"Love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor." Romans 12:10
I have to confess, I have been a little hooked on a computer game lately. It's called Sid Meier's Civilization IV. The object of the game is modest: all you have to do is build a modern civilization from scratch, and compete with others to become the greatest empire in the history of humanity. Easy enough, right? I admit, I still haven't beaten the computer, though it's not for lack of late nights playing. Laura laughs at me for getting so engrossed in the game, but if she can wile away the hours playing Words with Friends, I figure we can both have our quirks.
It's amazing how deep the human competitive streak runs, even when you're competing against a bunch of pre-set algorithms, and much more so when it's against other people. I remember an effort at Trinity Seminary called "Here I Step," where every student was given a pedometer, and various small groups competed against each other to get the most steps in a month. Chain stores will often pit franchises against one another in friendly sales competitions, igniting a fire in the belly of which you'd never know retail outlets were capable.
So as I was thinking about this--and about how, I'm a little embarrassed to admit, I've lost some sleep this week playing this silly computer game--and the genius of Paul's exhortation to Christians in Rome really showed. "Outdo one another in showing honor." If we're wired in this funny, competitive way, we may as well get some mileage for God's Reign out of it. If we're the type of people who treat everything as a contest, why not have the contest be showing honor to others, and placing others' interests above our own? Jesus' announcement that coming in first in his Reign means being last of all and servant of all has a similar flavor...although if the disciples were anything like my sisters and me when my parents first taught us about this, they must have just scrambled and threw elbows to get to the back of the line and the bottom of the dogpile, just as hard as they had been scrambling to get to first place. It could be a lot worse.
I was taking a walk with Maggie and Soren today, and it occurred to me that while we were enjoying the scenery, we might as well pick up a few pieces of trash. Before we knew it, our pockets were full and the trail looked nicer. Now, I see folks walking up and down this trail all the time--almost every time I go to work. And not to judge a book by its cover, but the folks I see mostly don't look like a bunch of Snickers-eating litterbugs. But they clearly aren't the "start/end your jog by picking up one, single solitary piece of trash" set, either, because otherwise the trail would be pristine. I think, if most folks are like me, they tend to skip over tasks they'll just have to do again later, and that nobody will be likely to know or care if you do in the first place. It takes some reflection to realize how the conscientious folks out there probably outnumber the (physical and social/spiritual) litterbugs two to one, and if we just focused on staying one step ahead of them, God's Reign would have chances to break in all over the place.
So, all my software/app designer friends, I have a brainstorm: How about "Actions with Friends", a game you could play online, based on actual actions you do. Sort of like "Horse" on the basketball court. "Hey, I just gave $20 to malaria relief. Beat that!" "Okay, I'll match the $20, plus I'll tutor a kid this week. In yo FACE!" (OK, maybe the trash talk needs work, but I think there's potential here, no?) Who will go home with the trophy? Get your brackets ready, cause it's on!
Maybe that seems a little silly, or beside the point of serving. And honestly, it kind of is. We do loving actions, not to show up our friends, but because Jesus first loved us. But even Paul made it clear that good things can come even from pretty lame motivations. Heck, maybe Jesus was on to something by calling twelve bull-headed, twenty-something dudes to follow him. Don't tell me they wouldn't have gotten a little intense on the basketball court if they were alive today! And what we got was the original Jesus movement that became the Church we have today. God uses even the sides of us we're a little embarrassed by. It makes for a pretty exciting faith walk, if you ask me.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
It’s almost Mothers’ Day. I’m rejoicing today to be married to such a wonderful, loving Mama for my kids, with whom I’m so proud to be teamed up. I’m thanking God for my own mother, for her mother and my Dad’s mother, and for all the mothers who formed them. I’m lifting up praises for all my “mothers” in Christ, from Sunday School teachers to youth leaders, to faithful women who have gone before, whose testimony has been fuel for my faith.
But what’s driving me to drink this week is how our society devalues mothers, by reducing motherhood to a biological event to be debated, rather than a spiritual relationship to be nurtured.
Our neighbors in Virginia have recently become a flashpoint of this national debate.
God loves mothers. In fact, in several places the Bible says God is like our Mother. But I think the conversation about mothering—and parenting, in general—has gotten derailed by the conversation about what degree of choice women should have about actually becoming mothers.
I hear Biblical proof-texts from both sides of the abortion debate (an overwhelming majority from the “pro-life” side, but there are a few brave souls who dare contradict them on the basis of scripture). I don’t want anyone to take away from this post that there is no theological merit to having this discussion, or no theological principles (not single Bible verses, but general principles arising from the heart of the Bible, not its pinky toe!) on which to have a faithful discussion. I think there is a faithful discussion to be had, and we are going to have to keep plugging away at it, engaging those with whom we disagree, striving with all our might not to break the eighth commandment by calling into question others’ motives and faithfulness, or the fifth by seeking to “destroy” one another with words...or worse.
But what about that fourth commandment? You know…”Honor your father and mother”? It’s much less provocative and much less likely to grab headlines. But where is the energy and passion for honoring good moms, and seeking to form more of them? Where’s the outcry for raising up daughters who will make good mothers, and who will make good, faithful, and loving choices for their children, both before AND after they are born? Where is the army of lawyers and lobbyists devoted not to the debate about a woman’s choice to give birth, but to giving her the choice to raise children who will actually live an abundant life, have enough food on the table, be likely to graduate high school, be unlikely to get kidnapped into the drug culture, or to get asthma from living in a polluted neighborhood? Where are the business owners who are so devoted to the sanctity of life, that they will allow for fair health benefits, flexible schedules, reasonable maternity (and paternity) leave, and a work environment that supports and works with working moms and dads?
The Bible has an awful lot to say about the sanctity of life, and about personal responsibility, and we do well to pay attention to that. But just as loud and clear rings the voice of societal responsibility for those in need of aid. I think we can reasonably make a connection between the countless Old Testament calls to “care for the widow and the orphan”, and God’s call for us today: that if we’re going to go to bat for the unborn (and why wouldn't we?), that we also go to bat for the moms (and dads) who will bring them into the world, often under tremendously difficult circumstances.
Let’s honor moms this year, and every year, not just with flowers, chocolates and breakfast in bed (although all three are a good idea!) but by making this world a little bit more supportive of a place to be a mom.
But what’s driving me to drink this week is how our society devalues mothers, by reducing motherhood to a biological event to be debated, rather than a spiritual relationship to be nurtured.
Our neighbors in Virginia have recently become a flashpoint of this national debate.
God loves mothers. In fact, in several places the Bible says God is like our Mother. But I think the conversation about mothering—and parenting, in general—has gotten derailed by the conversation about what degree of choice women should have about actually becoming mothers.
I hear Biblical proof-texts from both sides of the abortion debate (an overwhelming majority from the “pro-life” side, but there are a few brave souls who dare contradict them on the basis of scripture). I don’t want anyone to take away from this post that there is no theological merit to having this discussion, or no theological principles (not single Bible verses, but general principles arising from the heart of the Bible, not its pinky toe!) on which to have a faithful discussion. I think there is a faithful discussion to be had, and we are going to have to keep plugging away at it, engaging those with whom we disagree, striving with all our might not to break the eighth commandment by calling into question others’ motives and faithfulness, or the fifth by seeking to “destroy” one another with words...or worse.
But what about that fourth commandment? You know…”Honor your father and mother”? It’s much less provocative and much less likely to grab headlines. But where is the energy and passion for honoring good moms, and seeking to form more of them? Where’s the outcry for raising up daughters who will make good mothers, and who will make good, faithful, and loving choices for their children, both before AND after they are born? Where is the army of lawyers and lobbyists devoted not to the debate about a woman’s choice to give birth, but to giving her the choice to raise children who will actually live an abundant life, have enough food on the table, be likely to graduate high school, be unlikely to get kidnapped into the drug culture, or to get asthma from living in a polluted neighborhood? Where are the business owners who are so devoted to the sanctity of life, that they will allow for fair health benefits, flexible schedules, reasonable maternity (and paternity) leave, and a work environment that supports and works with working moms and dads?
The Bible has an awful lot to say about the sanctity of life, and about personal responsibility, and we do well to pay attention to that. But just as loud and clear rings the voice of societal responsibility for those in need of aid. I think we can reasonably make a connection between the countless Old Testament calls to “care for the widow and the orphan”, and God’s call for us today: that if we’re going to go to bat for the unborn (and why wouldn't we?), that we also go to bat for the moms (and dads) who will bring them into the world, often under tremendously difficult circumstances.
Let’s honor moms this year, and every year, not just with flowers, chocolates and breakfast in bed (although all three are a good idea!) but by making this world a little bit more supportive of a place to be a mom.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
A Permanent Resident
Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. 1 John 3:2-3
I had a wonderful morning today. Maggie and I, along with several from Salem and other community groups, took part in a stream clean-up. Maggs, ever the fashion-plate, donned her brand new pink rain boots, her mom's sun hat, and a pair of gloves that were the smallest size they had, yet were still comically big. She served as the "pointer": looking for pieces of trash along the stream bed, which we would then scramble down the rocks at our own peril to get. I wouldn't have had it any other way, of course.
We discovered a number of treasures, mostly alcohol and tobacco-related, although I do recall seeing several tires, a few rims, a lawn chair, a vintage 1970's blue shag rug that gave me fond memories of my grandparents' home, and a rusted-out piece of metal that I can only assume was once part of a muffler. Gotta be careful not to bottom out driving through creeks, you know.
I find it interesting that Earth Day nearly always falls squarely within the Easter season, and yet for whatever reason, I haven't read much of anything pointing out the rather obvious connection. See, one of the most misunderstood pieces of Christian tradition--one that even many Christians don't know about--is that resurrection is for everybody. The hope we hang on to is not a disembodied hope--that one day we'll all be ghosts, playing harps on clouds in some alternate dimension--but a deeply embodied one. We will once again smell what coffee smells like, see sunlight through spring leaves, taste fresh-baked bread, hold the warm hands of our real-live loved ones, some of whom have already gone from our sight. We'll have bodies. Jesus is risen, and we shall arise. Because he lives, we shall live.
Which, of course, means that we'll live on a real-live planet. Revelation says God will make "a new heaven and a new earth." Guess where we'll live? Yep. On a planet. with rivers and streams and trees and rocks and lakes and plants and fungus and animals and microbes and mosquitoes--wait, maybe not mosquitoes. I'll have to check back on that. But you get the idea.
It's often the creed of environmentalists to say, "let's keep this earth healthy for our grandkids to live in." I fully agree. Right on. BUT, see, if you don't have grandkids, or you don't see them often, maybe that's not an effective motivator. How about this: "Attention Christians: God is eventually going to bring us back here. So...I wonder what kind of creek you'd like to happen upon on your morning jog in a hundred thousand years or so?"
Some food for thought this Easter season. And it didn't even come in a pre-wrapped package.
A couple other Easter quotes I've been meditating on:
"Death is the last weapon of the tyrant, and the point of resurrection, despite much misunderstanding, is that death has been defeated. Resurrection is not the redescription of death; it is its overthrow and, with that, the overthrow of those whose power depends on it.
N.T. Wright, from Surprised by Hope
John Updike's "Seven Stanzas at Easter"
Wendell Berry's, "Manifesto:
The Mad Farmer Liberation Front"
Friday, April 20, 2012
"Winning"
"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 15:55-57
Well, I can't avoid it. I'm an American male born in the 1980s. I liked Transformers, Voltron, Thundercats, Indiana Jones, the A-Team, and just about any other TV program that involved either beating up bad guys or explosions--preferably both. I waged more than one pitched battle with squirt guns. I played Ninja Turtles with my friends, which did involve some hitting each other with sticks. I grew up thinking Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star was just about the crowning achievement of cinema for all time. Even as a young adult who by that point was a committed pacifist,I afforded nearly equal status to Neo's triumphal entry into the secure office building in the first Matrix film.This is where I'm coming from.
But I'm also a Christian--you know, one of those weird people who believe you should love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, bless those who curse you, meet violence with nonviolence, vengeance with forgiveness, hate with love. I believe we are called to "stand our ground" in a completely different and antithetical way to the way our culture--and apparently, Florida law--would have us do.
And then, we have Easter. From the New Testament itself, to theological interpretations through the ages, to hymnody, even to the way we celebrate--with loud blasting trumpets and marching processions--the language and imagery of military victory is thick and heavy. I saw a very relevant blog post on this topic, pointed out by a good friend. The language is there, staring us in the face. Even in the "peaceful" New Testament, one dominant metaphor for the cross and resurrection is one of military victory. Even the Greek word euangelion, often translated as "Gospel" or "Good News," was at first a military term for the announcement of a favorable result in battle: that "our team won."
And as you go on in Christian history, and begin to study other interpretations of the cross--most notably the satisfaction theory of atonement--the idea of the cross as a victory over death and evil actually starts to look pretty good. I'd much rather have a Jesus who is one with God, prevailing over death, than a Jesus who is at cross purposes with an angry God, prevailing over God's better judgment!
So there's this tension. The metaphor--Let me repeat this a couple of times to be clear, the metaphor, the metaphor, the metaphor--of military victory, not over any human army or ruler, but over sin and death, is a huge one in the New Testament, and throughout church history. But at the same time, the very way that victory was won--meeting the worst brutality human beings can offer with courage, love, forgiveness, and a stubborn refusal to play the game by death's violent rules--is what sets the cross apart from any other victory.
I think there are three ways to resolve this tension. First, just barrel through it. Claim these military metaphors as our own, and hope for the best. Buy our kids the "full armor of God" play set, dress them up in fatigues as "metaphorical" soldiers for Christ, encourage their addiction to violent video games, TV and movies without offering any outlet for reflection on how to resolve conflicts in real life, and maybe even train them in some combat and small arms fire, on the off chance they get "left behind" in the rapture and have to face off with all manner of demons and antichrists and whatnot. I can't even begin to describe the problems with this approach, but I will tell you this: It's been tried. It didn't work.
Second, we can censor the heck out of ourselves. We can sick special teams of well-meaning theologians on every hymn, every Bible verse, every sermon historic or contemporary, every anthem, every piece of liturgy that might find its way to the ears of the faithful. We can purge, we can spin, we can convince ourselves that this was simply never the way that Christians talked or thought or believed, because it can't be, considering they were so very enlightened and politically and socially advanced, just like us modern-day Christians *rolls eyes*. I guess this could work, provided that mainline Christians continue to pursue our current trend of almost never reading our Bibles at home, or talking about our faith with people outside our congregations or even inside them. If we did that, censorship would work fine.
The third option, which my rhetorical sensibilities drew me to put last, is the one I'd recommend. Let's open up some of the riches of the Bible and the Christian tradition, and recognize that military victory is just one color in a whole rainbow of metaphor used by the first Christians to try to understand what happened around Jesus' death. A few of my favorites are of a hen gathering her brood, one grain of wheat bearing a great harvest, and a mother giving birth to her child. These, too, are in the New Testament. These, too, are very effective conceptual tools to explore what happened on the cross: which, of course, is and will ultimately remain a mystery. So rather than taking one color paint out of our palette, why not challenge ourselves to paint with all the colors we've been given, and maybe even use our God-given imaginations to come up with contemporary images that might work?
I think I'm just going to have to live with the tension of being a red-blooded American sci-fi/fantasy action fan, who confesses as my Lord one who, rather than lift a sword or even a hand, was crucified to defeat evil and death. I think I can hold in my head and heart the real-live action heroes of our faith, who went to their deaths in Jesus' name, asking forgiveness for those who killed them, while still watching the ridiculous movie-poster heroes that keep us eating popcorn and nachos. The trick is to talk about it, reflect on it together, especially with our kids, and to always hold before our eyes the cross: the sign of what "winning" really looks like.
1 Corinthians 15:55-57
Well, I can't avoid it. I'm an American male born in the 1980s. I liked Transformers, Voltron, Thundercats, Indiana Jones, the A-Team, and just about any other TV program that involved either beating up bad guys or explosions--preferably both. I waged more than one pitched battle with squirt guns. I played Ninja Turtles with my friends, which did involve some hitting each other with sticks. I grew up thinking Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star was just about the crowning achievement of cinema for all time. Even as a young adult who by that point was a committed pacifist,I afforded nearly equal status to Neo's triumphal entry into the secure office building in the first Matrix film.This is where I'm coming from.
But I'm also a Christian--you know, one of those weird people who believe you should love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, bless those who curse you, meet violence with nonviolence, vengeance with forgiveness, hate with love. I believe we are called to "stand our ground" in a completely different and antithetical way to the way our culture--and apparently, Florida law--would have us do.
And then, we have Easter. From the New Testament itself, to theological interpretations through the ages, to hymnody, even to the way we celebrate--with loud blasting trumpets and marching processions--the language and imagery of military victory is thick and heavy. I saw a very relevant blog post on this topic, pointed out by a good friend. The language is there, staring us in the face. Even in the "peaceful" New Testament, one dominant metaphor for the cross and resurrection is one of military victory. Even the Greek word euangelion, often translated as "Gospel" or "Good News," was at first a military term for the announcement of a favorable result in battle: that "our team won."
And as you go on in Christian history, and begin to study other interpretations of the cross--most notably the satisfaction theory of atonement--the idea of the cross as a victory over death and evil actually starts to look pretty good. I'd much rather have a Jesus who is one with God, prevailing over death, than a Jesus who is at cross purposes with an angry God, prevailing over God's better judgment!
So there's this tension. The metaphor--Let me repeat this a couple of times to be clear, the metaphor, the metaphor, the metaphor--of military victory, not over any human army or ruler, but over sin and death, is a huge one in the New Testament, and throughout church history. But at the same time, the very way that victory was won--meeting the worst brutality human beings can offer with courage, love, forgiveness, and a stubborn refusal to play the game by death's violent rules--is what sets the cross apart from any other victory.
I think there are three ways to resolve this tension. First, just barrel through it. Claim these military metaphors as our own, and hope for the best. Buy our kids the "full armor of God" play set, dress them up in fatigues as "metaphorical" soldiers for Christ, encourage their addiction to violent video games, TV and movies without offering any outlet for reflection on how to resolve conflicts in real life, and maybe even train them in some combat and small arms fire, on the off chance they get "left behind" in the rapture and have to face off with all manner of demons and antichrists and whatnot. I can't even begin to describe the problems with this approach, but I will tell you this: It's been tried. It didn't work.
Second, we can censor the heck out of ourselves. We can sick special teams of well-meaning theologians on every hymn, every Bible verse, every sermon historic or contemporary, every anthem, every piece of liturgy that might find its way to the ears of the faithful. We can purge, we can spin, we can convince ourselves that this was simply never the way that Christians talked or thought or believed, because it can't be, considering they were so very enlightened and politically and socially advanced, just like us modern-day Christians *rolls eyes*. I guess this could work, provided that mainline Christians continue to pursue our current trend of almost never reading our Bibles at home, or talking about our faith with people outside our congregations or even inside them. If we did that, censorship would work fine.
The third option, which my rhetorical sensibilities drew me to put last, is the one I'd recommend. Let's open up some of the riches of the Bible and the Christian tradition, and recognize that military victory is just one color in a whole rainbow of metaphor used by the first Christians to try to understand what happened around Jesus' death. A few of my favorites are of a hen gathering her brood, one grain of wheat bearing a great harvest, and a mother giving birth to her child. These, too, are in the New Testament. These, too, are very effective conceptual tools to explore what happened on the cross: which, of course, is and will ultimately remain a mystery. So rather than taking one color paint out of our palette, why not challenge ourselves to paint with all the colors we've been given, and maybe even use our God-given imaginations to come up with contemporary images that might work?
I think I'm just going to have to live with the tension of being a red-blooded American sci-fi/fantasy action fan, who confesses as my Lord one who, rather than lift a sword or even a hand, was crucified to defeat evil and death. I think I can hold in my head and heart the real-live action heroes of our faith, who went to their deaths in Jesus' name, asking forgiveness for those who killed them, while still watching the ridiculous movie-poster heroes that keep us eating popcorn and nachos. The trick is to talk about it, reflect on it together, especially with our kids, and to always hold before our eyes the cross: the sign of what "winning" really looks like.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
What Are We Working For?
Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns.
Exodus 20:8-10
Tuesday morning I was in no kind of mood for reflection.
You see, lately, Maggie's been asserting herself as the lovely, strong, independent young woman she's sure to become, which unfortunately at age 3 1/2, translates to the occasional raging tantrum. And Soren, God bless his little heart, is his usual laid-back 9-month-old self, which translates into a feast on the gourmet cuisine of just about anything in reach, without regard to edibility. In short, they both seem to need Laura's and my undivided attention these days, which is a problem, because our attention is kind of all over the place these days.
It bears mention that I did have a wonderful day off on Monday watching the kids. Got three loads of laundry done, worked out, took them grocery shopping, even caught an episode or two of Star Trek: TNG. The kids were great, and I was even less tempted than usual to bribe them with TV shows in the interest of a peaceful house. They really were on their best behavior. But still, I was a little exhausted by 4pm when Laura got home.
Which brings me to Tuesday morning. I awoke, refreshed and ready to work, only to remember that today was Laura's day to help out at Maggie's preschool, which meant it was once again "Take your son to the office day" for me. Plus, Salem was hosting a community environmental forum and inviting some fairly high-profile people in to give presentations on faith-based environmental advocacy. Soren behaved himself admirably through the whole event, but I admit I still went into it with a twinge of guilt that I wasn't able to give my full, undivided attention to the topic at hand.
But as one of our featured speakers, Rabbi Nina Beth Cardin, a leader in interfaith environmental efforts here in Maryland, began to address the gathering, God began to do something in my spirit. Rabbi Cardin told us that for many years, she had believed God gave us the Sabbath for the purpose of the rest of the week: that we take a day to "recharge" in order to help us have energy to work and be productive the other six days. But she went on to say she no longer believes this. Instead, Rabbi Cardin suggested that maybe we work the other six days, for the purpose of the Sabbath day: that holy day, where God takes the reins, and we simply enjoy being together with God and one another in this abundant world. Rather than taking a Sabbath in order to work, what if we worked in order to be ready for a Sabbath?
I was blown away. You see, as a pastor I am both blessed and cursed to have a job I'm good at, and that I believe in with every fiber of my being. I make my living doing something that (shhh! don't tell anyone at my church, but...) I would probably try and find a way to do even if nobody paid me! In the current job market, where too many guys and gals my age are trading time for money, doing whatever's around just to pay the bills, I never, ever want to take for granted what a joy this is.
But at the same time, I may have been getting things upside down. In my own fumbling attempts at Sabbath-keeping (which the Jews, including Jesus himself, have always been WAY better at than us stalwart Protestant types!) I have been putting the cart before the horse. I worry that when I'm not thinking about it, I've occasionally been taking the bare minimum amount of rest--really enjoying family time, date nights with my beautiful wife, trips to the park with kids, taking personal time with God--but with the thought in the back of my head that all this will ultimately make me a more effective pastor. And I believe it will. But that's not why I should be doing it. Instead, the work I do--even the work I truly believe in--should be done in service to Sabbath. In order to make me all the more ready for rest; ready for family; ready for time with God and with God's people; ready for life lived as an authentic human being.
I had things so backwards that it was almost laughable! Here I was, at my job, racked with guilt about somehow giving less than 110%, while the very reason I should be getting up each morning and driving to work, was literally strapped to my chest in a Baby Bjorn!
Does anyone you know, anyone at all, tell you they look forward to being in God's Kingdom because Jesus runs such awesome committee meetings? Or because the Father will have some killer laundry for us to do? Or because the Holy Spirit will help us put together the very best Powerpoint presentations and lesson plans and prospectuses we've ever seen? I sincerely hope not. What I've heard more often than anything, is that God's Kingdom will be full of people we love. People we miss. People we never got to know. And the Persons that know us and love us better than we'll ever know or love ourselves: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Sabbath-keeping is an intentional preview of that end-time Sabbath, when all the world will rest from its labors. Every kind of work we do, should be done in service to that holy time, not in spite of it. So here's my question for you:
What are you working for?
Exodus 20:8-10
Tuesday morning I was in no kind of mood for reflection.
You see, lately, Maggie's been asserting herself as the lovely, strong, independent young woman she's sure to become, which unfortunately at age 3 1/2, translates to the occasional raging tantrum. And Soren, God bless his little heart, is his usual laid-back 9-month-old self, which translates into a feast on the gourmet cuisine of just about anything in reach, without regard to edibility. In short, they both seem to need Laura's and my undivided attention these days, which is a problem, because our attention is kind of all over the place these days.
It bears mention that I did have a wonderful day off on Monday watching the kids. Got three loads of laundry done, worked out, took them grocery shopping, even caught an episode or two of Star Trek: TNG. The kids were great, and I was even less tempted than usual to bribe them with TV shows in the interest of a peaceful house. They really were on their best behavior. But still, I was a little exhausted by 4pm when Laura got home.
Which brings me to Tuesday morning. I awoke, refreshed and ready to work, only to remember that today was Laura's day to help out at Maggie's preschool, which meant it was once again "Take your son to the office day" for me. Plus, Salem was hosting a community environmental forum and inviting some fairly high-profile people in to give presentations on faith-based environmental advocacy. Soren behaved himself admirably through the whole event, but I admit I still went into it with a twinge of guilt that I wasn't able to give my full, undivided attention to the topic at hand.
But as one of our featured speakers, Rabbi Nina Beth Cardin, a leader in interfaith environmental efforts here in Maryland, began to address the gathering, God began to do something in my spirit. Rabbi Cardin told us that for many years, she had believed God gave us the Sabbath for the purpose of the rest of the week: that we take a day to "recharge" in order to help us have energy to work and be productive the other six days. But she went on to say she no longer believes this. Instead, Rabbi Cardin suggested that maybe we work the other six days, for the purpose of the Sabbath day: that holy day, where God takes the reins, and we simply enjoy being together with God and one another in this abundant world. Rather than taking a Sabbath in order to work, what if we worked in order to be ready for a Sabbath?
I was blown away. You see, as a pastor I am both blessed and cursed to have a job I'm good at, and that I believe in with every fiber of my being. I make my living doing something that (shhh! don't tell anyone at my church, but...) I would probably try and find a way to do even if nobody paid me! In the current job market, where too many guys and gals my age are trading time for money, doing whatever's around just to pay the bills, I never, ever want to take for granted what a joy this is.
But at the same time, I may have been getting things upside down. In my own fumbling attempts at Sabbath-keeping (which the Jews, including Jesus himself, have always been WAY better at than us stalwart Protestant types!) I have been putting the cart before the horse. I worry that when I'm not thinking about it, I've occasionally been taking the bare minimum amount of rest--really enjoying family time, date nights with my beautiful wife, trips to the park with kids, taking personal time with God--but with the thought in the back of my head that all this will ultimately make me a more effective pastor. And I believe it will. But that's not why I should be doing it. Instead, the work I do--even the work I truly believe in--should be done in service to Sabbath. In order to make me all the more ready for rest; ready for family; ready for time with God and with God's people; ready for life lived as an authentic human being.
I had things so backwards that it was almost laughable! Here I was, at my job, racked with guilt about somehow giving less than 110%, while the very reason I should be getting up each morning and driving to work, was literally strapped to my chest in a Baby Bjorn!
Does anyone you know, anyone at all, tell you they look forward to being in God's Kingdom because Jesus runs such awesome committee meetings? Or because the Father will have some killer laundry for us to do? Or because the Holy Spirit will help us put together the very best Powerpoint presentations and lesson plans and prospectuses we've ever seen? I sincerely hope not. What I've heard more often than anything, is that God's Kingdom will be full of people we love. People we miss. People we never got to know. And the Persons that know us and love us better than we'll ever know or love ourselves: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Sabbath-keeping is an intentional preview of that end-time Sabbath, when all the world will rest from its labors. Every kind of work we do, should be done in service to that holy time, not in spite of it. So here's my question for you:
What are you working for?
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Bearing Fruit
"Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing." John 15:4-5
What's driving me to drink is lowered expectations. I read a book this past year called Almost Christian: What the Faith of Our Teenagers is Telling the American Church. It's a book based on the National Study of Youth and Religion, the most recent statistical study of what teens in America actually believe. The good news is, most teens in America actually do have faith of some kind. The bad news is, the kind of faith many teens have (including teens who are very active in Christian congregations), is not what you could properly call Christianity. Rather, it's what the study's authors call, "Moralistic Therapeutic Deism." Here are some of its basic tenets:
1.A God exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good, nice and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and most other world religions.
3. The central goal of life is to be happy and feel good about oneself.
4. God is not involved in my life except when I need to resolve a problem.
5. Good people go to heaven when they die.
Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, although it is believed by many who call themselves Christian, is not centered in the cross of Jesus. It is apparently not in the least concerned, or even aware of, human sinfulness. But most disturbing to me, it expects exactly zero of its practitioners. It casts God as the one who turns on the Go-cart track, announces over the P.A., "Have fun kids. Be nice. Don't get hurt." then proceeds to go out for a sandwich--perhaps ducking in now and then if ever someone gets into a serious jam. A God who stays out of our business and out of our life.
What's worse, the study finds that it's not that teens are "not getting the message" through the youth programming provided by Christian congregations across the country. They're getting the message loud and clear. From adults.
God's very first commandment to humankind, fresh from the clay that God had formed in God's own image, was,"Be fruitful and multiply." Now bear with me a minute, because I fully realize this may seem like a REALLY bad commandment to be teaching our kids about. :-) What many students of Genesis have said about this passage is that God is asking humankind to do more than simply "reproduce." God is asking humanity to tend the garden: to form a relationship with the creation, and to be God's stewards, using our creativity and imagination--God's image within us--to make a good creation an even more lively and wondrous place. This was bearing fruit in the Garden.
In the River Jordan, John the Baptist again called Israel to "bear fruit worthy of repentance." To stop assuming that ancestral connections are all that it takes to be in right relationship with God. To stop thinking of ourselves as "customers" in God's general store of blessings: consumers of a religious product, free to wander in and out when we please, but expecting to be first in line at the counter when a crisis hits and we need some grace.
Discipleship of Jesus involves bearing fruit. In fact, bearing fruit is a natural result of following Jesus. You can't not do it. It's just what happens when you're following Jesus. It's NOT what saves us: Jesus has already done that on the cross. It's just what happens when we accept that he has accepted us.
I'm happy to tell you that, by the Spirit's power, Delaware and Maryland Youth bore a lot of fruit at the Roadtrip retreat in Ocean City, Maryland last month. Here's what it looked like:
*Over three hundred kids and dozens of adult volunteers, worshiping together in the name of the Triune God.
*Dozens of school kits being put together for Lutheran World Relief, letters written to homebound church members, and quilt squares cut for LWR quilts.
*Small Groups of kids from across two states, dealing with real questions of faith, and learning to tell their own faith stories.
*Youth, standing before hundreds of their brothers and sisters in Christ, testifying to what God has done for them.
*A whole lot of good clean fun!
And in all of this--from worship, to service, to learning to testifying--it was fellow students who were taking the lead, through the LYO (Lutheran Youth Organization). My partner in leading a small group was in 12th grade. We were greeted as soon as we registered by a team of kids whose job it was to answer questions and make people feel welcome. Every service project was chosen and orchestrated by the kids. And closing worship was planned and lead by the kids.
Maybe this kind of "fruit-bearing" is the exception to the rule. But maybe it's catching on. And maybe we, as adults in the faith, can fan the flames, by asking ourselves the question: "How am I bearing fruit?"
Friday, January 20, 2012
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