mmm good thoughts. yummy.

i had an explosion of new thoughts this past week!!! so exciting.

so last week was spiritual life week on campus and the theme was about crossing borders - the idea of Jesus being a divine border-crosser who, in a sense, lept giant walls of class, gender, wealth, etc, in a single bound. actually, the message of the week was not put into superman terms (although that would have been amusing), but was instead focused on immigration at the US/Mexico border. the guest speaker for the week was "Mark Adams... a Presbyterian Church USA minister who works at building relationships with people on both sides of the US-Mexico border. Mark coordinates six ministry areas of Frontera de Cristo, a Presbyterian border ministry centered in Agua Prieta, Mexico and Douglas, Ariz.: church development, health, family counseling, the New Hope Community Center, mission education, and the Just Trade Center." (this is from EMU's website)

anyway, Mark spoke about how living near the border has taught him a lot about the Incarnation. he told a story of seeing some men one year near Christmas; they were on the Mexican side of the fence and just hanging onto the fence, watching. Not trying to cross or anything. His brother was visiting him, and asked a man who was from the area why the men were hanging on to the fence. "What are they doing?"

The answer was that they were waiting for the right time.

I've wondered sometimes why Jesus came into the world in a tiny town on an arbitrary fall date to a pair of Jewish parents who had no special aspirations in the world. Why not three years earlier to Mary's older sister? Why not a thousand years later to an Aborigional Australian? Why the Jews? (cause its not like they understood who he was anymore than anyone else). why then?
and now I keep imagining Jesus hanging over the border from heaven to earth, asking his Father - is it time? Dad. Is it the right time yet? I can see them. I can see them.
and then at last he hears God say: Now. Now is the time.

Mark spoke about the incarnation as a divine border-crossing, of Jesus leaving heaven to enter a place where he was not wanted. How Herod tried to send him back to where he came from. He spoke on the Gospel of John, and how during a Bible study in the Mexican town of Agua Prieta, he heard a displaced Mexican say this:

God knows what its like to be far from home.

And on Friday in chapel we sang a song from Sing the Journey (I think) that was a prayer for God to protect us from hunger and death, for the goodness and justice of the kingdom of God to be realized on earth. Then one of the EMU pastors stood up to finish the service and said: "It is not truthful and it is not just to sing that song as if it was true just for us. We must sing it as though God is working these promises out for the least of these." As we left, the challenge was given - how can we live into the scandalous incarnation of God, the divine border-crosser? How can we, as followers of the Christ, the Savior, the man who broke barriers - how can we ourselves break down walls and cross borders?

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next great thought is from the Early Church.
we were talking about Zacchaeus - the sermon was entitled "the dispossesing of Zacchaeus." I have a notecard full of thoughts from the morning but my favorite thought is the following:

the crowd (the mutterers) who judged Zacchaeus should have been climbing up a tree in the hopes that Jesus would call them down,

and if that didn't work they should have followed him to Zacchaeus' house,

and when they got to his house they should have banged on the door,

and if he ignored them they should have cut a hole in the roof, like the friends of the paraplegic,

and if Jesus did not acknowledge them they should have sat under his table, waiting for crumbs to fall, like the Samaritan woman,

and if they were still ignored, they could have shouted, Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me, a sinner, like the blind man,

and if the Son of God was still silent, they might have sat by his feet and wept silently, cleansing the feet of God with tears.


God feels distant, some days; far from the mortal world of humans. But Mark reminded us last week that the word became flesh and dwelled among us. He was here. In a few months I am going to walk where my Lord walked. Touch olive trees descended from trees he touched. God was here on this earth and judging from the stories of his life, he cared.
The question then becomes not why God feels distant, but where are we in pursuit of him?
Under his table? Weeping by his feet?

Or have we even left the muttering crowd to climb the tree?