What follows is anything BUT a God thing – and not really in keeping with typical Express content – but I can’t pass up the chance to tell you about it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A local grocery store chain's latest sales circular trumpets a new “fuel rewards” program, by which we can “Save on Gas!” at their stores' pumps. It will not surprise you that an asterisk rises above the exclamation point. The small print reference at the bottom of the ad produces the following math:
If a customer spends $50 on groceries and then buys at least 10 gallons of fuel (about $40...until tomorrow), he or she will receive...wait for it... $0.50 off the cost of the gas!
Fifty cents. Not ten or twenty – They wouldn’t think of minimizing their customers like that.
And not one of those meager thirty or forty cent discounts – Such reductions are for amateurs.
Fifty – that’s right, fifty – whole, complete cents. You save more than one-half of one percent when you fuel up.
Three bags of groceries: $50.
Ten gallons of gas: $40.
Saving $0.50 on your $90 trip to the grocery store: Cents-less.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
No prayer. This kind of thing doesn’t have one.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
God Things - Act III
Act III of our play begins with Shari’s atypical appearance Thursday afternoon on the stage of our church as she returned from a medical test (usually she’d be at her workplace). It is she who greets the twenty-something year-old woman who enters the building looking for communications assistance because her vehicle is sputtering on the verge of an empty gas tank.
By phone the woman attempts to reach by a couple of family members, to her dismay connecting only with their voice mail. The second message she leaves is plaintive understatement: “Not having a very good day today. Talk to you later.”
The three of us end up seated in the office, forming something of a triangle of concern about whether she could make it back home to her three children. It’s not long before it’s obvious that the woman’s sojourn into our company is no happenstance, but rather a new expression of God’s gathering confidence in our capacity and desire to move beyond our walls and into the lives of people for whose needs, in the past, our attention to self would have precluded active concern.
As in the previous acts of this divine production, I will not sedate you with details of the hour-plus the three of us shared. Again what matters is the day’s rousing conclusion.
We respond to the woman’s need by offering a gift sufficient for gas to get her home and to her own resources. But before the small but useful financial transaction, comes a touching, enlightening, hopeful conversation about kids and faith and spiritual hunger. By the end of our conversation she commits herself and her kids to join us Sunday morning, telling us, “I don’t know what made me stop here. I thought about going to that other church next door, but something told me to drive in here.”
We tell her that her decision is a God thing. Shari happened to be there, allowing the young mom to meet her kids’ prospective Sunday school teacher, and giving witness to our congregation’s informal Sunday morning dress code. The woman's inability to reach her family members opened the door for our church’s participation in her life. And we still had available a copy of our latest church newsletter, an issue in which my column is about our efforts to reach people not currently connected with the church.... A God thing.
The woman drives away smiling, confident that she will make it home and encouraged that she and her kids, at least one of whom has been actively hounding her mom to get connected to a church, will be learning and worshiping this weekend.
So yet again God has opened gates that for so long our church has kept closed, even barricaded – gates into acts of service and provision for people in need; gates into conversations about how a relationship with Jesus changes your life and frees you to care about others. For the third time in seven days, God presented us an opportunity to demonstrate the legitimacy of the claims of those vision words our board discussed last week: meeting needs, healing wounds, and connecting people to Jesus. And for the third time in a week we accepted the offer.
Today’s encounter reaffirmed an important lesson for our and any other church wanting to escape the imprisonment of its dying ways: First meet people at their point of need, then talk faith and church.
He did it that way, of course. Jesus instructed people to praise God only after giving them cause – via restored sight, healed limbs, or exorcised demons, for example. Can you think of a time when Jesus preached without also providing? He knew that meeting needs created credibility. He knew that helping people overcome their circumstances opened ears, hearts, and minds. He knew that tangible deliveries of God’s goodness produced optimum conditions for receipt of spiritual truth.
Meet needs. Heal wounds. Show concern. Establish trust. Practice what you preach. Open doors. Be the Jesus you claim. THEN offer a connection.
Three times in the last seven day that sequence has worked, to our exuberant delight; it a far cry from our previous mantra: “Wait for people to come. Hope they fit in. Feel bad when they don’t. Wait for the next one.” Three times God has said here’s a chance for you to show me you’re serious, and we have been.
As the woman drove away, my spirit considered crying out, “Enough already! We get it! Bless someone else for a while.” That craziness lasted only an instant, however, when I remembered we are always only a breath away from the wilderness. God, I cried, keep doing your thing.
Here ends the most blessed Express trilogy yet. Blessed, not because of its literary merit, theological prowess, or spiritual maturity, but because each piece testifies to hope and new life – witness of which not long ago I was not capable.
At the first of this year I was lost on a cynical, desperately pessimistic sea. My creativity was stymied. My vision was blocked. My heart had withered. My hope was gone. I was playing out a string and considering options for a second career. By ‘08's dawning, I had given up: on myself, my calling, and the congregation I served. Oh, I was still trying. I hadn’t stopped writing sermons, making hospital calls, or caring about our people. But I had stopped believing. More than once I confronted God, demanding an explanation for the two decades-plus I had wasted in a ministry that, to my broken perspective, was a mistake, or, more cruelly, a divine but mean-spirited practical joke on me.
Things have changed. Much to my surprise and praise, I have found new reason for my and our season. Sure, we will still doubt and wander through scary valleys. Further, I can’t imagine that the next seven days will hold a candle to those that just ended.
But that’s okay. For we have seen things, felt things, acted in response to things, and cried in praise to the one who provided those things...all those God things.
Pray with me:
God, for all your magnificent and undeserved productions of grace, we say thanks...and just know that we’re in line ready for the previews of your next show. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
By phone the woman attempts to reach by a couple of family members, to her dismay connecting only with their voice mail. The second message she leaves is plaintive understatement: “Not having a very good day today. Talk to you later.”
The three of us end up seated in the office, forming something of a triangle of concern about whether she could make it back home to her three children. It’s not long before it’s obvious that the woman’s sojourn into our company is no happenstance, but rather a new expression of God’s gathering confidence in our capacity and desire to move beyond our walls and into the lives of people for whose needs, in the past, our attention to self would have precluded active concern.
As in the previous acts of this divine production, I will not sedate you with details of the hour-plus the three of us shared. Again what matters is the day’s rousing conclusion.
We respond to the woman’s need by offering a gift sufficient for gas to get her home and to her own resources. But before the small but useful financial transaction, comes a touching, enlightening, hopeful conversation about kids and faith and spiritual hunger. By the end of our conversation she commits herself and her kids to join us Sunday morning, telling us, “I don’t know what made me stop here. I thought about going to that other church next door, but something told me to drive in here.”
We tell her that her decision is a God thing. Shari happened to be there, allowing the young mom to meet her kids’ prospective Sunday school teacher, and giving witness to our congregation’s informal Sunday morning dress code. The woman's inability to reach her family members opened the door for our church’s participation in her life. And we still had available a copy of our latest church newsletter, an issue in which my column is about our efforts to reach people not currently connected with the church.... A God thing.
The woman drives away smiling, confident that she will make it home and encouraged that she and her kids, at least one of whom has been actively hounding her mom to get connected to a church, will be learning and worshiping this weekend.
So yet again God has opened gates that for so long our church has kept closed, even barricaded – gates into acts of service and provision for people in need; gates into conversations about how a relationship with Jesus changes your life and frees you to care about others. For the third time in seven days, God presented us an opportunity to demonstrate the legitimacy of the claims of those vision words our board discussed last week: meeting needs, healing wounds, and connecting people to Jesus. And for the third time in a week we accepted the offer.
Today’s encounter reaffirmed an important lesson for our and any other church wanting to escape the imprisonment of its dying ways: First meet people at their point of need, then talk faith and church.
- Remember Teresa, the woman with epilepsy, whose house needs organizational help? She was quite open and anxious to talk about faith, but we piqued her interest by engaging the wounds of her life.
- How about the three siblings whose mother’s funeral was the core of “God Things, Act II”? Some or all of them and their families now expect to join us for worship this weekend, but their interest in our community arose because one of our followers of Jesus joined them at a funeral home, stood with them at a grave side, and journeyed with them through the valley of the shadow of death.
- Finally, Thursday’s spiritual traveler drove onto our premises, likely well aware of her spiritual needs. But our willingness to add to the few fumes in her vehicle’s gas tank fueled the trust necessary to share her heart with us.
He did it that way, of course. Jesus instructed people to praise God only after giving them cause – via restored sight, healed limbs, or exorcised demons, for example. Can you think of a time when Jesus preached without also providing? He knew that meeting needs created credibility. He knew that helping people overcome their circumstances opened ears, hearts, and minds. He knew that tangible deliveries of God’s goodness produced optimum conditions for receipt of spiritual truth.
Meet needs. Heal wounds. Show concern. Establish trust. Practice what you preach. Open doors. Be the Jesus you claim. THEN offer a connection.
Three times in the last seven day that sequence has worked, to our exuberant delight; it a far cry from our previous mantra: “Wait for people to come. Hope they fit in. Feel bad when they don’t. Wait for the next one.” Three times God has said here’s a chance for you to show me you’re serious, and we have been.
As the woman drove away, my spirit considered crying out, “Enough already! We get it! Bless someone else for a while.” That craziness lasted only an instant, however, when I remembered we are always only a breath away from the wilderness. God, I cried, keep doing your thing.
Here ends the most blessed Express trilogy yet. Blessed, not because of its literary merit, theological prowess, or spiritual maturity, but because each piece testifies to hope and new life – witness of which not long ago I was not capable.
At the first of this year I was lost on a cynical, desperately pessimistic sea. My creativity was stymied. My vision was blocked. My heart had withered. My hope was gone. I was playing out a string and considering options for a second career. By ‘08's dawning, I had given up: on myself, my calling, and the congregation I served. Oh, I was still trying. I hadn’t stopped writing sermons, making hospital calls, or caring about our people. But I had stopped believing. More than once I confronted God, demanding an explanation for the two decades-plus I had wasted in a ministry that, to my broken perspective, was a mistake, or, more cruelly, a divine but mean-spirited practical joke on me.
Things have changed. Much to my surprise and praise, I have found new reason for my and our season. Sure, we will still doubt and wander through scary valleys. Further, I can’t imagine that the next seven days will hold a candle to those that just ended.
But that’s okay. For we have seen things, felt things, acted in response to things, and cried in praise to the one who provided those things...all those God things.
Pray with me:
God, for all your magnificent and undeserved productions of grace, we say thanks...and just know that we’re in line ready for the previews of your next show. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
God Things - Act II
As described in the previous entry, early Monday morning I spoke with a lady named Teresa, whom God had led into our congregation’s path, whose needs we are able and willing to meet.
In Monday’s late morning I met with the three daughters of a woman whose funeral I will conduct on Wednesday. The getting-to-know-you sessions I hold prior to writing funerals have a predictable rhythm to them, so for most of our first hour together, I got what I expected and needed to create an experience for the gathered mourners, but little else. Following the prayer with which we closed our formal session, however, things changed...and so did I.
“I have a question about your services,” said the youngest of the three daughters, a thirty-something mother of one, who owns a poignant personal story. I thought she was going to ask how much they should pay me for the funeral – the objective of similar questions others have asked – but it turned out she really wanted to know about our church.
I could tell you everything she, and eventually her siblings, asked about, but that would quickly grow tiresome, so it will suffice to say she was a seeker...in our church building, a seeker! [A "seeker" is a spiritually hungry person who claims no particular loyalty to or heritage in a specific congregation, denomination, or faith tradition.]
If you read this from afar, you may wonder about the exclamation point. It’s there because we don’t get seekers in our church. Seekers are usually young, selective, and dismissive of older congregations such as ours. Seekers prefer an eclectic menu of options for themselves and their kids. Seekers lean toward live bands and large auditoriums, not the recorded accompaniment tracks and A-frame sanctuaries that churches such as ours offer.
When I tell you we don’t get seekers, I mean we don’t even see seekers! It’s as if we have a neon sign flashing in the front yard: “Warning: No Seeking!” It’s as if a spiritual search animates otherwise-dormant enzymes that equip seekers to sense when a trip onto a particular congregation’s premises won’t be worth the effort. It’s as if God leads people away from churches like ours because God knows that for them we’re not a good match.
But there they were, three seekers sitting five feet from me, asking about our church, telling about their past – and not always positive – church experiences, wondering whether it would be worth their effort to disregard our flashing neon no-seeking sign.
I label this conversation as the second act in a “God Things” play because for several years many in our congregation, including myself, have believed we weren’t ready or even capable to receive (i.e. serve) the people we claimed to seek. We have interpreted our failure to connect with the unconnected as a sign of God’s verdict against our approach to people and ministry. But as Monday morning became Monday afternoon I experienced potent evidence of that verdict’s apparent nullification.
We can reach people we haven’t reached before. We can speak the words they need, offer the hope they crave, embody the encouragement they seek, and be the Body of Jesus that just might connect them to the power they – and we – so desperately need.
This piece is terribly provincial, I fear. Many who read this blog aren’t part of our congregation, and hence won’t feel much claim to the exuberance I’m trying to express. But you who live beyond the shelter of our particular church do know what it’s like to cry out for God, to implore God to be obvious in your life, to offer reassuring evidence of God’s permanent and passionate presence in your struggles. You know, regardless of the seat from which you view this post's action, how urgent can be our need for divine intervention, and how broadly our spirits can smile when that intervention becomes obvious....Welcome to our province.
My spirit smiles because of what God is doing in the life of our particular congregation; I hope our story offers you and your congregation (if you claim one) encouragement. If you or your church has a story of your own “God Thing,” tell us about it in a comment, or, if you want to give it a larger treatment, send it to me for inclusion in the Express as regular posting. If you’re still waiting for your God thing performance to begin, tell us about your wait (remember those anonymous comments); we will hold you in prayer.
And in case you’re not yet satisfied with the God thing currently on display, one final scene from Act 2:
During my conversation with the lady’s three daughters, one of them noted her understanding that her son’s grandmother had once attended our church. She first gave me the name of the grandmother, which I recognized, and then her son, whose last name I needed to connect the dots to a photo I believed I had in my office, a picture of the grandmother and grandson taken 10-12 years ago.
“Before you leave today, let me see if I can find that picture,” I asked, thinking I knew where to find it.
As they prepared to exit the building, I went into my office, quickly found the desired photo, then offered it to the broadly-smiling mother of the grandson, she by then wearing wide and moistened eyes, not owning any pictures pairing those two.
The God thing in that picture’s transfer was that I knew exactly where to find it. Amidst the calamity which is my office (hard as it will be for people who know me to believe, I am not the most organized person in the world), the picture I gave away Monday lay exactly where it had lain for the last many months: on the floor, near the corner of my desk I navigate daily to find my chair. The photo had been there for months – face up, a small obstacle over which I had stepped countless times – offering a daily visual reminder of two people who used to call our church home.
Now you might think I hadn’t picked that photo up because I was messy. You might call it nothing more than good fortune that it was the only one whose whereabouts I could have reported with any certainty as the daughter talked about her son’s grandmother. Or, you might devise your own explanation for how it was I knew just where to find the perfect send-off gift for this family of seekers (as in the people we’re trying to reach, but never even see). Go ahead. But I know better.
It was a God thing!
Pray with me:
God, keep moving. Keep acting. Keep speaking. Keep loving. Keep surrounding. Keep shouting. Keep delivering. And then welcome the praise as we sing, “God thing, you make my heart sing....” In the name of Jesus, Amen.
In Monday’s late morning I met with the three daughters of a woman whose funeral I will conduct on Wednesday. The getting-to-know-you sessions I hold prior to writing funerals have a predictable rhythm to them, so for most of our first hour together, I got what I expected and needed to create an experience for the gathered mourners, but little else. Following the prayer with which we closed our formal session, however, things changed...and so did I.
“I have a question about your services,” said the youngest of the three daughters, a thirty-something mother of one, who owns a poignant personal story. I thought she was going to ask how much they should pay me for the funeral – the objective of similar questions others have asked – but it turned out she really wanted to know about our church.
I could tell you everything she, and eventually her siblings, asked about, but that would quickly grow tiresome, so it will suffice to say she was a seeker...in our church building, a seeker! [A "seeker" is a spiritually hungry person who claims no particular loyalty to or heritage in a specific congregation, denomination, or faith tradition.]
If you read this from afar, you may wonder about the exclamation point. It’s there because we don’t get seekers in our church. Seekers are usually young, selective, and dismissive of older congregations such as ours. Seekers prefer an eclectic menu of options for themselves and their kids. Seekers lean toward live bands and large auditoriums, not the recorded accompaniment tracks and A-frame sanctuaries that churches such as ours offer.
When I tell you we don’t get seekers, I mean we don’t even see seekers! It’s as if we have a neon sign flashing in the front yard: “Warning: No Seeking!” It’s as if a spiritual search animates otherwise-dormant enzymes that equip seekers to sense when a trip onto a particular congregation’s premises won’t be worth the effort. It’s as if God leads people away from churches like ours because God knows that for them we’re not a good match.
But there they were, three seekers sitting five feet from me, asking about our church, telling about their past – and not always positive – church experiences, wondering whether it would be worth their effort to disregard our flashing neon no-seeking sign.
I label this conversation as the second act in a “God Things” play because for several years many in our congregation, including myself, have believed we weren’t ready or even capable to receive (i.e. serve) the people we claimed to seek. We have interpreted our failure to connect with the unconnected as a sign of God’s verdict against our approach to people and ministry. But as Monday morning became Monday afternoon I experienced potent evidence of that verdict’s apparent nullification.
We can reach people we haven’t reached before. We can speak the words they need, offer the hope they crave, embody the encouragement they seek, and be the Body of Jesus that just might connect them to the power they – and we – so desperately need.
This piece is terribly provincial, I fear. Many who read this blog aren’t part of our congregation, and hence won’t feel much claim to the exuberance I’m trying to express. But you who live beyond the shelter of our particular church do know what it’s like to cry out for God, to implore God to be obvious in your life, to offer reassuring evidence of God’s permanent and passionate presence in your struggles. You know, regardless of the seat from which you view this post's action, how urgent can be our need for divine intervention, and how broadly our spirits can smile when that intervention becomes obvious....Welcome to our province.
My spirit smiles because of what God is doing in the life of our particular congregation; I hope our story offers you and your congregation (if you claim one) encouragement. If you or your church has a story of your own “God Thing,” tell us about it in a comment, or, if you want to give it a larger treatment, send it to me for inclusion in the Express as regular posting. If you’re still waiting for your God thing performance to begin, tell us about your wait (remember those anonymous comments); we will hold you in prayer.
And in case you’re not yet satisfied with the God thing currently on display, one final scene from Act 2:
During my conversation with the lady’s three daughters, one of them noted her understanding that her son’s grandmother had once attended our church. She first gave me the name of the grandmother, which I recognized, and then her son, whose last name I needed to connect the dots to a photo I believed I had in my office, a picture of the grandmother and grandson taken 10-12 years ago.
“Before you leave today, let me see if I can find that picture,” I asked, thinking I knew where to find it.
As they prepared to exit the building, I went into my office, quickly found the desired photo, then offered it to the broadly-smiling mother of the grandson, she by then wearing wide and moistened eyes, not owning any pictures pairing those two.
The God thing in that picture’s transfer was that I knew exactly where to find it. Amidst the calamity which is my office (hard as it will be for people who know me to believe, I am not the most organized person in the world), the picture I gave away Monday lay exactly where it had lain for the last many months: on the floor, near the corner of my desk I navigate daily to find my chair. The photo had been there for months – face up, a small obstacle over which I had stepped countless times – offering a daily visual reminder of two people who used to call our church home.
Now you might think I hadn’t picked that photo up because I was messy. You might call it nothing more than good fortune that it was the only one whose whereabouts I could have reported with any certainty as the daughter talked about her son’s grandmother. Or, you might devise your own explanation for how it was I knew just where to find the perfect send-off gift for this family of seekers (as in the people we’re trying to reach, but never even see). Go ahead. But I know better.
It was a God thing!
Pray with me:
God, keep moving. Keep acting. Keep speaking. Keep loving. Keep surrounding. Keep shouting. Keep delivering. And then welcome the praise as we sing, “God thing, you make my heart sing....” In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Monday, May 19, 2008
God Things - Act I
Three or four months ago, a woman spoke to me in the produce aisle of a local Wal Mart. She had seen and appreciated one of the short reflection pieces I regularly record for the Quad Cities’ ABC affiliate television station. Her gesture of mega-mart recognition prompted a subsequent broadcast reflection in which I spoke of our encounter and fame’s fleeting fortunes. End of story, I thought.
Last Friday that same woman - named Teresa - called our church office, responding to my “First Christian Church. This is Bill Coley,” with “Hi, Bill Coley. I’m the person you met in Wal Mart.” She told me she had seen the follow-up reflection – which just happened to have aired on her birthday – as well as the one from the most recent week that encouraged acknowledgment of personal fault, weakness, and need. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe it’s time for me to acknowledge my need,” she said.
She then told me about an accident some years ago in which a horse kicked her in the head, a concussive injury that resulted in the disabling condition known as “temporal lobe epilepsy.” Details aren’t necessary here, except to say that among its aftershocks is that she needs some help organizing her home...so, the call to us.
Do you see the God thing here? Teresa – who spends most of her time in Rome (Italy)! – happens to be up at 2:06 a.m. in her home in Milan (Illinois!) to see one of the recorded reflections, then runs into me among a grocery store’s vegetables. Our brief conversation produces (look closely, or you’ll miss the cleverness) another reflection, which she sees on her birthday. Connection made, she then views a third recording, one that encourages her at her point of need, in response to which she decides to call for help.
That’s a great big God thing.
Last week our board gave favorable first reactions to new language to describe the vision of our church, a word picture that describes the kind of church we believe God is calling us to be. The language says, “We will be a caring community of hope and encouragement that meets needs, heals wounds, and connects people to Jesus.” Two days after the board meeting, Teresa called. Two days after her call, eight people from our church signed up to be part of a ministry team that will assist Teresa in her organization.
We cared. We encouraged. We will meet a need. Vision will become reality. That’s a God thing.
Today I called Teresa with news of the team’s formation. She labeled this entire journey, from first reflection viewing to ministry team creation, a “miracle,” a.k.a. a God thing.
God blew me away today, not only because our and Teresa’s paths again crossed, but because in the afternoon... well, that’s a story best told in act II. For now, I close with encouragement. God wants to blow you away. God wants to show you grace, give you mercy, provide you hope, and make big, bold splashes in your life. I can’t know what those incursions will look like for you, but today’s act of the long-running play, “God Things,” offers at least two possible directions from which they might arrive: either to you, at your point of need; or through you, as God’s response to another’s need. Or, most likely, both.
Don’t close your eyes or your heart. God’s play is too good to miss.
Pray with me:
Thanks for allowing my life (our lives) to be your holy and remarkable playground. You are awesome beyond our words, but, hallelujah, not beyond our reach. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
- - - - - - - - -
p.s. Please check in occasionally with the comments section of the entry called "A Relationship by Any Other Name," which immediately follows this one. As of this item's posting, two well done comments have been offered; others are welcomed (dare I say, expected?) Keep the conversation going!
Last Friday that same woman - named Teresa - called our church office, responding to my “First Christian Church. This is Bill Coley,” with “Hi, Bill Coley. I’m the person you met in Wal Mart.” She told me she had seen the follow-up reflection – which just happened to have aired on her birthday – as well as the one from the most recent week that encouraged acknowledgment of personal fault, weakness, and need. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe it’s time for me to acknowledge my need,” she said.
She then told me about an accident some years ago in which a horse kicked her in the head, a concussive injury that resulted in the disabling condition known as “temporal lobe epilepsy.” Details aren’t necessary here, except to say that among its aftershocks is that she needs some help organizing her home...so, the call to us.
Do you see the God thing here? Teresa – who spends most of her time in Rome (Italy)! – happens to be up at 2:06 a.m. in her home in Milan (Illinois!) to see one of the recorded reflections, then runs into me among a grocery store’s vegetables. Our brief conversation produces (look closely, or you’ll miss the cleverness) another reflection, which she sees on her birthday. Connection made, she then views a third recording, one that encourages her at her point of need, in response to which she decides to call for help.
That’s a great big God thing.
Last week our board gave favorable first reactions to new language to describe the vision of our church, a word picture that describes the kind of church we believe God is calling us to be. The language says, “We will be a caring community of hope and encouragement that meets needs, heals wounds, and connects people to Jesus.” Two days after the board meeting, Teresa called. Two days after her call, eight people from our church signed up to be part of a ministry team that will assist Teresa in her organization.
We cared. We encouraged. We will meet a need. Vision will become reality. That’s a God thing.
Today I called Teresa with news of the team’s formation. She labeled this entire journey, from first reflection viewing to ministry team creation, a “miracle,” a.k.a. a God thing.
God blew me away today, not only because our and Teresa’s paths again crossed, but because in the afternoon... well, that’s a story best told in act II. For now, I close with encouragement. God wants to blow you away. God wants to show you grace, give you mercy, provide you hope, and make big, bold splashes in your life. I can’t know what those incursions will look like for you, but today’s act of the long-running play, “God Things,” offers at least two possible directions from which they might arrive: either to you, at your point of need; or through you, as God’s response to another’s need. Or, most likely, both.
Don’t close your eyes or your heart. God’s play is too good to miss.
Pray with me:
Thanks for allowing my life (our lives) to be your holy and remarkable playground. You are awesome beyond our words, but, hallelujah, not beyond our reach. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
- - - - - - - - -
p.s. Please check in occasionally with the comments section of the entry called "A Relationship by Any Other Name," which immediately follows this one. As of this item's posting, two well done comments have been offered; others are welcomed (dare I say, expected?) Keep the conversation going!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
A Relationship by Any Other Name
Last week the California Supreme Court ruled unconstitutional state statutes that prohibit same-sex couple relationships from being called “marriages.” The decision basically says that the California state constitution provides equal protection for people, whatever their sexual orientation, and hence for couples, whatever their make-up. Granting the term “marriage” to opposite-sex couples, but not to same-sex couples, violates the equal protection clause, and risks second tier status to those couples, a result that cannot be tolerated without it being in the “compelling and necessary” interests of the state. Since the court could find no “compelling and necessary” reasons to prohibit same-sex relationships from being called “marriages,” it ruled the state laws unconstitutional.
I hope I didn’t bore or lose you in that summary...well, perhaps I hope I did bore you, because it might help make the point that the California ruling, however much bluster it generated from pundits and partisans, focused on just one piece of the gay marriage controversy: Can a state such as California, which grants extensive legal protections to so-called “domestic partnerships,” refuse same-sex couples a specific title to their relationship? Is it constitutional in the Golden State for one group to “marry,” while another group may only “partner”?
[If you're curious, a link to the court's opinion is below the prayer that concludes this piece. It's long and tedious, so I recommend that you stick to the first 12 pages, which comprise the opinion's summary.]
This week’s decision was about the name attached to the relationship between two persons united in a committed, covenantal relationship. It was not about whether gay marriage is constitutional.
Which suited most of the religious folk engaged on this issue just fine, because they don’t want to argue about a name or a constitution, anyway. They want to contend over whether gay marriage is “right,” “moral,” or “biblical.” Do you? I am genuinely curious; do you? Or better, how do you?
I thought I would write a piece dissecting the gay marriage issue from a spiritual/theological/biblical perspective – and I probably still will – but when I read the California court’s opinion summary, I was so taken by their avoidance of the issue people really care about, I decided to change course.
As a person of faith – if you believe yourself so to be – what do you think about gay marriage? Don’t tell us whether you think it’s lawful or constitutional or enforceable or practical; tell us, in a comment, how you address the “right or wrong,” “moral or immoral,” “biblical or unbiblical” questions. You may not know for sure; fine. Then tell us the issues that matter to you, the questions for which you wish you had better responses. Tell us the one question about gay marriage you would ask Jesus, since in the Gospels he says nothing about either the specific subject or the broader issue of homosexuality.
Using your comments as guidance, I will fashion a future Express piece on the subject of gay marriage, which, no doubt, will prompt other comments, and more Express pieces, which will produce more.... [Please remember that anonymous comments are truly that, anonymous, and are also valued here; remember also that you are free to post more than once – perhaps as a new thought, or in response to another’s entry.]
I don’t know how most of the people who read this blog think about gay marriage. Here’s my (and your) chance to find out, as well as your chance to foster dialogue. I await and anticipate your response.
Pray with me:
God, some subjects we deal with in society are really hard; some, like this one, sometimes seem impossible. Give us wisdom and discernment as we reflect, and kindness and self-control as we respond to each other. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
- - - - - - - - - - -
P.S. Here’s the link to the California Supreme Court ruling (you'll have to paste it into your browser's address window):
http://www.courtinfo.ca.gov/opinions/documents/S147999.PDF
I hope I didn’t bore or lose you in that summary...well, perhaps I hope I did bore you, because it might help make the point that the California ruling, however much bluster it generated from pundits and partisans, focused on just one piece of the gay marriage controversy: Can a state such as California, which grants extensive legal protections to so-called “domestic partnerships,” refuse same-sex couples a specific title to their relationship? Is it constitutional in the Golden State for one group to “marry,” while another group may only “partner”?
[If you're curious, a link to the court's opinion is below the prayer that concludes this piece. It's long and tedious, so I recommend that you stick to the first 12 pages, which comprise the opinion's summary.]
This week’s decision was about the name attached to the relationship between two persons united in a committed, covenantal relationship. It was not about whether gay marriage is constitutional.
Which suited most of the religious folk engaged on this issue just fine, because they don’t want to argue about a name or a constitution, anyway. They want to contend over whether gay marriage is “right,” “moral,” or “biblical.” Do you? I am genuinely curious; do you? Or better, how do you?
I thought I would write a piece dissecting the gay marriage issue from a spiritual/theological/biblical perspective – and I probably still will – but when I read the California court’s opinion summary, I was so taken by their avoidance of the issue people really care about, I decided to change course.
As a person of faith – if you believe yourself so to be – what do you think about gay marriage? Don’t tell us whether you think it’s lawful or constitutional or enforceable or practical; tell us, in a comment, how you address the “right or wrong,” “moral or immoral,” “biblical or unbiblical” questions. You may not know for sure; fine. Then tell us the issues that matter to you, the questions for which you wish you had better responses. Tell us the one question about gay marriage you would ask Jesus, since in the Gospels he says nothing about either the specific subject or the broader issue of homosexuality.
Using your comments as guidance, I will fashion a future Express piece on the subject of gay marriage, which, no doubt, will prompt other comments, and more Express pieces, which will produce more.... [Please remember that anonymous comments are truly that, anonymous, and are also valued here; remember also that you are free to post more than once – perhaps as a new thought, or in response to another’s entry.]
I don’t know how most of the people who read this blog think about gay marriage. Here’s my (and your) chance to find out, as well as your chance to foster dialogue. I await and anticipate your response.
Pray with me:
God, some subjects we deal with in society are really hard; some, like this one, sometimes seem impossible. Give us wisdom and discernment as we reflect, and kindness and self-control as we respond to each other. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
- - - - - - - - - - -
P.S. Here’s the link to the California Supreme Court ruling (you'll have to paste it into your browser's address window):
http://www.courtinfo.ca.gov/opinions/documents/S147999.PDF
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Many Election Returns
For a partisan politico such as myself, it’s a tough confession to make, but there isn’t much to like about the way we evaluate presidential candidates in things called primaries, caucuses, and general elections.
Opposition campaign operations staffed for instant response to the slightest misstatement. Searing media scrutiny of every word uttered, stand taken, promise made, and relationship considered.
Cameras, tape recorders, and reporters’ notebooks witness much, and tell few lies. Hence, candidates’ long-forgotten, sometimes innocent and off-handed remarks, made with benign intent years ago, lie like shackled goblins, waiting for search engine liberation, so as to damage reputations, question sincerity, and, in the modern lingo, dominate the next few news cycles.
Consider Hillary Clinton’s recent run-in with herself over a trip to Bosnia she made as First Lady. At several campaign stops earlier this year she described the overseas landing as a harrowing experience, an encounter shrouded in the fog of civil war and the danger of significant sniper fire.... The problem for Senator Clinton was that it didn’t happen that way...at all. How do we know? Someone checked the video vault, and there found recorded images of a peaceful, serene setting, more like “The Sound of Music” than the sound of gunfire.
It was instant fodder for late night comedians and her political opponents. The controversy drowned out any conversation she may have planned to start about health care, the economy, or the war in Iraq. It was just about the dumbest political move a candidate has made in recent memory. Come on, didn’t anyone notice the snapshots they took of the sweet smiling, gift-bearing children who greeted the entourage? Weren’t the kids a bit of a hint?
It was false. It was stupid. But did it prove a flawed character? Did it show that she was so arrogantly conniving that she believed no one would notice if she just made something up to impress campaign crowds? You’d think so, given the tenor of the media’s attention. You’d think she was a pathetic, as well as a pathological, liar.
This example is not intended to advocate for Senator Clinton, for she, too, has contributed to the superficiality of modern campaigns: Witness the week she used earlier this year to call attention to the presidential aspirations Barack Obama announced...in fifth grade!
You are entitled to your own assessment of politicians’ statements, but those I’ve cited here alert me to the failure of modern political processes in which we judge prospective leaders on the basis a sound byte or a slip-up, rather than the clarity of their vision or the practicality of their ideas.
Why do we do it? Because it’s easy. Our work as loyal citizens is much less taxing if we can decide about a candidate on the basis the instant or the obvious. We don’t have time for, let alone interest in, reflective analyses or “in his/her shoes” sensitivity sessions. So, we take the easy road, which so often proves to be the low road.
You may doubt the following turn, but when I think about our scouring of candidates and the campaigns they wage, I think about the woman caught in adultery, whose execution – just moments away – is scuttled by Jesus’ gentle insistence that the executioners take a second look at the case; this time, at themselves.
The woman had broken the law – to society’s instant-read legal thermometer, she deserved death – but Jesus refused to allow such cursory examinations. He asked the judges to hear from one more witness – themselves – before passing sentence. Upon further review, the judges became the judged, complex and complicit characters who were at least equally condemnable. Stones and outrage dropped simultaneously as the jury of her “leers” abandoned the execution chamber. The surprise pardon permits Jesus to engage the person beneath the broken choices, and to point to the potential in spite of her past.
Consider Saul, the persecutor, the ambitious zealot against all things Christian, whom Jesus chose to plant some of the first churches on record. Upon initial review, no responsible authority would have deemed Saul worthy or capable of such a holy mission. But Jesus didn’t see his mistakes; he saw the man and his potential.
We need some form of this second chance, deeper look in our evaluation of political candidates. We have to expect more from those who seek our votes and donations, as well as from the managers who direct their campaigns and the media that cover them. We must refuse impulsive evaluations that depend on mistakes which are more casual than caustic, more benign than ballistic. Presidential candidates are human, let’s remember. As such, they will make ill-timed, ill-considered remarks; they will speak with lengthy, clumsy rhetoric that, when adroitly edited, can be made to say just about whatever an opponent wants it to say; and they will at times appear to contradict what they said at the last camera-ready campaign stop.
At the top of this piece I confessed my political partisanship. Make no mistake, as campaign 2008 unfolds, I will join with my allies in search of fodder for our battle against the other side. But as I hear the snippets and sound bytes, as I read the blog entries written by people who live on my side of the political fence, I trust I will remember the woman about to be stoned, whom accusers judged on first appearance, whom the crowd condemned without further review. I hope will assess ideas, not personalities, and value issues, not minutia. I pray I will carry only stones that have been polished and softened in the crucible of what actually matters.
Pray with me:
You have chosen me, God. That should be enough to convince me that first impressions aren’t always enough. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Opposition campaign operations staffed for instant response to the slightest misstatement. Searing media scrutiny of every word uttered, stand taken, promise made, and relationship considered.
Cameras, tape recorders, and reporters’ notebooks witness much, and tell few lies. Hence, candidates’ long-forgotten, sometimes innocent and off-handed remarks, made with benign intent years ago, lie like shackled goblins, waiting for search engine liberation, so as to damage reputations, question sincerity, and, in the modern lingo, dominate the next few news cycles.
Consider Hillary Clinton’s recent run-in with herself over a trip to Bosnia she made as First Lady. At several campaign stops earlier this year she described the overseas landing as a harrowing experience, an encounter shrouded in the fog of civil war and the danger of significant sniper fire.... The problem for Senator Clinton was that it didn’t happen that way...at all. How do we know? Someone checked the video vault, and there found recorded images of a peaceful, serene setting, more like “The Sound of Music” than the sound of gunfire.
It was instant fodder for late night comedians and her political opponents. The controversy drowned out any conversation she may have planned to start about health care, the economy, or the war in Iraq. It was just about the dumbest political move a candidate has made in recent memory. Come on, didn’t anyone notice the snapshots they took of the sweet smiling, gift-bearing children who greeted the entourage? Weren’t the kids a bit of a hint?
It was false. It was stupid. But did it prove a flawed character? Did it show that she was so arrogantly conniving that she believed no one would notice if she just made something up to impress campaign crowds? You’d think so, given the tenor of the media’s attention. You’d think she was a pathetic, as well as a pathological, liar.
This example is not intended to advocate for Senator Clinton, for she, too, has contributed to the superficiality of modern campaigns: Witness the week she used earlier this year to call attention to the presidential aspirations Barack Obama announced...in fifth grade!
You are entitled to your own assessment of politicians’ statements, but those I’ve cited here alert me to the failure of modern political processes in which we judge prospective leaders on the basis a sound byte or a slip-up, rather than the clarity of their vision or the practicality of their ideas.
Why do we do it? Because it’s easy. Our work as loyal citizens is much less taxing if we can decide about a candidate on the basis the instant or the obvious. We don’t have time for, let alone interest in, reflective analyses or “in his/her shoes” sensitivity sessions. So, we take the easy road, which so often proves to be the low road.
You may doubt the following turn, but when I think about our scouring of candidates and the campaigns they wage, I think about the woman caught in adultery, whose execution – just moments away – is scuttled by Jesus’ gentle insistence that the executioners take a second look at the case; this time, at themselves.
The woman had broken the law – to society’s instant-read legal thermometer, she deserved death – but Jesus refused to allow such cursory examinations. He asked the judges to hear from one more witness – themselves – before passing sentence. Upon further review, the judges became the judged, complex and complicit characters who were at least equally condemnable. Stones and outrage dropped simultaneously as the jury of her “leers” abandoned the execution chamber. The surprise pardon permits Jesus to engage the person beneath the broken choices, and to point to the potential in spite of her past.
Consider Saul, the persecutor, the ambitious zealot against all things Christian, whom Jesus chose to plant some of the first churches on record. Upon initial review, no responsible authority would have deemed Saul worthy or capable of such a holy mission. But Jesus didn’t see his mistakes; he saw the man and his potential.
We need some form of this second chance, deeper look in our evaluation of political candidates. We have to expect more from those who seek our votes and donations, as well as from the managers who direct their campaigns and the media that cover them. We must refuse impulsive evaluations that depend on mistakes which are more casual than caustic, more benign than ballistic. Presidential candidates are human, let’s remember. As such, they will make ill-timed, ill-considered remarks; they will speak with lengthy, clumsy rhetoric that, when adroitly edited, can be made to say just about whatever an opponent wants it to say; and they will at times appear to contradict what they said at the last camera-ready campaign stop.
At the top of this piece I confessed my political partisanship. Make no mistake, as campaign 2008 unfolds, I will join with my allies in search of fodder for our battle against the other side. But as I hear the snippets and sound bytes, as I read the blog entries written by people who live on my side of the political fence, I trust I will remember the woman about to be stoned, whom accusers judged on first appearance, whom the crowd condemned without further review. I hope will assess ideas, not personalities, and value issues, not minutia. I pray I will carry only stones that have been polished and softened in the crucible of what actually matters.
Pray with me:
You have chosen me, God. That should be enough to convince me that first impressions aren’t always enough. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Monday, May 5, 2008
It's Your Turn
Now that the Express has returned to the Net of the living, allow me to remind you of one of its valuable, though underused features: the comments link.
Below the horizontal line that lies directly beneath the prayers that close Express posts is a line of text which reports the time of the post’s arrival on the blog (left side), and a small envelope icon you can use to e-mail a link to that post (right side). In between the time report and the envelope icon is the comments link, which will always tell you how many comments have been posted to that piece. [Another way of knowing which posts have received comments is to review the list that is the third item down in the column on the left side of this Web page.]
You should click the comments link if either or both of the following are true:
1) The link reports one or more comments already posted –
YOU SHOULD READ WHAT OTHERS HAVE WRITTEN!
2) You have a comment, question, curiosity, objection, praise, protest, or random thought in reaction to my post and/or one or more of the comments –
YOU SHOULD SHARE IT WITH US!
Blogs are best when original posters initiate conversations, when readers react and by their posted reactions create a digital dialogue. However astute the blogger, his or her readers ALWAYS improve a blog by their comments, at times salvaging posts from the ash heap of irrelevance by the new avenues of reflections their reactions create. Peruse other blogs and I bet you’ll decide that the comments are often more interesting than the original post (of course, that will never be the case in this blog, but the general principle is worth noting, nonetheless).... [Hee. Hee.]
I pray that my words prompt you to think, perhaps even to grow. I hope that at least every now and then you read something here that contributes to your spiritual journey. But my greater hope is that when on the premises of the Express, you will find cause to contribute to our spiritual journeys via your comments.
You don’t have to agree with me or other commenters. You don’t have to be a “good writer.” You don’t have to stay on point. You don’t have to say anything profound. You don’t have to make sense. You don’t even have to identify yourself! Just tell us what's on your mind or in your heart. [Once you click the comments link you will find any previously posted comments, and a box in which to type your own response, if you desire. Below the box is a set of options that includes “Anonymous,” the use of which will assure you that no one – including me – will know your identity. If instead you click the “Name/URL” circle, a little box will open in which you can identify yourself - and even there you could use an alias!]
I find value in the Express; I hope you do, as well. I hope you will add value to the Express by using the comments link.
Blessings,
Bill
Below the horizontal line that lies directly beneath the prayers that close Express posts is a line of text which reports the time of the post’s arrival on the blog (left side), and a small envelope icon you can use to e-mail a link to that post (right side). In between the time report and the envelope icon is the comments link, which will always tell you how many comments have been posted to that piece. [Another way of knowing which posts have received comments is to review the list that is the third item down in the column on the left side of this Web page.]
You should click the comments link if either or both of the following are true:
1) The link reports one or more comments already posted –
YOU SHOULD READ WHAT OTHERS HAVE WRITTEN!
2) You have a comment, question, curiosity, objection, praise, protest, or random thought in reaction to my post and/or one or more of the comments –
YOU SHOULD SHARE IT WITH US!
Blogs are best when original posters initiate conversations, when readers react and by their posted reactions create a digital dialogue. However astute the blogger, his or her readers ALWAYS improve a blog by their comments, at times salvaging posts from the ash heap of irrelevance by the new avenues of reflections their reactions create. Peruse other blogs and I bet you’ll decide that the comments are often more interesting than the original post (of course, that will never be the case in this blog, but the general principle is worth noting, nonetheless).... [Hee. Hee.]
I pray that my words prompt you to think, perhaps even to grow. I hope that at least every now and then you read something here that contributes to your spiritual journey. But my greater hope is that when on the premises of the Express, you will find cause to contribute to our spiritual journeys via your comments.
You don’t have to agree with me or other commenters. You don’t have to be a “good writer.” You don’t have to stay on point. You don’t have to say anything profound. You don’t have to make sense. You don’t even have to identify yourself! Just tell us what's on your mind or in your heart. [Once you click the comments link you will find any previously posted comments, and a box in which to type your own response, if you desire. Below the box is a set of options that includes “Anonymous,” the use of which will assure you that no one – including me – will know your identity. If instead you click the “Name/URL” circle, a little box will open in which you can identify yourself - and even there you could use an alias!]
I find value in the Express; I hope you do, as well. I hope you will add value to the Express by using the comments link.
Blessings,
Bill
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Just Another Sunday
Well, today didn’t work out...the way I planned, at least.
My Saturday night run-through of the weekend’s sermon – the conclusion of a seven week series called “Jesus on the Rise, in which we sought evidence that Jesus had in fact risen from the dead, and was in fact still alive today – had produced palpable excitement in my spirit. This closer, Saturday’s final review persuaded me, hit high notes, encouraged people in their spiritual journeys, and continued the rebuilding of our congregation’s attitude following an extended period of self-imposed cynicism and doubt.
I went to bed Saturday night ready to preach. Man, I would have debuted the sermon at a minute past midnight had the congregation consented. I had convinced myself that it was going to be a magnificent Sunday at worship.
It wasn’t.... Well, more on that later.
Our Sundays begin with what we call church school. A few minutes before the start of the groups, it seemed only a couple of people were in the building. More participants arrived, but in toto, there just weren’t enough to herald the kind of worship attendance the morning’s sermon merited.
Neither did the worship crowd live up to my expectations. I thought we were going to set fire to the house today. I knew there was energy and optimism in the day’s proclamation to stir the most hardened of hearts. When I turned out Saturday’s lights early Sunday morning, I thought the walls of our worship center would need reinforcement by the time we celebrated communion, what with all the people who would show for the series’ conclusion. But when worship opened with our praise time – with which we had irritating and interrupting technical glitches, I’ll have you know – there just weren’t enough hearts in the house to stir my own.
And then there was the sermon. I swear it was the same one I had excitedly reviewed Saturday night. But Sunday morning it didn’t sound or feel the same. It didn’t have the same emotional sway, the anticipated rhetorical flourish, or the predicted swell effect in the room.
Oh, it generated some “Amens!” In fact, for a church like ours, the “Amen!” corner was considerably larger than...ever today. But I wanted more. I expected more.... Damn it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Childish, infantile, and senseless is this rant of mine, isn’t it?
Worship didn’t live up to my expectations, so I pout.
Our congregational response to God’s glory didn’t satisfy me, so I protest.
I didn’t get what I wanted, so I raise a fit.
Real nice, Bill.
This ever happened to you? Have unmet expectations ever disrupted more than their fair share of your spirit? Have you ever allowed the (un)-fulfillment of your predictions about someone or something to determine your experience? That’s what happened to me today. My heart was so set on what I thought was going to happen, that I didn’t let it happen. I was so convinced of the results of worship before it began, that I didn’t allow people to worship once it began. I was so certain that we’d achieve a certain vision of emotional and spiritual high, that no other result mattered. I set myself up, and paid for it.
Shari assured me that worship went well. The “Amens” were quite non-Disciple like. And there was at least one person who waited to come through the end-of-worship line who doesn’t usually do so.... Come to think of it, I would NEVER have expected that!
God is awesome and amazing. God is beyond our words or imagination. God is also not dependent on our plans or ambitions. The next time you dream, dream big; but remember Jesus’ great escape clause: Not my will, but yours be done.
Pray with me:
In all things, at all times, on every day and at the end of every excited evening, not my will, but yours. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
My Saturday night run-through of the weekend’s sermon – the conclusion of a seven week series called “Jesus on the Rise, in which we sought evidence that Jesus had in fact risen from the dead, and was in fact still alive today – had produced palpable excitement in my spirit. This closer, Saturday’s final review persuaded me, hit high notes, encouraged people in their spiritual journeys, and continued the rebuilding of our congregation’s attitude following an extended period of self-imposed cynicism and doubt.
I went to bed Saturday night ready to preach. Man, I would have debuted the sermon at a minute past midnight had the congregation consented. I had convinced myself that it was going to be a magnificent Sunday at worship.
It wasn’t.... Well, more on that later.
Our Sundays begin with what we call church school. A few minutes before the start of the groups, it seemed only a couple of people were in the building. More participants arrived, but in toto, there just weren’t enough to herald the kind of worship attendance the morning’s sermon merited.
Neither did the worship crowd live up to my expectations. I thought we were going to set fire to the house today. I knew there was energy and optimism in the day’s proclamation to stir the most hardened of hearts. When I turned out Saturday’s lights early Sunday morning, I thought the walls of our worship center would need reinforcement by the time we celebrated communion, what with all the people who would show for the series’ conclusion. But when worship opened with our praise time – with which we had irritating and interrupting technical glitches, I’ll have you know – there just weren’t enough hearts in the house to stir my own.
And then there was the sermon. I swear it was the same one I had excitedly reviewed Saturday night. But Sunday morning it didn’t sound or feel the same. It didn’t have the same emotional sway, the anticipated rhetorical flourish, or the predicted swell effect in the room.
Oh, it generated some “Amens!” In fact, for a church like ours, the “Amen!” corner was considerably larger than...ever today. But I wanted more. I expected more.... Damn it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Childish, infantile, and senseless is this rant of mine, isn’t it?
Worship didn’t live up to my expectations, so I pout.
Our congregational response to God’s glory didn’t satisfy me, so I protest.
I didn’t get what I wanted, so I raise a fit.
Real nice, Bill.
This ever happened to you? Have unmet expectations ever disrupted more than their fair share of your spirit? Have you ever allowed the (un)-fulfillment of your predictions about someone or something to determine your experience? That’s what happened to me today. My heart was so set on what I thought was going to happen, that I didn’t let it happen. I was so convinced of the results of worship before it began, that I didn’t allow people to worship once it began. I was so certain that we’d achieve a certain vision of emotional and spiritual high, that no other result mattered. I set myself up, and paid for it.
Shari assured me that worship went well. The “Amens” were quite non-Disciple like. And there was at least one person who waited to come through the end-of-worship line who doesn’t usually do so.... Come to think of it, I would NEVER have expected that!
God is awesome and amazing. God is beyond our words or imagination. God is also not dependent on our plans or ambitions. The next time you dream, dream big; but remember Jesus’ great escape clause: Not my will, but yours be done.
Pray with me:
In all things, at all times, on every day and at the end of every excited evening, not my will, but yours. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
The Day We Buried Kelton
It was a funeral unlike any I had ever attended, a service for a 21 year-old man named Kelton Trice, killed recently in an incident with an East Moline police officer.
Gathered in the church were more than 400 people, many in their teens and twenties, scores wearing t-shirts emblazoned with Kelton’s picture and varieties of accompanying artwork.
What I haven’t told you yet – what I wanted desperately to avoid telling you – is that Kelton was an African American, while the officer who killed him is Caucasian. For a moment I thought I could tell you about this funeral without reference to the mourners’ racial configuration, but I can’t, because it’s necessary to make my point. Nor can I avoid reporting the arrest warrant the police sought to serve on Trice the night he was killed, a warrant alleging his involvement in one or more armed robberies.
It’s such a complicated world.
In local papers, private conversations, and talk radio programs arose commentary about the shooting in which a bullet-proof vested police officer was injured. One comment that stuck with me came from a caller to an afternoon radio program. “He got what he deserved,” said the caller. “It’s too bad, but he got what he deserved.”
None among the throng of mourners would have agreed with the caller’s conclusion, of course. First, because no one would have cared to consider a circumstance in which their friend or family member deserved to die. But also because they were too busy crying, doubting, and wincing in emotional and spiritual pain, to analyze Kelton’s just desserts.
The pastor conducting the funeral invited other clergy to join him up front. From that vantage point I was moved by the room’s prevailing, pulsating agony-in-search-of-hope. The gathered – most younger than 30 – struggled openly with their loss. They knew what all of us know (but sometimes in our urge to protect social order and the rule of law won’t say): that whatever your reputation, however many or serious the warrants out for your arrest, you’re not supposed to die when you’re 21.
The mourners were, almost all, from a different race, and, in the main, from a different generation than I. We had little in common other than the meeting space we shared for the funeral’s duration.
We had little in common, but everything to gain from finding common ground. And that common ground is somehow rooted in our shared humanity.
I can’t identify or speak for the community that shaped – some would say corrupted – Kelton Trice. I don’t know what it’s like to be a police officer late at night facing gunfire in an unlit alley. But I do know what it’s like to cry when sad, to question when in doubt, and to hug when in need. So did every mourner. So does every police officer.
Shared humanity.
What I also know, what Jesus calls you and me to teach and tell, what some of those mourners and police people may not yet know, is how to connect to the one who tames angry seas and rides above storms, the one who lives in spite of the mystery, who raises us to new life, even when all we can do is cry, doubt, and hug.
Because there will more Keltons and their grieving friends, we who follow Jesus still have work to do.
Let’s pray:
Jesus came, taught, died, and now lives so that we could make it through funerals of friends and family, so that we could hold on to each other through life’s mysteries. Give us fresh evidence of the hope you offer, and boldness to find, encourage, and restore the aggrieved within our reach. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Gathered in the church were more than 400 people, many in their teens and twenties, scores wearing t-shirts emblazoned with Kelton’s picture and varieties of accompanying artwork.
What I haven’t told you yet – what I wanted desperately to avoid telling you – is that Kelton was an African American, while the officer who killed him is Caucasian. For a moment I thought I could tell you about this funeral without reference to the mourners’ racial configuration, but I can’t, because it’s necessary to make my point. Nor can I avoid reporting the arrest warrant the police sought to serve on Trice the night he was killed, a warrant alleging his involvement in one or more armed robberies.
It’s such a complicated world.
In local papers, private conversations, and talk radio programs arose commentary about the shooting in which a bullet-proof vested police officer was injured. One comment that stuck with me came from a caller to an afternoon radio program. “He got what he deserved,” said the caller. “It’s too bad, but he got what he deserved.”
None among the throng of mourners would have agreed with the caller’s conclusion, of course. First, because no one would have cared to consider a circumstance in which their friend or family member deserved to die. But also because they were too busy crying, doubting, and wincing in emotional and spiritual pain, to analyze Kelton’s just desserts.
The pastor conducting the funeral invited other clergy to join him up front. From that vantage point I was moved by the room’s prevailing, pulsating agony-in-search-of-hope. The gathered – most younger than 30 – struggled openly with their loss. They knew what all of us know (but sometimes in our urge to protect social order and the rule of law won’t say): that whatever your reputation, however many or serious the warrants out for your arrest, you’re not supposed to die when you’re 21.
The mourners were, almost all, from a different race, and, in the main, from a different generation than I. We had little in common other than the meeting space we shared for the funeral’s duration.
- They knew and loved Kelton; I knew him only because he was dead.
- Together, they formed something of a community of the aggrieved, the force of their union not hostility or rebellion, but passion and love. I felt only for them.
- They had questions about their world and the punishing losses it sometimes enforces. I have asked those questions.
- For the couple of minutes I spoke at the funeral, I testified to the incident’s mystery and the power of hope resident in friends, family, and a God who won’t let us go. Many in the room – but sadly, not all – had experienced hope’s personal and spiritual renovation.
- And at the end of the pastor’s sermon, when he asked whether there were people in the room who wanted something better in their lives, whether for any reason they wanted to change the path they were on, and somewhere between forty and sixty people stood up, I understood their decision because many have been the times when I felt the need for course correction.
I can’t identify or speak for the community that shaped – some would say corrupted – Kelton Trice. I don’t know what it’s like to be a police officer late at night facing gunfire in an unlit alley. But I do know what it’s like to cry when sad, to question when in doubt, and to hug when in need. So did every mourner. So does every police officer.
Shared humanity.
What I also know, what Jesus calls you and me to teach and tell, what some of those mourners and police people may not yet know, is how to connect to the one who tames angry seas and rides above storms, the one who lives in spite of the mystery, who raises us to new life, even when all we can do is cry, doubt, and hug.
Because there will more Keltons and their grieving friends, we who follow Jesus still have work to do.
Let’s pray:
Jesus came, taught, died, and now lives so that we could make it through funerals of friends and family, so that we could hold on to each other through life’s mysteries. Give us fresh evidence of the hope you offer, and boldness to find, encourage, and restore the aggrieved within our reach. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Of Third Cousins Thrice Removed
In this corner, Jeremiah Wright, retired pastor of the church home of Barack Obama, a principal contender for the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination. Pastor Wright has said the U.S. government created then injected the AIDS virus into people of color, and that the attacks of 9/11 were as much a product of American imperialism as Islamic fundamentalism.
And in the other corner, John Hagee, pastor of Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, Texas, whose endorsement John McCain, the presumptive Republican Party nominee, sought and accepted earlier this year. Pastor Hagee has linked the Catholic Church to the “great whore” mentioned in the book of Revelation, and said that Hurricane Katrina was God’s retribution for a gay pride parade held in New Orleans.
These two pastors have been in the news recently, not so much because of what they said, but because of whom they know. Yes, there was a significant outcry when each one’s comments became public, but absent association with a major public figure, neither would have stirred widespread attention.
Pastor Wright’s confrontational theology would have wandered off with him into the ministerial sunset had not one of his former parishioners been running for president. Pastor Hagee, a more public figure because of his television ministry, would have pursued his fundamentalist agenda in the protection of our beloved separation of church and state had a presidential contender not sought his political assistance.
As a result, we’re not talking about the substance or nuance of Pastor Wright’s “God damn America!” nor are we exploring the biblical veracity of Pastor Hagee’s aggressive opposition to Catholicism. We’re instead talking about two presidential candidates and the alleged character flaws their associations with these pastors expose. The controversial pastors are little more than means to an end that these days is commonly labeled “gotcha politics.”
None of the mouthy political operatives who have spouted off in the last month or so really cared about Wright’s or Hagee’s beliefs. They only cared that using those beliefs provided another day’s campaign leverage, or another gem to bank away for use in a precision-targeted media blitz.
And also as a result, in this election year we’re not talking about the economy, or the war in Iraq, or the high cost of gasoline, or the breakdown of the American family, or the...whatever you can think of that actually matters. We’re rather running opposition background checks, seeing who in his or her past did something, said something, thought something, or once met with someone who did, said, or thought something we don’t like but can use to our side’s political advantage.
This is McCarthy-era guilt by association updated for the 21st century. We’re in a season in which we don’t care about candidates’ stands on issues or ideas for the future; we care about whom they knew, when they knew them, and what cheap, tawdry political advantage we can make from the mistakes and misstatements of those confidants. It’s 21st century McCarthyism because modern technology allows us to store, discover, and disseminate these political hand grenades in the flash of a mouse click.
Because his former pastor said something controversial, said things many find troubling, Barack Obama’s candidacy is questioned? Because John Hagee holds unpopular and unconventional beliefs, John McCain is to be doubted? Since when are Obama and McCain their pastors’ keepers?
What a sad surprise awaits any of the kids who have been part of the church I’ve served for 23 years, should they ever run for president. Some devious political hack will explore the record, discover a connection to me, wend his or her way to a few BillExpress pieces archived in some dank Website cavern, find out that I hugged a lot and encouraged others to do so, then will publish a three-part expose on the mysterious and cult-like community in which the candidate was raised, effectively sinking an otherwise worthy candidacy.
Martin Luther King dreamed of a day when society would judge children by the content of their character, not the color of their skin. In today’s slimy political climate, I have to hope King would dream of an election in which we judged candidates by the content of their competencies, not the purity of their associations.
There’s also a biblical problem with guilt by association – and on this you may be way ahead of me. With whom did Jesus spend most of his time? Prostitutes, tax collectors, and the socially outcast – none a great addition to his personal resume. And did people in Jesus’ day think less of him because of his associations?... I guess we haven’t changed much, have we?
Let’s pray:
God, politics is a rough and tumble business, but we want to believe it doesn’t have to be the way we have made it. May something change in us and in our society, to make us aware of the dangers of this current path, to call us to unearth the political implications of your command to love our neighbors. First step: Remind us who our neighbors are. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
And in the other corner, John Hagee, pastor of Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, Texas, whose endorsement John McCain, the presumptive Republican Party nominee, sought and accepted earlier this year. Pastor Hagee has linked the Catholic Church to the “great whore” mentioned in the book of Revelation, and said that Hurricane Katrina was God’s retribution for a gay pride parade held in New Orleans.
These two pastors have been in the news recently, not so much because of what they said, but because of whom they know. Yes, there was a significant outcry when each one’s comments became public, but absent association with a major public figure, neither would have stirred widespread attention.
Pastor Wright’s confrontational theology would have wandered off with him into the ministerial sunset had not one of his former parishioners been running for president. Pastor Hagee, a more public figure because of his television ministry, would have pursued his fundamentalist agenda in the protection of our beloved separation of church and state had a presidential contender not sought his political assistance.
As a result, we’re not talking about the substance or nuance of Pastor Wright’s “God damn America!” nor are we exploring the biblical veracity of Pastor Hagee’s aggressive opposition to Catholicism. We’re instead talking about two presidential candidates and the alleged character flaws their associations with these pastors expose. The controversial pastors are little more than means to an end that these days is commonly labeled “gotcha politics.”
None of the mouthy political operatives who have spouted off in the last month or so really cared about Wright’s or Hagee’s beliefs. They only cared that using those beliefs provided another day’s campaign leverage, or another gem to bank away for use in a precision-targeted media blitz.
And also as a result, in this election year we’re not talking about the economy, or the war in Iraq, or the high cost of gasoline, or the breakdown of the American family, or the...whatever you can think of that actually matters. We’re rather running opposition background checks, seeing who in his or her past did something, said something, thought something, or once met with someone who did, said, or thought something we don’t like but can use to our side’s political advantage.
This is McCarthy-era guilt by association updated for the 21st century. We’re in a season in which we don’t care about candidates’ stands on issues or ideas for the future; we care about whom they knew, when they knew them, and what cheap, tawdry political advantage we can make from the mistakes and misstatements of those confidants. It’s 21st century McCarthyism because modern technology allows us to store, discover, and disseminate these political hand grenades in the flash of a mouse click.
Because his former pastor said something controversial, said things many find troubling, Barack Obama’s candidacy is questioned? Because John Hagee holds unpopular and unconventional beliefs, John McCain is to be doubted? Since when are Obama and McCain their pastors’ keepers?
What a sad surprise awaits any of the kids who have been part of the church I’ve served for 23 years, should they ever run for president. Some devious political hack will explore the record, discover a connection to me, wend his or her way to a few BillExpress pieces archived in some dank Website cavern, find out that I hugged a lot and encouraged others to do so, then will publish a three-part expose on the mysterious and cult-like community in which the candidate was raised, effectively sinking an otherwise worthy candidacy.
Martin Luther King dreamed of a day when society would judge children by the content of their character, not the color of their skin. In today’s slimy political climate, I have to hope King would dream of an election in which we judged candidates by the content of their competencies, not the purity of their associations.
There’s also a biblical problem with guilt by association – and on this you may be way ahead of me. With whom did Jesus spend most of his time? Prostitutes, tax collectors, and the socially outcast – none a great addition to his personal resume. And did people in Jesus’ day think less of him because of his associations?... I guess we haven’t changed much, have we?
Let’s pray:
God, politics is a rough and tumble business, but we want to believe it doesn’t have to be the way we have made it. May something change in us and in our society, to make us aware of the dangers of this current path, to call us to unearth the political implications of your command to love our neighbors. First step: Remind us who our neighbors are. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Out of the Night That Covered Me...
Though few have missed it, the Express is back, resuscitated by a personal spiritual resurrection, and a mesh of social, political, and faith events to which I feel an urge to respond.
Why the many months of silence? Principally because of a crisis of rhetorical confidence I experienced beginning last fall. For reasons I hope I understand, last year I entered a lonely and sizeable desert in which I no longer believed I had anything meaningful to say, that any entries made to this blog would have been contrived reflections I didn’t need to write, and no one needed to read. Yes, in the desert I continued to create sermons and newsletter articles, but they often felt forced – like products of Sunday worship necessity or monthly publishing deadlines – not fresh. For a period longer and more enslaving than I can remember experiencing, I couldn’t imagine anyone caring about anything I had to say.
Of even more concern, while in that desert I lost my desire, and perhaps even my ability, to reflect on life and the world through the filter of faith. I think I stopped caring about the spiritual implications of what happened in the world, nation, or community in which I live. Significant events, which before the desert would have roused me to commentary, passed, creating a stir whose reach extended only until the next issue, event, or distraction.
Combined, the aforementioned senses of irrelevance and disregard doomed the Express to months of silence.
But things have changed. In the last couple of weeks I have felt an occasional urge to write, to add my voice to some of the recently-erupted debates. And here on a Sunday night, much to my and probably your surprise, I am actually tapping keys and connecting thoughts. The Express is back...at least for now.
What’s changed is my attitude. I doubt last year’s desert wanderings arose from incompetence or lack of eloquence. They came as a consequence of a pessimism about the church and my ministry that had consumed my spirit. This destructive spirit started long before the Express derailed, meaning that most of the previous entries you read here were produced from remnants of energy already in the pipeline – think of water that’s in the garden hose when you turn off the faucet.
The water’s now flowing again because I have largely defeated the pessimism. Where for months – that collected into years – I felt increasingly hopeless about the future of the church I serve, and consequently about the prospects and consequence of my ministry, I now feel encouraged and excited. I look forward to preaching. I expect good things to come from worship. I know God is not finished with me or our congregation.
With this entry, waters from the new-flowing stream have at last reached the business end of the Express’s long-arid hose. Praise God.
So, look for more from me, more often. There is more to tell about my spiritual awakening. We have to talk about Jeremiah Wright (Barack Obama’s former pastor) and John Hagee (the pastor who has endorsed John McCain). We have talk about the spiritual implications of war (in Iraq, for example). We have to talk about guns and violence. We have to talk... or at least, I need to write. I hope you will want to read.
Get ready to ride the new Express, and consider responding via the Comments link below each entry, a feature I encourage you to use right now, if you wish to respond to what you have just read.
Let’s pray...
God of all wanderings and wanderers, it’s lonely and unlit out in the deserts of our lives. Find us, direct us, protect us, then welcome us back home. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Why the many months of silence? Principally because of a crisis of rhetorical confidence I experienced beginning last fall. For reasons I hope I understand, last year I entered a lonely and sizeable desert in which I no longer believed I had anything meaningful to say, that any entries made to this blog would have been contrived reflections I didn’t need to write, and no one needed to read. Yes, in the desert I continued to create sermons and newsletter articles, but they often felt forced – like products of Sunday worship necessity or monthly publishing deadlines – not fresh. For a period longer and more enslaving than I can remember experiencing, I couldn’t imagine anyone caring about anything I had to say.
Of even more concern, while in that desert I lost my desire, and perhaps even my ability, to reflect on life and the world through the filter of faith. I think I stopped caring about the spiritual implications of what happened in the world, nation, or community in which I live. Significant events, which before the desert would have roused me to commentary, passed, creating a stir whose reach extended only until the next issue, event, or distraction.
Combined, the aforementioned senses of irrelevance and disregard doomed the Express to months of silence.
But things have changed. In the last couple of weeks I have felt an occasional urge to write, to add my voice to some of the recently-erupted debates. And here on a Sunday night, much to my and probably your surprise, I am actually tapping keys and connecting thoughts. The Express is back...at least for now.
What’s changed is my attitude. I doubt last year’s desert wanderings arose from incompetence or lack of eloquence. They came as a consequence of a pessimism about the church and my ministry that had consumed my spirit. This destructive spirit started long before the Express derailed, meaning that most of the previous entries you read here were produced from remnants of energy already in the pipeline – think of water that’s in the garden hose when you turn off the faucet.
The water’s now flowing again because I have largely defeated the pessimism. Where for months – that collected into years – I felt increasingly hopeless about the future of the church I serve, and consequently about the prospects and consequence of my ministry, I now feel encouraged and excited. I look forward to preaching. I expect good things to come from worship. I know God is not finished with me or our congregation.
With this entry, waters from the new-flowing stream have at last reached the business end of the Express’s long-arid hose. Praise God.
So, look for more from me, more often. There is more to tell about my spiritual awakening. We have to talk about Jeremiah Wright (Barack Obama’s former pastor) and John Hagee (the pastor who has endorsed John McCain). We have talk about the spiritual implications of war (in Iraq, for example). We have to talk about guns and violence. We have to talk... or at least, I need to write. I hope you will want to read.
Get ready to ride the new Express, and consider responding via the Comments link below each entry, a feature I encourage you to use right now, if you wish to respond to what you have just read.
Let’s pray...
God of all wanderings and wanderers, it’s lonely and unlit out in the deserts of our lives. Find us, direct us, protect us, then welcome us back home. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
