Why I follow who I follow

Today in the sweltering heat of Lagos, I walked the Stations of The Cross from our local church, The Church of Assumption. It is not the first time in my life I have done a Stations walk, but there was something different in it today. Perhaps it was due to the fact that traffic around Falomo Bridge and Awolowo Road came to a standstill to make way for the hundreds of us who had gathered to process, perhaps because my foolhardy choice of footwear added an extra element of ‘trial’ to the experience, or maybe because this is the first Lent that I have consciously decided to blog as I fast (harder than one thinks, trust me), but if felt more potent.

The Stations of the Cross are pretty ubiquitous. Go into most old church buildings anywhere in the world, and there they are: either carved in stone, painted or in fresco. Jesus condemned, scourged, given a cross on his back, helped by Simon the Cyrene, falling not once but thrice, his bloody face mopped by Veronica, nailed to a cross, dead and then buried. Pictured on their own, they are a sad and pitiful sight. In fact without the knowledge of what is to come; his final words, ‘It is finished” sound like the worst sort of defeat. No chance of a re=match, or an extension of time so that the scared and long gone disciples could mobilise troops and fight back in Jerusalem.  The battle was concluded.

I am often asked why it is I choose Jesus over the pantheon of other belief systems out there. Why this man, who in today’s lectionary reading from Isaiah 52:13 – 53:12, is described as unremarkable looking, full of sorrows and despised and rejected? I choose Jesus every time because of what he did rather than who he was:

“But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities, the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:4

It takes a lot to take a hit for one person, much more to take it for the whole of humankind as Jesus did. As we processed, we were reminded of the humanity of Jesus. Though wholly divine, he still bled, stumbled and struggled to carry the cross, felt the isolation of his friends deserting him, chose silence in front of Pilate rather than robust defence. He bore it all, excruciating death to boot, for us. In this verse we are told he was pierced for every sin that we have done and will likely do. He was crushed in body so that our wrong intentions, actions,  complaints and excuses won’t come back and bite us. The serenity that we oftentimes seek in external sources comes from him alone and that inner healing we all yearn from comes via each open wound mark. In the violent violation of his body comes eternal fulfilment for us all.

I choose to follow Jesus not only because he died for me, but also because he opens a door for possibility, He would have died if it was just for the one person, much less all of us. He could have chosen to show his glory with a SWAT team of Angels, but that wasn’t the point. Those of us who choose to believe, and it is a choice, because the God we serve is neither a bully or boaster, do so because of the nature of Jesus. He is Divine but he is Love Incarnate, He is the suffering servant, choosing to assist, when he could have so easily let the cup pass him. Opting for obedience rather than defiance and right to his last breath showing compassion and understanding, even to the thief crucified beside him. Following him though challenging is all too beguiling, and I challenge anyone to read the four Gospels and not fall in love a teeny tiny bit with his character and nature.

Although Good Friday is a time of gratitude as we remember the cross. It is also a challenging time as we are reminded of our duty to serve, to bear our own crosses with grace and be certain that our Loving Saviour will assist when it all gets too much. It is a time to do our small sacrifices and to do them with cheer. Many joined in fasting today, some abstained from meat (I enjoyed a sublime red snapper that I cooked ), but Good Friday is so much more than these traditional observances. It is humanity’s  road to freedom; a life where we are reminded that if God could love us so much then we should love ourselves too and with that deposit of love working in us, love those around us and bring heaven on earth. The workers may be few, and the days might be flipping evil but in him and with him and through him all things are possible and all circumstances turn out for good. 

The Love Embassy

This week has been one where the Lenten Lectionary readings have left me thinking about Church Life. Does it feed, inspire heal and console? Or does it judge, accuse, condemn and cast out? A few weeks back I blogged about Church cliques and how many newcomers are discouraged not so much by the message in the bible, but by the reception they receive from members of the congregation. Today, however, my focus is on leadership: how far is it okay for cultural relativism  to be the main reason things are done the way they are in church, rather than what is written in the bible? I begin my post with some encouraging words from one of this week’s readings, from 2 Corinthians 5:16-21:

 “We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who has no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” 2 Corinthians 5:20-21

If we are Christ’s Ambassadors, and God is Love incarnate, then our churches are Love Embassies. Places where people grow in Love and Understanding, until their visa comes through for the greatest destination of all, Heaven.  In light of this what is with the judgment and worse, the fear of punitive measures if you don’t toe the party line in most churches here, and I speak as one who has had the pleasure of attending Anglican (my tradition), Catholic (my husband’s) and Pentecostal (followed many who are dear to me) churches. Like anywhere one adjusts; one of the lovely things about living in many parts of Africa is that being a believer isn’t as ‘fringe’ an activity as it is in the West. I quite like that people entreaty the Lord even in general conversation. It points at a faith that is alive, that doesn’t just exist for Sunday.

However, at odds with this are the rules and regulations that govern church life.  The policing can be severe: alongside the times of worship on one church’s noticeboard was the rather ominous “Women wearing lipstick cannot take Communion.” Why? Where is the sin in beautification? Yes, we all know Jezebel had a penchant for mascara, but does that make every female that swears by a double swipe of Maybelline and some tinted Lancôme lip-gloss in possession of a Jezebel Spirit and forbidden from participating in the Eucharist?

Condemnation seems to be the main currency in many of these churches: attached to this post is a genuine notices section taken from a leading church in Lagos. No, I won’t name and shame but reading the section on bridal dressing and tithes made me feel that we Christians have got our priorities so mixed up on what is really important and what it is to be an ambassador of Christ. Exactly what is meant by a dress covering ‘all of the body’?  What if the blushing bride still has a figure worthy of a Victoria’s Secret’s Angel, covered frock or not, do we send her away for being a little too smoking hot? My challenge to all of those who accuse people of immodest dressing is where is YOUR mind? It is the gaze rather than the gazed that is sexualised, and it brings to mind Jesus’ entreaty to focus on the plank of wood in our own eyes before we attend to the sawdust in our Christian brothers or sisters (Matthew 7:4-5).  Furthermore, a sense of shame is what will often drive people into having an inauthentic spiritual life, more focused on pleasing the cultural norms than connecting with the risen Lord.

Fear is so at odds with a life in Christ. By this I am not referring to the fear of the Lord, which echoes reverence and total acceptance of God’s authority. I am talking of the fear associated with shame and self-loathing and doubt that God might not love us as much as he does. I was flabbergasted to read tithing being correlated to unanswered prayer; with everything from delay in getting pregnant or getting a job promotion being down to a lack of commitment on the believers part. How can the size of your offering be compared to one’s level of piety?  Or regular giving be the reason that cancer and sickness have not visited your household? It’s sacrilegious to make such claims, but there they are, in black and white. We serve a God who wants to give all his children, rich and poor, good gifts. Sadly, in the case of this church, it seems the size of the church’s coffers were what was of most import, otherwise why the sentences that are at odds with the foundation of all our faith, so beautifully expounded by St Paul? Reconciliation with God comes from the Cross and the Cross alone. Blessings in their many forms, abundance, joy and laughter, all of them come from Jesus.  They are not contingent upon arbitrary rules made up by leaders in the church, most of which are rooted in social control than the freedom found in God’s love.

As a fellow Christo, I pray that things really begin to change. I cannot imagine a deep, rich and honest faith walk developing with so many rules that stifle honesty,  expression, discourse, creativity, a ‘com- as-you-are’ message  and most important of all love. Let’s all do our part to sort out the Love Embassies, whatever denomination we attend. After all, there are so many people out there in need of a Divine visa.

So, what exactly is the point?

Social gatherings always seem to bring out all sorts of odd but familiar human behaviour. From the guest who stands close to the food and drink station, hoovering up as much as they can before others have had a chance,  to the clichéd small-talk questions that are all about figuring out your importance, relevance and proximity to the host: “What do you do?”, “Where do you live?” and  “How do you know X?”

On one level one could argue that such questions have an important role to play; they are about discovering common ground, finding topics to talk about further,  even potentially cementing future friendships and indeed that might be the case. But all too often they are about assessment and judgment, the two forces that reign in our modern world we live in. I laughed inwardly when for a joke, I declared myself unemployed and living in penury in a very bad neighbourhood at a terribly posh event only to see one guest gasp audibly and another excuse themselves from our group never to return again! But the responses speak much to what our true concerns are, what we put the most importance and trust in and on a deeper level what motivates us to do what we do in our lives.

This week’s Lectionary for Lent, features a passage from Isaiah that is at odds with much of what preoccupies us today:

“Come, all of you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labour on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.” Isaiah 55:1-2

The invitation to be in Christ is the best one we all get. We are called to come not once or twice but four times in these two verses alone. The call is plaintive, God knows that his people are thirsty, he knows that they are poor too; not necessarily because their finances are shredded to pieces due to spend-a-thons of a gargantuan scale, but they are poor in spirit, as it him alone that can satisfy the depths of us. The invitation is open, God does not force anyone to follow him, but he does implore that we listen, but what an invitation, the choicest and in ancient times when Isaiah was written, the most costly items   - wine and milk – are available at no cost at all and the richest of fares are promised if we choose to consume what is good and in him.

Also of note is the question at the centre of the verse: “Why spend money on what is not bread, and labour on what does not satisfy.” This particular sentence is a tough one for those of us who have worked diligently to get to a certain point in life.  Yes, it is fantastic to be able to enjoy life’s luxuries, to dispense generosity of a mammoth scale on those we love and to be acknowledged for our hard won achievements. But none of it truly satisfies. The money we have in our life be it the physical kind that we store in banks is finite.  Toiling in the earthly realm is not the point of our lives at all. It is essentially a zero sum game. There will always be someone who will surpass what you have achieved, and those moments that are great? By their very nature they are fleeting and will fade into the horizon of memory faster than you may think.

What all of us believers should consider, is that Jesus, our Lord and saviour laboured in his ministry and on the Cross so that we  could all eat and drink our spiritual fill. Our spiritual fill is infinitely more important than what is happening today because by its very nature it is BEYOND today. It is forever, and it is freely given, our own part is to merely agree to participate.

As I write this, slightly peckish (fasting does not come naturally to me!), I am comforted that in spite of all of my earthly wants and desires the pivotal point of my life is to Come to Christ (which I have done already – hurrah!), Listen to him (which I am definitely still a work in progress), and labour as he did, thinking not of what I will receive today, but what is in store in heaven.