Jason Albertson

Integrating grief into worship is hard, but there are times when it's important for a Christian community to figure out how. 1. I've seen grief verbally acknowledged from a pulpit, then someone leading the service asked the participants to set it aside to enter into worship. This seems better than not acknowledging the grief, but I think it conveys the impression that grief is insignificant, or that the show must go on—that the participants are less important than the ceremony of worship. 2. I've seen someone invite participants to enter into triumphant worship with their grief, to express their faith in the middle of the circumstances. This seems like a better response because it invites participants to meditate on how their worship relates to their grief. It opens up opportunities to recognize Jesus as the resurrection and the life (John 11:23-27). The drawback of 2 is that it can tend toward papering-over grief rather than integrating it. We are often so uncomfortable ...

I used to think suffering comes from God to sculpt away the pieces that aren't part of the design. But I keep seeing pieces falling with scraps of the pattern  still pinned to the material. So I read James again.  He didn't say God sent suffering for good.  He said every suffering could bring about good. I used to think God does only ever all that will bring the greatest good. But I've seen good seeds become dry shoots in the wilderness— burning bushes that are consumed.  Every day, chances to bring about good soar over the plate strike after strike. And I guess, I don't really know what you do, God? Like, what do you do? Mary didn't even get the guest room.  This is the part where I'm supposed to say "Yet I will hope in the God of my salvation." I want to. Tonight, all I've got is "What are you waiting for?" I'm grateful that you notice when the sparrow falls but the sparrow's still broken, right? You noticed Adam and Eve, but t...

Across the canon of Andy Griffith, there’s a type of episode that pops up again and again.  “The Bed Jacket” is an example that illustrates the type. It’s Aunt Bee’s birthday, and she insists that she doesn’t want any frivolous gifts. She’s a Very Sensible Person, after all. Then she sees something frilly that she really wants, and she’s in a bind—she can’t tell Andy and Opie, because that would mean she’s actually not a Very Sensible Person. The usual hijinks ensue, and Andy finally discovers what Bee really wants through one of her friends. He gets her the gift in such a way as not to reveal that he knew she wanted it. She’s happy, and he’s The Good Guy that we all knew he was.  That’s the type of episode I’m thinking of: Andy becomes aware that another person’s self-perception is just plain wrong, and then he bends over backwards to keep them from being confronted with that reality, and therefore he is The Good Guy. The problem-person is usually Barney (e.g., “Andy Saves Ba...

As I read the gospels, I’m amazed by how many people Jesus delivered from suffering, most often from disease or demon-possession. Of course, He warned us that following Him would deliver us into suffering too, especially social suffering (Matt. 5:11-12; John 15:18-25). His example also teaches us that following Him may expose us to spiritual (Matt. 4:1-11) and physical suffering (Matt. 27:26-50). But for the people I know and pray for, His Kingdom doesn’t seem to deliver people from disease and death as often as I would expect. Why? Not for lack of power. I know people who have been touched by His power in unmistakable ways. But why so rarely? In some cases, I think I can tell why. In this stage of history, the one between Creation and the Judgment, God often appears to avoid overpowering people who rebel against Him (Rev. 22:11). That accounts for suffering that comes from people who choose evil.  But what about disease?  Why doesn’t God always heal? There are some standard a...

Matthew 13:24-30 (NET) He told them another parable:  The kingdom of heaven is like a person who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away. When the plants sprouted and bore grain, then the weeds also appeared.  So the slaves of the owner came and said to him, “Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Then where did the weeds come from?”  He said, “An enemy has done this.”  So the slaves replied, “Do you want us to go and gather them?”  But he said, “No, since in gathering the weeds you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At harvest time I will tell the reapers, ‘First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned, but then gather the wheat into my barn.’” Jesus teaches us that  God didn’t intend for there to be evil people. God plans to remove evil people ultimately.  But God often leaves evil people alive, which is for t...

  Frozen II says that calling, loss and ambiguity can all lead to transformation. Calling It’s easiest to see the first, right? That’s Elsa’s arc in this story, as I’ve written before : hear the call, respond with courage, return a changed person—fill a void, but leave one behind too. Loss Loss is harder, I think partly because loss takes your norm but doesn't give you anything in return—if you want a new norm, you have to make it yourself. That’s Anna’s arc in Frozen II . She knows her place in the world: she supports Elsa. They’re an inseparable team, and together, they can face anything. But then they’re not together anymore. When it comes down to it, Elsa’s powers let her go places Anna can’t. Elsa’s path diverges from Anna’s, and Anna has to find her purpose without Elsa as lodestar. Both Elsa and Anna have to push through something to find their purposes (another way to say that: to live in congruity with their identities).  For Elsa, it’s fear of the unknown .  F...

George MacDonald didn’t believe that Jesus’ death on the cross atoned for our sin. [1] I base this claim on MacDonald’s sermon, “Justice,” published in his Unspoken Sermons , vol. 1, 2, and 3. I read from this Project Gutenberg edition. I don’t agree with him about that. But he did have some other ideas that are useful. He was a bit eccentric. According to one scholar, MacDonald esteemed roses so highly that he “seemed to think it unbecoming to speak of them as growing on bushes.” [2] Timothy Larsen, George MacDonald in the Age of Miracles (Grand Rapids: MI, Intervarsity Press), 2018. Read for free from HooplaDigital . Instead, in novels, poems and short stories, he most often describes roses as growing on trees. The trees may be small and crooked, the roses may grow close to the ground, but they’re rose trees, not rose bushes. He’s got one fantastic scene in The Princess and Curdie in which a boy enters a room to find that “on a huge hearth a great fire was burning,...

Victor Frankl was a Jewish neurologist who lived through the Holocaust. To try to save his family and his life, it looks like he did some unethical experimentation on other Jews for the Nazis, but he and his family were eventually imprisoned anyway. His wife and immediate family all died; he survived alone. Frankl was a neurologist and psychologist, a doctor, and while he was in the concentration camps, he observed the people around him. He wanted to know what psychological factors make the difference between life and death when people are at the very limits of pain and suffering. He wrote a book about his experience and his observations, Man's Search for Meaning . He concluded that no matter how much someone suffered, the difference between life and death was whether someone had a purpose for living. Whether someone was living for the day when they could take revenge on the Nazis or whether someone hoped they could somehow lighten someone else's suffering, having a  wh...

When we think about why God may answer prayer with "wait" or "no," a lot of us hear someone in the background of our minds saying, "Get used to this. God usually doesn't answer prayer." That voice might sound like someone you heard growing up. I think that voice isn't right about God. I want to propose another story about why God might say "wait" or "no." Here's my story: God is consistently working for your highest good. He is doing what is wisest and best. Jesus knows what's best for people, and we're often surprised we don't. How come you're not dancing, bro? That's what's Matthew talks about in chapters 12-13. Those chapters are gloomy reading, mostly because the religious leaders did not know (at best) or did not want (at worst) what was best for people. They didn't realize it, but the way they responded to reality didn't match reality. That's what Jesus means when He s...

Jesus has authority over creation such that matter and energy literally obey Him. It seems like Matthew goes to some lengths to establish that. Jesus' authority over creation raises some questions, though. Like, if He can say the word and healing happens, why does so little healing seem to happen quickly? So many times, He seems to wait forever to say the word. Why? There are some good answers and some bad answers, I think. Bad answer 1: Jesus doesn't care anymore. Jesus does care. He knows what it's like (Heb. 2:17; 4:15; 5:2). Compassion moved Him (Matt. 9:36; 14:14; Mark 1:41). Bad answer 2: The Holy Spirit can't heal physically like Jesus could. Healing didn't stop when Jesus ascended to heaven. He still has authority to heal (Acts 3:6-7). Jesus wasn't kidding when He said that it was better for the Holy Spirit to come than for Jesus to stay (John 16:7). Jesus didn't ascend because He was tired of earth—it's His earth. He ascended so th...