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.

Lent 20-22

Luke 24:28-31
28As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. 30When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.

Since the purpose of this Lenten task was to spend some intentional time each day seeing God in my day and taking the time to reflect, I am giving myself a pass for the next couple. I will be gone to participate in the Walk to Emmaus as an Assistant Spiritual Director. I will be giving a talk and praying with others who will be giving talks. I will be traveling south for the weekend, away from technology, to be with people who are seeking to grow spiritually. So, I won't be around or writing for the next couple of days, but I will be--God willing--catching glimpses of grace each day.

Lent 19

Luke 4:16-21
16When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, 17and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: 18“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, 19to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” 20And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. 21Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

That's the text we used for youth tonight (well, last night at the time of this posting). We spent some time trying to understand who the captives are, who the poor and blind are, and who needs the freedom offered by Jesus. I was reminded of a sermon given by Tom Long at Candler a year or so ago. He told the story of a time when he had been pulled over for a traffic violation and in the time between receiving the citation and his court date, he did lots of research about the law in order to prove himself innocent of the charge for which he'd been cited. The court date came around and he had a file folder full of law and precedent, ready to make his case. When he stood before the judge, the judge told him the officer who had pulled him over was no longer with the department so there was "no one to bear witness against" him, and he was free to go. Tom Long reported that he was actually angry that he didn't get to argue his case. He ended by saying, "Isn't it funny that most people would rather be right than free." Whoa.

I was thinking about how much truth there is to that. I have so often struggled--mostly with myself--in order to prove myself right or at least hide my wrong. And all the time, I am free. I have been captive to my own guilt, shame, and feelings of imperfection. I have been poor, lacking in understanding and grace for myself. And I have been blind to the gift of God's goodness too often. I am in need of the freedom in Christ.

Lent 18

Had a pretty weird job interview last night. It was a phone interview with a panel of about 5 people on the call. It was very clear that each person in the room had their own agenda or, at the very least, had been assigned an agenda. Each person stuck to questions that revolved around roughly the same thing. There was one guy who threw absolutely off the wall questions at me. His questions made even the others on the panel a little confused (they said so). At first I found myself a little annoyed, but then somewhere in the midst of the 45 minute conversation, I decided there was method to his madness. I really think he was using some strange technique...almost like Jesus..in a reverse-parable kind of way. When people asked Jesus questions, he gave them parables, which at face value seemed quite nonsensical. This man was asking me nonsense questions and I actually think he cared about the answers. For instance, the most off-the-wall questions was this: "If you were a native of Charleston when the Battle of Fort Sumter started, which side would you have been on?" I thought, what in the world does this have to do with the position of Youth Director at a UM church. But not wanting to brush him off, I thought carefully and gave a measured and thoughtful, even intellectual answer. He responded with, "Young lady, that was a good answer."

Basically what I'm saying is..truth and insight comes from very unexpected places.

Lent 17

Today, I laughed out loud at a comment from a friend. She said, "I hate to say this, but the more involved I get with the church, the more disappointed I become." I felt bad about laughing at this, but I quickly explained that I was laughing at the truth of her statement and that it happens all the time and in most churches. It's pretty ridiculous, actually, that the closer you get to the inner workings of the church that the more disappointed you will become. It's like they always say: two things you don't want people to see how you make...laws and sausages. I guess the structure and administration of the church should be added to the list.

But is this the way the church should be? Dare I say no? The church, at least the UMC, does, in a lot of ways, run like a business--a corporation, even. We have a board and committees and the virtual equivalent to a human resources department. We have staff meetings and ad hoc committees to complete tasks and websites and e-mail addresses. But in all this, it seems that we have lost sight of what the church really is. We are the body of Christ. We aren't a building or a business. We are the body of Christ. We might do ourselves a favor to pause and think how Christ may feel about the way we treat and use his body. We might to well to treat our tasks and missions as the church with a little more sanctity than we do most of the time. And I say all this with the very serious hope in Jesus Christ who makes all things new, sanctifies all things, and through grace makes us better and better.

Lent 16

INFP

I have done numerous personality assessments, largely due to the fact that I am involved in professional ministry. Dealing with people means you need to learn who you are and that will help you better relate. According the Myers Briggs Personal Inventory, I am an introverted, intuitive, feeling, perceiver.

It is weekends like this that I realize that I am wholeheartedly an introvert. I have taken some knocks on this point, particularly in CPE, as my peers and co-workers have been concerned how I will lead a church and committees and interact with others if I am so introverted. My answer has always been that I am not painfully shy, I just need to recharge inwardly and personally. I do not draw my strength and energy from the crowds like my extroverted brothers and sisters. I am drained by the crowd and have to power down to recharge.

There were so many things I felt like I could have been doing the last couple of days, but I chose to power down instead. I watched movies and took naps. I read a little. But all the while, I had to fight the voices telling me I was being lazy. The world around us often tells us that we have to be go-go-go or we aren't being productive members of society, but a relaxing, introverted Saturday is what gives me the recharge for the next day of busy. And I take comfort in the fact that I am almost more than certain that Jesus was in introvert too. What did he do when he got a chance? He went away, by himself, or with his closest friends who built him up and helped him rather than drained him of his energy. That's where I saw God this weekend...in the grace to give myself a pass and let myself rest.

Lent 15

I did my least favorite job at the church today...I put the bulletin together. After stuffing 300 or so bulletins with an insert, my shoulders actually hurt a little from the repetitive motion. The one good thing about it, after about the 50th one, it gets pretty easy--other than the soreness, of course--because you get into a rhythm. And once you get into the rhythm, you can feel the task, and when you can feel the task, you can do it without even thinking about it or looking.

When I moved to Atlanta, I hated it at first because the rhythm was so different than the rhythm of Charleston. I felt like I was working against the city. And the same was true when I moved here to Greenwood. It took me a while to get the rhythm.

God's love and God's will is kind of like a rhythm. When we are out of rhythm, everything we do feels like an effort. It feels like your rubbing up against something and can't quite get comfortable. But if we seek God's will, seek to get in sync, and try our very best to practice doing the things God wants us to do, we'll create habits. And those habits will become second nature, and eventually, we'll get into God's good rhythm.