Word for the Church: Burning the Roots

I love soccer. We don't have ESPN or other sports networks, so it's not very often that I get to watch the championships, but this time, we signed up for a few free trials of some streaming networks while the UEFA Euro Cup is happening, and we've gotten right up to the finals: Italy v. England, my two favorite teams. I don't know which one I'm going to cheer on in Sunday's game. Oh, the dilemma! What will they do if I can't decide who I like better? ;) (Kidding, kidding.)

Anyway, much as I love watching soccer, the only time I've ever played it myself with any degree of organization was when I was in middle school, and my skill level was middling at best. Why? 

Because I was afraid of getting hurt. I could hear my coach call from the sidelines: "Commit, Tamara!" I'd eye the ball heading right toward me, an easy header... and I'd back away from it. I'd go for Plan B (settle it with my feet), while the opposing team went for Plan A (if she's not going to head the ball, I will).  

I half-committed to doing what needed to be done with the ball, and as a result, I didn't help my team on their way to victory. And so... I got to know the bench really well.

Paul wraps up his discussion of the resurrection of the dead in 1 Corinthians 15:35-58, and because maybe he knew that somewhere down the road some 2,000 years later, there'd be a particular writer who takes great delight in metaphors, he tossed in a few just for her benefit. "But someone may ask, 'How are the dead raised? With what kind of body will they come?' How foolish! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. When you sow, you do not plant the body that will be, but just a seed, perhaps of wheat or of something else. But God gives it a body as He has determined, and to each kind of seed, he gives its own body" (1 Corinthians 15:35-38).

This past year in my kindergarten classroom, each of my students had a chance to plant a bean seed in a clear plastic cup with a little bit of potting soil. When I handed out the seeds, they were white and firm and had no evidence of greenery or life about them. We put them in a moist paper towel, sealed them in a bag, and a few days later, each seed had a tiny shoot growing out of them. Then we planted them in the potting soil along the clear plastic edge of the cup so we could watch them, and the kids were fascinated to see the roots push out of the seed, dig into the soil, and begin a green life-filled stem. 

The seed... died. It shriveled and hardened, and the plant that had emerged from it eventually pushed it from the soil where it decayed and eventually detached.

Paul says: "Same deal." Or rather, according to the NIV, "So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable, it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body" (1 Corinthians 15:42-44).

It was interesting to watch the bean plant. The dead seed didn't stay in the ground. It clung to the plant it had produced for a while... until it had completely dried up and released the plant.

It released the new body to do its thing (produce more seeds). There was a necessary separation there.

Paul hammers down the point: "Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed -- in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: 'Death has been swallowed up in victory.'

"'Where, oh death, is your victory? Where, oh death, is your sting?'" 

Of all things brought to this world by sin, people's greatest fear seems to be... death. We fight against it with all that we have. Think of the myriad safety measures and restrictions and just-in-cases and medical interventions out there... all to keep away "the worst that can happen," death.

I'm not excluded; I abhor flying in airplanes, because my mind always takes me first to the extreme likelihood of plunging out of the sky to a fiery (or watery) death 30,000 feet below. It doesn't mean I've not flown... but I hate it, because why?

Because I'm afraid of getting hurt.

Paul says: "The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!" (1 Corinthians 15:56-57)

I'm going back to two literary examples. You knew I would; I can't help myself. 

First: In Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Aslan the Lion saves the life of Edmund the Traitor because he knew a magic deeper than the White Witch knew. The White Witch knew the law that said a traitor must die unless a willing and innocent volunteer stands in his place. Aslan the Lion knew something more: He knew when that happened, the Stone Table, the altar on which he offered himself in Edmund's place... would break in two, and "death itself would start working backward." 

Before I offer my second literary example, look at this: "Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain" (1 Corinthians 15:58).

That word fully is an adverb and as a writer, I advise steering clear of adverbs for the most part, because they tend to weaken your writing. But here... the word fully holds all the force of an ICBM (Intercontinental Ballistic Missile). 

You can't hold on... and move on... at the same time.

Let me say that again: You can't hold onto your old way of life, your comfort zones, the things that settle you in safety... and grow in the power and strength of the Lord's infilling Holy Spirit.

He, by His very nature, changes you from a dead seed to a living plant.

Second literary example: Remember the movie The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring? (Normally, I recommend books over movies, but there's a scene in the movie that illustrates my point). The nine members of the Fellowship are deep underground in the Mines of Moria, and they're being attacked on all sides by nasty-looking orcs and goblins. At a tense, pivotal point, they find themselves on a steep bridge. On either side of the bridge is a long, long fall into darkness. Their only hope is to reach the other side. 

The ground is shaking as a dark and evil enemy approaches... and the bridge splits right in front of them, and slowly, slowly -- the two sides of the bridge start to tilt away from each other. One jumps the gap, and then another. Some of the Fellowship members are too small and can't make the leap, so a bigger stronger person throws them over the gap (so many spiritual connections to be made here, y'all!). Gimli the Dwarf gets ready to make the leap, but he's a bit too small and the gap is SUPER wide by this point. One of the other members goes to throw him, and he snaps: "Nobody tosses a dwarf!" And despite all odds against making the wide gap, the heavy armor he's wearing, his short stature and all...

He leaves behind one side of the bridge completely, no reservations, no clinging attempts... and he leaps to the other side.

Y'all, I saw a fiery sword this morning in my prayer time, slicing through clinging roots. Where the sword touched, the roots curled and died. We cannot cling to our comfortable places and still demand that the Lord lead us into new life, new growth, new power in the church. We cannot jump the widening gap between our old life and our deepening walk with the Lord.

He's unfolding new horizons for us, church, and we've got to let go of where we were. Green pastures and quiet waters are waiting (Psalm 23:2-3), but we're still stumbling along mountain paths, trying to find the familiar niches we've carved out for ourselves in the rocky cliffs. 

"Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun" (Psalm 37:5-6).

Commitment is hard. It means removal of comfort. It means taking a header in soccer (stop laughing, soccer players; I don't like bashing a hard soccer ball with my head). It means free-jumping from one side of a broken bridge to another. It means letting go of comfort, routine, expectations, deeply-rooted ways of worshiping and serving God...

In order to grow into the new life He has for us. 

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead (not half-heartedly reaching, not putzing my way forward), I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:12-14).

If fear of death, of change -- get this-- fear of resurrection... is all that's keeping us back... drop it right now. We don't fear death, because Jesus has already conquered death. We are alive forever because He lives.

"Where, oh death, is your victory? Where, oh death, is your sting?"

Gone, gone, gone, by the grace and power of the Lord Jesus Christ. Hallelujah!