Archives For Gospel of John

The Beauty of the Divine Pursuit

Margaret —  April 8, 2012 — Leave a comment

garden tomb

Lent is wrapping up and so is my journey through the Gospel of John. I hope you enjoyed pursuing Christ through these 40 days of Lent-  I know my eyes have refocused on the beauty revealed in God’s Word.

When I traveled to Israel years ago, I visited a garden tomb.* Surrounded by beautiful flowers, there was a long rock wall and a large opening. At the base of the wall was a groove in the stone where a large rock could roll over the opening. Stepping inside the tomb, I was struck by the fact no one was there.

I know this sounds simplistic and obvious, but until I saw with my own eyes, I never comprehended the profound beauty of an empty tomb. I remember taking my hand and pressing it up against the cold rock and thinking, “This is what the resurrection looks like, embodied in an empty tomb.”

In John 20, Mary Magdalene first sees the vacant burial site. She is so desperate to find the missing body that the two angels sitting in the tomb don’t phase her. And then a man approaches her in the garden. This is the moment when I can’t help but love Mary Magdalene. She looks at this guy who bears a strange resemblance to someone else she knows but can’t quite place a finger on it. She decides: never seen this guy before. He must be the gardener.

I love this detail. The very Son of God, the Son of the one who created the skies, formed the mountains, and unleashed the solar system splashed with spectacular beauty is now mistaken for a gardener.

John goes on to describe the disciples hiding together when Jesus comes in and stands before them and announces, “Peace be with you!” He shows the disciples the scars in his hands and side. But one of the disciples, Thomas, isn’t there. When Thomas catches wind that he missed the party he still doesn’t believe.

Eight days later, Jesus appears again in the midst of the disciples, and offers the same greeting. Peace be with you. Then he zeroes in on Thomas, inviting him to touch the scars.

The final chapters of the Gospel of John demonstrate how God pursues us-both individually and as a community of believers. John didn’t leave out the story of Jesus revealing himself to Mary, visiting and revisiting the disciples, and reaching out to Thomas, who’s struggling to believe by mistake.

These chapters share what a transformed relationship with the resurrected Christ looks like for followers of Jesus. He pursues them. After the resurrection, Jesus specifically pursues Mary in the garden. He pursues his disciples. He pursues Thomas despite his doubts. And in their stories we’re reminded of the beauty in the greatest story of all: God is pursuing you and he is pursuing me.

What does this glorious chase look like in your life? Is God seeking you through the lyrics of a song? Through a soft beckoning to sit with him during the silence of a sunrise? Through the tender hug of a loved one? We may be tempted to brush him off as if he were the gardener, but the Creator of the stars will continue to persevere after us in a beautiful pursuit.

If you are interested in going through a study of John consider Pursuing God’s Beauty: Stories from the Gospel of John. To purchase, click here.

 

*Tradition also suggests there is another possible spot for Christ’s tomb: the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. For more information click here.

**Photo courtesy of here

How are you being pursued by God lately?

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Lent Week 7: The Beauty Before the Betrayal

Margaret —  April 4, 2012 — 2 Comments

bread

A friend told me about the party. I couldn’t wait. The invitation arrived in my inbox via evite. If you’ve never received one, an evite is an invitation sent through email with one difference: you can see the guest list. As I scoured those invited, I felt my stomach drop.

She was going.

She and I simply had different values, different ways of looking at life. But those differences had been accentuated in the last few months. Our points of disagreement had grown stronger, and I found myself withdrawing from any signs of a cordial relationship.

I’ve been moving through the Gospel of John for Lent, Lent but I couldn’t help but sit in John 13 a bit longer. Only a couple verses are dedicated to the breaking of bread and the passing of the cup, but the picture is still the same:

Between bouts of rowdy laughter and salty observations on life, a silence falls over those gathered around a table. All eyes on the rabbi, Jesus looks down at the dimpled dough and pushes his thumbs through the bread, tearing it apart. As the last disciple brushes the crumbs from his chin, he picks up a cup of wine and shares this as well. Though the disciples have proven themselves weak and wobbly, wavering at almost every turn, Jesus doesn’t exclude anyone from this moment. Even Judas.

In ancient culture, eating with someone wasn’t just about meeting physical needs but a spiritual act that demonstrated and declared a spiritual relationship. The act of sipping wine, swallowing bread, the chewing and ingesting becomes a  beautiful sacrament, a holy moment in time when if we strain our eyes and ears we can sense the heartbeat of God in relationships. I’m amazed Jesus still invited Judas into his inner circle, inviting him into a relationship despite knowing a betrayal was imminent.

More often than I’d like to admit, I try to identify and exclude anyone who I perceive (or misconstrue) as opposition in my life. I pull back. Skirt the outside of the room. Dodge the emails.  Ignore the text messages. Even cringe when the person’s name is listed on an evite.

And yet, here is Jesus, engaging with Judas in an act of friendship. Did his heart twinge as he handed him the cup? Was there a small part of him that wanted to take back the bread?

What if we were to be more intentional in relationship to others who irk us? What if I were to answer the text message as soon as I can with an extra smile emoticon? What if I ask if there’s anything I could do anything to make their day better? What if I  were to accept the evite and go? Perhaps a new friend, a new relationship,  is waiting to be discovered. Maybe in this beautiful act of sipping wine and swallowing bread we can catch a glimmer of the heartbeat of God.

Anyone interested in diving into John’s Gospel with me may enjoy Pursuing God’s Beauty: Stories from the Gospel of John. To purchase, click here.

**Photo courtesy of here

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The Beauty Beneath the Grime

Margaret —  March 28, 2012 — Leave a comment

feet

For those of you traveling with me through the Gospel of John for Lent, John 13 paints a beautiful picture of Jesus kneeling to wash his disciples’ feet.

In those days, NikeFrees and Vibrams and Tevas weren’t on the shelves. The soles of Israeli sandals were sometimes made with three layers of leather tied together with more leather, no great distance separated feet from the dirt. After walking all over Israel with very few, if any, baths combined with dust and sweat-no stretch of the imagination is needed to picture the filth of first century feet.

And yet Jesus tenderly held such feet and washed them in love.

I ask myself: how many times have I passed by an opportunity to wash somebody’s feet because the dirt made me too squeamish? How often have I been hesitant to agree to get involved with someone I perceive as overly needy? How often am I tempted to pull back from a broken-hearted friend? Maybe I’m not the only one.

Another friend confessed not too long ago: “I always pictured myself living in a beautiful little cottage with a quaint white picket fence. But God laid a burden on my heart to join a ministry for the homeless in the inner city. I didn’t want to at first. Let’s be honest, a lot of them are kind of dirty. Now I see they’re beautiful, not because they have or haven’t showered, but because they’re loved by God.“*

As I read about Jesus’ scrubbing the disciples’ feet, I’m reminded that Christ’s soap cleanses everything. This is good news for both you and I. Christ renews all things; he heals all wounds. We don’t need to be afraid of the dirt, the muck, the crud of life. We no longer need to be afraid of the messiness that surfaces when we draw near to one another. Underneath the grime is someone beautiful, a child washed clean and beloved by God.

What’s your favorite element in this passage?

Anyone interested in diving into John’s Gospel with me may enjoy Pursuing God’s Beauty: Stories from the Gospel of John. To purchase, click here.

*To read more about this ministry click here

**Photo courtesy of here

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Lent Week 5: The Beauty of a Shattered Jar

Margaret —  March 21, 2012 — Leave a comment

jar

As I was driving the other day, a worship song I loved started playing over the radio. I turned up the volume and sang my heart out, even swaying to the beat and waving my arms during stoplights. But then, I had this uncanny feeling somebody was watching me. I twisted to my left to see a car-full of high school boys rolling in laughter at my antics. I stopped singing and shot forward like a race-car driver once the light turned green.

Please tell me I’m not the only one this has happened to!

My experience flashed in my mind as I continued to read through the Gospel of John for Lent. In John 12, Jesus is eating with Lazarus and his disciples. Martha is busy in the kitchen (which shouldn’t be a surprise, because that’s the way she rolls) when Mary interrupts. She shatters all of the social cues as well an alabaster jar filled with nard, a very costly perfume, and anoints the feet of Jesus, wiping his feet with her hair.

The guests question, scold, criticize, and maybe even laugh at Mary’s behavior. Though the company were not who she made the offering for, she couldn’t ignore their response. She felt the twinge of being hurt. Misunderstood. Judged. In a brief moment of self-awareness, she may have second-guessed her decision, What have I done?

I don’t know about you, but there have been times when I tried to give my best, in an act of adoration, love, and extravagance to God, and found myself second guessing and wondering, What have I done?

At times I’ve been caught up in worship in church, when I’m responding to God, when I suddenly become painfully self-aware and pull back, wondering, What have I done? After all, I shouldn’t be that demonstrative in church.

This is a breathtaking portrait of a woman years for Jesus and cannot contain her desire any longer. Her response is worship and sacrifice-and she offers her love in the form of an extravagant gift, an expression of adoration, where actions speak far louder than words.

Mary’s extravagant act reminds us that God longs for us to long for him. In the beauty of his presence, we can’t help but find our affections set on God, our hearts captivated by his love. Caught up in the delight of God, our natural response is worship-words of thanks that roll off the tongue, songs of adoration that spring from the heart, acts of extravagance.

What if we were to abandon ourselves to extravagant worship? Our gifts may be considered flamboyant and exorbitant to other guests. Maybe those watching our love offerings think our time and resources are better spent elsewhere. But to God who receives our nard poured out, our worship is nothing but beautiful.

Anyone interested in diving into John’s Gospel with me may enjoy Pursuing God’s Beauty: Stories from the Gospel of John.

How are you challenged to love extravagantly this week?

**Photo courtesy of here

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Blind to Beauty

Margaret —  March 14, 2012 — 2 Comments

Switzerland

For those of you traveling with me through the Gospel of John for Lent, John 9 explores the issue of physical and spiritual blindness in a beautiful and profound way.

Jesus sees a man who has been blind from birth. The challenges this man faced physically were only made worse by the cultural and religious beliefs of the day.

During this time, most believed a person born with a disability of any kind meant that either the person or their parents had sin in their lives. Can you imagine living with this stigma? Despite this, Jesus decides to give the blind man sight.

I picture the former-blind man gaping, taking in all the sights and scenes, when the neighbors begin to realize they can’t walk by unnoticed any more. He sees them. An argument breaks out. One person says, “That’s the blind guy who was a beggar.” Someone else rebuttals, “No way that’s him.” Another pipes up, “He’s only a look-a-like.”

The man announces, “It’s me! It’s me!”

Instead of responding to this beautiful moment with celebration and joy, they begin interrogating him. They take him to the religious leaders and pick apart his story, raising the question of who in this story is truly blind? Who is not seeing clearly? Who doesn’t recognize the beautiful work of God?

If the blind man is healed, then this means blindness isn’t a result of sin. One act challenges everything the religious leaders and community believed. The miracle exposed a glaring cultural and religious blind spot.

Yet rather than acknowledge the beautiful phenomenon or the unusual circumstances or the unforgettable man who healed, they close their eyes, and shove the man who can now truly see away.

The whole story asks how often God wants to expose a blind spot in my life, and I respond like the religious leaders. I close my eyes and turn away. That in truth I don’t want to see, because if I honestly see how I see God, others, and even myself may shift. Yet in the process I rob myself of the beautiful work God wants to do.

I also rob myself of seeing beauty in other’s lives. By insisting the man sinned and refusing to see the miracle, the religious leaders and those in the community missed out on a wonderful opportunity to celebrate a great victory. This miracle could’ve built a stronger bond within their community. Instead, parents are pitted against children; friends against neighbor; the blind man banished-the community torn apart.

Like the blind man in the story we are utterly dependent on Jesus Christ to open our eyes. To expose our blind spots. To allow us to see clearly. To cleanse us from our sins.  To perform a beautiful work in our lives.

I cannot help but ask myself, when Christ does open my eyes, will I embrace the beautiful work done in myself and others or will I squeeze my eyes shut again? What would happen if we were to continue keeping our eyes open? Will we dance in victory? Will our communities be strengthened? What other beauties are waiting to be seen?

Anyone interested in diving into John’s Gospel with me may enjoy Pursuing God’s Beauty: Stories from the Gospel of John. To purchase, click here.

**Photo courtesy of here

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