No Idle Tale

The four Gospels all dedicate a great deal of their attention to the Passion narrative – the story of what happens to Jesus once he enters Jerusalem - the betrayal of Judas, the arrest in Gethsemane, the mock trials, the denial by Peter, Jesus’ crucifixion, death and burial.

All four Gospels also agree on the early disciples’ witness to the resurrection of Jesus. The tomb was empty on Sunday morning.
There is disagreement on the details. I am not surprised. When out of the ordinary events take place everyone has their own perspective on what they witnessed. I would be more suspicious of the story if all the Gospels marched in lockstep agreement on all the details – a sure sign of editorial tampering. But for those early followers of Jesus, something happened that rocked their world, and has continued to rock our world in the 21st Century.

I love the line in Luke’s Gospel when the women come to tell the apostles about the appearance of angels at the empty tomb, “these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them (Luke 24:11).” There is a ring of truth to this description. Imagine the lack of respect implied by that summary statement. I imagine the men, so absorbed in their own thoughts, and so generally dismissive of women, that they ignore the first proclamation of the Gospel, “He is risen!” Only later, when the men witness the resurrected Jesus with their own eyes, do they attach any credence to the women’s testimony that is thus preserved in Luke’s Gospel.

These kinds of details in the story are what give the resurrection accounts a sense of authenticity. Among the early Christians, there was significant doubt about what they were witnessing, and that doubt is preserved in the text. Only undeniable experiences of Jesus are able to overcome the initial skepticism of the disciples.

To the world today much of what the church professes on Easter morning seems like an “idle tale.” We who believe should not be surprised at those who doubt our witness. After all, we are not eyewitnesses but solely dependent on the testimony of those who have gone before us.

Still, I have seen the miracle of new life in the people I know. I have seen hopeless alcoholics and helpless drug addicts become sober, productive people. I have seen self-absorbed adolescents become self-giving teenagers. I have not seen the dead rise, but I have seen Christ alive in others.

Chuck used to talk about the roughness of his past. He shared no details, but I know he had trouble with drinking too much, with getting in trouble with the law, and generally self-destructive behavior. But the Chuck I knew was at peace with himself, happy in his marriage, generous to a fault, and deeply committed to the ideals of his faith. He was living a whole new life. He would say, “It’s because Jesus is now living in me.”

This is no idle tale. He is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia! Amen!

Working the Angles

I heard a story about a man who moved into town, started a business and thought, “I should join a church. That would be a good way to network and make some contacts for my business.”

So, he went to church and on that first Sunday, heard an announcement about a Monday night meeting of the Fishermen’s Club. “Well,” he thought, “I like to fish.” He decided that attending that meeting might give him an inside track on his networking plans.

He was surprised to discover that rather than sitting around talking about the one that got away, this club met to canvas the neighborhood, inviting people to church and looking for opportunities to witness to the saving grace of Jesus. In good Biblical fashion, this was a “fishers of men” club.

As a newcomer, this man was paired with the leader of the group, and as they went from house to house, and he saw the devotion and integrity of this leader, and heard his unembarrassed testimony to Jesus, he was drawn to him and his compassion and humility. A voice in his conscience said, “I want to be like him.”

He continued to worship on Sundays and to visit from house to house on Mondays and in time he became a deeply devoted Christian and church leader with an integrity of his own. This man who had come to church in order to work the angles for his own purposes ended up getting used by God for God’s purposes.

I think his story is not that unusual. I believe most of us go to church for utilitarian reasons. Like good capitalists we're looking for the pay-off. We’re looking for some advice, or some well-worn wisdom we can use to make our lives a little better. In today’s phrasing, we’re looking for a “take-away,” that we can apply to our lives – to help us in our marriage, to help us cope with some relationships at work, to help us raise our children, etc. We want this religious stuff to work for us!

However, if we hear the gospel rightly, we don’t necessarily get what we want, as Mick Jagger used to sing; but we get what we need. Instead of a little practical advice for daily living, we hear we must be buried and raised with Christ. Instead of a simple take-away, we are told we must be born from above. Instead of making some contacts that’ll be good for business, we get recruited into the Body of Christ to work for God’s kingdom. We come to church looking for some way to use this “God-thing,” to our advantage, and instead we hear the voice of God saying, “How can I use you?”

So, here is fair warning: If you think church is another way you can work the angles in order to get the life you have in mind, don’t be surprised when God ends up working on you to give you the life God created you to have. And if my experience is worth anything, it will be both a more challenging, as well as more blessed, life than the one you had in mind.

What the Hell?

If you pay attention to religious news you will have seen some serious controversy over hell. Is it real? Is it literal? Who is going there? Is anyone?

Rob Bell is the pastor of one of those new mega churches and he has written a book that implies that maybe . . . just maybe . . . God is not going to send everyone to eternal punishment. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . God’s love is bigger than we ever imagined.

“What a grievous error!” Shout out some sincere defenders of the faith. The issue is, if we don’t take hell seriously, then we grow slack in our efforts to evangelize the world, and thus the world, as they say, goes to hell (assuming hell is an actual place/existential reality). Point well-taken. We wouldn’t want anyone going to hell because of our theological fuzziness or the complacency of our witness.

A Methodist colleague and student pastor in the eastern part of North Carolina recently was removed from his appointment at the church’s request because, among other things, he agreed with Rob Bell. Obviously, it doesn’t pay to not take hell seriously.

I think Rob Bell has gotten so much attention because of his popularity. He is not saying anything that hasn’t been said before (Phillip Gulley and Robert Mulholland, If God is Love, and If Grace Is True). For that matter, in the early centuries of the church’s history a man named Origen also explored the possibility of universal salvation, and was proclaimed a heretic for his trouble.

Most of us have a vision of hell that is shaped more by Dante’s Inferno, written in the 14th Century, than the hell of scripture. Medieval art gives us vivid images of souls enduring eternal punishment.

Modern sensibility denies such literalism. Jesus did tell parables of judgment, but the argument goes that the images he used were for the purposes of instruction. He used metaphor and hyperbole to make a point. Gehenna, often translated as “hell” was a reference to the Hinnom Valley outside of Jerusalem where everyone took their trash to be burned. You can imagine the smoke always rising from Gehenna, a graphic way to envision an unrepentant life – selfish, sinful, good for nothing but smoke. But did Jesus mean that people were going to literally burn forever in a lake of fire? I find that hard to believe from the same Jesus who in John’s Gospel (3:17) came, “not to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.”

Here’s the heart of the matter for me. It is not for me to decide the nature of hell. I have had experiences that felt like hell, and I know people who seem to be going through hell, so I know that much about the reality of it. I also am not in the position to decide who goes to hell and who doesn’t. The whole point of John 14:6 seems to be that it is Jesus who decides (no one comes to the Father but through me). Will Jesus save everyone? I doubt it. Some people are so stubborn they will bite off their own nose to spite their face.
Evil is real. C.S. Lewis said not to take the devil too seriously, but he also reminds us not to take him too lightly, either.

I believe Jesus doesn’t force himself on anyone. There is no vestige of hyper-Calvinism in me. We are always free to reject or accept – to obey or not. That was true in the Garden of Eden, and I assume it is true eternally. No one is brought into the kingdom against their will. Does that mean they are going to hell? I don’t know. Maybe it means they are already in it. Does that mean they will eventually be saved. I don’t know. Jesus is the one who decides. Meanwhile, I keep sharing the good news about a man who is like no man history has ever known – someone who came not to condemn the world but that the world through him might be saved. There is fullness of life in him. I do know that much.

“Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us (Romans 8:34).” Perhaps as long as Jesus is interceding for us there is hope for all of us, come hell or high water.

Private Behavior versus Public Persona

Too much tea at the Thai restaurant tonight is keeping me up. Didn’t realize green tea had that much caffeine. Anyway, my wakefulness gives me a chance to write about another topic on my mind recently and that is ---

Private behavior versus public persona.

Who is the real me – or you? Is it the person most people deal with in the workplace, the public arena, the local market? Or is it the person you are at home when the doors are closed and it’s just you and your family?

There is a degree of difference between our private and public roles. I am, for instance, a natural introvert preferring lots of solitude and alone time. Yet, in my role as pastor I am daily interacting with people in a very intentional and deliberate way. After years of practice I feel almost natural in my public role, so natural that most people in my congregation would assume I am an extrovert. But I admit that I am more comfortable in what I call my down time. I enjoy coming home and being alone.

I know a police officer who plays his public role very seriously. When he is in uniform you know he means business. But when he is not wearing his badge he sheds that serious role as well. He seems more relaxed and at ease – a distinct difference.

But there is another dimension to this topic that arises out of my recent interest in the biblical concept of righteousness. Righteousness is a complex biblical category implying both a gift of God as well as the result of human ethical behavior. For my purposes in this blog I am focusing on righteousness as a behavioral issue.

Sometimes the differences between public persona and private behavior have less to do with the roles we play than the character we have. For instance, what happens if I am a closet drunk – drinking privately at home, but keeping sober whenever I am in public? What if I am a gentle and patient man in the workplace, but an abusive husband or father at home? What if I am a community leader, a role model to young people, a Sunday School teacher in my church, but at the same time I am secretly stealing money from the company for which I work?

These differences between public persona and private behavior have more to do with our character than with the roles we play and as a result lead to more serious consequences. In these cases we are pretending to be other than what we are and I believe that pretense leads to both psychic and spiritual problems. For true well-being and spiritual maturity our public persona and private behavior should be as congruent as possible. As someone once said, “Character is revealed in what you do when no one is watching.”

Thus, if your private behavior seems a far cry from righteousness, then I would argue that confession and repentance are in order. From years of pastoral experience I am convinced that a disparity between public persona and private behavior takes a toll on a person. One’s personality takes a beating from keeping up the façade of respectability. There is no quick fix, but confession and repentance, followed by counseling and spiritual direction from trusted providers are tried and true methods for achieving wholeness and perhaps even holiness, i.e., righteousness.

We all have various roles that we play. But when our character is in question we have gone beyond role-playing to pretending, and pretense is just another word for hypocrisy. Jesus had little patience for hypocrites. Still, there is hope for all of us. I recall the words of Paul in Chapter 7 of Romans as he struggles to understand why he cannot seem to do the good that he wants to do, when the evil he does not what is what he does. As he is at the point of throwing up his hands in despair, he remembers that righteousness is not the result of his behavior only, but is also the gift of God. “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” He asks. “Thanks be to God through our Lord Jesus Christ!” He responds.

For those who struggle to make your public persona and private behavior one and the same, may you find the gift of righteousness offered by God through the Lord Jesus Christ, and may you build your life on it.

Terrors and Great Signs

“Then Jesus said to them, ‘Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and pestilences; and there will be terrors and great signs from heaven.’” (Luke 21:8-11)

Is it any wonder that many a radio gospel preacher is proclaiming the end of the world and Jesus’ second coming in light of recent events? The apocalyptic sermon of Jesus, a version of which is found in the first three Gospels, hints at cataclysmic events as a signal to prepare his followers for the end of the age.

With earthquakes, tsunamis, and the possible pestilence of radiation poisoning, the happenings in Japan seem to be of biblical proportions. Add to that the upheaval of nations in the Middle East and North Africa and it makes one wonder about what God might be doing in the midst of all this.

I am grieved for people who are suffering as a result of these cataclysmic events. I am disturbed by the horror of what many people are facing in the challenge of rebuilding their lives. My distress, however, is not of “biblical proportions.” I tend to be rather calm in the midst of end-of-the-world proclamations by self-described prophets.

I suppose that’s because I’ve read the whole sermon of Jesus in those Gospel accounts. He begins by saying, “Many will come in my name saying, . . . ‘The time is at hand!’ Do not go after them.”

He also says, “When you hear of wars and tumults, do not be terrified.”

And again, “Now when these things begin to take place, look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Maybe I am being naïve but it strikes me that Jesus is telling us we have nothing to worry about. So nations are toppled and new ones arise. Despots are dethroned and new ones take their place. Hurricanes rage and floods destroy. Economies move from depression to inflation to recession. Persecutions come and go. None of this changes the plan of God to redeem the world.

Do we, individually, get lost in the chaos? One might believe so were it not for other promises, “I will never leave you nor forsake you . . .,” or “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God’s sight. But even the hairs of your head are counted. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.”

When you see the calamitous things that are going on in the world today, do not be afraid. Lift up your heads. Your redemption is drawing near.

What that means to me is that God is at work in the midst of the calamity and will make a way that leads to abundant life. There will be rescue, salvation, comfort, renewal – and hope.

Why Do We Care about Charlie Sheen?

A friend came back from New Zealand recently, sobered by the proximity of the earthquake that shook Christchurch only a few days after visiting there. Even more disconcerting was the fact that upon returning to the U.S., the news of the earthquake and its aftermath had been relegated to the fringes of journalistic reporting, overshadowed by the ravings of actor Charlie Sheen.

We now surmise, based on a parade of experts, that Charlie Sheen is not simply another self-absorbed Hollywood star, but must be suffering from some kind of mental illness characterized by manic episodes. The greater question for me is, “Why do we care about Charlie Sheen?

Maybe we have become inured to the news of earthquakes and human suffering. As we see devastation in Haiti or New Zealand, and we hear about hundreds of deaths, we eventually become numb to the particularities of such events. Maybe we lose interest because it doesn’t feel personal.

But Charlie Sheen – there is a face we recognize. This feels personal. Outlandish. Maybe crazy. But personal. And Charlie is famous and rich. Do we secretly enjoy when the stars fall from the sky? “How the mighty have fallen . . . (2 Samuel 1:27).” Perhaps we are making comparisons – “I’m not rich or famous, but at least I’m not crazy!” And in some sad way, Charlie Sheen’s problems make us feel better about ourselves.

I don’t know. I suppose I should care about Charlie Sheen but I don’t. Oh, in some sort of vague way, I want him to be well and I offer this as a prayer, but I am much more concerned with the mental health of people I know to spend too much time thinking about Mr. Sheen, whom I don’t know. Charlie is a part of the cult of personality with which our culture is obsessed, but I would argue that the cult of personality is not the same thing as being personal. We may know his face, but that is a far cry from knowing him personally.

One of my favorite lines from a song is from the eccentric quasi-zydeco band, Donna the Buffalo, “What does all this Hollywood really have to do with us?” For me it is another way of saying, “C’mon people, get a life!”

Where am I going with all this? Well, I’m not sure we can do a whole lot for Charlie Sheen or for the people of New Zealand, but for all the time we spend watching the news about people we’ll never know, we could surely address the needs of people closer by that we do know. I have a friend who, with his wife, decided to get rid of their TV about two years ago. He says they’ve never been happier in their marriage as a result. They have found time to do things together and to care for one another more deeply. Now, that sounds promising.

Paying attention to people we actually know can spill over from our marriage to our family – perhaps spending more time actually playing with our children rather than plugging them into another DVD filled with talking vegetables and dinosaurs. Perhaps with the extra time, we might visit a lonely elderly member of our neighborhood, or tutor a child in the local school. We might even have enough energy (TV makes us lethargic) to hammer nails in a Habitat House or prepare meals at a soup kitchen. After a while we might even forget who Charlie Sheen is, and well, maybe if he didn’t get so much media attention, he might actually have a chance to get better – reclaim a normal life – maybe.

I’ve often pondered the fact that Jesus never wandered beyond the borders of Judah and Galilee (except for a brief sojourn in Egypt as a baby). He didn’t go to Rome. He was rooted in his locale – Nazareth, Galilee, Jerusalem. Did he get news from the greater world? Did he wonder about the lives of the rich and famous in the Mediterranean world? Who knows? We do know he was infinitely interested in each individual he met. He was personal, and seldom distracted by the cult of personality in his own day.

His few references to a famous people seemed to diminish their significance (“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, but to God the things that are God’s,” or, regarding King Herod, called him a “fox”). But the people he encountered during his ministry were anything but diminished – the prostitute, the beggar, the blind, the lame, the demon-possessed, the tax collectors, even the Pharisees, I believe, he approached with deep concern for their well-being – body and soul.

If I ruled the world I would unplug most of our electronics and encourage people to spend more time with each other. We could still read the news about the wider world in the Sunday paper, but the most important news would be picked up at the general store, local coffee shop, styling salon, or in Sunday School class. That would be the news about the people we know close by, the people God has given us to love, person-to-person. And I believe someone close by to Charlie Sheen might give him the attention he needs, minus all the cameras in his face. I think that’s the way Jesus would do it.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

We all want to be somebody – to be recognized in our field, whatever it may be. We want to be important, to be acknowledged. We want to be worth something. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose. We want people to notice us. I suppose that’s why some children get in trouble at school. Because they are neglected at home they may often do whatever it takes to get noticed in the classroom, even if for misbehavior. If we feel overlooked, we may claim more for our selves than is actually true. We may brag and boast. We are simply looking for credit where credit is due.

The word credit is related to the word credential. You have to have credentials these days in order to get recognition, in order to get a job, in order to be promoted. We may even pad the resume to make it look a little better than it is. It’s amazing how often some academic, or civil employee, is discovered to have embellished his or her curriculum vita. They are only looking for credit.

On the other hand, I am reminded of an old saying, “You can get a lot done if you don’t mind who gets the credit.” Makes me think that self-promotion gets in the way of actual accomplishment.

In the letters of Paul to the churches of the New Testament era, he often was placed in the position of defending his right to teach. His credentials were called into question on more than one occasion. In a kind of parody of resume embellishment, Paul launches into long list of his credentials:

“It’s crazy to talk this way,” he writes, “but I started and I’m going to finish. I’ve worked much harder, been jailed more often, beaten up more times than I can count, and at death’s door time after time. I’ve been flogged five times with the Jews’ thirty-nine lashes, beaten by Roman rods three times, pummeled with rocks once. I’ve been shipwrecked three times, and immersed in the open sea for a night and a day. In hard traveling year in and year out, I’ve had to ford rivers, fend off robbers, struggle with friends, struggle with foes. I’ve been at risk in the city, at risk in the country, endangered by desert sun and sea storm, and betrayed by those I thought were my brothers. I’ve known drudgery and hard labor, many a long and lonely night without sleep, many a missed meal, blasted by the cold, naked to the weather. . . If I have to ‘brag’ about myself, I’ll brag about the humiliations that make me like Jesus (2 Cor. 11:23-33, The Message, Eugene Peterson).”

Paul’s list of credentials sounds strange to the modern ear. If we are thinking that a resume is a list of our skills, education and accomplishments, then we are caught off guard by Paul’s litany of sufferings and hardships. Paul’s curriculum vita makes a mockery of self-promotion. “If I must boast,” he writes, “let me boast in the Lord (1 Cor. 1:31)

I remember a woman in one of my former churches who used to joke about all the chickens she had cooked for church suppers. She figured she’d have stars in her heavenly crown for every one of those chickens. Maybe she will, but those crowns are all going to be cast at the feet of the Lamb on the throne, so the vision of Revelation tells us (Rev. 4:10). Perhaps the old saying takes on a different tone for the one who follows Jesus – “You can get a lot done, if you don’t mind that Jesus gets the credit.”

Jesus and Judgment

I try to write this blog so that people who aren’t Christians might be drawn in to the Jesus Way. Sometimes I suspect we Christians are the obstacle between nonbelievers and the Christ we proclaim. Our internal arguments, too frequent hypocrisy, and judgmental attitudes are stumbling blocks. One example: a friend was recounting her high school days and the “hell list” that some self-righteous teenagers were keeping of those they had already consigned to eternal damnation. Needless to say, after being placed on “the list,” fifty or sixty young people were not too receptive to the whole Jesus thing.

One of the biggest stumbling blocks has to be the Church’s tendency to judge and condemn others. While we have a responsibility to engage in moral behavior, we often slip into moralism, which is a different thing altogether. The Supreme Court ruled this past week that a small congregation in Kansas has the right of free speech to assemble at funerals and proclaim judgments on the deceased. I cringe at the way this small group has given the Jesus I know such a black eye.

Jesus’ told a parable that helps with this situation. It is simple and to the point.

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in someone else’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:3)

One cannot go through life without making judgments – how else can we make decisions? The guidance of Jesus on this matter, however, has to do with judging ourselves and not judging others. Where we fall into difficulty is in the area of making comparisons between our actions and the actions of others. Instead of observing “our” morals, we fall into the trap of judging “their” morals. Keeping our morals true is a worthy goal. Keeping others true to our standards lapses into moralism, the very thing Jesus warns us against.

Once we start judging others, it becomes a vicious circle lacking in the quality of mercy that Jesus held so dear. I don’t drink alcohol. Should I be moralistic toward those who do? You drive an American car. Should you be judgmental of those who drive a foreign make? A colleague has had an abortion. Your friends are living together without being married. You know your cousin in the military is gay. The obese customer beside you at the fast food restaurant is ordering a super-size meal. You see a car’s bumper sticker that says, “Wage Peace,” parked beside another that proclaims, “Bomb them all and let God sort them out.”

What kinds of judgments are running through our minds when we imagine each of these scenes? Are we making our own “hell list?” Who do we put on it? Would someone put us on their list? Do you see the problem with judgment?

As I look at Jesus’ parables and ethical teachings I am struck by one thing – the only comparison I am free to make is not between my self and others but between me and God, and I continually fall short of that standard. I am in a position to judge no one but myself.

I love Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of Paul in Romans 8:34, “Who would dare even point a finger? The One who died for us – who was raised to life for us! – is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us.” Paul is talking about Jesus here, of course.

Gandhi, I believe, is reported to have said that he would have himself become a Christian except for the witness of the Christians he knew. Ouch! I’ll just close with this: Don’t judge Jesus by the behavior of Christians. If Christians turn you off because of their moralistic attitudes, just remember they’re not modeling themselves after Jesus. They can’t help it. They're just sinners like everyone else. Try not to judge them (us) too harshly.

Prayer Knitting

Every year, thousands of volunteers knit and crochet handmade scarves to go into packages for U.S. troops overseas. One of those people is 98-year-old Joan Mazzarelli. She has platinum hair, a pixie smile and on her lap, is a pair of knitting needles.

Since March, Mazzarelli has knitted or crocheted 527 scarves and hats for what she calls her boys and girls in the war. There was another war being fought overseas when she first began this task in 1940, during World War II.

"I knitted not only scarves, but socks and gloves, everything for the soldiers," Mazzarelli says.

She had a beauty shop back then and would knit in-between customers. These days she knits about 14 hours a day.

Mazzarelli says the thank you letters she receives today are not that different than the ones she received 70 years ago.

I just want to thank you for including your special gift of a handmade hat. I'm reminded of my grandma's crocheted hats she made for my sister and I when we were kids.

But, as much as she loves knitting for the men and women deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, Mazzarelli says she wishes they were home.

Until then, she'll continue knitting. For her, knitting is an act of service, a prayerful meditation.

The above article is taken from a radio story on National Public Radio. http://www.wfae.org/wfae/nprnews.cfm?storyId=132152168

Our church has a knitting group of women who, much like Mrs. Mazzarelli, prayerfully send off their handiwork to bless the shoulders, laps, heads and hearts of those who receive them. Every inch of yarn has passed through someone’s fingers and there is the hope, the belief, that the care of the crafter somehow gets transferred to the recipient of the craft. Lap blankets for the sick, prayer shawls for the elderly, wool caps for those who’ve lost their hair in cancer treatments – all these are more than signs of love, they are sacraments of the holy – visible means of an invisible grace.

I am often overwhelmed by the great needs of the world, but our knitting group reminds me that while none of us can do everything about the world’s plight, anyone can do something to bring some grace into our “graceless age.”

Righteousness Is Out of Fashion

You never hear the word “righteous” anymore. I’m not talking about its use a decade ago, describing something as “cool” (“The paint job on that car is righteous!”). I suppose the word was used a generation ago in churches to describe moral, upstanding behavior on the part of the Christian believer (You Bible scholars think of James 5:16, “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much”).

Still, I wonder if the use of the word in the previous generation had the same connotation as its original intent. When Jesus said at his baptism, “Thus it is fitting to fulfill all righteousness,” I don’t think he was talking about moral, upstanding behavior. He was thinking of more than a standard of individual conduct, he had in mind the will and purposes of God. There was a time when we thought righteousness had more to do with purity of life than anything else (“I don’t smoke and I don’t chew, and I don’t go out with girls that do”). Righteous seemed to be more about what we didn’t do than what we did. Nowadays I’m not sure that even Christians understand what is meant by the word righteous.

One place to begin our quest for understanding is the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5-7. In the midst of this collection of Jesus’ sayings, we find him like a reborn Moses, issuing a reinterpretation of Mosaic Law. “You’ve heard it said . . . BUT, I say to you . . .” He pronounces blessings on those who “hunger and thirst for righteousness,” and he helps us set priorities, “Seek first the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness.” Matthew portrays Jesus as being especially concerned about this righteousness, whatever it is.

Eugene Peterson in The Message, interprets that “seek ye first,” phrase as, “pay attention to what God is doing.” I like that. Righteousness as attentiveness to what God is doing. That seems to be the right order of things. Instead of righteousness being a standard of behavior for me to follow, it is, rather, a call to tune in to the activity of God. God’s activity is prior to my activity. And attentiveness is both an act of will and an alertness of body. If I’m paying attention, like a runner at the blocks waiting for the starting gun to go off, I’m more than ready to do something. I’m not just thinking about it. I’m not just looking on as an observer. But I wait for the right cue before I dash off.

Maybe righteousness will come back in fashion when we start paying more attention to what God is doing, instead of obsessing about what we’re going to do next. What is God doing these days? Well, I think God is doing what God has always been doing – turning the world right side up. Look for calamity, catastrophe and suffering, and when in the midst of it all, you see goodness, kindness, peace and justice, there is God’s kingdom of righteousness. I pray it does come back into fashion. Wouldn’t that be righteous?

I have more I want to say about righteousness, but I’m not sure what it is yet. I’m just waiting for the gun to go off.

Spitting Into the Wind

In my recent study of Ecclesiastes I was struck by the paraphrase that Eugene Peterson uses to describe the futility expressed by the author. Whereas traditional translations use the phrase “chasing after wind,” Peterson calls it “spitting into the wind,” which increases the sense of frustration, and perhaps absurdity, reflected in Ecclesiastes.

At one time or another I think everyone has felt that sense of absurdity, that all their efforts were just spitting into the wind. In some of our schools where the numbers of at-risk children are high I have heard teachers question whether their work is of any value. Or voters cast their ballots with great expectations only to see their favorite candidate bend and waffle and compromise like every other politician before him (or her). So, some people give up voting, or teaching, or whatever it is they do in service to the greater good, disillusioned by their inability to make a difference. Yes, Ecclesiastes speaks to that sense of cynicism that, perhaps, all of us have felt at one time or another.

I remember a conversation I had with Father Roland Murphy, my professor of Old Testament, when I was a first-year seminarian. I was sharing my frustrations at making a difference, particularly in regard to evangelism. I wanted people to believe because of my preaching. I wanted to see the results. Father Murphy tolerated my youthful enthusiasm and angst only so far and then in exasperation said, “The results are not up to you. Your job is simply to be faithful.”

Sometimes a hard word is just the right word. Whether or not we can see the difference we make is not important. But obedience is. Whether or not the world is changed as a result of my work, my labor, my efforts, etc., is not something I can control. All I can do is be faithful. I can take the work that is given to me and do it as well as I can and trust God for the rest. We can labor for the common good and never see the results within our lifetime. However, that doesn’t mean our efforts are meaningless.

We are not Sisyphus, carrying our rock up the mountain again and again, only to watch it roll back down to the bottom. Ecclesiastes is only one voice in the Judeo-Christian tradition. There is also the voice of Jesus that in some ways seemed to be a kind of spitting into the wind. His wonderful re-interpretation of Judaic law was met with resistance by the religious authorities of his day. His way of peace was perceived as a threat by the civil authorities of his day. Abandoned by his small band of followers, his lonely death on a hill outside of the walls of Jerusalem seemed to signal the absurdity of life, as if it was all spitting into the wind.

And yet, here we are 2000 years later, quoting him, admiring him, trying to figure out what has made the Jesus Movement endure. Ecclesiastes was wrong. Life is not utterly meaningless. There’s more to it than spitting into the wind. Jesus believed there was more, so he remained faithful, obedient to the end . . . and beyond.

I believe we all have a vocation (regardless of our jobs) to serve the common good. And being human, we’d like to see the results. My professor told me that the results are in the hands of God. My vocation then, is simply to be faithful. And Jesus is the best witness to what that faithfulness looks like. That means we shouldn’t expect immediate gratification. We may even suffer for our efforts. We may be ridiculed, despised, rejected. We have to learn to wait and hope. Indeed, we need to quit spitting, and simply trust that the wind knows where it’s blowing.

Too Much Angst

I was reading an article on Slate which said that people unconsciously use Facebook and other social networking sites as a way to compare their happiness with that of others. And the tendency is to overestimate the happiness and/or the sadness of others based on their posts. For instance, if someone shares that a pet has died, their sorrow is never quite as deep as others might assume, or so the study says. Likewise, if someone posts bright and happy news, it tends to make others feel less satisfied with their own lives.

Seems like we would all be happier if we didn’t feel the need to compare ourselves with everyone else. The truth is that no one knows the heart of another person. Only God can know. We might empathize. We might “feel their pain,” and “share in their joys,” but only God can know what’s really going on in someone’s soul.

The article made me think about my original blogs. I thought it might be interesting to others if I wrote prayers. These blogs would be prayer, not ABOUT prayer. My intent was to teach the nature of prayer, the language of God-human interaction; in large measure to provide a modern example of what the Biblical psalms already do so well. When the disciples begged Jesus, “Teach us to pray,” he did not give them a lecture, he gave them a prayer, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name . . .” I guess I was trying to do the same thing in my own limited way.

Some weeks later I had a visit from a concerned member of my congregation. “I’ve been reading your blog and wondered if you were alright,” he said. “I wondered if you are going through a crisis of faith.”

Apparently my prayers-via-blog had triggered his concern. Because my prayers were personal, honest, and in some ways heart-wrenching, he overestimated my despair. I was doing no more than the psalmists themselves . . .

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul,
And have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? (Psalm 13:1-2)

What my friend failed to recognize is that as heart-wrenching as prayer can often be, such prayer does not necessarily reveal a crisis of faith but is rather an expression of faith. I was praying to God, after all, not talking to myself about God.

Maybe my friend had also overestimated my happiness, too, at other times. I don’t know. What I do know is that only God knows our hearts, and as much as I value my family and friendships with others, I know that only God can fully understand me, and so I pray – I spill my guts, I speak my anger, I tear my heart open, I plead, I beg, I sometimes bargain. But that doesn’t mean I’m having a crisis of faith. After all, who else but God can listen to all that?

And then, perhaps only then, prayer gives way to praise and thanksgiving – gratitude that there is One who hears the worst and the best in us and discerns the truth of who we really are.

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
You discern my thoughts from far away. (Psalm 139:1-2)

Enjoy Life

Ecclesiastes is one of those books of scripture that makes me scratch my head and wonder, “How did that get in the Bible”? The author, whether Solomon or some editor, surely seems despondent if not depressed throughout most of the book.

On the other hand, in a group conversation about this book, several in the group had to admit that at one time or another they, too, had felt like the author. So, perhaps it is a good thing we have Ecclesiastes in the canon of scripture to remind us to be honest about our feelings.

One of the gifts of Ecclesiastes is that we are provided an affirmation of the goodness of creation in its pages. While Christian history is filled with examples of a kind of hyper-asceticism, Ecclesiastes lets us know that taking pleasure in the material things of life is not a sin but may be one of the primary reasons for living, at least from the author’s perspective.

There is a place for self-denial in the Christian life – the admonition of Jesus for us to bear our crosses is clear testimony to that. However, the stark self-denial-bordering-on-punishment that has sometimes surfaced in some Christian communities in our history (self-flagellation and –mortification, for example) is not supported at all by Ecclesiastes (or by Jesus I would contend).

So, to “eat, drink, and be merry,” as Ecclesiastes advises us is something we Christians might take to heart, and without any sense of guilt. Nevertheless, I would add that in contrast to Ecclesiastes, such pleasure is not the sole end of human existence. Another word from Jesus, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord.”

Pleasure in the goodness of creation can take us only so far. There is more to life. There is more to “blessing” than enjoying our “stuff.” There is also the Way of the Cross, which is both harder and more satisfying than “eating, drinking and being merry.”

Betting on God

I’m going to start a brief study of Ecclesiastes. For those who don’t know, that’s a book of Wisdom literature from the Old Testament in the Bible. It’s where Pete Seeger got the idea for his song, which the Byrds turned into a hit in 1965. Sing it with me, “To everything . . . Turn, Turn, Turn, . . . there is a season . . .”

There is some evidence that Ecclesiastes almost didn’t make it into the Biblical canon. There were those who thought it a bit too lacking in faith, perhaps a little too pessimistic about God and life. Nevertheless, there it is in the scriptures to teach us something.

“’Vanity of vanities,’ saith the preacher.” Thus it begins. A modern translation suggests that a better modern word to convey the intent of Ecclesiastes is “futility.” In other words, everything in life is just “chasing after the wind.” Sometimes life does feel that way.

And to add to the burden, you can’t know what God is up to. Ecclesiastes 11:5-6 illustrates this perfectly. “Just as you do not know how the breath comes to the bones in the mother’s womb, so you do not know the work of God, who makes everything. In the morning sow your seed, and at evening do not let your hands be idle; for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good.”

Sometimes you wonder whether God is for you or against you. Ecclesiastes says that we can’t know for sure, but he’s willing to bet on God nevertheless. That’s what Dr. Tom Long suggests. Ecclesiastes is making a wager. He’s betting on God even though he doesn’t know the outcome. After Ecclesiastes makes his case about the meaninglessness of life, he nevertheless resolves to serve God even though he has no assurance, no certainty, that doing so will be of any advantage to him. This is the reason I think Ecclesiastes made it into the Biblical canon, because this is what faith is – believing whether it does you good or not. Let him speak for himself, “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments; for that is the whole duty of everyone (12:13).”

I think I have an advantage over Ecclesiastes. I have seen Jesus in whom I believe we can see and know what God is up to. I’m willing to place my bet on God because of Jesus. But imagine what faith Ecclesiastes had that even without the witness of Jesus he was willing to do the same?

Would It Kill You to Say Thank You?

It is nice when someone says “Thank You.” My mother tried to instill the etiquette of thank you notes in me while I was growing up. I only sent them because of her insistence. It was only when I was in my late 20’s when Mom’s training began to take and I saw the importance of formally responding with thanks to those who had been gracious to me in one way or another. My apologies to all those I neglected between the time I was out from under my mother’s immediate supervision and the time I adopted her habits for my own.

Actually, it took another woman to help me see the importance of giving thanks. My wife gave thanks on my behalf until I figured out I could do it myself.

My seminary must have known that young people have a hard time taking up the habit of giving thanks. Whenever I would receive a letter from my seminary informing me that I had received a scholarship for the school year, the letter always reminded me that a thank you note would be appreciated by the family which sponsored the scholarship. Such a prompt helped me be mindful of the need to give proper thanks.

I may be showing my age but my observation, limited as it is, tells me that the next generation is not getting the hang of this formal thank-you business. I now understand why the US Postal Service is going under – no one under thirty-five is sending thank you notes! (I use hyperbole. Surely a few are still sending notes, but they seem all too few, indeed).

Of course, scripture teaches us not to expect appreciation. Indeed, we are not supposed to keep track of the good deeds we do for others. We are told not to let our “left hand know what our right hand is doing.” Still, it feels good to be appreciated.

The apostle Paul was quick to give thanks to the congregations he served. My favorite of these texts is from Philippians (1:3 and following), “I thank my God every time I remember you . . . because of your sharing in the gospel . . .” Paul not only thanked God, but he let his congregations know of his thanks for them and their partnership in his ministry. So, giving thanks is an okay thing to do. It may even be a Christ-like thing to do. Miz Manners would be proud.

Unnecessary

Snow and ice covers the road in front of the parsonage and no one, except a few, is braving the elements today. Authorities on TV and the radio encourage everyone to stay put, “Only necessary personnel should venture out.”

Well, I guess I am not necessary. I usually think otherwise. I think and act as if the world might not go on unless I am turning it on its axis. As pastor-in-charge I am responsible for running the church, keeping the gears greased, making sure spiritual life is happening, assuring the sick and troubled that God is with them. Who will make sure the church carries on if not me?

A day or two of inclement weather is all it takes to disabuse me of my indispensability. Nobody is distressed if the church office stays closed for a couple of days. The bulletin will eventually get put together. The phone calls and correspondence that seemed so necessary can wait a little longer. Appointments can be postponed. Only necessary personnel should venture out.

The weather comes as a wake-up call to my need for Sabbath. I am as guilty as everyone else in our culture of belittling the necessity of a day of doing nothing. I rationalize, “but I have to work on Sunday.” But my Fridays, the day when I am “off,” turns out to be a day of work, too. Only instead of wearing my preacher clothes, I’m wearing clean-the-house, work-in-the-yard, go-to-the-store clothes. Obviously not Sabbath-keeping.

Sabbath is intended to remind us that we are not necessary. A weekly dose of humility. Yes, the world will go on without us. God does not NEED us to keep creation spinning. We may take a rest, and reflect. Do nothing.

I know doing nothing is a heresy in American culture. But it could be the very antidote we Christians need to believing that we are at the center of the world. One day a week in which we observe the sufficiency of God might do us wonders. No need to gather manna. There is enough in our pantry for one more day. No need to do any work. It will still be there tomorrow. Turn off the computer. Don’t answer the phone. Go outside and play and delight in the beauty of creation. If you must do something, let it be something completely unnecessary – something that won’t accomplish anything more than evoking the joy and wonder of living.

Sit and talk with your spouse, your children, your friends. Take a walk in the park, through your town. Sit, (don’t dig or pull weeds) in your garden. Smell the roses. Listen to music. Love the one you’re with. Love the life you have been given. And give thanks that you are not necessary to the machinations of the world. What a relief it is.

Tragic shooting

The recent shooting in Tucson, Arizona of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and several others is proving to be a lightning rod for multiple issues of public policy. Jared Lee Loughner, the alleged shooter, is drawing considerable attention, and the issues relating to this shooting is already being politicized.

There is already a call to “tone down the rhetoric” of public speech. The implication being that the current climate of incivility might have contributed to Loughner’s actions.

There is the deeper issue of Loughner’s mental health and the failure of “the system” in providing him with the necessary health care when his pattern of erratic behavior first started to manifest itself.

There is also the appeal for stricter gun control legislation in response to the ease with which this disturbed young man could purchase a weapon.

I don’t know the solution to all the issues raised by this incident. I do know that there will be blame cast about. I do suspect that there will be those who will use this tragedy to advance their own political agendas.

I hope, however, that we don’t lose sight of the human side of the story. Six people died and over a dozen were injured, needlessly. A young man committed a tragic crime because too many people ignored multiple warning signs that he needed help. At the very least we can hope that we might be more vigilant in offering help to troubled souls before they fall off the edge.

The first George Bush held out a vision of a thousand points of light in the hopes of our becoming a kinder and gentler nation. We have moved further from that vision rather than closer to it. I suspect that 9/11 had a lot to do with that. In the immediate aftermath of that particular tragedy things happened in our country that made me very proud to be an American. The stories of generosity and courage and kindness were heartwarming.

But, since then, in an effort to create greater safety and security, we have instead created a climate of suspicion and distrust. If Jared Loughner had manifested his disturbing behavior in the immediate aftermath of 9/11 I believe he would have gotten the help he needed. But, since his troubled soul was revealed in our current atmosphere of paranoia, seems as if everyone turned their backs on him, maybe thinking, “He’s not my problem.”

Well, he is our problem now. And a system of criminal justice that is already overtaxed will have to deal with one more criminal who might never have been one had he been treated as a patient first. As expensive as health care is, I believe it is cheaper than the costs society will face in the aftermath of the Tucson shooting.

Here’s hoping we reach out to help the troubled souls we know. Who knows what tragedies we might prevent?

Why Unhappy?

I caught the tail end of a radio story about optimism. Apparently someone has done an international survey of people’s expectations for 2011. The survey discovered that European countries are very pessimistic about the coming year, with France leading the morbidity quotient. Americans are not very far behind, with the majority NOT expecting much happiness in the coming year.

By contrast, people in nations like Ghana and Nigeria are feeling pretty optimistic about the future. Interesting isn’t it? That those who live in the richest countries are those who are most down-in-the-mouth, while those who live in Nigeria (a nation with extreme poverty, corruption and little social services) are among the happiest in the world.

Maybe folks in Nigeria figure that things can’t possibly get any worse. Or maybe most of them have learned through long years of doing without that it is not things or wealth that lead to happiness in the first place. We, in the U.S. of A., have not learned that lesson yet. The recession has seemed to make us more eager for days of prosperity than ever before, rather than teaching us the value of doing more with less, or of finding happiness apart from things.

Jesus has already summed up the source of happiness a long time ago:

“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. (Matthew 6:25-34)”

Epiphany

Epiphany is name Christians give to the remembrance of the magi's visit to the Christ child. We celebrate the star as a symbol of God's light shining in a dark world. We recognize the wise men as representative of the "world" beyond Judaism on whom the revelation of God has shined.

The important thing to note here is that Epiphany reminds us that God's salvation is not something we figured out for ourselves. God had to reveal it to us. In a world of self-made religion, self-help books, and self-actualization strategies, Epiphany tells us that there are some things we cannot discern unless someone tells us.

We sometimes use the word "epiphany," in the same sense as "Aha!" As in, "I've just had an idea/epiphany." The Christian understanding of Epiphany is just the opposite. The mystery of God's plans for creation is never something we can figure out on our own. God is the one who reveals the truth to us. God is the one who shines a light on our path. God is the one who shows us the life that leads to blessing.

Practically speaking, this is why Christians must always be evangelists. No one figures this mystery of God for themselves. Everyone needs a witness, a shining star, a testimony. Everyone needs someone to reveal this truth to them. So, we sing "Go, tell it on the mountain," or "I love to tell the story."

Someone told me the story long ago. It took time for the truth of the story to sink in. I did have a moment when the mystery of the gospel made a connection in my life, but it was not something I figured out for myself. I depended on the witness of many others, including the inward witness of the Holy Spirit, shining a light on my darkness. And now it is my turn to tell the story to others, for some have never heard "the message of salvation from God's own holy word." How will they hear unless I tell them? How will they see unless God shines a light for them?

Epiphany - a reminder to Christians that we have a responsibility to keep shining the light of the star of Bethlehem for the nations to come to its rising.