The Beautiful Gospel
The task of the church in this ugly and brutal machine age is to tell the gospel story as beautifully as possible. Beauty will save the world. – Brian Zahnd
One of my favorite words is beauty. God and beauty to me go together. One defines the other. For this reason, I sometimes begin a prayer by calling to “Beautiful God.”
In some ways, beauty and God are one and the same thing. Pope John Paul II, in 1962 before he was pope and was Karol Wojtyla, wrote a whole treatise on this truth. He wrote, “we can say God is beautiful. That means, God is beauty. Everything found in the concept of beauty is found in God.”
Of course, the beauty being referred to here is not surface level. Gorgeous or pretty are not synonyms for the beauty I’m talking about. The beauty I talk about is spiritual in nature. Beauty begins with the breath of God, the breath that gave way to Creation.
Where there is this kind of beauty, there is God. And the opposite holds true.
Where the spirit of beauty is lacking, God is lacking. And boy, does the spirit of beauty seem to be lacking these days.
Indeed, a spirit of ugliness seems to be in the air, a thick layer of smog hovering over us.
I’ll be honest. I’m a hopeful person. I naturally look for the hope of things. Now, I’m rather quiet and reserved about it. I’m not what they call “happy go lucky.” But I’m rather adept at tapping the reserves of hope even when hope is hard to find.
That said, nothing zaps me like the ugliness of spirit. It sets me back and leaves me weary. The ugliness of spirit that looms over us makes securing hope harder and harder. I’ll admit to moments of despair.
Maybe like me, you find yourself resorting to nostalgia. I’m listening to the music of my youth a lot these days. Maybe as an antidote of beauty amid so much ugliness. Maybe to escape into a more innocent time, more innocent for me anyway.
There’s a deeper layer of beauty found in the gospel of God. The beauty of the gospel is the source of all beauty.
The gospel is beautiful. Have you ever considered that? That the gospel is beautiful is what I as a Christian believe. Our gospel reading points to this.
I think Jesus’s short story about a son’s waywardness and a father’s unconditional love is a masterpiece. As a work of storytelling, it’s Jesus’s magnum opus. Its emotional resonance makes it beautiful to me.
Finding home again is beautiful. Grace is beautiful. Reconciliation is beautiful. The way of inclusiveness and forgiveness is beautiful. Embracing and celebrating the once lost now found is beautiful. The truth of love is beautiful. The parable of the prodigal son offers this.
There’s a parallel to this parable I’d like to consider. The real-life narrative is one of the most beautiful storylines in the gospels. It’s the story of Peter's and Jesus’s reconciliation.
Their break comes with Peter's disowning of Jesus. It's come to be called "denials," but in reality Peter disowns Jesus. The story is told in all four gospels. Matthew 26 gives the context. Jesus is just arrested, and what do the disciples do, including Peter? Verse 56 of Matthew 26 tells us:
A servant girl, seeing him as he sat in the light and looking closely at him, said, “This man also was with him.” But he denied it, saying, “Woman, I do not know him.” And a little later someone else saw him and said, “You also are one of them.” But Peter said, “Man, I am not.” And after an interval of about an hour still another insisted, saying, “Certainly this man also was with him, for he too is a Galilean.” But Peter said, “Man, I do not know what you are talking about.” And immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed. And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, “Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.” And he went out and wept bitterly.
Peter has lost his way. Upon Jesus’s arrest, he fled the scene. He took the inheritance of three years with Jesus, three years of growth and wisdom learned. He took what Jesus gave and ran away, leaving him to die on a Roman cross.
Not only that, here he disowns his best friend, his beloved teacher, the one that helped him to see the answer to all his questions. After those three denials, the crack of dawn, and the rooster’s cry, he realizes what he has done. He goes outside and weeps bitterly.
Thankfully, the story doesn’t end with bitter tears.
John, chapter 21: Jesus is resurrected and about to ascend. Before he goes, he has a tender moment with Peter, a tender moment of reconciliation.
When Jesus and his disciples had finished eating, he asked, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than the others do?”
Simon Peter answered, “Yes, Lord, you know I do!”
“Then feed my lambs,” Jesus said.
Jesus asked a second time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter answered, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you!”
“Then take care of my sheep,” Jesus told him.
Jesus asked a third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus had asked him three times if he loved him. So he told Jesus, “Lord, you know everything. You know I love you.”
Jesus replied, “Feed my sheep…
Peter, follow me.
Jesus, moved by divine compassion and sincere love for Peter, returns to redeem Peter first. It’s as if Jesus comes back from the grave just to forgive Peter so he can get past his grief, his regret, and be what he was created to be – the rock upon which the church is built.
Have you ever erred so badly, and wonder how anyone could forgive such a foible? And when you received just that, when you received a grace that you did not deserve, do you remember how you responded? There’s nothing like the tears shed in the wake of being forgiven.
One of my absolute worst days as a pastor came years ago in North Orange, Massachusetts. I was asked to do a graveside service by a funeral home director in town. I didn’t know the family and the request came less than a week before, but I agreed to do it despite experiencing a rough patch at the time. Anyway, I got everything ready and planned to do it. However, I failed to put the event in my phone calendar. The morning of the service – I think you can guess – I completely forgot about the graveside service.
Once I realized it, I was beside myself. Holly remembers. I almost had a nervous breakdown, I was so upset. I drove down to the cemetery, albeit too late. I was in tears, apologizing to the funeral director. Being the beautiful soul he is, he gently let me know that it was okay, that he’s always prepared for moments like this, that the family was fine. In other words, he gifted me with grace.
I apologized personally to the family, and they too offered understanding.
Such grace indeed is beautiful, and lifesaving.I cried tears of forgiveness that day.
Peter's tears were assuredly far more ardent, Christ’s beautiful grace incomparable.
I’d like to close with a poem. In it, I put myself in the sandals of Peter, the trauma he experienced, and the grace Christ showered him with, a grace that made all the difference. The showering of grace Peter experienced gave way to his transformation, a new beginning, and the birth of the church. I truly believe this grace saved his life, and in turn saves us.
The poem is titled, Denial.
1.
I went outside,
I wept bitterly
that dim day before the darkest day
My teacher, my beloved friend died.
He told me I’d do it, reject him,
deny our sacred tie,
deny our shared journey,
deny my following of his way.
I did just that, three times,
rejecting him despite warning,
my tragic betrayal despite bravado.
Then I fled in fear, shame, sorrow.
The next morning I heard he died,
recalled how – crucified.
The despair did not relent
in seeking to end me, and me it,
brought to that dark valley,
to an ugly tree like Judas,
rope in hand, regret and grief
a sword edgy and dull.
2.
Then Sunday dawned
ephemeral light.
3.
I realize now his coming back
was for me and for all like me,
those broken by a broken choice
drowning with regret and grief.
That Rising that day was for you, me,
for thoughtless words last spoken,
for my absence when presence was needed most,
for my neglect of sacred moments and memory.
The Return was meant to redeem,
beginning with me.
4.
I love you, Rabboni.
I love you, Yeshua.
You know that I love you, Lord.
I love you too
implied in Yeshua’s look
and the call that followed.
5.
Turn thoughtless last words into listening.
Turn utter absence into presence.
Turn neglect into gratitude.
Turn fallenness, grief, regret into compassion.
Feed the children.
Care for people.
Lead them all home –
The Re-Creation,
The Kingdom of Second Chances is at hand.
One of my favorite words is beauty. God and beauty to me go together. One defines the other. For this reason, I sometimes begin a prayer by calling to “Beautiful God.”
In some ways, beauty and God are one and the same thing. Pope John Paul II, in 1962 before he was pope and was Karol Wojtyla, wrote a whole treatise on this truth. He wrote, “we can say God is beautiful. That means, God is beauty. Everything found in the concept of beauty is found in God.”
Of course, the beauty being referred to here is not surface level. Gorgeous or pretty are not synonyms for the beauty I’m talking about. The beauty I talk about is spiritual in nature. Beauty begins with the breath of God, the breath that gave way to Creation.
Where there is this kind of beauty, there is God. And the opposite holds true.
Where the spirit of beauty is lacking, God is lacking. And boy, does the spirit of beauty seem to be lacking these days.
Indeed, a spirit of ugliness seems to be in the air, a thick layer of smog hovering over us.
I’ll be honest. I’m a hopeful person. I naturally look for the hope of things. Now, I’m rather quiet and reserved about it. I’m not what they call “happy go lucky.” But I’m rather adept at tapping the reserves of hope even when hope is hard to find.
That said, nothing zaps me like the ugliness of spirit. It sets me back and leaves me weary. The ugliness of spirit that looms over us makes securing hope harder and harder. I’ll admit to moments of despair.
Maybe like me, you find yourself resorting to nostalgia. I’m listening to the music of my youth a lot these days. Maybe as an antidote of beauty amid so much ugliness. Maybe to escape into a more innocent time, more innocent for me anyway.
There’s a deeper layer of beauty found in the gospel of God. The beauty of the gospel is the source of all beauty.
The gospel is beautiful. Have you ever considered that? That the gospel is beautiful is what I as a Christian believe. Our gospel reading points to this.
I think Jesus’s short story about a son’s waywardness and a father’s unconditional love is a masterpiece. As a work of storytelling, it’s Jesus’s magnum opus. Its emotional resonance makes it beautiful to me.
Finding home again is beautiful. Grace is beautiful. Reconciliation is beautiful. The way of inclusiveness and forgiveness is beautiful. Embracing and celebrating the once lost now found is beautiful. The truth of love is beautiful. The parable of the prodigal son offers this.
There’s a parallel to this parable I’d like to consider. The real-life narrative is one of the most beautiful storylines in the gospels. It’s the story of Peter's and Jesus’s reconciliation.
Their break comes with Peter's disowning of Jesus. It's come to be called "denials," but in reality Peter disowns Jesus. The story is told in all four gospels. Matthew 26 gives the context. Jesus is just arrested, and what do the disciples do, including Peter? Verse 56 of Matthew 26 tells us:
...all the disciples deserted him and fled
Luke 22 best gives us the rest of the story:
A servant girl, seeing him as he sat in the light and looking closely at him, said, “This man also was with him.” But he denied it, saying, “Woman, I do not know him.” And a little later someone else saw him and said, “You also are one of them.” But Peter said, “Man, I am not.” And after an interval of about an hour still another insisted, saying, “Certainly this man also was with him, for he too is a Galilean.” But Peter said, “Man, I do not know what you are talking about.” And immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed. And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, “Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.” And he went out and wept bitterly.
Peter has lost his way. Upon Jesus’s arrest, he fled the scene. He took the inheritance of three years with Jesus, three years of growth and wisdom learned. He took what Jesus gave and ran away, leaving him to die on a Roman cross.
Not only that, here he disowns his best friend, his beloved teacher, the one that helped him to see the answer to all his questions. After those three denials, the crack of dawn, and the rooster’s cry, he realizes what he has done. He goes outside and weeps bitterly.
Thankfully, the story doesn’t end with bitter tears.
When Jesus and his disciples had finished eating, he asked, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than the others do?”
Simon Peter answered, “Yes, Lord, you know I do!”
“Then feed my lambs,” Jesus said.
Jesus asked a second time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter answered, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you!”
“Then take care of my sheep,” Jesus told him.
Jesus asked a third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus had asked him three times if he loved him. So he told Jesus, “Lord, you know everything. You know I love you.”
Jesus replied, “Feed my sheep…
Peter, follow me.
Jesus, moved by divine compassion and sincere love for Peter, returns to redeem Peter first. It’s as if Jesus comes back from the grave just to forgive Peter so he can get past his grief, his regret, and be what he was created to be – the rock upon which the church is built.
Have you ever erred so badly, and wonder how anyone could forgive such a foible? And when you received just that, when you received a grace that you did not deserve, do you remember how you responded? There’s nothing like the tears shed in the wake of being forgiven.
One of my absolute worst days as a pastor came years ago in North Orange, Massachusetts. I was asked to do a graveside service by a funeral home director in town. I didn’t know the family and the request came less than a week before, but I agreed to do it despite experiencing a rough patch at the time. Anyway, I got everything ready and planned to do it. However, I failed to put the event in my phone calendar. The morning of the service – I think you can guess – I completely forgot about the graveside service.
Once I realized it, I was beside myself. Holly remembers. I almost had a nervous breakdown, I was so upset. I drove down to the cemetery, albeit too late. I was in tears, apologizing to the funeral director. Being the beautiful soul he is, he gently let me know that it was okay, that he’s always prepared for moments like this, that the family was fine. In other words, he gifted me with grace.
I apologized personally to the family, and they too offered understanding.
Such grace indeed is beautiful, and lifesaving.I cried tears of forgiveness that day.
Peter's tears were assuredly far more ardent, Christ’s beautiful grace incomparable.
I’d like to close with a poem. In it, I put myself in the sandals of Peter, the trauma he experienced, and the grace Christ showered him with, a grace that made all the difference. The showering of grace Peter experienced gave way to his transformation, a new beginning, and the birth of the church. I truly believe this grace saved his life, and in turn saves us.
The poem is titled, Denial.
1.
I went outside,
I wept bitterly
that dim day before the darkest day
My teacher, my beloved friend died.
He told me I’d do it, reject him,
deny our sacred tie,
deny our shared journey,
deny my following of his way.
I did just that, three times,
rejecting him despite warning,
my tragic betrayal despite bravado.
Then I fled in fear, shame, sorrow.
The next morning I heard he died,
recalled how – crucified.
The despair did not relent
in seeking to end me, and me it,
brought to that dark valley,
to an ugly tree like Judas,
rope in hand, regret and grief
a sword edgy and dull.
2.
Then Sunday dawned
ephemeral light.
3.
I realize now his coming back
was for me and for all like me,
those broken by a broken choice
drowning with regret and grief.
That Rising that day was for you, me,
for thoughtless words last spoken,
for my absence when presence was needed most,
for my neglect of sacred moments and memory.
The Return was meant to redeem,
beginning with me.
4.
I love you, Rabboni.
I love you, Yeshua.
You know that I love you, Lord.
I love you too
implied in Yeshua’s look
and the call that followed.
5.
Turn thoughtless last words into listening.
Turn utter absence into presence.
Turn neglect into gratitude.
Turn fallenness, grief, regret into compassion.
Feed the children.
Care for people.
Lead them all home –
The Re-Creation,
The Kingdom of Second Chances is at hand.
Comments
Post a Comment