Amos is the chosen focal point out of today's readings. The Lord stands beside a wall built with a plumb line, with a plumb line is his hand and asks Amos "What do you see?" Amos wittily replies…
"a plumb line." Sharp one, that Amos.
A plumb line, for those of us not terrible handy, is a piece of string weighted at the bottom. When you stand and hold the line out (or hang it from something) it will swing briefly and then settle into stillness. When it is still, you have a straight or "true" line from which to build. A wall built "plumb" is strong and does not lean one way of the other. A house lined up with a "true" wall is also built well.
God tells Amos he is setting a plumb line in the midst of God's people…then says "I will never again pass them by." And we are back to judgment as good news. The passage says the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate, and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste, but in context of the plumb line, this is what happens to make a "true" wall. If you aren't lined up plumb, you must be taken apart and lined up again.
It is not clear in Amos what the plumb line will be. Perhaps God's Commandments, but the text doesn't specify. Now, we are clear that God's plumb line for us is Jesus Christ. We are called to order our lives next to his, in line with his. Jesus provides our plumb.
And God promises not to leave us to our own devices. God is going to be there tearing down what we build wrong, helping us rebuild until we are as "true" as the plumb line. I suppose today's question is whether or not we are open to the rebuilding process, or do we cling so tenaciously to our slant that we build to surprise and horror when everything we plan and organize fails to meet our expectations, cannot hold the weight of life itself.
Perhaps Advent is a season of "settling into stillness" so we can begin to build "true."
Monday, December 9, 2013
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Advent 8…Worthy of God's Call
Today's readings begin with praise, but move quickly to judgment in Amos and in Thessalonians. We celebrate the birth of John the Baptist, but we know he is destined to bring judgment as soon as he is old enough to sass his parents.
Thessalonians is interesting. I remember the passage being read often in the church that raised me. My childhood memory (which, perhaps, isn't totally accurate) is that the promise of eternal destruction of our enemies was quite joyful. We were the good guys; they, the bad guys. God seems to promise in this passage that the bad guys will get theirs someday.
I always thought that was a bit weird. First, it didn't gel with the passages in which God expresses love for the whole world and promises to draw all things to Godself. Second, I understood why my unchurched friends really didn't want to come to church. They had already been placed in that eternal damnation…then told that that same God who promised to destroy them really loved them and wanted them to love him back. Didn't make sense to them. Me either.
I do understand the context of writing a letter to those suffering for the sake of the gospel and encouraging them by assuring them of God's ultimate victory over evil. I love the last sentence of this passage, the author "pray[ing] for you, asking that our God will make you worthy of his call and will fulfill by his power every good resolve and work of faith, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ." I also remember that as a child. We all wanted to be made worthy.
The understanding of my early faith tradition was that you lived in certain ways that would make you worthy. Reading the Bible, attending church, giving money, not swearing or drinking, these were part of the list. The understanding of my Presbyterian faith tradition is that our "worthiness" has been accomplished by Jesus Christ, and as we live "in him," his worthiness becomes ours. The list (not my childhood list) becomes a way to live as God intends--summarized with "the love God, love neighbor as yourself" command.
And, finally, the point. When I had young children, we occasionally encountered biters. All the children in one family were biters. When my kids bit me as infants (accidentally) I hollered and made it clear it hurt (which it did!). As they grew up, they knew biting was a terrible, terrible thing. We loved this family, but when their children bit, the mom would hold them close, smile, hug, and say in a soft voice, "Honey, please don't bite. It's just not nice." I felt a little guilty for "hollering," but my kids got the point.
To succeed at any human endeavor, it takes honest judgment and work through pain. My preaching professor in seminary told a story about a colleague who never critiqued baby-preacher sermons, they just talked about what was good. It was too difficult, she explained, people's feelings got hurt. I have heard some of those baby-preachers as they preach in their churches. They needed a few hurt feelings to effectively proclaim the gospel!
We don't like to hear stories of God punishing God's people. Amos makes me mightily uncomfortable. So does being called a brood of vipers, which is the pet name John the Baptist gives to the church people of his time. But do we hear the "invitation" to participate? Do we respond to the command?
Sometimes, perhaps, we do. But honestly, I think most of us need a little hollering' to get the job done. And let me be clear--this is God's prerogative to holler, not ours. We don't get to decide who's in and who's out. None of us deserve the grace in which we live. Everyone deserves the grace in which we live.
That's the gospel truth...
Thessalonians is interesting. I remember the passage being read often in the church that raised me. My childhood memory (which, perhaps, isn't totally accurate) is that the promise of eternal destruction of our enemies was quite joyful. We were the good guys; they, the bad guys. God seems to promise in this passage that the bad guys will get theirs someday.
I always thought that was a bit weird. First, it didn't gel with the passages in which God expresses love for the whole world and promises to draw all things to Godself. Second, I understood why my unchurched friends really didn't want to come to church. They had already been placed in that eternal damnation…then told that that same God who promised to destroy them really loved them and wanted them to love him back. Didn't make sense to them. Me either.
I do understand the context of writing a letter to those suffering for the sake of the gospel and encouraging them by assuring them of God's ultimate victory over evil. I love the last sentence of this passage, the author "pray[ing] for you, asking that our God will make you worthy of his call and will fulfill by his power every good resolve and work of faith, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ." I also remember that as a child. We all wanted to be made worthy.
The understanding of my early faith tradition was that you lived in certain ways that would make you worthy. Reading the Bible, attending church, giving money, not swearing or drinking, these were part of the list. The understanding of my Presbyterian faith tradition is that our "worthiness" has been accomplished by Jesus Christ, and as we live "in him," his worthiness becomes ours. The list (not my childhood list) becomes a way to live as God intends--summarized with "the love God, love neighbor as yourself" command.
And, finally, the point. When I had young children, we occasionally encountered biters. All the children in one family were biters. When my kids bit me as infants (accidentally) I hollered and made it clear it hurt (which it did!). As they grew up, they knew biting was a terrible, terrible thing. We loved this family, but when their children bit, the mom would hold them close, smile, hug, and say in a soft voice, "Honey, please don't bite. It's just not nice." I felt a little guilty for "hollering," but my kids got the point.
To succeed at any human endeavor, it takes honest judgment and work through pain. My preaching professor in seminary told a story about a colleague who never critiqued baby-preacher sermons, they just talked about what was good. It was too difficult, she explained, people's feelings got hurt. I have heard some of those baby-preachers as they preach in their churches. They needed a few hurt feelings to effectively proclaim the gospel!
We don't like to hear stories of God punishing God's people. Amos makes me mightily uncomfortable. So does being called a brood of vipers, which is the pet name John the Baptist gives to the church people of his time. But do we hear the "invitation" to participate? Do we respond to the command?
Sometimes, perhaps, we do. But honestly, I think most of us need a little hollering' to get the job done. And let me be clear--this is God's prerogative to holler, not ours. We don't get to decide who's in and who's out. None of us deserve the grace in which we live. Everyone deserves the grace in which we live.
That's the gospel truth...
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Advent 7…In All Generations
Today's readings begin with Psalm 90, one of my favorites, I must admit. Well, frankly, several favorites are in todays selections, "let justice roll down like waters" and Jesus' witty "give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's," and the end of the Jude passage…but here was my first thought.
I don't think it was better in the past. I hope it will be better in the future, but I'm not holding my God-given breath. But, this I know.
On the days we are stupid and petty and cannot move from the weight of our secret sins, God is still the everlasting God.
The plan for today it to "green the church." All generations of God's people living and able will be there to do a small part. It is, for me, a manifestation of God's work and wisdom.
Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.My experience of culture today is that the "right now" rules. Yet another story emerged from congress in the last week; they can't agree on a farm bill. So they most likely will pass an extension for a month in the hopes they can work something out. We live in a series of extensions. Everyone talks about solving problems for future generations. Everyone acts to preserve their current power and place. Our concern for "right now" seems inescapable.
I don't think it was better in the past. I hope it will be better in the future, but I'm not holding my God-given breath. But, this I know.
Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.On the days we manage to make progress as humans--the work of Nelson Mandela is a gift to generations of people--I am grateful for the guidance of the everlasting God.
On the days we are stupid and petty and cannot move from the weight of our secret sins, God is still the everlasting God.
The plan for today it to "green the church." All generations of God's people living and able will be there to do a small part. It is, for me, a manifestation of God's work and wisdom.
"Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and prosper for us the work of our hands--And, may we be together certain that we live and move and have our being in the Everlasting God.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Advent 6…Judgment
(My husband suggests I include the readings. If you "click" on the blue, underlined word "readings" you will be re-routed to the Daily Lectionary readings. Any blue, underlined word will take you on an internet journey.)
For many years, I preferred to ignore texts of God's judgment. I chose God's grace, God's love, God's generosity. And God, I'm sure, laughed because 1) "I chose"…really? it's up to me? and 2) God's judgment is God's grace.
Judgment is pronounced in today's readings. These are the parts we might like to skip. Seems we are willing to wait or look for God, to live in hope and anticipation, even to cry out for justice--but for "others," always judgment and justice for others.
This could be such a long entry. Scripture offers so much to be explored, so much to be explained. But perhaps exploring and explaining judgment provides just one more way to avoid it. So I'll tell a story instead. One of my children recognized through the "judgment" of another that she "fights dirty." Refusing to acknowledge the validity of the judgment, excusing the dirty fighting as "just part of who I am," blaming it on others--"if you hadn't pushed me so far…," all of these were possible responses. Instead, she listened, recognized the truth of what had been identified, and spent some time figuring out how and why she learned the fighting technique. In accepting the judgment, she also knew she had to make different choices. In the telling of her story, she encourages others to do the same. "You can't have healthy relationships unless you are willing to change the unhealthy ways you interact," she says." I'm going to work on this. Y'all are going to have to help me."
Grace abounds. A "couple" learns how to disagree without destroying each other. Siblings change a terrible habit that has held them apart at one level. The absence of disagreement is not the goal; the ability to disagree in love is possible.
I've learned to love texts of God's judgment. God's anger and judgment are kindled against those God loves…and that's us. God wants shalom for God's people, and holds up all our behaviors that circumvent that shalom so we might see and repent, turning from our broken ways back to the ways of God that give us life and health and wholeness in a community of life and health and wholeness. And we who typically stop at the individual need to hear that God's judgment always pulls us toward the wholeness of community. It's never just about us. God's grace and judgment are the same thing.
The ancient peoples lived mighty different lives than we live. Not all the images make much sense to people of 21st century, first-world consumer cultures. What we read as disturbing images of God doing bad things, they understand as God's sovereignty, God's complete control over all of life, not just what we tend to define as "good." A scientist once reminded me (and I'd document if I could remember who or where) that the earthquake we see primarily as tragic, senseless destruction, is the earthquake that made it possible for life to exist on this planet, the earthquake that continues to renew the earth in ways most of us simply don't understand.
Listening for God's correction and responding is the grace I seek. May it be for you as well.
For many years, I preferred to ignore texts of God's judgment. I chose God's grace, God's love, God's generosity. And God, I'm sure, laughed because 1) "I chose"…really? it's up to me? and 2) God's judgment is God's grace.
Judgment is pronounced in today's readings. These are the parts we might like to skip. Seems we are willing to wait or look for God, to live in hope and anticipation, even to cry out for justice--but for "others," always judgment and justice for others.
This could be such a long entry. Scripture offers so much to be explored, so much to be explained. But perhaps exploring and explaining judgment provides just one more way to avoid it. So I'll tell a story instead. One of my children recognized through the "judgment" of another that she "fights dirty." Refusing to acknowledge the validity of the judgment, excusing the dirty fighting as "just part of who I am," blaming it on others--"if you hadn't pushed me so far…," all of these were possible responses. Instead, she listened, recognized the truth of what had been identified, and spent some time figuring out how and why she learned the fighting technique. In accepting the judgment, she also knew she had to make different choices. In the telling of her story, she encourages others to do the same. "You can't have healthy relationships unless you are willing to change the unhealthy ways you interact," she says." I'm going to work on this. Y'all are going to have to help me."
Grace abounds. A "couple" learns how to disagree without destroying each other. Siblings change a terrible habit that has held them apart at one level. The absence of disagreement is not the goal; the ability to disagree in love is possible.
I've learned to love texts of God's judgment. God's anger and judgment are kindled against those God loves…and that's us. God wants shalom for God's people, and holds up all our behaviors that circumvent that shalom so we might see and repent, turning from our broken ways back to the ways of God that give us life and health and wholeness in a community of life and health and wholeness. And we who typically stop at the individual need to hear that God's judgment always pulls us toward the wholeness of community. It's never just about us. God's grace and judgment are the same thing.
The ancient peoples lived mighty different lives than we live. Not all the images make much sense to people of 21st century, first-world consumer cultures. What we read as disturbing images of God doing bad things, they understand as God's sovereignty, God's complete control over all of life, not just what we tend to define as "good." A scientist once reminded me (and I'd document if I could remember who or where) that the earthquake we see primarily as tragic, senseless destruction, is the earthquake that made it possible for life to exist on this planet, the earthquake that continues to renew the earth in ways most of us simply don't understand.
Listening for God's correction and responding is the grace I seek. May it be for you as well.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Advent 5…A Season of Metaphor
The power of metaphor is strong in the human psyche. Metaphor brings to life a truth we already know, a truth that suddenly sits up and shouts in the recesses of our minds…compelling us to pay attention. (See, it just happens…)
Groucho Marx…even before the Affordable Care Act:
Jesus' parable of the vineyard is beyond the Pharisees. Upstart prophet! Who does he think he is!
So, we start with Psalm 18, and all the psalms, really, are metaphors. The images for the LORD who is our Rock, our fortress, our deliverer…nice. The images for the angry God thundering around in the heavens in anger (a "hot nose" in the Hebrew language…that's what it literally says) are less familiar, strange really. Smoke coming up from God's nostrils, God riding on a cherub, flashing lightning and shaking the foundations of the earth in his anger…certainly more like a movie than real life.
The season of Advent is full of metaphor, "light shining in darkness," "hope of the world," "a season of waiting." Do you ever wish we just said what we meant?
Problem is, we mean God. God's reconciling work. God's in-breaking. God incarnate. Anyone who has had an experience of God will tell you it is a lonely place to be. You cannot explain it to anyone in a way that communicates the power and grace you experienced. You can try, but it never feels like it is enough. So you resort to metaphor.
Advent is the season of metaphor because it is hard to put into words the gift we have received, the gift we anticipate will be ours again and again and again.
Advent, the first metaphor of the Christian year.
Food for thought. (Couldn't resist one last metaphorical shot!)
Groucho Marx…even before the Affordable Care Act:
A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.Winston Churchill was also a master:
Some regard private enterprise as if it were a predatory tiger to be shot. Others look upon it as a cow that they can milk. Only a handful see it for what it really is--the strong horse that pulls the whole cart.Metaphor strikes me in today's readings. Amos first…speaking for God:
I gave you cleanness of teeth in all your cities, and lack of bread in all your places, yet you did not return to me.What? How does clean teeth and no bread inspire a return to God? Beyond me…completely.
Jesus' parable of the vineyard is beyond the Pharisees. Upstart prophet! Who does he think he is!
So, we start with Psalm 18, and all the psalms, really, are metaphors. The images for the LORD who is our Rock, our fortress, our deliverer…nice. The images for the angry God thundering around in the heavens in anger (a "hot nose" in the Hebrew language…that's what it literally says) are less familiar, strange really. Smoke coming up from God's nostrils, God riding on a cherub, flashing lightning and shaking the foundations of the earth in his anger…certainly more like a movie than real life.
The season of Advent is full of metaphor, "light shining in darkness," "hope of the world," "a season of waiting." Do you ever wish we just said what we meant?
Problem is, we mean God. God's reconciling work. God's in-breaking. God incarnate. Anyone who has had an experience of God will tell you it is a lonely place to be. You cannot explain it to anyone in a way that communicates the power and grace you experienced. You can try, but it never feels like it is enough. So you resort to metaphor.
[The LORD] reached down from on high, he took me; he drew me out of mighty waters, He delivered me from my strong enemy, and from those who hated me; for they were too mighty for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity; but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a broad place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me… (Ps. 18)
Advent is the season of metaphor because it is hard to put into words the gift we have received, the gift we anticipate will be ours again and again and again.
The LORD has done great things for us, and we rejoiced. Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like the watercourses in the Negeb. May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves. (Ps. 126)I know…I don't get it fully either. But I hear the prayer, the promise, and the willingness to wait.
Advent, the first metaphor of the Christian year.
Food for thought. (Couldn't resist one last metaphorical shot!)
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Advent Four…Grim
All the readings are pretty grim today. All focus on the brokenness of humankind. Matthew addresses God's refusal to prove Godself to those who are intent on skepticism. Lots of talk of sinners and fools and cows of Bashan, a rather creative slur for the rich women living and oppressing in the time of the prophet Amos. I'm sure calling them cows didn't win Amos any popularity contests. Want to make a woman angry…the title "cow" will do it.
An article circulated on Facebook yesterday, Seven Lies about Christianity that many Christians believe wholeheartedly. The first two are that you will always be happy and that all your problems will disappear. Not the picture painted by todays Advent texts. We would love it, I suppose, if God just went ahead and brought fully God's kingdom in the here and now…we think we would. But if we step back just the smallest step, I think we begin to recognize ourselves in the litany of brokenness. We are oppressors, sometimes intentional, sometimes not (listen to today's NPR report on making t-shirts in Bangladesh). We are often fools. Psalm 50 describes how we think God wants one thing from us when God wants something entirely different. We want things done on our timeline and with our definition of success (2 Peter reading). Even "after we saw it" we don't commit to this life of discipleship (Mt. 21:32). God looks for the wise in Psalm 53 and finds "there is no one who does good."
Perhaps this is the discipline of Advent. Perhaps we are challenged to live for a time in the darkness, look at it, stop pretending it doesn't exist, identify and embrace our part in it. Our friend in 2 Peter suggests that the Lord is slow because of patience, wanting people to "come" to repentance. Reality is, repentance is not possible if we cannot see or acknowledge our brokenness.
Friends who do counseling or therapeutic intervention talk about the difficulty of the first step…helping someone admit they have a problem. That may be the hardest thing ever for us. We so clearly see the problem in every one else, in every thing else. That is what the sinners and prostitutes in the Matthew reading could do. They fully recognized their shortcomings, their sins…and they fully recognized the saving grace offered to them in Jesus Christ. The people of God were the ones who couldn't see their own faults. They also missed the joy of their salvation.
The weirdness is, we live in the full and sure knowledge that we are beloved and forgiven by God. But for today, perhaps we are encouraged to consider our brokenness so that we might know deeply and fully the joy of our forgiveness, so that we might sing the praises of Psalm 147 with every fiber of our beings.
An article circulated on Facebook yesterday, Seven Lies about Christianity that many Christians believe wholeheartedly. The first two are that you will always be happy and that all your problems will disappear. Not the picture painted by todays Advent texts. We would love it, I suppose, if God just went ahead and brought fully God's kingdom in the here and now…we think we would. But if we step back just the smallest step, I think we begin to recognize ourselves in the litany of brokenness. We are oppressors, sometimes intentional, sometimes not (listen to today's NPR report on making t-shirts in Bangladesh). We are often fools. Psalm 50 describes how we think God wants one thing from us when God wants something entirely different. We want things done on our timeline and with our definition of success (2 Peter reading). Even "after we saw it" we don't commit to this life of discipleship (Mt. 21:32). God looks for the wise in Psalm 53 and finds "there is no one who does good."
Perhaps this is the discipline of Advent. Perhaps we are challenged to live for a time in the darkness, look at it, stop pretending it doesn't exist, identify and embrace our part in it. Our friend in 2 Peter suggests that the Lord is slow because of patience, wanting people to "come" to repentance. Reality is, repentance is not possible if we cannot see or acknowledge our brokenness.
Friends who do counseling or therapeutic intervention talk about the difficulty of the first step…helping someone admit they have a problem. That may be the hardest thing ever for us. We so clearly see the problem in every one else, in every thing else. That is what the sinners and prostitutes in the Matthew reading could do. They fully recognized their shortcomings, their sins…and they fully recognized the saving grace offered to them in Jesus Christ. The people of God were the ones who couldn't see their own faults. They also missed the joy of their salvation.
The weirdness is, we live in the full and sure knowledge that we are beloved and forgiven by God. But for today, perhaps we are encouraged to consider our brokenness so that we might know deeply and fully the joy of our forgiveness, so that we might sing the praises of Psalm 147 with every fiber of our beings.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Advent 3…Reminders and Witnesses
I haven't spent much time reading 2 Peter, but if you know me, this will make you laugh, and you will understand why I stopped here on the Advent journey:
These biblical accounts of the saving work of our Triune God are not just a "cleverly devised myth" or a nice story. These are eyewitness accounts of God at work in human lives. That is what the season of Advent is about…looking, asking, seeking God at work. Demanding, at times, that God be at work.
I've been reading Almost Christian and the section I read last night and this morning is about witnessing. To witness means both "to see" and "to tell." Learning to do both is a critical task of the people of God. Seeing God at work and telling others our eyewitness account, our experience of the great grace and love of the Triune God, that is fundamental work. Kenda Creasy Dean makes the case that "teens learn to articulate faith by hearing adults articulate theirs." (p. 163) She describes the "God-story" as the "decoder ring" that helps interpret our own experiences. "Without a story to tell, there is no faith; without a language to tell our story, Christianity remains on mute--and the church's missional imagination atrophies. The gospel is unambiguous: good news is meant to be shared." Dean suggest it is the core of our identity to "run from the tomb to tell: "Here's how it went, here's what I saw. I've been there and I'm going back."( p. 167)
The author of 2 Peter could have written Dean's book. "I intend to keep reminding you of these things though you know them already…" We understand the prophetic message, he or she says. We've experienced the honor and glory of God. We are part of a long line of men and women moved by the Holy Spirit to speak about God.
And so I remind. I nag. I question. I witness. I remind. I nag. I question. I witness. As long as I am in this body, I will remind you. And in the words of 2 Peter:
Therefore I intend to keep on reminding you of these things, though you know them already…I think it right as long as I am in this body, to refresh your memory...The reminders are of eyewitness accounts of the work of Jesus Christ. The author refers specifically to the Spirit's coming at Jesus' baptism and the transfiguration experience on the mountain top. "Remember" the author says. "I know you know these things…but remember?!" And the author is not just concerned about the event, but that the event that reveals "the prophetic message more fully confirmed."
These biblical accounts of the saving work of our Triune God are not just a "cleverly devised myth" or a nice story. These are eyewitness accounts of God at work in human lives. That is what the season of Advent is about…looking, asking, seeking God at work. Demanding, at times, that God be at work.
I've been reading Almost Christian and the section I read last night and this morning is about witnessing. To witness means both "to see" and "to tell." Learning to do both is a critical task of the people of God. Seeing God at work and telling others our eyewitness account, our experience of the great grace and love of the Triune God, that is fundamental work. Kenda Creasy Dean makes the case that "teens learn to articulate faith by hearing adults articulate theirs." (p. 163) She describes the "God-story" as the "decoder ring" that helps interpret our own experiences. "Without a story to tell, there is no faith; without a language to tell our story, Christianity remains on mute--and the church's missional imagination atrophies. The gospel is unambiguous: good news is meant to be shared." Dean suggest it is the core of our identity to "run from the tomb to tell: "Here's how it went, here's what I saw. I've been there and I'm going back."( p. 167)
The author of 2 Peter could have written Dean's book. "I intend to keep reminding you of these things though you know them already…" We understand the prophetic message, he or she says. We've experienced the honor and glory of God. We are part of a long line of men and women moved by the Holy Spirit to speak about God.
And so I remind. I nag. I question. I witness. I remind. I nag. I question. I witness. As long as I am in this body, I will remind you. And in the words of 2 Peter:
You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.That could well be the definition of Advent.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Advent 2…Seeking Shalom
The author of Psalm 22 stands in Jerusalem, the city that belongs to the LORD, the city which signifies the presence of the kingdom of God. Recognizing life in the kingdom of God inspires a response. Verses 8-9 pull us from a position of lauding our privilege as God's people and place us squarely where we belong...in the service of that kingdom.
How do we do this? What enables us to live in this way that requires this unimaginable risk? Psalm 40 answers the question:
The simple is always the most difficult. Live like this…"I will seek your good."
For the sake of my relatives and friends I will say, "Peace be with you." For the sake of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek your good.This peace, shalom, stretches far beyond the lack of conflict. It encompasses the health and wholeness of every person in every place and time. Yesterday in worship we were challenged to live as if the kingdom was already fully realized. The author of Psalm 122 stands within the gates of Jerusalem and does just that; he or she lives like the kingdom of God is fully here.
For the sake of my relatives and friends I will say, "Peace be with you." For the sake of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek your good."I will seek your good." It is not enough to imagine the good that would come from living that reality. We are called to live there. It is a dangerous place to live; it may require our lives. In fact, it will require our lives.
How do we do this? What enables us to live in this way that requires this unimaginable risk? Psalm 40 answers the question:
As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God.The advent, the beginning, of the kingdom of God on earth begins with our realization that the Lord takes thought of us. The kingdom comes when, by the power of the Spirit, we enact the Psalmist's promise: "for the sake of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek your good."
The simple is always the most difficult. Live like this…"I will seek your good."
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Another Advent Begins...
For the Advent season, a series of short meditations on the Daily Lectionary readings. (Remember, you can put your e-mail in the "Follow by E-mail" slot in the top right-hand column and we will show up in your in-box.)
Psalm 24 begins:
Our darkest secret, our most intractable problems, our most embarrassing failures…our most embarrassing successes…none of these is our starting point or our finishing point. None of this defines us.
Psalm 24 begins:
The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it...Not a bad starting place. The earth doesn't belong to the retail monster, to the too-small paycheck, to the addiction or the disagreement that seems to expand until to swallows every moment of every day, every fiber of every relationship.
Our darkest secret, our most intractable problems, our most embarrassing failures…our most embarrassing successes…none of these is our starting point or our finishing point. None of this defines us.
The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it...It's the only place to stand as we begin a new year as the people of God. We look for God's reconciling, redeeming activity from that perch. We exist, whether we acknowledge it or not, as God's own.
The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world and those who live in it...
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Children Died...
Children died. It was an accident, a terrible, stupid, typical accident. And children died.
At youth group, we had a bonfire and made bad wiener jokes, told sketchy ghost stories, ate a multitude of hot dogs, threw away enough food to make the prophet Amos take notice, but we never, never once talked about the hurt, pain, fear, and grief that swallow up our neighbors.
A few individual conversations happened. Some wondered if a service of healing and wholeness should be held…led, perhaps, by youth of the church.
Probably not say parents. Kids live in two separate realms. School is school. Church is church. Kids won't want to mix the two.
WHAT ARE WE DOING? If our faith practice and children who die don't intersect, if that doesn't flatten us with concern and grief for each other, for the hurting inside and outside our doors, if we don't see that our witness to healing, new life, and a God fully present in these moments of extraordinary, unstoppable, unceasing pain is the gift we bring to the world…then why are we here?
"Christian formation invites [us] into this motley band of pilgrims and prepares [us] to receive the Spirit who calls [us], shapes [us] and enlists [us] in God's plan to right a capsized world." (Dean, p. 18)
There is no more important practice than understanding, articulating, and living this Christian faith as Jesus lived it. For our kids. For any of us. We must have, we must live, we must teach a consequential Christian faith.
Because children died.
At youth group, we had a bonfire and made bad wiener jokes, told sketchy ghost stories, ate a multitude of hot dogs, threw away enough food to make the prophet Amos take notice, but we never, never once talked about the hurt, pain, fear, and grief that swallow up our neighbors.
A few individual conversations happened. Some wondered if a service of healing and wholeness should be held…led, perhaps, by youth of the church.
Probably not say parents. Kids live in two separate realms. School is school. Church is church. Kids won't want to mix the two.
WHAT ARE WE DOING? If our faith practice and children who die don't intersect, if that doesn't flatten us with concern and grief for each other, for the hurting inside and outside our doors, if we don't see that our witness to healing, new life, and a God fully present in these moments of extraordinary, unstoppable, unceasing pain is the gift we bring to the world…then why are we here?
"Christian formation invites [us] into this motley band of pilgrims and prepares [us] to receive the Spirit who calls [us], shapes [us] and enlists [us] in God's plan to right a capsized world." (Dean, p. 18)
There is no more important practice than understanding, articulating, and living this Christian faith as Jesus lived it. For our kids. For any of us. We must have, we must live, we must teach a consequential Christian faith.
Because children died.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Does it Matter?
I'm a relatively unimportant person. I'm important to a few people...my kids, my husband...and the dog. I am very important to the dog. I carry a bit of weight around particular tasks in my job. I'm the one who organizes Sunday school, for example. People think that makes me important, but it doesn't, really. Anyone could do it. I just happen to be the one in this time and place that gets it done.
I don't have a powerful job or lots of money. Therefore, I have little influence in the business or political spheres. Like most of you, my representatives to congress think I am worthy of a form letter and not much more. I guess I should be thankful that an e-mail or phone call gets a form letter...but letter never has anything to do with the opinion I express.
I have moments of importance. When I inquire about buying a car listed on the internet, I am important until the salesman figures out I wanted to pay the "gotcha" price and not something four to six thousand dollars higher. When I have time or skill that someone needs, I am important.
But in the grand scheme of things...I'm not going to be in the history books. My face will not beam from a granite mountaintop. I haven't started a movement, and I have resisted, so far, the impulse to murder anyone.
I was listening to Dave Isay talk about starting StoryCorps on NPR, "a project to give people of all backgrounds the chance to share and record the stories of their lives." He describes writing a book about homeless people in a New York City neighborhood. He brought the galley of the book to the flophouse and one of the guys opened to his page and ran down the hall shouting "I exist! I exist!" That, for Isay, was the "clarion call." He began StoryCorps to "tell [people] their lives matter and they won't be forgotten."
Now I am fully human, and there are times I wish I was important. Moments call out for recognition beyond the dog's total adoration and attention (which, you understand, happens for the 15 seconds before he eats, while the food is sitting on the floor and he is "waiting" for permission). I'm not dead yet, so I occasionally dream about writing a book like Eugene Peterson, painting a picture like Georgia O'Keefe, or singing like my daughter.
But here's the thing. My life matters and I won't be forgotten. I commit my life to the idea that I have been invited to participate in the mission of God, the God who creates, redeems, sustains, rules and transforms all things and all people. "Importance" in this culture doesn't really matter. What's important is how God chooses to use our lives, and we don't have to know how that shakes out.
I don' t even need a book to tell me I exist. I am a child of God. That gives what I do right the power and influence of God's very self...and what I do wrong gets dismissed or re-routed into what God will use for God's ultimate purposes. Today, I sit at my desk, type on this little, unimportant blog, write curriculum for the Christian formation of this congregation, and celebrate that I exist in the mind and heart and purposes of God. In that, my life matters and I will never be forgotten.
I don't have a powerful job or lots of money. Therefore, I have little influence in the business or political spheres. Like most of you, my representatives to congress think I am worthy of a form letter and not much more. I guess I should be thankful that an e-mail or phone call gets a form letter...but letter never has anything to do with the opinion I express.
I have moments of importance. When I inquire about buying a car listed on the internet, I am important until the salesman figures out I wanted to pay the "gotcha" price and not something four to six thousand dollars higher. When I have time or skill that someone needs, I am important.
But in the grand scheme of things...I'm not going to be in the history books. My face will not beam from a granite mountaintop. I haven't started a movement, and I have resisted, so far, the impulse to murder anyone.
I was listening to Dave Isay talk about starting StoryCorps on NPR, "a project to give people of all backgrounds the chance to share and record the stories of their lives." He describes writing a book about homeless people in a New York City neighborhood. He brought the galley of the book to the flophouse and one of the guys opened to his page and ran down the hall shouting "I exist! I exist!" That, for Isay, was the "clarion call." He began StoryCorps to "tell [people] their lives matter and they won't be forgotten."
Now I am fully human, and there are times I wish I was important. Moments call out for recognition beyond the dog's total adoration and attention (which, you understand, happens for the 15 seconds before he eats, while the food is sitting on the floor and he is "waiting" for permission). I'm not dead yet, so I occasionally dream about writing a book like Eugene Peterson, painting a picture like Georgia O'Keefe, or singing like my daughter.
But here's the thing. My life matters and I won't be forgotten. I commit my life to the idea that I have been invited to participate in the mission of God, the God who creates, redeems, sustains, rules and transforms all things and all people. "Importance" in this culture doesn't really matter. What's important is how God chooses to use our lives, and we don't have to know how that shakes out.
I don' t even need a book to tell me I exist. I am a child of God. That gives what I do right the power and influence of God's very self...and what I do wrong gets dismissed or re-routed into what God will use for God's ultimate purposes. Today, I sit at my desk, type on this little, unimportant blog, write curriculum for the Christian formation of this congregation, and celebrate that I exist in the mind and heart and purposes of God. In that, my life matters and I will never be forgotten.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
We Are NOT Broken...NOT!
An acquaintance posted this on his Facebook Page:
IF we are just fragile and distractible, then really, not much is wrong with the world. We don't need to work for marriage equality or food security. We don't need to worry about damage to the environment or discrimination on the basis of anything. Because...we are not really broken. We'll get there. Remember, "because of our love we have a slight bias toward justice." If that's the case, the funeral protesters of the Baptist church-that-shall-go-unnamed are a unique expression of God here on earth, just hoping their love will be recognized. The attempt to eliminate SNAP grants while cutting tax burdens for the wealthy is just a reflection of our "real-ness."
If we are NOT broken, why should we work on our marriages, our political system, our relationships with each other and the world. We are right...if slightly distracted...and should just wait for the rest of the world to come to us.
Really, if we are just "fragile and distractible"..."in process," then all we need is time. What we don't need is God. Well, maybe we need God a little--mostly to recognize our unbroken, potential selves...our unique selves that just need a bit more time to grow. If God could recognize that and quit calling us to humility and service, all would be good.
It is so tempting to buy into this perspective. Some years ago, I would have relished the positive tone. I believe with my whole heart that God creates us good, but we are born into such a broken world, it is impossible to extract ourselves from the brokenness. And, the insistence that nothing is fundamentally wrong reveals the depth of our sin.
Ah, there's the word. Sin. Christianity has many things wrong, I'll admit. Could it be, perhaps, because we are such sinful creatures? Exclusive theology...sin. Focus on earning our way to heaven while we ignore the hell on earth...sin. Preserving power structures in Christ's church that enable a few to prosper and many to suffer...sin. Forgetting that God is always doing a new thing in our lives and our world and clinging to the way-we've-always-done-it...sin.
Christianity has it exactly right when we recognize the depth of our brokenness. It is only then that healing begins. It is only then that we are willing to let God's grace work on us. If we're not broken, why should we do anything different at all.
We are beloved by God and, in fact, bursting with potential, but until we truly accept and confess our brokenness, the process by which God moves us toward God's definition of good (sanctification, for you theology nerds), will slow to a crawl (because we cannot ultimately stop what God will do). The love to be recognized is God's, in which we live and move and have our being.
If I "buy" this guy's perspective, then the health and well-being of the world is up to me. I can be just a little better, a little more focused, grow and little more, and all will be right with the world. Frankly, if the hope of the world is up to me, or my fellow human travelers, I don't see much hope. If the hope of the world rests fully in God's grace and love, then I can participate to the very best of my ability, in a faith community which nurtures me in the journey and holds me accountable for participating. I can do this because I trust that God is working out God's purposes. I see glimpses of the Kingdom, I see the mighty acts of justice in the past, and I can trust that all the brokenness that surrounds us in this time and place will not have the ultimate say.
We are the broken, flawed, fallen, distractible, beloved of God. And because we are beloved, God continues to work to bring us, and all our fellow broken, flawed, fallen, distractibles to the place of love and trust that will eventually become God's Kingdom here on earth.
Christianity has it wrong. We are not broken. We are not fallen. We are not flawed. We are simply fragile. We are beautifully distractible. We are self-invested because of love but that love also gives us a slight bias toward justice. We are so deeply invested in life that we can, at times, deny the larger good for the experience of the moment. We are not broken. We are human. We are flesh and blood, and we are experiential. Sometimes that makes us better. Sometimes that make us worse. It never makes us less. Or sinful. Or unredeemable. It means we are real. It mean that life has a relentless hold on us. The struggles, the stumbles, the seemingly endless short-fallings simply point to our humanity not to our unworthiness. They mean life is difficult -- but they also mean life is vibrant - pulsing with potential, ripe with possibility, constantly presenting lesson from which to grow. YOU - you are not broken. You are a unique expression of God here on Earth. You are bursting with potential that has not yet been expressed. You are God's beloved. You are NOT broken. You are in process. You are love hoping to not only be expressed but to be recognized.I agree with some of what he says. I do think we are unique, flesh and blood, and experiential. I know we are redeemable. I think life is vibrant--pulsing with potential, ripe with possibility...at least at those times when circumstances haven't overwhelmed us with hopelessness. But, consider this.
IF we are just fragile and distractible, then really, not much is wrong with the world. We don't need to work for marriage equality or food security. We don't need to worry about damage to the environment or discrimination on the basis of anything. Because...we are not really broken. We'll get there. Remember, "because of our love we have a slight bias toward justice." If that's the case, the funeral protesters of the Baptist church-that-shall-go-unnamed are a unique expression of God here on earth, just hoping their love will be recognized. The attempt to eliminate SNAP grants while cutting tax burdens for the wealthy is just a reflection of our "real-ness."
If we are NOT broken, why should we work on our marriages, our political system, our relationships with each other and the world. We are right...if slightly distracted...and should just wait for the rest of the world to come to us.
Really, if we are just "fragile and distractible"..."in process," then all we need is time. What we don't need is God. Well, maybe we need God a little--mostly to recognize our unbroken, potential selves...our unique selves that just need a bit more time to grow. If God could recognize that and quit calling us to humility and service, all would be good.
It is so tempting to buy into this perspective. Some years ago, I would have relished the positive tone. I believe with my whole heart that God creates us good, but we are born into such a broken world, it is impossible to extract ourselves from the brokenness. And, the insistence that nothing is fundamentally wrong reveals the depth of our sin.
Ah, there's the word. Sin. Christianity has many things wrong, I'll admit. Could it be, perhaps, because we are such sinful creatures? Exclusive theology...sin. Focus on earning our way to heaven while we ignore the hell on earth...sin. Preserving power structures in Christ's church that enable a few to prosper and many to suffer...sin. Forgetting that God is always doing a new thing in our lives and our world and clinging to the way-we've-always-done-it...sin.
Christianity has it exactly right when we recognize the depth of our brokenness. It is only then that healing begins. It is only then that we are willing to let God's grace work on us. If we're not broken, why should we do anything different at all.
We are beloved by God and, in fact, bursting with potential, but until we truly accept and confess our brokenness, the process by which God moves us toward God's definition of good (sanctification, for you theology nerds), will slow to a crawl (because we cannot ultimately stop what God will do). The love to be recognized is God's, in which we live and move and have our being.
If I "buy" this guy's perspective, then the health and well-being of the world is up to me. I can be just a little better, a little more focused, grow and little more, and all will be right with the world. Frankly, if the hope of the world is up to me, or my fellow human travelers, I don't see much hope. If the hope of the world rests fully in God's grace and love, then I can participate to the very best of my ability, in a faith community which nurtures me in the journey and holds me accountable for participating. I can do this because I trust that God is working out God's purposes. I see glimpses of the Kingdom, I see the mighty acts of justice in the past, and I can trust that all the brokenness that surrounds us in this time and place will not have the ultimate say.
We are the broken, flawed, fallen, distractible, beloved of God. And because we are beloved, God continues to work to bring us, and all our fellow broken, flawed, fallen, distractibles to the place of love and trust that will eventually become God's Kingdom here on earth.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
WAIT!...
Our nursery children have established a bad habit of running into the parlor on their way to the sanctuary and hiding in the most inviting hiding place ever...ever...ever. But rounding them up to get them into the sanctuary on time can be a bit of a challenge.
This week, the "in worship" children were sitting, waiting for the pastor to begin the time with the children. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.... Finally, Joe said, "Well, we'll go ahead and get started."
And then, of course, the door opened and most of the children came in. Joe began to speak and from the hallway echoed a shriek...."WAIT!!!!!!"
The last two-year-old careened through the door and skidded into place while the congregation roared with laughter.
Aren't we just like that? God is ready to start with us and we are hiding in our special places, convinced that we are having the most possible fun, living the fullest life, knowing we couldn't possibly go into God's places until after we finish with our own. But occasionally we realize that God has started without us and we think that shouting "Wait!" will stop God's work with the rest of the world so that we can have our own place secure.
And when God stops laughing..............
This week, the "in worship" children were sitting, waiting for the pastor to begin the time with the children. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.... Finally, Joe said, "Well, we'll go ahead and get started."
And then, of course, the door opened and most of the children came in. Joe began to speak and from the hallway echoed a shriek...."WAIT!!!!!!"
The last two-year-old careened through the door and skidded into place while the congregation roared with laughter.
Aren't we just like that? God is ready to start with us and we are hiding in our special places, convinced that we are having the most possible fun, living the fullest life, knowing we couldn't possibly go into God's places until after we finish with our own. But occasionally we realize that God has started without us and we think that shouting "Wait!" will stop God's work with the rest of the world so that we can have our own place secure.
And when God stops laughing..............
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Satellite Churches...
I really have always been uncomfortable with the idea of satellite churches. Some would say its is jealousy...if I were the famous pastor whose sermons were so mightily compelling that people in a different part of the city wanted to be part of my church and were content to stream me in on Sunday in worship...then I would be all for it. I am doubtful...though I recognize the tendency toward thinking we are that important and trust that if it happens you will gently, or not so gently, tell me I am full of #@*!.
One danger of living in a family of bookworms is whatever conversation you have inevitably leads to the discussion of a recently read volume. Authors, I'm sure, appreciate this. Blog readers may not. But I was reading a book recommended by my daughter, the aspiring professor of Worship and Liturgy. Thomas Schattauer gathers a group of colleagues in a discussion of church and the mission of God. He might be surprised to know he inspires me to encourage a bunch of satellite churches.
Schattauer's opening discussion is on the "traditional" separation of worship and mission--translation, what we have been doing for a hundred years or so. Worship (liturgy is his term) is what the people of God do inside the church to be empowered to take up "mission" outside the church, "in the world." He calls this the "inside and out" church. (Mission includes both the evangelistic proclamation of the gospel for the salvation of the world and service to others in the name of Christ.)
God's mission? The "salvation" of the world. Eugene Peterson puts it this way in Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work:
Church can be strange. I give you that. We do all stand at certain times and sing together. We admit aloud to being sinful creatures who struggle mightily to live into whole healthy relationships with God and other persons. We address an Almighty God who spoke the good creation into being and gifted us with life. We celebrate the saving activity of our God who came to us, revealed God's intention for life together, and defeated the powers of sin and death to which we give so much credence. We use strange rituals, say strange words, and enact strange behaviors. But all those strange things become opportunities to understand a new reality...the ultimate reality shaping each of us.
And, if you will excuse one more quote...this is Schattauer's articulation of the reason for the worship celebration. BTW, His "flickering flame in the middle of the night" is the metaphorical position of the church in culture.
Yeah, go chew on this one for awhile...bunches of little satellites circling around something...sometimes many somethings. But I am again inspired and committed to God's vision of the world, this reality that says we really can, through the power of the Spirit, live whole, healthy, relational lives. That is what I want as the center of my life. The rest seems more and more like space junk.
One danger of living in a family of bookworms is whatever conversation you have inevitably leads to the discussion of a recently read volume. Authors, I'm sure, appreciate this. Blog readers may not. But I was reading a book recommended by my daughter, the aspiring professor of Worship and Liturgy. Thomas Schattauer gathers a group of colleagues in a discussion of church and the mission of God. He might be surprised to know he inspires me to encourage a bunch of satellite churches.
Schattauer's opening discussion is on the "traditional" separation of worship and mission--translation, what we have been doing for a hundred years or so. Worship (liturgy is his term) is what the people of God do inside the church to be empowered to take up "mission" outside the church, "in the world." He calls this the "inside and out" church. (Mission includes both the evangelistic proclamation of the gospel for the salvation of the world and service to others in the name of Christ.)
Worship serves the purpose of mission, not because it directly accomplishes the tasks of evangelical proclamation and diaconal service but because it offers access to the means of grace that propel the individual and the community as a whole into such activity. Worship and mission, however, remain distinct activities within clearly demarcated spheres of the church's life--inside and out.Worship, with this mind-set, is really only for those inside the church; mission is what we are called to do outside the church. The second approach Schattauer describes is what many churches do as "contemporary churches," the "outside in" approach. To try and repair the separation of the Christian life into separate realms (church and world), the contemporary church has attempted to "bring the activities of mission directly into the context of worship."
... [Worship] becomes one of two things--either a stage from which to present the gospel and reach out to the unchurched and irreligious, or a platform from which to issue the call to serve the neighbor and rally commitment for social and political action...The tasks of mission become the principal purpose of the church's worship--outside in.As we, the non-professor reader wonder what, really, is wrong with either scenario, Schattauer offers a third option which rings so true to me that the other two options are no longer possible "as is."
There is a third way, inside out. This approach locates the liturgical assemblyI like this. The church gathered to worship is part of the mission of God...and becomes the visible focal point of that mission. (sometimes we can really screw that up!) I have heard the worshipping community, the worship ritual itself, described as a "statement of reality." Who are we really? Consumers? Parents? Stressed worker-bees in an economic machine? The poor? The rich? Cool? Old? Young? Which label are we really? Worship places us in the "real." We are identified, really really, as the people of God, ultimately not under the control of powers and principalities that never have our best interests at heart.
[worship] , to whitself within the arena of the missio Dei [mission of God]. The focus is on God's mission toward the world, to which the church witnesses and into which it is drawn, rather than on specific activities of the church undertaken in response to the divine saving initiative...The visible act of assembly (in Christ by the power of the Spirit) and the forms of this assembly-what we call liturgy-enact and signify this mission...The [worshipping] assembly is the visible locus of God's reconciling mission toward the world.
God's mission? The "salvation" of the world. Eugene Peterson puts it this way in Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work:
Salvation is the act of God in which we are rescued from the consequences of our sin (bondage, fragmentation) and put in a position to live in free, open, loving relationships with God and our neighbors...With God's act of salvation we are able to be addressed by a whole series of commands by which we are ordered into live, whole, healthy relationships with God and other persons...[God's] people were saved--they were defined, shaped, and centered not by military, political or environmental forces but by the act of God. (p. 27)We could so add "economic forces" to that list. But the point is we are defined by God, not by anything or anyone else. Our participation in worship teaches us that, reminds us of that, and reveals to the world this different, grace-centered reality.
Church can be strange. I give you that. We do all stand at certain times and sing together. We admit aloud to being sinful creatures who struggle mightily to live into whole healthy relationships with God and other persons. We address an Almighty God who spoke the good creation into being and gifted us with life. We celebrate the saving activity of our God who came to us, revealed God's intention for life together, and defeated the powers of sin and death to which we give so much credence. We use strange rituals, say strange words, and enact strange behaviors. But all those strange things become opportunities to understand a new reality...the ultimate reality shaping each of us.
And, if you will excuse one more quote...this is Schattauer's articulation of the reason for the worship celebration. BTW, His "flickering flame in the middle of the night" is the metaphorical position of the church in culture.
This arena [worship] is a highly symbolic one in which the gathering of a local company of the faithful around a flickering flame in the middle of the night is set in relation to choirs of angels, the earth, and the whole church encompassing the peoples, all joined in a joyful eruption of cosmic praise. The liturgical assembly is never just what it appears to be. It always points to the eschatological reality beyond itself, to the purpose of God in Christ for the world and its peoples, for the whole created order...We are, by this definition, all satellite churches, as communities, but also as individuals in our personal orbits between Sundays. This is God's mission, God's definition, Gods' work, God's purpose for all of creation. God is the one who streams in through the hearing of the Word, the practice of prayer, praise, and the recognition that we are inherently part of God's mission in the world. We don't go do it for God. We exist and act as God's people in the world with God, by the power of God. Worship reshapes us, redefines us, and as this re-created people, we each are satellites of God's message and purpose.
Yeah, go chew on this one for awhile...bunches of little satellites circling around something...sometimes many somethings. But I am again inspired and committed to God's vision of the world, this reality that says we really can, through the power of the Spirit, live whole, healthy, relational lives. That is what I want as the center of my life. The rest seems more and more like space junk.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Presbyterian Evangelism (not an oxymoron!)...
“Invite a Friend to Church Sunday!”
Uncommon words for Presbyterians.
Uncomfortable words for Presbyterians.
Un-doable words for Presbyterians? Maybe. Maybe not.
I suppose there’s bad news in the mix. If “you build it and they will come” worked anymore, we wouldn’t have to invite people to church. They would drive by, see the building, and eagerly speed up the drive to introduce themselves and get involved. We do have people speed up our drive, but they live in the back forty and are in a hurry to get home. The days of people flocking to us because everyone is doing it are gone.
More bad news involves the three most common terms/phrases people use to identify Christians: hypocritical, judgmental, and anti-homosexual. That’s the identity that gets spread through the media. That’s the “controversy” that sells. Grace and acceptance are not nearly as marketable. (Everyone knows the name of that church picketing funerals whose name I won't mention because I refuse to give them more free advertising. Only we know the names of our ordinary, local churches.)
There’s also interesting news in the mix. I’ve been reading about membership and the lack thereof. A multitude of organizations survey people inside and outside of the church. Much information in the first wave of survey results were not positive. The most shocking statistic for Americans who have always claimed to be a religious people, was the 20% of people who now are unafraid to claim “none” status when asked about religious preference. Believe me, that got church tongues a-waggin’. If people will actually admit publicly they don’t care about church, we might be in trouble. People have not cared about church forever, but “none” would dare admit it. Now “nones” embrace it. Yikes!
But once you find a shocking behavior, people study it further and results get refined. Claude Fischer, a professor of sociology at Berkeley helps understand the statistics.
FIrst the “nones” are neither atheist or agnostic, they are “nothing in particular." Fischer says, “A growing proportion of Americans, particularly young ones, who lean liberal politically (and were not much religious to start with) have responded to the growing connection between churches and conservative cultural politics by declaring their opposition to organized religion. If religion means the “religious right,” they seem to be saying, then count me out.” The economic issue seems to be the extended period between adolescence and adulthood where young adults are not in stable jobs, homes, or relationships, and until they are, they don’t tend to “return to church.”
What do people want? One more list from a researcher.
- A church that makes space for imaginative risk-taking and creative self-expression.
- A church that nurtures a deep, holistic faith that encompasses every area of life.
- A church that doesn’t separate or demonize science, but interacts with it positively and prophetically
- A church that understands and works toward a vision of “restored relationships” instead of sexual repressiveness.
- A church that pursues and includes outsiders as Jesus did.
- A church that allows doubts, helping integrate questions into a “robust life of faith.”
Second, the church of Jesus Christ has been blessed with a great, diverse congregation, a people called together to spread the good news of the gospel--not that we are “in” and others are “out,” but that God has acted on behalf of all people and that we, recognizing that great gift of love and grace, have been called together, bringing our gifts to work to equip each other as disciples and answer God’s call to work to change the world, bringing justice and peace as defined by God. Micah puts it well... we attempt to “do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our God.”
So, to consider an “Invite a Friend to Church” Sunday, perhaps we don’t mean “friend” in the traditional sense, someone we know, who probably goes to another church, but who will come with us one Sunday. Perhaps we should say “Invite a Child of God to Church.” Our call here is to be aware of the people in our lives who need community, who need purpose in life, who need God’s grace. We know God is at work out there ahead of us. We now know that most people we converse with are not atheists or agnostics, but people who probably think all church is something we are not and who are looking for the very things we experience in this faith community. We need to remember that we are not “saving” them, but inviting them to come, experience and know the “Triune God who creates, redeems, sustains, rules, and transforms all things and all people.” (From the Book of Order, PCUSA)
Maybe you don’t know who that person is that God asks you to invite, to include. You can still do something--three “P’s”. Pray that God will be active in their lives to turn them toward openness. You may not know who they are, but God does. Practice articulating the grace you have experienced (including the failures for which we all must make amends). Pledge to actually invite others who cross your path for that is God's work on their behalf.
“Invite a Friend to Church Sunday!”
Un-doable words for Presbyterians? No. “We can do all things through Christ...”
See, there is such a thing as Presbyterian Evangelism!
(Disclaimer...a version of this was written for the church newsletter. Apologies to those reading twice. Kudos for actually reading your newsletter!!)
Thursday, August 15, 2013
The Fair or the Just...
The conversation this week on the radio was all about a denial of merger between two large airlines. It's not fair, people complain. The last time two airlines wanted to merge, it was allowed. To be fair, you should allow the merger this time, too. Opponents made the point that times and economic conditions were different last time.
I find the "fair" argument fascinating. My kids used it...a LOT. "It's not fair!" was a fallback position anytime another person got something they wanted, or thought they wanted. But, of course, when they benefitted from special treatment, all was well.
We all do it. It's human nature to want the "other" person's benefits cut while preserving our own. Makes perfect sense. "We" work hard, are deserving, and will make good use of the benefit. "They" on the other hand, are lazy, don't deserve special treatment, and will waste the opportunity.
One way I have been transformed by my faith journey is learning to use the right adjective. I no longer ask, "Is it fair?" My question is, "Is it just?" I have four children, have worked with many others in my work as an educator in schools and church. Each child needs something different from me. Some need much time and energy. Some less. "Fair" would mean each child should get the exact same amount of time. "Just" means each child gets what they need.
God is not "fair" to us. We never get the same thing as the person next to us. We also do not get what we "deserve." What we get is God's very self, an offer of relationship that leads ultimately to our shalom, our health and wholeness...and more importantly, the health and wholeness of our families, our communities, and the whole world. That's God's vision. But it is not "fair." It will never be "fair."
SNAP grants have been cut significantly by congress. One reason, "It's not fair." Not fair that some people get government assistance. Not fair that a few abuse the system. Not fair that I can't go down and get help with my grocery bill.
Our God is a God who favors the poor, the widow, the orphan. For God, the issue is never fairness, it's always justice.
It's time to change the question.
I find the "fair" argument fascinating. My kids used it...a LOT. "It's not fair!" was a fallback position anytime another person got something they wanted, or thought they wanted. But, of course, when they benefitted from special treatment, all was well.
We all do it. It's human nature to want the "other" person's benefits cut while preserving our own. Makes perfect sense. "We" work hard, are deserving, and will make good use of the benefit. "They" on the other hand, are lazy, don't deserve special treatment, and will waste the opportunity.
One way I have been transformed by my faith journey is learning to use the right adjective. I no longer ask, "Is it fair?" My question is, "Is it just?" I have four children, have worked with many others in my work as an educator in schools and church. Each child needs something different from me. Some need much time and energy. Some less. "Fair" would mean each child should get the exact same amount of time. "Just" means each child gets what they need.
God is not "fair" to us. We never get the same thing as the person next to us. We also do not get what we "deserve." What we get is God's very self, an offer of relationship that leads ultimately to our shalom, our health and wholeness...and more importantly, the health and wholeness of our families, our communities, and the whole world. That's God's vision. But it is not "fair." It will never be "fair."
SNAP grants have been cut significantly by congress. One reason, "It's not fair." Not fair that some people get government assistance. Not fair that a few abuse the system. Not fair that I can't go down and get help with my grocery bill.
Our God is a God who favors the poor, the widow, the orphan. For God, the issue is never fairness, it's always justice.
It's time to change the question.
Monday, July 29, 2013
The 23rd Psalm...
We are at a youth retreat, and while most of the time these retreats are thoughtful and interesting, occasionally the need to be "relevant" and "creative" becomes the tail wagging the dog. At times, the fail is of epic proportions. This year's example, the "enactment" of the Psalm 23 with sheep dressed in white shorts and t-shirts with men's black dress socks on their hands/arms and feet/legs. Think white sheep, black legs and you get the picture. (Though the poor "sheep" did have to walk around the stage a good while saying "baaaaa" before we figured it out.)
After we understood the strange guy who didn't know how to dress was, in fact, a sheep, his sheep friends joined him in a lovely little flock (boon of business for the sock industry--buy stock now). Their blue-jean clad shepherd held some kind of big stick. The re-telling of the psalm commenced.
Shaking fabric made "water" which the sheep walked beside, then lay down next to. The shepherd had a pool whistle used to summon the sheep when they wandered off. The water, when held over the sheep, became the "darkest shadows"--the "valley of the shadow of death" to most of us. The "table of my enemies" was a communion table--picture Da Vinci's "The Last Supper" only with sheep, not disciples or Weinheimer dogs. The one really cool thing was the overflowing cup--done with glitter that looked in that huge auditorium just like water...it splashed all over the table and we all gasped. You aren't supposed to spill stuff at God's feast.
So, that's about it. In the nicest of terms, I suppose we can retell most of the psalm with the images we got. But it just wasn't right. If that's what the Psalm is all about, we might as well shut the doors of our churches. I wouldn't even get up on Sunday for that...and they pay me!
Here's what I'd act out...
Dig up from the recesses of your memory what you know about the Greek and Roman Gods, or the Babylonian gods if you really were a nerd. They are strong, capricious, violent. They are concerned with power, control, and being catered to. They cared little for the humans running around the planet. They actually seemed to enjoy getting back at the humans for perceived offenses...a tidal wave here, an extreme winter there...extreme wind, hail, heat...well, you get the idea.
Dig up from the recesses of the Hebrew texts the understanding of the LORD as completely holy, completely other. The One God was so holy, the Jews used the letters YHWH instead of calling God's name. The One God was so holy, you literally took your life in your hands as the priest who entered the Holy of Holies once a year to make the sacrifices for the people's sin. If the priest had not cleansed his own sin completely, death was certain.
Juxtapose our "Holy, Other, Mighty God" with "The Lord is my shepherd." The God who could justifiably condemn us--or at the very least toy with us like Greek and Roman gods--instead, the Holy One of Israel serves us, cares for us, provides for our wholeness, our rest, even our food. The God who created the earth with a Word, gives himself to us without condition or reservation. We usually read it, The Lord is my SHEPHERD. I think we might should read it, The LORD is my shepherd. I am humbled.
Next God takes our greatest fear and "comforts us." The "valley of the shadow of death" is an inescapable reality, but one walked with the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel.
Then we get a table set before us "in the presence of our enemies." We certainly can name our enemies, but for the most part, our enemies tend toward the metaphorical or distant. Truth is, it has been since the Civil War that we fought a war on home soil. Often we define enemy as mean people at school or work. Sometimes we make enemies metaphorical--like hunger or poverty--and like those are uncontrollable entities and not creations of our own unjust practice. But "enemies" to me has never been particularly urgent, a result, I am sure, of the relatively secure life with which I am blessed.
Imagine Israel, a tiny nation encircled by hostile forces. Forces known for their lack of mercy. Forces that could not be beaten by most, much less by this tiny group of people known as the people of God. In the midst of these enemies, God sets a table. We sit down to eat, often in a reclining position at that time. We sit down, a posture of weakness, vulnerability. When we eat, we are not ready to fight. In fact, the surge of adrenaline needed for a fight takes away our appetite. Physically, we don't seem to be able to do these two things at once.
God sets a table for us in the presence of our enemies. Eat...be nurtured. Know that the Holy One of Israel is your shepherd, your protector, and your provider. Our heads are anointed, our cup overflows. That ought to make us want to say grace at a meal!
Finally, goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives. Except, they don't. What the Hebrew text actually says is that goodness and mercy "pursue" us all the days of our lives. God is not content to follow. God wants goodness and mercy for us so badly that God will chase us down as we make poor choices or insist that living in the chaos of this American life is our only choice. Being pursued all the days of our lives. Perhaps we should slow down and let ourselves be caught.
That's the God that transformed my life. That's the God that continues the transformation. That's the God that I get up to worship on Sunday mornings. Joy is good. Fun is great. Spirit and energy reflect the "joy of our salvation." But we don't worship a cartoon God. The richness of God's promise, care, and interaction with us too often far greater than a "skit" can convey.
Forgive us, O Lord, for the ways in which we fail. Keep pursuing us so that we might, indeed, live in the house of the Lord our whole lives long.
After we understood the strange guy who didn't know how to dress was, in fact, a sheep, his sheep friends joined him in a lovely little flock (boon of business for the sock industry--buy stock now). Their blue-jean clad shepherd held some kind of big stick. The re-telling of the psalm commenced.
Shaking fabric made "water" which the sheep walked beside, then lay down next to. The shepherd had a pool whistle used to summon the sheep when they wandered off. The water, when held over the sheep, became the "darkest shadows"--the "valley of the shadow of death" to most of us. The "table of my enemies" was a communion table--picture Da Vinci's "The Last Supper" only with sheep, not disciples or Weinheimer dogs. The one really cool thing was the overflowing cup--done with glitter that looked in that huge auditorium just like water...it splashed all over the table and we all gasped. You aren't supposed to spill stuff at God's feast.
So, that's about it. In the nicest of terms, I suppose we can retell most of the psalm with the images we got. But it just wasn't right. If that's what the Psalm is all about, we might as well shut the doors of our churches. I wouldn't even get up on Sunday for that...and they pay me!
Here's what I'd act out...
Dig up from the recesses of your memory what you know about the Greek and Roman Gods, or the Babylonian gods if you really were a nerd. They are strong, capricious, violent. They are concerned with power, control, and being catered to. They cared little for the humans running around the planet. They actually seemed to enjoy getting back at the humans for perceived offenses...a tidal wave here, an extreme winter there...extreme wind, hail, heat...well, you get the idea.
Dig up from the recesses of the Hebrew texts the understanding of the LORD as completely holy, completely other. The One God was so holy, the Jews used the letters YHWH instead of calling God's name. The One God was so holy, you literally took your life in your hands as the priest who entered the Holy of Holies once a year to make the sacrifices for the people's sin. If the priest had not cleansed his own sin completely, death was certain.
Juxtapose our "Holy, Other, Mighty God" with "The Lord is my shepherd." The God who could justifiably condemn us--or at the very least toy with us like Greek and Roman gods--instead, the Holy One of Israel serves us, cares for us, provides for our wholeness, our rest, even our food. The God who created the earth with a Word, gives himself to us without condition or reservation. We usually read it, The Lord is my SHEPHERD. I think we might should read it, The LORD is my shepherd. I am humbled.
Next God takes our greatest fear and "comforts us." The "valley of the shadow of death" is an inescapable reality, but one walked with the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel.
Then we get a table set before us "in the presence of our enemies." We certainly can name our enemies, but for the most part, our enemies tend toward the metaphorical or distant. Truth is, it has been since the Civil War that we fought a war on home soil. Often we define enemy as mean people at school or work. Sometimes we make enemies metaphorical--like hunger or poverty--and like those are uncontrollable entities and not creations of our own unjust practice. But "enemies" to me has never been particularly urgent, a result, I am sure, of the relatively secure life with which I am blessed.
Imagine Israel, a tiny nation encircled by hostile forces. Forces known for their lack of mercy. Forces that could not be beaten by most, much less by this tiny group of people known as the people of God. In the midst of these enemies, God sets a table. We sit down to eat, often in a reclining position at that time. We sit down, a posture of weakness, vulnerability. When we eat, we are not ready to fight. In fact, the surge of adrenaline needed for a fight takes away our appetite. Physically, we don't seem to be able to do these two things at once.
God sets a table for us in the presence of our enemies. Eat...be nurtured. Know that the Holy One of Israel is your shepherd, your protector, and your provider. Our heads are anointed, our cup overflows. That ought to make us want to say grace at a meal!
Finally, goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives. Except, they don't. What the Hebrew text actually says is that goodness and mercy "pursue" us all the days of our lives. God is not content to follow. God wants goodness and mercy for us so badly that God will chase us down as we make poor choices or insist that living in the chaos of this American life is our only choice. Being pursued all the days of our lives. Perhaps we should slow down and let ourselves be caught.
That's the God that transformed my life. That's the God that continues the transformation. That's the God that I get up to worship on Sunday mornings. Joy is good. Fun is great. Spirit and energy reflect the "joy of our salvation." But we don't worship a cartoon God. The richness of God's promise, care, and interaction with us too often far greater than a "skit" can convey.
Forgive us, O Lord, for the ways in which we fail. Keep pursuing us so that we might, indeed, live in the house of the Lord our whole lives long.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
The Beating Heart...
The BBC reported a study that showed that groups who sing together also synchronize their heartbeats. It has to do with breathing together and being together...much like a house full of women who are all fussy one week a month. (I constantly reminded my husband of the calendar date when he lamented that his girls would never get along. And, of course, I reminded him in a rather fussy way...enough said.)
It made me wonder about singing in worship. There is a rhythm to good worship, a sense of movement and continuity, and music plays an important part. Many of our responses are sung. Some are spoken in unison. The BBC says chanting most quickly impacts the heart...how close is that to a unison spoken prayer?
Unfortunately no one has studied worship to determine its impact on the physical responses of the congregant, and I'm not holding my breath 'til it happens. But those who worship regularly speak of a sense of transformation, a sense of becoming one with the community--connected through the work of the Spirit to God and to each other. "Our hearts beat as one" is a phrase I've often heard in connection with worship...there may be more there than metaphorical truth.
Research shows the connection is made through breath patterns, not being on pitch or the quality of the sound produced. Seems to me the psalmist might have been onto something when he/she encouraged "make a joyful noise to the Lord!" I hung out in the coffee shop long enough this morning to hum with many of the customers and staff "let's get together and be all right." Our Presbyterian constitution says worship is a joy and a privilege. It is also a gift...one that may have implication and consequences that we can't even begin to imagine--but God knows.
You may not be able to sing in a choir. Choir people are usually folks who can at least carry a tune. But you can be a joyful singer in worship. I've been in groups where I know people around me sing a hymn off key,or in a different key, or in several keys. But standing in front of that same group of people when I lead worship, all you hear is one voice...and, I bet...one heartbeat. Thanks be to God!
It made me wonder about singing in worship. There is a rhythm to good worship, a sense of movement and continuity, and music plays an important part. Many of our responses are sung. Some are spoken in unison. The BBC says chanting most quickly impacts the heart...how close is that to a unison spoken prayer?
Unfortunately no one has studied worship to determine its impact on the physical responses of the congregant, and I'm not holding my breath 'til it happens. But those who worship regularly speak of a sense of transformation, a sense of becoming one with the community--connected through the work of the Spirit to God and to each other. "Our hearts beat as one" is a phrase I've often heard in connection with worship...there may be more there than metaphorical truth.
Research shows the connection is made through breath patterns, not being on pitch or the quality of the sound produced. Seems to me the psalmist might have been onto something when he/she encouraged "make a joyful noise to the Lord!" I hung out in the coffee shop long enough this morning to hum with many of the customers and staff "let's get together and be all right." Our Presbyterian constitution says worship is a joy and a privilege. It is also a gift...one that may have implication and consequences that we can't even begin to imagine--but God knows.
You may not be able to sing in a choir. Choir people are usually folks who can at least carry a tune. But you can be a joyful singer in worship. I've been in groups where I know people around me sing a hymn off key,or in a different key, or in several keys. But standing in front of that same group of people when I lead worship, all you hear is one voice...and, I bet...one heartbeat. Thanks be to God!
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Metronomes
Circulating on FB, which of course is how we get all our significant information, is a Japanese video about metronomes. And that, of course, is about life and faith.
The premise is that, on a fixed surface, metronomes started at different times will never sync. On a fluid surface, one that can be impacted by every movement, the metronomes will, in a matter of minutes, sync themselves with each other.
The question is, what is the foundation of our church lives together? Do we insist that the foundation of our institutional life is fixed, immovable? Or are we willing to sit on the fluid activity of the Holy Spirit, which I guarantee is never fixed. Just about the time I get my feet under me, the ground shifts again!
So enjoy the event...and you can fast forward, watching periodically to get the idea...though stop at about 2:30 and watch the little guy on the right fall into line!...
The premise is that, on a fixed surface, metronomes started at different times will never sync. On a fluid surface, one that can be impacted by every movement, the metronomes will, in a matter of minutes, sync themselves with each other.The question is, what is the foundation of our church lives together? Do we insist that the foundation of our institutional life is fixed, immovable? Or are we willing to sit on the fluid activity of the Holy Spirit, which I guarantee is never fixed. Just about the time I get my feet under me, the ground shifts again!
So enjoy the event...and you can fast forward, watching periodically to get the idea...though stop at about 2:30 and watch the little guy on the right fall into line!...
Thursday, May 2, 2013
How to Find a Church...
# 1...
Pick a circumstance.
Pick a circumstance.
- Perhaps you are now an "adult," having completed your education and managed to land a job, realized you have to pay your own bills and don't know anyone except the middle-aged woman in the cubicle next to you.
- Perhaps you have moved to a new place for a new job, or a spouse's new job. (related somewhat to the above circumstance...)
- Perhaps you have decided that you need something in your life that might provide some meaning outside of Netflix and Hulu...even if it is Hulu +
- Perhaps you have this annoying, persistent, desire to be part of a church community...even though you've tried to resist it for years, after all, no one else is doing it.
- Perhaps not all is good in you life... What now? often drags us kicking and screaming back to our creator...
- Insert "other" circumstance here...
#2
Make an excuse.
- You are now an adult, and Sunday is a great day to rest up from all that working and bill paying.
- You have moved to a new place and don't know anyone to go to church with.
- Church will still be there when you finish all the episodes of The Office.
- You've resisted church thus far...why rush into anything?
- OK...this one is harder...but can church really help if things are bad? And anyway, no one at church wants to hear about your problems.
- Insert "other" excuse here--come on, be creative...don't just use the excuses everyone else is using.
#3
Visit a church already! Now some real thoughts about maybe, perhaps, probably, actually finding that church you've been considering finding, or considering considering finding....
- Start with what you know...or what you want to explore. Now's a great chance to explore all those churches that you "wondered" about when you were stuck going with your parents. If you started in a small church, you might visit a large one. If you are mainline, perhaps non-denominational, Pentecostal, or Catholic might be fun. Be prepared for "different," especially if you are traveling between denominational structures and not just sizes. Approach it as you would a visit to another country. Be curious about the culture, the practice, the experience. Know you don't have to move there...but you can if you like it. And remember, you really do actually have to walk through the door of the church to visit it. It's tough, but no tougher than interviewing for that new job...didn't know them at the beginning either, did ya?! One more thought about walking through that door. It's a good time to visit church. There may be a few rules, but frankly, church attendance is down, so most places are very forgiving and very accepting. They will be thrilled that you walked through the door, even if you know nothing.
- Take some time to think about what you loved about church, or what you hated about church, or what you think church might be (good or bad) if you never attended. What questions do you have? What might you look for or try to avoid? For example, I grew up in a tradition that did not allow women to preach. That, I would avoid. I would also avoid a church that didn't let women serve in leadership positions...just a personal understanding of who God is...no prejudice between genders in the God I worship. You can formulate these questions on your lunch hour, or during a boring sermon if your first few visits don't go well. If you don't know enough about church to ask a question, go anyway. You'll have questions as soon as you walk through the doors.
- Do some homework. Go to denominational websites. Most have basic explanations of what they believe and why. All churches, whether they admit it or not, structure their lives together based on their understanding of who God is (theology). Checking out foundational beliefs and seeing where you resonate may be a place to start. Checking out foundational beliefs may convince you where you don't want to start.
- Pray. I know. Kinda hard. Going to church to learn to pray...but need to pray as you are looking for a church...Much like opening a bank account in my current home town. I had to have a driver's license to open an account. Had to have a bank account to get a license. Where do you start? But pray anyway. It's simple. Just say the words aloud (or in your head) before you walk in the door... "God, guide me to the right place with the right purpose. And bless all the people who are doing their best to worship you in this place today." Pretty easy...no smiting involved. And if you have prayed for all the people doing their best to worship, you've prayed for yourself and thus started off on the right foot.
#4
How to Decide
- It will take some time. Visit a couple of times, if you still feel out of place, visit somewhere else. When you feel relatively comfortable after a couple visits, go to the next step.
- Get involved in the life and ministry of the congregation. Worship isn't enough. It is essential, but not enough. You also need to meet the people, learn the practices and values of the congregation.
- Don't be afraid to admit that you don't know everything...or that you don't know anything. You'd be surprised how many people never get involved in the life of a congregation because they "don't know enough." The irony is, not being involved because you don't know enough means you will never learn anything.
- As you learn, ask more questions. Talk with the church leadership about what makes sense or what doesn't. Ask why. If a church doesn't want to answer questions or the answers go against everything that makes sense to you, move on. Start the process over. It will take some time.
- Don't assume all churches are the same. They aren't. Also don't assume only one church will meet your needs. God will surprise you with new insights and practices that grow your faith, even when you have had to leave a church you love.
- Don't ever, ever assume that churches are perfect. They are composed of human beings, fallible, sinful, human beings. They try their best; sometimes they do better than other times. The question becomes not, "Are they perfect?" but "Are they deliberately depending on God, trying to respect each other, loving each other as God loves us, and being faithful followers to the very best of their ability?" God doesn't call perfect people into God's church. God is perfectly faithful to God's people.
- Listen to God. You will have a feeling...a draw...to a congregation. It may or may not make sense. One of my daughters was drawn to a congregation with no young adults...when she was a young adult. Seemed like the logical place would be a congregation with young adults. But, she joined anyway. It wasn't a bad experience in any way...just confusing to be drawn to a church that didn't have what you thought you needed. At the end of her graduate school time, she decided to serve a year as a young adult volunteer in mission. She had to raise her own funding for the year. That church had enough money to fund her year. I don't know another church that could have done that, but apparently God knew where to place her to give her the experience and the resources she need to serve God's purposes. Be ready to be used by God. It will happen, even if you've never been a church member before.
So, there's a start if you want to find a church. I've probably left out a bunch. Any other suggestions would be welcome. But do it...God has a place just for you...and there's a remarkable thought.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Science and Faith...
Deep theological/philosophical question of the day...
A scientist, studying the causes, progressions, cures for disease (or anything other kind of scientist, frankly) deals with mystery. Perhaps the cause is mystery. Perhaps the cure. Perhaps the function of cells or proteins are a mystery. But you assume that what you don't know is real, has something to teach, something to explore. You also, unless you are psycho, accept that you usually work on a small piece of the whole picture. No one person, no one experiment enables an understanding of the whole picture. Sometimes, breakthroughs happen science achieves a quantum leap in understanding (think mapping the human genome or the discovery of the polio vaccine), but typically, the work of science is slogging through daily details, working and studying for the promise of enlightenment at some level.
Why, then, assume that the journey of faith, the relationship with God is different. Why the beginning assumption (by many) that God/isn't real because God can't immediately be seen, because humans understand this faith thing in small pieces. Occasionally, we get a quantum leap. I think Moses bringing the Hebrew people out of Egypt and into the identity of a "people of God" was one. I think Jesus was one. Spending a week learning that homeless people are people first was one for me. Mostly, though, the faith journey is daily details, working and studying for the promise of understanding, the way to make our world better for all people. It is never about the individual. God's work and understanding is always for the whole world.
I, for one, would like to stand up for a celebrated life of faith, living in a mystery greater and more powerful than any science. We don't always get the practice right. But attempting to understand and serve as God works to bring reconciliation and wholeness to all people is a choice worth making.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
It's Not a Secret...
Occasionally, there occur these moments during the worship of God that are so amazing we really should just say Amen! and go home. We don't usually, of course, but perhaps we should.
All the children came up for the Easter children's sermon, a wiggling mass of small humanity eager to see what wisdom their adult has on this particular day. The adult, knowing he really doesn't possess the magical wisdom expected, begins to sweat as he faces the crowd.
So, the adult announces he has a story to tell...and though he tells lots of stories...this one is "really true." He saw the women coming from the tomb. They said Jesus was not there..."He is risen!" The women were right...Jesus was risen! This was such big news, he says, that it changed the world...and changed all the people who know Jesus was risen. So they begin to greet each other with the phrase...He is Risen! It was kind of like a "secret handshake." If the person they greeted was also a follower of Jesus, they would reply "He is Risen, Indeed!" Let's try it out, says the adult...secret handshake...here we go...
Walks up to the first child, sticks out hand, says "The Lord is Risen!" Coaches the child to respond, "He is Risen, Indeed!" Great says the adult...let's try it again. Done. Third time he says "secret handshake"... third kid replies with great exasperation..."It's not a secret any more."
So what can you say? Absolutely true...it's not a secret any more! This kid was a theological genius, speaking what we so often forget. It's not a secret any more!
We still often act like it is...we don't talk about our faith. We don't give credit for resurrection/rebirth/ reconciliation where credit is due...preferring to recognize our own ability when things go well, and reserving the right to blame God when things go poorly. I've often wondered what happened in the first century when the greeting was extended, but not returned by the other person. Did they get "huh?" or "crazy Christians" or some other even less enthusiastic response...like "I'm reporting you to the authorities!"
The bottom line is it really doesn't matter what the response is. The phrase "The Lord is Risen" is way more than a secret handshake, way more than a greeting between two Christians. It is a fundamental reshaping of the whole world...whether the world is ready or willing or not. It shakes the very foundations of our existence, those that say money is power, power is ours, we are the most important, look out for number one, might makes right...and on and on. "The Lord is Risen" means God wins...that all other powers and principalities are put on notice that God's will will be accomplished, that their days of assumed control are numbered.
The Lord is Risen. It is a dangerous phrase. Use it carefully. It changes the world, beginning with the person who voices it.
The Lord is Risen...He is Risen Indeed.
All the children came up for the Easter children's sermon, a wiggling mass of small humanity eager to see what wisdom their adult has on this particular day. The adult, knowing he really doesn't possess the magical wisdom expected, begins to sweat as he faces the crowd.
So, the adult announces he has a story to tell...and though he tells lots of stories...this one is "really true." He saw the women coming from the tomb. They said Jesus was not there..."He is risen!" The women were right...Jesus was risen! This was such big news, he says, that it changed the world...and changed all the people who know Jesus was risen. So they begin to greet each other with the phrase...He is Risen! It was kind of like a "secret handshake." If the person they greeted was also a follower of Jesus, they would reply "He is Risen, Indeed!" Let's try it out, says the adult...secret handshake...here we go...
Walks up to the first child, sticks out hand, says "The Lord is Risen!" Coaches the child to respond, "He is Risen, Indeed!" Great says the adult...let's try it again. Done. Third time he says "secret handshake"... third kid replies with great exasperation..."It's not a secret any more."
So what can you say? Absolutely true...it's not a secret any more! This kid was a theological genius, speaking what we so often forget. It's not a secret any more!
We still often act like it is...we don't talk about our faith. We don't give credit for resurrection/rebirth/ reconciliation where credit is due...preferring to recognize our own ability when things go well, and reserving the right to blame God when things go poorly. I've often wondered what happened in the first century when the greeting was extended, but not returned by the other person. Did they get "huh?" or "crazy Christians" or some other even less enthusiastic response...like "I'm reporting you to the authorities!"
The bottom line is it really doesn't matter what the response is. The phrase "The Lord is Risen" is way more than a secret handshake, way more than a greeting between two Christians. It is a fundamental reshaping of the whole world...whether the world is ready or willing or not. It shakes the very foundations of our existence, those that say money is power, power is ours, we are the most important, look out for number one, might makes right...and on and on. "The Lord is Risen" means God wins...that all other powers and principalities are put on notice that God's will will be accomplished, that their days of assumed control are numbered.
The Lord is Risen. It is a dangerous phrase. Use it carefully. It changes the world, beginning with the person who voices it.
The Lord is Risen...He is Risen Indeed.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Easter...
Darkness
descends
into
solitude.
A silver kiss.
Inescapable evil...
Thieving companions
Crossing to death.
Love
ripping through law
light behind stone
emptiness fulfilling
Promise of Easter!
Monday, March 25, 2013
O Love...
I long for Easter in the broadest possible sense of the word. I really want God to usher in God's Kingdom and end the endless discussions about what we can't do to make a more just world. We can't possibly solve all the world's problems; we can't even solve our own. We can't raise the minimum wage, provide health care, stop abortion, get out of wars, effectively teach our children.....the can'ts just go on and on and on. There's a reason, always, why we can't. Just heard this morning that we can't get worker's comp insurance (as a church) unless we also have terrorism insurance. (Believe me, many think there are terrorists in every church, but it usually involves the color of the hymnals or the placement of the candles!)
I long for Easter. I ache for a time when seminary classes on grief and struggle doesn't have to be offered. I yearn for a time that families aren't so busy and stressed that they feel they can't worship because one more thing will push them over the edge. I long for nations that work for the good of their people, all their people, instead of their leader's own political power. I want schools in which all children are well fed, well loved, and well supported. I long for Easter, for that time when "justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." (Amos 5:24)
The season of Lent just intensifies the longing. Holy Week, this year seems to remind me again and again that we can't...we. just. can't. The world, offered God's Kingdom in service, healing, and wholeness in Jesus, said, "We can't." "You can't." The end. Giving up whatever little piece of power we held in the first century, whether it was religious power or political power, social power or even just our place in the family...it was too different, too radical. We can't. Our unwillingness to "can" ended in the cross, then and now. We can't give up more of our hard-earned dollars to support other people. We can't give up our place in the world power structure, even if it bankrupts us economically or morally. We, the people of God, still crucify God's Kingdom on the crosses of our can'ts...every. single. day.
It's a quite a wonder that God didn't just decide "I can't." Can't save these people. Can't love them. Can't encourage them to turn away from their bad choices, or the not so bad choices that still separate them from living in my Kingdom. I still make the case every year that when Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane "Take this cup from me..." that God said OK...come on home, and we'll leave this mess to those who made it. But that's not the story, and the one thing we can't do, no matter how hard we try, is change the story of God's deep and transforming love. That we can't escape, no matter what.
A visceral reminder of this "can't" surfaced yesterday as I listened to a choral rendition of an old hymn...one of those hymns that, some will tell you, holds no message or meaning for the modern church. But in all the can'ts that slow the Kingdom from coming...this message is one we can't ignore. Hear it sung if you want, but pay attention to the words comparing God's work to ours...they will get you through the mess of Holy Week and anchor your joy in the promise of Easter.
I long for Easter. I ache for a time when seminary classes on grief and struggle doesn't have to be offered. I yearn for a time that families aren't so busy and stressed that they feel they can't worship because one more thing will push them over the edge. I long for nations that work for the good of their people, all their people, instead of their leader's own political power. I want schools in which all children are well fed, well loved, and well supported. I long for Easter, for that time when "justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." (Amos 5:24)
The season of Lent just intensifies the longing. Holy Week, this year seems to remind me again and again that we can't...we. just. can't. The world, offered God's Kingdom in service, healing, and wholeness in Jesus, said, "We can't." "You can't." The end. Giving up whatever little piece of power we held in the first century, whether it was religious power or political power, social power or even just our place in the family...it was too different, too radical. We can't. Our unwillingness to "can" ended in the cross, then and now. We can't give up more of our hard-earned dollars to support other people. We can't give up our place in the world power structure, even if it bankrupts us economically or morally. We, the people of God, still crucify God's Kingdom on the crosses of our can'ts...every. single. day.
It's a quite a wonder that God didn't just decide "I can't." Can't save these people. Can't love them. Can't encourage them to turn away from their bad choices, or the not so bad choices that still separate them from living in my Kingdom. I still make the case every year that when Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane "Take this cup from me..." that God said OK...come on home, and we'll leave this mess to those who made it. But that's not the story, and the one thing we can't do, no matter how hard we try, is change the story of God's deep and transforming love. That we can't escape, no matter what.
A visceral reminder of this "can't" surfaced yesterday as I listened to a choral rendition of an old hymn...one of those hymns that, some will tell you, holds no message or meaning for the modern church. But in all the can'ts that slow the Kingdom from coming...this message is one we can't ignore. Hear it sung if you want, but pay attention to the words comparing God's work to ours...they will get you through the mess of Holy Week and anchor your joy in the promise of Easter.
O love that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee; I give Thee back the life I owe, that in Thine ocean depths its flow may richer, fuller be.
O light that followest all my way, I yield my flickering torch to Thee; My heart restores its borrowed ray, that in Thy sunshine's blaze its day may brighter, fairer be.
O joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to Thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain, and feel the promise is not vain, that morn shall fearless be.
O cross that liftest up my head, I dare not ask to fly from Thee; I lay in dust, life's glory dead, and from the ground there blossoms red, life that shall endless be.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Tell the Story...
Bruce Feiler told a story in the New York Times last week...from his latest book. Seems that children who know the family "story" are more secure, better adjusted, and more successful. Two months after this initial research, the Twin Towers were destroyed. Following up on the research proved again that children who knew the family story were better able to cope. The researchers "Do You Know Scale" measures 20 questions like: Do you know where your grandparents grew up? Do you know where your mom and dad went to high school? Do you know where your parents met? Do you know of something terrible that happened in your family? Do you know the story of your birth?
Kids who see themselves as part of a larger story, part of a longer tradition, have better abilities to deal with real life (the researchers say it far more eloquently, of course). This ability to answer 20 questions about your family is "the best single predictor of children's emotional health and happiness."
There are different family narratives, some positive, some negative. The strongest families have an "oscillating" narrative--one that acknowledges problems as well as positives. And all this got me thinking...
We, the family of faith, also have a narrative. And that narrative places us in an even larger, more remarkable, family context. Just like family stories get interpreted in different ways, so do the stories of the family of God. Sometimes the story gets told in all negative terms...all the terrible things people did and how God had to punish the people, ultimately sending and killing his Son to pay some price for the sin of the world. Yuck.
Or, there's the all positive narrative. Just become part of the family of God...believe-in-the-Lord-Jesus-Christ-as-your-personal-Lord-and-Savior and everything will be wonderful. Of course, things are seldom all "wonderful," so the narrative then goes "well, clearly you didn't believe right, or hard enough, or do the right things." The family of God struggles to live in an impossible standard, hiding the difficulties of life because they don't fit in the narrative. Yuck.
And there's the narrative I read. The family of God does some things well, and some things not so well. David is chosen by God and anointed King of Israel...but there's this adultery thing with another man's wife. Not so good. The Exodus story...powerful narrative of God hearing the cries of God's people and bringing them out of slavery. But as soon as God's people escape the cruelty of the Pharaoh and find themselves in a new place, they begin to grouse and complain that God has brought them out "to die." Things were definitely better in Egypt...making those bricks wasn't so bad. At least they had food to eat.
It's pretty easy for us to read those stories and lament the shortsightedness of the people--failing, of course to see our own shortsighted behaviors in the present. But the biblical narrative addresses that, too. This incredible story, this narrative, tells us that our earliest ancestors grew up in a state of perfect relationship with God...a very brief state. We didn't respond well to the opportunity to live that way, preferring the attempt to be gods over the ability to be with God. But, we see through the whole story, that God never abandons us to our ridiculous ambitions. God continues to teach and protect, guide and work toward reconciliation and redemption of the whole creation.
Do you know of something terrible that happened in your family? Sure. Exile, wilderness, crucifixion. And through it all, God continues to teach and protect guide and work toward reconciliation and redemption of the whole creation.
Do you know the story of your birth? The baptism that happens before we are able to respond to God in any way, the baptism that marks our sorry, sinful selves as beloved children of God. The baptism that assures us, in spite of the brokenness that is so deep we cannot escape, that God will continue to teach and protect, guide and work toward reconciliation and redemption of the whole creation. The baptism that sets us apart, not as special and above creation, but as children of the family of creation charged to tell God's story so that others can answer the questions. It is in this hessed, this steadfast, unfailing love that God brings to the table, that "we live and move and have our being." It is this narrative that, even for human families broken beyond repair, is the narrative that offers a meaningful, purposeful life, an ability to deal with all the challenges of simply being human, a connection to the overwhelming grace of a loving God.
So, let's play 20 questions...
Kids who see themselves as part of a larger story, part of a longer tradition, have better abilities to deal with real life (the researchers say it far more eloquently, of course). This ability to answer 20 questions about your family is "the best single predictor of children's emotional health and happiness."
There are different family narratives, some positive, some negative. The strongest families have an "oscillating" narrative--one that acknowledges problems as well as positives. And all this got me thinking...
We, the family of faith, also have a narrative. And that narrative places us in an even larger, more remarkable, family context. Just like family stories get interpreted in different ways, so do the stories of the family of God. Sometimes the story gets told in all negative terms...all the terrible things people did and how God had to punish the people, ultimately sending and killing his Son to pay some price for the sin of the world. Yuck.
Or, there's the all positive narrative. Just become part of the family of God...believe-in-the-Lord-Jesus-Christ-as-your-personal-Lord-and-Savior and everything will be wonderful. Of course, things are seldom all "wonderful," so the narrative then goes "well, clearly you didn't believe right, or hard enough, or do the right things." The family of God struggles to live in an impossible standard, hiding the difficulties of life because they don't fit in the narrative. Yuck.
And there's the narrative I read. The family of God does some things well, and some things not so well. David is chosen by God and anointed King of Israel...but there's this adultery thing with another man's wife. Not so good. The Exodus story...powerful narrative of God hearing the cries of God's people and bringing them out of slavery. But as soon as God's people escape the cruelty of the Pharaoh and find themselves in a new place, they begin to grouse and complain that God has brought them out "to die." Things were definitely better in Egypt...making those bricks wasn't so bad. At least they had food to eat.
It's pretty easy for us to read those stories and lament the shortsightedness of the people--failing, of course to see our own shortsighted behaviors in the present. But the biblical narrative addresses that, too. This incredible story, this narrative, tells us that our earliest ancestors grew up in a state of perfect relationship with God...a very brief state. We didn't respond well to the opportunity to live that way, preferring the attempt to be gods over the ability to be with God. But, we see through the whole story, that God never abandons us to our ridiculous ambitions. God continues to teach and protect, guide and work toward reconciliation and redemption of the whole creation.
Do you know of something terrible that happened in your family? Sure. Exile, wilderness, crucifixion. And through it all, God continues to teach and protect guide and work toward reconciliation and redemption of the whole creation.
Do you know the story of your birth? The baptism that happens before we are able to respond to God in any way, the baptism that marks our sorry, sinful selves as beloved children of God. The baptism that assures us, in spite of the brokenness that is so deep we cannot escape, that God will continue to teach and protect, guide and work toward reconciliation and redemption of the whole creation. The baptism that sets us apart, not as special and above creation, but as children of the family of creation charged to tell God's story so that others can answer the questions. It is in this hessed, this steadfast, unfailing love that God brings to the table, that "we live and move and have our being." It is this narrative that, even for human families broken beyond repair, is the narrative that offers a meaningful, purposeful life, an ability to deal with all the challenges of simply being human, a connection to the overwhelming grace of a loving God.
So, let's play 20 questions...
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Called...
Occasionally I hear a media report that jerks me out of the toothpaste reverie and send me into a tirade in my head. This morning, NPR receives the honor as the local station interviews a local boy about a Facebook Random Act of Kindness page. Now I don't really have a problem with a random act of kindness, we could use more of that in the world.
What got my attention was the language used in the interview about "call." The creators of this page hope that as others hear stories of people doing good, they will feel "called" to do the same.
That, my friends, is God language. God calls. It is, as far as I can tell, a concept unique to the Jewish and Christian faith. (Though I admit, a PhD in World Religions is not part of my arsenal, so I would be interested if other religions have this language as part of their literature or practice.) Moses was called by God. Old Testament prophets have call stories. Paul has a call story. God identifies, and specifically charges humans with tasks to be accomplished in partnership with God's intentions, with God's plan for reconciliation. We understand that each of us has a call, but more often today God works through community and text in communicating our call--I'm not aware of many nighttime visions and/or burning bushes.
So, while I would never stop people from doing random acts of kindness, I do want to be clear that God calls us to love our neighbors as ourselves. And in pointing to our understanding that all good comes from God (in nice ways, of course--no beating people about the head with the Bible, you could hurt someone!), and in claiming that call language as part of what God's people have always done (imperfectly, granted, but FB's not going to be perfect either!), we publicly claim what God is doing as. God's. doing.
I am sure God can call someone to a random act of kindness who is not attending a church, or claiming to be a practicing Christian or Jew. Positive. But I won't let go of the reality that all good comes from God., or that God is constantly calling us to that good. And, really, there's no "random" act. If we are answering our call, our acts of kindness aren't random. They have purpose and meaning because they are our response to God's invitation to participate with God in bringing about God's kingdom.
Finally, visiting the FB page you see a lot of "smiling and being kind through the day," giving someone a few dollars to pay for groceries they didn't have enough money for," "paying for the car behind you in a toll line," "being generous in traffic," and so on. My favorite comment is the first one when I visited the site--"just show everyone how simple it can be." And perhaps it is simple if you are dropping a few extra coins that you have or smiling at the stranger in the post office line. But God's call to "love God and neighbor" is really not simple at all. God's call asks what part we play in creating a society in which some working parents don't have enough money to pay for groceries. God's call asks us what part we play in the traffic jam and resulting pollution, frustration, and perhaps even family harm because we spend hours commuting. God's call is a call to shalom, the peace and wholeness, health and welfare of the whole of creation. And that, as you know, is not a simple task.
So, I'm really not grumpy that people are going to make a point to be nice. But I want a tight hold on the idea of call. It belongs to God. Facebook can borrow it, but it belongs to God.
What got my attention was the language used in the interview about "call." The creators of this page hope that as others hear stories of people doing good, they will feel "called" to do the same.
That, my friends, is God language. God calls. It is, as far as I can tell, a concept unique to the Jewish and Christian faith. (Though I admit, a PhD in World Religions is not part of my arsenal, so I would be interested if other religions have this language as part of their literature or practice.) Moses was called by God. Old Testament prophets have call stories. Paul has a call story. God identifies, and specifically charges humans with tasks to be accomplished in partnership with God's intentions, with God's plan for reconciliation. We understand that each of us has a call, but more often today God works through community and text in communicating our call--I'm not aware of many nighttime visions and/or burning bushes.
So, while I would never stop people from doing random acts of kindness, I do want to be clear that God calls us to love our neighbors as ourselves. And in pointing to our understanding that all good comes from God (in nice ways, of course--no beating people about the head with the Bible, you could hurt someone!), and in claiming that call language as part of what God's people have always done (imperfectly, granted, but FB's not going to be perfect either!), we publicly claim what God is doing as. God's. doing.
I am sure God can call someone to a random act of kindness who is not attending a church, or claiming to be a practicing Christian or Jew. Positive. But I won't let go of the reality that all good comes from God., or that God is constantly calling us to that good. And, really, there's no "random" act. If we are answering our call, our acts of kindness aren't random. They have purpose and meaning because they are our response to God's invitation to participate with God in bringing about God's kingdom.
Finally, visiting the FB page you see a lot of "smiling and being kind through the day," giving someone a few dollars to pay for groceries they didn't have enough money for," "paying for the car behind you in a toll line," "being generous in traffic," and so on. My favorite comment is the first one when I visited the site--"just show everyone how simple it can be." And perhaps it is simple if you are dropping a few extra coins that you have or smiling at the stranger in the post office line. But God's call to "love God and neighbor" is really not simple at all. God's call asks what part we play in creating a society in which some working parents don't have enough money to pay for groceries. God's call asks us what part we play in the traffic jam and resulting pollution, frustration, and perhaps even family harm because we spend hours commuting. God's call is a call to shalom, the peace and wholeness, health and welfare of the whole of creation. And that, as you know, is not a simple task.
So, I'm really not grumpy that people are going to make a point to be nice. But I want a tight hold on the idea of call. It belongs to God. Facebook can borrow it, but it belongs to God.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
January 2 seems to be a good day to finish the unfinished and move on. Apologies to readers at the lack of posting last year. Creative energies seemed to go in a different direction...mostly creating inches around my waistline apparently, but that is for another blog.
The "test" that originated the answers enumerated grew out of a conversation at Montreat...thus the ensuing "we will check your answers when we get home" comment. The five questions were:
- How many sins does it take to make you a sinner?
- How many good things should you do to make up for your sins?
- Are you a good person?
- What do you need to do to become a good person?
- What can you do to live more like God would want?
The only one not previously answered in the blog is number 5...and the answer, again, waffles sufficiently to make us thoroughly reformed. One the one side, we can really do nothing. On the other, we can do much.
The nothing side takes us back to the sinful muck in which we are mired, and the fatal expectation that by following a set of rules or defining correct thoughts and actions for all time, we can somehow make ourselves good. We can't. The very act of trying to define what would make us good and then judging ourselves and others against that criteria is quintessentially playing God.
But, that is not to say we do not have choices to make about our behaviors. Take, for example, the Ten Commandments that our friend the rich young ruler (see previous post) took so seriously. When God established the nation of Israel as God's "people" through whom God would provide blessing for the world, the idea was that living by the commandments would enable us to be the people of God--and that our behaviors would indicate we were different (in the most positive way). Didn't actually turn out that way because we are so very bad at it. But we already went down that street.
The Commandments, in a rather amazing way, reveal God's identity. They are not just who we are to be, they reflect who God is. In choosing to follow the commandments, we are invited to be where God is. Honor your father and mother...that's where God is to be found. Not killing...find God again. No idols...hello, God.
But, we find an even more clearly defined, knowable revelation of God in Jesus. That is another path to follow...and Jesus starts with the commandments, though without the detailed twists we humans put on them--like not healing the broken on Sabbath. The willingness to suffer for others, the working for justice and inclusion, that's again what we learn about where God is and what God does. It's not easy, and it goes far beyond just "thinking" that Jesus is Lord. Being "good" requires following.
We are called to follow...not judge...ourselves or others. The judgment is up to God. So we follow and trust, learning and growing in community and we let God make us good as God will.
Don't know if that is good news or not...but I think it is the message we have received. So the test is over, the new year begins. I promise to be more faithful whether anyone is reading or not. I kind of missed being about to look back over a year's worth of posts to see what happened and where we were--though I supposed the lack of posts is revealing as well, if you want to get philosophical about it...which I don't.
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