In God We Trust -- a Lenten Devotion

Matthew 5:38-48;

Micah 7:5-7

In God We Trust

I was invited to write a reflection on something that’s on my heart and that I want to share with the congregation. I thought about writing on how Jesus’ call to love our enemies should help define how we understand the nature of God. I’ve chosen a text to include in the day's reading that reflects that concern, but the issue that grabs my attention here is the matter of Trust

It is increasingly clear that there is a crisis of trust that is affecting families, churches, and communities large and small. Although there is a need for healthy skepticism and even suspicion – don’t believe everything you hear or read, especially if it comes by way of an email, but without a certain degree of trust society can’t sustain itself.

The prophet Micah, who declares so beautifully what God desires from us (Mic. 6:8), also writes: “Put no trust in a friend, have no confidence in a loved one; guard the doors of your mouth from her who lies in your embrace; . . .” (Mic. 7:5). Yes, the prophet says – your enemies are in your household, which means the only one you can trust is God (7:6-7).

I recently had the opportunity to be with Martin Marty at the Academy of Parish Clergy, and Marty spoke to the issue that he deals with in his powerful new book Building Cultures of Trust. In reflecting on the biblical perspective concerning trust, he writes: “We cannot build cultures of trust on the basis of faith in the natural trustworthiness of humans” (p. 61). That said, Marty believes, and I agree, that the church, the people of God, are called to build cultures of trust in the midst of so much distrust.

We start with the recognition that in recent years scandal and disappointment have damaged our trust in the political, the corporate, and even the religious realms. There is much reason for being distrustful, but if we distrust our neighbor, then our tendency is to withdraw inwardly and cease to engage in relationships with others. We become fearful of the other, and can become self-centered and unconcerned about the needs of others. We take down the welcome sign and build barriers that we believe will protect us from the other. With that the concern for the common good begins to die.

As we take this Lenten journey together, I’m hopeful that we might hear the call to put our trust in God, and with this trust our own distrust can be transformed into a movement of reconciliation and healing. Micah says to us – trust in God. In Romans 4, Paul points us to Abraham and Sarah, who trusted God and God reckoned this trust as righteousness (Rom. 4:20-22). Their trust led to the creation of a family and a nation – that was called upon to be a blessing to all nations (Genesis 12:1-3).

With our trust placed in God, who calls on us to love our enemies and do good to those who persecute us, perhaps we can make a difference in the world. With God’s wisdom and guidance, we can join together in building this culture of trust. And trust will allow us to continue our journey into the future with hope and not fear as our companion, committed to what Marty calls “trustworthy systems” (pp. 183-184).

Reposted from the Central Woodward Christian Church 2011 Lenten Devotional -- edited by John McCauslin.

 

Moving on Up -- a Lectionary Reflection for the Second Sunday of Lent

Genesis 12:1-4a



Romans 4:1-5, 13-17


John 3:1-17

Moving on Up . . .

You can’t see the Kingdom of God without being “born from above.” So says Jesus to Nicodemus (John 3:3). That phrase “born from above” might be a key to understanding the journey of faith. We are by nature physical beings, but by grace we become spiritual beings. By faith we are enabled, as we allow the Spirit, who like the wind, blows where it likes, without us being able to control it. If we’re willing to allow grace to bless us, then our lives might be transformed so that we can participate in God’s work of transforming the world that God loves. If being part of the realm of God means being “born from above,” then most assuredly the path of faith is an upward track. While this path may lead upward, it needs to be said that most often it first goes into the valley.

In approaching these three lectionary texts for the second Sunday of Lent, my thoughts are being pushed in interesting directions from my concurrent readings in Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life (Jossey Bass, advanced proof). Rohr speaks of the reality that faces us all – that we will fall before we rise.

So we must stumble and fall, I am sorry to say. And that does not mean reading about falling, as you are doing here. We must actually be out of the driver’s seat for a while, or we’ll never learn how to give up control to the Real Guide. It is the necessary pattern. (P. 66).

The journey we are taking, should we chose the way of the Spirit of God, won’t be an easy one. Consider the journey of Abraham and Sarah, after God calls him. Yes, he receives a promise and a purpose, but it’s not all smooth sailing. God calls Paul on the Damascus Road, he’s blinded and then healed, but it’s not all smooth sailing for him either. As for Jesus, he hears the call and takes up the mantle of God, but his path leads to a cross before it leads to resurrection. Suffering is part of the course of life. We must go down, in order to move up. The cross comes before resurrection. If we’re to experience the fullness of God’s promises we must understand this reality.

Our journey starts with a promise to Abram. God says – go to a new country and I’ll make for you many descendants and you we’ll be blessed so that you might be a blessing to the nations. That’s pretty good news, but it demands a sacrifice. Abram must leave behind his home and his family in order to receive the blessings. But Abram went by faith. But, he doesn’t go alone. In this particular set of verses, we don’t read Sarai’s name, but this is a partnership. There will be no descendants without her. The promise made to Abram and Sarai is really one of the most important statements in scripture, because it sets the context for the rest of the story. Christians come into the story as heirs of the promise to Abraham by grace, for we are not direct descendants of Abraham and Sarah. But then again, as we’ll see, even Abraham and Sarah and their descendants don’t earn this promise, but instead receive it by grace. It is grace that enables them to receive the call of righteousness by faith.

In many ways Romans 4 is a commentary on the Genesis 12 passage. According to Paul, the call of Abraham is not something that has been earned. Abraham is our ancestor, not because of works, but simply because Abraham believed God. Now what does this mean? “Abraham believed God.” Does that mean that God gave Abraham some kind of ordination exam with a set of questions that needed proper answers lest he be rejected? That doesn’t seem to be the case. Abraham isn’t justified – made right before God – because of the Law. Remember the Law doesn’t come until later. No, it’s a matter of faith, and again faith isn’t assent to a set of doctrines, but is simply trust. Abraham heard the call to leave behind family and friends and security so that he could follow God’s lead into Canaan.

It’s important that as we hear Paul place the Law behind Faith, we don’t hear him denigrate the value of Law. For Paul the Law its place, but it’s not the end game. Again, turning to Richard Rohr, who speaks of life’s two halves, the first half has to do with identity formation and security. It’s a question of ordering one’s life, and most assuredly the Law helps with this task. In the second half of life, we can begin to take risks and journeys beyond secure boundaries, but as Rohr suggest, “maybe they cannot answer a second call because they have not yet completed the first task.” He then goes on to write:

Unless you build your first house well, you will never leave it. To build your house well is, ironically, to be nudged beyond its doors (p. 23).

We have to fulfill at least a large part of the first half tasks before we’re ready to move on. Apparently Abraham was ready to take the next step. So was Paul. The point is, that if adherence to the Law is all that is required, then faith is of little value. If Law is the end, then what we have is a rather risk-averse life. The Law has its place, for as Rohr writes, “without law in some form, and also without butting up against the law, we cannot move forward easily and naturally” (p. 25). To live by faith is to take that step outside the doors, to butt up against the walls that try to keep us inside, and being to fly, to test the waters, and live by the Spirit.

This brings us to the gospel lesson from John. The text itself doesn’t speak to the Abraham paradigm that is present in the two texts from Genesis and Romans, but John pushes us to think outside the box. Nicodemus comes to Jesus, seeking wisdom (we would assume), but Jesus throws him for a loop with his talk of being born from above if he should want to see God’s kingdom. Like most of us, Nicodemus is thinking in very material terms. How can I be reborn from my mother’s womb? But, Jesus is speaking in spiritual not material terms. He’s moving beyond the first half concerns of rules and boundaries and identities to the life in the Spirit, where we test boundaries and allow God to move in and through us so we might reach our full potential as God’s children. Jesus first says – if you want to see the realm of God you have to be born from above – that is, born from heaven. Then he ups the ante, and says – if you want to enter the Kingdom then you will have to be “born of water and Spirit.” Traditionally, this phrase has been taken to refer to baptism, but I’m convinced that in context the point isn’t baptism, but rather a contrast between physical birth (water) and spiritual birth. Both are necessary, for we are born of the flesh, but if we’re open then we can also be born of the Spirit as well. To enter the kingdom we must experience this spiritual birth, and when it comes to the Spirit, the wind blows where it will. We don’t control it, and it will push us outside the box.

In this conversation, as John tells the story, Jesus moves onto a discussion of what it means to fall upward. No one has ascended to heaven, he says, except the one who has descended from heaven – the Son of Man. But the one who has descended must be lifted up, even as Moses lifted up the serpent, so that whoever would believe might have eternal life. And what does it mean to believe? Again, I don’t think it means signing on the dotted doctrinal line, but rather trusting in the one who seeks to take us on a journey of faith – the Spirit of God. Our hope lies then in the one sent by God who loves the world, so that whoever trusts in the one God has sent might not perish but have eternal life, which as Richard Beck notes, may have less to do with quantity of time as it does with quality of life in God.

The question that these texts raise concerns whether we’re ready to move on up into the heavenly realm? Are we ready to follow the Spirit and live outside the box? Have we formed/been formed in such a way that our identities are secure enough that we can leave the nest and follow the Spirit into new opportunities to be in partnership with God in loving the world? And we do so by faith, knowing that the wind of the Spirit blows where ever it wills!



Nurturing Your Child's Spiritual Life (Bruce Epperly)

In the fourth essay in his series on parenting from the persective of process theology, Bruce Epperly speaks to the issue of cultivating trust in a child.  I found this to be an interesting and compelling post, especially after recently being with Martin Marty at the Academy of Parish Clergy annual meeting, where he spoke to the topic of his most recent book:   Building a Culture of Trust.  Bruce reminds us that the process begins as soon as children are born. 

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Nurturing Your Child’s Spiritual Life –

Cultivating Trust

Bruce G. Epperly

The world regularly disappoints us. Things don’t work out as we expected and our best laid plans are often thwarted by unexpected instances of Murphy’s Law. Our trust in the essential goodness of life and humankind is, on occasion, betrayed by institutions, employers, friends, and spouses. Illness strikes and our once predictable world is turned upside down. Beyond that, we know only too well the realities of natural disasters and unexpected accidents. We are never ever fully secure or safe in life on a personal or planetary scale.

Yet, trust, even in a world where death can strike at any moment, is essential for creativity, healthy relationships, and personal and community flourishing. Trust in the world and trust in oneself are intimately related. But, how do we cultivate trust in children in a constantly changing and often insecure world?

Erik Erikson spoke of basic or primordial trust as the most essential need of infants. To grow spiritually and emotionally, infants must answer what Einstein called life’s most important question: “Is the universe friendly?” with a resounding “yes” if they are to find personal and relational fulfillment. But, how do parents cultivate trust that lasts a lifetime in the first months and years of life? Obviously, the infant can’t produce her or his trust. This trust must come from the infant’s experience of the goodness of life, at a deep and unconscious level, through positive and supportive relationships with an infant’s most significant people, most especially mother and father.

Nurturing basic trust in an infant is a matter of parental character and spiritual maturity. Trust is nurtured by faithful and trustworthy persons, who can be relied upon to deliver what they’ve implicitly promised to those who are absolutely dependent and completely vulnerable. In fact, I believe that one of the roles of religious and spiritual traditions is to restore and promote the trust we may not have received in infancy. Healthy religion tells us that we are ultimately safe, cared for, and affirmed regardless of our life situation. The apostle Paul captured the essence of trust when he proclaimed that “nothing can separate us from the love of God” – not even persecution, illness, fear, or death. Centuries earlier, the author of Psalm 139 asserted that if we ascend to the heavens God is there and if we descend to the depths God is there. God is there even when we run away from God and cover ourselves in darkness.

Cultivating trust in infants is grounded in trustworthy and faithful parenting. And, this requires parents to cultivate a sense of consistency in care and love. While an infant can’t intellectually articulate the meaning of love, he or she knows love in action – in an available breast or bottle, in a soothing voice in the night, in the reading of books and massaging of skin, in the tone of our voice, and in the touch of loving arms. The Dalai Lama once said that we are blessed to be born into loving arms and later to die into loving arms.

As a grandparent, I seek to be faithful and trustworthy with my six month old grandson. When I’m visiting him and his parents, I wait till later in the morning to take a walk. My grandson tends to be an early riser, so his mother brings him down to me at 5:00 a.m., so she and my son can get a little more rest before facing the challenges of parenting, householding, and professional life. I place his concerns ahead of my morning rituals - writing or even meditating. I have learned that you can’t give a child too much love, nor can you say “I love you” in too gentle a tone. He learns trust as I securely hold him, come to him when he cries (nowadays after letting him cry a moment or two to begin to learn patience). He discovers trust in loving arms and gentle words.

Cultivating trust invites us to develop our own characters and spiritual growth. As parents, we learn to be trustworthy by taking time out for prayer and meditation, by learning to be patient with ourselves – and this is best learned through prayerfulness and trust in God’s care. We need to remember the flight attendant’s counsel, “put your oxygen mask on first” so we have the resources to be faithful through hours of crying, interruptions at night, and changes in old routines. Our own spiritual nurture reminds us that “it’s not about us” and that peace and well-being involve balancing our own needs with the needs of others.

Cultivating trust also requires a “village” not just to raise a child, but support and nurture parents. We are blessed at this time of our lives to be able to spend a couple days each week with our son, daughter-in-law, and grandson. We hope to do this for years ahead to support his professional parents’ balancing a career with family. And, beyond grandparents, a community of friends and a just and supportive social structure, including the government, contributes to an environment of trust.

Ultimately, we need to cultivate our sense that “all will be well” and that even when we reach our limits, we will have the resources to face life’s challenges with hope, courage, and equanimity.

Trust is a gift; the gift of community, of caring parents, and a trustworthy God. Life is challenging, but trust enables us to live through life’s challenges knowing that we have power to shape our lives and that, when are most vulnerable, nothing can separate us from the love of God.

Bruce Epperly is a theologian, spiritual guide, healing companion, retreat leader and lecturer, and author of nineteen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living; God’s Touch: Faith, Wholeness, and the Healing Miracles of Jesus; and Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry. He has taught at Georgetown University, Wesley Theological Seminary, Claremont School of Theology, and Lancaster Theological Seminary. He is currently theologian in residence at St. Peter’s United Church of Christ in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He can be reached at bruceepperly@gmail.com



We're Not Forgotten -- A Lectionary Meditation

Isaiah 49:8-16a



1 Corinthians 4:1-5


Matthew 6:24-34

We're Not Forgotten!

One of humanity's greatest fears is to be forgotten. Whether we're extroverts or introverts, we want to know that someone cares about whether we live or die. The words Jesus is said to have uttered from the Cross, words that come to us from Psalm 22, express clearly our fears:

My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?

Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer;

and by night, but I find no rest. (Ps. 22:1-2).

The promise of Scripture is that God does not forget. Even when we feel alone and despondent, God is present with us. These are words that give hope and solace in difficult times, when we feel as if God has forgotten us. Such words don't make the journey less arduous, but they provide a sense of strength. But the Scriptures that remind us that we're not alone, also remind us that God comes to us in community. The two go together.

As we listen to the voices speaking to us from the week's lectionary texts, we hear this reminder that God is present, but we also hear, especially in the Pauline text, a reminder that God is present in and through the community. The latter voice may be subtle, but it is there, in the words about trust. Indeed, community rests on the foundation of trust.

As we most often do, we start with the voice that speaks to us from the first testament. Here is the voice of the prophet who speaks to us from out of the exile, speaking to people who have experienced desolation, who have experienced imprisonment. They were a people without a home. This is a word that resonates with many living in our own time, people feeling the pangs of decreased value in homes, salaries, and retirements, unemployment and foreclosure, along with rising prices in other areas of life. There is great uncertainty about the future. Revolutions in the Middle East and the expansion of globalization. There is the reality that the gap between the richest members of society and the poorest is growing, while the middle class is shrinking. We know the darkness. It surrounds us. We feel it every day.

But even as Isaiah gives voice to our sense of being alone and forsaken, the prophet speaks a word of hope and salvation. A light will shine in the darkness. Songs of joy will erupt from the people. Indeed, they will feed from the bare heights and experience neither hunger nor thirst, neither scorching wind sun nor will the sun strike them down. This is because the Lord will lead them to pasture and flowing waters. The impassable mountains will become roads and the people will come from North and West to reinhabit the land. We may feel forgotten, but as the prophet states on behalf of God, "Can a woman forget her nursing child or show no compassion for her child?" Yes, we might find examples, but like the compassionate and committed mother, the Lord will not forget, for the Lord has "inscribed you on the palms of my hand."

All is not darkness. There is hope, for God is with us. But we know that there is need for God's presence to be tangible. We are not created to be alone - as the second creation account makes clear - God discerned that it was not good for the man to be alone (Gen. 2:18) and so God created a partner who fit with him, to share life in all its forms with him. Paul's brief words from 1 Corinthians 4 don't speak directly to the issue of forsakenness or community, but it is implicit in the words spoken to the people of this congregation. Indeed, the entire letter is focused on helping this people live together in a way that is healing and empowering. The focus is on Paul's claim to be a servant of Christ and a steward of God's mysteries. He knows nothing that can be held against him - nothing worth taking to court. As far as he is concerned, God alone is able to judge. The word is - don't pronounce judgment before the Lord comes, for it is the Lord who brings light to our darkness. In this case it is a light that illuminates the things that are done in darkness. Although the Pauline text is not as directly related to the themes present in the word from the prophets or from the Gospels, there is a word here this important. It is the word "trustworthy." For the community to be a place of healing and hope, so that we needn't walk this path alone, there needs to be trust, and as we know trust has become scarce in our day. The wary forward requires that the people of God become trust-builders. It is not an easy path. It requires that we not fall into cynicism and suspicion, but rather leave the judging and the revealing to God. Yes, be discerning, but do so prayerfully and carefully, so that the community might exist for the good of the world, that together we might all be servants of Christ and stewards of God's mysteries.

Finally we come to the Gospel. It is another passage from the Sermon on the Mount, though the lectionary skips from the end of chapter five into the middle of chapter six. The words about worship and prayer are set aside, so that we might hear a word that connects with the first text. It is a call to put one's trust in God. We worry, Jesus says, because we seek to serve two masters. But you can't do this. You can't serve God and the pursuit of wealth. One of the most scandalous parts of the Gospel is Jesus' constant challenge to people of wealth. He loves them and encourages them, but he also challenges them to let go of the pursuit of things that don't matter in the kingdom of God.

As we listen to this radical voice we are put in a difficult position. This is no capitalist God who is calling us into communion. We're not being encouraged to buy the latest car or fashion or to worry about what we'll eat or drink. There's no need to do this because worry doesn't do anything. I can't produce anything of value. It simply puts us in a position of enslavement. I hear this word, this call to seek God's realm, and yet I have a house payment, car payments, insurance bills, and the need to put food on the table. Over all I'm fortunate. The darkness hasn't closed in on me - though I've known the times when darkness seemed close at hand - perhaps not to the extent of so many others, but I know the feeling. So what do we make of this word from Jesus that tells us that we can't add an hour to our lives by worrying about what we'll eat or wear.

How do we respond to the premise that God knows our needs and will provide. What is it that God will provide and how will God provide? I'm cognizant of the word that was given to the Thessalonians who in their anticipation of the return of Christ seem to have gone off to the hillside to wait for the big event. The word comes - if you don't work, you don't eat (2 Thess. 2:6ff). So, is Jesus suggesting we simply sit and wait for God to come and give us food and clothes? I'm not so sure. Is Jesus providing a foundation for that innocuous Bobby McFerrin tune - "Don't Worry, Be Happy"? Some how I don't think that's the point. It is not a call to put one's head in the sand, but instead it's a call to get one's priorities in the right place.

In the end the word seems to be this: God is present with us on the journey, so that even as a mother would not forget her child, so God will not forget us. There is a trustworthiness present here that we are called to acknowledge. God has made a covenant and God is true to God's covenant. It is to this covenant that we are called to be servants and stewards, so that even as God is trustworthy, so might we, even as we seek the reign of God. When we do this, everything will fall into place. Thus, there is no need to worry about tomorrow. Instead, let us take care of today's challenges, which are sufficient for the day.

The Value of Trust

Trust is an important value.  Without trust society can't function well, and over the past forty to fifty years the trust that people put in their institutions has continued to diminish.  First it was the Vietnam War and then Watergate.  More recently we saw the US enter a war in Iraq based either on faulty or falsified evidence.  Catholic priests and bishops were exposed as either participating in or covering up sexual abuse of minors.  So, perhaps it's not surprising that opponents of a property tax assessment (called a millage here in Michigan) to protect the local library had to deal with, unfortunately unsuccessfully, a campaign that was based almost entirely in falsehoods, and yet it won.  Of course there are the reports that nearly half of Republicans believe that Barack Obama is a Muslim and increasing numbers reject the idea of global warming, because  . . . And on and on.  This is a serious problem that we're facing in our country.   

Martin Marty has written an essential book on this topic, one of my Top 10 books of 2010 -- Building Cultures of Trust.  Marty writes this of a culture of trust:

We may speak of a culture of trust when there is evidence that through internal or external means the religious, political, economic, artistic, scientific, technological, educational, and linguistic expressions of a group lead participants to count on each other and keep commitments.  (Marty, p. 15). 

Since I've been working through American Grace, I should probably not that trust is one of the issues dealt with in the book.  From their studies, they have discerned that trust is a central issue of faith.  What is interesting is that it would appear that while religious people are more trusting than seculars, the more conservative your theology the less trusting you become.   But, when comparing two fundamentalists, the more you attend church, the more trusting you become.  Again, social networks have influence.  But, so does your view of God -- the more you see God as judge, the less trusting.  The more you see God as a loving parent, the more trusting. 

But, the authors don't want to go too far outside their expertise and make theological judgments, but it is interesting data!  And so, they conclude:

We seem to have found consistent expectations about other people's behavior and God's behavior.  If God loves us, then we love and trust others, but if God sternly judges us, then we sternly judge and distrust others.  Social relations in America may be eased by the fact that most Americans find God more likely to comfort than afflict . . . Such a comforting, avuncular God encourages social comity and confidence (American Grace, pp. 468-471).

It could be that the authors of American Grace are overly optimistic about the American people.  Perhaps the angry groups of people that have propelled the Tea Party represent the majority.  I don't think so, but we do have a problem and that problem is a serious decline in trust.  And as Martin Marty reminds us -- that can be dangerous.  Further, that means that religious liberals/progressives have something important to bring to the table. 

Building Cultures of Trust -- Review

BUILDING CULTURES OF TRUST.  By Martin E. Marty.   Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2010.  192 pp.

    Back in the day, a song by the rock group Three Dog Night suggested  that “one is the loneliest number that there ever was.”  I’d like to paraphrase that line to read: “trust is the loneliest word that there ever was.”  At least in the current situation, trust seems in short supply.  Where once the mantra was “don’t trust anyone over thirty,” today we don’t trust anyone or thing, including politicians, government, religious institutions, science, corporations, banks – think about that for a minute, a bank is supposedly a “trust” institution -- and the courts.  We have become a nation of conspiracy theorists, where a significant minority believes it’s Jesus-confessing President is a closet Muslim who was born in Kenya.  But, if trust is in short supply, how then can our society survive, let alone function?   Although a certain degree of suspicion is healthy, lest we allow ourselves to be scammed and defrauded, we’ve moved far beyond healthy skepticism, which makes building cultures of trust difficult.  
   
    Building cultures of trust the topic of Martin Marty’s latest book, and if any figure has earned our trust over the years, it is Dr. Marty.  He is not only an elder statesman in the Christian world, he is known for his sagacity and discernment.  If anyone can point us in the right direction so that we can again build trust in one another, it would be him.  This book is Marty’s contribution to the Emory University “Studies in Law and Religion,” and is based on a series of lectures Marty gave for the Trust Institute at the State University of New York at Stony Brook in 2008.  In these revised lectures, Marty suggests that trust starts with the individual, and has to do with a person’s character, resolve, and ability to change.  However, trust doesn’t stop with the individual.  Trust must involve others, and it evolves in the context of social cultures, which provide for conditions where the task of building trust can occur and even thrive. 

    Trust, as Marty continually reminds readers, involves risk.  Indeed, it requires risk, for if there is no risk, then there is no need to trust.  The current context, therefore, provides an important place to explore the possibilities of trust building.  Our discussion is framed in the context of 9/11 and the attendant conspiracy thinking, an ongoing economic crisis, failure of banks, distrust of the government’s ability to rescue Americans in times of disaster (Katrina, Bank bailouts, etc.), foreclosures, retirement accounts that have decreased in value, if not totally disappearing, criminal economic activity (Bernie Madoff, for example), bribery, media deception, trust-breaking by religious institutions, the growing presence of religious “strangers,” and exploited public.  None of this makes trust-building easy, and yet, it is the contention of the author that this is necessary if society is to exist in any meaningful way. 

    The goal of this venture is building cultures of trust, and by “culture,” he has in mind something akin to a definition provided by Philip Bagby in a 1958 book, which defines a culture as “regularities in the behaviour, internal and external, of the members of a society, excluding those regularities which are clearly hereditary in nature.”  Two cultures that will intersect in this conversation are the religious and scientific communities, along with the broader context of public life, which are experienced through certain “modes,” including thinking, feeling, and behaving.  In these contexts a culture of trust is to be built and experienced.   A culture of trust, then, can be defined as existing “when there is evidence that through internal or external means the religious, political, economic, artistic, scientific, technological, educational, and linguistic expressions of a group lead participants to count on each other and keep commitments” (p. 15). 

    Trust assumes risk.  Whether it is an athletic adventure, a medical procedure, or an investment, going forward involves risk, as we trust our lives and futures to the hands of others.  Both trust and risk are experienced at various levels, and Marty names seven that begin with the self or the soul.  It requires assessing one’s interior life and one’s experience with others.  This is the foundation and moves along through experiencing the other, to the input of education, life in community, and onward to the telling of our stories.  Marty notes that “stories of betrayal or victimization undercut efforts to build elements of cultures of trust,” while stories of heroes and faithfulness inspire trust (p. 33).    Thus, the question then becomes – what stories are being told, recognizing that trust is difficult to build and easy to destroy.  Indeed, the very fact that we have locks on our doors is a reminder that at our very core, we’re mistrustful of others. 

    In seeking a foundation for building these cultures, Marty looks to what he calls “scripted resources” and “humanistic reflections.”  The first comprise the various scriptures or sacred texts, together with the theological/historical sources that emerge from these texts.  Religion is part of the conversation when it comes to the task of building cultures of trust.  They often provide the vocabulary and the lessons about trust and mistrust.  Indeed, faith is by definition trust, built upon the expectation that God is reliable.  Faith/religion, then, is one of the central building blocks of society.  Although Marty recognizes that all religions contribute to this conversation, for the purposes of this book he limits himself to the Western traditions, which are influenced by Jewish and Christian traditions, together with classical and Enlightenment texts.  The second component is the humanistic/secular contribution, which leads to an interesting construct that forms the foundation for cultures of trust, something he calls “religio-secular.”  This construct seems awkward, but it may be a better way of describing the legacy upon which Western society is built than is Judeo-Christian.  Built into this conversation is the realization that the biblical texts do contain a sense of realism that relates closely to the conversation – whether or not we call it original sin, there is the recognition that cultures of trust can’t count on the “natural trustworthiness of humans.”  But, while there is need for a “hermeneutic of suspicion,” if we’re to move forward we’ll also need a “hermeneutic of trust.” 

    When we come to the humanistic part, Marty has in mind what we call the humanities – the contribution of classical and Enlightenment philosophy, from Plato to Aristotle, and on to Locke, Hume, and even Hobbes.  Each of these sources accept the need for suspicion and even mistrust, and yet provide a foundation for creating cultures of trust.  Hume and Locke constructed, for instance, the idea of the social contract and Kant the “categorical imperative.”  The principal lessons of this tradition concern the fact that the more people keep the promises they make, the greater the possibility of creating networks or cultures of trust.  Experience and habit lead to the ability to trust and be trusted.  Thus, reason plays an important role in this process. 

    Having laid out the resources upon which cultures of trust might be built, Marty moves  to the task of “correcting ‘category mistakes’.”  It is in this context that Marty brings in the religion/science conversation.  He notes that partisans from the science side and the religious side have often attacked each other.  These attacks, which lead to mistrust, are rooted in modes of experience and differences in language or “universes of discourse.”  Mistrust occurs when we misapply modes of understanding to something.  He uses, to give an example the folly that emerges when a scientist steps into the debate over the real presence, assuming that the issue can be resolved by testing the wine and bread to see if they have changed.  On the other side of the coin, creation science is built on category mistakes, where scientific questions are resolved by through scriptural interpretation.  But, Marty wants to facilitate conversation and trust, which means that science and faith can’t be compartmentalized – as Stephen J. Gould would have it.  Instead, he would have us see these questions in terms of modalities or voices, in which the methods and values of one are not confused with the other. 

    Having offered his conclusions on category mistakes, he moves to the importance of conversation to the process.  Category mistakes occur when we don’t pay attention to the rules of conversation, and therefore violate the boundaries of conversation.  True conversation, which leads to trust building requires one to listen to the other, allowing ideas to flow back and forth.  These conversations cannot be built if, like the fundamentalist, we impatiently wait our turn to denounce the other.  Interestingly, what we might consider trivial conversation can lead to trust-building because it allows participants to get a sense of the other, making possible the creation of trust. 

    In this book, the goal is to lay out a basis for trust-building conversations between science and religion.  The controversies of the day emerge when private thoughts/conversations go public.  And the conversation becomes vulnerable when it is caught up in politics.  To move toward trust building conversations we must recognize that the universes of discourse that occur within the scientific, religious, and even the political cultures are distinct, but not isolated.  If we don’t follow the rules set up in one culture, then we end up with category mistakes, confusion, and mistrust.  Indeed, problems arise when one side seeks dominion over the other.  But, trust can be built if we set aside the desire for dominion and for settling everything.  Conversations don’t have to settle every issue.  Conversation is informed, but the goal isn’t winning something.  The goal is understanding and trust-building.  Conversations are ongoing and often inconclusive.  Thus, science and religion could be considered two different world views of a single reality.  According to Marty, “both are God-given in the sense that God is revealed through human minds and hands not only in Scripture, but also in the scientific insight that God allowed us to develop through our senses and brainpower” (pp. 169-170).  Dialog such as this requires that each discipline be allowed its own integrity – they can challenge each other, but you can’t, for instance, reject a well-founded scientific theory such as evolution because it conflicts with your interpretation of scripture.  Ultimately, mistrust is often rooted in miscommunication. 

    The goal of the dialogs between world views or modes of experience, is building cultures of trust, cultures where we respect each other’s views.  We do not have to always agree or even find resolution, but we respect the rules by which the other does their work.  In difficult times, such as these, it is important that we begin working on this task.

    This is, in every way, a timely book.  When there is an increasing lack of trust in any form of authority, when increasing numbers of religious people are questioning the findings of science – not just on evolution but climate change and more – it is important to have this call to action, and the action required of us is to join in building a culture of trust.  The message here is clear; although the challenges are great, there is a pathway that can lead to a culture of trust, if only we’re willing to take the necessary risks and be willing to listen to the other.  We are, once again beholden to the wisdom of Martin Marty.
 
  

Stories and Trust Building

We are living at a time when trust is in short supply.  I will shortly be posting a review of Martin Marty's important contribution to the discussion of trust-building -- Building Cultures of Trust (Eerdmans, 2010), but as I was working on the review I returned to an important point in the book.  Marty talks about seven levels where risk and trust meet -- the assumption here is that trust involves risk, for without risk there is no need to trust.  Trust building, Marty says, involves a number of things, including the telling of stories.  These stories can be helpful or not, depending on their content and context.  

Marty writes about the importance of storytelling:

Stories of betrayal or victimization undercut efforts to build elements of cultures of trust.  Stories of heroism and faithfulness among humans who keep to the customs and covenants of trust inspire ever more trust.  They point to the exemplary, to the embodied heroic virtues in ordinary people, and they can inspire emulation among many in the subcultures they are meant to redeem or enhance.  (Building Cultures of Trust, pp. 33-34).

So what are the stories that build trust?  To give an example of a story that creates mistrust -- the reports of clergy sexual abuse, both in the Catholic Church and outside, has caused immeasurable harm to the Christian faith.  We don't need attacks from outside by people such as Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins to create mistrust in our religious institutions.  We're doing a pretty good job ourselves.  So, how do we change the narrative?  How do we tell the stories that will inspire the building of trust, rather than destroy it? 

As a caveat here, it's important to remember that, as Marty points out, building trust is difficult to achieve, and destroying it can occur in a moment in time.  What are the stories of the heroes and the faithful that can help build a new culture of trust? 

True Conversation

It might be in the church parking lot, the school yard, on blogs and Facebook, but wherever they occur conversations take place.  Sometimes they are quite benign and maybe even uplifting.  But they can also be destructive.  When misunderstandings occur or miscommunication occurs, mistrust often emerges.  Since we're in a political season, where attack ads dominate the scene, and creation of mistrust has become a political art form, it maybe wise to stop and think about the nature of conversation, especially in relationship to the question of trust.  

I will be writing a review shortly of Martin Marty's new book from Eerdmans entitled Building Cultures of Trust.  Marty is a wise elder statesman, whose Sightings postings generally appear on this site each Monday.  I have high regard for him as a historian and as a Christian sage.  So, when Marty speaks, I tend to listen.

A central theme in this book that focuses on building cultures of trust is the way way we communicate (or miscommunicate).  Although he uses the science/religion axis as a key analogy, it is clear that the points made in the book cover all forms of conversation.  Thus, in this regard, he speaks of true conversation in this way:

In true conversation, one listens (picture the scientist hearing the religionist) just as one speaks (imagine the same scientist doing the talking as the religionist listens); in that interchange, ideas flow and confidence has a chance to build.  If conversation involves one partner always having to await time to speak, bursting unbidden on the speech of someone else, then true conversation is not occurring and cannot occur.  The fundamentalist in religion or in science has no patience for hearing the other and has the impulse only to denounce the other.  However, the "other," in the act of conversing, wants to inform and educate him-or herself.  The good conversationalist helps the other organize and assess reality.  He may often include invitations in conversation:  bids to have the other join him and his friends in designated places.  Conversations, as everyone knows, go on at all levels, whether about grocery lists, the prospect of removing a wisdom tooth, facing prostate cancer, batting averages, or the ordination of homosexuals to the clergy. (Building Cultures of Trust., p. 128)

The value of such conversations is that they can, when engaged in with open hearts and minds, the conversation partners into new levels of engagement.  Indeed, Marty suggests that so-called "trivial conversation" can help set the stage for building trust.  Whenever we engage in trust building efforts, we are risking ourselves.  When one side insists that it has the truth and won't listen to the other, trust cannot be built. 

So, what is the "moral" of this story for us?  I think we might try to have a conversation -- a civil conversation -- about finding ways of communicating effectively with each other.  I know that it is easy to engage in one-sided conversations (read arguments).  I've engaged in them quite often.  I'm a rather opinionated chap, which is in part why I set up this blog, so I could share my opinions on matters of theology, politics, etc.  But, hopefully it is more than a place to voice opinions.  Hopefully, this can be a place where a conversation can develop.  I may set things out in stark terms to get the conversation going, but hopefully we can use this as a way of entering into a fruitful conversation. and not simply a series of tirades! 

Storing Up True Riches -- A Sermon

1 Timothy 6:6-19

The Beatles said it best – “Money can’t buy me love.” That’s right –

Say you don't need no diamond ring

And I'll be satisfied

Tell me that you want those kind of things

that money just can't buy

For I don't care too much for money

For money can't buy me love

Now, I realize that diamond rings are helpful when it comes to love. After all, I’ve bought a few in my time for the one I love, but no matter how costly these trinkets may maybe, they can’t buy lasting love. And, despite what the Pharaohs, who built great pyramids in Egypt, thought, you can’t take it with you either! No, their bodies remained a moldering in the grave, while grave robbers and archaeologists took all those goods. Sometimes we forget this fact of life, but even as we didn’t bring anything into the world, we can’t take anything out of it either.

So, if “money can’t buy me love” or even happiness in the next life, can’t it at least buy me a little happiness in this life? I realize that it takes at least some money to live in this world, but how much is enough? Paris Hilton, Tiger Woods, and Lindsay Lohan, all have millions of dollars at their disposal, but are they happy? Bernie Madoff made a lot of money, but in the end he found himself in prison, and he also made a lot of other people unhappy by stealing their money. Madoff’s antics seem to prove the point of a famous statement that first appeared in this letter. Yes, the author of this letter said quite boldly that money is the root of all manner of evil. Therefore, he said – beware of the temptation to make the pursuit of riches your goal in life. It will only bring evil upon you. Of course, the fact that the author mentions the possibility that the pursuit of riches might have a negative effect on the spiritual life of the wealthy, suggests that there were at least a few wealthy people in the church, and that they were being tempted to abandon their faith.

1. Futility of Chasing the Money

We read this passage of scripture at a time of economic crisis. The gap between the richest and the poorest members of our society is as great as it has ever been in our history. The middle class, which is the backbone of modern society, is shrinking and is in danger of disappearing. Many in our society wonder if the American Dream is still possible. The other day I heard an economist say that not only is the gap between the wealthiest and the poorest greater today than at any time since 1929, but the most recent economic expansion was built largely on the use of credit cards and borrowing from the equity of homes. Now that the housing bubble has burst, there isn’t much left to stimulate the economy. We simply don’t have enough money to make the kinds of purchases that would spur job growth, and so the American Dream is in danger of extinction.

It’s in this context that we hear this word of warning written by an experienced pastor to a younger one. The author suggests that happiness will be found in contentment rather than in the pursuit of riches. After all, “the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil” (1 Tim. 6:10).

I realize that in the grand scheme of things, I’m pretty well off. I may not be wealthy by worldly standards, but when compared with much of the rest of the world, I’m pretty rich. So, maybe I ought to be grateful for these blessings that come my way.

Now, the love of money may be the root of many kinds of evil, but having no money can be just as destructive to the soul as having too much. Speaking in the 19th century, before the end of slavery, Frederick Douglass declared that "the want of money is the root of all evil to the colored people." As Ralph Wood writes of Douglass’ observation:

He saw that humiliating, hopeless poverty reduces human beings to bestial creatures. Even black freedmen, he declared, "were shut out from all lucrative employments and compelled to be merely barbers, waiters, coachmen and the like, at wages so low that they could lay up little or nothing. Their poverty has kept them ignorant and their ignorance kept them degraded." ("A Passion for Lesser Things," Ralph Wood, The Christian Century, 1995).

Although this text was part of last week’s lectionary reading, it’s appropriate for consideration on Reconciliation Sunday, because it reminds us that there are all kinds of barriers and walls that separate us from each other. Some of these barriers are ethnically and culturally imposed, but others are economic in nature.

As I reflected on this text and the day upon which we read it, I thought of the invisible wall that runs along 8 Mile Road. There’s an invisible barrier that separates one of the poorest cities in the country from one of the richest counties in the nation. That wall has been in place for at least a generation, but isn’t it time for it to come down?

2. Seeking True Riches

If money can keep neighbors apart, is it possible that the love of money can be a barrier to discipleship? As we observe both Reconciliation Sunday and World Communion Sunday, where does a message of contentment fit? Should we all hear the message in the same way?

Consider for a moment the way in which this passage may have been heard in an earlier day, such as the Middle Ages. Back then people believed in what was called the “Great Chain of Being,” where everyone’s place in society was predetermined. If you were nobility, then that’s who you were, so you might as well enjoy the benefits. If you don’t, know one else will! But, if you were born a serf, then that’s what you were called to be. You couldn’t change your status, because God had already predetermined your fate. So, in that setting, the message was, be content with your lot in life, because you can’t change it. That’s just the way things are. Or, is it?

Maybe the point isn’t being content with one’s lot in life, but instead to recognize the spiritual dangers of pursuing worldly wealth. Verses 6-10 and 17-19 contain a word of warning about the impermanence of wealth. It is also a meditation on the spiritual dimension of the way in which humans try to accumulate and use wealth. The danger is that in pursuing riches, our hearts can grow cold toward God and toward our neighbors.

Now, this passage isn’t all that radical. Unlike Jesus, this early Christian leader doesn’t tell us to give away everything we have to the poor in order to be disciples of Christ. Instead, he warns us about being held captive by its attractiveness. Despite its lack of radicalness, the message is powerful, because our culture continually tells us that we should want more and seek more, in part because if we don’t the economy will collapse. So, even if money can’t buy me love, a trip to the jeweler will considerably enhance my relationships and maybe even aid the economy!

3. Fighting the Good Fight

Standing in between verses 10 and 17 is a call to “fight the good fight of the faith.” You can skip verses 11 through 16 and not miss a beat. But, what this middle section does is refocus our attention on the things that really are important. These verses lift up the true riches in life – righteousness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness. These are the things that really matter to God. By attending to these values we will find happiness and contentment in life. These traits enable us to build what Martin Marty calls “cultures of trust.”

In order to build cultures of trust, we need to find ways of counting on each other. It means recognizing that we’re not in this alone, but we must be willing to risk our lives into the hands of God and our neighbors. That calling is undermined when we pursue our own agendas at the expense of others. This is, I think were our Disciples identity statement fits in. According to this statement, we are called to be “a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.” We have been called to join together in creating true community, to pursue justice, and to develop a deeply-rooted spirituality. Another way of putting this is that we have been called to attend to the common good, and this commitment to the common good is rooted in the gospel of Jesus Christ, which we’ve been called upon to live out and proclaim.

So how can we pursue true riches and make a difference in this world, which God loves so much that God sent his son into the world? Well, we can start by contributing some of our wealth to the Reconciliation Offering, so that the walls that divide us can be removed. This offering is used to promote our Church’s commitment to being an “Anti-racist, Pro-reconciliation” movement through education and by funding development opportunities. As Sharon Watkins reminded us at the Pastor’s Conference, this is our calling as a church. But, even though this offering is a first step in the right direction, it’s not the last step.

We can live out this calling every day when we consider the words we use to describe others or when we reflect on the barriers that divide us and then work to remove them. Those of us who participated in the revival at Northwestern Christian Church had an opportunity to do this very thing when we shared in worship with this Black Disciple church in Detroit. Our participation in Motown Mission is another way we can break down the walls that separate communities from each other. And in a couple of weeks Heidi Michael will share with the congregation the fruit of her time in Washington, D.C. In that presentation, Heidi will share ways in which we can build bridges and tear down walls. I know that she is very excited about having this opportunity to share what she learned while in the Nation’s capital.

The message of the Gospel is one of salvation, but salvation isn’t simply about what happens in the next life. Salvation includes the life lived now, because salvation is about reconciliation. And, the message of reconciliation affects the way we live with God and with our neighbors. In Christ the old attitudes and stereotypes have been washed away, and now we have the opportunity to look at the world through new eyes. And although money can’t make you whole, if we’re willing to part with some of it in our Reconciliation Offering, we can participate in making the world whole, which is the point of World Communion Sunday!

Preached by:
Dr. Robert D. Cornwall
Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Troy, Michigan
World Communion Sunday
October 3, 2010

What Does It Mean to Believe?

When someone joins a Disciples Church, we usually ask them to make the Good Confession.  And the question goes something like this:  "Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ, the son of the Living God?  And is he your Lord and Savior?"  The first question is asking for an affirmation of a fact.  Disciples are deeply rooted in the Enlightenment mentality.  Alexander Campbell liked to talk about the gospel "facts," and so to believe meant affirming those facts as being true.  This is also why he had problems with creeds -- they required, in his mind, assent to the "facts" as outlined in those creeds.  While he might affirm most of the elements, there were elements that might not be "facts."  I should add that he was also a fan of Francis Bacon's understanding of science, and thus didn't like speculations.  If stated clearly in Scripture, then it could be affirmed.  That is the old paradigm -- belief is affirmation of the facts about God.

But is that what "belief" is?  At the GMP's Pastor's Conference this week in San Diego, Diana pushed the definition.  In the new paradigm, which is more internally driven and more experiential, might we not return to an earlier understanding of belief, back to when the word now translated as belief/believe -- the Greek pist and the Latin Credo had the sense of faith/trust.  Thus, when we say the creed, we say:  "I trust"  or "I give my heart to God the Father, the Almighty, the Creator of the Heavens and the Earth . . . "   Does this not have a very different meaning for the one who makes the statement of belief.  It's more internal than external. 

And the Diana an interesting point -- the English word "belief" derives from the German "belieben" -- "to belove."  If this is true, then when we ask folks when joining the church if they believe that Jesus is the Christ?   We should rephrase it:  Do you belove Jesus, the Christ, the Son of the Living God?  And is he therefore Lord and Savior?    

In this new paradigm belief is not about assenting to facts, but rather is about the disposition of the heart.  If so, what are the implications for the church? 

Shaken to the Foundations -- A Sermon on Hebrews 12

Hebrews 12:18-29

I’m a survivor. Yes, I’ve survived several earthquakes, although none of them have been massive. The largest quake we ever experienced was the Northridge Quake in 1994, but it was centered miles away from our apartment in Rancho Cucamonga. That quake started with a jolt and then a rumble. The moment it struck I didn’t know its intensity or its epicenter, but I knew it wasn’t a train going by the complex. So I jumped out of bed, grabbed Brett, and headed for the door jam. The quake didn't last long, just a mater of seconds, but it rattled my nerves, and it was a while before we got back to sleep. We later learned that it was a 6.7 earthquake that, wreaked havoc on the Los Angeles basin. It led to the deaths of 17 people, injured scores more, and took down important freeway overpasses and numerous buildings in the San Fernando Valley. When I got to work at the library in Pasadena, which was much closer to the epicenter, I discovered I had a mess to clean up – including a number of collapsed bookshelves.

Quakes are funny, because the damage is often related to the ground upon which buildings are situated. Take for instance, the quake that hit my hometown of Klamath Falls in 1993, just days after we had left town after a vacation visit. Now, you need to understand that quakes are a rarity in Klamath Falls, so people aren’t as prepared for such an event as they might be in Los Angeles. This quake registered around 6.0 on the Richter scale, which is a pretty-good sized quake, and it destroyed several older brick buildings in the downtown area, including the venerable courthouse. Surprisingly, the oldest building in town, the unreinforced-brick Baldwin Hotel escaped without any damage at all. You see, unlike the other downtown buildings, which sat on reclaimed lake bed, the Baldwin was built on solid bedrock. That foundation wasn't going to move anywhere!

1. Wrestling with the Life’s Unexpected Events

Earthquakes are unpredictable, often coming when least expected. The extent of damage and death is often related to where and when a quake hits. If a quake hits out in the desert, it’s not going to cause much damage or death. But, if it hits at rush hour in a major city – as was true of the 1989 Bay Area quake -- then great harm can occur. Of course, if you live in an earthquake prone area, you’re more likely to take precautions – just in case. That’s why Chile had fewer problems after their quake than did the Haitians. Perhaps the spiritual life is much the same. You have to be ready for the big one,

The Foundations of the earth do shake.

Earth breaks to pieces,

Earth is split in pieces,

Earth reels like a drunken man,

Earth rocks like a hammock;

Under the weight of its transgression earth falls down

To rise no more! (Is. 24:18b-20 -- From Tillich's The Shaking of the Foundations, translation unknown)

The fragility of the earth reminds us of the fragility of our own lives. It’s easy to grow cold and callous about life, taking it for granted and become arrogant in our belief that we have the power to control our destinies. We do have choices in life, but as the prophets of old remind us, not everything is in our control. It often takes a devastating quake , tornado, war, flood or loss of a loved one to wake us up to the realities of life, to wake us up from our slumber, so that we might begin wrestling with the uncertainties of life. Too often we ignore the words of the prophets until the reality of their words hit home – that is, unless we’re prepared spiritually for the tests that come our way.

In the aftermath of World War II, theologian Paul Tillich preached a famous sermon entitled The Shaking of the Foundations. In it, he called on his audience to consider the devastating power humanity had recently unleashed on itself. He reminded the congregation that humanity now possessed the tools of its own destruction. But, even though science had given humanity the tools to shake heaven and earth, Tillich asked the question – is this our right? [Paul Tillich, The Shaking of the Foundations, (New York: Charles Scribners, 1948), 2-3].

2. A Call to Prophetic Ministry

Nature’s power can be frightening, but so can the prospect of proclaiming the word of God. Prophets understand that their audience might not like what they have to say. They also face the possibility that they’ll be ignored. That’s why Jeremiah was less than eager to heed God’s call to be a prophet. Jeremiah told God that he was just a boy and therefore too young to take up such a calling. No one would listen to him, so why bother, and besides, even if people listened, prophets were rarely received well by the people. Now Jeremiah did accept the call, but he also got the treatment when his fellow citizens stuffed him in a cistern and had him carted off to Egypt. The thing God is, God can be persistent, and so God reminded Jeremiah that he had been created for this purpose. His vocation in life, from the moment of conception, was to deliver a word of judgment, and therefore, he needn’t be afraid. Yes, God told him: "Today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant" (Jer. 1:4-10). Do you hear the contrast between the call to tear down and the call to build up? Both are placed in Jeremiah's hands. According to Hebrews 12, God called another prophet named Moses, and when Moses heard the voice of God he trembled with fear – largely because the voice of God shook the earth. As for us, the word of God comes in a different way – as Hebrews puts it:

"But you have drawn near to Mount Zion, the city of the living God, heavenly Jerusalem, to countless angels in a festival gathering, to the assembly of the firstborn who are registered in heaven, to God the judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous who have been made perfect, to Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks better than Abel’s blood" (Heb. 12:22-24 CEB)

We have received an invitation to enter the holy city, the dwelling place of God, to share in the heavenly worship with the gathered saints of God, having Jesus as our mediator and guide.

3. A Sifting of the Eternal

The Book of Hebrews reminds us that we should treasure that which is eternal – much as Jesus spoke of placing our treasure in heaven (Luke 12:22-34). As I think on what is important in life, what is lasting, what is eternal, my mind goes back to the Baldwin Hotel. I’m reminded that this old brick building survived, when the newer, better built, and more imposing courthouse didn’t. The difference between the structure that survived and the one that didn’t, wasn’t the quality of its construction, but the foundation upon which it was built. One was built on solid rock while the other was built on silt and mud.

The question raised by our text this morning concerns our response to the ways in which God shakes the foundations of our lives. What will survive, when God sifts our lives? What is built on solid rock? And what is built on shifting sands? Will we heed the prophets and embrace that which is eternal?

According to Paul Tillich, the prophets spoke with boldness because "their power sprang from the fact that they did not really speak of the foundations of the earth as such, but of Him Who laid the foundations and would shake them; and that they did not speak of the doom of the nations as such, but of Him Who brings doom for the sake of His eternal justice and salvation" (p. 9) As we face the difficulties of life, as our lives are shaken, in whom will we put our trust? Do we put our trust in our own abilities? In the government? In our families? Or, even in the church? Or do we put our trust in the God who laid the foundations of our lives?

There is only one thing that is unmovable and unchangeable, and we must build upon it. As Tillich puts it:

"When the earth grows old and wears out, when nations and cultures die, the Eternal changes the garments of His infinite being. He is the foundation on which all foundations are laid; and this foundation cannot be shaken. There is something immovable, unchangeable, unshakable, eternal, which becomes manifested in our passing and in the crumbling of our world" (p. 9)

 As we wrestle with this question, it’s important to recognize that the temporary often seems more attractive and enticing than the eternal. Fads come and go, but at the moment of their revealing, they seem so exciting. The eternal may not seem as glamorous or as hip, but when the temporary disappears, the eternal one remains standing. Quite often, the temporary collapses under its own weight, when the time of shaking begins. The question then is: how will we respond to the times when God sifts our lives? According to Tillich there are two choices: despair and faith ( p. 10). Which one will you choose? Putting our hopes in the temporary and the faddish, leads only to despair. But to put our hope in the eternal leads to a faith that will not disappoint. Faith comes, Tillich says, when we "see through the crumbling of a world, the rock of eternity and salvation which has no end!" (p. 11).

When we stand on the rock, which is the God who created us, redeems us, and sustains us, we discover that when the shaking stops, like the Baldwin Hotel, nothing will have moved! If we choose to walk in faith, which means putting our trust in God’s grace, goodness, mercy, and love, then we will have built our lives on the bedrock of eternity. This is the message God wanted Jeremiah to proclaim to a people who had fallen for the trap of the temporary. They had put their faith in their own ability to overthrow the Babylonians, even though Jeremiah told them to put their trust in God, who is the mighty fortress and the bulwark that never fails. We come this morning, invited by our Lord, to place our lives at God's disposal through faith, so that when the sifting and the shaking occur, we will remain standing!

Preached by:
Dr. Robert D. Cornwall
Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Troy, Michigan
13th Sunday after Pentecost
August 22, 2010

Father Fiction -- Review

FATHER FICTION: Chapters for a Fatherless Generation. Donald Miller. New York: Howard Books, 2010. 198 pages.

Does a child need a father to successfully grow up? Especially if that child is a boy? These are the kinds of questions that Donald Miller wrestles with in Father Fiction, which was earlier published under the title: To Own a Dragon (NavPress, 2006), with John MacMurray listed as co-author. In both editions of the book, Miller is the best-selling author of Blue Like Jazz and is known for having offered a prayer at the 2008 Democratic National Convention, tells his own story of growing up without a father. His own father left while he was a toddler and he was raised by his mother. Although he praises the efforts of his mother to support and guide his life, he grew up feeling that something ways missing in his life. There were those who served as substitutes, most especially John MacMurray, a photographer and leader in his church, with whose family Miller lived for a time as a young adult.

Miller writes for men who like himself have not had a father’s presence and have struggled with issues of manhood, career, and spirituality. He has done well in life, but believes that the absence of a father in his life was a difficult obstacle to overcome – even with the help of substitutes. While he focuses on the primary value of a father’s presence in one’s life, his own leadership in developing mentoring programs comes from his recognition that if a father is not present then there need to be other ways for a boy to find guidance. He doesn’t discount the ability of women to raise young men, but he also believes that a male presence is essential.

Every reader takes up a book from a certain vantage point, especially a book like this, which is part memoir and part advocacy. I read the book from the perspective of one whose father was largely absent, but full absence didn’t occur until I was in high school. Although I was a sophomore in high school when my father left the family, his departure wasn’t especially traumatic because my father was not a good role model. He could be verbally abusive – mostly in the sense of belittling my abilities and aspirations, and beyond that wasn’t all that interested in my life. I was fortunate, however, to find mentors and role models in other places – neighbor dads, coaches, and teachers. Would I have preferred a stronger father-son relationship? By all means. Indeed, that sense of loss has led me to overcompensate with my own son, leading to a bit too much over parenting.

One of the questions that Miller raises concerns the necessity of a father’s presence. Because his own experience was absence, he doesn’t speak directly to those cases when a father’s presence is detrimental to the life and psyche of a young man. With his interest being in the benefits of a father’s presence, he notes the statistics that suggest the value of a male presence in the life of a young man. For instance, 70% of prison inmates are men, and 85% of these men grew up in fatherless homes. Of course, this absence can be overcome, but perhaps it’s not an easy life course.

Miller’s book is composed of seventeen brief chapters. The style is open, vulnerable, and quite readable. Miller seems to be a born writer, even though by his own confession he never read a book completely through until he had reached the age of twenty. Now in his late 30s, he has become a noted author, lecturer, and speaker, all without the benefit of a college education.

Miller approaches his topic with a strong sense of concern for men who have grown up without a male presence. He opens with a discussion of God as Father, a topic that is fraught with danger. He doesn’t develop this theologically, but seeks to find in this image an anchor for his life. He writes of a conversation with John MacMurray, the man who mentored him spiritually and emotionally. He looked to MacMurry, especially in MacMurray’s relationship with his wife and children, for guidance as to how to live as a man. In the course of a conversation about fathers, MacMurray speaks of God as father, and Miller writes in response:

And though some of us grow up without biological fathers, none of us grows up without our actual Father. That is, if we have skin, if we have a heart that is beating and can touch and feel, then all this is because God has decided it would be so, because he wanted to include us in the story. (P. 49).

In this reflection, Miller gets to the heart of the matter, the question of belonging. Not having a relationship with his biological father, he didn’t know who he was or where he belonged. He seemed to find this in the idea that God was his true father.

This discovery, that God was his actual father and thus he belonged to a family, was a starting point, but there needed to be more definition. He needed to have an understanding of this God who was his father, and thus he had to wrestle with his spirituality. He had to overcome his own embrace of a distant God, so as to be open to a divine father who was truly present in his life. Additionally, from the Lord’s Prayer he derived the sense that God will provide, and thus one can trust God. Trust, however, was an issue that he struggled with. He distrusted authority, especially male authority. He notes that he had not, until he met MacMurray, been able to connect authority and love.

One of the issues that fatherless men deal with is their sense of manhood, and Miller is no exception. He went looking for help, even going to Promise Keepers, but he found no help in their macho sports focused efforts. He liked the emphasis on overcoming racial divisions, but as he says, he was never much into obeying rules, and Promise Keepers was big on rules. He struggled with the definition of manhood, until he came to the conclusion that being a man involved one thing – a penis. Everything else was an adjective. But recognizing that fact is only the beginning of the journey. From there one must wrestle with the kind of man one seeks to become. Thus, one must wrestle with decision making, friendship (you become, he says, like the people you hang around with), dating, sex, integrity, education, and one’s work ethic. There is in this book a sense, which at times reflects his evangelical context, that men need to grow up and embrace their manhood. But, it doesn’t happen by going into a stadium and shouting or going out into the woods and shouting around a campfire. It happens as men wrestle with their own identity with God, and then finding in other men, especially fathers, mentors for the way forward. The way forward, however, doesn’t involve self-pity. Self pity leads only to annoyance and downward mobility.

Miller writes a book that will be encouraging and helpful to men, whether they are young men growing up without a father and seeking a sense of purpose for life or fathers seeking to understand their own role in the lives of their children (especially the lives of their sons). It is also a book to be read by men who sense the call to mentor fatherless young men and boys. Finally, it is a word to men who need to let go of resentments. In a final chapter entitled “pardon” he describes meeting his father for the first time in years and finding it possible to forgive. Finally, however, he found wholeness in his embrace of the idea that God was fathering him. The divine Father, he writes, does not abandon us. Ultimately, though, his hope for fatherless men is that rather than becoming “arrogant victims,” they can become “wounded healers.” Whether one agrees with all that he writes, this is a book that should prove helpful to fatherless men, and to fathers who seek to be true to their calling to share in the lives of their children.