My Advent Prayer

Brothers and Sisters,

This past Sunday marked the beginning of Advent, the church season in which we take on the "expectant waiting"—the anticipation—of Christ's birth. In the centuries leading up to the nativity, Jews were expectantly waiting for their Messiah as well—the exalted one who would deliver them from their oppressors with fanfare, might, and power.

But they were so wrong. That's not how or why Christ came at all.

Over the last few weeks, I've been called on to speak out on behalf of Holland Christian Schools about the presidential election, our country's reaction to it, and the way we've seen those reactions play out in our own school community. I've been told by people from both sides to denounce the words and actions of the other. And that pains me because I know people on each end of the political spectrum who are committed Christians and genuinely believe that their faith is properly informing their politics.

I've written at least seven different drafts of this message, spanning a wide range of emotional responses to what has happened, but every time I get ready to publish or hit "send," Scripture just keeps smacking me in the face. I read:

Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself.  Leviticus 19:18

You have heard it was said, "Love your neighbor and hate your enemy," but I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.  Matthew 5:33-34

But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.  Matthew 5:39

If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.  Matthew 5:41

That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:10

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God,did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!  Philippians 2:5-8

In the Lord's grand plan to bring Shalom to the Chaos of this world, He decided to use human partners for this work. The nation of Israel was set apart as a Kingdom of Priests whose job it was to use their actions to show the world who God was. In all that they did, they were to put Him on display. When God created that covenantal relationship, He designed it independent of political structure. In fact, Israel was not to have a King or a ruler at all. Even when they clamored for one so that they could "be like the other nations" (1 Samuel 8), God warned them about the effects of aligning themselves with earthly power—the way it would bring them pain and ultimately compromise their witness to the rest of the world.

But they wanted it anyway.

Let's avoid the same mistake.

I understand that there are hard feelings about what has transpired in our country over these last months. 
I understand that some of us have directly felt the sting of cruelty as a result. 
I understand that there is righteous indignation swelling up inside many of us that makes us want either to gloat in triumph or to protest powerfully. 
And there are certainly injustices in our community, our nation, and our world that need to be addressed. 

But I'm hoping that we can loosen our collective grip on resentment and that we can cling to our identities in Christ before our political affiliations.

Because we are the new Israel, and "Love your enemies" isn't a metaphor. Jesus actually means that the people who make our blood boil deserve the level of respect, the benefit of the doubt, and the magnanimous kindness that we normally reserve for our families, for those who agree with us, and for our good friends. We can't wrap our human minds around how crazy that sounds, but that's exactly God's way. He takes our notions of how the world should work and flips them on their head in His model of the Kingdom. 

I'm willing to put my personal agenda aside for your sake.
Your needs are more important than mine.
I am less and you are greater.

It's incredibly difficult to enact these perspectives, but what would it look like if we were willing to live out the gospel's call to "the large and demanding life" as Eugene Peterson writes? What if we marched out an army of cheek-turners, extra-mile-walkers, self-emptiers, and enemy-lovers?

I have a feeling that interaction by interaction, relationship by relationship, and community by community we would see a radical expansion of God's Kingdom here on earth. We'd be doing exactly what priests are supposed to do: putting God on display.

I pray that this Advent, the community of Holland Christian Schools gets it right. Because after 500 years of failed King experiments, Israel still didn't understand. So God sent His Son to earth to take on the mantle of the ultimate loser.

He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem . . . He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.  Isaiah 53:3&7 

This is the Messiah we are eagerly anticipating this Advent. This is His example to us. Not a desperate grasp for power, but an emptying of self for the good of others. A person who reaches out a hand of unity where society wants to entrench division. A person willing to lay down His very life for us.

Please join me in living out our expectant waiting of the Messiah by doing the hard work of empathy. Let's have more "we" conversations. Let's bring some Shalom to the Chaos we've been experiencing.

In doing so, we'll make space for God that He will come and fill.

Merry Christmas to you all. 

The Genius of the "And"

I'm fascinated by the way God can take a bunch of different pieces of inspiration and bring out a unified idea. In my case, the last six months have led me to: 

• Andy Crouch's awesome book, Strong and Weak
• James K.A. Smith's You Are What You Love
• Bill Dagget's Rigor and Relevance Framework
• Steve Carter's brand new This Invitational Life
• A trip to Israel with Ray Vander Laan that opened up a whole new perspective on scripture for me 
• And a 30-week Innovation Management Certification cohort at NewNorth where my instructors and classmates brought the gift of Design Thinking into my life.

All of these experiences, readings, the resulting discussions with friends and colleagues have helped shape a point of view in me—a vision for what Christian education should look like. Last week Thursday, I had the chance to share that vision with the employees of Holland Christian Schools during my address for our week of orientation activities. I'd like to share it with you all, and I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions:

Today I’m here with you standing on this stage in this nice, air-conditioned auditorium feeling quite comfortable. But 66 days ago, I was in a very different place.

It was the second day of our Israel Trip, and we were hiking in the middle of the Negev Desert.

It was about 110-degrees.

The loose rocks meant I had to be watching carefully where I placed my foot for each step.

My backpack was loaded with my notebook, some snacks, sunscreen, first aid supplies, and about six liters (or 13 pounds) of water to help me keep walking until lunchtime.  

Take a good look at that land—its barrenness and desolation. In the minds of the people of the Ancient Near East, the desert represented Chaos:

The place where life was hard. 

Where it was easy to get lost.

Where the barren desolation didn’t exactly bring to mind the abundance and flourishing of God’s creation.

We were hiking through Wadi Zoar. A wadi is a dried up riverbed that snakes its way, canyon-like, through the desert, providing nomadic families an “easier” way to get around. Before highways and roads, wadis united cities and even served as trade routes.

But there is a portion of the year when additional danger makes its way into the wadis. During the rainy season, if there’s precipitation up in the mountains or foothills (even far away), it can make its way down to and through the wadis very quickly resulting in flash floods. With only 8-10 seconds of warning, getting stuck with a flock of sheep or a family with young children becomes a real risk. Churning, rushing, uncontrolled water like this was another image of Chaos for these ancient cultures, so you can imagine the foreboding and the fear of situations where desert and flood unite. 

Now, think about the story of the wise and foolish builders at the conclusion of the Sermon on the Mount . . . You know, the one where “the rains came down and the flood came up?” This is the kind of place that Jesus is talking about. 

If you dig up a handful of sand from the wadi floor, you’ll find something very different than the wonderful soft sand of the Lake Michigan dunes. Its coarse, big grains resist sticking to each other when they are wet. You aren’t going to be building any sandcastles in these spots. Water just scatters the sand. 

Jesus said, “But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”

And we all know the other half of this teaching: “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.”

Now, stop and think for a second about what this story doesn’t say. 

It doesn’t say, “The foolish man builds his house in a flood zone.”

It doesn’t say, “The wise man stays out of the wadi.”

It doesn’t say, “Those who follow God’s commands will stay away from Chaos.”

In fact, it reinforces just the opposite.

The wise man’s house is right there in the wadi, with the floodwaters rising and the winds beating against it. It’s right there, amidst the chaos. The only difference is that it is built on the rock. As Christians who are called to be a Kingdom of Priests in this world, we are charged with bringing peace, order, fullness, flourishing—bringing Shalom—to Chaos in all its forms.

But there’s a tension to this, and I think that it often comes out through an inappropriate dichotomy—one that sets us up as either being in the middle of the world’s chaos or being holy.

We feel that tension in Christian education too. 

We know we’re supposed to prepare kids for a life of engagement in the world so that they can “transform [it] for Jesus Christ,” as our school’s mission statement says. But there’s also a protective instinct in us as parents and mentors who know how difficult the real world can be—an instinct to preserve our kids’ innocence and keep them safe just a little while longer.

It’s easy to start thinking this way: Chaos or Holy. 

Worldly or Safe.

It’s a linear, one-dimensional approach to understanding that leads us to a false choice because it eliminates the possibility of paradox—the chance to turn our world upside down in favor of a true Kingdom view.

Because the opposite of engagement with the world is actually withdrawal. 

And the opposite of holiness is really wickedness.

So a more appropriate way to frame our lives in this instance is a 2 x 2 chart—one that embraces the paradox of holiness and engagement with the world . . . and perhaps helps us discover that having the fullness of one requires the fullness of the other. 

The parable of the wise and foolish builders says that God doesn’t want an either/or people in this regard. He wants a both/and people. 

Engaged and Holy.

Certainly, He wants us firmly rooted in His word, knowing what the right path is. But as we walk that path, it needs to take us into the Chaos. It needs to take us into the midst of people’s hurts, into the midst of challenging conversations about our marginalized brothers and sisters. 

And those places aren’t easy. 

But they are exactly what the world needs, aren’t they?

The tyranny of the “or” . . . and the genius of the “and.”

A paradoxical call to live like this can seem overwhelming to us because it’s hard to make room for nuances in our theology. It’s demanding to bring an empathetic approach to each interaction we have with another person. It’s tough to live this way! 

But it’s our calling.

It’s Reformed.

And it’s . . . possible.

Because although the desert is a place of Chaos where life can chew us up and spit us out, it’s also where God draws us close to Himself. It’s no coincidence that the Lord met the nation of Israel in the wilderness to propose His nuptial covenant to them and prepare them to live as His people. It’s no coincidence that Abraham, Jacob, Elijah, David, and the John the Baptist all met God in the desert . . . where He sustained them and shaped them and equipped them to be heralds of His Kingdom.

And Christ Himself . . .

Not 40 years, but 40 days in the desert at the onset of His ministry. Where He too felt hungry and lost. Where He too was tempted. Where He too stood in the midst of the Chaos and affirmed His Lordship and His purpose of bringing Shalom.

In the Chaos . . . and Holy.

The genius of the "and."

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And it gets me wondering if we don’t set up false choices in other parts of our lives—even in our work as Christian educators.

It seems to me that it might be easy to build an axis in our minds on which we see ourselves as either relational mentors for our students or academic trainers—concerned with reading, writing, and arithmetic; college and career readiness; standardized test scores; and GPA’s.

And this becomes an opportunity for us to show what is distinctive about our work—within the worlds of Christian education and schooling in general. It certainly brings out the overarching principle of my own vision:

We need to embrace the genius of the “and” as educators.

Because the opposite of relational is actually impersonal.

And the opposite of academic is actually ignorant.

These qualities aren’t at odds with each other! We need to know our students and become a part of their lives as we help nurture their faith, modeling for them what it looks like to be all in—to live as Shalom-bringers to the Chaos of this world. Kids need to see in our interactions and our relationships—with them and each other—the fullness that Christian community can be.

And we need to care about building our students’ knowledge 

and skills 

and curiosity 

and wonder

and creativity 

and problem-solving.

Both relational and academic . . . The fullness of one requires the fullness of the other.

We’re talking about the whole child here, and that’s something I think resonates with all of us. We’ve got to be continually pressing up and to the right on the 2x2 chart—toward fullness and flourishing. If we care about our students’ faith and their humanity . . . then we also certainly won’t want to omit their academic training, which equips them with the toolkit they need to exert Kingdom-building change on this world.

And likewise, if we care about the intellectual, creative, and capacitive growth of these students . . . we also wont forget that they are unique image-bearers of God with different life stories, different strengths and challenges, at all different phases of their faith journeys.

Relational education, in conjunction with academic education, points toward flourishing and Shalom. 

The bad news about getting away from a linear point of view and looking at things from this two-dimensional perspective is that now there are actually three ways to miss the mark in our work. We can be solely academic; we can be solely relational; or we can even omit both.

But just like being holy amidst the chaos, pulling off this model of education is entirely possible—not easy by any stretch of the imagination . . . but possible.

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If you can hang with me for just a few more minutes, I want to paint a clearer picture of those words: academic and relational.

Starting with the relational piece:

courtesy of The Loft Board Game Lounge

First, before we can establish the right kinds of relationships with our students and before we can serve as mentors and models for them, we have to make sure that we’re dedicating ourselves fully to our own faith . . . that we’re All In as our school’s theme this year puts it. Or to say it another way, we have to risk something.

Steve Carter in his book, This Invitational Life, says “Trust God by leaving the familiar and stepping into the unfamiliar; risk yourself to align with God’s heartbeat for humanity. Make the difference you were created to make in the world.”

“Risk yourself to align with God’s heartbeat for humanity.”

That’s a beautifully worded, in-your-face challenge, isn’t it?

Are we willing to step out of our comfort zones? Are we willing to live out the world-changing message of the gospel . . . even though it will often be inconvenient for us? Are we ready to consider that every action we take within a relationship either fills or empties God’s name of its meaning?

. . . Gulp.

Sounds like a call to go All In to me.

courtesy of www.gostica.com

Second, being relational is about empathy. It means getting inside someone else’s head, or as Atticus Finch tells Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird, “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view . . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” 

Watch your students and each other closely. Notice words . . . but be aware of countenance and body language too. Ask questions. And really listen to the answers. The great thing about empathy is that it’s right in line with Christ’s gospel call in that it’s an intentional effort to direct our focus away from ourselves and onto someone else. 

To put them first.

With that kind of mindset, a relational approach blossoms . . . and this isn’t just about teachers and students. For administrators, aides, custodians, food service workers, support staff, bus drivers, coaches, and any other classification of school employee: you’ve been given the opportunity to bear the fruit of empathy in every interaction you have . . . with each other, with parents, grandparents, neighbors, visitors, opponents on the field or court, donors, and any other manner of person who comes into contact with our community—and, you get to help build the environments in which teacher-student relationships can flourish.

courtesy of www.time.com

And then third, a relational approach to education must have direction. And by that, I don’t mean it should be prescriptive. I mean that it has to be oriented down the right path. If you’ve had the chance to read You Are What You Love, by Jamie Smith, you’ll remember his assertion that we are all beings of desire—or love as he says in other places . . . and no matter what, we are going to love or desire something. The Fall didn’t turn off our ability to love; it simply pointed our loves in the wrong direction.

The kind of relational approach to education that we need to take helps orient students in the right direction. Our connections with others should serve to point them to God and to the life that is truly life.

So, embrace the relational aspect of your job. Pour effort into this work . . . And know that we don’t all go about building relationships in the same way. There’s room in this model for introverts and extroverts; for lions and otters and golden retrievers; for cholerics and phlegmatics, . . . for the unique personalities and gifts that each of you bring to the table.

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But remember, there’s more: we need to be doing academic education too.

And when I say “academic,” I’m not using it to differentiate between certain types of classes or subjects we offer. I’m including our core disciplines along with the arts, PE, industrial arts, technology, and so on.  I only have two key points to remember when it comes to what should mark this academic piece of our educational model.

courtesy of 123rf.com

The first is rigor, and I think this word suffers from a connotation problem . . . because it’s often used as a synonym for “harder” or just “more”—as in, “Hiking uphill is more rigorous than hiking on level ground” or “Writing a 10-page paper is more rigorous than writing a 5-page paper.”

I’d like to steer us away from those definitions toward one of depth. When we talk about rigorous academics, I think it means bringing about higher order thinking in our students. We need to have kids applying their skills and knowledge in new contexts. We need to have them digging down and asking great questions—so as to find the root causes of problems that need solving. It’s our job to build our learners’ capacity to identify the connections that unite separate ideas and events at work in the world around them.

These are deep activities. This is the kind of learning that will allow our students to break free from so much of the mindless vitriol that sadly divides whole segments of our population today. It will equip them to be informed decision makers who can become shapers of society—all the more when empowered by a robust faith.

Now, I certainly recognize that there are foundational pieces that must be a part of a child’s learning . . . and even—to some degree—that the developmental ages of our students determine just how deep we can dive at any given time. But regardless of the point we’re at in a child’s education, if our teaching stays in the shallow end of the pool—if we don’t progress beyond identification and recall, beyond the parroting back of facts or ideas—then I would go so far as to say that our approach is devaluing the very image of God that each child bears.

So avoid the temptation to plow through content . . . and take time to wade deeper with your students. You can reach out your hand to serve as an anchor point for them as they learn to identify the rushing waters of the Chaos around them and take their first steps out into it.

courtesy of 123rf.com

And finally, academic education should be relevant.

During our accreditation self study, we challenged ourselves with the question of whether our content, our teaching, and even our school culture is the right fit for the world as it exists today. Relevant academics will always be tied to the context of society—its opportunities and its challenges.

I’d like for our schools to be known as places in which students are both equipped and challenged to apply their learning in ever-broadening ways:

• Within their subject area

• Across disciplines

• To the more predictable situations in the real world

• And finally to new and un-predictable situations

So as we think about the essential questions of our classes . . . as we plan out the focus of our units . . . as we develop and structure opportunities for students to put their learning and their faith into action . . . let’s do so in a way that doesn’t leave our kids wondering, “What’s it all for?” but instead boldly answers:

“It’s for this time and this place. 

It’s for these people and for these problems—

To bring about this Kingdom here on earth.”

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Relationships marked by risk, empathy, and direction. 

Academics marked by rigor and relevance.

Relational and Academic.

Holy and Engaged.

Rooted and in the Chaos . . . The fullness of one requires the fullness of the other.

The paradoxical genius of the “and.”

But paradoxes are difficult. It’s easy for me to stand here or for you to sit here today and say, “Yup! Sounds great!”

But what about those moments when frustration comes? What about the gravitational pull back to the status quo? What about when our comfort zones get breached and our defensive mechanisms go to DEFCON 1?

It’s going to take a whale of a commitment to get us where we need to go. No dipping our toes into the pool to check the temperature. It’s cannonball time. 

Hmmmm . . . if only we had some kind of theme that tied into this idea . . . 

Oh wait. We do.

But being all in isn’t something that we have to do alone. 

Our last big hike in Israel was up Mt. Carmel—the place where Elijah had his showdown with the prophets of Baal and called down fire from heaven. 

It was really steep. 

I had been struggling with leg cramps for a few days, after unknowingly brining myself by floating in the Dead Sea for an hour and a half and sucking all the moisture out of my body. So on this hike, every one of my steps was pretty small.

And my friends, Dirk and Tom, came along side me and helped drag my sorry behind up that mountain—going so far as to point out where to place my feet and which tree branches to grab during the final steep ascent. 

I couldn’t have done it without them. 

And although that story is about physical effort, it’s a beautiful picture of what we do for each other as the body of Christ. This is how we encourage each other and strengthen each other in our faith and our work as Christian educators.

So think about your fellow employees and look into each other’s eyes. They are your team. They are your crew.

Brothers and sisters, let’s be all in together—for our students, for their families, for each other, and for the glory of God. 

Israel Trip - Day 9 (The Morning)

The Jordan River.

No other geographic feature is mentioned more frequently in the Bible than the Jordan, and it's where we began our hiking on the morning of Day 9.

There are no records or indications in any of the research on the ancient Near East that people worshipped the river itself. Instead all of the references to it are as a barrier to be crossed. Given that reputation, I expected a wide, deep, daunting river that could sweep us away if we weren't careful with our footing. 

Maybe at certain times of the year, but not today.

Our spot on the Jordan

Instead, we were greeted by a pleasant little stream. From a sheerly practical standpoint, had the Israelites found it difficult to cross the Jordan on their way into the Promised Land, they simply could have waited until the drier season for an easy path. That's certainly the way our Western minds would look at the situation.

But as you can read in Joshua 3, the Jordan was at its flood stage when the Israelites crossed over (And that's no joke. See the video above.), so there must be a reason—a more narrative or symbolic reason—for why they proceeded to this place at this time.

RVL helped trace a recurring narrative for us, one that involves water at key times in the Bible. There's a six-part framework for this narrative that begins and ends with the same element, thus taking things full circle:

1. It starts with Chaos (represented by untamed water)
2. God is present 
3. God speaks
4. Shalom comes to the Chaos
5. God's people do something out of step with His command
6. The situation reverts back to Chaos

In creation, for example, we see this framework playing out when initial Chaos is represented in the formless waters. God's presence hovers over the waters in His Spirit (or Ruach in Hebrew). God speaks the words of creation, "Let there be . . ." and Shalom comes about in the beautiful, amazing world that springs up. The Fall occurs with Adam and Eve's sin, and the world gets thrust back into Chaos. 

That Chaos builds until the Flood, and we see the framework play out again with Noah. The next time this narrative comes out is when the Israelites are standing at the shore of the Red Sea on their flight from Egypt. And about 40 years later we see the same pattern when God's people are standing at the banks of the Jordan.

1. There's the Chaos that comes with the enemies and uncertainties waiting for them in the Promised Land on the other side of this flooded, rushing river.
2. God is present in the Ark of the Covenant carried by the Levitical Priests.
3. God speaks to His people through Joshua (see Joshua 3:9-13), essentially telling them to, "Get in!"
4. Shalom comes as the raging water is stopped and the Israelites all make it safely through. They set up an Ebenezer to commemorate and share the story with their children and future generations. They are committed to God, and they conquer the city of Jericho by following His commands.
5. Achen led the Israelites off course by disobeying God's command for dealing with the people they encountered in this new land.
6. That resulted in defeat and Chaos once again for Israel.

But beyond this narrative framework, what is going on in the story of the crossing of the Jordan? God stopping the waters is not so much about His people getting across. Remember, they could've just waited for the drier season. Instead, it's about Him claiming Lordship over this new, fertile land they are about to experience. The natives of this area worshipped Baal and credited him with the abundance of crops it produced. God wants to make sure that His people know from whence their help comes. 

In His previous water-saving story with Israel at the Red Sea, God parted the waters for them. They needed Him, and He acted as a way to build their faith. But they have now spent 40 years in the wilderness—a land of Chaos, but also the place where God draws His people close to Him. They have taken their marriage vows for the new covenant at Sinai. They have received manna for sustenance and learned what "just enough" means, like the sheep in a shepherd's flock. And now they stand on the banks of the raging Jordan, and God says:

Get in!

As a people who have matured in their faith and their relationship with God, He calls on them to demonstrate that faith by getting their feet wet. I was there for you. Will you now put my name on display for the world? There's a common teaching that emerged in the Rabbinic tradition that says, "God acts when our feet are wet."

God wants to know if the nation of Israel is all in. It's the same thing He wants to know of us today. And we need to recognize that His true might—His true Lordship and power—won't be revealed to the world until we are able to answer a resounding, "Yes!" to His question. Anything less, and He won't act in the same way.

I thought about that for a long time on the banks of the Jordan. Do my actions and attitude really have some say or control over the way and the timing of the coming of the Kingdom of God? And I realized that when I compare my version of the Christian life to that of Christ and His disciples, I'm nowhere near as willing to be uncomfortable or risk as much as they were. How could twelve nobodies from some backwater towns in Israel live lives whose effects are still shaping the world today?

Because they were willing to be a whole lot more all-in than I am.

What would the world today look like if I was truly willing to get uncomfortable in doing my part to bring the Kingdom and put God on display? Am I willing to use my platform as the leader of a school community to this end? Am I willing to risk upsetting people—even people I care about—to bring Shalom? Am I willing to put my own wants and desires second to others'? 

Am I all in?

These were the kinds of questions RVL challenged us with on the banks of the Jordan. Were we willing to take our lives in a different direction, a more dedicated one? If so, we could plunge ourselves into the water, literally getting all in. Not so much a baptism, for our belonging to God's family was not in question, but a mikvah—a commitment of our devotion to a new path.

Doing so was an emotional experience for all of us, and one that bound us tightly together—certainly as Christians, but especially as co-laborers in the work of Christian education at Holland Christian Schools. Sitting there in the waters and listening to the songs of praise that we were lifting up presented a little glimpse of what the Kingdom of God feels like when His people are united by a powerful commitment to a common purpose.

It was a powerful morning to be sure.

Israel Trip - Whose Image Is on It?

Rather than writing about a whole day of our Israel experience this time, I wanted to use this entry to highlight the way our trip encouraged me to look at the familiar stories and parables of scripture in a whole new light—one that affected me deeply.

In my lifetime, I've probably had the "Render unto Caesar . . ." story taught to me or preached to me at least 10 times. In every single one of those circumstances, the story was framed as a way to justify Christians submitting to governmental authority or paying taxes. I always assumed that's what it was about.

Until now.

When you have the chance, read the short passages from Matthew 22:15-22, Mark 12:13-17, and Luke 20:19-26. This story takes place on the Temple Mount during Passion Week as some of the religious leaders and some of the pro-Rome Jews—two groups who disliked each other as a rule—were abnormally joining forces to see if they could catch Jesus in a statement that would let them have Him arrested. You know, the enemy of your enemy is your friend.

You also probably know the story.

"Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Should we pay taxes or not?" they asked.

Now, there's a couple things to note here. The word "taxes" would be better translated as "tribute," which is a form of payment made by a conquered territory to the conquering empire. Although this tribute has some shared characteristics with what we think of as taxes, there is an added connotation to this payment. It was about reinforcing the societal order—about the conquered people formally acknowledging the greatness of their conquerors.

In the case of Caesar Augustus, he worked very hard to make sure that his father was declared to be a god—which would, in turn, give him the ability to claim that he was the son of a god and deserving of worship by his subjects. In fact, in the Roman Empire the words Lord, Savior, and Gospel (good news) could legally only be used to refer to Caesar and his deity. 

*On a side note, the angels used all of these terms with the shepherds on the night of Jesus' birth to reinforce that He was the true Son of God, not Caesar (Luke 2:10-11). How cool is that?

So, by paying tribute, the people in the conquered lands of Rome were accepting Caesar's claim and his rule. Most conquered people joyfully did so, knowing that life would be much easier and more comfortable for them as a result. But from the beginning, faithful Jews were resistant to this idea. In fact, they resisted so strongly that Caesar gave them a special dispensation: rather than having to pray to him, they could pray for him to their God.

So, when Jesus was asked, "Is it lawful . . ." the Pharisees were referring to Jewish law (the Torah), not Roman law. If you know your 10 Commandments, you know that "You shall have no other gods before me" is right at the top of the list. Caesar claimed he was a god, and paying tribute meant that you accepted his rule over you and his deity. Acknowledging another god would therefore be in direct violation of Jewish law—hence the interest of the Pharisees in Jesus' response.

But not paying the tribute would be in violation of Roman law, so the Herodians (Jews who supported Roman rule and a more Hellenistic way of life) were also interested in what Christ would answer. If He was deemed treasonous, He could certainly be arrested and executed.

Rather than respond immediately, however, Jesus asks them to bring him a Denarius so that he can look at it. The Denarius, or Tribute Penny, was the coin used to give tribute to Caesar, and conquered subjects would purchase it for that specific purpose. When they bring Him the coin, Jesus asks them a question:

Whose image and inscription is on it?

The front of the coin had Caesar's picture, and the inscriptions combined to read, "Caesar Augustus Tiberius, son of the divine Augustus." Remember that Caesar wanted his dad declared a god? This coin reinforced his claim of divinity, and giving it as tribute meant you agreed. Think of this: Caesar went to a lot of trouble minting these coins so that conquered subjects could buy them, only to give them back to him in some symbolic gesture that was meant to reinforce the fabricated narrative of him as the supreme ruler and a god.

So Jesus' question was simple for the Pharisees and Herodians to answer. 

Whose image is this? That's an easy one! It's Caesar's.

And here comes the line we all know so well: Jesus replied, "Render to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's."

And this is the point where I always heard the explanation about Christians submitting to earthly authority or paying their taxes.

But what about Jesus' question: Whose image is this? What does that have to do with his response?

What if what Jesus is really saying goes more like this:

A coin? You're getting all fired up about a coin??? Listen, Caesar went to all this trouble to make these tribute pennies with his picture on them. Now he wants you to give them back to stroke his own ego. Go ahead! . . . But what has God's image on it? . . . Give that to Him because that's what He is truly interested in.

What has God's image on it? 

Us! 

Don't we refer to ourselves as image-bearers of God? We are living, breathing "pictures" of the Most High. We are His Kingdom of Priests, called to put him on display for the whole world to see.

It's our whole lives that God wants us to give to Him. Not some coin. Not some measly tribute penny. Everything we are. Everything we do. Our thoughts. Our relationships. Our care for the hurting and marginalized. All of it.

I don't know about you, but I find this view of the story a whole lot more inspiring than a reminder to submit my taxes by April 15th every year.

So take a moment and reflect. Are you putting God on display? Are you actively seeking out ways to bring Shalom into the Chaos of this world? Are you carving out more square inches of the Kingdom for God to come and fill? 

Examine your life.

Whose image is on it?

Israel Trip - Day 8

Ruins of Gamla on a jagged peak

On the 8th day of our trip, we spent time in the Golan Heights learning about the Zealots. We visited the ancient city of Gamla in the northeast region of Galilee. At its height, Gamla had 5,000 people, making it the largest city in the area. The zealots as a group of people took their cues from the Old Testament stories like Joshua that told of God's people violently cleansing the land of evil.

For over 100 years, starting around 50 B.C., the zealots led uprisings against their Roman oppressors, while also (in their minds) defending God's honor by doing violence to Jews who collaborated with Pagans. For these zealots, the coming of the Kingdom of God meant final liberation. It meant that all those who dishonored God by mistreating, torturing, and killing His people would at last get what was coming to them—judgment by fire. It was the belief that kept them going and gave them the strength they needed to hold fast to their convictions.

When stories of a new, powerful rabbi started circulating—one who could perform miracles and even raise the dead—the zealots had to be excited. Perhaps this was the man who would help usher in the long-awaited judgment. But Christ's message was about bringing the Kingdom through love, forgiveness, and sacrifice. It was a contrary message that rang harshly in the zealots' ears. But when we bring the Kingdom the right way, it will stand forever. It's vital that we pass along that great story to our children and our students.

The synagogue in Gamla

In Gamla, we took time in the ruins of the synagogue to learn what a worship service would've been like for Jews in that day. It would begin with families going to do Mikvah (the ritual washing) at the pool outside the synagogue. This was also a social time as the people filed into the synagogue and took their seats.

When the service started, the Chazan (leader of the service) would walk in and lead the people in the Shema. Much differently than we do in our Western churches, people would all pray aloud at their own pace. This forces you to concentrate on the words you're saying and make them your own. The Shema was followed by the Amida, or morning prayer, taken from I Chronicles 29. 

After the prayers, the Chazan would go to the Torah Closet, take the scroll out, break the seal and open the scroll. He would then walk the scroll around the synagogue with the people singing and dancing, all anxious to touch the scroll and then kiss their hands—echoing the words of Psalm 119:103 "How sweet are Your words to my taste! Yes, sweeter than honey to my mouth." The joy the Jews take in the word of God is inspiring.

Each week, there is a different set of passages assigned for reading in the synagogue service—some from the Torah and some from the prophets and Psalms. All told, the readings would be 10-12 chapters long and last for 30-40 minutes, and most of the attendees would know the passages by heart. Following the reading, someone would sit in the Moses Seat and give the deresha—a short explanation or application of the readings lasting for about two minutes. It's interesting how the time allotted for reading and preaching have totally flipped in church today.

At this point, anyone who could trace their lineage back to the Levite priests could give the Aaronic blessing to those in attendance: The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up His face to you and give you peace. Finally, although not likely in Jesus day, those in attendance would chant together, "Hazak! Hazak! V'nitkhazek!" or "Be strong! Be strong! And give each other strength!"

Going through a service like this gave me a deep sense of connection to the roots of our church today and a rededication in my own heart to know the word of God better—to hunger and thirst for it the way the Jews did.

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Later that day, we visited Caesarea Philippi at the foot of Mt. Hermon. There is a large, incredibly deep cave here—out of which flowed a spring that the ancient Canaanites believed came directly from Baal and granted them fertile crops. Once Alexander the Great conquered the area and left some soldiers behind, that site became the center of Pan worship with three separate temples erected on the site. Every two years, Pan worshippers from all over would make pilgrimages to this spot to pay tribute to the Gates of Hades that led to the underworld and its power. It was a place of the most disgusting rituals you can imagine . . . one that would make even the most desensitized people uncomfortable.

And the Gates of Hades will not overcome it.

Christ came to this horrible place with His disciples and asked them who people said he was and who they thought he was. When Peter answered that He was the Christ, the Son of the Living God, Jesus agreed. And then He pointed to this vile, filthy, unholy place and said, ". . . and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it."

In the midst of total chaos, God wants to bring Shalom. Into the darkest recesses of the world, Christ wants to build His church. 

The gospel was always meant for those who are lost.

And when we live as Shalom-bringers, we bring the Kingdom . . . 

Square inch by square inch.

And the power of this Kingdom is so great that not even the most vile monuments to the Evil One will be able to withstand it. 

But remember, that power comes in weakness and humility. Not through violence. Not through judgment. But through our willingness to wade into the chaos and offer up all that we hold dear for the good of others.

No one sets out to be seduced by the goat-god. He is disgusting and loathsome. But it's what he promises that seems so sweet. It's the small compromises that we think will yield happiness or fitting in. 

We prayed there, at Caesarea Philippi, for our students who are going off to college and will be facing a boatload of temptations and promises to lure them off the path of righteousness. We prayed Hazak, Hazak, V'nitkhazek because it's as a community of believers that we are able to remain strong together.

We're called to be people who live in chaos . . . who live in the vine valleys . . . in the Caesarea Philippis of the world. 

But that's hard.

It's much easier to isolate ourselves . . . to be people of the burbs.

But as Christ said, If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?

What will we give in exchange for our souls?

Hazak.

Hazak.

V'nitkhazek.

Israel Trip - Day 7

We are back home in the US now, but I am going to try to pull my thoughts together from the various learning opportunities we had on the rest of our trip.

Day 7 was our first full day in Galilee, where Jesus conducted most of His ministry.

We began the day at the foot of Mt. Arbel, reviewing the context for Jesus coming onto the scene. Why now? Why this era of history?

In John 1:5, we read, “The light shines in the darkness . . .” This passage helps us understand that God’s timing is intentional. This was, up to this point, the heaviest time of persecution for Jews in history, but it was also the time of the deepest level of knowledge and commitment to God’s word. That knowledge is also part of the light shining in the darkness and sets up the stark contrast between Jesus’ mission and the prevailing sentiments of the time.

Mark 1:15 tells us, “The Kingdom of God is near . . .,” but this is not about timing. That word for near is about intimacy . . . as in drawing your wife near and making a son. So, people were seeking to live out Torah to a massive degree. It’s into this highly biblically literate time that Jesus bursts onto the scene to continue the story that is already going, not to rewrite it.

Yes, God acted in grace and power to bring Israel out of Egypt.

Yes, the Lord is reigning forever and ever over this whole world.

And now, Jesus wants to know: Am I Lord of your life? Will you dedicate every ounce of who you are to following me?

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Mt. Arbel made us respect the disciples' cardio!

Looking around and seeing which point was highest, we knew where we were headed for the morning, and we began our leg-burning ascent up Mt. Arbel. RVL remarked that these trips have changed his mental image of Jesus to a man with much larger thighs!

So, if Jesus was just continuing the same story that the Jews were already a part of, why did they have such a problem with him? We paused in a cave to answer that question. It started with stories to illustrate the level of persecution the Jews faced during this era—horrific instances of torture like flaying alive and boiling in oil. Thousands of Jews faced these fates for keeping their faith publically.

And it brought up a question for them.

When Israel was taken into captivity, their understanding was that it was a result of being unfaithful to God. When they returned, they dedicated themselves to righteous paths, which they were clearly following, as noted by the persecution they faced.

So why—now that they were living as God wanted—were they suffering more than before?

This line of thought is what led the Jews to believe in a final judgment time and a place for those who have acted against God—Hell. It was what gave them the courage they needed to withstand the inhuman treatment they received, and it was present in several recorded speeches of Jews at the hands of their persecutors. And under the brutal Roman rule, there couldn’t have been more desire for fiery justice to rain down on these oppressors.

Yet Jesus said to love your enemies.

And pray for those who persecute you.

This is where their problem with Jesus arose.

In the Jewish system, they had worked out the idea of who would get to sit in judgment of sinners, and it was the first person who had been sinned against—Abel when he was murdered by his brother Cain. Abel the son of Adam.

In Hebrew, the son of Man.

Now fast forward to the story of a lame man being lowered through a roof into the room where Jesus was teaching in order to be healed. Instead of healing his body, however, Jesus says, “Son, your sins are forgiven,” knowing, I’m sure that this would generate a reaction from the religious leaders.

When the teachers of the Torah questioned Jesus’ authority to do what he did, he said,

“So that you might know that the Son of Man has the power to . . . FORGIVE, I say to this man, take up your mat and walk.”

Forgiveness. Not judgment.

All the mental pictures of our captors finally being the ones to suffer . . . all the stories we’ve told our children and grandchildren: Don’t worry, Nadav. Someday God will sweep these Romans away and burn them for the dishonor they bring to His name . . .

Poof.

Jesus says they’re gone.

The Kingdom is about emptying ourselves, not preserving what’s ours.

Love, not hate.

Weakness, not strength.

This is why Jesus’ message clashed so much with the religious Jews of His day.

Our days in Galilee were about exploring the nuances of Jesus’ explanation of the Kingdom of God to the various cultural and religious groups of the area.

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The Synagogue at Capernaum

Exploring “The Triangle” of Jesus ministry took us past Eremos Topos (likely the site of the Sermon on the Mount), through Bethsaida and Chorazin, and finally to Capernaum—the Harvard of Torah teaching and learning. Over time, two competing schools of thought had developed among the Pharisees. The followers of Shammai stuck to a quite literal interpretation of the Torah, holding up the Shema as the greatest commandment: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might. They tended to emphasize the commands about holiness and purity. The zealots were buoyed by such teaching.

The followers of Hillel believed that another Levitical commandment fell just below the Shema: Love your neighbor as yourself (from Leviticus 19:18). This command was about preserving life or enhancing the existence of another human being. The Hillel school believed that call trumped other commandments preventing Sabbath work, for example. Their understanding of the importance of preserving or enhancing life is called Pikuach Nefesh.

In His own teachings, it’s clear that Jesus sided more with the teachers and followers of Hillel. In the town of Capernaum, the standards of what made someone clean or unclean would be well known. Agents of uncleanliness included bodily fluid, leprosy, and touching anything dead. Yet, in this very town, Jesus healed a perpetually bleeding woman, cured a leper, and raised Jairus’ dead daughter. Not only did He declare His belief in Pikuach Nefesh by doing so, but He also showed that in Him, we are made clean.

That is why, when he is questioned by the Pharisees, about the Greatest Commandment, Jesus answers,

“’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” He elevates the second commandment of loving our neighbor onto the same level as Loving God.

In his answer, Jesus affirms the important mission we bear of bringing Shalom to the Chaos of this world, and that is the enduring line of God’s story that we were tracing during our entire trip.

Israel Trip - Day 6

We had wifi issues at the hotel last night, so this post is a day late. My apologies!

Day 6 was an extremely challenging day that started in Qumran, home of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Essenes. I had always labeled the Essenes as religious separatists who were totally misguided in their thinking, but our time in Qumran also helped us appreciate the deep dedication they had to the word of God.

Caves 4 & 5 where key Dead Sea Scrolls were found

The Essenes were a priestly group who began as an alternative to what they believed were the corrupt Jewish priests of their day. They were of the line of Melchizedek (see Genesis 14)—the same line from which Christ himself would come. They believed strongly in God's covenant with Israel at Sinai in which He called them to be a Kingdom of Priests who extend God's reign by putting Him on display.

They shed the humanistic influences of Hellenism by giving away everything and sharing with those in need, all in their Qumran community way out in the Judean Wilderness of the West Bank. If would-be Essenes could make it for two years in that setting and prove their dedication, they would be accepted into the group. Their teachings significantly influenced both John the Baptist and Jesus. Everything they did, from their careful memorization and copying of scripture to the way they sought to love their neighbor, was to become the Word in Flesh.

Top of our hike

To get a sense of the Essenes' commitment, we took a long hike up to the mountain top over Qumran where we considered where they got their incredibly strong dedication. It was easy for us to see how Essenes had to be all in if they were going to dwell in this region, climb these hills, and study God's word relentlessly—all in 100+ degree heat! As happens so often on this trip, it was the words from the Bible that left the strongest impression on me from the top of that mountain.

RVL turned away from us, cupped his hands, and bellowed out one of my favorite passages from Isaiah 40:

"Comfort, comfort my people," says your God. "Speak kindly to Jerusalem; And call out to her, that her warfare has ended, That her iniquity has been removed, That she has received of the LORD'S hand Double for all her sins." A voice is calling, "Clear the way for the LORD in the wilderness; Make smooth in the desert a highway for our God." Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.

The Essenes believed that living as a Kingdom of Priests would bring the Kingdom of God that Isaiah describes. But do we mean it too? Every valley lifted up? Every mountain and hill made low? This will require total commitment! Not just on Sundays. Not just once in awhile. 

But in every fiber of our being and in every single thing we do.

As the echo of God's words dissipated from the air, we were asked if we were really all in.

I am.

It will be incredibly hard, as we are getting the tiniest inkling of with our trekking through the deserts. But it will expand God's territory and allow Him to fill up more and more of the world. Time and time again on our trip, we've seen how a small number of truly dedicated followers can change the course of the world, and I can't begin to imagine the power of a whole community like Holland Christian Schools going all in and the impact it would have.

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After making our way back down the mountain, we had lunch and began our journey north to Galilee. Along the way, we stopped at a collection of wheat fields and shepherding areas to explore some of the metaphors Jesus used and understandings people had for those aspects of life.

The wheat almost ready for harvest

Farm plots were serious business in Israel. After decades wandering in the desert, the people were presented with the opportunity to grow their own food, and each family got a portion of the ground to which they were to bring Shalom. In return, it would sustain them and the whole community. These inherited plots were called nachala, and we've all been given our own versions of a piece of the world to tend: our job, our family, our recreation, and creation itself . . . and it's our job to identify the chaos that exists in that plot and bring shalom to it.

When we do that well, we will say with the Psalmist, "My boundary lines have fallen in sweet places." (Psalm 16:6)—meaning that we feel the satisfaction of living in God's will.

We also talked about the practice of not harvesting the corners of the fields—instead, leaving those for the poor. This implies using what we produce directly for others. It's a first fruits idea.

Not some leftovers.

Something right off the top.

I'm mulling over many ways in which our school can dedicate a portion of what we do to help others. It would be a fascinating opportunity to expand the Kingdom of God!

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A similar "stable" to the one of Jesus' birth

Finally, we hiked up to a cave that would have served as a stable, and we got a real sense of the surroundings into which Jesus would have been born. 

No golden straw scattered about.

Piles of animal dung everywhere.

Spiders crawling on the walls.

A manger of stone with any number of animal bacteria infecting it.

It's a far different picture than the "prettified" version of Christmas we celebrate . . . because Jesus' birth was already a massive expression of Him stepping into chaos to deliver shalom. He left heaven for this? These are the lengths he's willing to go to bring the Kingdom?

I often wondered as a kid why the disciples, who had the Son of God sitting in their midst, had so much trouble understanding what he said to do. In that cave, it dawned on me that it probably wasn't that they didn't understand what to do.

It's just that it's so hard.

To be all in.

To continually put others first.

But when we do . . . the Kingdom of God will come exploding out over the whole world! The Hebrew word for that exploding is pratz. Let's burst forth eagerly in our own walks so that we can take the next step in making space for God.

Space that He will come and fill.