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!



Church Mortgages and Foreclosure -- Sightings

The recent period of financial distress, which has led to increased unemployment and home-foreclosures.  People lost jobs and couldn't pay mortgages on homes, they probably couldn't afford in the first place, which led to an ongoing cycle of woe.  Well, it appears that churches have been caught up in the cycle -- many of these churches, both large and small, bit off more than they could chew and now can't pay the bills.  Is the end near?  We live by faith, but Jesus also reminds us that a builder will count the cost first.  We passed our budget yesterday, knowing that we'll have to tap our nest egg.  We're fortunate -- no mortgage and a nice cushion -- but for many this is not true.  Martin Marty speaks to this crisis in his own inimitable way!!

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Sightings 1/31/2011

Church Mortgages and Foreclosures

-- Martin E. Marty

“Churches Find End Is Nigh” is the kind of headline which should produce ennui. One expects to read under it of the 1900th annual prediction of the end of the world. But, read on: the subhead portends an article on “Ends” which are current and real: “The Number of Religious Facilities Unable to Pay Their Mortgage is Surging.” A visit to Google will turn up scores of church foreclosure stories which deserve attention.

Attention is what churches get when their stories deal not with Incarnation, Trinity, Resurrection, or Atonement, but with Finances or Sex. Sightings notices what we call “public religion” or “religion-in-public,” often beyond the sanctuary. But in matters of money, the sanctuary and the public world meet. A Chicago Tribune article spoke of faith and the “mountain of bills,” as John Keilman circled and then zeroed in on the Lighthouse Community Church in Elgin, Illinois, which the Reverend Steve Robledo invented and now sees falling. The church “can’t afford to pay the $3,100 rent or fix maintenance problems” in the former Grace United Methodist Church which Rev. Robledo bought with two businessmen after he had a vision that God wanted him to start a church in it.

Keilman writes, “Reuters found that church foreclosures have tripled since the recession began in 2007.” In the Elgin story we learn that Robledo’s “nondenominational congregation is a fraction of its 200-member peak, diminished by the recession” and, no surprise, stressed as it is by “an internal schism.” A 200-peak? The megachurches could house such a gathering in a broom closet, were their finance people not busy scouring their own closets for overlooked funds as “a mountain of bills” piles up for them and, for some, “the end is nigh.”

All this is public because the public can understand mortgage foreclosures better than they can “get” Transubstantiation. Sneerers enjoy Schadenfreude, rejoicing in others’ misfortunes. Empathic humans, in churches or not, look deeper and find reason to mourn. Financial counselors at the big places run for cover after their counsel led congregations to overreach and under-support. Reformers use the moment to urge caution, reappraisal, more careful planning, and, in some cases, less hubris. Let’s admit it, folks, some of the mega-building is ego-driven and not only Spirit-inspired.

One reads of little Lighthouse buildings or Crystal Cathedrals, which share the experience of bankruptcy. Shelly Banjo reports in the Wall Street Journal that since 2008 about 200 religious facilities had been foreclosed, “up from eight during the previous two years and virtually none in the decade before that.” As for the future, expert Jesse L. Jackson, Sr., of the Rainbow PUSH Coalition, says “Churches are the next wave in this economic crisis.” PUSH signals work with African-American churches, many of which are over-committed, under-funded, and seeing that “the End is Nigh.”

Some of the problems are the result of Fate—the financial crisis—and others of Folly. But let’s grant the point that many are inspired by Faith, which is now being tested. In the Gospel of Luke (read 14:28-30, which is as current as the WSJ), Jesus warns of builders who do not “count the cost,” who fail, and get ridiculed. For some of the sign-carrying “End is Nigh” people, there is another admonition: “Repent: There Still is Time.” Maybe.

References


Shelly Banjo, “Churches Find End Is Nigh: The Number of Religious Facilities Unable to Pay Their Mortgage is Surging,” Wall Street Journal, January 25, 2011.

John Keilman, “In God he trusts, but pastor needs cash for church,” Chicago Tribune, January 23, 2011.

Martin E. Marty's biography, current projects, publications, and contact information can be found at http://www.illuminos.com/.

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Sightings comes from the Martin Marty Center at the University of Chicago Divinity School.

The Coming of the Lord

Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4



2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12


Luke 19:1-10

The Coming of the Lord

Whenever preachers look at the week’s lectionary texts they tend to look for any common threads. Sometimes, in our eagerness to find the threads, we push the envelope, and I suppose that I could be accused of that in titling today’s meditation. Except that each of the texts, even the Gospel text, speaks of the coming of the Lord. It is true that in Luke’s gospel, the Lord is simply inviting himself over for dinner at Zacchaeus’s house, but it still has that “eschatological flavor” that is present in the other two texts. In the Lord’s coming, there is salvation. And salvation involves or leads to righteousness – a word that needs defining.

The Habakkuk text closes with the phrase “The righteous shall live by faith,” a phrase that is repeated in Romans 1:17 (not the lectionary reading for the week). This phrase proved troubling to Martin Luther, who saw in it the possibility of “work’s righteousness,” and so he wanted to emphasize the faith part of it, and insist that whatever righteousness is involved, that righteousness comes from Christ and not our own works. But that doesn’t seem to be the concern of Habakkuk. In these two brief selections from this so-called Minor Prophet, we hear the cry of a suffering people, who were witnessing in their midst violence, wrong-doing, and trouble-making. Indeed, considering the political bickering of the moment, these words stand out: “strife and contention arise.” The prophet is wondering when God will respond, going as far as declaring that he would stand at his watch post and keep watch until God answers his complaint. It is then that the Lord responds, telling him to write down a vision on a tablet that the runner can take around to the people. And the word that came to the people was this: “If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come. It will not delay.” And then comes the kicker – be sure to look at the proud, for their spirit isn’t right – but “the righteous will live by faith.” And what is faith? It is living by trusting God? What is righteousness? It is God’s justice – God’s commitment to the poor and the marginalized of society. It may not have been what Luther had in mind at the time, but that seems to be what was on Habakkuk’s mind.

The second text, the one that comes from 2 Thessalonians serves as a response to concerns that the “parousia” or the return of Christ had already come. To use the title of a recent series of “apocalyptic themed books” they were afraid they had been “Left Behind,” and so the author (presumably Paul, but there are questions about authorship) offers a word of assurance. Don’t worry, because before anything like that happens you’ll start seeing the signs of rebellion and the rise of the lawless one, who will seat himself on God’s throne in the Temple, declaring himself to be God. But, don’t get too concerned, and don’t be alarmed by any “spirit, word, or letter” claiming to be from us declaring that the “day of the Lord” is already here. The Lord is coming, but don’t believe everything you hear. But the word that we need to hear comes at the end, in verses 11-12, which offers a word a judgment against those who take “pleasure in unrighteousness.” That is, those who fail to believe the truth and follow the Lawless One by living lives of unrighteousness. And what is meant by unrighteousness? Surely the definition is rooted in the message of the prophets, who call on the people of God to act justly toward those who are poor, to the widow, and the orphan.

Finally, we come to the story of Zacchaeus, one of the best known stories in the New Testament. We know this story because Zacchaeus seems to always be the butt of “short-people” jokes. He’s so short, he has to climb a tree to see Jesus. But it should be noted that this story falls on the heels of the previous week’s lectionary text where the attitudes of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector are compared. The Pharisee is sure of his own righteousness and needs no help from God; while the tax collector humbly asks that God take mercy on him, for he is a miserable sinner. Now, in this text, which follows on that parable, we meet up with a real tax collector who is keen on seeing Jesus. And, as a result the Lord decides to come to his house. Although the “righteous” folks in town are scandalized that Jesus would hang out with a sinner, Zacchaeus, the chief tax agent in Jericho, is so pleased by Jesus’ willingness to come to his house that he vows to change his life. And how might he do this? He commits himself to giving half of his possessions to the poor (an act of righteousness) and will repay those he has defrauded four times the amount that he had taken from them (considering that this is how he made his money – the profit that lies beyond what he had to give to Rome, he was essentially doing what Jesus asked of the rich young man (Luke 17:18ff) – he committed himself to giving everything he had and in return Jesus says that salvation had come to this house. He had committed himself to live by faith and doing so had become righteous.

The two messages that are embedded in these texts are these: First, the day of the Lord is coming, so keep watch, because God is faithful and will come at the appropriate time. And second the “righteous shall live by faith,” which means that if we’re trusting our lives into the care of God, we should live in the interim period in such a way that the righteousness of God will be on display – a righteousness that is illustrated by the decisions made by Zacchaeus.

 

Reposted from [D]mergent

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

Rekindling the Fire -- A Lectionary Meditation

Lamentations 1:1-6


2 Timothy 1:1-14

Luke 17:5-10

Rekindling the Fire

Over time a person’s faith can begin to grow cold. One’s sense of calling can diminish as well. The difficulties of life and ministry can become overwhelming, and maybe you’d just as soon give up. Perhaps, the context of life has become challenging and you wonder what will come of one’s future. It is in the midst of this sense of doubt and questioning of one’s purpose in life, that we hear two words of encouragement – one stands as a call to “rekindle the calling” and the other suggests that if only we have faith the size of a mustard seed we can replant a mulberry tree in the sea. Luke’s rendition might not suggest casting mountains into the sea, but maybe planting trees in seas is sufficient for the day. But we need to remember the context, the situation we find ourselves in.

As I read the opening line of Lamentations – “How lonely sits the city that once was full of people,” I couldn’t help but thinking of Detroit. Like many industrial cities, it has suffered a steep decline in population. But even more troubling than the decline of people, who once filled the city, is the sense of its change in status. A half century ago it was the sixth largest city in the country, but now it is barely in the top 20. The princess is now a vassal. Indeed, her friends have dealt treacherously with her. Yes, I know that Jeremiah is weeping over Jerusalem and the exiles from Judah, but does not this text speak so clearly to once mighty American cities? And no city has become a by-word for despair more than Detroit. It is in the shadow of this once great city that I do ministry. I may not live nor do I serve a church in the city, but the city casts its shadow, and I feel its pain.

It is in the context of situations such as this that we must hear the letter to Timothy. Yes, I know that Paul likely didn’t write this letter, nor did Paul’s companion probably receive it. But the message remains true – we have been given a gift through the laying on of hands, a gift that needs rekindling every once in awhile. When we become discouraged it is good to hear the message – God didn’t give us a spirit of cowardice or timidity, but instead God has given us a spirit of power, love, and self-discipline. We have what we need to go forward into the world, to bring healing to where there is woundedness and brokenness. We may experience suffering. I’ve just finished reading a biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and it again reminds us of the suffering he endured because of what he thought was the right thing to do. It was his calling, which was stirred up and rekindled, so that he might have courage. We have a holy calling, which this letter suggests was given to us before “the ages began.” Before there was time, there was a calling, a calling that comes to us in Christ. Like the author of this letter, we have been appointed as heralds, apostles, and as teachers. And there is no shame in this calling. As a result, we may entrust our lives, our futures, and our faith, to the one who will guard this faith with the help of the Holy Spirit who dwells within us.

After reading the powerful tones of the 2nd letter to Timothy, this passage from the gospel seems to fall flat. In response to a request that Jesus would increase their faith, Jesus says all you need is the faith of a mustard seed, and then you plant trees in the sea. That seems okay and encouraging, but then Jesus tells this parable about tending sheep and plowing fields. Who would, Jesus asks, offer the servant a place at the table. No, the servant, after doing all the other work in the field, is expected to come home and cook dinner. Only then, after everyone else has eaten, then he or she can eat and relax. And then when all is done, we can sit back and say of ourselves: We are worthless slaves; we’ve done only what we should have done.” I find it hard to receive this word, for how can I be a worthless slave, when I have been entrusted with the gospel and with eternal life?

I struggle with the gospel text, because it seems overly pessimistic and derogatory, but I understand the feeling of “woe is me.” But as I think of my struggles with this text, I’m drawn back to Lamentations and wish to know how this text speaks to Detroit, a once great city that has lost so many of its people, who now stand in exile. That exile might take them into the next county, they maybe the ones who inhabit the church I serve, or maybe they’ve left for places far away. I don’t know, but I hear the cries and I wonder about the future. I wonder about the friends who have turned into enemies, those who take some glee in the decline of the city – not just Detroit, but definitely including Detroit.

May we discern God’s gifts and message for a time such as this.

Reposted from [D]mergent, a Disciples of Christ oriented blog I write for each week.

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? 

Strangers in a Strange Land -- A lectionary meditation

Isaiah 1:1, 10-20

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

Luke 12:32-40

Strangers in a Strange Land

As we ponder the lectionary texts for the upcoming Sunday, the first word we hear comes from Isaiah. This word of the prophet calls for the people to seek justice for the oppressed, the orphan, and the widow. The second text, a word from the letter to the Hebrews, brings with it a call to faith using as its basis the witness of Abraham and his descendants, who remained true to God’s promises, even though they didn’t see the fruit in their own day. Indeed, this people of God remained faithful, even though they dwelt in the land as strangers and foreigners, always seeking a better land, the heavenly city. Finally we hear Jesus say that God is pleased to give us the kingdom of God. However, if we want to receive this gift then it will require of us finding treasure in heaven, something that is accomplished by selling our possessions, giving alms, and somewhat enigmatically making purses that don’t wear out.

As I read these three texts in tandem, thinking ahead to Sunday, I’m struck by several things. First, despite what you have heard coming from some quarters, God is concerned about justice for those living on the margins of society. Indeed, while some use the Sodom and Gomorrah story to disenfranchise some in our midst because they happen to be gay or lesbian, in the prophet’s view of things Sodom and Gomorrah stand out for their resistance to justice for the oppressed, the orphan, and the widow. Even though Judah and Israel offer all manner of sacrifices, from bulls to incense, none of this matters. Indeed, the eyes of God are averted to their hands as they reach out toward heaven, and the ears of God are shut to their prayers. This isn’t how we’ve learned the Sodom and Gomorrah story, but here it is, and the fingers point toward the pious who neglect justice in the name of religion.

Then you have the well-known story of Abraham (and Sarah). This couple exemplifies the life of faith, which is defined as “the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen” (Heb. 11:1). We know this so well we might pass over an interesting element of the story. If you look closely at the description of Abraham you’ll discover that he is a foreigner, a stranger, one who is living in tents – together with his descendants. All died without seeing the benefits of their faith, living generation after generation as “strangers and foreigners on earth.” Again, my mind drifts of to the news, where I hear word that in this country, the country of my birth, the foreigner and the stranger are no longer welcome. Could it be that Abraham and his descendants are among those who are living in our land, looking forward to a better land – the heavenly city? Yes, I know, I’m playing with the text, teasing out possibilities that might not have “literal” support. But what does it mean to be an immigrant looking for a better land, a better life? In what way is this an expression of faith – “the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen”?

Finally, we come to the gospel lesson. Jesus offers a word of assurance – God has given you the kingdom – but you have to be ready. You need to be dressed and have your lamps lit, because you don’t know when the master will come? Yes, the one whom Abraham and his descendants had waited for all these generations might come at any moment – so be ready. And how might one prepare for the coming of the master? According to Jesus it involves selling your possessions and giving alms, so that by doing this, one will make purses that don’t wear out.

Once again we find the text of scripture offering a discomforting message. It challenges our capitalist identities. It challenges our loyalties. It reminds us that piety is not enough, for God isn’t impressed by our offerings or our prayers if we treat our neighbor in an ungodly manner.

Isaiah, speaking for God, puts forth the challenge – “come now, let us argue it out.” We’re used to the KJV rendering — “Come now, and let us reason together” – but as much as I like a dispassionate, reasoned conversation, the NRSV rendering provides more conviction – so you think you’re on the right track, well let’s have it out – verbally that is! But the promise is one of redemption – “your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow.” There is a promise here, one full of grace, but it is also one that requires of us a true accounting of our love of neighbor – even the neighbor who lives on the margins, who has been denied justice, and who might, as was true of Abraham, live in our midst as a foreigner and a stranger.

 

Reposted from [D]mergent, a Disciples of Christ oriented blog

Theology and Liberty; or, How do you think theologically but not dogmatically?

Icon of Gregory of Nyssa
4th cent. theologian

I am a Disciple of Christ.  In making that claim, the confession is two fold.  First of all, I am a follower of Jesus Christ, as are all Christians.  I confess him to be the Christ and Son of God (Matthew 16:16) and name him  Lord and savior.  I am also a Disciple of Christ by denominational affiliation.  The Disciples emerged on the 19th century frontier as a reform movement concerned about the unity of the body of Christ.  The founders were disturbed by the fragmentation that was experienced on the frontier.  Being influenced by a number of factors, including the emergent democratic feelings after the founding of the American nation along with the Enlightenment ideas of John Locke and others, they embraced the idea of a simple biblical Christianity, a faith founded on a commitment to New Testament Christianity.  This led to a rejection of creeds and official faith statements.  Unfortunately, over time, many in this tradition confused this commitment to non-creedal Christianity rooted in a commitment to recovering the New Testament understandings of faith with being non-theological.  That is, many in the Disciples concluded that since we're non-creedal it doesn't matter what you believe.  You're free to do what you want, without any touchstone at all -- in other words, something akin to what you'll find in many Unitarian Universalist churches.   But that is not how the earliest members of this tradition understood their task.

Although not as well known today as he was in earlier years, British Disciple theologian William Robinson, was one of the most thoughtful of Disciple theologians.  He was influenced by Karl Barth, but sought to go beyond Barth to the biblical text itself.  He understood that we are non-creedal, but he pushed Disciples to think theologically.  In a book written in the 1940s entitled What Churches of Christ Stand For, Robinson gave a definition of what this work might look like (Churches of Christ here is the British equivalent of the Disciples and not to be confused with the more conservative American portion of the Stone-Campbell Movement).

Whilst Churches of Christ have, like Catholic Christianity in general, always placed great emphasis on the Church as a Divine Society, on Church unity, and on the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper as real channels of grace; yet they have differed significantly from Catholic Christianity in rejecting creeds and confessions and have regarded them as divisive in their influence.  In this their attitude has been nearer to that of Quakers.  It must not, however, be understood that they have been unconcerned about belief itself, regarding it as a matter of indifference what was believed.  No! they have contended earnestly for the "faith once for all delivered to the saints," but they have ever been opposed to the summing up of that faith in a creed or confession, regarding the New Testament itself as a sufficient basis of union for all Christians.  Moreover they have always been suspicious of metaphysical explanations of the facts of Christianity, and have refused to make them binding upon men's consciences.  Thus they have never regarded theories  of inspiration, of the entrance of sin into the world, of predestination, or the Atonement, of the Incarnation, and of the Trinity, as of the Faith.  . . . They declared that they themselves were neither Arminian nor Calvinistic, neither Unitarian nor Trinitarian but simply Christian; and they saw clearly enough that such confessions were divisive in their effects.  Their attention seems not to have been directed at all to such a simple statement of facts as the Apostle' Creed.  There is no doubt that they would have accepted every clause of it, but only because they could have found these clauses within the New Testament itself, and because the expressed the facts  of the Faith and not abstract theological dogmas.   (William Robinson, What Churches of Christ Stand For, (Balsall, Heath, UK:  Berean Press, 1946, pp. 63-64)

Although the use of the word "facts" might be off putting for some, the point here is that there is freedom to wrestle with the biblical text and from that make theological affirmations.  Disciples have, for the most part, shied away from what he refers to at "metaphysical explanations," speculative statements that are more rooted in Greek philosophy than biblical understandings.  Thus, he might affirm the "facts" of the Trinity without choosing to embrace any particular theory of the the Trinity.  

What we learned over the years, as Disciples committed to unity among Christians, is that it is difficult to abandon abstract summations.  It's difficult to throw off traditions long passed on.  If you throw off some, you have a tendency to adopt others, perhaps new ones.  So, how do we think about our faith (which is what theology involves) without becoming "dogmatic"?  

Death, Blood, Sex, Corruption

There, now that I have your attention with that headline, time to disappoint you, because I am just seriously sick and tired and fed up. I'm sick and tired of the incompetence of President (sic) Obama and his incompetent Democratic Party cronies. I'm sick and tired of all the blood and gore and sex on television, in music, and in movies. I'm sick and tired of all the negativity constantly bombarding my home via the mass media.

For too long, I've even been a part of the problem in some ways. This little blog of mine has talked politics, society, religion, education, philosophy and other topics in the news or of general interest, and has often taken on it's own cynical or negative tones. Hell, it's right there in the first paragraph. Go back and re-read in case you missed it.

Well, it's over. I's done had me all's I can take, and I can't takes me no more. This whining and bitching and moaning and crying over negativity and the disturbing, disgusting, revolting, lying hate-mongers that push it constantly is over and done with as of the end of this article.

From now on, this blog is going to be all sunshine and light and happiness. That's right, and if you can't stand it, go turn on your TV and tune in to CNN, or surf your web browser out to Huffington's Post, or Google a speech by Al Gore or Obama, or buy a copy of the New York Times. Plenty of places for you to find bad news and get your fix.

But this blog of mine is changing it's tone and tenor, knowingly, willingly and intentionally. From now on, you can turn here when all the rest of the crap is just too much. When the market is down, the pols are lying to you, the pseudo-stars are self-destructing, wars are raging, crime is running rampant, the blood is spilling, and the talking heads are blah-blah-blahing about it all, and you need a refuge, this is where to turn.

After this entry, I am going to begin regularly posting stories of a generally positive nature. There will be human interest. There will be comedy. There will be food, fun and frivolity. There will be heroism and simple neighborliness. And most of all, there will be the two things without which there is no reason to live: family and faith.

There will still be the occasional political commentary when that is most appropriate, right around election times. But that commentary will be to the positive regarding individuals and ideas that I feel are important and uplifting, and will be presented in that light. No attacking, no mocking, no sabre-rattling here any longer. Just real ideas and real opinions and honest evaluation presented for the hoped-for betterment of our neighborhoods, our town, our nation.

The stories that I present here at the blog will not always be my own. Whenever I find something of interest out on the web and it fits the new theme of positivity, then I will share it as much in it's entirety as fits comfortably on this blog, with a link to any continuation at the original site, and with an appropriate acknowledgement of the original writer.

If there is anyone out there who decides to write something of their own that fits this positive, uplifting spirit, something involving family or faith or culture or humor or life, and who wishes to share it with others, feel free to submit the item to me here at the blog, and I will consider it for print. If anyone wishes to contribute regularly, let me know that too. My work and family time don't always enable me to come up with original postings as regularly as I would like.

Don't worry about murders, rapes, assaults, drug overdoses, celebrity misbehavior, political scandal, divorce, disaster, destruction, and death. They'll still be going on, and everyone from the local news to Entertainment Tonight will keep you informed if that is what you are looking for at any point.

But when you want to smile, to laugh, to learn, to be uplifted, come here to this blog and replenish your soul and your spirit. We need a place like that, a place that guarantees it on a daily basis. Hell, I need it, and so I am going to provide it to myself, for myself, and for anyone else who feels the same and who could use something good in their lives.

As I type this, the sun is shining. It's one of the most beautiful days around here in the past few weeks. Temperatures are moderate for early summer, humidity is low, a light breeze floats through the air. There is a sense of peace and serenity around me at this particular moment, and of refreshment and renewal. A lightness of being and a song in my heart. All that, and God is in His heaven. And that's just how we're going to keep it, at least around here.

Can I get an 'Amen'?

Healing as Divine-Human Synergy (Bruce Epperly)

We have been blessed to have Dr. Bruce Epperly serve as a regular contributor to Ponderings on a Faith Journey.  Indeed, it's probably time to take off the adjective "guest" from his status.  He returns today with the second of two essays dealing with healing, suggesting here that healing results from a divine-human synergy.  In this piece he invites moderate and progressive Christians to open themselves to the possibility that healing could be possible, and that it's not just the domain of TV evangelists.

****************************

HEALING AS

DIVINE-HUMAN SYNERGY

Bruce Epperly

My favorite healing stories are found in Mark 5:21-43 (also in Matthew 9:18-26 and Luke 8:40-56) in which the gospel writer describes the healing and curing of Jairus’ daughter and a woman with a flow of blood, most likely gynecological in nature. While there may not be an exact one-to-one correspondence between the gospel narrative and what actually happened, I believe that these transformative events resulted from a synergistic interplay of divine call and human response, involving human faith and the release divine healing energy.

If we listen imaginatively to these stories, they may transform our images of healing, wholeness, and human possibility. Freed from the modern world view and its horizontal and predictable understanding of causal relationships, progressive and moderate Christians can imagine lively, naturalistic moments in which God’s aim at abundant life and our inner resources for healing and wholeness can be activated in surprising ways within the causal interdependence of life. Such stories invite progressive and moderate Christians to expect more of God and more of ourselves in terms of possibility and energy.

Described in just over a paragraph (Mark 5:25-34), the story of the healing of the unnamed woman with a flow of blood is polyvalent in nature. On the one hand, as Crossan and others have rightly noted, her healing involves the transformation of her place in the social order and religious community. She moves from outsider to insider, scorned to welcomed, and sinner to righteous, in terms of first century mores. Her healing involves the whole person – relationships, social role, personal aspirations, and not just her body.

Still, this woman’s physical healing presents an interesting case study on the relationship of human openness and divine activity far different than the bombastic spectacles of many of today’s “faith healers.” Weighed down by twelve years of physically debilitating and socially devastating illness, this woman comes to the healer Jesus with a prayer on her lips. “If I just touch him, I will be made well.” We can suspect that she repeated these words over and over to give her courage to face angry stares as well as her own sense of hopelessness. When she comes to Jesus, her words become flesh. Against all social convention, she touches the healer and is transformed. The narrative notes that a power flowed from Jesus energizing and curing her, body, mind, and spirit. The healing story concludes with a face-to-face encounter in which Jesus blesses her and calls her to new life. “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” In that moment, the physical cure is joined with a healing that transforms her spiritual life and her relationship the community.

In this brief but intricate story, we observe a divine-human synergy. The woman would not have been healed apart from her faith in Jesus’ ability to cure her. But, her faith alone could not have restored her spiritually, physically, and socially. Her faith opened a pathway for the release of divine energy (chi, ki, prana, dunamis, preuma), the energy of healing and wholeness that transforms bodies, minds, and spirits. This is no supernatural event, but the release of the deeper, more energetic powers of life, present within the natural causal interdependence of life.

I suspect that Jesus, who was initially unaware of the woman, was a focal point for the presence and channeling of divine healing power, present in latent and varying degrees throughout the universe.

The healing of Jairus’ daughter also joins spirituality and physical transformation. In this narrative, Jesus is the primary actor, presenting the parents and his disciples with an alternative interpretation of the young girl’s condition – she is in a comatose state rather than dead – and then creating a healing circle, a community of faith that supports his own aim at healing and wholeness. Could this small healing circle have played a role in awakening the healing forces resident in the young girl, Jesus, and the gathered community? (I describe these stories in greater detail in God’s Touch: Faith, Wholeness, and the Healing Miracles of Jesus, Westminister/John Knox, 2002.)

Both of these stories speak to us today. They open moderate and progressive Christians to new ways of interpreting scripture and God’s work in our lives. The invite us to expect more of ourselves in the healing process, while also expecting greater divine possibilities in our lives.

First, they describe what physicians today call the “faith factor,” the recognition that our beliefs, spiritual practices, and realistic optimism can activate healing powers resident in our lives and in the universe. Second, these stories point to God’s universal energy as a factor that we can awaken to in life-transforming ways. Finally, these stories describe the role of a community of faithful companions, open to divine power, in contributing to our health and well-being.

(As I regularly counsel pastors and laypeople, always gather a “healing team” of supporters, rather than naysayers, whenever you go to the hospital or are facing a difficult decision.)

Often, moderate and progressive Christians believe “too little” in terms of the synergy of divine and human power. Put off by televangelists who believe “too much” in terms of their affirmation of supernaturalism, demonism, and divine punishment, moderate and progressive Christians fail to recognize the possibilities for whole person healing in a god-filled universe. If God is present everywhere, seeking abundant life for everything, then openness to God – in the divine-human call and response – can bring forth new possibilities. Cures are not guaranteed in the multi-factorial world of DNA, family of origin, environment, faith, and other factors contributing to physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. But, within this matrix of causal relationships, naturalistic healings and cures may occur, not in arbitrary fashion, but in ways that reflect God’s intention for healing and our openness in faith. Our task is faithfully to open ourselves to the wonders in every moment and the possibilities for transformation in every encounter.

Bruce Epperly is a seminary professor and administrator at Lancaster Theological Seminary, pastor, theologian, and spiritual companion. He is the author of seventeen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living, a response to Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven Life. His Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry, written with Katherine Gould Epperly, was selected Book of the Year by the Academy of Parish Clergy.

Persons interested in progressive approaches to healing and wholeness may consult his God’s Touch: Faith, Wholeness, and the Healing Miracles of Jesus; Healing Worship: Purpose and Practice; orReiki Healing Touch and the Way of Jesus, written with Katherine Gould Epperly. He can be contacted at bepperly@lancasterseminary.edu.

June 3, 2010 - Touched By an Angel

“During my illness, I had the presence of an angel that came and visited me...” This is a remarkable video, from the Livestrong website. The speaker is Matthews Brown, a leukemia survivor. It’s just under 4 minutes long, so it won’t take too much time away from whatever else you’re doing.



In the course of my ministry, I’ve heard some remarkable stories of spiritual experiences. I’ve never seen an angel, myself (at least, not the supernatural variety). Based on what I’ve heard from others, though, I’d say Matthews’ experience is unusual, but not as unusual as all that. Things like this happen to people more often than you may think.

We’ve all heard the truism, “God never gives us more than we can handle.” I found that to be true of my own cancer experience. From the square marked “Go,” it looks like it's a long way around the spiritual Monopoly board, but you do find yourself “passing Go” from time to time and collecting $200.

Let us give thanks for unsolicited, grace-filled experiences, through which we learn what remarkable spiritual resources are available to us, and how deeply we are loved!

If you’re a cancer survivor, how has the spiritual side of the experience been for you?

April 20, 2010 - Hope IS a Miracle

This past Sunday, I preached on the story from the Acts of the Apostles about the raising of Tabitha. It’s one of a small number of biblical passages that recount not merely a healing, but the raising of a person from the dead. Although the Apostle Peter performs the miracle, it’s clear he sees it as the work of the risen Christ.

Preparing my sermon, I was struck by a rather unusual detail. Before performing his miracle, Peter cleared the room. Why was that?

I figure it was because Peter was none too sure of his ability to do anything helpful. This isn’t a sick woman, he thought to himself. It’s a dead woman. Dead is dead (unless, of course, you’re talking about Jesus’ resurrection, but that’s a story for another day).

You’d think, had Peter been more confident, he’d have practiced a little showmanship. You know, given the miracle some pizzazz. Wow the crowd.

But, no. Peter will have none of that.

When in doubt, pray. Having no other option, that’s what Peter decides to do. Falling to his knees, he offers fervent prayers to God: to get him out of this situation, to do something to help this grieving community – and, yes, even this poor, deceased woman, wherever in heaven or earth her soul may be.

After praying, Peter turns to Tabitha and simply says, “Tabitha, get up.” She does! The crowd outside is astounded when they see their beloved Tabitha, alive again. It just may be, though, that the most befuddled person in the village that day is Peter himself.

Many of us have been there before, in situations that seemed hopeless. It’s a story repeated time and again, in hospital corridors and family waiting rooms, as a doctor says to an anxious family, ”I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do.”

We’ve all heard of deathbed miracles, of course, but we also know these are few and far between. I told the folks in church on Sunday that the one miracle I have seen, time and time again, is how hope – that most persistent of Christian character traits – has a way of arising out of even the darkest of situations.

Sometimes that hope is as simple as being able to persevere, to get up and face another day without falling apart emotionally. Sometimes it’s the ability to let go and die with dignity. Sometimes it’s reconciliation with a loved one that we never imagined could have happened.

On his knees, alone in that small room except for the corpse stretched out on the bed, Peter may have feared his hope-reservoir had run dry. But then, when he least expects it, God breaks in once again, revealing new possibilities.

Such hope differs from what usually passes for hope in our culture – at least, as the word is used in everyday speech. Eugene Peterson points out that what a lot of people call hope is in reality something different. It’s wishing, not hoping – and wishing and hoping are not the same thing:

“Wishing is something all of us do. It projects what we want or think we need into the future. Just because we wish for something good or holy we think it qualifies as hope. It does not. Wishing extends our egos into the future; hope grows out of our faith. Hope is oriented toward what God is doing; wishing is oriented toward what we are doing.”

Peterson goes on to say that we can picture wishing as though it were a line coming out from us with an arrow on the end, pointing into the future, pointing toward that thing we most want to possess.

Hope is just the opposite. It’s a line that comes from God out of the future, with its arrow pointing towards us:

“Hope means being surprised, because we don’t know what is best for us or how our lives are going to be completed. To cultivate hope is to suppress wishing – to refuse to fantasize about what we want, but live in anticipation of what God is going to do next.” [The Contemplative Pastor: Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Eerdmans, 1993)]

To me, that’s a beautiful and liberating insight. Yes, we all want certain things in this life. Yet, our wishes and God’s intentions for us may not always coincide. At times, God may have an entirely different plan – which means that, for us, the way of freedom and peace lies not in somehow pulling God around to our way of thinking, but rather letting go and trusting God to be in control.

April 5, 2010 - An Idle Tale?

Preparing my Easter sermon based on Luke 24:1-12, I was struck by the reaction of the male disciples to Mary Magdalene and the other women who brought them news of the empty tomb and of the angel’s message: “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.”

Their first response was to consider it “an idle tale.”

“Idle tale” translates an uncommon Greek word whose meaning is “nonsense” or “delusional.” If the women’s breathless announcement is in fact the first Christian proclamation, then it means we preachers started out with a score of 0 and 1 from the get-go.

Which is no big surprise – because the resurrection isn’t exactly an easy truth to absorb. In contradicts one of the most foundational of human experiences: that dead is dead, and there’s no coming back.

I thought about that sort of thing a lot when I was feeling ill from my chemo treatments. What if the treatments were unsuccessful and I was soon going to die, I asked myself? What if, someday soon, I was going to shut my eyes not only to this world, but to everything else? What if this life, this consciousness, that is me would suddenly blink out of existence? What would have been the point of it all?

My mind danced with that bleak idea from time to time, but didn’t invite it home. I kept returning to the truths of my faith, and especially this truth that is the resurrection.

I told the folks in our church yesterday that this whole “idle tale” response is actually a sort of backhanded testimony to the truth of the resurrection. If you were to set out to make up a story about a man being raised from the dead, would you be so quick to admit that some of the people who most wanted to believe it to be true rejected it, at first?

Similarly, if you were going to go out and make up a story about a man being raised from the dead, would you include details that made you, yourself look like a clueless doubter – as was the case with Peter? If you were interested in spreading a made-up story in the intensely male-dominated Roman world, would you make women the first witnesses of the resurrection – women, who were considered, back then, to be second-class citizens, whose testimony the male-dominated society considered unreliable?

Of course not. There are an embarrassing number of loose ends connected with the Easter narrative. Four different gospels tell the story, as well as certain passages from the letters of Paul – all of them differing from the others in one detail or another. If your purpose were to make the whole thing up, you would have managed your sources a little better.

The result is that it’s impossible to put the various Gospel accounts together in a single narrative – just as it would be if there had been multiple witnesses recording their impression of a single, dramatic incident, each from a different angle.

The resurrection is jarring and unexpected. The great Reformed theologian Karl Barth says somewhere that it’s “not a natural ‘therefore’ but a miraculous ‘nevertheless.’” Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams – a distinguished theologian as well as senior leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion – likens it to the Big Bang. When we celebrate Easter, he writes, “we are really standing in the middle of a second ‘Big Bang,’ a tumultuous surge of divine energy as fiery and intense as the very beginning of the universe.” (Tokens of Trust, p. 95)

These are outrageous claims – but in their very confusion, contradiction and sheer outrageousness, they’re true to life, in an odd way. Such a mind-bending, paradigm-busting event could never be encapsulated in a tight, little spin-controlled story.

With all those lights of inquiry shining upon it from so many different angles, the resurrection is like a person moving across a room, lit up by a strobe light. You know how that looks: a person lit by a strobe seems to move in a series of jerky, disjointed snapshots, rather than the seamless, smooth motion of movie film. Under such lighting, you can get a general sense of what’s happening, what various events are taking place – but not how they flow from one to the next.

There are still significant gaps in our understanding of the resurrection – and always will be, this side of heaven. That doesn’t mean it’s not true. It means it’s a truth too big, too complex, too wonderful for us to fully comprehend.

January 28, 2010 - When Positive Thinking Isn't Enough

One of the hardest things to do, in ministry, is to stand by people who are going through hard times: not trying to change the situation, but just being with them, accepting things as they are.

An invaluable lesson I learned, years ago, in my clinical counseling training in seminary, is that sometimes you can’t fix it. Sure, there are some counseling situations in which an easy answer – be it a scriptural citation or a word of practical advice – can make a world of difference. But, not every situation is like that. Sometimes the only thing you can do is to be there – accompanying people through their difficulties, sometimes even to the edge of the grave.

It’s one of the reasons (among many) why I have such admiration for my wife, Claire - a minister who works as bereavement coordinator for a hospice program. Accompanying people in just this sort of way is what she does all the time. When she was a hospice chaplain, she worked directly with dying patients. Now, she specializes in accompanying family members through their days of mourning.

Claire’s grown used to a certain awed response she gets from people she meets for the first time. They often say something like, “More power to you! I could never do a job like that,” or, “That must be so hard! How do you keep doing it, year after year?”

Frequently, she gets another sort of response: “I think hospice programs are wonderful. The hospice team was such a help to us when my mother was dying!” A person who says something like that has come to appreciate the value of standing by those who are suffering. It’s like the famous first line from Reinhold Niebuhr’s famous Serenity Prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

In my sermon this past Sunday, I spoke about a certain tendency toward magical thinking that can be a detriment in situations of serious difficulty, medical or otherwise. I was inspired by reading an insightful book, Bright-sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America, by Barbara Ehrenreich.

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Ehrenreich has gotten a lot of press because of the forthright way in which she takes on the 200-pound gorilla of the self-help world: positive thinking. Her point is that our culture so unquestioningly considers positive thinking to be a good thing, that in situations – like the final stages of hospice care – in which it’s no longer appropriate, people just don’t know what to do. They feel abandoned, adrift, without the familiar life preserver of positive thinking.

Many of us think that, in a tough situation, we’ve got only two choices: think positively, or give up altogether. My point in Sunday’s sermon is that, while positive thinking is often a good thing, there are some situations in which it crosses the line into magical thinking – which is not. Some things that happen to us in life are simply bad things, and there’s no getting around it. It’s one thing to cultivate a positive outlook generally, but it’s quite another to believe we have an obligation to think positive thoughts all the time – and that, if we don’t, we’re somehow putting ourselves at risk.

Sadly, some cancer patients get precisely that message from those around them. Some feel guilty, beating themselves up because they can’t keep the sunny side up all the time. If their disease progresses, they feel irrationally responsible for failing to stoke the positive-thinking furnace.

A new illustrated article on Beliefnet.com, “In Praise of Thinking Realistically: When Positive Thinking Isn’t Working,” by Lori Hope, speaks to this same theme.

The positive-thinking movement is very often an ally of Christianity, but there’s a point at which the two part ways. Bottom-line, the Christian prescription for spiritual health is not positive thinking, but rather, repentance and the forgiveness of sins. As the Gospel-writer Mark sums up the essence of Jesus’ message:

“Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’” [Mark 1:14-15]

If we’re constantly trying to push everything but positive thoughts out of our minds, we’ll never be able to recognize sin in our lives, because we’re so afraid of the negative thoughts that go with it. Without a recognition of sin, there can be no confession. Without confession, there can be no forgiveness. And, without forgiveness, there can be no experience of grace.

I ended my sermon on Sunday by telling a familiar story from the classic Broadway show, The Music Man. It’s about the con man, “Professor” Harold Hill, who travels around selling band instruments to schools, promising he’ll stick around to teach the children how to play – but he never does. He always hops the first train out of town as soon as the money’s in his pocket. In the Midwestern town of River City, though, he falls in love with Marian the librarian, so he’s got to think of something. Harold’s problem is, he knows nothing about music. He’s not a professor of anything, except shady deals.

What he does is tell the children they can learn to play their new band instruments using what he calls “The Think Method.” All they have to do is think of the melody he tells them to play, recalling it over and over in their minds. When they pick up their instruments, he promises, they’ll be able to play it perfectly.

Well, the day of the first band concert comes, and Harold’s ready for his slippery scheme to fall apart. The children pick up their instruments and start to play. The sound that emerges is one of the most awful things you’ve ever heard – everything you’d expect from a teaching strategy so ill-conceived as “The Think Method.”

Wonder of wonders, a miracle occurs. The parents of River City are so pleased to see their children tooting away on the band instruments, they completely ignore the fact that there’s no discernible melody. Professor Hill’s reputation is saved, and he settles down in River City to marry his beloved Marian.

Positive thinking won’t teach us how to play the trombone, any more than it will guarantee we’ll beat cancer. The lesson of The Music Man, though, goes beyond the concrete task of producing the right musical notes at the proper tempo. It’s a lesson about grace and love and unconditional acceptance of children by their parents. Professor Hill’s brand of magical thinking was a complete dud, but the magic of love proved far stronger.

There is no greater magic in the world than this. It’s the love of God, that Christians believe is experienced uniquely in Jesus Christ. We believe that love was demonstrated for us on the cross of Calvary, and is given to us as an unconditional gift. It comes to us in good times and in bad, in sunshine and in storm.

“Thanks be to God for this indescribable gift!”
– 2 Corinthians 9:15