Advent Love

I am a fan of Eugene Peterson. He is my mentor, at least in print. I met him once, recently, and told him so. He was very gracious and humble in his acceptance of my compliment.

Often Peterson writes about incarnation. He reminds us that God’s love is manifested not in wispy ideas and ungrounded spirituality, but in the real stuff of life. I quote:

"Matter is real. Flesh is good. Without a firm rooting in creation, religion is always drifting off into some kind of pious sentimentalism or sophisticated intellectualism. The task of salvation is not to refine us into pure spirits so that we will not be cumbered with this too solid flesh. We are not angels, nor are we to become angels. The Word did not become a good idea, or a numinous feeling, or a moral aspiration; the Word became flesh. It also becomes flesh. (The Contemplative Pastor, p. 68)"

Interesting that the Gospel of John begins with words that are intentionally used to bring to mind the opening story in Genesis. . . “in the beginning.” God created matter. And then, in God’s time, God becomes matter/flesh. The birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus are not to be understood as God pretending to be human, but as God taking on the very same humanity that you and I have to deal with. God’s intent is not to save us OUT of this world (as too many Christians suppose), but in order to redeem us IN THE MIDST of this world.

Thus, there is something holy about earth, wind and fire; about brambles, thistles and holly bushes; about flies, bees, and centipedes; about people, too – grandparents, sisters, and babies. So, Jesus comes as a baby. The incarnation of God’s love. Not in the abstract, but in the flesh. Jesus loves people in the flesh. He loves the poor and hungry (feeding the 5000). He loves the rich and misguided (Matthew, Zaccheus). He loves the prostitute into repentance and heals the leper into wholeness. Jesus has to put up with followers who misunderstand him, who fuss with each other, who are thorns in his side. Sounds like the church. There is nothing abstract about the way Jesus loves. He loves in the flesh with all its glory (and all its embarrassing and annoying aspects, too). As Peterson puts it, “Matter is real. Flesh is good.”

This is my fourth Advent word – Love. Love is real. Not like Charlie Brown who once said, “I love humanity, its people I can’t stand.” If we are to love like Jesus, then we will love people, in the flesh. Loving people is harder than loving humanity, but it is incarnational. It is earthy – grounded in the love God has for the world. Be thankful for God’s love that comes in the flesh, and not the abstract. That is the love that saves us in all our fleshly messiness.

A Gift that Means So Much

Did you know that India has a thriving movie industry? Most movies produced in India have not had the international success of the recent “Slumdog Millionaire,” but the movie business in India, known as “Bollywood,” is relentless in its churning out of films, and has done so for decades. Actors know fame and fortune and are immortalized on film posters of a particularly unique style.

The iconic hand-painted Bollywood movie posters of yester-year have given way to digitally produced photographs with graphic imaging, but you can still purchase a hand-painted poster for your own private use. Just send a photograph of yourself, or a loved one, and the artist will paint you into the scene of any number of Bollywood classics. You, too, can be immortalized like your favorite Bollywood actor. Costs range from $1000 to $3500 for this personalized, hand-painted work of “art.” Imagine the reaction of someone who receives this as a gift - "Dear, you shouldn't have . . . I mean you really SHOULDN'T have."

Perhaps you pick up the sarcasm in my description above. When I read the article describing this new marketing ploy I had to wonder about anyone who would actually spend that kind of money on such a piece of fluff. Obviously, people have more discretionary income than I have, and they sometimes spend it with NO discretion whatsoever.

I have to be careful not to sit in self-righteous judgment of such things, but I have difficulty not joining in with the disciples in their indignation when the woman came and poured a jar of precious, costly ointment on Jesus’ feet. “This could have been sold and the money given to the poor!” they cried.

There is a difference, however, between an act of beauty given on behalf of Jesus (symbolically preparing him for burial), and the conceit of a Bollywood poster purchased for self-satisfaction (What could they be thinking?).

There are plenty of purchases that I have made that, at my income level, are probably the equivalent of a personalized Bollywood poster (well, maybe not). The market in the trivial seems to thrive in any economy.

Christmas is about two weeks ahead. I’m hoping folks might give relational gifts this year. Gifts of time spent doing what my wife likes to do. Gifts of work done for someone else’s benefit. Gifts of a listening ear for the lonely neighbor. Those are the gifts that keep on giving. That’s the kind of gift I’ve received from Jesus – the gift of himself. That’s the gift that means so much. Beats a Bollywood poster any day.

Advent Joy

Children get confused at Christmas. TV and radio and every other form of media relentlessly seek to convince them and the rest of us that Christmas is about buying, giving, and getting; about Santa, elves and reindeer with bright, shiny noses; about snow, holly and mistletoe – ho, ho, ho.

Then for a short spell on Sundays, and if parents are conscientious they’ll also hear this at home, however briefly, that the real meaning of Christmas is Jesus, born in a manger a long time ago.

Children are confused by this, as are many adults. Is Christmas about Jesus or about the presents, decorations, and parties? Well, yes.

What I mean is this – when we have occasions for joy, such as the delight of seeing the surprised look on someone’s face as they open up a gift you gave them, then there is something of Jesus in that. So, the parties, festive music, and colored lights all are geared to signal a time of joy and gladness (Behold I bring you tidings of great joy . . .).

But there can also be a superficiality, a thinness, to our festivities. The exchange of presents at an office party can feel like a requirement and insincere. The endless songs of “rockin’ around the Christmas tree,” have a shallowness that makes a mockery of the joy that will be for all people. And often the forced gaiety of the season is difficult to swallow for those who are hurting, whether through grief, or loss of job, or illness. We can become cynical about it all – bah humbug.

The thing about joy, at least the joy that is associated with one’s relationship with God in Jesus Christ, is that it is not something you can buy at the store. Joy is a gift, indeed. We cannot manufacture it. We can only prepare to receive it. And joy comes, not because of the music, or because we have drunk plenty of Christmas punch, but because God wants to bless us, and does so repeatedly, even in the midst of grief, loss and pain. And it often comes as a surprise, too, not because of our buying, planning, baking, decorating, etc.

An angel comes to an unmarried, teenaged girl – “Surprise, you’re going to have a baby.”
A man has a dream telling him to marry that girl, tho’ she is pregnant and the baby is not his – “Surprise!”
The girl goes to visit her cousin who is a member of AARP – “Surprise, I’m pregnant, too!”
Angels appear to shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night – “Surprise, there is a Savior born in a stable in Bethlehem.” (Why wasn’t this announced on CNN? – Or the equivalent in that day? – “Surprise.”)
Strange travelers bearing royal gifts come to see this baby after traveling a great distance from “the East” – “Surprise!”
And this is only the beginning of the surprises – the gifts – the joy – a joy that remains long after the presents have been forgotten, broken or outgrown; long after the decorations have been put back in the attic, and the bills for the festivities have been paid. This joy does not depend on Santa, or elves, or reindeer. Thank God.

Trim the hearth and set the table – and prepare to be surprised by joy this Christmas.

Everyone Did What was Right in His or Her Own Eyes

I’ve lost control. As if I ever had any. There was a day, so I hear, when clergy were highly respected and influential in American culture. I’m not thinking about Billy Graham, who belongs in another category altogether. I’m thinking about pastors in local congregations: high-steeple preachers and low-country parsons. There was a time when their counsel and wisdom carried more weight than it does today.

I’m trying not to sound pitiable, here. I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m trying to make an observation about the state of spiritual leadership in the context of 21st Century culture. I doubt I can be objective but I’ll try.

Eugene Peterson wrote in the 80’s that clergy are considered by the culture at large as something of an anachronism, as out of touch to the realities of our day. I sometimes feel like American culture treats us like an appendi; a rather benign, but useless, presence on the organism of society, which occasionally ruptures and pollutes the environment, rather than doing anything helpful. Clergy are portrayed as mildly benevolent, but mostly irrelevant; or as annoying parasites, feeding off the gullible; or even as devious schemers, wicked manipulators of the innocent.

And here I am, in the midst of this context, trying to talk about Jesus and his kingdom. It sometimes feels like Eugene Peterson’s translation of Ecclesiastes, “blowing smoke and spitting into the wind.”

The greatest challenge is the disintegration of pastoral authority in this post-modern world. The word of the preacher is often suspect, more so these days than ever. In seminary I learned about the “hermeneutics of suspicion,” which was a modern approach to scriptural interpretation seeking to discover the “hidden agenda” of the sources. For instance, Christian feminists might find much to complain about in the patriarchal narratives of the Hebrew scriptures as they read the stories with a suspicious or critical eye.

There is some value to this hermeneutic, but I detect a cousin to this school of interpretation in the pew these days. For lack of a better phrase, you might call it, “taking the preacher with a grain of salt.” At best, it means that we preachers can’t make anyone swallow everything we say (keeps us humble). At worst, it means our preaching is approached with some cynicism on the part of the listener (undermining our teaching effectiveness).

The internet contributes to this climate. On the one hand, I love the internet as a great resource for preaching. I can do research in one morning that several years ago might have taken days in one or two library visits. On the other hand, the internet is a non-filtered resource, and therein lies the problem. You can do a search for “Noah,” which can lead to rich teaching on God’s covenant with all creation, or you can find some video of some sincere but misguided soul who says he discovered a section of the ark on Mt. Ararat a couple of years ago. The second perhaps stirs our curiousity, but does little to address the meaning of the story for how we are to live in relationship with God.

For years the preacher could guide Sunday School classes in their spiritual growth by ordering proper curriculum from trusted denominational sources. But now, people have access to so much religious material, much of it of unsound or questionable theological perspective that the pastor has less and less control over the direction of teaching. The internet has reduced the teaching office of the preacher to just one more item on the menu of a cafeteria of choices, and like the American diet, spirits are bloated by too many empty theological calories.

In the book of Judges the cultural context is described over and over again as “everyone did what was right in his or her own eyes.” In other words, everyone was his or her own authority. Sounds current. Robert Bellah in Habits of the Heart, describes Sheila Larson who describes her self-made religion as “Sheilaism,” simply defined as taking care of herself and loving others. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it? But it has little in common with the traditions of Judeo-Christian religious teaching. The sad thing is that the church today is filled with “Sheilaists.” A Gallup poll quoted in Bellah’s book found that 80 % of Americans agreed with the statement, “an individual should arrive at his or her own religious beliefs independent of any church or synagogue.” So should we close the doors to our religious institutions? What a spiritual disaster that would be!

So, here I am blowing smoke and spitting into the wind in a Sheilaist culture. Why should I persist? Because of one simple promise. The prophet Isaiah says that the “word of God will not return empty.” There is so much garbage out there claiming to be gospel. It bothers me, but I can’t let it distract me. So I continue to offer what feels like a burning in my bones. But I offer it as one without authority, knowing there are people listening with suspicious ears. Still I’m trusting that this word that I preach or teach will be Spirit-honored as long as I offer it as honestly as I can. And maybe, just maybe it might become The Word of God accomplishing God’s purposes in the world today. The apostle Paul gives me some perspective, “For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided through the foolishness of our preaching to save those who believe (1 Corinthians 1:21.)” Here I am – a fool of a preacher.

Advent Peace

Several months ago I received an email from my cousin Mary Ann, asking for prayers and political action. Her children were at risk in a region of Africa where violence and inter-tribal conflict were commonplace. As background, you might want to know that I have many cousins on my mother’s side who are missionaries, several of them in places like the Congo, Central African Republic (CAR), and Chad. And many of the people they are serving have recently come under threat of a rebel/terrorist group who call themselves the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA).

What kind of “lord” would resort to terror? I suppose a war lord. The LRA are led by Joseph Kony a self-styled “prophet” who sees himself as some sort of apocalyptic apostle of the wrath of god (I use lower case on purpose here), carrying out the necessary business of ridding the world of undesirables. A sad and even evil misreading of any scripture I know.

In any case, cousin Mary Ann was asking me to write to President Obama to encourage him to sign into legislation a bill which would place the U.S. in serious opposition to the LRA, including plans to defuse its power and influence. I was happy to do so and am equally happy to report that the legislation is now passed and the Obama administration has a strategy in place. Hopefully it will do some good. I do know that hostilities in the CAR have diminished and the threat to my cousins and the people they live among has been reduced.

All this makes me think about one of the themes of Advent – Peace. So many of the scriptures surrounding the anticipation of Christmas have to do with peace – angels sing of peace on earth, prophets expect a Prince of Peace, and the root of Jesse will reign over a peaceable kingdom.

Most of the time, I find Christians throwing up their hands in despair over the hope of peace among the nations, and then convincing themselves that perhaps the peace that Christ brings is only that sense of tranquility that is possible to the individual soul – “the peace that passes understanding.” And while I long for that peace of heart and mind within me, I am convinced that such a peace is not the only peace God has in mind. There are too many scriptures that point us toward a “healing of the nations,” or a “beating of swords into plowshares,” for us to so readily toss aside the Christmas promise of peace on earth.

I am convinced that one of our principle tasks as Christians is to be peacemakers. It is hard work. One of the repeated themes in apocalyptic literature (if I could only teach Joseph Kony), is not about lifting up swords to smite the enemy, but about patiently enduring hardship. Working for peace is a labor of patient endurance. And it does begin inside the human heart. I must be at peace with God and myself if I am to live in peace with my neighbor. Sometimes it is all the challenge we can handle just to live peaceably with our family, so obviously the task of living peaceably with people of different nationalities, languages, cultures, etc., is incredibly difficult.

Maybe, as some say, there will never be peace in the world until Christ comes again. However, that’s no excuse for us not to try. After all, Christ is already here isn’t he? Isn’t that what the resurrection-leading-to-Pentecost-Holy-Spirit-inspiration is all about?

As Paul says, “if it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone (Romans 12:18).” So, yes, peace begins with me. But it doesn’t end there.

How to Read the Bible

The Bible is a marvelous book, filled with all manner of ancient literature. The Good Book is actually a library containing stories and poems, ordinances and letters, aphorisms and songs, and through it all there runs a narrative thread that holds it all together. That thread is this – the Bible tells the story of God’s loving work to save a fallen world. In that thread we find adventure stories and parables, apocalyptic visions and fireside tales, history lessons and romance, tragedy and comedy. What a marvelous read!

Still, the Bible is also a battleground for misunderstanding. People fight over interpretations. Preachers pontificate on prejudiced perspectives. Sadly, these in-house (or should I say “inter-church”) battles lead a skeptical world to remain unconvinced of the Bible’s veracity and relevance. What’s a well-meaning Bible teacher to do?

I love the Bible, but I have often been frustrated by the great divide between the scholarship which was commonly accepted in seminary and the resistance to that scholarship in the local church. I have spent more than twenty-five years in the local church and I am still trying to bridge the divide between seminary and church.

At the risk of oversimplifying, the issue seems to be centered on the questions we ask of scripture. I find in the local church that questions are too often focused on the historicity of scripture, as in, “Where did Cain’s wife come from?” “Have they found the ark on Mt. Ararat?” Where can we find the inn of the Good Samaritan?” Most of these questions have at their root a desire to know “if it really happened or not.” The supposition is, if it happened then the Bible is trustworthy, and if it didn’t happen then the whole of scripture is called into question.

Interestingly, none of those questions ever came up in seminary, because there the questions were not so much about the historicity of scripture, but about the theology of scripture. What we assumed was that this Good Book was written, not to give us facts, but to teach us about God and God’s relationship with the creation, particularly men women. So the questions were more like, “What does the story of Adam and Eve tell us about the nature of sin?” “How does the flood story tell us about God’s attitude toward sin?” “In what way do the people of Israel in their wilderness wandering serve as a picture of the church today?” In these questions we then seek the kinds of answers the Bible was actually written to address. The authority of scripture was never called into question, but the authority was based less on historical accuracy than theological profundity.

Historical questions are important, of course, but they are secondary to the theological questions. And I don’t care if we do find out where Cain’s wife came from because that knowledge will not help me be a better disciple. But if I wrestle with the theological questions, then perhaps I’ll learn more about the nature of God, and gain greater understanding about my own human nature, and God’s desire to illumine the divine image in which I was made.

I’ll go out on a limb. Seems to me it doesn’t matter if God created in seven days or over the course of billions of years. What is important is the faith THAT God is the one who did the creating (and I might add, is still creating (Psalm 104)). In that case, we can accept the science that supports evolution while still affirming the faith story that teaches us WHO is the Creator, and that the creation is essentially a “good” gift of God for human beings to “till and keep,” as good stewards. You see what I’ve done here. I’ve arrived at answers based on theological questions rather than, “how did it happen” questions.

So, instead of asking, “Did this happen or not?” Why not ask, “What does this have to do with God in my life?” Seems to me you will get plenty of mileage out of that second question, regardless of what your opinion of the historicity might be.

John Wesley said that scripture contains “all things necessary for faith and practice.” I like that. It says that scripture doesn’t answer all our questions, only the ones that help us live more faithfully. I’ve never been satisfied with attempts to prove the events of scripture. They always seem to me a misguided attempt to make faith unnecessary. Instead, let’s ask what this story has to tell us that is true about our struggles to live authentically? And how does God offer grace, judgment, hope, correction, and most of all, compassion in the midst of our human condition?

Early on in my pre-seminary days I had the helpful guidance of a mentor, my Father, who helped me ask the right questions of scripture, and in the pages of the Bible I heard the ring of Truth. My prayer for my congregation, and my hope for the world, is that we all discover this Truth in the well-worn stories of our sacred canon.

“Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life.
Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life.
Words of life and beauty, teach me faith and duty.”
Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life.”

Advent Hope and Metaphor

Advent means “arrival.” Christians celebrate Advent, the season before Christmas as a time to remember the arrival of Jesus, God in the flesh, born of a woman in Bethlehem. We also remember the coming of Jesus as a young man ushering in the kingdom in answer to the hope of the Hebrew prophets.

There is another “arrival” we anticipate during Advent – the arrival of Christ to bring God’s purposes to their final conclusion. Many call this the “Second” coming but scripture simply speaks of the parousia(the appearing) of Jesus. In any case, the Advent of Christ, in its many forms, is a reason for hope for Christians and for the world. God brings salvation in Christ.

There is so much confusion about what Christian hope really is. Some writers have written series of fictional novels based on their peculiar interpretations of hope (the Book of Revelation plays heavily into these novels). The cataclysmic visions in Revelation play out like some fantasy epic in these interpretations. My still, small voice says, “Don’t buy it.”

The flaw in these interpretations is the failure to recognize the nature of first century apocalyptic literature, and the refusal to acknowledge something we all should have learned in ninth grade English literature classes – the use of metaphor. Metaphor - the use of poetic language to seek to expand or deepen meaning. When scripture says (Psalm 18:15),

Then the channels of the sea were seen,
and the foundations of the world were laid bare
at your rebuke, O LORD,
at the blast of the breath of your nostrils.

are we to believe that God has a nose? I doubt it. This is what we mean by metaphor – poetic language to enhance our sense of what is happening.

Likewise, when the writer of Revelation is describing apocalyptic visions of riders on horses, bowls of wrath, and great dragons, we might picture something out of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. But for goodness sake remember that it is all metaphor.

The short story is this: God wins. This is our hope. And my guess is that the way God wins has less to do with the violence of Revelation (all metaphor) and everything to do with the life of Jesus (stark reality). What is clear from Revelation is the absolute victory of God. What we often overlook is that the one who sits on the throne is still the Lamb that was led to the slaughter. What I believe is that the Christian hope is fulfilled now and in the end through the Way of the Cross. We will never take the world by force, only by sacrifice. As long as we keep trying to claim Christian hope by any other way, it will continue to elude us.

Advent hope. For past, present AND future – it comes as a vulnerable baby in a manger. It comes as a fragile human being hung on a cross. And if you need more hope than God-made-flesh, don’t forget the resurrection. The resurrection is sufficient confirmation for us to believe in the hope that comes through the Way of the Cross. The resurrection is God’s way of saying, “See, my Son got it right.”

Bullying and Homosexuality

Paul writes about women and men “exchanging natural intercourse” for “unnatural,” and based on this text from Romans 1:26 and following, plus a couple of passages from Leviticus in the Old Testament, there is strong condemnation of homosexuality in many Christian churches. And there it is in the Bible in rather harsh language.

There are books that can be written on this subject and this is not going to be one. I simply want to offer a perspective that even if we take this Biblical view at face value and consider homosexuality to be a sin, this does not give anyone permission to bully another human being as has been in the news so much in recent days.

The United Methodist Church of which I am a preacher/pastor holds that homosexuality is “incompatible with Christian teaching,” but we also affirm that every person, regardless of sexual orientation is of “sacred worth.” Therefore, no person of sacred worth is to be degraded or condemned by another person. This may be a fine line to walk but I have not found it difficult in my life to treat people with love and respect just because they are sinners (by the way, everyone I know, including myself, is a sinner). We are all saved by grace through faith, rather than through bullying and intimidation.

For those who might wish that the United Methodist Church was a little more vocal in its critique of homosexuality I offer this sobering perspective – in the same passage from Romans, quoted above, Paul also condemns those who are “covetous (greedy), malicious, envious, . . . full of strife, deceit, craftiness, gossips, slanderers . . . insolent, haughty, boastful . . . rebellious toward parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless . . .”

I don’t know about you, but I find myself in that list. So, my perspective on homosexuality is tempered by my own problems. Jesus said something about taking the log out of one’s own eye before removing the speck from the eye of another.

Why don’t we all take a deep breath and try to observe the Golden Rule, and teach our children to do the same – Do unto others as you would have them do to you.

Modesty

If I write this, I suspect I will come off sounding like I’m old. Out of touch, a prude, a prig. Since only a few folks read this blog, I doubt my reputation will be too badly tarnished in any respect.

I’m writing on modesty, or the lack thereof, in modern culture. Seems as if the “anything goes” mood of the hippie generation has caused fashion to lose its moorings in the current day. Why do people feel like they must impose on me their freedom to expose their skin? I think we have lost the distinction between what we do in a public space versus a private space.

Take music for instance. There is a kind of arrogance in those who blare their favorite music from their cars, windows down, volume up. It is a kind of assault, an act of aggression, “listen to my music or else.” At the very least it is a misuse of public space, an act of selfishness which does not take into consideration the needs of those around you. If you want to listen to your favorite music turned up loud, do it in a private space in such a way that it does not bother your neighbors, please.

So, back to the subject of dress. There is a similar arrogance in those who expose their favorite body parts from their clothes, neckline plunged, or pants sagging. It is an act of aggression, “I dare you not to look.” At the very least it is a misuse of public space, an act of selfishness which indeed, flaunts what one has regardless of the impact on others. If one wants to dress immodestly, then do so in a private space in such a way that it does not bother one’s neighbors, please. I do not want to see the cleavage of my child’s teacher anymore than I want to see the, ahem, cleavage of my plumber when he bends over the clogged pipes in my house.

Self-expression has reached new heights in post-modern culture. Our bodies have become canvases, or pin cushions. Professional dress has given way to casual Fridays to sloppy everydays. Who am I to say it is wrong?

Maybe it is not wrong. I just prefer not to have another’s self-expression rubbed in my face. Remember those parts of our bodies we once called “privates”? I would just like to keep them that way.

For Biblical consideration: The expressive love language of the Song of Solomon is rich with imagery and even innuendo, but without graphic, anatomical detail. Perhaps we can learn from this evocative poetry how to balance sensuality with modesty. Lover invites lover into the “garden,” or into the “chamber,” both private spaces for love’s consummation. May we take a hint from such scripture for how to make the distinction for dress in public and private spaces.

Separation of Church and State

Here is an issue that never seems to be settled – what does the phrase, “separation of church and state,” actually mean? The question is rooted in the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States in regard to two clauses: 1) “Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion,” or 2) “prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

I doubt my thoughts carry too much weight, nor are they original but here goes.

First of all, separation of church and state is not the same thing as separation of sacred and secular. The Bible knows no such distinction. The “earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof,” is a well-known phrase from the psalms that so succinctly tells us that God cannot be compartmentalized into some holy shrine apart from the rest of life. Jesus’ famous words, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s,” would have been understood by his hearers, not as a separation of sacred and secular, nor as a justification for the separation of church and state, but as a thoughtful reminder that “everything” belongs to God.

So, when a person of Judeo-Christian faith enters public life as a civil servant, their faith should inform how they conduct themselves. Those who have argued that they can put their faith on the shelf while they carry out their role in government seem to me to be making light of both their faith and their public responsibility. Again, there is no Biblical distinction between sacred and secular.

Nevertheless, there do seem to be some common sense reasons for the two clauses of the First Amendment. The founders of our nation brought with them their experiences of religious oppression which they did not want to see repeated in the newly formed U.S.A. So, they decided we should have no religion “established” by the government, and that government would do nothing to prevent our exercise of religion. That sounds reasonable. That way there is no opportunity for one particular faith perspective to hold a monopoly over any other. While I might be perfectly comfortable with a government aligned completely according to Wesleyan (Methodist) principles, you, as a Catholic, or Baptist, or Presbyterian, or Pentecostal, or Jew, might have some issues with that. So, practically speaking, there is some value to the so-called separation clauses.

One repeated criticism of our school system, for instance, runs like this, “Everything was great until they took prayer out of schools,” as if to say that all our recent social ills can be traced to that cause. All I need to remember is one of my son’s elementary teachers whose particular brand of religion was significantly different from mine. I did not want her using the classroom as a pulpit for her peculiar theology. Nor, I suspect, would she have wanted her children under my tutelage, fearing what influence my theology would have on them. Also, back when prayers were a part of every teacher’s responsibility in the classroom, there were no civil rights for people of Afro-American heritage. I wonder if they think things were better when there was prayer in schools. I say, if you want your child to grow up with faith it needs to happen in the home, at church, or at a private school. Our public schools are just that, public, and thus should be kept free of any hint of “established” religion.

Having said that, I also think that, at present, our schools have gone too far in trying to avoid “establishment,” to the point of often “prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” In the government’s search for providing balance between different faiths, people of Christian sensibilities have actually felt persecuted in recent years. As great efforts have been made to honor the traditions of minority religions – Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, etc., sometimes the Christian voice has been silenced. Admittedly, this is rare.

I live in a county where City Council meetings at the various municipalities still begin with prayer, usually in Jesus’ name. Our school board still offers prayers at major functions. The law provides for a separation, but in practice the law gives way to community traditions and rituals of the majority. I do wonder sometimes how my Jewish brothers and sisters feel about that. What is it like to be the minority?

I believe that the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. But nothing in my faith tells me that I can force anyone else to so believe. History is full of terrible stories of the Church gaining power and forcing its will on society. Therein lies the danger of the failure to separate church and state. The Church cannot be trusted with power. Neither can anyone else. Much better for the Church to act as a prophet to call attention to the abuse of power, than to wield the power itself.

Ah, well, that’s enough for now. I invite your feedback.

Messy Spirituality

A recent common theme in some of my readings and conversations is the difficulty of living a spiritual life that is based on a theology of competence. In simple words, being Christian is hard if it's all about measuring up. It is easy to see where this kind of spirituality comes from. As children we are expected to measure up to our parent's expectations until the day when we are out on our own, supposedly independent or autonomous creatures. The trouble is, many of us never quite mature beyond that perceived need to measure up. But if Mom and Dad are no longer around in a routine way to "set the bar," then our yardstick is unreliable, fluctuating.

We may, instead, let other authority figures set the bar - a teacher, or an entire educational system; a boss, or a spouse, or . . . well, you get the picture. A spirituality based on competence - measuring up - becomes frustrating and even debilitating because the yardstick may fluctuate so much that we are never sure if we're hitting the mark. We may find ourselves constantly comparing our behavior to those around us, "Oh, I'm better than her, but not as good as him," and that continuous comparison is also a recipe for frustration and failure (incompetence).

Paul, the apostle, introduces us to a spirituality that is not about competence at all. He writes, "all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." He describes our tendency to "miss the mark." Spirituality for Paul is about recognizing our own weaknesses but trusting that God loves us anyway, that God can even use our weakness to accomplish something that fits with God's good plans for creation. Paul even brags about his own failures, and boast of carrying around a treasure in a clay jar (easily cracked).

What I have found is that most of us are so captivated by a spirituality of competence that we can't believe that God could love us unless we have proven ourselves. But proving ourselves is a losing game. Even if we are the best at something - singing, mathematics, strength, prayer, sales, etc., someday we will hit our limit, our abilities will decline, there will always be someone who will bypass us in competency. We will all experience what it feels like to not measure up.

I remind myself often that before Jesus had told a parable or performed a miracle God spoke to him at his baptism and said, "You are my Son, whom I love, with you I am well pleased." In Christian spirituality there is no bar. All we're asked to do is to trust we are loved, and then to follow in the way of Jesus. A way in which we are assured there will be pain and sacrifice (don't forget the cross!). In a worldly sense, Jesus failed to measure up, so the world put him to death.

This kind of spirituality is messy. It is not based on competence but on grace. God bestows unmerited favor on us. And we in turn bestow unmerited favor on others. And the world, which doesn't trust a spirituality that is not based on competence will look on us with suspicion - "This can't be right," they say. "Aren't you supposed to do something?"

Well, of course. The doing is in the following in this way of the cross, which is messy, isn't it? I can't claim any competence in spiritual matters. I teach the importance of prayer but I'm not very competent at it. I preach a sacrificial life but I'm not the best role model by any means. I feel bad about that. Not filled with warm, fuzzy spiritual thoughts. But I love Jesus. And I love it that he loves me. And as incompetent as I am, I want to be like him. So I keep at it. It's messy. But I think that means its real.

Torn-to-pieces-hood

I’ve been reading a book on spirituality unlike many other books on the subject. This spirituality arises out of the real-life experiences of alcoholics and their discovery of a way to live a sober life through the vehicle of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). There is a ring of truth in many of the authors’ insights, but the one I’ve been thinking about is the notion of “torn-to-pieces-hood,” William James translation of the German word, zerrissenheit.

There is a recognition by all who participate in AA that each and every one is “torn to pieces,” and that perhaps the best thing we have to offer each other is our own story of “torn-to-pieces-hood.” To translate that language through the filter of Christian theology I would say, “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” But the words “sin,” and “God” carry so much baggage for some people, including Christians, that “torn-to-pieces-hood,” may be a good substitute which gets at the complexities of our human condition.

You don’t have to be an alcoholic to be torn to pieces. Maybe all of us have felt like Humpty-Dumpty, having “fallen short” and unable to put the pieces together again. The amazing thing is that there are those who have seen their lives fall apart either by their own choices or by external circumstances but have, seemingly miraculously, managed to get their lives back together again; scarred perhaps, but moving on. When we see their lives and hear their stories we experience something like hope, and develop something like faith – to believe that there might be enough grace in the world for our own torn-to-pieces-hood.

In a world where people tear each other to pieces, we all need a community where we hear stories of hope, and where we might discover a faith that will enable us to believe that a mended life, or an amended life, is possible. I think the church provides that opportunity for us. Even though many of us spend a lot of time in church pretending that everything in our lives is okay, there are opportunities within the life of the church to get beneath the façade; small groups of fellow spiritual pilgrims where pain may be bared, hospital visits where our mortality must be faced, worship experiences where the Word of God pierces to the heart.

I encourage you to find people with whom you can confess your own “torn-to-pieces-hood,” and to listen to stories of others who have, though scarred, managed to find their way. There is hope and grace enough for each one of us.

If interested in reading more on this subject, you may want to check out the following book by Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham, The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning.

Some of you may wonder how a preacher, schooled in the Wesleyan theology of “perfecting grace,” could recommend a book entitled, The Spirituality of Imperfection. However, I am always quick to point out that what John Wesley meant by perfection is not the same thing we mean. Wesley did not mean we would be free of mistakes or failures. He simply believed that God’s grace was so great that it might be possible for that grace to be present in a person’s life, at least in their intentions.

I admit that my recent reading of Kurtz and Ketcham has made me question Wesley’s optimism. Nevertheless, I remind myself that Wesley’s optimism was not the result of confidence in human potential, but rather hope in God’s grace. Thus, in our torn-to-pieces-hood, it is not we who put ourselves back together, but God. And God, or in AA-speak, our Higher Power, usually puts us back together through the loving imperfections of others and their stories of recovery.

I can live with that. Indeed, I have lived with that for many decades now. That’s enough for this torn-to-pieces-but-patched-up preacher.

Kill Them with Kindness

I read this somewhere once, “The surest way of defeating your enemies is by turning them into friends.” Sounds a little naïve, I know, but I like it. It reminds me of Jesus. I recall the apostle Paul also writing something about leaving vengeance to the Lord (Romans 12:20-21), “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Or, as my mother might have said, “kill them with kindness.”
I was reminded of all this in my Bible study last night, and I started imagining what would happen if we really did this. What if we actually showered our enemies with kindness instead of insults? What if we offered our opponents blessings instead of animosity? I am astounded at the possibilities.
What if members of the Tea Party movement invited President Obama to a banquet celebrating his tenure as the U.S. of A.’s first African-American president?
What if Israel actually stopped building settlements in Palestinian areas, and Palestinians returned the favor by helping to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem?
What if local PFLAG (Parents, Families and Friends of Gays and Lesbians) showed up to clean the bathrooms of local chapters of the KKK (Ku Klux Klan)?
What if members of Hispanic communities offered to baby sit the children of ICE workers?
What if we built ESL schools instead of fences along the Texas-Mexico border?
What if Reverend Terry Jones invited Muslims in his Florida community to a dinner to listen to why they love the Koran so much?
Crazy ideas, I know but, whenever I start imagining like this I start thinking that this is the kind of thing Jesus was doing. And of course, it drove the establishment in his day absolutely crazy, and that’s why they killed him. Amazing that such out-of-the-box ideas about how to live could get people so upset.
I don’t think I have quite the nerve to do some of the things I’ve just imagined just now. I am not Jesus, after all. But I wish I was more like him. Then I’d be through with all my enemies, because they would be my friends. Or else, they would kill me.
Hmmm, I guess that’s why we keep the walls up. That’s why we keep up the animosity. In a sick way, it’s kind of funny. We’re willing to kill and be killed to keep the walls up. But we’re not willing to die to tear them down, for Jesus’ sake.
I don’t want to end on such a despairing note. The truth is that there are people who are imagining the world and living life as Jesus did. Jim Fleming is a teacher who runs a school in Palestine in which he teaches children, often bringing Christians, Muslims and Jews together, to learn about the Biblical world. His example encourages me that there are ways to bring enemies together that they might recognize in each other the face of a friend. And I am encouraged to “kill my enemies with kindness,” like Jesus, and my Mother, would have me do.

It's NOT All About the Benjamins!

I’d like to think that it is love that makes the world go ‘round, but I suspect most people would opt for money, or the love of money. Whether you’ve got plenty of it, or little of it, money occupies a big chunk of your concern, doesn’t it? How am I going to keep what I’ve got? How am I going to earn more than I’ve got? How am I going to get by if I don’t have any? Money is at the center of our lives.

I’m doing a sermon series called, “Your Money or Your Life,” and I’m suggesting that many of us are living to make money, rather than making money in order to live. What a poor life-choice! When money is the driving force, all kinds of bad things happen, like oil catastrophes in the Gulf of Mexico, or toxic loans in the banking industry, and, well, developing ulcers . . .

I know it is complicated. Money is often the reason we are willing to hire an undocumented immigrant to pick our tomato crop because we can hire them more cheaply and thus compete with the industrial farms that are picking tomatoes with machines in order to cut down on costs so that we, consumers, who are positively driven to save a buck, can leave the store with tomatoes at sixty-nine cents a pound! Ahem. To quote Pogo, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

Money is the reason dolphins are slaughtered in secret coves on the coast of Taiji, Japan. Money is the reason pornographic websites continue to multiply. Money is the reason some of you reading this can’t sleep at night.

Jesus said, “You can’t love both God and mammon (Matthew 6:24).” Mammon is a word describing “worldly gain.” The early Christian movement is described as “The Way,” in the Book of Acts, and whenever The Way got “in the way” of someone’s livelihood (read Acts 19:23-41), Christians got persecuted. Christians are supposed to be more concerned about making a certain way of life, than they are about making money, although in recent history we tend to get a little confused about that. If we choose The Way, we may gain a little perspective on life and money and establish some more wholesome priorities. Still, if we choose The Way, people whose top priority IS money may get a little upset with us.

I realize times are hard for about 10 – 15 % of the U.S. population. I don’t offer these thoughts to deepen anyone’s anxiety. If anything I am inviting us to try a different perspective, so that whether we have a lot of wealth or none, God and not mammon becomes our main concern. And Jesus says the result is refreshing to our spirits (Matthew 6:25-34):

‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

Only God Knows the Truth

“What is truth?” That is the question. Long after Pontius Pilate asked that question of a wandering rabbi from Nazareth, the answer still evades us. The writer of the Gospel of John tells us that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We capitalize those words because we, Christians at least, believe that Jesus provides us with a Truth that is somehow ultimate.

But sadly, even Christians disagree on Pilate’s question, “What is truth?” How else do we explain the existence of various denominations except that we have defined our “truths” differently? The religious soil of the U.S. has proven amazingly fertile in the propagation of diverse spiritual experiences, expressions and faith communities. But proclaiming one Truth to unite us all has been incredibly difficult. The non-believing world holds Christians at a distance in part because we can’t get our “truths” together. And well did Jesus foresee this problem when he prayed for the disciples that they might be “one that the world would believe (John 17:20-23).” Until we get at the capital “T,” Truth, the world is still going to have problems with us Christians.

Not only is the definition of Truth a problem for world evangelization, but it is also a problem in human relationships. On the mega-scale, we have Glenn Beck rallying in Washington declaring a revival of the meaning of civil rights. On the same day in the same city we have the Rev. Al Sharpton defining civil rights very differently. Both men claim the name of Jesus as Savior. But who speaks the Truth?

I suspect only God knows, and I am guessing that absolute Truth may be something we will have to wait on. As Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13, “Now we see in a mirror dimly, then we shall see face to face. Now I understand in part, then I shall fully understand, even as I have been fully understood.” The key phrase there is, “as I have been fully understood.” God knows what’s True, even when our perception of Truth is distorted.

So, there is great comfort for me when I sing the old spiritual, “In the midst of faults and failures, stand by me . . .When I’ve done the best I can, and my friends misunderstand. Thou who knowest all about me, stand by me.” After all, there is my truth, and there is your truth, and if we disagree, what are we to do? To quote another soulful song, “There ain’t no good guy, there ain’t no bad guy. There’s only you and me and we just disagree.”

God knows our hearts. We have our own perceptions, and sometimes we are fooling nobody but ourselves. Only God knows the Big Truth of the human condition, and only God knows what is really true about us. When we are so sure we are right, that’s the first warning sign that we could stand some humility.

We can only make it in this world with a lot of empathy and forgiveness and humility as we await the day when “we shall fully understand as we have been fully understood.” Meanwhile, we can try to be a little less arrogant and a little more merciful, and that’s the Truth we can live with.

Dr. Laura's Gaffe

First a disclaimer, I never listen to Dr. Laura's radio show. Whenever I have scanned over it in the past I have never lingered. I am no fan. Nor am I a fan of political correctness (PC). I defend a person's right to speak the truth, without the verbal gymnastics that our current PC climate seems to necessitate.

Still, I believe one can speak the truth with sensitivity. One can speak the truth with respect for others. One can speak the "truth in love," to be Biblical (Ephesians 4:15). The context of that passage of scripture might help Dr. Laura, and the rest of us, to use our right of free speech with greater grace.

The writer is urging us toward spiritual maturity, to aim toward the "stature of Christ," so that we may "grow up in every way into him who is the head." So, as Americans, we may feel like we have the right to say whatever is on our mind, but even that right is subject to limitations. One can't yell "fire" in a crowded movie theater unless, of course, there really is a fire. Several kinds of "hate speech," are against the law in this country. So, to paraphrase a popular modern slogan, "Freedom (of speech) is not free." Speaking the "n" word has consequences.

Then, how does Christian faith empower, or limit, the kind of speech we use? How does our imperative to love one another affect the way we speak the truth? I would argue that our speech becomes both more critical, in the prophetic sense of the word, but also more gracious. More critical because we are compelled by our righteous God to identify the "powers and principalities," and to demand justice and integrity in all of society. More gracious because we are a people aware of our own shortcomings (read as "sin"), and thus demonstrating empathy for others.

So, what would I say to Dr. Laura, not that she'll ever read this blog which has a following of less than a handful of readers? I would probably say, "Conduct yourself wisely toward outsiders, making the most of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone (Colossians 4:5-6)."

One last thing - the other night Dr. Laura was interviewed by Larry King. She said she is closing her radio show so she can say what she wants "without people getting angry." Good luck with that one. The Dixie Chicks have already learned that free speech carries consequences, including anger, loss of popularity and income. And as a preacher who speaks semi-publicly every Sunday, I have learned that almost any kind of speech, even what seems most benign, will make someone angry. And if you're telling the truth, especially The Truth, the powers and principalities might even crucify you.

Blurring the Line between Sacred and Secular

A recent interview with Stephen Mansfield, popular author who has written books about the faith of both Presidents George Bush and Barack Obama, delves into the subject of his latest book, "God and Guinness," in which he explores the life of the Guinness family, whose fortune was made in brewing beer, and their attempts to integrate their faith with the way they lived their lives and ran their business, particularly as Christians within the Wesleyan tradition.

Mansfield says of Arthur Guinness, that he "was unusual in that he absorbed [John]Wesley’s social teaching very deeply and lived it out more radically than most. He took care of the poor, started hospitals and ran his company in a way that was radical -- paying 20 percent more for salaries than most other people and providing benefits to his employees that would challenge the accomplishments of Microsoft and Google today."

Those who wonder about the congruence of Christian principles and brewing beer need to understand the historical context. In the 1600's, clean water was unattainable. The options were between water which could make one sick, or wine or hard liquor. Home-brewed gin was a scourge. Alcoholism was rampant, as were water-borne illnesses. By contrast, "beer was healthy. It had a variety of B-complex vitamins. It was lower in alcohol content than the other drinks. It was more nutritious in every way. To answer this scourge of alcoholism, social reformers began to brew and encourage drinking beer. By the time Arthur Guinness came along, the brewing of beer was seen as a positive factor in society."

The Guinness company has continued the tradition of public service, instituting programs contributing to the public health of Dublin, Ireland. They have eschewed the modern corporate mantra of "profit at all costs," continuing to be a model for the equitable treatment of workers and being a good corporate citizen.

As a life-long teetotaler, I am nevertheless inspired by the example of Arthur Guinness and his ability to merge faith and life. May we all strive to do the same, that we might blur the lines, in a good way, between what is sacred and what is secular.

The Everyday Hero

Tom Hanks is the kind of actor labeled as "everyman." He's the kind of actor who appeals to men and women, with whom anyone can identify in some way, similar to the way Jimmy Stewart was for a previous generation. What is heroic about the characters these men played is not their extraordinariness, but the way in which in mostly ordinary circumstances they seemed to survive and thrive. Among women actors, I think of Helen Hunt in her role as a mother/waitress in "As Good as it Gets." These characters make us think, "I hope I could be like that." Just ordinary, everyday heroes.

I acknowledge the everyday hero. The woman who gets up each day and stirs up her three sons and gets them all ready for school, making sure they get their breakfast eaten and their teeth brushed. There are enough stories told about negligent moms, so how about some kudos for the mom who perseveres through the never-ending loads of laundry, stacks of dishes, and refereeing constant sibling squabbles.

Let's hear it for the everyday hero. The father whose wife has decided her personal choices and freedom are more important than her children, leaving them to his care. I watch as he juggles the demands of working full-time while ferrying his children to daycare, or to grandma's, or to the doctor's office, or to piano lessons and dance and soccer . . . And cleaning up the house every night after the kids are in bed.

There is the grandmother who never anticipated raising her grandchildren, but when her own daughter dumps them on the doorstep and says, "I need you to take care of them for a while," and then disappears, what would you do? Well, the everyday heroic grandmother starts all over again, raising a new family, taking too much of the blame for her daughter's failures, and trying to do a better job this go 'round. She may be 65, or 75, with less energy than she once had, but these are children, after all, and they need love and care. So, she does the hard thing, the right thing, and takes up where she left off a generation before, God bless her.

Everyday heroes . . . they're sitting beside you in the pew, or at the restaurant. They don't seem extraordinary. The woman working a second job (which she hates more than her first job, which she also hates) so she can pay for her child's college education. The man who grinds his teeth through another awful day answering to a bully of a boss. Why does he put up with it? Because he has a family to support and that's more important to him than contentment in his work.

If you don't think these people I've described are heroic, then I think your perspective has been distorted by too many comic book or video game characters. Perhaps there is nothing more heroic than the person who you can count on, everyday, to do the right thing, to do the caring thing, to be there. Everyday heroes, who consistently put the needs of others ahead of their own, who love their neighbor as they love themselves. . . rather than just themselves.

I salute you everyday heroes. Tom Hanks or Helen Hunt would be fortunate to play your role.

The New Atheism

A new book was reviewed in the local paper this past weekend. It was an interview with five Protestant ministers who had lost their faith but were still leading their churches. The book was published by a group that is representative of a movement called "The New Atheism," which I understand to be a more assertive and organized effort by atheists to undermine the tenets of faith. The recent book achieves the goal that the authors wanted. It stirs the pot and gets people talking and wondering, "Gee, is my preacher faking it?"

I say, "Big deal." Five ministers who have lost their faith seems like a miniscule sampling compared to the tens of thousands who are out in the fields doing their work with integrity and perseverance. I have no hostility toward the "new atheists," nor am I threatened by them. I grieve for them that they feel compelled to undermine people of faith. I grieve for the five ministers and their congregations who are living a lie. But I celebrate the faithfulness of those churches and their leaders who keep true to their calling in word and deed in spite of the ridicule of culture.

In another century, a man of faith named Friedrich Schleiermacher wrote a book addressed to religion's "cultured despisers," in an attempt to win them over with the "reasonableness" of religion. It reminds me of the apostle Paul's address to the philosophers in Athens in Acts, Chapter 17. Paul met with little success there and you will note there are no letters from Paul to the church in Athens. Some folks, too sophisticated I suppose, are beyond convincing, but it didn't stop Paul from trying.

There was a time when I thought I was too sophisticated for religion. I had read Ayn Rand and a few others whose names, interestingly, I have forgotten, and became convinced by the "reasonableness" of their atheism. Then, some years later I re-read the Gospels and was so compelled by the life of Jesus and the "unreasonableness" of following him that I could not deny the call he made on me. Since then I have discovered scholars who are every bit as sophisticated as the most brilliant of atheists, and yet they see a life of faith as no contradiction to reason.

In any event, the life of Jesus continues to compell me, even beyond reason. There is something irrational about giving one's life for others, but there is a Truth to that way of living that goes beyond my ability to explain it, or to explain it away. I invite you to read the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, whose names I have not forgotten, and see for yourself what is so compelling about the person named Jesus.

Psalms are for Psinging

The prayer book of God's people is the book of Psalms, located somewhere close to the middle of the Bible. Psalms are meant to be sung, but singing them meaningfully in modern melody can be a challenge. The meter and rhythm of Hebrew doesn’t always translate into tuneful contemporary songs in English. Still, there are some songs that have been made successfully out of many psalms. There are a number of wonderful hymns or songs based on the 23rd Psalm, for instance, and one of my new favorites is based on Psalm 63.

Someone has said, “the one who sings prays twice.” I don’t know if that rings true for you but it does for me. When the words of prayer and devotion are set to music in some creative or melodic way, my sense of connection to God seems deeper. Such a connection may simply be an emotional response to a tune that grabs me in some way, but then God did come in the flesh to be with us, so I don't discount emotions as an avenue for God to reach us. Some of the scripture I love best is that which I have sung in choirs or with congregations.

This Sunday I am struggling with Psalm 13 (and it is a psalm of struggle), a rather melancholy prayer lamenting God’s absence. Many of the psalms speak of a yearning for God, a longing that is often hard to satisfy. Popular Christian duo, Shane and Shane, have a wonderful interpretation of Psalm 13 which will keep it in my heart for the rest of my life. I recommend it as a resource for your own devotional life.

Another psalm which speaks of our longing for God, and which has been set to lovely melody is Psalm 42, “As a deer longs for the water, so my soul longs after you.” Praying the psalms can be a way of learning how to pray. Singing the psalms deepens prayer. I advise singing the psalms even if you can't carry a tune in a bucket. Give it a shot, and surround yourself with a singing community so they can make up for your lack of melodic confidence. Psalms are meant to be sung.

Church and State - Christ and Culture

Last week as I was preparing for this Sunday's sermon (The Fourth of July!), I was in tortured conversation with some of my preaching colleagues regarding the relationship between church and state. After an hour and a half of conversation, we were still unsettled, perhaps because it is an issue that can't be settled in this life.

I'm not speaking about "the establishment clause" in the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights. I'm thinking about the broader context, the relationship between Christianity and culture, a concept explored in greater detail, and with deeper insight, by H. Richard Niebuhr in 1951 in his book, Christ and Culture. In this book, Niebuhr described five different ways the church has responded to culture, and elucidates the strengths and weaknesses of each position, without making a value judgment on each one.

I'll try to give a nutshell description of each one, and forgive my oversimplification:

Christ against Culture: This view is one of separatism and can be seen in monastic and sectarian groups such as the Amish. These see the only valid witness of Christian people as one of separation from culture.

Christ of Culture: This view is perhaps the opposite extreme to the more sectarian view - sees the will of Christ in harmony with the highest aspirations of humanity. This view was in great ascendancy during the triumphalism of 19th century Protestantism.

Christ above Culture: This view sees both harmony and disharmony in the relationship between Christ and culture, that the good in culture can be harnessed and ordered in Christ. The Catholic tradition often reflects this view.

Christ and Culture in Paradox: This view sees less harmony and more tension between the desires of Christ and the desires of Culture. There is a rightful role for the culture, but it is distinct from the role of the Christian and the church, and the Christian must never confuse the two. The Lutheran tradition exemplifies this view.

Christ transforming Culture: This view sees culture as sinful but affirms the regenerating effect of the gospel, shaping culture to Christian purposes. The Puritans held such a view, and in more recent history, so did the proponents of the social gospel in the early 20th century.

I can’t say that one view is more “right” than the other view. Each has Biblical support. As a result you will often find respected Christian leaders and thinkers in vocal disagreement on the role of the church in relation to the State. I would argue that, historically, John Wesley would have been a proponent of the “Christ transforming Culture,” position and we Methodists have inherited that tradition.

However, recent voices in Methodism have sounded a more “Christ against Culture,” view, specifically, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon. I have heard Bishop Willimon diminish the value of exercising the right to vote, for instance, as a Christian witness that we not be caught up in the things of this world. On the other hand, Bishop Peter Storey, who spent his life and ministry in the pre- and post-apartheid climate of South Africa, is a strong advocate for Christians being deeply engaged in the political life of their respective cultures, to bring about justice at any cost.

I have a friend who has been a pastor and seminary professor who also is a mayor. Obviously not Amish.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a voice for pacifism, yet he engaged in a plot to assassinate Hitler, so apparently even individuals can hold two contrary positions at once.

I see churches decorating their lawns with American flags on the Fourth of July (Christ of Culture). And as pleased as I am to be a citizen of the United States, I am not comfortable with that, which means I’m more influenced by some of the other models that Niebuhr described. Still, I humbly admit that I don’t know which view is right. But it helps me understand why we have such differences of opinion within the life of God’s people.

Maybe there are even more variations on the five types that Richard Niebuhr tried to define. I suspect there are. I wonder if we can discern, with any objectivity, the position of Jesus? “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar, and to God the things that are God’s.” That gets us started. I wonder if Jesus had had the right to vote, if he would have? And for whom? Or would he have simply ignored the political process and kept going about his mission of proclaiming good news for the poor, recovery of sight for the blind, setting free the oppressed, and declaring God’s kingdom? Hmmm, can you do all that and ignore the political process?

A modern parable describes a man pulling people out of a flooding river, saving their lives. But then he thinks, “Maybe I should go up the river and see why the river is flooding in the first place?” Saving the individuals, or fixing the cause of the flood, are both valid ways for a Christian to witness to the culture in which we live. Either way has merit. I wonder if we can avoid arguing who is right and each of us live out our calling, as we each discern what that calling is, and let Jesus be our conscience. One thing is sure, we live in the midst of our culture, as Christ did in his. Let me be a witness to the reign of God in the midst of it, as best I can.

Jesus, the Best Hope for the World

I still believe. I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the salvation of the world. Like you, I am often tempted by other “saviors.” Politicians make promises and offer us hope of a better world. And ever hopeful (and perhaps gullible), we believe that perhaps this one will make the difference. But after the glow of elections is past, we discover that all leaders have their flaws. They make compromises we wouldn’t make if we were in their shoes (right?). They let us down in some way. Truth is, the nature of bureaucracy is such that I wonder if any elected leader can overcome it.

We’re still waiting for science and technology to save us. Aren’t microwaves great, assuming those “waves” really don’t have any harmful effect? They can make bread last for weeks in our pantries without molding (I wonder what’s in those additives and what they do to our insides?). Aren’t cell phones awesome? Still, they are filled with toxic metals which if not properly disposed of become contaminants in our soil and water. Love those new spiral light bulbs? Same problem – better dispose of them properly. Every advance creates new problems.

How about the free market? Let’s turn all those entrepreneurs and corporations loose and there will be a marvelous trickle down effect. Oops! Sorry, that was before Enron, Quest, AIG, and . . . BP?

I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the world. He says, “Follow me,” and begins preaching good news for the poor, recovery of sight for the blind, liberty for the oppressed. He feeds the hungry, heals the lame, and casts demons out of the possessed. And he says the most important thing is for us to love one another, and he shows us what love is by giving his life for the life of the world.

I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the world. He carries no weapons to force his will on others. His military strategy is called “loving our enemies.” He offers no political agenda other than building relationships with the least and the lost. His economy is based on giving rather than keeping. Rather than keeping up with the Jones’ he wants us to check on the Jones’ to make sure they’re alright. His mode of communication is outdated, but there’s something undeniably authentic about one-on-one encounters with a person who cares. His health plan might be summed up in “caring for our neighbor.” And he’s so committed to his agenda that he is willing to give his life for it.

Someone once said that the problem with Christianity is not that it has been tried and found wanting, but that it has never been tried. Well, I’m trying. Feebly, I know. But I’m trying. And I still believe Jesus is the best hope for the world. He’s the best solution for all the ills we face. Maybe I am naïve, but I still believe.

Holy Conferencing

There is something unique to those of us Christians of the Methodist persuasion and that is the notion of "holy conferencing." Beyond the notion of mere Christian fellowship, and more specific than the Biblical concept of koinonia, holy conferencing is the coming together of God's people to make important decisions for the good of God's people, with the expectation that we are visited by the Spirit of God in the midst of these decisions.

I just came home after just such a holy conference at a place called Lake Junaluska, a serene and beautiful place in the mountains of North Carolina. The setting is tranquil, with a placid lake providing a backdrop for our deliberations. The accommodations are basic, and our meeting place, Stuart Auditorium, is historic and uncomfortably warm by mid-afternoon. But oblivious to the heat and humidity, we did our duty, meeting long into the night, breaking for meals and for necessities.

My wife and I like to joke about the nature of church conferences. In contrast to my brother-in-law's medical conferences, where he attends a seminar for a few hours, and then goes skiing the rest of the day (winter time in Aspen), my typical church conferences are jam-packed with scheduled meetings. In true Wesleyan fashion, we waste no time in frivolity. However, after my clothes have become damp from my own perspiration, and we have wrangled over the conference budget one line item at a time for several hours, it sometimes becomes difficult to discern the "holy" part of "conferencing."

I admire the patience of our bishop as he oversees the proceedings, giving equal time to both sides of every question, making sure everybody has their say. Hmmm, there IS something holy about that, isn't there? I am amazed at the tolerance shown by the assembled delegates to those whose questions and comments display a clear naivete or elementary grasp of the issues. Such tolerance is a testimony to the presence of grace, and another sign of holiness. Then, of course, there are the many opportunities for worship - songs with Native American roots, music by a Christian rock band, traditional organ and/or piano accompanied hymns that touch the heart, and there we all are, appreciating the various ways people experience God, who comes to us in diverse ways.

So, even in the tedium of meeting there is a holiness to our assembly. The Spirit of God is present. We learn greater respect for each other in our differences, discerning the presence of God in new guises. In honoring each other, showing patience, demonstrating mercy, we are experiencing the "holy" in our "conference."

I come home tired after every yearly conference, but oddly satisfied. Maybe even happy that I am a part of a people who can sweat it out together without losing patience with each other. Makes me glad to be a part of a Christian people.

Pelicans

This photo from a kayak trip I took with my daughter on Oak Island last year captures a resting pelican in the boat in the background. Pelicans are fascinating birds and amazingly graceful in spite of their rather "ugly duckling" looks.

A curious image from early church art is that of a pelican with blood dripping from its breast on its chicks gathered around her. The art is based on a common myth, current in the early centuries A.D., that a mother pelican, when food could not be found, would pierce its own breast so that its blood would provide sustenance for its young. Turns out that pelicans don't actually do this. However, the belief that they did made selection of this image a fitting subject for Christian art - the sacrifice of the pelican as an analogy to Christ's sacrifice for humankind.

I had pelicans on my mind today after viewing the recent photos of pelicans flailing in oil sludge washing up on the Louisiana coast. Surely you have seen the pictures by now. They are enough to make one weep. I don't think this is what God had in mind when humankind was given dominion over creation. Matthew Scully, in his book Dominion, makes the case that at the very least, animals should be treated with mercy. His argument is a jab at the industrial food complex, but the basic theology certainly applies to the current ecological nightmare on the Gulf. There will unfortunately be no mercy for God's creatures, and we will all suffer for it.

Sacrifice - the word is used these days only to apply to those who join the military and fight our country's battles. In the everyday world of business as usual the word sacrifice rarely comes into play, unless it is a call for workers to make sacrifices for company profits. Aah, sorry, I just crossed the line and got on my soapbox didn't I? Still, we could use a little more sacrifice like that of the early church's pelican, like that of Jesus, the One we Christians supposedly follow, so that all God's creatures might flourish. If we could just learn to settle for enough, as the old saying goes, "enough is as good as a feast." I'm sure the pelicans would thank us if they could.

The People of God at Their Best

I just got back from a week in Mississippi with a team of folks from town who were rebuilding houses five years after Katrina demolished communities on the Gulf Coast. There were thirty-three of us from the five Methodist churches in town (plus two token Baptists whom we elected as honorary Methodists for the week). We worked on four different houses in various stages of completion. We worked hard, ate well, had great fun. Oh, did I mention that we paid our own way down there?

If you're reading this and are not connected to the church you may wonder: "Is there still Katrina damage in Mississippi?" Indeed there is, and except for a few Lutherans, the Methodist Church is the only denomination with a significant presence still working on recovery. In fact, the United Methodist Church is the third largest builder of homes in Mississippi over the last few years.

Another question: "Why would anyone pay their own way to go and work for free to provide homes for people in Mississippi?" The short answer is this - It's the kind of thing Jesus would do. In 2 Corinthians, chapter 8, the apostle Paul says something about Jesus becoming poor so that by his poverty we might become rich. There are few of his followers who are willing to do the same for others, but at the very least we are often willing to share out of our abundance to lift people out of desperate situations. And when we do we are being the kind of people Jesus wants us to be, the church at its best. We offer generosity to others because we recognize the graciousness of God toward us. We offer generosity out of our best intentions. But more often than not, what we receive is worth more than what we have given. We receive satisfaction. We receive the gratitude of others. We receive blessings for which there is no way to attach monetary value. We give out of our abundance, but we end up receiving more than we give. That's one of those mysterious equations that followers of Jesus can never quite solve, but which almost everyone of us has experienced.

Anyway, there's an estimated two years worth of work still to be done in Mississippi. We'll be sending a team next year. I suspect there will be more people going next time. Sharing love tends to be contagious. If you'd like to join the people of God at their best, you are welcome to come with us. . . God's Peace!

What the Bible Says About Immigration

We are eager to claim Biblical support for whatever opinion we already hold on various issues facing society and culture. This is certainly true regarding the issue of immigration. Or, we might ignore scripture altogether in favor of our own bias rather than considering seriously the guidance God provides for those who seek to live in a holy community. The following brief but excellent article from the Washington Post provides a balanced treatment of the Biblical narrative in regard to how a community is to treat the "stranger" among them. Perhaps a Biblical approach might bridge the gap between conservatives and liberals on this issue.

http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/brad_hirschfield/2010/05/welcoming_bibles_stranger_may.html?hpid=talkbox1

{You may have to cut and paste the above link.}

Festival of Homiletics

Wow! I'm in Nashville. Walking down Broadway there are country music bars with live music at lunch time, neon guitars advertising happy hour, multiple stores for getting your cowboy hats, boots and authentic western wear at discount prices (Three pairs of boots for the price of one!), and fiddlers on the sidewalk, hoping for donations in their open fiddle cases.

What am I doing here? Attending the annual Festival of Homiletics. What is (or are) homiletics? Some strange cult? Some sort of 12-step support group? I'm sure the city of Nashville is wondering about the sign hanging outside the entrance to First Baptist Church. Well, "homiletics" is the art of preaching. And here we are, some 800 preachers gathered, not to preach but to hear others preach, to learn more about the art of preaching, to be inspired, to celebrate the gift we have been given, the privilege we have been awarded, to preach week-in and week-out. As Nashville singer-songwriter, Ashley Cleveland, belted out her opening spiritual, "I was born to preach the gospel," we joined in giving thanks to God for the joy of preaching.

Of course, some of our lecturers have pointed out what we all know, there is a burden to preaching as well. The act of preaching is both bane and blessing. There is the weekly necessity of coming up with a word for Sunday which, in the midst of pastoral emergencies and the pragmatic needs of daily church life, does not always feel like a Word from God. But, every now and then, there is an "aha" moment, when the text of scripture calls forth a sermon that almost preaches itself (Lauren Winner likens it to the rush of heroin addiction - perhaps too dangerous an analogy!). That "aha" moment is a gift from God which keeps preachers like me coming back to the scripture week after week expecting the same thing to happen (perhaps a healthy and holy addiction).

I have often said that as a preacher what I need most to nurture my spiritual life is to hear other preachers. So, this week I am feasting my ears on the best preaching the church of Jesus Christ has to offer, in the company of others who have been called to this peculiar vocation.

In my first church, in the mountains of North Carolina, more often than not, when people addressed me, they called me "preacher," not "reverend," not "pastor." Ever since then I more often am addressed as pastor, and only in formal introductions as reverend. I miss "preacher." Because that is who God called me to be, a caretaker of the Word. A proclaimer of the evangel. A prophet against the powers and principalities. The world laughs at preachers - irrelevant, outdated, insignificant. But God promises that when the Word is spoken faithfully, it will not return empty. So, bouyed up by my colleagues in this homiletical art, and encouraged by my congregation, I prepare each week to do this strange (in the eyes of the world) task. But then, I can't help but do it. Like Ashley Cleveland sang, "I was born to preach the gospel, and I sure do like my job!"

Joy

Our family will be celebrating this weekend. My son, Wilson, will be marrying Carol, a member of our congregation, whom he has dated for almost seven years. The wedding will be an occasion of joy, to be sure. I am looking forward to it and, while I am not expecting water to be turned to wine at this wedding, I do expect Jesus to show up and join us in our celebration.

I have the need for a joyful weekend. There has been so much tragedy lately, not only in the world news, but also in and among our congregation. I have been doubly aware of the burdens some people carry, and perhaps I have been unknowingly trying to carry some of those burdens myself. It is a common mistake - out of some sense of empathy to wish to carry someone's burden, to lighten their load. Oh, I know, someone will quote Paul, "bear one another's burdens." However, none of us is capable of carrying another's burden, at least, not by ourselves. Why, we can barely carry our own! At most, what we can do is be present with someone else. Never underestimate the power of presence. Being there. Showing up. Presence is a powerful ministry.

Jesus says, "Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Notice, Jesus does not say, "I am going to remove your burdens." No. What Jesus says is he will give you a burden, but it is a burden you can bear more easily than the burdens the world places on us. What I have always suspected is that Jesus is picturing a double yoke, in which we are paired with Jesus himself. He takes our load upon himself. He takes the pain and agony of our sorrows. He takes the disappointment of our regrets. He takes our missed opportunities, our tragic grief, and anything else that weighs us down and then he does the pulling. He takes the full load, including our sin, if we will let him. That is a big "if." How often we fail to trust Jesus' capability to bear the load, so we begin to pull and pull, and the burden becomes heavy on us again. We are pulling against the one who seeks to "bear all our sorrows." We are pulling against the one who "would heal all our diseases." We are pulling against the one whom Isaiah said came to carry "all our iniquities."

"Take my yoke upon you," he says. He wants us to find rest. He wants us to claim joy. And there is joy to be found. Even in the midst of the disasters, crises and traumas of life, we are often surprised by joy. A friend has posted on his office door, "Never let anyone rob you of the joy of your salvation." That's good advice. In seasons of sorrow, we need reminding of the joy - the joy of marital love; the pleasure of watching your children mature and claim their own gifts and joys; the good times shared by family and friends; the weekly gathering of God's people, happily reconnecting during a sabbath rest; the joy of our salvation. There is joy possible in every life. There is joy built into every week. There is rest for our weary souls. At least that's the way God planned it. Release your burdens. Let Christ Jesus bear your load.

Meanwhile, I'm putting on my "wedding garment" and getting ready for our big day. Hmm, maybe a wedding is our best preparation for the Big Day God has planned for all of us, when all our sorrows will be no more and Christ will claim his bride - the Church. That Big Day reminds us that joy is what God has planned for us, so we need to start rehearsing for it now, don't you think? Find a reason for joy today. Be grateful. Count your blessings. Remember that joy is what God has in store for us all.

Counting the Cost

I hesitate to write this but I have an itch and need to scratch it. The recent tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico, leading to the loss of life on an oil rig, and the unfolding ecological nightmare, serves as an object lesson on competing "costs" in the decisions we make.

A few years ago as gas prices rocketed upwards, the cry rang out for more off-shore exploration. "Drill now," was the mantra of those who urged for energy independence. After all, oil is the life-blood of the modern economy. Those who urged caution were castigated as naive idealists, unwilling to face the economic and political realities of a changing world.

Now, in the wake of this spreading disaster, likely to take a toll on a Gulf Coast that is still vulnerable after Hurricane Katrina's effects, the voices that cried out for drilling now sound shrill and their vision short-sighted. The economic and political realities of this oil spill are likely to be catastrophic for people, fish and fowl for some time to come.

In counting the cost of decisions we make, we rarely take into account the unforeseen. We often ignore the unintended consequences of our actions. While no one can account for every disaster or catastrophe, the failure of supposedly "fail-safe" safety measures to work demonstrates either a lack of preparedness, or plain human arrogance. We hope for the best and rarely plan for the worst. We do not count the cost.

Jesus said something about "counting the cost," of discipleship. In Luke 14:28-30, Jesus suggests that a man who begins to build a tower but doesn't prepare for the cost of finishing it will appear a fool to observers. We might wonder if the petroleum company which is responsible for the oil rig in question has adequately prepared for the possibility of disaster. But the cost, in this case, is greater than the billions of dollars it will take to clean up the mess. There is the collateral cost of lost livlihoods, damage to the ecosystem, and lost tourism - costs not likely to be borne by the petroleum company in question. The costs of "something going wrong," you see, have not been factored in, in the interests of immediate satisfaction and immediate financial gain. And at the risk of sounding cynical, well-paid lobbyists will probably influence politicians to keep it that way.

There is a cost to all the choices we make. We choose to make a quick buck, perhaps, ignorant of unintended consequences to others. Or, maybe we just don't care. There's plenty of that attitude in the world.

But Jesus calls us to care. Jesus calls us to count the cost. Jesus calls us to take into account how our actions have consequences for good, or ill. Good intentions, perhaps, are not enough. Perhaps we need to look ahead and see if we have enough to finish the tower before we begin. Perhaps we need to look ahead and see that in following Jesus, there may be a cross on a hill for us as well. And what a difference that cost is, compared to the lesson of the oil spill.

In counting the cost of following Jesus, it is the followers of Jesus who bear the cost on behalf of others, rather than expecting someone else to pick up the tab. You see, we follow the example of Jesus whose life-blood was spilled for the sake of a broken world, where failure to count the cost is seen as good business. Followers of Jesus are not in this life for the short-term gain, but for the long-haul, indeed, for eternity. We are not here to take what we can get while we can get it, and then make a heavenly exit in the nick of time. No, we are here expecting a new heaven and a new earth, and a new Jerusalem where God will dwell with us on this good creation (Revelation 21:1-6). What we do to this creation matters in the overall scheme of things. It is important to count the cost, the whole cost, for our generation and for generations to come.

A Life Without Weekends

I have kidded around for the past several years that when I retire I'm going to write a book entitled, "A Life Without Weekends." I suppose the subtitle could be, "The life of a Methodist preacher." I have envisioned the book as a tongue-in-cheek memoir on the mundane and the marvelous events in my life - a life in which weekends are not a break from work but when the essence of my work reaches its climax.

The tidal rhythms of my life, and necessarily my family's life, have been different from that of most people. You'd have to be a preacher to fully appreciate the difference. Sundays loom large on my horizon, like a mountain that must be scaled every week. It is a climb that begins in the valley of prayerful exploration of scripture, and the low hills of congregational life. These two elements are placed in my knapsack and get familiar with each other as I trudge the ever steeper slope. The "good news" of scripture and the realities of community life get mixed together like some sort of granola which I munch on throughout the week, giving me the energy and inspiration to make it to the peak at Sunday worship.

By the time I do my thing on Sunday morning I have just about made up my mind that this word I'm about to share may be the most important thing that's ever been said. Not because I'm saying it, but because it has become, amazingly, more than a word I have pondered, but The Word from God for my congregation. This Word becomes for me a matter of life and death, or so it seems, and I am bursting to share it. Far from being an ego-trip, preaching is the most humbling of privileges and responsibilities.

Then comes the crash afterwards. I've just poured out my heart and soul in a most public display (Mick Jagger comes to mind, "pouring his heart all over the stage"), and the comments as people come out the door are kind, "Nice sermon, preacher," and polite, "You gave us something to think about."

Not, "my life will never be the same!" or "I'm going to quit my job and become a missionary!" No, nothing like that . . . "Nice sermon, preacher."

The drop off the peak of the Sunday mountain can be precipitous and certainly unwelcome. Like post-partum blues, the post-Sunday melancholy is an emotional drain. But I wake up on Monday morning and open the text, more out of well-worn habit by now, rather than expectation. But my, oh my, as often as not, the words become The Word again. How does it happen? Again and again, week after week, the words of the page, "the letter that kills," becomes the Spirit that gives life. And I take that text and I put it in my knapsack next to the latest triumphs and tragedies of my congregation and, once again, I start trudging up that next mountain, always believing, ALWAYS believing that someone will be needing to hear that word become Word on Sunday, on the mountain peak. And it will be for them a matter of life or death. Even if all they say is, "Nice sermon, preacher!" Deep inside, they needed it more than life itself. I believe.

It's a miracle, really. And that's what keeps me preaching, and living without weekends.