Best as I recall, I was introduced to the Jesus Seminar by Lee Strobel in The Case for Christ. He describes this group of liberal scholars who gather to adjudicate which of the sayings of Jesus are real and which are fabricated. Voting is done by using red, pink, gray, and black beads—red being historical sayings of Jesus, black being fabrications, pink and gray being somewhere in-between. Strobel is, as you might imagine, very critical of their work.

Churches of Christ have many strengths. One of them is our recognition that, when a bunch of sinful people get together and start putting down regulations, the result is a set of sinful regulations that inhibit our service to God. This is why we’ve always avoided denominational structures, even as we still function as a sort of denomination.

The following is an imagined interview of Paul by Luke. As a background to letters by Paul to his envoys, Titus on Crete and Timothy in Ephesus, it introduces our discussion of these letters in which Paul warns of wide-spreading diseases among churches and urges healthy countermeasures.

“We tried to con God.” So could read two headstones in a secluded spot outside Jerusalem. They are linked conceptually, if not in style or location, to two graves in the middle of the Sinai desert labeled “We did it our way,” and one near a threshing floor outside Jerusalem, “I thought I was helping.”

Reflecting back on our lives, especially right around when we moved here from Memphis, we have to squint to see through the manna falling from heaven. It rained thick and fast. The kitchen chairs, mower, couch, tools, money, lumber, time, dolly, straps, paracord, ladder, moving supplies, desk, bedroom, food, the list goes on—all a gift from God through his people. We would be destitute, were it not for the church. And that’s not even mentioning all the things we’ve borrowed!

One day we go walking into the temple to pray, just like we normally do, always have, and always plan to. We pass through the Beautiful Gate, when we pause. Something is off, but we can’t quite put our finger on what…

Jesus was minding his own business at a wedding, when his mother comes up and simply says, “They have no wine.”

I was talking to a man this week, who said he grew up in the Catholic Church, and was thankful for his upbringing, but isn’t part of the church anymore. He was lucky, sheltered from much of the corruption that is so publicized today, and even went into the mission field for a while. He loved the mission work (which I think was primarily caring for the poor), because the church there “was skin and bone.” They knew the work they had to do, and they went about doing it without any fuss. The church there was busy, vibrant, strong. 

It is difficult for me to think through the implications of the resurrection. For one, it means that God is real, so real that he can (and has) reached into history to undo death. Now that I am in Christ, he is doing it in me as well. This means that God can take a bad situation and bring about good through it. This is not to glorify suffering or to spit in the face of the suffering, but it is to recognize that we will suffer for doing right from time to time, and when we do, we can trust that God will work things out. Therefore we turn the other cheek. We are kind to those who wrong us. We are compassionate, not bitter. We avoid becoming callous and jaded. 

I was in a Zoom meeting with 24 ministers, elders, and church leaders from around the world this week. Several ministers requested prayers for their congregations moving forward, because the pandemic has loosened their ties of fellowship. The pandemic is easing, but people, especially the young members, aren’t chomping at the bit to return. To be fair, I think this mentality pre-dates the pandemic, even if a year of Zoom church has exacerbated it. Perhaps it’s instructive to note that the ministers making the observation are in affluent countries, Switzerland and Australia.

The tenor of Philippians is very different from the letters to other churches, especially books like Galatians and Corinthians. In Galatians and Corinthians, Paul is correcting and rebuking, sometimes harshly. He’s kind of shaking them by the scruff of the neck—“You foolish Galatians!” (Gal. 4.1) “What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you!” (1Cor. 11.22).

It’s interesting that no one is really upset by the cross. In a strange way, the cross makes sense to us. Death makes sense to us. It’s normal and natural. Most any portrayal of Jesus in our culture is fine with the cross, albeit, a cross devoid of meaning. 

Throughout history, there have been 3 major views on what God does at the cross (the technical term is “atonement theories”). They are referred to in various ways, but I’ll just use the ones I’m most familiar with (and perhaps you’ve heard of them, too).

The night has come at long last—the betrayal of Jesus. Following the Last Supper, Judas flees to the pharisees, guiding a mob to the Mount of Olives where Jesus habitually goes. Knowing this is happening, Jesus goes to the place he knows Judas will lead them. Once there, he instructs his disciples to pray, and goes himself a little ways off. 

It’s Thursday night. Passover night. Jesus has instructed the disciples on how to prepare for the Passover meal, and they’re all gathered around him at the table. Jesus is the host, naturally. On his right is the beloved disciple, John. Around the table are Jesus’s friends, his companions for the past three years.

Luke 21 is an apocalyptic judgment against Israel in general, and Jerusalem in particular. Here Jesus sounds like Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, or, actually, any of Israel’s prophets. They all proclaimed this message to God’s people—“Repent and turn to God; avoid the destruction that is imminent! The world is going to be turned upside down, and Jerusalem will be laid desolate. But now, even now, if you will return to God, the crisis may be avoided…”

Imagine a few years after the resurrection, the gathering of a small house church in a certain city where Simon the Pharisee lived. The followers of the Way walk into Simon’s house one by one, and as the host, he greets them each in turn. Finally in walks this woman. The woman.

One of the first Sunday mornings we visited Park Avenue Church of Christ in Memphis, the first prayer was a prayer of confession. The preacher that morning had instructed the person leading the prayer to pray a prayer of confession, and then pause for everyone in the congregation to confess their sins to God silently. That made a huge impact on me. Imagine a church where everyone knew and confessed they were sinners! How humble. How honest.

As Jesus enters Jerusalem, what most stands out is the honor the people are showering him with. They look at this teacher and worker of miracles and they honor him as a king. He needs a donkey? They give it. He’s entering the city? They pave the way with their cloaks. They sing and dance and celebrate the salvation God is visiting upon his people at long last.

I’ve been reading Ron Chernow’s biography of Grant. It’s kind of slow going at first, but then the Civil War happens, and it’s a real page-turner! The Civil War almost can’t help but be fascinating. It’s one of the few times in history where there’s a clear right and a clear wrong, and the good guys clearly won. It’s this moment where America stands up and says, “this is who we are, and this is what we stand for, and we won’t compromise these values.”