Repair

But Jesus sees right into our hearts Lenten/Easter question #20

John 21:15-19 After breakfast Jesus asked Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” …

Normally, Pittsburgh weather is what my grandson Caleb calls “boring.” The main question we have to ask at this time of year while nature is bursting into all its bright colors is whether it will be raining or whether we’ll be blessed with a few coveted hours of sunshine.

Tuesday, though, broke the mold. No, not a hurricane or even a tornado, as I explained to Caleb–I was at their house when the storm hit. But we had wind gusts up to 80 mph that killed three people; according to our local news:

Tuesday evening’s storm left a wake of destruction in the Pittsburgh area. Large oak trees toppled from the strength of the winds and roofs were torn off of buildings. Duquesne Light said restoration across the area could take five to seven days, calling the event “unprecedented.”

Over 400 workers rolled into town yesterday to aid Duquesne Light with restoration efforts. We were without power for only 24 hours. The main thing we have to show for it is this “storm art.” Pretty cool, eh?

For our daughter Rachel’s family, though, the adventure is ongoing. “Fireworks!” my granddaughter Liliana exclaimed looking up at the electric pole by their house as she and her sister arrived home from preschool in a torrent of rain, with downed wires on the sidewalk. We hope some of the emergency workers will make it to their neighborhood today. Unfortunately, everything in their house is electric, including their stove.

Here’s what the electric pole right by their house looks like, with the top section snapped off and lying precariously on other wires:

Photo by Rachel’s husband Brian

Needless to say, they’re not parking by their house right now!

All this pales before the devastation, self-inflicted, Peter experienced after Jesus’s arrest in Gethsemane. Just that evening he had declared, “I’m ready to die for you.” Instead, he buckled at three suggestions that he was associated with Jesus. Luke tells us Peter went out and wept bitterly (22:62).

The time has finally come, in this last chapter of John, for Peter to confront his cowardice. Just as he had denied Jesus three times, Jesus asks him, reverting to his old name, the name used in Luke 5, “Simon, do you love me?”

Interestingly, Jesus asks Peter twice, “Do you agape me?” Agape is supernatural, grace-filled, absolutely dependable love. But Peter responds, “Yes, Lord, you know I phileo you.”

The third time, Jesus accommodates Peter. Apparently, he recognizes phileo (brotherly or family love) is all that Peter is capable of claiming at this moment. Jesus has made his point. He has steadfastly loved Peter with agape love through thick and thin, and this is what he wants Peter to grow into.

Agape is the love Jesus shares with his Father. In his prayer for his disciples recorded in John 17, Jesus says, “I have revealed you to them, and I will continue to do so. Then your love (agape) for me will be in them” (John 17:26). Jesus wants all of his followers—you and I included—to experience and practice agape.

In his little book The Four Loves, C. S. Lewis delves into the diverse nuances we miss because four different Greek words are all translated into one English word “love.” At the same time this wordplay is going on between Jesus and Simon Peter, though, another dynamic is at play. Jesus has been preparing Peter to lead. What will Peter’s leadership look like, when Jesus is no longer around to be the leader?

Jesus sums it up in two simple phrases: “Feed my lambs,” the Shepherd tells him (can you feel the affection?) and “Take care of my sheep.” “Be like me in this way too,” I hear Jesus speaking into Peter’s brokenness. “Care for others in the same gentle, committed, insightful, sacrificial way I am caring for you right now.” THIS is leadership in the Kingdom (see Matthew 20:25-28), the same servant love Jesus demonstrated in washing the disciples’ feet.

It’s a reprise not just of Luke 5, but of John 13 after Jesus washed the disciples’ feet, just before Jesus warns Peter he will deny Jesus. “I am giving you [all the disciples] a new commandment: Love (agape) each other. Just as I have loved (agape) you, you should love (agape) each other. Your love (agape) for each other will prove to the world that you are my disciples.”

How’s that going in your part of the world?

Eyewitness

But Jesus shows us the Father Lenten question #16

John 14:8-9 Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father!“

Colossians 1:15 Christ is the visible image of the invisible God.

Hebrews 1: 3 The Son radiates God’s own glory and expresses the very character of God, and he sustains everything by the mighty power of his command.

I’m trying to write a book to help kids understand the Trinity (right—as if I understand the Trinity!). Scriptures about the relationships between the Father, Son, and Spirit have fascinated me for a long time.

Bear with me here while I try to articulate a few thoughts. If you’re familiar with Karis’s story, you know that she loved to share her faith with Muslim people, in Arabic if that was their heart language. To the extent that she could, she became part of the Muslim community here in Pittsburgh, both in and out of the hospital. She had always wanted to live in North Africa. That was not possible because of her health, but God surprised her by bringing Arabic speakers here, in large part because her chief transplant surgeon was Egyptian.

When I think about Philip in this passage from John, I feel like I understand him better because of what I observed through Karis’s friendships. It seemed to me that our Muslim friends had an “Old Testament” faith, as of course did the Jewish people before Jesus came to earth. They talked about God in similar ways to what I hear even from Christians when they reference the “God of the Old Testament”: majestic, holy, distant, judgmental, punishing, strict, deserving of all our devotion but unknowable, too far above and beyond us to feel any true intimacy in relation to him.

My Old Testament professor in college tried to dissuade his students of this perspective of God as revealed in the most ancient Scriptures. He believed the Father’s love shone through just as much in the Old Testament as in the New. But I’m not sure he was very successful about changing our minds. After all, people DIED by even touching the Ark of his presence to keep it from falling onto a rough road (2 Samuel 6:6-7). Despite the passages describing God’s love and care, God in the Old Testament inspired more terror in us than affection.

If Philip carried some of these same sentiments about God the Father, it’s not surprising that he did not immediately connect Jesus—the Jesus he watched heal and gently care for people, the Jesus he walked, talked, ate, slept, laughed, and wept with—as being the same as the God he knew.

That’s largely the point of the Incarnation, right? That Jesus would give people a more accurate understanding of the Father’s heart and character. Without knowing Jesus, would Dr. Schultz have “read back” into the Old Testament the nature of God as essentially loving? I don’t know. “My Father and I are one,” Jesus said again and again.

John’s passion for this theme comes out in his three letters to the churches. Try to put yourself in his place—try to imagine for a moment that you have never understood these truths—and feel John’s excitement as he wrote,

We proclaim to you the one who existed from the beginning,

Whom we have heard and seen.

We saw him with our own eyes

And touched him with our own hands.

He is the Word of life.

This one who is life itself was revealed to us and we have seen him.

And now we testify and proclaim to you that he is the one who is eternal life.

He was with the Father; and then he was revealed to us!

We proclaim to you what we ourselves have actually seen and heard

So that you may have fellowship with us.

And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ.

We are writing to you so that you may fully share our joy.

1 John 1:1-4

Has YOUR idea of God been transformed by knowing his Son, Jesus?

Counter-cultural humility

But Jesus took on the role of a slave Lenten question #15 April 15, 2025

John 13:3-5, 12-17 Jesus knew that the Father had given him authority over everything and that he had come from God and would return to God. So he got up from the table, took off his robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured water into a basin. Then he began to wash the disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel he had around him. … After washing their feet, he put on his robe again and sat down and asked, “Do you understand what I was doing? … Since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet. … I tell you the truth, slaves are not greater than their master.”

Philippians 2:6-8 Though Jesus was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.

I’ve always loved books like The Prince and the Pauper and The Scarlet Pimpernel and Zorro, in which a person appears ordinary, concealing the fact that he or she is playing a grand role in a lifesaving, history-changing endeavor. The bumbling Clark Kent, aka Superman, is another example, as is Rand (the Dragon Reborn) in The Wheel of Time. Do you have favorite stories with this theme?

Perhaps my fascination with these characters stems from the ways they mirror the greatest story of all: Jesus, King of kings, giving up the privileges of Heaven to live as a man from a poor family, raised in an obscure village as a carpenter’s son, with the scandal of his mother’s premarital pregnancy hanging over his head.

In the narrative of John 13, which we will commemorate on Thursday, Jesus knowing the Father had given him authority over everything washed his disciples’ feet, usually the task of a slave. And then he challenged his disciples to serve as he had served them.

Knowing we are beloved by the Father, we are called to care as he cared. I love this quote from Mother Teresa: “If you are humble nothing will touch you, neither praise nor disgrace, because you know what you are.”

After asking “Do you understand what I was doing?” Jesus told his disciples, “Slaves are not greater than their master.” What our master was willing to do for us is so much greater than anything we can ever do. Let’s not let pride get in the way of whatever our Lord asks of us. May the Spirit daily grow his love in us.

Choose your own adventure

But Jesus heals our vision Lenten question from John #11

John 9:32-38[The formerly blind man told the Jewish leaders] “Ever since the world began, no one has been able to open the eyes of someone born blind. If this man were not from God, he couldn’t have done it.” “You were born a total sinner!” they answered. “Are you trying to teach us?” And they threw him out of the synagogue. When Jesus heard what had happened, he found the man and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” The man answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.” “You have seen him,” Jesus said, “and he is speaking to you!” “Yes, Lord, I believe!” the man said. And he worshiped Jesus.

Hmm. Deflecting a legitimate perspective by using contempt. Where have we seen that before?

My seven-year-old grandson recently received from his uncle a set of “choose your own ending” stories. My husband spent an hour with him a few nights ago exploring all the possible conclusions to one set of scary circumstances before finding the one happy ending that could allow Caleb to sleep in peace.

Shutterstock: Sarayut Sridee

I’ve written before on this blog about John 9, one of the most carefully crafted, intriguing chapters in the whole Bible with its intricate word play on the concept of blindness and vision. Since John doesn’t tell us what happened next in the formerly blind man’s life, we can imagine a number of possible outcomes of his rejection by the Jewish leaders when he naively (it seems) spoke truth to power. His vision went far beyond his new experience of physical sight.

Did his parents continue to reject him, to preserve their status in the synagogue?
Did the newly sighted man join the disciples in following Jesus around the countryside? If so, what did this lead to? Successful integration in the church birthed at Pentecost? Martyrdom? A mission to some other country?
What skills other than begging and dormant abilities and passions did he develop?
Did he meet a wonderful woman to marry and create his own family?

Hey, you could start with John 9, invent a past and a future for this man based on historical research, give him relationships with intriguing events and people and write a novel! The theme to explore: What did it mean for a man blind from birth, assumed to be paying the consequence of his own sin (in the womb??) or his parents’ to respond affirmatively to Jesus’ question: Do you believe in the Son of Man?

And what does this question mean to you today, in your circumstances, with your history, your relationships, your fears and expectations for your future? John’s entire Gospel compels our response to this question. What adventure will you choose?

What’s your story?

Lenten question from John #6

John 5:46-47 If you really believed Moses, you would believe me, because he wrote about me. But since you don’t believe what he wrote, how will you believe what I say?

Matthew 5:17 Don’t misunderstand why I have come. I did not come to abolish the law of Moses or the writings of the prophets. No, I came to accomplish their purpose.

As my grandchildren helped me prepare to honor their grandfather on his St. Patrick’s Day birthday, we talked about why I love the shamrock: three hearts linked together, reflecting the love of each member of the Trinity, Father, Son, and Spirit. Since I’m currently writing a book for grade schoolers that I hope will help them understand the Trinity, I’m more alert than usual to these images and to all that I can glean from Scripture about the Three-in-One in world cultures.

There’s a theory in missiology that God has implanted in every culture a witness about Jesus and the redemption story. Bruce Olson wrote about this in his story from Ecuador, Bruchko. Seehttps://www.canaacademy.org/blog/bruchko-renewing-culture-in-the-forbidden-jungle . I LOVE hearing stories about Jesus appearing to Muslims in their dreams, a highly revered way of seeing in their culture.

The writings of Moses and other prophets, of course, held primary religious and cultural authority for the Jewish people of Jesus’s time. Jesus challenges the Jewish leaders, though, about how well they understood and believed the prophecies about himself embedded both implicitly and explicitly in the books of the law. Could they “see” what was there? Or were they more interested in “using” the Scriptures to elevate themselves while they burdened their followers with excessive legalism? Did they miss God’s compassion and grace?

One of my favorite images from Moses’s writings is the Passover Lamb in Exodus, whose blood protects and saves each household as the angel of death “passes over” the doorway of any home painted with the lamb’s blood. What is your favorite Christ image in the books of Moses?

I’m just home from Bogotá, an intense week with 470 people from 23 countries who gathered for the Latin American Discipleship Summit which my husband helped organize along with a dedicated planning team. I kept wishing for time to find out each person’s story, and particularly what about the Gospel story touched them at such a deep level that they dedicated their entire lives to Christ and his church. What did the Spirit use in each one’s life experience and culture and belief system to “click” with their hearts and minds? What’s your story? I would love to know.

Two minutes more of Individual reflection time, followed by group discussion at our tables. “My” table was #14, with people from nine different countries, denominations, ages, and ministries among the ten of us, all strangers who developed deep bonds across the four days of the Summit. What a wonderful experience!

Here’s a link to a collage of images from the first three days of the Summit (there’s a flash of me at my table at 21 seconds):

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1KoPvDMiPUm2c6ztLg4Y5t5jLasF4vu7O/view?usp=sharing

Would you like to get well?

But Jesus looks deeper Lent 2025 question #5

I’m writing to you today from the wonderful city of Bogotá, Colombia. Dave and I are here along with 470 others from 23 countries for the Latin American Discipleship Summit, which Dave has been preparing for the whole last year. We would appreciate your prayers. If you want more information, please let me know!

John 5:5-7 A man lying there had been sick for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him and knew he had been ill for a long time, he asked the man, “Would you like to get well?” “I can’t, sir,” the sick man said.

This fifth one of our twenty questions for Lent from John’s gospel seems rhetorical at first. There’s only one possible answer. Of course he would want to get well. Right?

The man didn’t answer Jesus’s question. He knew his situation was impossible, so what did it matter what he wanted? He had long since given up giving credit to his own desires. He had settled into life as a victim of his circumstances. In certain ways—the specifics aren’t clarified for us (see verse 14)—he had abdicated maturity.

Sometimes giving up on our desires is appropriate. I was amused yesterday when, on an errand with me to the bank, wearing a tutu, my granddaughter Talita informed the teller she wanted to be a ballerina when she grew up. The teller asked her whether she was taking ballet lessons. Talita said, “No, my mom hasn’t found ballet lessons for me. So, I think instead, I want to be an artist. My brother is teaching me.”

At age just-turned-five, Talita’s desires are fluid. She has time to try out all kinds of different aspirations. At this point in my life, though, I’m asking myself what desires I’ve given up on, desires that I once believed God had given me but seem, at age 70, impossible. Perhaps they are. Perhaps it’s time to bite the bullet and admit my limitations.

But to do so in a healthy way, I think I need to answer Jesus’s question—What do I want?—before leaping to the impossibilities. And of course, linked to the question of what I want is the question of what God wants. If he wants me to fulfill one of my dreams, nothing is impossible. The real question becomes, “Am I willing to pay the price to accomplish this? Am I prepared to do my part?”

The man Jesus healed had to face huge adjustments after thirty-eight years as an invalid. He had to learn how to be a responsible adult. How to care for himself. How to navigate peer relationships in which he was no longer a victim but a survivor.

God can be trusted to do his part. Am I prepared to do mine?

Twenty questions

But Jesus asked, “What do you want?”

John 1:35-38 The following day [after his baptism by John the Baptist] John was again standing with two of his disciples. As Jesus walked by, John looked at him and declared, “Look! There is the Lamb of God! When John’s two disciples heard this, they followed Jesus. Jesus looked around and saw them following. “What do you want?” he asked them.

Have you played the game Twenty Questions? When I was a child, my siblings and I entertained ourselves on long car trips playing this. A person thinks of an object, and the others try to guess it through asking fewer than twenty questions. The first question is, “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” to narrow the field.

Jesus’ first question of two men following him also narrowed the field. They could have responded a zillion ways to the question, “What do you want?”

What do you want?

If Jesus showed up in your living room today asking this question, what would you answer?

Jesus is still, two thousand years later, asking this question. I invite you to take a few minutes to respond. And even to write down your answer. Think about it now. What do you really, really want?

Next time, I’ll share a few of my responses. I would love for you to share too.

Hope or dystopia?

But Jesus’ light can’t be extinguished by darkness

John 1:1-18 In the beginning the Word already existed. … The Word gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. … So the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son. … Jesus Christ has revealed God to us.

I’ve missed you! And I’ve enjoyed focusing on other things, like vacation. And the details of publishing Facing the Faeries 1906.

I’m returning to this blog halfway through the season of Epiphany, which ends with the beginning of Lent on February 14. The readings for this season have included the Gospel of John, with his emphasis on Christ as the Light of the world.

Epiphany began on January 6, the day selected by early church fathers to remember the magi visiting baby Jesus in Bethlehem and bringing him gifts. The magi were not Jewish, hence the connection with Jesus bringing light to the world, not just to the people God chose to be his earthly family and lineage. The wise men illustrate for us the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham that through him and his descendants, all the earth would be blessed (Genesis 22:18).

Returning to twice weekly postings on this blog, I have four opportunities to think about John’s view of Jesus as the Light of the world before we enter Lent. It seems John can hardly wait to get into this theme. As one of Jesus’ disciples, walking with him for at least three years, John was well positioned to tell us what he personally saw and experienced of what he calls Jesus’ glory, the divine light of unfailing love and faithfulness shining through him.

John was no pushover. Jesus called him and his brother James “Sons of Thunder” (Mark 3:17). They wanted to call fire from heaven to burn up a Samaritan village that didn’t accept Jesus (Luke 9:52-54). Yet in John’s writings (he’s the most prolific New Testament writer after Paul), his emphasis is on love. His life was transformed by the light of Jesus shining into his personal darkness, gentling him and dramatically changing his perspective on the “others” in his world.

For us, you and me, grappling daily with the darkness, violence, and brokenness of the world, John’s introduction to his Gospel is tremendously encouraging. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.” Think about that. Isn’t it good news, solid rock on which to place our feet, a promise we can count on no matter how dark things get? We don’t see it yet, but the ending of the story will be glorious!

Tucked inside my fortune cookie! Isn’t that cool?

Thinking about this promise, I feel my anxiety for the world dissipate like air leaking from a balloon. My thoughts turn to my small role in shining his light into the darkness around me, beginning in my own heart. What a relief to know I’m just a minor character in this huge story God is writing. He has the whole thing figured out! Hallelujah!

Amy Grant celebrates this: Lighten my darkness …

And have you been enjoying the Advent ABC playlist? It still brings me to tears.

Speaking of stories, watch this space for an announcement about Facing the Faeries 1906!