My friend has cancer. It's hard to let those words roll out. But, that's what I heard yesterday.
Maybe it is harder, still, due to the scare we had July 23. As Gail was taken to the ER for some physical symptoms, and after a series of CT scans and MRI's, with Gail on the ER bed and with me by her side we hear the words- cold, blunt: "I'm nearly certain you have a malignant brain tumor and it is likely inoperable." Our world falls apart. But, as I've written about, after a second opinion and a team of neurosurgeons, we are told it is unlikely that it is a malignant tumor. It may be something that has been there most of her life. No other symptoms to date.
For us, it is a much longer story. I'm grateful for each day of health and no symptoms for Gail. During that awful weekend, these close friends cried with me/us. We hurt; they hurt.
Now, just months later, I'm on the other end of the phone hearing, "I have cancer. They plan to start chemotherapy tomorrow..." (This is after a series of multiple tests over a period of weeks, and pathology reports coming back yesterday.) They hurt; I hurt. Oh, that is way too simplistic, for it is much deeper than "hurt."
The husband is a really close friend of mine- for 20 years. She, too. She is about to graduate from seminary and will now need to put that on hold this semester. They are gems. Quality.
So, here we go with the immediate and unanswerable question: "Why?" I have long left the theory behind when these things emerge that says, "God has a purpose in this. There's a reason for everything that happens." A purpose that people would suffer? A reason for someone to get really sick from intensive chemotherapy treatments? A purpose behind- as I've heard it from some who have gone through chemo- "I felt so sick that I just wanted to die?" A reason for someone who is actively loving God and loving others, and living in the way of Jesus- a reason that sometimes there are people like that whose lives come to a premature end in the fullness of life?
No, that doesn't work for me. That would make no sense. It is some of the very things I pondered, again, that weekend of July 23rd. Now, I know you can point me to volumes and volumes of those who have written about suffering, theodicy and how to make sense of evil in the world. I've read some of them. It is a question that will be pondered and debated, and more importantly, wrestled with at the deepest levels of our being forever.
I feel like I can merely scratch the surface when I muster up the statement, and enter the mystery, that God is God. Our finitude cannot grasp the fullness of this, and the tragic repercussions of evil. I concur with what Marva Dawn wrote recently about "...the fundamental dialectical truth that God is both good and almighty....If we begin with trust that God is both good and almighty, then we look elsewhere for the reasons behind suffering." (p. 22-23, In the Beginning, GOD). I believe that God is both good and almighty, even when I can't understand.
Here's the other thing: this morning- January 8, one day after hearing about my friend's pathology report on January 7- it was this morning, in my early time of prayer, that I open my daily guide with scripture and prayer and it begins: "I am the LORD who heals you."- Exodus 15:26 (NLT) Thomas Keating writes in the reflection, "Divine love has the power to grow and transform us." And the page ends with, "'I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,' declares the LORD."- Jeremiah 30:17 (NIV)
I won't even address the issue of the "coincidence" or whether this January 8 topic was "meant to be." What matters to me, is this concept of healing.
I understand the thought of "the LORD who heals." About 12 years ago, at a time of darkness and loss, when I wondered whether it would happen, I began the process of being healed. Over time. A long time. I know what this is talking about.
Right now, this is what I desire in this situation: healing. I can't even know what that will look like or how or when. But, I am praying- pleading- for healing. Healing for my friend from her cancer. Healing for her devoted husband and family. And, for me and all the others who love them.
So, healing it is. Through tears, and with hope, I will pray for healing.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The 1st question when they find out I'm a pastor...
My favorite time was after a round of 18 holes of golf with a friend, and his co-worker that I just met. The times, that is, when people find out that I'm a pastor. And, it tends to be people who barely connected to church (the Easter and Christmas thing), or who may have no religious background. This has been changing in the past 10 years, but with my generation and older, many people were uncomfortable around pastors and would act differently once they knew this.
I didn't want people to know I was a pastor because I didn't want them to act or try to be different around me. So, this beautiful summer day in Ohio I am with Larry, who is a member of our church, and his co-worker who never asked me about my vocation. This guy was funny. He was telling jokes the entire round- some pretty funny ones, then he would drop in a crude joke, and he was dropping the F-bomb and some other colorful language the entire round. I enjoyed being with him.
After the round of golf, we had a drink and something to eat. As we were eating, the co-worker dude asks me, "So, what do you do?" When I told him I was the pastor at Larry's church, he about choked on his burrito, gulped, and then said, "Thanks, Larry; why didn't you tell me earlier! Holy cow; I'm sorry for all the jokes...." Which is why I often don't tell people what I do so they don't try and be something they are not.
Which leads to another "pastor" conversation. Whether it is the person sitting next to me on a plane, or a neighbor I meet for the first time, or any stranger I meet- do you want to guess what the first question I am asked after I tell them I'm a pastor of a church? Almost always it is: "So, how big is your church?" Based on some of the comments and body language, I can often sense the question, and my answer, is the grid that is used to measure success. Big= successful. Small= unsuccessful.
You should see the looks now when my answer, over the past year, has been 15, 20 or 25!
Which then leads me to a comment Brad Cecil of Axxess church made about how they are measuring success. It was in the context of this newer, emerging church that has a deep commitment to community and relationships. "...we want to be a community of people committed to sharing life together...We don't measure our success by numeric growth. We have decided to measure by other means, such as, How long do relationships last? Are members of the community at peace with one another? Are relationships reconciled?" (p. 99, Emerging Churches by E. Gibbs and R. Bolger).
I track with that focus on community as it is part of our core values at The Bridge. I would also add other means by which we might measure our success related to our core values: What are we doing to serve the poor? How are we seeking social justice in our city/world? What is the nature of the conversations like in our community? etc.
It's a different way of defining success, which, ultimately, is the wrong question. Not to be cliche: but, it is about faithfulness in our lives personally, and in our communities of faith. I admit the ways in which I have succumbed to the voices and judgments of others about who we are. As Henri Nouwen has written succinctly and prophetically: the way we often answer this is, "We are our success, we are our popularity, we are our power." (p. 134, Here and Now) The deeper voice, however, keeps prodding me.
Being a community, in a network of relationships, is a central component of what we aspire to be at The Bridge. How and what this will look like specifically, as we journey forward, is unknown; but it will be community. Even as we have it anchored in the very nature of God in community/relationship as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
"So, how big is your church?" My neighbor down the street might now get it. I do.
I didn't want people to know I was a pastor because I didn't want them to act or try to be different around me. So, this beautiful summer day in Ohio I am with Larry, who is a member of our church, and his co-worker who never asked me about my vocation. This guy was funny. He was telling jokes the entire round- some pretty funny ones, then he would drop in a crude joke, and he was dropping the F-bomb and some other colorful language the entire round. I enjoyed being with him.
After the round of golf, we had a drink and something to eat. As we were eating, the co-worker dude asks me, "So, what do you do?" When I told him I was the pastor at Larry's church, he about choked on his burrito, gulped, and then said, "Thanks, Larry; why didn't you tell me earlier! Holy cow; I'm sorry for all the jokes...." Which is why I often don't tell people what I do so they don't try and be something they are not.
Which leads to another "pastor" conversation. Whether it is the person sitting next to me on a plane, or a neighbor I meet for the first time, or any stranger I meet- do you want to guess what the first question I am asked after I tell them I'm a pastor of a church? Almost always it is: "So, how big is your church?" Based on some of the comments and body language, I can often sense the question, and my answer, is the grid that is used to measure success. Big= successful. Small= unsuccessful.
You should see the looks now when my answer, over the past year, has been 15, 20 or 25!
Which then leads me to a comment Brad Cecil of Axxess church made about how they are measuring success. It was in the context of this newer, emerging church that has a deep commitment to community and relationships. "...we want to be a community of people committed to sharing life together...We don't measure our success by numeric growth. We have decided to measure by other means, such as, How long do relationships last? Are members of the community at peace with one another? Are relationships reconciled?" (p. 99, Emerging Churches by E. Gibbs and R. Bolger).
I track with that focus on community as it is part of our core values at The Bridge. I would also add other means by which we might measure our success related to our core values: What are we doing to serve the poor? How are we seeking social justice in our city/world? What is the nature of the conversations like in our community? etc.
It's a different way of defining success, which, ultimately, is the wrong question. Not to be cliche: but, it is about faithfulness in our lives personally, and in our communities of faith. I admit the ways in which I have succumbed to the voices and judgments of others about who we are. As Henri Nouwen has written succinctly and prophetically: the way we often answer this is, "We are our success, we are our popularity, we are our power." (p. 134, Here and Now) The deeper voice, however, keeps prodding me.
Being a community, in a network of relationships, is a central component of what we aspire to be at The Bridge. How and what this will look like specifically, as we journey forward, is unknown; but it will be community. Even as we have it anchored in the very nature of God in community/relationship as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
"So, how big is your church?" My neighbor down the street might now get it. I do.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Beliefs: more like a Scrabble game than jigsaw puzzle
There's a pretty strong resistance to beliefs in our time. What one believes, what beliefs seem to be essential, and what beliefs are critical in terms of faith.
If you consider the trilogy of beliefs, belonging and behavior, beliefs would be at the bottom of the list- at least, in the circles I tend to hang around. I understand why many have this resistance to beliefs for far too many have been immersed in church cultures where one must have the precise set of beliefs- propositional truths. Christianity was set up, in those settings, with the abstract truths that one must hold or one is out. As in, "I'm in and you're out!"
One of the wonderful things taking place among those who follow Jesus is a deep understanding of narrative. The Big narrative. The Story of God unfolding in history, with God at the center, with God Incarnate- Jesus, at the center, and finding where we fit in this Story. I love the line in "Emerging Churches" (Gibbs and Bolger), "Who wants to listen to abstract, contextless propositions when one can hear or watch a story unfold?" (p. 68)
Belonging and community take on much more meaning than beliefs, in our setting. Behavior is much more engaging than abstract truth statements- "How are we going to live?"
But, beliefs are not discarded, on the other hand. I've been pondering this recently: what beliefs are essential in this way of Jesus? I don't see this divorced from the larger framework of narrative and the story of God. I came across a nugget in a short book by James Reimer, "The Dogmatic Imagination," in which he takes on tough questions in seeking the "dynamics" of Christian belief.
In thinking about beliefs, and endeavoring to paint what beliefs might be crucial, he uses the metaphor of a Scrabble game vs. a jigsaw puzzle. The dynamic of beliefs is not like a jigsaw puzzle which is totally predetermined and there is no freedom. Each piece of the puzzle fits exactly in one spot. When I shared this notion with one friend, he said that for many Christians the metaphor is more like "paint-by-numbers." Good one! Robotic. No room to think. Just paint inside the lines.
In contrast, the Scrabble game gives freedom to the players, the outcome is not known until the end of the game, and reason and intelligence is involved. But, Reimer points out that there is a fixed component; "The cosmos is not entirely open."
This metaphor is compelling, for me. As we think of what beliefs are crucial (I want to include all three: belonging, behavior, and beliefs), there is freedom, we use reason, and it is not a rigid jigsaw puzzle or paint-by-numbers game. And yet, there is a fixed component- not all beliefs are the same and there is a broad parameter within which we are working.
So, there is room for diversity and differences of belief as we attempt to put words to the narrative- the Big Story of God. We can see things from different angles. We will differ with one another on some of these beliefs. And, yet "the cosmos is not entirely open." As we attempt to identify core beliefs, there is great freedom and yet there is a fixed game board that we are working with.
This metaphor helps me to see the folly of both extremes: on the one hand- a rigid view of abstract, propositional truths that allows no room for diversity; and on the other hand-a view that has no parameters for beliefs or places all beliefs on the same level.
If you consider the trilogy of beliefs, belonging and behavior, beliefs would be at the bottom of the list- at least, in the circles I tend to hang around. I understand why many have this resistance to beliefs for far too many have been immersed in church cultures where one must have the precise set of beliefs- propositional truths. Christianity was set up, in those settings, with the abstract truths that one must hold or one is out. As in, "I'm in and you're out!"
One of the wonderful things taking place among those who follow Jesus is a deep understanding of narrative. The Big narrative. The Story of God unfolding in history, with God at the center, with God Incarnate- Jesus, at the center, and finding where we fit in this Story. I love the line in "Emerging Churches" (Gibbs and Bolger), "Who wants to listen to abstract, contextless propositions when one can hear or watch a story unfold?" (p. 68)
Belonging and community take on much more meaning than beliefs, in our setting. Behavior is much more engaging than abstract truth statements- "How are we going to live?"
But, beliefs are not discarded, on the other hand. I've been pondering this recently: what beliefs are essential in this way of Jesus? I don't see this divorced from the larger framework of narrative and the story of God. I came across a nugget in a short book by James Reimer, "The Dogmatic Imagination," in which he takes on tough questions in seeking the "dynamics" of Christian belief.
In thinking about beliefs, and endeavoring to paint what beliefs might be crucial, he uses the metaphor of a Scrabble game vs. a jigsaw puzzle. The dynamic of beliefs is not like a jigsaw puzzle which is totally predetermined and there is no freedom. Each piece of the puzzle fits exactly in one spot. When I shared this notion with one friend, he said that for many Christians the metaphor is more like "paint-by-numbers." Good one! Robotic. No room to think. Just paint inside the lines.
In contrast, the Scrabble game gives freedom to the players, the outcome is not known until the end of the game, and reason and intelligence is involved. But, Reimer points out that there is a fixed component; "The cosmos is not entirely open."
This metaphor is compelling, for me. As we think of what beliefs are crucial (I want to include all three: belonging, behavior, and beliefs), there is freedom, we use reason, and it is not a rigid jigsaw puzzle or paint-by-numbers game. And yet, there is a fixed component- not all beliefs are the same and there is a broad parameter within which we are working.
So, there is room for diversity and differences of belief as we attempt to put words to the narrative- the Big Story of God. We can see things from different angles. We will differ with one another on some of these beliefs. And, yet "the cosmos is not entirely open." As we attempt to identify core beliefs, there is great freedom and yet there is a fixed game board that we are working with.
This metaphor helps me to see the folly of both extremes: on the one hand- a rigid view of abstract, propositional truths that allows no room for diversity; and on the other hand-a view that has no parameters for beliefs or places all beliefs on the same level.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
The homeless guy who gave me $2
He was standing in line to get a warm meal, and I've seen him every week for the past five weeks. He was one of 72 homeless persons, or ones who are poor and really need a warm meal; the room can sit 72 at one time: 9 tables with 8 at each table.
His table was next to get in line, and I was standing close to the front where the buffet line begins. My self-appointed role, while people get in line for the meal is to say hi, look each person in the eye, and chat briefly. Some don't want to talk; some have a hard time looking at me, or anyone, straight in the eye. For different reasons. For some good reasons.
Since I just started going five weeks ago, I'm just getting to recognize some of the regulars. George, with his cap and ZZ Top beard, jokes each week. He loves puns. Ike is always the first in line for the Eucharist (for those who attend the service before the meal) and always picks up the lyric sheets left on the pews. Jim has a nervous disorder, always goes to the clothes' closet line, and asks for toothpaste- Sensodyne, to be exact.
So, Mark was standing in line. His life has been hard, from the look on his face, and while he looks older than me, my guess is that he is younger. It's hard for him to talk with anyone, I have noticed. I don't know his story; he doesn't know mine. But, we are in the same place each Tuesday evening at 6:00 p.m. for this meal that is served to those who are homeless, or nearly so.
While I don't like doing this (what I'm about to say next), it is necessary for the story. Gail and I have committed our giving to the church, but there are things we also want to support on occasion. We decided the week before to give a check to the ministry that prepares the meal each week, and we asked what it would be to support the meals for one week. So, earlier that evening, I gave that check to the deacon in charge. About 75-100 come in for a decent, three-course meal with dessert and coffee.
Back to the line. When I say hi to Mark, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled $1 bill, and picks at the loose change in his hand, pulling together 4 quarters. I wasn't prepared and I didn't know what to say when he hands me this crumpled bill and 4 quarters. I stuttered. "What's this?" He says, "I want to make a donation for the meal." Fumbling and thinking this may be about all he has on him, from what I can gather (did he get it from begging on the street corner when the light turned red??), I said, "No; it doesn't cost anything. The meal is free."
He said, again, "I want to make a donation." I realized I had it wrong at the moment. A voice within told me to shut up, take the money and thank him. And, I did. "Thanks, Mark; we really appreciate it. Thanks for your generosity." I took the $2 and gave it to the Episcopalian deacon.
Here I had another lesson in grace. Another lesson in giving out of poverty. Our giving seemed so small compared to that gift out of poverty. (You can read another story about this in the Bible: Luke 21:1-4).
I go each Tuesday night because that is something God has prompted me to do. It's in the same space where we meet on Sunday nights, where we, our church, have a meal together and another meal- Eucharist. Communion; a meal of "thanksgiving."
This is why I go on Tuesday nights, in part: so that I can be converted. My heart and life increasingly changed, in Christ, as we eat and pray and talk.
Peace,
Phil
His table was next to get in line, and I was standing close to the front where the buffet line begins. My self-appointed role, while people get in line for the meal is to say hi, look each person in the eye, and chat briefly. Some don't want to talk; some have a hard time looking at me, or anyone, straight in the eye. For different reasons. For some good reasons.
Since I just started going five weeks ago, I'm just getting to recognize some of the regulars. George, with his cap and ZZ Top beard, jokes each week. He loves puns. Ike is always the first in line for the Eucharist (for those who attend the service before the meal) and always picks up the lyric sheets left on the pews. Jim has a nervous disorder, always goes to the clothes' closet line, and asks for toothpaste- Sensodyne, to be exact.
So, Mark was standing in line. His life has been hard, from the look on his face, and while he looks older than me, my guess is that he is younger. It's hard for him to talk with anyone, I have noticed. I don't know his story; he doesn't know mine. But, we are in the same place each Tuesday evening at 6:00 p.m. for this meal that is served to those who are homeless, or nearly so.
While I don't like doing this (what I'm about to say next), it is necessary for the story. Gail and I have committed our giving to the church, but there are things we also want to support on occasion. We decided the week before to give a check to the ministry that prepares the meal each week, and we asked what it would be to support the meals for one week. So, earlier that evening, I gave that check to the deacon in charge. About 75-100 come in for a decent, three-course meal with dessert and coffee.
Back to the line. When I say hi to Mark, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled $1 bill, and picks at the loose change in his hand, pulling together 4 quarters. I wasn't prepared and I didn't know what to say when he hands me this crumpled bill and 4 quarters. I stuttered. "What's this?" He says, "I want to make a donation for the meal." Fumbling and thinking this may be about all he has on him, from what I can gather (did he get it from begging on the street corner when the light turned red??), I said, "No; it doesn't cost anything. The meal is free."
He said, again, "I want to make a donation." I realized I had it wrong at the moment. A voice within told me to shut up, take the money and thank him. And, I did. "Thanks, Mark; we really appreciate it. Thanks for your generosity." I took the $2 and gave it to the Episcopalian deacon.
Here I had another lesson in grace. Another lesson in giving out of poverty. Our giving seemed so small compared to that gift out of poverty. (You can read another story about this in the Bible: Luke 21:1-4).
I go each Tuesday night because that is something God has prompted me to do. It's in the same space where we meet on Sunday nights, where we, our church, have a meal together and another meal- Eucharist. Communion; a meal of "thanksgiving."
This is why I go on Tuesday nights, in part: so that I can be converted. My heart and life increasingly changed, in Christ, as we eat and pray and talk.
Peace,
Phil
Monday, October 26, 2009
Resisting nationalistic idolatry
Since we talked about it a week ago at our church- my teaching followed by discussion and engagement with the issue, I've been thinking about nationalism a bit more in the past several weeks. Several things, rather independently, reinforced the significance of looking at this with respect to our faith as followers of Jesus.
A good friend of mine, Jeff Munroe, who is currently in Europe involved with a ministry, is in the U.S. on a visit and noticed a neon sign in front of a business where he used to live which said, "God Bless America." He wrote these words on his blog this past week: "To a European, God Bless America carries with it a certain arrogance that hints at feeling like God’s favorites. A European mentality would challenge us instead to put up a sign that asks God to bless our enemy – maybe a God Bless Afghanistan sign by the highway. Imagine the scandal that would cause."
That morning, early, as I'm reading/reflecting/praying, I read these words by Eugene Peterson about the prophet Jeremiah, "...Jeremiah was designated 'prophet to the nations' [Jeremiah 1:5]...The title 'prophet to the nations' is a deliberate rejection of any understanding of the life of faith that is identical with a single nation or a particular culture...Biblical faith always has and always will have this global dimension to it." (p. 182, Run With the Horses)
Then, that same day, I led to these hard-hitting words with respect to the sin of nationalistic idolatry, "People just know that God (or the gods) is on our side and against our enemies. It’s obvious, right? Nothing in history has caused more bloodshed than this arrogant and unfounded assumption. Nor, I submit, is anything more contrary to the Kingdom Jesus brought than this assumption." (Greg Boyd in an October 9 blog entry)
That led me to one of the sentences I remember from seminary days. (Funny- some of the things you remember.) I remember not expecting to hear it from this prof. He was the oldest faculty member at Eastern Mennonite Seminary and about ready to retire. Plain. Nothing fancy. Not a dynamic teacher. Not hip. He said something very close to this, "The greatest sin we find in the Bible is that of nationalism." He was an Old Testament prof and he would cite examples during my three years of Jonah, or Jeremiah, or the nation of Israel, etc. and how it was destructive for humanity. He said it often. You may or may not agree with him.
These were reminders to me that we must resist the pull of nationalism. We say "no" to it. It has caused, and continues to cause, untold harm.
And, we also say "yes" to what it means for followers of Jesus to live in ways that demonstrate that any theocracy is tossed out the window. That we, followers of Jesus, sojourn with those who are from all languages and nations and race and tribe. That we display a love and acceptance and compassion for all people, knowing the every person bears the image of God.
I'm glad for these voices again this week.
A good friend of mine, Jeff Munroe, who is currently in Europe involved with a ministry, is in the U.S. on a visit and noticed a neon sign in front of a business where he used to live which said, "God Bless America." He wrote these words on his blog this past week: "To a European, God Bless America carries with it a certain arrogance that hints at feeling like God’s favorites. A European mentality would challenge us instead to put up a sign that asks God to bless our enemy – maybe a God Bless Afghanistan sign by the highway. Imagine the scandal that would cause."
That morning, early, as I'm reading/reflecting/praying, I read these words by Eugene Peterson about the prophet Jeremiah, "...Jeremiah was designated 'prophet to the nations' [Jeremiah 1:5]...The title 'prophet to the nations' is a deliberate rejection of any understanding of the life of faith that is identical with a single nation or a particular culture...Biblical faith always has and always will have this global dimension to it." (p. 182, Run With the Horses)
Then, that same day, I led to these hard-hitting words with respect to the sin of nationalistic idolatry, "People just know that God (or the gods) is on our side and against our enemies. It’s obvious, right? Nothing in history has caused more bloodshed than this arrogant and unfounded assumption. Nor, I submit, is anything more contrary to the Kingdom Jesus brought than this assumption." (Greg Boyd in an October 9 blog entry)
That led me to one of the sentences I remember from seminary days. (Funny- some of the things you remember.) I remember not expecting to hear it from this prof. He was the oldest faculty member at Eastern Mennonite Seminary and about ready to retire. Plain. Nothing fancy. Not a dynamic teacher. Not hip. He said something very close to this, "The greatest sin we find in the Bible is that of nationalism." He was an Old Testament prof and he would cite examples during my three years of Jonah, or Jeremiah, or the nation of Israel, etc. and how it was destructive for humanity. He said it often. You may or may not agree with him.
These were reminders to me that we must resist the pull of nationalism. We say "no" to it. It has caused, and continues to cause, untold harm.
And, we also say "yes" to what it means for followers of Jesus to live in ways that demonstrate that any theocracy is tossed out the window. That we, followers of Jesus, sojourn with those who are from all languages and nations and race and tribe. That we display a love and acceptance and compassion for all people, knowing the every person bears the image of God.
I'm glad for these voices again this week.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
What are you against? Or, what are you for?
I'm against having an American flag in the sanctuary of a church where I would serve as pastor (or be a member). I'm against the death penalty. I'm against human sex trafficking. I'm against the Florida Gators football team (oops). I'm against...
Do you find it easy, like me, to blurt out the things you're against? That it might be even easier to say the things you're against rather than the things you're for?
From a faith standpoint- and mine on this path with Jesus, there are times when one must say "no" when we're moving forward with the "yes." In our church this fall, we're using the term Greg Boyd has used in stating things we believe we must "revolt" against as we are attempting to embody the good news of Jesus and his kingdom. Revolting against things like violence, individualism, judgmentalism, greed, nationalism, etc.
So, we sometimes need to say "no" to the things that harm or derail us from the good and true, light and wholeness.
But...There is often a "but." The priority is on what I'm for. What I believe in and will give my life to. This I'm for.
In attempting to start this church in Denver, it is easy to say what we're against, what we don't believe, and what we do not want the church to be or look like. But, that is not the focus and cannot be the focus on what will bring energy and life.
What am I for? I can't put it into a few words, but it includes things like: authentic relationship with God, family, life, forgiveness, genuine relationships, loving others (including enemies),...where do I stop?!
What are you for? It doesn't diminish the things you might oppose, but who wants to spend one's life living out what one is against?
There are times when we ought to say "no," and loudly, at times. But, front and center will be the "yes" that moves us, and with it will be the path it carves saying "no" to what we oppose.
When we help serve a meal to the homeless, it says no to poverty. When we take steps to forgive someone who has wronged us, it says no to hating enemies. When we listen with love to my next door neighbor who is Muslim, we say no to building walls with people. When we respect and look for ways to serve our spouse, we say no to dominant/subordinate relationships. When we...
What are you for?
Do you find it easy, like me, to blurt out the things you're against? That it might be even easier to say the things you're against rather than the things you're for?
From a faith standpoint- and mine on this path with Jesus, there are times when one must say "no" when we're moving forward with the "yes." In our church this fall, we're using the term Greg Boyd has used in stating things we believe we must "revolt" against as we are attempting to embody the good news of Jesus and his kingdom. Revolting against things like violence, individualism, judgmentalism, greed, nationalism, etc.
So, we sometimes need to say "no" to the things that harm or derail us from the good and true, light and wholeness.
But...There is often a "but." The priority is on what I'm for. What I believe in and will give my life to. This I'm for.
In attempting to start this church in Denver, it is easy to say what we're against, what we don't believe, and what we do not want the church to be or look like. But, that is not the focus and cannot be the focus on what will bring energy and life.
What am I for? I can't put it into a few words, but it includes things like: authentic relationship with God, family, life, forgiveness, genuine relationships, loving others (including enemies),...where do I stop?!
What are you for? It doesn't diminish the things you might oppose, but who wants to spend one's life living out what one is against?
There are times when we ought to say "no," and loudly, at times. But, front and center will be the "yes" that moves us, and with it will be the path it carves saying "no" to what we oppose.
When we help serve a meal to the homeless, it says no to poverty. When we take steps to forgive someone who has wronged us, it says no to hating enemies. When we listen with love to my next door neighbor who is Muslim, we say no to building walls with people. When we respect and look for ways to serve our spouse, we say no to dominant/subordinate relationships. When we...
What are you for?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Pledge of Allegiance
I don't recall saying The Pledge of Allegiance since my school days. I did it automatically, didn't think about it much as a child, and we didn't really talk about it at home. Although, the combination of my home church not having a flag in the church building, and the emphasis on serving others around the globe, did have a subtle impact on me growing up.
About the time we stopped saying it in school is the time I started to think about what it might mean to recite this pledge.
Fast forward to 1999: I'm the director of a faith-based, non-profit that helped lower income persons start or reinforce their own small business. As part of the networking and building of relationships in the community, I was invited to join the Rotary Club in that city. It was a huge one. 500 members. One of the top ten in the world with the number of members.
My first meeting, a luncheon on Mondays, I found myself faced with a decision: should I recite the Pledge of Allegiance, a practice I wasn't aware of? I didn't want to offend the friend that sponsored me to become a member, or those who were doing great things in the community, or those who had a different understanding of the Pledge. But, I didn't believe I could recite it in good conscience.
Why? It is tied to my understanding of my faith in and commitment to Jesus. It goes along two lines...
First, I see myself, and the church I'm part of, as "resident aliens" with respect to my posture in any culture or nation state. (The term that Stanely Hauerwas and Will Willimon that caught on for many.) I'm respectful and seek to be a responsible citizen of the country where I reside; but, I'm not anchored in, nor is my allegiance with that country.
My allegiance is to the transnational Kingdom of God, and to the King of this Kingdom. That's where my loyalty and allegiance resides. It embraces followers of Jesus spanning every tribe, language, race, and nation.
Second, I see everyone as a bearer of the image of God as Creator. Everyone. Not just those who choose to follow Jesus and believe in God. When my allegiance is to my nation (whichever nation that would be), that can begin to impact how I view others.
What did I do that day in Rotary? Maybe I was a bit chicken. I ended up putting my hand on my heart, as the rest of the 250 in that room did that day, but I didn't say the Pledge. I prayed. I prayed my allegiance, in a whisper, to Jesus. I prayed for others around the world in those seconds. (Which is what I did each week at Rotary.)
Maybe the Pledge isn't the main issue. What I do hope is that our churches will pledge allegiance to Jesus, envision a church where "in Christ there is no East or West," and that we will live and love in ways that view each person as a bearer of the image of God.
About the time we stopped saying it in school is the time I started to think about what it might mean to recite this pledge.
Fast forward to 1999: I'm the director of a faith-based, non-profit that helped lower income persons start or reinforce their own small business. As part of the networking and building of relationships in the community, I was invited to join the Rotary Club in that city. It was a huge one. 500 members. One of the top ten in the world with the number of members.
My first meeting, a luncheon on Mondays, I found myself faced with a decision: should I recite the Pledge of Allegiance, a practice I wasn't aware of? I didn't want to offend the friend that sponsored me to become a member, or those who were doing great things in the community, or those who had a different understanding of the Pledge. But, I didn't believe I could recite it in good conscience.
Why? It is tied to my understanding of my faith in and commitment to Jesus. It goes along two lines...
First, I see myself, and the church I'm part of, as "resident aliens" with respect to my posture in any culture or nation state. (The term that Stanely Hauerwas and Will Willimon that caught on for many.) I'm respectful and seek to be a responsible citizen of the country where I reside; but, I'm not anchored in, nor is my allegiance with that country.
My allegiance is to the transnational Kingdom of God, and to the King of this Kingdom. That's where my loyalty and allegiance resides. It embraces followers of Jesus spanning every tribe, language, race, and nation.
Second, I see everyone as a bearer of the image of God as Creator. Everyone. Not just those who choose to follow Jesus and believe in God. When my allegiance is to my nation (whichever nation that would be), that can begin to impact how I view others.
What did I do that day in Rotary? Maybe I was a bit chicken. I ended up putting my hand on my heart, as the rest of the 250 in that room did that day, but I didn't say the Pledge. I prayed. I prayed my allegiance, in a whisper, to Jesus. I prayed for others around the world in those seconds. (Which is what I did each week at Rotary.)
Maybe the Pledge isn't the main issue. What I do hope is that our churches will pledge allegiance to Jesus, envision a church where "in Christ there is no East or West," and that we will live and love in ways that view each person as a bearer of the image of God.
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