What's the Question?

Yet another response article to the GA suggests that PC(USA) seminaries will be hurt because of the decisions made by the General Assembly. The focus is different, but the question is the same as all the other articles: "How many will leave?" How many congregations will leave? How many individuals will leave? How many will leave?

And we wring our hands and fret because we don't know "how many will leave." We think we know that it will be bad.

"How many will leave?" is certainly a question. It is not the question. It is a question that walks us down a path of futility and despair even when nothing has happened yet. It is "borrowing trouble" to use my grandmother's phrase. Not only do we borrow, but we pay interest on trouble that is already happening, may not happen, or cannot be stopped at any price. We have fretted over this question for the last 30 years. Our worry has not stopped people leaving our churches.

The question is "How many will come?" How many of the displaced, the unloved, the outcasts in religion or society will hear in this new action, God's invitation to inclusion. How many will come in? Once the gentile population understood that God's love and transforming work was for them and not just for the Jews, the world changed. Ironically, we who are deciding whether to leave or not would not be here had God not flung the doors of inclusiveness wide open for all people, all nations.

I am saddened by those leaving, those who have already gone, and those who will depart. But the question I ask, what I am really interested in, what I eagerly await to see is who will come in. Who will be included? Who will bring new insight into the practice of faith in 2014 and beyond? What understanding will be gained in new conversations and new relationships? What grace will become evident that we couldn't see before?

I'm not spending much time thinking about the question everyone is asking, just long enough to think it's a bad question. I'm spending much time thinking about how to invite those not involved, those who think they are not welcome, those who assume there's a secret code of behavior that they have to know before they enter our doors, those who need to know that I have experienced grace beyond measure and that grace is theirs as well.

I've been taught that one way we evaluate our decisions and behavior is by seeing if we produce the fruit of the Spirit, peace, love, joy, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. To see if we achieve that, the only question is, "Who is coming in?"

A Vote for Change and Trust in the Sovereign God...

Many Presbyterians considered yesterday a momentous occasion when the General Assembly of the PC(USA) voted on an Authoritative Interpretation that allows clergy to marry same gender couples in states where that is legal. They also voted to change the definition of marriage in the Book of Order from between "a man and woman" to "between two people." That will go to presbyteries for a necessary two-thirds ratification vote before it "sticks."

Many, many folks celebrated yesterday. Many did not. My discernment on this issue began some 30 years ago when my sister came out. Life was extraordinarily difficult for her. The question I remember her asking was, "Why would I choose to live this way?" Reading the gospels and studying the life of Christ, I decided if I was going to make a mistake, I was going to err on the side of inclusion and acceptance. Mark Achtemeier's speech to the Covenant Network beautifully articulates more of my journey as well.

Honestly, I am excited that we as a denomination have discerned a move toward full acceptance and inclusion. I also recognize the anguish on the other side because I have been on the "losing side" for the last 30 years. 

Where we still are together is centered in the providence of God, trusting in the sovereignty of God. That is a central part of our Presbyterian heritage. Again and again, when my children would ask why I didn't leave the church, I replied that I would forever work for what I saw as God's will, but that I would trust that God was working harder than I was, and I would be patient for God's time.

I still trust that sovereignty with my whole heart, with my whole life. Today I celebrate with the sure knowledge that if we are wrong God will correct us. Perhaps this is the correction. I know what I think, but my sure hope is not the decision of the PC(USA) or the even the "win" as "proof" of right thinking. 

My sure hope is in the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit. My hope is in the Triune God who creates, rules, sustains, redeems, reconciles, and transforms all things and all people.  Thanks be to our God who constantly works on us and in us so that we might understand what God wants us to be and do.

Letter to a Dying church?...

Sojourners Magazine is running a series called "Letters to a Dying Church." The primary assumption seems to be that there is little to no hope for the institutional church. "Hopeful" letters speak of resurrection and some purpose in dying. One letter accurately reminds us that what is happening in the "west" is not true of the rest of the world. Of course, I have an opinion. So IMHO…a letter.

To the Church of Jesus Christ,

Many have pronounced you dying; some have pronounced you dead. Most see no hope. Many have deserted you in the name of seeking "life." And some are still a part of you, participants in the "institution" who are dismissed by many as foolish or deluded…or simply crazy because they continue to participate in a lost cause, to beat a dead horse, to cling to hope when all hope is gone.

Dear Church…here's the thing. Your fate is not ours to determine. You belong to the Triune God, the Alpha and Omega. Jesus Christ is your head. The Spirit courses through your veins. Creation is and always will be yours until the Lord God dwells among his people and there is no more need for you. 

I wonder, often, what the criteria is for pronouncing you dead or dying. Is is numbers? Is it wealth? Power in our political system? Respect by the "secular" rulers or powers? Profit? Relevance? How do we judge that you are dying?

Yes, here's the thing. Your fate is not ours to determine. Ours is an invitation to participate with God as God creates, redeems, rules, reconciles and transforms all things and all people. It's a magnificent invitation. It is not a promise for particular outcomes. The invitation is just that. We are not planning the event, nor are we to determine what is "successful" at a particular place and time. We are called to be part of the Body, called to be active in a congregation. We are called to prayer and discernment, not judgment and determination of how things "should be." 

I've been in some churches in which I struggle to see the Spirit at work. I've been in others that seem full to overflowing with Spirit. I've learned to be skeptical of my opinions. Often the "Spirit" I see is a reflection of my preferences and comfort. Often the struggle is my lack of imagination and connection. Do we, as your hands and feet, toes and fingers, have work to do to be more faithful to you, more open to the work of the Spirit in our midst, more able to witness to the steadfast love and grace given to us? You bet we do. But does our work determine your health. I don't think so. 

Dear Church…here's the thing. Your fate is not ours to determine. Individual congregations come and go. We are, after all, human. No congregation is immortal. No congregation immune to the human frailty that moves us through life to death. But our hope is not in our ability to be the oldest living congregation. Our hope is not in our ability or our definition of your success. Our hope is in the God who established you, who sustains you, and who will inspire and guide you in good times and bad, in health and in struggle, in life and in death.

I am grateful, Dear Church, that you are not mine to control. I am grateful that your fate is not mine to determine. I am grateful that I can trust that the sovereign God who created you and gave you as a gift to our people is working even now to bring about good, to work good when we manage to create chaos, to bring new life and health and wholeness to us and all creation. And I am so grateful to be invited to participate.

You have been pronounced dead and dying before, you will be again. In the meantime, I give thanks for the witness you provide, for the nurture that is promised, for the guidance that is gifted. I am grateful for your saints that have gone before, for my time to work for the Kingdom, and for those who will continue the Kingdom's work long after we are gone. 

A humble servant of God... 

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The Myth by Which We Die...

Confession. Instead of reading great literature in the evening, or painting great works or art, or even vacuuming the floor, I've been watching this pretty ridiculous "drama" about women who work a ranch in Australia. It gives me a good fix of the farm life. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't last a day, but the fantasy is that I would. At the very least, I would love chickens in my back yard. I also like the idea of working outside all day and then being able to eat real food with no guilt. Sitting in my office chair really doesn't open that door.

I know it's not all real, though the beautiful women who star in this show actually get filthy dirty. They don't manage to do the farm work and stay clean and well-coiffed as many shows portray. They do, however, manage to do hard labor all day, then cook themselves dinner and sit and enjoy it like they didn't wish with their whole beings for a bed and some sleep. The house also cleans itself now. They did have a woman whose role was house upkeep, but she left to become a scholar and now the house magically cares for itself. I would pay good money for a house like that.

I know I've written on this before, but this show (made between 2001 and 2008) is again this "don't help me"… "don't share what's going on in my life with anyone"… "don't tell the truth"… "I have to do it myself or it's not valid."

PEOPLE!  We need each other. We don't do anything on our own. Our relationships are healthier if we communicate with each other. We cannot succeed at anything if we try and do everything alone. 

Yes. That's what I yell at the TV. Really. I talk to them because they are so stupid. It's a bit scary.

Does anyone else think this way of life is crazy? Does everyone else in the world think it is normal and right to work so hard to isolate from all those around us unless we are perfect and perfectly competent and perfectly in control. Because if that is normal, you'll never see me again.

OK. Periodically on an episode we "realize" that our friends have our backs and it's good to ask for help and there are tears all around and we celebrate. But they never learn. The craziness starts again the very next episode.

So, I'm not sure what the moral of the story is…probably don't watch soap opera drama. But I do know this, living without relationships is not living at all. It's death. Being independent is not a cause to celebrate, it's the cause of loneliness and fear. "Doing it myself," "making my own decisions," "handling it alone,"…it's not the successful measure by which we live.

It's the myth by which we die.

Guvment Meetin' Prayuh...

A meeting of the Chicago City Council
from the Chicago Tribune.

Today the Supreme Court ruled that prayer before government
meetings was to be continued…even if
the prayers were predominantly Christian. They lend a sense of "gravitas" says one justice. My colleague, Joe, says basically they made prayer the jewelry of Lady Justice. I believe it is faux jewelry at that.

I think the world of faith, regardless of the religion or denomination should refuse to ever pray at a guvment meeting' EVER…period! 

The reduction of the practice of prayer to "lending gravitas" is a frightening emasculation of a profound practice. In the name of preserving faith, the court has, in fact, removed all semblance of real faith and practice. A prayer is not a decoration or a means to quiet the crowd so they don't miss any of the politician's rhetoric.

A prayer is a powerful, subversive force to bring us closer to the Kingdom of God (at least for those of us who practice the Christian and Jewish faith traditions).

Let the prayers continue. Let Lady Justice find her own cheap jewelry.

Reality and Easter Reality...

Trouble has been stirred by the new Noah movie. I haven't seen it yet. The trouble seems to stem from a portrayal of a gritty, certainly angst-ridden man instructed to build an ark. God is at work to save humankind.

The dumbest comment I have heard--and I thought about trying to soften the "dumb" but really, it was just dumb--is a female news anchor remembering the story from the children's Bible she read (as a child) where all the stories had happy endings. And children's Bibles tend to do that. We don't typically tell our children the story of the slaughter of the innocents after Jesus was born. Four year olds aren't ready to process that. Sometimes 40 year olds aren't either. From what I am hearing about the Noah movie, some adults aren't ready to process the reality of the text either.

The reality of the text is one of my favorite things. After the Easter celebrations in which every church puts on their finest clothes and music and resurrection joy, we return to lives that often are all too real. We hear and speak promises that God has defeated evil, has won the victory over death…and we still face the realities of death and evil in every part of our lives.

So if we read stories of a perfect Noah, the righteousness that got him attention, that enabled him to do the job God asked of him…and then if he is nothing but perfect, how do we understand the story? I might can sustain the obedience of righteousness until I can finish a task that God assigns, but I am more likely to slip, to forget the source of my hope, my sustenance, my focus. If the Noah story is about a perfect man, the guy who never fails, who always does the right thing, who lives the "happy ending," then what have I to learn? The story becomes about Noah, a man who I can never emulate, a man who lived a different reality than do I. Instead, the story is about God and God's work…and the moments of righteousness (obedience to God) that inspire our own obedience, perhaps. Certainly righteousness/obedience is not easy, especially if you are fully human and not some children's-Bible-cartoon character. (Though perfectly good for children!)

Regardless of what the sin will be once the ark comes to rest, there will be sin. Noah is not saved because of his ability to be sinless. Noah is saved because God's work is the redemption of humankind.  Noah "comes home" to the same brokenness that God tried to wash away in the flood. Truth is, no matter how much we want it, we cannot escape the brokenness that surrounds us. We cannot wash it away. We cannot simply "get rid" of the broken "others" who mess things up for us (or so we would like to think).

Reality is, we continue to sin. Easter reality is God doesn't give up on us. Even in those moments deemed righteous, those moments of our finest and best, God knows who we are and remarkably, miraculously, loves us unconditionally, warts and all. Easter reality is God providing a righteousness that is dependable, the righteousness that never fails, the righteousness that is ours because we live in the body of Christ. Somehow in the mystery of God's work, we live "in Christ" and he in us.

There is no storybook "happy ending" in scripture. Even Jesus' resurrection is a series of brief, joyful appearances and then life goes back to reality. But the reality has been changed. The resurrected Jesus brings an invitation to live into and out of God's reality, that we really have nothing to fear, that nothing can separate us from God's love, not even ourselves. So now we can live in our "reality," our brokenness knowing that God's love wins…always…forever. Someday we will have the ultimate happy ending here on earth. Until then…living obedient lives out of an Easter reality just might change the world!

Easter Again...

So here's the thing. I believe it. Actually, the better wording is that I trust the good news of this Easter resurrection thing.

"Believe" is a head thing. What you think about something. If I think about resurrection too much I struggle. I do have a quite capable brain and am thoroughly immersed in the enlightenment investment in scientific methods.

But with every fiber of my being, I trust this resurrection thing. I have experienced God's ability to bring life from death, to call out new life where nothing existed before. And I am amazed and grateful that God invites me into God's work of transformation and reconciliation. I am so completely human that it boggles the mind that God thinks I have something to offer.  But I experience those moments of grace and see the healing and I hold out Easter hope for the world.

I trust this Easter resurrection thing. I will sing my heart out and lift my prayers because this trust gives meaning and focus and hope to a world that too often and too completely spins out of control.

All this is wrapped up in that phrase we wear out in the Easter season:

He is risen. The Lord is risen, indeed!

To-Doing Holy Week...

Wonder what Jesus would have thought if he had known how Holy Week would morph over a couple thousand years. One church my husband served had a mini-revival beginning on Palm Sunday. So you had evening and breakfast events Sunday through Wednesday, plus the pastor had to entertain the guest speaker. Oh yeah, and still prepare the Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter sermons. I always said (in my nicest preacher's wife annoying way) that I though that church put their preachers in the tomb for the week to see if killing him resulted in a funeral or a resurrection.

Wonder if Jesus could do anything more than put one foot in front of the other during his last week, "left foot, right foot, breathe" as Anne LaMotte says. When life…or death…comes at you that fast, I'm not sure you have the ability to reflect. Today, I pray for families in South Korea. The sinking of a ferry carrying 300, with most of those being high school students on a school trip, is devastating. I wonder how you even put one foot in front of the other in light of that event.

Sometimes I wonder instead of making Easter Sunday the celebration day with the new dresses and family dinners and congregational decorations…what would happen if we met on Easter like the women at the tomb. They didn't know to wear their new dresses. They were still trying to breathe. What would happen if we just showed up after a slow week of contemplating death and suffering; of confessing our own complicity in the sin that took Jesus' life, that takes our own lives a little every day. What if we just showed up in our regular clothes and listened to the good news of the gospel, that new life is possible. What if we, undistracted by the to-do list, were able to really hear the reality of the promise of new life and transformation.

Hearing that promise, being surprised by the possibility, glimpsing the kingdom…that is worthy of celebration. That is when we might buy the new dress. That is when we might invite friends and family over for the renewal of community. Then as we continue to live into the Easter reality all through the season, more and more signs of new life might arise…

I guess I hope our focus on the celebration doesn't eclipse the good news that will be ours. 

He is risen…

The Lord is risen, indeed!

Holy Week...

Palm Sunday begins Holy Week. It's the consistent lament of church professionals that we have to pack Palm Sunday and Passion all together because few people will come out for the darker services of Mandy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday.

Today my hot water heater stopped working. Cold water showers are horrible, to be avoided at all costs. I just thought today as I showered at my daughter's, we are mighty lucky that we can avoid the horrible. Many people can't. There are people tonight who have to face the sudden unexpected death of loved ones, people who live and serve in dangerous places, people who don't have enough to eat.

I wonder if the discipline of Holy Week is a necessary reminder that the world doesn't always have an abundance of hot water. I promise I will appreciate my hot shower when it comes back. Perhaps it is in the journey through the darkness and the pain, the hopelessness and the evil that is our companion in this life that we can truly appreciate the resurrection, the promise of new life.

Daily...

Some life events define us. We know immediately what they are. We can describe them in detail. We know how we were changed.

Today, I wonder about between the life events. We are defined there, too. Get up, go to work, be with other people, perhaps read or watch TV, go to bed. Perhaps this between time shapes us even more than the big events. The habits and perspectives we develop in the between shape our responses to the events.

I'm going to try and be more aware of daily practices that inevitably shape who I am. I'm not going to change anything now. Just see how I'm being defined in the footsteps of the mundane.

The Children...

A friend who became  father yesterday mused on his child's nursery and posted picture of children's rooms from all over the world.

I wonder how we are defined when some children in this world live in extraordinary poverty and others have more than they could ever want. More importantly, I wonder how we are defined if we justify that inequity or ignore it.

The birth of a child suddenly and completely redefines us. We know that beyond doubt.

God's love and mercy redefine us too…though for most of us it't a slower, more incremental process. Once we recognize we are re-defined, perhaps we are inspired to live in a way that might re-define the world. The children are depending on us...

Joy...

Holy Week approaches. The story fascinates me. I suppose it always has. As long as I can remember (that's getting longer all the time), I have been curious about what Jesus thought and felt during that week. I had a hard time buying one of the common explanations of dealing with the tragedy of Holy Week--that Jesus knew he was God and knew the outcome of the week…therefore he was willing to go through the death. If Jesus was fully human, he couldn't have known the outcome. We don't know the future except in nebulous ways…like trusting in the sovereignty of God.

So what enabled his willingness to put himself in danger, danger he pretty clearly knew existed in Jerusalem?

I was reading The Longing for Home: Reflections at Midlife by Frederick Buechner. He describes a moment at Sea World (surprising) when the killer whales came out in "one great, jubilant dance of unimaginable beauty." Tears filled his eyes and, he found out later, the eyes of his family members.

That led him to a conversation about joy. In a "tourist trap" in Florida he says "there is joy unimaginable." And his words are beautiful and significant as we approach Holy Week:

The world does bad things to us all, and we do bad things to the world and to each other and maybe most of all to ourselves, but in that dazzle of bright water as the glittering whales hurled themselves into the sun, I believe what we saw was that joy is what we belong to. Joy is home, and I believe the tears that came to our eyes were more than anything else homesick tears. God created us in joy and created us for joy, and in the long run not all the darkness there is in the world and in ourselves can separate us finally from that joy, because whatever else it means to say that God created us in his image, I think it means that even when we cannot believe in him, even when we feel most spiritually bankrupt and deserted by him, his mark is deep within us. We have God's joy in our blood.

I believe joy is what our tears were all about and what our faith is all about too. Not happiness. Happiness comes when things are going our way, which makes it only a forerunner to the unhappiness that inevitably follows when things stop going our way, as in the end they will stop for all of us. Joy, on the other hand, does not come because something is happening or not happening but every once in a while rises up out of simply being alive, of being part of the terror as well as the fathomless richness of the world that God has made. When Jesus was eating his last meal with his friend, knowing that his death was only a few hours away, he was in no sense happy, nor did he offer his friends happiness any more than he offers happiness to you and me. What he offers is more precious than happiness because it is beyond the world's power either to give or take away. "These things have I spoken to you," he said, "that my joy may be in you"--joy, as poignant as grief, that brings tears to the eyes as it did to mine that afternoon in the crowded bleachers.

Perhaps that is the power that gets Jesus through the last week of his life. That's why some people with terminal disease exhibit a peace and trust that takes our breath away and makes us wish we could be them for a moment. There are those who serve in areas of intense suffering and describe the miracle of intense joy they experience.

It rings true to me. Joy is home. "God created us in joy and created us for joy, and in the long run not all the darkness there is in the world and in ourselves can separate us finally from that joy…"

It's a nice way to be defined, don't you think?

 

Questions...

A series of interesting questions for the Lenten definition of self…

(Thank you T.S. Eliot…choruses from "The Rock"…and it seems appropriate for National Poetry Month.)

Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word
Where is the life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

Dry Bones...

We drove past a dying church last weekend and yesterday's text was on the valley of dry bones. And this happened…

The LORD's power overcame me, and he led me out and set me down in the middle of a church parking lot in a certain neighborhood. The church was full of bones. He led me all around the church; there were very many bones in classrooms, in the sanctuary, in the kitchen and the fellowship hall…and they were very, very dry.

The Lord asked me, "Human one, can these bones live again?"

I said, "LORD God, only you know."

He said to me, Prophesy over these bones and say to them, Dry bones, hear the LORD's word! The Lord God proclaims to these bones: I am about to put breath in you, and you will live again. I will put sinews on you, place flesh on you, and cover you with skin. When I put breath in you, and you come to life, you will know that I am the LORD."

I told them what the LORD had in mind, just as I was commanded. There was great noise as I was prophesying, then great quaking, and the bones came together, bone by bone. When I looked, suddenly there were sinews on them. The flesh appeared, and then they were covered over with skin. 

And then the trouble started. 

Wait…you're not one of us. Who put your bones in our church? Bones of your type should be coming together in the church up the street. 

Look at this…this skin color is just not right. We planned this church around the lovely colors available to us at its inception…yeah, we know that was 40 years ago, but Sherwin Williams can match colors now, you know. There's no need to start fresh. And, besides, nothing matches. Look at this mess. It's like the LORD just threw together leftover skin from all over the place. Nothing goes together. It doesn't look like it used to. How are we supposed to function if it doesn't look like it used to?

Why couldn't the LORD have put the skin on first, then filled in with the sinew. That's private business. What sinews I have are between me and God, not the business of other folks. Having seen the muscle I've got, now people have all kinds of expectations about what I can do. I was content just coming and worshipping on the back pew. Now people keep asking for participation. 

The flesh had certainly appeared, and they were covered with skin, but the LORD saw there was no breath in them…and actually, the LORD God clarified…there was plenty of hot air, but no pneuma…no spirit…no breath of life…

The LORD said to me, "Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, human one! Say to the breath, The LORD God proclaims: Come from the four winds, breath! Breathe into these dead bodies and let them live."

The LORD God was no dummy. Human one, these bones…say "Our bones are dried up, and our hope has perished. We are completely finished." 

But the LORD proclaimed: I'm opening your graves! I will raise you up from your graves, my people, and I will bring you to fertile land. Lotta new people in your neighborhood who need to hear your witness of good news! You will know that I am LORD…I will put my breath/spirit in you and you will live!

Will those bones live? God only knows. Certainly we can choose to stay in the graves we have dug. But I can tell you this. I'm listening and breathing as deeply as possible of the breath God is pouring out in all times and places. I want to see the dry bones covered and raised up…dancing and singing and proclaiming that the LORD has done it!

 

Resurrection Sunday...

Mini Holy Week, I suppose. Last post on Thursday…absence Friday and Saturday. Resurrection Sunday! I only wish I was a profound as the real resurrection. Maybe…

Seems more crazy than profound. You have women visiting the tomb, carrying with them spices and oils with which to anoint the body of Jesus, and Jesus is gone. Mark has them running in fear from the tomb (original ending…that's all folks). Women crying in gardens, then seeing angels…oh no, it's Jesus!

Walks with Jesus on the road to Emmaus…breaking bread and recognition! Breakfast on the beach.

Who'd believe any of this.

But it's Sunday and after days of business and distraction, the miracle beckons. I think not having to explain the unexplainable is one of the gifts of Sabbath…

Dear God...

I was cleaning out…"redefining my office" if you will. Found a beautiful prayer that absolutely defines who we are and who God is. I am only sorry that I no longer have the author…

Dear God, we confess that often we find your unrelenting presence tiresome. It is so hard to live seemingly caught between what it seems you want us to be and what we know we are. Help us to realize that our very pretensions of unworthiness are unworthy. Make us glad to be your people, gathered into your church, celebrating the victory that is ours. Amen.

Self-denial...

I listened to a man talk about the Lenten season this morning. He does a bracket with saints and people vote their favorites. He described Lent as a season of "self-denial." Aaaannnndddd that got me thinking for today…

We don't do self-denial well in this culture. We want what we want, when we want it. We hate to wait.
When we practice self-denial during Lent, we focus far more on what we give up than on the God for whom we give things up.

What is the value of self-denial? Should we learn to accept "no" or "not now?" Is there value in denying our immediate wants? What do we gain by "losing?"

I do think we tend to self-define by what we have or can get. How do we re-define by what we don't get or by what we give up?

Today I seem to have questions but no answers. So I will give up answers for Lent today. Maybe tomorrow I'll figure more things out…

We Get What We Are...

I work with children, youth and young adults and I can tell you how their parents solve problems, deal with conflict, overcome obstacles, decide on consequences for misbehavior. I've not been in their homes, but you can see the patterns in the kids. You can see them in my kids, too. Not one of us is immune.

An headline in the New York Times this morning speaks of the patterns that are us, "An 8th Grader, a Gun and a Bystander." The paper tells a tragic story of teenage turf wars, an eighth grader who looks grown who listened carefully to his cultural patterns that guns solve problems, and an innocent bus traveler in the wrong place in the wrong time.

Note: someone will now be offended. I appreciate our right to own guns, but I think the conversations that try to frighten us into maintaining that right and assuming it is God-given in all times and places seeps deeply into the minds of children who do not yet have fully developed brains. If someone is trying to hurt you, or saying they will, the problem solving functions that 1) are weak because they are young and 2) are weak because they operate out of fear fail to work in the ways they should.

Guns solve problems in our movies and TV shows. We see people acquitted of shooting other people when the reason is "self-defense." The first move of this 8th grader was not to seek out his parents help, the support of a faith community (don't even know if he had one), the guidance of a trusted teacher or school official, or even the police. He just bought a gun.

Chew on that. An 8th grader bought a gun to solve his problem.

I've had four eighth grade children. They are bright, educated, well-supported, and not ONE of them had the sense to make a decision with a gun in the 8th grade.

So several lives are destroyed. Certainly the man who lost his life to the poorly aimed gun. The child now charged with murder. The children who will assume they need guns to protect themselves from each other beginning yesterday. The society who must now spend its tax-payer dollars to house a prisoner instead of educate a bright, promising student. Parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends of all those involved.

Again and again in parenting circles we are told, "You get who you are." Extrapolate. We get, as a culture, who we are. Our intense individualism, our assumptions that other's problems are not our problems, our dismissal of tragedy as not our problem, our glorification of violence, all these cultivate the culture that results in an 8th grader, a gun, and a bystander.

Who are we? Read the headlines as your Lenten practice today. Reject the assumption that negative headlines are "someone else." Consider who we are by what we get.

Pray for forgiveness, reconciliation, redemption, and transformation.

Journey...

I learned a bit about walking a labyrinth today. I have the privilege this summer of mentoring some new seminary students, students whose lives have taken a turn in a very different direction.

The point was made that, unlike a maze, a labyrinth has no dead ends, no wrong turns. This spiritual journey walk always moves forward. It twists and turns, but always moves forward. Sometimes it seems like you walk back where you've been before, but you in a different place. You continue to cover new ground.

It's an interesting practice, walking with each other on this journey. Were about halfway through Lent. We might consider where we've been, with whom we have the privilege to walk, and where we might be going...perhaps slowly, but going nevertheless.

Tell Me the Story...

Listening to The Moth, a storytelling series on NPR on a drive to Richmond this afternoon. A pastor told a great story of what we like to call the "baby preacher" days…those last days of seminary. He pastored three tiny churches and was preparing for his big Easter sermon.

Anyway, there was a youth event at one church and one of the kids got left behind and had to be taken home. Travel "home" was out into nowhere land. He dropped the kid off, started home, and ran out of gas.

He walked for miles "toward the light"…guess that in itself could be theological…but it turned out to be a roadhouse/bar/poolroom. He went in, looked among the bikers for a friendly face, found himself playing a game of pool, winning a game of pool, and then explaining he had run out of gas and needed to get home to rest before Easter.

And then came the question. One of the bikers said, "What is Easter anyway?" He had never been to church, never heard the story, never known anything but the chicks and candy in the big box store.

And while the pastor finished his story, I thought, "Wow. Could I tell the story to someone who had never heard it before?"

It dawned on me how much I depend on familiarity with the story before I even start. It's a crazy story. Could I tell it in a way that made any kind of sense at all to someone who hadn't a clue?

That's the Lenten challenge of the day. In preparation for Easter, can we tell the story to someone who has never before heard the story?

Ready…go...