Wednesday, March 30, 2022: Lent Five - The Peter Principle

At that point Peter got up the nerve to ask, “Master, how many times do I forgive a brother or sister who hurts me? Seven?” (Matthew 18:21, The Message Bible)

                 I wonder who it was that Peter may have been thinking about when he asked this question. 

                A family member? Maybe he had had a fight with his wife recently. He was hardly ever home.  One of the other disciples? After all, at some point, probably more than once, they had been arguing about who was the greatest disciple and I can be pretty sure Peter threw his own name into the hat. Perhaps, it was one of his rival fishing competitors. Maybe, it was a Roman soldier or a Samaritan.

                I am not sure that one asks that sort of question without someone specific in mind.

                Seven seems like a good number. It is a sacred, holy number. Lucky for some. It seems that seven times would be going the second mile, showing ample grace, abundant mercy, lots of room for the miscreant to apologize and admit they were wrong. Seven times surely would show how magnanimous someone could be, how generous in spirit, how noble, how decent.

                Surely Jesus would be pleased with Peter’s  suggestion.

                Poor Peter. Missed the mark again.

                As Jesus is wont to do with our all-too-human suggestions, he expands Peter’s horizons and probably blows his mind. “Seven! Hardly. Try seventy times seven.” (18: 22) Trust me, Jesus was not saying the magic number is now 490 times and then you can quit forgiving. Jesus is saying that forgiveness is a continuous, never-ending,  perpetual aspect of God’s Love at work in us. “You can’t get forgiveness from God, for instance, without also forgiving others. If you refuse to do your part, you cut yourself off from God’s part.”  (Matthew 6:15, The Message)

                Nobody is saying that total forgiveness is easy. We would prefer the offending party come crawling to us  on their knees and beg our forgiveness.  We would prefer never to speak to the  miscreant ever again, even if they ever did apologize. We would prefer to hurt back in some way, deprive them of our presence. We would prefer not to ever forget and, therefore, never to put the hurt, the insult, the neglect, the grudge, the harm behind us and just let it go. Human memory is just too strong for that much forgiveness.

                No, real forgiveness is hard.

                But it is the Jesus way. Ceaseless, endless, compassionate, deep, all-encompassing. The kind of forgiveness that is cross-hewed. “Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.” (Luke 23:33, The Message)

                Forgiveness is therefore sacrificial. We have to give up something to be able to fully and completely forgive. Resentments, grudges, old painful memories, complaints, judgements, prejudices, dreams of pay-back. We need to quit counting, not seven, not four hundred and ninety; there is no finite number.

                True forgiveness is letting the past be past, letting sin be in the hands of God and not be burdened with the pain and hurt.  It is seeking new reconciliation. “If a fellow believer hurts you, go and tell him—work it out between the two of you. If he listens, you’ve made a friend. If he won’t listen, take one or two others along so that the presence of witnesses will keep things honest, and try again. If he still won’t listen, tell the church. If he won’t listen to the church, you’ll have to start over from scratch, confront him with the need for repentance, and offer again God’s forgiving love.” (Matthew 18: 15 -17, The Message)

                But dang it – that sounds like a lot of hard work.

                It is; forgiveness is not about keeping score but it is God’s Mercy at work among us. It is God’s Grace which heals, reconciles, nurtures, enriches our broken relationships. It is God’s Love calling us to love.

                I don’t think that one can put a number on that.

Dale

Wednesday, March 23, 2022 – Lent Four: The Peter Principle

Then Peter chimed in, “We left everything and followed you. What do we get out of it?” (Matthew 19:27, The Message Bible)

                 What’s in it for me?

                Let’s be honest. There is a basic, certain self-interest in being a person of faith and belief. I don’t necessarily mean selfish, but making sure we have our ducks in a row to get our just desserts. Even the dialogue between the rich leader and Jesus was triggered by the man’s personal need or desire for eternal life: “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?” (Matthew 19:16) He went on to claim that he had lived a righteous life, going so far as to boldly assert that he had kept all the Ten Commandments, therefore “What do I lack?” It’s still all about him.

                Jesus turns the tables on the man and challenges the man to get out of his self-interest by rousing his selfless, philanthropic, compassionate care for others. “If you want to give it all you’ve got,” Jesus replied, “go sell your possessions; give everything to the poor. All your wealth will then be in heaven. Then come follow me.” That was not what the man wanted to hear. “And so, crestfallen, he walked away. He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and he couldn’t bear to let go.” (v.22)

                 All the disciples are flabbergasted. If the prosperous, righteous man can’t make it, “then who has any chance at all?”  It’s almost amazing that they didn’t pack their bags right then and there and head back to their boats. They understood the profit in a good catch of fish.

                Peter had been watching and listening to this whole interaction between the rich man and Jesus. Look at everything we have given up to follow you Jesus – our fishing boats, our families, our reputations, our way of living – so what’s in this Jesus’ walk for me; what do I get out of it?

                There are many promises in scripture that the good will prosper and flourish but the bad will wither and perish. “But the godly will flourish like palm trees and grow strong like the cedars of Lebanon.” (Psalm 92:12, New Living Translation) That seems only fair to most of us, I think. Good guys should win; bad guys fail. Abundant life goes to the winner. Hell goes to the loser.

                Think of all the great hymns which celebrate the one-to-one personal relationship between just Jesus and me. Jesus loves me.  Jesus, lover of my soul. I am so glad that Jesus loves me. There is nothing wrong with these sorts of hymns but they do accentuate the individual’s desire to come first in the relationship between themselves and Jesus. Of course, that is always where it is going to start, with you and me, personally and individually, but it is not where it ends.

                I have sometimes heard good Christians complain when life goes sour, wondering what they had  done to deserve their suffering and pain. They might argue that they had been faithful Christians, going to church regularly, reading their bibles, praying often, gave frequently to the church, etc. – maybe not quite giving away all they’ve got but surely it should have been enough to secure some personal assurances of blessing, health and happiness in the here-and-now.  Bad things shouldn’t happen to good people.

                Peter asks on all our behalf – what do we get out of it? What’s in it for me?

                Jesus’ answer is that the future belongs to those who faithfully follow Jesus. It may take time but the kingdom and its riches belong to the poor in spirit, the sorrowful, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers and the persecuted. (Matthew 5: 1 – 10). How do these people rate God’s rewards? They hardly seem worthy enough.  But as Jesus points out the last shall be first, and the first shall be last.

God’s generous gift of life has often reversed the usual standards of success, joy, happiness and blessing. The gifts that come with following Jesus are not material goods and riches, not necessarily long healthy lives, not eternal, pleasurable existence, but the fruits of the kingdom, the advantages of trust and obedience, the benefits of the Holy Spirit working in our lives.

                What do you and I get out of following Jesus?   A prescription to love others, to share compassionately, to live for Christ, to let go and live in total trust.

                “And not only you, but anyone who sacrifices home, family, fields—whatever—because of me will get it all back a hundred times over, not to mention the considerable bonus of eternal life.” (Matthew 19: 29 -30, The Message)

 Dale

Wednesday, March 16, 2022: Lent Three – The Peter Principle

Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.” (Matthew 14:28, The Message Bible)

                 Have you ever had that sinking feeling deep down in your soul?

                Peter did.

                We can only speculate why, in the first place, Peter wanted to get out of the boat and walk on water like Jesus. The Message’s “suddenly bold” describes Peter in a nutshell – impetuous, audacious, impulsive, arrogant, ambitious, proud but always a step away from failure and disappointment. Perhaps, he wanted to show-up his fellow disciples cowering in the storm-driven boat. Maybe, he wanted to prove himself to Jesus. Maybe, he was thinking that if Jesus can do it, so can he. Perhaps, he believed he had all the faith that he needed to trust in Jesus or, maybe, it was a test of Jesus’ power, “if it is you…”

Whatever, Peter stepped onto the water, came toward Jesus, “but when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink.” (Matthew 14:30, The Message.)

Oops! Not as easy as it looks.

At least he tried. But Jesus was apparently not impressed by the effort and accused Peter of having little faith. “Faint-heart, what got into you?” (v.31)

I need to make a confession at this point. I have often puzzled over the whole “if you have the faith of a mustard seed you can move mountains” thinking. It has always bothered me when so called well-meaning Christians will say to someone in the midst of a crisis, “If you only had more faith” then this or that wouldn’t have happed. Or if you only had more faith then your prayers would have been answered. If you only had more faith then a loved one might have been cured. “If you only had more faith” is a heavy burden to lay on a person’s shoulders.

How do you measure faith, anyway? Is it quantitative or qualitative? Is there a faith thermometer that can take the temperature of one’s faith?  Is there is measuring cup that portions out the exact right amount of faith needed in one’s recipe for discipleship?

In anyone’s hands but Jesus’, the statement that you or I might not have enough faith comes out as judgmental, belittling, demeaning and accusatory. It is never up to us to judge someone else’s faith.

Yet, we all can identify with Peter in this critical moment when doubts creep in, when we are wondering how we got ourselves into this predicament, wondering why we are failing,  and, yes, wondering why our faith is not sufficient.

    We get that sinking feeling.

    “God, God, save me!
    I’m in over my head,
    Quicksand under me, swamp water over me;
    I’m going down for the third time.
    I’m hoarse from calling for help,
    Bleary-eyed from searching the sky for God.” (Psalm 69: 1 -3, The Message)

                But the Good News is that Jesus did not abandon Peter as he was beginning to flail in the deep waters. As soon as he saw Peter floundering, he quickly reached out his hand and pulled Peter back into the boat. Jesus reaches out to any of us who needs a helping hand to get through the storms and upsets, the losses and failures, the disappointments and setbacks. He would like us to learn from our mistakes, but that comes after he pulls us up and out of harm’s way.

                Perhaps, the best act of faith in this story was Peter simply reaching out for the hand of Jesus.

                Often, the most honest words we can say when we have that sinking feeling are found elsewhere in the Gospels: “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24, New Living Translation)

Jesus, please throw me a life-line!

Dale

Wednesday, March 9, 2022 – Lent Two: The Peter Principle

“God himself, let you in on this secret of who I really am. And now I’m going to tell you who you are, really are. You are Peter, a rock. This is the rock on which I will put together my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out.”  (Matthew 16: 17 -18, The Message Bible)

                 I have been reading a book lately in which the author,  Joe Polanski, lists his personal list of the top 100 baseball players of all time.  Baseball players have great nick names: Babe, Scooter, Hammerin’ Hank, Cool Papa, Yogi, The Kid, Dizzy, Catfish, etc. If you are a baseball fan like me, you might be able to fill in the last names of those baseball stars by just reading their nick names.

                Jesus hung quite the moniker on his disciple, Silas, now to be forever known as Peter or The Rock (not to be confused with the pro wrestler The Rock). This came with a lot of expectations, hopes and responsibilities for Peter. He gets the keys to the kingdom and guards the doors of heaven, apparently. His confession that Jesus is the Messiah (v.15) has put Peter at the forefront of Jesus’ mission to build the kingdom of God

                But let us not get carried away just yet. Peter was sometimes more crumbling shale than a rock of granite. He could be and was more often standing on rocky ground than building his foundation of faith and discipleship on solid rock. There were times his resolve sank like a stone when confronted with conflicts and trust issues.  There were times when his path in following Jesus was a rocky road, or like seed which fell on rocky ground, struggling to flourish and bear fruit.

                But I am sure that Jesus understood all this about Peter. He saw past the cracks in the stone and  gave Peter, the Rock,  the lead role in his master plan of building the Kingdom. Jesus saw the potential, the possibilities, the gifts, the strengths in Peter and gave Peter the somewhat, for sure, ironic title The Rock.

                There are some characteristics of being a rock which are not part of this mode of discipleship. Being a rock doesn’t mean being an unmoveable object, for instance, or an impenetrable, unassailable cold, hard presence in the world. I recall the Simon and Garfunkel song:

    I've built walls
    A fortress deep and mighty
    That none may penetrate
    I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pains
    It's laughter and it's loving I disdain

    I am a rock,  I am an island
A rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.

                Yes, to be a rock means to stand firm in our faith, to know with assurance our core values, and to maintain our integrity when it comes to following Jesus. It doesn’t mean being stubborn, cold, aloof, or unfeeling but to be aware of the flow of life around us and not be swept away  in the currents of culture or fear or worry or distress or the news or pandemics. It is not so much that we are rocks but rather we stand on the Rock.

                Hear Jesus’ words: “These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit—but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock.”  (Matthew 7: 24 -25, The Message Bible)

                Jesus looks past all that might make you or me a curious choice for his Kingdom project. We’ve got stones in our shoes that causes us to limp after Jesus. But he places his blessing upon us and calls us into his service. He believes that you and I have something to offer, something to give, something to accomplish.

And you know the old saying, a rolling stone gathers no moss.

 Dale

Wednesday, March 2, 2022 – Ash Wednesday/Lent One – The Peter Principle

“Simon Peter, when he saw it, fell to his knees before Jesus. “Master, leave. I’m a sinner and can’t handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.” (Luke 5:8 The Message Bible)

                Let us walk along side the disciple, Peter, this Lenten season.

                In 1969, Laurence J. Peter wrote a book entitled The Peter Principle. The basic premise was that an employed person is promoted based on their previous job success until they reach their level of incompetence, as skills in one job do not necessarily work at the higher level. Peter, the disciple to whom the keys of the kingdom were bestowed, seems to fit that description. He can be audacious and a strong-willed follower of Jesus, one moment, and an abject failure the next moment. The story of Peter in the Gospels is a roller coaster of faith, love, obedience and reveals the full gamut of the highs and lows of following Jesus.

                Why does that matter? Because Simon Peter is you and me. Some days – a rock; other days sifting sand.

                It begins at water’s edge after a futile night of fishing. Peter and his partners are weary and disappointed as their livelihood depends on a good catch of fish and they caught nothing. Jesus appears and commandeers Peter’s boat to preach from. After the sermon, Jesus dares Peter to go out into deeper water and continue to fish.  Wearily, Peter agrees and they catch so much fish that the other boats had to come to aid in reeling them in.

                Peter is dumb-founded. He understands enough that he has just witnessed something incredible.  What does he want to do? Get as far away from Jesus as he can. This man might be dangerous. He is strange. He is more than Peter can deal with. He is something else!

                “Master, leave. I’m a sinner and can’t handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.”

                We see the struggle of faith right off the get-go. One minute, Peter is willing to obey Jesus by going into deeper water despite his weariness and his spirit of futility and, the next minute, Peter wants to put as much distance as he possibly can between himself and Jesus. “Leave me to myself.”       

                Perhaps he thinks the grace of a full boat comes with another kind of “catch” and Jesus will demand something of him in return. So, if he declares himself a sinner and therefore not worthy of Jesus’ attention, not admirable enough to be of any help or use, not creditable enough or suitable enough to be attractive for Jesus’ purposes, then he has created the necessary space, the gap, between himself and Jesus. And he can go about his business – of being just plain old Simon Peter the fisherman.

                But he is exactly whom Jesus is looking for – a sinner, full of imperfect humanity.  Here is someone who has potential, who can learn to obey, trust, come along-side, and discover Jesus’ Lordship.

                Lent begins a journey of a renewed self-awareness of our human shortcomings. We are all sinners. We can’t get away from that reality. But it is a shame when we can’t get past that reality, when people believe that they are not redeemable, not worthy of the grace of God, not acceptable of any mercy and forgiveness, not suitable to be in the presence of holiness. Leave me alone. Go away.  I am what I am and I can’t change; I won’t change, not for you, Lord, not for anybody.

                Jesus sees through our veneer of our sin and goes deeper himself into the soul and spirit of each of us and pulls out a disciple, a follower, a companion, a learner, a friend, a brave heart and seeks to begin to build his kingdom with such as us.

Sin doesn’t pull us apart from Jesus but draws us deeper together into his fellowship, into his Love, into his forgiveness and compassion, into his service.

                Lent reminds us of our sinfulness but it should also remind us that Jesus doesn’t take “No” i.e. sin, as an answer.

Dale