Words of encouragement and support for those ministering "in the fields."

Covenant, we learned at Annual Meeting, is a road we walk together, bound to one another with flexing ligaments that connect us as we walk together in all God’s ways—known, or to be made known to us.

Covenant, Leomyr de Jesus reminded us, is a love story. It began in that most ancient call to relationship, “I will be your God; you will be my people.”

Covenant, we noted, is a record of commitments made and promises kept. “The Almighty, your God, is a merciful God, and will neither abandon you nor destroy you; the Most High will not forget the covenant with your ancestors…” [Deuteronomy 4: 31]

Jesus says, “The cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” And right about here, when we start with the blood talk, I begin to experience some spiritual queasiness. And when we get into the accounts of Jesus’ torturous death, made more horrific by the awful fear that he has been forsaken by the very One Who’s been striding around the heavens all these ages saying, “I will never abandon you” I’m left gasping to gain some sense of balance on the tightrope of theology. The questions give me vertigo. How is this Good News? Or, as Alan Kelchner might challenge us, how is this news?

Jesus came. In a massive and magnanimous materialization of covenant the Almighty walked around among us, “wasted” time with children, addressed women as full and competent moral agents and theologians, healed the unclean, said outlandish things like you poor folk—you’re blessed; you who make peace are blessed; love one another; love your enemies; you must lose your life to gain life. And Jesus meant it. God meant it.

Jesus’ life was a tornado of covenant, swirling us up to dance with the Most High. A rushing outpouring of love that knew no boundaries; that refused to categorize people as enemy or alien, that sought to liberate all people from their bondage.

Jesus Christ died for us—Jesus Christ dies with us—because he knows us in our pain. He knows us when we feel insignificant, he knows us when we don’t have enough money to buy food at the end of the month and our children are hungry. He knows us when we lose our jobs. He knows us when our households tear apart at their straining seams. He knows us when we face the chilling words, “you have cancer.” He knows us when we sit along in impenetrable isolation after our beloved dies. He knows us. He’s been there. Afflicted and bitter.

Linda Ronstadt’s voice, comes drifting in with Van Morrison’s lyrics, “You give me love, love, love, love, crazy love. And this is crazy love. Extraordinarily nutso. By any rational standard. And this is news. Late-breaking. Just in. Live, not pre-recorded.

“The cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” It is not the covenant of law. It is not chiseled in stone, nor encased in bylaws, but pulses through your body and mine in the diastolic and systolic rhythm that means life. Drink of this cup, Jesus says, drink of this cup that contains my life. Live as I have lived. Collide with the mighty. Collude with the needy. In league and in love with this hodgepodge humanity. It’s the new covenant. It’s good, and it’s news.

                                                                                                                                                             ~ Mary Susan

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