Kegs and Eggs... and Jesus?

Is it beer? Is it anti-freeze?
Guessing is half the fun!

by Evan

Saint Patrick's Day is upon us, and in 3 days, York College students will join in the venerable tradition of drinking themselves to the brink of consciousness - and some will drink a bit further. It's an annual ritual that dates back to, well, whenever someone had the bright idea of putting green food-coloring into cheap beer.

Actually, many students have been 'pre-gaming' for a week already, possibly so that their livers will be good and hard by the time the actual day arrives. In fact, many will start with a newer tradition called "Kegs and Eggs," beginning with a hearty breakfast of omelets and oat sodas.

Really, it's just one more pulsating symptom of a collegiate culture that's whole-heartedly committed to a life in pursuit of a particular kind of fun. As more and more young adults become convinced that this is the one and only standard by which to measure the good life, we see campuses devolving into communities of nascent alcoholism, addiction, and escapism. St. Patty's Day offers an excuse get drunk in so spectacular a fashion that friends will be talking about it for weeks, though you yourself will have no memory of it.

What is a Christian to do?

Should good Christian students stand at the fringes, loudly condemning their peers? Maybe they should join in on the pub-crawls as a way to 'show relevance to the culture.' Or (and this is the more frequent response) perhaps the faithful should gather in someone's room for a movie or game night, thanking God that we aren't like those sinners?

What would Jesus do?

In Luke 5, Jesus meets a man named Levi. Levi's a notorious guy in his community. As a tax collector, he's considered a traitor to his people, a collaborator with the enemy, collecting crushing taxes for the occupying army's emperor. He is certainly a despised figure, avoided by the powerful and the poor alike. Oddly, Jesus decides he'd like to befriend Levi. Naturally, Jesus catches some flak for it, but that's okay. Because Levi leaves his lucrative, if unpopular, trade and follows Jesus.

Later, in Luke 19, we meet another treasonous tax-man. When Zacchaeus hears that Jesus is passing through, he decides to have a look. Perhaps Zach had heard about how his low-life colleague Levi had abandoned his post (a move that certainly would have caused waves in the shady tax collection community), or maybe he had heard stories about this controversial and polarizing miracle-worker/heretic. Whatever the reason, Zacchaeus (being extremely short) climbed a tree to get a good look at Jesus as he was coming through. And, before long, Jesus had another tax collecting hooligan for a friend.

You see where this is going... Jesus managed to hang with some pretty unsavory types. He liked them. He went where they lived, he ate their food, he sat on their couches, and he listened to their stories. Jesus loves broken folks, dirty folks, poorly-behaved folks. Why? Because like a doctor making house calls, he's come for the sick.

As a broken, dirty, poorly-behaved dude myself, I'm grateful.

Fast forward 2,000 years to this Thursday. Based on the kind of folks Jesus went out of his way to befriend, where would you see him? Some student friends and I have decided where we're spending our Saint Patrick's Day - How about you?

Missional Church

by Evan

The reflection offered in the bulletin at my church this morning was a fantastic articulation of one of the primary issues facing the church today. Thought I'd share it with you all!

Most traditional evangelical churches still can only win people to Christ who are temperamentally traditional and conservative. But, this is a 'shrinking market.' And eventually evangelical churches ensconced in the declining, remaining enclaves of "Christendom" will have to learn how to become 'missional.' If it does not do that it will decline or die. We don't simply need evangelistic churches, but rather 'missional' churches. - Tim Keller 

I've long felt this tension in the congregations I've visited or participated in. We feel comfortable with one sort of people, so it's easier for us to imagine Jesus as a part of their lives. Thus, the people we build relationships with and eventually invite to follow Christ are the people who look and act just like us. It's resulted in an American evangelicalism that, at times, looks weirdly homogeneous.

Problem is, as Keller puts it, there are only so many 'people like us' around. The question it begs, in the prophetic phrasing of one of my students, is, "Are we just going for the low-hanging fruit?"

Good question. Are we?

Do we love our Jesus? Do we believe he's good? Do we love our neighbors? How about our enemies? Are we lazy in our evangelicalism, or do we choose to live with a mission to a world that's hurting, and getting worse every day? Let us cling to what some might call a 'foolish optimism,' a visionary prayer life, and an imaginative missionalism as we go forth with love as Jesus' ambassadors to the world.

Jesus Brings the Party

by Evan

My wedding was
considerably shorter

Here's a story I read with some of my new friends on campus tonight (from John 2):

A long time ago, there was a wedding. Back then, weddings lasted for days, and there was no guest list – the whole city would show up, along with friends and family from out of town. This particular happy couple had invited their widowed friend and her adult children to come from their home in the next town over.

Near the end of the third day of celebration, though, disaster struck. 

The women’s area was near the wine cellars, so the women noticed the commotion when the wait-staff realized there was no wine left. Perhaps the expected delivery was late, or perhaps the family had failed to accurately judge how much the revelers would drink. Either way, it wouldn't be long before the newly married couple would be exposed to public disgrace. The festivities  had been planned for months, ending earlier than expected would be profoundly insulting.

The widow from the next town over, though, had a thought. She called one of her sons over, and explained the situation. The terrified servers, procrastinating telling the Chief Sommelier about this inexcusable lack of wine, overheard snippets of the terse back-and-forth between the man and his mother. 

The woman, with a twinkle in her eye, turned from her son toward them, saying, “You guys, do whatever he (nodding at her son) tells you to do.” 

The servers maybe thought this random guy knew about a hidden cache of wine. Maybe they thought he had a connection with a vineyard and could get wine quickly. They certainly didn’t expect the directions he gave them. 

“See those stone tanks over there? The ones used for filling the ritual cleansing pool? Fill them with water, and we’ll go from there.”

The servers are faced with a choice: Do they follow the instructions of a total stranger, whose only recommendation comes from his mom (another stranger)? Or do they throw themselves into the tedious and strenuous work of lugging 180 gallons of water up from the well, bucket by bucket? What will they choose?

Well, the "correct" answer is easy if you come from a churched background. We know the stranger is Jesus. We know he is the son of God, and that he always has a plan. We're conditioned to see dilemmas like this as no-brainers. When a random stranger asks you to do something strenuous and, apparently, pointless, you don't do it. But when Jesus asks you to do it, you don't ask questions. Right?

However, the servers never went to Sunday school. They'd never heard a sermon on dropping everything to follow Jesus, and the author of Hebrews hadn't yet written the exhortation to faith as "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen." All they knew was that this party was in jeopardy and, more importantly, the reputation of a family hung in the balance. And this Jesus, otherwise unremarkable in appearance and presentation, had them filling colossal jugs with water. What could that possibly accomplish? As anyone who's been to a truly great wedding reception can tell you, water is no substitute for wine. Let's return to the story...

We can only guess why, but the servers comply with the stranger's direction. They begin the slow, tedious task of lugging water from the well to fill up the stone tanks. And even more surprisingly, they really throw themselves into it. They don't stop until the tanks are filled to the tippy-top. 

Then the stranger gives them a far less strenuous (but terrifically more nerve-wracking) task: "Go to the tanks you just filled with water. Draw some out, and take it to the Sommelier."

Is Jesus off his rocker? Is he trying to get these guys fired? I have no idea why they comply with this request, but I'm glad that they do... What comes next is a miraculous event (which hardly anyone notices).

The servers take the cup to the Chief Sommelier, and give it to him to sample. As he sips, swishes, and swallows, his eyes light up. "This," he tells them, "is the good stuff!" (Can you picture the servers' eyes bugging out in surprise?) He calls the groom aside and, almost playfully, ribs him for holding onto the good wine until now. "Most people serve the great wine first, while everyone's still able to savor it, and serve the cheap stuff after the guests are buzzed. You, on the other hand, saved the top-shelf stuff till now. Sneaky!"

Let Jesus be the sommelierat your next party or function.

Of course the groom has no clue what the Sommelier is talking about (and probably doesn't care) - after all, he just got married! He's not thinking about which wine is served when, so he just rolls with it.  The bride and groom enjoy their celebration uninterrupted. The party continues for another few days, propelled by the massive tanks filled with top-notch wine (the equivalent of over 900 bottles-worth). The city of Cana remains utterly unaware of the nail-biting, behind-the-scenes drama that unfolded that third evening.

Only the servers, the stranger and his traveling buddies, and the stranger's mom know how close their friends, the newlyweds, came to disaster during the happiest week of their life.

Thus, the scriptures tell us, was revealed the glory of Jesus. At a wedding in need. With a miracle that went completely unnoticed (except to those who responded with obedience to Jesus' direction). What does this tell us about him?

I could tell you what we came up with as a small group... but that takes all the fun out of it ;). What strikes you about this story? How do you read it? Post a comment as you reflect, I'd love to hear what you think!

Hanging on the Lawn, Munching the Words of Jesus

Last night at 8:00pm, we hosted our first Large Group meeting of the semester. However, in all honesty, last night at 7:30pm  I suspected it was going to be an epic failure - oh me of little faith! Here was my reasoning:

• Strike One - Our room reservation, which we'd so diligently submitted over the summer, was denied for that night, and that night only, leaving us with no room to meet in.
• Strike Two - We'd already distributed hundreds of fliers and hung up dozens of posters inviting people to join us the afore-mentioned room.
• Strike Three - I discovered that our meeting was scheduled for the very same time-slot as the nationally renowned, often-televised comedian performing in the next building over.

So there I was, half an hour before our very first public event of the year, with no location, no plan, and no clue.

How did God turn it around, you may ask?

Several days ago, I was reading a sermon by A.W. Tozer, in which he discussed St. Matthew's account of the feeding of the 5,000. The situation was such that thousands of people were surrounding Jesus and his disciples, it was dinner time, and the people were hungry. With only a few fish and a few bits of bread, there was no way that Jesus and his friends could feed the crowd. And yet, Jesus commanded the people to sit down on "the green grass," and his disciples to distribute the meager rations to them.

Tozer reflects that part of our calling as the church is to provide "green grass" kinds of places, where people can sit and be fed by Jesus. In fact, there's very little else we can provide - all we have are a few fish, a few bits of bread, and our Jesus.

As I was sitting dejected in front of the Student Union last night, God brought Tozer's reflection to mind - we had so little to offer that night. All the plans we'd made were falling through, but sometimes Jesus doesn't need our carefully orchestrated plans in order to sit some people down and feed them. All we needed to do was find a patch of grass for them to sit on... Jesus would handle the rest.

And so 8:00 found us hanging out on the lawn by the Student Union building, literally sitting on "the green grass," while I simply shared our community's vision for our campus. They sat, freshmen and seniors; transfer students and commuters; engineers and artists; believers and skeptics; the needy, the pharisaic, and the enthusiastic.

It wasn't the plan we'd envisioned for our "Introduction to InterVarsity Extravaganza," but God used the circumstances to bring about an evening that won't soon be forgotten, and an invitation to rely on and partner with him as he calls his far-flung children at York to come home to him.

Hallelujah!