We live differently when we live in the risen Lord of Heaven and Earth. We act differently. And it’s obvious to those around us. Things of this world don’t matter as much. The fact that Jesus is alive today and reigning in all power and authority at the right hand of God guarantees that we will defeat death, too. And it changes everything. Everything.
“The Resurrection addresses those who insist on protection and security of the individual, institutions, and country. Such persons set up mechanisms of defense along economic, racial, and national lines. In sharp contrast, the life of the Spirit, with its hope in the Resurrection, does not, indeed cannot dwell on preservation of the flesh–personhood, institutions, nations. Rather, the corporate life of the Christian becomes one of risk. A Christian hospital can accept more welfare patients than economically advisable because it knows God’s love for the poor does not depend on its continued existence. Christians can call for total disarmament in the middle of a cold war because they know the future of the world does not depend on the survival of their nation. A Christian can risk his or her life because a Christian knows this life is not the end.” ~ Graydon Snyder, 1992
If we’re promised by God to be raised like Jesus, then we can live like Jesus. You’ve got resurrection power! It’s in you, empowering you to teach, to help others, to encourage, to forgive, to make peace, to sacrifice and serve and love. If you’ve got resurrection power–and you do!–you can be bold and risky in inviting your neighbors to church. You can be bold and risky in giving to Family Promise and volunteering at Mission Agape. You can be bold and risky in denying self and sacrificing self, knowing that the salvation of your soul and the salvation of the whole world is safe in the powerful arms of our God who promises and delivers resurrection.
The resurrection of Jesus is a big deal in the Bible. And it’s a big deal today.
If we’ll embrace the resurrection, if you’ll claim the power of the resurrection as your own, it will change everything. We won’t think twice about our feelings or our fate. You won’t blink when something threatens your reputation or your rights, your status or your popularity. Resurrection power strengthens you to live like our King, to live with our King, and to live in our King, right now today and forever.
May our God overwhelm you today with the peace and grace that comes from our risen Lord. And may he grant you the blessings of an eternal perspective grounded in the resurrection.
I want to share with you a prayer we looked at together at our monthly ministers retreat this week. I’m not sure if this is really a prayer–it seems more like a poem. We prayed it to the Lord, we talked about it, we identified with some of the lines and affirmed all the others. It’s good. It’s very good. I hope it will be a blessing for you.
Prayer for the Future Written by Ken Untener for Cardinal Dearden (commonly known as “The Prayer for St. Oscar Romero”)
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water the seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that provides far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
“The devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.'” ~ Matthew 4:8-10
It’s election season in the United States–tomorrow is Super Tuesday here in Texas–and a whole lot of Christians are losing their minds. And their hearts. And maybe more. I appeal to all followers of Jesus everywhere to remember that we already have a King, he has already come and defeated all our enemies, and he is reigning in all power and glory at the right hand of God. Not only is Christ Jesus our King, but he is our only King. We only have one. And he has made it unmistakably clear how we are to behave. If we act in ways he never acted, if we say things he never said, if we seek power when he never did, if we fight for perceived rights while he willingly laid his down–he’s not really our King. Not really.
“This is how we know we are in him: Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.” ~ 1 John 2:6
I see Christians struggling mightily against flesh and blood, their eyes fixed on the here and now, desperate for worldly power so they can rule an earthly kingdom. I see Christian churches hosting political rallies and selling t-shirts in the lobby proclaiming, “Let’s go, Brandon,” the well-known euphemism for a vulgar and violent profanity aimed at the sitting President.
You know, the same President the Bible tells us to honor. And respect.
Most Christians I know would never stand for that kind of vulgarity to be displayed inside their homes, shared around their workplace, or shouted at a ballgame. But increasingly more Christians are just fine with spewing and promoting and wearing that kind of filth in the context of national politics. To get their guy elected, to get their platforms approved and their laws passed, lots of Christians are using decidedly un-Christian tactics. And they are openly eschewing the ethics of our King Jesus. I used to worry when it was subtle and under the table. Today, though, Christians and Christian leaders are publicly declaring they don’t believe in Jesus or his Way.
The pastor of the biggest Southern Baptist Church in Texas says, “I don’t want somebody who’s going to turn the other cheek. I want the meanest SOB I can find to protect this nation.” In other words, I don’t want Jesus. Salvation for this country has got to come from someone else. And Christians are applauding. If it’s about national politics and “saving” the nation, they’re happy to compartmentalize their discipleship, to fight and cheat, to insult and lie, oblivious to or apathetic toward the obvious hypocrisy that is destroying our Christian witness to the world.
“My Kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight.” ~ John 18:36
It’s not that we don’t know the Scriptures–of course, we do! It’s not that we’re ignorant of who Jesus is and what he came to do and how he came to do it. We all know he came not to condemn the world, but so the world would be saved through him. And we know he did it with love and sacrifice and service, he did it with forgiveness and mercy and peace. Why are the ways of Christ Jesus adequate for destroying the powers of sin and death and Satan for all eternity, but they are not enough to protect us from political opponents?
Christian brothers and sisters, let us all reflect carefully and prayerfully about the ways we are representing our Lord during this election season and what we are communicating about Christianity to a watching world. Many of our loves are disordered. Many of our priorities are misplaced. These things shape us. These actions carry far-reaching consequences. We already have a King. And he has already shown us his Way.
As the ancient baptismal confession states, let us renounce the ways of the world and of the devil, and embrace the Way of our Lord Jesus.
Congratulations on your retirement yesterday after 36-years of congregational ministry, preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Kingdom of God, mainly at the Mesquite Church of Christ and the Decatur Church of Christ. Whatever good things happen for you this week, whatever nice things are said about you–you deserve them all, and more.
I’ve told you before, but I want to put it in writing: I was born and raised in and by the Church–I’ve been listening to sermons since I was nine days old–and you are the very first preacher I ever really HEARD. You are the first preacher I ever truly listened to. The way you connect the dots from Old Testament to New Testament, the way you preach the Bible as the beautiful Story of God and not a book of rules, the way you shape your congregation by focusing on God’s love and mercy, and the way you tenderly bring us along when we need correcting or when the truth is hard to hear–all that had a tremendous impact on me when we moved to Mesquite in the Fall of 1999. You opened my eyes and my heart for the first time to the Good News I thought I already knew.
Everybody has that one preacher they name when they remember the first time they really heard about “grace.” Rick, you are that preacher for me. I thank God for you.
I have many memories of those incredibly formative years at that Mesquite church. That was such an important time for Carrie-Anne and me and directly led to our decision to leave radio and enter full-time congregational ministry. All that started in Mesquite, taking my faith in Christ and my discipleship to him seriously, and your preaching was the catalyst. But, just as important, and inseparable from that, is your life as a follower of Jesus. I know I said some bone-headed things to you back then and did a few bone-headed things. And you showed me such grace and understanding. Over time I learned to pick up on when you were being mistreated by the people you were serving with your heart and soul, which meant I also picked up on how you continued to treat those people with grace and forgiveness and stay faithful to your calling to preach and pastor and lead with love. There were times when it looked like being the preacher at Mesquite was a hard thing to do. And you kept doing it. And you kept loving us and faithfully leading our church. I think about you often and how you showed me and Jason Reeves and countless others how to do this difficult thing. I’m so grateful.
One of my earliest and most vivid memories of you, Rick, is worshiping together on the floor of the convention center at the annual Tulsa Workshop. I think it was the very first Workshop Carrie-Anne and I attended. I don’t know if it was Free Indeed or Keith Lancaster, but we were all singing “You Will Turn.” You and Beverly were one row in front of us and to the left. And when we sang, “You will turn…” you turned! Literally! You spun around! Physically! Your finger was in the air and your were singing and turning with great enthusiasm. When we sang, “…my mourning into dancing,” you danced! Kinda. If that’s what you call it. I was really surprised. Maybe even shocked. After the second time through, I looked back at Jenny who was behind us and to the right, and I pointed at you with my eyes wide open. She raised both eyebrows and smiled real big and nodded and said, “I know!”
I thought, “Who is this guy?” Who is this preacher who is so serious about his faith, so devoted to his walk with Christ, so careful and deliberate with his preaching, but at the same time clapping and singing and dancing during worship?”
That’s Rick Ross. I remember thinking in that moment and all through that weekend that if I were ever dumb enough to go into preaching, that’s exactly the kind of preacher I would want to be. Praise God for Rick Ross.
Well done, brother. You are God’s good and faithful servant. I feel like John Chrysostom when he lamented that his words couldn’t live up to what’s in his heart. I don’t know how to say it, Rick. Your preaching and your life have impacted me and countless others in profound ways for eternity. I wish you the very best of God’s richest blessings of joy and peace. And I pray that you know and feel our Father’s presence with you. And his very good pleasure.
I want to share a few personal observations about the excellent He Gets Us commercial that aired during the Super Bowl on February 11. If you have not seen the commercial… Wait. I know you’ve seen the commercial. I know at least 123.4-million people have seen the commercial and you are one of them. In case you need to view it again before you read my comments or you’re compelled to watch it after reading, here it is:
The ad gives us several beautifully enhanced photographs of different people in a variety of settings adopting the posture of our Savior Jesus Christ, obeying the direct command of our Lord, stooping down and washing someone else’s feet. A police officer washing the feet of a Black man in an urban alley. A White landowner washing the feet of an older Native American. A Pro-Life protester washing the feet of a pregnant girl outside an abortion clinic. An oil man washing the feet of an environmental activist. A White woman washing the feet of her Indian neighbor. A Black woman at a protest over an unidentified issue washing the feet of a counter-protester. A Black and White man sitting together, each with a foot in the same bucket of water, smiling in a post-mutual-foot-washing moment. The ads ends with the dramatic tag-line, the Scriptural, historical, traditional, Christian fact that “Jesus didn’t teach hate; he washed feet.”
Powerful.
Truth.
Genius.
Most people seem to believe this whole two-year campaign is aimed at non-Christians to give them a more realistic view of our King. In dozens of these ads, Jesus is depicted as homeless, as a refugee, as persecuted for his non-conformist actions, as being an outsider in his own community–all of this is true according to the Gospels and are critical facets to the biblical picture of our Lord–to show non-believers that Jesus understands them. He gets us.
But I believe this whole campaign, and particularly this Super Bowl commercial, is aimed at the Christians. It’s a dramatic way to remind us of the identity and the priorities of the King we claim to follow, and to rightly judge those among us who talk and act toward the outsiders, the foreigners, and the marginalized in decidedly un-Christ-like ways.
In almost all the pictures in the ad, it’s very clear who in the photograph has the power and who doesn’t. It’s obvious who’s got the advantages, the rights, the money, and the law. And in those pictures, it’s the person in power who is washing the feet of the one who has no power. These are moving images of people you and I can relate to–pictures of us–setting aside our rights, putting down our megaphones and protest signs, forgetting our claims and beliefs about law or justice or political party platforms long enough to obey our Lord and serve the needs of others. Meet the needs of others. Just like Jesus commanded us to do.
That last night at dinner with his disciples, Jesus got down on his hands and knees and washed their feet. He was their Lord and Teacher, the Gospel says. He was by far the most important person in the room. But he made himself the least important person in the room when he washed their feet. He gave up his power and authority and assumed the posture of a servant. He served. He met needs. He “showed them the full extent of his love,” it says. And when he finished, he said, “Wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”
The commercial is reminding Christians that this is our King and this is his Way. Like Jesus, we are called to reject the ways of the world, to reject the ways of power and authority and threat and division–snap out of it!
Jesus didn’t teach hate; he washed feet.
Most of those getting their feet washed in the commercial are representing, generally, groups of people who have been hurt by Christians and, in a lot of ways, in the name of Christianity. Christian values. Again, generally speaking, these groups have experienced hate from those who claim to be acting out of loyalty to Christian principles and Christian rights. The ad is for Christians, calling us to return to love and grace, forgiveness and mercy, service and peace–the authentic Christians values.
If this ad has anything to say to non-Christians, maybe it’s offering hope that there are still some Christians in America who love and serve and forgive and show mercy in the name and manner of the One we follow. Maybe it could even be an apology on behalf of the King’s subjects.
It’s a wonderful commercial, effective on so many levels at presenting Gospel truth in a compelling way.
And, yet, lots of Christians hate the ad. Predictably, I suppose. Sadly. These Christians, ironically, fail to realize they are not judging the ad, the ad is judging them. Most of those expressing displeasure with the ad fit into the categories of people depicted doing the foot-washing. Evidently, these Christians do not like being portrayed as Jesus-figures of love and service in a world of violence and division. Why do they hate the ad? Because they see themselves as what they know deep down they should be but, because of their misguided loyalties to worldly kingdoms and worldly ways, they can’t.
I know which of the pictures made me flinch. I know which photograph caused me immediate concern and put a big balloon-sized question mark above my raised eyebrows. I know exactly which picture did that to me. It was only one. And it got me. It judged me. It convicted me. It took a couple of minutes, but it corrected me. It reset my priorities. I’m thankful. Praise our Lord.
We don’t judge great art; great art judges us. Your reaction and response to the ad reveals a lot, I think, about you. The Super Bowl ad says Jesus Gets Us. He does. That ad gets us, too.
Our oldest daughter, the precious blue-eyed angel, turned 31 on Saturday (YIKES!) and we celebrated by attending the Dallas Stars game at American Airlines Center. It was supposed to be a surprise but she ruined it about three weeks ago, Whitney was snooping where she shouldn’t have been and discovered something she wasn’t supposed to know. To her everlasting credit, she quickly confessed. But then she spent the next 20 days worrying about which Stars socks she was going to wear to the game.
We got to Dallas Friday evening, early enough to spend some quality time with our youngest daughter Carley and our son-in-law Collin. Mexican food at Christina’s in Lewisville hit the spot and a Saturday birthday brunch at First Watch was exactly what we needed to get us through to the pizza we were planning to eat during first intermission.
It was our first time to see the recently installed Dirk Nowitzki statue outside the AAC. Magnificent. Loyalty never fades away. Perfect.
We splurged for really good seats at the top of the lower level, near the face off circle on the visitors side. Four young men from Canada sitting behind us had flown in Friday from Ontario to watch their Edmonton Oilers. Beauty, eh? The rest of us in our section were Stars fans and we were reminded again why there is nothing in all of sports like NHL hockey. The first period was eerily quiet as 20,000 people almost silently watch the two teams size each other up. The whole crowd is locked in. Nobody moves. Everybody’s eyes are on the ice. The anticipation is building. It’s really remarkable. Then the explosion of six goals scored in the wild second period had us on that roller coaster. Dallas up 1-0, then gives up the equalizer in about 40-seconds. Dallas down 2-1 and then ties it up on a power play goal. It’s 3-3 heading to the final period. Dallas killed off a crazy five-on-three power play late in the third, and it felt like Game Seven of the Conference Finals. The whole place was going nuts, you couldn’t hear yourself think. The Stars hit the post twice on shots at the other end, and wound up going to overtime. Less than 30-seconds into the extra frame, Wyatt Johnston got out of position and was whistled on a very tickey-tack hooking penalty. Edmonton went on the power play and, seven seconds later, it was over. Edmonton won it 4-3.
Hockey is the only sport that gives you a true sudden death overtime. And it always feels like death when you’re on the losing end. It’s so sudden. That arena instantly went from a million decibels to zero. In a flash. The whole thing is a three-hour heart attack.
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