Alma First Church of God

The Inclusive Fellowship of Jesus

2009-09-21T16:18:00.005-04:00

Well, after a nice, long summer break from blogging, I'm refreshed and glad to be back at it. I hope you'll jump in and help me get the ball rolling once again.

A number of years ago, a group of church growth experts suggested that one of the ways to help a church grow is by creating a 'homogeneous' congregation. Stated simply, the idea they put forth was that the more the people of a congregation are like one another, the more likely that congregation is to grow. Churches grow faster, these experts told us, when they consist of people who are generally of the similar economic class, race, political belief, and so forth.

Over the years, this idea has morphed a little bit into the idea that if churches give people enough choices of what they would like in worship, the church will grow. For example, a traditional worship service will attract people (mostly elderly) who want to sing hymns and who enjoy a certain style of music, and a contemporary service will attract people (mostly younger than the traditional service) who like drums, guitars and choruses. This can be taken a good deal further, of course. I have a cartoon that depicts a sign hanging in front of a house of worship with a list of times and worship styles targeted for different audiences: a country and western service, a jazz service, classical, hip-hop and the list goes on. Although on the surface of things, this appears to be very different than the principle of homogeneity I mentioned in the last paragraph, I think it is in fact the same thing. Now you can be with people just like yourself, right down to the style of music you enjoy!

As you might have guessed, I'm having some trouble with this notion of homogeneity. It strikes me that one of the most radical and peculiar things about the ministry of Jesus is precisely how inclusive it is. I've teased this idea a number of times by pointing out that one of the followers of Jesus was a Zealot, a member of a party that wanted nothing more than to overthrow the Roman government; and another of the followers of Jesus was a tax collector, who gathered tolls from Jewish peasants to support the Roman government. As Clarence Jordan once quipped, I'll bet there was a night or two when Jesus had to sleep between those boys!

Paul the apostle reminds the church that in Christ the distinctions between men and women, slaves and free, and Jews and Gentiles have been overcome. A new, inclusive community has been formed in Christ. And, if I'm reading Ephesians correctly, this inclusive community witnesses to the Lordship of Jesus precisely by breaking down the walls that once separated us from one another. "He is our peace, who has broken down every wall."

One small way that our congregation attempts to bear witness to the unity-in-diversity that we have in Christ is in our worship. As we have written on our web site, "By intention, our two Sunday morning worship services are identical. While we have great respect for many churches that have opted to provide two or more very different worship services (traditional and contemporary, for example), we have chosen to have two identical, blended services. Our blended worship is intended to bring together a diverse gathering of people."

It is, or course, always an open question whether or not we're 'blending' our worship well. There are no doubt differing opinions about this (as well there should be in a diverse congregation!). However, this much seems very clear to me: Our efforts to 'blend' our worship in a way that welcomes a broad cross-section of people will cost something of everyone. Some may find it to stilted; others may long for something quieter; others may wish we sang nothing but hymns, and still others that we dispense with anything except choruses. I believe that a serious effort to come together across our differences is costly to all, but well-worth the effort if it bears witness to the one who breaks down every wall.

Glimpses of His Kingdom, by Ben Shaw

2009-05-12T13:56:00.004-04:00

Here's a gift: a poem written by high school student Ben Shaw. .

Glimpses of His Kingdom

Have you ever stopped to listen,

To the evening crickets chirp,

Or watched the stars that glisten,

Or smelled the fresh spring dirt?

Have you ever walked a forest green,

In the cool of the day,

Or sang a holy song to God,

In a field smelling of fresh cut hay?

Have you ever let the warm spring wind,

Fill your heart with peace,

Or laughed with cold, crisp air,

That comes with Autumn leaves?

Have you ever sat in the snow,

On a winter night frosty chill,

When the only sound is your foot-fall,

And the entire world is still?

Have you ever felt the love in fathers hug,

Or the joy of an child’s embrace,

Have you wrestled your best friend to the ground,

Or seen the breath-taking smile from a beautiful girl’s face?

Have you ever run as fast you can.

To fall laughing in the summer grass,

Or lain amid the dandelions,

And watched the clouds go past?

Have you ever listened to the music,

That violins and fiddles sing,

The music moves as a thing that lives,

And sets us all to joyful weeping.

Have you ever danced in the rain,

Till the water ran down in streams,

Have you ever let the thunder shake you,

Or felt the lightning scream?

Have you ever burst out in laughter fierce,

Or let you soul leap to song,

Have you ever longed for purifying tears,

When the world seems all wrong?

Have you ever held your breath,

While you watch the sunset fire,

Or drank water so clear and pure,

It quenches all desire?

Do you know that without God,

These blessings are bread unleavened,

For without his truth you will not know,

These things are glimpses of heaven!

Have you ever felt or seen,

Something better than the best,

It leapt deep down inside you,

But words could not express?

Have you ever felt these things,

Of which I try to describe,

The thrilling shout of victory,

At the top of the mountain climb?

Have you ever felt these things and pondered,

“Are they of this world, or perhaps more?”

There is a deepness there that reason cannot bind,

These are glimpses of our lord!

He made the dirt, the sky, the sun, the rain,

He made the moon to shine,

He gave you family and friends to love,

He made the awesome mountains for you to climb!

His hands once shaped the stars,

In the farthest reaches of space,

He gave you lungs to laugh,

And he made that girl’s beautiful face.

“So, why?” You ask, “Do these joys seem,

To be something more than they are?”

These blessings aren’t just notes of song,

They are more than just glittering stars.

These joys are far, far more,

Than what they seem to be,

They’re a part of God’s true kingdom,

They are the parts of his heaven he lets us see!

This goodness felt by us,

In the deepest of our bones,

They’re glimpses of heaven on earth,

Set here by God, who’s sitting on his throne!

So remember, the next time spring brings you peace,

Or you laugh with the wind from the southern bends,

Remember these are given us by God,

With them he shows us, death is not the end!

These blessings give us hope,

Until the end of time,

When all these joys are fulfilled,

According to the Lord’s design!

As lofty as this sounds,

The truth is entirely plain,

These simple joys show you heaven on earth,

So, I ask you once again.

Have you ever stopped to listen,

To the evening crickets chirp,

Or watched the stars that glisten,

Or smelled the fresh spring dirt?

Chicago

2009-05-05T16:27:00.003-04:00

I'm glad I came to my senses.

I almost passed on the opportunity to travel to Chicago with our choir. About three weeks ago, the pastor of Bethel Lutheran Church asked me if I'd like to go to Chicago with our choir and preach at their Sunday morning service. I hesitated, mostly because I was disappointed on the choir's behalf that they would lose out on the opportunity to hear great preaching in the African-American tradition. After thinking it through, I decided to go. After all, how many times will I have this sort of opportunity? Again, I'm glad I came to my senses.

We arrived in Chicago on Friday evening. I connected with Phil Sipka that evening. He took me to his neighborhood, one of the poorest and most violent areas of Chicago. We walked to his church, where Phil worships and works as a mentor to at-risk children. He shared some of his dreams for living and working in that neighborhood, which he had summed up beautifully in a previous visit: "I want to be a little bit of light to a little bit of people." Later, Phil drove me to another part of the city where we visited the University of Chicago's seminary bookstore, and then went out to dinner. I'm inspired, challenged and humbled by my conversations with this extraordinary young man.

Phil drove me to the motel where all of us were staying. We arrived just in time for a greeting time with some of the members of Bethel Lutheran. This was the first of many touches of their warm hospitality.

On Saturday morning we all drove to the building in which Bethel Lutheran Church worships. It is a simple but beautiful building in the midst of an urban sea. The choir went to a gospel music seminar; others of us went to a seminar on organizing neighborhoods to overcome violence. Our leader, a community organizer from Boston, began his seminar with words that went something like this. "We all know what the needs in this and other communities are. We know our goal: to end the violence. And it's really not very difficult to figure out what we must do. The process of organizing is not that difficult. The one thing that we absolutely must have is passion. This job (organizing neighborhoods to overcome violence) will not be done without passion."

Following the seminars, we joined members of Bethel Lutheran and their friends for "Rachel's Day" festivities. The festivities began with a 'peace march.' Several dozen of us were led by a small drum and bugle corp and dancers; the music and activity invited a great deal of interest from the neighbors. Many of us carried signs: "No more killing." "Stop the violence." "Think of the children." We marched for several blocks in a large circle. We walked past homes and apartments, businesses and stores. Many stopped and watched; a few spoke with us, if only briefly. One of the African-American men who was part of our march told us later that someone asked him why he was marching with "all of those white people." He responded that he is on the same side as anyone who wants to work to make the community less violent. When we arrived back at the church building we ate lunch and listened to several people speak, including a woman who had lost a son to violence, leaders of several organizations that are coordinating their efforts to resist violence and a leader from the Nation of Islam. I found the latter's presence to be a bit confusing at first, until I realized that the folks in this community absolutely must make friends with anyone and everyone who is willing to work for a more peaceful community.

Saturday evening, the choirs of Alma First Church of God and Chicago Bethel Lutheran joined for a breathtaking concert. Each of the choirs sang separately, and then they joined together in one mass choir. I have heard our choir sing on dozens of occasions and they have often given me goose bumps, but this just might have been their finest hour. After several of their songs, the folks at Bethel chanted, "Alma! Alma! Alma!" Yes, they were that good. I know it was not their intention to go put on a show. They are a worship choir. But they were fabulous and the folks at Bethel made sure that they knew it! The Bethel choir was brilliant as well, and when they came together I feared that the roof might start crumbling from the power and the passion of their combined voices.

We returned to our hotel, and then back again to Bethel for the Sunday morning service. It was very interesting for me to be part of a worship service that was liturgical (more ritual and readings than I'm accustomed to) and full of the passion and rhythm that is common among African American churches. I really appreciated the marriage of these two styles, which some might wrongly think don't belong together. I was asked to bring the reading of the Gospel (from John 10) and then to bring the sermon, from 1 John 3. Though I was very nervous, I must say that it was a rich experience for me. I told the folks at Bethel that we need them--we need the broadening of perspective that they provide us, the different ideas and passions--and I meant it. I proposed that the true test of our spirituality is the authenticity of our love for one another. We could hardly be more different, our two congregations, and the challenge and opportunity to love one another is, to me, very compelling.

All told, this was a great experience. It's an amazing thing to see two congregations, as different as they could be, coming together in Christ's name. I'm grateful to Haley Underwood for being the catalyst for all of this, to Pastor Ron for working countless hours behind the scenes to make it happen, to our choir for allowing their gift of music to be an entryway for the meeting of our churches, and to the many others who came to serve and support.

Easter and Hope

2009-04-14T10:05:00.003-04:00

Fred Craddock has suggested that the resurrection appearances of Jesus sent disciples scurrying back to the cross to re-examine what took place there. In every way, prior to Easter Sunday, the cross of Jesus was a dismal failure. The central message of Jesus--the arrival of God's reign--was proven false by the cross. The hope of disciples was shown to be a mirage. The very courage to embrace goodness and righteousness at work in the world was called into doubt. If you think about it, the world was a mighty bitter place on Friday, the day Jesus was executed.

But on Sunday, and the days to follow, when the risen Jesus appeared to disciples and followers, the cross suddenly took on new meaning. In the light of Easter, the cross was seen to be the victory of Christ, rather than his failure. In fact, in light of Easter, the cross became the one place in all of creation that we Christians claim to see God most keenly. There, at the cross, the power and love of God emerge in crystal clarity.

If this all sounds rather elementary, I hope you'll forgive me. I've heard that when the legendary football coach Vince Lombardi welcomed his players to the first day of practice, he began his challenge to them by holding up a ball and announcing, "Gentlemen, this is a football." Perhaps the secret to success is being clear about the most basic things.

This year, as I attempted to walk slowly through Lent (poorly, to be sure), it was the most basic thing of all that impressed me: the resurrection of Jesus sends us back to the cross, with the dawning awareness that the suffering love of God is the greatest power at work in all the world. In other words, from the perspective of Easter we can now see that the love of God that is poured out on the cross will, in God's time, overcome all that resists it.

Here in Michigan, where headlines have been speaking doom and gloom for months, I hope you will find hope here. The reign of God was not destroyed at the cross, but was rather more clearly revealed. Even today, God's reign is utterly consistent with the cross. In suffering love, God is overcoming all that resists his will being done on earth as it is in heaven. Even now, the reign of God is present like a mustard seed, so small that it is sometimes difficult even to find, and yet working quietly, patiently and powerfully by love.

All of this is basic, to be sure. But more and more I cannot help but feel that the decisive thing for being more fully alive is to learn to be present and renewed by that love which Easter faith finds at the cross.

The Long, Slow, Patient Work of God

2009-03-10T14:10:00.002-04:00

This last Sunday, the second in Lent, we looked at the narrative of Abram and Sarai, whose names were changed (humorously) to Abraham (Father of multitudes) and Sarah (Princess). The humor in the story is, of course, that they were 99 and 89 years old respectively when the incident took place. Don't look now, but we've stumbled once again into God's delicious sense of humor.

We considered the "long, slow, patient, deliberate work of God" on Sunday. God promised Abraham and Sarah that they would be the mother and father of many nations. Assumed within the text (and explicitly stated elsewhere) is that they and their family would become a blessing to the world, agents of God's healing of the creation, and that this would happen over an unimaginable number of generations.

Last Sunday I asked you to consider this long, slow, patient, deliberate work of God, and consider some of the ways that God's work in and through us can only be measured in generations. In other words, can we imagine that the way that we are living today could be a blessing to the world generations from now? If you look back in your family tree, you will certainly discover people whose lives impacted generations to follow--for good or for bad. I invited you to think about how your faithfulness to God, your relationships with family, friends and world neighbors, your relationship with the creation itself will influence generations to come.

This week I'm recommending a discipline that I might just call the discipline of 'slowness.' You could practice this discipline in one of two ways: 1) Consider, over the remaining weeks of Lent, doing without one of the time saving gadgets that you've become dependent on . In other words, try giving up your cell phone or your computer or your microwave during these weeks, so that you must slow down a bit and do things the 'old fashioned' way. Or, 2) another option is to do something during Lent that can only be properly done if it's done very slowly. For example, invite friends or family over for a gourmet meal that will require many hours of preparation. Or start an exercise regimen, such as swimming or aerobics or running. (It's impossible to get into shape quickly, after all.) Be creative. There are dozens of possibilities here.

The goal of this, of course, is to reflect in a fresh way on the good that requires much time. We want to embrace a different rhythm for our lives, a rhythm that is more in step with God's long, slow, patient, deliberate work.

I'd love to hear some of your ideas. Have you identified a 'discipline of slowness' that you're going to practice for the remainder of Lent?

The Welcoming Prayer

2009-03-03T15:10:00.007-05:00

Last Sunday, the first Sunday in Lent, I mentioned that each week during Lent I want to recommend a discipline for members of our congregation to practice. This week I'd like to recommend the "welcoming prayer." The welcoming prayer is a very simple and potentially liberating way to bring our anxious thoughts, reactions and lingering sins to God so that God can transform them. Several people have written about the welcoming prayer; I learned it from Pastor Cynthia Bourgeault. In what follows, I am giving my own interpretation to this helpful concept.

Allow me to share a personal experience. This last week I met a person in a public setting who somehow triggered an old prejudice in me. There was something in this man's appearance that 'pushed a button' in me, and before I knew what had hit me I had already jumped to judgments about him. Because of the way he looked, I found myself wanting to distance from him. It was as though a little flag went off in my brain that said, "That's not my kind of person." Before I could think, I had drawn a circle and placed him on the outside.

I was immediately ashamed of my reaction. After all, I've come to believe that the way of Jesus is a way of hospitality. He welcomes the tax collector and the sinner. How can I, a Christian, react with immediate judgment based solely on the way a person looks? "What a childish attitude," I thought to myself. But still, there they were, two afflictive thoughts that arose in me like a tide: prejudice and judgmentalism.

Now, there are different ways I could respond. I could embrace this sudden uprising of prejudice and judgmentalism. I could choose not to care, make them part of my life, and find ways to justify them. This would probably have the effect of making them more entrenched in my character. Needless to say, I'm not a big fan of this approach.

A second option: I could fight these afflictive ideas (prejudice and judgmentalism) with all of my energies. I could exercise all of my best efforts to resist them. I would say, in effect, "I will not be judgmental, I will not be prejudiced." The problem here, of course, is that it usually doesn't work. When I bring up all of my energies to fight an afflictive idea or attitude, I usually simply empower it. Did you ever see (forgive me for this terrible example) the movie Ghostbusters? Do you remember when Bill Murry tried with all of his energies not to think of anything frightening, because he was told that he would cause whatever he was afraid of to actually happen? Instead of stopping his fear, his efforts to resist it caused him to think of the worst thing he could imagine: a giant version of the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man ransacking New York City. (I still have nightmares of the SPMM, by the way.) Okay, dumb example, but the point is that resisting an idea with all of my energies usually has the negative effect of empowering it. Try saying, "I will not worry, I will not worry," or, "I will not lust, I will not lust," or "I will not want more food, I will not want more food..." I think you get the point. It just doesn't work.

The 'welcoming prayer' offers a third alternative. Instead of ignoring the afflictive thought, or exerting all of my energies against it, the welcoming prayer welcomes it and presents it to God to transform it. It acknowledges it as harmful, but peacefully delivers it to God to heal it.

There are three simple steps to the welcoming prayer. To illustrate them, let's go back to my recent experience.

The first step is to acknowledge the afflictive thoughts for what they are. So, I simply recognize the prejudice and judgment. I acknowledge them. I pay attention to what they do to me. Perhaps this sudden onset of prejudice makes my stomach hurt, or my palms sweat, or my head pound. In this first step it's as though I'm playfully saying, "Ah, prejudice and judgment, I see that you're back and I see what you're doing to me."

The second step is to welcome the afflictive thought or thoughts. (I know this seems terribly strange, but hang in there with me. Don't string me up from the heretic's pole just yet!) As a way of disarming the power of these anxious thoughts, I welcome them. "Prejudice, judgmentalism, I recognize you and I welcome you." Notice what's happening here. Instead of fighting them, and in so doing giving them more power, I am disarming their power by welcoming them. The goal here is to become less anxious about these afflictive thoughts, so that I can release them.

One note of warning. Don't try to do this second step too quickly! You may wish to take a few deep breaths and say it over and again, "______________ (whatever the afflictive thought is that has grasped you) I welcome you." Do it again and again. Be playful. Stop fighting. Slowly let go of your anxiety about the harmful idea that has grasped you.

The third and final step of the welcoming prayer is to prayerfully release it to God, and invite God to transform it. "Loving God, I release to you this prejudice and judgment , and ask you to transform it into something good in Jesus' name." Here, I am simply trusting God, my healer, to transform these afflictive ideas for God's good purposes.

I have on several occasions experienced how God can tame and transform destructive thoughts through the welcoming prayer. I recommend this to you, and look forward to hearing your responses. Please blog your questions, responses or concerns. And remember:

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind (Romans 12:2)."

Lent

2009-02-20T16:03:00.004-05:00

I grew up attending a Presbyterian church in my hometown, Casper, Wyoming. Each year our congregation observed the season of Lent. During the Sundays preceding Easter, we listened to Scripture readings and sermons that followed the movement of Jesus toward the cross. We were sometimes challenged to make sacrifices during Lent: give up a habit or take up a new one that might make us more faithful disciples. Lent was part of the rhythm of things in our church. It was just something that we did, something to which I never gave much thought.

As a teenager, I left the church and wandered about for several years. When I finally returned to the church during my senior year in high school, this time with an ardent and enthusiastic faith, it was not to the Presbyterian church of my childhood but to the local Church of God congregation. My parents and family were very supportive because of the change they observed in me. My relationship with God became personal and passionate, and for the first time in many years I began to dream big dreams for my life. For that I am, to this day, very grateful.

In those days, the Church of God did not observe Lent. Easter was, of course, a high day of the year. But Lent--those six or so weeks leading up to Easter--was never mentioned. There was no challenge to follow Jesus on the way to the cross, nor was there any mention of taking up special disciplines during the season. The pastor might preach on any theme of his choosing during those weeks and then--wham!!--it was Easter Sunday. (I should note that we did have a Maundy Thursday service on the Thursday before Easter, but other than that there was no special Lenten preparation, at least none that I can recall.)

I am incredibly grateful for the Church of God. The teachings and ministries of the Church of God have profoundly impacted my life. But I think we made a mistake back in those days when we ignored the season of Lent. I believe that the observance of Lent is especially important for we privileged Americans. Lent reminds us that the way of faith will be (not can be or might be, but will be) profoundly difficult at times. It reminds us that the faithfulness of Jesus required him to take up a cross; and it reminds us that we must take up our crosses, too, if we wish to follow him. It reminds us that the way of faith is a way of death and resurrection. We ourselves are crucified with Christ and raised to new life. There is no other way; true life comes only by way of death and resurrection. It reminds us that there is resistance to God's renewal work in our world, and we ourselves can expect to experience resistance from time to time.

Today, many Church of God congregations, including ours, observe Lent, which begins Ash Wednesday, February 25, and concludes on Easter Sunday morning, April 12. In fact, many congregations of every stripe are returning to Lenten observance. They are returning, I suspect, because they've come to believe that there's no real Easter celebration unless they've first tasted the bitterness of the cross.

I can't say that I look forward to Lent. It always challenges me in new ways, ways that I need, but perhaps don't want, to be challenged. Still, I am incredibly grateful for Lent. When you've felt the rough edges of a cross, the resurrection is all the more glorious.

Gloom, Despair and Agony...

2009-02-06T16:40:00.003-05:00

Gloom, despair and agony on me I've been licking my wounds all week, but it is at last time. All right Steelers fans--Bill, Jim, and all the rest-- here goes (first, let me plug my nose): Even though you've won more super bowls than anybody should get to, even though you stole the game, even though... Oh, but I digress. What I meant to say was... Congratulations. That was a GREAT super bowl. Thanks for having some fun on with me on last week's blog and in conversations since....

And speaking of sports... Have you ever noticed that sports are often referred to negatively from pulpits? I've probably done it a few times, and I know I've heard it done in other settings. The critique often goes like this: "Folks, it's time to quit yelling and screaming for your favorite football team. We should be hollering and shouting for Jesus instead!" Or, another version that's not quite so harsh goes something like this: "All right, I'm glad we've been able to have some fun with our favorite sports team, but now it's time to get down to IMPORTANT stuff." And the important stuff is, of course, worship and Bible reading and witnessing and so forth.

Now, to be clear: I love worship and Bible reading and witnessing. And allow me also to say that I know that lots of folks don't care at all for sports, and I have no interest in trying to convert them to become sports lovers (except for my wife. Please honey, please?!?!). And, yes, I do believe that sports are often way overdone in America and are in some cases taken way too seriously.

But (you knew a 'but' was coming) I have a problem with the idea that sports (or a thousand other good things) are okay, but our religious practices are the really important things. Let's suppose for a moment that God is really interested in healing and renewing this world. That is, after all, what Jesus meant when he taught that the kingdom of God is near. God's will is breaking out on earth as it is in heaven; God is healing and renewing this world. What will that healing and renewal look like? Can you imagine that God's renewal of the world would include the renewal of our various forms of play--including the organized forms of play that we call sports? Could we imagine that where God's will is at work, sports might draw people together, give them an opportunity to celebrate the things their bodies can do, instill attitudes like teamwork, competition, unselfishness and sportsmanship? In other words, can we imagine that God's will being done on earth as in heaven might include the renewal of sport?

When we lived in Phoenix, Iobserved first-hand what happens in a city during a high season of sport. The Phoenix Suns went deep into the playoffs one year and we watched the way the city came together, rooted, rejoiced and, eventually, lamented together when the Suns were finally eliminated. I was struck, on a number of occasions, by what a positive thing it was for the whole city. Here was something that rich and poor, young and old, black and white and everything in between could come together and enjoy. It was, from my perspective, a good, wholesome enjoyment for much of the city.

Allow me to say again that, yes, sports are often twisted and perverted and fallen--like every other good thing can be twisted, perverted and fallen. There's no denying that. But I wonder if we Christians have sometimes criticized sports because we don't really believe that God is renewing this world. We imagine that what's really important is the religious stuff, forgetting that the goal of Jesus was for all heaven to break out--right here on earth. And if we're interested in all heaven breaking out on earth, won't we rejoice when sports approach their potential of drawing people together for wholesome, creative, extraordinary play?

Of course, we could rejoice a bit more if the Cardinals had won...

That's my two-bits for today.

Super Bowl Sunday

2009-01-27T10:03:00.003-05:00

Here's a deeply held theological conviction: ROOT FOR THE CARDINALS NEXT SUNDAY! Root loudly! There are several reasons why you should root for the Cardinals:

* My family and I moved here from Phoenix. Any win by the Cardinals, I mean any win by the Cardinals was big news during the years I lived there. And now they're playing in the stinking super bowl!
* How can you not root for a team that has been terrible for so long and now has their chance to make history? Come on, this is America, home of the underdog! Do you want to be a bad American?
* Larry Fitzgerald. Need I say more?
* I met Kurt Warner last year while I was at a conference. I think he was deeply moved to meet me.
* Let's break down the name "Pittsburgh" and consider the Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Akkadian roots of the word. The name "Pittsburgh" is derived from two words: "burg," which, as we all know, means city or municipality, and "pitts," which means, well, "the pits."
* Let's break down the word "Arizona." I have no idea what it means, but it sounds really nice. Just say the word out loud, very slowly, AR I ZO NA. Don't you feel better now?
* And remember, the Arizona Cardinals play in a suburb of Phoenix, which, as we all know, is the mythical bird the rises from its own ashes. I can sense, even as I write, how moved you are by this.
* I have it on good authority that all good Christians will be pulling for the Cardinals. Remember, I am a "reverend." Would I misguide you?

Becoming Human

2009-01-21T10:58:00.002-05:00

My apologies for being so slow to write this blog. Now that we are well on our way in the new year, I hope that we can get a bit of momentum rolling again.

I frequently hear--and have often said myself--something like, "Oh, there I am again, just being human..." when a person faulters or fails or falls short of their highest ideals. For example, in a fit of anger someone may say things they later regret and attribute it to being 'just human.' Or divisiveness may develop among a group and someone may say, "Let's not let our humanity rule us!"

The assumption in these statements is, of course, that being human is a bad thing. Our weaknesses and failures can be attributed to the fact that we are 'only' human. If we could just become something more, problem solved. In fact, I've sometimes heard people express this in very religious terms. The goal of the Christian life, they say, is to do away with their humanity and become more 'spiritual.'

I have a problem with that. It seems to me that that approach mis-diagnoses the goal of growth and maturity. The goal of growing, it seems to me, is not to become less human, but to become more authentically human. When the Bible describes the terrible tragedy of our world, particularly in Genesis chapters 3 through 11, it is describing what is often called the 'fall' of humankind. Under the influence of that 'fall,' humans are now less than we can be, less than God created and wills us to be. The horrible stories in those chapters--the disobedience of the first humans, their fall from innocense to a state of shame, their sick tendencies to rule over one another, the description of the world's first murder, the division of the world in the story of the tower of Babel, and many more--describe the new and horrific reality of us in our world, where we are now considerably less than fully human.

Why is this important? It seems to me that when we describe the goal of the Christian life as something like "becoming less human and more spiritual," we will inevitably fail to recognize the life-giving presence of God in the mundane and normal activities of our human lives. We will tend to split the world into a false dualism, a 'spiritual' world and a 'merely human' world. We will begin to think of the spiritual tasks and experiences as the important things in our lives, and everything else is mundane. The spiritual dimension of life might take place in a church building and a prayer closet, but there it stays. And the stuff of everyday life--our sexuality, relationships, money matters, keeping up a house, tending a garden, etc.--is on the other side, the less holy side of life.

If, on the other hand, we could embrace a goal of becoming more fully and authentically human, and if we could recognize Jesus as the truly human one, then we might see our lives in this world as the exact place where God is at work. All of life--including the paying of bills, the raising of children, the work that we do throughout the week, and even our sufferings--all of life could be embraced as holy. We might come to think of Christian spirituality not as something that takes us away from everyday life, but as something that takes us more deeply into it. Our goal would be Spirit-empowered living--that is, cooperating with the Holy Spirit who animates and empowers us to become more fully, freely and genuinely human.

That's what I'm thinking about today. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

A New Year

2009-01-05T15:44:00.002-05:00

I'm not normally very much impressed with January 1. Of all the holidays we celebrate, the tick of the clock that signals the beginning of a new year is the least impressive one to me. Each year I watch the ball drop on Time's Square and then wonder what the big deal is. It's another day.

For some reason--and I have no idea why--this year has been different for me. The new year really feels, in many ways, new to me. Perhaps it is because the year 2008 brought so much bad news: a financial meltdown, a federal bail -out, an auto industry in crisis, a Michigan economy that's hobbling along--that it's now a relief to be entering into a new year. Perhaps, on a more positive note, it's because of things I've been reading--the writings of the Christian mystic Evelyn Underhill, in particiular--that have beckoned me to deeper experiences of communion with God and renewal. I'm not sure why exactly, but I'm very grateful for a new year. I have a sense of the fresh possibilites for my life and ours together.

Our Scriptures speak constantly of the possiblity of newness. To note just one example, Paul reminds the Corinthians that "if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation. Old things are passed away. Behold, all things are become new." I hear that as tremendously good news today: I am not destined to be stuck in yesterday's ruts; new, genuine, authentic possiblitites are open to me because I belong to the risen Lord.

Advent, the Rhythms of Worship

2008-12-19T09:02:00.002-05:00

This will be my last post for a week or two since I'll be heading to Wyoming to visit family.

I've been thinking this week about how odd it is that millions of Christians return to the themes of Advent, year after year, attending to many of the same ideas and stories as last year at this time, and that we will do this many more times in the course of our lives. An outsider might peer in at us and judge that we're just not very bright. After all, how many times do you need to hear prophesies about a coming king, stories of his birth, narratives about John the Baptist who prepared his way, accounts of wise men, shepherds and angels? Surely we should have gotten it by now.

The very fact that we return to these themes, these stories, year after year must look peculiar to a speed-of-light information age. In this age in which we're now living, getting information right now is the name of the game. I don't even have to wait for a radio report to find out the newest stock market news (not that I'd want to). Same thing with last night's sports scores. I can type some words on my URL bar and have instant access to almost anything.

To be clear: I'm grateful for that. I really am. I have no qualms at all about the speed-of-light information age. I enjoy researching some of my pet subjects on the web as much as anybody; and I love that I can do it from the comfort of my living room or office.

But I find myself thinking today about how badly I also need to look deeply into things. My web browser can places more information at my fingertips than I can assimilate in a lifetime. But is that really what I most need--to assimilate more and more information? Is that what makes me more fully human? I suspect not.

Which leads me back to Advent and the idea of rhythms of worship. For centuries, the Christian church has practiced rhythms in its worship. During Advent we focus on a certain group of stories, symbols and themes. We do the same during Lent and Easter and Pentecost. The whole idea here is not to assimilate more and more and more information, but to be formed by those stories, symbols and themes. In other words, worship is about formation, not information.

If you think about it, the themes of worship we've been considering in Advent are incredibly simple. The foretelling of a coming king, the preparation for his arrival, the challenge of John the Baptist, the advent of Jesus in humility and powerlessness. And yet, I can't help but think that entering deeply into these stories and themes will change us. In fact, doing it year after year after year might just help us to see how radically different these stories and themes are from the hot-topics of the day. And maybe, just maybe, pondering them deeply and carefully will form us a bit more in the likeness of the one who meets us at the manger.

Redefine Christmas

2008-12-08T10:07:00.002-05:00

A confession: I've struggled with Christmas for as long as I can remember. Not the day itself, or the reason for the season or any of that. I've struggled with the rampant consumerism that has won the day here in the U.S. during the Christmas season. Here's my quandary: On the one hand, I want very much to shop and purchase meaningful gifts for loved ones and friends. At the very same time, I fear that some gift giving and receiving is simply a way we have of training one another to want more. That's crass, but there, I've said it. For example, as a parent, I want to provide meaningful gifts for my children, but I also want to avoid training them to think that more stuff will make them happier. I believe that the jury has deliberated and come back with a verdict on that matter: the meaning of life is NOT more and more stuff.

So, I grapple, year after year, back and forth, wondering how best to live the way of Jesus during the Christmas season. I won't pretend that I've found a happy solution, but I do want to report on a letter I recently received that may add some balance to Christmas. About a week ago I received a letter from the 'Dalio Family Foundation,' a group that is behind a movement called 'Redefine Christmas.' I must confess that I almost threw the letter away before I opened it. I'm glad I didn't. They describe their mission this way: "Redefine Christmas is a movement to make holiday gift giving more charitable. Instead of less-meaningful gifts, we can give others donations to their favorite charities in their names. And, we can ask that our friends and loved ones do the same for us."

My family of origin began doing this about three years ago, and I must say that I have loved it. Instead of purchasing gifts for one another that may or may not be used, we identify charities that we believe will honor and bless one another. Attempting to identify just the right choice on behalf of a parent or sibling is itself a creative act. And, I must say, it's a great honor to see the charities that my loved ones have chosen in my name.

I still believe in gift-giving, mind you. This isn't a one way or the other proposal. It's simply a way of moving toward greater balance in the practice of giving and receiving gifts at Christmas.

I'd like to hear some of your ideas about how to make the gift-giving tradition during the Christmas season more meaningful.

Advent Inventory

2008-12-01T09:21:00.002-05:00

On November 30, the first Sunday in Advent, I recommended that members of our congregation make "a searching and fearless moral inventory of our lives" during the Advent season. You may know that the quoted words in the preceding sentence are the fourth step of Alcoholics Anonymous. Allow me to summarize, very briefly, why I believe this is a timely season to make a moral inventory, followed by some brief suggestions about how to do it.

The church has long believed that the yearning for renewal is at the heart of the Advent season. Just as ancient Israel longed for a messiah, we too, if we are attentive to our own best selves, long for the renewal of our lives, our churches, our community, our world. What Malachi 3:1-4, and many other passages of scripture remind us is that times of renewal are coming. To use Malachi's words, "The Lord will suddenly return to the temple." However, that time of renewal is prepared for by a season of refining and cleansing. Just as the furnace refined the gold and silver, and the launderer's soap cleansed the dirty garment, so we, too, need to be refined and cleansed in preparation for the work of renewal our God wills to do in us.

That's where the moral inventory comes in. As preparation for our celebration of Christmas, the arrival of Jesus Christ, and our hope to be renewed through him, I'm proposing that we make a moral inventory in these weeks leading to December 25. The process is very simple. The most important element is personal honesty. It works like this:

1. Find a notebook (or create a file on your computer), and place it somewhere where you will have easy access to it.

2. On the top of one page, write, "my contribution to the sickness of my relationships." On the top of another page write, "my attitudes or behaviors that are harmful to me." On the top of a third page write, "my contribution to the sickness of the world." You may, of course, choose different words. The main idea is to focus on ways you contribute to relational problems, personal problems and world problems.

3. A few times a week for a few minutes each time, jot out some of the uncomfortable truths about yourself that you're discovering. Bear in mind that some of these truths may be 'sins of omission,' as well as 'sins of commission.' In other words, your moral inventory may speak to you about things you believe you should be doing, but aren't; or things you shouldn't be doing, but are. For example, you could decide that you contribute to the sickness of the world by avoiding your neighbors (a sin of omission) or by being rude to the neighbors you do speak with (a sin of commission).

In my opinion, it's best to do this inventory throughout the season of Advent rather than at one or two settings. Time, patience and personal honest are key ingredients to an effective moral inventory. So, I'm recommending that you do this for a few minutes a day, at least a few times a week, over the weeks leading up to Christmas. I would also recommend that you do this prayerfully. The Spirit is the one who convicts and convinces us of our sin. So, invite the Holy Spirit's direction in all of this.

4. Keep in mind that we make a moral inventory before the God whom we meet in the manger of Jesus. Because we believe that God was in Christ reconciling us to himself, we can do this inventory without fear. Jesus shows that it is God's will to heal and transform.

5. In some sense a moral inventory is never finished. Over the course of their lives, growing people become increasingly aware of the imperfections of their lives. However, when you have arrived at a relatively finished inventory, you may find it very helpful to share what you've learned about yourself with a trusted friend. This is actually the fifth step of Alcoholics Anonymous, and it is also the ancient wisdom of scripture: "Confess your sins to one another." Scripture reminds us that our confession to one another is an opening to healing. In my experience, this is best done by simply reading through your moral inventory in the presence of another. (This will not be the right time for every person who makes a moral inventory to share what they've learned with another. Please use discernment to decide whether or not to take this step at this time.)

Please let me know what questions or comments you may have!

Beauty and Community

2008-11-20T09:03:00.002-05:00

If writing and thinking were the same thing, I would have written several books in the last week. The responses to the last post have, to say the least, prompted some wonderful reflection for me. I'm going to refer back to some of those comments in this post, and I'd like to continue the conversation under the theme "Beauty and Community." What I'm thinking of here is the ways in which beauty can come to expression in the communal life of congregations as well as other kinds of communities.

In the responses to the last post, Joe the Plumber (I have this odd sense that that is not his real name...) commented about the role of fear as a factor that limits human creativity and beauty. He wrote "...and could it not also be said that the fear you talk about is a deformity of the original intention for the human being and is a direct attack on the outflow of potential beauty from a human life. That is perhaps why the Bible exhorts the human being so often to not be afraid." To this, Eunice added, "I would like to add that it is not having anxiety or fear that is the problem. They are God given emotions. The problem is what do we do with them? Do we allow them to stop us from enjoying the abundant life God wants us to have?"

Suppose that we were to broaden these thoughts just a bit and think about the role of fear in community life. More and more, as I observe groups of people, it seems to me that it is not just individual human beings whose beauty is limited by fear, but groups. That is to say, whole groups--families, churches, businesses, villages--become anxious, and as they do, their capacity to express beauty is limited. I think of the hideous Biblical example of Abraham, Sarah and Hagar. If you recall the story, Sarah became terribly jealous because her handmaid Hagar had a child and she did not. In a fit of rage, she compelled her husband Abraham to drive Hagar and the child Ishmael out to a distant land. In this awful story, the anxiety and fear of Sarah is passed along to Abraham, who passes it along in abusive ways to Hagar and Ishmael. One person's fear is every one's problems. As I think of this story, I can't help but wonder what gifts were lost to the community. What gifts might Hagar and Ishamael have brought had they not been made homeless by the fear that inhabited the family? What creativity was lost to Sarah because she succumbed to fear? What beauty was lost to Abraham because he owned his wife's anxieties? As I look at that story, I can't help but feel that anxiety took root in the whole family, and the beauty of the whole was lost, at least for a time.

I believe that when communities become anxious, so that fear/anxiety makes its home in the community as a whole, the creativity and beauty of the entire community diminishes. That's another way of saying that the community itself loses something of its humanity, its reflection of the image of God. Think, for example, of terribly anxious times in the history of the church. In those darkest moments, the church has been more interested in being right than in expressing beauty. We've murdered our Joan of Arc's, rather than listening appreciatively and thoughtfully to them. The gifts of our artists have been silenced, beauty has been replaced by whatever works, whatever proves that we're right, whatever heps us to get our mission, understood very narrowly, accomplished. One place where I believe I see this today is in church architecture. When the church becomes fearful (driven by finances?), vision for communal beauty is lost, the buildings of churches become purely functional matters. We build space that 'works,' space that is very functional, but it is ugly space.

I'm wandering now, to be sure, but I'd hope to continue the discussion. What might a communal commitment to beauty look like? What is required of me, as a member of a community of faith, to 'be not afraid' so that I might remain thoughtful and creative and contribute beauty to the whole? How might decisions be influenced if beauty is as important to us as functionality or orthodoxy? What sort of gifts might emerge if we value beauty as much as we value efficiency? I think these are important questions. Thanks for evoking them in me.

Beauty

2008-11-10T16:45:00.002-05:00

This past week I was having lunch with a friend and our conversation turned to a subject I don't hear much about: beauty. My friend wondered out loud why it is that, generally speaking, we hear so little about this theme. He was speaking of beauty in creation and beauty in the arts. After all, he noted, our scriptures speak of the beginning of all things as a garden, a place of beauty and delight. If beauty is important to God, the simple enjoyment of it would be one of the ways in which we become more fully human and more fully alive. My friend then told me about a well known theologian who takes his students on trips to hear symphonies, to see great plays, to observe and enjoy beautiful art. Note: these are not specifically Christian symphonies, or plays or works of art. The theologian is trying to teach his students that enjoying genuine beauty, in any form, is a profoundly 'Christian' thing to do.

One of the places that I've encountered beauty this year in a surprising way is in the musical tradition known as 'the blues.' Obviously, the blues aren't new, but they're practically new to me. I'm talking Javina Magness, Eric Clapton, Little Milton, Bonnie Raitt, Maria Muldaur and the list goes on. In fact, I heard myself say to my friend that one of the ten best things that's happened to me this year is discovering the blues. I find the lyrics earthy, the music passionate and the guitar work electrifying. It's rarely 'Christian' if by that word you mean something that talks overtly about God and the good news. In fact, most of the time it's the stuff of life: falling in love, relationship challenges, and a good bit of the hard side of life. But it is, to me at least, an expression of beauty, even in the midst of the pain that is often the song writer's experience. I find that to be, well, a beautiful thing.

I believe that the goal of the kingdom of God is the renewal of all things through Jesus Christ, and that means that beauty will, on the day of the Lord, be all and in all. If that's true, then enjoying beauty today, in any form--including the blues!!--is to anticipate that day.

Election Day

2008-11-03T15:50:00.003-05:00

It's late afternoon on Monday as I'm writing, and tomorrow I get to vote. It's been a long time since I've been so excited and grateful about the opportunity to express my opinions at the polls. I think my excitement is related to the long buildup to this election, the important issues that are being debated, and the challenging news that has dominated the headlines and web pages in recent weeks and months. This is important stuff.

Over the last couple of weeks, in an effort to help my daughter with her homework, I've been re-reading some small sections of The Federalist Papers and The Anti-Federalist Papers, collections of essays and speeches in which the authors debated the positive and negative aspects of the constitution . Make no mistake, they had some passionate differences about how our government should be structured. But as I read, I was struck by how both sides of the debate emphasized the importance of returning the power of government to the people. Both sides in those debates were adamant that the final form of our government had to protect citizens from despotic leaders. Their debates--and it should be noted that they disagreed hotly with one another about the particulars--made me more appreciative that I get to participate in a system in which we the people get to hold government accountable in many ways, including with our votes.

There's a great deal that's wrong with our political system. I certainly don't believe in a 'love it or leave it' mentality. As a Christian, I believe that I am called to exercise righteous critique of the land in which I live. That said, I am almost giddy about the gift that is mine of voting my conscience at the election booth. Regardless of how this turns out, I get to cast my votes in ways that I believe are most consistent with the kingdom of God. When you stop and think about it, in the whole history of the world, it is a very recent development that anyone has gotten to do that.

The Messyness of Love

2008-10-27T11:18:00.002-04:00

October 27, 2008

Yesterday I spoke about the greatest commandment, actually the two great commandments that Jesus brought together in an inseparable way: the love of God and the love of neighbor. Today I'd like to write very briefly about the latter half of these two: love for neighbor. In a word, love of neighbor is messy business. One of the many things that makes it so, it seems to me, is that love of neighbor does not always look the same. In one situation love requires a very different response than in another.

Allow me to give an example. People in need of financial assistance occasionally come to our church offices asking for help. What has long perplexed me is that every situation is unique. In one situation, providing financial help might be exactly what love requires; in another situation witholding help might be what love requires. Sometimes, providing assistance empowers people to move forward, to take greater responsibility for their lives, to make good decisions; at other times, witholding help requires people to take more responsibility, to make wiser decisions, to learn how to utilize their resources and grow.

I'm suggesting that love requires discernment. The key question, it seems to me, is What does love require of me in this specific situation? Consider the example of Jesus. On one occasion, Jesus responded to a rich young ruler who came inquiring about salvation: "Go sell all your possessions, give them to the poor, and come follow me." Pretty tough love, wouldn't you say? But on another occasion, when he spoke the word of forgiveness to a woman caught in the act of adultery, his love looked like bubbling over grace. In both situations he acted in love for his neighbor, but the two occasions look radically different.

It seems to me that love always acts in a way that empowers my neighbor to become all that she or he was created to be. When I act in 'love' for my neighbor, but my 'love' is really something that person needs to be doing for herself, then my 'love' has actually limited her growth. On the other hand, when I act to empower my neighbor, that will always serve my neighbor's growth toward his potential.

Sound messy? I think it is. I think love always requires discernment. Doing for my neighbor what he or she wants me to do is not always the loving thing to do. And sometimes it is. Love requires creativity and wisdom.

Playfulness

2008-10-20T11:32:00.002-04:00

Every evening when I arrive home from the office, I am greeted by Lucy, our five-year-old Labrador. When she sees my car pull up the drive, she jumps off her bench, sprints all the way around the house, and greets me in front of the garage, often with her rubber ball in tow, ready to play. Lucy is the picture of playfulness.

Today I'm thinking about playfulness as an antedote to seriousness. I've been struck recently, as I've listened to the news and read several articles on the web, about just how serious our nation seems right now. Granted, we have lots of reasons for concern. The news from Wall Street is really important. There's an election coming in which we will make significant decision about leadership. The war on terror is real. These are highly charged times.

It seems to me, though, that when we become anxious, we tend to become very, very serious. The jaw tightens, the eyebrow becomes furrowed, the shoulders become tense. Our reactions to the events around us become more and more reactive. We tend to lose our creativity, plowing right in to 'fight' or 'flight' as the only available responses to our challenges. I'm speaking autobiographically now: I am absolutely certain that when I am overly anxious and serious (those two things go together, at least in my experience), my ability to respond creatively to challenges around me is significantly diminished.

Enter playfulness. One of the church fathers was asked what substance God made the world from and he responded (playfully, I think) that God made the world out of "play." When I'm playful, sharing in God's joy, I'm able to respond more creatively to challenges around me; I can keep more options open, take myself a whole lot less seriously. By 'playful,' I don't necessarily mean the act of playing games. We've all been part of game playing events that were overly serious. Just watch an NFL coach pacing the sidelines to see how serious someone can be while 'playing' a game. Genuine playfulness, on the other hand, is the ability to reamain creative, to not take yourself too seriously, to laugh at your own limitations and foibles. It's the ability to remain somewhat relaxed and non-anxious, even while others around you may be getting overly serious. It's the ability to see the lighter side of things, to keep your sense of humor, to think and brainstorm when you're tempted simply to react.

When Paul listed the 'fruit of the Spirit' in his letter to the Galatians, the fruit in our lives that is formed when we cooperate with the gift of the Holy Spirit who abides in us, he described it this way: "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience kindness, gentleness and self-control." I am struck as I look at those words at how playful many of them are. When we cooperate with the Spirit, we know what it is to be loved and to love, to experience joy and peace... Can you hear how playful those words are?

Sometimes, as a very simple discipline, when I become aware that I'm becoming anxious and serious, I pray, "Lord, how might I respond to this situation playfully rather than seriously?"

It's my little effort to learn from the example of Lucy.

Wake-Up Call

2008-10-13T11:11:00.003-04:00

I know almost nothing about economics. That disclaimer is important. It's on my mind, so I'm writing about it today; but I know very little about the complexities of what's going on out there. It does seem to me, though, that at the very least this present economic "Pearl Harbor," as Warren Buffet described it, is a wake-up call to Americans. For the last umpteen years, we've been living on the world's credit card, burrowing to support the federal budget, and Americans have been borrowing to support their personal wants and needs at an unprecedented rate. Again, I'm not even close to an economist, but it doesn't take a genius to see that you can't borrow and borrow and borrow. Sooner or later the piper must be paid.

About a week ago I read an editorial (I believe it was by George Will) in which the writer noted that there is a lot of finger pointing going on out there. Many are pointing, rightly, to the banking industry. Many are pointing, rightly, to the folks on Wall Street and the executives making their outrageous salaries. But, this writer went on to say, there should also be some fingers pointing back to us, the American consumers, and our consumer habits. If we borrow $100 k for a house and can only afford $70, part of the blame must be pointed back to us. If we're borrowing because we're simply too impatient to purchase items we want, part of the blame must come back to us.

It's interesting, don't you think, that this present crisis hits us right in the bulls-eye of one of the strongest warnings ever given by Jesus. "No one can serve two masters," Jesus said. That's a simple, factual statement. No one is capable of ultimately loving and serving two masters. But I've always found it very interesting that he used only one example for this. "No one can serve two masters... No one can serve both God and mammon." "Mammon" is the Aramaic term for money and the things that money can buy.

Perhaps we are experiencing the consequences of a national idolatry? Perhaps it's time to focus on living within our means? Maybe we need to remember what 'layaway' means? Perhaps we as a nation need to take this wake-up call with every bit as much seriousness as we did 9/11?

I'd like to know what you think.

Reflections on a Bus Ride

2008-10-06T10:54:00.002-04:00

Thanks to those of you who responded to my first blog. Allow me to reflect a bit more on the 'reframing' I described in the last blog in light of an experience I had this last summer. In July, as many of you know, I took a Greyhound bus from Alma to my hometown, Casper, Wyoming, a nearly 40 hour trip by way of Chicago, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Fargo and Billings. Whew.

During one of those stops, I switched buses, and as I climbed on board my new bus, I noticed that it was already quite full. Near the front sat a lady who had sprawled all of her belongings across two seats, making it clear that she didn't want to have to share her space with anyone. Since most of the seats were already taken, I politely asked her to move her belongings so I could sit next to her. She immediately tried to dismiss me, making it very clear that she wanted both seats to herself. Her attitude struck me as somewhat rude, particularly in light of the fact that she, like everyone else on the bus, had paid for only one seat. But what really struck me was that later, on a different leg of the trip, the same lady placed herself in the seat across the aisle and behind the bus driver, where she spent much of that leg of the trip witnessing (very loudly!) to the driver about her faith in Jesus. So, here's the picture: here was a lady who didn't want to share the limited space (something that almost everybody on the bus was willing to do), didn't want to practice hospitality, but did want to talk to people (from a distance) about Jesus. Something's wrong with this picture.

Now, imagine the same bus trip. Suppose that a Christian on that bus were to approach his or her presence on the bus differently than the lady I've just described. Suppose that they were to attempt to be genuinely present to each person they met; they would practice hospitality, ask questions, be curious, be genuine. Suppose that they were to watch for opportunities to be helpful, to contribute in some small way to the quality of the bus trip for everyone on the bus. They would look for opportunities to build community, diffuse anxiety, and work for peace (and believe me, on a long Greyhound trip there are plenty of opportunities to diffuse anxiety and work for peace!). Such a person would undoubtedly delight in opportunities to speak in genuine ways about their faith, to bear witness to the light within them. But such witness would, in every way, be consistent with their life.

I'm trying to describe an 'incarnational' approach to Christian living, where praying and working for the will of God being done right here on earth is our goal. It will never do to shout the message from a distance; the goal is to be genuine and present right here on earth, to join our lives to the dream of God for this world.

What do you think?

Getting Started

2008-09-25T14:20:00.004-04:00

I'm really excited about this new (to me) way of staying in touch and talking about a variety of things. Most of you will, no doubt, be a lot further down the 'blogging' trail than I am. I've seen a number of blogs; this is only the second time I've ever posted on one.

My plan is to jot out some thoughts each week, usually toward the beginning of the week. Sometimes the blog will be serious, sometimes not; it may range from thoughts about our mission as a church to ramblings about my favorite college football team. Whatever the content, this is a place to connect and 'talk'.

It so happens that my first blog comes at a time when a series of messages I've just finished has created as much feedback as any I can remember. Folks have commented by phone, email and some passing comments about this series called "The Quest." Some have expressed full agreement; others have expressed concern. In every case, without exception, whether in agreement or not, the conversations have been good-spirited and mature.

One of my goals in the sermon series was to put a new 'frame' on what we do together as a church. One way of 'framing' our work together as a church is to think of the church as something like a bus that's on its way to heaven, and the goal of the bus is to add more people. In this 'frame,' most of what the church does is to help people be prepared to go to heaven.

A second 'frame' for our work, one that I tried to describe during this series, is that the church is a community of people who are being renewed in the likeness of Christ, and together we are praying and working to join our lives to God's work of renewal in this world. In this frame, the focus is on this world, and the reason for that is, I believe, God intends to renew this world, and he wants to use you and I as his agents in that renewal project. I believe that was the central content of Jesus' preaching. I believe he called us to pray and work, to join our lives to God's love, so that God's will is done on earth as it is in heaven. In this frame, God's love for the lost is just as vital as it is in the first frame. Part of God's renewal project is to restore lost people to a right relationship with himself, one in which they can trust God for eternal life. But in this frame, our focus is also on all the ways that God wants to renew the world. I believe that includes renewing the world by feeding the hungry, liberating those who are oppressed, renewing the beautiful creation, healing those who are broken, and the list goes on.

Well, you've heard enough from me. I'm really interested to hear now from you. Jot out your ideas, include your name, and be part of the conversation.
--Steve