November 25, 2012
The Rev. Brian C. Taylor
The Feast of Christ the King

Today we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King. It was introduced into the liturgical calendar by Pope Pius XI in 1925, and soon adopted by Anglicans, Lutherans, and others. The reason this feast was established was to counter the rising tide of nationalism and secularism of that era.  It was a time between world wars, when nationalistic fervor was high; when communists were purging churches and killing clergy; and during the greed and other excesses of the Roaring ’20’s, taking us into the great crash of 1929.

Christ, this feast day proclaimed, is King. Not nations, ideologies, war, pleasure, or money. Christ is King.

And so even though those times are past, today we still sing hymns and heard readings that speak of thrones and dominions, judgment and subjugation, glory and power. To many of us, these images are archaic, even repellant. We’re democratic Americans. It’s a flat world. I want to be personally empowered, not subjugated. Who needs it?

Then, in the gospel reading, Jesus himself comes along - a subversive, paradoxical king. He stands before Pilate, the one who had all the power, glory, and authority of the great Roman Empire. Jesus stands before Pilate. By contrast, he was naked, poor, accused of being a rebel and a heretic - a criminal to both Rome and the Temple.

But he was powerful, with a significant following. So Pilate wants to know if Jesus is going to try to usurp his authority, as the rumors indicate. He asks “Are you, as they say, the King of the Jews?” And Jesus does a remarkable thing. He remains ambiguous. “Maybe you think I am. Maybe the people think I am. But my kingdom, such as it is, is not of this world. My power is not like yours. My power is in testifying to the truth. And the citizens of this unworldly kingdom are those who listen to the truth.” Puzzled, Pilate can only reply “And what is truth?” He thought he knew. He thought it had to do with empire and money and dominance: might is right. But now he’s not so sure.

Jesus did what he did throughout his life. He turned the tables on conventional thinking and values. The last are first, and the first are last. He made us wonder “What is truth? What is true power and authority? On what basis is judgment made?”

Jesus does not answer when Pilate asks “What is truth?” How could he possibly explain it? All he could do was stand there silently before him, testifying to the truth by his very being. All he could do was point to everything he had said and done for the past 3 years of public ministry. His life was truth.

A number of years ago on a study day I decided to skim quickly through the four gospels and jot down phrases that seemed to be characteristic of what Jesus was all about, especially what he taught about being human. It helped to use the Bible I received on my confirmation, one of those old red-letter editions, where Jesus’ words are printed in red.

Afterwards, the phrases on the page formed a kind of mosaic. Standing back from them, a very clear picture emerged: the truth. There it was - the universal truth about life, human experience, happiness, suffering, faith, and God. Later, the phrases became the chapter headings of a book that I eventually published, called Becoming Human: Core Teachings of Jesus.

Some of the phrases were:
Be humble, be real; Purify your heart; Be religious; Don’t be too religious; Help the poor; Don’t worry; Enjoy the feast; Evolve beyond violence; Associate with the wrong sort of people; You can’t earn God’s love; Forgive yourself for being human; Love everybody; Wake up; You can’t do any of this; You will be made new.

Now if you went through this exercise, and I hope you will some day, you’d probably come up with a slightly different list of phrases, but I would hope that viewed from a distance, a similar mosaic of Jesus would reveal itself. Jesus isn’t just whatever. He had a particular character, and he taught some very specific things.

This Christly character and teachings, the church has always proclaimed, is truth. It is what we are made for. And it is what we, as followers of Jesus are to look to as our authority; it is what we are to model our lives after, and it is what we are to try to bring about in the world around us.

Which brings me back to kingship. Jesus’ kingdom is not of this world. Which is why those who want to make this or any other nation a Christian nation are wrong. He didn’t come to take over the local school board or the Congress. He came to testify to the truth, and to spread this truth like a virus throughout humanity.

Jesus also said that everyone who belongs to the truth is a part of this hidden kingdom. Which is why those who want to turn everyone into a church-going Christian are wrong. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice, he said.

Jesus, and by extension, the Christian message, isn’t whatever. But anyone who is Christ-like - who is humble, who helps the poor, who tries to love everybody, who exercises forgiveness and generosity, anyone who wakes up and relies upon the free gift of God’s presence - they belong to the truth and they hear Jesus’ voice. He himself said so.

As followers of Jesus, as the Church, our mission is to testify to the truth. Our mission is to live as Jesus lived, to do what he taught. Our mission is to join with others who may not be of this fold but who nevertheless belong to the truth, and to trust that by the hidden working of the Spirit among all of us, the truth will spread like a virus.

God knows we need this truth. This is a world where different groups are trying to bomb each other into terrified submission. This is a a world where corporations and the obscenely rich use simplistic, manipulative advertising to sway the gullible, so that their selfish interests will prevail. In some ways, things haven’t changed much since the 1920’s, when this feast day was inaugurated. God knows we still need the kingdom of truth to spread like a virus throughout the world.

But you and I need the truth as much as the world does. It’s easy to live by a falsehood, serving values that will, in the end, do us no good. This, again, brings me back to kingship. As Dylan sang many years ago, You’re gonna have to serve somebody. It may be self-interest; it may be fear or ambition, superficial diversion, or trying to get along without conflict; but You’re gonna have to serve somebody. Why not serve Jesus?

If you’re like me, parts of you do, and parts of you don’t. We’re humble at times, prideful at others; compassionate at times, indifferent at others. But the walk of faith takes us further and further into the kingdom that Jesus testified to, into the territory that contains ever more faith and generosity and purity of heart. The walk of faith also takes us into areas we’d rather not examine, habits we’d rather not change, until we surrender them one by one. More and more of our whole self comes under Christ’s gracious rule. We are less divided internally, more unified, as one. And we find that we are not held down by his authority; we are set free.

And so we pray, paraphrasing the Collect of the Day which is appointed for this feast day:

Eternal God of truth, mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, grant that I, that we, who are divided and enslaved in so many ways, may be freed and brought together within that hidden kingdom that our Lord Jesus lived in and taught about. Grant that this kingdom may spread among us and within us like a virus, so that we may be unified in your truth, and that your will may be done on earth, in us, as it is in heaven. Amen. 

St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church   
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Sunday November 21, 2010 Christ the King
Text: Colossians 1: 11-20 / Luke 23: 33-43
Preacher: Christopher McLaren
Theme: Christ plays in 10,000 places

Today we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King - the last Sunday of the Church year. As we come to the end of our yearly cycle and begin to anticipate the coming of Mary’s child and child of God at Bethlehem, we are given an opportunity to consider the deep mystery of Christ in creation and the foolishness of the cross-shattered God.  

Many approach Christ the King Sunday with severe caution. There has simply been too much damage done, in the heady Triumphalism of Christianity throughout history. Too often Empire and conquest found a willing partner in the church baptizing their moral failings with a cocksure sense of God’s blessings on their greed, domination and violence. If celebrating Christ the King means the marriage of coercion and spirituality we would rather pass. We are not interested in a return to crusades and inquisitions or pogroms and genocides.

For women this feast carries with it the sexism of the Christian tradition. We are not so sure about this obviously male, hierarchical, patriarchal holy day.  Jesus was a sensitive guy, liked talking theology with women, and counted them among his disciples. This Jesus we can deal with but thrones and scepters and “yes my Lord” is a little much for democratic Christians, especially those who have suffered in a male dominated world with glass ceilings and much too elusive equality.

In Seminary my history professor playfully suggested that we were all monarchists at heart. I bristled at the idea. But, then again, what do we mean when we say, “Thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Isn’t this an admission that there is a kind of king we’re willing to embrace? And isn’t it a way of saying that the kingdoms of this world are not what they are meant to me? Is this prayer in fact an overtly political prayer, calling down the ways of God in judgment upon our own flawed and failing systems? To pray “Your kingdom come,” is an invitation to see the world as God sees it, not just as it is. It is a way of saying that faith in Jesus is not just simply an idea or an emotion. It is a concrete reality in which we are invited to become part of, to participate in, if we are to become part of the adventure now that God has come into the world in Jesus.  

In our Epistle lesson today Paul wrote to the Christians living in cosmopolitan city of Colosse, a town in what is now modern day Turkey. Paul had never visited this faith community but he is writing to encourage them and to warn them. Paul is writing to counter something akin to Gnosticism in the church at Colosse. Gnosticism was an early theological challenge to Christianity, and for Paul theology was not an intellectual game but a matter of life and death because it had the power to shape the understanding of human life and destiny.

Gnosticism began with two basic assumptions about matter. First, it believed that spirit alone was good and that matter was essentially evil.  Second, it believed that matter was eternal and that the universe was not created out of nothing but rather out of this flawed matter. This way of thinking had several inevitable consequences.

If God was spirit, then he was altogether good and could not possibly work with this evil matter.  Therefore God was not the creator of the world.  God put out a series of emanations, each of which was a little more distant from God until at the end of the series there was an emanation so distant that it could handle matter; and it was this emanation that created the world.

Gnosticism had a significant effect on understanding the person of Jesus.  If matter was altogether evil and if Jesus was the Son of God, then Jesus could not have had a flesh and blood body.  This of course removed Jesus entirely from humanity and made it impossible for him to sympathize with suffering humanity or get anywhere close to them in a saving way.  Now lest you think that that Gnosticism is long gone, I want you to give you an example from my own Gnostic childhood. When I was a child I had a red-letter edition of the bible, where all of the words of Jesus were printed in red. This is a Gnostic idea, that somehow the words, the ideas of Jesus are more important than the actions of Jesus.  What Jesus does in his bodily life is just as important as what he says or teaches.

Ultimately Gnosticism was a highly intellectual way of life and thought. There exited this long chain of emanations between humans and God. Humans must fight their way up this long ladder to God and in order to do that one needed all kinds of secret knowledge and esoteric learning and hidden passwords, and clubhouse handshakes. Consequently the higher realms of spirituality were for an elite few.  This kind of theology was creating a kind of religious aristocracy in Colosse and threatening the hospitality and openness of the emerging church there. So Paul writes his letter to the Colossians. At the center of Paul’s letter encouraging the church at Colosse is a beautiful piece of Liturgical poetry that scholars believe to be an early baptismal hymn to Christ.

In college I had a philosophy professor that one day confessed that although he was an agnostic most of the time, when he sang the great Christian hymns in church he believed while he was singing. To which I responded, then you should sing more often.  Paul knew the power of music and he used it to carry his argument for understanding the saving work of Christ.  

“He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creation:
For in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers – all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.  He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.  (Col. 1:15-20)”

In the face of Gnosticism’s rejection of creation as evil, Christian theology proclaims that the “image of the invisible God” the one in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” is intimately involved with creation. This was and is radical theology, while both Jewish and Greek thinkers had ideas of Wisdom and the Logos as the instrument by which the world came into being and by which it was sustained, no philosopher ever thought of Wisdom or Logos as the goal of creation. But the apostle Paul articulates Christian theology in such a beautiful way that we realize that not only is Christ the King because everything has coming into being “through him” but that creation is also, “for him.” Creation not only belongs to God but also is God’s delight. God continues to be involved with the materiality of the world because he made if for himself.

One of the featured attractions of Gnosticism is that one no longer has to take seriously or to care about the material world, namely things or people. It leads to a strict divide between the spiritual and the material world, the sacred and the secular. If matter is indeed evil and God is spirit, then the whole of creation is devalued. All of a sudden one does not need to take seriously the care of the earth as our home because we are trying to escape it or see it as unrelated to the divine life. Thinking through a Gnostic lens means that the “spiritual needs” of humanity become more important than any physical needs as if the two are not connected. Thus it becomes possible to give a starving person a bible instead of a meal. Gnosticism enables one to push the material world, what you can touch, see, taste and smell into an inferior realm. If we consider our own history, following the Gnostic way the church would never have created hospitals, child labor laws would not have mattered, the abolition of slavery would never have animated our lives, women would not have been given the vote, we would not be trying to honor the bodies of or GLBT brothers and sisters. When you think about it our current conversation about healthcare has strong Gnostic overtones, as only some people’s bodies deserve care, only some bodies are important and worthy of healing.

Ultimately Gnostic theology offers a spirituality without the inconvenience of people we don’t like or who aren’t our kind or who are self-sufficient or don’t seem as enlightened as us. Thus Gnostic strains of spirituality exist almost everywhere. In fact no church is safe from its influence. It is much too easy to believe that having a church full of people just like you is the perfect mix, but Christian spirituality is a bit messier than that, a bit more inclusive, for the arms of Jesus’ are wide open to all of humankind.

But our ancient Christian hymn will have none of this distaste for humanity and materiality. Against the Gnostic assertion that Jesus was not truly flesh and blood, but only temporarily entered a human body to give us the inside story on God and initiate us into the secrets of the spiritual life, Paul uses the powerful phrase, “the first born from the dead” thus proclaiming the messiness of the incarnation, the real humanity of Christ, the word made flesh as God’s full and complete revelation of God himself. Christ is king not only because he has created all that is but because he is also the one who has entered his own creation and suffered in order to save it.  Christian life is not found in spiritual elitism in which only a precious few can obtain the necessary secret knowledge to escape the world. The Christian story is that because God so honored human flesh by entering into it, the spiritual path is to be found in the midst of the human condition and through its dark waters. The spiritual life is not found in trying to escape our humanity but by embracing life as a pilgrimage in the company of the saints and by following the way of Jesus.

For Paul the real proof that Christ is King of the Universe is seen in the everyday lives of those who love him and attempt in their faltering ways to follow the way of Jesus in the sacred ordinary. The only Christ the King anyone will ever see, is the reconciling community that Christ has begun in his followers. We are quite literally, my apologies to the Gnostics, the hands and feet of Jesus. The church, Christ’s body, is a community that is first and foremost a forgiven people, brought into right relationship with God. From this place of deep acceptance and love the people of God are able to demonstrate that the Kingdom has come near. Not in some overbearing hard to take, we’re always right kind of way but rather by shaping themselves into a cruciform people, facing their fears, seeking their own healing and making of themselves the shape of the cross in the way they live for and with each other.

For Paul this hymn is a song of praise for the crucified Christ. It is by the cross, through the self-giving love of Christ that humanity is salvaged and offered a new beginning. It is this mind-bending condescension of God, this wild idea that the maker of heaven and earth could die at the hands of flawed humanity that is the antidote to Gnosticism of any kind.

How is Christ the king?  In love, in forgiving, in showing mercy. How is Christ King? In teaching us to face our fears, to acknowledge our needs, and to accept the generous grace of God filling us up everyday if we are willing to empty ourselves. How is Christ king? In the unexpected way of a suffering servant, through humility not entitlement. Christ is enthroned, but not in kingly raiment with the accoutrements of power. Christ is enthroned in the everyday love and service of humanity. Christ the king is found among the wounded and the lost. Christ the king is standing in the unemployment line. Christ is king in the father struggling to control his anger with his children. Christ the king is in the businessman wrestling with being honest instead of making a killing. Christ the king is in the woman finding her strength to lead in a man’s world with compassion and vision and toughness. Christ the king is reigning everywhere, everywhere the human heart is willing to be filled by the abundance of his grace. Christ plays in 10,000 places.  

The fullness of God was pleased to dwell in Jesus of Nazareth that we too might know the fullness of God in our very lives, not as some fanciful idea but as the life-giving grace of relationship with God that can transform us into people whose lives are shaped by the cross, made cruciform by the stories and life and love of God in Christ. Christ is king when the love and sacrifice and self-giving of the cross invades your life and mine.

The other evening, my son and I were watching the Food Network.  One of the chefs used the old adage - “it is all in the presentation.”  Presentation, first impressions; a lasting opinion can be formed by a first encounter with a restaurant, person or religion.   

Today we celebrate Christ the King.   For those who do not know Jesus, what could be the first impression of using the words Christ and King together?  Some may think of power, oppression or dominance.  For others,  glory, majesty and awe.  

Personally, I think it is an odd word to describe Jesus.   And it seems that Pilate is having the same difficulty calling Christ a King. Who can blame him?  Pilate has everything – status, money and power.  So imagine Pilate’s first impression of this poor and beaten man standing before him.  

This much does not have a home, how can he be a King, where is his Kingdom? Yet what does Pilate really know of this Jesus?  That he challenges judgmental religious authorities, preaches strange things like acceptance, love and this Kingdom that involves God.  But Jesus a King?  What kind of King would walk with the poor? Or touch the sick? What King would eat with outcasts?  Not any King we know of. 

But Pilate only has heard one side of the story.   What he knows is what others have told him.  I doubt if Pilate heard of how comforted those in pain, how Jesus smiled at the outcasts, the way he took little children into his arms and blessed them.  Pilate did not see how Jesus looked into your eyes and said – I love you just the way you are.

No, people took Jesus and used him for their own advantage. Used his words against him,  distorted his message.  They took this beautiful man and battered his body to the point of disfigurement.  The Jesus that is presented to Pilate, made him unrecognizable to the people who follow him.  

When Pilate looks down and asks ‘Are you the King of the Jews? Jesus’ answer is telling, ‘Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?’ In reading this encounter, I not only thought of the Pilate and the Pharisees, I thought of how Christians have presented Jesus to the world?  What do we tell others about him?

Is Jesus a King or a Servant?  Judgmental or asking that we not judge?  Does Jesus accept or condemn?  Include or exclude?  What interpretation of Jesus has been presented to the world? Sadly, there are instances where Jesus has been used for power and oppression.   

We believe that the Church is the body of Christ and it is painful to acknowledge that many have taken that beautiful body, the church, and disfigured it with the beatings of exclusion and condemnation.  To the point that the word – Evangelism, taking the message of Christ to world, now has a negative connotation for many.  

Whose is this Jesus presented to the world when we have supposed Christians picketing at the funerals of fallen soldiers as a way to condemn homosexuality, or Christians allowing injustice to occur in the name of religion, clergy excluding others from Christ table as if one can claim sole ownership of Christ’s body.   Not any Jesus I recognize.

What Jesus is presented to nonbelievers when there are those who spread the Good News by laying out a list of unattainable expectations and then stating that if those expectations are not met,  or worse met and broken, you may suffer eternal fire and damnation.  Now it may be me, but who would want to join that club.  

God is always reaching out to us, reaching out to us in love.  And we have allowed Christianity to be portrayed as a pointed finger rather than as an outstretched hand.
This is important because by pointing a finger you are requiring the other person to do all the work, to change their behavior, to fit into your expectations.  

With an outstretched hand you are required to participate, to help the other, to use your strength and to rely on the strength of others.  God is always reaching out to us.  And the greatest act in the history of this fragile plant is when the divine reached out to the world.  It was reach out to each one of us in the divine plan.  To bring hope and not despair, light and not darkness, love and not hate. That is Christ. 

Pilate did not recognize Christ, and today many would not recognize Jesus.  You know those insignificant instances when we saw him hungry and we fed him, when he was a stranger and we welcomed him, we he was hungry, sick and poor and we reached out and responded, when we reached out and loved.  

We are blessed by the amazing power of God to transform, to overcome the darkness. And for every negative portrayal of Christ to the world, there have been millions of beautiful pictures.  

Like the head of British television, Malcolm Muggeridge.  An affirmed agnostic, until one day, while in India, he watched as Mother Teresa pushed a wheelbarrow carrying a dying man infested with maggots to a Hindu temple.  

Mother Teresa wanted this man to die with dignity.  Surrounded by love and in his own faith tradition. She told Muggeridge that the poor were really Christ presented in a distressing disguise and that we must “do something beautiful for God.” Muggeridge converted to Christianity.

Or of the Anglican nun in Africa, cleaning those dying from the Ebola virus.  The television interviewer stating “I would not do that for a million dollars.”  The nun responding  “neither would I.”   

Millions of instances where Jesus is presented as the individual who becomes a voice for the voiceless, the person who cared for the sick, the one who included those on the margins, the person who fed the poor.   The politician who fought against injustice Christ presented to the world as we know him..  

Now the question becomes – how do we present Christ to the world.   You know those little things like love, forgiveness, and acceptance.  Feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, fighting for justice.  

St. Francis said to preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words. Christ presented in our homes, in how we treat our families, wives, husbands, partners, children.  It can be something as simple as a smile.  It can be over pie in the Parish hall.  

You are presenting Christ to the world in song, or when we bring up cans of food at the offertory.  By teaching the loving and accepting message of Jesus to our children.  You are presenting Christ with just a bit of forgiveness, patience and kindness. It is there that Jesus becomes recognizable in each one of us.  

King, Savior, Messiah, Jesus.  Many words used to present Christ.  When I think of that beautiful message that he preached, the love he represents, there is not a word that can describe him. It just makes me what to follow him.

And when I follow him, I have hope.  It is that hope of Christ that I want to present to the World.   As we begin Advent, remember that in the cold fields of Bethlehem, God presented Jesus with these words:

An angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them. The angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. You will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and singing Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace to all people on earth.  
   
Let’s present that hope, that love, that Christ to the world.

The Feast of Christ the King
November 23, 2008
Matthew 25:31-46

Today is the Feast of Christ the King, which always falls on the last Sunday of our liturgical year. Next Sunday we begin a new year with the season of Advent. As we look back over the last year and forward into the next, we pause to celebrate Christ as our King, our God in human form, our Savior, our Way. 

But what kind of king is this? All too often he has been portrayed as a powerful king seated on a throne in gold-plated cathedrals, a conquering monarch who demands obedience and does not tolerate competition or disloyalty. But this is not who Jesus himself claimed to be. It is not how he acted. It is not the Jesus of the gospel appointed for this day. 

Remember when this king was born outdoors in a stable, into a poor family? Remember when he rode into Jerusalem among the crowds, seated not on a horse with banners flapping and trumpets blaring, but on a humble donkey, with the common people cheering and waving palm branches? Remember on the night before he was arrested, he tenderly washed his disciples feet, saying that he didn’t consider them his servants, but his friends, and that he was, in fact, their servant? Remember when his humiliating death on the cross was later called his “glorification?” What kind of glory, what kind of king is this? 

He is the kind of king who is disguised as the least among us, the one whom everyone sees right through, as if he were invisible. This king is your waiter at the restaurant, the woman who cleans your hotel room, the child in foster care, the man sleeping under the bridge. He is the kind of king that says that his followers, like him, will feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, and care for the prisoner. 

It is easy enough to point to the kinds of things that the friends of this king ought to be doing. Jesus lists examples of servant ministry in the gospel today. What is not so easy is to have the heart of a servant. What is not so easy is to be moved towards humble and selfless service not because we think we should – which never seems to take us very far - but because it is natural for us, because we want to. 

Some seem to be born with this. They learn it from an early age because their parents model it. For many others, it doesn’t come so naturally. We have to learn it. And we learn this not out of duty; rather, it comes to us along the way, as we mature spiritually, as we become more the person that our servant God created us to be. 

Maturing spiritually isn’t really all that different from maturing emotionally, and a big part of this is developing a healthy, secure identity. A weak ego will always be fearful, defending its imagined rights and preferences, hoping to come out on top. A weak self doesn’t have room for others; it can’t afford to be generous; it is too busy protecting and building itself up. A healthy ego isn’t concerned about such things. It can afford to be humble, to serve others. 

Sometimes we think that to develop a healthy ego, all we have to do is list our good qualities and accomplishments and then toast ourselves in the mirror, using Stuart Smalley’s Daily Affirmation “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!” 

Strengthening our sense of self as people of faith is really paradoxical, because it means that we lose the self. “Deny yourself,” Jesus said; “those who lose themselves for my sake will find themselves.” “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” “It is no longer I who live but Christ in me,” wrote St. Paul. 

For us, security is found when we learn that it never was about us, about how good or bad we are. Security is found when we learn how to ask for guidance, try our best, admit our mistakes, and detach from the results of our efforts, leaving it all in the hands of God. Security is found when we are willing to empty ourselves and be a vehicle for whatever the Spirit might do through us. Security is found when we are not concerned about getting what we want, but rather hoping for an outcome that serves God’s purposes, for the benefit of all. 

This is a secure Christian ego, an ego that is empty enough to be filled with God. This is when we have a strong sense of self, knowing that we are a vessel of the Spirit, able to serve others naturally, from the heart. 

The way into this security, unless we were lucky enough to be born into it, is directly through our fear – because it is fear, learned through hard experience, that weakens our ego, that tells us that we must fight for what we want, that we are no good unless we can prove it through success and the esteem of others, that something terrible will happen if we don’t get our way, that others who are different from us are a threat to us, that there isn’t enough to go around, so instead of serving others, we’d better serve ourselves, because no one else will.  

The spiritual path takes us through these fears. The path to glory is not upwards, but downwards, through our darkness. The way of the cross is the way of life. We are called to go downwards, right through the things we are afraid of, holding them up to the light of God, admitting our powerlessness over them, getting help so we don’t have to walk this path alone, coming eventually to the root of our fears, to the place of emptiness. 

This is the Holy of Holies in the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, where only the High Priest could go once a year, a fearsome place that was, astonishingly, an empty room. As we go through our fears into our own Holy of Holies, standing empty before God, we discover a fullness and a strength that is not our own, a sense of self that is no-self. We find that it never was about us; it is about God’s goodness and power. 

I speak in metaphors, because I find it impossible to explain. All I know is that it works. When we face into our fear of being inadequate, vulnerable, different, or not in control of our own future, when we do this in the presence of a loving God and wise friends along the way, emptiness is no longer a threat. It is filled with the light of God. We can stand empty-handed before God, trusting that the invisible power of the Spirit will never disappoint us. And we are led into new life that is not of our own making. 

A mark of that new life is servanthood. Because with the fearful and weak ego out of the way, we are free to do our best, to fail, to be unattached to the results of our efforts, to take ourselves lightly, because we know that it isn’t about us at all. It is about being a vehicle that God can use for the greater good of all. Without a self to build up or protect, there is nothing in the way of serving God’s world. 

This is the glory that Jesus spoke of. This is the kingly power that he exercised. This is true freedom and peace, a peace that all the success and affirmation and security of the world can never give. It is the majesty and splendor of becoming nothing, so that God can be all. This is our natural state because it reflects the character of the One in whose image we are made, God himself. 

Keep in mind that every day, the Creator of heaven and earth, the Almighty and Eternal Holy One, empties himself of heavenly glory and power in order to come down to us, to serve us in concrete and personal ways. Every day, we pray for patience, for insight, for healing, and the Creator of All makes himself small enough and loving enough to hear us, to be gentle with us, to nudge us forward into the light. 

What humility! What self-denial! What an accessible king! God empties himself, coming to us every day as a servant, ready to help us in whatever way we need, just as Jesus washed his friends’ feet and dwelt among the lowly, like an invisible man. 

This is God’s glory, and it is ours, too, as we learn to walk the way of the cross, as we move through our fears and lose the fragile self along the way. It is then that we find ourselves as God made us, with the heart of a servant; for it is God’s own heart that beats in our breast.