fpc missoula

expectations…

18 june 09 – megiddo, caeserea maritima, jerusalem (Mark 10.32-45)

the sea of galilee was a beautiful grayish/greenish blue this morning.

the wind gently rustled in the trees and over the water. the birds sang their daily sweet songs, calling out to any who were listening to stop and drink in the beauty of creation. now-familiar faces greeted me with smiles and giggles this morning at breakfast like dear old friends (which they now are).

life so far on this pilgrimage has been one long chance to breathe in deeply…and exhale…to let go of all that weighs us down – the baggage that we carry around for others and ourselves – and to lighten up, relax and refresh in the company of people with a similar calling in life and a similar need to let go.

the mediterranean sea was a beautiful brilliant teal-ish/azure blue this afternoon.

we climbed up the human-made mountain at megiddo and saw ruins of civilizations long gone by…and descended deep into the caves of an aqueduct centuries-old.  we walked the shoreline of caeserea maritima, seeing a palace built by pontius pilate and a basilica erected during the crusades and roman stadiums that once held chariot races that now hold concerts.  we splashed in the waves and shot silly little clips of video (to be seen at a later date… .

and then…

we set our faces towards Jerusalem.

and just like that, our countenance as individuals and as a group changed. the bus got quiet as the new fast friends dozed off or stared pensively out the windows.  we ascended from our place several feet below sea level in galilee towards the Holy City almost 30o0 above it.

what would it be like to actually see the places where Jesus walked on that fateful week of Passion? how could we possibly take in all the thoughts and emotions, the Spirit of such an experience? in what other way could we respond to this upcoming week in Jerusalem except with baffled wonder and overwhelmingly mixed feelings?

our expectations for our journey certainly had turned on a dime.

Jesus and his disciples lived an intentional but fairly slow paced life in the more rural and communal region of galilee for over two years.  the fishing town of capernaum was their home base. they grew to know each other and more fully know the landscape. they had space and time to work and rest, to pray and play.

and then…

Jesus set his face towards Jerusalem.

and just like that, the intensity and pace of his life and the lives of his followers increased drastically.

a ‘triumphal’ entry into Jerusalem, filled with the cheers of the crowds and the tears of the One who would be saviour…a ‘cleansing’ from the temple of greedy merchants who had turned regular business practices into daily thievery of unsuspecting patrons…constant challenges from the religious authorities…a Passover celebration that turned sour with betrayal and denial…an agonizing wrestling match of prayer in a garden…a sudden arrest…a corrupt ‘trial’…a brutal flogging…an exhausting and humiliating journey lugging a crossbeam up a hill…and an excruciating execution at the hands of the people, the humanity that he came to save and redeem.

what were the disciples thinking and feeling as they were rushed from one intense experience to another? how could they possibly understand all that was happening to their Master and Friend? how disappointed were they to see the One they had banked their lives on, the One who had come to bring in God’s Kingdom and all that this meant to them and their people, breathe his last faltering breath with words of forgiveness and victory on his lips?

their expectations for their journey certainly had turned on a shekel.

what are my expectations for this leg of my journey here?

i stood on the balcony of the notre dame of jerusalem centre earlier this evening looking out upon the Holy City…the dome of the rock, the church of the holy sepulchre, the mount of olives. and as the sun was setting, i suddenly heard the amplified melodies and voices of prayer, praises and lamentations from three different cultural and religious traditions – jewish, christian, muslim – simultaneously filling the skies.

i sat with my fellow ‘pilgrims’ in conversation and silence, in prayer and praise, attempting to prepare our hearts for what lies ahead in the coming days.

i walked the narrow streets of the ‘old city’ late at night with my friend, steve, and we wound our way down to the western wall, the ‘wailing wall’ of israel, and heard the many voices singing and chanting and pleading and praying, bodies bowing and dancing, hands raised and folded in reverence, even some talking on cell phones looking as if they were trying to find another way of making contact with the One who knows us and hears us and understands the dreams and desires deep within us.

and i read of the One who came to us not to live up to our expectations, but to transform them, to let go of his expectations and even his life so that his perfect Love might set us free from our expectations and liberate us to live our lives in a way that leads to the liberation of all.

what are MY expectations for this next week?

my expectations – whatever they were – have most certainly turned on a dime and dropped from my clenched fists to the ground to die.

by the power of God’s presence, God’s Spirit, may they become the seeds that fall into the ground and die, and in time, bear the fruit of new vision, new hope, new life…for myself, and hopefully, for ALL.

shalom of Christ to you all,

brian