The Sword That Pierces

Here we stand on this Saturday, suspended between the aftermath of the cross and the anticipation of the resurrection. We stand between the darkness of death and the light of life. Hanging ever so carefully on this precipice of utter despair. We who stand on this side of that gap know exactly how the story ends.

But for the men and women of Jesus’ day, all seemed lost on the singular day that stood between the cross and the empty grave. For the disciples and Jesus’ mother and all those who followed him, how long did those hours stretch in between? How deep did the despair go? What moments did they replay in their minds a hundred times over, reliving their moments of betrayal, reliving their moments of unbearable grief? We spend so much of the Easter season looking to the cross of Christ and him crucified – as we rightly should – but this year, my thoughts seem to bend relentlessly to Mary.

Because it is there at the foot of the cross of Christ where stood a woman who suffered the pangs of birthing the only begotten Son, who wrapped that same child in swaddling clothes, who brushed dirt off the knees of the Son of Man, and who one day would stand beneath the gaze of her son, the Son of God, and watch as he suffered the agony of the crucifixion.

But Mary knew that day would come. It did not catch her by surprise. She had been warned. They had all been warned, but she had been warned long before many of the others.

After the birth of Jesus, and after the proper time of purification according to the Old Testament Law, the family of Mary and Joseph went up to Jerusalem to the temple in order to dedicate the Christ child. It was there in the temple where they encountered Simeon, the man who had been waiting to witness the Lord Jesus with his own eyes. Simeon took the child in his arms, and said, "Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel” (Luke 2:29-32, ESV).

And then Simeon turns to Mary directly and curiously addresses her alone, not Joseph, and says, “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed" (Luke 2:34-35).

The sword in this instance referred to a long Thracian javelin, the same kind David used to cut off the head of Goliath, the giant Philistine, in 1 Samuel 17.

The same kind that would pierce the side of Jesus Christ.

“So the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first, and of the other who had been crucified with him. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water” (John 19:32-34).

And a sword will pierce through your own soul also.

She had been warned.

I can’t help but wonder if those prophetic words of Simeon echoed through her mind as she stood gazing up at her son, hanging there on the cross, his arms stretched wide, his breath growing more and more shallow, his blood dripping to the gravel below.

And then that sword. That awful sword the soldier thrust into her son. How quickly did the years rewind in her mind? How deeply did the pain run through her heart in that very moment?  How quickly did Simeon’s face appear in her mind’s eye, and how loudly could she hear him say, “And a sword will pierce your own soul too”?

Her soul and his side, each pierced in their own way.

But neither Mary nor Christ will be the only ones pierced.

We find our own souls pierced when we encounter the cross of Christ and the Word of God.

How can we not be?

“Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God…” (Ephesians 6:13-17).

The sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

The sword which pierces.

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12).

The prophecy in Luke meets the fulfillment in Jesus in the book of John which meets the present reality and truth in Hebrews.

United by one thing: the Word.

The Word made flesh, who made his dwelling among us (John 1:14), who hung on the cross, who was pierced in the side.

He’s the same Word who turns and pierces our own souls.

So tomorrow – we will celebrate the fact that the sword in the side of our Savior didn’t have the final word.

But may we find our souls pierced time and again with the weight of God’s Word, the sword that is sharpest of all.

The Art of Neighboring

Neighboring can be a curious endeavor. You know, it’s the act of getting to know the people who live around you in your neighborhood. Or in my case with an apartment, it’s a matter of getting to know the people who live above and below and across and beside.

But long before I lived in my current apartment, I had lived in a variety of other locales and settings. I lived 18 years in the middle of a hay field with coyotes and bunny rabbits as my neighbors before moving to mid-Missouri where I acquired 50 sorority women for neighbors. I spent four years living in a sorority house, and in those four years, I had 7 different roommates. I generally didn’t care who I roomed with, so I always got the roommates that nobody else wanted to room with. Trust me, there are no shortage of stories from those years.

I eventually spent some time living in Kenya on a couple of short-terms stints, and that maybe resulted in the first time I had geckos for neighbors. In grad school, I lived next to an elderly gentleman who, quite frankly, just seemed so cranky that I never really bothered to interact with him much.

But I tell you what. Nothing beats the string of neighbors I’ve had in the nearly three years since I moved into my current apartment.

My first conscious memory of a neighbor was of the guy who lived above me. I’m not really sure what it is about the apartment above me, but two things seem to occur relative to that space: 1) nobody ever stays long, and 2) whoever does live there usually has a knack for making a fair amount of noise. I soon learned this particular neighbor was in possession of a particular Christmas decoration. Which played some sort of jingle. On loop.

I wanted to lose my mind. It was like listening to “This Is the Song That Doesn’t End” by Lamp Chop’s.

Christmas eventually came and went, and the tenant moved on along with his decorations. There’s blank space in my memory as to who lived there immediately after him, but eventually a couple moved in.

And let’s just say I was very aware of their love life. Very. So much so there were some nights I used ear plugs or put my headphones in and I still couldn’t drown them out. I was losing sleep because of these people.

I wanted to lose my mind all over again. Some days I would nearly be on the verge of tears out of frustration. And I wasn’t sure what exactly to do about it – I mean, what are my options? Go up to their apartment, knock on the door, introduce myself and say, “Hi, would you mind not having sex all.the.time?!” Yeah, because that’s not at all awkward. I eventually learned in a roundabout way from the maintenance guy the couple got evicted (I’m assuming for reasons other than just having sex all the time).

Then for a brief time a girl moved in, who I did actually get to meet at one point. Very kind. She was fairly quiet and really was only there maybe a few months. I usually wasn’t too aware of her, but I was usually fairly aware of her cat. Yes, her cat. Her cat got what my brother calls “the zoomies.” The zoomies are what happens when an animal acts as if they got injected with a shot of Red Bull and then run around like a bat out of Hades. So, I would often hear this cat zipping around from one side of the apartment to the other, bounding around for patches of time.

And then before too long, she also moved on, and then I got my present neighbor. Who I learned in no time was a fan of classic rock. And by fan, I mean he actually plays the guitar and sings the same songs over and over again. And by playing the guitar, I mean he plugs his electric or bass guitar into an amp, and occasionally throws the bongo drums in for good measure. I have never heard “Proud Mary” so much before in my life. And I swear he played “Don’t Stop Believing” the other night with an instrument (I'm not sure if it was his own voice somewhere up in the falsetto range or if it was an actual instrument) that sounded very much like a kazoo. At 11:00 at night. This past weekend’s repertoire included a duet with a girl, who also doubled as a trumpet player.

I came home from church one Sunday here a couple of weeks ago, and really just wanted to study and get some reading done. In silence. But Mr. Don’t Stop Believing was rocking out on his guitar and didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. After it went on for awhile, I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I thought I’d sit in my car and enjoy the silence of the parking lot. So much for that idea. I could hear him playing from the parking lot. So then I thought I’d drive down to a nearby park, thinking I would find some solitude.

Alas, it was not meant to be.

I drive down to the park, attempting to find the farthest corner I can, away from the crowds. I park my car, roll the windows down, shut the engine off. And what do I hear?

Bagpipes.

Bagpipes!

The world was conspiring against me and my pursuit of silence.

But when I really stop and think about it – my priority should be to form intentional relationships with my neighbors, to become familiar with them and not merely acquaint them with the many noises they make. I need to take time to meet them, learn their names, learn their stories. (Thank you to the book Art of Neighboring for reminding me and encouraging me and convicting me about the necessity of this.) And not with the ulterior motive of coaxing them to live the life of a mime so long as they live above me. My neighbors are people at the end of the day. 

And people matter. 

In all their noisy glory.

Shoot the Bird

God is a God who provides. He has provided innumerable blessings for his children – breath, life, freedom, discipline, health, riches – both physical and spiritual – his Word, his Son, his Spirit. The list is never ending.

But have you ever stopped to think about the one thing he will not provide for?

Sin.

God will never make a provision for sin. 

Never. Not once.

Maybe I should clarify – God will never make a provision for the entrance into sin. He most certainly makes a provision for the way out of sin, and he most certainly makes a provision for the consequences of sin. But he will never ever make a provision for the entrance into sin.

Let me give you an example.

Years ago, I sat around a table with a group of women, and listened as one of the women shared the story of her marriage and subsequent divorce. She had gotten caught up with a man who was psychologically manipulative, sometimes downright demeaning, and harmful in more ways than one. As the story unfolded, she explained how she found herself slowly and seemingly randomly buying small things here and there, things she wouldn’t normally buy or didn’t need to buy. She would buy a brand new coffee maker and stick it in her closet, tucked away. She would buy other small appliances and things and stash them somewhere, unused. Eventually the marriage would come to blows and they divorced.

Everyone sitting around the table was listening intently as this woman went on to explain how grateful she was that God had so faithfully provided for her. She reflected on the time leading up to the divorce, and realized that those somewhat subconscious acts of buying the coffee maker and other items were in fact God’s provision, proof he had cared for her and had made a way for her to get out of the situation.

At the time, I couldn’t place my finger on it, but something about the story felt off. So very off. It nagged me and bothered me, and I always wondered if I should have said something in the moment, but I’m not sure what I would have said anyway.

And then it dawned on me:

She believed God had made a provision for her divorce.

She believed that all those little signs along the way had, in fact, been God paving the path for her to get out of her marriage.

Look, please hear and understand the heart behind this – this is not a commentary on what merits divorce and what does not. There was probably a lot to my friend's story of which I didn't have all the details.  I know there are a lot of divorced people out there, and I know my own family has been deeply and profoundly marked by divorce. I am not writing with the intent to condemn those who have been divorced. That’s not what this is about.  It's merely an example to illustrate a larger truth.

But you do need to hear and understand this – God will never make a provision for your sin or my sin, no matter how we spin it, no matter how we want to dress it up and parade it around. My friend could say all day long how God had provided for her by prompting her to do something as simple as buying a coffee maker so she could have her own ready-made set of appliances after getting a divorce, but she’s fooling herself. That most certainly was not God making a way for her.

What God does provide is a way of escape. 

He will never provide a way in, but he will always provide a way out.

“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Corinthians 10:13, ESV).

I realize now what I should have said in that moment to my friend:

Shoot the bird.

Here’s what I mean by that. (A beloved friend, Jill, shared this illustration with me years ago, who heard it from somebody, who probably heard it from somebody. So, unfortunately, I can’t cite the original source, but may the impact be powerful nevertheless.)

A woman walks into her pastor’s office and plops herself into a chair across from him while he sits at his desk. She begins pouring out all the things that are wrong in her marriage, how unhappy she is, how they’ve been miserable for so long. She said she had been praying about it all, and explains how she had this vision, one she felt was from God. It was of a bird taking flight, its wings spread wide, catching the wind and soaring. She felt like that was God telling her to take flight, that it was okay to leave her husband. She turned to the pastor and asked him what she should do in light of this vision.

His response?

Shoot the bird.

Shoot the bird.

He was effectively saying, “You can call that bird whatever you want, and believe it is some marvelous sign from above, but it most certainly is not proof of God’s permission for you to disobey him and sin. He has provided you a way of escape and that is to shoot.the.bird.”

Friends, we have got to be willing to shoot the bird.

We cannot for one second buy the delusion that God is going to make a way for our poor choices, ones we consciously know are in direct opposition to the boundaries and limitations he has set for us, ones he has made abundantly clear through the truth of his Word.

We have got to be willing to put a bullet in the bird that swoops in and tries to convince us it is okay to live contrary to what we know God has already revealed to us. We have got to be willing to send a few feathers flying and take the means of escape he has provided, whatever that way may be.

God sent his one and only Son, Jesus Christ, to the cross on Calvary and pulled the trigger on the consequences of sin. He most certainly has provided both a way out of sin and a way for the redemption of sin.

But take heed, he never has and never will provide a way into sin.

Be willing to shoot the bird when the time comes.