One of my favorite stories about modern mission comes from the life of Mother Teresa. It comes from her early days, when she first began her ministry in the slums of Kolkatta, India (formerly Calcutta). She learned of a hungry Hindu family with eight children. One night, she came to the family's home with a very small portion of rice. She recalled that she could easily recognize the early stages of starvation in the faces of the childern. Surely she must have felt embarrassed by the meagerness of the rice.
After she presented the small parcel to the mother of the family, the matriarch thanked her profusely and then divided the rice into two equal portions. She wrapped one in some cloth and then left the house. When she returned a few moments later, Mother Teresa asked her, "Where did you go?" The mother replied, "Mother, they are aslo hungry next door."
Mother Teresa later learned that the family next door was Muslim and was just as hungry as their Hindu neighbors. Apparently the mother of the family saw the common hunger between the two houses despite a millenia of sectarian hostility between the two faiths.
The story is often told as a lesson in gratitude and it is a beautiful one. It is also a story of mission. The mother in the story didn't excuse herself from charity because she had so little. She didn't wait for an abundance to find her mission. She gave of the very little she had been given. From that trueness of heart, God blessed her gift and made it immortal, just like the widow's mite.
Sometimes, we may think that our lives are too broken, our souls too weak, and our gifts too humble to share. We often dwell on the meagerness of the rice. Yet the Divinity in the sacrifice is in the act of giving and not in the gift itself.
We are also reminded that hunger, whether physical, emotional or spiritual, is universal. Hunger trumps creed. It also trumps race, nationality, ethnicity, gender, class, caste, sexual orientation, and whatever distinction we care to impose on ourselves. The response to hunger must also be as universal and personal . Our job is to seek out the hunger in the lives around us and respond with whatever gifts we are given, trusting that God will bless and increase them.
Perhaps this is why Jesus' most frequently uttered commandment is to feed the hungry. If you don't know where to look, just remember, they are also hungry next door.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
You’re from the Church aren’t you?
“You’re from the Church aren’t you?” Two very different people have asked me this exact question in two very different situations in my life.
The first time occurred when I was a teenager. My father was pastor of a small community church in the Chicago
One day I was working in the front yard of the parsonage and an elderly man approached me. He was apparently a neighbor, but one whom I had never seen before. He was somewhat disheveled and seemed angry. He strode over to me and demanded, “You’re from the Church aren’t you?" “Yes, I go to this church,” I replied. He harrumphed, “Well tell your church that they’re too loud on Sunday mornings and they take up all the parking!” And then he turned around and made his way back. I was speechless and couldn’t even manage a look of shock at this man’s annoyance. I told my father and some people from the church about my encounter and they informed me that he was not only nearly deaf but he also couldn’t drive anymore. His inability to hear or park didn’t stop him from lodging a complaint to only person he saw outside of the church. To him, the church was a nuisance and the church goers were a group of itinerants, bothersome and noisy. In and out on a Sunday morning, we were a blight on his community even though we had co-existed for decades. For all that time, the church did not make a convincing case for its existence to the old man didn’t seem like he had any interest in changing that opinion.
I’m sure anyone who’s been around the neighborhood in a front-door “evangelism” call has felt the same icy reception. Doors slam in your face. People don’t want to “buy whatever it is you’re selling!” Or you get locked into a theological discussion that leads nowhere, “What does that church say about…?” And you leave the neighborhood feeling like you have no impact.
The second time I was asked that question was very recently. My church has the extreme fortune of being at the crossroads of two very busy bus lines in Chicago
On the other hand, my congregation takes our welcome very seriously. We invite the people in and pass the peace with them. If they are not comfortable sitting with the congregation, we find a place where they can participate to their level of comfort. We invite them to coffee hour. We share the leftovers with them. We offer bus passes. We chat with them. In short, we treat them as God wants everyone to be treated when they enter God’s house: as a precious child of God who’s returned home after a long journey. I am very proud of my congregation’s welcome.
A homeless man has recently coming to our congregation since Easter. He is elderly and dresses formally for the occasion. He wears the best of the meager possessions he carries with him. Yet, the past few weeks, I've had to wait in line behind two or three people to say good morning to him. Although he appears embarrassed by the reception, I like to think our welcome touches him as only warmth and generosity can.
Last Sunday, I had to count the collection after the service. I had to stay late and missed coffee hour. As I was walking back to my car with a large envelope with lots of cash to deposit, he approached me and asked me for bus fare. Then he looked up at me and asked, “You’re from the Church aren’t you?” This time, there was no harshness or anger. There was a slight pause, as if to say, “Wonderful, I’ve found someone who might help me”. Unfortunately, I don’t give cash to people on the street. But I did lead him to our pastor’s office, where there are pre-paid bus passes, which he greatly appreciated.
At first, I was tempted to look back on the two men who asked me the same question at very different times in my life. Who were they? What condition were they in when they approaced me? What was their status? Then I asked myself, Who was I? What condition was I in? These are interesting questions, but these are not spiritually challenging ones.
Maybe the difference in the men's asking has less to do with them and more to do with the two churches. Were they seen as sources of help and assistance or places where annoying, self-serving people go to celebrate themselves?
I'm afraid that the church of my teenage years was not very welcoming. It was very satisfied with it membership and didn't attempt to make any changes. It was an historically significant building but not a socially engaging one. It was a cloistered enclave, protected by its self-satisfaction and imposing masonry. As I suspected, a recent Google search proved that it is no longer in existence. The neighbor finally got his wish: quiet Sunday mornings and plenty of parking.
Please don't misunderstand me, my current congregation has a long way to go in extending its welcome to everyone. There are many who are within the shadow of our building yet are leagues away from our community. We can surely do more to provide the same radical welcome with which Christ invites us to the Eucharist. But I believe that the people of my current congregation share this idea. Until all the millions and millions of broken and shattered pieces gather under the unity of the Cross, we cannot declare our church to be One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic.
Be radical in your welcome as Christ radically welcomes you.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
The Word revealed and revealing
Imagine a conversation about the Bible’s views on same-sex attraction between two very different people; a conservative literalist and a liberal interpretationist
The liberal asks, “Do you believe in the inerrancy of the Bible as it is interpreted today? Including Leviticus 18:22?” The conservative says, “Of course, “Thou shalt not lieth with mankind as with womankind. It is an abomination.” The liberal asks, “And you believe that to be the truth? Beyond interpretation and application of contextual understanding?” The conservative asserts,”Yes, of course! I interpret no nuance or context there.” “Ok” then challenges the liberal, “What if they do it standing up? There’s nothing about that, is there?” “Well,” says the conservative “lieth means…” “Aha!” says the liberal, “there you go interpreting!”
Humorous as it may sound, these conversations, or ones just like them, happen all too often between conservatives and liberal Christians and non-Christians when we talk about the GLBTQ community.
The conservative and liberal are two culture warriors fighting over an inch of unforgivable land. Neither understands nor respects the other and both sides denigrate the Word. They argue between themselves for their own ends: Who’s right (going to Heaven) and who’s wrong (going to Hell).
Yet this kind of discourse is sinful in its own right because the desire to be “righteous” is exceeded by the desire to be “right”. It simply takes God out of the discussion and reduces the dialogue to the semantics of interpretation and the interpretation of semantics. It is not a glorification of God, but rather a glorification of self.
What if the two instead talked about the arc of the Bible? The journey God’s people take from Creation, to settlement in the Promised Land and then in the Exile. What if they talked about the New Covenant and how each of them is a broken and shattered piece of God’s greater work of salvation? What if they each recognized each other as child of God? What if they each glorified the spark of Divinity that burns equally in each of them? What if they each realized that we are not called “Levites” or “Romans” or “Corinthians” but Christians? Followers of the Christ, who is the New Law? What if they revel in the certainty of the Fall and celebrate mystery of Grace?
That kind of conservation would begin with an invitation like, “walk with me brother/sister. I am not sure where are led, but I know who leads us. And we will not be lost”. It is a conversation that is rooted in faith and trust and not one rooted in semantics and interpretation. It is one in which the participants accepts the unrevealed authority of God to triumph and allows their own perceptions of their own authority to die.
The Holy Spirit has led the Church out of many wildernesses before: Prescription for circumcision and the adherence to kosher law. Justification by faith alone versus justification by acts, abolitionism, simony and the practices of indulgences, the central role of women as leaders in the Church, just to name a few. In each case, the Holy Spirit has led and we have followed. None of those who entered into those conversations ever saw the end of them. Yet in those conversations, the Holy Spirit triumphed and revealed itself as the eternally present element of the Trinity. One that leads in generations, not in single arguments. Do we have the same faith to listen to It again and set aside everything else?
In Luke 24:45, part of the lesson read in my church today, Jesus appears to the disciples after the Resurrection. "then, he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures". Each of them knew the laws of Moses and the history of their people. But even the disciples had to have their hearts opened to understand the Scriptures and they needed a very real, very present, and a very risen Christ to do it. May Christ be with you in all of your journey with scriptures.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Knowing now...
In the few years after I came out to my parents, they often invited me over to lunch at their house on Saturdays. This was usually a monthly event. I got a good home cooked meal and got to some “fam cred” with my parents. They also got to see me more often and check in on me. Usually I’d be back early enough to go to the gym and go hang out with my buddies. My dad, who was still had a parish at the time, would be busy finishing his sermon (I’d usually get a prescreening) and my mom would be busy making enough food to feed a small invasion force even though it was only lunch for three. It was a pretty easy afternoon.
But one Saturday was very different. I suspected something was up as soon as I entered. Instead of the usual buzz of activity, I was greeted with nervous silence and a palatable restlessness. They were preoccupied with something. The deal killer: there were pre-made sandwiches from Panera. At first I thought someone was gravely ill.
As I sat down in the living room, I asked them how they were doing and they responded in one-word answers. They were acting weird, almost conspiratorial. After a bit of awkwardness, I asked, ”What’s up guys? You seem out of it today.” They looked at each other and then my dad told me that they wanted to “give” me something. And my mother retrieved a gift-wrapped box. (To this day, no one knows why she thought to wrap it.)
I had sinking feeling that I knew what was in the package before I started to tear the paper. As I suspected, it was a set of audio and video tapes from an Ex-Gay ministry. I didn’t bother to even read the pamphlet. I saw the first title; it was something like, “Talking honestly to your child about the sin of Homosexuality”. I cringed. I looked at them and they hid their eyes from me and my self-anointed self-righteousness.
“How can you give this to me?” I demanded. “I thought we understood each other better!” “Why can’t you just leave things the way they are? We’re doing OK, aren’t we?” I hurled more questions than I care to admit. I was angry, I was hurt, I was disappointed in them. And they knew it.
My dad implored, “Your mom and I have watched these already and we’d like to watch them with you if…” I cut him off, “You’ve watched this already? How long have you been planning this?” I went on and on. Finally, I got so angry I got up from the table and I shoved the gift back at them and told them I was leaving. I can truly say they probably expected that reaction.
I got in my car and headed home, angry and hungry. More importantly, I was right and I was sure about it. When I got back to my apartment, I told my roommate. And he thought I had done the right thing too. In fact, we decided to start our usual Saturday evening cocktail hour earlier that night to get my mind off the afternoon with my parents. We went out to our favorite bars and I probably told the story to a half dozen strangers that night. Everyone agreed with my reaction. After all my parents were not being supportive or caring, right?
Flash forward 15 years later. Now I am a happily parterned gay man in a committed relationship with my best friend of 13 years. I have an active and blessed faith life. I have a son of my own. Miraculously, I have a wonderful open, honest and loving relationship with my parents, who’ve never stopped supporting me and my family. I recognize each of these relationships as a treasured gift from God. I’ve recently been reliving that afternoon over and over again in my mind. And although I’m still glad I didn’t watch the tapes, I truly regret my reaction.
Now I ask myself, have I ever felt compelled to share a part of my life with someone I love, knowing that the truth of it might irreparably damage my relationship with them? Did I ever secretly try to discern something about myself without letting the people I love know? Did I ever confront someone with news that could make them challenge everything they ever thought about me? And when that news was brought to light, did I hope that person would respond with grace? Did I ever ask someone to hold off and just listen to me? Of course I did. I did all of that…to them. When I came out to them.
Their response to my news was not angry. It was not filled with self-anointed self-righteousness or demands. It was affirming and loving and kind. I couldn’t have asked them to be more than they were.
Sometimes we are asked to love beyond our understanding. We are called to compassion greater than our comprehension and we are moved to kindness greater than we ever dreamed possible. Andrew Marin, in his work Love is An Orientation, calls parents to appreciate their children’s’ coming out as a “holy moment”. I couldn’t agree with Marin more on this point and I’d add that it’s holy moment for the gay daughter or son as well.
It is in these moments, we can glimpse into the nature of God. For in those moments, we are given the opportunity to be Christ-like in our actions. When I came out to them, my parents choose the Christ-like path. On that Saturday afternoon, I didn’t. I chose not to deal with my parents’ grief and pain as their son or as a Follower of Christ. I took the path of anger, indignation and self-absorption.
I cannot understand, appreciate or even reconcile my parents’ decision to give me that gift-wrapped box that day. But, I don’t need to. I love them, for who they are, not who I want them to be. That’s the lesson they’ve taught me all my life. My recompense to them now is to love my son, their grandson, in the way they taught me. The way Christ loves me, which surpasses understanding and human comprehension. A love which began while I was not yet formed in my mother’s womb and will last long after this life passes from me.
To my GLBTQ brothers and sisters who are coming out, to my fellow parents who find out the truth about your kids, to all of us struggling with reconciliation, strive to be less Christian and more Christ-like in your discussions with each other. Worry less about discipline and be a disciple. Put down the books, the catchy phrases and the flag pins. Take up each other’s pain instead. You may not always agree with each other on everything, but you will care for each as you were meant to do. In this care, you will recognize that Christ is indeed with you in this moment. Premade sandwiches and all.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Sharing the Path
I’ve recently renewed my joy/pain of “running” outside. (If you ever saw the Iphone app that tracks my progress, you’ll know why I call it joy/pain and also why I put running in quotation marks. My pace really stretches the definition of running.)
If you pay attention, you’ll surely notice that runners often greet each other, especially when they’re running in opposite directions on the same path. Even when they pass other runners, there’s usually some kind of greeting, even if they’re both playing music. It might be a simple smile, tip of a hat or a “dude nod.” Some showboaters even muster the cardiopulmonary wherewithal to say “good morning” or “keep going, you’re almost done”. I’ve even heard of a Roman Catholic priest who blesses people as they run! How great would that be?
When I first started running, I have to admit, I made it a point to acknowledge as many runners as I could. I even extended the courtesy to walkers and bikers. Not because I’m a terribly kind person, but because if I ever were to collapse on the path, I thought people would be more likely to resuscitate me if they thought I was a nice guy.
All joking aside, I know the sense of community among runners is deeper than mere self-preservation. I think we acknowledge each other’s presence simply because we share the same path. The one that’s narrow,unforgiving and demanding. The one that tests our bodies and minds every time we run it. I think we have a mutual appreciation and respect for each other whether we’re marathoners, recreational runners, or guilt-ridden slow pokes like me. It doesn’t matter if we run a mile or twenty. We know that our bodies rebel against us. The wind tests us. Allergies confound us. Traffic frustrates us. Yet we still share that moment of shared community through hardship.
You would think that God’s people would feel the same sense of community as well. Theologically, we may be running in opposite directions of each other on any given topic that confounds us. Yet on the path of faith, those differences often seem insurmountable, unforgiveable, and un-shareable. Sometimes, we negate each other’s genuine experiences as “false”, “untrue” or “misguided”. Rather than respect each other’s commitment to run the course, we occasionally denigrate each other by being dismissive and giving up on each other. Rather, we often choose to run with people we know: those running in the same direction, at the same pace, to the same end and wearing the same clothes so that everyone knows we’re on the same team. Sometimes we even bully our brothers and sisters off the path, out of the Church or we abandon the path altogether because, “there’s just too many people on it today!”
I wish the followers of Christ could be more like runners who choose to share the path and give a slight nod of recognition and mutual admiration to each other, regardless of our differences. After all, as followers of Christ, we share the same narrow past, the one that sometimes feels torturous and endless. One that demands all that we have just to stay on it. Perhaps we could wish each other well on our shared, sacred journey to know God more intimately. Maybe we could even bless each other along the way.
PS - If you happen to see me collapsed on the path one day, please use my phone to call 911. Then please erase my run entry on my Iphone app. I don’t want it to ruin my stats.
If you pay attention, you’ll surely notice that runners often greet each other, especially when they’re running in opposite directions on the same path. Even when they pass other runners, there’s usually some kind of greeting, even if they’re both playing music. It might be a simple smile, tip of a hat or a “dude nod.” Some showboaters even muster the cardiopulmonary wherewithal to say “good morning” or “keep going, you’re almost done”. I’ve even heard of a Roman Catholic priest who blesses people as they run! How great would that be?
When I first started running, I have to admit, I made it a point to acknowledge as many runners as I could. I even extended the courtesy to walkers and bikers. Not because I’m a terribly kind person, but because if I ever were to collapse on the path, I thought people would be more likely to resuscitate me if they thought I was a nice guy.
All joking aside, I know the sense of community among runners is deeper than mere self-preservation. I think we acknowledge each other’s presence simply because we share the same path. The one that’s narrow,unforgiving and demanding. The one that tests our bodies and minds every time we run it. I think we have a mutual appreciation and respect for each other whether we’re marathoners, recreational runners, or guilt-ridden slow pokes like me. It doesn’t matter if we run a mile or twenty. We know that our bodies rebel against us. The wind tests us. Allergies confound us. Traffic frustrates us. Yet we still share that moment of shared community through hardship.
You would think that God’s people would feel the same sense of community as well. Theologically, we may be running in opposite directions of each other on any given topic that confounds us. Yet on the path of faith, those differences often seem insurmountable, unforgiveable, and un-shareable. Sometimes, we negate each other’s genuine experiences as “false”, “untrue” or “misguided”. Rather than respect each other’s commitment to run the course, we occasionally denigrate each other by being dismissive and giving up on each other. Rather, we often choose to run with people we know: those running in the same direction, at the same pace, to the same end and wearing the same clothes so that everyone knows we’re on the same team. Sometimes we even bully our brothers and sisters off the path, out of the Church or we abandon the path altogether because, “there’s just too many people on it today!”
I wish the followers of Christ could be more like runners who choose to share the path and give a slight nod of recognition and mutual admiration to each other, regardless of our differences. After all, as followers of Christ, we share the same narrow past, the one that sometimes feels torturous and endless. One that demands all that we have just to stay on it. Perhaps we could wish each other well on our shared, sacred journey to know God more intimately. Maybe we could even bless each other along the way.
PS - If you happen to see me collapsed on the path one day, please use my phone to call 911. Then please erase my run entry on my Iphone app. I don’t want it to ruin my stats.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Saying thanks to Jesus
Everyone day dreams about winning an award or great honor. The Nobel Prize, an Oscar, the Heisman or a Tony for "Martin Luther: A Life Through Mime". And with that prize comes the acceptance speech or press conference. Because of Tim Tebow, Jeremy Lin and now Bubba Watson, it's become Christian chic to thank Jesus for the victory.
I was wondering: What would Jesus want that moment to look like? Would he want to be thanked for a victory? Is that where he dwells, among the victors? I don't think so. In fact, during his ministry on earth Jesus dwelled among the losers, the forgotten, the broken. The so "out there", they didn't even get invited to the game.
It seems to me, that if you wanted to be truly humble, you'd thank Jesus for all the defeats, the shortcomings, and the failures in your life. Because that's where most of us find Jesus: in our loss, not in our victory. For me, I didn't find Jesus when I was winning, because I left no room for him there. It was only when I was emptied by loss that I was able to turn and look on the emptiness in my life. Then, He found me in my defeat.
Mary's journey to the tomb began in utter despair. It began with the greatest tragedy of her life. Yet, it was through the revelation of God incarnate that her defeat became a backdrop for Jesus' victory. That is the Easter experience. God shatters our defeats with His victory.
Maybe the humblest thanks would be this: I give thanks to Jesus for all my defeats, through which He found me. Then I'd congradulate Him on His victory.
Now that I have the acceptance speech done, I have to get back to that play about Martin Luther through mime. Or maybe a musical about Calvin...
I was wondering: What would Jesus want that moment to look like? Would he want to be thanked for a victory? Is that where he dwells, among the victors? I don't think so. In fact, during his ministry on earth Jesus dwelled among the losers, the forgotten, the broken. The so "out there", they didn't even get invited to the game.
It seems to me, that if you wanted to be truly humble, you'd thank Jesus for all the defeats, the shortcomings, and the failures in your life. Because that's where most of us find Jesus: in our loss, not in our victory. For me, I didn't find Jesus when I was winning, because I left no room for him there. It was only when I was emptied by loss that I was able to turn and look on the emptiness in my life. Then, He found me in my defeat.
Mary's journey to the tomb began in utter despair. It began with the greatest tragedy of her life. Yet, it was through the revelation of God incarnate that her defeat became a backdrop for Jesus' victory. That is the Easter experience. God shatters our defeats with His victory.
Maybe the humblest thanks would be this: I give thanks to Jesus for all my defeats, through which He found me. Then I'd congradulate Him on His victory.
Now that I have the acceptance speech done, I have to get back to that play about Martin Luther through mime. Or maybe a musical about Calvin...
Friday, April 13, 2012
Breaking through the ice
If you ever want learn about love, patience and understanding, spend some time with a five and a half year old boy. You will learn about all of these, plus you will learn how to complete a thought without having to complete a sentence!
For example, last week my family hiked in Yosemite National Park, one of America's great natural treasures. We got to see an interesting phenomenon that only occurs during the spring and usually only in the mornings. Since the air is warm and the ground is still frozen, the morning dew freezes into to tiny vertical shards on the ground. Free standing and in countless thousands, they look like thousands of tiny translucent crystals growing out of a green earth that steams in the morning light. Just as I was thinking of how to explain ice crystal formation, micro-climates and relative temperature, I saw my son in mid air, jumping on the ice and smashing it into ice dust and mud.
He immediately saw my face and he hung his head, and he said, "sorry daddy, I just wanted to free the tadpoles." (He's convinced every body of water contains tadpoles, by the way.)
Instead of being angry, I knelt down and said," I bet they like being free." and then he was off, heading to the next ice formation. I shook my head and thought,"he must be part Dingo".
My teaching moment was over and my learning moment was about to begin. Then another thought came into my head, more of a riddle than a thought, really. How is God like my 5 and a half year old? Sounds irreverent doesn't it? It did to me anyway but I let my mind wander as much as my I let my son wander ahead of me. Here's what I learned.
When my son asks me tough questions, like "Why are people hungry? I try to explain about supply chains, wars, and resource management, he doesn't seem to be convinced. When God asks me the same exact question, I use the same excuses, and He doesn't seem convinced.
When I ask him for whom should we pray, he lists Christians and non-Christians, dogs too. People he just met, people who just seem sad. The list is so long, we often forget to what we're praying for. Seems like God will know about that part. We just need to remember them.
When he once asked me if I want to be a superhero, I replied "sure pal, everybody did when they were kids, but I'm too old for that." He replied, "its not too late, you know." When God asks me if I ever wanted to change the world, I reply "sure, everybody does, but I'm too old for that." Well you can imagine what He says about that.
My life was orderly, safe and comfortable. Perhaps cold and a bit embedded too much in a sleeping state of detachment, like those ice formations. Then, at the age of 38, God came crashing down on me and made a wonderful mess of my worldview. And when he saw my face, He said, "sorry, I just wanted to free your soul."
I learned to see my son as he truly is: a whole creation of God made in the imago dei the image of God. I learned to see the spark of Divinity that burns deep within him. And I worshiped the God who resides in, around and about him.
Now you may not be lucky enough to have a 5 and half year old around you, but you may have a 15 y/o, a 25 y/o or an 85 y/o around you. It works just the same. Spend some time with them and look, listen and feel with your heart and I'm pretty sure you will find a spark of Divinity in them too. A spark that remembers the moment they were created and blessed and sent into the world. (Now you might have to work harder than I did, especially with the 15 y/o, but I promise you will find it.)
Just imagine if you saw that same spark in everyone, every creature, everyday. You just might find the spark that burns deep inside of you. A spark that yearns to be kindled and burnished and given as a gift unto the Lord. And when that happens, stand back! You know what happens to sparks: they start fires. Fires that light and warm all around them. Fires that consume and transform everything around them.
Worship the God that resides in, around and among the people God has put into your life and you will begin to see the world as Jesus. You will learn about patience, love and understanding.
For example, last week my family hiked in Yosemite National Park, one of America's great natural treasures. We got to see an interesting phenomenon that only occurs during the spring and usually only in the mornings. Since the air is warm and the ground is still frozen, the morning dew freezes into to tiny vertical shards on the ground. Free standing and in countless thousands, they look like thousands of tiny translucent crystals growing out of a green earth that steams in the morning light. Just as I was thinking of how to explain ice crystal formation, micro-climates and relative temperature, I saw my son in mid air, jumping on the ice and smashing it into ice dust and mud.
He immediately saw my face and he hung his head, and he said, "sorry daddy, I just wanted to free the tadpoles." (He's convinced every body of water contains tadpoles, by the way.)
Instead of being angry, I knelt down and said," I bet they like being free." and then he was off, heading to the next ice formation. I shook my head and thought,"he must be part Dingo".
My teaching moment was over and my learning moment was about to begin. Then another thought came into my head, more of a riddle than a thought, really. How is God like my 5 and a half year old? Sounds irreverent doesn't it? It did to me anyway but I let my mind wander as much as my I let my son wander ahead of me. Here's what I learned.
When my son asks me tough questions, like "Why are people hungry? I try to explain about supply chains, wars, and resource management, he doesn't seem to be convinced. When God asks me the same exact question, I use the same excuses, and He doesn't seem convinced.
When I ask him for whom should we pray, he lists Christians and non-Christians, dogs too. People he just met, people who just seem sad. The list is so long, we often forget to what we're praying for. Seems like God will know about that part. We just need to remember them.
When he once asked me if I want to be a superhero, I replied "sure pal, everybody did when they were kids, but I'm too old for that." He replied, "its not too late, you know." When God asks me if I ever wanted to change the world, I reply "sure, everybody does, but I'm too old for that." Well you can imagine what He says about that.
My life was orderly, safe and comfortable. Perhaps cold and a bit embedded too much in a sleeping state of detachment, like those ice formations. Then, at the age of 38, God came crashing down on me and made a wonderful mess of my worldview. And when he saw my face, He said, "sorry, I just wanted to free your soul."
I learned to see my son as he truly is: a whole creation of God made in the imago dei the image of God. I learned to see the spark of Divinity that burns deep within him. And I worshiped the God who resides in, around and about him.
Now you may not be lucky enough to have a 5 and half year old around you, but you may have a 15 y/o, a 25 y/o or an 85 y/o around you. It works just the same. Spend some time with them and look, listen and feel with your heart and I'm pretty sure you will find a spark of Divinity in them too. A spark that remembers the moment they were created and blessed and sent into the world. (Now you might have to work harder than I did, especially with the 15 y/o, but I promise you will find it.)
Just imagine if you saw that same spark in everyone, every creature, everyday. You just might find the spark that burns deep inside of you. A spark that yearns to be kindled and burnished and given as a gift unto the Lord. And when that happens, stand back! You know what happens to sparks: they start fires. Fires that light and warm all around them. Fires that consume and transform everything around them.
Worship the God that resides in, around and among the people God has put into your life and you will begin to see the world as Jesus. You will learn about patience, love and understanding.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Inaugural Post
I've always been a dutiful Christian, going to church when I should. Yet I was never a faithful follwer of Jesus. When it came to faith, I never got angry, I never cried, I never laughed and I never sang so loudly that someone else could hear me.
All that changed recently. God called me out of the depths of my sinfulness. I began to get angry, I got tearful, I got to laughing, and I got to singing. These are my thoughts as I am called to transform from a dutiful Christian to become a faithful Follower of Jesus.
By the way, I am an openly gay man who doesn't believe my sexuality keeps me from Jesus' love or His salvation. God is not calling me to be a new "sexual" being. He is calling to be a new whole person, wherein the mystery of Grace and the messiness of being human intersect in one person. If that turns you off reading this, please find another blog. If you agree with me, that's great, I'd love to hear from you. But if you disagree with me and you still keep reading, thank you. You're my audience. Walk with me, I do not know where I am being led, but I trust in Him who leads me. For now, that is enough.
No one on Earth will come between me and God's love. No one on earth can tell me to turn my back on those I love and who love me. So please don't try.
Grace, Peace and Abundance are with you.
All that changed recently. God called me out of the depths of my sinfulness. I began to get angry, I got tearful, I got to laughing, and I got to singing. These are my thoughts as I am called to transform from a dutiful Christian to become a faithful Follower of Jesus.
By the way, I am an openly gay man who doesn't believe my sexuality keeps me from Jesus' love or His salvation. God is not calling me to be a new "sexual" being. He is calling to be a new whole person, wherein the mystery of Grace and the messiness of being human intersect in one person. If that turns you off reading this, please find another blog. If you agree with me, that's great, I'd love to hear from you. But if you disagree with me and you still keep reading, thank you. You're my audience. Walk with me, I do not know where I am being led, but I trust in Him who leads me. For now, that is enough.
No one on Earth will come between me and God's love. No one on earth can tell me to turn my back on those I love and who love me. So please don't try.
Grace, Peace and Abundance are with you.
The distinctions I see between Christians and Followers of Christ
You might ask why I'd seek to be transformed from being a Christian to being a Follower of Christ. You might even ask, "What's the difference?" This lesson is being revealed to me day by day, so I can't answer you completely but here's my start. Please understand, I'm not trying to be clever or twist words. I'm afraid that too many words have been twisted for us and I am being shown a different way to experience Jesus.
Jesus never asked anyone to be a "Christian". Rather, he asked people to follow him. Here are some of the differences I've witnessed between Christians and Followers of Christ.
Christians build churches. Followers build faith.
Christians say,"it's not me!" Followers ask, "is it I, Lord?"
Christian churches have logos. Followers seek logos.
Each year, Christians wage a war to celebrate Christmas. Followers actually know what "war", "celebrate" and "Christmas" really mean.
Christians thank Jesus for their victories. Followers thank him for their defeats.
Christians fight to preserve the sanctity of marriage. Followers work to sanctify all their relationships.
Christians practice chastity. Followers work on purity.
Christians have "reserved" signs in their churches. Followers only accept "walk ins".
Christians believe the that "the poor will always be with you" means it's the fault of the poor. Followers believe it means it's the fault of Followers.
Christians preach the Gospel. Followers do too, sometimes they even use words.
Christians support PACs. Followers support pax.
Christians believe in inerrancy and infallibility. Followers believe in the perfect God working perfectly in the imperfect us.
Christians feel they're being persecuted by others. Followers of Jesus feel the persecution of other beings.
Christians seek to change people. Followers change to seek people.
Christians want to have prayer during school. Followers want to get schooled in prayer.
Christians "piously" give 10% of what they earn. Followers of Jesus "selfishly" hold back 90% of what they're given.
Christians go to church early. Followers go to the tomb when it's still dark.
Christian leadership often ends with crimes and denial.The leadership of Followers begins with Peter's denials and Paul's crimes.
Christians seek to justify waging a war. Followers wage a war to seek justice.
Christians mark the day of the Crucifixion. Followers are marked with the cross everyday.
Christians believe in miracles. To Followers, belief itself is a miracle.
Christians believe "it is finished". Followers believe it's only getting started.
Gandhi wasn't a Christian. He was a Follower.
I'm afraid I'm only a little bit of a Follower and too much of a Christian, but I'm working on it.
Jesus never asked anyone to be a "Christian". Rather, he asked people to follow him. Here are some of the differences I've witnessed between Christians and Followers of Christ.
Christians build churches. Followers build faith.
Christians say,"it's not me!" Followers ask, "is it I, Lord?"
Christian churches have logos. Followers seek logos.
Each year, Christians wage a war to celebrate Christmas. Followers actually know what "war", "celebrate" and "Christmas" really mean.
Christians thank Jesus for their victories. Followers thank him for their defeats.
Christians fight to preserve the sanctity of marriage. Followers work to sanctify all their relationships.
Christians practice chastity. Followers work on purity.
Christians have "reserved" signs in their churches. Followers only accept "walk ins".
Christians believe the that "the poor will always be with you" means it's the fault of the poor. Followers believe it means it's the fault of Followers.
Christians preach the Gospel. Followers do too, sometimes they even use words.
Christians support PACs. Followers support pax.
Christians believe in inerrancy and infallibility. Followers believe in the perfect God working perfectly in the imperfect us.
Christians feel they're being persecuted by others. Followers of Jesus feel the persecution of other beings.
Christians seek to change people. Followers change to seek people.
Christians want to have prayer during school. Followers want to get schooled in prayer.
Christians "piously" give 10% of what they earn. Followers of Jesus "selfishly" hold back 90% of what they're given.
Christians go to church early. Followers go to the tomb when it's still dark.
Christian leadership often ends with crimes and denial.The leadership of Followers begins with Peter's denials and Paul's crimes.
Christians seek to justify waging a war. Followers wage a war to seek justice.
Christians mark the day of the Crucifixion. Followers are marked with the cross everyday.
Christians believe in miracles. To Followers, belief itself is a miracle.
Christians believe "it is finished". Followers believe it's only getting started.
Gandhi wasn't a Christian. He was a Follower.
I'm afraid I'm only a little bit of a Follower and too much of a Christian, but I'm working on it.
Why the "Tyranny" of Grace?
An evangelical friend once asked me, “are you Born-Again?” Recognizing my confusion, he followed up “have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior?”
I could’ve answered flippantly, as I used to do in high school, “No thanks,” I’d say as I’d pat myself down “ it appears I was born sufficiently the first time.” But I didn’t choose that route; instead I just said “No”. Our conversation ended abruptly in discomfort and silence. I wish I had answered his question differently and with more explanation. I wish I could have answered him as I would now. Our friendship deserved that much and more.
This is always a tough question for me as I'm a non-evangelical Protestant. You’d need to understand how I understand salvation through Grace. To me, Grace is best expressed in Paul’s letters to the Ephesians which instructs us that Grace is given to us and not earned by us through acts or good works. So, how can you deserve or earn what is freely given? When we are saved, it is not because of any act we choose.
Therefore any statement about Grace or salvation that begins with “I accept” is utterly flawed. At best it is unnecessary and at worst it is misleading. I do not accept Jesus as my Savior because He does the accepting, the choosing and the saving. I am merely the object of His salvation and Grace. I am saved, whether I accept it or not.
You might think that’s pretty easy, huh? Something for nothing? Best deal in the world… you might even think it’s the kind of “cheap grace” that the great Lutheran theologian Deitrich Bonhoeffer warns us against.
Let me tell you a story I heard a while ago about a vicious hate crime that was committed by two white supremacists who murdered a black man. Every day during the trial and sentencing, the victim’s mother sat in the front row of the gallery. Observers noted that she was completely unemotional. When the grisly facts of the murder were read by the prosecutor, she didn’t flinch. When the jury foreman read the “guilty” verdict, she didn’t show any sign of joy or satisfaction. Even at the sentencing, she didn’t show any sign of relief. Of the perpetrators, one was observed to act without remorse. He often crossed his arms as if in defiance and mumbled under his breath. He stared down the jury and the judge and scowled incessantly. The other murderer was different. He hung his head and spoke dispassionately even when given the opportunity to defend himself. He wept often during the trial.
At the sentencing, the second one asked to speak to the court. The judge warned him not to
say anything that might upset the court and especially the victim’s family. He promised that he wouldn’t. He began to blurt out a rambled and almost incompressible explanation andapology. At the end, he addressed the victim’s mother and told her that although he didn’t deserve it, he hoped that one day she’d learn to forgive him.
With a meek and halting voice, but one that spoke with greater authority than the court's she spoke. “I have already forgiven you. Both of you.” The judge had to issue a short recess, so that he and everyone else could dry their eyes and collect themselves. You and I are heirs and descendants of the crucifixion, which is, after all, the world’s best known hate crime. When we look up to Heaven and ask God to forgive us, He replies, “I have already forgiven you. All of you.”
Such is the nature of Grace. Doesn’t sound like it comes easy, does it? It costs much, but it is paid by Another.
To me, Grace is unmistakable, inescapable and unrelenting. It is as if we live under the tyranny of Grace, eternal and universal. That's the origin of the title of this blog. Whether we choose to accept Him or not, Jesus intrudes on our lives with Grace and salvation through Grace. Thanks be for that.
And that’s what Bonhoeffer calls, “costly Grace”. A Grace that may not require anything of us, but may inspire greater discipleship from us.
I could’ve answered flippantly, as I used to do in high school, “No thanks,” I’d say as I’d pat myself down “ it appears I was born sufficiently the first time.” But I didn’t choose that route; instead I just said “No”. Our conversation ended abruptly in discomfort and silence. I wish I had answered his question differently and with more explanation. I wish I could have answered him as I would now. Our friendship deserved that much and more.
This is always a tough question for me as I'm a non-evangelical Protestant. You’d need to understand how I understand salvation through Grace. To me, Grace is best expressed in Paul’s letters to the Ephesians which instructs us that Grace is given to us and not earned by us through acts or good works. So, how can you deserve or earn what is freely given? When we are saved, it is not because of any act we choose.
Therefore any statement about Grace or salvation that begins with “I accept” is utterly flawed. At best it is unnecessary and at worst it is misleading. I do not accept Jesus as my Savior because He does the accepting, the choosing and the saving. I am merely the object of His salvation and Grace. I am saved, whether I accept it or not.
You might think that’s pretty easy, huh? Something for nothing? Best deal in the world… you might even think it’s the kind of “cheap grace” that the great Lutheran theologian Deitrich Bonhoeffer warns us against.
Let me tell you a story I heard a while ago about a vicious hate crime that was committed by two white supremacists who murdered a black man. Every day during the trial and sentencing, the victim’s mother sat in the front row of the gallery. Observers noted that she was completely unemotional. When the grisly facts of the murder were read by the prosecutor, she didn’t flinch. When the jury foreman read the “guilty” verdict, she didn’t show any sign of joy or satisfaction. Even at the sentencing, she didn’t show any sign of relief. Of the perpetrators, one was observed to act without remorse. He often crossed his arms as if in defiance and mumbled under his breath. He stared down the jury and the judge and scowled incessantly. The other murderer was different. He hung his head and spoke dispassionately even when given the opportunity to defend himself. He wept often during the trial.
At the sentencing, the second one asked to speak to the court. The judge warned him not to
say anything that might upset the court and especially the victim’s family. He promised that he wouldn’t. He began to blurt out a rambled and almost incompressible explanation andapology. At the end, he addressed the victim’s mother and told her that although he didn’t deserve it, he hoped that one day she’d learn to forgive him.
With a meek and halting voice, but one that spoke with greater authority than the court's she spoke. “I have already forgiven you. Both of you.” The judge had to issue a short recess, so that he and everyone else could dry their eyes and collect themselves. You and I are heirs and descendants of the crucifixion, which is, after all, the world’s best known hate crime. When we look up to Heaven and ask God to forgive us, He replies, “I have already forgiven you. All of you.”
Such is the nature of Grace. Doesn’t sound like it comes easy, does it? It costs much, but it is paid by Another.
To me, Grace is unmistakable, inescapable and unrelenting. It is as if we live under the tyranny of Grace, eternal and universal. That's the origin of the title of this blog. Whether we choose to accept Him or not, Jesus intrudes on our lives with Grace and salvation through Grace. Thanks be for that.
And that’s what Bonhoeffer calls, “costly Grace”. A Grace that may not require anything of us, but may inspire greater discipleship from us.
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