Two years ago today I began blogging. (Look at the bottom post on the linked page. Best I can do. Blogger has changed its archive system since then.)

I blogged about faith becoming fact. Two years later – on this Good Friday – I’m not sure how to gauge whether my life’s faith has become fact in a greater degree.

In some faith matters, I’ve become more emergent. In others, more recessive. I’m not proud of it. That’s just the fact I need to face, and change.

Whatever miracles Jesus must have seen done by His own hand; whatever great teachings He must have heard His own lips speak for His Father … when soldiers held His lacerated back to a cross and nailed His hands and feet to it, I wonder if His faith became less than fact for a few moments. If He was tempted to call the legions of angels to rescue Him. If He felt like struggling against the torturers with his last ounces of futile human strength to escape the pain, the asphyxiation, the inevitable.

The fact is, He didn’t act on any lack of faith He might have felt. And that made His faith fact. It made Good Friday good. It made all of us who believe good – in fact, perfect in His sight – whatever deficits of faith we might have; whatever timidity in acting on our faith; whatever horrible facts confront us.

He has been there.

And He knows.

Eleven years ago, a dear sister at my church asked me to write and deliver a monologue in the character of Judas to her women’s class. The recent resurfacing of the Gnostic Gospel of Judas and the proximity of Easter and the preceding Betrayal Night has prompted me to look it up and post it for your perusal. I didn’t read the scripture citations – they were for any Q&A that might take place afterward. I think most of the women in the class were so stunned when I threw a velvet bag of coins over their heads and across the room at the end of my delivery that they must have forgotten their questions. Most of what I write doesn’t hold up this well over time, in my opinion – but it is still very, very subjective and conjectural ….

You – women of God’s people – I know you’ve come here to the women’s court of the temple to pray. Perhaps some of you have come to pray on behalf of Jesus whom they crucify even now. But please – I beg of you – pray for me, too. I have to tell you … I have to explain to someone … what I have done. I have to make you understand.

My name is Judas, son of Simon; I’m from a little town called Kerioth. If you haven’t read the book of Joshua you’ve probably never even heard of it. I’ve traveled with Jesus these three years – through Israel, Judea, even Samaria. He chose me for this – and the other eleven. He took us up on a mountain and called us apostles. (Mark 3:13-19)

Why, the very word means “one sent forth.” Then he sent us forth with no money, no bag of extra clothes, or sandals or even a staff. (Matthew 10:9-10)

He never understood that it takes money to conduct a campaign of any kind. Even later on, when he entrusted me with our treasury, Jesus still never understood the value of money. (John 12:6)

Whenever we needed money, I was the one who would have to beg of young women like you to give out of their household money – women like Mary Magdalene; Susanna; Joanna, the wife of Herod?s chief steward, Cuza. Why, if she had been caught, Cuza could have lost his job; she could have lost her life! (Luke 8:2-3)

That was just the power Jesus had over people through the words he spoke. And he didn?t even fully understand or appreciate that power, either.

People followed him everywhere. Into the desert …. up the mountainsides … across or around the lakes … just to hear him speak. They didn’t care if they missed a few meals or even lost their jobs to go and hear him speak. They didn’t pack a lunch or a bag. They just followed. And Jesus fed them. Thousands of them. Five thousand-odd one time; some four thousand the next. And he’d say that the food he had to give them that was important was what God had given him to say to them. I’ve always known that God was with him. What I can’t understand is how he could not see that those people would have lived and died at his command.

Jesus would take people to these far-away places and talk to them about his kingdom, but he would never make the first move to establish it.

We didn’t ask for the Romans to occupy the land God gave us. We didn’t ask for their puppet kings or their tax collectors or their occupation soldiers. We didn’t ask for Herod the Great to kill our children or for his son Herod to steal his brother Philip?s wife and cut off the head of John the Baptist just to please her and her exotic dancer daughter.

We needed Jesus. We needed a man of God to be our King. Jesus was perfect for the job; he was born in the kingly tribe; he was a prophet. And I really thought just a week ago when we came into Jerusalem that Jesus was ready to accept the responsibility.

The crowds turned out by the thousands to watch him ride into town on a donkey, placing palm leaves all along the path – even throwing their coats down to make his way clean!

Then what did he do? The very next day, he threw over all of the tables of the concessionaires here in the temple’s outer court; rebuking them for turning a house of prayer into a den of thieves. So, in one stroke, Jesus embarrassed the priests for allowing the trading to take place here and alienated most of the wealthy men in Jerusalem – men who would have rushed to support the cause of economic freedom from the Romans! They were only here doing their jobs; making it a little easier for everyone who travels here at Passover to buy an unspotted sacrifice and to be able to give to the temple of God in our own coinage – and not some filthy Greek or Roman currency!

But that wasn’t what set me off. What really infuriated me was two days before, in Bethany. Simon the leper, a Pharisee, had been gracious enough to hold a pre-Passover feast in honor of Jesus at his own house. He invited Mary, Martha, Lazarus, all twelve of us, and many other Pharisees. Mary took a notion to break open a jar of perfume worth a year’s wages and poured it on Jesus’ feet and wept over them and wiped his feet with her hair, so that the whole house reeked of it. And he just sat there and let her do it. (John 12:1-3) She is not a woman of good repute, and it did nothing to enhance his image to be seen letting her touch him. So when Simon called it to his attention, Jesus rebuked him! Said she had treated him better than Simon, his host, had treated him!

Then he told her that her sins were forgiven, which did not go over at all well with the Pharisees. (Luke 7:36-50)

Well, I was not going to let it go at that. I told Jesus that she was wasteful; the perfume could have been sold and the money at least given to the poor. And Jesus said, “Leave her alone, she’s done a beautiful thing, preparing me for my burial.” (John 12:7-8).

He was always talking about dying and being buried, when he should have been talking about living and fighting and dying for something worthwhile!

I was angry. Jesus embarrassed me. He embarrassed a good man with the same name as my dad, hosting that dinner. A wealthy man; a man who could have supported our cause. He didn’t show any political sense for what Rome was doing to our people and had no interest in doing anything about it. He didn’t seem to care whether we were taxed to death, whether we had money to live on, or whether we lived or died.

I was furious, and that doesn’t make right what I did next. I knew the priests and the Pharisees wanted Jesus and Lazarus, too, because Jesus had raised him from the dead. They didn’t know where Jesus would be at any given time; he never seemed to have an itinerary. (John 12:9-11)

And it’s not surprising Jesus avoided them; they had tried to stone him once before – right on the temple grounds, against the Law! – because he had said that he had seen Abraham. But he slipped away and escaped then. (John 8:58)

I’m not sure what was going through my mind, I was so angry. I’m not sure whether I thought I could control the unavoidable confrontation by being the “inside man,” or if I could force Jesus to a moment where he would have to lead the people against the Romans and truly become their king. I thought about the wasted money – the money we needed just to be able to make our sacrifices and enjoy the feast in Jerusalem – maybe even to buy swords to defend ourselves. I went to the chief priests and asked them what they would be willing to give me if I handed him over to them. (Matthew 26:14-15)

It was sickening. They seemed delighted. (Mark 14:10) And they counted out for me thirty silver coins. (Matthew 26:15) Then they promised to give them to me if I would lead them to him. So I waited for the best opportunity to do it. (Mark 14:11)

And for days, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was nauseating to think that the religious leaders of our people would sell the life of a man so quickly … right here in the temple. But then they’ve been selling us out to the Romans for years.

Jesus taught here almost every day after that. They could have taken him right here; they didn’t need me! I guess they were afraid of the crowds. They’d try to trap him in His own words; they?d ask him things like, “Should we pay taxes to Caesar or not?” and he asked them to look at a coin and tell him whose name and picture were on it. And he said since it’s Caesar’s name and Caesar’s picture, then give it to Caesar ? just days after he had thrown out the men who exchanged Caesar’s money for our own!

Then the first day of Passover came, and instead of going back to Bethany, Jesus somehow knew about someone who would give us his guest room in town to celebrate the feast. But our host had failed to provide a servant to wash our feet when we arrived. So Jesus took off his clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist; poured water into a basin and washed our feet. And when Peter objected, he said we were clean, but not all of us. (John 13:2-11)

And I thought to myself, “Does he know what I’ve done?”

Then he started talking about death again. When he gave the blessing for the paschal feast, he called the bread his body, and the wine his blood. And he said one of us would betray him. Peter got John to ask Jesus who it was. And Jesus took the bread and dipped it in the wine and said, ?The one I give this to.? Then he gave it to me. Instantly, I thought of the Psalm – the one that says ?Even my close friend, whom I trusted, he who shared my bread, has lifted up his heel against me.” (Psalm 41:9) Like the others, I said, “Surely not I, Lord.” He looked right at me and said, “Yes, it is you.”

He knew.

He said to me, “What you are about to do, do quickly.” I guess the others thought he was telling me to buy more for the Feast or go give some money to the poor. I wasn?t sure why he told me this. Did he want me to do it? Had he changed his mind about becoming King? It was the perfect time, on Passover, with all of the people from all of the tribes in Jerusalem, to lead the revolt against the Romans.

Or did he just know that I had been agonizing all week over the deal I had made … and it was time to do what I had promised? Was he just telling me that he’d be going out to the Garden on the Mount of Olives at his usual time that evening?

I guess I secretly hoped maybe he would prepare the others for what was about to happen. So I left. I came here to the chief priests and led them and the temple guard out to the Garden where I knew he’d be. (John 18: 1-2)

And he saw us coming before we saw him; saw the lanterns and torches and called out “Who is it you want?” The guards answered “Jesus of Nazareth.” So Jesus said, “I am he.” We thought we were being ambushed, and the guards and the priests all jumped back and fell over each other. Nothing happened. While they were getting back up, Jesus said again, “Who is it you want?” And they said again, “Jesus of Nazareth.” So he said, “I told you that I am he. If I’m the one you’re looking for, let these others go.” (John 18:2-9)

“Are you coming after me with swords and clubs, as if I were leading a rebellion? I was with you every day in the temple courts, and you didn’t lay a hand on me. But this is your hour – when darkness reigns.”

Still, nothing happened. I looked at the other apostles with Jesus. They weren’t prepared. Two of them had swords, if you can call Peter’s fish-gutting knife a sword. I looked at the priests and the guards. They looked back at me, and I realized it was me they waiting for. The time had come. Was it possible they weren’t sure it was him? That this was still a trap? No, they knew him.

But they’d made a deal … with me. I took a step forward and said, “Greetings, Teacher!” and started to kiss him.

He looked at me and said, “Judas, are you betraying the son of man with a kiss?”

There was nothing I could do. I’d made a promise. No – I had made a deal. I had sold him out. I kissed him, and the priests and guards leaped forward to arrest him. Peter drew his big knife and made a ridiculous attempt to defend him, and Jesus even put a stop to that.

Then all the apostles ran. I wasn’t the only one who betrayed him. The priests arrested Jesus and took him away. Then they made their payoff. Look, here it is: thirty pieces of silver. The price of a man’s life.

The priests took him and tried him for blasphemy, because he said he was the Son of God. They spit at him. They blindfolded him and punched him and told him to prophesy who it was that hit him. Then the guards took him and beat him. (Mark 14:65) All I could do was watch.

By morning the chief priests and priests and the whole Sanhedrin handed down a guilty verdict, but they realized they couldn’t stone Jesus to death without the Romans’ permission. So they trumped up a charge of treason and took him to the Roman governor Pilate. I thought for a moment, Jesus might have a chance. Of all the ironies, the Roman governor said the charges were groundless and he didn’t recognize blasphemy as a crime. So he offered to release Jesus. And the crowd screamed for him to release Barabbas, a thief, instead.

When Pilate asked what they wanted him to do with Jesus, they started screaming, “Crucify him!” So it wasn’t just me, and it wasn’t just the priests, and it wasn’t just the apostles who betrayed him. It was everyone. All those people who used to follow him anywhere. I guess they were disappointed because Jesus wouldn’t be the king they wanted him to be. So Pilate had Jesus stripped to the waist and flogged with a whip 39 times. Then he put a purple robe on his bloody back and pushed a crown made of thorns on his head and made fun of him again.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. I ran back here to the temple to try to undo this deal. I went to the priests and offered to give back the money. I told them that I had sinned; I had betrayed innocent blood. They refused to take the money. They acted like it was none of their concern. They said it was my responsibility.

And it is. That’s why you’ve got to pray for me. They’re nailing him to a cross right now, and he’s going to die a long, torturous, terrible death – pushing up against the nails in his feet, scraping his beaten back against the wood to take the next breath – maybe for hours.

I don’t want to die that way. When they’ve killed Jesus, they’ll hunt down the rest of us apostles and kill us too. I want to go quickly. Just a snap of the neck. “Cursed be the one who hangs on a tree,” that’s what the Scripture says. Well, that’s me. I deserve worse, but I’m not going to wait around for it.

Look at it. Thirty pieces of silver. About a month’s wages. For thirty pieces of silver, I’ve killed my master – and my friend.

Sunday morning I was privileged to lead communion thoughts at the Lord’s table. I was asked to read I John 3:16-20:

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.

Then I retold a brief story:

Years ago, I heard missionary Juan Monroy tell of working in a South American country where a very rigid caste system was in place; where a new young convert, who was a laborer, did not feel it permissible to look directly into the face of someone of a higher caste, such as a preacher – or to call him by his first name; only as “Senor” or “Mr.”. After Juan preached what must have been a powerful sermon on how Jesus’ sacrifice makes us all equal – just fellow-sinners saved by His grace – he positioned himself next to this new convert. It was the custom in this church, you see, for one person to pass the emblems of the Lord’s Supper to the next person by addressing them by their first name and saying something to the effect of “This is the body of Christ, which was broken for you” or “This is Jesus’ blood, which was shed for you.” When the plate came to him, the young man looked right into Juan’s eyes, a great smile across his face, and said, “Juan, this is Jesus’ body. He did this for you.”

Then I hedged. I said,

That’s not our custom in this church, and some of us would doubtless be uncomfortable saying such a thing to another. But I wonder if, as we pass these emblems to each other this morning, we could do so looking right into each others’ eyes with a look of love, a look that says “This is His body. This is His blood. He did this for us.”

And I led the blessings for the bread and the cup.

I would have liked to have asked, just for one Sunday, to adopt this custom which speaks so richly to the vertical AND horizontal relationship we have as God’s children and Christ’s siblings at the Table. I think to do so might have been more distracting than fruitful. I felt like I at least introduced the possibility of more interaction during our time at the Table together.

What do you think?

Did I sell out?

Since some have asked … I think it went well. Probably the low point was when I put my foot on the table and pretended to shoot it. (Hey, I have a little theatre in my background.)

The subject of having a different worship time for a different worship style came up, and I was shooting myself in the foot by opposing it. Truth is, I would love to attend – and even help plan – such services. I’m pretty sure my wife and kids would love it, too. But I don’t think my mom-in-law, at 87, would be very comfortable with it and I love being able to sit with her at worship. So, though I wouldn’t say the staff came to consensus on that question, I think we were reasonably comfortable with the idea of having a less-formal devotional time, say, on Thursday nights or whatever.

There were other issues. I don’t feel at liberty to discuss them, but I do think that the staff was pretty much united by the close of the meeting on some important and urgent items. There will be other discussions, I’m sure, and in the end our elders will certainly call on the wisdom supplied by the Spirit to make decisions on some of those items.

It’s clear to me that we all want to offer our very best to the Lord in our worship. We want everyone’s heart to be engaged during it – perhaps it’s not possible with everyone all the time – but to do our best not to be causing distress or distraction from our focus on Him.

Maybe our ministry intern Andrew Sherrill posed the best rule-of-thumb test for any given item in question:

Will it make God happy?

The answer is (C.) Both of the Above.

On Tuesday, the ministry staff at my 1700+member church will take a day out together (I had suggested a retreat, away from the building and phones and doorbells and computers, but it didn’t work out that way) to talk partly about our church family’s worship time together.

As you can imagine, just about every point of view on the subject is held by someone on staff, not to mention within our church family.

At our church, I have the responsibility of working with worship planning teams to translate their plans into the visuals and music used in our worship hours. Not everything that is happening in the planning or the execution is working as smoothly as it should. I expect to bear some of that responsibility Tuesday. I also expect to share some of it.

At the same time – if handled adroitly, prayerfully, and lovingly – the exchange of ideas and perception about worship can be an extraordinarily heart-expanding opportunity. I expect to catch myself slapping my forehead a few times and saying, “I never thought of it that way.” I also expect to catch myself a few times saying “Why in the world would ANYONE see it that way?” Hopefully, I will catch myself before saying it aloud.

There are problems to be solved with the way our worship is being planned and carried out. No one denies that. So we have a place to start the conversation.

Some of the problems are structural. Some are technological. Some are perceptional. Some are preferential.

Most, I believe, can be solved to the satisfaction of the One to Whom it really should matter the most – and a few can be solved to the satisfaction of most everyone else.

I also believe that what will make the most radical, positive improvement in the quality of our worship together is being able to not be derailed by any given aspect of it (selection of songs, clapping, raising hands or keeping them at our sides, spectacular visuals, procedure in observing the Supper, technological failures, accompaniment by praise teams, etc.) and to enter into worship intentionally, fully, purposefully and with all our hearts.

Then we will listen, sing, pray, dine at the Table, recite scripture together as if the Lord Himself were present.

Any suggestions for Tuesday?

I welcome your prayers.

I know the surfing hasn’t been real good in this spot recently, and I apologize. I’m trying to update a membership database of 1,800 records for my church’s online directory in my precious free time, and it has to be done one-at-a-time by hand … because the Shelby church software database won’t convert to anything that Microsoft Access can read.

And most of the records are at least two years out of date.

But here are some other spots where the surfing is great and the waves are humongous:

• John Alan Turner is essentially posting a personal study guide to the book of Daniel online, one chapter at a time and it’s outstanding. It’s like getting a free book!
• Preacher Mike Cope has a new blogging address, and his recent posts titled “Bible #1” through “Bible #6” (plus an awesome interview with my former care-group friend Jackie Halstead) are well worth your clicks and scans
• Tommy Stewart has a preview of Brian McLaren’s new book, The Secret Message of Jesus. Nope, it’s not Gnosticism, if you’re an Elaine Pagels fan.

And now, back to our regularly-scheduled Access spreadsheet.

It was judgmental and unkind. It was arrogant and rude and it insisted on its own way. It was irritable and resentful, and probably jealous and boastful, and certainly rejoiced at wrong.

I thought it was clever and funny. On a second look, five minutes later, I perceived it very differently.

So it was up five minutes too long.

And if you happened to see it, I deeply apologize for my poor taste, poor judgment, and poor attitude.

I grew up in an era in which Christianity mistakenly thought it was our job to judge everyone else and each other, too. So I used to judge people who expressed their praise for God with their arms lifted high to Him.

My fellowship of Christianity didn’t do that. So it had to be wrong. Besides, I couldn’t understand why (unless wishing to draw undue attention to themselves) anyone would want to do such a thing.

That is … until I had children.

And I began to understand that my power to judge and have compassion is as weak and immature as His power is perfect. From Psalm 103:

Praise the LORD, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits-
who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases …

The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.
As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.

It’s hard to resist a child. When a child asks you to help with something she can’t do; get something he can’t reach; kiss a boo-boo or provide an outstretched-arm full-body lift-me-up-and-hold-me-tight hug … it’s hard to say no. It’s their shameless humility that captures our hearts. They are fragile of body, mind and spirit. They need us. No one else will do. They reach out for the only one who cares, who will help, who will comfort.

So we must be with God.

And though I worship with the same fellowship and do not draw undue attention to myself by lifting my hands (thereby inviting judgment) – sometimes I close my eyes during our times of praise together and imagine myself reaching out to my Father in the loving surround of a much larger fellowship ….

If you were compiling a book of almost a hundred-and-fifty of your nation’s favorite hymns of praise to God, what would you write in the introductory paragraphs?

If you were writing a few paragraphs that you hoped would inspire your brothers and sisters to anticipate worship, what would you compose? Turns out, the answer might be the same for both questions.

Aren’t we most inspired to praise God when we see His work around us, and in our own lives?

The writer of the first Psalm seems to think so, for that is the subject of the collection?s introduction: The one who walks, stands and sits among the righteous – who delights in God’s instruction – is rooted like a strong and fruitful tree near water. God’s work of beauty and growth takes place in this one, whom He watches over. Evil ones, like chaff, cannot stand; they blow away and God lets their way perish.

Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.

But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff
that the wind blows away.

Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the LORD watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.

Look around you. See God’s work in the lives of those near you. Meditate on the ways He has worked in your life – perhaps through some of those same people. Perceive the redemptive relationships He blesses us with through His Son, Jesus.

You won’t be able to keep your heart and voice from praising Him.

Salvation Fuzz (The Dead Bishop) may be my favorite Monty Python sketch, in all of its various versions.

Faced with the dilemma of having (another) dead bishop on the landing, a family wonders if they should call the Church or the police. They decide to call the Church Police.

Together now: “THE CHURCH POLICE!”

And are immediately rewarded by the arrival of a vicar-sergeant. Ooops, no; a detective-parson.

It was hilarious to me years ago. Nowadays, it’s somehow not quite as funny.

You see, there really are Church Police: the self-appointed folks who feel compelled by some kind of spirit to criticize, write up, and sometimes condemn to hell their brothers and sisters in Christ who have purposely violated these saints’ dearest-held beliefs about matters that often aren’t remotely dealt with in the Bible.

And however much one may admire their zeal for the scripture, their commitment to being watchtowermen, and their dedication to seeking the old paths – the plain fact is not all of their motives and tactics and results are admirable.

If you say much of anything beyond the fact that they exist and they are not going away any time soon (barring, of course, an eschatological event that would take us all away) is to invite the accusation that you are judging people – perhaps being more judgmental than these good brethren.

I don’t know if any of these folks have ever gone directly to the person(s) they name and have something against in order to set the relationship right again, but I can tell you that I’ve never seen such an encounter recounted in any of their publications.

I don’t know if these folks regularly pray for the inspiration of the Spirit to make clear to them the difficulties presented in scripture – or if they regularly pray for the targets of their critiques – but I have never seen that mentioned in their works either.

I don’t know if God has incontrovertibly called them to pursue this priority in their walk with Him – over other priorities such as helping the poor, seeking unity of the brethren, persuading those who do not know Jesus that He is the living Son of God – but I rarely if ever see those concepts within their diatribes as well. – Though I have seen criticism of doing good for the deserving when done in cooperation with people whose church sign reads differently.

My previous preaching minister and friend Mike Cope took a little grief for mentioning these Church Police in a humorous way at his blog a few days ago. Frankly, if any of the folks who felt compelled to correct him for this had any clue how very much grief he has endured in his life and how much of it has come from critical personal attacks on his service to God, they might have softened their criticism a bit.

Okay, having said that I’ll wrap this up.

I believe in a judgment day to come. I believe I will answer for this post. I believe the Church Police will answer for their diatribes as well. I do not believe I will be held responsible for the wrong things they did, nor vice-versa.

For I really have to restrain myself not to become as critical of them as they are of others. I truly have to watch my step so that I don’t fall into the sewer of personal attack, innuendo and strife. I am a basically loving person, but I genuinely have a deep problem loving people who are self-righteously antagonistic toward others who struggle, and who confront and condemn in the name of the Lord while claiming that they are only judging actions and not people. I know how very close to that edge I am right now, while writing this.

So I am begging your help. Pray for me and with me in this, and I will commit to praying for others who (I feel) have neglected the weightier matters; have taken it upon themselves to insist on justice over mercy when God calls for both; have ignored the clear instruction of Matthew 18 and so many other important calls for humility, unity, self-judgment and purity of motive.

Please.