The baby never cries, except when she is hungry or would like someone to rid her of a dirty diaper. Perhaps one, perhaps the other, but she cried. Just as the pastor poured the water of baptism into the font, prayed over it and took the baby, the baby cried.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit...and the baby cried. See what love has done!...and the baby cried. Jesus loves me, this I know...and the crying paused as she was walked around the congregation...but as soon as she was back in the arms of her parents, the baby cried.
We listened in Sunday school this morning to Rob Bell tell a story of his son, a lie, and a moment of reconciliation. Thinking he was totally lost, the child heard his father say, "You can never do anything to stop me from loving you." The child....cried.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Spirit, these waters of baptism are a sign of our belonging to One who says "You can never do anything to stop me from loving you." We who are dirty, have been cleansed. We who are hungry, have been fed. We who imperfectly recognize that overwhelming love on most days because we are "grown up"--thinking we can feed and cleanse ourselves--see in baptism the truth that we so deeply long for. But when we really hear through the power of the sacrament "you can never do anything to stop me from loving you"---we cry...just like the baby.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Valentine's Day
I heard a children's sermon once..."God is like a Valentines sucker...sweet and full of love." OK...not. But Valentine's day might be a bit like God...placing love in the center of all we see and say and do.
The thing is God's love is way different than our mushy, Hallmark sentiments that require billions of dollars in "proof." God's love is a 11 year old girl who's friend's grandmother broke an ankle and who knew that a prayer quilt was a visible sign of God's invisible healing work so she stood up in front of the church to tell her story and ask for prayers.
God's love is a tiny baby held by a church member during the service, so her mom can sing in the choir and her dad can listen to the service. God's love is the unwrapping of hand chimes gifted by a congregation to the children and youth and the excited inclusion of the Down's child because he, too, can follow the color coded music. God's love is the delivery of 860 cans of food, and the prayer spoken over the food that it might go where it's needed and strengthen those who receive it.
Church, like a Valentine's sucker can be a sticky mess. But God is that focusing love that puts our attention on the things that matter, and infuses our feeble efforts with God's grace to change the world.
The thing is God's love is way different than our mushy, Hallmark sentiments that require billions of dollars in "proof." God's love is a 11 year old girl who's friend's grandmother broke an ankle and who knew that a prayer quilt was a visible sign of God's invisible healing work so she stood up in front of the church to tell her story and ask for prayers.
God's love is a tiny baby held by a church member during the service, so her mom can sing in the choir and her dad can listen to the service. God's love is the unwrapping of hand chimes gifted by a congregation to the children and youth and the excited inclusion of the Down's child because he, too, can follow the color coded music. God's love is the delivery of 860 cans of food, and the prayer spoken over the food that it might go where it's needed and strengthen those who receive it.
Church, like a Valentine's sucker can be a sticky mess. But God is that focusing love that puts our attention on the things that matter, and infuses our feeble efforts with God's grace to change the world.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Now and Then...
From The Letters of Paul: Conversations in Context...(probably not a book most of us have laying around on the coffee table):
In the secular West, we tend to view time as an ever-flowing stream that bears its sons and daughters away. But in the [corporate worship] in Paul's day, time stood still...Time stopped and was even reversed as the celebrant repeated the acts of God or shared in the sacred deeds of an earlier day...Through the [worship] act, the worshiper participates in what is real for all time...[In worship] also an order is imposed. The order is not just any order but the order deemed true, the only order that is fundamentally real.
Time standing still, perhaps reversing, might be new church advertising campaign. Bet we could fill the pews with aging boomers. But I really was thinking about the deeper concept as our Sunday worship was led by youth yesterday.
The young women who preached were not at all sure they could do that. The passage from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians reflected that very issue...(v. 3, The Message) "I was unsure of how to go about this, and felt totally inadequate--I was scared to death, if you want the truth of it--and so nothing I said could have impressed you or anyone else. But the Message came through anyway. God's Spirit and God's power did it, which made it clear that your life of faith is a response to God's power, not to some fancy mental or emotional footwork by me or anyone else." (um...spooky?--let me tell you...God is trying to tell us something!)
So, as "preachers" for Sunday, they are challenged to go to the text on behalf of the congregation, listen to the Word of God, and proclaim what they have heard to the worshipers. What they proclaimed was their own experience of God's love and grace--in their own lives and the lives of others. No degree necessary, no "magic" words...just a sharing of the Message. And God's power, in fact, "did it."
We sang, confessed, were assured of our forgiveness, listened to the Word, shared communion, lifted our voices in prayer, and left to serve others. And we did that with millions of other worshipers yesterday, and even more before us...and even more yet to come.
Time stands still. We stand with Abraham, Moses, Mary, the Samaritan woman. We stand with parents, grandparents, and others who nurtured us in the faith. We stand with children who we nurture. We stand with those unavoidably absent, and those absent because they have not yet heard the message. The message we speak brings into focus the reality that this is God's world.
We stand together in God's love when we cannot find common ground in any other place. We stand together in the reality that we are called together in God's name. We stand humbly in the reality that we are sinners called together, and we stand joyfully in the assurance that forgiveness is ours. We stand ready to hear the claim of the Word on our lives. We stand ready to be sent to do God's work in the world.
In the midst of all the mess that wants to claim us, economic worry, job stress, child challenges, conflict at home and beyond, death, illness...and, of course, we could go on. In the midst of all of that, we are reminded of the reality that grounds our lives and our faith--two young women, representative of us all, speaking of their experience of God, re-calling us to the only order that is fundamentally real.
In worship, time stands still. We become the past, present, and future in God's world. We are reminded that God is the past, present and future in ours.
In the secular West, we tend to view time as an ever-flowing stream that bears its sons and daughters away. But in the [corporate worship] in Paul's day, time stood still...Time stopped and was even reversed as the celebrant repeated the acts of God or shared in the sacred deeds of an earlier day...Through the [worship] act, the worshiper participates in what is real for all time...[In worship] also an order is imposed. The order is not just any order but the order deemed true, the only order that is fundamentally real.
Time standing still, perhaps reversing, might be new church advertising campaign. Bet we could fill the pews with aging boomers. But I really was thinking about the deeper concept as our Sunday worship was led by youth yesterday.
The young women who preached were not at all sure they could do that. The passage from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians reflected that very issue...(v. 3, The Message) "I was unsure of how to go about this, and felt totally inadequate--I was scared to death, if you want the truth of it--and so nothing I said could have impressed you or anyone else. But the Message came through anyway. God's Spirit and God's power did it, which made it clear that your life of faith is a response to God's power, not to some fancy mental or emotional footwork by me or anyone else." (um...spooky?--let me tell you...God is trying to tell us something!)
So, as "preachers" for Sunday, they are challenged to go to the text on behalf of the congregation, listen to the Word of God, and proclaim what they have heard to the worshipers. What they proclaimed was their own experience of God's love and grace--in their own lives and the lives of others. No degree necessary, no "magic" words...just a sharing of the Message. And God's power, in fact, "did it."
We sang, confessed, were assured of our forgiveness, listened to the Word, shared communion, lifted our voices in prayer, and left to serve others. And we did that with millions of other worshipers yesterday, and even more before us...and even more yet to come.
Time stands still. We stand with Abraham, Moses, Mary, the Samaritan woman. We stand with parents, grandparents, and others who nurtured us in the faith. We stand with children who we nurture. We stand with those unavoidably absent, and those absent because they have not yet heard the message. The message we speak brings into focus the reality that this is God's world.
We stand together in God's love when we cannot find common ground in any other place. We stand together in the reality that we are called together in God's name. We stand humbly in the reality that we are sinners called together, and we stand joyfully in the assurance that forgiveness is ours. We stand ready to hear the claim of the Word on our lives. We stand ready to be sent to do God's work in the world.
In the midst of all the mess that wants to claim us, economic worry, job stress, child challenges, conflict at home and beyond, death, illness...and, of course, we could go on. In the midst of all of that, we are reminded of the reality that grounds our lives and our faith--two young women, representative of us all, speaking of their experience of God, re-calling us to the only order that is fundamentally real.
In worship, time stands still. We become the past, present, and future in God's world. We are reminded that God is the past, present and future in ours.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Do We Need Church?
From Richard Lischer's book The End of Words:
“I believe the church was included in the gift both as the instrument of peace and as the laboratory in which God’s people try it out. You might say God’s free grace comes with a kit for experimenting with it." (p. 150)
I love the image. The Christian life involves prayer, worship, and community life together in which we receive and practice grace--and the church is that community.
This week, I ate lunch with a group of people. During the conversation they were asked where they went to church. They each replied with great passion that they were very committed to God and prayed all the time, but they felt no need for church. “If I can talk to God on my own, then why do I need to go to church?” Conversations about our "personal" faith, our "private" faith are commonplace, even in the church. A question is raised. Are we truly a Christian community, open to each other, sharing with each other, holding each other accountable, or are we a gathering of individual me-and-Jesus-Christians who just happen to hang out in the same space for a short time every week.
If we are the first...individuals sharing the same place...then really, there is no need for church. Proclamation to the me-and-Jesus-Christian could take place on podcast at their convenience, and we could all sleep in on Sundays. But if we gather knowing we need each other in the deepest way--to forgive each other, to be forgiven, to challenge each other, to hold each other accountable, to reach out to those not in the community--if we need each other to explore our deepest spiritual questions and struggles--if we pray with and for each other and the world as part of our very life and breath...then, then we are community and we hunger for each other, we yearn for each other, we need each other. Then, we can't say, "I can do spirituality by myself."
You know, we'll never be perfect in community. We will annoy the heck out of each other. We will nitpick and fuss and sigh and shake our heads. We will forget to be patient. We will be patient to a fault and allow the work of God to be slowed unnecessarily. But church is the experiment that God left for us--the perfection has come before, shown us what is possible and what we should strive for, and stays with us in the Holy Spirit while we are slowly transformed. And God, through God's amazing gift of the church, becomes visible to the world in some strange inexplicable way.
“I believe the church was included in the gift both as the instrument of peace and as the laboratory in which God’s people try it out. You might say God’s free grace comes with a kit for experimenting with it." (p. 150)
I love the image. The Christian life involves prayer, worship, and community life together in which we receive and practice grace--and the church is that community.
This week, I ate lunch with a group of people. During the conversation they were asked where they went to church. They each replied with great passion that they were very committed to God and prayed all the time, but they felt no need for church. “If I can talk to God on my own, then why do I need to go to church?” Conversations about our "personal" faith, our "private" faith are commonplace, even in the church. A question is raised. Are we truly a Christian community, open to each other, sharing with each other, holding each other accountable, or are we a gathering of individual me-and-Jesus-Christians who just happen to hang out in the same space for a short time every week.
If we are the first...individuals sharing the same place...then really, there is no need for church. Proclamation to the me-and-Jesus-Christian could take place on podcast at their convenience, and we could all sleep in on Sundays. But if we gather knowing we need each other in the deepest way--to forgive each other, to be forgiven, to challenge each other, to hold each other accountable, to reach out to those not in the community--if we need each other to explore our deepest spiritual questions and struggles--if we pray with and for each other and the world as part of our very life and breath...then, then we are community and we hunger for each other, we yearn for each other, we need each other. Then, we can't say, "I can do spirituality by myself."
You know, we'll never be perfect in community. We will annoy the heck out of each other. We will nitpick and fuss and sigh and shake our heads. We will forget to be patient. We will be patient to a fault and allow the work of God to be slowed unnecessarily. But church is the experiment that God left for us--the perfection has come before, shown us what is possible and what we should strive for, and stays with us in the Holy Spirit while we are slowly transformed. And God, through God's amazing gift of the church, becomes visible to the world in some strange inexplicable way.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Above All, There is God...
We get awfully busy and tied up in our lives. We get awfully technical about what we can and should be doing. I just spent an afternoon being trained to do a capital campaign for a religious organization. Not one word in the training concerned prayer or the work of the Holy Spirit. We had our work cut out for us. We had to be prepared and careful. We could get the job done if we followed the formula and put some time in.
I have no doubt that we can do some of that...and I'm here because God called me to be here...which tells me I have a job to do in this work to be accomplished. But...we are not the local organization up the street and we are a not divided people who function at one point in time as a secular people and at one point as a faith people. We are people of God called to bring God to the world--whatever we are doing.
One person I spoke to explained to me that the afternoon was just the "technical" part. Nope. The "technical" part of living as Christian means knowing every minute of every day that God is in charge, that we are God's servants as well as God's children. The "technical part" of living as Christian is that all we do is from God, all we have is from God, all others do and have is from God. The difference between us and the rest of the world is that we know God's sovereignty while they may not.
A beautiful story in the New York Times this week gave me a new reminder of God at work in my world...in our world. A surgeon who performs the Jewish bris (circumcision) as part of practicing his faith was asked to perform a bris for a couple's son after his death. The words, repeated seven times to make the ceremony kosher, Above All, There is God...
In any situation, good or bad, extraordinary or daily grind, repeat to yourself seven time: Above All, There is God. It puts the world into its proper place...because above all, there is God!
I have no doubt that we can do some of that...and I'm here because God called me to be here...which tells me I have a job to do in this work to be accomplished. But...we are not the local organization up the street and we are a not divided people who function at one point in time as a secular people and at one point as a faith people. We are people of God called to bring God to the world--whatever we are doing.
One person I spoke to explained to me that the afternoon was just the "technical" part. Nope. The "technical" part of living as Christian means knowing every minute of every day that God is in charge, that we are God's servants as well as God's children. The "technical part" of living as Christian is that all we do is from God, all we have is from God, all others do and have is from God. The difference between us and the rest of the world is that we know God's sovereignty while they may not.
A beautiful story in the New York Times this week gave me a new reminder of God at work in my world...in our world. A surgeon who performs the Jewish bris (circumcision) as part of practicing his faith was asked to perform a bris for a couple's son after his death. The words, repeated seven times to make the ceremony kosher, Above All, There is God...
In any situation, good or bad, extraordinary or daily grind, repeat to yourself seven time: Above All, There is God. It puts the world into its proper place...because above all, there is God!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong....
In the Tuscaloosa News on January 18, Robert Bentley, newly-elected governor of Alabama said,
But if you have been adopted in God’s family like I have, and like you have, if you’re a Christian and if you’re saved, and the Holy Spirit lives within you just like the Holy Spirit lives within me, then you know what that makes? It makes you and me brothers. And it makes you and me brother and sister,” he said.
“Now I will have to say that, if we don’t have the same daddy, we’re not brothers and sisters. So anybody here today who has not accepted Jesus Christ as their savior, I’m telling you, you’re not my brother and you’re not my sister, and I want to be your brother.
Wrong...wrong...wrong...wrong! First, if the Holy Spirit lives within you, all people are your brothers and sisters. Jesus preached and died for radical INclusivity. If Bentley will read his Bible, he should remember that the first Christians were, in fact, Jews. If Bentley will read his Bible, he should see that never once did Jesus require that people "accept him as their savior" before treating them as brothers and sisters. In fact, if Bentley will read his Bible, he should see that it was in the treatment of disenfranchised people as brother and sister that people were compelled to listen to Jesus' message of transformation--all are loved by God.
My faith tradition challenges me to practice radical inclusivity--even Muslim terrorists are children of God, loved by God. God's heart breaks at the violence they enact, but God's heart is breaking listening to the Gov. of Alabama as well. Peter and Cornelius are a great example of this call to live in God's radical, inclusive love. (Grab that Gideon Bible and read Acts 10) Peter learns "that God shows no partiality..." Our call is to witness to the love we have experienced--Jesus death shows God's love for all the world, not just for those who "believe" in Jesus. Those who "believe" and those who have experienced God's love and are compelled to share that love. It is in no way about those who are "in" judging those who are "out."
"The believing Jews who had come with Peter couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that the gift of the Holy Spirit was poured out on 'outsider' non-Jews, but there it was..." (v. 46) I'm sure Bentley would argue that Cornelius became "Christian," as a result of the interaction, and that supports his position of become-Christian-then-you-are-in, but Peter interacted with Cornelius as "clean" before he was "Christian." The very act of being together--something that would never happen between Jews and Gentiles--was the proclamation of Jesus' gospel...the good news that all are loved by God. Living that radical love to even the most unlovable is the power of the message.
If the news quoted me...
I am adopted into the family of God. So are you. Whether or not you know it, you are loved by God. I will do my best to reveal God's love in the way I accept you, respect you, serve you, pray for you. I won't always be perfect, but the God that loves us both will embrace us in our imperfection and re-create us every moment of every day until God's Kingdom is complete.
If the news quoted me...
I am adopted into the family of God. So are you. Whether or not you know it, you are loved by God. I will do my best to reveal God's love in the way I accept you, respect you, serve you, pray for you. I won't always be perfect, but the God that loves us both will embrace us in our imperfection and re-create us every moment of every day until God's Kingdom is complete.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Connectional Church
I took the youth to the beach this weekend (thank you Martin Luther King!). We had the privilege of Sunday school and worship with WInter Park Presbyterian Church in Wilmington on Sunday. On the way down we talked about what it meant to live together in Christian community and how that is different from school or work communities.
We lived and practiced Christian community with each other, recognizing the unique feelings of the commitment to trust each other, to listen to each other, to support each other, to pray for and with each other, and to know there are communities all over that commit to the same thing. We don't do it perfectly, but we do it knowing that God has come to be with and for us, and we will always try to live in a way that is with and for others.
And, we played a boatload of Catch Phrase...
We lived and practiced Christian community with each other, recognizing the unique feelings of the commitment to trust each other, to listen to each other, to support each other, to pray for and with each other, and to know there are communities all over that commit to the same thing. We don't do it perfectly, but we do it knowing that God has come to be with and for us, and we will always try to live in a way that is with and for others.
And, we played a boatload of Catch Phrase...
Monday, January 10, 2011
Keep them in your prayers...
Tragedy hit with the shooting of a congresswoman form Arizona and the death of 6, including a child. The newscaster on NPR encouraged listeners to "keep them in your prayers." And we all will...or we all will say we will. Perhaps all of us will lift a prayer for them, for their families...and I find that interesting. As of May 2009 in a Pew survey, only about 40% of us attend worship at least weekly (or say we do). Now certainly we can pray without attending weekly worship, but I wonder what God thinks.
American behavior reflects belief in an interesting God. God is to be turned to in times of tragedy. God rescues people personally from train wrecks, plane crashes, or tornados...especially tornados. God is on our side in war and definitively against our enemies. God punishes people who live lifestyles we don't agree with (OK, not really when we ask him, but when something bad happens to them, we credit God). And most typically, we invoke prayer to God in times of tragedy. "Our prayers are with you." "We'll be praying for you." "We encourage you to keep the victims in your thoughts and prayers."
So, if we are making a movie about a "good person" and need a foil, we get a Jesus Freak. If something bad has happened and we need a band-aid, we get encouragement to "pray." So what kind of God is this? Is what we want a God-in-the-box that we can take out when we need something, then put away, out-of-sight, out-of-mind while we live our "regular" lives? Is God someone who doesn't want to be bothered with us on a day-to-day basis, but wants to help us feel better or reward us occasionally when God feels like it or we manage to get God's attention? Is God our own personal giant gavel, pounding order back into a disorderly world?
And how do we know who this God is anyway? Do we learn about God from a church? from our neighbor? from the movies/television/radio evangelist? or do we just function out of a vague set of assumptions that have coalesced from different kinds of exposure over the years? Is our God one part television, one part crazy Aunt Bettie fundamentalism, one part occasional Sunday school with a friend, and one part Christmas and Easter service?
The Presbyterian tradition teaches that if we want to get an authentic glimpse of God - if we want to know who God "really" is, and not just the coalesced version that suits our collective whims and needs - then we cannot do better than to grab our Bible (it's that best-selling book on the shelf that few actually read), go to church, and together with others, struggle with the texts and listen to what God wants to teach us.
I want us to pray for the victims of this tragedy, as well as all others who suffer. But I want the prayer to grow out of a consistent relationship with God every day, and not a pop culture quick fix for what ails us. Because, real prayer doesn't fix others, it changes us, so that we become a part of the healing that God works in the world.
American behavior reflects belief in an interesting God. God is to be turned to in times of tragedy. God rescues people personally from train wrecks, plane crashes, or tornados...especially tornados. God is on our side in war and definitively against our enemies. God punishes people who live lifestyles we don't agree with (OK, not really when we ask him, but when something bad happens to them, we credit God). And most typically, we invoke prayer to God in times of tragedy. "Our prayers are with you." "We'll be praying for you." "We encourage you to keep the victims in your thoughts and prayers."
So, if we are making a movie about a "good person" and need a foil, we get a Jesus Freak. If something bad has happened and we need a band-aid, we get encouragement to "pray." So what kind of God is this? Is what we want a God-in-the-box that we can take out when we need something, then put away, out-of-sight, out-of-mind while we live our "regular" lives? Is God someone who doesn't want to be bothered with us on a day-to-day basis, but wants to help us feel better or reward us occasionally when God feels like it or we manage to get God's attention? Is God our own personal giant gavel, pounding order back into a disorderly world?
And how do we know who this God is anyway? Do we learn about God from a church? from our neighbor? from the movies/television/radio evangelist? or do we just function out of a vague set of assumptions that have coalesced from different kinds of exposure over the years? Is our God one part television, one part crazy Aunt Bettie fundamentalism, one part occasional Sunday school with a friend, and one part Christmas and Easter service?
The Presbyterian tradition teaches that if we want to get an authentic glimpse of God - if we want to know who God "really" is, and not just the coalesced version that suits our collective whims and needs - then we cannot do better than to grab our Bible (it's that best-selling book on the shelf that few actually read), go to church, and together with others, struggle with the texts and listen to what God wants to teach us.
I want us to pray for the victims of this tragedy, as well as all others who suffer. But I want the prayer to grow out of a consistent relationship with God every day, and not a pop culture quick fix for what ails us. Because, real prayer doesn't fix others, it changes us, so that we become a part of the healing that God works in the world.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Jesus Freak...
Family gets to spend time together during the holidays. No exception this year. All four kids were home for the holidays. Didn't leave much time for blogging.
They brought home a movie for us to watch...Easy A. I liked the movie, but must admit to extreme fatigue centered on the depiction of Christians in any kind of contemporary media. The best descriptor...Jesus Freak. The terminology fits the said "Christians." They are judgmental and condescending. Those who don't "fit" with their idea of "good" are excluded at best, condemned at worst.
In this movie and others in the genre, Saved to name one, the person(s) who are vilified by the Jesus freaks are the ones who actually live more closely "the way" Jesus taught. They are accept the unacceptable. They serve others. They quietly live lives of honor and integrity while the Jesus freaks work on their perfection at the expense of all those around them.
How did this happen and why do we allow the myth to continue? The movies are funny; the Jesus freaks do provide comic relief and great entertainment. But, I can't find a consistent alternative view of what it means to be Christian in a public venue. People only see the movies--they don't set foot inside the church community. We don't speak publicly of our faith--it's between "me and Jesus." Those who use faith to condemn people to hell in the name of Christ, to exclude the lowly and disadvantaged, to insist that only perfect people are allowed in the kingdom, insert your favorite irritant here, those people speak loudly and persistently about faith. Frankly, if I am not a church-goer, familiar with Christianity only in an evening-news/movie-character way, I would tuck tail and run.
In my younger years, I lived out my faith in the "Jesus freak" tradition. I was encouraged "not to yoke with unbelievers," to "be sure people know they will burn in hell if they are not 'saved'," to adhere to a rigid set of "beliefs" without question. The older I got and the more I actually read the biblical text, the less I could justify that tradition. I never see Jesus ask people what they "believe" before he shows the grace of God through healing or acceptance or meeting the most fundamental human needs. The only time I see him questioning beliefs is with the religious peoples. What I see of Jesus is living a life of "love." In the first century, love was the action of reconciliation, peace-making, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, including and respecting all in the community and ensuring that all had the opportunity for life abundant. Life abundant was not just suffering through hell in this world with the promise that heaven would be great. Life abundant was sharing, receiving, living with each other's pain and sorrow, putting God first--and then recognizing the joy and life that comes through that way of being in the world.
The "Jesus freak" traditions in Christianity certainly still exist. They thrive. The human condition seems to seek the sure, the judgment, the black and white...and especially the we're-in-you're-out" way of being in the world. Jesus' way is hard. It cannot be fully understood. It is hard to explain. It requires sacrifice. It most often journeys through pain. The Jesus freak tradition asked my mother to leave the church when she divorced my father after years of attempting reconciliation. The Jesus way meant God walked with her every step of the way, weeping and holding her up, celebrating the reconciliation that happened in different ways, even though the marriage was not restored.
I practice my faith in a Christian church that works to live the Jesus tradition, not the Jesus freak tradition. It is hard work. It demands patience and prayer and choices to stay in relationship every minute of every day. It is utterly joyful at times when the Kingdom of God breaks in. We live in the promise that our attempts to live as Jesus lived will bring about that Kingdom more fully every day, whether we can see it or not. There are troublesome passages that you can always quote that make Jesus look more like the freak side than the grace side, but looking at the whole witness, the patterns are clear.
If I had a mountain top from which you all could hear me, I would shout at you...I am NOT a Jesus freak. I AM a Christian...one trying to live the way I see Jesus living in the biblical text. I actually read and study the text, struggle with its difficulties, seek to listen to what God is calling me to do, and live my call in relationship to a community that keeps me grounded in the reality of life, in the difficulty of faith, and in the joy of experiencing the grace of that community and doing my best to share grace with them--and with the world around me.
If I had a TV show, that's what the Christian would look like. If I had a movie, well, you get the point. Just know this, Christianity as Christ practiced it is far different than we see in the media. It's time we claim our real identity and stop cringing and hiding because someone who doesn't know what they are talking about defines identity for us.
They brought home a movie for us to watch...Easy A. I liked the movie, but must admit to extreme fatigue centered on the depiction of Christians in any kind of contemporary media. The best descriptor...Jesus Freak. The terminology fits the said "Christians." They are judgmental and condescending. Those who don't "fit" with their idea of "good" are excluded at best, condemned at worst.
In this movie and others in the genre, Saved to name one, the person(s) who are vilified by the Jesus freaks are the ones who actually live more closely "the way" Jesus taught. They are accept the unacceptable. They serve others. They quietly live lives of honor and integrity while the Jesus freaks work on their perfection at the expense of all those around them.
How did this happen and why do we allow the myth to continue? The movies are funny; the Jesus freaks do provide comic relief and great entertainment. But, I can't find a consistent alternative view of what it means to be Christian in a public venue. People only see the movies--they don't set foot inside the church community. We don't speak publicly of our faith--it's between "me and Jesus." Those who use faith to condemn people to hell in the name of Christ, to exclude the lowly and disadvantaged, to insist that only perfect people are allowed in the kingdom, insert your favorite irritant here, those people speak loudly and persistently about faith. Frankly, if I am not a church-goer, familiar with Christianity only in an evening-news/movie-character way, I would tuck tail and run.
In my younger years, I lived out my faith in the "Jesus freak" tradition. I was encouraged "not to yoke with unbelievers," to "be sure people know they will burn in hell if they are not 'saved'," to adhere to a rigid set of "beliefs" without question. The older I got and the more I actually read the biblical text, the less I could justify that tradition. I never see Jesus ask people what they "believe" before he shows the grace of God through healing or acceptance or meeting the most fundamental human needs. The only time I see him questioning beliefs is with the religious peoples. What I see of Jesus is living a life of "love." In the first century, love was the action of reconciliation, peace-making, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, including and respecting all in the community and ensuring that all had the opportunity for life abundant. Life abundant was not just suffering through hell in this world with the promise that heaven would be great. Life abundant was sharing, receiving, living with each other's pain and sorrow, putting God first--and then recognizing the joy and life that comes through that way of being in the world.
The "Jesus freak" traditions in Christianity certainly still exist. They thrive. The human condition seems to seek the sure, the judgment, the black and white...and especially the we're-in-you're-out" way of being in the world. Jesus' way is hard. It cannot be fully understood. It is hard to explain. It requires sacrifice. It most often journeys through pain. The Jesus freak tradition asked my mother to leave the church when she divorced my father after years of attempting reconciliation. The Jesus way meant God walked with her every step of the way, weeping and holding her up, celebrating the reconciliation that happened in different ways, even though the marriage was not restored.
I practice my faith in a Christian church that works to live the Jesus tradition, not the Jesus freak tradition. It is hard work. It demands patience and prayer and choices to stay in relationship every minute of every day. It is utterly joyful at times when the Kingdom of God breaks in. We live in the promise that our attempts to live as Jesus lived will bring about that Kingdom more fully every day, whether we can see it or not. There are troublesome passages that you can always quote that make Jesus look more like the freak side than the grace side, but looking at the whole witness, the patterns are clear.
If I had a mountain top from which you all could hear me, I would shout at you...I am NOT a Jesus freak. I AM a Christian...one trying to live the way I see Jesus living in the biblical text. I actually read and study the text, struggle with its difficulties, seek to listen to what God is calling me to do, and live my call in relationship to a community that keeps me grounded in the reality of life, in the difficulty of faith, and in the joy of experiencing the grace of that community and doing my best to share grace with them--and with the world around me.
If I had a TV show, that's what the Christian would look like. If I had a movie, well, you get the point. Just know this, Christianity as Christ practiced it is far different than we see in the media. It's time we claim our real identity and stop cringing and hiding because someone who doesn't know what they are talking about defines identity for us.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The Christian flag?
I watched the news a couple days ago and people were voting on what flag to fly in a public space for the next year. Hundreds of people--Christian people--voted to wave the Christian flag. They waved little flags in their seats as they listened to debate and cast their votes. I wondered what Jesus would think of these "disciples." I'm sure good people were flag-waving, but I couldn't help but think that Jesus would call us on the carpet. Have you fed the hungry today? Have you served the poor? Have you sacrificed something you want for the welfare of someone else, even someone who is undeserving?
Jesus didn't bring a flag and power to the world. He brought service and God's love. A bunch of metaphorical flag-waving goes on at Christmas...keep Christ in...war on Christmas...reason for the season...
It's an interesting question to ask. Would Jesus have fought for the flag?
Merry Christmas everyone!
Jesus didn't bring a flag and power to the world. He brought service and God's love. A bunch of metaphorical flag-waving goes on at Christmas...keep Christ in...war on Christmas...reason for the season...
It's an interesting question to ask. Would Jesus have fought for the flag?
Merry Christmas everyone!
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Twinkle, Twinkle...
(with apologies to those who have already read this one...)
She was 4, a pixie-child with short hair, half curly and half straight. She climbed up on the chair, pushed her glasses up on her nose, took a deep breath, and began to sing:
Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are
Way up in the sky so high, like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are
Way up in the sky so high, like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are
Way up in the sky so high, like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are
Way up in the sky so high, like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…
The rest of her family was gathered around for the concert, waiting to clap. We’d had the Twinkle, piano version, cello version, and probably teenage mutant ninja turtle version...and the vocal version was the climax. Then, and only then, could we get to opening Christmas Eve presents. The nightmare began when the song would not end. Every time the song should have ended, it just circled back on itself and started again. The child’s face began to reflect concern, then consternation, then crisis. She could not escape the twinkles.
Ultimately, the giggles and guffaws from a loving family gave way to singing together the final line tune and ending the concert. Presents were opened and eyes were closed at the end of a long Christmas Eve. But every time I hear the Twinkle song, I think back to that most significant twinkling star.
There we are, thinking we could sing our songs and save our souls, and as we try over and over to get out of the mess, we just get in deeper and deeper. No matter how hard we try or how simple it would seem to be, we cannot escape the repetition of our sinful nature.
So we look to the Star and we celebrate joining the heavenly chorus that lifts us out of our cycles of despair and into the hope of Christmas.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Home for the Holidays
It's a season that makes us think about home. "I'll be Home for Christmas," "Home Alone," decorating our homes for company or family...all these things take extra significance during the holiday season. I don't know if it's Christmas, or if it is the fact that so many holidays converge in a 40 day period, or if we are just crazy, but we get home-phobic in all kinds of ways. So I started thinking about homes we have lived in--and unlike many people, we have lived in a lot!
Our first apartment was a second-floor, west-facing, 1940's house in Altus, OK. The whole west side of the house was windows. We lived there in the summer of 1980...average temperature outside 115, average temp inside, 100. We put foil over the windows, shiny side out, to try and reflect some of the sun. An air-conditioner, three fans and a water mister ran all night in our bedroom. The kitchen was in the hall. Open the oven or the frig and no one passed through. The bathroom was broken for the first week of our lease and we had to go to Carl's parent's house to shower.
Our first apartment at the seminary my husband decided to attend at the very last minute was the one no one else wanted. It had been built probably in the the 20's. One bedroom, lineoleum floors that would not come clean, holes in the wall in the kitchen from the previous tenant's dart board. (I considered maintaining the dart tradition with a picture of my husband, but decided that was petulant and I wanted to be the martyred party in the relationship.) The bathroom was so grim I don't even remember it. Ancient screw-open windows lined the entire front of the apartment, but they neither cooled the apartment in the summer or kept in the winter heat. We were thrilled at the end of that first year when the school built new apartments and we were allowed to live in one...except, the new carpet had some kind of toxic allergen and we were sick for weeks. I have never sneezed so much in my life. The dog we got to protect us from the homeless guys that slept on our back porch ate the corners off the kitchen cabinets and the doorbell rang every Saturday morning at 7 am so the Jehovah's Witness could attempt to save the lost Presbyterian souls.
We lived in a couple of church manses (church owned homes for those of you not familiar with weird church words). I will not pontificate about those, wishing to protect the innocent. We bought our first house in Houston. We took down fabric from the walls and scrubbed the paneling with Brillo pads to remove the nicotine. When we moved in, you could see the outline of the gun collection on the wall in the family room. We nested there with chimney birds. Yep, the only house we ever owned with a fireplace was in Houston, TX. Nice place to raise birds, not so nice for a fire. Somehow it just didn't seem right to run the air-conditioner so we could watch flames flicker.
When we moved to Nebraska, we discovered wonderful things about our house -- things that were so good, the previous owners didn’t tell us. For example, we had a potential ice skating rink in the living room. A thin layer of water on that floor (which we discovered was uninsulated) and we could have hosted Olympic skating--or made a bit of spare change for college tuition. We knew the basement was plumbed for a bathroom, but we did not know there was already a shower -- coming conveniently from the plumbing in the main floor bath. We never had to rake the yard. When you opened the front door and the basement door at the same time, the house sucked in all the leaves. Voila! It was also the perfect house for raising teens. The ancient coal-heating vents made every word in every room float through the house into our bedroom. We could hear everything they said and whatever they did with their friends. They never caught on.
The idiosyncrasies of houses make them "homes." Only glossy magazine “houses” are perfect. Homes are places where you repair the screen on the back door torn off two years before when the dog was a puppy. Then, when you open the door to bring the adult dog in, he jumps through the new screen because--he always has. Homes are where you have so many bikes you cannot park your car in the garage. Homes are where the dog barks viciously at your ninety year old neighbor bringing cookies, but sleeps through the “intruder” at two am who brings a phone message. Home is spilled orange juice on the floor you just mopped. Home is Barbies with wet, cold hair from baths the night before in your six am shower. Home is all your husband’s shoes lined up just “outside” the closet door. Home is throwing all the junk into the basement to "clean" the house for company, then having to go to the basement with them for a tornado warning.
I was listening to the radio segment talking about the stress of the holidays because everyone expects perfection. I gave up on that years ago. If you want perfection, buy a magazine. If you live in the real world like we do, come on over. The Utley’s are home.
Our first apartment was a second-floor, west-facing, 1940's house in Altus, OK. The whole west side of the house was windows. We lived there in the summer of 1980...average temperature outside 115, average temp inside, 100. We put foil over the windows, shiny side out, to try and reflect some of the sun. An air-conditioner, three fans and a water mister ran all night in our bedroom. The kitchen was in the hall. Open the oven or the frig and no one passed through. The bathroom was broken for the first week of our lease and we had to go to Carl's parent's house to shower.
Our first apartment at the seminary my husband decided to attend at the very last minute was the one no one else wanted. It had been built probably in the the 20's. One bedroom, lineoleum floors that would not come clean, holes in the wall in the kitchen from the previous tenant's dart board. (I considered maintaining the dart tradition with a picture of my husband, but decided that was petulant and I wanted to be the martyred party in the relationship.) The bathroom was so grim I don't even remember it. Ancient screw-open windows lined the entire front of the apartment, but they neither cooled the apartment in the summer or kept in the winter heat. We were thrilled at the end of that first year when the school built new apartments and we were allowed to live in one...except, the new carpet had some kind of toxic allergen and we were sick for weeks. I have never sneezed so much in my life. The dog we got to protect us from the homeless guys that slept on our back porch ate the corners off the kitchen cabinets and the doorbell rang every Saturday morning at 7 am so the Jehovah's Witness could attempt to save the lost Presbyterian souls.
We lived in a couple of church manses (church owned homes for those of you not familiar with weird church words). I will not pontificate about those, wishing to protect the innocent. We bought our first house in Houston. We took down fabric from the walls and scrubbed the paneling with Brillo pads to remove the nicotine. When we moved in, you could see the outline of the gun collection on the wall in the family room. We nested there with chimney birds. Yep, the only house we ever owned with a fireplace was in Houston, TX. Nice place to raise birds, not so nice for a fire. Somehow it just didn't seem right to run the air-conditioner so we could watch flames flicker.
When we moved to Nebraska, we discovered wonderful things about our house -- things that were so good, the previous owners didn’t tell us. For example, we had a potential ice skating rink in the living room. A thin layer of water on that floor (which we discovered was uninsulated) and we could have hosted Olympic skating--or made a bit of spare change for college tuition. We knew the basement was plumbed for a bathroom, but we did not know there was already a shower -- coming conveniently from the plumbing in the main floor bath. We never had to rake the yard. When you opened the front door and the basement door at the same time, the house sucked in all the leaves. Voila! It was also the perfect house for raising teens. The ancient coal-heating vents made every word in every room float through the house into our bedroom. We could hear everything they said and whatever they did with their friends. They never caught on.
The idiosyncrasies of houses make them "homes." Only glossy magazine “houses” are perfect. Homes are places where you repair the screen on the back door torn off two years before when the dog was a puppy. Then, when you open the door to bring the adult dog in, he jumps through the new screen because--he always has. Homes are where you have so many bikes you cannot park your car in the garage. Homes are where the dog barks viciously at your ninety year old neighbor bringing cookies, but sleeps through the “intruder” at two am who brings a phone message. Home is spilled orange juice on the floor you just mopped. Home is Barbies with wet, cold hair from baths the night before in your six am shower. Home is all your husband’s shoes lined up just “outside” the closet door. Home is throwing all the junk into the basement to "clean" the house for company, then having to go to the basement with them for a tornado warning.
I was listening to the radio segment talking about the stress of the holidays because everyone expects perfection. I gave up on that years ago. If you want perfection, buy a magazine. If you live in the real world like we do, come on over. The Utley’s are home.
Monday, December 6, 2010
The Wise Men...
The wise men came from the East -- having shopped in Greensboro and Winston-Salem all day. And upon being exhausted with Christmas shopping for the babe in the manger, and while listening to the National Public Radio as they prepared the evening meal, behold they were amazed by the proclamation that one could shop the internet with only a few clicks of a mouse.
“Verily, I say unto you,” the announcer cried. “No longer will you toil and curse the mall in which you shop. No longer will your feet cry out for mercy. No longer will impulse buying cause the balance in your checkbook to offend you. Click in the age and gender of the person for whom an offering is desired. The website will bless you with a multitude of options wanted by all people that age and gender. And you will be forever comforted in your time of tribulation.”
The wise men were no fools. Immediately they caused the microwave to cease and the table was not laid. Hearkening to the announcer’s voice, they went forth to the computer and made haste on the internet highway. They gathered their bounty and rejoiced.
No more would it be necessary to spend time with people to learn what they enjoyed. No more would conversation flow disrupt time spent with the holy television or the sacred video game. No more would hearts agonize about the perfect offering -- the wisdom of the computer would provide. And if, perchance, a gift was unacceptable, return shipping was free and the blame could be placed on the retail systems analyst.
The holy text was modified to read, “It is more blessed to give than to receive....if the giving requires little or nothing from the giver.” And night fell on the wise men.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Stories...
Holidays are for story-telling. Stories establish identity in a community and, frankly, are just plain fun. Christmas was a unique experience in my childhood home. Saying that Christmas was my father's favorite holiday was an understatement at best. The year he received the city prize was nothing short of spectacular...and it's a great story.
An outline of lights transformed our house into a Christmas wonderland. Santa and his reindeer were on the roof. Every yard evergreen boasted its own lights--I remember three. Candles constructed from toilet paper rolls, sand, wood, and light bulbs flickered in the windows. (They looked better than they sound on paper.) A live Christmas tree beckoned from the living-room window, and symmetrically from the study, and aluminum tree basted itself in the glow of a multi-hued light wheel.
A life-sized manger scene, complete with camels and donkeys, began the fiew on the front lawn. Rolls of spun glass twinkling with colored lights covered a ten-foot, black, plastic cone (alias one-by-twos and chicken wire). The nighttime effect was a space-age tree, suspended in mid-air. Five-foot candy cane candles and a handmade holly wreath welcomed visitors to the front door. Santa and his reindeer made an encore appearance in the yard as well. (Sort of the brother Darrell and the other brother Darrell syndrome.) This more honored display had once been stolen, but my dad chased the thieves on foot until they dropped the display in either exhaustion or boredom. And the ultimate dream for this professor of Chemistry was on the far left--a fifteen-foot hardwood tree, cut, stripped of its leaves, painted white and covered with hundreds of hanging test tubes, each filled with its own brightly colored chemical.
The prize was ours, probably more for persistence than for good taste. My dad reached a pinnacle of achievement--and a turning point. A car, distracted by the decorations, hit our car and knocked it through the neighbor's fence. In the night, right after the judging, a wind storm hit. The chemical tree collapsed, shattering text tubes all over the driveway and killing all the grass on that side of the yard. (Fortunately, the EPA did not yet exist. We probably created some three-headed frogs as well.) The final and ultimate blow was a light bill twice the size of the cash prize. My dad said we couldn't afford to wind the prize again.
Before the disasters and the winning of the prize, Christmas decorations were magic. That year, I think I moved into an adult Christmas mode. I never reclaimed that "childhood magic." But in its void grew a sense of spiritual wonder. Adult Christmases bestow the love of family and friends, traditions owr worship and music, and a new, breath-taking realization of the gift of God's love.
May your holidays be full of stories, old and new...
An outline of lights transformed our house into a Christmas wonderland. Santa and his reindeer were on the roof. Every yard evergreen boasted its own lights--I remember three. Candles constructed from toilet paper rolls, sand, wood, and light bulbs flickered in the windows. (They looked better than they sound on paper.) A live Christmas tree beckoned from the living-room window, and symmetrically from the study, and aluminum tree basted itself in the glow of a multi-hued light wheel.
A life-sized manger scene, complete with camels and donkeys, began the fiew on the front lawn. Rolls of spun glass twinkling with colored lights covered a ten-foot, black, plastic cone (alias one-by-twos and chicken wire). The nighttime effect was a space-age tree, suspended in mid-air. Five-foot candy cane candles and a handmade holly wreath welcomed visitors to the front door. Santa and his reindeer made an encore appearance in the yard as well. (Sort of the brother Darrell and the other brother Darrell syndrome.) This more honored display had once been stolen, but my dad chased the thieves on foot until they dropped the display in either exhaustion or boredom. And the ultimate dream for this professor of Chemistry was on the far left--a fifteen-foot hardwood tree, cut, stripped of its leaves, painted white and covered with hundreds of hanging test tubes, each filled with its own brightly colored chemical.
The prize was ours, probably more for persistence than for good taste. My dad reached a pinnacle of achievement--and a turning point. A car, distracted by the decorations, hit our car and knocked it through the neighbor's fence. In the night, right after the judging, a wind storm hit. The chemical tree collapsed, shattering text tubes all over the driveway and killing all the grass on that side of the yard. (Fortunately, the EPA did not yet exist. We probably created some three-headed frogs as well.) The final and ultimate blow was a light bill twice the size of the cash prize. My dad said we couldn't afford to wind the prize again.
Before the disasters and the winning of the prize, Christmas decorations were magic. That year, I think I moved into an adult Christmas mode. I never reclaimed that "childhood magic." But in its void grew a sense of spiritual wonder. Adult Christmases bestow the love of family and friends, traditions owr worship and music, and a new, breath-taking realization of the gift of God's love.
May your holidays be full of stories, old and new...
Monday, November 29, 2010
Help me...help me...help me...
Sometimes it's hard to stay in that place where your focus is on God. Pray without ceasing is not so hard for me...help me, help me, help me...floats through my head on a continuous loop. But that place of knowing God's presence and resting in God's peace is elusive at best. Hurry and prepare this service, this program, this devotional book. Write this paper so you can serve the church. Fix this meal. Shop for Christmas. Organize decorations. Have a party. Teach Sunday school.
On top of everything today, I have a headache. bleh. Help me...help me...help me...I'll be focused and resting later...help me...help me...help me...I'll be energetic later...help me...help me...help me...
Seems like this story would be somewhere in the report of the ministry of Jesus--especially if he is fully human. Probably would have been, had he been fully human female...
Help me...help me...help me...
On top of everything today, I have a headache. bleh. Help me...help me...help me...I'll be focused and resting later...help me...help me...help me...I'll be energetic later...help me...help me...help me...
Seems like this story would be somewhere in the report of the ministry of Jesus--especially if he is fully human. Probably would have been, had he been fully human female...
Help me...help me...help me...
Sunday, November 21, 2010
What is Mine is Yours...
I've been looking at the story of the Prodigal Son. Most people focus on the grace and forgiveness provided to the younger son...the one who defined the word "selfish." That is great comfort; no matter how bad we are, we receive this incredible gift from a God who loves us.
But this time, I was really struck by the conversation between the father and the eldest son after the party starts. As the elder brother comes in from the field--remember he is the one that has stayed home and done everything right...followed the rules...supported his father...fulfilled expectations...never disobeyed--he comes in from the field and asks (in a Greek verb tense that shows great expectation) "What's happening?" You get the idea that perhaps he thinks the party is for him. He has no reason to expect the younger brother has shown up. He knows what he has been doing for God. Finally, some recognition.
And the slave informs him...nope...not for you...for the younger son. It's no wonder the elder son had his jockeys in a wad.
True confession...as a teenager, I would often come home from "youth group" feeling like a total failure. I didn't have a "testimony." Couldn't say I was drinking/smoking/flirting/insert sin here and that I had been convicted and had rededicated my life to Christ and was so glad and grateful for God's mercy and forgiveness. And then we had a party of tears and congratulations and "thank God's" and off we went, the saved into the arms of their closest friends and me to my boring, sin-free life. (OK...not sin-free, but somehow arguing with my sister didn't get the same response from the youth group.)
But I fully understand the frustration of the elder brother. For those of us who don't squander our inheritance, where's the party?! And, the elder brother refuses to come to the party. For those of us who haven't been away...there's nothing. For those of us who have done all that was expected, not even an thank you.
But it's the next verse that sturck me. As the father stands with the elder son, he says, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.".
All that is mine, is yours... Here we are, those of us who are still at home, doing the right things. We know there are expectations. There is a to-do list. There are rules to follow. And if we do all that is expected, then the father will give us a party. And we miss everything. We forget the message, "all that is mine, is yours." The party is for us now. The fatted calf is ours...to celebrate with family or to invite our friends in. This grace and celebration is already ours, always has been. But, like the elder brother, we refuse to enter the party, to live in the grace, because we are working so very hard to earn the grace that is already ours.
It's one heck of a party. And I'm getting the idea that I can party without having to eat pig slop. God is good...all the time.
But this time, I was really struck by the conversation between the father and the eldest son after the party starts. As the elder brother comes in from the field--remember he is the one that has stayed home and done everything right...followed the rules...supported his father...fulfilled expectations...never disobeyed--he comes in from the field and asks (in a Greek verb tense that shows great expectation) "What's happening?" You get the idea that perhaps he thinks the party is for him. He has no reason to expect the younger brother has shown up. He knows what he has been doing for God. Finally, some recognition.
And the slave informs him...nope...not for you...for the younger son. It's no wonder the elder son had his jockeys in a wad.
True confession...as a teenager, I would often come home from "youth group" feeling like a total failure. I didn't have a "testimony." Couldn't say I was drinking/smoking/flirting/insert sin here and that I had been convicted and had rededicated my life to Christ and was so glad and grateful for God's mercy and forgiveness. And then we had a party of tears and congratulations and "thank God's" and off we went, the saved into the arms of their closest friends and me to my boring, sin-free life. (OK...not sin-free, but somehow arguing with my sister didn't get the same response from the youth group.)
But I fully understand the frustration of the elder brother. For those of us who don't squander our inheritance, where's the party?! And, the elder brother refuses to come to the party. For those of us who haven't been away...there's nothing. For those of us who have done all that was expected, not even an thank you.
But it's the next verse that sturck me. As the father stands with the elder son, he says, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.".
All that is mine, is yours... Here we are, those of us who are still at home, doing the right things. We know there are expectations. There is a to-do list. There are rules to follow. And if we do all that is expected, then the father will give us a party. And we miss everything. We forget the message, "all that is mine, is yours." The party is for us now. The fatted calf is ours...to celebrate with family or to invite our friends in. This grace and celebration is already ours, always has been. But, like the elder brother, we refuse to enter the party, to live in the grace, because we are working so very hard to earn the grace that is already ours.
It's one heck of a party. And I'm getting the idea that I can party without having to eat pig slop. God is good...all the time.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
God or United Way...
One conversation that spins around the question of tithing (giving 10% "back" to God in gratitude for all you have been given) is "we set aside 10% for charitable giving...but we give it to several places; the church is one of those places."
The overarching question, I think, is who we are...our identity. We are the people of God. God chooses to be in relationship with us. I believe God chooses to be in relationship with all people, but not everyone recognizes that. Those of us who choose to respond to God's initiative define ourselves and are defined as the people of God. We are chosen not to be set above the world, but to be God's servants in the world, to bring the love of God to the world, to allow God's blessings to be seen by the world. And it is our practices...how we live that defines our identity to the world.
If, for us, the people of God, giving to the church, to our community of faith, is only one in a list of competing causes, we have not responded faithfully to God's call. Many people in this world do good things. God is involved in all that good. But they do not do good to point to God. They have forgotten or refuse to acknowledge God as the author of all good. Good is assigned to their choices or the organization which they serve.
If church is one in a list of many things, and the people of God do not support the church because they are supporting other causes, who picks up the slack? Folks who are not the "people of God" are not going to add "church" to their lists of causes because church people contribute to the United Way. When is the last time a church got a pledge from an unchurched neighbor because they heard the church's budget was under funded or the church needed resources for a new youth ministry.
We are certainly called to do good in the world. But we, the people of God, are called to first respond to God. God is our first and highest priority. God does not ask to be one in a list of many good causes. God gives us undeserved grace and mercy. We have blessings beyond measure. God knows how God wants to partner with us. Obedience to God's vision provides all that is needed to do God's work in the world.
First priority or one in a list of good causes? Who are we?
The overarching question, I think, is who we are...our identity. We are the people of God. God chooses to be in relationship with us. I believe God chooses to be in relationship with all people, but not everyone recognizes that. Those of us who choose to respond to God's initiative define ourselves and are defined as the people of God. We are chosen not to be set above the world, but to be God's servants in the world, to bring the love of God to the world, to allow God's blessings to be seen by the world. And it is our practices...how we live that defines our identity to the world.
If, for us, the people of God, giving to the church, to our community of faith, is only one in a list of competing causes, we have not responded faithfully to God's call. Many people in this world do good things. God is involved in all that good. But they do not do good to point to God. They have forgotten or refuse to acknowledge God as the author of all good. Good is assigned to their choices or the organization which they serve.
If church is one in a list of many things, and the people of God do not support the church because they are supporting other causes, who picks up the slack? Folks who are not the "people of God" are not going to add "church" to their lists of causes because church people contribute to the United Way. When is the last time a church got a pledge from an unchurched neighbor because they heard the church's budget was under funded or the church needed resources for a new youth ministry.
We are certainly called to do good in the world. But we, the people of God, are called to first respond to God. God is our first and highest priority. God does not ask to be one in a list of many good causes. God gives us undeserved grace and mercy. We have blessings beyond measure. God knows how God wants to partner with us. Obedience to God's vision provides all that is needed to do God's work in the world.
First priority or one in a list of good causes? Who are we?
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Danger!!!!!
Waiting for TV weather this morning...
Man and wife sitting on couch appear...
She extols shopping at Thruway center...43 different stores...wow
He laments there are no condos available.
Because...if we could live at the store, life would be complete...
Man and wife sitting on couch appear...
She extols shopping at Thruway center...43 different stores...wow
He laments there are no condos available.
Because...if we could live at the store, life would be complete...
Monday, November 8, 2010
Everyday Acts...
If you didn't read yesterday's post, stop now and read it, then come back...
I did go to church this morning. Posted in the bulletin was an announcement about my being granted "candidacy" status as a seminary student, part of the Presbyterian process of becoming an ordained minister. A small part of me hoped I wouldn't be confirmed. I love my job now and my church family, and don't even like to think about perhaps having to do something else. Most of me would have been sad if I had not been confirmed. All of me really didn't think it was a huge big deal...just another hoop to jump through--something Presbyterians are good at.
After worship, a gentleman, and gentle man, advanced in years and usually reserved, found me and gave me a big hug and the most excited "congratulations" I think I have received since giving birth. I saw through new eyes. Whenever any of us takes a step to commit to a practice that deliberately moves toward bringing the Kingdom of God into our world, we should be celebrating. Ministry, sure, but also those who commit to generosity without control or payback, to service, to speaking truth to power, to teaching children's Sunday school to one or two, to singing in the choir, to prayer, to baking communion bread...the list is endless. The one criteria, it seems, is the deliberate recognition that our gift is from God and is to be used for God...that is worthy of great celebration...
Blessed by an everyday act. Here's hoping that some everyday act of mine will do the same...
I did go to church this morning. Posted in the bulletin was an announcement about my being granted "candidacy" status as a seminary student, part of the Presbyterian process of becoming an ordained minister. A small part of me hoped I wouldn't be confirmed. I love my job now and my church family, and don't even like to think about perhaps having to do something else. Most of me would have been sad if I had not been confirmed. All of me really didn't think it was a huge big deal...just another hoop to jump through--something Presbyterians are good at.
After worship, a gentleman, and gentle man, advanced in years and usually reserved, found me and gave me a big hug and the most excited "congratulations" I think I have received since giving birth. I saw through new eyes. Whenever any of us takes a step to commit to a practice that deliberately moves toward bringing the Kingdom of God into our world, we should be celebrating. Ministry, sure, but also those who commit to generosity without control or payback, to service, to speaking truth to power, to teaching children's Sunday school to one or two, to singing in the choir, to prayer, to baking communion bread...the list is endless. The one criteria, it seems, is the deliberate recognition that our gift is from God and is to be used for God...that is worthy of great celebration...
Blessed by an everyday act. Here's hoping that some everyday act of mine will do the same...
Saturday, November 6, 2010
End of the world...
I'm trying not to complain this week...but after all the political stuff...I'm having a hard time. The latest, after blasting the dems continuously for earmarks, the headline in the NYTimes is that the republicans have informed the tea party that they will not be stopping earmarks. What is wrong with us?
Come, Lord Jesus. This is your world. I'm thinking fire, flood, or rapture. Or maybe I'll just go to work at the church tomorrow and be grateful for the saints who gifted me with faith and who bring justice into the world...one everyday act at a time...
Come, Lord Jesus. This is your world. I'm thinking fire, flood, or rapture. Or maybe I'll just go to work at the church tomorrow and be grateful for the saints who gifted me with faith and who bring justice into the world...one everyday act at a time...
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