"Unlikely" : Day #1 of Lent

Jessy and I started the "Lent for Everyone" reading plan today.

Each day, we'll be reading a portion of the Bible and a devotional written by N.T. Wright, and then reflecting on the application of it to our own lives. We are doing this alongside the community of many other friends in the Boston area, as well as whoever else downloads the reading plan on the Bible.com app and website. We had such an interesting conversation this morning, so I felt like maybe journalling it could be a good idea.

N.T. Wright set the tone for me this morning:

"Whenever God does something new, he involves people — often unlikely people, frequently surprised and alarmed people. He asks them to trust him in a new way, to put aside their natural reactions, to listen humbly for a fresh word and to act on it without knowing exactly how it's going to work out. That's what he's asking all of us to do this Lent."

The readings were from the first two chapters of Matthew, which basically describe how Jesus fulfilled prophesies, and how God chose to become human. And although I have read these chapters so many times, I was praying that I could listen humbly for a fresh word. Since Jessy was reading it simultaneously, we could both benefit from hearing a different perspective immediately.

Right away, it struck me that the lineage of Jesus Christ has a fair share of dysfunction! Like, daytime soap operas unedited and uncensored! For example, Tamar. She was Judah's daughter-in-law, and she evidently disguised herself as a prostitute to seduce him. Tamar's husband had died before they had an heir, so this was her wild plan to carry on the family. She had been wronged by her father-in-law Judah, and took justice in her own hands with this act of incest. It is such a crazy story! And, moments later in our reading, we read about another prostitute, named Rahab. Rahab wasn't even Jewish, but courageously saved some Israelite spies from being killed by Canaanite officials.

"Rahab, who begins as triply marginalized—Canaanite, woman, and prostitute—moves to the center as bearer of a divine message and herald of Israel in its new land. Even though later generations of readers have been squeamish about her occupation, preferring to think of her as an “innkeeper,” she is remembered in Jewish tradition as the great proselyte, as ancestress of kings and prophets, and, in the New Testament, as ancestress of Jesus."-Tikva Frymer-Kensky 

Her son, Boaz, later married Ruth, in another weird romance involving some very potent wine. After this, there is Solomon listed in the lineage. Solomon's mother was Bathsheba, who King David lusted after so violently that he had her husband ordered to the front lines of battle to be killed. So, Solomon was basically a "bastard child", and in no way born in the most noblest of circumstances.

"Unlikely people" indeed! Jesus was prophesied to come from "the line of David", but it clearly wasn't because of any prestigious accomplishments of those families. It was just another reminder that God often chooses the "foolish things of the world to confound the wise."(1Co 1:27)

Another fresh perspective that I walked away with was the special significance of the wise men's gifts to Jesus. Myrrh can be made into a healing ointment, which connects to Jesus' healing miracles. But, I also found out today that myrrh is also used to embalm corpses. Even as the wise men worshipped Jesus, who was then about 2 years old, there is a prophetic glimpse into the purpose for his birth. Born to die. Born to be embalmed with the sin of the world.

Finally, we read about how power can absolutely corrupt someone. King Herod's ordinance to kill every boy two years or younger exhibits brutality at its worst. Tears filled my eyes reading this, as I pictured a soldier coming into my home and murdering Emilio, simply as an act of power and pride. I felt like weeping along those who were "weeping and wailing and mourning out loud all day and night." When it describes that mourning as something that "will not be comforted",  I could imagine it so much more now as a father than I ever could before.

This genocide led Jessy and I to seriously question a common theology called "determinism". That basically teaches that God controls everything, and that everything that happens occurs as God pre-destines it, pre-ordains it, and that mankind does not really have any actual choice in anything. Some people describe this as "Calvinism" since John Calvin is one of history's biggest proponents of this view.

We visualized these weeping and wailing mothers, inconsolable over their sons' deaths. We contrasted that with Jesus' parents being presented with gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh. And it just doesn't make sense that this was how God wrote the script.

Did God really plan it this way? Did God really pre-determine all those baby boys to be born and then to die just like that?

God could have. God can do whatever God wants, whenever and however. I've never once doubted that. But, maybe He doesn't.

In this story of incarnation, I see an all-powerful Creator putting Himself in the most vulnerable position. Love for humanity is the theme of this story, a display of faithfulness to creation that seems bent on rebellion against Him. I do not see God as driving the point that His power and glory are what matter most.

A few weeks ago, I finished reading a book by Austin Fisher that dealt with these kinds of questions. Fisher wonders if our relationship with God is more about God revealing His love and faithfulness, rather than His omnipotence and glory. He writes:

"Infinite inward energy or infinite outward energy? An infinite inward collapse on Self, or an infinite giving away of Self? A Being who glorifies himself at all costs, or loves at all costs? A black hole, or a mangled Lamb? At the center of the universe, I think there's a Creator with holes in his hands, drenching the cosmos in a gratuitous downpour of love. He doesn't have to- he just wants to. It's who he is."

As we approach the Cross during this Lenten season, I am inspired to submit my questions with humility. I want to listen with ears to hear, even when God says things that turn my theology all upside down. I don't want to see things the way I've always seen them. This Lent is about responding to the unusual.