Christmas:

My congregation and her friends and family celebrate with a Lessons and Carols service that follows the story of salvation through scripture and enhances the readings with anthems and carols. It's a story that can be a bit dense and hard to understand, especially when you pull out 9 short passages of a 66 book compilation of the human experience of God at work.

But it's just this weird story that is life changing, world changing. It's a story of God's grace; God creates, loves, and works for our reconciliation with God and each other simply because of God's great love for us, not for anything we do or are. We are beloved. Period.

Ponder this Christmas morning the power of those words. We are the beloved children of God. Period. Imagine if each of us lived fully into that love, and treated each other like we are beloved children of God. Imagine....

And the love part...God's love is not a syrupy, saccharine Hallmark expression. God's love works hard. It learns and works for the welfare through concrete actions.

And that's the story. Text after text of God's work to love God's people. Promises enacted. Promises for the future.

That's the weird little story we celebrate today. The world is busy celebrating the perfect gift, table setting, wine, tradition....Perhaps less confusing and obtuse, just look at Pinterest and you know what it's supposed to look like. Fun? sure. Memorable? likely. But life-changing? world-changing?

Do I live this story perfectly...not even close. But this is the story I choose to be shaped by. This is the story I'll struggle with until it makes some sense.

This is the story that makes Christmas truly Merry....

We are beloved Children of God. Period.

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. God's love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that God loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us...

God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. (verses from today's reading, 1 John 4:7-16) 

Advent: The Light...

My house is quiet. Kids safely arrived in the middle of the night. Unlike the wise men, they entered the house with no fanfare...didn't even rouse the dog. The gospel of Matthew assures Joseph that the birth is God's plan. The prophet Isaiah proclaims the hope of God's people.

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn...

Always, I'm pensive at the beginning of the end of this season. I thought yesterday as we finished the gifts and went to the grocery for the umpteenth time how lucky we are to be able to do this. How do you celebrate Christmas when you struggle to keep a roof over your head, struggle to feed your children, struggle to rebuild after floods or fire, struggle to live through cancer.

The quiet, dark house allows the thoughts. I'll lose this soon enough. Once all are up and around, the questions give way to the conversations and the cooking and the worship and the gift-giving and receiving.

But this morning I live where the people of God have lived for so very long. It's dark outside and I am waiting for the light. I know it is coming. It came yesterday. It will come again. Even in the darkness here, the light shines on the other side of the world.

Today it's my job to bring shalom to my family, to speak a word of hope and comfort to the gathered worship assembly. Today it's my job to watch for God at work, to see God's promises revealed, to trust that some day, all will live in the light.

Tomorrow, I work to bring that light to bear in the places I am put, in the things I can do, in the way I live and breathe. Fortunately, I don't have to save the world. That's been done. But there's work for me. For you. For us all.

Be not afraid...

Arise, shine, for your light has come...

Trust God at work...

Advent: What?

Two days before Christmas. One of the gifts I ordered came shipped with new grill guts that I had to buy. Can we just say, Amazon, that shipping crystal glasses with grill guts leaves a funny jingling sound in the box.

I say this because I have nothing to say about the scripture. Even with a "seeing" prompt, it's all weird. Psalm 50 is a nice picture of God's kingdom. Jeremiah 31 is the same thing. Galatians is Paul's riff on the law, which I think, perhaps, he wrote two days before Christmas when he had a million things on his mind and his editor was on vacation. His verbal gymnastics make no sense to me there. And then the gospel reading is the genealogy in Matthew.

And God must still be asleep, because despite a prayer for illumination, I don't see anything.

So, I will do what all practicers of the faith do at many points in their journey. I will have a second cup of coffee, start my day, say my prayers, and know that seeing will come another time, another place. I have the wonderings from these small puzzle pieces of scripture that fit together in a larger story, but I'll have to shake the box of shards for awhile...

Advent: I See........

The line in this familiar story "Fear came over all their neighbors..." caught my eye. Elizabeth has her baby, names him John. People can't believe it. No one in their family is named John. Zechariah (mute, as you'll remember) writes the name on a tablet. John. His "mouth was opened" and he could talk again...he began praising God.

Fear came over the neighbors.

This is weird. They've never acted like that before. Old age...it's not pretty.

I guess I've always paid attention to Elizabeth and Zechariah and their joy. Today I see the neighbors--and the 24 hour news cycle.

Fear came over all their neighbors, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. All who heard them pondered them and said, "What then will this child become?" 

Poor kid...nutty parents...old...beyond sense. The gospel writer softens it with a final "For, indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him." Right...they can say that for the baby. But most of us know how John grew up...eating locusts and wild honey, wearing camel hair, doing nothing decently and in order.

"'What will this child become? ' Hmmmmm....I see." I can hear the neighbors now.

We think we know...especially if fear is in the mix. Fear demands a decision, a judgment. Keep ourselves safe from the different, the weird, even the God-stuff that is out of the box. Take no chances...for what will this child become?

Maybe that's why it is so difficult to "see" the road of faith to travel as the people of God. Maybe that's why the angel's first words are "fear not." Maybe that's the Advent challenge to seeing the in-breaking of God...no fear.

Hmmmm...I see...

Advent: Well-being for All

Shalom is what the psalmist prays for in Psalm 122. Shalom, well-being in every aspect of life. We translate it "peace" in English, but we lose much of the meaning.

Jerusalem is both the actual city, and the future hope that rests in God calling all cities to be "his." Jerusalem, literal and metaphorical, is the destination of God's people, living in a city ruled by God, under God's judgement, where God lives.

"Seeing" is the theme of our last few days of Advent and this psalmist "sees" in Jerusalem the shalom that is our hope.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:

"May they prosper who love you.

Peace be within your walls,

and security within your towers.”

For the sake of my relatives and friends

I will say, “Peace be within you.”

For the sake of the house of the LORD our God,

I will seek your good.

The prayer is for peace. But the psalmist doesn't stop there. Prayer becomes seen...enacted.

For the sake of relatives and friends, I will say "Peace be within you." For the sake of the house of the LORD, I will seek your good.

Well-being for all. Then the kingdom of God is seen.

I imagined re-creating one of our political debates in this column this morning, only having the participants say things like, "well, even though I like my tax cuts, for the sake of the house of the LORD, I will seek your good."

Sigh.

But I will say this to you. For the sake of the LORD, I will seek your good...your shalom. And I will pray that you will do that for the next person so that we are "bound firmly together."

That would be something to see!

Advent: The Art of Seeing

Seeing with God eyes is an art. Usually it has to be cultivated to strengthen. If you think about us all drawing pictures as children, then gradually letting our joyful art eyes go as we begin to think we weren't very good, or weren't as good as others, or were terrible, then you know what can happen to our God-eyes as well.

Seeing God at work usually means looking at small things, insignificant things, typical things. We strive to see God at work in the massive, the magnificent, the majestic. God, of course, can be at work there...but usually is somewhere else.

Hannah's song is the reading from 1 Samuel 2 this morning. Hannah finds herself pregnant after years of barrenness and being made fun of and excluded. Her song sings what she sees with God-eyes. It celebrates the good news of turning the world on its head, of raising up those who have been kept down and putting those who have become their own gods in their place. God is not at work in the priest in this story, but in the pathetic, barren woman praying in the temple. Her son will be one of the greatest priest/prophets in the kingdom...but who would know to look there?

The gospel is the story of the angel, Gabriel, coming to Mary to announce her pregnancy. It will accomplish the same and soon Mary will sing Hannah's song--literally. God isn't working to change the world through the Roman emperor. God brings change through the peasant girl, her carpenter husband, and a baby who never loses his God-eyes.

Seeing God at work requires letting go of the expected, the always-dones, the we can'ts. It takes practice. And faith.

Glasses are not required.

Advent: Celebrate, Darn Ya...

In Luke 1 we get the story of Gabriel's announcement to Zechariah that he will be a father.

Yeah, Gabriel. The Angel. And father--with an old, barren, wife.

That's just a regular day at work.

Zechariah went into the temple sanctuary a regular priest and came out with a vision and a promise. But no voice. Because when confronted with amazing, good news, he launched into practicalities and a demand for guarantees. "How will I know this is so? We're old..."

I can imagine Gabriel is almost left speechless by what comes out of his mouth next. "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God and have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news." Really, you dumb priest? You come in here to offer incense to the Holy One in expectation of miraculous work, of a word from God, of hope for your future. And today, you get it, and you question, you doubt, you move the mighty works of God into the can't-be-done-because-it's-never-been-done.

Gabriel would definitely go on...even if just in his head. "You should be celebrating! God is working toward your salvation. Your "next chance" is coming from an unexpected place, but you know God. God provides through the unexpected. Just let go of what you think you know, dude. Just look around and do a little celebrating at what you have been given."

I have to wonder what we miss, especially as the people of God, because we have narrow expectations, or have to be practical when God is offering us risk and reward, or because our "next chance" might demand us to look at what is and not what is expected.

Zechariah walked out muted. No one could hear the good news he had to proclaim.

How many times do we complain our good news cannot be heard? Perhaps an angel has handed us good news and is watching us ignore it. Perhaps the angel is standing there saying "Celebrate, darn ya...God is here and working. You just can't see it."

Advent: Through All Generations

The author of Psalm 102 is seriously ill, or that's what I take from the language. He/she could also be grieving. Grief often makes us feel like we will die. Whatever is the case, the language is dramatic: bones burning like a furnace, too wasted to eat bread, loud groaning, bones clinging to skin.

But...

The author interrupts great suffering with a sure foundation:

You, O LORD, are enthroned forever; your name endures to all generations.

Twice in the course of the lament, God's eternal presence, strength, and work are celebrated. It is simple to say--that is faith.

It is not simple to do.

Whatever the horrible is in our lives, can we sing the endurance of God's love to all generations? Can we worship through our tears? Can we continue to walk in the gift of community that God has given us? It's quite the contrast with another passage of the day, the story of the fall in Genesis where the first inkling of trouble results in finger pointing and blaming and shame.

You, O LORD, are enthroned forever; you name endures to all generations.

That's really how I want to live. Perhaps I'll start with the refrain every time I see/hear/read something political...

Advent: Celebration to Come...

John is still in the throne room, weeping bitterly at one point because their is a scroll to be opened and no one worthy to open it--until, of course, Jesus enters. No surprise there. (Read it here.) During all the activity around the scroll, the elders are still celebrating...still praising. The story of the great cosmic battle between good and evil is yet to come, but celebration of the reality of the outcome still happen.

We read Psalms of deliverance and thanksgiving for deliverance in the same way. There is much celebration of the "end" when God's power is finally in charge--even in the "durings" when we can't see it like we want.

Frankly, all the apocalyptic readings this morning have me in the exact same boat. I just need to celebrate through it. The end will come...

Advent: What Must Take Place

Back to the weirdness of Revelation. I wrote a piece at work yesterday on the sovereignty of God, certainly something to celebrate. This image from John's Revelation is just that. You really have to read it:

After this I looked, and there in heaven a door stood open! And the first voce, which I had heard speaking to me like a trumpet, said, "Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this." At once I was in the spirit, and there in heaven stood a throne, with one seated on the throne! And the one seated there looks like jasper and carnelian, and around the throne is a rainbow that looks like an emerald. Around the throne are twenty-four thrones, and seated on the thrones are twenty-four elders, dressed in white robes, with golden crowns on their heads. Coming from the throne are flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder, and in front of the throne burn seven flaming torches, which are the seven spirits of God; and in front of the throne there is something like a sea of glass, like crystal.

Around the throne, and on each side of the throne, are four living creatures, full of eyes in front and behind: the first living creature like a lion, the second living creature like an ox, the third living creature with a face like a human face, and the fourth living creature like a flying eagle. And the four living creatures, each of them with six wings, are full of eyes all around and inside. Day and night without ceasing they sing, "Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come."  (Rev. 4:1-8) 

So here is John, in the midst of no-way-God-is-in-charge-of-the-world circumstances, and he sees the "reality" of what is not usually seen. God is on the throne. God's glory is beyond what any human ruler could imagine or gather together. And God's praises are sung without ceasing.

Frankly, watching who is sitting on earthly "thrones" and who is running for the closest "throne" makes me celebrate the reality of God in charge.  "Come up here and I will show you what must take place after this."

Insert sigh of relief here. Then celebrate.

Advent: The Words of the Amen

Revelation 3:14-22...at first glance, not much of a celebration. But, that is why reading, sometimes, with a theme in mind makes you think twice, dig deeper.

The church at Laodicean is in trouble because they are celebrating. They are just celebrating the wrong thing. They celebrate their wealth, their prosperity, their lack of need. All the things they have earned by themselves, all the accomplishment they have achieved on their own, all their successes--they celebrate.

No mincing of words here. "You do not realize you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked." That should stir some folks up. What on earth does God mean? All you have to do is look around and see how well we are doing!

Jesus insists. The gold you need is mine. The white robes of purity, mine. The salve to anoint your eyes, from me. Remember this is all symbolic to the readers. Jesus wants a recognition that things of value are from God, not from our own efforts. I have a friend reading about the origins of the Moody Bible Institute in an American context that the movers and shakers at the top of society who held most of the wealth wanted a way to control the workers at the bottom. "Pull yourselves up by your bootstraps," was the plan. It would work for a few. Those could be held up as examples to the rest. And if you couldn't get to success, suddenly it was your own fault.

And Jesus stood over those celebrating their wealth and achievement and said, "You do not realize that your are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked." Celebrate the shalom that brings all to the table, that shares the resources, that credits God for the bounty instead of your own brilliance. Make it possible for all to come into the kingdom.

I think it's not a celebration until everyone is celebrating. Jesus says "I am standing at the door knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me." As those of us with wealth are congratulating ourselves on our accomplishments, we look at the poor and the struggling and we say, "Jesus is standing there knocking. Why don't you come in?" But Jesus is knocking for us. We are so busy celebrating our wealth and prosperity, we're missing the banquet in the Kingdom. It's not a celebration until all are celebrating.

"The words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the origin of God's creation..." offer the true re-distribution of wealth. It's not about worldly riches, people--Jesus says. It's about discipleship that comes from God. And when you are celebrating God's gifts, no one gets left behind struggling with their boot-straps.

Advent: Just Do it...

What would we do without Nike's slogan to riff from...

Reading Psalm 145 out of the daily lectionary is a daily celebration. Literally. It's in there every day.

It's a good thing, really. I don't read it every day, but I probably should because I should be reminded to celebrate every day. The verbs get me...

Extol, bless, laud, declare, meditate, proclaim, celebrate, sing...

From one generation to the next, we celebrate our God.

Much recent research around gratitude has been published. Apparently, those of us who live in an active practice of gratitude are healthier and happier. Pausing daily to recount what you are grateful for makes a physical and mental difference in our health and well-being. In a culture that constantly reminds us of what we want that we don't have, what is broken, what is scary, what is depressing...it's pretty hard to stay focused on gratitude.

Celebrate in the darkness of Advent. While we are waiting, be grateful. Use those verbs. Consider the very character of God: gracious, merciful, abounding in steadfast love, good to all, compassionate. Be aware of what God does: upholds the falling, raises the bowed down, provides food, watches over us.

Even in the best of situations, its too easy to forget to be grateful. Sometimes in the worst of times, it never crosses our minds. I think I'm seeing the value in the daily lectionary's choice to include it every day.

Being grateful is a celebration of what we have been given. Which brings us full circle...

Just do it.

Advent: Celebrating

As we continue to watch for God at work, we enter a week that we celebrate. We start with Amos, finally--good news in Amos.

"On that day," God says. "On that day I will raise up the booth of David that is fallen, and repair its breaches, and raise up its ruins, and rebuild it as in the days of old." On that day the healing starts, on that day the promise is good.

I am always so relieved to get to this part of Amos that I tend to forget what goes before. Usually, I don't read the book straight through...it's lectionary or devotional reading, so this gets separated from the "punishment" phase. And how quickly we forget that this promise comes in the darkest of dark. "...the booth of David...is fallen..."

And "that day" is coming, life is still in ruins, in shambles. But "that day" is coming. And we celebrate because we have seen God's faithfulness in the past, and we trust God's faithfulness will be seen again.

And the "will be seen" is important. God's faithfulness never goes away, but often we don't see it, especially when we are being corrected, when we are suffering. Part of the journey of the mature disciple is learning to trust God's faithfulness when it is unseen.

So the Advent pattern of worship and study helps us practice living in to this. We walk through darkness together, seeing the judgment, seeing the darkness of our situation. We watch for the coming of our redemption, the coming of the Kingdom. And now we celebrate.

We are still in the darkness. We are waiting for the in-breaking. But we are celebrating the reality.

God is present. God is at work. God will raise us up "on that day." God is raising us up today and every day.

It's a promise.

It's our promise.

Advent: The Last Hope

Last because it is Saturday and tomorrow the theme changes.

Last because Jesus talks about the end times in this passage from Matthew. Granted, the passage reflects a conventional understanding of "end times"...a time of suffering that happens before the "messianic age." At one point, Jews believed that a human ruler could come back to the throne of David, re-establish Israel as a nation, and bring peace and prosperity to the entire world. Reformed Judaism understands this will be God's work more than the work of a human.

Regardless, this passage is easy for me to ignore if it is about end times. That is just so far out of my daily routine that I don't even think about it. But if I hear it in the "today," I hear hope. "The one who endures to the end will be delivered. The gospel of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the world as a testimony to all the nations."

The hope I hear is for today. "Keep the faith," my grandmother would say. I think the best thing I can do for the kingdom is live faithfully today, even in the midst of the inevitable chaos and destruction that humans don't seem to be able to avoid. That is the best witness I can offer. But that may be what proclaims the kingdom.

I hope that will proclaim the kingdom. I've proclaimed plenty to my elected representatives recently. Protecting the poor and at-risk, the refugee, providing for all people ...these are the thing the prophets have been calling us to. This is what it means to bring in the Kingdom--which, of course, will be God's work. But a little endurance (which I take as working on the kingdom even when the world doesn't seem to hold those values at all) can't hurt.

From who we vote for to how we treat our neighbor, we are called again to the love God, love neighbor thing. In a nutshell, that is our hope.

Advent: Hope in Darkness

Psalm 102 is one of  my favorites. Somewhere deep in very dark times, the writer of this Psalm seeks hope. The Psalm dances back and forth between the psalmist's trouble and the character and power of God. Nothing is resolved, but in the struggle, the psalmist looks forward to what God is expected to do and backward to God's work in laying the foundation of the earth and heavens.

That seems to provide the hope needed to travel through the darkness. Frederick Buechner says, "The Psalmists doesn't try to explain evil. He doesn't try to minimize evil. He simply says he will not fear evil." This psalmist, in fact, assumes the trouble experienced is under the power of almighty God.

How different from the conversation today where we spin our wheels trying to find the cause of evil, pointing fingers in blame, assuming evil can be eliminated if we do the right things or have the right leaders. Instead, the psalmist cries out to God in distress and then places hope in God's power instead of his own.

I wonder what life would be like if we quietly worked for justice and mercy without the blame and the fear and the insane assumption that we, our fully human selves, can remove all trouble from our lives? If we were fully grounded in hope in God's power, would the light cut through the darkness more quickly? Would we, then, live secure, our offspring established in God's presence?

Advent: Justice, Mercy, Faith

The mirror is being held up again to the people of God. In Jesus's challenge today (from the gospel of Matthew),  the charges disturb...we are making children of hell like ourselves. We might head them in the right direction, but then we keep them from the Kingdom of Heaven. (Remember, this was not a future kingdom for Jesus, but a kingdom present on the earth.) We teach the focus on sacrifice and ritual and the-way-things-should-be-done and we forget the things that will place us fully in the Kingdom...justice, mercy, faith.

I use "we" deliberately. As a child, I was taught how terrible the Pharisees were. It was easy to excuse my own behaviors when looking at "them." Or perhaps ignore is better than excuse. We just didn't ever look in the mirror. We were too busy condemning the Phariseees.

Our favorite task is seeking out the failure, the weakness, the sin of the other. We bring it, proudly, to the Master and we lay it at his feet. We hold out our hands for reward, and Jesus hands us a mirror.

Again.

"You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel!" Great line. We immediately begin to search for gnats and camels. If we can just identify them, we can fix this and enter the kingdom.

As we search, Jesus hands us a mirror.

Again.

As I read the texts this morning, I was sorry I saw the mirrors again. I'm ready to look somewhere else.

Exactly the point, says Jesus.

And hands me a mirror.

Again.

Advent: Trust with Mirrors

Jesus continues his Matthew teaching by holding up the behavior of the Pharisees as self-centered and misguided. Not, he says, centered in God's love (yesterday's discussion). We also are being introduced to the seven churches in the Revelation--today's church, Ephesus. Like the Pharisees, the church at Ephesus is doing most things right, but they have "abandoned the love they had at first."

Repentance is required of both groups in order to serve God and shine as God's light in the world. The theme is the same. You are doing many of the right things; you are doing them without love.

It fascinates me that "the right things" were so involved with looking at others and judging their behaviors. But then, when asked to look at their own behaviors, the people fail to trust God.

I have this suspicion that if God gave us a 20 x 20 mirror with a pinhole of "window" to look through to work on the behavior of others (like determining false prophets and helping others grow in faith), we'd spend all our time working on finding the pinhole instead of studying our own needs.

Love is the corrective...though a difficult corrective. When we are doing all things grounded firmly in working for the welfare of others, we have a better chance of being in God's will.

We also must pay attention to the truth that most of Jesus condemnation was directed toward those already identified as the people of God. "Sinners and tax-collectors" were accepted, loved, included. God's people were flat out judged.

Looking for the coming of God, the in-breaking of God into our world, may happen first in the mirror, especially if we are brave enough to admit our failures, even as we do good.

Advent: Trust in Grace and Love

The first part of today's gospel reading is Jesus's reiteration of the greatest commandment.

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your mind." This is the greatest and first commandment And a second is like it: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

Here's the reality on which I build my life...and the reality that gives me hope, even when others don't know that reality. This love is not a sentimental feeling that allows all kinds of abuse to happen. This is a powerful love--defined as an internal characteristic that expresses itself externally through concrete acts that work toward the welfare of others.

We of the reformed faith pin our hopes on God's grace and love. Grace is the truth that our worth, our value, is based simply and completely on God's love for us. (And, we believe this is true of all people, not just "us." Before we are aware of God, before we are able to respond to God, God loves us. Love for neighbor is our response to God's love for us.

That reality will transform the world. That foundation of love and grace is our hope, our call, our future.

Living that way is hard work. It is so much easier to exclude, to blame, to live in fear of our neighbor, especially those who are different...unknown in some way. Our natural state is to think we are our own lord and master, we earn our value, deserve our place.

My daughter sat in on some foster care review sessions yesterday. As the "adults" in the room sat with teens who were wards of the state and discussed their situations, their "cases," they matter-of-factly reported that "the parents want no reconciliation" with their child.

Is anything more devastating than being unwanted by the people who are supposed to work for your well-being? Is there any more powerful message than the God who love and works unceasingly for each of us, regardless of our situation, our mistakes, regardless of anything about us?

And, having become aware of that great love we call grace, can we do anything else but work for the well-being of each other?

There's no politician, no economic station, no job, no skill that will save us. God's grace and the practice of love are our only hope.

Advent: The Ultimate

My understanding of The Revelation of John has changed fairly recently with Brian Blount's commentary. The book I had always been taught was about "end times" and that outside of a few great scenes and phrases was pretty useless to my life became a book of hope. The Revelation is a story of ultimate redemption, God overcoming all impossible odds to redeem God's people.

Today's reading from the beginning of the book includes a statement of our ultimate hope.

Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him,  

even those who pierced him; 

and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.

So it is to be. Amen. "I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty."

 In a recent post I wondered how to share my trust in God, how to help people see. At this point in history, we have a promise that the Alpha and Omega will be visible to everyone...even those who have no interest in seeing.

Today calls for faithful living, regardless of outcomes, placing our hope in the one who is and who was and who is to come.

Advent: Hope

Week two of Advent is grounded in an exploration of hope. We won't be in Amos for this post. We are nowhere near the hope in the early part of Amos.

The opening sentences of daily prayer today from Lamentations, though, builds our foundation. Lamentations is a seldom-read book immersed in grief. And yet, for the people of God, a voice of hope in grief should be no surprise.

The Lord's unfailing love and mercy never cease, fresh as the morning and sure as the sunrise. (Lam. 3:22-23)

We grieve, we struggle, we live our fully human lives with hope because "the Lord's unfailing love and mercy never cease..." 

The New Testament reading is the story of the birth of John, a story of elderly parents who find themselves pregnant. (Though I must confess my daily prayer is that I am never part of that biblical miracle!) Elizabeth gives birth and on the day of the child's circumcision, she names him John. Friends and family argue...the child should be named after his father...and no one in their family is named John. When the infant's father, Zachariah, speaks up to concur, the muteness he has endured since he doubted God's promise of redemption at the beginning of the pregnancy is ended. His words of prophesy end this passage:

Blessed by the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. 

Zachariah is looking forward to his son's work, but speaks in present tense. Perhaps this defines God's hope, or our hope in God's work. Zachariah knows his son will need to grow and be taught and prepared for his work, so the redemption he would work for would certainly be in the future. But Zechariah speaks in now. God's promise is so sure it is present, even when we cannot see the activity happening.

That promise of in-breaking, of Kingdom here on earth, is not yet fulfilled, but we speak of it in the here and how, we live lives of hope-full service because the sun comes up every morning.

That gets us started here on a Sunday, where we will be gathered in worship strengthened in hope.

Advent: Trust and Greening

Life is weird sometimes. So many families are grieving so intensely...the news feed is still full of the mass shooting in CA and the shooting yesterday of a child and her mother at soccer practice.

And today, we "green" the church for Christmas. Lots of people will come. We will eat, drink (coffee), and be ridiculously merry for about three hours until the church glows with celebration.

And Amos will shout in the background with God's words, "I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies...Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps."

Should we not decorate today?

Perhaps we really shouldn't. But perhaps we should. What God asks instead of the songs and the festivals is that we "let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." We in this little congregation are far from perfect, but we work hard in different venues for justice.

Could we work harder, yes. Will we. Yes. Will we forget to work hard some days. Yes.

Today, the greening of the church represents the hope that God's righteousness and justice will be fully accomplished. For me, it is a promise that my prayers for victims will be paired with work toward God's justice and righteousness. And I will trust that God's great power will take my meager efforts and turn them into God's work.

That's my Advent hope for the day...

Advent: Trust the Good

The American "public" is masterful at redirection. Individuals get swept up in the peripheral distractions and we accomplish nothing. After the latest mass shooting, complaints against the political tweets of "prayers for victims" exploded. People rightly complained to their political figures that prayer didn't take the place of responsible action.

So now the issue is not about gun safety, it is about the "criticism" of prayer. And lord knows the 80% of our population that never commit themselves to a regular discipline of faith practice in community don't want to be criticized for tweeting their prayers. (OK...that was snarky...but for today, snark stands.)

Take out the weird names and places in Amos, and it could have been written today. The people of God have lost their way, getting distracted by false gods and bad behaviors...forgetting their core identity and how they were called to live. For God, it is never about the prayers, it is always about the behaviors.

Amos is full of judgment and hopelessness...but things are never hopeless with God. Mixed into the judgment are sentences of hope. This passage is a good example.

Seek good and not evil, that you may live:
and so the LORD, the God of hosts, will be with you, just as you have said.
Hate evil and love good, and establish justice in the gate;
it may be that the LORD the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

Plato understood "good" as an abstract concept, but that is not the Hebrew understanding. Nothing is abstract in the Hebrew world. Everything is lived, enacted. Good is a lived experience...and in God's world, good means good for all, not just for "me." Good doesn't stop with prayer (or sacrifice, if you live in the OT world). Good means doing justice, loving kindness, walking humbly with God.

Seek good. To do that, we have to trust that God's understanding of good is, indeed, what we need...who we should be. And then we have to work in that direction. Seek...

Watching for God to break into our world is not passive. God can do it alone, but God invites us to be part of the good...because our lives and the lives of our neighbors will be "good." Justice will prevail. Kindness will be the foundation on which we build our laws and our policies. And we will walk humbly with God...which means way more than a prayer tweet when the next tragedy happens.

Advent: Trust and Obey...

When I was little we sang an old hymn called "Trust and Obey." Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

I hear a lot of trust language in the public sphere...but not much obey. Another mass shooting happened yesterday. The one in California got the press, but it was the second of the day. The FBI defines "mass shooting" as four or more people...and there have been 355 mass shootings this year in the US.

And we, the people of God, seem to be hiding behind our "trust" as we send our prayers for the victims and avoid with every fiber of our being anything that would look like obedience to "love God AND love your neighbor as yourself."

This is not a political column, but I don't want anyone to think that the way we are living together right now is "Christian." We don't listen to each other. We don't respect each other. We live in fear and live making a living off that fear. Many of our politicians make statements that, if we heard them from men dressed in black spandex with assault rifles and the ISIS symbol, we would consider terrorist in nature.

Most significantly, we don't work for God's shalom. God's peace and wholeness is for all people, and working primarily for a political party's benefit, or a economic class or a race or a gender ...that's not obedience. 

Are the issues complex? You bet. Will they lead to other massive challenges? No question. But we cannot complain that our problems stem from taking God out of our schools. Our problems stem from the inability to trust and obey that God to whom we give lip service.

The passage from 2 Peter  3:11-18 asks how to live while we wait for God to return to establish God's kingdom again on this earth. Nowhere in the Bible are God's people excused to act however they want because God will win eventually. We are always charged to live lives of holiness and godliness--trusting and obeying if you will. We are looking to an earth where righteousness is at home...not power or suspicion or killing or money or fear of others.

The author of 2 Peter acknowledges there are some thing hard to understand in this life of faith that "the ignorant twist to their own destruction." As I was taught to trust and obey, I was also taught that one sure way to tell if you were "obeying" in the right direction was to watch the fruit of the Spirit... love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. (Gal. 5:22-23)

Are we the beloved nation of God? Are we the exceptional people of God who live in this wonderful, rich country that has resources that are beyond what we need? Not today we are not. I don't see love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I see hate, anger, fear, impatience and judgment, meanness, impatience, and actual pride in behaving rashly without self-control. And don't nod your heads here and blame "those people" with whom you disagree. Ask yourself what part you play. Change begins with each one of us trusting and obeying "love God and love neighbor as self."

We are twisting ourselves to our own destruction. And I know because the fruit we are harvesting is not fruit I want to eat, it is not fruit I want to feed to my children or grandchildren, it is not fruit I want to share with the world.

The Advent question is whether or not we can truly trust that God's way is the right way...and then obey God's commands, even at risk of our lives and our power. That will build us into the people we want to be...the people who the world will see as God's people.

Advent: Trust in the Darkness

It's all about dark these days. Dark when I get up. Dark when I go to bed. I'm far less functional in the dark, for sure. I. need. sunshine.

Advent is a season of darkness. Literally. Figuratively. We talk about waiting in the darkness for the Advent of the Light, the in-breaking of God into our world. I think about the people who never quite have enough money to get through the month, even though they work full time. Today, I remember the pressure that creates and am sad that we, the richest country in the world, can't do better caring for each other. Darkness.

I think about the family who lost their teenage son to suicide on Thanksgiving morning. He had struggled for so long...and so had they. Suffocating darkness.

Struggling with a toddler day in and day out, coming home every night responsible for feeding your family dinner, cleaning that toilet one more time...even little things sometimes add up to the sighs too deep for words. First world problems, we say. And we know we are lucky we have dinner, toilets, and toddlers...but still.

As we read daily lectionary in the dark of Advent, we encounter a Psalm of praise.

There's something to be said for being born an infant (even outside of the clear physical benefit to the mother). We go to sleep in the dark every night and wake up to the light every day of our lives. Can you imagine coming into the world as a fully aware adult and being swallowed by darkness at the end of day one? We know when the sun sets the sun will rise. We develop a rhythm of trust.

In the darkness, looking for that elusive in-breaking light, Psalm 147 is the rhythm of trust:

Praise the Lord!
How good it is to sing praises to our God;
for he is gracious, and a song of praise is fitting.
The Lord builds up Jerusalem;
he gathers the outcasts of Israel.
He heals the brokenhearted,
and binds up their wounds.
He determines the number of the stars;
he gives to all of them their names.
Great is our Lord, and abundant in power;
his understanding is beyond measure.
The Lord lifts up the downtrodden;
he casts the wicked to the ground.

Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving;
make melody to our God on the lyre.
He covers the heavens with clouds,
prepares rain for the earth,
makes grass grow on the hills.
He gives to the animals their food,
and to the young ravens when they cry.
His delight is not in the strength of the horse,
nor his pleasure in the speed of a runner;
but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him,
in those who hope in his steadfast love.

Hoping in God's steadfast love...the rhythm of trust. For me, this is like daylight. I was raised in the trust. I knew in the darkness, God would bring light eventually. I looked back to see when it had happened before. I look forward to seeing God work in the future. And so far, I have. And when seeing is difficult, people who have traveled the road before me share their experiences and encouragement.

I got my in-breaking this dark morning. It leaves me with a wondering of all those still in the dark. How can I share the trust in this love of God that is steadfast, always there, always at work to bring good, always for everyone. How can I invite others into the hope of the rhythm of trust?

Advent: The Power of Trust

I learned this story in Matthew 21:12-22 early in life. "Faith can move mountains," I was assured. My friends and I worked on this, sometimes together and sometimes by ourselves--thinking it was the "other's faith" holding us back. But we never moved a mountain or even a fork. We tried hard to move a fork.

It's always an interesting exercise to bring a perspective to a text. You tend to read with different eyes and that happened again when I read with "trust" in mind. I watch Jesus slam into the temple authorities by driving out the buyers and sellers--and probably the kickbacks that allowed them to set up in the temple in the first place. So the sacrifices get disrupted while Jesus heals the blind and the lame who came to him inside the temple. Several rules broken by this time...pissed temple authorities. We hear nothing from the disciples. Maybe they are watching, but maybe they've seen enough healing that they are wondering what's for dinner and how they might celebrate Passover.

Jesus goes outside the city for the night, to Bethany. The next morning he returns to Jerusalem, traveling hungry (perhaps the disciples never actually got around to providing dinner--Chipotle wasn't around as a fall back.) Jesus sees a fig tree, but when it has no fruit, he is angry and curses it. It withers.

Now he has the attention of the disciples. Now they are watching what he is doing. Now they want to know the trick.

Not the blind and lame...but the fig tree...now that's a cool talent.

This morning I have to wonder if Jesus was serious about faith moving mountains. I think perhaps pure snark was pouring from his mouth. And I wonder what would have happened if the disciples had joined in the important work of inclusion, healing, and praising in the temple the day before.

I wonder how much more time I would have spent helping my friends rather than moving forks if I had trusted in the right thing...

Advent: Trusting Seen and Unseen

I'm never really ready to walk through the passion at this time of year, but that is the path we travel through the beginning of Advent. Today we follow the disciples who are instructed to go and get a donkey and her colt for Jesus to ride into town. (Click to read...Matthew 21:1-11)

I'm one who learns through observing others. But reading with a lens of trust, I wonder if Jesus continues to do the things he can to to help us trust that God's purposes are being accomplished when it soon looks like nothing we expected will be accomplished.

Trust seems a fragile relationship for humans. Like a house of cards, it seems difficult to build and tumbles with the tiniest bump. So Jesus seems to be laying a foundation that might hold together, if we have eyes and heart to see.

Where do we get a donkey? God will provide. Say this and it will be loaned. Jesus enters in peace mode. The donkey symbolizes the peaceful intent of a ruler entering a city. And in this snapshot of time, the people trust. The laying of cloaks and branches is a sign of submission, being all in.

Of course, we know that changes. The same crowds that greet Jesus at the gate shout for his crucifixion days later. After his arrest and apparent impotence before Pilate and the temple authorities, we decide our trust was misplaced.

And that creates this wondering about our trust of God's purposes today. Are we good if life goes as we expect? On what is our trust of God's purposes based? Can we see the building blocks and assume that God will work God's purposes out, or do we too easily knock the house down when God's work doesn't look like "it should"?

Trust can be a painful journey, and perhaps that is our misunderstanding. Perhaps we assume that trust is painless, that staying in connection will only be joyful, that once "trust" is granted, the hard work ends. Perhaps that is the value of traveling through Jesus's passion at the beginning of Advent. If anyone trusted, it was Jesus. And the pain endured through the trust--well, I'm not sure I could have done it.

So God is asking us to look for God's work, to submit to God's purposes, to serve God's intent. And we get little glimpses of see-this-is-how-it-will-work-out because God knows we will always struggle with what we expected--the King--versus how God really works--the baby.

Advent: Watching for God at Work -- Trusting

Our congregation is challenged this Advent season to watch for the coming of God's Kingdom...the kingdom yet to come in it's completeness, and the Kingdom which we see breaking in every day...if we are alert enough to notice. A significant characteristic of seeing God at work is trusting that God is at work...sometimes easier said than done.

Today's reading from Amos (1:1-5, 1:13-2:8--also attached at the end of this post) is a great story of the beginning of Amos's prophesy to Israel. Amos is a master communicator...he whips the crowd into a frenzy as he speaks a word from the Lord against Israel's enemies...and by extension, God's enemies. 

Thus says the Lord: For three transgressions of Damascus and for four, I will not revoke the punishment:

Whoop! God's going to get them. Clearly that's the right thing. Anyone who would act like that deserves God's punishment and we trust that God will "take care" of them.

And then God goes after the Ammonites, outlining their horrible behavior and detailing their punishment. Another whoop. God is mighty indeed. Moab is next, then Judah. Judah is closer to home, but really, they were just as sinful, just as cavalier about ignoring the commands of God.

The people could see, through Amos, the hand of God at work bringing righteousness into the world. Their trust was validated. This was a God who loved them!

Then....

The punishment is turned on Israel. Selling the poor and the righteous for profit, trampling over the poor to get what they want, misusing the temple gifts, sleeping with the cultic prostitutes. The tables are turned, the judgment voiced, and the people are, suddenly, not at all sure Amos, in fact, speaks the word of the Lord.

Do we trust God when we are being corrected? Do we see God at work when justice is being required of us?

It hits all of us...humans are just bad at accepting correction. We have the hardest time listening to criticism of ourselves. We cheer when the "other side" gets it. But we are masters at self-justification. We are expert at dismissing the complaints others have against us.

The rather ugly question is do we trust the voice of God when God calls us on bad behavior? Or do we only trust God when God is after "others."

Perhaps the challenge of learning to trust during Advent is learning that God is working on us as well as others...God is at work to bring to light our sin as well as the sin of our "enemies." Looking for the coming of God, the in-breaking of God's kingdom in the world means us as well as them. Perhaps it means us even more than them.


From Amos:
1 The words of Amos, who was among the shepherds of Tekoa, which he saw concerning Israel in the days of King Uzziah of Judah and in the days of King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel, two years before the earthquake.

2 And he said:
The Lord roars from Zion,
and utters his voice from Jerusalem;
the pastures of the shepherds wither,
and the top of Carmel dries up.

3 Thus says the Lord:
For three transgressions of Damascus,
and for four, I will not revoke the punishment;
because they have threshed Gilead
with threshing sledges of iron.
4 So I will send a fire on the house of Hazael,
and it shall devour the strongholds of Ben-hadad.
5 I will break the gate bars of Damascus,
and cut off the inhabitants from the Valley of Aven,
and the one who holds the scepter from Beth-eden;
and the people of Aram shall go into exile to Kir,
says the Lord.

13Thus says the Lord:
For three transgressions of the Ammonites,
and for four, I will not revoke the punishment;
because they have ripped open pregnant women in Gilead
in order to enlarge their territory.
14 So I will kindle a fire against the wall of Rabbah,
fire that shall devour its strongholds,
with shouting on the day of battle,
with a storm on the day of the whirlwind;
15 then their king shall go into exile,
he and his officials together,
says the Lord.

2 Thus says the Lord:
For three transgressions of Moab,
and for four, I will not revoke the punishment;
because he burned to lime
the bones of the king of Edom.
2 So I will send a fire on Moab,
and it shall devour the strongholds of Kerioth,
and Moab shall die amid uproar,
amid shouting and the sound of the trumpet;
3 I will cut off the ruler from its midst,
and will kill all its officials with him,
says the Lord.

4 Thus says the Lord:
For three transgressions of Judah,
and for four, I will not revoke the punishment;
because they have rejected the law of the Lord,
and have not kept his statutes,
but they have been led astray by the same lies
after which their ancestors walked.
5 So I will send a fire on Judah,
and it shall devour the strongholds of Jerusalem.
Judgment on Israel

6 Thus says the Lord:
For three transgressions of Israel,
and for four, I will not revoke the punishment;
because they sell the righteous for silver,
and the needy for a pair of sandals—
7 they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth,
and push the afflicted out of the way;
father and son go in to the same girl,
so that my holy name is profaned;
8 they lay themselves down beside every altar
on garments taken in pledge;
and in the house of their God they drink
wine bought with fines they imposed.

Religion Makes Children What?...

I don't much care about the Starbucks kerfuffle. But this article that came out saying the researchers had shown that "religious children" were more selfish/mean than other children made me snort my coffee (yes...Starbucks, red cup).

Have they not met children?

The researcher found this by accident--looking for empathy or sharing across cultures. Instead he found what he attributes to "moral licensing:"

Why are religious people less moral? One factor is a psychological phenomenon known as ‘moral licensing’: a person will justify doing something bad or immoral – like being racist – because they’ve already done something ‘good’, such as praying. “It’s an unconscious bias,” Decety explains. “They don’t even see that’s not compatible with what they’ve been learning in church.”

I don't disagree. But did you also study the non-religious children who "helped clean the dishes" who were willing to start WWIII over the last cookie because "I helped and you didn't"? Did they study the non-religious children who gave mom a hug, then smacked their sibling because they wouldn't share the TV remote?

I get the "moral licensing." But the following insinuation that, therefore, religion is not a good thing for children just doesn't wash.

Not one major religion in the world advocates selfish behavior. Not. One. And as much as we might like to, once we see what adulthood is all about, we do not stay children. We do, if we practice religion as an adult, work on our tendency toward moral licensing. Sometimes we succeed.

Having met children, I would like to practice religion with them...the religion that at least makes an effort to overcome our selfish, mean tendencies. The alternative is pretty grim.

And, if you disagree, I may hit you...

Cause I work in a church, ya know...

Evangelism: Say What?

I had a great conversation yesterday with a young woman trying desperately to share her faith with her girlfriend, a person who is a little acquainted with church, but who dismissed it as irrelevant to her life some years ago.

She was using all the phrases she had been taught as a child and young adult. Trying to make sense of the language of Christendom just wasn't working. First, the life of faith is one of "trusting" that this way of being in the world leads to new life and reconciliation, to justice and health and wholeness for all people. That's what it means to follow Jesus. It is far from an individual "belief system" that protects you from the fires of hell.

I think this practice of sharing the Good News may be the second most challenging thing we have ever done...the first being actually living as disciples. (Insert old joke here...how do you know Christianity doesn't work? it's never really been tried...yuk, yuk, yuk...) I find myself paying close attention to phrases and scripture passages and explanations that really resonate and don't have the "insider language" barrier attached. There is a time and place to learn some of the insider language (after people are "insiders," probably).

Richard Rohr gave me good food for thought as he teaches about St. Thérèse:

Thérèse rediscovered the same thing that Francis did: We don't come to God by eliminating our imperfection, but by rejoicing in it because it makes us aware of our need for God's mercy and love and it keeps us humble. She called this her "Little Way," a way which everyone can follow. Brother Joe Schmidt describes Thérèse's method as "the way of being aware of your need for love, willing to give yourself to God's loving embrace like a child abandons itself with confidence and love into the arms of its loving parent, and then freely sharing love with others in creative good works of peace and justice. It is the willingness to be the person God calls you to be."[2]  (Click here for the whole piece.)

Rejoicing in our imperfection which makes us aware of our need for mercy and love.

There's a thought worth sharing.

Evangelism: Elevator Speech...

Given the huge number of people who haven't a clue what we are talking about when we speak of our faith, speaking of our faith perhaps becomes our biggest challenge. We are habituated to the phrases and concepts with which we grew up--phrases and concepts that grew our of the time when most people knew the Christian story and accepted its validity as a world view even if they didn't actively practice its tenets.

So, have we thought about what we would say to someone that might make sense? We should.

My faith community gave this a try on Sunday morning. We had our children "judge" our statements...good to go, not sure I understand, and OK, I'm clueless about what you just said. It gave us some idea of how our words were heard. But our kids are raised in the church, so they still have a clue.

Here are some examples of reasons people gave on why they were "Christian."

Common statement, but one with huge question marks:

Believing in God and worshipping with other believers.

For those of us who understand the gift of grace, who "believe" and who enjoy worship or see its importance, this is great. For anyone else...unintelligible and exclusive.

Response: "If I don't believe...I'm out.  If I don't worship...I'm out. This is great for you, but I just don't see the point. "

We have to know the point. We are called to tell others the point.

Here's another starting place:

I am fully me, broken and human, and I am loved anyway. I am able to love others who are also broken and human. I am allowed to fail. I am allowed to give.

In a culture that demands perfection for worth, that insists one who is not perfect is un-lovable, that never allows failure, and that spreads the gospel of "take care of number one," the church's counter-cultural message is one of grace and acceptance. The only thing missing in the statement is the verbal recognition that these words represent God's kingdom...one that holds us to a standard foreign to our culture, one that enables us to live this way, and one that invites us in before we ever start living this way. We are loved. Period. Not after we learn to live "in the kingdom."

The challenge is to learn to articulate our "reasons," to ourselves and to others...especially to those who are "clueless." We may need to learn different reasons. We have to practice with each other, though. We have to listen carefully and critically until we learn to express ourselves in a way that truly communicates God's grace.

"Comments" might be a good place to practice this...

 

Evangelism: Secularization

Martin Marty suggests secularization that has occurred over time has taken three forms. The first (characteristic of the European continent) is "utter Secularity." It takes the shape of "formal and unrelenting attack on gods and churches" and people "lose" their faith in that hostile environment.

The second he labels "Mere Secularity." God and the church aren't attacked, they are ignored "by people preoccupied with this world and their daily routines." Think Great Britain. The trappings of religion are everywhere...but no one really cares. "Christianity" is equated with being "morally good."

The third, exemplified he says by the United States, is "Controlled Secularity." Marty says the dominant religion in America is a "folk religion which deifies traditional American values." The symbols of Christianity get mashed-up with culture...so huge, rich churches are the "best," prosperity gospel (worshipping consumerism, in essence) is popular, God "chooses" America over all others as the most beloved (nationalism).

From where I stand, I think we struggle with Mere and Controlled Secularity. But regardless of the type of our secularity struggle, what is critical for "evangelism" is the understanding that most people haven't a clue what we are talking about when we speak of faith or faith practice. (Yep...most. I think given the number of folks outside our churches on Sunday morning, and a large number inside who are nominal, it adds up to most.) George Hunter III articulates it well in his book How to Reach Secular People:

Secular people vary in their consciousness of Christianity. Perhaps a third of them...have no christian memory; they are "ignostics"--that is, they don't know what Christians are talking about. Another third have a distant christian memory--they could identify Moses; they are "notional" Christians--who think of themselves as more of less Christian because they assume their culture is more of less Christian. Another third are "nominal" Christians--who are somewhat active in churches, but their religion is civil religion (which they mistake for Christianity) and most gospel washes past them. But all three subgroups are secular, for their lives are not significantly influenced by the christian faith. Their assumptions, vocabularies, decision making, and life-styles reflect no christian agenda...

The first two groups are also not "church broke," Hunter reminds us.  If you can get them in the door, worship is clumsy and alienating. Nominal Christians know enough to fake it, but it is meaningless for them because they are not practicing faith.

Our attempt to "get people in the door" assumes that once there, there is enough knowledge and history to have practices make sense. Really, we think, all we have to do is be nice and welcoming, then they will stay and do what we know they know they should do.

Frankly, it's like taking me to a football game and then assuming if you are nice to me and buy me a beer and a jersey that I will become a football player...or even an avid fan. Understand I know there are two teams and one ball and a whole lot of crashing into each other. And I do enjoy hanging out with people I like while a game is on. But I don't understand the game. I don't get the strategy. And I wonder "what is the point?" That attitude is heresy to a die-hard fan.

The good news is that people left in church, practicing their faith, are mostly pretty serious practitioners. The bad news is that it has been so very long since we have had to interpret or articulate the "why" or the "how," that many of us, even those of us who have the strongest faith practice and whose practice is transformative of our lives and our worlds...even we fail the "seculars" in our midst.

Worship is a hold-over from a time that the entire culture (frankly, whether they were "Christian" officially, or not) understood the "Christian" language, practice, and moral code.

We don't live there anymore.

Evangelism: Do you Want to be Saved?

There's a story about a little fish out exploring his world one day. Or perhaps exploring her world. She swims very fast from the bottom of the river upward, breaks the surface of the water, and is astounded at the world she glimpses before splashing back into the river. She swims home to tell her mother that outside of the water there is a wonderful world. Her mother replies, "Water? What's water?" Often, the context in which we live is invisible. Finding new and wonderful worlds means becoming aware of our limits. In Richard Rohr's devotion on Wednesday, he talked about the Eastern Orthodox doctrine of theosis, a common practice of the Eastern church, but one ignored or even denied here in the West. Rohr says: The Eastern fathers of the Church believed we could experience real and transformative union with God. This is in fact the supreme goal of human life and the very meaning of salvation... I buy it. That's the message I hear Jesus try and get through our heads. I hear that far better than I hear "believe in Jesus and be baptized so you won't go to hell." (I know...I'm probably going to hell for that!) "Follow me" and be changed is what I hear. It's what I see in the stories of the gospels and the early church. Rohr says: Salvation isn't about replacing our human nature with a fully divine nature, but growing within our very earthiness and embodiedness to live more and more in the ways of love and grace, so that it comes "naturally" to us and is our deepest nature. This does not mean we are humanly or perfectly whole or psychologically unwounded, but it has to do with an objective identity in God that we can always call upon and return to without fail... Full salvation is finally universal belonging and universal connecting. Our word for that is "heaven." Perhaps the most significant change here is salvation being communal, not what I do to ensure my well-being or future fate. Universal belonging and universal connecting draw me into community and compel me to action. As I grow into my belonging (God doesn't move away from that...I do), I must do so with all other people, otherwise I'm still not connected fully in the ways of love and grace. That's the invitation. I don't need you to come into the church to fix you or to fix the church. I need you to come into the church, because you have something to teach me, and I have something to teach you. I need you to belong to me, and I need to belong to you. That can happen because of our identity as children of God that is not dependent on us in the least. If you won't cross the threshold of my church, you are still connected to me as family...and I, to you. Back to context. The water in which we swim is water that assumes individuality is supreme, that independence is the ultimate goal, and that those who are "other" are to be feared, avoided, or defeated. God came incarnate in Jesus to encourage us to check out the world beyond the water that keeps us from universal belonging and universal connecting. We couldn't manage to follow then, but God didn't quit. The reality of the universal-belonging-and-connecting-God is the constant. Do we need to be saved? Do we need universal belonging and connecting? Let's call that the evangelism pool. Heated. Open all year round. Come be immersed in belonging and connecting.

Evangelism Strategy?

News out of Pew Research has folks in a tizzy. The number of "Christians" in America continues to decline and the number of "nones"--people who are willing to publicly claim no religion--continues to rise. Each succeeding generation shows less connection to the church.

Those of us who work in churches already know this.

"Evangelism requires a strategy" we hear. And I suppose it does. The definition of strategy, "a plan of action or policy designed to achieve a major or overall aim" makes one think that if we could just come up with a plan we could all follow it, and we could be done with this decline.

Problem one: WE. The work of salvation is God's work. It is work in which we are invited to participate. But there is really little we can say or do to "save" someone. That becomes increasing clear as we:

• give our "threat speech" which invites people to burn in hell if they are not "saved," 
• give our "good citizen" speech, 
• stutter incoherently because we really can't articulate why anyone should follow Jesus.
• stand confused when people don't respond to our invitation
• or cringe if they come and visit church with us and aren't greeted, are judged and condemned by the preacher, or are completely lost and confused by the worship ritual (which, of course, we cannot explain to them).

Problem two: PLAN. Remember when contemporary worship was a plan? Remember "seeker services"--services that didn't mention Jesus or God and didn't have prayer, confession or creeds? Remember "worshipping communities?" Remember the five steps to salvation? Starting classes with contemporary social concerns and bringing scripture in at the end? 

IMHO the only thing a "plan" does is depress the people when it doesn't work. Then more people leave the church because clearly God is either absent or doesn't care if the plan is not working.

So what do we do?: Pray. Witness.

By prayer, I don't mean the individual think-about-God-and-wish-people-would-come-so-the-church-would-have-enough-money-and-members-to-look-good-and-function-well. I mean a people of God called together in community who join together to converse with God about this issue. It's uncomfortable for many of us to even think about it. It's not in our control. We cannot measure the outcome of any given prayer event. But prayer changes us into the people God intends us to be. And that, perhaps, is the best starting place to invite other in...if we are moving toward who we are supposed to be. 

Witness. A relationship with the Triune God who creates, rules, sustains, and transforms all things and all people gives purpose and meaning to our lives. Significant purpose and meaning. If we can't articulate that purpose and meaning, we need to listen more carefully to God and to our fellow travelers on the Way. I think it is the purpose and meaning, the living love of God and neighbor that is compelling. And we cannot "prove" the benefit; we cannot "convince" the masses. We can only witness to the transformation it has brought in our lives and our communities.

Is that a plan? a strategy? Don't know. I'm not clear about the "aim." Church membership is often the stated goal...but we had great church membership in the middle part of the 20th century and that only got us where we are today--the decline of Christianity in America. I have no idea where this choice will take me, no idea who will be touched, no clue if it will happen in my lifetime or happen at all. But I know God's church will not cease to exist. God's people will not cease to exist. God's transformative work will not cease to exist.

I will pray and witness. 

And trust.

And God will accomplish God's purposes.

Evangelism: What's Messy and Slow and Can't be Measured?

Diana Butler Bass challenged my hospitality thinking with a comment she makes in her book, A People's History of Christianity: The Other Side of the Story. It's a great read...the history of Christianity for those of us who find it challenging to stay engaged in historical conversations. My favorite aspect of the book is she finds the positive contribution of every era in history.

Anyway, she talks about the time of the desert fathers and mothers, people who left the cities, after Christianity had been made law-of-the-land, and went into the wilderness for solitude and reflection...attempting to find and nurture closer and more authentic connection with God. She describes their connection to prayer.

[Jesus invitation to] 'Come follow me' was intimately bound up with the practice of prayer. For prayer connects us with God and others, 'part of this enterprise of learning to love.' Prayer is much more than a technique, and early Christians left us no definitive how-to manual on prayer. Rather, the desert fathers and mothers believed that prayer was a disposition of wholeness, so that 'prayer and our life must be all of a piece.' They approached prayer, as early church scholar Roberta Bondi notes, as a practical twofold process: first, of 'thinking and reflecting,' or 'pondering' what it means to love others; and second, as the 'development and practice of loving ways of being.' In other words, these ancients taught that prayer was participation in God's love, the activity that takes us out of ourselves, away from the familiar, and conforms us to the path of Christ."

Contrast this with the "evangelism" I was taught as a child...and taught to avoid as an adult in the Presbyterian tradition. The first step was judgment...deciding who was or wasn't living as a "Christian." The next step was condemnation. The next, sharing that condemnation of both you and God with the targeted person. Then, sharing a process that required asking for forgiveness and "believing" in Jesus. The end. Mark your Sunday school envelope that you saved someone and look for the next poor schmuck that needs salvation.

I find an invitation to wholeness far more compelling as the invitee and the participant than the responsibility of judgment and condemnation. I also find it interesting to approach prayer as an invitation to think and reflect on what it means to love others, then develop and practice "loving ways of being." (and oh...oh how I wish our politics was founded on this way of being...)

Being loved inspires the best in us. Being judged simply inspires the worst.

So I think there's no "program" or "steps" or "procedure" that works for evangelism. I think its an investment in prayer and trusting God.  But I also know that investing in prayer is not doing nothing. It is, in the words of our desert fathers and mothers, "developing and practicing loving ways of being."

That may be the hardest job we undertake. Developing and practicing loving ways of being requires giving up the understanding that there is one way of being in the world, one way of worshipping, one way of relating. It requires radical acceptance of even the most troubled and difficult. It requires setting aside my preferences and listening to God and to others to discern the road ahead.

It's messy and slow and can't be measured effectively.

Which, ultimately, is God's way, is it not?

Evangelism: Not Ashamed...

These really are random thoughts about evangelism.

This week I keep reading s#*% about stupid churches who exclude people or say ridiculous things. Michelle Bachmann announced the end of the world according to her Bible...even though Jesus clearly says we will never be able to figure out the time. I even heard someone say they would ground their exclusive anti-gay position on the "words Jesus said" about homosexuality being a sin...not the Bible I am reading. The only position Jesus took regarding marriage was anti-divorce.

So, it's understandable that the run-of-the-mill-Joe or Jane thinks spirituality is better than religion.

It's hard not to duck our heads and head for cover when stupidity trumps real church. And it always does in the public forum. Our little congregation who practices helping each other find and celebrate hope, experience belonging, extend and receive forgiveness, and discover a sense of purpose and direction is pretty boring in media standards. (BTW, the list of "real church" characteristics is in a great book you can explore with this link.) Not much excitement when people fight, then forgive each other. Not much controversy to err on the side of acceptance and inclusion. Gotta have a conflict if you want a good story. Hope, peace, belonging...they just don't sell.

Culture is teaching us that Real Housewives is real and congregational life (of any stripe) is fantasy.

It's time for us to know better and to say so.

In New York Magazine this week there is an article titled Why Kids Need Spirituality.  It is definitely worth a read. But the point is the same one made by conservative, David Brooks. We can never develop our own morality from scratch. It is too complicated, too extensive, and we are too influenced by our surroundings.

I, for one, think that youth nurtured by a community of faith (especially a community grounded in God's grace and nurture and not concerned with judgment and exclusion) is a far healthier place, a far more hopeful place, a far better place and practice than TV, movies, or video games.

I think if we throw out the word "believe" and use the better biblical translation of "trust" then this might make more sense. We trust in Jesus and his way of living and being in the world. We trust that God is reconciling and transforming the world. We trust that the community of people gathered as "church" is invited to participate in God's work and that we, with the Spirit's support, can make a difference.

It's not about perfection. It's about trying. And I wonder if the first step toward spreading the good news of the gospel is not to be ashamed.

We've been given a great gift. We cannot be silent about its value...or about the fact that the gift is offered to all people.

Evangelism: What's the Point?

As I write this, I'm watching a clip from The Daily Show where two pastors, one young and mightily hip and one youngish and straighter-laced, are arguing about the future of Christianity. Naturally, the weird Presbyterian they found thinks robots are the future of Christianity. I never know how much people play to the camera and how much of what they say they really believe. I'm sure the Presbyterian pastor bumps up his "cool"factor just by being on The Daily Show.

They were both interesting perspectives. The young cool guy is packing the pews...but I an telling you, that is not for everyone. Not even close. And...while the services may be really fun and interesting, I am curious the walk between services...which is really what this discipleship thing is all about.

Now that I've shown my own geek colors...here's the point. The good-citizen Christianity of the 50's and 60's and perhaps 70's is gone. It should be. We don't do this Christian thing to get a good job or be respected in the community. We don't do it to show another country that we are better than they are because we believe in God. In fact, what does "believe in God" even mean?

Being a church member is no longer a social necessity. Frankly, I think that's a good thing. It puts us squarely in the hot seat to live our faith, to be able to articulate it to others, to understand and speak why the way of Christianity is a better way.

Can you do that? I'm getting better at it, but I've been thinking about it for awhile. To answer a question of why someone would want to "come to church" with you. "So you can be saved" simply makes no sense to today's world.

What makes sense? How do we have the conversation? Why do we do this membership thing? What, besides heaven after we die, is the point?

The PC(USA) has started its constitution with a great statement of our purpose. Here's an evangelism thought to chew on:

The good news of the Gospel is that the triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit— creates, redeems, sustains, rules, and transforms all things and all people.

It's really more than a thought...it's a challenge. How might a conversation go with a co-worker or new neighbor if this was our foundation for asking them to come and worship with us? Play it out in your head. Try and memorize the sentence. Put it on a notecard in your car, read it before you start driving, and then think about who you might be called to invite, and how a conversation might go based on that foundation.

If you really want to get serious, practice with a friend. Be tough with each other...then help each other construct "good news" answers.

And let me know how it goes...what questions or challenges can you not answer? Where does the conversation break down?

Living as Easter People...

We celebrated.

What next?

I thought a great deal during our Easter celebration about how we invite, welcome, and interpret our faith to those who don't understand what on earth (or in heaven!) we are doing. So for awhile, I'm going to explore the idea of--gasp--evangelism. I'll post once or twice a week and I invite feedback for the ideas put forth...or with questions...or ideas I haven't considered.

My daughter marries on Sunday. I'll get back to church thinking next week....

Radical Hospitality...Easter!

I live an insignificant life by most standards. I don't make international treaties that halt nuclear proliferation. I don't do operations that save lives. I don't write important books or make laws that change the course of history.

But today is Easter...

I know this is true. I am a beloved child of God. I do nothing to earn this grace. I do nothing to keep it. It is radical hospitality at its core. Each of us, as we are, are beloved children of God. We may not even know that as reality. But it is a reality that cannot be changed. God has claimed each human being in history, knows our name, and loves us as God's own.

Today is Easter...

Today is enacted reality. This reality is so strong, people who struggle to connect with it otherwise are pulled toward Easter worship. The reality is so strong that the world takes it and turns it into shopping madness so that we forget to pay attention to the life-changing, world-changing love that would cut their profit and turn us away from the racks and back toward each other.

Where my life and God's love intersect, there is meaning. There is goodness. There is hope. I don't care about getting to heaven in the end, I need Easter reality in the here and now.

Today is Easter...

Easter names the miracle.We are beloved children of God. We see how it looks when it is played out in the life of Jesus. He made no international treaties. He did no operations. He wrote no books. He made no laws. He died a criminal. But he lived a child of God. And he changed history.

Humans have twisted the message, and I know you can argue the harm done in the name of "religion." But the reality of Easter is stronger. The hope of Easter is stronger. The promise of Easter is stronger.

Ultimately, love-God-love-your-neighbor will be stronger. Until then, I will live the promise, be radically hospitable even when the neighbors disapprove, and know that my significance lies in the unchangeable love that changes the world everyday.

Today is Easter!!!!

Radical Hospitality...Silence

Holy Saturday is a silent day. Ours won't be. The world rumbles and rattles on with no awareness of lives in the darkness of a tomb. Advertisers insistently hawk their products, sure that anything from soap to sugar will solve our problems. Chores must be done, especially if you live in High Point and the furniture market chases Easter like a cat on a June bug.

The noisy chaos of our lives surrounds us and cuts off our life source. It's tricky, because it is so loud and demanding, we think this is life. But we know death is there. We avoid quietness because that's when we feel the darkness, that's when we can't ignore the parts of our life that are unsettled.

The busyness and noise don't bring life. The silence of the tomb reigns.

We know death doesn't win in the Easter story. We are ready...or getting ready...for tomorrow. But for all of us there are issues, events, struggles that put us in the quiet of the tomb. We wait for a resolution. We wait for a solution. We wait for healing.

We wait.

Radical Hospitality...Ultimate

Good Friday.

I wonder how many of us spend any time considering the day. How many of us think about all the ways we kill off God's radical hospitality one person at a time.
dirty
lazy
Democrat
Republican
young
old
poor
GLTBQ
female
male
black
hispanic
white
fundamentalist
Christian
Muslim
Jew

I could do this for a while.

Today, in history, we killed Jesus. I'm not big on atonement theories. Not convinced that God "sent Jesus to die." Convinced that God came as Jesus to show us the possibilities of living in God's radical hospitality. The more we had to lose to include others, the less we liked the change.

I use "we" intentionally. I like my comfortable American lifestyle. I think we can do better. I work to the best of my ability to see that happen...well, the best of my comfortable ability. This day of all days is one I hate. It holds up my failures in ways I cannot escape.

I hammer the nails. Sometimes I make choices knowing they are not good. Sometimes I don't know how to stop the hammering. Sometimes I hammer without knowing I am hurting others.

The good news of the day is that God makes a way out for all of us. Life is stronger than death. Hope stronger than despair.

But today is pretty inescapable. I am as much a part of the problem as those who hammered nails into that cross. If we don't admit who we are today, then we can't recognize the depth of the ultimate hospitality God will show.

Lord have mercy....

Radical Hospitality...Room

I worked in the yard yesterday. Believe it or not, I loved leaves in Nebraska. They fell in the fall and they were beautiful and then they went away.

Leaves in a North Carolina year drop from the fall to the time the oak pollen finally gives way to the new leaf. Major wind storms, ice, snow...they all do their best to dislodge those clingy, brown appendages. They fail. These leaves fall when they are ready. As soon as you rake a bed. The night before you are scheduled to lay pine straw. It's the stuff of nightmares.

But I digress. The hospitality point was making room for spring. The classic image is getting rid of the old and planting new. That's not really how it works. You prune. Old becomes new as it is repurposed into compost or gets a new pairing of annuals. But you have to work it. When neglected, hings quickly lose their shape, their ability to serve their purpose, or their beauty.

Hospitality means making some room. The leaves pretty quickly cover all potential and seem like they will never go away. The art is not to be convinced by what's on the surface of your life that there is no room for other, for different.

It's a never ending job.

I think it is more rewarding than these stupid leaves.