The Lord's Prayer and Part 2 of why I like liturgy.

This was actually supposed to be combined with my last post, but being the technological genius that I am, I didn't find the "save" button until it was too late. Thus two consecutive blogs that seem to deal with the same subject.
So...why I have come to personally love liturgy recently. Since becoming a calvinist several months back, I have found it increasingly difficult to pray. I know I'm probably going to get about a hundred Piper sermons and articles about compatabilism sent to me because I said that, but I truly did have problems praying to a God who has predetermined everything. What do you say to Him? It was during my first week back in France that the Spirit clearly answered that question.
Matt 6:9 Pray then in this way...
I love it when that happens. You're questioning something about pursuing God, and then you find a passage in the Bible that basically says, "This is the exact answer to your question."
Even though many people complain that pre-written prayers are not that valubable, because it really doesn't come from your heart, I have really come to treasure and adopt this prayer as my own. Plus, if you say it three times a day, you'll make more money. Oh wait, no, stop. That's the Prayer of Ja... I'll stop there. So the rest of this post is just going to be dedicated to my personal ramblings and thoughts of the Jesus' model prayer.

"Our Father, who is in heaven..."
Ah, Church, Church, Church! Even though Jesus was the only one verbalizing this prayer, he still used the word "our". From the first word, the collective Body of Christ is referenced. The rest of the prayer may not sound incredibly personal and individualistic, because it really is not meant to be. Even though Christ, of all people, could address God as uniquely His Father, He chose not to.

"...Hallowed be Your name..."
Aside from this passage, the Gettysburg Address, and possibly a line from the movie "Hocus Pocus," I don't think I've ever come across the word "hallowed"; it definitely isn't enough a part of my vocabulary that I would claim to have a good grasp of its meaning. Not having packed any English Bible except NASB, I had to turn to la Bible française for help on that one. En français, "que ton nom soit sanctifié." The word "sanctifié" - sanctified, set apart, holy - that I can deal with. This is also consistent with what I've come to know of God and His love for His glory. The first request of the model prayer is that His name would have the recognition of which it is worthy.

"...Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven..."
There's so much in that one line. That the current regime of the earth would pass away and be replaced by that of God. That the vain and fruitless labor of mankind to attain power and riches and temporary pleasures be mortified. That on earth God's will be executed just as it is in heaven. That racism and bigotry end. That hatred cease. That the slaughter of the unborn be forever stopped. That people in every corner of the earth worship their Creator eternally. Big sentence Jesus said here. The word "kingdom" always makes me think of politics and expansion. That the laws of His kingdom be upheld on earth. That Your kingdom be gloriously expanded to every tribe, tongue, and nation.

"...Give us this day our daily bread..."
I love this part, because I have a mental image of health-and-wealth theology being a big person, and I have a picture of Jesus sticking a dagger into the kidney of that person as He says this. Kind of violent, I agree, but this is a pretty violent verse if you're someone who believes that God wants you to have a whole lot of everything, right here and right now. Aside from my personal distaste for said theology, this line leaves so much room for trust. I can't secure my future on earth. It would be vanity even to try. That God would give me enough to survive today, and let tomorrow care for itself.

"...And forgive us our debts..."
Sounds good.

"...as we also forgive our debtors..."
Ouch!!! I really like to skip that part from time to time. It should frighten us to think that God takes into account our willingness to forgive others the miniscule debts that they might owe us, as He considers His forgiveness of an infinitely large debt that we owe Him. Not that God forgiving us is performance-based, but...wow - tough verse!

"...And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil..."
I don't completely understand why Christ would have us pray for God not to do something that the Spirit later promised He would never do, but it's there, so okay, lead us not into temptation. Deliver us from evil - no argument there either, plus I think God loves doing that.

"...For Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever..."
I like that the meat of the prayer is sandwiched between praise for God, His name, His power, His glory. I'm trying to puzzle through the preposition "for". I guess it would stand to reason that we can have faith that God will do all that is asked in this prayer, since we just asked for His will to be accomplished in all things, and it will be. Maybe it's a reminder to ourselves that the kingdom is God's, He is the One with the power to deliver, and to Him will be and must go all the glory.

"...Amen."

Liturgical prayers vs Individuality

The past few months have witnessed me becoming a fairly big fan of liturgy. I don't completely know why that is. I haven't ever really been involved in a church that has liturgical services, nor was I raised with a terribly positive view of liturgy in the church. "Ya' just don't feel anything, ya' know." Yet here I sit, typing away about my wish to see liturgy playing a more central role in evangelical America. Okay, it might be because I've read the Internet Monk one too many times, it might be because I'm a traditionalist, and it's quite likely (at least partly) due to the fact that liturgy is like singing, but you don't have to have a good singing voice to do it - good for you if you're the one reciting, and good for those around you that play captive audience to your less than perfect singing voice. See, liturgy serves practical purposes.

I think liturgy is good for the Church on a much deeper level too, especially the American Church. It seems like ever since the 1960's, everyone in America is seeking extreme individuality. This is not in and of itself a bad thing. From a Biblical standpoint, it's clear that the Spirit gives certain gifts to certain people to be used in certain ways. Great! Good for individuality!
The problem is individualistic Christians sometimes seem to ignore the fact that while we are individuals, we are part of a covenant Community - one Body.
Liturgy kind of helps us to remember that. In liturgy, no one ever really tries to make sure they're the one saying it the loudest or that they have the prettiest voice. It's individuals putting their voices together with voices throughout the ages of the Church, to form one voice of praise or of edification or of teaching. An amazing thought really.

Many modern protestants, however, feel that liturgy just doesn't have enough feeling. If the prayer has been written down beforehand, it doesn't really count. If the thoughts were someone elses, it can never be mine.
I have to disagree. Liturgy is as heartfelt as the speaker allows it to be, and it is probably ridiculously prideful to think that our prayers are worth more than the prayers drawn out by Paul, or the ancient saints, or the contemporary saints, and especially Christ Himself.
How pleasing it must be to Christ to hear His own exemplary prayer flowing still from the hearts of His people.

Alas, I'm out of time, but look forward to my own personal reflections on the Lord's prayer.
Grace and Peace

Back in la belle France

Well, after a wonderful, well-spent, relaxing vacation in beautiful, Ohio, Illinois, Wisconsin, Indiana, and Kentucky, I have made it back to Pau, but not without a real life science fiction traveling story - only it's not fiction.
My flight arrived late into Paris, causing me to miss my connecting flight to Toulouse, from where I was going to have to buy a train ticket to Pau. When I went to the transfer desk to fix my problem, they not only went ahead and gave me a direct flight to Pau, but since the flight was six hours later, they went ahead and gave me a meal ticket at the airport. This apparently is not common for Paris airport workers to treat people this nicely, so I already felt weird about the trip, but that's really just the entrance into the zone de twilight.
It was about 2:00 in the afternoon, I was in Terminal 2F, and I still had 4 hours before my flight. I decided that I needed to freshen up a bit, and I kind of needed a toilet as well, so I decided to find a nice men's room where I could put on some deodorant, brush my teeth, use the toilet, etc.
Attempt 1: All the stalls looked like they were occupied, but I tried to open one anyway, the man therein yelled at me, and not wishing to stay in this bathroom, I left to find another one.
Attempt 2: After walking about a third of a mile, I located a sign for another men's room - this one was a bit more obscure, so I hoped maybe the stalls wouldn't be full. Upon entering, I found a janitor beginning to clean, he told me the bathroom was fermée.
Attempt 3: I was now at the extreme end of the airport. I found a men's room, but the part with the stalls was closed because a small Asian lady was cleaning the bathroom.
Attempt 4: I turned around and walked the almost mile-long course to the bathroom where Attempt 1 had taken place. This bathroom was also closed, because it was being cleaned by a very familiar looking small Asian lady.
Attempt 5: My desire to find a place to freshen up was being increasingly over-ridden by a need for a toilet. Having searched every men's room in Terminal 2F, I continued on to terminal 2D, but between the two terminals, I thought I had lucked out, because there was an airport hotel, and a sign for a men's room. When I went in, what did I find, but a suspiciously familiar, small, Asian woman cleaning it.
Attempt 6: Tormented by this strange, omnipresent janitor, I increased my walking speed - partly because I really had to go to the bathroom at this point (I had been looking for bathrooms for approximately an hour by this time) and partly because I was determined to beat the janitor (whose omnipresence, I believe, was fueled by the devil) to the next bathroom. I beat her. I found a free stall in the restaurant portion of Terminal 2D - thank You, Lord! Unfortunately, too much people traffic to be able to freshen up, but my most urgent need was taken care of.
Attempt 7: Still wanted to freshen up, but where? I was sure by this time, that the small Asian female clones had taken over all the bathrooms in the airport. Then I spotted a sign for a shopping boutique. The light of revelation was revealed! Mall bathrooms in France are never clean! I found the mall, found the empty restroom, and after an hour and a half of frantic searching, I beat the French janitors!!! hahahahahahaha - I need sleep.

There's no place like home...and sometimes, I'm alright with that.

There's really nothing like coming home.
That's a pretty neutral sentence, and I definitely did that on purpose. That's because homecomings are good, sad, and sometimes a little dangerous all at the same time.
The good things are the obvious ones. You get to see your family and friends again. I fully agree that the "Cheers" theme song is good and right. "You wanna go where everybody knows your name." There's nothing like walking around on campus, or at Wal-Mart, or at a church, where not only does everyone speak your language, but they all know you, and know what you like, and know what you hate, and know how to relate to you. It's a beautiful thing really, to be in company of people who really care about you. Another great thing about homecomings is realizing how great it is to be in fellowship. It kind of feels like when you've been underwater for a long time, and then resurface - that beautiful, long, and (if you're me) probably overdramatic first gasp of air that you take. That's what re-entry into Christian community feels like. God bless the Church!
Sad things about homecomings? - yeah, they're out there, and they're weird, because you don't see them coming. It's kind of disappointing to see that all of your friends have managed just fine without you - not disappointing - I mean, I hope they can manage without me. It's bittersweet to see the changes that they've gone through without you though. It's weird to have to learn to relate with people that you love all over again. It's also difficult to learn that these friends can't just put their whole lives on hold because you're within driving distance of them too - it's so easy to be greedy with friends' schedules.
Enough of that - let's move on to the dangerous aspects of homecomings.
Coming home can be both scary and dangerous.
It's scary, because you learn to see people (my parents, for example) in different lights. I never realized exactly how many eccentricities my family actually had until I went a semester without seeing them. I learned that my dad has probably seen and recorded every Columbo ever made, and he watches them regularly. This means that if Western culture ever passes away, for whatever reason, someday, some archaeologist might discover my home, and a complete library dedicated to Peter Faulk. My dad could actually be the savior of western civilization, and my house on Seventh St. might become an international monument. While Dad is busy with Columbo, my mom is busy stocking pantries and cupboards. I think empty cupboards might make her sad in some strange way, so she's decided to never let herself see them empty. That is why there are literally about 150 cinnamon poptarts in my pantry right now. I actually did the math. She also keeps the cupboard so full of cups that you learn to open it from the side so as not to get hit on the head with the cups that will inevitably fall out. I've never actually counted them, as they are not as easily countable as cinnamon poptarts, but considering that only 3 people live in my house on a normal basis, it would definitely be a fair guess that they can each use about 20 cups in a day. This doesn't count the mugs - they're in a different cupboard. My mom's collecting actually got dangerous tonight, because she likes to keep knick-knacks around the house - you know, pretty little ceramic stuff. Sounds nice, but today as I went to open the cupboard of death, I thought that the Egyptian plagues were coming back, because a ceramic frog almost fell on my head. Good thing I'm accustomed to dodging cups. I told my mom her frog almost killed me. Her reaction: "You broke my frog?"
Okay, enough on my mom. My little brother might turn out to be the true dangerous villain of the family. He's the tech guy, and he's been slowly computerizing our house. That's great and all, but he graduates this spring, and he'll move out, leaving my parents alone and helpless in a digitally mastered house. It's as if my house is a big can; my little brother is the only one with the can opener, and he knows it. I think he makes things complicated on purpose too. I found myself threatening him on Christmas with the following line, "If I knew how to work whichever remote makes the DVD player work, you better believe I'd start this movie without you!" Sad, isn't it? I fear my next visit home will be one in which my parents are huddled around a fire where the answering machine used to be, watching their own reflections in the television set.
You're right Dorothy, there is no place like home. And I, for one, can live with that.

Taking up your cross

I listened to a sermon some time ago that really grated me.
Given, I have a real tendency to be grated during services, and more than one person in my life has told me that I can be critical, especially in churches. Also given, most of the time it's stuff that's probably not that important - how often should communion be given, why isn't the music better, did they really need new choir robes, etc, but this one really got me.
The pastor looked at the passage in Matthew 16:24, one of the boldest, offensive, flat-out statements in the whole Bible (which incidentally appears twice more in Matthew and Luke), "Then Jesus told his disciples, 'If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.'"
Great verse isn't it? Wealth, pride, selfish ambitions, lust, double-mindedness, pretty much all bad things are mortified in light of this. Lordship salvation stands out in shining glory while easy-believism shrivels and dies in the shadows as Jesus speaks here, doesn't it? Yeah, I thought so too. Evidently, this pastor didn't

The pastor who was speaking on this verse, whom I respect, love, and believe to be a Godly man, completely did not see this verse in the same light I did. As he expounded on this passage, he made clear that there were actually 2 calls in one - one to the lost, and one to the saints. To the lost, a call to "receive Christ." To the saints, a call to "a deeper relationship with Him."

What grated me about that? It suddenly doesn't seem as clear as I'm looking at it on a computer screen. I think it's because I don't have a problem with either one of those two points, as both are true. Jesus is calling the lost to receive and the saints to continue. My problem is, the pastor separated them when in reality, they're really exactly the same call. The call to come to Christ, and the call to continue to grow in Christ are not separate. Come after me, deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me means exactly the same thing to the lost as the found.

I think the next verse illustrates my point, a verse which I think (but am not certain) was left out of the sermon. "For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. " People have either saved their lives or lost them, and you can't lose your life twice. I would think it would be impossible for this to be two calls, because, if one lays down his life to come to Christ, he no longer has a life to lay down to know Him more deeply. This sermon seemed to suggest there is a middle ground. A sinner dies to himself by receiving Christ to get to Level 1, but then he should later to die to himself yet again to join the Honors Program. Of course, if he doesn't join the Program, he's still alright - he did, after all, die enough to himself to make it to Level 1 - the minimum requirement.

In a country where the vast majority of people claim to be Christian, and where very little Christian fruit is yielded in its culture, I think 2 big questions are worth pondering.
1. How many of these so-called Christians are Level 1 Christians? - okay, that's really not that big of a question - I think most people will agree that that is the vast majority of people calling themselves believers. Here's the really big question...
2. Is there really such thing as a Level 1 Christian?
I seem to observe that there are so many people in churches that call themselves Christians but have evidently not lain down their lives, taken up their crosses, sold their fields, etc. Yet that is exactly what Christ is calling. In fact, that's the only call He makes in these verses.

My fear is that in preaching such sermons, pastors are leaving people comfortable in Level 1 Christianity and making discipleship optional. This, in the end, would be the exact opposite of the fantastic message of Matthew 16:24-25