Pentecost: In Unity and in Christ, there is Boldness

By Joe LaGuardia

My Pentecost sermon this Sunday is on the unity of Christ’s Church.  Based on Acts 2:1-11, unity comes when God’s people gather to preach God’s Word, listen to God’s Word, and act on God’s Word.I won’t go over the whole sermon here–you will need to come to church for that!–but I was impressed that one of the results of unity (at least in Acts) is boldness in Christ.

Boldness is a major theme in the book of Acts.  Luke, the author of Acts, mentions at least eight times that the Church is bold when empowered by the Spirit.   But it not about speaking only, but the boldness that the righteous exhibit when they are pursuing God’s purposes.

When a church is united in Christ, there is boldness to…

Announce the Lordship of Christ. The disciples in Acts needed boldness to preach that Christ was Lord and Savior because that message was treasonous in Rome.  Back then, the Caesar was lord and savior–claimed as “God’s son,” by Roman writers–and to claim that there was another who was king over Caesar was a dangerous message indeed.

The disciples preached boldly in the face of hostility and danger.  When they were imprisoned, they did not relent, nor did they try to defend themselves by way of violence.  They saw every circumstance as an opportunity to preach Christ and him crucified.

Live as Christ’s Ambassadors of Reconciliation in the world.  Another important theme in Acts is that, in Christ, God bridged the divide not only between himself and the world, but between Jew and Gentile.  Christ’s salvation is inclusive, it is not a monopoly of one ethnic, religious, or socio-economic group.  Rather, the message of Christ’s salvation is one of reconciliation: that anyone and “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved” (Acts 2:21).

Christians are ambassadors of this Word.  Ambassadors are not citizens of the countries in which they venture; rather, they are citizens of a host country and go afar to foreign and strange places to bring people together and build coalitions of peace.  As “ambassadors” (according to 2 Corinthians 5), we are citizens of the Kingdom of God, sent into the world to speak on Christ’s behalf.

We represent not the interests of the world, but the interests of God.  I am not a big fan of St. Augustine’s theology which posits that we are citizens of two worlds–the kingdom and the country in which we reside.  The Bible makes clear that once we call Christ Lord, we belong to Him and Him alone.

To Stand on the Side of Justice.  We represent Christ’s prophets, those harbingers of hope who declare what God is up to and communicate the deepest values of God in a world that has misplaced priorities.  We follow a Lord who claimed that “the first shall be last, and the last first,” and that we are not to worry as the world does.  We seek the kingdom of God first, and let all other things fall into place as God so allows.

This message of justice reaches back into the heart of the Old Testament.  From the very details of God’s Law given to Moses to those proclamations by the likes of prophets like Isaiah and Amos, justice insures that we don’t push for what is always “fair”, but for what is moral and right.  Christ plants churches in local communities to anchor those communities in the morals and values that are godly, biblical, and just.

So goes boldness in the Bible.  My sermon this Sunday will hit on boldness briefly, but I thought that this fuller treatment will provide you with something to ponder until then.  I hope to see you Sunday!

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Fasting, and other disciplines for Lent

IMG_1370By Emily Holladay

This is one article in an on-going series for Lent 2018 by the Reverend Emily Holladay.  Check out her other articles at her blog, Rev on the Edge.

Chocolate. Facebook. TV. Telephone. Soft drinks. Fast Food.

Every year, Lent conveniently falls just far enough after New Year’s that the practice of fasting often becomes a new way to attain the resolution we previously dropped. We stop eating chocolate or give up soft drinks with the “side benefit” that we will lose weight in the process. But, other than giving us something to complain about at our friend’s birthday party when we can’t eat the cake, what do these fasts do?

Do we meet with God during dessert time, or take remembrance of Christ, the living water, when we take a sip of a non-bubbly drink? When we are tempted to cheat, who are we failing – ourselves, or God?

Jesus fasts before his ministry begins. For 40 days and 40 nights (read: a long time), he abstains from food and drink, approaching God in the wilderness as an empty vessel.

Jesus knows what I often forget – it is in our emptiness that God fills us. Even at our most depleted, God welcomes us to a life of sustenance beyond measure.

In Christ’s fasting, though, he does not just revel in time with his creator. In Christ’s fasting, his mind and body disoriented from lack of nutrition, he meets the one who challenges hope. He is tempted, possibly by his own desperation, to feed himself, quench his own thirst, and prove who he is.

And Jesus knows all these things are possible. Even in his deepest hunger, he is fully God. He could end his own fast as easily as he could turn water into wine. He could shut the tempting on up “for good.” He could restore his own mind.

But he understands that he does not fast for himself. He does not go hungry to prove a point, nor does he feed himself to prove who he is. He meets temptation with a clarity of purpose that runs far deeper than hunger or thirst. Whatever does not serve his purpose does not earn his energy. His drive to be filled by God runs through his bones.

Delirium. Exhaustion. Dehydration. Nothing can stop Jesus from his pursuit of the divine.

This is how I wish I could live during Lent. Driven towards God by a sense of clarity and purpose. I wish I approached the Lenten season with hope that God would meet me in my emptiness. I wish I could more easily name the fast that would cause my bones to cry out for God.

Maybe, however, it’s not the fast, but the heart that needs changing.

And so, I meet God with my pen. I find God in the wilderness of my mind. I sense God filling the emptiness of my soul as the ink fills my pages, and I know that resurrection looms around the corner.

This year, I eat my chocolate and remember that something sweeter is coming. I meet God on the empty page, as visual representation of the fast I need; the fast that fills my soul like ink on paper.

This post is a part of a Lenten discipline I am participating in to write each day on a specific word. These posts reflect daily thought processes and conversations with God as I journey through this season of repentance and reflection. I hope they will be meaningful to those of you who find this space and journey with me.

The Difficulty with Submission in Lent

By Joe LaGuardia

Several years ago–has to be nearly a decade by now–the Holy Spirit convicted me that I needed to learn a thing or two about submission and obedience.  I had been a Christ-follower for some time, but I have always had a flavor for independence and strong-willed stubbornness.

In fact, I became a Baptist not 10 years earlier precisely because I did not want to answer to a bishop, pope, or diocese bureaucracy.  A Baptist minister only answers to his or her congregation, but that’s different: there is a relationship; things are contextual; there is room for understanding and dialogue.  Joe LaGuardia was not going to have to explain his philosophy of ministry to some fool who lives tens of hundreds of miles away.

You can see where my problem and attitude can get the best of me here.

So the Holy Spirit convicted me.  God was going to bend my will towards His own one way or another, and it was going to be during none other than the season of Lent.  I had practiced Lent before, but not as seriously as I should have or could have.

The Holy Spirit showed me the first steps: I felt led to go to a nearby monastery and seek out one of the fathers for spiritual direction.  The Holy Spirit did not give me much of anything else, but that’s the marching orders that I got, so I stuck with it.

When I made the appointment, I was assigned to Father Francis once a month.  His specialty (and the monks do have specialties) was centering prayer, and he wanted to instruct me on this ancient practice–a time of silence and solitude, of centering, of meeting with God for nothing more than to spend time with my beloved Creator–every time we met.

Father Francis gave me a card with instructions, and for the next four months he instructed me on various ways to pray.  I was the one seeking spiritual direction, but I did not get a word in edgewise.  Yet, every time I became frustrated with my sessions with the Father, the Holy Spirit jumped in and reminded me why I was meeting in the first place: this was not about me, it was about submission.  It was about obedience.

I was to obey all of the instructions that Father Frances gave me with no questions asked.

I did.  For the entire season of Lent and throughout that summer, I followed those instructions.  I sat in silence and prayer for about 15-20 minutes a day.  I practiced saying my “prayer word,” and sought to master the nuances of apophatic prayer (those of you who studied this stuff know what I mean).  I did my homework.

I was moved.  I was heart-broken (in a good, cathartic way). I was frustrated.  I was angry– all of the paradoxical feelings that confront us when we fast and submit to the kind of life in which God makes us step out of the throne of our hearts so that Jesus can take his place as Lord of our lives. This prayer-stuff was hard work.

I say all of that now because those feelings still arise in me every Lent.  Although I have done something serious and intentional for the season every year since that time–not to mention writing a dissertation on spiritual disciplines and spiritual direction, of which all of this prayer work and submission had been a part–it is still difficult for me to move over and let God direct my life.

It seems that this season is made more difficult because the Holy Spirit is reviving in me some old wounds that I have not faced in a long time–mostly surrounding some squabbles I had with Baptist clergy several years back.

I won’t bore you with the details, but I am not sure I forgave some fellow pastors who have hurt me during that time.  And, apparently, that hurt still abides; so God is bringing me back to the drawing board again–and its about submission.  It is always about submission.  How else are we to travel through Lent and to the cross of Christ, the very place where we crucify our old selves, false selves, ego, and pride that ensnare us and get in God’s way?

Its a terrible, terrible job (just being honest), but we have to do it.

This year, in order to teach me the full weight of obedience again, God pinned me down on my love for XM radio in the car, to which I’ve subscribed since 2008.  As a result, I will be…..(I can’t even write it but I will)……discontinuing….(oooh, ouch!)…..my subscription….(doh!)…..for a time, and that’s the one thing (the Holy Spirit ALWAYS finds the ONE thing!) that I don’t want to let go of most.  So that’s that.

Perhaps those old wounds–and that clergy battle from years ago–is merely a scapegoat.  I don’t want to cast my love for XM radio at the foot of the cross of Christ, so I’d rather put them there.

So here we go again…