Another possibility

I like to pause and imagine myself in the Gospel stories. When I do, the familiar passages often burst with new meaning.

I have been drawn to reconsider the story of Jesus encountering the crowd who brought the woman caught in adultery for judgement (John 8:1-11). The central feature of the story is when Jesus stooped to write something in the sand. Scripture does not tell us what Jesus wrote. I have always assumed that shame had a pivotal role in this story, because whatever Jesus wrote caused the accusers to leave one by one.

But recently I have been drawn to consider another possibility to the story. As I imagined myself in the crowd, I envisioned how I could have felt as I watched the finger of Jesus scribe the words in the dirt:

The gentleness with which his finger traced the words in the sand; it felt like he was tracing the words across my tear streaked face. I was out done. He never looked up; not wanting to expose anyone. But the honesty of the choice words made me feel like he was staring directly into my heart. More than that; shining a light into the space of my heart I barely am able to recognize. 

It took everything in me not to gasp out my astonishment. But that would identify me; associate me with the words unfolding in front of everyone. 

I didn't feel shame. I wanted to. But the tenderness with which his finger touched the earth wouldn't allow shame. 

It wasn't a stern Jesus. This was not an act of protective defiance; as though he was saying; "Go ahead throw the first stone, I dare you!" 

No, he was granting us the freeing gift of truth. He was letting us know that in his sight, our sin was as public as the woman's. He wasn't accusing us. He was acknowledging us. He was revealing to us that we were known; known and loved. 

It wasn't guilt that made us pull away. It was grace. It was a profoundly numbing grace. 

I walked away. But I have never seen myself the same again. I was truly known. Because of that I now knew I was truly loved. 

The miracle that day was not that I didn't throw a stone on the woman. The miracle that day was that I finally stopped throwing stones at myself. 

It was as though I was invited to allow the tenderness of God's love to gently trace the words that will expose me across my cheek. Then in that space of that vulnerable truth I could hear the voice of my Saviour - and finally - be set free. 

It is a sad faith that tries to hide what is already known. It is a suppressed faith that permits guilt from acknowledging the sin that God has already forgiven.

Not until we recognize that we are truly known do we realize that we are truly loved.

What to do with Success

It is a common sentiment to wish someone a Happy New Year.

Happiness is often measured by the prosperity that comes from success and achievement.  But people in the church who are deemed successful in the eyes of secular society should be warned.  Such success is not always applauded by church communities.

As a teen I was a fan of Amy Grant, a new budding Christian folk singer. I first saw her perform at a Jesus Festival in Pennsylvania. Sitting on a high stool with only her acoustic guitar and soothing voice, I was captivated. Her honesty and simple love for God drew me in.

Her obvious talent soon made her a successful Christian artist. But then something happened. Her success with ever widening audiences opened doors of new opportunity for her and she started recording with a secular label. Her Christian character and message now had the potential of having an even broader impact.

However, many in the church were not impressed. In fact, her success was interpreted as compromise and abandonment of the faith. The church distanced itself from her. It was a difficult period in her career. As a young adult, I was disappointed by the treatment she received, and remained a quiet fan.

Since then I come to realize that Grant’s experience is not unique. It seems that when people in the church become successful they become suspect. Successful business leaders are presumed to be greedy; artists are assumed proud; and politicians understood as dishonest. It isn’t easy to be successful, especially in the context of the church.

Success does bring an additional strain on faithfulness. Fame will bring temptations of pride. Wealth will bring temptations of luxury and greed. Power will bring temptations of disregard.

Because of these elevated temptations, the church is tempted to shun success and shame those who experience success. I don’t think that is an adequate response for the Church.

Rather than discarding success, the church can be helpful in directing success to its intended purpose. From the call of Abram (Gen. 12) to the recognition of Christ (Jn. 12:32), the intended purpose of success and obedient achievement has been for the blessing of others and the worship of God.  For the Church to abandon successful Christians is to abdicate to destructive consequences. It is precisely the church that should help to bridge the gap between power and disregard; wealth and need; fame and the forgotten.  The church needs to continue mentoring those whose success has been crowned by secular society.

The church should always stand in solidarity with the forgotten, the disadvantaged, and the powerless. But it serves neither those in need, nor those in abundance by rejecting the resource of success.

I wish everyone success. For in God’s economy it will be a blessing for others.