Chris Yaw

When he was 67 years old, Thomas Edison returned home from work late in the evening to news that his plant was on fire.

Immediately he turned around and headed back to work, knowing that the vast collection of chemicals and compounds at his plant would surely produce a spectacular conflagration.

“Son, go get your mother!” Edison instructed his oldest, “And follow me! You will never again see a fire like this!”

When Edison arrived at the plant, sure enough, he and his hundreds of employees, friends, and relatives witnessed an amazing fire. Nearly everything was lost including reams of priceless notes, records, prototypes, and projects that were crucial to his ongoing business. And the building, which was supposed to be fireproof, was only insured for a fraction of its worth. Tears and wails of lamentation could be heard: what would happen to the company, the jobs, the future of this once-promising enterprise?

Yet when a news reporter asked for comment, Edison calmly said, “Well, there was a lot of junk in that plant that needed clearing out anyway. This just made the job easier.” He then added, “I’m not too old to make a fresh start.” Sure enough, within the year most of the plant would be rebuilt and revenue would exceed $10 million.

To this day people marvel at the calm reason Edison exhibited that day. What the inventor knew was that his priceless ideas and stamina had not been lost - and what had, could be (and would be) replaced.

This Sunday we witness Jesus asleep in a boat as a storm churns all around him. When his frazzled disciples awaken him, Jesus calmly speaks to the storm and calms the seas. Clearly, those things that frazzled the disciples did not worry Jesus.

In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus tells us not to worry about what we eat, what we wear, or where we live, assuring us that our Heavenly Father knows our needs and will provide. Easy for HIM to say… after all, how many of our worries revolve around our livelihoods - and act as tempests that tip over everything else in sight?

Sure, we all know that Jesus can calm storms. But how can he calm MY storms?

I think this can happen as we imitate Him.

Think about it, if the routine worries of the day put Jesus to sleep, what kept him up?

Easy, 1) prayer, and 2) healing the broken. Time after time we hear of Jesus praying while others slept - remember the garden of Gethsemane. And more than once we hear of Jesus spending long days and nights tending to the never-ending crowds of people looking for healing.

Does prayer keep us up? How about tending to the needs of others? Perhaps when we get better at these, our abilities to let go of our daily worries will improve.

Did you know that lobsters never stop growing?

The largest one on record was 50 years old and weighed 45 lbs.

This is all the more remarkable knowing that lobsters outgrow their shells every couple months. And growing a new shell is a painful and painstaking process.

When a lobster grows too big for his shell, he swallows large amounts of water in order to crack the shell from the inside, he then expels the water and begins to wiggle out of his old shell, even closing his eyes for long periods of time while the shell around his head is removed.

Once a lobster is free from his shell, he just sort of wiggles around, vulnerable, exposed to predators, all the while waiting for the new shell to harden.

St Paul writes, So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" This makes the lobster the most Christian member of the animal kingdom.

However, St Paul did not write this passage for lobsters, he wrote it to remind us that God is doing something new in all of us.

Our lives are a series of growing shells that eventually become too small. Friends can come and go. Mentors can come and go. Homes, jobs, and relationships all have ways of no longer fitting, constricting us, and keeping us smaller than we really are.
How are we outgrowing our shells?

What is stirring in our spirits, waiting for bigger shells, bigger visions, to grow into?

What if we understood ourselves as ever-growing, ever-evolving, ever improving? What's keeping us from cracking our shells? How are we allowing the bigger, better, self inside of us to emerge, grow, and live?

I recently acquired a t-shirt that reads Safety Third.

I am aware that this is a common, if not hackneyed phrase from the tech world along the lines of ‘move fast and break things’ or ‘it’s better than good, it’s done.’ However this "slogan-ette" stuck out as something not just for tech entrepreneurs, but for Christian disciples.

After all, Jesus regularly put his personal safety third by putting obedience to God first and care for his neighbor second. The spirit of God does not always take us to safe places, ask any of the 12 disciples, 11 of whom were martyred. Or ask any Christian who has run into a burning house or dove into a raging river to save someone’s life.

In other words, the right road is not always the safe road - nor, for that matter, the convenient or comfortable one.

What does that say to us?

Let us give Jesus our all be removing the preconditions to our obedience, praying, ‘Take me Lord’ - wherever that may lead.

I gave a talk recently.

I tried something new - something I hoped would really work.

It didn’t.

But I’d do it again - not the part that didn’t work - but the part that made me try.

Every day we face decisions to either step out on stage, or crawl into the corner under a blanket.

When Jesus confronted the religious elite, as we’ll hear about Sunday, he affirmed the former - and asked disciples of all time to let go of a broken, established order and hold on to the fresh, new, living voice of God calling. Here are some examples:

Let go of feelings of insignificance, and hold on to the promise that God has plans for you.

Let go of feelings of regret and missed opportunities, and hold onto the fact you did as well as you could under the circumstances - and that is enough.

Let go of the thinking that life is about achievement, and hold on to the idea that life is about fulfillment.

Let go of the idea that your best years are behind you, hold on to the promise that life in Jesus means things are always getting better.

Let go of the notion that things need to be done the way they’ve always been done, and hold onto the notion that the voice guiding you toward something new can be trusted.

Let go and hold on.

My friend spent $150 taking his family to the zoo.

He was convinced that hearing the howler monkeys as they swung from tree to tree, or seeing the huge hippos waddling in the water, or watching the stalking alligators creeping through the grass would make for at least one lifetime memory. So at bedtime he asked his children what their favorite part of the day was. They were unanimous, “It was the pigeons dad, they sat right next to us and we fed them!”

Try as we might, we can’t make memories.

Good ones or bad ones. Despite our best efforts, we just can't change people’s minds.

Of course, that doesn't stop us from trying. In the Christian world we plan on 15-year-olds being able to make lifetime faith commitments and 20-year-olds to say "I do" and have it last forever. This does not mean we are against confirmation or marriage, what it means is that forces far greater than human intention and action are at work.

This Sunday we honor the Trinity, and the many ways God makes God's self known in the world. We will be reminded in our Bible reading from the Gospel of John that the Holy Spirit, the spirit of power, cannot be predicted, leashed, or controlled. Ultimately our commitments to God and to each other are beyond our understanding, but not the Holy Spirit's.

An important thing we can learn here is to rely more deeply on this Spirit. Taking time to listen, discern, and contemplate what we are being told, how we're being led, where the wind of the Spirit is blowing.

What does this look like in our lives? How might we not only listen better, but surrender, realizing that we are at our best when we let go and let God.

One day a woman went for a hike.

She crossed a river and spotted a priceless gemstone sparkling in the water.

She bent down, picked it up, and put it in her backpack. Later she came across a man in need. He asked her for some lunch. She opened her backpack to hand him her sandwich. The man saw the priceless gemstone and asked if he could have it. Without hesitation the woman handed it to him.

The man walked away joyfully thinking of all the things he was going to buy.

Later he decided to go back to the woman. When he found her he said he wanted to buy something from her. She wondered what he possible might want. He said, “Remember the way you gave me that priceless gemstone - without hesitation?”

She said yes.

He said, "I want that.”

On Sunday we celebrate the gift of Pentecost. We celebrate the power of God coming down from heaven and resting upon God's chosen people. This power is not political, military, or corporate. This is the power to serve, to love, and to give. This is the most valuable power on the face of the earth.

Every day, you and I are tempted to seek after all sorts of things, the next step on the career ladder, our reputations, our social standing, our financial portfolios, etc. Pentecost invites us to seek after something else: the power of the bended knee, the offering hand, and the generous heart.

May Pentecost remind us that this is where the greatest strength lies, these are the most valuable pursuits in the world.

There are two comparison games going on.

The first asks us to think of people who have more than we do.

We see it on social media - where everyone looks like they’re in a beer commercial. Laughing with friends, enjoying exotic vacations, smiling children, and pricey restaurants.

Comparing ourselves in this way can engender feelings of inadequacy, envy, and acquisitiveness, presuring us to improve ourselves to better compete. While this game is popular, alluring and easy to play it’s not healthy or satisfying.

The second comparison game asks us to consider people who have less than we do.

We don’t always see these people, but when we do we can’t help but notice we’ve got better health, homes, even water and electricity. We have better educational opportunities and live in safer places.

Playing this game engenders feelings of gratitude, thankfulness, and generosity, inspiring us to altruism, charity, and the betterment of others before ourselves. While this game is not as popular and is harder to play, it’s healthy and satisfying.

Of course we do well to play less of game one than game two.

When I was a teenager a spiritual mentor told me to pray for stuff.

Not just for mom and dad, good weather, and safety, but for cars, clothes, and money. Being young, I did so. And going to the church my mentor took me to, so did everyone else. We were taught that getting stuff was a sign of God’s favor. We were told to interpret the promise of Christ for ‘an abundant life’ quite literally - to mean that faithful people got stuff. Back then it made a lot of sense.

But today I no longer pray that way.

I think it’s because of my personal observations of scripture. The more I know about Jesus, who was also quite fond of prayer, is that he didn’t pray for a new car (donkey?), clothes, or money. This is not to say that he did not pray for his desires, but that his desires didn’t primarily revolve around stuff.

This Sunday we’ll hear Jesus talk about prayer and desire. And we may ask ourselves what we desire? To be more forgiving, loving, kind, hospitable, sacrificial, and selfless? To see a more just, equitable, and healthy world? To see God’s will be done? Or is it to live in a bigger house, have a nicer car, or own nicer things?

See any dissonance here?

When I’m tempted to begin my prayers for ‘stuff’ I remind myself to pray for Jesus to re-order my desires, to make them more attune to his. It’s because, like you, my deepest desire is to know, love, and live like Christ. And if he prayed like this, I suspect we want to too.

My friend Brandon is an amazingly talented soldier.

He’s a Green Beret, an ace marksman, and consistently ranks tops in his class in fitness, strategy, and scholastics. He’s the best at his game - and he knows it.

Out on deployment, a crucial mission arose and his superior named his six, top soldiers for the assignment. Brandon was not one of them. And he was not happy.

He pulled his superior aside and said, “I know this is a crucial assignment. And you know that there’s not a more qualified, talented soldier on that squad than me. Why didn’t you choose me? Why didn’t I get selected?”

His superior said, “Sure you’re the most talented soldier on the squad. But you’re also the biggest complainer. I named this squad, in part, to see how you’d react. And instead of saying, ‘While you’re gone I’m going to resupply and organize things so we’ll be in better shape upon your return,’ you pulled me aside and acted like a prima donna. This makes me even more confident in my decision. And until you learn that you’re part of a team, this is how things will stay.”

When Jesus says, “I am the vine and you are the branches” he’s saying we’re all connected. We're part of a team, there's no room for prima donnas, for the greatest among us are those who serve.

As part of the Vine some of us are being pruned. Some are waiting for fruit to appear. Some are producing fruit that we're really proud of. But we are all part of something greater.

So be encouraged friends. Let’s give pause to complaining. We’re part of life’s most fulfilling task: gratefully receiving the kingdom being brought into the world.

What’s God want me to do?

Ever asked that?

Join the club...

Since the most important thing many of us will do today is attempt to hear God’s voice.

After all, hearing God’s voice is arguably the most important, and thus most difficult job, you and I have. We suspect this because the water we swim is one of unprecedented distraction, diversion, and detour. The ‘worldly forces’ that St. Paul and others warn us against are hard at work in the ways they seek to keep good people from doing good things. We see these forces tirelessly laboring, many of them economic, that have strong, vested interests, in you and I reciting their scripts.

But the heart of the spiritual life is hearing and heeding our own scripts. You know, that little voice inside that only you can hear. It’s steered you right before, and it seeks to do so again. As the Book of Proverbs says, ‘the spirit of man is the lamp of the Lord.’ We know God guides, directs, advises, and channels the Spirit through us. Indeed, we are God’s home.

This fits in neatly with what we’re up to on Sunday. It’s ‘Good Shepherd Sunday’ - fittingly, it’s our Bishop’s visitation. He's our shepherd and even has the shepherd’s crook to prove it. Bishops embody for us the presence of the One who loves, cares and guides us.

However, if you’re like me, you may wish God spoke a bit louder and clearer at times. Because that doesn’t always happen, and because the continual job of the growing Christian is discernment, I’ve found it helpful to parse and test the voices.

I’ve jotted down some questions I’ve found helpful in making up my mind as we decide, ‘is this me or is this God?’ As I’m thinking about direction, I ask:

Which alternative gives the most peace?
What do your friends say?
What do those closest to you think?
Looking at a longitudinal map of your life, how does it fit in?
Does it ‘feel’ right?
Does it elicit feelings of dream or nightmare?
Does it excite you?
Does it depress you?
What does it feel like in the morning? Night? Next week?
Does it sound like ‘God’ or ‘me’?
Is it a ‘hard road’ or an ‘easy road?’ (Many times, God leads us on the hard one)
And finally, to the best of your ability imagine, were Jesus sitting near you, what would he say?

Know that the prayers of your priest, parish leaders, and bishop are with you as you do this hard work, the continual spiritual discipline of discernment.

This time of year often brings back memories of Spring canoeing.

I remember idle hours spent drifting around meandering bends, occasionally interspersed with the technical challenge of a rapid - those places where the terrain becomes steep and big rocks pop up turning the water white and sending it forward like a jet.

At the end of those rapids a tranquil oasis can often be found called an ‘eddy.’ This is an undisturbed part of a river shielded by a rock or log where the water is placid and calm. Canoers frequently seek out eddys to regroup or rest from the chaos of shooting the rapids. Eddys are places to get your bearings and re-center.

I wonder if that’s what the newly resurrected Jesus had in mind when he kept re-appearing to his disciples?

In our Bible readings last weekend and this, he made a big deal about wishing his haggard followers ‘Peace.’ Perhaps Jesus was creating an eddy for them to re-center around who they were and what they were doing.

In fact, one of our biggest challenges today is finding eddys - those places where we can chill and open ourselves up to the kind of centering that needs to happen for us to truly be present to ourselves and the world.

Jesus kept wishing his disciples peace because this is not our default setting, it’s something we need to work on with intent and discipline.

Where are our eddys? How important are they - and what are we doing to spend more time there?

It’s a rallying cry that can still be heard among Texans facing long odds at a football games or political rallies.

This harkens to the day 5,000 Mexican soldiers surrounded 185 Texans, led by Davy Crockett, James Bowie, and Sam Houston. When asked to surrender they responded with the epic words, ‘Victory or death!’ Within a few hours the latter had prevailed. But the bravery and courage of those men are the stuff of legend.

That is, until some historians did some digging.

In his book ‘How Did Davy Die?’ author Dan Kilgore puts in writing what had only been whispered; that Houston was an alcoholic, Bowie was a deadbeat running from debtors, and Crockett had actually been taken alive. As a result Kilgore and fellow historian Jeff Long have been threatened, maligned and verbally attacked by Texans who prefer their heroes to be faultless - and the size of their state.

But knowing the truth of these larger than life brave men actually helps us relate to them more fully, and understand the nature of courage as accessible to you and me - and ‘not the absence of fear, but the resistance to it." (Jim Wallis)

After all, it would have been easier for Kilgore and Long to direct their historical curiosities to other areas of their Texas heritage, but in the end they do a great service to us all by sticking up for truth regardless of the cost - knowing that they, like the men they write about, are also exercising courage.

Churchill famously said that courage is, ‘what it takes to stand up and speak.’ And by this definition we find no better New Testament icon than the apostle Thomas, whose story we recall this weekend.

Time after time in the Bible, we see that Thomas exercises the kind of ‘stand up and speak’ courage that’s still in high demand today.

Courage to squarely assess what’s going on.

Courage to decide what makes sense and what doesn’t.

Courage to raise objections when things don’t add up.

The reward for truth-telling, in Thomas’ case, was a hallowed place in our Christian heritage. Not only does he have a place among the 12, but he gives us an example and challenge sorely needed today.

In what ways do we need to stick our hands up and ask a question?

How is the Spirit promoting us to say, ‘Wait a minute, that doesn’t make sense.’

How are we being asked to be courageous in questioning the way things are unfolding in the world around us?

Dear Lord, may the work and witness of Thomas strengthen us to stand up and speak.

Chris Yaw

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How to Live More Calmly

You're a Lobster!

Safety Third

Let Go and Hold On

Manufacturing Memories

The Real Power of Pentecost

Two Comparison Games

Praying for Cadillacs

Do You Complain?

What's God Want Me to Do?

Finding Our Eddys

Remember the Alamo!

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