Life is a journey

While preparing for a course in spirituality, I was reminded of Walter Brueggemann’s description of the various experiences of spiritual pilgrimage:  1) Orientation, 2) Disorientation, and 3) Reorientation.

We begin our journey with some basic idea of where we are headed.  In my spiritual journey that began in childhood.  Learning the Bible stories in a Christian environment, I was oriented toward Christ as the “pioneer and perfecter of [my] faith (Hebrews 12:2).”  My journey was not a straight path as I sometimes ventured off the proven trail from time to time, but I did not stray too far until my late teens.  By that time I began to chafe at the disconnect between the faith of my childhood and my maturing intellect.  I began to question many things I had been taught, eventually casting aside the particularity of Christian spirituality. 

I became disoriented.  I chose no particular spirituality whatsoever.  I dabbled in atheism, but tend to think of myself during that time as agnostic.  I simply wasn’t sure whether there was a God, and for a while I didn’t care.  I had no plan, no direction, and no perception of divine purpose.  That seemed okay for a while, but I eventually grew despondent and morose from my lack of resolve.  I think it is a basic human need to find meaning, and I had none.  I was disoriented.

In my 20’s, I became reoriented through the simple hospitality of people who welcomed me and my wife into a new community.  They were Christians and their loving welcome led me to relook at the spiritual path I had once been on.  And, armed with a new spiritual hunger, I began to read once again those Bible stories of my childhood faith, but with a new capacity to read below the surface, to find that these stories were dealing with the deeper questions of meaning – these stories were leading me to consider what makes life really worth living.  And I became reoriented, and my path in life became clearer.

Since then I have had many periods of disorientation, and have needed to be reoriented time and again.  I see the same pattern in Jesus’ life.  As Reuben Job puts it, “Jesus knew intensely personal communion with God . . . But he was not immune to struggle, disappointment, or the sting of rejection from friend and foe alike (Companions in Christ, Upper Room Books, 2006, p. 19).”  We cannot possibly comprehend the depth of abandonment that Jesus felt at Gethsemane or Golgotha. 

But in Jesus we see someone in whom we can identify regarding our own periods of disorientation, and discover that such times do not have to define our lives.  The resurrection is a witness that the ultimate meaning of our lives is not controlled by the darkness but by light, not by despair but by hope, not by death but by life.

We have all experienced the disillusionment of broken promises, disappointment in people, and discouragement at not being able to obtain our goals.  Perhaps we have despaired of the path we’re on when our ideal vision is not matched by the reality of our experience.  Such periods of disorientation may actually prove helpful, as we then discover something about ourselves and of God.  Sometimes we discover what God is NOT, and that may move us toward a more mature understanding of who God IS.  And in doing so, we gain greater clarity on who we are.  And we are reoriented toward that life which is really worth living.

I pray you are on the path that leads to life.  My path involves carrying a cross.  It’s not easy.  Sometimes it weighs heavy.  But it feels truer with each step I have taken.  I hope you will join me.

  

To Be a Part of Something Bigger Than Yourself

One of the things I love about my wife’s family is the stories they tell whenever they get together.  When we were dating and we sat around the dinner table eating a simple meal of hot dogs and potato chips, there was also served a healthy helping of stories about when her little brother had tick fever, or the way her daddy used to drive his ’57 Chevy too fast when he was sixteen, or the time she broke her toe kicking her other brother in the shin.  There was a lot of laughter in the midst of the stories and it didn’t matter how many times they told the same stories,  I always enjoyed hearing them.

My family had stories, too; vacations at the beach, the boat trip from Brazil to Miami, life on the farm.  I thought most families were like mine until I spent time with my (eventual) wife’s family.  Their stories, like their family, were very different from ours but, like us, they enjoyed telling them. 

I learned recently that young people who have an active knowledge of their family stories are better adjusted than those who don’t.  If a child can tell you where her grandmother grew up, or knows what kind of work her grandfather did, she tends to have a higher self-esteem than those children who don’t know about their family heritage.  Children who can articulate stories about their crazy uncle, or their eccentric cousins, seem to do better in school than children who are oblivious to their lineage.  It is as if the stories of family, the ups and downs of fortune, the ins and outs of relationships, are a reminder that they are a part of something bigger than themselves and as a result, they are somehow better able to cope with the challenges they face in their own lives.

There is a myth in American culture that we can make it on our own without anybody’s help, and there may be rare individuals who overcome deprived backgrounds and flourish in their own lives.  But most of us who thrive do so only as a result of having been a part of a community, being part of something bigger than ourselves.

I am a part of a large community – a community that is unbound by time and space.  At the breakfast table where ancestral stories were shared, I also heard stories of Abraham and Sarah, of David and Bathsheba, of Hosea and Gomer, of Mary and Gabriel, and, of course, Jesus.  I learned that I was not only part of a family that had lived through many adventures in the 20^th Century, but I was also part of a people who had suffered, endured, and thrived through millennia – a part of a story of God’s redemption of the whole of creation.  I am a part of something that is, indeed, bigger than myself.  And that something has made all the difference.  

What's Proper?

At the family breakfast table as I was growing up I received daily exposure to Bible stories as well as frequent instructions on proper grammar.  These were so constant in nature that I came to (mistakenly) assume that proper speech was integral to Christian discipleship.  Only as I later went to seminary and began to process my faith through proper theological frameworks did I realize that mature faith and a literate mind were not necessary bed partners.  Still, what’s bred in the bone, as they say . . .

So, as an ode to my mother, here are some common mispronunciations which say nothing about your character as a human being, and has no bearing on your eternal destiny, but which would grate on my mother’s nerves…

“Irregardless,” is not a word.  Leave off the “Ir,” please.

“Nauseous,” is not how you feel when feeling queasy.  Instead, you are “nauseated.” 

One does not “lay” down, one “lies” down.  As my mother would say, “Chickens lay.  People lie,” unless it is past tense then, “I lay down yesterday, while the chickens laid eggs.”  Confused?  Welcome to the English language.

When you exaggerate you are using hy-per-bo-le (le as in “lee”) --- not hy-per-bole (bole as in “bowl”).

And former President Bush notwithstanding, the word is “nu-clear,” not “new-que-ler.”

“Often,” is often pronounced with a “t” sound, but the “t” should be silent.

And salmon is eaten without an “l” so try it, “sa-mon.”

And if you cannot remember these instructions you are not suffering from “Al-timer’s” disease, or “old-timer’s” disease, but you may want to be checked for “Alz – heimer’s.”

“You’re,” means “you are.” “Your,” means something belongs to you.

“It’s,” means “it is.”  “Its,” means something belongs to it.

“There,” is a place you may be going.

“They’re,” refers to persons who may be going with you (“they are”).

“Their,” means something belongs to them.

“Who’s,” means “who is,” as in “Who is going to the movies?”

“Whose,” means something belongs to somebody, as in “Whose popcorn is this?”

You might think I am being pedantic (look it up), and I probably am, but I mean this all in fun.  Accept (not except) my apologies if you are offended, but if you learned something that will serve you in the future, my mother, God rest her soul, would say “You’re welcome.”

Far from the Tree

          I have not read the book yet, but the title attracts me.  It is a work by Andrew Solomon entitled, Far From the Tree.  From reviews I have read, including an interview with the author, the book apparently deals with the expectations all parents have about who their children are going to be, and the disorientation that results when their children turn out to be different than they had anticipated.

          This is true for every parent.  We often envision our son or daughter fulfilling some shattered dream we had for ourselves --- if you are an academic, you might imagine your infant growing to become a Morehead scholar, setting the world ablaze with her insights or research.  If you are a shade tree mechanic, you may imagine hours spent together with your son, under the hood of a ’57 Chevy, extolling the virtues of polished chrome, or cubic inch displacement.  We often anticipate our children turning out to be a lot like ourselves.

          However, we are often surprised at how different our children turn out to be than we had imagined.  She turns out to be an average student.  He wants to be a dancer.  As parents, our dreams for them are sometimes disappointed, occasionally crushed, frequently requiring a reality check.  As the book’s title suggests, our children often fall “far from the tree,” that bore them.  This is especially true for parents of exceptional children --- children born differently-abled --- perhaps he is deaf, she is blind.  The athlete you anticipated arrives into the world with cerebral palsy.  The pianist you envisioned has Down’s syndrome.

          Some parents experience a period of grief as they come to terms with the dream versus the reality.  But what Andrew Solomon lifts up in his book is the discovery that many parents make, that there is great blessing to be discovered when we acknowledge and affirm the child that “is” rather than the child that we imagined.  In my own experience with parents who have raised, or are raising exceptional children, I have been encouraged to discover how they delight in their children, even with the special challenges their child may present. 

          As a Christian, I affirm the scriptural truth that we are all created in the image of God; an image that is not marred by physical deformity, or mental slowness.  There is a sense in which the voice of God speaks to us the same words that God spoke to Jesus at his baptism, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with whom I am well pleased.”  No matter how far from the tree we have fallen, we are precious in God’s sight, and there is that of God in us.    

          Perhaps to be made in the image of God is to be able to see blessing no matter in what guise it is hidden.

Imperfect Spirituality

Churches are not perfect.  And that lack of perfection, of course, hinders our ability to show Christ to the world.  I've often said that most people in our community have no problems with Jesus, it’s the church that bothers them – the hypocrisy that is all too visible in Jesus’ imperfect followers.  My standard answer to those who decry the hypocrisy of Christians is to say that the church always has room for one more.  After all, Christians have not cornered the market on hypocrisy.  How many people in business, in politics, in the marketplace, say one thing yet do another?

But this criticism of the church by outsiders gives me hope that at least those who are not following Jesus are at least paying attention.  If I’m talking about you, then I applaud your ability to see the disconnect between who Jesus is and the failings of church people to be like him.  At least you are seeing the uniqueness of Jesus and that’s a good place to begin in discovering who he really is.

The truth is that followers of Jesus never get it quite right.  This was true with his early disciples, arguing about which one was the greatest among them, wanting places of honor, not grasping the servant heart of Jesus.  Still, what they did get right was that they kept following him.  And, after all, that is what it means to be a disciple --- to be a follower.

Sure, there are plenty of followers who are straggling along at the rear of the pack, getting off the trail sometimes because they barely see Jesus up ahead.  Still, somehow they dust themselves off when they fall, and get back at it, or as I like to think, Jesus picks them up and points them again in the right direction.  These are not sterling examples of Christian discipleship but they are following, and that really is all that Jesus asks.

And then, you have to admit, there are those who seem to follow so closely, who are right on Jesus’ heels, that it is as if we see the heart of Jesus shining in them.  There are the saints recognized around the world, like Mother Theresa.  But there are saints who live in your neighborhood --- the woman who picks flowers and visits the sick every week, the retired man who instead of playing golf every day, spends time at the Christian ministry sorting clothes, or shelving food supplies.  You know who they are.  These folks may not be perfect, but they are further along in living the servant life than most of us.

Yea, given the uniqueness of Jesus, it is hard to explain how some of his followers can be so shabby.  But it is equally hard to explain why there are so many shining lights of goodness out there, and why wouldn’t we want to be like them? 

By the way, part of the appeal of Jesus is that he measures perfection not by any objective standards of moral behavior.  Rather, he measures perfection by our ability to show mercy, as he shows not only to those shabby followers, but perhaps also to those who have never even made the effort.  That’s why church is always a mixed bag collection of people.  We are all following sloppily, and in need of mercy which Jesus offers in abundance.  Come join us.  

The Prophetic Risk

It is Sunday evening and I’m thinking about the risk I took this morning, hoping it was worth it.  I spoke a prophetic word to the people of God who gather each Sunday at the church I serve.

When I say, “prophetic,” don’t make the common mistake of assuming that I was predicting future events.  Contrary to the misconceptions of many, Biblical prophecy is not concerned about predictions but with addressing the injustices (and idolatry) committed by God’s people and calling them to account.  The basic Biblical plot which occasions the rise of prophets is as follows:

            God makes a covenant with the people.

            The people break the covenant.

            God sends prophets to call the people back to the covenant.

            The people repent (change their wicked ways), or not!

Today I questioned whether the elected leaders of the state of North Carolina were keeping covenant.  Psalm 72 prays for the king to act with God’s justice toward the weak and the needy.  The Gospel of Luke recounts the words of Jesus, “Blest are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”  Jesus’ final parable in the Gospel of Matthew implies that the nations will be judged by the way we treat the least of these.  Keeping God’s covenant carries with it an obligation for those with power to care for the poor.  In today’s political climate of budget slashing, I perceive that the axe cutting government services is falling sharpest on those who can afford it the least.  If I am right in this perception, then this is contrary to God’s covenant.

The risk of speaking as a prophet is that I may offend someone’s political sensibilities.  In doing so, I cause a division in my congregation and I regret that.  I am by nature a pastor, someone who wants to offer care and compassion to people, to overcome differences and bring people together in unity.  I am by calling a preacher, specializing in a message of grace whose sermons are generally appreciated by most.  I like to proclaim good news that makes everyone feel good!

But there is a line in Luke’s Gospel (6:26), right there in the midst of “Blest are you poor,” which says, “Beware when all speak well of you.”  I have always been haunted by those words.  They are a caution to me not to retreat into the comfortable role of pastoral preacher.  Sometimes God requires a preacher to be a prophet.  Elijah was a thorn in King Ahab’s side (1 Kings 18:17).  So much so that Ahab said one day, “Is it you, you disturber of Israel?”  As the old cliché goes --- sometimes the preacher comforts the disturbed, but sometimes one must disturb the comfortable.  Ahab needed to be disturbed. 

If anyone was disturbed by what I said today, I hope they will nevertheless hang with me for a while – engage me in dialogue, or even challenge me.  Perhaps they will also challenge themselves.  If we fail to hang together in church, disagreeing with mutual respect, then I don’t see much hope for our present societal impasse where politicians refuse to meet in the middle. 

Today I spoke as a prophet.  I was uncomfortable.  What do you know . . . maybe I’m the one who needed to be disturbed? 

Who Deserves Health Care?

Here’s a question:  Does every sick person deserve to be treated for their illness?  Seems rather heartless to say, “no.”   But if we say “yes,” and the person who is sick cannot afford care, who is going to pay for it?  The answer to that question is as complicated as Obamacare and the accompanying political drama.

Still, I am interested in the whole question of who deserves care and who doesn’t.  As U.S. citizens we believe in “justice and liberty for all,” and doesn’t a just society require that we provide care?  Would care be for citizens only?  Or does “justice . . . for all,” imply a broader interpretation? 

Who deserves care?  Who is worthy?

Some esteemed members of the synagogue in Capernaum came to Jesus one day asking him to heal the ailing servant of a local Roman officer (Luke 7:1-10).  Romans were Gentiles, considered unclean by Jewish law and custom and thus excluded from Jewish worship and community.  However, these Jewish elders who approach Jesus assure him that this particular Roman is “worthy,” or deserving, of Jesus’ attention because he paid for the construction of the synagogue.  Well, isn’t that the way we usually measure who deserves our attention? 

I suspect that Jesus responds to their request regardless of the worthiness of the Roman officer but because Jesus is a man who provides healing, not because people deserve it, but because he is compassionate (Matthew 9:36).  And followers of Jesus are to be compassionate, too.  We are called to respond to people in need, regardless of our perception of what they deserve. 

I know we have to consider the cost of care.  No society can function without counting the cost of services that it provides.  But if we cut services to people who need medical care can we continue to call ourselves a just society? 

I have to let other people do the math.  In lean times governments need to set budget priorities.  I simply raise the issue because I believe our priorities should be guided by compassion.  And I believe Jesus continues to offer us a perspective on what compassion looks like.

On another occasion (Luke 8:40-56), another esteemed Jewish leader asked Jesus to come heal his twelve-year old daughter who was at the precipice of death.  Surely this man was deserving of Jesus’ attention.  But on the way, a woman on the fringes of society who had, because of her illness, been ritually unclean for the same number of years as the little girl had been alive, approached Jesus for healing.  She had been ostracized by her disease.  Her society judged her unworthy and undeserving of human attention, and unlike the Roman officer of the previous story, she had not paid for a synagogue.  But Jesus delayed his visit to the home of the deserving Jewish leader in order to heal and affirm this “undeserving” woman.

Care should not be based on what we deserve.  Care should be based on compassion.  I pray that both Democrats and Republicans will get their priorities straight.  We deserve no less from our elected officials.