Father, Forgive Them

 

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."- Luke 23:34

From the Cathedral of St. Francis of Assisi, Santa Fe, NM

My Lenten discipline has been to write a reflection for each of the 40 days of Lent. For the last seven reflections I will share prayers based on the seven last sayings Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the first saying of Jesus from the cross.

"Father, Forgive Them..."

From the foot of the cross I can see you, Lord.
You're high and lifted up,
  but not like anybody ever imagined.
Your physical pain is unimaginable;
  your spiritual agony is beyond comprehension.
The crowd that has gathered is worked into a frenzy;
  your execution has become a sold-out, standing-room only 
    entertainment event.
You have been beaten, scourged, mocked, spat upon;
  you have been stripped of your clothing
  and your dignity.
There you hang, nailed to the cross,
  every fiber of your being screaming in agony.

Then you speak: 
  "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

I can't believe my ears, Lord.
 "Father, forgive them"? Is that really what you said?
  How can you say such a thing? 
  Why would you say such a thing?

Then I remember what you said last week,
  after you entered Jerusalem:

"Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it was for this very reason that I came to this hour."

And I remember that it was said of you
  hundreds of years prior:

"He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed... The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all."

"Father, forgive them."

Now I realize, my Lord, that it's not just "them"
    to whom you're referring.
"Them" includes me.

Now I realize, my Lord, that it's not just a few cruel people
  who nailed you to the cross,
  for I am one of "them".

My heart bows down within me
  to know that my sins have taken you to the cross.

Father, forgive them.

Father, forgive me.

Don't Be a Snake

 “You snakes! You brood of vipers!” (Matthew 23:33)

I’m not a fan of snakes. Especially snakes that are within 10 feet of me. I really don’t like those snakes.

“But that’s a good snake,” some will say.

No. It’s not. It’s a snake. It can’t be good.

I do have to admit, though, if I am far enough away and I have the zoom lens on my camera, I like to take pictures of snakes. To be clear, I like the pictures, not the snakes.

About 10 days ago Carol and I decided to take a hike in a local county park. We had hiked in the park before. It has nice trails, and it’s perfect for when we don’t have time to drive a long distance to get to a place to hike. Except on this particular day. Because there was a snake. Not just any snake, but a copperhead. The poisonous kind. 

We were walking along, and I was looking for birds and flowers to photograph, and suddenly Carol stopped me in my tracks. Literally three feet away was this copperhead on the trail. I jumped back – probably about 25 feet – and I said a bad word. Or two. Snakes make me do that.

We let the copperhead finish crossing the trail, and just to be safe we walked about 100 feet around it to pass it. My Fitbit registered a heart rate of about 200 beats per minute that day.

Did I mention that I am not a fan of snakes?

I’m not alone in this. Jesus evidently did not have a high opinion of snakes. Why else would he call the hypocritical scribes and Pharisees “snakes” and “brood of vipers”?

"You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell?"

Jesus, Matthew 23:33 

Just a few days before he was to be crucified, Jesus sealed his fate by leveling curse after curse at the “teachers of the law and Pharisees.” Jesus called them out for their hypocrisy. They make entry into the kingdom of heaven impossible by imposing all sorts of rules and regulations. They split hairs with the Old Testament law in order to manipulate it to their advantage while oppressing others. They put on good appearances to hide the greed and self-indulgence in their hearts. They pretend to be righteous in order to cover up their own wickedness. 

It’s in the twenty-third chapter of Matthew. You should read that chapter every once in a while. It’s not pretty.

For years, I would read the words of Jesus directed at the Pharisees, and in my heart I would say, “You tell them, Jesus! Preach it! I sure hope so-and-so can hear what you’re saying.” I would puff up in my own self-righteousness and say to myself, “I’m sure glad I’m not like those hypocrites.”

But at some point I began to read those passages differently. As I heard Jesus crying out against the ones who claimed to have it all together, every once in a while I could have sworn that I heard him call my name. Because if I’m honest with myself, I have a bit of Pharisee in me. I suspect we all do.

Yeah, you too.

And so instead of smiling smugly as Jesus lets the hypocrites have it, I now approach these particular verses with a more prayerful attitude. I use these verses to examine the hypocrisy in my own heart, and the ways that I try to hide my own shortcomings while focusing on the shortcomings of others. These verses remind me that I, too, build up walls and barriers that make it impossible for some to enter the kingdom. These verses show me how I manipulate the rules to ensure that I am among the “in” group.

These verses remind me that I don’t want to be this way, and that Jesus doesn’t want me to be this way.

You see, I don’t like snakes, and I don’t want someone to call me a snake. Especially, I don’t want Jesus to call me a snake.

Part of the purpose of the season of Lent is for us to examine our hearts and remember why it is that we need a Savior. That means engaging in a good bit of humility and honesty about our own unrighteousness. It’s hard work, but worth it.

So next time you read about Jesus saying some harsh words to religious people, listen closely, because you might just hear him mention your name.

Abundantly Alive

 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade.” (1 Peter 1:3-4)

Yesterday was the first day of spring. Spring, I think, is my favorite season. Bushes, shrubs, and trees erupt in an amazing display of color as their flowers come to full bloom. The bright green of the delicate new leaves on the trees contrasts beautifully against the cloudless blue skies on a cool spring morning. 

Birds are aflutter with activity, building nests and feeding their young. 

In the early spring, you can even enjoy the outdoors without worrying about mosquitos. That, in itself, is reason enough to move spring to the top of the list!

The contrast between the colorful and abundant new life of spring and the drab gray of winter is so very dramatic. It’s one way that God lets us know that death is not the final word, but life. 

I think one reason I love spring so much is because the move from the dead and dormant winter to the lively and vibrant spring is very much akin to what happens in my heart with Jesus. Jesus enlivens me. Jesus fills me with joy and meaning and purpose. Jesus motivates me to share his beauty and majesty with the world in which I live.

“We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.” (Romans 6:4)

 

When I see the azaleas covered in pink and white and red, adorning the landscape with their loveliness, I remember that Jesus has so transformed my own heart, and inspires me to live in such a way as to manifest his grace and mercy.

When I see the birds feeding their young, I remember that Jesus nurtures me with his love, and I am stirred to share his love with all whom I encounter, especially the helpless and vulnerable ones.

When I see the bees and butterflies flitting about from flower to flower, I remember that Jesus has called me, not to hoard his goodness, compassion, and love, but to spread it about liberally and unconditionally.

The beauty and glory of spring – especially on the heels of the dreary and dismal cold and gray of winter – fill me with gratitude that God is about the business of making us alive. 

Truly, abundantly alive.

Pieced Together

 “I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted…” (Job 42:2) 

Back when things first shut down because of the pandemic, our church secretary decided to use some of her spare time to spruce up the bulletin boards around the church. She has some amazing artistic flair, transforming the bulletin boards from places to staple pictures and announcements, to beautiful works of art. 

At one point I saw her cutting up pieces of colored construction paper into hundreds of squares, rectangles, triangles, and other shapes, all about one or two inches. She then started to paste each square meticulously onto the bulletin board behind the sanctuary. This process took a couple of weeks, and at first I couldn’t see any rhyme or reason to her approach. It started out with a sea of blue, then she added some patches of yellow and brown and red and white. Eventually a picture began to take shape from the chaotic array of scraps of paper. The figure of a person appeared – a man, with a beard. Then we could see that the man was carrying a cross. Clearly, our secretary was creating a mosaic of Jesus on his way to Calvary.

After affixing thousands of scraps of paper onto the bulletin board, this is the final product that emerged:

Truly, a work of beauty. Shout-out to Melissa Griffin. Well done!

Every time I look at this beautiful mosaic, I am reminded of the amazing providence of God in our lives. You see, at any moment in time, our life is like a single scrap of paper. We really don’t know what the present moment means – good or bad – or how it fits into the larger picture of our life and the world. But by the providence of God, all the scraps of our lives are perfectly pieced together into something amazing and beautiful. In God’s mysterious and unsearchable wisdom, God takes the jagged edges of suffering and sorrow and confusion and chaos, and makes them fit alongside the more orderly and geometrically perfect squares and circles. God takes the dark and gloomy colors of our trials and tribulations, and places them perfectly alongside the bright and vibrant colors of our seasons of joy and gladness. Even the unspectacular ordinary colors and shapes find their place by the providential hand of God.

Often we wish that we wouldn’t have to go through certain things in our lives. I get it. Nobody really wants to experience tragedy, loss, brokenness. But if I were to take all of those things out of my life, then it would be like taking a handful of pieces from the mosaic. When you look at a mosaic with pieces that have been taken out, you notice the empty spaces more than you do the overall picture. Every experience in life has a place in God’s providence. Every experience is a piece of the beautiful mosaic that God is creating you to be. To quote Eugene Peterson (who was quoting Paul), “we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.” (from Romans 8:28, The Message)

"I know that you can do all things. No plan of yours can be thwarted." 

A guy named Job (the one in the Bible, not the one who invented Apple – his name was Jobs) was extremely bitter and perplexed about the tragedies that had befallen him. He railed against God, demanding that God explain himself. When God finally responded, God didn’t answer Job’s questions. Instead, God gave Job a glimpse into all the workings of the world over which God is sovereign and exercises complete control – from the musings of the human heart, to the clapping of thunder when lightning strikes, to the placement of the stars in the sky, even to the creation of a bird that cannot fly (the ostrich). God’s point is to remind Job that God is God, and Job is not. God is the one who is working through every person, every creature, every natural occurrence to redeem the world according to God’s plan and purpose.

Here’s what Job said after God had finished answering Job: “I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted… Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.” (Job 42:2-3)

You see, at any given moment we won’t truly understand the meaning or purpose of what is happening to us, good or bad. But we don’t have to understand what is happening, because God has it all well in hand.

God really does work all things for the good.

Ultimately, God is enough. God is always enough.

So Big!

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:17b-19)

I’ve decided that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who prefer the mountains, and those who prefer the beach. Or those who prefer both. Or those who prefer neither.

I guess there are four types of people in the world.

Anyway, that’s beside the point. I am one who loves the mountains, though I also have great appreciation for the beach. One of the things that I love about both is that at the mountains and the beach one can really grasp the vastness of our planet. The giant rugged peaks piercing the sky are amazing to behold in their grandeur and majesty. The endless horizon across the ocean leaves me breathless to consider how deep and wide the water is.

Things like the grandeur of the mountains and the vast expanse of the ocean are how I feel like I should measure the magnitude of God’s love. Paul prays that we will be able to “grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,” all the while knowing that, truly, we cannot even begin to comprehend how great God’s love is. 

When I look at the 14,000 foot mountain across the valley from our family cabin in Colorado, I know that God’s love is even greater than that. 

When I look out from on high and see the sun rising well beyond the collection of peaks before me, I know that God’s love exceeds even that distance. 

When I stand on the beach with my wife and watch the sun rise over the
ocean more than 92 million miles away – that still doesn’t capture the whole measure of God’s love.

The truth be told, there is no adequate human measure for the love of God, because God’s love is infinite. Truly, God’s love surpasses knowledge.

Paul’s prayer for us – and my prayer for you – is that you will be able to experience God’s love today, because there is more love being poured upon you than you can possibly realize.

"I pray that you... know this love that surpasses knowledge"

I’ve thought of one other way to express the vast measure of God’s love. When our children were toddlers, we would ask them how big they were. And, with a bit of coaching from us, they would burst out in a smile, spread their arms clumsily out and over their heads, and they would say “Sooooo big!”

That’s God’s love: Sooooo big!

May you experience some of God’s “sooooo big” love today. 

And every day.

Picturing My Faith -- Lenten Reflections

In addition to being an ordained minister (currently serving as the chaplain at a Presbyterian retirement community), I am a bit of an amateur photographer. I don’t know too much about shutter speeds, apertures, and such; but I have a couple of pretty nice cameras that know those things for me! And so I can focus (pardon the pun) on framing a nice picture that captures beauty and gives me a glimpse into God’s glory.

The season of Lent is a season of preparation for the glorious celebration of Easter. Often associated with the season is the notion of “giving something up for Lent.” It is a modern-day adaptation of the spiritual concept of fasting. The list of things that people “give up” for Lent is endless – meat, alcohol, caffeine, TV, social media, soft drinks… 

Once I decided to give up giving things up for Lent. That worked well. 

The purpose of the fast, though, is to draw near to God, and to remember how we depend upon God for life and well-being. It is also about engaging in discipline that strengthens our faith. 

That is where I choose to focus my “fast” this year: on a discipline of daily reflection on Scripture. God has planted in my heart a passion for capturing God’s beauty and majesty through the lens of the camera; and God has also planted in my heart a passion for capturing God’s beauty and majesty in his holy word, the Bible. And so for my Lenten discipline I will seek to put both of those passions to use for the glory of God and the strengthening of my faith.

I invite you to join me on this 40-day journey. I will post my reflections and devotions on this blog (Picturing My Faith), and I will also post links to this blog on Facebook and Instagram (@revshw). If you would like to have a link to these blog posts emailed to you when the devotions are posted, please send me a message. 

I hope and pray that you will find this to be a place where God gently speaks to us and informs our faith and devotion. May God grant you a blessed Lenten journey!

Faithfully,

Stephen Wilkins