Authority
I want to zoom in on something I mentioned in closing this Sunday. Leonard Sweet gave me this handy way of thinking through the implications of Jesus stating that all authority has been given unto Him. He said authority, is where we got the word author from. To live in acknowledgement of Jesus’s authority then, is to embrace him as author, not only of your own personal narrative but of that of the world.
It is fascinating to what extent we either allow other, less talented authors or ourselves to author our stories rather than just embracing Jesus as the author. For instance, we sometimes allow our emotions, like anger, jealousy and sadness write our story. We often allow our genes and our age to write our story, finding all kinds of excuses why it cannot be us. We allow money to write our stories. Some people’s lives are one big chase after more money. Nowadays it is quite popular to let some kind of identity feature define and write your story whether it be gender, sexuality or race.
And when we decide to write our own story, we fill it with nouns that makes us feel good about ourselves but doesn’t really make for an inspiring story from the outside. When Jesus authors our story those magical ingredients that makes a story gripping and exciting trickles in. There is surprise, suspense, joy but most importantly, there are verbs. Verbs like to worship, to disciple, to discern, to disciple, to serve, to hope.
This week’s lectionary reading is from Genesis 18 where Abraham and Sarah get visitors that illuminates God’s plan to give a child to them. It is like Abraham and Sarah’s dispositions are juxta positioned. Abraham, during the most uneventful siesta time of the day, notices three strangers, falls over his feet and goes out of his way to be inviting and hospitable. Sarah needs to be asked to join in. She hides behind a tent flap and cynically laughs at the notion of these men being Fed Exes of God’s promises and plans for them. She opts for her age as the author of her storyrather than God. She denies laughing and later, when the promise comes to fruition, she fears being laughed at. The joke is on her.
Are you open and expectant of the God that can show up on unexpected times and places? Do you acknowledge him as the Author of life? Do you co-author expectantly, or do you edit his work with cynical giggles? Do you live of the scraps the scripts of “how it is always done”, old age, fear and convention leaves for vultures? Or do you pick out your best calf in anticipation of a feast with the God of surprising twists and turns with a “all-in” in attitude?