Pastor

Pastor

Grace catches you unawares

In holy moments when souls are bared

What a strange privilege to be

So close to the heart of Mystery

Speaking now before your friends

What an odd means to usher in

Resurrection power and dazzling light

The Spirit breathing love and life

You break the bread, you pour the wine

Your eyes transfixed on Love Divine

Christ for us, what hope, what joy!

A Power that hate can never destroy

You speak your prayers into the dark

You triumph with God and you miss the mark

You plan, you laugh, you ache, and you cry

You see life come and you watch it die

And in all of this, just underneath

The invisible God doth move and speak

So you take the risk that keeps you safe

You walk with God in loyal faith

So sing, pastor, sing!

To Him Who wraps His love around you

All your thanks and praise bring

To Him Whose grace has found you

What a blessing is the call

God is faithful through it all

So with your friends, lift your eyes

For our Lover comes; we will rise

Boldly Praying Before the Judge

I recently facilitated a Bible study on Luke 18:9-14 (read it), which is the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector going to pray in the Temple.  I was struck by the idea of this parable being a court scene. The preceding parable (18:1-8) was a court scene in which a persistent widow went before an unjust judge to be vindicated, and in our current parable, the use of the forensic word "justified" in 18:14 makes me think that we should view the tax collector and the Pharisee as being in a courtroom, too.  It's as if the Temple is God's court, and the Pharisee as well as the tax collector are bringing their cases before God the Judge.

I find the idea of prayer as bringing us before God the Judge to be slightly unnerving, but also comforting.  It's unnerving because it might mean that some of the things I bring before God may be judged to be unnecessary, even wrong.  There are selfish and bad pieces of me that come out in prayer that God does not find very convincing or appealing.  The fact that I can definitively be told that I've done wrong is scary; it brings with it guilt as well as both hope for and fear of change.  Yet being before God the Judge comforts me, because in Him I can have closure.  I ultimately don't have to give credence to what others might say or think of me, or even wonder about my own judgment of my status before God.  God speaks the definitive word about me in His court.

Another comfort comes from knowing what counts in God's court.  Self-exaltation, self-justification, and comparative spirituality, all devoid of a proper recognition of the client's relationship with the Judge, are considered rubbish.  God values those who honestly and boldly come before Him.  They acknowledge the sometimes shameful realities of their lives and wholly rely on the mercy of the Judge.  The tax collector, who would have been viewed as a traitor to the Jewish people due to his support of the Roman colonizers and was probably guilty of embezzlement, did just this.  So in this parable, it's like a Bible professor loses his case and a crooked politician walks out with the favor of the Judge.  The money-laundering traitor had the courage to move past his fear and shame, acknowledge his sins, and throw himself at the mercy of God.

Jesus calls this humility.  We don't normally associate humility with courage, do we?  Maybe being humble is one of the bravest, truest things we can do.

Are there any parts of you that you've been too ashamed to bring before God - - things that religious folks like me think bar you from ever being accepted by God or by others?  The good news is that the Judge loves to have mercy.  His followers do too.  Don't keep anything from Him.  Don't rely on anything else but His grace.  Come boldly, honestly, humbly.  Confess your sins before the Judge.  Not only does he pronounce contrite sinners to be in good standing with Him, He empowers them that they might actually be saints and live transformed lives.

I hope we all will frequently talk with our Merciful Judge.