I take the Bible very seriously; it’s kinda my job. But even if it were not my job, it is my calling; as a follower of Christ, a child of God, and a proclaimer of the good news of the Kingdom of God, it is not just what I do but who I am.
Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5 are the sections of the Old Testament in which we find the Ten Commandments. Now, these have gone through some tumultuous times in their existence. According to the story, they had to be re-written, because the people of God were disobeying their covenant relationship with God even before Moses could deliver the first set to them, and Moses smashed them in his anger and frustration. The Ten Commandments have been the subject of political and legal controversy, the catalyst of discussion over the fine line between Church and State (a debate we’re not delving into, here).
But I am one who takes seriously the Bible, and personally, I really don’t care whether or not it’s recognized as the law of the land. To me, that’s irrelevant, secondary to my personal decision that it is the guide to my life of faith and how I view and treat others.
However, as so many people in our country do claim faith and the Bible to be integral to their personal lives, including both of our current candidates for President, I find that I cannot keep silent when intimations of violence and murder are spoken from a place of authority (a pulpit, desk or lectern), and people are gathered to be either instructed or guided. In such cases, words matter, and there is no joking.
I take the Bible very seriously, and do not look upon it as a joke. To say, to even hint at the idea of killing or harming another, is antithetical to what the Bible, in its whole, tells us. And to claim that you were “just joking” is to prove to me that you have no real respect for something that you claim so intimately guides your life and decisions.
In the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:13 and Deuteronomy 5:17, to be exact), we are given the command: “Do not kill” (or “Do not murder” depending on the translation you’re using). Either way, the meaning is the same: Do not resort to violence and the purposeful taking of life of another human. In the gospels, Jesus takes it one step further to argue that we shouldn’t even harbor thoughts of violence or ill-will within our hearts, to say nothing of our actions ( Matthew 5:21 and following, specifically).
In short: Don’t kill. Don’t murder. Don’t encourage murder. Don’t hint at encouraging murder, even if you don’t outright say the words (you’re still morally liable, words matter). I don’t care how much you disagree with another individual, you don’t resort to killing them as a means to get your way. These things are not of God, and are not of any individual or group that claims to follow God.
“But wait!” I can already hear you saying, “there are plenty of instances in the Bible in which the very people of God were told to kill others!” This is true, and I will not deny that. I will, however, remind you that nothing is black and white. The nation of Israel was acting under specific order in these situations, not carte blanche to kill whomever they didn’t like; when they, communally or individually, went rogue, the consequence was the removal of God’s favor. Furthermore, this is one of those occasions in which we find the law – the way of living and relating to others and to God – updated by the arrival of Christ. Jesus says, “it isn’t even enough not to kill, anymore; now I need you to not even think about killing those you disagree with. Don’t even joke about it; it isn’t funny.”
And I realize how many times we, individually and communally, have broken this command in the theaters of war, and in the realm of daily living. We will be judged, by the only One who is capable of judging. I do not know what the result of that will be, only that we, who have either committed the act or condoned the act, will have to face it honestly and bear the consequence.
And finally, religion or no, is this the kind of people, the kind of nation we want to be? Is this what passes for civilized culture nowadays, that if you don’t like a person’s perspective, you can just kill them? Or joke about killing them? That truly doesn’t seem like civilized culture. I would expect more from us.
“Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy.” ~Exodus 20:8
At first glance, I’m simply being lazy on a quiet morning. At first glance, anyone might think this is a typical Saturday, or anymore, Sunday morning at home: Pajamas, coffee, Crossword puzzle…the whole nine yards. Why would anyone have an issue with that?
Mentally, I’m wrestling with it a bit because it isn’t Saturday, or even Sunday, the accepted days of rest & leisure. It’s Friday, and at 9:45 in the A.M., I’m feeling less like someone honoring Sabbath (rest, renewal, reverence and gratitude), and more like I’m simply slacking off. In fact, I know that in just a little while I need to go visit someone in the hospital who had surgery this past week.
I’m a minister, specifically of the Presbyterian Church (USA) persuasion. Sunday, for all intents and purposes, is not a day of rest for me. Oh, I occasionally get a nap in Sunday afternoon, but that’s only if there are no other church events that need my attention and presence. My ‘work week’ consists of Sunday to Thursday. Saturday is my typical, true day off. Friday, however, is my Sabbath.
In recent years, Sabbath has come to carry new interpretation, especially for the religious professionals who seek to carve out a bit of holy Sabbath-space in a culture and society that does not work on the same schedule. It used to be that Sabbath meant a pause for an entire community – every single man, woman and child pausing from all other work and obligations to together set apart time as a people of God.
Go ahead and try to get an entire community to do that today. I’ll wait; let me know how it goes.
Our minds are conditioned to the thought of “always on, always going.” Especially for religious leaders, who are expected to be present at every single event, meeting, and/or notable life event in their church/temple/house of worship. Sabbath has become an alien thought, but one we espouse readily. So what does it mean, anymore? (Hint: For a really great discussion of Sabbath for working families in the modern age, take a look at Maryann McKibben-Dana’s book, Sabbath In the Suburbs.)
Waking up later than usual (the coffee pot turned on at the time I’m normally walking out the door Sunday through Thursday), still sitting in pajamas, frustrated at the difficult Friday crossword (I still try to do them in pen like my grandma used to), mindful that someone is in the hospital waiting for me to visit, I have to wonder: Is this Sabbath? If it is, why does my mind feel anxious, like I’m being lazy? How is this honoring to God? to my relationship with God? to my understanding that I serve as a representative of God?
I’ll continue to ponder the rest of the questions, but for now, I think it’s enough to say that part of Sabbath is to challenge my internal barometer which is anxious and feeling unproductive. Sabbath – setting apart, slowing down, intentionally putting aside routine – is meant, in part, to help me remember that there is something greater at work than my work, my schedule.
And if that’s the case, I will happily sit here, being ‘unproductive,’ practicing Sabbath…
NB: The following are my own reflections and insights, based primarily on conversations and what I continue to observe as a (still somewhat) young adult in the Church today…
The question seems to have existed for as long as I’ve been able to remember, and still, after all this time, seems to be one that congregations and denominations ask with urgency and intentionality, if not near-panic: “How do we get young adults and youth to come to/remain in the church?”
Colleagues have told me that they are asked this question by congregations seeking to grow again, or reach out more, or become connected to this demographic. People have speculated – relaxed worship styles, contemporary songs, more social media, call a young pastor, put a sign out front with hipster Jesus on it…the ideas are roughly the same now as they have been since mainline denominations realized that the young adult population was largely missing, and that that is bad thing. Since then, books have even been written on the subject (though the best, in my humble opinion, continues to be “Tribal Church” by Carol Howard Merritt).
And yet, regardless of all these conversations and exercises in re-imaging ourselves, congregations and denominations continue to show a startling lack of young adult engagement and presence. What’s more, the theory that all young adults return to the Holy Mother once they start having families of their own no longer holds true; Protestant and Catholic young adults are not going through their own version of the Amish rumspringa.
SO…
If none of these possible approaches to attracting and retaining young adults have produced the hoped for results, what will? If contemporary or relaxed worship & music is not what congregations simply need to embrace to magically draw in the young adult masses, what is it that do we need to embrace?
Thankfully, I believe the answer is fairly straightforward, but paradoxically difficult: We need to give young adults more than just a visible role in the congregation and in the denomination.
Case in point: The General Assembly of my own denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), met this past summer in Pittsburgh for it’s bi-annual meeting. At this meeting, there were roughly 170 Young Adult Advisory Delegates (YAADs) present, representing their regional Presbyteries and present to be actively engaged in the denominational discussions and decision-making. And during the smaller committee meetings that took place during the first few days, the YAADs were fully engaged, being given the rights of both voice and vote. They were heard. They were respected. Their vote counted every bit as much as that of someone who had been in the denomination for decades. But that’s as far as it went.
When the time came for the entire body to come together in plenary to vote on the recommendations of the committees, the YAADs – young adult members of the Church in full standing, called by God, discerned by the Spirit – were asked to be seen, and heard only in the token sense. When it came to the full decision-making, they were allowed to speak, to advise, to give voice to their understanding of how God was at work and leading the denomination, but it stopped there. The young adults of the Church were not allowed to vote. That was reserved for adult commissioners only, the ones who obviously understood such matters better (full sarcasm intended).
We all but patted them on the head condescendingly, commented on how sweet and cute they were, and then turned our backs on them.
And right there, we see a perfect example of why the Church is not attracting young adults: We don’t actual care to allow them to have any full role in leading the Church. We make a show of having them present, of listening to their voices, their experiences, their discernment. But we won’t actually let them have a role in leading the Church into the future.
I’ve heard many individuals and congregations claim that they want to focus on youth and young adult, because they’re the future of the Church. Only they aren’t. Baptized and confirmed individuals, regardless of age, are already full members of the Church; they are our present.
Until we allow them not just voice but vote, until we come to a point where we are willing to allow some of the decision-making power to depart from us and rest upon them, until we are willing to with our actions validate and recognize young adults, we will not see much of them in our congregations. It really is that simple (though the concept of giving up power is often a foreign one to adults, even myself).
If we want to be inviting to young adults, if we want to them to be an active part of our communities of faith, then we must invite them to lead us, to be fully active in the role of discerning Christ’s future for the Church. Until that day comes, young adults will, by and large, find better things to which to give their enormous talents, passions, and resources, and the Church will languish for it all.
Pondering where we are as a country and as a people, eleven years after the events of September 11, 2001, I find myself going back to the sermon from Sunday, and thinking about how we so easily see the people we don’t like or disagree with as “dogs.” Submitted for your consideration…
One of the greatest struggles any Christian might face is the slippery slope of becoming familiar with the Scriptures. Now, that sounds like something that we should all strive for: To be more and more intimately connected to the Divine Epic that is our faith heritage. In fact, our quickly upcoming Adult Education class will be undertaking this very endeavor. But there is, on the other side of this coin, the possibility to become so familiar that the stories become…blase. Familiar. Un-engaging. And if this is true for all Christians, sometimes it is even more so for those of us in “professional” ministry, who are tasked explicitly with spending as much time as possible with these familiar characters. And sadly, every so often it becomes the reality that we read these stories without actually engaging them, that we allow the familiarity to stand in the way of being challenged and instructed
I confess that this has recently been my plight; and the past week has, at times, been rough enough that instead of taking comfort from the legacy of shared faith, I have viewed these heartening stories as nothing more than worn-out cliches.
Thank God for the stories of this Sunday, which chased me relentlessly, and would not let me be. Thank you, Lord, for the examples provided not just to me, but all of us on this day.
We start off with an encounter that is somewhat perplexing, because, frankly, it is not what we expect of Jesus, who is our ideal model, our Messiah, our Lord and Savior and Divine Example of Infinite Grace and Mercy. (How’s that for a title?) We find Jesus in the region of Tyre, and there, he is approached by a Syrophoenician woman, beseeching his mercy and healing not for herself, but for her daughter. And our first thought, as we recall all the healing Jesus has offered to others in need, as we think on Jesus who said, “Let the little children come to me,” is that this is a slam-dunk – of course Jesus will go heal this poor, young child!
But.
But that’s not what he does. Instead, we hear him utter the following words, shocking words when we consider them, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Pardon me, but did our Most Divine Example of Infinite Mercy and Grace just refer to a young girl and her mother as “dogs?”
Yes. Yes, he did. The very one who, in the reading immediately prior taught us all that it is not what goes in to a person but rather what comes out – actions, attitudes, and words – that make a person clean or unclean, just referred to a mother and her sick daughter as “dogs.”
Perhaps a bit of back story is necessary at this point.
While Mark is not explicit about this, a bit of historical research will show us that the region of Tyre was not a purely Jewish area; it was a mix of Jews and Gentiles. Furthermore, the Gentiles in the area were living in such a way that the Jewish people were not having an easy time of it. Due to the exploits of Gentile landowners, many Jews in the region of Tyre experienced severe economic hardship. Aware of this reality, Jesus may have had a hard time being merciful toward someone who was contributing to such an atmosphere. Furthermore, popular speculation among scholars is that Jesus made this trip out of the familiar Jewish lands to try and get away, to find some peace, rest and relaxation. Hence, staying in a house and not making his presence known. So, despite wanting a nap and maybe a game of Cribbage with the disciples, his vacation is interrupted by this woman, this Gentile woman, who is part of a people that is creating hardship for Jesus’ own people. What we see here is that Jesus truly is fully-human, because his response to her request is a very human response.
But this is also where we find the much-needed example for our own spiritual lives of faith. This random, unnamed woman does not slink away at the rebuke, but instead does something extremely heroic: She stands up for herself, recognizing both the truth of who she is, and even more so, the Truth of God. She owns this label that she is a dog, and perhaps worth no more consideration than that given to a dog, at least to Jewish eyes. But instead just slinking away, she also shows an understanding of God that few Jewish people in our Gospels seem to be recognizing: that even as such, God loves her, cares about her and her daughter, and that in God’s eyes she is every bit the beloved child. Carrying Jesus’ metaphor one step further, she turns his human understanding on it’s head and proclaims to him the very Divine grace he has been attempting to teach others.
And she could only do this if she was true to who she understood herself to be, not in anyone else’s eyes but God’s. Her own self-understanding, and desire to be true to that not for her own sake but that of her daughter’s, brings about the healing that she was first asking for, but it also does more: It creates a bridge over human constructs, allowing us to see one another as God’s children. In proclaiming her own understanding of what it is that Jesus has been teaching, even if it hasn’t been specifically to her people, she enables Jesus to move past the human needs for rest and the human capacity for segregation and again live more fully into realizing the Kingdom of God on earth.
Wow.
In such an exchange, and with such an outcome, how could any of us find this to be blase or commonplace? How could any of us witnessing this not be challenged or engaged to do the same, to reach out to those we might normally think of deserving no more treatment than common dogs?
Our call is to create community, to reach out, to invite people to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” How can we do this if we so easily fall prey to the human capacity to classify and degrade fellow humans? How can we build community, true community, if we are afraid to share all of who we are with each other, fearful that doing so would not grant us grace but rather condemnation? Because, if we’re honest with ourselves, even if only in the silent depths of our hearts, each of us all too easily falls into this human practice of seeing others as less than we are. People who struggle with emotional or physical maladies are to be pitied, those who are not as well off financially are to be scorned, those who disagree with our perspectives are to be condemned. And this attitude, conscious or not, leads each of us to push each other away, and leads us to act not as ourselves, but rather as we think we should to be accepted in the eyes of others.
When we are not true to our selves, we implicitly allow these realities, thinking that we are better than that, that we do not engage such practices or mentalities. But we are all too human, and it is only by being true to this nature that we can fully move beyond it; if we cannot accept that this is a part of our human failings, then we will never be aware enough to move past it, overcoming it, striving for the community that is so much more.
Allow me an example. I like beer. In fact, I now have the hobby of making my own beer, and to be honest, I’m pretty good at it! Many of you already know this, outright. I would be surprised if the rest of you didn’t suspect it. But we never talk about it, at least not in the context of being a Christian community. I know that there are some of you with similar tastes, and that there are some of you who want nothing at all to do with alcohol. And that’s fine. I’m not talking about trying to get every single one of us on the same page in regards to this topic. But because we have this difference of understanding, we never talk about such in the church setting; it’s almost viewed as taboo. And yet, by not sharing that part of who I am with you out of fear that I will alienate, or be thought less of, or judged…well, then I’m not committing myself to the community of this congregation, and we all miss out. By withholding some aspect of myself, by not being true to myself and my awareness of God’s presence in all of who I am because I am afraid of either judging or being judged, I implicitly inhibit God’s community in our congregation and beyond. I don’t need you to put aside your perspective and embrace mine, but I do need to be willing to share all of my true self with all of your true self – this is where the full richness of community is realized. This is where the unexpected and unlooked for blessings come out. What are we missing out on by not being willing to share all of who we are with each other in love and grace, and recognizing God more fully in such community?
And if it is so easy for one of us to withhold something so minor as my hobby, imagine how much community we miss out on when we don’t share the bigger things in life? The struggles? When we portray a false reality that everything in life is wonderful and great and we couldn’t be better, even though that’s not the case? We can’t put forth a false front and expect to have the full blessings of community. We have to be real with each other, true with each other. And this is what the disenfranchised world is waiting to see from us, so that they can join us and not be judged, but can share their lives with the Christian community in mutual blessing.
Earlier this week, I very much needed to hear this lesson. And while I might have initially expected to hear it from Jesus, I instead heard it from an unnamed Syrophoenician woman who was truer to herself in not only the eyes of others, but more importantly in God’s eyes. Her example led to unanticipated miracle, because even though her daughter was healed, perhaps the greater miracle is that she was seen not in human standards but as a child of God, and thus brought into the fullness of community, one which was not delineated by race or class or status or any other human construct, a Divinely-inspired community that has richer blessings than any other.
Following this example, we discover the gift of community we have to offer to each other, and to a world at large. Our world is hungry for this kind of gift: to belong, to be accepted, to be loved without first having to prove that love. If we are to proclaim the Good News of the Gospel, we must start by offering the truth of who we are, and helping others own the truth of they are: beloved children of God. We are called to be such miracle workers, and we have the example today to prove it…Amen.
I would also submit the following video – a bit dated, perhaps, but nonetheless an important counter-point to the rhetoric of revenge and protecting national securities at all costs:
Following is my sermon for July 8, 2012, based on the Revised Common Lectionary, and in response to this General Assembly. These are my reflections, and my reflections alone, meant to be edifying as much as informative.
<2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Mark 6:1-13>
Prayer: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be pleasing and acceptable to you, O Holy Mystery, our Rock and Redeemer. Amen.
I pray forgiveness if this sermon comes across as a little bit raw; I endeavored to keep it from becoming so, but I do not know if I succeeded.
As I mentioned last week in worship, I wear this stole today to show my mindfulness of those who are serving the church throughout this past week by being at our denomination’s General Assembly. Throughout this week they have labored long in committee meetings, plenaries, and worship to guide our denomination into the next years to come. These commissioners and advocates have labored for long hours, even into the wee hours of Saturday morning, recessing somewhere in the neighborhood of 1:30am, after starting business at 8:30am the previous morning. There has been much heated discussion and debate, with most of it respectful, but I must confess that I am saddened by many of the decisions that have been made.
“[Jesus] called the Twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff…So they went out, and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.”
I’ve always been fascinated with this account of the disciples being sent out in mission. As Jesus deals with the incredulous response he received from his own hometown, the disciples are sent out to continue the work that he began, and has now called them to. They go out, presumably to the other towns in the region, and they do all the things which we still understand to make up the proclamation of the Good News: they healed the sick and afflicted, they made whole the broken aspects of life, they lifted up people who were down and in need; in word and deed, the disciples made known that the Kingdom of God was drawing near to those who were yearning for it, those who were desiring to see it in their lifetimes.
Now, often, when I read this account, I try to imagine what it would have been like to be one of those disciples, performing such deeds and spreading the gospel invitation. I wonder what it would take today to accomplish such feats of faith and compassion. But it’s a simple answer, really. In fact, it’s so simple that I usually overlook it, trying to discover something flashier, something more grand.
Synergy, in today’s parlance, is often used to describe the exciting result of the interaction of two separate items, meaning that the sum of the whole is greater than the individual parts. But to put it in terms of the faith and the church, I would argue that synergy could just as accurately be used to describe the reality of a person living a life that outwardly reflects an inward awareness, of making one the exterior and the interior of a person. It is the simple reality of synergy in one’s life that makes such living out the Kingdom of God possible.
Case in point: In our reading from 2 Samuel, we see that David has synergy. The people approach him, declaring that he is to be their next king in the wake of the spectacularly-gone-awry experiment of Saul. They know that he, David, will be a better and more faithful king because, even when he wasn’t king he acted as if he was. Oh, not in the sense that he proclaimed himself king wherever he went, regardless of who was actually on the throne. In fact, quite the opposite! Wherever David went, he approached the people and interacted with them as one would expect a king to do, with the best interests of the people’s safety and welfare at his own heart. David treated the people as a king ought to treat his people, and David did so before he ever sat on the throne. His outward actions reflected an inward awareness of how his relationship with others was affected by his calling from God. In such a self-awareness and synergy, it did not ultimately matter what his title or status were; he treated the people in such a way because he knew it to be the right way, and his conscience, his authentic self would not let him act any other way. His actions showed his heart, and they were in line with what he spoke. He did not say one thing, while doing another thing, and holding a third view within.
It is this same reality of living into this authenticity, between action, proclamation, and self-understanding, this synergy, that allows the disciples to fully and truly proclaim the good news, inviting people into deeper relationship with God, and moving away from the actions and lifestyles that fostered division. After all, if someone came up to you, preaching good news of an invitation to a richer, fuller life, and then did not live out such a lifestyle himself, would you listen? Of course not! You would look at him and think, ‘He doesn’t even believe in the things he’s telling me; why should I believe him, then?’
The disciples go out, two by two, not simply to proclaim the Kingdom of God and the healing that goes with it, but to live out the Kingdom of God and the healing that goes with it. By taking nothing but what is absolutely needed, they are freed from material distractions and concerns. By going out in community with another disciple, they are living out the communal nature of the Kingdom, and showing the fullness of edifying relationship that marks the Kingdom for what it is; a place where concern for your brother and sister is the driving force of relationship, as opposed to what others will think of you, or what you’ll get out of the relationship.
And the lesson that comes with this understanding of what it is to live out the gospel is still one that we need today. I mentioned earlier that I’ve been very frustrated with the PC(USA) General Assembly this past week. I have spent long hours tuned into to the live feed on the internet, watching and listening as commissioners and advisors deliberated and voted. And, though I say this cautiously, I must say that what I heard and saw does not show me a denomination that, in this past week, has followed the example put forth by our readings this morning.
Early in the week we elected a vice-moderator for the assembly, in good order and duly so. Later in the week, she felt forced to resign her post, as those who still disagreed that she should have been elected in the first place threatened to manipulate the system to make sure nothing of the assembly’s business was addressed. Where, I ask, was the discipline of loving your brother and sister, and working with the will of the assembly that had broken no rules in the election process?
Then, later in the week, the issue of divestment was discussed. Some of the stock holdings of our denomination are in companies that profit from the violence between Palestine and Israel in the Middle East, and thus promote the oppression of a nation. There was a resolution to urge the divestment of stock from such companies, opting not to receive income from companies and situations that purport violence. We as a church proclaim the peace of the Kingdom of God, the peace that Christ has offered us and this world, and that such peace between neighbors and countries is one of our goals that we work toward. The vote to make our perspective known by divesting from such companies and their practices was defeated; our denomination will continue to receive earnings from these companies, and from practices that allow for violence and oppression.
Finally, the discussion came to the issue of same-gender marriage. And without recreating the discussion among us, because I know that we as a congregation are not of one view, it will suffice to say that in some ways it comes down to an understanding of whether or not we welcome people who have personally experienced Christ in their lives to have all the benefits of the church. We claim, as the church, that anyone who seeks Christ more fully is welcome at the Table, that anyone who has been called by the Spirit has a place in our communities, that anyone who loves as Christ first loved will be invited in. And regardless of what your understanding on this issue may be, the reality is that when we claim this as who we are, and then vote in such a way that does not honor people for who they are, the only message that the outside world receives is that we say one thing with our lips and another with our actions. This vote, also, was ultimately defeated. No authenticity. No synergy.
We claim to be a church that wants to create and make known the peaceful Kingdom of God in this world, and yet we implicitly, if not explicitly, support violent climates in the areas where Jesus walked. We claim to be a church where everyone is welcome, and yet we tell people that unless they look, act, or think like us, then there is no room for them here. We claim to be a church that is creating a place for future generations, and then we talk about young adults as if they weren’t in the room with us, and as if we know what they really want, instead of listening to their voices and heeding their advice. The actions of our General Assembly give me little hope for the future of our church, when this is the outcome of the week’s work for all the world to see.
And yet. And yet, I still have hope. There is still hope to be found. Jesus was rejected in his hometown, unable to do any great acts of power, and yet his ministry did not stop there. The disciples went out, sent out two by two, and continued the ministry begun, preparing the way for Christ to come in person and invite people into the full love of God. Throughout all of this and even beyond the death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, Jesus continues to bring healing to the world! This is still the work that is before us today; what good news! I may be saddened by the actions of this General Assembly, but it does not mean that the work of the Spirit for the increase of God’s Kingdom has ceased, and I am still called to such. Each of us as disciples is still called to this. Personally, I will abide by my denomination’s decisions; I am Presbyterian, and I will keep to the church’s decisions. But I will not stop engaging the conversation, or proclaiming the good news as I have seen and experienced it. I will not stop seeking the healing of Christ for a hurting and broken world. Such is the calling of every disciple; not to be caught up in uniformity, but in unity to proclaim the good news as each and every one of us is called to do – with our own lives, our own experiences, our own synergy. When we, in word and deed, continue to make such proclamation, then God’s Kingdom will be increased, and those who yearn for peace and wholeness will find it. May God’s Kingdom truly come…Amen.
I want to warn you about a trap, one that was certainly experienced last year surrounding the UnConference, and that potentially exists around this year’s event: Looking at those of us gathered and thinking that we take nothing seriously, and therefore threaten the sanctity of the Church with our rampant irreverence. After all, for opening worship this year, did we not base our liturgy on 2 Kings 2: 23-24? An oft overlooked Scripture reading in which Elisha calls upon two bears to maul a group of 42 young people for calling him ‘baldy’? How could anyone take seriously what we do, when we so obviously do not take the Church seriously ourselves? (NB: please read into this last question all the sarcasm that I intended).
To anyone who might fall into this trap, I offer this: An invitation to take another look before walking away thinking that our irreverence and/or blatant disregard for the trappings of High Church are the only thing we are about. And to hopefully help to this end, I offer the following…
Last night, the end of Day 2 of Unco12, after a day full of conversations surrounding innovative ministry and bi-vocationality of congregations and introverted leadership and breaking pots and so much more, after an evening of tasting home-brewed beer and eating birthday cake and raising monies for ministries through a Not-So-Silent Auction, after all of that we gathered back in the auditorium for evening worship, offered in the Taize style. With the lights dimmed, and our hearts/minds/bodies quieted, we easily slipped back into our natural selves: Disciples seeking out the presence of the Divine, thankful for the day we had received, and mindful of the work still awaiting us.
During this service I discovered that, once again, I was on holy ground. Aware of the conversations and relationships that had been begun, renewed and strengthened over the day, it was beyond apparent that God was (and continues to be) present among us. We, gathered here in this place, are on holy ground! Sitting there in worship, I did the only thing I could do – I took off my sandals, and worshiped the source of Light and Life.
This is what we do, when we gather at the Unconference. We may joke about the calling that brings us together in common ministry and service, we certainly laugh with merriment and poke fun at one another, and we dream of the new ways in which God is calling us and moving among the world, a world still very much in need of God’s Word…but underneath it all, the foundation of it all is the realization that we are on holy ground, wherever we are we are in God’s loving presence, and our call is to recognize this and live it out for others to experience it as well. The only response any of us can make, it seems, is to take off our sandals (real or metaphorical) and worship.
Bless the Lord, my soul, and bless God’s holy name…
Many times, when we think of morning prayer, we think of it in terms of needing to center ourselves, needing to shut out everything else around us (oftentimes forcefully) so that we can ‘be still,’ needing to alter what it is that is around us and even within us so that we can be in prayer at the beginning of the day. And while this process may very well help us to hear God’s voice speaking to us for the day (in theory), I always find it to be something that instead is a process I struggle with…which means that it is not meeting the initial purpose. I expend far too much energy trying to control the inner and outer atmosphere, and not enough energy opening myself to listen to God’s voice. Perhaps this sounds familiar…
Bless the Lord, my soul…
This morning for gathering prayer here at UnCo (or should I say “continuing prayer,” for certainly prayer began as we renewed conversations and friendships over breakfast), our energy was focused in a different direction. Certainly, the reflective music was there, Taize and otherwise. Certainly, the mood was being set around us, though it was also enhanced with the sounds of young ones coloring and playing (and occasionally crying), with the sounds of conversations that are too meaningful to interrupt, relationships that are too deep to put on hold. And in this sense, our energy was focused outward toward what we are called to do/how we are called to live, instead of focusing primarily on how we should be sitting…
Dorothy Day writes, “All are called to be saints, but not all are called to be extraordinary. If sanctity depended on doing the extraordinary, there would be few saints. The need for saints is greater now than ever before. Never has the world been so organized – press, radio, education, education and also recreation – to turn minds away from Christ. St. Paul was converted when he had murder in his mind. We are called to be saints. God expects something from each one of us that no one else can do. If we don’t do it, it will not be done.” Mystics, Visionaries & Prophets, by Shawn Madigan
Our morning prayer today here at UnCo focuses less on being in the ‘right’ frame of mind, and calls us instead to hear where God is calling us, and to then put our energy into following. Thus, our prayer becomes our daily life, and not just a time & space that we can (sometimes) control. May this be the prayer of us all, each day. Amen.
Last week I was on vacation, sitting on the sandy beaches of Lake Erie with my wife and in-laws. We had a great time; we always do (I’m one of the blessed ones who gets along with his in-laws, and vice-versa). But being the fair-skinned white boy that I am, I can’t sit in the sun too long. So I did what I always tend to do on vacation: I read. And I read something that I believe everyone should read.
Don Miller is a fantastic author – genuine, insightful, unafraid of being human and relating his story of desire to be a better human. I really liked Blue Like Jazz. So this time I was reading one of his newer books: A Million Miles In A Thousand Years. Go out, get a copy, and read it for yourself. You’ll understand why; that isn’t what this post is about.
One of the aspects, however, that Miller touches on is the concept that a character (in a story) IS what a character DOES. This really stuck with me, echoing the sentiment of Jesus that you shall know them by their fruits (Matthew 7), or that song about how people will know we are Christians by our Love (when did that go by the wayside?). People tend to know the most about another person by observing their actions, moreso than by what that person says (though certainly a factor).
It’s an issue that I’m wrestling with as a leader of a congregation, which says they want one thing, but their actions speak another message. I saw evidence of this again in the newsletter of a neighboring church, one that I know fairly well.
There was an article in it passing along the news that The Ladies Guild, due to increasing age and dwindling membership, was disbanding. The article gives an overview of some of the things that the Guild has done/supported over the years, but what struck me was a paragraph toward the end that stated what they were most proud of in their history: “purchasing a lawn mower, a new coffee brewing system, the sinks and faucets for the new kitchen, a new hot water tank and re-stoning the parking lot…also donated $2,400 to the Building Fund for Project 2000 and gave $2,000 to the organ fund.”
???
Seriously? After how many years, even decades of being a group of the church, this is the “ministry” that you are most proud of? The material possessions you purchased/donated to the church?
Don’t get me wrong, I like my coffee, and I like the way the grounds look after the lawn has been mowed, but I’m having a difficult time believing that this group did nothing else that they could be more proud of. And if they didn’t, then it speaks larger volumes about how active ministry of a church small group has been misconstrued in previous generations.
If a character truly is what a character does (and I believe this is so), then what, really, did this group do? What ministry was accomplished? How was the Gospel, the good news, proclaimed in someone’s life?
Forgive me if you feel I need it, but I just don’t see the connection. Sure, these are good things, practical realities in a church’s life to support, but the ministries that they are the most proud of? The actions they most want to be remembered for? I’m sorry, but I just can’t feel good about that. Those are not the types of actions/ministries I want my life and work to be remembered for, and I don’t believe that these should be the first or primary things to come to mind when someone thinks on a church or church group. I don’t think that buying a new sink or coffee pot was quite what Jesus had in mind with, “feed the hungry and care for the poor.”
So what actions are defining me right now? It’s a good question, and one I willingly embrace, allowing it to transform me as it needs to. What actions are defining you? Are you happy with how people would remember you for them? More importantly, do you feel that they further promote the manifestation of the Kingdom of God, in which the broken-hearted are healed, the captives released, and tears wiped from the grieving eye?
I pray these might be the actions I am one day remembered for. A character is what a character does – maybe that will one day be on my tombstone.
MonkAtHeart 