While listening to the Switchfoot song "Your Love is a Song" recently, I remarked to a friend that I love that song because it describes how I sometimes prefer to imagine God's love. Your love is a symphony, all around me, running through me. Your love is a melody, underneath me, running through me. I realize I'm at least a little bit ripping off Rob Bell in this idea. It would be a lie to say that when I saw the video "Rhythm" in the NOOMA series a couple of years ago that it didn't stick with me. But I've gotten stuck on this idea of music as an "image" for God's love for a while. It's like an orchestra. There are different sections, the strings, the brass, the woodwinds, the percussion...all those sections have a part to play, and when those parts are executed perfectly, even alone you can recognize the brilliance. But when you start to put them together, when the parts start to layer on top of one another to create the masterpiece, it takes on a new kind of life.
I was thinking about that tonight at what may seem like the strangest of times. I spent about 2 hours with about 30 complete strangers. I spent almost the whole two hours in silence. When I did speak, it was quietly. Mostly I just listened, and at times I wiped at a tear that welled up in my own eyes. The reason we were all gathered was because I am a chaplain and a member of their family died. He died suddenly and without any warning. There were screams and sobs. There were soft whimpers and barely audible prayers whispered. The whole time, I kept thinking about God's love being like a song. The reason it kept coming to mind was because the sound of that room reminded me of those few minutes before an orchestra performance when the strings section is tuning and warming up. At first the sound is horrible. It sets your teeth on edge and raises the hairs on your arms. They are preparing for a new song.
"New song" is a biblical concept. A little bit of digging will show you that the phrase "new song" comes up more than a couple of times in scripture. And when scripture speaks of this new song, it tends to come alongside God's flipping something on its head. Some sort of condition is changing. Life is changing for good or bad. Change is coming.
Tonight, unfortunately, that family is faced with a new song, not of their desires, but they do face a new life. They will have to deconstruct their old life and reconstruct a new one that fits the new family configuration. I do not understand pain and suffering, and I probably will never find the answers I'm looking for, but I could hear the discordant notes playing and rubbing against each other tonight. My hope and my prayer is that just as the strings start to come into tune and prepare for the song, so will God's love enfold them with God's new song, a song of love and grace and mercy, even in times of grief.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Bent
The woman who was bent:
10 On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, 11 and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." 13 Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. 14 Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath." 15 The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? 16 Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?" 17 When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. - Luke 13:10-17
The UMC's "Right's of Persons with Disabilities":
¶ 162 I) Rights of Persons with Disabilities—We recognize and affirm the full humanity and personhood of all individuals with mental, physical, developmental, neurological, and psychological conditions or disabilities as full members of the family of God.
We also affirm their rightful place in both the church and society. We affirm the responsibility of the Church and society to be in ministry with children, youth, and adults with mental, physical, developmental, and/or psychological and neurological conditions or disabilities whose particular needs in the areas of mobility, communication, intellectual comprehension, or personal relationships might make more challenging their participation or that of their families in the life of the Church and the community.
We urge the Church and society to recognize and receive the gifts of persons with disabilities to enable them to be full participants in the community of faith. We call the Church and society to be sensitive to, and advocate for, programs of rehabilitation, services, employment, education, appropriate housing, and transportation. We call on the Church and society to protect the civil rights of persons with all types and kinds of disabilities.
From The Book of Discipline of The United Methodist Church - 2008. Copyright 2008 by The United Methodist Publishing House. Used by permission.
You know, Luke's 13th chapter presents a very uncomfortable moment for me. A few weeks ago, the pastor at the church where I attend preached on this particular text. As he began his sermon, I began looking around uneasily. I felt a tightness in my chest that I soon realized came from the fact that I was holding my breath. See, the woman sitting next to me in the congregation might actually be described as a woman who is bent. I do not know what her specific disability is, but I can see the braces fitted to her legs and I can see that she cannot stand up straight and that her posture is directed towards the floor. I was uneasy because I felt pretty certain the sermon, in short, was going to say "Straighten up. Jesus straightens us up." It did, and yes, it's true, but I was secretly terrified about the subtext-- mainly--that if you are somehow short of what society defines as normal, there is something wrong with you. No, I do not believe that is the message of Luke 13 nor do I believe that was the message from the pulpit that morning, but so often we come across people and institutions who treat disability as significantly less.
I have grown to love a particular liberatory theology of a professor from my seminary, the late Nancy Eiseland. In her book "The Disabled God" she challenges the notion of the Imago Dei as she envisions God riding around in a "puff wheelchair" in heaven...an unsettling image for a lot of people. In her book, Eiseland writes, "Who is the one we remember in the Eucharist? This is the disabled God who is present at the Eucharist table—God who was physically tortured, arose from the dead and is present in heaven and on earth, disabled and whole... Christ’s resurrection offers hope that our nonconventional, and sometimes difficult, bodies participate fully in the imago Dei…God is changed by the experience of being a disabled body."
My prayer is that we will remember that we are all created in the image of God (and should, perhaps, expand our understanding of what that means), and that we should re-member those members of the body of Christ who we seem to cast aside as less because they make us feel uncomfortable alongside them. My thought is that we should cast off the social understanding of "disability" and of "normal." My read of the bent woman in Luke 13 is that Jesus does something remarkable for her and for all of us. No matter what has your eyes cast to the floor, be it physical, emotional or spiritual, Jesus Christ incorporates you into his perfectly imperfect, scarred and pierced body, not as a sort of member, but fully.
10 On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, 11 and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." 13 Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. 14 Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath." 15 The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? 16 Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?" 17 When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. - Luke 13:10-17
The UMC's "Right's of Persons with Disabilities":
¶ 162 I) Rights of Persons with Disabilities—We recognize and affirm the full humanity and personhood of all individuals with mental, physical, developmental, neurological, and psychological conditions or disabilities as full members of the family of God.
We also affirm their rightful place in both the church and society. We affirm the responsibility of the Church and society to be in ministry with children, youth, and adults with mental, physical, developmental, and/or psychological and neurological conditions or disabilities whose particular needs in the areas of mobility, communication, intellectual comprehension, or personal relationships might make more challenging their participation or that of their families in the life of the Church and the community.
We urge the Church and society to recognize and receive the gifts of persons with disabilities to enable them to be full participants in the community of faith. We call the Church and society to be sensitive to, and advocate for, programs of rehabilitation, services, employment, education, appropriate housing, and transportation. We call on the Church and society to protect the civil rights of persons with all types and kinds of disabilities.
From The Book of Discipline of The United Methodist Church - 2008. Copyright 2008 by The United Methodist Publishing House. Used by permission.
You know, Luke's 13th chapter presents a very uncomfortable moment for me. A few weeks ago, the pastor at the church where I attend preached on this particular text. As he began his sermon, I began looking around uneasily. I felt a tightness in my chest that I soon realized came from the fact that I was holding my breath. See, the woman sitting next to me in the congregation might actually be described as a woman who is bent. I do not know what her specific disability is, but I can see the braces fitted to her legs and I can see that she cannot stand up straight and that her posture is directed towards the floor. I was uneasy because I felt pretty certain the sermon, in short, was going to say "Straighten up. Jesus straightens us up." It did, and yes, it's true, but I was secretly terrified about the subtext-- mainly--that if you are somehow short of what society defines as normal, there is something wrong with you. No, I do not believe that is the message of Luke 13 nor do I believe that was the message from the pulpit that morning, but so often we come across people and institutions who treat disability as significantly less.
I have grown to love a particular liberatory theology of a professor from my seminary, the late Nancy Eiseland. In her book "The Disabled God" she challenges the notion of the Imago Dei as she envisions God riding around in a "puff wheelchair" in heaven...an unsettling image for a lot of people. In her book, Eiseland writes, "Who is the one we remember in the Eucharist? This is the disabled God who is present at the Eucharist table—God who was physically tortured, arose from the dead and is present in heaven and on earth, disabled and whole... Christ’s resurrection offers hope that our nonconventional, and sometimes difficult, bodies participate fully in the imago Dei…God is changed by the experience of being a disabled body."
My prayer is that we will remember that we are all created in the image of God (and should, perhaps, expand our understanding of what that means), and that we should re-member those members of the body of Christ who we seem to cast aside as less because they make us feel uncomfortable alongside them. My thought is that we should cast off the social understanding of "disability" and of "normal." My read of the bent woman in Luke 13 is that Jesus does something remarkable for her and for all of us. No matter what has your eyes cast to the floor, be it physical, emotional or spiritual, Jesus Christ incorporates you into his perfectly imperfect, scarred and pierced body, not as a sort of member, but fully.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Eyes Opened
John 9
1As he went 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?" 3"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. 4As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." 6Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man's eyes. 7"Go," he told him, "wash in the Pool of Siloam" (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. 8His neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging asked, "Isn't this the same man who used to sit and beg?" 9Some claimed that he was. Others said, "No, he only looks like him." But he himself insisted, "I am the man." 10"How then were your eyes opened?" they demanded. 11He replied, "The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see." 12"Where is this man?" they asked him. "I don't know," he said.
13They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. 14Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man's eyes was a Sabbath. 15Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. "He put mud on my eyes," the man replied, "and I washed, and now I see." 16Some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath." But others asked, "How can a sinner do such miraculous signs?" So they were divided. 17Finally they turned again to the blind man, "What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened." The man replied, "He is a prophet." 18The Jews still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man's parents. 19"Is this your son?" they asked. "Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?"
20"We know he is our son," the parents answered, "and we know he was born blind. 21But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don't know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself." 22His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for already the Jews had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Christ[a] would be put out of the synagogue. 23That was why his parents said, "He is of age; ask him."
24A second time they summoned the man who had been blind. "Give glory to God,[b]" they said. "We know this man is a sinner." 25He replied, "Whether he is a sinner or not, I don't know. One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!" 26Then they asked him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" 27He answered, "I have told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?" 28Then they hurled insults at him and said, "You are this fellow's disciple! We are disciples of Moses! 29We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don't even know where he comes from." 30The man answered, "Now that is remarkable! You don't know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. 31We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly man who does his will. 32Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. 33If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." 34To this they replied, "You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!" And they threw him out.
35Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" 36"Who is he, sir?" the man asked. "Tell me so that I may believe in him." 37Jesus said, "You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you." 38Then the man said, "Lord, I believe," and he worshiped him. 39Jesus said, "For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind." 40Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, "What? Are we blind too?" 41Jesus said, "If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.
My family comes from a small town, not too far outside Charleston. Charleston is a pretty diverse city so you’d think that being close would affect us out in the country, but really, we were pretty much the Deep South, and we were somewhat secluded and homogenous. Growing up in a place like that means you aren’t exposed to a wide range of experiences that the world has to offer. The world is only as big as the high school football stadium. I grew up thinking that everything I needed to know about life I could have learned in our town. I grew up thinking I wasn’t ignorant of anything. And then I moved the 45 miles to Charleston for college. I’ll never forget the kind of culture shock of my first semester. I didn’t know that my whole life I’d been blind to a whole world around me. I met students from all over the country and all over the world. I met people with different political ideologies, religious leanings, and sexual orientations.
I’ll say, while this entrée into a broader world was eye opening, it wasn’t easy. I wasn’t looking for change. I wasn’t looking for my eyes to be opened. And when they were, I didn’t always like what I saw. When my world suddenly expanded, what I saw sometimes wasn’t all that pleasant. Because with different ideologies, leanings, and orientations comes just that— difference. Because my eyes were opened, I was stretched and pulled and questioned and challenged.
And so it was with the man blind from birth when Jesus came into his life. Jesus and his disciples were walking along and encountered this man, a man who had never seen the world around him. He had never had sight and did not even know what he was missing, probably. In fact, he wasn’t even looking to be healed. He didn’t seek Jesus out. Jesus came into this man’s life and opened his eyes, and before he knew what hit him, he began to be pressed and stretched and questioned and challenged. When this man’s eyes were opened, what he saw was a lot of ugliness. He saw the infighting among his neighbors. He saw the power struggles that existed in his community, power struggles that set the Pharisees at an uneasy posture. He saw his parents hauled in for questioning and he saw them sort of throw him under the bus. They said, “Don’t ask us. Ask him. We aren’t a part of this.”
This man who was once blind and left alone to his own business, now sees and what he sees is a community of turmoil. For me, at first glance, I’m almost sad Jesus didn’t leave this man alone, let him be happy in his limited world. After all, I was happy growing up in my small town, where all I knew outside of my little area was on the news and, thus, far removed. My world was limited, but I didn’t really feel its limits. When I looked around, most everyone was like me so there wasn’t much conflict. Now I have been exposed to a much bigger world, and I have seen its ugliness, its conflict, and its confusion. In this man’s world, when he was blind, people left him alone. He didn’t have to make choices, answer questions about what he believes. He didn’t have to answer any questions about who he follows and what his theological grounding is. But Jesus came along, opened his eyes, and opened him up to a world of questions, questions without answers that will ever satisfy everyone.
But rather than responding in anger, rather than looking back to the days of his blindness, this man confesses Jesus as Lord. The Pharisees ask him who Jesus is and how it is that he has performed this miracle. His response: I don’t know all of that, but I do know this. My life is changed and now I see. And when he met Jesus again, because his eyes had been opened, he recognized him and witnessed to his identity when he said, “Lord, I believe.”
Like the blind man confessed, I must confess what I know. I don’t know how exactly God works or what God looks like, but I do know this. In everything I see, I see God. God is at work, ever-present. God comes to us before we know that’s what we need, opening our eyes and moving with us. And what I know is that as we continue to move through this world, we see more and more, experience more and more. Some of it is hard. Some of it challenges us. It’s different and it’s other. But what we see when we recognize God’s overwhelming presence is the beauty that comes to us when our eyes are opened. We recognize that the world is much bigger than our backyard and this God-breathed, grace-filled world is beautiful, even when it looks ugly from our outsider’s view.
What all this means is that we cannot be content to stay inside this church building, comfortable with the walls between us and the rest of the world. God has come to us, pouring grace and mercy over us, opening our eyes to God’s work and to God’s world. We must push outside these comfortable walls to see, to really see. As we do this, let us go out and confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. And amidst all of what we see as conflict and difference let us embrace each other and celebrate our graceful difference because we are all one in Christ Jesus.
1As he went 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?" 3"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. 4As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." 6Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man's eyes. 7"Go," he told him, "wash in the Pool of Siloam" (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. 8His neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging asked, "Isn't this the same man who used to sit and beg?" 9Some claimed that he was. Others said, "No, he only looks like him." But he himself insisted, "I am the man." 10"How then were your eyes opened?" they demanded. 11He replied, "The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see." 12"Where is this man?" they asked him. "I don't know," he said.
13They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. 14Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man's eyes was a Sabbath. 15Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. "He put mud on my eyes," the man replied, "and I washed, and now I see." 16Some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath." But others asked, "How can a sinner do such miraculous signs?" So they were divided. 17Finally they turned again to the blind man, "What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened." The man replied, "He is a prophet." 18The Jews still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man's parents. 19"Is this your son?" they asked. "Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?"
20"We know he is our son," the parents answered, "and we know he was born blind. 21But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don't know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself." 22His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for already the Jews had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Christ[a] would be put out of the synagogue. 23That was why his parents said, "He is of age; ask him."
24A second time they summoned the man who had been blind. "Give glory to God,[b]" they said. "We know this man is a sinner." 25He replied, "Whether he is a sinner or not, I don't know. One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!" 26Then they asked him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" 27He answered, "I have told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?" 28Then they hurled insults at him and said, "You are this fellow's disciple! We are disciples of Moses! 29We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don't even know where he comes from." 30The man answered, "Now that is remarkable! You don't know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. 31We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly man who does his will. 32Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. 33If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." 34To this they replied, "You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!" And they threw him out.
35Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" 36"Who is he, sir?" the man asked. "Tell me so that I may believe in him." 37Jesus said, "You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you." 38Then the man said, "Lord, I believe," and he worshiped him. 39Jesus said, "For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind." 40Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, "What? Are we blind too?" 41Jesus said, "If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.
My family comes from a small town, not too far outside Charleston. Charleston is a pretty diverse city so you’d think that being close would affect us out in the country, but really, we were pretty much the Deep South, and we were somewhat secluded and homogenous. Growing up in a place like that means you aren’t exposed to a wide range of experiences that the world has to offer. The world is only as big as the high school football stadium. I grew up thinking that everything I needed to know about life I could have learned in our town. I grew up thinking I wasn’t ignorant of anything. And then I moved the 45 miles to Charleston for college. I’ll never forget the kind of culture shock of my first semester. I didn’t know that my whole life I’d been blind to a whole world around me. I met students from all over the country and all over the world. I met people with different political ideologies, religious leanings, and sexual orientations.
I’ll say, while this entrée into a broader world was eye opening, it wasn’t easy. I wasn’t looking for change. I wasn’t looking for my eyes to be opened. And when they were, I didn’t always like what I saw. When my world suddenly expanded, what I saw sometimes wasn’t all that pleasant. Because with different ideologies, leanings, and orientations comes just that— difference. Because my eyes were opened, I was stretched and pulled and questioned and challenged.
And so it was with the man blind from birth when Jesus came into his life. Jesus and his disciples were walking along and encountered this man, a man who had never seen the world around him. He had never had sight and did not even know what he was missing, probably. In fact, he wasn’t even looking to be healed. He didn’t seek Jesus out. Jesus came into this man’s life and opened his eyes, and before he knew what hit him, he began to be pressed and stretched and questioned and challenged. When this man’s eyes were opened, what he saw was a lot of ugliness. He saw the infighting among his neighbors. He saw the power struggles that existed in his community, power struggles that set the Pharisees at an uneasy posture. He saw his parents hauled in for questioning and he saw them sort of throw him under the bus. They said, “Don’t ask us. Ask him. We aren’t a part of this.”
This man who was once blind and left alone to his own business, now sees and what he sees is a community of turmoil. For me, at first glance, I’m almost sad Jesus didn’t leave this man alone, let him be happy in his limited world. After all, I was happy growing up in my small town, where all I knew outside of my little area was on the news and, thus, far removed. My world was limited, but I didn’t really feel its limits. When I looked around, most everyone was like me so there wasn’t much conflict. Now I have been exposed to a much bigger world, and I have seen its ugliness, its conflict, and its confusion. In this man’s world, when he was blind, people left him alone. He didn’t have to make choices, answer questions about what he believes. He didn’t have to answer any questions about who he follows and what his theological grounding is. But Jesus came along, opened his eyes, and opened him up to a world of questions, questions without answers that will ever satisfy everyone.
But rather than responding in anger, rather than looking back to the days of his blindness, this man confesses Jesus as Lord. The Pharisees ask him who Jesus is and how it is that he has performed this miracle. His response: I don’t know all of that, but I do know this. My life is changed and now I see. And when he met Jesus again, because his eyes had been opened, he recognized him and witnessed to his identity when he said, “Lord, I believe.”
Like the blind man confessed, I must confess what I know. I don’t know how exactly God works or what God looks like, but I do know this. In everything I see, I see God. God is at work, ever-present. God comes to us before we know that’s what we need, opening our eyes and moving with us. And what I know is that as we continue to move through this world, we see more and more, experience more and more. Some of it is hard. Some of it challenges us. It’s different and it’s other. But what we see when we recognize God’s overwhelming presence is the beauty that comes to us when our eyes are opened. We recognize that the world is much bigger than our backyard and this God-breathed, grace-filled world is beautiful, even when it looks ugly from our outsider’s view.
What all this means is that we cannot be content to stay inside this church building, comfortable with the walls between us and the rest of the world. God has come to us, pouring grace and mercy over us, opening our eyes to God’s work and to God’s world. We must push outside these comfortable walls to see, to really see. As we do this, let us go out and confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. And amidst all of what we see as conflict and difference let us embrace each other and celebrate our graceful difference because we are all one in Christ Jesus.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Happy Birthday, Holy Spirit
Prayer is a funny thing. I wish I prayed more. I wish I was better at it. I wish I knew the right words or I wish I could focus my thoughts better. I wish the world around me didn't bleed into my prayers. I am reminded of the anonymous Russian pilgrim who set out to fulfill the Pauline command to pray without ceasing. He wandered the country looking for some wise person to tell him how this could become accomplished. And a piece of advice he received was to pray the Jesus prayer (Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner) over and over again, 3000 times a day, 6000 times a day, and so on. I think about that and can't help but think of the tragic character Franny in Salinger's Franny and Zooey who went literally crazy with the prayer on her lips. And then I go back to the pilgrim who learned the most important lesson about praying that prayer over and over again. It was that once the prayers of his lips became the prayers of his heart, then he would pray without ceasing. I love that lesson, and I try to think of the pilgrim (and not Franny) when I reflect on it. The prayer of my heart, not just the prayer of my lips.
Ah, yes! If only it were that simple...
I wish I could spend some time earnestly learning how to pray better, stronger, more authentically. I wish everything I did was so pointed towards God that everything I did was a prayer to God. But it's not the case, not for me. I simply don't know how. I will struggle with it, struggle with my thoughts and feelings, and my communication with the divine, and I will search for the words and the right heart and all that forever. Which, then, leads me to the title of this blog. Happy Birthday, Holy Spirit! Today is Pentecost, 50 days after Easter. Today is the day we celebrate the Holy Spirit depended on those gathered. The Holy Spirit which was sent as an advocate, sent to show us that God is still here, God is still with us. God has not left us alone. Even as we struggle, God knows and God hears. And what's even better is that God intercedes for us when we aren't strong enough to do or say or feel or be as we ought. My most favorite, most comforting, passage in all of scripture comes from Romans 8: "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God" (v.26-27). Sighs, sighs too deep for words.
Praise God for the coming of the Holy Spirit so that men and women will prophesy and the old shall dream dreams and the young shall have visions. Praise God for the Holy Spirit who intercedes for us when we can't for ourselves. Come, Holy Spirit, come.
Ah, yes! If only it were that simple...
I wish I could spend some time earnestly learning how to pray better, stronger, more authentically. I wish everything I did was so pointed towards God that everything I did was a prayer to God. But it's not the case, not for me. I simply don't know how. I will struggle with it, struggle with my thoughts and feelings, and my communication with the divine, and I will search for the words and the right heart and all that forever. Which, then, leads me to the title of this blog. Happy Birthday, Holy Spirit! Today is Pentecost, 50 days after Easter. Today is the day we celebrate the Holy Spirit depended on those gathered. The Holy Spirit which was sent as an advocate, sent to show us that God is still here, God is still with us. God has not left us alone. Even as we struggle, God knows and God hears. And what's even better is that God intercedes for us when we aren't strong enough to do or say or feel or be as we ought. My most favorite, most comforting, passage in all of scripture comes from Romans 8: "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God" (v.26-27). Sighs, sighs too deep for words.
Praise God for the coming of the Holy Spirit so that men and women will prophesy and the old shall dream dreams and the young shall have visions. Praise God for the Holy Spirit who intercedes for us when we can't for ourselves. Come, Holy Spirit, come.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Easter People, raise your voices...
..sounds of heaven in earth should ring.
On Sunday morning, I delighted in the liturgical response all good Methodists (and plenty others) know so well. Pastor: Christ is risen! People: He is risen indeed! In fact, I got a text message at 6:30 Sunday morning from a friend who simply sent "Christ is risen." I responded, sort of in my sleep, with the joyous response. "He is risen indeed." Where, oh death, is thy sting? Lord, you have delivered us from captivity to sin and death! ...But, oh how quickly the joy of Easter morning can fade. I have worked two days this week and I am worn out. I've had five of my patients die in these two days. I have not been in one single joyful room. I am a little weary, and it's only day two of my week. So, for comfort I turn to the familiar Easter evening text in which the disciples felt weariness in even greater measure than I feel right now at 8:30 on Wednesday evening.
John 20:19-23
On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.
Again Jesus said, "Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you." And with that he breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven."
First of all, with absolutely no statistical support for my claim at all, I will say that of the pastors who preach on the Jesus' appearance to the disciples after the resurrection this Sunday, 70% will talk about Thomas (who appears in the next few verses which I have not included). Old Doubting Thomas. Remember, I made that number up, but I bring it up because of how often I've heard about that Thomas character who has forever gained the title of doubter.
I doubt, I question, and in a week like the one I'm having, I would be a hypocrite to be hard on Thomas. And really, is it so far a stretch of the imagination for you and me to understand how Thomas's mind might not have been able to stretch far enough to believe someone who was dead had somehow come back from the dead? I, for one, could use a break as I doubt and fear, so I am going to give Thomas a break as well.
The others in the upper room that day weren't all that prepared either. There they were, sitting in that room with the doors locked. They were sitting on their hands in fear and perhaps a little regret. They'd not stood up for their teacher when it mattered most. They'd not showed up at the cross. They had fallen asleep in the garden, denied the one they had been following, and found themselves powerless and afraid. And then something so strange happens. Jesus appears. He came right through the locked doors and appeared among them. He drew so close to them that they could touch his wounded body. Rather than giving them the scolding they may have deserved for their faithlessness, he loved them. In moving past the locked doors of the upper room, he moves past the locked doors of our hearts--doors that have been locked by fear, sadness, worry, anger, and hatred. He moves among us and rather than chastising us for all our failures, he draws so lovingly near to us that we can feel his breath on our skin. For a brief moment, in the midst of utter chaos, there is peace.
As he breathes out the Holy Spirit on us, we are empowered and challenged to show that same peace to the broken and hurting world. In the world around me, I can see the marks and wounds of Christ's body. I am so close I can touch them. What I do everyday, the sad and broken places I enter into, what that's all about is reaching out and touching the holes in hands and putting my hands in the wounded side of Christ. And what I can and should do is draw near, as Christ has done for all of us, and share the peace that I know in Christ's resurrection and the power of the Holy Spirit. Quite honestly, that's the reason I make myself get up every morning and go to work. That's what it means to be an Easter people, I guess. Peace making and peace showing. Easter people, let us sing. Alleluia and Amen!
On Sunday morning, I delighted in the liturgical response all good Methodists (and plenty others) know so well. Pastor: Christ is risen! People: He is risen indeed! In fact, I got a text message at 6:30 Sunday morning from a friend who simply sent "Christ is risen." I responded, sort of in my sleep, with the joyous response. "He is risen indeed." Where, oh death, is thy sting? Lord, you have delivered us from captivity to sin and death! ...But, oh how quickly the joy of Easter morning can fade. I have worked two days this week and I am worn out. I've had five of my patients die in these two days. I have not been in one single joyful room. I am a little weary, and it's only day two of my week. So, for comfort I turn to the familiar Easter evening text in which the disciples felt weariness in even greater measure than I feel right now at 8:30 on Wednesday evening.
John 20:19-23
On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.
Again Jesus said, "Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you." And with that he breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven."
First of all, with absolutely no statistical support for my claim at all, I will say that of the pastors who preach on the Jesus' appearance to the disciples after the resurrection this Sunday, 70% will talk about Thomas (who appears in the next few verses which I have not included). Old Doubting Thomas. Remember, I made that number up, but I bring it up because of how often I've heard about that Thomas character who has forever gained the title of doubter.
I doubt, I question, and in a week like the one I'm having, I would be a hypocrite to be hard on Thomas. And really, is it so far a stretch of the imagination for you and me to understand how Thomas's mind might not have been able to stretch far enough to believe someone who was dead had somehow come back from the dead? I, for one, could use a break as I doubt and fear, so I am going to give Thomas a break as well.
The others in the upper room that day weren't all that prepared either. There they were, sitting in that room with the doors locked. They were sitting on their hands in fear and perhaps a little regret. They'd not stood up for their teacher when it mattered most. They'd not showed up at the cross. They had fallen asleep in the garden, denied the one they had been following, and found themselves powerless and afraid. And then something so strange happens. Jesus appears. He came right through the locked doors and appeared among them. He drew so close to them that they could touch his wounded body. Rather than giving them the scolding they may have deserved for their faithlessness, he loved them. In moving past the locked doors of the upper room, he moves past the locked doors of our hearts--doors that have been locked by fear, sadness, worry, anger, and hatred. He moves among us and rather than chastising us for all our failures, he draws so lovingly near to us that we can feel his breath on our skin. For a brief moment, in the midst of utter chaos, there is peace.
As he breathes out the Holy Spirit on us, we are empowered and challenged to show that same peace to the broken and hurting world. In the world around me, I can see the marks and wounds of Christ's body. I am so close I can touch them. What I do everyday, the sad and broken places I enter into, what that's all about is reaching out and touching the holes in hands and putting my hands in the wounded side of Christ. And what I can and should do is draw near, as Christ has done for all of us, and share the peace that I know in Christ's resurrection and the power of the Holy Spirit. Quite honestly, that's the reason I make myself get up every morning and go to work. That's what it means to be an Easter people, I guess. Peace making and peace showing. Easter people, let us sing. Alleluia and Amen!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Lent 40!
It is finished.
The sixth word is one that we know oh so well. Surely when Jesus uttered those words, he was thinking, "Finally. The end of this suffering." But the Greek word he utters--tetelestai--really is something greater than that. It's more than "it's over," more like "it is over and completed." Jesus had fulfilled his purpose. He had introduced to us the kingdom of God. He had showed us abiding love and grace. He finished the work of salvation. And the reason it's important for us to remember this last word in terms of completion is so that we can know that Christ completed it and we don't need to, nor can we, add to it.
Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.
This final word from Christ on the cross is another quotation from a Psalm. Here are the first 5 verses:
Psalm 31
1 In you, O LORD, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame;
deliver me in your righteousness.
2 Turn your ear to me,
come quickly to my rescue;
be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress to save me.
3 Since you are my rock and my fortress,
for the sake of your name lead and guide me.
4 Free me from the trap that is set for me,
for you are my refuge.
5 Into your hands I commit my spirit;
redeem me, O LORD, the God of truth.
Psalm 31 begins with petition for deliverance. To quote this means that Jesus asks to be delivered after he has already suffered. The implication is that Jesus is already pointing to the resurrection, right there from the cross. He would not be delivered from suffering and death, but there would be something beyond this, something wonderful.
Jesus went ahead and pointed to Easter. Easter is nearly here. Lent is nearly complete. While we know tetelestai, it is finished, we also know our spirits are committed into the hands of God who moves in us and with us, showering us with grace as we live as Easter people. We need not do anything for our salvation, but God doesn't leave us to sit on our heels. May we, as Easter people, live our lives to the glory and honor of God who creates, redeems, and sustains us.
The sixth word is one that we know oh so well. Surely when Jesus uttered those words, he was thinking, "Finally. The end of this suffering." But the Greek word he utters--tetelestai--really is something greater than that. It's more than "it's over," more like "it is over and completed." Jesus had fulfilled his purpose. He had introduced to us the kingdom of God. He had showed us abiding love and grace. He finished the work of salvation. And the reason it's important for us to remember this last word in terms of completion is so that we can know that Christ completed it and we don't need to, nor can we, add to it.
Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.
This final word from Christ on the cross is another quotation from a Psalm. Here are the first 5 verses:
Psalm 31
1 In you, O LORD, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame;
deliver me in your righteousness.
2 Turn your ear to me,
come quickly to my rescue;
be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress to save me.
3 Since you are my rock and my fortress,
for the sake of your name lead and guide me.
4 Free me from the trap that is set for me,
for you are my refuge.
5 Into your hands I commit my spirit;
redeem me, O LORD, the God of truth.
Psalm 31 begins with petition for deliverance. To quote this means that Jesus asks to be delivered after he has already suffered. The implication is that Jesus is already pointing to the resurrection, right there from the cross. He would not be delivered from suffering and death, but there would be something beyond this, something wonderful.
Jesus went ahead and pointed to Easter. Easter is nearly here. Lent is nearly complete. While we know tetelestai, it is finished, we also know our spirits are committed into the hands of God who moves in us and with us, showering us with grace as we live as Easter people. We need not do anything for our salvation, but God doesn't leave us to sit on our heels. May we, as Easter people, live our lives to the glory and honor of God who creates, redeems, and sustains us.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Lent 39
5. I am thirsty.
I went to a Good Friday service this evening that was a Seven Last Words and Tenebrae Service. While the pastors read each word and the passages that went with them, I tried to stay centered and reflect on the word. When we got to this word, I kept flashing on a memory. I remember a retreat I attended when I was in high school. The theme was "Come to the Water" and during each session we sang the song "For Those Tears I Died." Come to the water, stand by side. I know you are thirsty. You won't be denied. I felt every teardrop, when in darkness you cried. And I strove to remind you, for those tears I died. (M. and R. Stevens Jesus made a simple statement from the cross. I am thirsty. What a natural human urge! Thirst! And they gave him sour wine to drink, hardly a thirst-quencher. What I remember from that retreat was a feeling of my cup being full. I remember feeling spiritually fed. I had drawn near to the living water and was not denied.
On this Good Friday, I am reminded of the thirst of Jesus Christ was so that I might never thirst again. Except that I am thirsty. I am not thirsty for sour wine but for the new wine, the new wine of the kingdom. Hearing Jesus utter words and a request so human tells me once again of the importance and wonder of the incarnation. "We need the practice of incarnation, by which God saves the lives of those whose intellectual assent has turned as dry as dust, who have run frighteningly low on the bread of life, who are dying to know more God in their bodies. Not more about God. More God" (Barbara Brown Taylor, Altar in the World). I hunger and thirst, not to know more about God, but just for more God.
I went to a Good Friday service this evening that was a Seven Last Words and Tenebrae Service. While the pastors read each word and the passages that went with them, I tried to stay centered and reflect on the word. When we got to this word, I kept flashing on a memory. I remember a retreat I attended when I was in high school. The theme was "Come to the Water" and during each session we sang the song "For Those Tears I Died." Come to the water, stand by side. I know you are thirsty. You won't be denied. I felt every teardrop, when in darkness you cried. And I strove to remind you, for those tears I died. (M. and R. Stevens Jesus made a simple statement from the cross. I am thirsty. What a natural human urge! Thirst! And they gave him sour wine to drink, hardly a thirst-quencher. What I remember from that retreat was a feeling of my cup being full. I remember feeling spiritually fed. I had drawn near to the living water and was not denied.
On this Good Friday, I am reminded of the thirst of Jesus Christ was so that I might never thirst again. Except that I am thirsty. I am not thirsty for sour wine but for the new wine, the new wine of the kingdom. Hearing Jesus utter words and a request so human tells me once again of the importance and wonder of the incarnation. "We need the practice of incarnation, by which God saves the lives of those whose intellectual assent has turned as dry as dust, who have run frighteningly low on the bread of life, who are dying to know more God in their bodies. Not more about God. More God" (Barbara Brown Taylor, Altar in the World). I hunger and thirst, not to know more about God, but just for more God.
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