Only Asleep

Mark 12:30 -- Matthew 16:24-26 -- James 4:6-10

Although the title for the day is supposed to be Glory in the Highest, I thought Tuesday's title was more fitting...since I've been MIA since last week. I started this thing with a plan to read scripture and to share my reflections daily. My intention was that we might read together. That we might listen for God's still small voice together. It was also about accountability--which is strange because unless someone comments I don't know if it's being read or not. Then, when someone does comment, it's so exciting--like we've actually shared a moment together at different times and in different places. When I haven't blogged in a few days, a comment is a great wake up call.

Robert Hereth said in Listening to Lent, "Jesus has the power of death that we have over sleep...someday, as a mother says to her child, 'Come on, honey, get up,' God will say to you, 'My child, wake up.' And you will." Hereth was speaking in the context of physical death. He reminds us of Jesus saying that Lazarus and Jairus' daughter were "only asleep." And for Jesus, they were, as is evidenced in their resurrections.

In today's reading, I don't think Jesus is talking about physical death--although, He might be. It would certainly be true of physical death as well. However Jesus intended, this Matthew text is difficult. Jesus says, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?"

I want to be a follower--that's not difficult. Denying myself...is. Taking up my cross...is. Following...I believe is only possible when I'm more immersed in Jesus than in other things--things like church meetings, follow-up phone calls, fund-raisers, newsletter articles and, of course, American Idol. I don't want to save my life, I want to give it up...and yet. And yet, there's comfort in the known. Comfort followed ever so closely with discomfort, nagging guilt, and frustration--which, by the way, isn't comfortable at all. I love Jesus' questions. Where's the profit in saving this life? And better still, "What will they give in return for their life?" What's the price? What's the cost of hanging on?

James gives us this wisdom. Submit. Resist. Draw near. Cleanse. Purify. Lament. Mourn. Weep. Let. Humble. As I consider each of these words imagining what they feel like or what they might look like in my life, I realize their perfect order. When I submit and when I resist, I draw near to God and I experience the joy of God drawing near to me. Then as God draws near, I am cleansed and purified and I lament and mourn and weep over the things in my life that are now missing--which doesn't make any sense, yet is so true. We miss our old lives, and like Gomer, we run back to them. Because it's what we know, and it's what we think we deserve. And, like Hosea, God runs back for us. My favorite word on the list is "let" because "let" is a choice. God tells us to let our laughter turn to mourning and to let our joy turn into dejection. Let it happen. Then, only then, can we "Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt..."

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning. (from Psalm 130)

Even now, let us wait and hope and watch for the Lord.