Grounded

Grounded 

Grounded--that's been the word for many European passengers who had booked airline flights in the last week. As of right now, some of the flight restrictions have been lifted, but no one really knows what will happen in the next hour--or days. The last time this particular volcano in Iceland erupted, it kept spewing ash for eight months. Nature trumps all human plans.

Shortly after all the flights were grounded last week, my oldest son, who lives in London, phoned. As it turns out, he had been on the last flight into Heathrow that was permitted to land before that airport was completely shut down. He'd been working in the Middle East, and the rest of his team was stuck there--and stayed stuck there.

Although he lives quite a distance from Heathrow, his neighborhood is in the normal flight pattern for many landings and take-off's there. On Saturday, he called to tell me about a big picnic his family was having in their backyard and how nice it was not to have any planes flying overhead. He didn't realize until their disappearance what a constant background noise they made, even though the planes were still high above them. 

We also talked about the systemic effects of a prolonged European flight grounding. He predicted that soon less than seasonal fruits and vegetables would soon be in short supply for them--and probably over-supplied in the US since they have to go somewhere. Airlines and airports, of course, are being badly hurt financially over this, but trains are packed, hotels spilling over and anyone who owns a boat or ferry or taxi is cleaning up. He heard of one colleague who spent over $3,000 on a taxi to get from Paris to some place in Spain. And this is apparently not uncommon.

Big systemic effect--that's the situation. One thing affects another thing which affects many other things and everything ends up being changed. 

I think of those who are temporarily grounded right now, with their plans disrupted, and normal rhythms way out of sync. Will they be able to use this time to see things that have been invisible to them before? Just as my son suddenly discovered how nice it was not to have the background noise of the overhead flights for a while, will others find out that some of their patterns also might be bringing "background noise" that they'd might enjoy dispensing with for a while, or even longer? Will this forced stop give space to think more deeply about their lives, their choices, their relationship to things much larger than they are?

Many live as though their plans are all that matter. An event like this helps to re-evaluate such a mindset. We humans, who often think we have such power, really are pretty puny in the face of the natural world. Recognizing our puniness, in other words, some healthy humility, can serve as a big step to also recognizing the powerful love of God who was and is willing to accompany our puny little selves into every situation. A baby step, perhaps, but a way to see a temporary grounding as a huge blessing. 

We really are not in control of things. Our hope lies in a God who does hold all creation together, and One who can both laugh at our hubris when we chose to ignore or disparage the thought of such a God, and who also continually says, "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."  That is the place to be, whether flying or grounded.  

 

Shouting from the Rooftops

I often wonder why on Easter morning the world can't find peace. Of course, there are different calendars for dating Easter, so different traditions celebrate it on different days, but I don't think it would be all that bad to have more than one day of real peace. But we don't and we won't because war is easier and habitual and it gives us an excuse to hide and cheat and deceive--both others and ourselves.

As this particular Easter approaches, my thoughts go to the growing revelations in the Roman Catholic Church over the issue of pedophile and abusive priests. I don't suppose such revelations will be the end to the institution that claims to be the final repository of divine truth, but I admit to deep anguish that even one of those sworn to the life of sacrament willfully destroys children and youth, or willfully ignores that destruction, all in the name of being the instrument of God.

I remember when studying church history how dismayed I was when I saw that the efforts of the Reformers in the 16th century ended up shattering into splinters the then somewhat unified voice of Christianity coming from the Roman Catholic Church. Since that time, the rabbits of church multiplication have bequeathed multiple Christian groups, all sure they have the handle on the truth and often barely able speak to one another across doctrinal lines.

And yet, there must be reformers anytime an institution purports to speak for God but does so only in the voice of the privileged few who self-select who gets to come in and who must stay out. And especially when some of those privileged few whisper in the darkness, "What just happened is our secret. You must never talk about it."

It takes nearly superhuman courage to break those bonds of dark secrets, especially when sexual boundaries of children and youth have been crossed by those who were publicly affirmed as trustworthy. The experience of shame and the risk of public censure coming against the victimized combine into such a barrier that by far the easiest path is to remain silent, to keep the secret, and honor the promise never to speak of it. The voice of the dissenter must nearly always be silenced when that voice insists that those things which are hidden must come to light in order for the true Gospel is to appear and actually do its work of redeeming us.

In truth, the current scandal in the Roman Catholic church only reflects the private scandals in which most of us live: we seek to keep much hidden, hoping by so doing, that things will eventually either disappear or right themselves somehow. But they don't.

Jesus taught that those dark secrets will all eventually come to the light. The beginning of the Gospel of Luke, chapter 12, reads: "During that time a crowd of many thousands had gathered. There were so many people that they were stepping on one another. Jesus spoke first to his disciples. 'Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees,' he said. 'They just pretend to be godly. Everything that is secret will be brought out into the open. Everything that is hidden will be uncovered. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight. What you have whispered to someone behind closed doors will be shouted from the rooftops.' "

Yes, be on your guard. Be on your guard that you are not deceived by a religious or social structure that says, "This is a secret between you and me," or says, "Only the initiated get to know this." It is a setup for abuse, it is the way of death and destruction, it is a denial of the resurrection that says, "Be free to worship in spirit and in truth."

The first disciples, after a time of prayer, proceeded to tell EVERYONE about the resurrection of Jesus. It is not a secret for the select, but is hope for those who had no hope.

That is Easter. That is life after death. That is true peace. 

"No Thanks!"

"Easter is busier for pastors than Christmas?"  So commented an astonished friend recently when I mentioned that I had a summons for jury duty during the busiest week of the year for me.  Yes, Easter is busier.  As important as Christmas is, without Easter, nothing else really matters.

It took me a long time to figure this out.  As a child and young adult, Easter was the day for special dressing up.  It also meant an extra day off from school as schools always closed for Good Friday.  In addition, there was the wild scramble to pick up a bunch of prettily colored eggs during the lunch after the Easter worship service.  Other than that, the holiday seemed to appear out of nowhere.  No big build up like Christmas, no endless blaring of special seasonal music from every speaker, no special decorations for house or yard.  Kind of a "so-what" day except it was nice to have something new to wear and to compare my Easter clothes with those my friends had purchased and worn.

Then, deep into my adult years, I discovered the importance of Holy Week for the development of a mature, integrated faith life.  I learned that I could see my own life in the way that the crowds so eagerly welcomed Jesus entering Jerusalem, and then just as easily turned against him when the crowd favored another.  A leader/savior is welcome IF that leader/savior is going to do what I want--for example, take political power away from those I dislike and give that same power to me or those who think as I do.  Such a one is far less welcome when I'm invited to stand with him when he is being falsely accused, beaten, and mocked.  As for heading to the cross with him . . . no thanks.  I'll play it safe and comfortable, if you don't mind.  Not interested in being hurt, and most especially not interested in offering forgiveness to those who torture, kill and destroy.  An emphatic, "NO THANKS" to that one.

Yes, I am not one bit different from those who called out, "crucify him!"  Not one little bit. 

That's what makes Easter so powerful. Because on this day, I find I, too, have been offered the gift of new life; that I'm one of those for whom Jesus prayed, "Father, forgive her because she doesn't know what she is doing."  If I will take the time to walk again with those who welcomed Jesus, betrayed Jesus, and condemned Jesus, if I will admit my identification with them, if I will use these last few days of Lent to open even the darkest, most despicable parts of my life to healing and light, then . . . Easter is the day of new beginnings.  The ultimate "do-over." 

Holy Week services celebrate the excitement of Palm Sunday and then lead us to the depths.  At our church, we'll remember the week in story and song on Wednesday night with a service especially geared for the children.  On Thursday, we will learn again about the "new commandment (mandate)" to love one another as Jesus loved us in a time of Holy Communion and a series of prayers for healing and wholeness.  On Friday, we'll look at that cross and find our own complicity with those who placed Jesus there, and then solemnly strip the altar of all its furnishings in acknowledgment of death and darkness.

But on Sunday morning . . . as the youth lead us in a sunrise celebration, we'll sing again, "Up From the Grave He Arose!!!"  Thanks be to God, redemption is ours!

Otherwise, just get some new clothes and enjoy the common grace of springtime.  But you will miss so much!  Wish it hadn't take so long for me to figure this out.

Death and Dying Revisited

On Saturday, I will be officiating at the funeral of Ron Sides, church member, community leader, husband, father, grandfather, motorcycle rider, and good friend to many, including me.  Just five weeks so, we buried his lovely wife, Martha.  Several times in the last few days, I have thought and said, "How am I going to be able to preach this funeral?"  

Ron was one of the first to offer friendship to me when I came to Krum not quite four years ago. He and Martha came to my Bible studies where he loved taking the opposite point of view from my own.  Ron, my resident skeptic, possessed well-developed intelligence and used it with great wit and glee.  Several times in the course of our acquaintance, he told me he did not really think there was a life after this one.  He figured when we died, we just died.

Last week, when I walked into his hospital room, he looked up, smiled, and then said, "Preacher, I'm going to meet the Lord."  With good humor, sharp mind and powerful determination, he courageously faced the end of this life.  And as he did, he knew that there is indeed an eternality to our souls.  

Jesus said that he came to give eternal life, and that eternal life was knowing God.  Knowing God--not just knowing that God is, or perhaps a few facts (or superstitions) about God, or being afraid of the wrath of God, but knowing--intimate, life-changing knowledge of God.  That's eternal life. We can get glimpses only of it now.  As the Scriptures say, "we see through a glass darkly."   The window from this life to the next is smudged, cracked, muddied, distorted. We can't see through it well.  

Earlier this week, I had a disturbance in my vision that demanded a immediate and thorough eye exam, including that awful process of having my pupils dilated so the physician could get a very good look at a possible problem developing.  The drive home afterward was a nightmare for me--driving in the misting rain, needing to take extra cautions to be safe, everything just a bit off-kilter.  Yes, I was seeing through a glass darkly (actually, seeing through it lightly because of too much light pouring in, but you get the drift here).  I was so relieved later in the day when my vision fields cleared.  I could read, work, focus again.  

As we are now half-way through Lent, let us continue to be honed by this time of fasting and extra discipline to see more clearly our own souls.  This time of rigorous self-examination gives some space to clean that dark and smudged glass between us and the glory of the kingdom of Heaven.  We'll not see the fullness of God-with-us life with total clarity until we, as Ron and Martha are now, come face to face with God.  But we can train our eyes to begin to discern those rays of pure light and absolute love.  We can expose our souls to that light and love and intentionally receive it and let it do its work in us.  We can make powerful and intentional choices to live as people of that light and love and refuse to compromise ourselves for the sake of convenience, for the sake of being rich, or popular, or famous, or so comfortable that we end up in that most subtle and most dangerous of all evils:  trading away that which is best for that which is merely good.

So as I write of light and absolute love, and continue to ponder the question, "How can I officiate at Ron's funeral?" I also have some answers:  I will stand securely and firmly in the midst of that light and remind all of us that death has lost its sting.  Death has no victory, for Christ has been raised from the dead, and we too will join him in resurrection and hope.  For this I say, "Thanks be to God."

Week Three of Lent

We're about a third of the way through the season of Lent.  The roots of the fast should be beginning to form, possibly even a few green shoots coming up now as we use this time for good self-examination, the development of holy habits, and the continuation of our observance of our chosen fast.

I often speak and write in gardening metaphors because I think the process of gardening gives good insight in the way God works in our lives.  Jesus seemed to think so too, since he also spoke with a lot of agricultural symbolism.  Nice to be in good company.

Anyway, gardening is heavy on my mind right now because the excessively wet soil means the church organic gardening club is just having to sit and wait right now.  These clay soils can't be worked when they are this wet.  I managed to plant my own early spring garden only because my kind husband built multiple raised beds for me.  They are draining adequately, even while the ground around them easily passes for Florida swampland right now.  

So, how do gardens help us understand the growth to spiritual maturity?  Well, we could start with what we are experiencing right now:  the need for patience.  It's hard to say there is too much rain, since we have just come from a drought, but all the extra moisture, which will pay off later, means we just have to wait things out.  Along with this, we might also consider humility: no matter how we try, we really cannot control the weather.  Humans are just not that powerful.  We do have limits.  If we let these limits give us these good gifts of humility and patience, we will have taken great strides of growth. 

A good fast very much teaches patience.  We can't make the 40 days go any faster than they will.  And if your fast includes eliminating some normal meals, the days may drag even more slowly by.  There is nothing like not eating and feeling stomach pangs to slow the clock down.  These endless moments provide powerful prayer posts.  Time to pray for those who are not intentionally hungry, for those whose longing for food is a matter of survival, not momentary comfort, for those who are watching their children slowly and painfully die of starvation, and for those who are also starved for any signs of the goodness of God.  Yes, this will bring humility because we will suddenly see just how much we do have.

An editorial I read this week reminded the readers that even the poorest of us travel today in more comfort than the greatest of royalty did up until the invention of the automobile.  Horseback, or horse drawn carts but mostly on foot, no temperature control, exceedingly dangerous roads--far more than we experience now.  Filthy stopping places--our sanitized hotel/motel rooms, no matter how modest, are castles by comparison, with clean sheets and private baths, hot running water, abundant towels and cleansing products, and oh, the glory of indoor, happily flushing toilets!  Yes, let us rediscover our blessings in the doing without for a while, so they become all the sweeter when we can savor them again.

One third of the way there.  Easy to get distracted now, to leave behind the extra time of prayer and reflection, to lose the benefits.  Hold onto one another, keep up the public encouragement and the private deprivation.  We do this together, and the victory is greater when we help each other up onto the winner's stand.  God is with us and the saints are cheering us on.

The Lenten Fast, Week Two

So, how's it going? For all who decided to observe the church season of Lent this year with a fast of some sort, here is the question: How are you doing with it?

If you chose to fast from something that had made its way deep into your soul and daily habits, you should be encountering some significant trouble with it by now. The first few days tend to be fairly easy--a determination to honor the vow made before God will carry for a time of near euphoria. Victory is easy; resistance to temptation a piece of cake.

But the second week of the fast generally rolls out differently. It becomes tedious, challenging. Life pressures hit and with them the temptation to give in, to use whatever you are fasting from to shield you from pain, or offer a comfort of some sort. Here's where the revelation of our own souls begins to take place in earnest.

If you hang in, and continue in the faithful fast, you will discover more about your capabilities. If you give in, and indulge, you will also discover more about your capabilities. If you've given in, do not despair. Instead, remember that God's mercies are always new, and you can indeed "re-up" into the fast. If you've hung in, your next temptation may very well be pride in your accomplishment and this will tell you even more about yourself. In both cases, our tendency is to think we can earn God's pleasure by our obedience or have unearned it by our disobedience. The sin is the same: we've put ourselves up as God, because we've decided we can dictate to God just how God will respond to us. As I told my congregation last week, "Get over yourselves." God loves because God is love--not because you are particularly loveable, or particularly unlovable. You don't earn God's pleasure with a fast. Instead, you discover God's pleasure. Two very different things.

Remember: the goal of the Lenten fast is to aide you in taking a fearless and searching inventory of your soul. To see what is best discarded, to discern what needs to be aired out and put to good use, to polish what has become tarnished, to suffer in order to pray for others who are suffering far worse than you are, and to accompany Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem so that you may discover the real joy of Easter after the time of darkness known as Good Friday. It is a time to explore your salvation, and to correct the path where necessary.

In our church community, many of us have sought to be held accountable by others for the duration of the time of fasting. In this way, we encourage each other, spur one another on to greater glory, and participate in the process of discovery that leads to greater healing and wholeness, words that help describe our salvation. It is not too late to join in this communal observance--God hears our pleas and honors our wishes to receive the good gifts offered to us.

Always remember, Sundays are feast days. Sunday--the day we acknowledge the resurrection. Sunday--the day we set aside to rest and worship and be refreshed in soul, spirit and body. Sunday--on this day we look forward to Easter, to the glory of the risen Christ, coming from darkness and death to life and light. Sunday--the day to feast and laugh again, even in the midst of the solemn fast. Catch the rhythm, cleanse your heart, free your soul.

Wednesday, February 17, marked the beginning of the Christian season of Lent.  It is that yearly time when those Christians who observe the liturgical year take an intentional and honest look at their hearts and the state of their relationship with God.

For some years now, I've seen this time as a place to do a thorough cleaning out.  Like an old-fashioned "spring cleaning," it is a splendid and specified period to take a thorough spiritual inventory. With that inventory, we can discard the things that separate us from the richness of a life lived in harmony with God's heart beat and add the things that would enhance such joy and lightness of spirit.

By the way, do you know why people used to do a thorough spring cleaning?  In houses heated by coal or fireplace, by the end of winter the interior of the homes would be filthy with a layer of coal dust and airborne ash. So, when the weather warmed enough to dispense with those means of heating, everything inside was washed and scrubbed and as much as possible taken outside to hang in the warm sunshine for bleaching and the restoration of freshness.  The sign of a lazy, slatternly homemaker was one who did not engage in this energetic spring cleanse of her household.

I'd suggest that the sign of a lazy, slatternly Christian is one who will not undertake the same discipline with the soul.  

To continue the comparison with spring cleaning, consider this:  while we don't need to shake the coal dust out of our curtains any more, nearly everyone periodically does need to clean out closets and garages, and empty out the inevitable trash drawer that inhabits nearly every house.  You know what I'm writing about--that place where all the oddments are tossed, the key to goodness knows what, the screw found laying around, the coupons you never redeemed, the coins covered with some unknown sticky substance, the child's toy left carelessly on the floor and hurriedly picked up.  Or how about the boxes tossed in the garage, the flower pots which never get replanted, the cans that need to be recycled, the boxes of things that you will "get to eventually?"  

Lent means that "eventually" has come, but instead of that garage and junk drawer (and just think how good you feel when you DO clean those out!), it is time to look instead at these things:  what are the habits that you have developed that harm your body and your soul?  What are the things that you've come to worship this year that have taken the place of a grateful and loving relationship with God?  What are the grudges that you are carrying that rob you of joy and freedom?  Who have you chosen not to forgive?  Whom did you wrong where you never sought to make it right? Where have you crossed a moral line, even the tiniest one, that means you need to hide in some way from exposure?  How have you spent the money that you earned or was given to you?  Did you honor God with a tenth of it freely given away or did you decide that you really needed that bit for some momentary pleasure? Did you get yourself deeper in debt by careless indulgences? How have you treated the least among you?  What are the kinds of things you filled your mind with?  Where do you spend the majority of your leisure time?  Answers to questions like these will open a lot of dark closets of your interior life that really do need a good toss out, and then a wash and scrub job.

The best Lenten observances can be viewed as "Boot Camp" for your soul.  Get to church weekly, pray daily, give up something that is hard, hard, hard to give up so you can see clearly just how addicted you are to it, practice a fearless moral inventory, discard that which is killing you and others, and then discover the delightful exhilaration of Easter morning on April 4 when you can join with the multitudes and shout, "He is Risen, Indeed!"

ON death and dying

This column is titled, "A Pastor's Thoughts" and for nearly four years now, I've written weekly about some of the things bouncing around in my brain as I live my life as pastor of the First United Methodist Church here in Krum.

Today, my thoughts have settled on death and funerals and loss. Last week, Martha Sides died. Martha left her elegant and purposeful mark all over Krum, and all over this church that she loved and served so well. From shrubs planted near the front door to furniture in my office to fabrics reflecting the church seasons draping our altar, there is Martha. 

I miss her. I also know that I'm still recovering from the death of Nancy Pollard, who had served as our church administrator until she had to step down last July as she battled an aggressive cancer that finally took her life in December. 

Two funerals, two friends. I am grieving. As pastor, I have the privilege and the responsibility to officiate at funerals and memorial services. I get to repeat the words of Jesus, "I am the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last" and remind people of their hope with these words, "Dying, Christ destroyed our death. Rising, Christ restored our life. Christ will come again in glory. As in baptism Martha (or Nancy or whatever beloved person is before us) put on Christ, so in Christ may she or he be clothed with Glory.” I am grateful for such words; they help me find my own hope in loss.

I know there is life beyond this one. I know the light of Easter morning always follows the darkness of death and loss. That hope sustains me. 

I look at my church community and see how they quickly come to the aid of those who have suffered loss. They bring presence, comfort, meals, prayers. I wonder how people who have chosen to remove themselves from the intimacy and challenge of church and faith life cope with loss and death. 

My husband, a retired clergyperson, serves as the "on-call" pastor for a very large funeral home in Dallas. It is not uncommon for him to serve at two or even three funerals or memorial services a week. He does these services for people who have seen a family member die but have no church community to surround them and help hold them during their sorrow. I'm grateful for his calling in this work; I ache for people who are that disconnected from eternal hope. Like many, they turn to the church for these emergency needs, but give God no thought otherwise. 

I know there are lots of reasons people chose to disconnect from church. One of the most challenging for me to hear is the one that says, "The church didn't meet my needs." The consumer demon wins; there is no thought given to the fact that the purpose of church is not to "meet their needs" but to provide a means to know God and discover a measure of hopeful belief even in the midst of natural and human disbelief and a world that denies spiritual reality, and lives as though physical reality can give answers and ultimate peace. Truly, church only "meets one's needs" when we put down our insistence of having our own needs met and replace it with seeking to serve others. 

Martha Sides lived as an example of this kind of service to others. She loved much, and was much loved in return. I miss her. It brings me grief to know that I will not see her again in this life. Even so, hers was a life well-lived and she did open doors for us to the heavenly places by her life in Christ. May we all do as well, even in our sorrow.

The Conversation

"OK, in German, nouns have four cases:  nominative, accusative, dative and genitive.  Here, let me show you what I mean in this sentence." 

I overheard this conversation in a sandwich shop recently as I had settled myself for a late lunch with time to work on a message I needed to prepare.  For the next 30 minutes or so, I heard this patient tutor work with a novice student of the German language as he tried to give her a basis to comprehend the layout of a German language sentence, which is considerably different from English.

As the lesson ended, the tutor said to the student something along this line, "Expose yourself as much as possible to the language, even if you don't understand it.  Don't try to translate it.  Instead, see if you can sense what the words mean in context.  Listen to tapes, read it, immerse yourself as much as possible in it in addition to the actual study of the language.  In time, it will start to make sense."

He's right: this is about the only way to learn a foreign language, especially as an adult.  It takes much, much exposure, some structured study, and general immersion in it before it is possible to gain any mastery of the language.  Without those disciplines, the language will continue to sound like rapid and unintelligible babble.  By engaging in those disciplines, a whole new world of people, literature and experiences opens, and one's world is greatly enriched.

I've seen many people dip their toes into the world of the spiritual, and then immediately back away saying, "This is too strange for me.  I don't understand what is going on; the language is too different from my own."  Yes, the language of God-with-us living is very different from no-God living.  It's the language of prayer, praise, thankfulness even in the face of suffering and difficulties, of learning to forgive what seems to be unforgivable, and learning to receive forgiveness when we know we don't deserve it.  It's full of strange words like redemption and reconciliation, and unusual customs like the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday and fasting during Lent and confession before receiving Holy Communion.  The best way to learn it?  Just like learning a language:  study it, expose yourself to it, and immerse yourself as much as possible.  When it starts making sense, all of a sudden the world re-aligns itself and our eyes are opened to holiness, light and hope.  

Most, of course, won't go that far, just as most who begin to study a foreign language stop far short of actual mastery.  But for those who do make the full journey, the immeasurable rewards make it all worth while.  A toe in the water may give you a small sense of what water is, but only full immersion provides the joy of an other-worldly experience.

Three AM Phone Calls

Rainy, cold night, perfect for good sleep--until the mobile phone, rarely far from my reach, begins its buzz and tone around 3:30 a.m.  Notification about a church member about to go under because of a personal crisis.

I appreciated the notification, and both the notifier and I agreed I could take no further action until later that day, so I returned to my bed, my side no longer warm because of the length of the phone call.  Sleep, however, had fled from my bedroom and body.  The engine of my brain roared to life, with no key available for me to turn it off.

I have a running joke with a local businessman that I only work two hours a week--the two hours of worship on Sunday mornings.  That, of course, is the perception many have of us who fill that public role, but whose other work is often invisible.  

I wonder today, in these dark hours, if time spent in heart-rending and passionate prayer for my people count as work hours.  If the hours spent in careful self-examination and personal study that enable me to more mindfully offer a life suffused with grace and spiritual health to this community get to be counted as well. If the long moments spent with the sick of soul and sick of body seeking to re-ignite the hope of eternal life, both in the present and in the future, can be added to my work hour list.  What about the moments when I am being told that I have failed as both pastor and leader because I have not lived up to the expectations placed upon me?  Can I add those?  

Clearly, the dawn has not yet broken, either outside or inside.  I ponder those who work these dark hours:  those in law enforcement, medical care, clerks in all-night enterprises.  Does the outside darkness oppress them?  Does the time spent in that inkiness reinforce for their tendency to melancholy as it does mine?  Sleep, now hope of it completely gone, provides such a sweet way to spend that time.  This has not been a sweet night at all.

The wind is picking up outside as greater chill invades North Texas.  I sit wrapped in blankets, enjoying the warmth of my computer on my lap, noting that my hot tea grows cold quickly. My husband slumbers on, his rest only momentarily disturbed after I answered the call.  I'm grateful for his sleeping sounds, the restful breaths.  If I can't, at least he can.  He spent his many dark hours doing what I am doing tonight and his rest is well earned.

I think about what seem to me to be stupid choices that have led to this 3 am. phone call.  Everyone gets to make them. The more I try to protect people from the consequences of their choices, the worse things get.  Ultimately, each of us has to assume responsibility for our own salvation, working things out directly with God.  I can't force it, although I wish I could.  I ponder again my own stupid choices over the years, remembering once more that there really is nothing that can separate us from the love of God except my decision not to receive it.  God is present even in our stupidity--perhaps even more so, because those moments sometimes crack open doors to new life that have remained stubbornly stuck before.  Sometimes . . . I can only hope tonight is one of those times.  

The Oath of Allegiance

"I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the armed forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God."

You have just read the Oath of Allegiance, recited by those who wish to obtain United States citizenship.  I proudly sat with my oldest son last Friday while we watched his wife, my lovely daughter-in-law from Colombia, take that oath in company of 147 others from 44 different countries as each ended a long path to become US citizens.  

Smiles graced everyone's faces.  People cheered and clapped.  Cameras everywhere recorded the moment for posterity.  All had worked hard to get there, studied, prepared, hoped they passed and had properly filled out myriads of paperwork.  To them, gaining an understanding of US civics opened a door to new life and hope.  To me, born here in the USA, generally unconscious of the freedoms I enjoy because of it, civics was a boring high school course I had to suffer through in order to graduate.  To them, being willing to serve in any capacity for the sake of our freedoms is a privilege; to most of us, it is an unwanted and unwelcomed responsibility, and to be avoided if at all possible.

A quick leap, isn't it, to what people of faith claim to have:  citizenship in the kingdom of heaven.  I wonder how many of us who claim that citizenship could pass even a simple test on the basics. For example, one of the possible questions during the immigration interview is, "Name the first 13 states."  Well, how about naming the 12 original apostles?  Another question, "What do the stripes on the flag stand for?"  How about, "What is the purpose of the resurrection of Jesus?"  Or, "How many changes or amendments to the Constitution are there?" vs "What are the two greatest commandments?"

I also wonder how many of us who claim citizenship in the kingdom of heaven are actually ready to carry the burden of defending that place?  How ready are we to serve when called upon, even to the point of disrupting our normal lives because there is indeed a greater call upon us?

Both people who claim heavenly citizenship and people who claim US citizenship are woefully ignorant about our faith and our nation.  It's more important to know the TV schedule, plots of the latest movies, key moves to the latest electronic games, the scores and rankings of our favorite sports teams, and the passwords to our computers than it is to learn the language of political freedom and the language of religious belief, both of which have far, far more real impact on our lives.  

Parents and grandparents:  get your children to church and to church educational programs. Quit making excuses for their absences.  Someday all young people need to decide for themselves what they will believe and why. But unless they have some knowledge of what their faith tradition is about, they have no basis upon which to make a decision.  And that's just not right.  As they say, ignorance of the law is no excuse.  Nor is ignorance of matters of eternal importance.

Haiti and Charity

For many reasons, I can't get the situation in Haiti off my mind right now.  I go to bed at night wondering how many more will die there this night.  I sleep in comfort, aware that breakfast awaits me in the morning along with good work that I love and find both challenging and fulfilling.  From what I can tell about Haiti, long before the earthquake, only the tiny elite enjoyed anything like this.

UNICEF estimates that only 2% of children in Haiti receive education beyond elementary school.   Can you imagine what your community would be like if 50% never attended school at all and 98% dropped out at about the fourth or fifth grade?  The language of commerce, government and education is French, yet the vast majority of Haitians speak Creole, a very different language, and therefore are cut off from educational and political power and influence.  I've traveled enough in countries where I do not know the language to know how disempowering it is not to speak or read the official tongue.  Isolation and frustration build quickly.

Add to this a corrupt, and now apparently completely invisible government, inadequate police, precarious heath care system now destroyed, and we are ripe for disaster way beyond what the earthquake brought.

What does the Gospel of Jesus Christ have to offer here?  How can someone who can't read or has never learned to think on anything beyond the basics of physical survival even begin to comprehend grace, that unmeasurable presence of God that continually invites us to understand   the reconciled life and to receive the gift of forgiveness offered to us?  How can someone whose primary food consists of biscuits made from edible mud, shortening and salt, possibly grasp these words, "I am the bread of life."  

Maybe, just maybe however, those utterly impoverished ones might have even a better handle than we rich ones on the whole concept.  If I am desperate for bread, would it not make sense to turn to One who says he is the bread of life?  If I am dehydrated to the point of illness by thirst, might I not be receptive to the words of someone who says that if I come to him, I will not thirst again?

I'm very grateful for my education. I grew up surrounded by books and with academic gifts that meant I could and did read voraciously.  I still do, as I am fascinated by the world of ideas and intellectual argument.  Frankly, I have no experience of the kind of poverty and suffering taking place right now in that tiny country, not terribly far from us.  

But one thing I do know:  for all my education, for all my privileges, for all the good work I may have ever performed, I have earned no greater place in the kingdom of heaven than the most impoverished, undereducated, unsophisticated, suffering Haitian.  God either loves them and brings them to wholeness and salvation as thoroughly as God loves me and brings me to wholeness and salvation, or the good news of the Savior is a lie.  And because those terribly suffering ones need bread and water, I who have plenty of both have a responsibility to help.  We are very much our brother's keeper, and I think we can lose our own souls when we turn our backs on suffering of this magnitude.  

I have no idea what it will take to rebuild Haiti.  I also know that the opportunists will quickly be on site, and will suck again the life out of that nation if righteous people don't stand up to them.  I ask you to stand of the side of hope here, and do what you can to help.  Let us escape from our cocoons of comfort and perceived invulnerability and recognize that we are all connected in this disaster and in the future of these people.

The Common Good and Individual Freedom

I suspect about everyone has seen or heard the story now. A preschooler in Mesquite does not want to have his hair cut in order to conform to the Mesquite Independent School District's dress code, and his parents support him in his refusal. For the time being, he spends his days in the school library, being taught by an aide while isolated from the other students.

The civil libertarians shout, "Of course he has the right to wear his hair long!" The rule followers disdainly respond, "That little kid better learn to get in line now or he will grow up to be a out-of-control teen-ager." The free spirits pop up, "the dress code is too stringent anyway." And the little kid cries if his hair is braided, which was the compromise offered by the school district. So, he sits in the library with his hair covering his eyes and curling sweetly below his collar, a necessary aide ripped from more important classroom duties at his side, while the adults engage in mud-slinging as they assure themselves of personal righteousness and absolute clarity of thought and response.

What would Jesus do? Seriously. What would Jesus do if this situation were brought before him? I know I'd be tempted to grab a razor and just shave the kid's head and tell his parents to get a life. But I have a feeling Jesus would respond with a parable of some sort. He'd tell them a story with a riddle inside it and suggest they think hard about the answer.

Perhaps it would be something like this, "The kingdom of heaven is like a community where everyone wants to see the children well educated and each person has a different way to reach that goal. One person rides the horse of intellectual rigor, and wants the requirement that every student learn to pass nationally standardized tests, so adds two hours to the normal school day for mandatory after-school tutoring and cuts vacations to two weeks/year. Another muscularly insists that healthy bodies are necessary to healthy minds so stipulates every child be enrolled in competitive athletics, with three afterschool practices per week and two games every weekend. Yet a third sings the song of music appreciation, having learned that music is the gate to higher mathematical understanding, so each child has morning choir practice, an additional class period per day for instrument mastery and monthly recitals. A fourth intones the mantra of character development and religious understanding, so schedules weekend field trips to area houses of worship and twice weekly debates (required of course) on situational ethics versus absolute truths." After telling this story to the disputing parties who now look at him as though he had lost his mind, Jesus then says, "Those who have ears to hear, let them hear: What's good for one is not necessarily good for all, but without an awareness that we must honor the common good, we lose our right to cherish our individual freedoms."

The common good--that part of our lives that overlaps with others and has resources all need and all use--faces extinction now and we're all be the poorer for it. It used to be that many rural English towns had a "commons," an area which could be used for grazing by animals needed by local households for milk or labor. It worked when all respected the limits of the commons. But as soon as one person decided to monopolize the commons by acquiring more animals and not acquiring additional land upon which they could graze, the entire community faced threat and the possible impoverishment of some. It only took one greedy person to destroy the glory of the commons.

More than anything else, public schools are our "commons" now. It takes efforts from all to maintain it; it only takes one to destroy it. Make your choice.

Put Down the Excuses

"Fish or Cut Bait"--a common phrase often used when relationships have grown increasingly troubled or have been stuck for a long time. Either fish, and move ahead with it and commit to it, or cut the bait, recognize that it is over, and move on. Quit dabbling, quit pretending, quit making excuses for delaying the decision. Make up your mind.

I think Jesus said something like this to people who said they wanted to follow him but that they had other things to do before turning that direction. One young man mentioned that he needed to bury his father first. Jesus gave a reply that seems pretty rough to us modern folk--something along the line of "let the dead bury the dead--you come with me. Now." Keep in mind that in Jesus' day, to "bury one's father" does not mean that there has been a death and they are waiting for the relatives to show up in order to stick him in the ground. Rather, that man's father was very much alive and might have many more years to live. The son was waiting, perhaps with less filial affection than he pretended to have, so he could enjoy his inheritance before turning his mind to things that really mattered. Like most people, however, this man sought comfort with considerably more passion and determination than he was willing to offer the Son of God.

The quest for comfort seems so harmless. What could be wrong with getting what we need to be well-padded first and then turning our attention to our spiritual lives, to eternal salvation, to making sure that injustice is addressed and the degraded ones be given a hand up and the means to live with more dignity?

Except Jesus said, "first, look for the things of God--then you'll have everything else. But when you look for everything else first, you'll end up with nothing at all."

I made a list recently of the reasons we float for taking the easy road to comfort first.

• I'm too busy.
• I'm too old.
• I'm too young.
• I've heard it is all a myth--why bother to find out for myself?
• I'm not able to believe.
• I'm not good enough.
• I'll do this later, after I've had my fun.
• God is mean and hateful.
• Religion is destructive.
• The church is full of hypocrites.
• I'm too sophisticated.
• It's just a power play on the part of church leaders.
• Look at all the damage the church has done.
• I'm too much of a screwup.

It's time to put all these down for a while and just look at Jesus. Jesus, the king of kings and lord of lords who says, "I am a very different king and lord. I will not take your power, but I will give you power. I will not take your joy and happiness, I will give you joy and happiness. I will not stomp upon you, but you may smash me--and I will still say, 'Father, forgive them because they just don't know what they are doing.'" It's time to say yes to the God who says, "I know I'm too much for you, so I'll just leap into your space and time continuum and become touchable. Come, let's talk. Come with your doubts and your disbelief's and your anger and your sorrow and your happiness and your pleasures and your busyness and let's see what we can do together. Step away from what you think is comfort and come to me. I'm here to complete you and offer you real comfort and wholeness, not to destroy. But you've got to come. I won't make you."

I know I've got my excuses for delaying the important things in life. Eventually, those excuses will bury me. Jesus offers real life. In order to receive it, we do need to actually fish--not pretend to do so. Just something to think about as we enter yet another calendar year.

"Do you not know . . .?" so begins the biblical writer with this reminder: "Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit." Our physical selves, these hodgpodges of muscle and bone, blood and fat, brain cells and eyelashes, together constitute a place of holy habitation for the Spirit of God. What simple act would show welcome to this honored guest whose presence generally remains unacknowledged?

There's an old, old song called "Count Your Blessings." The easy tune bounces along with words long out of fashion: "Count your blessings, name them one by one, Count your blessings, see what God hath done! Count your blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done."

This simple act showers hospitality on the Holy Guest: Say "thank you." In other words, just count those blessings. Name them, number them, nod your head up and down, nix negativity for a bit. Can you breathe today? That's a place to start. Do you have a choice of clothes? Wow--that's a big one. Most in the world don't. Can you name a friend? Then you wallow in riches. Does your heart still pump? Then savor the miracle of life!

Dip your toe into this water of thankfulness. Try it each evening before drifting off to sleep. Say to the Spirit of God that lives within you, "thank you." And then call them out, count them, and sleep the sleep of contentment. You will be amazed at what God has done.

Christmas Eve at First UMC, Krum

Here in Krum, the snow was coming down heavily by 1:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Trustees appeared, braving the 40 mph winds and stinging snow. They strung a set of Christmas lights along the driveway to guide people into the parking lot and away from the drainage ditches. Others were inside, mopping up melting snow carried in, preparing for the services.

Our 4:00 service was intended especially for children, and they were given the opportunity to act out the story as I told it. Because of the weather, a number of our older members as well as about 20 visitors came as well. The worship center filled just to comfort level. As we spilled into the greeting area afterward for cookies and punch, we were shocked to see a foot-high snow drift in front of our main door. Drivers came under the portico to pick up children and slid to uneven stops. Even on our level parking lot, few left without some spinning of tires. Several people got stuck or had an otherwise very difficult time returning home. The phones rang unceasingly with reports.

I decided to have my worship director, Damon Downing, call all the musicians and choir members and tell them to stay home. I phoned all the others who were serving in any capacity at the 7:00 service and told them not to come. When I reached my verger, that faithful woman was out scraping her car, planning to show up and serve no matter what. One of my greeters, an 88 year young man from Denton, was also planning to brave the weather. They do love Jesus and their church. 

An informal church phone chain was formed, and a church wide email went out as well. At first, Damon and I planned to do an abbreviated service should anyone actually come at 7, but at 6:15, I suggested he leave as well. My husband, The Rev. J. Keith Cupples, was slowly making his way from Dallas and I figured the two of us could handle a service should someone come. 

At 6:55 p.m. a family originally from upstate New York fought their way through growing the snow drift outside the door into the greeting area. Keith walked in a minute later and I was grateful for his safe arrival. Both had seen multiple vehicles stuck in ditches on the sides of the rural roads here. 

The family that came have experienced significant challenges in the last few years and there are clearly more to come, so I was honored and touched to lead the very much stripped down service for them. They are not a singing family, so Keith's voice was our music, and the service was peaceful and powerful. An 18 month old toddler said a joyful "ooh" at the lighting of each candle and his innocent delight infected us all. After their departure, I wandered through the building, turning off lights and lowering thermostats. Keith then began to play the piano in the already dark worship center. I was just listening to him and enjoying the moment when I heard a commotion at the door. 

Entering were the two adult sons of my dear friend and former church secretary, Nancy Pollard, who had died just 48 hours before. Brian and John had come to check on me. We had talked earlier and they alone knew I would not be able to get home if Keith got stuck and could not get here. It had taken them three and a half hours to drive from Fort Worth. 

I had spent countless hours with this family this past six weeks helping them through these difficult end of life decisions. I offered soothing comfort to Nancy, as her brain became more and more clouded with the rapid, and now unchecked advance of cancer. In this way, I honored the promise I had made a year earlier to her that I would see her through the very end. In the process, I had become especially close to these men, who are just a few years older than my own three sons, all thousands of miles away this Christmas.

After some conversation, Brian and John requested Holy Communion. I quickly agreed, put out the communion elements and donned again my vestments. Their family flows with musical talent. Their dad, Marvin, has a Ph.D. in musical conducting. Nancy had a trained operatic voice and had sung in multiple performances around the United States. These two men shared in that talent, so the four of us, Brian and John, Keith and I, sang Christmas carols together. I tasted heaven as I listened to those three singing men harmonize with my small voice thrown in for the melody. We enjoyed together the power and love of the table of holy communion. The service ended in the already darkened and rapidly cooling worship space with candlelight and "Silent Night." Clearly, angels filled our space. Peace and hope transformed our joint sorrow and grief.

Keith drove me home over the slick, deserted streets, somehow getting up our ice-covered driveway, the steepest one in Krum. Snow drifts two and three feet high filled our back yard. We welcomed Christmas Day at midnight by worshipping together and toasting one another with a exquisite glass of wine given to us by a friend. It was a glorious Christmas Eve here in Krum.

The Rev. Dr. Christy Thomas, Pastor
First UMC, Krum
www.thekrumchurch.com
214-418-9541
"A Pastor's Thoughts:" http://www.krumchurch.blogspot.com/

The Questions of the Season

At this time of the year, what is are the questions in my mind?  For me, it is hardly, "What am I going to get for Christmas."  I've already got plenty and the receiving of gifts, while quite enjoyable, doesn't really occupy much of my thinking.

How about, "What am I going to give?"  Now, that's a question more in my mind, but most of that has already been taken care of.  Gifts for grandchildren have been purchased and sent off and the adults have chosen to forego gift-giving in exchange for a great meal and less stress.  

Another good one is "Who will I get to see this Christmas?"  Most of my family is scattered around this world this year, but my church family and special friends are here--and those I will get to see. Much joy there. But this is still not the driving question.

Perhaps closer to my heart is:  "Does this world really matter to God?"  Even more, "Do I matter to God?"  The answer to that question forms the core of the Christmas moment.  Here enters the presence of all that is holy and powerful in the form of that which is vulnerable, touchable, yet still worthy of adoration, the Christ Child. 

In effect, God says, "Let's talk.  Let us enter into conversation together.  Come, you who are carrying so much.  Come, you who are so busy.  Come, you who are so worried.  Come, you who have worked yourself into soullessness.  Come, find peace and hope. Come, find healing and connection.  I have humbled myself, taking on human form so we can talk.  Come, all of you.  You are welcome in my presence."

So, enter into worship on Christmas Eve.  At First United Methodist Church here in Krum, we'll have a very casual Children and Family service at 4:00 p.m. (if you want you children to help act out the story, have them there by 3:40).  We'll sing and tell the story and have cookies and punch afterward. Then at 7:00 p.m., we'll engage in more formal worship, share the bread and cup of communion, and remind ourselves that we are the light of the world while we sing "Silent Night" to the gentle glow of candlelight.  All other churches in the area will also hold services.  Pick one, go, and enter into conversation and hear the answer to the question, "Does this world really matter to God?"  See if you hear what I hear!

Prayer Letters

Prayer Letters

It was a quiet Friday morning.  I slept late, knowing I need the extra rest as I've fought cold after cold all fall and am clearly not treating my body well.  

As always, I woke to spend some time in prayer, offering thankfulness for another day and then way too quickly, moving to what I'm so prone to:  the complaining prayers.  The ones that effectively say to God, "Get with my program here and make it quick."

I let the dogs out, and retrieved the newspaper, reading it over breakfast and hot tea and then headed to email and to consider the rest of the day.  

I did the usual deleting of newsletters I subscribe to but didn't want to read today, tossed out the ones from airlines trying to get me to book holiday flights and companies where I've made online purchases seeking to entice me to buy more. 

There were two emails left, both from people I've known for a number of years and who spend their lives seeking out the lost and offering them the hope of salvation in Jesus.  In both cases, I've promised that I would faithfully pray for them and their work.  So I opened them, read them carefully, and re-entered the place and discipline of prayer.  

One letter involved a group of people who live in the Pacific Northwest, an area of the country that has long been extraordinarily unreceptive to the hope of the gospel.  There is a loosely connected group of people who have moved there, are finding jobs, settling themselves and their children in these communities, and seeking in quiet ways to offer the kingdom of heaven to those around them.  

The other is from a friend who lives in Kazakhstan, half-way around the world from here, and works with a group of people doing much the same.  

Life is hardly easy for any of these folks.  Precarious finances, health problems, little structure to guide them--all adds up to a very strange and challenging way to live.  But they are driven by what they themselves know and have experienced:  the realness of the grace of God that has brought reconciliation and freedom to them.

As I prayed, I thought about upsidedown-type life that those who seeks the grace-filled place called "the kingdom of heaven" live in.  It's a place of giving, not getting.  The rewards are often not immediate, but when they come, when someone who was wandering in spiritual devastation somehow discovers the power of a life reconciled to God, then those rewards surpass just about anything else.  These people touch eternity with their lives.  History may not record them in books or newspapers or magazines, but history will know them because they brought light and hope which will then be passed to others. 

Are you called to this kind of life?  Many are, but many don't respond to the call.  It's too hard, too stretching, not comfortable enough.  But if you are, and if you respond to it, no other way of living satisfies.  It's the best and most joyful path of life, both now and in eternity.

Does the World Need a Savior?

What are some of the problems we face as those who inhabit our planet?

Let me list a few:

1. A worldwide political system that permits millions of people to suffer desperate poverty and hunger with few options for relief and improvement.

2. An economic situation so bad here in the US that illegal immigrants are now receiving money from those they left behind rather than sending money back to their families. In other words, those who, at great danger to themselves, crossed borders in order to find better lives now find themselves far worse off than those they left.

3. More on the economic front: the mortgage and banking industry meltdowns continue to have ripple effects on those not directly involved, and it is the most vulnerable of our society that are being badly hurt. Those on the bottom rungs of the financial ladder, who live from paycheck to paycheck, but still could just manage, now find their working hours cut back or jobs completely eliminated. With that, their precarious stability is crashing, and with that crash comes another ripple of financial distress for the businesses utterly innocent of wrongdoing.

4. A simply disastrous health care system in the United States for anyone who is not covered by some sort of health insurance policy. Add to this a national diet and life-style that are destructive to health and well-bring, and we have a set-up for a major health-care implosion.

5. A great loss of civility in public discourse, and that lack of civility rules in private discourse as well. Kindness and patience seem to have disappeared.

6. Our children are being sexualized at a younger and younger age. Innocence, play, and good use of the imagination seem to be lost arts among more and more of our over-scheduled and over media'd children and youth. 

7. A growing indifference to the development of strong moral and spiritual lives, including the extremely necessary disciplines of self-reflection, self-control, self-awareness and the recognition that there is a greater reality than that which we can see, hear and consume.

All this is just a teacup in the oceans of trouble. Does this world need a savior? Yes, and I believe that God has sent one. 

Each year, we gather on Christmas Eve to enter again into the mystery of the Incarnation, where a holy and what often seems an inaccessible God takes on human form and says, "Let's talk about this. There's a different way to live and there is a different way to die and a different way to find life again after death." 

I think the mystery of this time is God's invitation to conversation. Let's consider joining that conversation and becoming even more fully those who bring healing, not more pain, to the world as we too, know of our need for a savior.

Benign Tolerance?

Systemic child abuse by Roman Catholic priests in Irish Orphanages, the climate change email scandal, the Tiger Woods marital mess: what do these three apparently disconnected things have in common?  Simply this:  the human tendency to compromise the truth and to then do damage control rather than come clean and address the real core of the problem.  

In each case, people have violated public trust by ignoring their stated baselines of moral behavior.  The Roman Catholic Church stands strongly on respect for human life.  However, incontroverable evidence now shows that such respect apparently did not extend to children housed in multiple orphanages run by Roman Catholic priests during the middle to latter half of the 20th century.  Scientists pride themselves on intellectual honesty, and insist that they deal with facts, only facts. Unless, however, those facts do not line up favorably with the current theory in vogue.  Tiger Woods publicized himself up as a boring, clean-living dedicated athlete.  It is now looking like much of his clean public image covered years of unfaithfulness to his wife.

Now, I'm not interested in pointing the fingers at these three situations and piously saying, "There but for the grace of God go I."  What a nasty statement that is!  All of us have discrepancies between our public statements and our private behavior and actions.  Everyone one of us stands very much in the need of the grace of God.  We're no different--just less public in our behavior and less likely to see the tatters in our souls held up to world-wide scrutiny.

The question for me today is: What does God's grace really look like?  Many people see grace as a kind of benign tolerance of one another's peccadilloes and personal preferences and a decidedly non-judgmental stance toward the decisions of others, even if such decisions seem somewhat misguided.

Let's try that on for size here.  Do we just dismiss those serving in ordained ministry with a decided taste for hurting children as just having a personal preference for such things?  Or suggest that scientists who hide or twist evidence that call into question pet theories only somewhat misguided, especially when their pronouncements will guide public policy for years to come? Or write off Tiger Woods' preference for multiple sexual partners while systematically lying about it as simply private behavior that affects no one else?  What hogwash.  We are rightly horrified by such things.

So "benign tolerance" and "non-judgmental" doesn't seem to work so well as a definition of grace when the peccadilloes of others build mountains of hurt and destruction. 

Grace is much deeper than that.  Grace says, "Look closely at your souls.  See them in the light of powerful and justice-loving holiness.  Speak truth about yourselves, and find yourselves free to leave behind that which is destroying you and others.  Seek the face of God and know forgiveness is yours when you bring a repentant heart." 

Christmas is just around the corner now.  That is the time when Christians celebrate something called the "incarnation."  This is God saying, "I've sent the law and the prophets, and you didn't listen.  So I will bring myself to show you the way of true reconciliation.  I will come in complete weakness and humility, not in power and public adulation.  And I will live grace.  In this grace, the only sin that can't be forgiven is the one that won't be acknowledged because you have excused it with the personal peccadillo of 'I'm not perfect--cut me some slack.' Instead, come, speak truth and find freedom in me."

Grace:  we all need it.  The process of maturity, that which Jesus calls, "Be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect," is one of bringing into harmony public pronouncements of who we say we are and what we believe into the private, tiniest details of our private lives.  A grace-filled life does not run from scrutiny and exposure, but embraces them.  For such exposure reminds us of this, "here, because of the grace of God, I am."

Christmas Lights

As much as I really prefer longer days and more sunshine, I also enjoy the magic of the early darkness and the Christmas lights that are appearing on many buildings these days.  Those decorations often look bare and a little forlorn during the sunlight hours. Yet when darkness falls, the forms take shape and the spaces are filled in with the glow from the lights.

The tiny bulbs generally used each put out very little light on their own, so many are needed to produce much of an effect. When they are massed together in creative patterns, they brighten faces and bring delight to passers-by.

This past Sunday, we were talking about some of our favorite Christmas traditions.  One mentioned the Christmas Eve candlelight service that most churches offer.  Generally, at the end of the time of worship, the space is darkened, and the worship leaders will light their candles from the Christ Candle and then walk down the aisles, lighting the candles of those in the end seats. Quickly, the light spreads all through the meeting space as candles are lifted and we sing the familiar words of "Silent Night."  The words themselves bring us to the center of hope and holiness as we sing of the holy infant, of heavenly glories streaming around us, of redeeming grace coming from Jesus, Lord, at his birth. 

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Saviour is born
Christ, the Saviour is born

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth.

Sometimes choirs will offer a descant such as this one as the congregation sings last verse:  "Peace, peace, peace on earth and goodwill to all. This is a time for joy, this is a time for love. Now let us all sing together of peace, peace, peace on earth."

Just hearing the music in my mind as I reread this words brings a sense of peace to me.  Peace--how we need it.  Peace, more than the cessation of war, it is the sense of holy connection among us. Peace comes from acting on the knowledge that we are all part of a family, and that our own lights shine better when we are connected to the lights of others.  Christmas lights--may we find peace each time you and I see them.

The Day Before Thanksgiving

It's the day before Thanksgiving, 2009. I had intended to just have a lazy day, relaxing, reading, drying what seems like bushels of basil I'd harvested from the garden before what I figured would be the first freeze of the season.

Mid-morning, my phone rang. Unfamiliar number--no name with it. When I answered, the voice introduced himself as someone I had known years ago, and had recently seen at a gathering for my and his parents Sunday School class. He was clearly in distress, and quickly told me the story. His brother's stepson had been in a horrific car accident the night before. Multiple spinal injuries, and if the young man did live, there was no question of there ever being mobility again. The young man will be a complete quadriplegic, with no movement possible below the neck. We spoke a few moments, and I promised prayer and support.

A few minutes later, I received a summons to go to church and help fold a newsletter that needed to go out this afternoon. After a few moments of internal grumbling, I headed up there. But not before checking my phone and seeing a text message about a young couple who had just experienced their second miscarriage in two years and were grief-stricken. 

There were just three of us folding and labeling the 500 newsletters. One, a sweet and wonderful senior citizen, spoke of her gratefulness that her daughter, diagnosed a year ago with fast-acting leukemia, had finished all her treatment, including a bone marrow transplant, and that things looked good for her. Then she mentioned her son, now on his third round of chemo for his cancer, but still managing to go to work each day. In the meantime, the phone rang with one of the many calls I get a week from people asking for money to pay utilities and/or hotel bills. Sometimes I wonder if these folks are reading from a prepared script--it seems that I've heard the same story over and over again. 

Later, I spoke with my youngest son who said that he was having a showdown with his firm. He has consistently worked 12-15 hour days for over a year now, and had reach his limit. He was preparing for a trip to Peru, Machu Pichu, and the Amazon Jungle to get some space and time to think about what he really wanted in life.

In addition to this, several of us were planning on a "orphan's" Thanksgiving meal. All who don't have family, or want a smaller family to celebrate with a larger group, are invited to the church tomorrow for a meal. We have no idea how many are coming. This, in my opinion, is true Eucharist--the giving of thanks around a table where all bring what they can, and eat what they need. Someone asked, "What if a lot more come than we are prepared for." I said, "We'll have a miracle then. There will be enough no matter what we do."

The day: a series of problems, pain, anguish, love, service, questions and not a lot of answers, and a strong undercurrent of thanksgiving. No easy answers to life's complex challenges. 

I used to think there were. Just believe the right things, trust God, "let God and let go," operate out of the laws of attraction, etc. etc., and everything will all fall into place. No, it doesn't. So, is the world held together in Christ? I hope so. Because there, and only there, is hope. Hope that resurrection does follow death and darkness. Life does triumphs over death. Yes, I do hope so.

Christmas Appeals

My desk is covered with appeals for funds. Most of these are organizations I have supported regularly or sporadically in the past. I have huge respect for what they do. Some are for educational institutions, but most are for agencies who work to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit the prisoner, release the captive, give sight to the blind. For the biblically literate, those phrases speak of the prophetic call on the life of Jesus when he first began public ministry. Later in the Gospel messages, Jesus clearly states that those are also the tasks of those who say they are God's people.

When we work together to relieve suffering, we come close to moments of transcendence. We go beyond ourselves into a greater sense of both our humanness and our greater than human selves, that is, the image of God stamped up us.

We don't have to look hard to find suffering. It sneaks or comes slamming upon every single sentient creature. The fight to keep ourselves free from suffering, pain, sadness, blindness, hunger, and imprisonment motivates most of our work, our addictions, our play, and our distractions. It's also why is it so much fun to fall in love. In the hormonal and emotional high that comes with the initial phases of romantic love, suffering is swallowed in joy and delight. The presence of the beloved so lights our eyes that everything glows from the spill-over of romance. We float for a while, and glory in the respite. Eventually, however, the suffering of others and the suffering of our own souls will again poke into consciousness. Again, we enter the round of escape by work, play, distractions and addictions. 

Is there an escape from this cycle? Well, unless and until there is a new heaven and a new earth, and until God does indeed wipe every tear from our collective eyes, no. For now, we can buffer ourselves from pain in every way possible by riches, comfort, ignorance, self-gratification, and any other means we can think of and it will still make its presence known. Alternately, we can open ourselves to it by active engagement in the relief of suffering in others, and find that much of our own melts in the process. 

Take an inventory: who are the happiest people you know? Are they the richest? Most comfortable? Most accomplished? Most beautiful? Best-dressed? Most talented? Most adulated? Most popular? Perhaps, at least briefly, they may find happiness. But the most consistently happy people are those who actively relieve suffering in others. They volunteer at animal shelters, work with abused children, adopt or foster those whom no one else wants. They feed the hungry, clothe the naked, work to release those who are held captive. This does not mean they ignore their own needs for clothing and food and freedom, but that those needs find a different perspective and take on less importance.

So, back to the many appeals for help on my desk. Almost everybody I know has experienced some financial challenge this year, and many faced devastating ones. Our first tendency at this point is to give into fear. The fear: there will not be enough. Those who are least likely to reach this point are those who had little to begin with. But those who had more, and who saw it dwindle, find fear a constant companion. Fear begets greed. We clench our fists, put a tight hold on our giving. And we die in the process. We become less human, more animalistic, taking first what we need for ourselves, caring less about the larger community and the greater good.

I know I face that temptation. It's been a tough year. And I've decided to choose the transcendent way. I will give more, not less. I will recognize that when I chose my temporary comfort over the larger needs of this inter-connected, suffering world, that I will lose my soul in the very act of protecting it. This is not an easy choice--it has taken much internal wrestling to get here. But it is the right one.

Let's unclench our fists, and get free. Yes, we will have less. And we will also have much, much more.

To Say "Thanks"

I recently received a note from someone I knew years ago but have not seen in decades. The last time we had spoken, we had discussed our mutual interest in what it might mean to live as Christian people, giving much more than simple lip service to the things we said were vitally important to us. 


He wrote to me about that conversation, "That time with you made so much difference in my life. I became much more active with the faith, began taking Christian studies during my senior year at college, and continued to make God the center of my life on through law school and then in my work life and family life. I think of you often because I appreciate you so much. In my mind God really used you as a channel to help me. My renewed relationship with God really did grow out of those very brief moments around you. I think that most of us never realize just what a big difference we can make in the lives of others. You made a huge difference in mine. Thank you so very much!"


How honored I was to read these words, "you made a huge difference in my life." To whom might I also say such words? There are dozens, hundreds of those. I think of my grandparents. My paternal grandmother used to rise at 4:00 a.m. every morning to write letters to each of her grandchildren, surrounding us with love, speaking to us of faith and faithfulness. My maternal grandmother, who lived with our family, and helped me learn to read by sharing with me her devotional magazines. My parents, knowing the importance of high quality education, made sure both my mind and my soul were nurtured and fed.


Beyond relatives, there were a myriad of caring teachers from school and church, youth directors, mentors and friends who offered support, correction, guidance and stimulating discussion. How many there were! And my guess if this: if any of these good people do remember me at all, they probably thought at the time that their words were falling on deaf ears. I was a hard nut to crack during my adolescence and early college years, full of rebellion and generally indifferent to spiritual things. 


Today, I spill over with gratefulness for them. They were the hands and feet and voice of Jesus for me. They lived grace for me and for a lot of others as well. Those unsung heros, rarely if ever thanked and probably often frustrated and in despair over me, changed my life, one drop of love at a time.


It's Thanksgiving week. Instead of the often perfunctory "I'm thankful for the food today" that often suffices to honor this brief season before the Christmas purchasing and activity frenzy takes over, why not sit down and write a note of thanks to someone who impacted your life and showed you the face of God in some way? It would be one of the best gifts you could ever give.

The Touch of Healing

The Healing Touch

  

On an average day, what did you touch that someone else has already touched--or will touch after you?  

Consider a day at work or school.  If the entrance doesn't have an electric eye and automatic opening device, then you touch the handle to open it.  If you go up or down stairs, you will probably at some point grab the handrail.  If you use an escalator, you will probably balance with the ever-rotating hand hold at some point.  Elevators mean you will punch the button to call the elevator and then punch the button to get to the desired floor.  

If you purchase something and use cash, you will handle the bills and change offered to the server and then do the same with any bills or change coming back.  Paper money just teems with bacteria, by the way so anyone who handles it regularly touches thousands of other people per day just by that work alone. 

 If you use a public restroom, you will probably have to open the door to get in and then open and close the door to the stall and, unless it is an auto-flush, you will also have to use the handle to flush the wastes away.  And then re-open the stall and touch the handles on the faucet and the soap dispenser to wash away the dirt (we can only hope so, anyway).  Finally, you touch the door handle to exit the space.  Public diaper changing tables anyone?  Do we really want to know?

If you go clothes shopping and try on garments, have you ever considered that someone may have tried them on before you--and left their bacterial mark on them?  Shall we even talk about grocery cart handles?  Or foodstuffs in grocery stores that someone might have picked up and then put back for you to pick up later?  At the very least, the stockers had to touch them.  What about the magazines at the check out counter that you peruse and return when in a long, slowly moving line?  

If you work in any office environment, have you considered who used the copy machine, phone or fax before you?  Computer keyboards are notoriously filthy.  

Since we all now check ourselves in at airline kiosks, try not to even guess how many people used that terminal before you put your code in for your boarding pass.  And who used the tub before you for their stinky shoes? As for the airline, bus, or other public transportation seats--I urge you not to picture who sat there before you.  Trust me, it didn't get a steam clean between occupancies.  

ATM's anyone?  How many grubby hands touched it just the hour before?  Same with the canisters that drive-in banks use.  

Watch out for that light switch--goodness only knows what the previous people who flipped it on or off carried on their hands.  

As for paying for purchases, most of us swipe our own credit cards these days. but not always--and the hand that just took it had also just held dozens of others.

Consider the restaurants--somebody wrapped that silverware that comes to your table.  Someone else at the very least breathed on the food that was served to you--and probably handled it as well.  

Doctor's offices anyone?  Who DID read that out-of-date magazine before you picked it up?  Or used the pen on the counter to sign in before you picked it up?  

It's not a huge leap to real germaphobia here.  In truth, each of us lives with millions of bacteria colonies all over us.  Viruses live in airborne droplets; danger lurks around each corner.  That is the nature of life.

So, I'm suggesting an alternative to retreating to a world that insists on being germ free.  Instead of focusing on how much bacteria you are being exposed to each day, and how much you are exposing others to your own highly bacterially-colonized hands and body, consider how much goodness you can give away with each encounter.  

Try offering a silent or spoken blessing each time you touch anything, offering gratefulness to God for the privilege of living in a world where we can touch each other, where we can go to school and work and shop and travel and interact with one another.  Pray for the person who sat before you and who will sit after you.  Thank those who serve you and handle your dirty money in exchange.  Spend time praising the Holy One for the mystery of our human bodies, so complex and amazingly able to stay healthy most of the time despite continued assaults on it.  We'll never get rid of the germs, nor should we.  But we can turn curse into blessing and touch the world with healing.  Sure beats turning into a tortured hermit.

Where Do You Start?

What is your basic truth about the nature of God? Is God good? Happy? Angry? Close or far away? Does God like you? Dislike you?

These may seem like silly questions, but the answers we give determine how we do, or don't, relate to God. It also determines how we read the Bible and the answers we find, or don't find, about life, God, salvation, heaven and hell and a host of other things.

A wise theologian once said, "Where you enter the Bible is also the place where you will exit." I heard that phrase at a lecture years ago as the speaker encouraged us to engage in theological wresting over a contentious point of order: whether or not women had a place in church leadership, especially as ordained clergy or in the senior pastor role.

For example, do we assume that from the beginning women are supposed to be subordinate to men? Do we assume that hierarchy and "chain of command" reside within the very nature of God and therefore that human society must be also also be arranged in such a way? If so, we will read that assumption into the the Bible to support that idea.

Alternatively, do we assume that such subordination emerged as an aberration from the ideal of the experience described in the Garden of Eden? Do we think that male and female were both created fully in the image of God and are meant to partner with each other and with God in the unfolding of creation? Then our reading and interpretation would lead to very different conclusions. Both beginning points can claim biblical support--we have to choose which one we stand upon. Then we must see if that stance is consistent with what else we knew about God from our years of Bible study and the practice of living as faithful Christians.

In the last few days, I was thinking about those questions and others because of an email conversation with a dear friend. She is quite certain I've gone off the heretical edge. Her words express significant concern that I may lose my salvation and end up in hell. As she and I write about our respective positions, I find another set of assumptions that must be surfaced, examined and tested to see if they hold together.

Those assumptions go back to the questions I wrote at the beginning of this article: what DO we think is true about the very nature of God? What is our starting point when we think about God?

For example: Is God's main purpose to save only the few who manage to figure out exactly the right words and right beliefs to allay God's looming wrath? Does God then send everyone else to eternal damnation and punishment? Or does God genuinely like the created world and the beings inhabiting it and so is interested in offering to all opportunity of healing, salvation, wholeness and eternal life, which is defined by Jesus as knowing God? In other words, is God in love with us or is God in anger with us? The starting point determines the end. If we start by believing that God is angry and only willing to let a few in, we end by condemning anyone who doesn't believe like us, since pretty well any person with any belief in God or an afterlife is sure he or she is going to make it to heaven.

Recently, a young man sat in my office explaining why he avoids attending worship services. He related the story when as a teen he brought a modern translation of the Bible to church one day. His pastor took it and held it up as though he were holding a snake or some other despised object. He then soundly berated the young man for having such a horror in his possession.

Now, that's a great picture of a God who starts with anger. Basic assumption: There is only one tightly defined way to God. That one way has to be understood and communicated only in archaic language using a Bible which was translated from less reliable manuscripts than more modern and scholarly translations now use. In other words, don't use your brain, don't think very hard, and learn the moves to the dance that please this angry God before it is too late.

That really loves 'em into the kingdom of heaven, doesn't it?

I grew up certain that God was angry with me. Many people I know have that same experience. That kind of thinking leads to a life of fear and apprehension, little joy or confidence and almost no courage to make bold decisions. What if I'm wrong? What if I make a choice that displeases God? What horrors will await me then? Best to play it safe and make no mistakes.

What a shut down life that is! The Bible narratives tell us of people making bold stands for God, of challenging fights against injustice, of arguments and disagreements that eventually led to greater understanding. How can one be bold for God while living in terror than one wrong step or one's questioning of the "approved" belief structure will lead to the uttermost darkness and everlasting torment? It is the power of love that encourages boldness and the redemption of the world, not fear-producing anger.

Examine your own starting place. If your starting place indicates that God is angry with you, consider the possibility of re-thinking that. Awareness that God really does like us is a big step to loving God in return, and that really is eternal life.

Recalculating . . . recalculating . ....

Recalculating . . . recalculating . . . recalculating


Thanks to my frequently over-generous husband, I have a GPS device (global positioning system) to guide me when I'm heading someplace unfamiliar. I rarely use it, as I enjoy a good sense of direction and read maps well. However, on a couple of recent trips to out of town locations, I decided to see how it worked.


A soothing voice supplied succinct instructions (that female voice coming out of it means I must refer to this device as a "her" rather than an "it") and I docilely complied. Of course, at some point, I deviated just a bit--to stop and get something to eat, or fill up with fuel. Immediately, I would hear the "recalculating . . . recalculating . . . recalculating . . ." message and then she would spit out a set of instructions to get me back to the original route. When, on occasion, I refused to comply with her recalculated instructions, she would eventually give in and offer a new route--but always with the same destination in mind.


I discovered that she gives instructions to turn or merge on a highway only about a mile before reaching the turning or merge point. Otherwise, she stays silent. Nothing, no words, no feedback. I found when I was driving a long distance on a highway that I wanted her to say something like, "You are doing great--heading in the right direction. Good job!"


I was little spooked to discover just how much she knew about me. A friend who was riding with me on one trip could look at her and tell me exactly how fast I was driving--and therefore know my compliance level with the posted speed limit. She (the device, that is) seemed to have a very good handle on exactly when I would arrive at my destination, clearly taking into account how well I was observing the speed limits.


I kind of liked her (the device, that is) but there was something about the periodic announcements that she was "recalculating" when I made an unanticipated turn that made me consider just how much the GPS device is like God. After all, isn't God always working in our lives to redeem our various mistakes and misdirections--as though there is a constant celestial "recalculating" going on? I've never particularly held with the theology that there is one perfect path that we are ideally intended to follow. Nonetheless, I do sense that there is a consistent goal--that of becoming fully in the image of God, and therefore living as more developed human beings, able to love openly and give thoroughly and grow into socially, emotionally, volitionally, and spiritually mature people. We take so many bypaths on the way--and just like my GPS, God consistently and patiently recalculates and seeks to get us heading again toward the goal.


Then there was the lack of feedback while I drove on the same highway for an extended distance. Where was the pat on the back? Yet those who have gone deep into the heart of God and have intentionally chosen lives of transformational holiness have in common this experience: the dark night of the soul where it seems impossible to hear the voice of God or sense that Holy Presence. I seem to have this insatiable need for someone to say to me, "Good job!" I want to hear those words of affirmation from someone else. But the call to maturity says, "Learn to trust yourself as one who has practiced the holy habits for years" during those times of silence. Much soul shaping takes place in the quiet.


Finally, there was what seemed like to me only last minute instructions to turn. I wanted to know miles ahead of time that a turn was imminent, but she disregarded my desires. I only found out a short time before the change of direction. How like life that is! We really don't know the future, however much we might like to think we can control it. Instead, the turns come and our job is to go with them, finding our bearings again in the new direction before us.


Recalculating . . . recalculating . . . recalculating . . . we all do it all the time as we engage in life and death matters. I find comfort in knowing that the Creator takes my twists and turns into account and continually offers me direction to the goal, even when I choose the ways that may not be the best or straightest of paths.