Jesus Asks: Why Do You Call Me Good?

This is the 20th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: Why do you call me good?

I let this question rattle around in my head for several days before looking more closely at the context. I remembered that someone came to Jesus and called Him "Good Teacher," to which Jesus shot back, "Why do you call me good? Only God is good." Rather than remembering the entire story, I mostly remembered the unpleasant feeling that Jesus seems to be a little snarky here. I mean, should we not consider Him good? And is He not God Himself? Is He trying to show his deference to the Father? Or is He trying to see if His inquirer is aware that His goodness is actually God-ness? 

Because of Jesus' track record for loving people through words and actions that are radical, counter-cultural, profound yet accessible, I'm going against the seeming dissonance in this question. I'm giving Jesus the benefit of the doubt that he's not being rude and obnoxious to someone who seems to be approaching him with humility and good manners. 

Winsome

While I let my "Winsome Wednesday" posts trail off several months ago, I thought these two videos needed a place on my blog. I hope they give you the warm fuzzies as they did me!

God woos artist with the beauty of his craft 

 The Forrest Gump of the Owl world  

 Can I just say this video made me want to become an ornithologist?

Jesus Asks: When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth? (Luke 18:8)

This is the 19th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth? (Luke 18:8)

I fell of the blogging train a couple weeks ago, but I'm back :)

First, let me just think about what Jesus is asking here. Will he find faith on earth? My knee-jerk reaction, habituated from years of defining faith as holding to certain truths/doctrines, is to do a quick self-assessment: Do I believe that Jesus is the Son of God, God himself incarnated, born of a virgin, tempted in every way humanly possible yet without sin, having been put to death on a cross where he served as propitiation for the sins of humankind, having resurrected on the third day, walking out of the tomb and appearing to his disciples before ascending to the Father, now sitting at the right hand of God's throne while simultaneously moving on earth and in humans as another Comforter, the Holy Spirit, indwelling the human spirit and supernaturally empowering those who believe and receive him to walk worthily of their calling? Check. Check. Check-check-check-check-check. Check. Ok. I'm good. Am I good? 

Coming out Christian: Review of Kaltenbach's "Messy Grace"

The subtitle of Caleb Kaltenbach's Messy Grace is what hooked me: How a Pastor with Gay Parents Learned to Love Others Without Sacrificing Conviction. I'm a sucker for interesting stories, and this promised to be a tale wound around one of today's most polarizing, nuanced issues for Christians. As I've mentioned in other posts, my own beliefs about how God views homosexuality have been evolving and are still in process. I can say I believe Jesus would be as likely to hang out with, minister to, befriend and love homosexuals as he would tax collectors, prostitutes, Pharisees and you and me. So I was eager to hear from a mature Jesus-follower, in this case a mega-church pastor, who was intimately connected with the LGBT community. However, after finishing the book, I didn't feel completely satisfied with either the depth of the narrative or the apologetic tone of some of the book's conclusions.

Kaltenbach's story is the reverse of what gay Christians who've grown up in church must experience as they try to reconcile their identities with their church doctrine.  An only child raised by three parents, whom he describes as vehemently anti-Christian, Kaltenbach sets out to infiltrate a Christian youth group, with the intention of arguing with them and showing them the error of their ways. (I know, you couldn't write a better script for the God's Not Dead movie franchise.) To his dismay, 16-year-old Kaltenbach finds that the well-versed, friendly, upbeat members of the group are actually winning him over for Christ. He's attracted by their certainty and steadiness, something he felt he never had. He's flattered by the attention, having spent much of his unusual adolescence tagging along with his two moms to gay pride events and parties.

Asking Myself: What is the kingdom of God like?

This is the 18th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: What is the kingdom of God like? (Luke 13:18)

Before reading this question in the context of Luke 13:18, I experienced a flash of emotions when I saw it: Confusion. Anxiety. Hopefulness?

The confusion came from trying to remember the difference between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of the heavens. The various kingdoms always confused me... despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that my church had an elaborate Venn Diagram addressing them smack in the middle of the gospel of Matthew. 
The anxiety also stemmed from the crispness, intricacy and technicality of the aforementioned Venn diagram. It's a puzzle to be figured out. It's who's in and who's out. It makes me think about overcoming and not overcoming. It makes me think about 1000 years of reward or the alternative. It brings to mind words like rule, command, authority, dominion and battle. It gives me a feeling like I'm out of my element, and out of touch with the King.

Asking Myself: "What is written in the law?"

This is the 17th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: What is written in the law?

I'm going to come at this one in a round-about way. My reflections on this question stem from reading my journals from 20+ years ago.

As a newly "serious" believer, somewhere during my sophomore year in high school, it seemed there were so many laws in the bible and in my church group, both spoken and unspoken, written and unwritten. For one, I felt certain God wanted me to share my faith by inviting everyone I knew to my church. Another biggie: I thought I needed to excise all worldliness from my habits, hobbies, disposition, career pursuits and thought life. Worldliness, I thought at the time, included most TV, movies and music, as well as many academic disciplines that delved too deeply into the soul, most of the fine arts (classical music was OK). Worldliness was even lurking in too much thinking... something I was guilty of 99 percent of my waking hours, but couldn't seem to shake, because trying typically required thinking.

The result of my interpretation of "what was written"? I judged myself harshly. I judged those around me even more harshly. I don't think of myself as a judgmental person, but a 180-page Mead notebook crammed full of crazy thoughts fresh baked from the brain of teenaged Emily proves otherwise. 

Jesus Asks: Who do you say that I am?

This is the 16th post in my series "Asking Myself," in which I weekly ponder one question posed in Teresa Blythe's rich book, 50 Ways to Pray. You can find the start of the series here and last week's post here. The first nine posts focused on theological musings, while posts 10 to the present prayerfully consider the specific questions Jesus posed in the New Testament.

Q: Who do you say that I am? (Luke 9:20)

Like last week, I've approached this question prayerfully, exploring it philosophically, reflectively, rather than trying to figure out the verse in context. I need only to know that Jesus asked this because some had been telling a jittery Herod Antipas (who had beheaded John the Baptist)

that John the Baptist had been raised from the dead. Others thought Jesus was Elijah or one of the other prophets risen from the dead. (Luke 9:7-8)

Thinking about why various people claimed Jesus was a resurrected prophet leads me to a rabbit hole that I don't want to fall down this morning. Let's just say, people then (as they do now) had some odd ideas about who Jesus was, and many of the ideas fed their worse fears and guilt. Peter, who knew Jesus up close and personal, had a moment of clarity in which he proclaimed:

You are the Messiah, sent from God. (Luke 9:20)