Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Created Good

In the beginning of the Scriptures, we learn that God made the world and human beings and thought it good. Why do we so often decide that some people and some parts of the world aren’t good?

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the first chapter of Genesis (Genesis 1:1-2:4a): the beginning of that book, the beginning of our Scriptures, and of course, the beginning of time. “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth.”

There is a repeated set of words, a consistent phrase that runs through this day-by-day account of the world coming together. At the end of each day, God pauses and looks at what has been created and says it was good. That’s true of light on the first day; it is true of humanity — “Male and female God created them” — on the last day.

Christianity and Judaism as well are both absolutely convinced that the creation is good, that God intends for us to exist, that God even placed some reflection of the Divine upon human beings themselves. We are here because God wants us to be here. We are here because God thinks that it’s a good thing. We are here because God loves us.

There are a lot of systems in the world that do all they can to discount that fundamental goodness of the world. These are systems that will exploit and abuse parts of the world because there seem to be a lesser value than human beings. And so we dig and destroy and we cut down forests and we slaughter the creatures that live in them. This is not supported by these words of Scripture. All those things that we would destroy for our own benefit, those are also good.

It must also be said that there are people that human beings see as not people. And they set out to treat them badly. Sometimes because they’re women. Sometimes because their skin is another color, sometimes because they speak a different language, sometimes because they believe something different about the nature of the world and about God.

In the beginning, God thought all of these were good. In the beginning, God created male and female in the divine image. And in these days, the divine image is equally reflected in every single human being upon the planet. We cannot use the Scripture, at least not this Scripture, to declare that God loves anyone more than any other person.

God made us and intended us to be here. God made us and placed upon us the image of the divine. God made us and loves us today and always.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Pentecost Power

The power given us by the Holy Spirit is purposeful: it helps us promote peace, extend forgiveness, and renew life.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the second chapter of Acts of the Apostles (Acts 2:1-21), because this coming Sunday is Pentecost Sunday.

Pentecost is an older holiday than Christianity. It was celebrated in Judaism for millennia before Jesus’ followers gathered in some place in Jerusalem to observe the day. We know that they began in some place together. Perhaps later in the day they planned to go worship in the temple. We don’t know. What we do know was that whatever their plans were, they were disrupted.

There was the sound of a rush of a mighty wind. There was something that played above their heads that others later described as looking like tongues of fire. They came outside and began to speak to people about God’s deeds of power in Jesus. And when they did so, they spoke in languages that were not native to them, languages that until that day they had not spoken.

Pentecost became, for Christians, the holiday which celebrates the gift of the Holy Spirit. And indeed it’s paired in the lectionary with the twentieth chapter of John (John 20:19-23), in which on the day of his resurrection, Jesus said to his followers, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

There is a lot that can be said and has been said and will be said about the gift of the Holy Spirit to the followers of Jesus. The Holy Spirit is literally the foundation of the church. We exist because the Holy Spirit gathers us and we continue to serve from the power that the Holy Spirit gives to us. But let’s be careful about what that power is.

When Jesus spoke to his disciples, he said to them, “Peace be with you.” So first of all, the power of the Holy Spirit is the power of peace.

Jesus also said, and later Peter would say in that sermon on Pentecost, the the power was the forgiveness of sins: not the power of condemnation, the power of restoration and belonging.

And it is the power of life and of resurrected life. The power of the Holy Spirit is what lifts us up when we are cast down, what gives us strength to continue doing what is good and right and true when we think we have run out. The power of the Holy Spirit is the power to take our bodies when we have laid them down at the end of our lives, pick them back up again in a grand resurrection, and restore us to one another and to God in the realm that is to come.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Suffering

The first readers of First Peter were experiencing suffering – some kind of official persecution. They were told not to be surprised, because the ways of Christ (generosity, humility, and compassion) threaten people with means, power, and self-righteousness.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about portions of chapter 4 and chapter 5 of First Peter (1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11). Our section begins with the author telling his readers not to wonder at the “fiery trial” that is taking place among them. Apparently the recipients were experiencing a wave of persecution.

Persecution for early Christians was intermittent. It was fairly rare for the entire Roman Empire to engage in persecution of Christians. But in any given province, the governor might institute some kind of program against this growing faith that the Romans neither understood nor trusted. In the earliest days of the Church, people could be in one place and be perfectly safe while in another place they might be openly pursued.

The question of suffering is one raised in a number of faiths and Christianity is not the only one. First Peter says that the explanation for at least some suffering is in doing what is right, in believing what is true, in following the one who is trustworthy. That isn’t always true. There is plenty of suffering that is, and I’m quite familiar with this from personal experience, self-inflicted. There is other suffering that is simply random. Things happen. And if there is a reason for it, we will not discern that in his lifetime.

But our author was concerned with suffering that was the result of following the ways of Jesus. The simple truth is that when we follow the ways of Jesus, there are some who will be threatened by it. Because the ways of Jesus call for generosity, and there are more than a few people of means that resist generosity with all they are being. And the way of Jesus calls for a setting aside pride and power, and there are people who are proud of their power and have no wish to let it go. The ways of Jesus call for compassion, and there are so many people in the world who vastly prefer to judge.

 Is it any wonder that those who follow Jesus may find themselves suffering for it?

I can only echo these ancient words. Do the best you can to follow Jesus. Do the best you can to be generous and to be kind. Do the best you can to set aside your power. Do the best you can to face the consequences. Hopefully you will not be brought up in front of judges and tribunals as happened to all too many Christians over the centuries.

Hopefully, the only judge that you will stand before is the one who gave you the directions to do what you’ve done: Jesus, our Lord, our judge, and especially our Redeemer.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Making Connections

We know from experience that truth is not always obvious, and that plenty of people will try to deceive us. How did the Apostle Paul share his truth? By making connections.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the end of the seventeenth chapter of Acts of the Apostles (Acts 17:22-31): Luke’s account of the Apostle Paul’s speech in the Areopagus, one of the great public centers of the city of Athens.

Paul began his speech by commending the Athenians on their religious practice, on their devotion and dedication to religion and to the Spirit. Specifically, he commanded the fact that they had a shrine to an unknown God. In the rest of his speech, the Apostle attempted to make a connection between this unknown God that they worshiped, and the God of Israel, the God of Jesus Christ. He concluded his speech by saying that Christ’s resurrection from the dead was a confirmation of the love of this unknown God for all people.

This is one of the few extended evangelistic appeals that we find in the New Testament, which seems odd, but the New Testament was by and large, written by people who were already a part of the faith, for people who were already a part of the faith. That is true of the gospels. They were not written for neophytes, for people who were interested in Christianity. They were written for existing Christians to learn more about the life and death and resurrection of Jesus. Likewise, the letters were written in Paul’s case mostly to people who already knew, and even when he wrote to strangers, he was writing to members of Christian churches.

This is one of the few times that we hear the words of an early Christian being addressed to a pagan audience. And what did he do?

He met them where they were, and he tried to bring them along a path that led to where he was.

He believed it was important for them to learn these things, and he chose a way that was as likely or more likely to be successful than other means. He helped them make connections between things that they already knew, and things that he hoped they would come to know and believe.

I keep saying that there are things at the heart and foundation of Christianity, and I can’t help saying that because it’s true. One of those things is connection.

Connection in the sense of relationship: Paul was hoping to build actual person to person relations with people in Athens and to build a community of followers of Jesus. To do so, he helped them to make connections within their own lives, things that were familiar, things that were comprehensible, in order that they might move towards things they had not yet experienced, not yet heard about, things that, in the end, are pretty much indescribable, but nevertheless, leads towards making that connection, and again a connection of relationship, between those people and God.

May we find ourselves making those same connections: person to person, ourselves to things that we do not yet know, and most of all, may we find ourselves always connecting to our God, our Savior, and the Holy Spirit.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you are thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Unhappy Story

The death of Stephen in Acts 7 is hardly a happy story. Christianity is not always a straight and well-paved road.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the seventh chapter of Acts of the Apostles (Acts 7:55-60), and it is not a happy story. Acts 7 describes the trial and then the execution of Stephen, one of the first deacons of the Christian Church.

While the deacons were selected and assigned to make sure that the members of that Jerusalem Church had enough to eat, it’s very clear that they rapidly had additional duties. Stephen, in particular, was noted for his preaching for declaring the story of Jesus around Jerusalem and saying what it meant for the people, for the faith, for the future.

That got him presented to the temple authorities, arrested, tried.

Most of Acts 7 consists of something we frequently call “The Sermon of Stephen, and it is not a speech designed to make the hearers happy. Stephen accused them and accused their ancestors of resisting the Holy Spirit of God by executing those who had spoken on God’s behalf. Not surprisingly, the judgment went against him. Stephen was dragged out of the city, and they threw rocks at him until he died.

As he lay there — and this is the part of the story that we will be reading on Sunday — as he lay there, he asked Jesus to receive his Spirit, and in a deliberate echo of what Jesus himself had said on the cross, he asked God’s forgiveness on those who were killing him.

The simple truth is that Christianity is not an easy road. It is not a level and graded path for us to follow. It is a winding road. It is a rutted road. It is one in which there are intersections that are not marked, and which way should we go?

Should Stephen have accused his judges in such inflammatory terms? Probably not.

But there was a truth to what he was saying. People in every age, including our own, resist the Holy Spirit of God. People in every age, including our own, set their own interests above those of the people around them. People in every age, including our own, act with cruelty, and with snap judgment, and with a disregard for the truths that they may hear.

Stephen died, yet he died with forgiveness on his lips. Stephen died, and he died with his faith in Jesus.

May we live with forgiveness on our lips. May we live with a sense of Jesus’ constant presence. And when the road does get severely rough, may we find Stephen’s courage and rejoice in Stephen’s faith.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Named and Loved

Jesus compared himself to a shepherd, one whose sheep recognized, and one who knew all the names of the ones he cared for.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the tenth chapter of John’s Gospel (John 10:1-10). This opening section leads toward one of the better known “I am” statements in John’s book, when Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd.”

Leading up to that, Jesus spoke about how sheep recognize their shepherd and how shepherds know the names of their sheep. “I am the good shepherd,” Jesus said.

Names were extraordinarily important in the ancient Middle Eastern world. Moses wanted to know God’s name. Adam gave names to the animals in the Garden of Eden. And Jesus was given a name which means salvation.

Names were important. Names still are important.

Someone who knows you is somebody who will remember your name. Somebody who values you will work to remember your name. Someone who loves you knows your name.

Jesus told those folks 2,000 years ago that he knew their names, that God knew their names. And through John, Jesus still speaks to us 2,000 years later to reassure us that God knows our names. God cares about us. God loves us.

That’s what I am thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Fed by Jesus

One of the first encounters with Jesus after his resurrection took place on a road, where he fed their minds and spirits, and then at a table, where he fed their bodies. Feeding people is at the heart of Christian faith.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about a passage in the twenty-fourth chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 24:13-35) that I think at least a little bit about every month in the life cycle of Church of the Holy Cross. It’s the story of Jesus’ encounter with two of his disciples on the day of his resurrection, on Easter.

He met them on a road as they were leaving Jerusalem. They walked with him. They talked with him. He explained things about his death and the reports of his resurrection that nobody at that point much understood. He sat at a table with them. He broke bread and that is when they knew who he was, that is when they recognized him.

I mention this story every time we move into celebration of the Lord’s Supper, as we come to the table of Holy Communion. Because to my mind this reality of knowing Jesus when he feeds us is central, not just to our understanding of the sacrament, but to our understanding of Christianity itself. Christianity is about seeing that people are fed, fed in body, fed in mind as he did along that road, fed in spirit, in ways that are unique to the exercise of religion in general, but also unique of course to the practice of the faith of the followers of Jesus.

We feed people and we are also fed.

Jesus fed them on a hillside miraculously with bread and fish. Jesus fed them by the lakeside with understanding and knowledge. Jesus fed them in the days after his resurrection with a Holy Spirit that has continued to guide us, inspire us, and empower us to this very day.

So come, let us be fed. Come, let us feed others on the spirit of Jesus Christ.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Assumptions

Sometimes people are glad to be wrong about their assumptions. Easter morning was like that.

Here’s a transcript:

Well, now it is Holy Week. And there is a lot to think about.

I could be thinking about the Monday Thursday text, and indeed I will be. I could be thinking about the seven last words of Jesus, which we’ll read on Friday from noon to three, and indeed I will be. At the moment, though, I am thinking about the twentieth chapter of John’s Gospel (John 20:1-18, John’s account of the discovery of the resurrection.

Most of the time we tend to say that we’re talking about the stories of the resurrection, but we’re not. In most of the Gospels, the resurrection occurs outside of anybody else’s sight or awareness. They learn about it when they come in some of the Gospels to an empty tomb, or in John’s case to a tomb where there are a couple of angelic messengers saying that Jesus is not here.

In John’s Gospel, it’s Mary Magdalene who went to the tomb. She found it empty, rushed back to the city, brought Simon Peter and the disciple that Jesus loved. They looked at the empty tomb and went away. Mary then encountered this angelic messenger whose words didn’t seem to make any impression upon her.

She realized that there was somebody else in the garden with her. She assumed it was the gardener and asked him where Jesus was.

It was, of course, Jesus.

When he said her name, “Mary,” she realized who he was and rushed to embrace him.

The discovery of the resurrection.

It strikes me that there are so many assumptions people made on that first Easter Sunday. The first and the easiest and, frankly, the one that makes the most sense, is that everybody assumed that Jesus had died — as he had — but that he continued to be dead as he hadn’t.

That would be the assumption they were most grateful to find was incorrect.

Mary ran back to the city to find Simon Peter and the disciple that Jesus loved, assuming that they could do something to help. As, of course, they could not. Mary assumed that these words she was hearing weren’t meaningful to her, as they were. Jesus [Ed. Correction: Mary] assumed that this other person moving around the garden had to be a worker and she was wrong again.

And as glad to be wrong as ever a person was glad to be wrong.

The story of the discovery of Easter, the learning of the resurrection, the realization of what had happened: doesn’t it say something to us about the assumptions that we make about the world? How likely is it that the things that we firmly believe turn out to be wrong?

Perhaps the world is a more wondrous and miraculous place than we have let ourselves imagine.

Is not the world one in which Jesus of Nazareth lives again?

Happy Easter to you.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Humble Monarch

Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem was his first public act proclaiming he was the Messiah – and he chose the humblest possible way to do it.

Here’s a transcript:

This coming Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, so I’m thinking about the twenty-first chapter of Matthew’s Gospel (Matthew 21:1-11), Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem.

In Matthew, this was really Jesus’ first public proclamation that he was the Messiah. He had discussed it with his disciples, others had speculated about it, but here Jesus actually did something that people would recognize as a Messianic claim. Here Jesus did something that people would recognize as the act of a king.

It was still a somewhat peculiar choice. Jesus chose to have his disciples find a donkey, and in Matthew’s account they also brought a colt, so that he came into the city, matching not lots of other Prophetic or Psalmic descriptions of the arrival of a monarch. Instead, he emulated a prophecy of Zechariah. “Your king comes to you, humble and mounted on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

It is possible, even likely, that on the other side of the city another procession similar but much grander was going on. The Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, would have entered Jerusalem at about this time: his annual visit to coincide with the Passover. That would have included trumpets, that would have included marching soldiers, that would have included the governor mounted on a great big horse.

On the other side of the city, Jesus entered to the accompaniment of cries of “Hosanna!” or “Save us!” His humble beast strode over people’s cloaks and branches that they laid in the road. It was a distinct, dramatic, and telling contrast to what would have happened on the other side of the city.

If it’s big and grand and showy we have to ask ourselves: just how Christian is it?

I come out of a tradition which includes significant influence from the Puritan part of the Protestant Reformation. The Puritans, in addition to concerns about clothing and modesty and all the rest of it, were very concerned about humility. Not always, I grant you, once they got into power.

Jesus, even as he made a proclamation of power did so in the humblest way possible. The twenty-first century since Jesus: so far, at least, it is not a humble age. It is not an age that values humility. It is not an age that rewards humility. Pride and hubris get the attention. Pride and hubris get the rewards.

But pride and hubris are not the ways of Jesus. They are not or should not be the ways of Jesus’ followers. Let us come into this Holy Week faithfully following the one upon a colt, the foal of a donkey, humble and coming to us and hearing our cries of “Hosanna,” “Save us,” “Help us.”

This is our prayer, O Jesus.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Never Too Late

Jesus arrived after Lazarus had died. It’s a hard moment – Jesus shared the grief – but it turned out that he was not too late, because he was and is the resurrection and the life.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the eleventh chapter of John’s Gospel (John 11:1-45), the resurrection of Lazarus.

It is a wonderful and uplifting story. It demonstrates that the power of Jesus was not limited to day-to-day life, but extended beyond life and was, in fact, a power over death. It features perhaps the deepest of Jesus’ “I am” statements: “I am the resurrection and the life.” It offers and reassures the promise of eternal life and resurrection for us all. It’s a marvelous story.

It also contains some truly troubling elements. It is this event that persuaded some of the leadership to seek an occasion where they could arrest Jesus and have him executed. That’s a harsh element of the story.

It is also a story that is marked with grief: the grief of Lazarus’ sisters Martha and Mary. Each of them expressed their faith in Jesus, but each of them also say something along the lines of, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Onlookers say the same thing. If Jesus had been there in time — and John made clear Jesus might have been there in time — Lazarus would not have died.

What explanation we’re given, and it’s not much, is that Jesus saw this as an opportunity to demonstrate his power over death, to demonstrate that he had authority even beyond the veil. It’s not a satisfying explanation. I don’t think it even satisfied Jesus, who stood outside the tomb of Lazarus and wept.

What are we to say? I think we are to take our lead from Jesus’ own tears. We are the followers of one, we are the worshipers of a God, who knows our grief, who has shared our sense of loss. We believe in a God, we trust in a God, who knows how we have felt, who has felt what we have felt.

And whatever we might think or feel about the timing of Jesus’ arrival, it has to be said that for Jesus it was not too late. Yes, he might have prevented Lazarus from dying, and yes, there was some grieving that happened, and grief he participated in, but there was no such thing as being too late for Jesus. Illness was no barrier to him, death itself no barrier to him. There is no such thing as too late for Jesus in our lives.

And there is that marvelous “I am” statement. “I am the resurrection and the life.”

We trust in One who is not the agent of death, we trust in One who is not the agent of suffering, we trust in One who is the agent of life and renewed life.

“I am the resurrection and the life.” And this is the one in whom we trust. This is the one we follow.

That’s what I am thinking. I’m curious to hear with you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.