism
class. I wrote a paper filled with youthful indignation. My professor told me I
was being too hard on Luther.
thing I didn’t understand was what Luther’s nailing of the 95 theses on the
Wittenburg church door had triggered. It wasn’t only what would be decades of
religious wars and turmoil. Whether cause or catalyst, Luther helped blow up
how people understood the world. And it didn’t take long for Luther himself to challenged
and “broken away from.” Groups and sects appeared all over Europe. Some of
them, as Judith Shulevitz points out in The
Sabbath World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time, had very different notions
about what constituted the Sabbath, what day it should be observed, and how it
should be observed. (Luther got involved in this, too. Luther seems to have
gotten himself involved in everything.)
In two chapters, “People of the Book”
and “Scenes of Instruction,” Shulevitz recounts how the understanding of the
Sabbath began to change and reshape itself in the 16th century, the
Puritans in the 17th century (and it’s not what you might expect it
to be), Rousseau and the Romantic poets in the late 18th and early 19th
centuries, the contribution made by Charles Dickens (who urged everyone to get
physical exercise on Sundays), and on to writers like George Eliot and D.H.
Lawrence. The 19th century saw something of a counter-reaction to
the Rousseaus and the poets, largely under the influence of the evangelical
movement, and the explosion of Sunday Schools (and how some of those evolved to
It’s a fascinating account, but its
importance is more than just satisfying intellectual curiosity. How we
understand the Sabbath also relates to how we understand God. Seeing how the
Sabbath has been influenced by culture also points to understanding our beliefs
about faith and god have been influenced by culture.
I’m a Presbyterian today, and no
longer casting aspersions on Luther’s character for urging the extermination of
rebellious peasants. I believe I understand what was actually happening, and have
set my youthful outrage to the side.
But then Shulevitz says John Calvin,
the patron saint of Presbyterianism, had people burned at the stake in Geneva. Wait!
Stop! Only the Catholics did that, and in Spain. You know, Cervantes and Don
Quixote and the Inquisition and auto da fe and all that. Certainly the
Presbyterians didn’t do that. Not John Calvin! Arrgghhhh!
We’re reading The Sabbath World
over at The High Calling. To see
the discussion about this week’s chapters, please visit the site (and don’t tell them
don’t use hymnals in church
more, the songs are all there
the bulletin or on the screen,
hymnals do make good back
in uncomfortable pews
we keep them at the ready.
don’t say the Lord’s Prayer
the Apostle’s Creed like we
to say it, the way I grew up
it, using those words
James heard, but I stubbornly
saying art and hallowed and thy
trespasses and imagine the King
with his divine translators.
22 years ago, I joined a newly formed group called The Salt and Light
Fellowship. Led by Jerram Barrs of the Francis Schaeffer Institute at Covenant
Theological Seminary in St. Louis, we were focused on the idea of being salt
and light right where we were.
taught a number of sessions about work, and specifically to the idea that
everyday work – no matter what kind of work it was – mattered to God, and that
“secular” work was just as important to God as “spiritual” work. In fact, all
work was “spiritual,” no matter if it were preaching on Sunday, serving in the
mission field in India, or being a speechwriter for a Fortune 500 corporation.
Or a waiter. Or a scientist. Or a business executive. It all mattered.
decades ago, that wasn’t the most accepted of ideas in the church. Most of us
still believed that “church” work was somehow more spiritual, more holy, and
more acceptable to God that “secular” work. Because we differentiated between
the two, we could easily take the next step, and decide that what we did in our
9 to 5 jobs didn’t really matter – and we could act just like everyone else in
Barrs helped all of us understand was that all work is actually “church” work.
leads an organization called Everyday
Significance, devoted to helping individuals and organizations “overcome
the sacred-secular divide.” It started when he spoke at a church missions
conference, and discovered the desire of people to connect their temporal,
everyday lives to what they believed. Today he’s a speaker, consultant and
counselor, and has distilled what he does into Significant Work.
truth is stunning,” he writes. “The truth is that the regular, everyday,
earthly life of our lives holds a breathtaking significance bestowed by the
touch of God’s magnificent glory alone. The daily grind of our lives leaves far
more than a tiny fingerprint on eternity. It strikes cosmic hammer blows that
forge the very shape of eternity.”
follows from that rather astonishing statement is not a roadmap, not a how-to
guide, but an explanation and understanding if the true significance of work.
Rude doesn’t tell us how to live our work for God, but instead explains why our
work matters, and why it has eternal significance. How we go about living that
understanding is part of the journey each of us is on.
divides the book in two parts. The first, “The Lie,” describes how and why we
came to accept the belief that “ministry work” is both more important and more
spiritual than “secular work,” what he calls the Sunday-Monday divide. And he
walks the reader through a considerable number of misconceptions we have about
second part of the book, “The Truth,” explains what God created work to be, and
what God created us to be in the work we’ve been given to do. It’s eye-opening
and encouraging, even for someone familiar with the ideas and concepts. Rude
has thought through his subject, studied it, spoken about it, helped others
understand it – and now put it together in one place.
Significant Work is itself a significant
work, because this misunderstanding we’ve embraced about work isn’t some
theoretical idea. It has had real consequences, not the least being how we act
and behave in the “secular” workplace can distort who we are and what God
intends for us to do.
one of the best business books I’ve read. Ever. But its application reaches far beyond business, because work is something every one us does.
come to the conclusion of the three-part fantasy series called The Canticles of Audurun, and I’m not
ready for it to end. This is one fabulous story. This is Dragonfyre,
by Ian Thomas Curtis.
epic tale of Justias Eventine, a young man barely more than a boy whose village
is destroyed by the clerics of the ruling dragons. But he’s not just any boy;
he’s the anointed one, the one selected by the One God to slay the dragons and
free humanity from their control. Justias is to be king.
the end of the second book, Dragonmarch,
however, there’s a problem – Justias has been killed through treachery by
people he trusted. His body lies in state, and he is undoubtedly dead. But
things happen. And battles are looming – the war of the Dragon Clerics’ army,
led by Julias Darkmayne, against the much smaller forces of the Old Nobility at
the city of South Deep. The aim is to destroy the city and the inhabitants. And
behind the clerics is the army of the Gorgons prepared to destroy the clerics
and the Old Nobility of South Deep. Treachery within treachery.
outnumbered, the defenders of South Deep prepare to fight to the last. And the
battles begin. Looming in the background is Gildaryss, the chief dragon,
desperately desiring the complete annihilation of humanity. She’s especially outraged
with Justias, the young king who has slain dragons.
the initial battle gets underway, the great walls of South Deep are pounded
again and again, and begin to crumble. Outnumbered and surrounded, the city’s defenders
fight men, beasts, and machines of war. It is what could be the final battle in
the final war in the fight to save humanity.
is a fabulous story, and an epic story, full of excitement and betrayal,
loyalty and determination. The character of Justias demonstrates repeated
faithfulness in the face of overwhelming odds. He is determined to fulfill the
mission he has been called to – to break the power of and destroy the dragons.
novel is filled with Christian imagery, but it’s not overdone. Curtis maintains
a tight control over the narrative, with its numerous plots and sub-plots and
broad array of characters. He masterfully weaves the main story with the side-stories,
and delivers one thoroughly enjoyable read.
is the kind of book, and series, that I want my sons and grandsons to read, to
encourage them to stand for what’s noble and right.
My 2011 interview with Ian Thomas Curtis: Part
1 and Part
Yes, today, July
17, is the official Take Your Poet to Work Day. The folks over at Tweetspeak
Poetry (which I suppose includes me)
created this, and so far it’s caught on in Australia, Holland, the United
States and a few places in between. The Atlantic Monthly promoted it. And the
Paris Review. And the Rotterdam Poetry Festival.
The idea is to select
one of the conveniently created cutouts – Eliot, Dickinson, Poe, Neruda, Teasdale,
Rumi or Basho – print it, cut it our and color it, paste to a stick, and then
insert your poet somewhere in your work space. And tell a story.
OK, so I don’t do
cut-outs. But, as you can see from the photography above, I did bring some
poets to work today: Wallace Stevens (a favorite), Billy Collins (close to a favorite),
Wendell Berry (a favorite even if he would hate my politics), and Edgar Lee
Masters (who has been THE favorite since high school and given the fact he’s
lasted this long as my favorite, it’s unlikely he will be dethroned anytime
Oh, yes, that’s the
current (July/August) issue of Poetry
Magazine. This issue includes three poems by Scott Cairns (I should have
brought him to work today, too) and one by James Galvin, among others; an
article by the late film critic Roger Ebert; and four remembrances, including one
of Richard Wilbur by Donald Hall.
I inserted the four
books directly into my work space – the computer screen (yes, that’s Tweetdeck
showing on the screen). And in one way or another, all four or these poets, and
a few others, have helped me understand the poetry in work – and the poetry at
work. That’s the story here. Perhaps that’s always the story here.
So if you’re in the
mood for poetic cut-outs, or even if you aren’t, head over to Tweetspeak Poetry
and see what’s happening. And it’s not too late to Take Your Poet to Work.
very early church had a problem. The “Grecian Jewish” believers perceived that
the Hebrew Jewish believers favored their own in caring for the widows. Today,
we would immediately split off and form a new church, but the elders of the
early church handled it differently. They listened, agreed, and then told the
church to choose seven men to serve. (It’s interesting that they didn’t appoint
the seven themselves but instead told the church to choose them.)
seven they chose, Luke tells us in the book of Acts, were Stephen, Philip,
Procurus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicholas of Antioch, a convert to
Judaism. Stephen is specifically singled out as “a man full of faith and the
Holy Spirit.” Of the other six, only Philip is ever mentioned again – Philip the
Evangelist of Acts 8 and 21.
don’t know any of Stephen’s background or even when he joined the church. He
might have been one of those “thousands” who heard the disciples preaching in
the temple courtyards and came to faith. We have the impression he was young, although
that’s not explicitly stated.
few verses later, Stephen is singled out again. Luke describes him as “ a man
full of God’s grace and power, and did great wonders and miraculous signs among
the people.” Luke, of course, is setting the stage for what is about to happen.
Stephen makes a speech to the Sanhedrin, tells the truth, and is dragged out to
be stoned. As he’s dying, he asks God to forgive his murderers.
the stoning “in approval” was Saul.
death was one of the significant events of the early church: he was the first
martyr; it was the start of the first persecution; the church was scattered
into the surrounding territory; and it was a significant step into what
eventual became the spread and triumph of Christianity on the Roman Empire.
then there was Saul, who helped lead the persecution in Jerusalem, and did so
well that he decided to carry the campaign to Damascus. And on the road to
Damascus, Saul became Paul.
times in his epistles, Paul refers to his role as persecutor of the church. And
I can’t help but think that the image of Stephen crying out to God to forgive
his murderers must have been remembered by Paul every time he mentioned his
Stephen and Paul were forgiven. Stephen did not do the terrible things Paul
did, but both were forgiven. Both experienced the ful measure of God’s grace.
Andy Stanley points out in The
Grace of God, grace is also poured out over us. It’s a kind of unruly,
unpredictable thing, this grace of God, confounding our human notions of fairness.
Whether we believe as a child and work our entire lives for the Lord, or sincerely
accept faith on our deathbeds, the grace of God pours down.
poured down on Paul; it poured down on Stephen. Believers might want to
identify more with Stephen, but most of us more closely approximate Paul’s
is something to grateful for, this grace that pours down. There’s nothing we do
that can earn it. It just pours down.
by Jason Stasyszen and Sarah Salter, we’ve been discussing The Grace of God. To see more posts on this chapter, “Saved by
Grace,” please visit Sarah at Living Betweenthe Lines.
opened a book, selecting
at random, and began
read from mid-sentence,
see that it is only a fragment
time, text without context.
look to the sky to explain
it remains a bright blue,
except for a few clouds.
the wind has stopped,
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