Good Friday - with us, to us, for us

each year, the congregations in Milan gather to observe Good Friday together.  this year, the Milan Free Methodist Church is our host.  in fact, I'm heading out in just a couple of minutes to pray with my fellow pastors before the service. 

each of us was asked to share a 5 minute or shorter meditation on some aspect of Jesus' words on the cross; Luke 23:46 fell to me.  for those who are unable to attend, I've posted my notes below...

Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.

Luke 23:46

Luke writes this verse in compelling, poetic Greek, full of alliterative sounds and ideas, rhymes and echoes. Luke wants our eyes to linger on this text, on this moment, wants our ears to resonate with these last pregnant breaths of Jesus. Indeed, the Greek words for “called out with a loud voice” are the same words from which we get our word, “mega phone.” In other words, when we most want to look away from this awful sight, out of sadness, out of horror, out of respect even for the dignity of this dying man, when we most want to cover our ears and wish it all away, Jesus wants us to hear. Why? What is the meaning, the message in these final words?

Here Jesus, the word made flesh, speaks with us. Here Jesus, the Son of God, speaks to us. Here Jesus, the Son of Man, speaks for us. May we who have ears to hear, hear.

These words – into your hands I commit my spirit– come from the songbook of Israel, the 31^st psalm, the 5^th verse. They were first the words of King David under daunting duress and distress. “Into your hands I commit my spirit; redeem me, Lord, my faithful God.” Over time, countless other human beings have prayed this psalm when it seems all hope is fading. Using David’s prayer as a lifeline when we seem to have come to the end of the line. Now Jesus, the word made flesh, joins with us in these words. He doesn’t make up new or better or more effective words. And if what has been given to us is enough for him in his darkest hour, than surely we have been given a great treasure indeed. And we can know that as we pray those same psalms in our distress, our prayers are rounding out echoes of his in the heavens.

Jesus, the Son who first calls that faithful God Father, is also saying something to us. Just as your prayers are my prayers, my Father is your Father. And he hears our prayers. Jesus’ words may sound like a resignation, an end, but he trusts that somehow, someway, his Father will come through. He chooses just one line from the psalm, perhaps because that is all the breath he has left, but he wants us to hear the whole psalm and take heart from it. Because the psalm ends, in part, like this: In my alarm I said, “I am cut off from your sight!” Yet you heard my cry for mercy when I called to you for help…Be strong and take heart, all you hope in the Lord.

And what kind of hope is it that we are to have, that Jesus has, that Luke wants us to see in this final moment? It is the hope of new creation, the hope that through Jesus’ death on the cross, God is setting everything right that has gone wrong. The hope that this rest that Jesus will enter as the Sabbath draws near will be the final Sabbath of the old and dying creation, and that he will rise on the first day of a new creation that cannot be corrupted, that cannot fall subject to sin and death and strife.

Because in the first creation, God formed humanity out of the earth and breathed breath – the same word used for spirit – into the first Adam. And the first Adam took that breath, and as all of us who have come after him have done as well, he used that breath for his own purposes, and not God’s.

Now Jesus, the Son of Man on the cross, is speaking for all of us, as our representative, on our behalf, and committing back to God the spirit that we had taken for ourselves. Father, into your hands, I commit my spirit. If only any of us could pray that truly, wholeheartedly, without any reservation. We can’t, but Jesus can. And he does. And as he breathes his last the Father receives his offer.

And as Luke will tell us a couple of chapters later, in the book we call Acts, the spirit of Jesus is poured out once again on humanity, the Holy Spirit of a new creation, a breath from heaven that is incorruptible, that transforms us from the inside out into a new creation for the glory of God. Oh what a Savior, that he would give his last dying breath so that we might receive a first new and living breath.

dance back from the grave

well, we survived the bitter cold tuesday night, thanks to some heroics from Ross and Matt.  the propane ran out at about 1 a.m. and the temperatures were plummeting in the tent.  our breath was condensing on the roof of the tent and dripping back down on our heads.  at 2:00, Ross and Matt went outside, found a new propane tank, hooked it up, and somehow got the heater running again in the dark.  Matt almost lost his eyebrows when it finally roared to life, but we couldn't tease him about it too much given the fact that we owed him big time.  (below is a picture of the tent we slept in, with an entrance in the middle - guys on the near side and women on the far side.  the big building in the background is the Kenner Vineyard Church.)

the rest of the week was awesome. the weather warmed a bit, and we hit our groove with the work.  finished up the demolition at Colleen's and installed insulation.  helped out at Anthony's (87 year old world war II vet who has stuck around in part so that he can keep teaching chess to local youth), which is almost finished.  beautifully designed interior, way beyond his best expectations. put up blinds and installed doors and door hardware with Sam (pictured in the entrance way).  Anthony is a big fan of vibrant colors, as you can probably see.  not pictured is his hot pink bathroom.

 

on friday, got to help a guy named Justin move everything out of his home so demolition could begin in preparation for reconstruction.  he and his mom have been living in a flood damaged home for over 2 years now.

had tons of fun all the way through.  here's a picture of Ross 12 feet up on top of the newly built levies in the lower ninth ward (he stood on Colin's shoulders and then Gray and I helped push him up).

one day while we were working, a Marc Cohn song came on that really hit the spot.  "Dance Back from the Grave"  great tune.  captures something of what we got to be part of in New Orleans.  something of what God's up to there.  what God's up to here.  in me, too.  here's the opening lyrics of the song... (you can watch him perform it just below)

I used to wake up every morning saying I must be getting away with something here
Every day was like parole before the levies overflowed; I refuse to think it could all just disappear (I refuse to think)
How long before the street car rattles down St. Charles Avenue and beads swing from two hundred year old trees
How long before they walk down long Lake Pontratrain with the smell of just magnolia on the breeze
Yeah I’ve seen people laughing all the way down to the cemeteries just to send another soul off on its way
Yeah I’ve seen them dance right up to the edge of it
But this time their gonna dance back from the grave

Dance back
Dance back
Dance back
Dance back from the grave

 

52 degrees and dropping

the wind's blustering tonight, the tent's rippling and slapping against itself, the temperature's dropping to the high 30's, and the heater isn't working. yet. yet spirit's are high, no doubt about it.

worked on Angeline's home yesterday. learned to mud and tape dry wall (sheet rock they call it down here, and maybe everywhere, for all I know; shows what I know, eh?), courtesy of Jeff, who knows what he's doing. 10 of us, mudding and taping and hammering away. Angeline lives in Gentilly, where the flood waters were head high and counting. getting close to moving back in, talking about what colors she's gonig to paint the walls. sweet woman - others who've come on previous trips have spread good stories about her and her courage and joy.

today Ken (happy anniversary, Ken and Eva!) and Dave and John and I did demolition on Colleen's house. Colleen and her 2 high school age daughters have been living in a FEMA trailer in the front yard for 2 and a half years. we pulled off the old drywall and insulation. hard work. fun work. dusty, dirty, itchy uncomfortable work. going to sleep well tonight if the tent doesn't blow away work. well worth it work. especially when we saw Colleen again at the Alpha course at the church tonight.

what a great church. people who stuck around when the going got tough, dug deep, and just started helping. feeding. fixing. now hosting volunteers.

26 this week. and a similar number next week. a waiting list of people from around the country wanting to help. not to mention all the people who stay home taking on an extra load, helping to make it possible for all those people to come (thanks Ronni, Eva, Stephanie, Karen, Sue, Ben, Dina, Mary, Mark, Brad, & Jon!). 2 1/2 years later. when love comes to town, people just want to catch that train.

morning fog

made it in around dinner time last night, and went down to the French Quarter to eat some cajun and listen to "Steamboat Willie", a jazz trio with trumpet, bass, and keys.

fell asleep here in the tent to the symphonic sounds of snoring, showered up this morning, and heading off to breakfast. more later...

Oh, and yes, Steve, we're at the Kenner Vineyard, helping with Vineyard's Mercy Response. A great crew, and a great church.

Easing in to the Big Easy

Heading off with a team from the church (20+ strong) to New Orleans.  Some are already there, and others will be arriving over the next couple of days.  Not sure exactly what's in store, but I hope to be able to give an update on the blog if the network Ross has set up in the tent works.  Prayers appreciated, especially for our families who are holding down the fort here in Michigan.  Go Saints!

when love comes to town

a video I just finished to kick off the message on Sunday...

love

 

she swiftly so softly slips

joy afire in

laughs

and lips

 

lilting lively limpid land

we clamber sure

maybe

stand

 

happy valentine's day, sweetheart.

snow shovels and toilet brushes

pictured above is the team that went out serving on Saturday, armed with snow shovels and toilet brushes.  notice how energized and enthused everyone looks?  it was taken when we gathered back in the church office afterwards to pray for the people we served. 

always seems to be the case that the "after" pictures of a servant evangelism team are more "life-full" than the "before" pictures.  you never know what you're getting into when you set out to serve people in practical ways, with love in the name of Jesus. will there be driveways to shovel?  will people let us wash their restrooms?  will the love of God come through and be received?  will these chore-like activities be any fun?  invariably, what you end up getting into is a sort of love groove,or love loop.  love flowing on the team.  love flowing towards the people you get to bless.  love flowing from God, present in the service itself.  and that love tends to be experienced as life itself, overflowing.  same deal with serving the poor, too, often times. 

all in all, a great time had by all.  the pizza box came from a pizza place whose bathroom we cleaned.  at first, the workers at Cottage Inn wanted us to wait for a manager to come in to give us permission.  then, when we assured them that we were there to clean their toilet for free, no strings attached (see the card we used as backup, to demonstrate that we weren't just weirdos, but rather, sanctioned weirdos), they were delighted to have us get to work.  when we got done, they had a pizza waiting for us.  "Seriously, no donations desired. We just want to bless you," we protested.  They told us they had messed up an order, so they were just going to throw it out.  I could see in their eyes that turning down the pizza would feel like a disappointment to them.  And also maybe to Mike and Cody, the guys who were on my bathroom cleaning team.  So we happily accepted, and brought it back to share with the rest of the crew. 

Back at the church office, everyone signed the box.  Maybe we'll get it framed.

preach it, big brother

a big week for our son Colin. 

on Friday, he wrote his first sermon.  it was snow day, so he spent a good chunk of the day learning how to use microsoft word.  various things kept spitting out of the printer as I worked on my sermon upstairs in my home office. "I Love You Mom and Dad."  spit.  "I Love You Elle." spit.  and so on.  He didn't tell me until he'd finished, but apparently he decided since I was working on a sermon, he'd write one too.  He's at that age, you know.

Here's what he wrote. Page 1 (spacing and spelling as authored):

There    is    no    one    like    him

 

Jesus      ctrist        my   Lord.      And          for

ever       and        ever.         And      for     give

us        as      we       for      give      those    ho

Sin   ugenst    us

Page 2:

 

Amen.

couldn't have said it better myself.

then, he found out yesterday that his newest sibling is a boy, making Colin the first paternal line male Wilson (i.e., son of a Wilson son, if that makes any sense) in several generations to have a brother.  My grandfather had no brothers, my dad has two sisters, and I have four sisters.  Not to mention the fact that neither Ronni nor my mom has any brothers, either. 

Needless to say, Colin is thrilled with the idea of having a little brother. Which has absolutely nothing to do with the historical context, of course.  Must be a hardwired desire in boys.  I know I sure had it.  Even though now I'm thrilled to have so many sisters.  Do girls have a similar desire, I wonder?  I can't imagine why not.  Weigh in in the comments, if you don't have a y chromosome.

dadblog

one step closer is my dad's new blog...its address is pretty easy to remember, if you know my dad's name: kenwilsononline.com

so far, in the course of about 10 days, he's been both prolific and interesting, so I'm sure you'll find something worthwhile if you check it out.  I'm not entirely sure if he's figured out how to moderate comments yet, but leave him one anyway, and we'll see if they start showing up :)

here's a bite sized chunk to give you a taste:

Today, parking on “desire” in the second verse of the first psalm.  Happy is the person who sustains a choice of negation–not pursuing the path of the wicked, the offenders, the scoffers. But instead attaches desire to the Lord’s teaching is the sense of the first two verses.  Attaches desire. A raw word-experience.  Came to me in prayer, John Lennon’s song (white album, i think): I want you.  I want you so bad.  I want you. I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad, driving me mad.   That’s some kind primal of fixation, mediated by what, the amygdala, part of the emotion system in the brain, a deeper in structure of the brain–not the part we do math with, either.  Lennon wrote that, I guess, about his desire for Yoko Ono.  Which was so strong it was in the process of breaking up the Beatles, if I understand it right.  What did he see in Yoko Ono?  No one really knew.  People around him didn’t see what he saw.  Desire. This morning, parking the brain’s awareness on desire, which I have known.  Not for Yoko, obviously.  Affixing that raw human energy-intention-feeling on the Lord’s teaching.  I don’t know how that happens, but it does, or can.  God grabs your attention-desire like Yoko Ono grabbed John Lennnon’s.  This morning, mainly parked there with an awareness of that.  Not fancy, I know.  Lectio.