through a mirror dimly

Left Behind

2009-11-11T08:36:00.001-08:00

I’ve been Left Behind.

Literally.

While entranced readers (63 million and counting) have made Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins’ ‘Left Behind’ series one of the most popular book series of our generation, I am still rather indifferent about the whole thing.
Yes, Publisher’s Weekly says it’s the most successful Christian fiction series ever, the New York Times and Chicago Tribune have said positive things about them, and many people, maybe even you, think these are the most influential books we’ve seen since the Bible. Yet little old me, with a library of chock full of hundreds of Christian books, has yet to crack the spine of even one (of about 20) of these bestsellers.

Sure, I have never been much into fiction, even science fiction, but I must say that the biggest reason I’ve steered away is because this series is based on the biblical book of Revelation, and more to the point, an interpretation of apocalyptic writings that just doesn’t sit very well with me.

This Sunday many of us will hear Mark 13 read from our pulpits – this is a ‘mini-apocalypse’ that is full of Revelation-like images, symbols and warnings. Just like Revelation, it mimics Old Testament and Apocryphal imagery with dire warnings of the coming day of the Lord. Through the centuries interpreters have had a field day concocting kooky links between modern events with apocalyptic writings. Martin Luther thought it so full of potential pitfalls he suggested removing Revelation from his New Testament Canon. John Calvin simply avoided it all by writing commentaries on every New Testament book except Revelation.

Colorful, mind-stretching, difficult to interpret – sure. But apocalyptic writings continue to keep their place in the canon because each generation seems to figure out what the real purpose of this kind of literature is. It’s not really about foretelling the future. It’s about encouraging faithfulness, patience, discipline and single-mindedness through tough times.

Sure, no one at my suburban church is facing the kind of serious persecutions that the first hearers of Revelation or Mark 13 were facing – the only time I see Christians going to the Lions here in Detroit is on game day. However, we are all still facing the kinds of things that Jesus warns us about when he says, “Beware that no one leads you astray.”

For then, as now, we are tempted to lose sight of the goal. Every day we face a myriad of distractions and diversions that keep us from keeping the main thing, the main thing. Just like Mark’s audience, we face the real peril of amnesia – forgetting who we are, and assuming a different identity simply because we want to avoid pain or amass worldly gain. What are some of the things tempting to lead us astray today? How are we addressing them? Are we cool with it?

Reading
The Book of Revelation (Commentary) – Robert Mounce
The Book of Revelation: An Introduction and Commentary – Leon Morris
Strength for the Journey – Peter Gomes

Guilt vs. Pride

2009-11-05T05:48:00.000-08:00

Many of us may be thinking that the timing of this Sunday’s Gospel reading, on ‘The Widow’s Mite,’ was purposely chosen for the fall fundraising season (‘Stewardship Season’ is the norm in Episcopal churches this time of year). It was selected, you may be thinking, as a way to guilt the pew warmers into coughing up more money for the church and also make an example out of this poor widow; that we are not acceptable to God until we sign over everything we own to the Church. “Yes, you can make your checks out to St. David’s in Southfield, Michigan…”

But what if we were to read this text a bit differently, as some theologians have suggested, and look at this encounter not as a lesson in selfless giving, but as an example of selfish pride run amuck. Not, of course, on the part of the widow, but on the part of the Temple elite who had concocted a shady religious system in which God was not the main beneficiary, they were. Let’s take a closer look.

As we know, this story (found both in Mark and Luke) comes on the tails of Jesus’ observations regarding the religious leaders of his day. Jesus warns, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes…” He then points out their self-centered prayers, processions through the market places, and the taking of the best seats at worship services and banquets. This observation is followed by another, that of the widow giving all she has to the Temple Treasury. Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

Try reading this last statement like the first - as a simple declaration as to what’s going on. Now imagine this paraphrase, “What a tragedy for religion to look like this! That poor woman has to give away everything she has to meet Temple approval. She has been taught and encouraged to donate as she does, now she has nothing left to take care of herself or anyone else who might be in her household.”

The two texts, if they are interpreted this way, become a unified declaration against what has been called our biggest, most lingering sin: pride. For it was a prideful clergy that concocted such a self-perpetuating, get rich scheme as this in order to line their pockets, not to prepare for the Kingdom of God. It was a prideful system that did not recognize God even when he walked up and introduced himself. It was a prideful system that led to death rather than life.

Whenever Scripture describes the colliding of kingdoms, as it does here, I often think of the ways that I may be contributing to the wrong side. In what ways does pride weasel its way into modern religious life? In what ways do our frameworks of introducing others to Christ get derailed and sidetracked by our own desires for respect, honor and praise?

Religious shammery (if this is a word) has been around for a long time as we, too often, choose the comforts of religious frameworks over the difficult and liberating work of giving ourselves totally (another theme in this reading) to the call and work of Christ. In what ways might we identify and address these?

Reading
The Five Love Languages – Gary Chapman
A People’s History of Christianity – Diana Butler Bass
Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes – Kenneth Bailey
To read more about this take on ‘The Widow’s Mite’ see http://www.visionsofgiving.org/widowsmite.htm

All Saints' Rising

2009-10-28T05:19:00.001-07:00

We all knew she was going to die.
It was Grandma, for Pete’s sake.
She was well into her 80’s, her health was not good, and she’d begun to get snappy these past few years. She was angry, uncomfortable, and had told us more than once that she wanted nothing more than to see her husband, her parents and her Savior.
Yet we did not want her to go.

For a week she hung on, after her sudden collapse on the bedroom floor.
She had a single room at St. Joe’s.
We took turns visiting.
She slept mostly, moved a bit, but we couldn’t be sure if it was she or the medicine doing it.

She was no Lazarus, struck down in the prime of life, to the awe and surprise of family and friends. But we were Mary and Martha asking similar questions - saddened, mourning, crying. Why did grandma have to go now? I know others, alert and vibrant, who live, work even drive well into their 90s, why couldn’t grandma be one of them? There were great grandchildren to meet, stories to tell, advice to give and holidays to round out. What would it be like not to have that familiar presence – that voice, that laugh, that touch – that had been with us ever since any of us could remember?

We came to the Master’s feet with our Lazarus-tomb questions: ‘Why her?’ ‘Why now?’ ‘Only if!’ And we imagined the myriad of alternative scenarios.

Oh yes, the Master did finally come. Jesus had heard us. God knew how out of sorts we were. And He showed up on the scene. But in the end, He was too late. Grandma died. And Jesus joined us. He stood there in room 717 and wept right along with the rest of us. We were not the only ones grieving.

It is a pain relived at this time every year as we lift up this memory, and countless others - of all the souls and all the saints who have touched our lives, who indeed are here, but here no more. The miracle we look for is not that of a man wrapped in burial cloths arising like some haunted house mummy, rather it is one that carries every bit as much meaning as did the miracle witnessed by Mary and Martha. For we are assured, by the testimony of Scripture, the promises of our fore bearers, and the strange warming of our hearts that this life is not all there is. Our miracle is the promise and reality of new life.

All Saints’ Day reminds us of this. It tells us that a thin veil is all that separates those who live on this side of eternity or the other. And the miracle of Lazarus raised reminds us that we will all be raised. We will reunite with loved ones one day. Death has been overcome. God has that kind of power.

In what ways can we remind ourselves of God’s eternal plans for us?
How can we better convince ourselves that God is in control of our destiny?
What things can we let go of, knowing that God, ultimately is in charge?

Reading
Mixed Blessings – Barbara Brown Taylor
A People’s History of Christianity – Diana Butler Bass
World Without End – Ken Follett

Despite Bartimeaus

2009-10-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

Don’t we all wish it was just that easy…

“Hey Jesus, it’s me, ya the blind one… or the poor one… or the one without a job… or the one with the goofy nose.” (You can fill in the blank however you’d like.)
“And I have faith and I want healing, food, employment, plastic surgery.” (Again, fill in the blank.)
“Go ahead, wave that magic wand!” we say, “We heard you did it for blind Bartimaeus in Jericho, It was so simple for you. All he did was call your name, tell you what he wanted and bingo! So have at it, do your stuff! I’m waiting!...”

And wait we do.
In the doctor’s office, the bread line, the unemployment line…
Drumming our fingers, furrowing our brows, taking another hit of Maalox…
Sure we pray… till we’re blue in the face… in a lot of different ways… in special places… to special people.
Visit the Pentecostal Revival tent. Bury a statue of St. Joseph in the yard.
And when we don’t get what Bartimeaus got we react in a number of different ways.

Some of us get angry. We no longer talk to God. We boycott church, refuse to pray, anything to get back at that capricious charlatan who obviously doesn’t think I’m worth listening to. Sure, our anger doesn’t help matters, but it makes us feel better.

Some of us give up on God. We consider our experiences proof that there is no God. So we focus more on logic, reason and rationale, all the while ignoring the mysterious parts of our souls that opened our eyes to faith in the first place. We shun the Spirit’s tugs and tingles. Sunsets become ‘geological phenomenon.’ All is dismissed as fairy tale, innuendo, and the leftovers of a work-in-process evolutionary progression.

This story of ecstatic healing becomes a tale of cold betrayal.
The intimate becomes distant.
Joy becomes pain.

Some of us have been told we need faith like Bartimeaus.
But most of us need faith despite Bartimeaus.

For at the very moment of heightened doubt, when we are convinced God has done nothing and once again left us out in the cold, let us remind ourselves that God, indeed, has done something. God has come among us. God has become one of us. And God has not simply come down to our level - God has gone lower. From the peaks of heaven to the pit of hell, Jesus came to endure for us what we would never want for our worst enemy. No, we never, ever suffer alone. There is no place on earth where you and I must look up to Jesus, for He is always right next to us.

And lest we think we are alone in our suffering, desperation and abandonment, let us remember that whatever’s happened to us has also been experienced by God in the flesh. No matter how bad things are, how angry, depressed or forgotten we feel, God knows what it’s like to go through that, and worse. Because when you and I think that at least God hasn’t killed us, we also remember, oh yeah, he saved that for Jesus.

The Road to Daybreak – Henri Nouwen
The Source – James Michener
Jesus - Borg

Follow

2009-10-14T08:26:00.001-07:00

OK, I’ll admit it, for ambitious people like me this Sunday’s reading, about the demands of James and John to, “grant us to sit one at your right hand and one at your left” is more than a bit off-putting. After all, I never had an ambition to be ambitious it just came to me.

Maybe the great psychoanalyst Alfred Adler was right in positing ambition as humanity’s dominant impulse. While Sigmund Freud contended that sex was our governing urge, Adler argued that the quest for recognition, our desire for attention, is the basic drive of human life.

Perhaps that’s why Jesus didn’t come down too hard on the brothers Zebedee for their incredibly self-centered and obnoxious request. He didn’t even call them on the carpet when they immediately agreed, ‘Yes Lord, we’ll drink the cup you drink and take the baptism you’ll take!’ It’s as if they’re 4-year-olds demanding a Golden Retriever from Mom and Dad, and just as willingly agreeing, ‘Sure I’ll take him for a walk three times a day, play fetch till it’s dark and donate all my allowance to feed him until I’m 17!’

No, Jesus let James and John down ever so gently – he did not fault them for being ambitious, rather he sternly corrected them for being ambitious about the wrong things.

How many times have you and I been ambitious about the wrong things? How many relationships, possessions or experiences did we spend incredible energy to acquire only to find out it was not what we thought it was?

Check out this video to see what I mean (especially if you’re the parent of a teenaged girl).

Misdirected ambition is arguably humanity’s biggest fault. We think we know what we want, we go for it, and we find that in taking the lead we would have been much better off to have followed. And when we finally agree to follow, we find that Jesus does not take away our ambitions, He simply realigns them.

For human ambitions are often God-given, God-directed, and are at their best when they find their fulfillment in service. It is often seen when millionaires use their business acumen to clean up urban schools, good parents open up their homes to foster kids, and when you and I realize that our gifts were not given to us solely for our own pleasure and boasting, but to do God’s work.

Do any of our ambitions need redirecting?
How might the Lord be calling us to redirect them?

Reading
Among the Lilies – Ronald Rolheiser
Eventide- Kent Haruf
Microtrends-Mark Penn

Let the Children Come… With Purell

2009-10-10T15:49:00.000-07:00

There she stood, as still as a sentry, as observant as any FBI agent on Presidential Guard Detail – our friend Carolyn, manning her post alongside my wife and our new baby on his first day in church. As so many people tried to make their way to the baby’s side found out; before you could get to baby, you had to pass by Carolyn, who was armed and ready with a big old bottle of Purell. ‘Wash your hands before you touch mine!’ reads the little red hexagonal sign pinned to baby’s car carrier. In these days of flu shots, viruses, random germs, N1H1, Mad Cow, Hanta, you name it - new parents take every precaution. We all understand this, and we all dutifully obey.

Yet this scene carried out in of all places, a church, couldn’t help but make my mind wonder… When Jesus bid the little children, ‘Come!’, as Mark 10 tells us, which of the disciples would have been the designated Purell holder? Would it have been Thomas who doubted Jesus’ divinity nearly until the end? Would it have been John, ‘the beloved disciple,’ who would’ve been more concerned about a child giving Jesus a cold rather than vice versa? Would it have been Judas, who would have bought the generic brand and pocketed the difference?

What’s more, would Mother Mary have taken Joseph to task in that smelly manger, reminding the new (old) father that no shepherd, angel or drummer boy could approach this pastoral setting without, first, a squirt of cold gelatinous antiseptic? And would these parents have been as obsessed with cleanliness as we are? Or would there have been the few waivers issued by dutiful parents who give a free pass to Popes and mothers-in-laws? And would Jesus have shared their concerns for cleanliness? Would Jesus have requested a Purell Sentry through which everyone would have to pass before coming in contact with Him?

The ways you and I approach God are studded with concerns like this. We have barriers of our own that keep us from Jesus. We skip our daily prayers because we’ve had a spat with our spouse or neighbor and feel hypocritical. We abstain from the Eucharist because we’ve been less than honest with our taxes. We skip church out of guilt over an affair. It seems like there is always a barrier between God and us. It seems like we are always looking out for some sentry that will keep us from approaching the throne of Grace.

If Jesus’ ministry teaches us anything, it is that no such sentry exists. Jesus’ mission was to remove them - every barrier that would keep you and me from God. Jesus turned over the moneychangers’ tables at the Temple and tore the curtain in the Temple in two. And this Thanksgiving season (Canadian is Monday) reminds us that more than a meal and the founding of this great country, you and I give thanks to a Christ who has given us 24/7 access to the Father.

Dear friends, there is nothing that can keep us from coming to Jesus, no sin, shortcoming or human ritual. It’s because, more than anything, Jesus wants us to come – He died to get this point across. And He is bidding us today, as He did the little children, to come.
What’s keeping us?

Reading
Among the Lilies – Ronald Rolheiser
Microtrends – Mark Penn
Where God Happens – Rowan Williams

Refined by Fire

2009-09-24T04:04:00.000-07:00

It happened many years ago but it may as well have been yesterday.
It was the day I realized that all that time I had spent in grade school, high school and college study had not gotten me even one inch closer to the yearning, deep in my soul, to becoming who I was supposed to be. I was 22 and I was lost.

I had just spent four wonderful years enduring and even enjoying that very expensive rite of passage that young people go through (also known as college…), and like so many of them I had a degree and a diploma, but absolutely no idea which way my privileged life was going to go. The inner pain was nearly excruciating, maybe you have felt it (it's not just for college kids). My parents had invested so much in me. My teachers had such high expectations for me. My friends were already leaping and bounding way ahead of me. The pressure was numbing, as there I sat, working in a travel agency, not to fulfill my dream, but to help an ambitious and entrepreneurial friend fulfill his. I had no idea what my dream was.

So in the midst of my lostness I cried out to God, as if a character in the Psalms. I protested to a God whose attention I was incessantly trying to capture: “This is too much,” I remember saying, “Where are you? Do you care? Where should I go? What should I do?"

And then I remember very distinctly that the Lord did not come down from heaven that day and sketch out the next 50 years of my life, binding it in a spiral note book and tabbing all the pages. No, the Lord had something else in mind. You see, I suddenly discovered that on that day, and on every day since, the Lord did hear me. And the Lord did rescue me. How? The Lord came to my aid by changing my faith. The Lord sent family and friends who did not pressure me, but gently held me, and who did all they could to come along side me as I figured out how to make my way through the Valley of the Shadow of Unrelenting Disorientation. The Lord sent me quiet times of prayer and reflection. The Lord sent me those times of Bible reading when certain verses just hit you ‘POW’ right over the head, maybe this has happened to you?

And when I went from working at a travel agency in Michigan to a personal assistant in Colorado, an equally dead-end job, I did not spend long in lament. Why? God had rescued me! My newly re-tooled faith had assured me that I had no standard to live up to but God’s. I am a child of God! I am a man on a divine mission!

Jesus says, in this Sunday's Gospel lesson, that, 'everyone will be salted with fire.' How are we dealing with the fires that burn and test, be they vocation, sickness or loss? Are we lamenting in the face value of them, or are we looking deeper, where God is looking, at the ways our trials shape and mold us into all that God has created us to be?

Reading:
Transforming Stewardship - CK Robertson
For the Sake of Heaven and Earth - Irving Greenberg
Cooking for Baby

Resetting My Generosity

2009-09-16T06:40:00.000-07:00

The other day my computer went on the fritz.
It started doing things I didn’t want it to do.
It would not obey my commands.
I had no choice but to push ‘reset.’
As I sat there waiting for the computer to restart, I wondered:
What if I could push the ‘reset’ button on my life?
What would I re-program?
What would I build in differently?

One thing I would reset would be my generosity.
Sure, we give our 10% to the church.
And my wife and I support numerous charities.
But we could do so much more if we could push the reset button on our underlying attitude.
Do you know what I mean?

After all, who says we have to live where we live, eat what we eat, buy what we buy and drive what we drive? Do we choose these things based on what we need, or on how much our paychecks allow? A recent study by the National Council of Churches of Christ concluded that, “the main thing blocking church support is simple: it’s an unsurpassing urge for more affluent living.” Just as I think Jesus is shaping my generosity, I discover that it is really rival attractions that gain more of my religious dollar.

Sure, there are lots of factors that, over the years, slowly bent my attitude out of shape. Like fish living in water, we are immersed in an acquisitive culture. Most of the important things in my life depend on me, and everyone else, buying things. Nearly every moment of every day, someone is trying to convince me to buy something that I more than likely don’t need. The average American will spend two years of her life watching television commercials. And living in this fishbowl takes its toll. I don’t know how, but I’ve become utterly convinced that I need most of the stuff that I have. Maybe you have felt this way too.

I know I can’t push the reset button and change overnight. But I do believe that every day I am called to be more like Jesus. This means I am called to be more generous. I believe I can make small changes that add up to a much larger change. I’ve done it before by refusing desserts for a long period, and cashing in on the results on the bathroom scale. One place to start would be pausing to contemplate this simple saying from my childhood:

“Just think, God gave us everything, and we get to keep 90% of it!”

In other words, instead of thinking that everything is mine, I remind myself that it is all God’s, and one of God’s gifts to me is to help distribute it. Now I will let you in on a secret. When someone sends me an email requesting donations for a walk-a-thon, help meeting the mortgage bill, aid a needy child in a foreign country, or for a contribution to church, I absolutely love saying ‘yes.’ I love getting out my checkbook. I like helping people in need. I really like being generous. You probably do too. Pushing the reset button on generosity means getting more in touch with this feeling. How might we do this in our lives today?

Reading:
The Road to Daybreak - Henri Nouwen
For the Sake of Heaven and Earth - Irving Greenberg
Transforming Stewardship - CK Robertson

Deny Yourself, Take Up Your Cross, and Follow Me

2009-09-10T07:57:00.000-07:00

I got a phone message this week from one of our parishioners, a longtime member who I had not yet met. The tone of the message was urgent so I returned the call right away.

My new friend used calm and steady words to describe the eye-opening experience so many of us have had when our vocabularies are forced to expand and include technical and medical jargon, especially words that have life-threatening connotations. After some time describing the severity of the affliction, the treatment and the prognosis my friend began to make the kinds of connections so many of us make when we face similar circumstances: How does this turn of events play out in the wider space of my life? How is God involved in all this? All of a sudden, the possessions, experiences, goals and plans that were all set and sound are not so firm and immovable. We are in a new place, a scary place, a painful place. But if everything happens for a reason, albeit, reasons we rarely know or understand, then what could God be up to here?

And as my friend so eloquently, wonderfully, and inspirationally described, she intends to use this challenge to move closer to the kind of place Jesus describes to us this in Sunday's reading -"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

Perhaps the biggest temptation you and I face in contemporary society is to simply allow life to pass before us, with all the tragic and happy colors of an Independence Day parade. And as life spins before us and through us and by us we are tempted to simply hold on, unable and unwilling to step back and let it all in. Serious health issues provide us with the kinds of opportunities many of us secretly crave, the chance to get off, step back, and look at our lives for what they are: Gifts from God, given us to enjoy, to share and to give away. And most of the people you and I have known who have gone through serious medical challenges would probably tell us that the opportunity it afforded them to re-think and renew turned out to be greater than they ever imagined, perhaps even life-saving.

Anthony DeMello has noted that pleasant experiences make life delightful, but they rarely, if ever, lead to growth. What leads to growth is painful experiences. Suffering points us toward areas where we have not yet grown, where we need to grow, and be transformed and changed. You and I have probably always suspected that if we knew how to use that suffering- boy, how we would grow.

Reading
Awareness - Anthony DeMello
Imitation of Christ - Thomas a Kempis
My Struggle with Faith - Joseph Girzone

Grit

2009-09-02T07:09:00.000-07:00

Not far from my house is a stretch of Woodward Avenue that attracts heroin-thin women who wear their clothes like Saran Wrap and hairstyles like Medusa. They sport brash attitudes and colorful vocabularies that would make rugby players blush. They strut and wave and shout into the wee hours of the night in desperate hopes of attracting the attentions of the drivers whizzing by in a 50 mile per hour zone. Most of them are feeding drug habits. Some are feeding children.

I see them in rare instances when my morning run begins before dawn. There they are, giving shout-outs to their associates, heckling for customers, keeping up the neighbors. They’re obnoxious, immoral and rude, and so it’s hard for me to believe that the only place in the Bible where Jesus is bested in a debate, is by someone like this.

This Sunday’s gospel reading, about Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophoenician woman drips with irony. Jesus has just finished cutting the Judean Elite down to size for their judgmentalism regarding hand washing. And here Jesus is, allowing the exact same rules to keep him from helping a woman with a legitimate need – the healing of her daughter. Sure, she’s a Gentile, some say a hooker, who has violated all sorts of taboos like being out alone, talking to a man and talking back to a man. And Jesus seems well aware of this, ‘Let the children be fed first,’ he says, surely not expecting any back talk. But here it comes; ‘Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.’ It is a retort that sends Jesus, backpedaling; ‘Go- the demon has left your daughter.’

Grit, determination, courage, willpower, fortitude. The Gospel writer is willing to paint Jesus in a bad light so that a greater point can be made: dogged determination goes a long way. Many of us are sitting around, wallowing in self-pity and inertia, and need to wake up to the importance of getting up and doing what we’ve been called to do. We need to drop the apathy, lethargy and indifference and find out what’s really burning inside – what do we really want out of life? And perhaps more importantly, what does life want out of us?

The poverty that plagues the majority of the world, the stupid disease that kills thousands of children every day – were the body of Christ to harbor a prostitute’s desperation toward the suffering of the world, there is probably no social ill we could not conquer. Jesus did not come to save individual souls, but to save the world. What role is Jesus calling us to play in this divine plan?

Reading:
The Bottom Billion: Why the Poorest Countries Are Failing and What Can Be Done About It – Paul Collier
The Limits of Power – Andrew Bacevich
Mere Christianity – CS Lewis

Merging

2009-08-26T08:56:00.001-07:00

When Michigan drivers head up north on I-75 and see that flashing yellow merge arrow, most everyone moves over and forms a single file line. This, even though traffic engineers have determined that if everyone stayed put and gently merged at the point of obstruction the time it would take to pass could be drastically reduced. Sure, engineers have tried, with huge signs, 'Merge AT THE ARROW' but Michigan drivers, in fact, American drivers, are much more swayed by their ingrained sensibilities to form a cue as quickly as possible (and coerce others to do this as well) even if there is no traffic law governing this. It is clear that the rules that govern merging traffic on our freeways have less to do with the most efficient way of getting us from Point A to Point B, and much more to do with upholding shared societal rules of right behavior.

And this is what puts you and me in the same boat with our friends the Pharisees in Sunday's gospel reading.

This is where we hear the most important of St. Mark's 'purity' texts, as Jesus goes head to head with the Jewish elite regarding food purity. He and the disciples have just ordered a meal at McDonald's, forgotten to wash their hands and say the blessing, when they get called out as ungodly people because they don't obey, 'the traditions of the elders.'

For their part, these Pharisees understood these traditions not as an attempt to bury the commands of God in trivia, but to apply the torah to every facet of life. They were as well-intentioned as every Michigan driver that gets over as soon as the flashing merger arrow appears. And they were as judgmental as those drivers who always play cop and block other drivers from using the open lane. And they found, as we do, that sometimes our dogged determination to follow all the rules has us missing out on what those rules were established to do: make our lives more fulfilling, spread love and compassion on the earth, and ultimately bring us closer to God.

This exchange reminds us that Jesus came to announce the end of religion (humanity's attempt to find God) and the arrival of love (God's attempt to find us). And loves means reserving judgment, walking in humility and being very long on compassion, which is in stark contrast to what rule-making can do to us. In what ways do we put rule and ritual before basic love for ourselves and others?

Reading:
The Four Hour Work Week -Timothy Ferriss
The Art of Being Together - Francis Wade
A Passion for the Possible - Wm Sloane Coffin

The Birth of a Son

2009-08-17T18:44:00.000-07:00

For the few who have asked and the little one who might one day inquire, here is a brief account of that most joyous of August days on which James Christopher, still tucked safely inside mother's womb, decided it was time for a jail break.

After a restless night with a restless belly, mom awakened dad and they headed to the hospital where the doctor declared that six days past 40 weeks was long enough. In short order mom was hooked up to an IV that ensured an imminent delivery, surely by the evening of this feast day of Jeremy Taylor, a 17th century English theologian, intellectual and writer whose best-known work is entitled 'Holy Living, Holy Dying,' which not inappropriately would describe mom's impending experience.

Mom and dad spent this warm day in Room 17, a sun-drenched space, complete with a veteran nurse named Pattie. We were soon joined by a man with a very long needle named Dr. Mansfield whose meticulous aim and precise prescription momentarily speared away the Legion that had been tormenting mom's tummy. Outside our window, Woodward Avenue weighed heavy with one million vintage cars, drivers, spectators, noisemakers and lookie-loos on Detroit's annual 'Dream Cruise' weekend. A few miles down the road, between Six and Seven Mile, the stretch outside our neighborhood, the mayor unveiled some nifty spray paint on the roadway: 'M-1' markers to signify this day as the 100 year anniversary of the first paved road in the world.

Meanwhile we were paving the way for another anniversary. By the dinner hour we were ready to begin the hardest part of getting a little boy into a big world. Our new nurse, Carrie, cheered with all the gusto of a Big-Ten cheerleader as Room 17 swelled to capacity. Dr. Stephen Dean calmly instructed his team, mom focused with determination on the job before her, and dad stood faithfully by, his head swirling with all the emotion of a wedding day.

At 6:52 p.m. the tender cries of a new life had everyone reaching for something; towels, scissors, sutures, note pads, ink pads, cameras and hankies. Eyebrows raised as we wondered just how random our ipod's shuffle really was as Handel's verse announced: 'For unto us a child is born.' Soon the swaddled and swollen one was passed to dad to show mom, baby's eyes searching to match unfamiliar faces with very familiar voices. His ice-cream complexion brought both tears and smiles as the nurse rendered the medical verdict: he's perfect, which we, of course, did not need anyone with any medical training to tell us.

I Am the Bread of Life

2009-08-06T05:54:00.000-07:00

In France we might share a Baquette.
In Israel a bagel or Matzo.
In the Philippines, Pandesal.
Germany, Pumpernickle.
Morocco, Pita.
Italy, Ciabatta or Foccacia.
Soda bread in Ireland, Challah in Damascus, before heading back to the States for Sourdough in San Fran, egg bread in Alabama, or the Midwest’s very own Wonder Bread.

Slice it, toast it, break it or butter it, with anything from margarine to mayonnaise to Marmite (God help us…). Bread was, is, and will always be the literal and metaphorical life-sustainer, the most essential form of nourishment the world knows.

For those with gluten allergies we’re not being literal.
For those on low-carb diets: same thing.
And lest anyone think Jesus had morphed into a giant poppy seed bagel as he delivered these words in John, Chapter 6, you and I are forced to ponder just what he had in mind when he continued to call himself ‘living bread.’

Jesus… the central sustainer and life-giver of our lives.
If this is what we’re meant to live on, then what are we doing with all that other stuff in the cupboard? Why do we feed so regularly off of fickle desires, self-centered appetites and the opinions of others? Sure, that stuff always looks good – scientists say give a chimp the choice between a banana and a Twinkie and he’ll choose the junk food every time.

Jesus is continually asking us what we are feeding on. Are we trusting in our business acumen, market metrics, or a generally favorable gene pool? Whose expectations are we trying to meet? What does it mean to us to put aside everything else and feast on Him?

Reading…
Life Together – Francis Wade
Religious Literacy –Stephen Prothero
The Year of Living Biblically - AJ Jacobs

Turning Around

2009-07-30T07:13:00.000-07:00

In the Hebrew Scriptures the prophet Nathan tells the philandering King David this extraordinary tale we all know so well as it has become enshrined in Western literature as the consummate ‘Gotcha’ story-
The ending of ‘The Sting,’ the middle of ‘The Crying Game,’ have nothing on this 3,000 year old tale which eloquently and elegantly takes a turn -and stops the King in his tracks, laying his motives and actions as bare as Bathesheba’s shapely bum.

“Can’t you see what we all see?” Nathan seems to be saying-
What you are doing is so obviously wrong. It is sin and sin is a rebellion against God. But it is also a rebellion against us, the people you’ve been chosen to serve - and ultimately it is a rebellion against yourself.

When you sin, Nathan seems to be pointing out, you are betraying your own self-hood by taking part in this sin that is original to the world. And it is this: the insistence on being what you are not, a desire for a life other than your own.

The Shepherd boy, David, was chosen by God to fearlessly lead and unite the 12 tribes of Israel. Yet once he was anointed King, given the security code to the palace, the cars, bodyguards and expense accounts, he began to fancy himself not in the tradition of an obedient Abraham, hopeful Joseph, or faithful Jacob-
But as Hugh Hefner-
-making a mockery of his people and his reputation as he longed to live a life that was not his own.
‘Be our King!’ – was the strong and united call of Israel-
God said no, then yes, all the while knowing it was a hard job to fill, and God did the best that could be done-
However David decided he wanted to be somebody else.

In what ways do we try to be somebody else?
How do we use the resources we've been given toward selfish ends?
How much energy and how many resources do we spend doing this?
How might we more fully concentrate on who we are, who we're called to be and what we're called to do?

Reading:
Choice, Desire, and the Will of God - David Runcorn
An Altar in the World - Barbara Brown Taylor
Cheese - Max McCalman

Finding the Exit

2009-07-23T05:43:00.000-07:00

King David had six children by six different wives before he spied his bathing beauty (...who was likely just as gorgeous and unsuspecting as Erin Andrews...). Of course, this doesn't include any other wives or concubines that we don't know about.
Yet when he eyed that prize, David, like us, felt that familiar temptation to take what wasn't his and do something he knew he shouldn't do.

So David goes from thinking about it to exploring the possibility. He sends emissaries. Not only does he learn her name, but that she's married. Hmmm... she belongs to someone else... in Hebrew culture, an even bigger problem... But it doesn't stop him. Nor does her pregnancy. Nor does her husband, who he swiftly eliminates. All of these were not just road blocks on David's path of folly. But these were also potential exits. They were bumps to shake him back to his senses. Unfortunately he ignores them. In fact, it seems like nothing is going to stop the King. He has reached warp speed on what has become a superhighway.

As we all know, the pursuit of those things we know we shouldn't do or have can turn into a dark paths, that can become roads that can become destinies. Our follies naturally evolve into all-consuming pursuits that profoundly change us, whether we acknowledge it or not. Thankfully for David, the Lord sent a prophet named Nathan to point to the exit ramp, which always means slowing down, changing direction, and finally coming to a halt.

Chances are we're taking a look at or traveling down some sort of dark path, road or superhighway. What are the exit ramps we're passing up? How many more speed bumps will we have to plow over? What's keeping us from taking the next exit?

Reading...
An Altar to the World - Barbara Brown Taylor (A 'MUST READ')
Be Prepared-Greenberg & Hayden
Me of Little Faith - Lewis Black
www.chrisyaw.com

Overtaken by Love

2009-07-15T09:37:00.001-07:00

One of the themes in this Sunday’s Gospel, which details Jesus’ rock star popularity, is this overwhelming sense of love he had for pretty much everybody. Jesus has love written all over him. Jesus, filled with compassion, skips vacation, skips lunch, and all the while pines over the needs of others, ‘they look like sheep without a shepherd’ he laments – and instead of taking time for himself, he jumps back into the fray, thinking of nothing more than the pressing needs around him.

This picture of Jesus’ life is an icon of other-centeredness – where the needs of others trump those of his own. Sure, Jesus recognized times of respite, and often sojourned alone –as we know, even our cars need maintenance. But the relentless ability Jesus had to constantly put others before him has marveled disciples of all ages. So here is my list of 7 Tips for Living an Other-Centered Life:

1-Wake up with a sense of others. When we get up and thank God for a new day, include a list of specific people for whom we are also thankful. Name them. And don’t forget people we will meet in the day ahead.
2-Make a ‘sick list.’ Keep it in your desk or in your head, but make a list of those whom you know are undergoing adversity. Find a way to review this list regularly, perhaps during your commute and for 2 minutes think about and pray for them, contemplating ways you may be able to help.
3-Shop for others. Next time you go to the store, any store don’t just shop for yourself, shop for others. Put on your shopping list, ‘food for the hungry,’ ‘clothes for the homeless,’ and ‘kitchen appliances for the poor.’ It need not be large or expensive, but make it meaningful, it will help us live outside ourselves.
4-Put others in the driver’s seat. Next time you take to the highway intentionally think of other drivers. As we know there is a certain anonymity to driving that can make us rude or discourteous. I was once driving in England with a friend when we were terribly cut off by a speeding driver. When I asked my friend why he didn’t so much as honk he replied, ‘Perhaps he is having a bad day.’ Try treating other drivers politely.
5-Find a mentor. There are people in our lives who seem to glow with other-centeredness – those who seem to live to ask what is new in our lives and constantly surprise us with gifts, cards and other signs of care for us. Draw closer to these people, it may rub off.
6-Make a Blessing List- Every once in a while we’re hear someone say, ‘I love that color/flavor/flower, etc.’ Or you may hear someone say ‘oh I really need one of those. Don’t’ let these comments slide by, but inconspicuously take note and do what you can to surprise that person at an unexpected moment.
7-Immerse Yourself in the Love Story- Finding a way to connect with the Love Story that is Jesus’ story is the best way to grown in other-centeredness. Routine Bible study or devotional reading are great aids as are music and movies, find what works for you and go deeper. Love isn’t just a feeling, emotion or even a gift, it’s action, something we play a role in writing all over ourselves.

Reading…
An Altar in the World – Barbara Brown Taylor
Traffic-Tom Vanderbilt
The Four Hour Workweek- Tim Ferriss

Voices and Choices

2009-07-09T06:32:00.000-07:00

"I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter."

This is a story about the decisions we make when we choose to listen to the voices around us, instead of our own, and we end up going in directions we don’t want to go. Yet we listen to them anyway, not knowing it may cost us our lives.

There’s a tug of war going on in Herod’s household – his wife wants John dead, and Herod wants him alive. His wife sees John as an irritating boil on the underside of their marriage and wants him lanced. Herod sees him as a man of integrity who speaks God’s truth.

The pressure’s on.
Will Herod cave?
The painting above tells us the answer.

What happens to us when we cave?
Three things. First, we allow others to define us. We surrender the ship to the sailors, relinquishing our appointed roles to those less qualified and much less invested in the good will of the enterprise. Second, we tear down our own self-image. We subtly give in to our deepest fears of self-worth, trading our confidence in ourselves for that of others, to our long-term detriment. And finally, when we choose to listen to the voices of others over our own we give up our ability to reach our full potential. We will never be complete. We can only ascend to the heights of a scale defined by someone else, not by us, not by God.

Living Christian lives of integrity is a by-product of a deeper walk with Jesus.
Growing in Christ means continually reminding ourselves of our place in the universe; we are God’s people, created for a reason, destined for duty, equipped with hearts made for hearing the Creator’s voice, so each one of us can play the unique role we’ve been given. And while our stage instructions frequently come from other people, we all play a balancing game between “Mother Knows Best” and our own inner conscience, which sometimes takes us someplace else.

To what degree do we allow the voices and opinions of others to shape us? Do we understand the consequences of this? In what ways can we be more true to the voice within us?

Reading…
Walking the Bible – Bruce Feiler
The Sins of Scripture – John Spong
The Great Divorce – C.S. Lewis

The Church Exists By Mission as Fire Exists By Burning

2009-07-02T08:05:00.000-07:00

The title of this week's entry is a quote from German theologian Emil Brunner and reminds us of this week's Gospel reading and the sending out of Jesus’ first converts.

We hear about ‘conversion’ - a popular topic in the New Testament, and not just for the uninitiated. In fact the majority of conversion language used in the New Testament is aimed at followers of Jesus.
Sure, we’re asked to ‘change’ when we agree to follow Christ-
But it's as if we’re asked to change even more as we get to know Him.

I remember a seminary professor saying that only 15% of conversions to Christianity are sudden, like Paul being struck from his horse, and 85% are gradual.

They are like the disciples who slowly, but surely, figured out who Jesus was.
Ever notice that the Bible does not record one instance of an Apostle being baptized?
And, aside from Doubting Thomas, and his moment of Epiphany, we get the idea that Jesus became known to the disciples not all at once, but after repeated encounters.

And that’s what happens to most of us.

We come to trust in Christ gradually, sometimes very gradually-
And it often happens in churches, where many of us have been attending for decades, and over a period of time, perhaps we can’t name the day or days, but we come to deeper and deeper places of following Jesus.

And so we hear what happens to those who draw closer to that voice as Jesus, amidst his teaching tour, calls twelve people, impels these followers to do the one thing every Christian is charged to do:
To go.
Do something.
Do something to change the world.

Many of us forget about this essential, for it is so easy to do.
In fact, most of us do!
It's been said that 80% of America’s churches are not growing.
The reasons are many and myriad-
But we all know how easy it is to come and fellowship and worship and stay warm in this wonderful cocoon-
-without realizing how essential our going forth in the name of Christ really is.

But it is, for ‘The Church exists by mission as fire exists by burning."
Jesus sends them out, gives us abilities, to do the same work He does.
What might that work look like for us this week?

-----------------------
Reading...
Keeping the Baby Alive Till Your Wife Comes Home - Walter Roark
Fireweed Evangelism - Elizabeth Geitz
Transforming Disciples - Linda Grenz

Fear is the Mind Killer

2009-06-25T07:07:00.000-07:00

Hearts gently pounding.
Foreheads getting warmer.
Breath becoming more shallow.
Got… to… make… it…
One more step.
And there he is.
Fighting hard what holds us back.
Pressing through our mind-killing fear.

This Sunday’s gospel says something very profound about fear.
The synagogue leader beat back fear of public shame, embarrassment, not to mention the political fallout, for approaching Jesus.
The woman with the issue of blood beat back fears of rejection, humiliation and all sorts of social taboos when she burst through the crowds and touched Jesus.
Fear, about what people think about us, about what could or couldn’t happen, about our own mortality, routinely handcuffs us and keep us from being our best selves.

The opposite of faith is not unbelief, it is fear – that which keeps us from being who we want to be, who we are called to be, who we can be.

When Jesus said, ‘your faith has healed you’ he wasn’t commending some mystical and mysterious gift that only the few and the chosen are given-
-and routinely brag about on religious cable TV shows-
Jesus was commending determination in overcoming fear-
-in trusting that God is who God claims to be-
-in believing in the impudence of a love-stained Savior who does not hesitate to leave behind the riches of heaven for the poverty of humanity in order to show love, to share love, and to be love in our midst.

It is the shortest and most concise sermon Jesus ever preached:
“Do not fear, only believe.”

How Underdogs Win

2009-06-17T06:00:00.001-07:00

“David put his hand in his bag, took out a stone, slung it, and struck the Philistine on his forehead; the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground.”
1 Samuel 17:49

We all have a special place in our hearts for underdogs.

Whether it’s Susan Boyle or a slumdog millionnaire most of us relish the chance to see the underdog beat the odds and do the unexpected. Perhaps it’s because we like to fuel hope for our own dreams and aspirations, which we may view as equally far-fetched.

However, current research suggests that underdogs not only win more than we think they do, but when they are savvy and play to their strengths they actually win most of the time.

A political scientist named Ivan Arreguin-Toft recently analyzed every war in the last 200 years involving conflicts in which one side was at least ten times as powerful (in terms of armed might and population) and found that the underdog lost 71.5% of the time. However that means the underdog also won 28.5% - or almost one third of the time. (How David Beats Goliath, Malcolm Gladwell, The New Yorker, 5/11/09)

This means that the story of David and Goliath, which we recently heard in church and widely regard as an anomaly, really isn’t that abnormal after all when we analyze what David did – what underdogs do – to gain the upper hand.

As we all know the Philistines, who were camped out across from the Israelites, sent their top warrior, the gargantuan Goliath, out to challenge the Hebrews. Intimidated and frightened by this giant none of the seasoned warriors, who fully accepted the ground rules of the engagement, that the strongest, mightiest would win, would take up the challenge. However David, who was new to the battlefield and refused to accept the ground rules of traditional military engagement, was chomping at the bit to take on Goliath. Not only did he see the opposition differently, but David also differed in the way he assessed the challenge.

While everyone else tallied their weaknesses (we’re not big enough, we’re not strong enough…) David tallied his strengths – he was small, nimble, and able to use a slingshot with amazing precision. Indeed, when underdogs are able to acknowledge their weaknesses and choose an unconventional strategy, Arreguin-Toft’s research sends David’s winning percentage from 28.5% to 63.6%. What’s more, David also looked at his past victories, as a shepherd fending off bears and lions from his sheep. And, of course, most importantly, David had the confidence of God’s calling and presence with him. David’s enthusiasm lines up in stark contrast to the fear and cowering of his colleagues’ as he goes out and slays the mighty Goliath.

Today, we have many Goliaths.

And we see ourselves as underdogs in many ways.

Many people regard Middle Class Americans as underdogs (America’s Middle Class Still Losing Ground, Center on American Progress, 7/30/08), Detroiters as underdogs (Detroit’s Beautiful, Horrible Decline, TIME Magazine, 2/26/09), and, of course, mainline Protestantism as an underdog (Protestants Close to Losing Majority Status, Amy Green, RNS, 2/25/08 [Pew Research]). But slaying Goliath is not nearly as difficult as we may suspect. When we play to our strengths, look at our past victories and remind ourselves that God’s calling and presence are with us we are able to overcome far more than we might think.

We are building our underdog church, for example, the same way.
We are not hiring a rock band, tearing out our pews, installing a dozen big screen monitors or putting in a coffee bar (OK, that last idea is not a bad one). It’s not that we have anything against these things, it’s that we are playing to our strengths. We are determining our own rules of engagement and building on St. David’s time-tested foundation of worship, service, inclusion, discipleship, hospitality and a family atmosphere. We are reminding ourselves of God’s call, not to be someone else, but to be who we are called to be, knowing that the Risen Christ is right beside us, leading and guiding his church, as he has promised.

To broaden the question we might apply some of these principles to our own lives. What are the Goliaths we now face?
How might we re-access our strategies by looking at our strengths, not our shortcomings? How might our past successes fuel us? And how might God’s assurances of presence and call help us take on the Goliaths that we face this summer? In doing so we might find we are more powerful than we might think.

Reading…
Outliers – Malcolm Gladwell
Q & A – Vikas Swarup
How to Read the Bible for All It’s Worth – Gordon Fee

The Harvest

2009-06-10T08:59:00.000-07:00

“In the preaching of Jesus, parables were not vivid decorations of a moralistic point but were disturbing stories that threatened the hearer's secure mythological world -- the world of assumptions by which we habitually live, the unnoticed framework of our thinking within which we interpret other data." - Eugene Boring

Lest you and I get carried away by the florid nature of Mark's fanciful tales of the sowing and tending and sprouting and harvesting in the eternal sunshine of the pastoral life, you and I are keen to remind ourselves of the drop dead serious nature of Jesus' life and of that firecracker of a book, which contains these tales. It's yarns like this that persuade us that the Bible is nothing more than a book of fairy tales and not, what we really believe it to be, the most important book ever written - a divine writ in which we actually believe the Lord is talking to us about life's most essential matters.

So as we approach the two short parables assigned for this Sunday (Mark 4: 26-34) we are wise to look a bit deeper, asking ourselves what in our world of assumptions might Jesus be threatening? How could these simple tales knock us out of our pews, and challenge us on some of our most basic convictions?

For this is what parables do (if they didn't they never would have made it this far) and in the first we hear of someone who sows, tends, then harvests, knowing that despite all of the human work involved, the Lord is the one with the tough job - making the seeds grow. It is a portrait of our lives as partners with the Lord, reminding us that we can't do anything without God and God seems to be unwilling to do anything without us. What work is Jesus just itching to do while waiting for his partners to get off our butts and do their parts?

Dandelions are the theme of the second parable, at least that's how I interpret a mustard plant. In Bible times it was just as popular, pesky and pervasive. No one wanted them, and no one seemed to be able to get rid of them. And instead of comparing God's kingdom to the cedars of Lebanon or the oaks of Mamre, Jesus chose dandelions. Think about it. They're determined, delightful (in some peoples' eyes), and everywhere. Think about it again.

That's why Jesus gave us parables.

Summer Reading:
The New Face of World Christianity - Mark Noll
The Culture of Narcissism - Christopher Lasch
Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God - Francis Chan

Knowing the Unknowable

2009-06-03T09:16:00.001-07:00

In a guidebook to Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire, England, under an illustration of the monk's chapel reads the following description: "Here the monks gathered every Sunday to hear a sermon from the Abbot, except on Trinity Sunday, owing to the difficulty of the subject."

How does one describe the indescribable? Or express the inexpressible?

After all, in portraying the Trinity you and I are painting a vast rainbow with only charcoal pencils. As Archbishop Rowan Williams puts it, "even in banal contexts we are aware of the fact that our pigeonholes for things, people, emotions and perceptions, are often lagging well behind the fluidity of the real world... and whether it is in theoretical physics or in poetry, we need to express some sense of this strange fact that our language doesn't 'keep up' with the multiplicity and interrelatedness and elusiveness of truth."

And of all the elusive truths you and I can talk about, God pretty much tops the list.

Since the beginning of time humans, most of whom seem to have a natural and innate suspicion of 'God,' have struggled to figure out if there, indeed, is one. The illustration above is that of a Roman altar dedicated 'to the unknown God,' which, if taken quite literally, encompasses just about everyone's idea of God, Christianity's included.

Trinity Sunday poses several questions. Can we ever really 'know' God? Can we come to a convincing certainty, like that of the keyboard underneath my fingers or the car parked in my garage - can I know God with the same confidence? If we say 'no' does that mean there is no God? If we say 'yes' then does that mean we have finally ascended to the pinnacle of religious faith?

For Trinity Sunday asks you and me to come to grips with the fact that we will not, cannot and will never know everything - actually, much of anything - about the universe in which we live and about the God whom we worship.

However, as Christians, we do believe we have enough to go on to get us this far. After all, I know very little about what takes place underneath the hood of my car, but I trust it with my life every time I drive to work. We know that the life and ministry of Jesus has touched us and changed our lives. It has introduced us to the deepest love human life has to offer.

So Trinity Sunday, if nothing else, helps you and me make peace with the great unknown, for we trust it to God's omniscient power. Which means the exercise in faith you and I participate in on this day is one in which we assure ourselves of the basic truths of our faith: God takes care of the birds, God waters the flowers, how much more will God take care of you and me? Trinity Sunday asks us to be content amidst the unknowableness of God, let God be God, and let us be who we are; fully able to embrace love, which is God.

Website:
www.gratefulness.org
www.kiva.org
www.nothingbutnets.net

Pentecost 2009

2009-05-28T06:52:00.000-07:00

A ruckus of babbling Jews on festival day in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago-
Was it a caucus in the United Nations Building?
Or at least Last Call at the bar in the basement of said building?
After all ‘They’re drunk, they’re drunk!’ was the very first accusation.
How else could the people we know and love, from the lakes and swamps of Michigan spout off the praises of God in the languages of Nigeria, Liberia, France, Ukraine, Germany, Armenia, Jamaica, Greece, Spain and even the British Empire-

It’s a sign!
It’s a wonder!
It’s a miracle!

That was the final conclusion, and conclusive proof that God would never be content in far away places. But God, a novena after ascending into heaven, had to come down to be close to the ones God so loves; to do the work of repairing the world that God so desperately wants done.

Pentecost tells us that God has come to town.
Love has come to town.
Love that wants to get closer to you-
And Love that you and I want to get closer to as well.

Love that doesn’t just fill heaven and earth, or upper rooms at religious festivals, but love that fills you and me as well. For the infilling of the Holy Spirit does more than simply make us warm and fuzzy. The knowledge of God’s presence with us makes Christians confident, dynamic, assertive and charismatic, even Episcopalians, no less, aka the bland leading the bland.

Thanks to the Holy Spirit you and I receive the Spirit’s presence in a number of different ways. We receive just the right words of wisdom to offer to the distressed that we never thought we had. We gain strength to go through adverse times, and patience through the most trying of challenges. The Holy Spirit is that presence of God that dwells with us and gives us things we commonly call intuition, inner fortitude, and especially inspiration.

And, perhaps most importantly, the Holy Spirit constantly reminds us that we do not go through life alone. Rather, we go with God, who has promised to never leave us. How is the Holy Spirit manifest in your life? How might we make more room for the Spirit to move in and through us today and in the week ahead?

Weighing Anchor

2009-05-20T10:40:00.000-07:00

My church is in the midst of a three week sermon series called 'Anchor.'
We are looking at ways we Christians respond to difficult financial struggles.
We remind ourselves that that anchoring our lives in Christ frees us from many of the financial worries that are plaguing the world - not because we don't have these worries, but because we believe in Jesus who asks us to hand them over to him. We do this by taking a hard look at what our money means to us, and breaking it down, as Mark Allan Powell does in his excellent book 'Giving to God,' into three areas. We remind ourselves that we use our possessions as; an act of worship, an expression of our faith, and as a spiritual discipline.

Last week we recounted primitive Old Testament worship, vestiges of which we still hold to today, that depicted the acts of the faithful who brought to the Lord from the 'first fruits' of their labors. The devoted then, as now, had a solid grasp on God's love and faithfulness toward them that had allowed them to prosper, to a degree, and accumulate crops, livestock, and other things. Thus, as an act of pure worship, these thankful souls literally brought crops and animals and other products unto the altar on a regular basis for no other reason than to simply say 'thanks.' They realized, as we do today, that 'all things come of thee O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.'

This week we look at how we free ourselves from financial worry when we use our possessions as expressions of our faith. One of the earliest words we learn as children is 'mine.' We use it with our toys our clothes, everything. And like most every other aspect of childhood, growing up means we leave this kind of thinking behind. It takes us many years to figure out that nothing, in fact, is 'mine.' We are all stewards of what has been given to us. Like someone once remarked to me in the restroom of a bar as he described the essential nature of beer: we just rent it.
Understanding ourselves, then, not as owners, but as renters, gives way to new understandings of how we approach possessions and charity, freeing us up to let the Landlord do the bulk of the worrying.

Next week we will look at our possessions as tools to bring us into deeper relationship with Christ. I believe money can bring us happiness -when we give it away -by helping us anchor our lives even more securely in the heart of Jesus. Charitable giving is one of Christianity's longest-standing Spiritual Disciplines. Behavioral psychologists have shown that people who successfully delay gratification as children grow up to be more successful in life than those who are less disciplined. We know that our discipline in eating or in physical exercise can yield terrific results, helping us become the kind of people we want to be. How much more, then, do exercises in almsgiving and charity make us more of the devoted followers of Christ we long to be?

'Cast all your cares upon me,' says our Lord, 'and I will take them.'
How we yearn to do and believe this! May our interest in using this
economic crisis as an opportunity to grow closer to Jesus yield great
dividends.

Recommended Reading:
Giving to God - Mark Allan Powell
A Simpler Way - Margaret Wheatly
Transforming Scripture - Frank Wade

Thanks Mom!

2009-05-07T06:49:00.000-07:00

“Washington’s Birthday is for the ‘Father of our Country’; Memorial Day honors our ‘Heroic Fathers;’ Fourth of July is for our ‘Patriot Fathers;’ Labor Day is for Laboring Fathers; Thanksgiving Day remembers our ‘Pilgrim Fathers’; and even New Year’s Day looks to Old Father Time.” Where, on our patriarchal calendar, wondered devout Protestant Anna Jarvis, is there room for dear old Mom?

Her tireless labors are well-documented, and birthed for us, less than 100 years ago the holiday we celebrate this Sunday – Mother’s Day.

Founded in a church, nurtured in the marketplace, and now, continuing to morph in our post-modern and post-Christian society; Mother’s Day is open to all sorts of interpretations.

Its most enduring, however, is the thanks each one of us has for the lives we have been given and our mutual conviction that we did not get here all by ourselves. Sure, some of our mothers did better jobs than others. Most probably they did the best they could, whether they gave us blissful childhoods or fell well short of what we might think is minimally acceptable motherhood. And this momentary tip of the hat we now give is emblematic of a larger issue.

For just as there is a unique, life-giving bond between every mother and child, there is a unique, life-giving bond between every human and God.
Our mother’s role serves to remind us not only of our sheer and utter dependence on that one-time, and for many of us, continuing bond, but of all the responsibilities that arise from that relationship-
-and, in the context of our faith, to re-examine the bonds that exist between each one of us and our creator.

So just as we honor our mothers, we ask ourselves how we are called to honor our God. What maternal responsibilities do we have?
What divine responsibilities do we have?
Let’s remember Mom with all the honor that’s due.
Let’s remember God with all the honor that’s due.

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For a great history of Mother’s Day:
Consumer Rites- Leigh Eric Schmidt