Hugs and Kisses

Then he threw his arms around his brother Benjamin and wept, and Benjamin embraced him, weeping.  And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. (Genesis 45: 14-15a)

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him, and kissed him. (Luke 15:20)

These two short passages of scripture—the first describing the climactic moment of Joseph’s reconciliation with his brothers, the second from Jesus’ parable of the lost son—convey powerful images that evoke a deep emotional response for me, and many folks, to be sure.  They are like the moment of resolution and reconciliation we long for in good "two-hankie" movie, that final scene that brings a lump to your throat and tears to your eyes.

In both passages of scripture, the physical manifestation of forgiveness and reconciliation is found in an  uninhibited embrace (“he threw his arms around him”) and a kiss.  When forgiveness is freely given and gratefully accepted, there is a reuniting, a joining together of two people who have been broken apart.  Arms are wrapped around one another in a tight, warm, never-let-go hug.  Tears are shed.  The beloved is smothered in kisses.  What can feel better than being enfolded in the arms of a parent, a sibling, a partner, or a long-lost friend through reconciliation?

Forgiveness ends the separation … those who were broken apart are tightly held together.

Why, if forgiveness "feels so good," are we often so reluctant to give it?

Those of us who have spent a good deal of time on the planet know that forgiveness is far less often about “the other” than it is about the one who needs to do the forgiving.  Sometimes, we just can't imagine what life would be like without carrying the weighty burden of a grudge.  Around our necks and over our shoulders, we wear the heavy yoke of our anger and bitterness about something someone said or did long ago like slow-moving oxen, lowing to anyone who is in earshot: "Poor me!  I am a victim!  Feel sorry for me! Empathize, dammit!"

We just can't imagine how good it would feel to come out from underneath the weight.

Forgiving others who have wronged us is hard.  Forgiving oneself for something in the past is another thing entirely.

In his book, The Four Agreements, author Don Miguel Ruiz writes:  “The human is the only animal on earth that pays a thousand times for the same mistake.  The rest of the animals pay only once for every mistake they make.  But not us.  We have a powerful memory.  We make a mistake, we judge ourselves, we find ourselves guilty, and we punish ourselves.” 

And we do it again and again.

I remember a powerful television moment from a few years back.  Oprah Winfrey was interviewing a panel of women who had made their ways back from some very dark places in their pasts.  One was a woman who, through a series of very bad choices, had ended up in addiction and prostitution to support her habit.  Though she had emerged from that hell, she was still a hollowed-out shell of a woman.

Oprah sensed something needed to be opened up.  "How do you feel today?" she asked.

"I feel used up.  No matter what I do, I just feel used up."

Oprah, realizing this was a moment of truth for the woman, left her place in the audience and walked to the stage.  She put her hands on the woman's shoulders, very gently, and stood close to her, their faces nearly touching.  "You are not used up," Oprah said.  "I want to hear you say that."

The woman woodenly replied, "I am not used up." 

"No, say it like you believe it."

"I am not used up," the woman replied, this time with more confidence, though still unsure.

Then Oprah said something I've remembered to this day.  "All that happened--all of that is something you did.  That is not who you are.  And when you know better, you do better."

What you did in the past is not who you are.  You could see the woman change physically in that moment…standing taller, she seemed to grow before our eyes.

Yes, forgiveness is hard, especially when it comes to forgiving yourself.  But can you imagine how wonderful it would feel to unburden yourself from the yoke of guilt, shame, and regret over something in your past?

Imagine how it would feel…

…to throw your arms around the 10-year old version of yourself, and be forgiven of an abuse you had no part in inflicting?

…to weep with the 35-year old version of yourself, letting tears of forgiveness wash away the regret for all the missteps you've made as a spouse or parent?

…to smother the "you" of today with tender kisses to welcome you home from the far country of shame and guilt?

Imagine that.

--Scott

Is My Cup a Sippy Cup?

In Genesis 40, we find Joseph in prison.  And as the story evolves,
we meet two new characters, the chief cupbearer and

the chief baker.  Both of whom had offended the king of Egypt and he in turn had put them in prison.  This is when they fell under the care of Joseph.  One night each of them had a dream.  They told their dreams to Joseph and he interpreted the dreams.  Joseph told the cupbearer that he would soon be let out of jail.  "But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of prison"  Joseph said. Genesis 40:14   The chief cupbearer; however, did not remember Joseph; he forgot him. Genesis 40:23

I don't blame the chief cupbearer, we all forget things and people who have influenced our lives.  He wanted to be restored and was eager to regain his duties.  He was a servant to the king and aspired to serve.  According to this story, his specific role was to "put Pharaoh's cup in his hand," and we certainly all want and need our cups in our hands.  Perhaps this was a specific historical occupation of which we're unfamiliar!  But, I daresay the cup of the king was important.  It was so important that a position was created just for the care of this cup.

Interestingly, hundreds of years later, we find Jesus also wanted to discuss the cup of our lives.  And maybe this is our cup for this week of Lent.

Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons [James and John] and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him. 

“What is it you want?” he asked.

She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.” 

“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” 

“We can,” they answered.  Matthew 20:20-22

What does this mean?  What is the implication of Jesus' question, "can you drink the cup I am going to drink?"  In the disciples zealousness they quickly answered, YES.  But...how easy is it to drink the same cup Jesus drank?

Several years ago, Henri Nouwen wrote a beautiful book entitled, Can you Drink the Cup?   Nouwen wrote that the cup that Jesus speaks about is a symbol of life, filled with sorrows and joys that we can hold, lift, and drink as a blessing and a way to salvation.  "Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?" Jesus asks us.   It is the question that will have a different meaning every day of our lives.  Can we embrace fully the sorrows and joys that come to us day after day?  At one moment it might seem so easy to drink the cup, and we give a quick yes to Jesus' question.  Shortly afterwards everything might look and feel quite different, and our whole being might cry out, "No, never!"  We have to let the yes and the no both speak in us so that we can come to know ever more deeply the enormous challenge of Jesus' question. Henri Nouwen, Can you Drink the Cup?

This question from the mother of James and John was one of hope.  She hoped her sons would achieve success which is the heart of every mom.  She didn't realize the full extent of her request.  But the more James, John and you and me learn about Jesus, we learn about being a servant instead of a master.  We learn to love when we'd like to hate.  We learn to seek last place instead of first place.  We learn that drinking His cup is hard.  We learn that being the cupbearer is not important for our own accomplishments but is only important in service to the King.

Years ago, we gathered in Rockport, Texas for a couples weekend and retreat.  The book we studied that weekend was, Can you Drink the Cup? by Nouwen.  We had fun all weekend and had some good talks about our cups.  The final question that Sunday was, "What type of cup do you hold in your life?"

Is it an old cup filled with old, old ways and memories?  Is a cup of newness as you seek all the new ways of our God?  Is it a chipped cup?  Is your cup cracked?  Is it missing a handle?  Is your cup overflowing to others in your life?  Is your cup faded as your life journey has been oh, so long?  We went around the small circle of ten sharing our answers.  And then it was a father's turn to speak.  He and his wife had the youngest children in the group.  This man of God was quiet and reserved most of his comments.  But on this day his answer rattled me...he said, "my cup is a sippy cup.  I can only dare to take small sips as a really big drink would scare me.  And I'm not sure I'm ready for what that would mean."

I agree, my friend.  Often times, I prefer to not even take a drink or at the very most to use a sippy cup.  It's safe.  But He offers us so much more...do we dare to drink?

What type of cup are you holding in your life?

Scandals and Justice, from Genesis to Jesus...to Us

And what does the Lord require of me?  To do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God. (Micah 6:8)

As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, the stories of the Bible teach us more than how to be “holy”—they teach us how to be “human.”  In so doing, they also illuminate themes recurring over the ages into our contemporary society today.

Imagine this story line: a handsome, well-built young rising star in government catches the eye of the First Lady.  Starting with flirtation and then outright seduction, the boss’s wife makes her desires known, literally demanding that he come to bed with her.  When he refuses and runs from the scene, he leaves his coat behind, providing the “smoking gun” the First Lady uses to falsely accuse the young man of rape.  Shouting her claims of violation via the media of the day, she secures her image as a tragic victim and her enraged husband ensures the young man is imprisoned for his crime—justice secured…or justice denied?

Is this an episode of the popular television show, “Scandal?”  It could be, but no—it’s the story of Joseph, taken from the smoldering pages of Genesis 39: 1-20. In today’s vernacular, we would call Joseph’s case a “wrongful conviction” and an example of justice gone awry.

When we hear this story, we might react immediately with, “That’s unfair,” and we should—both for what happened then and what happens now.  Wrongful convictions are nothing new.  In fact, in a justice system designed to be much fairer than the court of Potiphar, wrongful convictions still place people behind bars for crimes they did not commit.  In fact, a study by the University of Michigan School of Law found a higher rate of exoneration for wrongful convictions in 2015 than any other year.  Other studies remind us that people of color, already disproportionately represented in our penal system, constitute the majority of those wrongfully convicted.

OK…you may be thinking that all of these citations are a stretch for a Lenten devotional, but are they?  If we are called to “do justice” as Micah says, the examples of Joseph and those who suffer the same fate today should be a call to us as people of faith to continue to both pray and act: to pray for wisdom and fairness in our justice system, and to act to ensure that the laws that govern our legal proceedings stand up to scrutiny.

Jesus was also wrongfully convicted and paid the ultimate price on our behalf.  Knowing what was ahead for him, Jesus taught the disciples (and us) about a new kind of justice…not the “eye for an eye” justice of the Old Testament[1], which we now call retributive justice, to something completely different: You have heard it was said, “eye for eye and tooth for tooth.”  But I tell you…if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn him the other cheek also (Matthew 5:38-39).

This is a mind-blowing approach to justice and to life, literally.  We cannot wrap our heads around such a proposition!  Our either-or, in-and-out, right-and-wrong, black-and-white mindsets do not allow for this.  Our “software” requires a major update for this teaching of Jesus to work!

And yet do we, as Christians, have any other choice?  Jesus has redefined “justice” for us, from retribution to restoration.  It is far less our task to be concerned with punishment than restoring those who “trespass against us,” starting with forgiveness.

Reflection and Prayer:

Where are you holding on to a desire for retribution rather than a heart for restoration?

Who needs your forgiveness?  Who do you need to forgive in order for you to move on?

How can your prayers and actions serve to do justice in the way that Jesus expressed it?

---

[1] Exodus 21:24

Do you love me too?

 The morning was sunny.  It was early and time for coffee.  The mom lazily walked to the kitchen to begin the breakfast process for her family and guests.  In just a few minutes, her husband joined her.  They bantered softly as to not wake the house.  Soon thereafter, footfalls were heard and their son joined them in the coffee quest.  This son, this broken, recovered son of addiction.  The mom still found herself amazed at his recovery and early morning risings.  She also held secret questions about how it all happened, how it all went wrong for him, how his childhood could have been better.  She had new questions too, but they were far too painful to ask so she simply chose to love.  But on this day, God had other plans.  In the quiet of the kitchen, as the son was casually conversing he asked the parents, "I've been wondering about something.  Is there any thing you'd like to ask me?  Is there any issue you've wanted to share?"  The mom suddenly felt the pull of tears and a lump in her throat.  She suddenly realized that the deep question must now be asked.  With stumbling words and multiple pauses, she asked, "Through all your life, with your struggles, even as a little boy, did you ever feel we loved your sister the most?  Did you ever feel we loved her more than you?"  Tears streamed down her face and her son looked directly into her eyes.

We find Joseph in a similar scene.  

So Joseph went after his brothers and found them near Dothan. But they saw him in the distance, and before he reached them, they plotted to kill him.
“Here comes that dreamer!” they said to each other. “Come now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns and say that a ferocious animal devoured him. Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams.”
When Reuben heard this, he tried to rescue him from their hands. “Let’s not take his life,” he said. “Don’t shed any blood. Throw him into this cistern here in the wilderness, but don’t lay a hand on him.” Reuben said this to rescue him from them and take him back to his father.
So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe—the ornate robe he was wearing— and they took him and threw him into the cistern. The cistern was empty; there was no water in it.
As they sat down to eat their meal, they looked up and saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead. Their camels were loaded with spices, balm and myrrh, and they were on their way to take them down to Egypt.
Judah said to his brothers, “What will we gain if we kill our brother and cover up his blood?  Come, let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites and not lay our hands on him; after all, he is our brother, our own flesh and blood.” His brothers agreed.

The brother's heart's hurt with the pain of not being loved the most, the best, or equally.  In this reading we watch as the brother's hurt hearts take over their brains and actions.  We experience the plotting, the passive-aggressive natures, the jealousy, their desire to be loved ultimately by their father.  And in this reading, I find myself and I find humankind.  For each us is striving to be seen, be heard, be appreciated, be loved.  Aren't we?  

And, I see Jesus.  For He too had a similar journey.  He was sharing Truth as the Son of God.  People didn't want to hear His message.  It made the Pharisees insecure...for if Jesus was the ultimate authority, who were they?  The people would see through their frailty and therefore, their insecurities began to grow.  And they continued to grow, as did fear.  Fear of the unknown.  Fear of not being recognized.  And those emotions festered.  And suddenly, a plot began.  Questions were pondered... how can we trip up this Teacher? How can we prove we're of value?  They decided to lock him up (similar to Joseph's cistern) and teach him a lesson.  They did.  But it was Jesus who taught the final lesson.

Why are we so afraid?  Why are we so fearful?  Why are we jealous of other's success?  Why do we want what others have?  Do we not know that we are loved completely too!  Joseph's brothers were so focused on themselves, as were the Pharisees, that they turned inward and listened to their damaged emotions.  And acted on their damaged, hurt hearts and minds.  

In this Lent season of inward examination, we ask, Lord, do you love me too?  Look directly into His eyes, He's given His ultimate answer.  And it's, yes, yes and yes.  Now, He's asking me...and you, "Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? (John 21).  Lent is certainly a time for inward exploration but it must always lead to outward action.  Outward action in love for only Him.  Let's stop doubting and questioning His love for us and take what He has given us into our work, schools, coffee shops, our very lives.

"Through all your life, with your struggles, even as a little boy, did you ever feel we loved your sister the most?  Did you ever feel we loved her more than you?"  Tears streamed down her face and her son looked directly into her eyes. "No, mama.  Not one time did I ever feel that, never.  I always knew you loved me completely."