Faith Works 3-20-21

Faith Works 3-20-21

Jeff Gill

Following Jesus when you can't move

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This Lent I've been inviting you to reflect with me on where Jesus tells Peter in John 21:18 that: "…another will…carry you where you do not want to go." And as I said before Ash Wednesday, when Lent began, the path to Easter this coming April 4 takes us from verse 18 to verse 19, when Jesus concludes his teaching to Peter and to us by saying "Follow me."

Except, Jesus has been talking about not being in control; he's not telling him or the disciples about good decision making, or what acts are to be honored in his name. Yes, he's spoken just before about feeding the sheep and tending the lambs as the work all who love Jesus are called to share in together, but then he turns to Peter and cautions him that all this is, in a way, preparation for a time when others will carry him where he does not want to go . . . and it is in response to that situation that Jesus tells him "Follow me."

Following Jesus, in this Lent, in our lives, at any time, is not all about what we do. Our acts of faith, our service in Jesus's name, our living out of being sisters and brothers in Christ, is not what following Jesus comes down to. How we respond is a reflection of how we have chosen to follow, but it's not the heart of the following, of the follower-ship, the discipleship of the Christian journey. The work of faith that is the rock on which Jesus promises to build a community of faith is something you can do, in obedience, as following him, when you no longer have any control over external events.

Recently, Tim Keller had an essay in "The Atlantic" which you can find easily enough online, titled "Growing My Faith in the Face of Death." He wrote it because he's dying. He wrote it, as a noted Christian preacher and teacher, because we all are. It's the one most externally obvious thing we all have in common. Rich and poor, whatever our color or ethnic loyalty or personal orientation, and yes, even old or young, we are dying. This is an element of much pastoral work, whether you're a minister in a medium-sized Ohio city or a celebrity preacher in New York City: helping people confront and deal with the reality of death, when much of our culture is deeply invested in the denial of dying and decay and endings.

Keller has written a number of books on Christian themes, one titled "On Death." At the doctor's office when he learned he had pancreatic cancer, he writes how as he waited he "caught a glimpse of 'On Death' on a table nearby. I didn't dare open it to read what I'd written." It's one thing to counsel others, and another to come to terms yourself with this in your own life.

His essay, which I hope you'll seek out yourself, speaks of how his faith had to work through some "head" and some "heart" issues around death and dying. His story continues, for now, and he talks about how putting his immediate existence in the light of eternity, how seeing today's gifts as reflections of God's more lasting promises, makes the current moment more precious, not less.

And I caught an echo of this passage, John 21:18-19, in his reflections. How we find in our hearts the way to "Follow me" when Jesus calls is a turning which starts in there, within our selves, between our heart and his, before the idea rattles through our heads and gets turned into acts and movements and deeds.

A good Calvinist, Keller quotes a great Puritan writer of Colonial America in saying "As the early American philosopher Jonathan Edwards argued, it is one thing to believe with certainty that honey is sweet, perhaps through the universal testimony of trusted people, but it is another to actually taste the sweetness of honey."

How do we follow when we can't go anywhere? This is what Jesus is talking to Peter about, there on that long-ago lakeside. And to us.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's listening closely to a few things this Lent. Tell him about your lakeside conversations at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack 3-18-21

Notes from my Knapsack 3-18-21

Jeff Gill

What do I have to do?

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Whether it's a stop sign or a face covering, there is law and there is consensus.

Ohio Revised Code or Village Codified Ordinances alike, we have a body of law that can be enforced, but few of us have read those source documents, and we work from a day by day basis on a set of understandings that are part of our local culture, perhaps a result of our upbringing, and frankly can carry with them a wide variety of misunderstandings.

When I spent a long stretch in the honorable duty of homeowner association president, I had many conversations where people were certain that certain things were law that were not. Usually, it was because a certain practice or rule or guideline was true in Santa Barbara, CA or Easton, MD but not in Granville, OH. And I work across the county with school principals who will tell me things that I have the sad obligation of telling them are not true, even if they're correct for Beavercreek or Parma in other school districts of Ohio.

Local option is a very big thing in Ohio, and where in some states a policy in one county is true for all, you'd better not assume that here. Which makes state gatherings of all sorts of professions a challenge, as we share wisdom and best practices that often simply can't be carried across county lines. Townships and judges and school boards have autonomy in a wide variety of areas, and that's how we seem to like it.

So the governor and other state boards and panels have less sway over community decision making than you might think, especially if you came here from somewhere else. And the year of health orders in many states that we've recently experienced, or as some wags say "the first anniversary of 14 days to slow the spread," now behind us, leaves many legislatively minded people wanting to further limit the authority of governors and health commissioners from issuing instructions that can be enforced, which is the basic definition most of us have for a "law." You can call them administrative code or county status announcements, but if a law enforcement officer can enforce it, with fines or force or both, most of us just call it a law.

And understandably, the legislature wants to protect their prerogative to make law by limiting the law-like actions the chief executive officers of the state and cities and counties can issue, certainly when they're for longer than it takes for snow to melt or floodwaters to fall.

Pandemics represent a new challenge for the usual legal perspective on emergency orders. Can you have an emergency that lasts a year and more? Arguably, yes, we just had or are still having one. It's not permanent, even the most worried and cautious will concede that, but 14 days and 30 days and 100 days are now well past 365. How do we govern ourselves in an ongoing emergency? This is the discussion we're in the middle of right now.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's mindful of the old saying about what not to do if you appreciate either law or sausages. Tell him what you think we need in the mid at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.