Written by Yun Kim, Pastor of St. Peter’s UMC in Richmond, VA.
YHWH Elohim breathed in ‘ADAM’
“Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being.” – Genesis 2:7
Job 33:4 says, “The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life.”
In the original language of the Bible, niš-maṯ ḥay-yîm means “Breathed the Divine Spirit” in English. In other words, the Spirit of God came into the soul and the soul became alive. This is the story that we intend to convey through the creation story today.
What is required of the earth to become a man? The only one is to fill the spirit of God in the earth. God filled the earth with the Spirit of God and called his name Adam. If you translate the name ‘Adam’ into Korean, it is Sa-Ram (person). In this sense, the filling of the Spirit of God means that a person is truly living as a person.
Ultimately, for a person to be a real human being, one should be filled with the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit, to be truly alive. When we are full of the Holy Spirit, we can function as God intended as God’s creation.
The state of being filled with the Holy Spirit is not a perfect human state of being completely delivered from sin, but a state of having His Spirit and His love so completely that there is no space for sin to intrude. When the Holy Spirit fills us, we are in a state of being a complete human. John Wesley explained that state as Christian Perfection.
In chapter 2 of Gospel of John, the first sign Jesus performed before starting his public life is recorded. What is it? It was changing water into wine. Have you ever thought about why Jesus’ first miracle was changing of water into wine, something that doesn’t seem that impressive? Wouldn’t it have been better if it had been another, more powerful, miracle? For example, a miracle of feeding 5,000 or calming the storm? Wouldn’t it have revealed more clearly that Jesus is Christ? Changing water into wine could be seen as just a visual deception that any magician in the world could do.
This miracle is just like preface to the gospel of John. It reveals what Jesus Christ would do in the days to come. There were 6 water jars used for cleansing ceremony. It was not for cleaning hands and feet for hygiene, but to symbolize forgiveness of sin and to become clean before God and people according to Jewish ceremony. Whenever the chief priest went into the holy place, he had to wash his hands and feet in water from the jar. Only when his sins were washed clean could he face God. So he cleansed the visible body to symbolize the required purity of soul.
In a way, those jars symbolize the outer layer of old religion. It symbolizes those who repeat meaningless act void of life. Many religious people – of Jesus’ time and of ours – have only the outer layers of religion left, but Jesus filled them with the new wine. He breathed the new spirit inside the outer layer of dead religion.
That is the very thing the Lord did for us. To fill the new wine in us who are like a jar that looks like alive but not. He fills the new wine to the top in us who were dysfunctional because we are not alive.
In The Family, a book written by John Bradshaw after he was delivered from the trap of long-term addiction, he wrote, “This starting point assumes the innocence of mankind as children, who have this mental cup waiting to be filled with love, nurture, and acceptance. When the cup is filled with the toxic pollutants of the world, you get people who just react badly.”
In the end our true new life would not come from our effort and will power but what gets filled inside us. I pray that inside of us will be a recurrence of the new creation through death and resurrection of new Adam.
Written by Stephanie Kimec-Parker, Pastor of the Gathering at Scott Memorial United Methodist Church in Virginia Beach, VA.
In Genesis 11:1-9, we see the people have come together to make something great. They are using their intelligence to build a wonderful city, to include a tower so tall, it reaches the heavens. They want to make a name for themselves and are fearful of being scattered abroad.
There are several ways to interpret this passage. Some believe the people were being prideful, trying to be as great as God. Other scholars believe the people were striving for homogeneity, as the word “one” is used 4 times in this passage. Scholars believe the expression “a tower with its top in the heavens” was just a cliche for a tall tower, and that they wanted to be known for building something that would last. God may have been concerned that they were trying to be homogeneous, one people.
We have seen the dangers of homogeneity throughout history and to the present day. When we begin to unpack our split-second reactions to things and people, we are struck by how drawn we are to people who look like us. I attended seminary in Washington D.C. and took the Metro or bus to my classes. It hit me one day that when getting on the metro or bus I would usually sit beside someone who shared my skin color (if there were options). In that split second of looking around and walking towards a seat, my gut reaction was to choose someone who looked like me. I had to start pausing, looking around longer, and deciding to overcome that gut reaction. I had prided myself on being a person who tried to overcome homogeneity, and yet the desire still existed within me.
Jesus came to dwell among us. Jesus brought together different people. Jesus welcomed unlikely disciples to come and follow him. Jesus welcomed women to follow him. Jesus invited the children to come to him and dismissed those who tried to shoo them away. Jesus interacted with the Samaritans, people seen as outsiders, and offered them the living waters of eternal life.
Jesus also came to tell us the good news of God’s kingdom. God’s kingdom is a kingdom of diversity. God’s kingdom is people of different nationalities, ethnicities, and languages coming together to live together with God. All the “isms” that we have created as people to separate us from one other will be torn down. All those barriers we have created to say who isn’t worthy, who doesn’t belong, who isn’t one of us, will be torn down.
God’s kingdom will be a great reversal of the tower. God scattered the people because their drive for homogeneity was so strong. Through Jesus Christ, God will gather the people back together. In the scattering in Genesis 11, God confused the language. We see a foretaste of what is to come in Acts 2 when through the Holy Spirit the people are able to understand the disciples. The disciples were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as the Spirit gave them ability. The people were so amazed!
The reversal of Babel is at hand, God is bringing diverse people together as part of God’s kingdom. When God’s kingdom is fully here, there will be a new heaven and a new earth, no towers will be needed to reach the heavens because heaven will be here. How can we join God in ushering in God’s kingdom of diversity?
Written by Michael Petrin, a professor at The Catholic University of America in Washington, DC.
Genesis 18:1-8:
And the Lord appeared to him by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day. He lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, three men stood in front of him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent door to meet them, and bowed himself to the earth, and said, “My lord, if I have found favor in your sight, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree, while I fetch a morsel of bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.” And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes.” And Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds, and milk, and the calf which he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.
In chapter 18 of Genesis, we find Abraham and Sarah living in a tent by the oaks of Mamre. It’s been about 25 years since the couple first left their home and settled as strangers in the land of Canaan. And it’s been the same number of years since God first promised that he would make of them “a great nation” (Gen. 12:2). So far, however, Abraham and Sarah have been unable to conceive a child, and they know firsthand just how difficult it can be to have faith—just how difficult it can be to trust in the promises of God and to walk in the way of righteousness.
When three strangers show up unexpectedly at their camp, then, we might expect Abraham and Sarah to turn them away. We might expect them to say, “Sorry, we already have enough to deal with right now. You should ask somebody else for help.”
But that’s not what they do. Instead, when Abraham sees the three men, he jumps up from his seat and runs to meet them. He calls himself their “servant,” and he invites them to rest at his camp and wash their feet. He and Sarah also set out a sumptuous feast: cakes baked with fine meal, curds and milk instead of mere water, and the prime meat of a freshly slaughtered calf. After the strangers enjoy the couple’s remarkable hospitality, one of them promises Sarah that she will finally give birth to a son within the year.
Who are these three strangers? And does Abraham know their identity?
The Letter to the Hebrews offers us a preliminary answer to these questions. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers,” the letter says, “for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” (13:2). According to this verse, the strangers to whom Abraham showed hospitality were angels, but he did not know their identity.
Subsequent Christian interpreters have disagreed about precisely which of the strangers were angels. Some, such as Saint Irenaeus, have claimed that two were angels, but that the third was the Son of God himself, whom Christians worship as “Lord” (see Gen. 18:1, 22-33). Others, such as Saint Augustine, have argued that all three of the strangers were angels, but that God’s own presence was made manifest through them.
Christians have thus long understood the visit of the three strangers as a story that teaches us about the very nature of God. According to some, the story prefigures the incarnation of Christ: that wonderful event when the eternal Word of God became flesh and was born into a world that did not know him (John 1:1-18). According to others, the story is an image of the Holy Trinity: the one God who exists as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, an eternal communion of divine love (2 Cor. 13:14). Either way, the story of the three strangers is about more than meets the eye; it is a story that tells us something about who God is.
It is also a story that tells us about our relationship with God. For example, it teaches us that we are able to meet God—to encounter his very presence—in the process of eating a meal. And of course for Christians this happens in a special way at the Lord’s Supper, when we have the chance to share in the body and blood of Christ himself (1 Cor. 10:16). In a way, whenever we eat the bread and drink the cup, we join Abraham in welcoming the divine stranger who is our Lord. This is a lesson that two of the first disciples learned on the road to Emmaus, when they first encountered the risen Christ as a stranger but later recognized him “in the breaking of the bread” (Luke 24:35).
The story of the three strangers also teaches us that we can meet God by performing concrete acts of love in service of other people. Jesus himself offered us a model of this loving service when he washed the feet of his disciples and commanded them to love one another as he had first loved them (John 13:1-35). He also taught us that when we love our neighbor, we actually love God as well—because when we feed the hungry, we feed Christ himself; when we clothe the naked, we clothe Christ himself; and when we welcome strangers, we welcome Christ himself (Matt. 25:34-40).
When we read the story of the three strangers in Genesis 18, therefore, we can find various levels of meaning. We can, of course, learn about Abraham and Sarah’s hospitality, but we can also learn about God’s own nature and about where we can encounter God in our daily lives. As Christians, then, we should follow the example of Abraham and Sarah in being always ready to show hospitality to strangers and thus always ready to welcome God into our hearts. What is more, we shouldn’t forget to thank and praise God for the hospitality that he has shown to us, who have fallen away and become strangers to him through sin. For if “God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8), how can we choose anything but to love him in return?
Written by Taylor Mertins, Pastor of Cokesbury United Methodist Church, Woodbridge, VA.
“But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” – Isaiah 43:1
Election is, often, a dirty word in the church. In our particularly problematic political times we like to keep people happy so we generally avoid talking about politics and partisan ideologies. We encourage people to think for themselves and make their own decisions in regard to such matters.
However, even more divisive than American electoral politics is the church’s struggle to respond to the Doctrine of Election. Put simply – The Doctrine of Election attempts to explain the lengths of God’s sovereignty. Or, perhaps even more simply, it is a theological way to respond to questions like “Why did God allow this/that to happen?”
To talk about election is to take steps into mystery. We, of course, don’t care much for mystery. We like to have answers to all of our questions. We like things being neat and orderly. However, God often hands us the complete opposite. And so, because we like to make order out of chaos, we have disagreed throughout the history of the church about God’s electing work and we now have the great mosaic of denominations rather than “dwelling together in unity.”
Enter Karl Barth. [Karl Barth was a very significant Christian theologian in the middle of the 20th century. He wrote a four-volume work of theology called “Church Dogmatics” that, in many ways, revolutionized the ways that contemporary Christians talk and think about God.]
In II.2 of the Church Dogmatics Barth sets out to define what it is that makes one “elect.” He begins with a general answer about how election is not something to be earned or deserved, but simply is the way that it is. But then, in a profound and rather long excursus, Barth compares the elected and the rejected characters throughout the Old Testament in order to bring home exactly what it means to be elect in Jesus Christ.
Cain and Abel – The difference between the brothers is not based on any prior mark of distinction, but from a decision on God’s behalf concerning them. However, even though Abel is clearly favored and Cain is not, this does not mean that God has abandoned or rejected Cain. Notably, even though Cain killed his brother, God promises to protect Cain’s life. Jacob and Esau – Esau is the older and favorite son of Isaac, but it is Jacob (the little heel grabber) who ultimately receives the birthright and the blessing. However, God does not abandon either of them to their own devices, but promises to bless the world through their offspring.
Rachel and Leah – Jacob loves Rachel more than Leah but Leah is the one the Lord makes fruitful. However, God does not reject Rachel and she, eventually, gives birth to Joseph.
Joseph and his brothers – Joseph is rejected by his brothers and sold off into slavery. However, Joseph is instrumental in the deliverance of God’s people from famine who are then brought into the land of Egypt.
On and on we could go. Barth’s central point is that even though certain figures appear rejected by God, they are, in fact, blessed and intimately involved in God’s great story that culminates in Jesus.
Without them the great narrative simply isn’t possible.
And then, in Jesus, we discover both the elected and the rejected. The Elect Son of God, born for us and among us, is ultimately rejected by us.
He is regaled by the crowds and dismissed by the religious authorities. He is celebrated by the last, least, lost, little, and dead only to be chased out of town for preaching a sermon about himself. He is surrounded by followers who hang on his every word only to be abandoned by all of them when he, himself, hung on the cross.
And yet, how does Jesus choose to use some of his final earthly breaths? “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” We, all of us, deserve rejection. We all choose to do things we know we shouldn’t do, and we all avoid doing things we know we should do. That, in a sense, is what Lent is all about. This liturgical season is focused on considering the condition of our condition.
To borrow an expression of Paul’s: There is nothing good in us.
We, to put it another way, are up the creek without a paddle.
And yet, strangely enough, the elected rejected, Jesus Christ, takes all of our sins, nails them to the cross, and leaves them there forever. Thanks be to God.
Written by Joe Lenow, Rector of St. James’ Episcopal Parish in Lothian, Maryland. Joe is pastor Larry’s son.
Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken. – John 2:19-22
It’s rare, to get a moment like this; a moment when Jesus points to some bit of the world and says explicitly, “This is my Body.” It happens in the Upper Room, on the night he was handed over to suffering and death. It happens here, when Jesus is standing before the Temple of God’s covenant people.
This Body had been awaited by the people of God. They spent decades in the wilderness, moving from place to place, wondering if there would one day come a dwelling of God among them that would bring them rest and peace. It had been anticipated, hazily outlined in the mobile tabernacles that the Israelites would construct in the center of their camps.
This Body was prepared for, purified for worship. It could not be built by David, whose hands were too stained with blood and violence. To enter this world, it required the true peace of Solomon’s Wisdom, and the consent of Mary.
This Body is a place of sacrifice, the site where life is offered over to the Lord for the restoration of God’s covenant with Israel. This life is innocent, spotless; yet in being given, Israel is restored, proven to be faithful. Built on the spot where Abraham was saved from sacrificing his son, this Temple shows us that God will hold nothing back in redeeming us from the power of sin and death: not even God’s very self.
And then all was lost. This Body was cast down, razed to the ground by the empires of the world. Babylon, in its hubris, believed that Nebuchadnezzar was the true king of the world; Rome’s governors believed that this Body’s truth was theirs to judge and dispose of. Not one stone was left on top of another, but each lay silently in the cool earth. No further worship was possible; God had deserted the people.
Yet on the third day, this Body was raised—rebuilt, in even greater glory. For this Temple is the Holy of Holies, the dwelling of God with humanity. In it, the hem of God’s majesty drapes down in our midst, uniting heaven and earth. In this Temple, the luminous darkness of God’s mystery reaches its greatest intensity, hidden in fire and the clouds of smoke and incense rising with our prayers. Here, once a year, we enter into this mystery, and know that even the power of death cannot separate us from the God who has elected us. This Temple is the Seat of Mercy, the Ark of God’s presence, Emmanuel. Here, we come in adoration: falling on our knees; stunned into silence; moved to worship with all the people of God; given a new song to sing, a psalm to raise in the courtyard of this Temple:
Lent is a season of 40 days (not counting Sundays) leading up to Easter. It’s a time when Christians take time to grow in faith, pay more attention to God, and get ourselves ready to tell the sacred story of the death and resurrection of Jesus. In order to help us reflect on the story of Jesus in a new way this Lent, we are offering a different kind of Lenten devotional.
Throughout the season of Lent (beginning on February 17 and going through April 4), we will send you reflections written by a pastor or Christian scholar including Trinity’s own Pastor Hung Su as well as Rev. Dr. Joe Lenow (Pastor Larry’s son). It is being edited by Rev. Brian Johnson, husband of our own Kim Johnson, Trinity”s Communications Consultant.
Our theme this year is “Images of Jesus in the Old Testament.” Each devotional will highlight a place in the Old Testament that serve as “teasers” for Jesus.
Each entry will focus on a story or image from the Old Testament. Stories like God protecting his faithful servants in the fiery furnace or providing manna in the desert; images like the suffering servant from Isaiah or the Paschal Lamb from the Exodus. These devotionals are being shared at churches across Virginia and beyond.
