Who has loved you into being?

Yesterday afternoon I was in a terrible mood. Several factors contributed to this. I fried my computer’s motherboard while attempting to swap out my old hard drive for a new one, I drove 40 minutes to the Xfinity store to buy a new phone for Heather only to find out that I had to make the purchase online, and I didn’t sleep well the night before.

But my mood was much better in the evening thanks to my colleague in ministry Stephen Fearing and the group he co-founded, the Clergy Emergency League (click here to visit their website to learn more). Stephen hosted a conversation with journalist Tom Junod. If that name doesn’t sound familiar, he is the journalist whose experiences with Fred Rogers was profiled in last years’ movie A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. The topic of discussion was this: What would Mister Rogers ask of us? Heather, Harper, and I watched together as we ate our dinner and I continued watching as Harper went to bed and I did the dishes.

Tom and Stephen have known each other for a while and are good friends, and that certainly came across in their conversation. I wish I could give a brief and accurate summary of what was said, but it’s better if you just watch/listen to it yourself if you have a spare hour. I will say that one of the main points that Tom wanted to get across is that Fred Rogers is often remembered for being kind and advocating for kindness, but even deeper in his heart than kindness was his sense of wonder at the world, especially the little things.

Last week as I was leading a daily prayer service, I read the Scripture passage where a group of children gathers around Jesus and the disciples try to shoo them away. Jesus responds by saying, “let the children come to me because anyone who doesn’t receive the kingdom of God as one of these children does will not inherit it.” I reflected on that concept of “child-like faith” a little, noting that there are several ways this idea is interpreted. It seems to me that the most common ones involve the ideas of innocence, simplicity, or even naivety. To receive the kingdom of God like a child does, in this interpretation, would mean keeping oneself as innocent as possible and not questioning faith, Scripture, or the Church’s authority. I don’t buy this at all.

I think what Jesus meant is more in line with the way Fred Rogers approached the world, with a childlike sense of wonder, curiosity, fascination, and an openness to new experiences and viewpoints. It’s to laugh at yourself when you make a simple mistake, to find joy in the little things, to greet each moment as it comes, and to be grateful whenever possible, even for the gift of just being alive.

The full video conversation is below. Please watch if you’re able.

This was exactly what I needed yesterday to turn my mood around. I even got to ask Tom a question. He said that one of the best ways for pastors to embody the legacy of Fred Rogers is to to find a unique way to get the message of love across. It’s one thing to say, “Jesus loves you,” but it’s another thing to live it out and find a way to express that love even to those who would never want anything at all to do with church or religion. He didn’t say it exactly this way, but the message I got was to be uniquely you and show love in the best ways that you can.

Stephen and Tom (along with Stephen’s wife Tricia who came into the conversation toward the end) closed their conversation with an exercise that Fred himself would often do and encouraged others to do, as well. In fact, when he received a lifetime achievement award at the Emmys in 1997 he invited those in attendance and the TV audience to join him. Watch the video below to see it.

Fred invited everyone to take 10 seconds to remember someone who “loved you into being.” At the end of Stephen and Tom’s conversation, the 60 or so Zoom attendees paused for 30 seconds and share who we were thinking about in the group chat as our hosts talked about their own memories. Here is how I responded, who I remembered as someone who “loved me into being”:

My dad who passed away unexpectedly in April. I see more of him in myself each and every day. I didn’t realize until recently how much I owe to him for who I am and continue to grow into.

I am especially reminded of my dad every time I work on something in our new house, like yesterday when I installed an air conditioner in the garage which required prying a piece of metal off of the wall to make a hole for the vent. I inherited several of his tools. I was never much of a handyman, but I’m learning and it’s interesting to me that I’m using the same screwdriver now that I remember my dad using when I was a kid. I’ve been approaching all of my home improvement projects with that sort of childlike wonder I mentioned earlier, and I know my dad felt the same way when he would accomplish something, like when he built my wooden swingset with a model of the lunar lander on top (I had asked for a “spaceship”) from blueprints that he wrote up (that’s still beyond my skill set).

I got to see his sense of joy and wonder grow as he got older, especially as he became a grandfather when Harper was born and in the four years that he got to be her Pappy. My dad was someone who always had a little bit of his inner child still present. Growing up, we didn’t say “I love you” in our house very often; I don’t remember hugging or kissing my parents that often. Love was shown in actions in my family, but as my dad got older I saw him start to become more open to talking about and expressing emotions. I think he became more child-like as he entered retirement. I miss him and I’m sad that he won’t get to come to Shelbyville to get to know our new community or help me with any of my projects around the house, but I hope to continue to grow into the person that he “loved me into being.”

So, who has loved you into being? I invite you to take 30 seconds or so in silence to think of someone, and maybe to think of a specific memory of that person which is formative for you. I’d love to hear your stories.

(One final note: To my mom, because I know you will read this: You have also “loved me into being.” We spent so much time together as I was growing up and, yes, everything I said about Dad above is true of you, too. I see more of you in myself each day just like I see more of him. Thank you for the ways you have made me who I am and who I continue to grow into. I wanted to write this note because I didn’t want you to think I was leaving you out. It’s just that Dad was the one who came into my mind first last night and has been on my mind a lot lately because he isn’t here anymore. Just know that I’m grateful for everything I learned about life, relationships, and the world from both of you.)

It’s OK to lament

Would you hang a poster like this in your home? (made with canva)

Do you have any inspirational Scripture quotes displayed in your home? Or, if you don’t now, did your parents, grandparents, or anyone have them when you were growing up?

There are certain verses that you’ll see over and over. Here are a few examples from a quick Google image search:

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One thing you’ll notice about these and other similar inspirational home decor is that the messages are always positive! Well, I guess they wouldn’t be considered inspirational otherwise. . .

As I was growing up, I remember being told often that to be a Christian meant that you should be happy and filled with joy at all times. Otherwise, your faith must not be strong enough, maybe you’re not praying often enough or hard enough. As children, we sang songs like “I’ve Got the Joy” and “Happy All the Time.” In some ways, this is a biblical concept; Paul talks in Philippians 4 about being “content” no matter the circumstance (vss. 11-13) and the teacher in Ecclesiastes says that God gives happiness to those who please God (2:26). But just because these verses are in the Bible, that does not mean that happiness and joy are the only “proper” human emotions.

I read a book called “Feel: The Power of Listening to Your Heart” in college. The author, Matthew Elliott, combats the common “evangelical” idea that feelings are “bad” or “sinful.” The whole point of the book is to recognize that God created our feelings for a reason. It’s ok to feel whatever you’re feeling in any given moment. Acknowledge your feelings. Talk about them. Be honest with yourself and with God about them.

Take Jesus for example. Was his life filled with endless joy and happiness? Of course not! He wept when his friend died (even though he knew that he had the power to and would soon raise him from the dead. I wrote about this in a previous post here). He got angry at the sight of hypocrisy in the temple. He was upset when his disciples could not stay awake to pray with him in the garden. And, as you would expect, he wasn’t happy when he was dying on the cross, quoting the psamlist’s words, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Which brings me to the point I want to make. It’s ok to lament. To lament is to grieve that things are not as they should be. We’re in a season of the church year where we’re expected to slow down, to look at ourselves and our world and recognize the things that are broken (this is what Ash Wednesday as a tradition is all about). But we don’t like to do this. It’s uncomfortable. It can be hard. That’s why Sunday School songs taught us to be happy all the time; it’s easier to suppress complex emotions and pretend that everything’s ok than it is to face them head-on.

But it’s ok, and a truly healthy thing, to lament. This Lent is turning into a much bigger time of slowing down and reflecting than almost any other before it. With churches, businesses, restaurants, playgrounds, etc., all closed and with so many people practicing social distancing to limit the spread of a global pandemic, many of us have more time on our hands than we’d like to ponder the state of our hearts and of the world in which we live.

taken from N.T. Wright’s official Facebook page

N.T. Wright recently wrote an article for TIME magazine with the title you see in the image above. He emphasizes that the one unique thing that Christianity can call us to in this difficult moment is lament. We can take the cue of the psalmist and pour out our emotions to God and to ourselves and those who love us and care about us. I posted on our church’s Facebook page that many are finding unique ways to seek joy right now and that is great! If you can, like Paul, find joy in even the most difficult circumstance, do it! But, if all you can do right now is be worried about the state of our world, or be saddened by the loss of life, or frustrated with this slower pace of life, it is perfectly fine to feel those feelings, too.

My favorite Presbyterian, Fred Rogers, was a big advocate for allowing children (of all ages) to be in tune with their feelings.

“The point of lament, woven thus into the fabric of the biblical tradition, is not just that it’s an outlet for our frustration, sorrow, loneliness and sheer inability to understand what is happening or why. The mystery of the biblical story is that God also laments. Some Christians like to think of God as above all that, knowing everything, in charge of everything, calm and unaffected by the troubles in his world. That’s not the picture we get in the Bible.”

N.T. Wright, from his TIME article. I encourage you to read the whole thing (I promise, it’s short) here.

Know that God laments with us even, and especially, in times like the one we are living in now. Knowing this may not bring you joy, but it will remind you that, no matter what you are dealing with, you are not alone.

I’ll end by telling you what prompted me to even begin to think about writing about this. I have a collection of crosses, crucifixes and other religious art that decorates the walls in my home and my office at the church. When I was thinking about all of the inspirational, “joyous” biblical quotes that people tend to have in their homes, I happened to notice the cross below.

My parents bought this cross for me as a gift a few years ago.

“It is Well With My Soul” is my favorite hymn for many reasons. Mainly, I love it because of the story behind it. I won’t go into much detail here; you can read a great summary on the UMC Discipleship page. The author experienced extreme hardship in his life and, yes, lament was a big part of his experience. But, in the end, he chose to say, “It is well with my soul.” This is the closest I’ve ever seen to a piece of “inspirational” Christian art being an example of lament.

Our sanctuary at First Presbyterian, Shelbyville even has these words displayed on the wall

You might never see “From the depths of woe I cry to you” on anyone’s wall (like the “inspirational” image I made for the top of this post), but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Just remember, it’s ok to lament.

A reflection during this season of Lent

Today is my third day in my new office. I’ve recently accepted a new call as Associate Pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Shelbyville, IN. My family and I moved here almost two weeks ago and we’re finally starting to get settled in (mostly). Harper started preschool this week and Heather is still searching for a job.

I’m easing into my new role here. On my first Sunday, all I did was observe. Last Sunday, I introduced myself briefly and ran the projector for the service. I’ve written an introductory letter for the church newsletter, and I’m going to be leading some of the liturgy this Sunday, but so far I’ve not had much else in the way of actual “work” to do. I’m pretty sure this is intentional on the Senior Pastor, Mark’s part.

This year for Lent, the church is focusing on slowing down. Lent is meant to be a time for reflection and listening for God and the worship themes and sermons will emphasize this. There are even rocking chairs placed in the back of the sanctuary to invite congregants to sit and spend some time in silence and prayer. This afternoon, I tried it out for myself.

I took my Book of Common Worship, Daily Prayer edition and my CEB Bible that I use for personal reading and sat and rocked in the sanctuary. I also took 15 minutes to listen to a guided meditation by Michael Gungor (one of the members/founders of the Liturgists podcast) about peace that surpasses understanding.

As I was reading the daily lectionary reading, I came to this passage in Mark 1:

A man with a skin disease approached Jesus, fell to his knees, and begged, “If you want, you can make me clean.”

Incensed, Jesus reached out his hand, touched him, and said, “I do want to. Be clean.” Instantly, the skin disease left him, and he was clean. Sternly, Jesus sent him away, saying, “Don’t say anything to anyone. Instead, go and show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifice for your cleansing that Moses commanded. This will be a testimony to them.” Instead, he went out and started talking freely and spreading the news so that Jesus wasn’t able to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, but people came to him from everywhere.

This made me think of all of the times in life (or ministry) that we make a plan and try to stick to it but something gets in the way. It seems that Jesus didn’t really want his reputation to be growing too much at this point, but no one seemed to listen when he told them to keep quiet about him. He tried to remain on the outskirts of the towns to find some rest or downtime, but, as the passage says, “people came to him from everywhere.”

As I sat in that rocking chair reading, praying, meditating on the peace that exists at the center of all things, I couldn’t help but recognize the stark contrast between my current situation and that of Jesus in this reading. I am only just getting started in this position. So far, I don’t know what, exactly, my role will be in this place. I don’t have much to keep me busy yet. For now, I think I should take this season of Lent to heart, to observe the church and the community, to listen, to pray, to see where God is already at work and where I can help lead our church to join in.

But, interestingly enough, as I was in the middle of listening to the guided meditation, someone walked into the sanctuary and we had a brief conversation. Even in the midst of such a slow, relaxed time in my life (apart from the whole moving from Iowa to Indiana thing…), interruptions will occur. But each moment, the interruptions, the prayers and meditations, the unexpected conversations, the walks around town, and so on, each moment is a holy moment if you’re willing to look at it that way. That is my main focus during this season of Lent, to see every moment as good, as holy, as important.

Friends, what is your Lent looking like this year?

Licking trees and walking the labyrinth

Last Tuesday was far from a typical Tuesday for me.

First, I rode my bike down a gravel road to lead a poolside Bible study at 7:30AM.

After breakfast, I hiked through the woods and shot arrows at a target with a group of children and young adults. If one of the kids got a bullseye, the adults had to lick a tree and vice versa. One tree per bullseye. I licked two trees. The kids licked none.

I led another poolside Bible Study just before lunch. After that, I hiked through the woods again, about a mile and a half this time to a cave where I participated in a Bible study and heard the legend of a criminal who (allegedly) used the location as a hideout hundreds of years ago.

When I arrived back from that hike, I spent some time in silence and prayer walking a labyrinth. As I entered the center of that labyrinth, as often happens during my visits to such places of spiritual nourishment, I had what you might call a personal epiphany. I had ridden my bike to that location with my backpack on filled with everything I needed for the day including a Bible, water bottle, headphones, my Chromebook and my Kindle. The message I received (or gave to myself) in that moment of prayer and meditation was that all I need to be happy and to fulfill my purpose in life was already there with me.

That evening, after dinner, and after a third and final poolside Bible study, I sat at a picnic table and read for an hour and a half while around 50 kids and young adults played a game which primarily involved throwing paint on each other.

Finally, the day culminated in an interactive worship service. We read scripture and drew or wrote what the words made us feel in sidewalk chalk. We created Play-Doh sculptures of things that get in the way of our relationship with God (incidentally, I made a sculpture of the very desk and computer on which I’m writing these words right now). We sat quietly in a field marveling at the sights, smells, and sounds of the natural world around us.

The night ended with me preaching a brief message about God’s love as we all sat around a campfire. I spoke of the ways Jesus cared for those close to him, praying with and for them, weeping as they wept, and encouraged those gathered to do the same with their own loved ones and friends.

If you haven’t already figured it out, all of these experiences happened at a summer camp. Last week I spent five days serving as chaplain at Camp Wyoming in Wyoming, Iowa. While that Tuesday was not a typical Tuesday for me, it was a wonderful representation of a “normal” day of the faith-based camp experience. Other activities in which I participated that week include, among many others, caving, launching bottle rockets, making arts and crafts, playing 9-square and GaGa Ball, and eating pizza quesadillas that were cooked over a campfire.

If you look at the camp’s website or social media page, you’ll see lots of pictures of these fun activities. Of course, that’s what parents love to see and it’s fun for the campers to see themselves in the photos when they get home. But it’s far more difficult to capture the sacred moments that camps like this have a way of facilitating. I’ve been involved as a camper, retreat-goer, volunteer, or staff member at several camps over the years (a list of these is included below), and this is true of every one of them. God has a way of showing up in unique ways when people leave the busy-ness and routine of everyday contemporary life and join together in the beauty of nature to have fun, be silly, and create Christian community together even if just for a week. The sacredness of the space has a lot to do with it, but the intentionality behind the curriculum and the planning and training of the counselors and staff is certainly an important factor as well.

Each year at the church I serve, we have what we call “Camp Sunday.” We do this to raise funds for our students to go to camp, but it’s also a way for those who haven’t experienced camp for themselves (or, maybe, to refresh the memories of those whose camping days are long past) to get a taste of why I and the campers love camp so much. We do our best to plan a worship service that feels less like a normal Sunday and more like a day at camp. We decorate the sanctuary with camp-related knick-knacks, we dress in our “camp clothes,” we have interactive lessons instead of sermons, we sing camp songs with a guitar and try to teach the congregation the motions, and we share camp-style food downstairs after worship. No matter how hard we try, though, Camp Sunday doesn’t come close to the actual experience of going to camp. Again, somehow, God has a way of showing up uniquely in those places.

Let me share two examples (in addition to the labyrinth experience mentioned above) of how that happened for me this year. On Wednesday, the curriculum’s theme was “love in hard places.” During my five-minute campfire sermonette, I decided to lift up a story from Marjorie Thompson’s study on the concept of Forgiveness about a Native American tribe welcoming, accepting, and loving an individual who murdered one of their own as if that person were their deceased loved-one. That’s an example of radical love in a hard circumstance. After the worship service, two campers came up to me and said, “We have a problem with that story you shared. We understand the message, but what if having that person as part of your family would create a toxic environment? Forgiveness isn’t necessarily that easy. And what about the consequences of such a crime?” We talked for a few brief moments. I was grateful for the questions and their willingness to engage in dialogue about such a nuanced topic. I was especially impressed with their understanding of the word “toxic.” I only wish there would have been more time to continue the conversation.

On Tuesday night, I encouraged the campers to talk to me or their counselors if they were going through anything in their lives and would like someone to pray with them. I had all but forgotten this invitation when, on Friday morning, a camper came up to me and asked to speak in private. We went off to the picnic table by the pool, the same place where I led staff devotions before meals, and he told me what was on his mind. “I think I might be trans,” he said. Wow. We spoke for a few minutes. Again, I wish there would have been more time. I asked if he had spoken to anyone close to him about this yet. He had talked to some friends, but not his family yet. I asked what sort of church he attended and whether or not he had a good relationship with his pastor. He said yes, so I encouraged him to reach out to his pastor. I hope his pastor is the sort of person who will walk alongside this young person as he seeks to clarify his identity. Above all, I sought to affirm this person’s identity as a beloved child of God regardless of wherever he ultimately lands on the spectrum of sexuality. Channeling my inner Fred Rogers, I told him that God loves him and accepts him just as he is and nothing will change that. He thanked me, said he felt better, and that was all. 

These are both holy moments to me. Moments in which God was present in a way that, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to happen as much in the everyday life of the church. I’m sure the counselors and campers have their own stories of holy moments, too, that will shape their lives and their faith as they grow. This sort of intentional short-term Christian community that happens in the midst of a place that’s set aside as sacred space, where children and adults get to experience church in ways that are often deemed inappropriate for Sunday mornings, has a way of evoking spiritual depth in its participants, even as so much of what happens at camp seems silly, nonsensical, or even childish. Camp is a place unlike any other where licking trees and walking labyrinths are both equally important parts of experiencing the divine. God meets us there and loves us as we are.

Camps/conference centers that have been important at various points throughout my life: SB2W day camp (hosted by First Presbyterian Church, New Brighton, PA), Suncrest Camp, Pioneer Camp and Retreat Center, Crestfield Camp and Conference Center, Beaver Creek Presbyterian Church Camp, Ferncliff, Montreat, Roslyn Retreat Center, Rhodes Grove Camp and Conference Center, Laurelville Mennonite Church Center. I’ve also had similar experiences at these Catholic retreat centers: Villa Maria Education and Spirituality Center, Mercy Conference and Retreat Center, and I hope to take a silent weekend retreat soon at New Melleray Abbey.

hearing vs. seeing – a sermon on Job 42 in light of the synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh

Below is the text of my attempt at preaching on Sunday, October 28th, 2018 one day after the shooting at Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood. I wasn’t really sure how to respond, so I did the best I could. Last night, my family attended a memorial prayer service at Temple Beth El in Dubuque. It has been incredible to see so many people all around the world coming together to denounce the hatred that caused this act, to come together to spread love and peace in the midst of such a dark time.

This weekend, my family took a trip to Boone to take a train ride. We went last year around this time and loved it, so we want to try to make this an annual fall tradition. We left Friday evening and stayed in a hotel. Our train wasn’t leaving the station until 1:30 yesterday, so we had a lot of time in the morning to explore the area. We went shopping for a while, and then decided to see if we could find the same playground that Harper played on last year. We found it after driving for a few minutes, we parked and were excited to go play. I got my phone out of my pocket so I could take some pictures of Harper, and that’s when I noticed several notifications telling me about an ongoing news story. I saw that Pittsburgh was mentioned, so I opened the link to the story. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw there.

The headline read, “active shooter in Pittsburgh congregation.” My heart sank. As Harper played, in between my taking photos of her having a wonderful time, and all day at the train museum, in the gift shop, on the train, and on the ride home, I kept reading more and more about what happened. It seems that 11 people lost their lives and six more were injured, including four police officers responding to the threat. This all happened at a Jewish temple called Tree of Life in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood of Pittsburgh during a Sabbath worship service during a baby naming ceremony, a time that should have been nothing but joyful for everyone gathered there.

When I saw pictures of the building, I knew exactly where it was. I’ve driven by it many times, especially during my time in seminary, and I visited the neighborhood once in junior high to see a display of children’s art in remembrance of the Holocaust.  Even this morning, I’m still in shock that something like this happened there. It’s easier to shake off the feelings of dread when a tragedy happens somewhere you’ve never been. I can’t even begin to imagine what those who were there are feeling right now. I’ve been in prayer for that community non-stop.

As was the case a year ago last summer after the white supremacist rally in Charlottesville, I had to start this sermon over last night. There was no way I could keep silent in the midst of a tragedy like this.

But reading from the end of the book of Job proved to be strangely relevant. God’s Spirit has a way of allowing Scripture to speak to current events in a way that can feel almost miraculous at times. Last week we read God’s response to Job’s questions about the nature of human suffering. Why do bad things happen to good people? Doesn’t God care? On days like today, you can bet there are lots of people who are asking those very questions. You’ll remember that God’s answer to Job isn’t really an answer. God doesn’t solve the problem of suffering. Instead he tells Job that things are far more complex than he can or should ever understand. God doesn’t say the things that we sometimes say in such moments. God doesn’t say, “well all things work together for good, so you just have to trust that some good will come from this suffering.” God simply says, “try all you want to understand, but you are but one of the billions upon billions of parts of my creation. You are not endlessly wise or endlessly powerful, this world is not under your command. Don’t worry about finding all the answers. Instead, recognize that your place in all of this is to be part of my good creation. Do what you can to make it good. Care for it, love it.”

Today we hear Job’s response. Our translation in the NIV is a bit off from what the original Hebrew means. Job’s confession to God here is not really a “repentance” of sin, but more an acknowledgement that in the past, he only had a glimpse of the reality of God. “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.” He had tried to understand God through his own understanding, from hearing about God, from speaking about God and studying theological concepts. But now he has truly experienced God. He realizes now that, somehow, God was present even in the midst of his sufferings, that God holds all things together, God causes the sun to rise on his whole creation, including those who are going through hard times. Job understands God’s presence in a way that his ideas about God could never give him.

This certainly would have changed Job’s life. I’ll bet the next time he saw a neighbor or a friend suffering, Job would have been the first to offer comfort, prayer, and assistance. Every time I read Job, I’m always struck by what isn’t included. Specifically, Job ended up with twice as many “things” as he had before all of this. In terms of children, though, he got the exact same number of children who had been lost. 7 boys, 3 girls. The thing that is left out of the story, and it’s always baffled me, is that those 10 children could never take the place of the 10 who were lost. That grief would never go away. So no matter how “blessed” or “prosperous” Job’s life became, I’d imagine that in his old age he still grieved. Also, think about Job’s friends. They were not there for Job on his darkest days because they clung to their theological understandings of God instead of being open to actually experiencing reality. Their beliefs made them think that it was impossible for Job to be innocent. It was easier for them to believe that Job was at fault than it was to expand their understanding of who God is. And then, you’ll notice that once Job’s fortunes are restored, those friends come back to “support” him. How convenient! Where were they when he needed them?

Unlike his friends, who don’t really seem to learn or grow at all in this story, Job has become a more mature and open-minded follower of God. He now understands that he shouldn’t try to make God fit into his own understandings. Rather, he should be willing to expand his understandings as he experiences more of the nature of God, and that would include radical love of those he encounters in his life, especially those who are suffering.

How can we respond in the midst of such tragic events as the one that occurred near my hometown yesterday? How can we respond when someone sends homemade bombs to several political leaders throughout the country? How can we respond to the question of human suffering when hate and evil seem to be so widespread in our world? Brothers and sisters, there are no simple or quick answers. In fact, it seems one of the main ideas of the book of Job is that there probably aren’t any good, satisfactory answers. I think the first step is to admit this. But beyond that, as I closed the sermon last week, we need to remember that God’s ultimate answer to that question of suffering is Jesus, who knows exactly what it is to experience human suffering. When we are struggling, hurting, grieving, when we are in shock over the state of the world, Jesus is right there with us, crying with us, praying for us, and calling us to do the same for each other, to cry together and pray together, not to seek an answer but simply to be in community with one another as God desires to be in community with us.

Right now, I’m confident that Jesus himself is with our Jewish brothers and sisters in Squirrel Hill, crying with them, grieving with them, listening to them as they cry out and ask, “why?”. And I know firsthand from talking to friends there and seeing Facebook posts that the community of Pittsburgh, and not just the Jewish people but people of all backgrounds, are standing with them and are offering whatever help they can, even if it’s just a listening ear and a compassionate heart. There were several vigils around the city last night, including one in Squirrel Hill attended by thousands of people. There will be more prayer services in the days to come. Blood banks stayed open late for the sake of assisting the victims. People all around Pittsburgh and all around the world are speaking out and sharing their support.

Moments like this are not times for theologizing, for trying to answer the deep questions of human existence. Moments like this are times when differences of opinion or belief need to be set aside in favor of simply caring for each other and recognizing that, somehow, in the midst of all of that, Jesus himself is there walking alongside us.

broken church

Vacation Bible School was last week at Manchester UMC. Our church and the Methodist church have partnered on this event for the past several years, recognizing that it was better to poll our resources together instead of having competing events with half as much help.

This year, my job was to be a “crew leader,” which meant I traveled with a group of seven kids, aged anywhere from 5 to 11, to each station (Bible lessons, videos, snacks, games, and science experiments). It was a lot of fun and a great opportunity to get to know some of the kids in our community better.

The weather was nice all week, so I rode my bike every day. On Wednesday, I was riding home to pick up my lunch before going into the church office. I decided to ride past the front of the church to see how our flower garden was doing (we have a faithful group of gardeners and waterers who keep it looking nice). As I approached the garden, something else caught my eye. You might be able to guess what that “something” was from the photo at the top of this post.

Our church sign had been vandalized. I called the police and an officer came over to write a report. It seems that someone must have been walking by late the night before and decided to kick the plexiglass three or four times, bending it, messing up the lock, and knocking all of the letters down. We looked around and didn’t see any other damage around the church.

The officer seemed to think this was a random incident; there haven’t been any other acts of vandalism reported in town lately. Still, I couldn’t help but think that maybe someone in the community is mad at the church or at me directly. Sometimes we have to turn away people who come to the church asking for assistance. But, generally, those people have always been kind and fairly understanding when we can’t help, so that’s probably not what happened here. My best guess is that someone was walking home from a night of drinking and just decided to cause some damage. Or, it is summer, so maybe some local kids wanted to see what they could get away with. Whatever the case, we were all glad that it was a minor incident.

Seeing our sign and the letters broken and scattered like that made me think about the church (not our church specifically, but the church as a whole). The church is broken. We have been given a common calling by God, and each individual church seeks to follow God’s call specifically in its context. How often do we fall short of our calling, or even abandon it entirely? How often do we let worldly concerns (finances, building upkeep, even our signs out front…) take priority over the mission and ministry that God calls us to do? How often do we say that we stand for love while simultaneously treating those we might deem as “outsiders” with anything but love?

I could go on, and we do admit to these imperfections and shortcomings every week as we confess our sin together in worship. As individuals, congregations, and an institution, the church is broken. Our witness in the world, if we were left to our own devices, might look something like that damaged sign.

But we aren’t simply left to our own devices. We believe that the God we serve is at work in us. Despite our brokenness, the gospel is still proclaimed in our words and our actions. All throughout the Scriptures we see the broken, the imperfect, the foolish, even, being chosen and used by God. The church today is the same. We are called by Jesus Christ to be the body of Christ in and for the world and by the power of God’s Spirit at work in us, that is what we are. I think, in a way, our brokenness is an asset. It means that we give the credit where credit is due when we accomplish good things. We recognize that it is God at work in us that allows those things to happen.

And now our church has a visual reminder of how God can take our brokenness and turn it into something good. A few days after the sign was damaged, the company that originally made the frame for the glass repaired it and put a brand new piece of glass in. The sign looks better now than it has in a while, because the glass had been faded from being in the sun for years. Now when I ride my bike past the church (and when others walk or drive by) I can focus on the beauty of the flowers in our garden as a sign of the new and renewed life that we know in Christ. I’m so thankful that God takes us as we are, broken and all, and gives us opportunities to bring the world closer to what God’s kingdom is supposed to look like, little by little, step by step, each and every day.

 

 

I was a guest on Pulpit Fiction this week!

I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned this before or not, but one of my first sermon prep activities each week is to listen to the Pulpit Fiction podcast, hosted by two pastors (Robb McCoy of Two Rivers United Methodist Church in Rock Island, Illinois and Eric Fistler of the First Congregational Church of Crystal Lake). This podcast features commentary, music, and conversation based around the weekly lectionary readings and other topics relevant in the church and wider world.

One of my favorite segments each week is when a guest gives a brief commentary on the Epistle reading for the week, called Voice in the Wilderness.

Well, I asked if I could be added to that rotation and this week was my week, so go to the Pulpit Fiction site and listen (my segment is close to the beginning, but I’d encourage you to listen to the whole podcast).

I’m going to attach the script I used below, as well. As I said on the podcast, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this text. Being that I was limited to between two and three minutes, I had a hard time saying everything I wanted to say and I’m not totally happy with what I did say because I thought of better comments after the fact.

I probably should have mentioned that texts such as this one (particularly the context around it) have been used to promote slavery or, at least, to promote complacency to the status quo (rather than working against slavery). The same can be said in terms of how the letter speaks of submitting to authorities and leaving it all in the hands of “the one who judges justly.” I think this is best read in light of the wider witness of Scripture which teaches us to stand up for the oppressed, to welcome the stranger, to work against injustice rather than merely submitting and be complacent. The ultimate message then of this text, I think, is that we should not give into the temptation to seek vengeance or retribution, but we should resist injustice and oppression in peaceful and non-violent ways.

So anyway, here is the script from my “Voice in the Wilderness” segment. Let me know your thoughts:

I think the lectionary has made a deliberate choice to avoid something unpleasant by choosing verses 19-25 of First Peter chapter 2. Just one verse earlier, the author writes that slaves should submit to their masters. Really, several of the preceding verses and those following mention submitting to authority in one form or another, so I think it’s important to keep this wider context in mind when reading this passage.

Moving on to the reading itself, in this season of Easter, as we continue to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord, this reading’s  focus on suffering and submission to worldly authorities might seem like a step backward, retreading the ground of Good Friday again. Even when removed from the context of the verses around it, this is still a less than pleasant passage. I see this as a reminder that following the Good Shepherd is not always an easy road to take. We are reminded that Christ himself suffered on our behalf and in following him we can expect that we might be met with resistance from worldly authorities as well. The writer is calling us to respond to such opposition in a Christ-like manner.

So I don’t think the suffering or the hardship is meant to be the focal point of this passage, though. I think the heart of the passage is found in the last four verses, particularly verse 23 which says, “he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly.” In our own interactions with one another and with the wider world, the author is saying that we should do the same, entrust ourselves to God instead of repaying evil for evil or violence for violence. I’m wondering, though, in the face of violence, oppression, suffering, and displays of military and political authority in our world (and there are plenty of examples of all of these in recent headlines), what does it really mean for us to, like Jesus did, entrust ourselves to the one who judges justly?

John 11:35

As I was planning my sermon for this Sunday, I do what I always do.  I read the text several times, read some commentaries and listened to the Pulpit Fiction podcast, and then wrote a rough outline of where I wanted the sermon to go.  I had what I thought was a really good plan, and I immediately wrote about 700 words, a pretty good start.

But then I continued to read some more commentaries online and had an entirely different idea speak to me.  With so much progress already made (and a sermon I still thought was good and faithful to the text), I decided to put the second idea on hold, maybe for another sermon some time in the future (maybe in three years when this text shows up in the lectionary again).

At the same time, though, I know myself. I know that I won’t remember my current thoughts three years from now, so I thought I would capture a bit of my current train of thought.

I’ve heard countless stories of confirmation classes or youth group Bible studies where students have been asked to choose a favorite/most personally meaningful Scripture passage to memorize and to explain why they chose it.

Of course, John 11:35 is a popular one: “Jesus wept.” Two words (even in the Greek).  Most students who choose this verse do so because it is so short and therefore easy to memorize. They don’t choose it because it is meaningful or important to them. But I would argue that this verse carries a tremendous amount of theological weight in its two short words.

Thinking about this reminds me of my favorite chapter in the William Faulkner novel As I Lay Dying.  Early in the book, the young character Vardaman catches a fish and the fish dies. The book deals with the topic of death by shifting its narration between different members of a family as they cope with the death of the mother. Vardaman, trying to come to terms with his mother’s death, connects the dots in a strange and unique way, leading to the shortest chapter in the book, being one sentence made up of five words: “My mother is a fish.” In his young mind he is trying to cope with the concept of death as best as he can-he knows the fish is dead, and he knows his mother is dead, so he connects the two deaths together as a means of dealing with a situation that he cannot understand. There are essays and journal articles numbering in the thousands of words written to analyze the content of that five word sentence, and I have always been fascinated by the literary device used here, of saying so much in so little words, of letting the readers fill in the blanks for themselves.

“Jesus wept.” Two words, but they are not insignificant. I’m sure there are entire books written about the meaning present in these two words.

There is debate about what, exactly, Jesus was weeping about. He could simply be weeping over the death of his friend, or he could be grieving alongside Mary and Martha and the community, but some scholars argue against this possibility because he knew that Lazarus would live again; he knew the sign he was about to perform. Another possibility, then, would be that Jesus is weeping in a more universal sense over the power of death in the world, the collective burden of grief and sense of hopelessness that humanity as a whole feels under the grips of such an insurmountable obstacle-an acknowledgement, perhaps, that raising Lazarus is an individual solution while countless others who have died before and after were not risen as this man was.

Either way you want to look at it, whether it is a deeply personal grief or a universal, collective grief, or even some combination of the two, the message seems to be the same to me: Jesus knows what it means to feel human grief. Jesus understands our suffering, sadness, and grief and, really, shares with us in the entire scope of human emotions and experiences, both the good and the bad. Jesus smiles when we smile, laughs when we laugh, and yes, he weeps when we weep. He is the Lord of life (and death) and will be present with us in all seasons of life.

Two words, but so much is said in those two words. And what I have written here is just scratching the surface.

When you read this story of the raising of Lazarus and read verse 35 in light of the story and the wider context of Scripture and life, what do these two words mean for you?

Jesus for President?

We were traveling in Texas last month, driving through the San Antonio area on the way to New Braunfels where I was preaching that Sunday morning.  We passed several churches on the way.  Many of them were what can be called “mega churches.”  On the outside, these tend to look more like shopping malls than places of worship and their worship spaces (not usually called sanctuaries) often look more like amphitheaters and concert halls.  These churches we passed had huge, tall signs on the side of the highway with bright, clear LED lighting (I couldn’t help but think that those signs probably cost as much as my yearly salary…)

One such sign had the image below flash across it followed by the title of that Sunday’s sermon (part of the ongoing “Jesus for President” series) and a larger than life picture of the pastor.

I’ve heard the phrase “Jesus for president” before, and I know there is at least one book written by that title, but seeing it displayed prominently on the billboard-sized sign advertising a local church’s services was surprising to me.

The Jesus I have come to know in my personal (as well as “professional”) reading of Scripture would have no interest in running for president.  Jesus spoke about the Kingdom of God and its ultimate supremacy over the kingdoms and rulers of this world.  Jesus never wanted to be the king, ruler, or president of any nation on earth.

In fact, he is tempted with such power after his 40 days in the desert.  Satan offers Jesus all the kingdoms of the world (in a scene that has always reminded me of the “everything the light touches is our kingdom” scene in the Lion King) if Jesus would worship him and Jesus refuses saying “Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.”  Jesus refuses two things here: he refuses to worship Satan, choosing to worship only God and he refuses to take possession of the kingdoms of the world, choosing instead to serve God.

The Kingdom of God and the kingdoms and national leaders of this world are, naturally, at odds with one another being that, regardless of how well-intentioned our politicians and leaders may be, there is always a struggle for power and wealth involved; I don’t think anyone who has gotten so far as actually running for President has done so purely out of an altruistic wish to serve the people of the nation.

Jesus isn’t concerned with worldly power or wealth.  His Kingdom is concerned with equality, liberty, freedom, grace, and truth, the things that our nations strive for but can never fully grasp.

I visited the “Jesus for president” website to see what sort of message this campaign is actually trying to get across.  From what I read, the ultimate point of the sermon series and advertising campaign is simply to say that, no matter who is in power in our nation and world, for Christians Jesus is the one who should be receiving loyalty and praise.  The nations and rulers of this world are temporary, while the Kingdom of God is forever.  From a theological and eschatological standpoint, this is not a bad message.

The problem is in the details.

On jesus4presidentsa.com, there is a section outlining the “candidate’s platform.”  A lot of what is said here seems positive enough, like saying that Jesus’ immigration policy would involve care and compassion for refugees and foreigners, but some if not all of the “policy statements” put words in Jesus’ mouth.  In the gospels, there are little to no statements from Jesus concerning such things as a clear definition of marriage or discussions of race relations, so it is not possible to outline from the gospels what Jesus’ policy would be on most matters.  Also, the things that Jesus said in Jerusalem and the surrounding areas two thousand years ago may or may not be the same things that Jesus would say if he was ministering to twenty-first century Americans.  When we set out to definitively state what Jesus would have to say about any given issue I think more often than not we end up projecting our own personal beliefs onto him instead, especially when we pick and choose verses and pluck them from their context.

There is another major issue I have with this campaign and that is the decision to use the slogan of a certain actual presidential candidate.  The paragraph below is taken from the main page of the site (I made the referenced statement bold for emphasis):

“Jesus for President is a series devoted to examining how Jesus intends for the church to live out our faith, which is of great importance in our current time in America. We truly want to make America great again, but Gods plan for this to take place has always been the people of God living out our faith in a way that demands an explanation to the watching world.”

I saw this phrase show up somewhere else recently, too.  This past week I received a postcard at one of the churches I serve.  I copied it below with the name of the organization retracted:

This brings me to the three biggest problems I have with both of these campaigns.

1.  I have a problem in general with the idea of “making America great again.”  Is there a time in the past when America was objectively greater than it is now?  In what ways?  Surely we have made tremendous progress in terms of civil rights in recent history.  Maybe there was a time when partisanship was not as big of a deal as it is now, but otherwise I cannot think of a time in our country’s past that is objectively “greater” that we can aspire to reach again.  I would prefer to look ahead to the future rather than attempting to relive some imagined grandiose past.  Also, I don’t believe that God is particularly concerned with “making America great again.”
2. Prayer is a major part of the Christian life.  We are called to pray, but we aren’t called to be self-centered in our prayer.  Jesus clearly said, “pray for your enemies, bless those who curse you.”  It’s fine to pray for our country, but we certainly should not neglect to pray for the entire world, even and especially those nations which oppose ours.  In our country we have this false belief that God has uniquely blessed the United States in ways that he has not done for other nations.  I believe that God loves and cares for all people and all nations equally.  Americans don’t receive some special favored status from God; we are not his “chosen people” like the Israelites. That honor goes to all who are members of the church, regardless of nation or ethnicity.
3. By choosing to use that phrase, these organizations are showing an inherent bias for one candidate and party platform over another.

I don’t want to put words and ideas in the mouth of Jesus, but I am pretty certain that the below statements would be true:

Jesus was not/is not a politician.  Jesus does not hold the United States in high esteem above other nations.  Jesus is not a Democrat or a Republican.  Jesus calls all of us to pray, not only for ourselves, but for the whole world.

So, yes, pray for our country as this election season comes to an end, especially as we await the results this evening.  Pray that we would be more compassionate, forgiving, and loving, less greedy, self-centered, and power hungry.  And pray this way for other nations, too, because Jesus is not our president, nor is he interested in running.  God is the God of every nation and his Kingdom will outlast and overcome all that divides us.

Two sincere questions

Again this week I am posting something that has been on my mind for some time.  The text in italics below has been sitting in my Google Drive folder for months (the first edit was on May 10), only visible to me, with the title “Dangerous Facebook post.”  I planned to post this to Facebook, and invite a discussion in the comments section (if you are reading this from the Facebook link, feel free to comment there or on this post itself).

I hesitated.  I initially wrote all of this in Facebook’s “status update” field, but then second guessed the posting and copied it to Google Drive while I decided whether I wanted to go through with the post or not.

I haven’t been able to get these thoughts out of my mind.

These thoughts won’t leave my head particularly during such an anomaly of an election year, where we are being given two (or more) very different views from candidates concerning the identity of our nation and how best to represent that identity moving forward.  There has always been a divide between the two major parties, but this year that divide seems to have grown exponentially.  So I feel that my first question below is a valid one to think about in this election season.

This led me to think in similar ways about recent debates and schisms, and the overall sense of divisiveness, in the world of the church, particularly as denominations like mine (the PC(USA)) and others (Methodists, ELCA Lutherans, etc.) have decided to be inclusive as far as ordination and marriage are concerned, ordaining and marrying people regardless of sexual orientation (among various other factors).  There is major backlash against such changes.

For those who don’t know this about me, I fall far more on the side of inclusion because I believe that we are first and foremost called by God to love, to love God and to love each other (“our neighbors” is how Jesus puts it) and, whenever possible, to read the Bible in light of this calling.  I do not see theologies and policies which choose to exclude people from full participation in the life of the church over sexual orientation (or any other factor) as promoting love above all else.  In my current ministry setting, in one of the most conservative presbyteries in the country, I am certainly in the minority on this.

A Quick side note: Dr. Steven Tuell at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary has been a major influence on my understanding of all of this as far as the Bible is concerned.  He has written several great articles about how we should read what the Bible says about all of this on his “The Bible Guy” blog.  I still have questions concerning the Bible’s take on sexuality and how we should respond to that in the twenty-first century world, but here are links to two of Dr Tuell’s posts that have been very helpful to me in forming my own view:

How to Read the Bible, Part 3: The Bible Isn’t Flat

How To Read the Bible, Part Eight: Show Invisibles

With all of that said, here (finally) is the original post, composed of two questions, one concerning the United States and one concerning the church:

I’ve been thinking about posting this for quite a while, but I’ve been hesitant because I know some people will be uncomfortable with what I’m implying, but this has been eating at my heart for a long time.  I would welcome civil dialogue with anyone who has responses to the questions asked below:

1.  In a country that has life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and equality “for all” as some of its founding principles, why is it considered “liberal,” “progressive,” “radical,” etc. to support legislation and candidates which promote such ideals?
2. Similarly, as far as Christianity goes, in a religion founded to follow in the footsteps of the “Prince of Peace,” The God who is “Love,” why is it considered “liberal,” “progressive,” “un-traditional,” etc. to support theology and action which seeks to promote peace and love among all people and to speak and act against theology which does not promote such things?

I am asking these questions sincerely, and I have some thoughts as far as answers go, but I would like to know what thoughts others might have on this.