Heavy Lifting

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

I have heard that phrase my whole life.  I have probably used it  a time or two.  And while it is not a bad description of having a positive attitude and looking for ways of redeeming situations, it does very little to help with the heavy lifting.

There are a lot of phrases used by people to try and keep difficult situations or pain at a distance.  Some of them are moderately meaningful and vaguely harmless.  Others compound difficulties or pile more on top of someone's grief.

What we need when we face problems, whether physical, mental or spiritual, is not stuff that stands on the sidelines and offers advice, we need help with the heavy lifting.

For me, I find that the daily prayers found in Phyllis Tickle's Books The Divine Hours to help me right where I need it.  I am not a high church kind of guy, but reading or chanting the psalms and praying through the offices do something that lets me set other things right.

She has three main books (and other compilations and shorter seasonal books drawn from them), Prayers for Springtime, Prayers for Summertime, and Prayers for Autumn and Winter.  Because all of the readings and prayers are written out, each volume is a good sized hardback.  I think they have been out long enough that paperbacks are available, but I like the heft.

More about Phyllis Tickle's work can be found on her website:  http://www.phyllistickle.com/.

(Going there I discover that she is retiring from public life and accepting no more speaking engagements.  My heart moves in two directions: "Nooooooooo!  We need more of your stuff!" and "Well done, thou good and faithful servant.")

My point here is not simply to be an ad for her work, although I find it remarkable and helpful.  My point is that we need to find ways of getting through the difficult times.  We need to find those people, practices and means of getting the heavy lifting done so that even in the midst of difficult times we can retain our humor, our love, our hope and our creativity.

What are yours?

Another Way of Reading

Thanks to Rev. Derek W. White, a Methodist pastor also known as the geekpreacher,I discovered a new way of reading.  Or rather, a new take on a very old way of reading scripture.

Lectio Divina is an ancient practice of reading the Bible in an intentional, prayerful, meditative way.  Often a passage is read multiple times, with prayer and reflection between each reading.  Often it is followed by extended prayer or meditation.  One description, among many along the Interwebs, is here, from the United Church of Christ.  And let's face it, if the distant children of the Pilgrims and Puritans can accept an ancient form of Christian mysticism and reading, then just about anybody can.

Derek linked to an interesting article on Congregational Excellence.  While the article made for good reading, what really caught my eye were the questions at the bottom of the page.  These were (and I quote:)

REFLECTIONS FOR THE DAY: Use a program on your computer, a traditional journal, or feel free to use the comment section of this blog post to record your reflections as a conversation with others…

• READ – What spoke to me as I read today’s meditation?
• REPENT – Where is God showing me that I have failed to be obedient to the call to discipleship today?
• RECEIVE – What words of redemption and grace is God offering to me?
• REMEMBER – Who and what is God calling me to remember in prayer related to today’s reading?
• RESPOND – How is God calling me to respond today?

I find these reflective cues helpful.  They feel like a combination of the Wesleyan tradition of spiritual accountability (which is appropriate for a Methodist site, after all) with the Ignatian/Jesuit practice of the prayer of Examen.  Perhaps they simply point to how many of our "various and diverse" traditions are all walking up the same hill.

If you want to give them a test drive, pick a passage, perhaps a favorite, or from a daily lectionary, or from a recent church bulletin, or maybe open the Bible and plunk down a finger.  Pray that you would receive something from the reading.  Then read it.  Then in a journal, or just on a piece of paper, answer the questions.  Try reading the passage and sitting in silence with it for a bit between each of the questions.

Substitutions Allowed

I saw a great video.

A mom asked Wil Wheaton (Star Trek: The Next Generation, The Big Bang Theory) to tell her newborn daughter why it is great being a nerd.  At a convention.  In front of a room full of nerds.  And she videos it to show her daughter when she is old enough.

The second best part: Wil Wheaton does a fabulous job!

The best part: It is so true.  It hits on so many levels and in so many ways.

I want to take it as is, as it is brilliant as is.

Now I want to offer a set of (completely unauthorized) substitutions:

When he talks about the things that this newborn girl might love, I hear all the good things about church: Gospel, mission, community, sacrament, coffee, passing the peace.

When he talks about Firefly, Game of Thrones, and other "historical" shows she might someday watch and love, I hear the stories of Job and Esther and Isaiah and Jesus and Peter and others that continue to inspire and inform the lives and ministries of so many people of faith.

When he says, "You find the things that you love them the most that you can," I hear calling and vocation and wonder and awe and joy.

And when he describes the community of nerds (especially at a revival, er, um, I mean a convention), I hear the beauty of a community of faith and hope and love.

Like I said, listen to it for what he is saying.  Then listen to it for how it describes some of the best of what a community of faith is and could be.

Thanks Wil.

Worst. Blogger. Ever.

Dear Readers.

Anyone still out there.

I am officially nominating myself for worst blogger ever.  Not because I blog badly.  Because I never blog!  Yikes!

I am hereby announcing that I am trying to change that!  I even have a head full of posts, I just haven't been good at making time for them.

Thank you to the two people who still might be checking back here.

Here's to new beginnings.

Praying (Anonymously?)

It happens every so often.  Some asks me to pray for them or with them, but they do not want to be added to the church prayer list, or for me to ask others to pray for them.  Sometimes the situation or condition is one that they feel, out of fear, shame or worry, prohibits publication.  Sometimes, they are just shy.  Sometimes it feels okay to ask a "professional" (which is a post for another day...) but not to bother others with it.  Often it is some combination.


I understand where this privacy comes from, having been one who for years was loathe to suggest weakness, illness or any other need publicly.  But in the trials and travails of dealing with infertility (see here for more), and in the joys and concerns of raising Lil Bit, we have been very public about asking for prayers. 


In doing so, I have discovered several things:


First, I still have trouble sometimes asking for prayers for me.  For the Mrs. or for Lil Bit, no trouble!  But for me...  I am still a work in progress.  


Next, I can see why people don't ask for prayers publicly.  There is a vulnerability to naming pain or weakness or worry or fear publicly.  Any worries we have about being judged tend to get exacerbated.  


But more importantly, there is a powerful support in knowing that others are thinking about me and praying for me. 


And when we calmly speak the truth about our difficulties, our pain, our wounds, our struggles, it allows others to speak the truth about theirs.  And when we all start speaking the truth, community with compassion starts to truly take root and grow.


I still pray with people who don't want it broadcast.  But I also ask if they are sure.

Online or Real Community

Okay. I admit. I am a stalker. Well, a cyber-stalker. Wait, this sounds so bad. Okay, I am reading a lot of what The Geek Preacher is writing. There, that sounds less likely to result in an interview before Church and Ministry.

He can be found at geekpreacher.com.

 What's not to like. A preacher who is a gamer, a Gen Con attendee, and he speaks geek. Gotta love it. And in his latest blog he quotes Spyder Robinson. Granted I haven't read Robinson since college, but it does bring back memories.

 You can find this blog entry here. The most important thing, however, is not the quote from Robinson, but the ideas that he gets to regarding online "Community." It is worth reading the geekpreacher's blog entry, plus the entry by his seminary professor which he quotes and ultimately refutes, found here.

Two relevant quotes from Dr. Thompson:

Real community is something that happens ‘in the flesh,’ and it involves complicated relationships that must be navigated with care, sensitivity, and ultimately love. Twitter doesn’t require any of this. Nor does Facebook. Nor does this website, for that matter. They’re all forms of so-called “social media,” but the form of sociality they allow is virtual. It is not embodied, and because of that it can never arise to anything other than the level of the thinly social from my point of view.

and

All that said, I’m giving it a shot (just as I gave blogging a shot, and Facebook a shot, etc.). It has its place, and it can be useful so long as we don’t kid ourselves into thinking that it can take the place of real, authentic forms of community.

The Geek Preacher's response is to say that part of what makes "virtual" community a real community is the realization that there is indeed a person there. He writes:

I have been building online relationships for roughly 15 or more years and I have seen it at its best as well as at its worst. The key to it all is knowing that the person on the other side of the screen is a real human being. You do need to have some type of contact and many people need an assurance that something genuine is occurring. This is why much of my life is lived online. This is also why I speak at conventions and make myself available wherever I go. I’m trying my best to live out the life of the Gospel but it is also important that people realize I am legit. Yeah, that’s the word…..legitimacy. This is what people are looking for in online relationships and, yes, online communities. (original author's emphasis)

Last year, when the Mrs. and I were at the hospital for Lil Bit's surgery, we stayed in touch with family and friends around the world via Facebook. The responses and "likes" that my posts received often resulted in tears, laughter or both. I knew the responders, I could picture them from previous meetings, I could hear their voices, and I could marvel at the level of connection that made itself known via typing on a phone from a waiting room at a large metropolitan hospital. Their care was real. Their prayers were felt. Their hugs, while virtual, offered solace. They just happened to not be in the room with us.

 If virtual community is all we have, then we miss some very important, embodied, incarnated, physical elements of our relationships. Virtual community often suffers from miscommunication caused by lack of tone of voice, body language, or other cues and clues. But virtual community has an important role to play in the various and strange ways that we relate to one another.

 As a soldier stationed around the world said in a recent NPR discussion said, "I don't know how my grandfather did it in World War 2. His letter home took six weeks, and the reply took six weeks. That's a month and a half to receive an answer to a question." He went on to describe Skyping when he got off duty to try and keep up with his wife and children.

 Virtual community does not solve the problems of community, and adds some complexity to it. But it is here, and it can be necessary. And in my experience, it was a net of care and compassion that helped me through some of the toughest days I have faced.

 As always, your mileage may vary.

Letting Out the String

Recently, I heard an expression from a parishioner.  He told me that his dad explained parenting with the expression:  "You have to let out the string."  Just like flying a kite, to let your children soar, you have to let out the string.  The immediate tightening in my gut at the thought means that he is on to something.


Having a child with some important medical needs means that there are certain things for which her mom and I will always be on the lookout.  There are certain meds needed at certain times, which means that our family schedule is based around doses.


This same kid likes to climb, grab, throw, kick, scream, snuggle, dance, fuss and otherwise get into everything she can.  Her mom and I have different levels of comfort with how far out to let the string.  So  trying to balance the care we give with letting out the string so that our daughter can grow into who she is becoming is a spiritual discipline.  Negotiating our various anxieties as parents so that we can provide a loving but united front is a spiritual discipline.  Getting enough rest to be worthwhile parents, functioning adults, and reasonable people is a spiritual discipline.  Not taking it personally when my darling daughter develops an allergy to dad and must cling to mom, or when she is allergic to mom and must cling to dad, is a spiritual discipline.


There are many spiritual disciplines in the history and life of the church: fasting, prayer, service, silence, retreats, sabbath-keeping, alms-giving, sacraments, worship, lectio divina.  Sometimes these seem like a luxury when my daughter takes so much time.  But then I realize that my daughter, my family, constantly rebalancing my life between family and ministry, and learning how to let out the string, is worthy of being my main spiritual discipline for now.


I also know that I need some of these other spiritual disciplines to help me in the task.  God knows I can't do this alone.

Great Find: Getting Rid of Your Crappy Pastor

I found a Facebook post that went to a blog, that quoted another blog, that I am now quoting on my blog, and I will then post that I have done so on Facebook.  But that's not important right now.  What is important is getting rid of your crappy pastor!

Here is a 6 step method that will work to get rid of pretty much any crappy pastor you may have:

http://revdavidh.blogspot.com/2012/03/get-rid-of-your-crappy-pastor.html

Anticipatory Grief

I have spoken with a number of people regarding my daughter's upcoming surgery.  On the one hand, it is a fairly complicated surgery, with some serious medical technology being used.  On the other, the surgeon is one who has done this surgery many times before.  He is not simply reading the book and watching the procedure on YouTube.  He knows what he is doing.  There is great comfort in this!

But there is still this feeling of what I have come to label "Anticipatory Grief."  For those who need a refresher course on the works of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, grief often includes several stages.  There are five that she identified, and these stages can come and go in different order or in varying degrees, depending on the person and the day (or hour, or minute...).

The stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

This can't be happening... (denial)

Okay God, why are you doing this!?!?!?... (anger)

Look, if I can just be a better person, this won't happen, right?.... (bargaining)

I don't know why I never seem to get anything done...(depression)

Okay, we've done all we can, this is going to happen and we will get through this... (acceptance)

The statements or questions may be different, but I have been experiencing all of these.  Sometimes one at a time.  Sometimes several gang up together.  Occasionally, they are on a five minute cycle.

As I expressed to my colleague in ministry, "You know you are in the midst of bargaining and anger when you say, 'Okay God, that's it!  You take care of her or I quit!'"  For those who are theologically squeamish, let me point out that I know that God is big; God can take it.  God is no more threatened by my ranting than I am threatened by Lil Bit's crying.  (Although that is a post for another time about the breaking of the heart of God.)

For me, this cycle feels like grasping at control in the midst of the uncontrollable.  We have done our homework.  We have found a really good surgeon working out of a really good hospital that has a low incident of infection.  We have prepped our support networks in our families, in the church, among our friends. 

We have worked hard at treating Lil Bit like she is "normal," whatever that means.  Mostly it has meant letting her set the limits on her activity, saying "no" and backing it up when she tries to go past the limits of safety, and dealing with the usual issues of diapers, bath and naptime.

Having done all we can, I am faced with the limits of all that I can do.  I cannot guarantee her safety.  I cannot wish her surgery to magically be perfect or unnecessary.  I cannot add to the knowledge or skill of the doctors, nurses or attendants.

Part of the acceptance stage, with which I still wrestle, is realizing that this would all be true even if there were not surgery involved.  I could not guarantee her safety.  I cannot magically make it all better.  I cannot control the world and conform it to my vision of the ideal place for her to live and grow.

Having done all we can, we wait and we trust.  This gets a little harder as the date for surgery gets closer.  But it also means we get lots of practice.  And we pray a lot.  And we get teary eyed on occasion.  And we laugh a little too hard at inappropriate humor, just because we need the laughter.

I am reminded of two statements on grief.  They are perhaps opposites, perhaps mutually exclusive.  But they are also, paradoxically, both true.

The amount of grief we feel is directly proportional to the amount of unfinished business we have: what has not been said or heard; unfulfilled expectations, lost opportunities.

The amount of grief we feel is a sign of the amount of love we have for someone.

Yup.  That about covers it.

Trusting

Some of you read the blog that I (only very occasionally) write on with the Mrs., called My IVF (Irreverent View of Fertility).  If so, then you have probably already read here that we have encountered some new situations in our lives, particularly in the health of our daughter.

Long story short, on several tests, they (being the doctors) have had trouble tracking her pulmonary arteries.  The reason for this has apparently come to light in the latest CT scan.  She doesn't have a left pulmonary artery.  Turns out, it is hard to find if it is not there.  It also turns out to be a very rare condition, and even rarer for it to be the left pulmonary artery.  We have follow up visits with really good pediatric cardiologists scheduled, and they are checking with multiple colleagues.  And Lil Bit is asymptomatic, and thriving quite nicely.

Thus the "roller coaster" that the Mrs. refers to in her post.

For me, the whole adventure of having our daughter, from the craziness of dealing with infertility, to the amazing joy at her birth, from the feelings of total inadequacy in knowing how to take care of a kid to the moments of sheer grace while holding her, all of it has been an exercise in trust.

While I am having some difficulty finding the right words, I think the closest I can come is to say I am trusting that God will give us what we need to handle what we need to handle.  Sometimes that is in inner courage during difficult moments.  Sometimes it is the love of an amazing church community.  It has shown up in the form of a Facebook community that offers stories of courage and grace, of hope and support.  It comes in the form of the love of our families.

Having started this journey as an exercise in trust, now it is becoming an exercise in remembrance.  My job now is to remember that this trust is well placed and, as our choir sings near the end of every choir season:

He never failed me yet!

Thank you to each one of you amazing reminders of the love of God.

Time to Join the 21st Century

Having started a blog, and then promptly ignored it more often than not, I am now borrowing the idea of Randy Hammer, pastor of the United Church, Chapel-on-the-Hill (my home church) and blogging selected sermons here on the Interwebs.

My sermon blog is called Phil's Pulpit, and it can be found at http://uccpulpit.blogspot.com/

Y'all come!

Reality Checks

A recent conversation brought up the idea of reality checks. Reality checks are those things, people, or events that bring me to realize that there are things I am not seeing, not acknowledging, not taking into account as I make my daily decisions.

I am fairly good at noticing things what other people are avoiding noticing in their own behavior or beliefs. I can spot someone else's denial or self-deception at ten to twenty paces.

But my own? Not so much.

Like when I am given as a gift by the Men's Group at the church a little book called "Meditations for Men Who Do Too Much." Sure, it was well intentioned, even if it was off base. It was off base, right?

Recently I woke the Mrs. and asked her to drive me to the local ER. I was having chest pain, worse than any bouts of reflux I had ever had, and all the usual remedies for heartburn weren't working.

After a night's stay in the hospital, with a follow-up stress test, and some other stuff, my ticker is just fine. The problem was/is gastritis. Too much acid in the stomach. A problem that can lead to reflux and esophageal spasms, which mimic heart attacks, as the heart and this part of the esophagus use the same nerve cluster for pain.

(Before all the messages come in, yes I know that a reflux attack this time does not mean that next time isn't heart problems. They share the same nerves after all. This is why I went for the stress test and the follow-up doctor's appointment.)

All of this, and some pestering by family members who know my family's heart history, have been a massive reality check for me.

I know that I have a stressful job, between pastoring and chaplaincy, and that a baby on the way (see here for more on that topic) does not lower the stress. My blind spot was my lack of adding enough appropriate coping behaviors.

Some things I have started doing include:

1. Saying "no." I have recently been asked to hold an office of leadership within the Association (a regional body within the United Church of Christ), to chair a committee within the association on which I serve, as well as several other things. All of these positions are important. I have something to offer in each of these positions. I am not saying I am the best person for each of these, but I could do some good in them. Instead, I have declined. My plate is full. There are enough things of importance to which I have agreed. To spread myself any thinner would require me to lose focus on what I am already doing.

2. Getting people I trust to help hold me accountable. Some of these folks are already people I have been in conversation with. But I am now ready to hear them when they speak of rest, sabbath, exercise, etc.

3. Practicing what I preach. This is perhaps the hardest: admitting that I have been doing a poor job at those things I counsel others to do. So when I preach on keeping the Sabbath, I need to go back and reread the sermon and not merely be a speaker or hearer of the word, but a doer as well.

4. Prayer. I pray all the time. I have a list of people I pray for. I have times of leading prayer just about every time the church gathers. But do I listen? Do I cultivate the silence I so easily commend to others? The answer is no. Now it is time to work on it.

Throughout all of this, I am thankful to those who love me enough to continue knocking upon my hard head until I finally answer. I am thankful that my ER reality check was not as serious as it could have been.

What remains is to do the work of doing less work. If I figure that out, I will let you know.

A Change in Thinking

I have loved preaching ever since I started. Researching, meditating, writing, teaching, storytelling, connecting with a congregation, and all the other pieces of preaching are things I truly enjoy.

I am coming to realize that my preaching has changed over the past few years.

When I first started, I wanted to give people a message, and have them receive it the way I intended it. I wanted control over the message I was preaching. I would work hard to craft a well-turned phrase, and try to deliver it "just so" to move people to see things how I see them.

Now I am more interested in inspiring people. I am letting go of the futile effort to insure that the message is received as transmitted, and trying more to deliver something that will spark the faithful imagination and creativity of those who hear.

Where this is leading, I cannot tell yet. But it is enjoyable to see a difference in how I am walking this journey.

Quoting Uncle Walt

Found amidst the Interwebs, thanks to Wedgewood Baptist Church in Charlotte, NC:

We are, all of us, children of the biblical text. We have been conceived and birthed, generated and summoned, given life, by this text and none other. This text keeps having its say among us, by translation and interpretation, by commentary and proclamation, by study and enactment. We must always again, always afresh in every circumstance, come to terms with it.

We spend our life struggling with this text, sometimes struggling for the text, sometimes struggling against the text. The text always has its say among us; it will not go away. Its voice is a haunting one, sounding promises, uttering commands, voicing stories, proclaiming oracles, ejaculating pain, authoring hope. The voice of the text haunts us because we know very well it is a human text filled with endless critical problems—and yet we hear in
it the very voice of God: majestic sovereignty, awesome holiness, passionate grace, weakness made strong.

Because of this text, which will not go away or finally keep silent, we live haunted lives, filled with yearnings for what is not in hand, promises not yet filled, commands not yet obeyed, desires not yet granted, neighbors not yet loved. The old text becomes new text; old story becomes new song. For all those reasons, in gratitude and awe and fresh resolve, we celebrate the new, revised translation, made freshly aware by it that we are indeed haunted children of this haunting text.

And because the text will not go away or be silent, we are destined to be endlessly haunted, uneasy, restless, and on the way.

-Walter Brueggemann

Advent moments

Mary Oliver is a poet who has won national awards as well as my own admiration. At one point I had heard she had passed away, and was greatly saddened by the news, but now discover that such news was premature and "greatly exagerated," as Mark Twain would say. My relief is bested only by my gratitude.

In a recent collection, called Red Bird, Oliver writes the following

Of The Empire

We will be known as a culture that feared death
and adored power, that tried to vanquish insecurity
for the few and cared little for the penury of the
many. We will be known as a culture that taught
and rewarded the amassing of things, that spoke
little if at all about the quality of life for
people (other people), for dogs, for rivers. All
the world, in our eyes, they will say, was a
commodity. And they will say that this structure
was held together politically, which it was, and
they will say also that our politics was no more
than an apparatus to accommodate the feelings of
the heart, and that the heart, in those days,
was small, and hard, and full of meanness.

I think she has much of the state of our current situation well in hand. Similarly, Luke had the situation well in hand when he wrote in his Gospel

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria.

And it is into this Empire, then and now, that Christ comes at Christmas, with a message and a life beyond that which empire can handle.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Health Care as a Commodity?

It occurred to me during a recent discussion around the currently debated health care reforms, that underlying the current debates are assumptions that rarely see the light of day.

On the one hand, arguments for current means of health care provision look at health care, in the form of insurance and access to facilities/medication, as a commodity. Like all commodities, it is to be valued according to the market, as mediated by insurance companies, legislation, and other factors. It is to be used by those who can afford it, who will hoard it if possible.

This commodity is sometimes in the form of an employee benefit. Like the use of the company car, if one loses one's job due to illness, or if one's employer can no longer afford it, one must do without or pay for one's own.

Those who cannot afford either insurance or out-of-pocket health care have few nets in place to catch them. One of the big ones is the local Emergency Room, which is required to assess and stabilize, though not necessarily treat, serious medical conditions. For hospitals which are required to offer treatment, usually a county hospital ER is required. The use of an ER as a primary health care provider often means putting off getting timely care, and runs up the cost to the hospital and to the taxpayer through otherwise nonrecoverable expenditures.

Under the commodity model, there is only so much to go around, so providing for more means less for me.

There is another assumption at work within the discussions of those seeking reform. Adequate basic health care is not a commodity but a fundamental human right. As a recent Facebook meme put it:

No one should have to die because they cannot afford health care. No one should go broke because they got sick.

Here is where the underlying assumptions clash. The commodity idea is intimately linked to capitalism, which in our time expresses itself in rapacious acquisition, rabid individualism and sees limits upon the available amount of any given commodity out there. So attempts to move beyond current models get labeled socialism and the specter of rationing is invoked. The human rights view of health care is intimately linked to community based thinking and a view of being one's brother's keeper which flies in the face of the ideals of individual achievement and control of commodities.

So the question for us in our time, is health care a commodity or a basic human right? Similar questions are also being asked of related areas, such as clean water, clean air?

In the U.S., much of the church has overly allied itself with capitalism. It often seeks to offer better ways for people to cope with the pressures of achieving individually, and strategies for more personal acquisition. Preaching on God's commandments are often limited to those which deal with individual sins, and we have a particular fondness of focusing on sex, usually someone else's.

However, we find that when the prophets speak to Israel for "three sins and for four," quite often they are being condemned for idolatry. This idolatry is intimately linked to not caring for the poor, the widow, the orphan, the foreigner in their midst. Such prophetic oracles, so often quoted around end of the world ideas, speak far more plainly and openly about taking care of those in need.

Jesus spoke of the purpose of following him as the love of God and the love of neighbor, acted out in concrete ways and with real bread, real care, and real relationships.

The apostles took caring for people as a matter of life and death in ways that the church has never been able to muster the guts to replicate since.

I believe if we are to be faithful as Christians, then health care has to be much more than a commodity to be used by those who can afford it and hoarded against those who cannot.

Unless we want to be Egypt, Babylon, or Rome. And by my reading of the Bible, those empires don't fare too well.

Borrowed Words: Donald's Worries

I am borrowing from the church newsletter article written by my successor at a previous church. Then again, she borrowed from Erma Bombeck. Who in turn was borrowing from a young boy named Donald who was worried about school. So I don't feel too bad about borrowing.

My name is Donald, and I don't know anything. I have new underwear, a loose tooth, and I didn't sleep last night because I'm worried. What if the bell rings and a man yells, "Where do you belong" and I don't know? What if the trays in the cafeteria are too tall for me to reach? What if my loose tooth comes out when we have our heads down and supposed to be quiet? Am I supposed to bleed quietly? What if I splash water on my name tag and my name disappears and no one knows who I am?

How often do we feel this way in church?

How often do those who have no church background or a different background than ours feel like this?

How often do we assume we are supposed to bleed quietly, not let anyone know our hurt, our pain, our brokenness?

How often do we assume no one will know our name?

Donald's worries about the start of school are all too real for way too many people who need a kind and gentle welcome into church.

Uneven Steps

It seems strangely right that the bed and breakfast has such uneven floors and stairways. It is an old building, which has surely settled over many years. And we are taking new steps into strange and uncertain territory as we listen to Brueggemann extol the radical interpretive moves made in Deuteronomy, and so in our faith and preaching, so having uneven steps just makes sense.

Unmetered Worship pt. 2

Building on some of my thoughts in this post, I was listening to Walter Brueggemann field questions this morning, one of which was on the state of contemporary worship and "praise music" (whatever that is). He was asked what he thought of it, and he responded, "I'm an old guy, so I don't like it."

We laughed, and many of those in his same demographic nodded agreement.

He then went on to treat it with some seriousness, and said he saw two problems with praise music as it is currently being done:

1. It does not draw us back into the narrative of faith.

and

2. It is too easily tempted to slide into entertainment.

The first objection is a difficulty not realized by many parishioners of many churches, probably because many of the pastors have failed to frame worship as a draw back into, a foretaste of, a practice of, a recitation of the narrative of faith.

The second objection is to let worship become even more consumeristic than it has already become, and let whim and style rule over substance and deep meaning.

BUT,

What if new music were written in the style of current musical sensibilities, but drew us more deeply into faith narrative, and did so with an intentionality that precluded it being mere entertainment?

What if liturgy were made a living and active force for faith development again (with apologies to those churches for which is already is), and we held these warnings in mind regardless of what we are doing?

I think such music is possible, and hope to be further inspired in its creation.

Is that Isaac Watts I hear laughing in the background?

Inappropriate Behavior

Coming off of this morning's sermon by Walter Brueggemann (don't you just love name droppers?), and having lunch at a place where children got scolded for overfilling their cups at the drink dispenser, I started thinking about inappropriate behavior.

Why do children get yelled at in the grocery store, grabbed and furiously whispered to at funeral visitations, and generally scolded wherever they go?

Mostly, I believe, for acting inappropriately for their surroundings or circumstances. Running around playing tag is inappropriate for a funeral home. Indoor voices only here in the house, please.

Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Whoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me; but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened round his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea. (Matthew 18:3-6, RSV)

There is not simply a suggestion that childlike faith is good, there is a warning that without some quality like that of a child, one cannot be a part of the new life Jesus is preaching. With it comes a warning to those who would exploit this childlike quality.

But what is the quality of a child being commended?

Perhaps it is the ability to be inappropriate. I do not mean licentiousness or self-centered greediness or meanness. It is the ability to give an inappropriate response that is of the kingdom, of the neighborhood (to use Brueggemann's term) that Jesus preached. I mean an answer that is inappropriate to empire, to consumerism, to the world that would have us be lovely little cogs and productive little ants and anxious security-minded people who are always at level orange.

A response of hospitality is inappropriate to a threat of violence, and yet it might be an entrance to a whole new relationship and way of being.

A response of joy in the midst of a funeral is inappropriate to "how grown-ups ought to act," and yet how many of us laugh at a memory of our dearly departed with her favorite hat on at a jaunty angle or with his favorite pipe doing a Popeye imitation?

A response of thanksgiving in the midst of suffering is inappropriate (ought we not be yelling that we are the victim here?), and yet Martin Rinkart wrote "Now Thank We All Our God," while serving the church during the Thirty Years War and the severe plagues and famine that followed.

A response of kindness, of forgiveness, of compassion is inappropriate before we secure our recompence and our revenge and whatever passes for justice in our minds and hearts.

Children act inappropriately, as if they don't belong to the situation they are in. Adults reprimand them, teaching them what is appropriate and what is not. We children then become us adults, well conformed to expectations and the ideals of our age.

And yet faith, obedience to the Gospel, often requires an answer, a word, a stand, an attitude so foreign to the situation of the world, that it is hard to give in our conformity.

If we would but remember that we don't belong to the situation or the expectations, we belong to God. And if we are faithful, we will act inappropriately. Not in ways that hurt or demean or damage others or our community or our common humanity, but in the ways that build it up and deny these very hurtful, hateful ways of the world.

To be like a child is more than simply being able to play. It is belonging to a family, a faith, a hope, a life, that disregards the demands and expectations of the world we all think we live in for the sake of the neighborhood to which and in which we all belong.