As I am taking in so many "last times" on internship, I am reflecting on this wonderful quote by Marianne Williamson:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Parable of the SOIL or SOWER?
Greetings! I'm trying to get back into blogging mode. I apologize for leaving you alone for so long. Here's the basis for tomorrow morning's sermon on Matthew 13 (Read ye' first this week's texts!). I hope you enjoy it!
~A
I believe most of you are familiar with the parable of the sower. These different kinds of soil that the seed falls on. Then Jesus' interpretation of this parable that explains the seed is the word of God and describing how certain people respond to it.
We tend to come away believing this gospel is about us. We believe it is about the soil and we work to be good soil so that we can receive the word from God and produce good fruit. Except making it about the soil makes it about us and we really can't go anywhere from there. Because as soon as this parable becomes about turning ourselves into good soil, we've lost God. It becomes a competition to see who can be the best soil. We'd even start comparing what kind of good soil we are - thirty fold, sixty fold, a hundred fold?! It's not enough to be good soil, we want to be great soil. In reality, we know that we are often times quite rocky, a bit weedy, or even shallow. Just because we follow Christ doesn't make us perfect soil.
And while it is fine and well and good to want to receive God's word, we have to remember that it isn't about us. This is not the Parable of the SOIL but the Parable of the SOWER. So I'm going to propose something to you. I know we all love the image of God as a good shepherd and God as a father or even a painter if we look at sunsets and sunrises, but I want you to imagine God as the Gracious Gardener. Or how about the caring farmer? Benevolent Rancher? The great sower of seeds.
This idea of God as a gardener or a care taker for creation is all over scripture. Today we get a platter full in our stories: rain, snow, seed, bread, mountains, hills, trees, field, thorn, cypress, brier, myrtle, earth, oceans, mountains, seas, waves, peoples, more earth, dawn, dusk, more earth, water, river, more water, grain, even more earth, furrows, rain, ground, paths, fields, wilderness, hills, meadows, valleys, and a little more grain.
That's quite a list! All beautiful images of creation. All rich descriptions of how God will provide for the earth. And people are included in that list as a part of the creation that God made and called good. God cares for this creation.
So I take this idea of God as a Gardener and re-read this Parable of the Sower. What I see is a sower spreading seeds with abandon. He isn't the smartest farmer if he is wasting his seed on rocky fields, though, right? Why waste precious seed on that which isn't worthy to receive it? Quite frankly, it seems a bit foolish. I know my dad aerated his lawn before he put down grass seed. He wanted to ensure that the ground had the best chance of keeping that seed.
So I don't know. I don't have much of a green thumb. Perhaps you have some ideas. Many of you are farmers. You grew up on ranches. You keep beautiful gardens. And even for those of you who lack green thumbs like I do, you most likely have a lawn that you mow or some kind of green plant in a pot in your house. If nothing else, you know the theory of gardening even if you don't do so.
So let me ask you this: what did you do when the fields were full of rocks on the farms and ranches? You removed them. Made big rock piles.
What do you do when a plant is in a pot that is too small? You get a bigger pot and find more soil so it isn't sitting in shallow soil.
What about those weeds in your garden? You pull them out! Spray weed-be-gone or something to get rid of them.
What about when the ground is dry? When a plant isn't getting enough sunlight? When a tree needs pruning?
You care for your plants. You tend your garden. You remove the rocks and weeds. You make sure there is enough sunlight and soil to go around. You water the flowers and plants and trees and grass.
So if God is even half the farmer that we are, we've got to imagine that God knows how to remove our rocks. Knows what to do when we are getting a bit chocked on weeds. Knows how to feed us with daily bread. Waters us with the waters of baptism. And speaks to our souls when we find our faith getting shallow.
And yes, this Generous Gardener spreads the word generously. This gardener is not holding back and being frugal with what is being given. This radical gardener is going crazy and planting seeds in every kind of soil there is. There is no waiting to see if the soil will turn itself into good soil.
This gardener has the best green thumb in the world and can make small blades of grass come up through concrete. This gardener causes trees to grow out of the rock face and tender flowers to come up through the snow. This gardener created the world by speaking it into existence and us with it.
This is the Spirit that resides in us. In Paul's letter to the Romans, he wrote "If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, God who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through the Spirit that dwells in you."
There's something about knowing that that seems to make me stand a little straighter. I can bear more. I can trust more easily. My faith comes naturally knowing that I am cared for. The God of creation is looking after me. I don't know how to be grateful enough.
This power, this presence, is in all of us. As we splash in the waters of baptism and eat and drink this bread and wine, God is feeding us and watering us. Our Gracious Gardener is caring for us.
And all God's people said: AMEN! +
~A
I believe most of you are familiar with the parable of the sower. These different kinds of soil that the seed falls on. Then Jesus' interpretation of this parable that explains the seed is the word of God and describing how certain people respond to it.
We tend to come away believing this gospel is about us. We believe it is about the soil and we work to be good soil so that we can receive the word from God and produce good fruit. Except making it about the soil makes it about us and we really can't go anywhere from there. Because as soon as this parable becomes about turning ourselves into good soil, we've lost God. It becomes a competition to see who can be the best soil. We'd even start comparing what kind of good soil we are - thirty fold, sixty fold, a hundred fold?! It's not enough to be good soil, we want to be great soil. In reality, we know that we are often times quite rocky, a bit weedy, or even shallow. Just because we follow Christ doesn't make us perfect soil.
And while it is fine and well and good to want to receive God's word, we have to remember that it isn't about us. This is not the Parable of the SOIL but the Parable of the SOWER. So I'm going to propose something to you. I know we all love the image of God as a good shepherd and God as a father or even a painter if we look at sunsets and sunrises, but I want you to imagine God as the Gracious Gardener. Or how about the caring farmer? Benevolent Rancher? The great sower of seeds.
This idea of God as a gardener or a care taker for creation is all over scripture. Today we get a platter full in our stories: rain, snow, seed, bread, mountains, hills, trees, field, thorn, cypress, brier, myrtle, earth, oceans, mountains, seas, waves, peoples, more earth, dawn, dusk, more earth, water, river, more water, grain, even more earth, furrows, rain, ground, paths, fields, wilderness, hills, meadows, valleys, and a little more grain.
That's quite a list! All beautiful images of creation. All rich descriptions of how God will provide for the earth. And people are included in that list as a part of the creation that God made and called good. God cares for this creation.
So I take this idea of God as a Gardener and re-read this Parable of the Sower. What I see is a sower spreading seeds with abandon. He isn't the smartest farmer if he is wasting his seed on rocky fields, though, right? Why waste precious seed on that which isn't worthy to receive it? Quite frankly, it seems a bit foolish. I know my dad aerated his lawn before he put down grass seed. He wanted to ensure that the ground had the best chance of keeping that seed.
So I don't know. I don't have much of a green thumb. Perhaps you have some ideas. Many of you are farmers. You grew up on ranches. You keep beautiful gardens. And even for those of you who lack green thumbs like I do, you most likely have a lawn that you mow or some kind of green plant in a pot in your house. If nothing else, you know the theory of gardening even if you don't do so.
So let me ask you this: what did you do when the fields were full of rocks on the farms and ranches? You removed them. Made big rock piles.
What do you do when a plant is in a pot that is too small? You get a bigger pot and find more soil so it isn't sitting in shallow soil.
What about those weeds in your garden? You pull them out! Spray weed-be-gone or something to get rid of them.
What about when the ground is dry? When a plant isn't getting enough sunlight? When a tree needs pruning?
You care for your plants. You tend your garden. You remove the rocks and weeds. You make sure there is enough sunlight and soil to go around. You water the flowers and plants and trees and grass.
So if God is even half the farmer that we are, we've got to imagine that God knows how to remove our rocks. Knows what to do when we are getting a bit chocked on weeds. Knows how to feed us with daily bread. Waters us with the waters of baptism. And speaks to our souls when we find our faith getting shallow.
And yes, this Generous Gardener spreads the word generously. This gardener is not holding back and being frugal with what is being given. This radical gardener is going crazy and planting seeds in every kind of soil there is. There is no waiting to see if the soil will turn itself into good soil.
This gardener has the best green thumb in the world and can make small blades of grass come up through concrete. This gardener causes trees to grow out of the rock face and tender flowers to come up through the snow. This gardener created the world by speaking it into existence and us with it.
This is the Spirit that resides in us. In Paul's letter to the Romans, he wrote "If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, God who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through the Spirit that dwells in you."
There's something about knowing that that seems to make me stand a little straighter. I can bear more. I can trust more easily. My faith comes naturally knowing that I am cared for. The God of creation is looking after me. I don't know how to be grateful enough.
This power, this presence, is in all of us. As we splash in the waters of baptism and eat and drink this bread and wine, God is feeding us and watering us. Our Gracious Gardener is caring for us.
And all God's people said: AMEN! +
Friday, July 08, 2011
It's July?
I'm a little shocked it is July. Okay, not a little shocked. A lot shocked. These last few months have flown by. Lots of changes in my world, and most of them wonderful.
1st up: I'm no longer doubting my call to ordained ministry. This is what I need and want to do with my life. Now, I can still get grumpy from time to time that I will not be some famous author or play writer or director... but I trust that this will fill up my heart. I also trust that I will continue to read books and attend plays and write poetry because they are a part of my soul's contentment.
Secondly: The parish pastor I was working with left to move on to something new so I stepped up as pastor. One of my elders now calls me "the head poo-poo" and I can do nothing but laugh. They have all been gracious and wonderful as I take risks and lead all on my own. It's most likely one of the best parts of my internship. How often it is that we learn best by doing. I'm a pastor so I know I can be a pastor. (Oh, the wild wacky world of internship.)
Thirdly... well I'm not sure there is any major thirdly other than my departure from Montana at the end of the month. It will be very hard to leave even with all my friends and family waiting anxiously to see me again in August. Bittersweet is the word one of my friend's used. It's all bittersweet.
I was wonderful if I placed on a scale all the voices asking me to stay and all the voices asking me to come home for goodness sake!... which side would win out. Just today, one of the nurses asked if I was working full time at St. John's or if I was still an intern. In the St. John's world, many of their Administrative Interns simply transition into full time employment after their internship is complete. It's like residency.
So I've spent a good bit of time explaining "the process" and telling everyone that I have one year left of school. Some elders laugh and tell me they'll take me as I am - they think I've had enough schooling! Generally I graciously smile. Snarkily I know that is often the thought once seniors get back to school after internship. We'll see...
Well I'm on the move again. Out to the brewery for a drink with visiting friends: http://thepilgrimpastor.blogspot.com/
Love and hugs oh cyber world!
1L
1st up: I'm no longer doubting my call to ordained ministry. This is what I need and want to do with my life. Now, I can still get grumpy from time to time that I will not be some famous author or play writer or director... but I trust that this will fill up my heart. I also trust that I will continue to read books and attend plays and write poetry because they are a part of my soul's contentment.
Secondly: The parish pastor I was working with left to move on to something new so I stepped up as pastor. One of my elders now calls me "the head poo-poo" and I can do nothing but laugh. They have all been gracious and wonderful as I take risks and lead all on my own. It's most likely one of the best parts of my internship. How often it is that we learn best by doing. I'm a pastor so I know I can be a pastor. (Oh, the wild wacky world of internship.)
Thirdly... well I'm not sure there is any major thirdly other than my departure from Montana at the end of the month. It will be very hard to leave even with all my friends and family waiting anxiously to see me again in August. Bittersweet is the word one of my friend's used. It's all bittersweet.
I was wonderful if I placed on a scale all the voices asking me to stay and all the voices asking me to come home for goodness sake!... which side would win out. Just today, one of the nurses asked if I was working full time at St. John's or if I was still an intern. In the St. John's world, many of their Administrative Interns simply transition into full time employment after their internship is complete. It's like residency.
So I've spent a good bit of time explaining "the process" and telling everyone that I have one year left of school. Some elders laugh and tell me they'll take me as I am - they think I've had enough schooling! Generally I graciously smile. Snarkily I know that is often the thought once seniors get back to school after internship. We'll see...
Well I'm on the move again. Out to the brewery for a drink with visiting friends: http://thepilgrimpastor.blogspot.com/
Love and hugs oh cyber world!
1L
Friday, May 27, 2011
It appears I disappeared
Well friends. If you've been following for a while, you know my writing comes in waves. And that I'm not one to apologize for absences from my blog. It happens. We move on.
My lack of writing things out simply means that I've had more of creation to engage in my process of processing this whole internship thing. Quite honestly, I've grown so much in this last month that I'm a little shocked. But grateful, oh so grateful. I'm getting a clearer picture of what type of ministry I want to do in the future (more on that later), I'm dressing in a such a way that I feel comfortable in my skin and confident, and I'm preparing to be the church's pastor for the last 6 weeks of my internship.
Life is... good. My phone kind of hates me. My laptop dislikes me every other week. The rain is dismal but I'm grateful it's not a tornado and that all my loved ones are safe. I've got lots to keep in prayer because it seems this world is a bit off kilter right now. But I was made to pray so it feels right, even if most of my prayer of late is petitions for peace and healing. Guess we can't ever have enough of that, eh?
Just wanted to check in. I'm working on my sermon for this Sunday and will post it when I'm done. Til then, may the peace and joy and love of God be with you all.
p.s. Good new music: Lady Gaga's newest and Cage the Elephant. Awesomeness in musical form.
My lack of writing things out simply means that I've had more of creation to engage in my process of processing this whole internship thing. Quite honestly, I've grown so much in this last month that I'm a little shocked. But grateful, oh so grateful. I'm getting a clearer picture of what type of ministry I want to do in the future (more on that later), I'm dressing in a such a way that I feel comfortable in my skin and confident, and I'm preparing to be the church's pastor for the last 6 weeks of my internship.
Life is... good. My phone kind of hates me. My laptop dislikes me every other week. The rain is dismal but I'm grateful it's not a tornado and that all my loved ones are safe. I've got lots to keep in prayer because it seems this world is a bit off kilter right now. But I was made to pray so it feels right, even if most of my prayer of late is petitions for peace and healing. Guess we can't ever have enough of that, eh?
Just wanted to check in. I'm working on my sermon for this Sunday and will post it when I'm done. Til then, may the peace and joy and love of God be with you all.
p.s. Good new music: Lady Gaga's newest and Cage the Elephant. Awesomeness in musical form.
Monday, May 02, 2011
Rejoicing
I will rejoice in breaths of spring on my face and in the flower beds...
I will rejoice at the resurrection of Jesus Christ....
I will rejoice at the new life that is promised through him....
I will rejoice as my medication begins to make me a healthier person...
I will rejoice in the comfort and love of friends and family...
But I cannot rejoice at the death of Osama Bin Laden. I will not. There is not hope in this death for me. While I understand that some see it as a mark of justice served, I turn my eyes upon a world that repays hate with hate. We are lost in poverty, death, injustice, hatred, debt, ignorance...
My friend Angela reminded me of this wonderful quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
I will rejoice at the resurrection of Jesus Christ....
I will rejoice at the new life that is promised through him....
I will rejoice as my medication begins to make me a healthier person...
I will rejoice in the comfort and love of friends and family...
But I cannot rejoice at the death of Osama Bin Laden. I will not. There is not hope in this death for me. While I understand that some see it as a mark of justice served, I turn my eyes upon a world that repays hate with hate. We are lost in poverty, death, injustice, hatred, debt, ignorance...
My friend Angela reminded me of this wonderful quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Seminarian Sunday
Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Happy Easter to you all. I had a lovey retreat up at Chico this last week. I got to visit Yellowstone National Park again despite the heavy snow that still made most of the roads impassable. How many of you have been to Yellowstone National Park? How many of you have been more than once? Twice? Three, four, five!?
When I think about the Easter season, I think about places like that. Places that draw us to them over and over and over again. One could assume that if you've been there once, you're done and you can check it off your list, right? Why go back? You've seen it!
The reasons we keep returning to Yellowstone are easy and numerous. We want to see it in all the different seasons. We want to see how the seasons change the landscape. We want to see the young bison and elk that are new to the park. We want to see if we'll catch a glimpse of a grizzly or a black bear. We want to see an eagle, a geyser, a waterfall, a coyote, or something else we rarely see. We want to breath in the sights and sounds and smells of nature. It does something for our souls.
The better question is why WOULDN'T we keep going back?
At the north entrance to the Yellowstone National Park is the Roosevelt Arch that reads "For the benefit and enjoyment of the people." And as I drove under it, I thought, what would happen if we put that plaque at the church entrance? A flat out testament and proclamation that Christ is for the benefit and enjoyment of the people. Of all people. An open invitation to come and worship.
Would it somehow make church a place we want to keep coming back to? A place where we want to go more than once or twice a year? A place where we are eager to see new faces and catch a glimpse of the extraordinary? A place where we come to feed our souls and find rest? A place where we come to stand together in justice and love of all creation?
And while church might be all those things for most of you, I know many believe the church is dying. It isn't really a place where most people want to go anymore. In part, I believe this is because we seem
to get distracted by the ordinary or even the ugly parts of church. I've heard a lot of people say they've been 'burned by the church" and thus, won't ever come back.
Funny, that while we are walking around or driving through Yellowstone, we don't care about the large and numerous piles of dung, the blacked trees in burnt forests, or the man-made bridges and roadways that dart through and interrupt the natural beauty. We accept the ugly as part of the beauty there.
And yet, we come here and expect all the beauty and none of the mess. We want perfect music, perfect messages from the sermon and liturgy, perfect flowers and banners and bulletins, and perfection from our
brothers and sisters in Christ. I am not removed from this. But I've come to realize that the ugly and the beauty go together. The dark with the light. I grew up in a church were the pastor wasn't the best
preacher but that just made me love the liturgy and the hymns even more. I come from an imperfect family whom I adore because of their imperfections.
As a people, we can drown in our pursuit of perfection, especially here as we seek the body of Christ. We are like Jesus' disciples in the gospel today, locked up in a room, so afraid of death. And yet, even as we are trapped in our fears, Jesus shows up in our midst. Says "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." We are pulled out of fear and into new life. Quite literally, Jesus is sending us away from those things that bind us and trap us. Not only a fear of death, but a fear of anything ugly or ordinary or imperfect.
Jesus has set us free.
What I find remarkable is that a week later, those same disciples are up in their room... again. Not out. Not proclaiming. Not doing what Jesus wanted them to do. And while I might give them the benefit of the doubt and say they might be taking a break from sharing the good news that Christ is risen, I'm not ready to let them off the hook yet.
We tend to focus on Thomas who missed that first visit when in reality, I wonder why the other disciples are still hanging around. Though Jesus tells Thomas that those who believe and do not see are blessed, the other disciples have now seen Jesus twice!! Jesus could have easily appeared to Thomas at some time when Thomas was alone but Jesus thought it was important to appear to all of them, again. What that tells me is that they needed to see Jesus again. They needed to hear him speak again. They needed another sign.
In many ways, I see the church today as that room full of disciples, Thomas included. We pout that Jesus lived, died, and rose again 2,000 years ago. We pout that we do not see Christ. We imagine that life with Christ was easier. How easy it would be to believe if Jesus were in the room with us now. If so, we'd see past the ugliness of our world and see instead a savior, setting us free.
Do you see Christ? Because I believe God is with us in every moment. That spirit that Jesus breathed on the disciples we carry with us everywhere we go. And when we gather as a group here together, we form the body of Christ. We are the body of Christ. And we receive Christ again in the spoken Word. And we receive Christ again in his body and blood shared at the table. And we receive Christ as we share with one another the words Jesus shared with his disciples: Peace be with you.
Like those disciples, we are church. We aren't always pretty and we are never perfect, but we've been sent to proclaim the good news. It was those disciples, after all, who did leave that room and began to share the good news of Jesus Christ. These are the disciples that went out to proclaim that Christ is Risen!! He is risen indeed!! Alleluia!! They started the early church. In all their doubting imperfection and hesitation and fear, they are us, the church. Christ appeared to them, not once but twice. And Christ appears for us today, not once but over and over again, each time we gather.
Like Yellowstone National Park, Christ is for the benefit and enjoyment of all. We cannot soak it all up on one visit. We cannot take in all the beauty at one time. We are not able to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth to which Jesus loves us.
To say Christ is Risen! does not mean that Jesus won't challenge us, push us out of our locked rooms, and coax us from our fears. To say Christ is Risen! does not mean the church has magically become a
perfect place filled with perfect people. To say Christ is Risen! rather implies that we embrace both the ugliness and the beauty of life as the body of Christ. To say Christ is Risen! is to begin to proclaim to all the world the wonder and beauty of our faith.
We cannot remain in our rooms, in these walls, staying quiet and waiting for another sign. We see Jesus here and now. We see Jesus in the faces of our friends and family. In the beauty of Yellowstone and in our own back yards and gardens plots. In the delight of our pets and the animals of all creation. We see Jesus, continually calling us out of our fear and into the world to proclaim the good news.
And so, set free from our fears, embracing the ugliness and the beauty of new life in Christ, we proclaim with all those early Christians, "CHRIST IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED! ALLELUIA!"
Amen. +
Happy Easter to you all. I had a lovey retreat up at Chico this last week. I got to visit Yellowstone National Park again despite the heavy snow that still made most of the roads impassable. How many of you have been to Yellowstone National Park? How many of you have been more than once? Twice? Three, four, five!?
When I think about the Easter season, I think about places like that. Places that draw us to them over and over and over again. One could assume that if you've been there once, you're done and you can check it off your list, right? Why go back? You've seen it!
The reasons we keep returning to Yellowstone are easy and numerous. We want to see it in all the different seasons. We want to see how the seasons change the landscape. We want to see the young bison and elk that are new to the park. We want to see if we'll catch a glimpse of a grizzly or a black bear. We want to see an eagle, a geyser, a waterfall, a coyote, or something else we rarely see. We want to breath in the sights and sounds and smells of nature. It does something for our souls.
The better question is why WOULDN'T we keep going back?
At the north entrance to the Yellowstone National Park is the Roosevelt Arch that reads "For the benefit and enjoyment of the people." And as I drove under it, I thought, what would happen if we put that plaque at the church entrance? A flat out testament and proclamation that Christ is for the benefit and enjoyment of the people. Of all people. An open invitation to come and worship.
Would it somehow make church a place we want to keep coming back to? A place where we want to go more than once or twice a year? A place where we are eager to see new faces and catch a glimpse of the extraordinary? A place where we come to feed our souls and find rest? A place where we come to stand together in justice and love of all creation?
And while church might be all those things for most of you, I know many believe the church is dying. It isn't really a place where most people want to go anymore. In part, I believe this is because we seem
to get distracted by the ordinary or even the ugly parts of church. I've heard a lot of people say they've been 'burned by the church" and thus, won't ever come back.
Funny, that while we are walking around or driving through Yellowstone, we don't care about the large and numerous piles of dung, the blacked trees in burnt forests, or the man-made bridges and roadways that dart through and interrupt the natural beauty. We accept the ugly as part of the beauty there.
And yet, we come here and expect all the beauty and none of the mess. We want perfect music, perfect messages from the sermon and liturgy, perfect flowers and banners and bulletins, and perfection from our
brothers and sisters in Christ. I am not removed from this. But I've come to realize that the ugly and the beauty go together. The dark with the light. I grew up in a church were the pastor wasn't the best
preacher but that just made me love the liturgy and the hymns even more. I come from an imperfect family whom I adore because of their imperfections.
As a people, we can drown in our pursuit of perfection, especially here as we seek the body of Christ. We are like Jesus' disciples in the gospel today, locked up in a room, so afraid of death. And yet, even as we are trapped in our fears, Jesus shows up in our midst. Says "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." We are pulled out of fear and into new life. Quite literally, Jesus is sending us away from those things that bind us and trap us. Not only a fear of death, but a fear of anything ugly or ordinary or imperfect.
Jesus has set us free.
What I find remarkable is that a week later, those same disciples are up in their room... again. Not out. Not proclaiming. Not doing what Jesus wanted them to do. And while I might give them the benefit of the doubt and say they might be taking a break from sharing the good news that Christ is risen, I'm not ready to let them off the hook yet.
We tend to focus on Thomas who missed that first visit when in reality, I wonder why the other disciples are still hanging around. Though Jesus tells Thomas that those who believe and do not see are blessed, the other disciples have now seen Jesus twice!! Jesus could have easily appeared to Thomas at some time when Thomas was alone but Jesus thought it was important to appear to all of them, again. What that tells me is that they needed to see Jesus again. They needed to hear him speak again. They needed another sign.
In many ways, I see the church today as that room full of disciples, Thomas included. We pout that Jesus lived, died, and rose again 2,000 years ago. We pout that we do not see Christ. We imagine that life with Christ was easier. How easy it would be to believe if Jesus were in the room with us now. If so, we'd see past the ugliness of our world and see instead a savior, setting us free.
Do you see Christ? Because I believe God is with us in every moment. That spirit that Jesus breathed on the disciples we carry with us everywhere we go. And when we gather as a group here together, we form the body of Christ. We are the body of Christ. And we receive Christ again in the spoken Word. And we receive Christ again in his body and blood shared at the table. And we receive Christ as we share with one another the words Jesus shared with his disciples: Peace be with you.
Like those disciples, we are church. We aren't always pretty and we are never perfect, but we've been sent to proclaim the good news. It was those disciples, after all, who did leave that room and began to share the good news of Jesus Christ. These are the disciples that went out to proclaim that Christ is Risen!! He is risen indeed!! Alleluia!! They started the early church. In all their doubting imperfection and hesitation and fear, they are us, the church. Christ appeared to them, not once but twice. And Christ appears for us today, not once but over and over again, each time we gather.
Like Yellowstone National Park, Christ is for the benefit and enjoyment of all. We cannot soak it all up on one visit. We cannot take in all the beauty at one time. We are not able to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth to which Jesus loves us.
To say Christ is Risen! does not mean that Jesus won't challenge us, push us out of our locked rooms, and coax us from our fears. To say Christ is Risen! does not mean the church has magically become a
perfect place filled with perfect people. To say Christ is Risen! rather implies that we embrace both the ugliness and the beauty of life as the body of Christ. To say Christ is Risen! is to begin to proclaim to all the world the wonder and beauty of our faith.
We cannot remain in our rooms, in these walls, staying quiet and waiting for another sign. We see Jesus here and now. We see Jesus in the faces of our friends and family. In the beauty of Yellowstone and in our own back yards and gardens plots. In the delight of our pets and the animals of all creation. We see Jesus, continually calling us out of our fear and into the world to proclaim the good news.
And so, set free from our fears, embracing the ugliness and the beauty of new life in Christ, we proclaim with all those early Christians, "CHRIST IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED! ALLELUIA!"
Amen. +
Thursday, April 21, 2011
FAQ
A local church's FAQ section. Very well written:
Q: Do Lutherans really believe the Bible?
A: Lutherans aren't fundamentalists, and we don't use words like "literal," "inerrant," etc. We see the Bible as the sole source of our faith, and it's where the conversation begins. We believe what the Bible says about Jesus, that he really is the son of God, and that his life, death, and resurrection mean endless love and life and peace for us. But it's not our science textbook or a book of law to burden us.
Q: Do Lutherans really believe the Bible?
A: Lutherans aren't fundamentalists, and we don't use words like "literal," "inerrant," etc. We see the Bible as the sole source of our faith, and it's where the conversation begins. We believe what the Bible says about Jesus, that he really is the son of God, and that his life, death, and resurrection mean endless love and life and peace for us. But it's not our science textbook or a book of law to burden us.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Shame and Such
There's something debilitating happening in our culture today: shame.
There's the idea that if we don't live a certain way, look a certain way, believe a certain way, that we are somehow letting someone down. It's all that keeping up with Joneses stuff. We want to give off the impression that we have it all together. We want people to believe that we're stable, healthy, and happy. And when we see the few exceptions to the rule, instead of praising them, we sigh and confess that if they'd make a little more effort to fit in, they'd be happier.
Truth: I listened to a woman talk about a man she met last week. She was telling me that he just looked disheveled and slightly threatening with longer black hair that was stringy around his face. He was antisocial and awkward. And while he was confessing how hurt he was by people's rejection of him, she was considering telling him to make a little effort to fit in. If he'd only cut his hair and make an effort to engage people in conversation, he'd do better. He'd be happier if he decided to fit in a little more.
And as I was hearing this I seething with anger. Why is the solution that this man needs to cut his hair and be less awkward? It's the shaming culture we live in. There's some inherent sense that we all need to fit into this suggested mold or stereotype in order to function in society. Blissfully, there are more accepted molds than there used to be so it makes it somewhat easier if you want to be a punk or a frat guy or a nerd or a jock. But what about the ones who never fit a mold? I wager this is actually every single one of us.
We love watching Finn on Glee be both a jock and a gleester. We love watching cop shows where the hard hitting detective is a softie with the kids. But somehow it doesn't translate into our own lives. We have a hard time accepting an artist who does not have a "real" job. We get uncomfortable with sexuality and gender, so we force labels as if it is a black or white. In reality, I'm beginning to see it is a beautiful array of gray.
And then think about Jesus. The way our religions file Jesus into a certain category or type even though all four gospels point to a person bent on not fitting into any mold. Jesus hung out with prostitutes and unclean people, the wicked tax collectors and the holier than though pharisees. Jesus ate with these people. Jesus defied the religious and societal laws that were binding the Jewish people so tightly. He tried to set them free from their beliefs about what made a person worthy. And he invited the world into that peace and acceptance.
Want to know why I'm a Christian? Because Jesus didn't fit in a box. He pounded home the messages of love and grace and accepting people where they were at and serving one another joyously. I don't think there's any message our world needs more today than that. Let go of the stereotypes. Let go of the molds. Embrace the in between. Embrace the gray. Embrace your neighbor and the stranger and your "enemy" on all sides.
Otherwise, I fear we will all be lost as we bounce between labels and molds and stereotypes that never define who we really are. We'll condemn others who do not fit just as we try to squeeze ourselves some idea of perfection and societal acceptance. When are we going to realize that not only does that idea not work, it is killing us slowly?
There's the idea that if we don't live a certain way, look a certain way, believe a certain way, that we are somehow letting someone down. It's all that keeping up with Joneses stuff. We want to give off the impression that we have it all together. We want people to believe that we're stable, healthy, and happy. And when we see the few exceptions to the rule, instead of praising them, we sigh and confess that if they'd make a little more effort to fit in, they'd be happier.
Truth: I listened to a woman talk about a man she met last week. She was telling me that he just looked disheveled and slightly threatening with longer black hair that was stringy around his face. He was antisocial and awkward. And while he was confessing how hurt he was by people's rejection of him, she was considering telling him to make a little effort to fit in. If he'd only cut his hair and make an effort to engage people in conversation, he'd do better. He'd be happier if he decided to fit in a little more.
And as I was hearing this I seething with anger. Why is the solution that this man needs to cut his hair and be less awkward? It's the shaming culture we live in. There's some inherent sense that we all need to fit into this suggested mold or stereotype in order to function in society. Blissfully, there are more accepted molds than there used to be so it makes it somewhat easier if you want to be a punk or a frat guy or a nerd or a jock. But what about the ones who never fit a mold? I wager this is actually every single one of us.
We love watching Finn on Glee be both a jock and a gleester. We love watching cop shows where the hard hitting detective is a softie with the kids. But somehow it doesn't translate into our own lives. We have a hard time accepting an artist who does not have a "real" job. We get uncomfortable with sexuality and gender, so we force labels as if it is a black or white. In reality, I'm beginning to see it is a beautiful array of gray.
And then think about Jesus. The way our religions file Jesus into a certain category or type even though all four gospels point to a person bent on not fitting into any mold. Jesus hung out with prostitutes and unclean people, the wicked tax collectors and the holier than though pharisees. Jesus ate with these people. Jesus defied the religious and societal laws that were binding the Jewish people so tightly. He tried to set them free from their beliefs about what made a person worthy. And he invited the world into that peace and acceptance.
Want to know why I'm a Christian? Because Jesus didn't fit in a box. He pounded home the messages of love and grace and accepting people where they were at and serving one another joyously. I don't think there's any message our world needs more today than that. Let go of the stereotypes. Let go of the molds. Embrace the in between. Embrace the gray. Embrace your neighbor and the stranger and your "enemy" on all sides.
Otherwise, I fear we will all be lost as we bounce between labels and molds and stereotypes that never define who we really are. We'll condemn others who do not fit just as we try to squeeze ourselves some idea of perfection and societal acceptance. When are we going to realize that not only does that idea not work, it is killing us slowly?
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Love, actually
When I left Tennessee to begin seminary, I made a Goodbye mix for friends and family. I popped my copy of this mix into my cd player this week and was struck by track one, a rather unique folk sound coming from Panic at the Disco!, cleverly named "Folkin' Around."
"If I've forgotten how to sing
Before I sung this song
I'll write it all across this wall
Before my job is done
And I'll even have the courtesy
Of admitting I was wrong
As the final words before I'm dead and gone
You've never been so divine
In accepting your defeat
And I've never been more scared to be alone
If love is not enough to put my enemies to sleep
Then I'm putting out the lantern
Find your own way back home"
And when I am re-exploring my call to ministry from the ground up, instead of trying to fit myself into being a certain kind of pastor, I'm thinking about that concept of love and what it means for me. If it's not enough, then I'm putting out the lantern and quitting ministry. Does this sound harsh? For me, it feels freeing. I'm going to do the thing I know how to do - love people. If it's not enough and I get a negative review on my evaluations or a postponed or denied approval come senior year, then I'll quit.
But this is all I know how to do. I don't know how to sing all the hymns that people believe I should. I don't know how to speak slowly enough or loudly enough so that all the elders can understand me. I don't know how to be energized around ministry when most of what I'm doing feels draining to me. I don't have a polished answer of what type of ministry I want to do. It's not what I'm doing on internship. And I'm finally at a place where I can say that.
So I'll start at the commandment to love and build a life and a ministry from there.
"If I've forgotten how to singBefore I sung this song
I'll write it all across this wall
Before my job is done
And I'll even have the courtesy
Of admitting I was wrong
As the final words before I'm dead and gone
You've never been so divine
In accepting your defeat
And I've never been more scared to be alone
If love is not enough to put my enemies to sleep
Then I'm putting out the lantern
Find your own way back home"
And when I am re-exploring my call to ministry from the ground up, instead of trying to fit myself into being a certain kind of pastor, I'm thinking about that concept of love and what it means for me. If it's not enough, then I'm putting out the lantern and quitting ministry. Does this sound harsh? For me, it feels freeing. I'm going to do the thing I know how to do - love people. If it's not enough and I get a negative review on my evaluations or a postponed or denied approval come senior year, then I'll quit.
But this is all I know how to do. I don't know how to sing all the hymns that people believe I should. I don't know how to speak slowly enough or loudly enough so that all the elders can understand me. I don't know how to be energized around ministry when most of what I'm doing feels draining to me. I don't have a polished answer of what type of ministry I want to do. It's not what I'm doing on internship. And I'm finally at a place where I can say that.
So I'll start at the commandment to love and build a life and a ministry from there.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Faith Stories - Take This Cup From Me
Matthew 26:36-46
Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, "I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me."
And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want."
Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, "So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Again he went away for the second time and prayed, "My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done." Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy.
So leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words.
Then he came to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand."
In front of the tomb where Lazarus was laid, Jesus was deeply moved and wept. He wept with Mary and Martha and the Jews who came to grieve with them. And part of me is thinking that is strange. After all, he knows that in just a few minutes, he will call Lazarus from the tomb. This is his plan. This is something he knows is going to happen. And yet, he weeps. It is by far one of the most comforting stories for me, knowing I worship a God who weeps with us in our sorrow, even if God knows great joy is on the horizon.
As we move towards Palm Sunday and into Holy Week, we remember these final days. The entry into Jerusalem, that last supper, these garden prayers, the betrayal, the cross, the grief. All the moments that happen before a joyous resurrection.
This moment in the garden is particularly beautiful because it shows us a very human Jesus. One who is pleading with God and asking if there is any way the coming events don't have to happen. Have you ever prayed prayers like this? Think about your story and find one moment when your prayers were similar. These type of prayers show up at certain places in our lives, often when a big change is happening and we know our lives will never be the same.
As we remember these final days, I wonder if we can NOT think about the resurrection just yet. I don't want to skip past the pain of these garden prayers or the betrayals or the cross. Because there is something unique in this part of the story that we rarely get to dwell on. So often the good news is the resurrection, the new life in Christ, the bliss of Easter morning.
But there is good news here, too. Good news in a God who weeps. Who is deeply moved and filled with sorrow. A God who does not try to cheer us up and tell us that good days are on the horizon but simply sits and prays and weeps. THIS is a God I can relate to.
I think about these final darker days when people say we should live a life like Jesus. What they mean, typically, is that we should have faith in God and we should love people like Jesus did. What I think of, is that being a Christian and being called to live like Christ means that some of our days will be very dark. We will be on our knees in a garden, praying that this would pass. Praying to God to make anything other than the outcome happen. Praying for a different ending or a solution that hurts less. We pray for escape of some kind from the life we are living.
Welcome to Christianity. Where we come to suffer with Christ. Where we welcome a God into the midst of our pain, not because the pain will vanish with God's arrival, but because God knows what we are going through. And not in that fake assuring way when someone says, "I know exactly what you're going through." God, on the other hand, knows and chooses to be with us in the midst of it.
There have been a few times in my life that I have prayed desperately for the cup to pass from me. The first one I recall was when I learned about my parent's divorce. I wept. I remember my grandfather's death. I remember the tearful prayers before I left for seminary. I remember my first big heartbreak. I remember a lonely Saturday evening in December struggling with loneliness here in the middle of Montana.
Often what I needed in those moments was an anchor to hold on to when I felt like my entire world was changing. My life was shifting and would never again be the same. It was uncomfortable. I was afraid. And then life moved on as it always does. Those changes are still part of me - a huge part of me. But I know a God who walks with us through the valley of death and does not skip ahead to the horizon.
Have you ever prayed a prayer like Christ did in the garden? Asked for a different solution? For relief from overwhelming sorrow? What kinds of situations have you most often prayed these prayers?
Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, "I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me."
And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want."
Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, "So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Again he went away for the second time and prayed, "My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done." Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy.
So leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words.
Then he came to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand."
In front of the tomb where Lazarus was laid, Jesus was deeply moved and wept. He wept with Mary and Martha and the Jews who came to grieve with them. And part of me is thinking that is strange. After all, he knows that in just a few minutes, he will call Lazarus from the tomb. This is his plan. This is something he knows is going to happen. And yet, he weeps. It is by far one of the most comforting stories for me, knowing I worship a God who weeps with us in our sorrow, even if God knows great joy is on the horizon.
As we move towards Palm Sunday and into Holy Week, we remember these final days. The entry into Jerusalem, that last supper, these garden prayers, the betrayal, the cross, the grief. All the moments that happen before a joyous resurrection.
This moment in the garden is particularly beautiful because it shows us a very human Jesus. One who is pleading with God and asking if there is any way the coming events don't have to happen. Have you ever prayed prayers like this? Think about your story and find one moment when your prayers were similar. These type of prayers show up at certain places in our lives, often when a big change is happening and we know our lives will never be the same.
As we remember these final days, I wonder if we can NOT think about the resurrection just yet. I don't want to skip past the pain of these garden prayers or the betrayals or the cross. Because there is something unique in this part of the story that we rarely get to dwell on. So often the good news is the resurrection, the new life in Christ, the bliss of Easter morning.
But there is good news here, too. Good news in a God who weeps. Who is deeply moved and filled with sorrow. A God who does not try to cheer us up and tell us that good days are on the horizon but simply sits and prays and weeps. THIS is a God I can relate to.
I think about these final darker days when people say we should live a life like Jesus. What they mean, typically, is that we should have faith in God and we should love people like Jesus did. What I think of, is that being a Christian and being called to live like Christ means that some of our days will be very dark. We will be on our knees in a garden, praying that this would pass. Praying to God to make anything other than the outcome happen. Praying for a different ending or a solution that hurts less. We pray for escape of some kind from the life we are living.
Welcome to Christianity. Where we come to suffer with Christ. Where we welcome a God into the midst of our pain, not because the pain will vanish with God's arrival, but because God knows what we are going through. And not in that fake assuring way when someone says, "I know exactly what you're going through." God, on the other hand, knows and chooses to be with us in the midst of it.
There have been a few times in my life that I have prayed desperately for the cup to pass from me. The first one I recall was when I learned about my parent's divorce. I wept. I remember my grandfather's death. I remember the tearful prayers before I left for seminary. I remember my first big heartbreak. I remember a lonely Saturday evening in December struggling with loneliness here in the middle of Montana.
Often what I needed in those moments was an anchor to hold on to when I felt like my entire world was changing. My life was shifting and would never again be the same. It was uncomfortable. I was afraid. And then life moved on as it always does. Those changes are still part of me - a huge part of me. But I know a God who walks with us through the valley of death and does not skip ahead to the horizon.
Have you ever prayed a prayer like Christ did in the garden? Asked for a different solution? For relief from overwhelming sorrow? What kinds of situations have you most often prayed these prayers?
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