Waiting For Sunday

For many centuries after Christ, Christian pilgrims in Europe found spiritual meaning in traveling to the Holy Land, especially to the birthplace of Christ. The rise and spread of Islam didn’t interfere with these peaceful pilgrimages. But as the year A.D. 1100 approached, things changed. Seljuk Turks, aggressive and warlike converts to Islam, seized Jerusalem from their fellow Muslims and began to take control of what had once been the eastern part of the Roman Empire. And reports reached Rome that Christian travelers to Israel were being harmed.

In this context, Pope Urban II launched what became one of the most shameful eras of Christian history – the crusades. When Urban launched the first of these “holy wars” he promised his soldiers spiritual rewards in heaven and also the temporal benefits of having more land. He said: “Enter upon the road to the Holy Sepulcher; wrest that land from the wicked race, and subject it to yourselves.” In this and the subsequent six crusades that followed, all regard for the principles of just war fell away in the name of this holy battle. Non-combatants and prisoners were tortured, raped, and their towns plundered. Jews and Christians often fell victim to the attacks by the “Christian soldiers” who sometimes cut open bodies in search of gold.

Perhaps the most awful fact about the crusades is that the name itself – “crusade” – refers to taking up the cross, after the example of Christ. What horrible blasphemy it was to use the cross as a weapon of hatred and murder.*

Now, if you were to read back through my three previous paragraphs, and you switched places between Christians and Muslims, I think you’d find an account that parallels today’s news. A holy war proclaimed by religious leaders, attacks against “infidels”, disregard for non-combatants, and promises of earthly and heavenly rewards for soldiers – it all sounds so familiar.

Here’s something else to notice: A large number of Muslims today (the majority, I think) cry out: “This isn’t Islam. My faith has been hijacked by people who know nothing about it, men who want only power. Jihad, holy war, properly refers to the war within, the war to overcome sin, not to this!”

Christians should be able to identify with this latter group. We correctly say that “crusade” or to take up one’s cross, properly refers to the process of denying self, lifting up Christ, and serving others. “The crusades weren’t Christianity,” we say. “They were a perversion of our faith, quests for riches and power.” We have tried to live down the crusades and forget them. Yet we cannot. They are part of our history. They illustrate the terrible sin we can commit when we allow our religion to draw us away from relationship with Christ. In my understanding, the crusades pointedly illustrate Jesus’ words in Matthew 7:21 – “Not everyone who says to me, `Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.”

Is it fair that Christians are sometimes known only for their wars, murders, and lust for power? No. But it is understandable, given our history.

And what about us? Maybe your view of Islam is so colored by war that you can’t imagine something like Islamic Relief. IR is a charity that works to relive suffering caused by natural and man-made disasters around the world, and focuses on things like water and sanitation, orphan sponsorship, and economic development – much like World Vision, the Christian relief group to whom we recently donated more than $27,000 for water wells. Many millions in Islam find more to identify with in Islamic Relief than they find in the current popular definition of jihad.

Please do not think for a moment that I am saying that all faiths are the same, or that Islam is as valid a way to God as Christ. Our Savior claimed that no one would come to the Father except through him (John 14:6). Jesus Christ is the ONLY begotten Son of God, God’s way of reaching out to us. All other religious systems represent our futile attempt to reach Him. Christ also expressed a profound desire for every willing person to be saved, for he came to seek and save the lost (Luke 19:10).

This is why the Communion Meal is so important, so special to us. At no other time in worship do we confront the sacrifice so pointedly of the one who gave himself for us. Our sins are crimson stains. History bleeds with the scarlet sin of people of all races, nations, and religions. So does the heart of every person. At the foot of the cross, the ground is level and we are equals all.

May we never miss this opportunity to lift up Christ, and only Christ, so he can draw all people to himself.

*My source for historical information: Church History in Plain Language, by Bruce L. Shelley. Word Publishing, 1982 pp. 205-06

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Living For Him Who Died For Me (audio only) - David Pryor - 9.24.06
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Mike Zukowski sent me this link to a Philip Yancey story called “Postcard from Africa” in Christianity Today. In Africa, AIDS, death, poverty and strong Christianity live with one another. My persistent thought while reading this story: African Christians will certainly lead us in the Kingdom of Heaven.

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Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

To me, this is one of the best promises of heaven that there is. Not just to know God fully, but to KNOW that he knows me fully, that he has all along. My heart’s greatest longing is for someone who KNOWS me as I am, not as I appear to be, not by the political or religious or cultural mold someone has chosen for me, not as a pastor or a white man or an American or a small town hick (though I am all of these things, without regret). I need that Someone who knows me in my sin, which is uglier than I can ever admit, and yet who calls me higher, “further up and further in”*, someone who sees the stained and rotten clothing I have left behind and no longer defines me by it.

There is, of course, no one one earth who can do this for us completely. In the best marriages and friendships, we sometimes come close. But then we see in the other that which threatens us, and we attack it and run.

That’s why I always return from my fruitless searches to the One who promises in Revelation 2:17 that one day (if I overcome) he will give me “a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” Ah, to be NAMED by Him is to be known by Him, to receive His blessing, and to be granted a new destiny.

AMEN! Come (and name me) Lord Jesus!

*(A Narnia reference from The Last Battle(?))

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I finished reading Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl last week. This seems like something that should have been on my high school’s required curriculum, as it is for many schools today. Anne Frank’s diary is so important because it puts a human face on the Holocaust.

Anne received a diary as a gift for her 13^th birthday and she began writing in it almost immediately. For two years, Anne wrote detailed entries on her thoughts, feelings, likes, dislikes, conflicts, sexuality, dreams, plans and faith.¹ During almost all of that two year period (1942-44) she lived with her parents, sister, and four other people in the upstairs sections of an office/warehouse in Amsterdam. These eight were in hiding because, of course, they were Jews in Nazi-occupied territory. For two years they could never leave their hiding place, never go outside and enjoy the fresh air, never see any friends or family they had left behind. They depended entirely upon the kindness of Gentiles who risked their own safety in helping the Franks and others like them.

Anne’s diary is an extraordinary account of a girl emerging into womanhood. She is honest about her dislike of her housemates, problems with her mother, and attraction to the one boy in hiding with them. And then, as the diary continues, she grows to see her own weakness and pride at work in these relationships.

With little else to do, Anne and her sister engage in nearly constant study during the two-year hiding period. They read classic literature and history, learn other languages, and study math. As her mind forms and grows, Anne discovers that she wants to be a great writer, to have an impact on the world. She writes:

“I’ve often been down in the dumps, but never desperate. I look upon our life in hiding as an interesting adventure, full of danger and romance, and every privation as an amusing addition to my diary. I’ve made up my mind to live a life different from other girls…What I’m experiencing here is a good beginning to an interesting life…I’m young and have many hidden qualities; I’m young and strong and living through a big adventure; I’m right in the middle of it and can’t spend all day complaining because it’s impossible to have any fun! I’m blessed with many things: happiness, a cheerful disposition and strength. Every day I feel myself maturing, I feel liberation drawing near, I feel the beauty of nature and the goodness of the people around me. Every day I think what a fascinating and amusing adventure this is! With all that, why should I despair?” (pp. 277-78)

The last entry for Anne’s diary is August 1, 1944. On August 4^th at around 10:30 a.m., the hiding place was discovered (due to an informant who has never been identified) and everyone in it was arrested by Karl Josef Silberbauer who was simply following orders, the great justification for much of the evil that is done in this world.²

All eight occupants of the hiding place were sent to concentration camps, and seven of the eight died in the next eight months. Otto Frank, Anne’s father is the only one who survived. Anne and her sister Margot died sometime in February or March, 1945 at the Bergen-Belsen camp. Starvation and typhus killed them. They were probably buried in a mass grave near the camp.

There are several reasons why Anne Frank’s diary is so important. First, it tells us what was lost, what the Nazis stole from this world during their reign of terror in the 30s and 40s. Second, because this kind of thing is still going on in our world (in Africa, parts of the Middle East, and elsewhere) it should remind us that evil never sleeps and that real people with minds, souls, hearts and dreams are being slaughtered wherever there is murder, genocide, even necessary war. Third, racial and ethnic hatred lives here in America. On our recent whitewater rafting trip, our guide told us about taking a group of young kids down the river not long ago who constantly told very offensive Jewish jokes. I urge you, readers, to have courage and don’t for a second put up with that kind of talk EVER, against any race, religious or ethnic group, etc., but in the name of Jesus expose it for the lie of the enemy it is!

The saddest part of this book for me was actually in the Forward. It says there that Anne’s diary was found in the hiding place strewn across the floor. When you read the diary and realize how much she loved it and leaned upon it, how much of her soul she invested in it…and then you picture her watching as it is dumped across the floor, just before she is led away to eight months of misery and then death without it… well, that’s what EVIL looks like, folks. And yet, it is a common, everyday sort of evil, isn’t it?

Which raises another reason to read this diary: To remember that evil is something very real, and that ordinary people who give in to it can do unspeakable things.

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¹ One final note: If you read the diary years ago, you probably read a much shorter version of it than exists today. I read “the Definitive Edition”, first published in English in 1995, which contains some of Anne’s writings that were deemed inappropriate earlier, such as critical words about people in the hiding place and her thoughts on her own sexuality. I highly recommend this later version as it completes and humanizes Anne Frank, showing even more clearly how much like all of us she was.

² Silberbauer served a mere 14 months in prison for his wartime activities, and was reinstated as a police officer in his native Vienna in 1954. When he was identified in 1963 by Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal, Otto Frank was remarkably forgiving of him, saying that the betrayer was the real culprit. Silberbauer’s superior who sent him on the raid committed suicide after the war. Silberbauer lived to the healthy age of 72.

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Defeating the Roaring Lion - 1 Peter 5 - Dennis Mullen - 9.17.06
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SERIES: Aliens, Strangers and Misfits
A series from 1 Peter on living as missionaries in this foreign culture. Part 8 of 8

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I was thirsty - Matthew 25:31-46 - Dennis Mullen - 9.10.06
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My recent reading has helped me fill in a gaping void in my thinking. In the past I have spoken so carelessly, glibly, with much ignorance about “the Jews” in the world today, the Holocaust, and persecution they have endured (often in the name of Christ). My education has improved in this area lately, starting with Chaim Potok’s Davita’s Harp, which I mentioned in an earlier blog. I recommend that book to you, along with these:

My Name is Asher Lev (1972) by Chaim Potok. Can a father and son both love God, be devoted to their religion, love each other, and yet be so different that they cannot live together? Potok explores that theme in Asher Lev. The father is a missionary of sorts, traveling to dangerous parts of post WW2 Europe to plant congregations of his orthodox Jewish sect. The son is an artist with a once-in-a-generation talent. The father has no place for art in his world view, except to see it as something from “The Other Side”, the evil spiritual realm. Asher Lev touches deeply because sons need their fathers’ blessing and approval, the acceptance that what they do is worthwhile (something I have always been blessed to have with my Dad). Also, Asher Lev showed me clearly how much pain Christianity has caused the Jewish people. The father in the story can only speak of Jesus as “that man” and asks his son if he realizes how much Jewish blood has been spilled in the name of “that man”. This book was easy to read and very enjoyable.

Night by Elie Wiesel. John (our youth minister) recommended this to me about ten years ago. It was first published in the 1950s but just came out in a new translation and was selected by Oprah’s Book Club this year, so it is everywhere. Night is a short nightmare of a book in which Wiesel describes his experience as a teen of being ripped from his home and humanity and pushed through the concentration camps at Auschwitz and Buchenwald. Wiesel lost his mother and sister, and finally his father, in the camps. He lost his faith as well: “Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the small faces of the children whose bodies I saw transformed into smoke under a silent sky. Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith forever.” (Yet in spite of this passage, Wiesel still believes in God, as later writing and interviews confirm).

The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank. Originally published in 1947, this book is the diary of an intelligent, ordinary Jewish girl of 13, 14 and 15 years old (she wrote it between 1942 and 1944). I’m only a few pages in and this strikes me: I could be reading the work of one of my younger friends at MHCC or on MySpace.

Anne Frank’s diary is that ordinary (as it begins), that human. It is beautiful with the wonderful innocent vain self-absorbed beauty of a young girl. Now, to think that Anne died along with her sister at the Bergen-Belsen camp in early 1945…just fifteen years old…and to think that she was probably buried in a mass grave near the camp, bulldozed in with hundreds of others…makes the rage boil inside me. We can never forget the crimes Hitler’s people committed and God help us if we turn a blind eye to such things happening elsewhere today…

And if ever I wonder how a loving God could allow a place called hell, Mr. Mengele, you remind me of the answer!

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“Why does God take some home who still have so much to offer…
when there are so many others he leaves behind who could more easily be spared?”

I’m paraphrasing that quote from Ken Burns’ Baseball documentary. I believe that baseball commissioner Landis said it at the death of Christy Matthewson at age 45. The press called Matthewson “the Christian gentleman” because of his integrity at a time when the game was dominated by morally questionable men like Ruth, Cobb, gamblers, bootleggers, and even Landis himself.

I’ve thought about that quote a lot since Saturday evening when our MHCC friend A. L. Woody died of cancer at age 37, one day after his wedding anniversary, leaving behind a wife, Barbara, and twin daughters Casey and Sarah, age 10. Why would God take someone like A. L., who still had so much left to do when God knows there are others who could more easily be spared?!

The thing is, A. L. didn’t think like that. John Pryor, in his funeral talk yesterday, said: “His attitude was not ‘Why me?’ but ‘Why NOT me’? He firmly believed that he would remain alive as long as God wanted him to - and that God always knows best. In his struggle against cancer, A. L. remained unflinchingly brave and regularly encouraged those around him. He fought hard to live because he wanted as much time as possible with his family, but he never feared death or doubted his salvation.”

In the end, I have to admit that A. L. was right and I am wrong. It’s true that A. L. had to leave undone his work as a father (work that only he could do) while others (myself included) seem to have less pressing tasks. But the world hasn’t operated with fairness and equity since Eden, and it won’t again until God’s Kingdom fully comes. To choose faith over despair is to make a commitment to trust God when it doesn’t all add up and wait for the end of the story to be written.

Thanks, A. L., for doing that. Wish you were still here though.

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Since my previous post was about finding community and the one before that dealt with finding a life-long passion, I want to offer you this link to an 8-minute NPR story that pulls both together.

Shari Caudron, who is about my age, confesses that she has been serially passionate about a succession of things - running, saving the earth, photography. When she began to discover people who are totally sold-out to narrow and puzzling passions (the Andy Griffith show, collecting Barbies, talking about Star Wars) she wrote a book called Who Are You People? Her research taught her that it isn’t just the common passion that sets these folks apart but the community they find in each other’s company. When one Barbie-collector lost her son, the outpouring of support she received came not from local neighbors and friends but from “Barbie Nation”.

Give it a listen.

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In response to my thirst for adventure that I described in my last blog post (which received wider-than-normal readership because it also ran in our church newsletter) I have had no shortage of suggestions from friends on how to kick-start the jaw-dropping life I desire. One guy suggested that I join him on an upcoming two-week backpacking trip. I think he was kidding, as I doubt he wants to carry me out of the woods after three days. But his long-lived passion for serious hiking is contagious.

A woman offered me the chance to join her in leading a group of middle/high school students on a whitewater rafting trip. I might actually try this one, though I fear it may remind me how much I like to sit inside where it is warm and dry and read. Another friend at church suggested that if I wanted adventure I could lead the soon-to-be-enjoyed congregational budget meeting. Um, no.
The suggestions, along with a great supportive email from another friend, reminded me that even when life is unsatisfying, it is great to have community, Christian friends who care what you think and respond to it.
I’m seeing it this weekend in our church’s grief over the death of A. L. Woody, a thirty-seven-year-old husband and father who died suddenly on Saturday evening after battling an aggressive cancer for all of this year. I can see in our church family that people not only want to help this family, we actually grieve with them.

Thanks for providing me with community. Thanks to those of you who have invited the Woodys into your life. Let’s keep our eyes open for those who still need to be welcomed in to the family.

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Character and Community - 1 Peter 4 - Dennis Mullen - 9.3.06
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SERIES: Aliens, Strangers and Misfits
A series from 1 Peter on living as missionaries in this foreign culture. Part 7 of 8

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