Disappointment With Jesus

A couple of months ago, I prayed pretty consistently for a specific something that specifically did not happen.  It wasn't for anything for me. It wan't totally unreasonable or outside the realm of possibility. It was the kind of thing that I would think Jesus would want to do.

The specifics of it don't really matter all that much, it's something that anyone of us who prays regularly and who's not afraid to actually ask for something specific eventually and maybe regularly experiences.  Disappointment with Jesus happens when we pray and when along with that we have some hoped-for outcome or expectations that he might come through in a specific way.

Last week I was reading Jesus's interaction with the men on the road to Emmaus shortly after his resurrection.  They're talking about their heartbreak over Jesus's execution, not yet knowing about the resurrection: "but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel."

There it is: disappointment with Jesus. "But we had hoped."  Something unexpected or unwanted happened, "but we had hoped" that Jesus would do something, change something, move in some way, make a difference in some specific way.  Disappointment with what Jesus did or didn't do is a significant part of what they're mourning. "But we had hoped."

It strikes me that my disappointment from a couple of months ago, and the regular/occasional disappointments that I've processed over a couple of decades of journaling, could all start with that exact same phrase: "But I had hoped..."

Part of what makes that particular Emmaus story so freighted, of course, is that they're processing their grief with the resurrected Jesus, who reveals himself later.  And it's here that I had my own awakening about my own disappointments.

The men on the road to Emmaus had much smaller expectations and hopes than the resurrected Jesus accomplished.  They had merely hoped for the redemption of Israel. Jesus has just conquered sin and death for the whole world. Their expectations and agendas and hopes and dreams for Jesus were much lower and lesser than what Jesus was actually up to.  It would just take them a while to get their hearts and minds around it.

I don't think that this is what's happening every single time we experience disappointments of this type. Sometimes we're just disappointed with what Jesus does or doesn't do and we never experience or see a larger redemptive purpose.  This isn't a sit-com and everything doesn't wrap up in 28 minutes.

But my guess is for a large percentage of my "but I had hoped" prayers and disappointments, were I to look back through them all, I'd find that my hopes and asks were much smaller, more parochial, less grand, less important than they seemed at the time.  And that what Jesus is up to is much more sweeping and compelling and transformative than the small things I'm asking him to do.

How To Get to a Peaceful End

So I'm reading the crucifixion narratives in Luke this week in my daily readings. And it strikes me that Jesus's last words are so incredibly fitting: "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

And what's so fitting about that is he's been doing this all along. Jesus, at every turn, submits and commits his spirit to the Father. Over and over and over again. All day. Every day. And the results are the single most consequential life in all of history.

But in that one moment he's able to trust God with his life and his death because he's proven God faithful over and over and over again, thousands of big and small ways, all along the way.

And so Jesus is at peace, even in this horrific, final moment, his last breaths.

It would seem that if you and I could arrive at that moment for each of us with this same well-practiced surrender and trust and track record of having met with God over and over and over again, it would serve us quite well.

Maybe my journal full of prayers needs to be marked less by asking for stuff and processing the ups and downs of life.  Maybe it needs to be marked by more surrendering myself and all that stuff to the Lord, committing my own spirit and my to-do's and dreams and hopes and worries and fears all to the Father.

That, it would seem, would make for the type of life I want to live and some very good practice for that last moment.

The How Becomes the Who

One of the things that you see throughout Scripture is that God seems to care not only about outcomes but about how we get there.  The how matters.

And the reason why the how matters so much is because if you do the same how over and over again eventually it becomes a part of your who.

If how you handle stress and relax is by drinking too much, who you become eventually is an alcoholic. All addictions start with a how that over-run our who.

Conversely, I've known people who were absolutely wonderful prayer warriors.  They became that who through a lifetime of practice, practice and more practice in prayer.

Many years ago I had a major change in my day-job that significantly shifted my routines and schedules that I'd been doing for about fourteen years.  Initially it was utterly and totally disorienting.  I had no idea that I'd become so incredibly attached to the rhythms and the how's of that fourteen-year-long job.

Some questions I've been journaling about recently in light of all of this: how have my how's shaped who I am today--both for good and for bad?  What are the how's that need to change because of who I'll be if I continue to do the how in that direction?

On Cynicism

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Cynicism is the self-protective posture that keeps us ‘safe’ by dismissing everything and refusing to believe or trust or hope.  Its only function: deconstruct and undermine and question and destroy and keep everything and everyone at a distance, investing in nothing that matters beyond ourselves.

             

And here’s the deal: ask a cynic why or how they got to be so cynical and you know what? Just about everything they say is true. The world is a mess. People do take advantage of you. There is a ton of corruption and greed and exploitation and insecurity in the world—that’s part of what’s so alluring about this cynical position

I have at various points done serious battle with this cynical voice: I’ve battled cynicism about the world or people or institutions and at some key points I’ve battled some serious cynicism about Christianity

At one particularly dark and cynical time in my life, it struck me that my cynicism was very limited and confining and small.  It could only undermine, question, doubt, and negate things, it could never build anything that was beautiful, good, strong, enduring, and wonderful

And as I thought about that more, I sensed an invitation from God to become cynical about my cynicism. Because if I was actually consistently cynical, it could only destroy, undermine, and take away everything that truly mattered to me about my life: my marriage, my kids lives, every relationship, any work I ever did

Cynicism had zero ability to build up or create or help anyone or anything to actually flourish or make anything or anyone beautiful, good, more alive or more free or real. 

And so I became cynical about my cynicism’s ability to deliver anything other than a miserable life. In biblical terms, I repented of my cynicism and asked God to replace it with something much better: faith, hope, love, wisdom and courage. 

It’s not that hard to be a cynic.  For some reason in our culture we have elevated the cynic as the sophisticated ones—but how hard is it really to just doubt and mock and dismiss everyone and everything?

Cynics aren’t that sophisticated or that smart, they’re just scared!

If you know that the inner cynic inside of you is the one running the show in your heart and in your life, I want to invite you to join with me in becoming cynical about your cynicism. And to replace it instead with the good news of a God who is greater than your giants, greater than all your fears, and who invites you into a better way to live, HIS way of living this life.

You and I need to do this work because cynics will never do anything meaningful in this world like feed hungry kids or tackle major problems on our planet.  Only courageous people can do that. Only loving people can do that. Only persevering people can do that. 

And you and I need to do this work, because a cynic will never be a great mom or dad or friend or manager or boss or employee.  To do all of those well require a different skillset than the cynic can offer or bring, a different set of eyes and a different kind of a heart

And most importantly, you and I need to do some of the work to disarm the cynic because ultimately it is just about impossible for the cynic to ever make the life-changing, life-giving connection with the God of the universe

Because cynicism can only undermine, put off, deconstruct, and push away.  And what Jesus shows us about God is that God is all about pretty much the exact opposite of all of that: God is about drawing near, engaging, re-building, investing, giving of himself to a broken and weary world to make it right, new, well again

We worship with joy and gratitude because God is not a cynic. He is love. That’s who God is and it’s who he’s inviting us to become.

Quick Hit

When you're up against someone that's driving you absolutely crazy or is genuinely set in opposition against you in some way, there's all kinds of ways we can justify all kinds of actions we might otherwise abhor.

But you don't want your level of integrity and the content of your character to be dictated by how your enemies treat you.  You want a much more abundant, wonderful, beautiful and strong point of reference for what you will and will not do. I'd suggest Jesus.

Too Nerdy For Sunday Morning Consumption

So on Sunday we're looking at a story of King David before he becomes king.  At one point he has an opportunity to kill the reigning king, King Saul, to take his 'rightful' place as king of Israel. He decides not to do so, citing the fact that Saul is still "the Lord's anointed." 

If the Lord's anointing on him is his ground for assuming the kingship, he will not trespass the Lord in reaching for the kingship.  The Lord's anointing is his raison d'etre (I've always wanted to use that phrase, never quite sure I knew what it meant. I think I got it right.)

So I was going to use this illustration ons Sunday, but it's too nerdy for general consumption. This is why you have a blog!

Here's the illustration


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When I was in college I did a little bit of study around post-modern literary theory and philosophy--I think I understood some of it, I’m kind of nerdy but this was super-nerdy stuff, beyond my nerd-dom

But one of the core tenants of post-modernity was that we’re all so stuck inside our own heads that real actual communication and understanding was pretty much impossible

That you might have got something you want to say to me but I’ve got so much noise inside my head and my own preconceptions and assumptions and frameworks that really there’s no way I can ever fully understand or connect with you

And so these philosophers would write these long books talking about communication was impossible

They’d write long books. Full of long words. Trying to communicate how it was impossible to communicate and words were useless.

They’d write books and hold lectures. Using words to talk about how we can never understand each other using words

And this is why most of you have never heard much of post-modern literary theory, at least that version of it. It never took off, it never caught traction more broadly

In part because it had within it this ridiculously self-destructive, self-undermining characteristic to it—you can’t use words to say that words don’t work, that undermines any authority you might have had.

This is why David doesn't kill Saul, even when he has the chance to do so. If his authority is going to come from the Lord, then he cannot and will not undermine that authority by going against the Lord's anointed.  The Lord will dispose of Saul when the Lord decides it is time. David, meanwhile, will wait, even though it will cost him many, many more miles of heartache and running and seemingly wasted time.