Clothe Yourself With...

And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful.  Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.  And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Colossians 3:15-17 (NRSV)

This is today’s scripture reading in The Upper Room daily devotion.  It’s a passage that has special meaning for me. When Steve and I were planning our marriage ceremony, our pastor suggested a number of very familiar Scripture passages, but he added that there were many lists of others appropriate for weddings.  So I started looking at some of those lists, and we chose Colossians 3:12-17. For a wedding present, the pastor and his wife gave us a small clay pitcher inscribed with words from this passage. I think I chose this passage, hoping and praying that Steve and I could live out the same type of love and grace in our marriage that Paul describes.

Earlier in Colossians, Paul reminded the New Christians that in their baptism, they “had died” and “been raised with Christ.”  Their new self, celebrating its interdependence within the “one body” of Christ, should generously brim with love, humility, and patience, and literally sing with gratitude! As members of a true Christian community they were urged to reorient their lives around Christ, living their lives in harmony with each other.  Just as they were urged, and because we too have been raised with Christ, we are to seek heavenly ways of being with one another. See why I hoped and prayed that Steve and I could live out this type of life together?

As the hands and feet of Christ present in the here and now, we are to clothe ourselves with “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.”  What an awesome responsibility:  to be compassionate, humble, gentle and kind everywhere and all the time. Paul several times tells the early Christians to "clothe themselves" with behaviors and practices indicative of their status as "God's chosen ones."  All these things take time and considerable practice to “put on.”  They must be learned and practiced intentionally.  Sometimes it is very hard to wear these garments – to put them on, keep them from becoming too small, not allow the waistband to bind or the static to cling to our bodies.  Think about it:

• Kindness gets a little bothersome like the tag in a shirt when people share their displeasure with your actions.
• Gentleness gets itchy like wool when personalities or opinions differ.
•  And forget humble when your name is plastered all over e-mail and brochures and contact information!

Passages like Colossians 3:15-17 are the core of being people on a faith journey: a journey that is sometimes easy to “wear” – we can just slide right into it -- and sometimes very difficult to put on – and keep on.  The clothing of “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” sometimes fits well and at other times causes us to be really uncomfortable. Our prayer should always be that we find the ways to live out this type of life which is woven together into community - into the kingdom of God in the here and now - as we follow the risen Christ. 

The End of Lent from Martha’s Perspective

The lectionary readings for this coming Sunday are among my favorite passages of Scripture.  The passages are familiar, including Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones and Jesus giving new life to Lazarus. I know especially that the stories of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus come before me at the times they do to remind me of priorities.  Over the years, I’ve come to realize just how much like the biblical Martha I am.  I know we share many of the same personality traits.

Back in 1995, we were just beginning to introduce drama into worship at Shady Grove.  That’s when we were still a small church and didn’t have many potential participants to choose from - those brave enough to try this new adventure.  That year, we planned big!  A local man, known for his portrayals of Jesus, was asked to be with us for all the Sundays of Lent and for Holy Week services.  There were to be dramatic presentations of the Gospel readings each week.  The account of the raising of Lazarus was one of the presentations.  I was Martha; Mary and Lazarus were played by a young couple in the church, who by the way were expecting their first child.  Like with so many church dramas, that adds a whole new twist to the Scripture – a pregnant Mary...not the mother of Jesus.  Several years later we were asked to be Mary and Martha again, this time in the account from later in John’s Gospel of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet with perfume.  Mary was pregnant again – so at least we were consistent.

We had practiced and practiced the story.  Mary and I were to enter, crying over the death of our brother.  Lazarus was inside a make-shift tomb.  When we took our places and Jesus came toward us, I was to move to him, grab him by the arms, and say that powerful line, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  I was overly concerned with the details – especially how to make myself cry before coming in.  On the final practice, I was trying my best to do everything perfectly.  And here I am, running up to the man who to me looked and acted exactly like what I see Jesus being like – a gentle spirit full of compassion with a radiant face – reaching out to comfort his grieving friend – and as lift my eyes and begin to speak, Patrick blurts out, “You’ve got the most beautiful blue eyes!”  That took all of the drama right out of the story.  Now, whenever I read the story, I see Jesus talking about Martha’s eyes before acknowledging her grief and anger.  But that’s what I needed at that moment.  I was too caught up in the details – the need to make the tears flow, to keep the headpiece on, and say the lines at the right time.  The details had become more important than the message.  Just like Martha in the biblical story…in all the stories we know about Martha, Mary and Lazarus.

I have came to see more and more of myself in Martha.  There was her obsession with order – everything had to be perfect in the house in order to show her hospitality.  There was always something to do – preserving tradition, making a stable home, feeling like she had to do it all herself and being upset with Mary when she didn’t help and went to listen to Jesus.  Being thrown into “stress overdrive” preparing for Jesus’ visit with all the mundane tasks that she thought had to be done.  Feeling the need to be the one to handle all the details, to be responsible, even down to making sure Jesus knew that there would be a foul odor if the tomb was open.  Can you see her wanting to believe that Lazarus could be brought back to life, wanting more time with him, wanting to know Jesus would make everything right, but being concerned over the smell?  Oh, do I see myself in this description.  Do you? 

Here at the end of another season of lent, I see Martha all through my life again.  I see those personality traits coming out stronger and stronger.  I’m getting closer to the valley of the dry bones.  I need these stories again this week to bring my perspective back in line.  Those personality traits that I share with the “other Martha” have come out in full force.  Maybe they have for you, too.  It’s at those times, I have to remind myself that God is the one in control.  That God will work according to God’s time, not mine, and according to God’s desires, not my attempts and wishes to do it my way.  Jesus taught Martha the importance of taking time for reflection and prayer, for being with those you love and enjoying the time you have together, for focusing on God’s priorities.  The lesson for Martha was that there will always be mundane tasks necessary for living and working in this world.  That’s life.  There will always be things that don’t go according to our plans.  That’s life.  But of what value is life if there is no meaning.

In this final week of Lent, I need to be stopped, to bring things back into perspective.  Like how Jesus stops Martha and the people of Bethany by showing them that not only could he heal the sick, which they had no problem believing that he could do, but that he could also raise the dead.  Jesus not only revived Lazarus but Martha and Mary and all the people gathered that day.  We, too, get stuck in the tomb. We get lost in the details of life, obsessed with the busyness.  We travel to the valley of dry bones where Ezekiel went, and see as Ezekiel saw, as all of Israel saw, only dry old bones.  We believe in the mighty power of God and in Jesus, but we still lose our perspective. Let us remember in these final days of Lent to give thanks that God is not yet done with us, that we have the opportunity each and every minute of every day to be revived – to see the light of a new day, a new way, a new perspective.