And another prayer from Walter Brueggemann for today... I woke up this morning in a funk and not in the mindset that I should have.
You… and therefore us
The day demands that we begin in praise of you,
for the day is yours and we are yours;
we could not live the day without reference to you,
without your gifts,
without your commands.
We begin with praise,
for the gift of life,
for the gift of our life together,
for the gift of life in your world
with all your beloved creatures,
for the gift of life in your church
with your steady recital of wonders.
You, you alone, only you,
you who made and makes and remakes heaven and earth,
you who executes justice and gives food we know not how,
you who sets prisoners free and sights the blind,
you who lifts up and watches and upholds,
you who reigns forever,
you… and therefore us.
You, except we turn to lesser trusts,
all of us with our trust in the powers,
You, except we turn to ignoble aims,
all of us preoccupied with ourselves.
You, except we invest in our little controls and our larger fears,
all of us marked by anxiety.
And then we watch as you ease us out of anxiety,
as you heal our selves turned new,
as you topple powers and bring new chances
for truthful public life.
You… except… but then finally, always, everywhere you…
and us on the receiving end.
And we are grateful. Amen.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Lent 29
Her's my prayer for the day.
For those who have betrayed us...for those who have let us down...for those who have been indifferent to us...for those who have crippled our lives...for those who have doubted us...for those who have accused us...for those who have preferred others to us...for family members who have hurt us...for those who have denied us...for those who have walked away from us... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change and the grace of hope...
Hear our prayer, hear our prayer, God of mercy, hear our prayer.
For my own self pity...for my lukewarmness...for my times of despair and distrust... for my refusals to be hugged...for my disbelief in your love...for my searching everywhere but in your heart...for apologies frozen on my lips... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change, and the grace of hope...
Hear our prayer, hear our prayer, God of mercy, hear our prayer.
For my words of love unspoken...for greetings and embraces ungiven...for compliments never offered...for a heart closed in self-centeredness...for my own unforgiving postures...for not believing in your forgiveness... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change and the grace of hope...
For those who have betrayed us...for those who have let us down...for those who have been indifferent to us...for those who have crippled our lives...for those who have doubted us...for those who have accused us...for those who have preferred others to us...for family members who have hurt us...for those who have denied us...for those who have walked away from us... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change and the grace of hope...
Hear our prayer, hear our prayer, God of mercy, hear our prayer.
For my own self pity...for my lukewarmness...for my times of despair and distrust... for my refusals to be hugged...for my disbelief in your love...for my searching everywhere but in your heart...for apologies frozen on my lips... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change, and the grace of hope...
Hear our prayer, hear our prayer, God of mercy, hear our prayer.
For my words of love unspoken...for greetings and embraces ungiven...for compliments never offered...for a heart closed in self-centeredness...for my own unforgiving postures...for not believing in your forgiveness... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change and the grace of hope...
Monday, April 11, 2011
Lent 28
This will be my fourth post in the space of a couple of hours because I missed four. I've missed a few in this season of Lent, but it has become more difficult here in the middle. The middle of Lent slack is upon us. We want to race to the other side, to just be done. And then I think how ridiculous this is because all I've done is given up some sweets and promised to write a couple of paragraphs a day to think about God in my life. What a measly offering, and yet, I can't seem to do it. I pray for the strength to continue the journey with God, not just in the season of Lent, but in all my life. I pray for the strength not to deny, or turn my back and ignore. I pray for the strength and resolve to honor the good gift of grace given to me by a loving God.
Lord, who throughout these forty days
For us didst fast and pray,
Teach us with Thee to mourn our sins
And close by Thee to stay.
As Thou with Satan didst contend,
And didst the victory win,
O give us strength in Thee to fight,
In Thee to conquer sin.
As Thou didst hunger bear, and thirst,
So teach us, gracious Lord,
To die to self, and chiefly live
By Thy most holy Word.
And through these days of penitence,
And through Thy passiontide,
Yea, evermore in life and death,
Jesus, with us abide.
Abide with us, that so, this life
Of suffering over past,
An Easter of unending joy
We may attain at last.
Lord, who throughout these forty days
For us didst fast and pray,
Teach us with Thee to mourn our sins
And close by Thee to stay.
As Thou with Satan didst contend,
And didst the victory win,
O give us strength in Thee to fight,
In Thee to conquer sin.
As Thou didst hunger bear, and thirst,
So teach us, gracious Lord,
To die to self, and chiefly live
By Thy most holy Word.
And through these days of penitence,
And through Thy passiontide,
Yea, evermore in life and death,
Jesus, with us abide.
Abide with us, that so, this life
Of suffering over past,
An Easter of unending joy
We may attain at last.
Lent 27
Luke 13:31-35
31 At that time some Pharisees came to Jesus and said to him, “Leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you.”
32 He replied, “Go tell that fox, ‘I will keep on driving out demons and healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will reach my goal.’ 33 In any case, I must press on today and tomorrow and the next day—for surely no prophet can die outside Jerusalem!
34 “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing. 35 Look, your house is left to you desolate. I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”
I was reading an article from Christian Century published in 1986 by Barbara Brown Taylor and I came upon this:
"If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus’ lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world --wings spread, breast exposed -- but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand."
Later, she goes on to say:
"...a hen is what Jesus chooses, which -- if you think about it --is pretty typical of him. He is always turning things upside down, so that children and peasants wind up on top while kings and scholars land on the bottom. He is always wrecking our expectations of how things should turn out by giving prizes to losers and paying the last first. So of course he chooses a chicken, which is about as far from a fox as you can get. That way the options become very clear: you can live by licking your chops or you can die protecting the chicks.Jesus won’t be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first."
...You can live by licking your chops or you can die protecting the chicks...
31 At that time some Pharisees came to Jesus and said to him, “Leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you.”
32 He replied, “Go tell that fox, ‘I will keep on driving out demons and healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will reach my goal.’ 33 In any case, I must press on today and tomorrow and the next day—for surely no prophet can die outside Jerusalem!
34 “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing. 35 Look, your house is left to you desolate. I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”
I was reading an article from Christian Century published in 1986 by Barbara Brown Taylor and I came upon this:
"If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus’ lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world --wings spread, breast exposed -- but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand."
Later, she goes on to say:
"...a hen is what Jesus chooses, which -- if you think about it --is pretty typical of him. He is always turning things upside down, so that children and peasants wind up on top while kings and scholars land on the bottom. He is always wrecking our expectations of how things should turn out by giving prizes to losers and paying the last first. So of course he chooses a chicken, which is about as far from a fox as you can get. That way the options become very clear: you can live by licking your chops or you can die protecting the chicks.Jesus won’t be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first."
...You can live by licking your chops or you can die protecting the chicks...
Lent 26
A prayer for us, all of us...
We are takers (W. Brueggemann)
You are the giver of all good things.
All good things are sent from heaven above,
rain and sun,
day and night,
justice and righteousness,
bread to the eater and
seed to the sower,
peace to the old,
energy to the young,
joy to the babes.
We are takers, who take from you,
day by day, daily bread,
taking all we need as you supply,
taking in gratitude and wonder and joy.
And then taking more,
taking more than we need,
taking more than you give us,
taking from our sisters and brothers,
taking from the poor and the weak,
taking because we are frightened, and so greedy,
taking because we are anxious, and so fearful,
taking because we are driven, and so uncaring.
Give us peace beyond our fear, and so end our greed.
Give us well-being beyond our anxiety, and so end our fear.
Give us abundance beyond our drivenness,
and so end or uncaring.
Turn our taking into giving… since we are in your giving image:
Make us giving like you,
giving gladly and not taking,
giving in abundance, not taking,
giving in joy, not taking,
giving as he gave himself up for us all,
giving, never taking. Amen.
We are takers (W. Brueggemann)
You are the giver of all good things.
All good things are sent from heaven above,
rain and sun,
day and night,
justice and righteousness,
bread to the eater and
seed to the sower,
peace to the old,
energy to the young,
joy to the babes.
We are takers, who take from you,
day by day, daily bread,
taking all we need as you supply,
taking in gratitude and wonder and joy.
And then taking more,
taking more than we need,
taking more than you give us,
taking from our sisters and brothers,
taking from the poor and the weak,
taking because we are frightened, and so greedy,
taking because we are anxious, and so fearful,
taking because we are driven, and so uncaring.
Give us peace beyond our fear, and so end our greed.
Give us well-being beyond our anxiety, and so end our fear.
Give us abundance beyond our drivenness,
and so end or uncaring.
Turn our taking into giving… since we are in your giving image:
Make us giving like you,
giving gladly and not taking,
giving in abundance, not taking,
giving in joy, not taking,
giving as he gave himself up for us all,
giving, never taking. Amen.
Lent 25
Occasionally, I stumble upon a website I've seen many times in the past. Something will remind me of it, and I'll check it out. www.postsecret.com is perhaps one of the most haunting places you can go. The whole idea is that people will anonymously write their deepest secrets on a postcard and mail it in to be displayed. Some of the confessions are startling, some of them silly, some of them deeply moving, and some of them heartbreaking. I don't know if an anonymous confession made public can really help, but it does bring to mind the whole idea of confession.
I think one of the tragedies of the Protestant church's desire to run away from Catholicism is the loss of emphasis on confession. Now, let me say this: I don't think confession requires a priest in a box and priest-mandated penance. I do, however, believe that we have so emphasized God's grace and forgiveness that we've actually forgotten a key part of the repenting we know and love in the Protestant church. We're skipping a step. Naming something is important. It's also dangerous. Sometimes we keep it pushed down because we know that if we bring it out, it'll get the air to breathe. But bringing the thing with which you struggle up to the surface also gives you the opportunity to see it in the light of day. And then you can deal with it. And yes, sometimes, you need to do penance, not necessarily as punishment, but as a way of changing a habit or getting some forward momentum in a new direction.
The secrets we keep deep down can eat us alive. Confession leads to pardon.
I think one of the tragedies of the Protestant church's desire to run away from Catholicism is the loss of emphasis on confession. Now, let me say this: I don't think confession requires a priest in a box and priest-mandated penance. I do, however, believe that we have so emphasized God's grace and forgiveness that we've actually forgotten a key part of the repenting we know and love in the Protestant church. We're skipping a step. Naming something is important. It's also dangerous. Sometimes we keep it pushed down because we know that if we bring it out, it'll get the air to breathe. But bringing the thing with which you struggle up to the surface also gives you the opportunity to see it in the light of day. And then you can deal with it. And yes, sometimes, you need to do penance, not necessarily as punishment, but as a way of changing a habit or getting some forward momentum in a new direction.
The secrets we keep deep down can eat us alive. Confession leads to pardon.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Lent 24
Micah 6:8 "He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"
Without sharing the details...In a conversation today, I made a comment about addressing a specific problem not being enough because it would come up again so what is needed is an answer to the broader problem underneath the specific one.
One of the talks that I was impressed with this past weekend was the one entitled, "Change Your World." The speaker made the point that if we are to follow a biblical model, it is not enough to simply address a problem, but rather we must seek find the source of a problem to address that as well. An example: You meet a homeless person who asks for a warm meal. You have the resources to meet this need. Jesus said, "As you did for the least of these, you have done for me." You provide the meal. To truly do justice, however, it is important to seek to find the source of the problem. Perhaps you could go the next step by seeking to participate in programs which provide indigent mental illness support in order to address one of the many root causes of homelessness.
I pray to God each day for the strength to avoid the band-aids on bullet holes rut that we so often get stuck in. I will not disparage the band-aids completely though. While we seek to find solutions to systemic problems, we shouldn't ignore what little we can do. Sometimes we have to put food in bellies while we try to figure out why the food isn't there in the first place.
Without sharing the details...In a conversation today, I made a comment about addressing a specific problem not being enough because it would come up again so what is needed is an answer to the broader problem underneath the specific one.
One of the talks that I was impressed with this past weekend was the one entitled, "Change Your World." The speaker made the point that if we are to follow a biblical model, it is not enough to simply address a problem, but rather we must seek find the source of a problem to address that as well. An example: You meet a homeless person who asks for a warm meal. You have the resources to meet this need. Jesus said, "As you did for the least of these, you have done for me." You provide the meal. To truly do justice, however, it is important to seek to find the source of the problem. Perhaps you could go the next step by seeking to participate in programs which provide indigent mental illness support in order to address one of the many root causes of homelessness.
I pray to God each day for the strength to avoid the band-aids on bullet holes rut that we so often get stuck in. I will not disparage the band-aids completely though. While we seek to find solutions to systemic problems, we shouldn't ignore what little we can do. Sometimes we have to put food in bellies while we try to figure out why the food isn't there in the first place.
Lent 23
Posting the brief meditation I gave at an Emmaus event this past weekend while I reflect further on the stunning grace found in the utterly ordinary.
John 9:1-7
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. 4We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. 5As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” 6When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, 7saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.
A couple of weeks ago, I taught a confirmation class on the means of grace, in general, and on the Sacraments, in particular. When talking to the kids we covered the classic definition of sacrament..that is, an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. And while the classic definition is great, it didn't help them really understand this abstract concept of grace, so we talked a bit more and came to understand grace as God's self-giving. It's God showing up. And when God shows up, things happen. When God's grace enters into the picture, you can count on healing, reconciliation, growth--in a word, change.
And so it was with the man blind from birth. I can imagine that he was just hanging out, doing his normal thing. He was a beggar. Not a beggar for healing. Just a beggar. And then Jesus walks by, in the midst of conversation, and he decides to do for this man what he didn't even know to ask for. Jesus spit on the ground, mixed it around a little, basically made a mud pie, spread it over the man's eyes, and told him to go wash up. And when he did, he could see. I can imagine that was pretty surprising for him. One minute, he's trying to make ends meet, and the next, Jesus has come on the scene, rubbed a little mud on his face, and now his whole life has changed. I can imagine, also, it must have been pretty surprising to the onlookers, to see something as ordinary as a fistful of mud become a means of God's grace.
While the sun has come out and dried the ground a little, two nights ago, a group of women gathered in a church while it was raining outside. Many, if not most, were entirely clueless about what they were getting into. And if my experience of the Walk is any indication, many may not have been so thrilled about walking blind into the experience--a feeling, I'm sure, which was complicated by arriving at a soggy, muddy camp. I know when I left my home in Greenwood Thursday afternoon in the rain, I had to talk myself into being excited about the idea of a church camp which I was certain would be covered in mud.
It's a little funny because in a different context, I have spoken fondly of mud. Those of you from Charleston--and perhaps all of you--will know what I mean when I describe pluff mud. You know that sick, sour, sulfur, bad-egg smell that comes from the water's edge. But I must tell you, since I moved away, that smell has become one of my favorite things. When I go to Charleston for a visit, that smell, that sour mud, that's the smell of coming home.
So when we gathered on the soggy soil on Thursday night, maybe we were coming home then to. You see, we asked God to show up. You asked God to show up. And God showed up. God showed up and called the gathered few and invited them, and all of us with them, into his midst. I guess what I mean to say by saying all of that is this: grace is both ordinary and extraordinary, extraordinarily surprising. Grace is what takes concrete floors and folding tables and turns them into a home. Grace is what takes the seemingly small words of human beings and makes them move all who hear. Grace, the healing, saving, wonderful, self-giving grace is what opened the blind man's eyes.
It is amazing what the ordinary may turn into when in the hands of Christ. That's what we find at the table. At first, the elements of bread and wine are surprisingly ordinary. But in the hands of Christ, what we experience here is the very presence of God, something surprisingly wonderful. When the blind man encountered God's unlikely, ordinary, and yet amazing grace, his eyes were opened. And so too, at this table, may our eyes be opened in the breaking of the bread. Amen.
John 9:1-7
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. 4We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. 5As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” 6When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, 7saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.
A couple of weeks ago, I taught a confirmation class on the means of grace, in general, and on the Sacraments, in particular. When talking to the kids we covered the classic definition of sacrament..that is, an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. And while the classic definition is great, it didn't help them really understand this abstract concept of grace, so we talked a bit more and came to understand grace as God's self-giving. It's God showing up. And when God shows up, things happen. When God's grace enters into the picture, you can count on healing, reconciliation, growth--in a word, change.
And so it was with the man blind from birth. I can imagine that he was just hanging out, doing his normal thing. He was a beggar. Not a beggar for healing. Just a beggar. And then Jesus walks by, in the midst of conversation, and he decides to do for this man what he didn't even know to ask for. Jesus spit on the ground, mixed it around a little, basically made a mud pie, spread it over the man's eyes, and told him to go wash up. And when he did, he could see. I can imagine that was pretty surprising for him. One minute, he's trying to make ends meet, and the next, Jesus has come on the scene, rubbed a little mud on his face, and now his whole life has changed. I can imagine, also, it must have been pretty surprising to the onlookers, to see something as ordinary as a fistful of mud become a means of God's grace.
While the sun has come out and dried the ground a little, two nights ago, a group of women gathered in a church while it was raining outside. Many, if not most, were entirely clueless about what they were getting into. And if my experience of the Walk is any indication, many may not have been so thrilled about walking blind into the experience--a feeling, I'm sure, which was complicated by arriving at a soggy, muddy camp. I know when I left my home in Greenwood Thursday afternoon in the rain, I had to talk myself into being excited about the idea of a church camp which I was certain would be covered in mud.
It's a little funny because in a different context, I have spoken fondly of mud. Those of you from Charleston--and perhaps all of you--will know what I mean when I describe pluff mud. You know that sick, sour, sulfur, bad-egg smell that comes from the water's edge. But I must tell you, since I moved away, that smell has become one of my favorite things. When I go to Charleston for a visit, that smell, that sour mud, that's the smell of coming home.
So when we gathered on the soggy soil on Thursday night, maybe we were coming home then to. You see, we asked God to show up. You asked God to show up. And God showed up. God showed up and called the gathered few and invited them, and all of us with them, into his midst. I guess what I mean to say by saying all of that is this: grace is both ordinary and extraordinary, extraordinarily surprising. Grace is what takes concrete floors and folding tables and turns them into a home. Grace is what takes the seemingly small words of human beings and makes them move all who hear. Grace, the healing, saving, wonderful, self-giving grace is what opened the blind man's eyes.
It is amazing what the ordinary may turn into when in the hands of Christ. That's what we find at the table. At first, the elements of bread and wine are surprisingly ordinary. But in the hands of Christ, what we experience here is the very presence of God, something surprisingly wonderful. When the blind man encountered God's unlikely, ordinary, and yet amazing grace, his eyes were opened. And so too, at this table, may our eyes be opened in the breaking of the bread. Amen.
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