from a few weeks ago...
Well, a wonderful day came out of messed up circumstances. Because of Melissa’s fall Saturday evening, the doctor said to keep an eye on her. No need to worry that it’s anything serious, let’s just wait and see.
I had planned on taking the boys with me to Lexington, to do some visitation. But with Melissa at home , maybe dizzy, I decided to stay here and do some work from home. But then, Melissa was feeling a lot better overall. So I asked her if she felt up to coming on the visits with me. She said she’d see, and anyway, if she couldn’t, we could cut it short.
We went to visit some of the Congo families, with an eye to letting John and Joe play with them. That worked out really well, to see that boys are boys everywhere, and language barrier is no barrier to play. And then, Melissa got to meet some people who have been serious prayer warriors for her. It was huge for everyone—the Congo kids bonded more closely with my boys than they could at church. And Melissa and a Congolese woman got to meet and find they have much in common, forming a friendship that will be important to both. The boys did not want to leave when Melissa said she thought she was really running down.
Haven’t we been praying that we would be preachers together? God is so good.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Geography of Love
Joe got a talking globe for Christmas from my parents. It tells you the country, continent, states, population, highest points, etc. He calls it a "glove" (long "o," and y'all have no idea how much restraint it takes for me to not go off on phonics and the rules of English...)
He has really messed with it a lot, more than we know. Because you'd be amazed at what he can find on it. He knows the two Congos-- he wanted to know them first because, "because that's where my friend Malippo is from..."
Now he'll say, "Daddy I love you all the way to Florida. Is that far?" "Daddy, I love you all the way to Turkey." or "all the way to Russia." or "all the way to Gulf of Mexico."
He has really messed with it a lot, more than we know. Because you'd be amazed at what he can find on it. He knows the two Congos-- he wanted to know them first because, "because that's where my friend Malippo is from..."
Now he'll say, "Daddy I love you all the way to Florida. Is that far?" "Daddy, I love you all the way to Turkey." or "all the way to Russia." or "all the way to Gulf of Mexico."
Not Sure What to Title It
This long illness and recovery of Melissa’s is just that—long. You get it in your head that there will be this benchmark or milestone. And to be sure there are some. But then there are setbacks, or milestones you reach without knowing you reached them. Melissa did really well in terms of the treatment. But then came the fall and going back into the hospital, and then two months of infection and now spleen removal, and even tho she gets past all of those things, it feels like it slows her down, and when do you get to the place where all the little and the big things are cranking like they should?
Melissa is very tired lately, most likely because of the combination of seizure medicines that have had their dosages upped. The long haul from being hospitalized in August, infection that ran through November and splenectomy has taken it’s toll. Remember her in prayer.
And permit me some stream of consciousness Psalmifying. Psalm 39 looms large these past few days. “I said, ‘I will watch my ways and keep my tongue from sin…’ but when I was silent and still, not even saying anything good, my anguish increased” (Ps 39:1-2).
This is one of those places in the Bible that reminds you that all the good intentions will get you nowhere unless they are united to faith in God. Faith for forgiveness of sins, faith for holiness. It’s all by faith in God’s ability to change our hearts. It has never relied on resolution.
Well, I was thinking about that, and what does it have to do with where we are? It got me to thinking about how much everything has to do with faith. The times I have cried or been burdened to the point of sorrow have come when faith flags. Not that it’s not natural to feel those things—it’s more that in me they tend towards pessimism, thinking, “well, the gig is up.” Fear of the unknown. Fear of having no faith.
Melissa is struggling with some really bad stomach cramps. Every night we’re praying and wondering, “when? why?” And there it is, Psalm 39, about sanctification, but really about faith. God says more than you think, it seems.
Melissa is very tired lately, most likely because of the combination of seizure medicines that have had their dosages upped. The long haul from being hospitalized in August, infection that ran through November and splenectomy has taken it’s toll. Remember her in prayer.
And permit me some stream of consciousness Psalmifying. Psalm 39 looms large these past few days. “I said, ‘I will watch my ways and keep my tongue from sin…’ but when I was silent and still, not even saying anything good, my anguish increased” (Ps 39:1-2).
This is one of those places in the Bible that reminds you that all the good intentions will get you nowhere unless they are united to faith in God. Faith for forgiveness of sins, faith for holiness. It’s all by faith in God’s ability to change our hearts. It has never relied on resolution.
Well, I was thinking about that, and what does it have to do with where we are? It got me to thinking about how much everything has to do with faith. The times I have cried or been burdened to the point of sorrow have come when faith flags. Not that it’s not natural to feel those things—it’s more that in me they tend towards pessimism, thinking, “well, the gig is up.” Fear of the unknown. Fear of having no faith.
Melissa is struggling with some really bad stomach cramps. Every night we’re praying and wondering, “when? why?” And there it is, Psalm 39, about sanctification, but really about faith. God says more than you think, it seems.
Walking Around Money
A couple of good books: Christine Pohl’s Making Room, a study on hospitality in the Christian tradition, and Amy G.Oden’s And You Welcomed Me, a collection of writings from the early church on the issues of hospitality. “Hospitality” unfortunately is hampering the cause; that is once it becomes a defined field of study and God forbid there are conferences on the subject, no one will pay attention!
I came away from the books very refreshed. Oden’s book has a section on the practice of hospitality, and there’s one thing that comes out clearly, something that has long stirred me, and has special value at The Rock La Roca. Across space and time, one can summarize the early church’s view of the practice of hospitality in this simple command: “do not go to the poor empty-handed.”
Rarely have we ever thought out our response to their poor in our midst. Most often, we decide we need to do something, and then we do… something. But then we start to have all the reasonable worries: shouldn’t they get a job? Aren’t we just teaching them to be dependent? Are we enabling bad behaviors? And pretty soon we develop “policies” to define when and how we “help.” This usually involves things like stipulating an amount that we will give, how we will judge the need, what is the process for delivery, etc. I want to suggest that these policies are totally about us, about protecting us, not about actually helping.
Here’s what I mean. If you decide you won’t pay more than $50 on a gas bill, for example, what is that about? Is it really about making sure someone “doesn’t work the system?” By the time someone gets to asking for help on a bill, it is way past $50, so you’re not really helping.
Then we decide that to be responsible stewards, we need to make sure that the need is actually a worthy need. Our mania for organization takes over and we ask that the person in need come in for an interview. I am not sure what that’s about either, because it is most assuredly not to start an on-going relationship with the person in need.
We have paperwork to file before we can get the money. Again, this is to make things easier for us. I readily admit to the difficulties of cutting a check on the spot. And indeed, you have to really beware of someone asking for money “right now!” But on the other hand, many needs of the poor come up because 2 days before rent is due, they have to repair a car or by medicine. If they could just plan it so it could fit the day we cut checks…
None of these ways of handling “benevolences” fits the pattern laid down for us by the early Christians. The emperor Trajan, when he was considering persecuting Christians asked Pliny to investigate. After checking it out, Pliny wrote back and said that the Christians have a weird religion, but they’re not enemies of the state. They take care of the poor. If someone is sick, they take care of them. If someone is hungry, others will fast until there is enough to eat. The early Christians were in a word, extravagant.
If we take into account the way we generally do things as churches, we’ll see something that ought to shame us: our charity ends up as a burden. If someone owes $200 and has to go to 4 churches to get the help, has to go to 4 interviews of people determining if the need is valid (4 different churches for a single mother taking the bus—you get the picture) and then having to balance when the different checks come… not really very helpful.
Let’s get challenged by something: you are working the system. You had way more than a $200 gas bill. The Lord paid it all. He did not give you $50 worth of salvation and then tell you to try Buddha or Mohammed or help a little old lady cross the street, and maybe it would all work out! It’s called grace. You’re working the system. You said you’d repent and lead a new life, but it’s hard and the old life keeps cropping up, and you need His mercy anew! Thank God He did not say, “they’ll become dependent on me. I dare not offer them salvation! They’ll just work the system to their advantage. Why don’t they just straighten up?”
You won’t find anybody more interested in making sure someone’s life doesn’t change if the church helps them. And that’s the key—most times we don’t really care or try to see that their lives change. But that is what we are called to. What if we decided to be graceful? What if we sought to meet needs thoroughly? Now, we won’t do that most times because, well, it’s crazy talk. But it is only crazy talk if we are not willing to follow through. And it’s our long inability to follow through that keeps our charity as no charity at all.
I have long wanted to have what I call “walking around money,” that is, some funds that are available to always be ready so that if someone is in need, if I pass someone on the street, or I visit a poor house, that I won’t have to be there with some pious words and the hope that maybe things will work out. So I keep a stack of Wal-Mart gift cards with me, and if there is a need, we try to meet it as best we can.
But let’s go deep, and put forward a plan that can get us back to how we are supposed to live as God’s people. We have learned that the biggest problem facing the kids (and therefore the families) in our community is transience. That is, by November 1/3 of the students at the elementary school had not started there. What that means practically, is that the kids have to start all over each time they move. They fall behind, and if they have learning difficulties, it only gets worse. For the family, it’s not much better: they fall behind each time they move, too, in terms of money and reputation among people who might rent homes. The school principal says that if kids can stay in the school for three years, they can overcome most learning difficulties or being behind.
So, how do we address something like this? We came up with an idea, a Methodist idea, an early church idea: what if we meet the needs that cause people to move? That is, instead of waiting until the family is behind on rent, let’s figure out what the gap is and subsidize that gap. The practical result is that we keep the child in the school because we kept the family in the neighborhood. So. Are you willing to spend, say, $250 a month on a few families?
No, actually, most people would not be. For all the reasons we talked about above—it’s working the system, maybe they need to work harder, etc. But, those reasons were also exposed as shams because we talk ourselves out of generosity because we won’t take on the whole of the work of charity.
See, we have to be willing to go deep. That is, the Lord has blessed this already because the school has paired us with our first family, the family of a little girl I have been working with on school issues. Who knew it would be her family? And when I approached the family and said we would like to help, they were a bit shocked. Who does such a thing? They were still freaked out when I told them it’s because of Jesus ( thumbnail way of saying Luke 14 and Matthew 25…).
I also laid out that we would be asking them to be willing for me and Curtis Book (our missions pastor) to meet with them, to discuss where the money goes, how to budget, set priorities, learn life skills, and talk about new life in Jesus. Hey, if you take my rent, you gotta take my love.
The only way to actually be generous is to not give money, but rather to give the money it is going to take to get the job done, and then enter their lives in love. A little bit of money for a gas bill makes no difference. Pay more generously and enter into the real work of long-term transformation. This is why you came to Jesus. If He had forgiven only part of your sins and then left you to fend for yourself, what a mess you’d be in! But instead, He paid it all, and left you His continuing presence in the Holy Spirit and Holy Communion. He sticks with you through the hard times, not leaving when you are selfish, lazy, or ignorant. Lord, may we be willing to deal with others as you have dealt with us. Amen.
So how did all this happen? Well, it started on a small scale in Clark County. The missions person, Becky Taylor, was pretty generous with people in need. I learned a lot from that. And the need was everywhere. Pretty soon Frankie Moore and Cynthia Long were wanting to feed people. So wherever I went, I was not empty-handed, and quite simply, the Lord blesses that.
I am really just a country pastor in the heart of the town. I visit, like Wesley asked his pastors to, from house to house, to find the social needs and spiritual needs. Woe to me if I can preach the Gospel but cannot feed the hungry!! And though I don’t get to pray for sick calves or mean horses anymore, or help people load hay, it’s not that much different, the visiting from house to house. Maybe the needs are more stark, or maybe they are just more concentrated.
Somebody gave me $3,000 for my “discretionary” fund. I don’t know what all will happen with it, but I can guarantee you I will never be embarrassed again by saying I can’t help. Or won’t help.
I came away from the books very refreshed. Oden’s book has a section on the practice of hospitality, and there’s one thing that comes out clearly, something that has long stirred me, and has special value at The Rock La Roca. Across space and time, one can summarize the early church’s view of the practice of hospitality in this simple command: “do not go to the poor empty-handed.”
Rarely have we ever thought out our response to their poor in our midst. Most often, we decide we need to do something, and then we do… something. But then we start to have all the reasonable worries: shouldn’t they get a job? Aren’t we just teaching them to be dependent? Are we enabling bad behaviors? And pretty soon we develop “policies” to define when and how we “help.” This usually involves things like stipulating an amount that we will give, how we will judge the need, what is the process for delivery, etc. I want to suggest that these policies are totally about us, about protecting us, not about actually helping.
Here’s what I mean. If you decide you won’t pay more than $50 on a gas bill, for example, what is that about? Is it really about making sure someone “doesn’t work the system?” By the time someone gets to asking for help on a bill, it is way past $50, so you’re not really helping.
Then we decide that to be responsible stewards, we need to make sure that the need is actually a worthy need. Our mania for organization takes over and we ask that the person in need come in for an interview. I am not sure what that’s about either, because it is most assuredly not to start an on-going relationship with the person in need.
We have paperwork to file before we can get the money. Again, this is to make things easier for us. I readily admit to the difficulties of cutting a check on the spot. And indeed, you have to really beware of someone asking for money “right now!” But on the other hand, many needs of the poor come up because 2 days before rent is due, they have to repair a car or by medicine. If they could just plan it so it could fit the day we cut checks…
None of these ways of handling “benevolences” fits the pattern laid down for us by the early Christians. The emperor Trajan, when he was considering persecuting Christians asked Pliny to investigate. After checking it out, Pliny wrote back and said that the Christians have a weird religion, but they’re not enemies of the state. They take care of the poor. If someone is sick, they take care of them. If someone is hungry, others will fast until there is enough to eat. The early Christians were in a word, extravagant.
If we take into account the way we generally do things as churches, we’ll see something that ought to shame us: our charity ends up as a burden. If someone owes $200 and has to go to 4 churches to get the help, has to go to 4 interviews of people determining if the need is valid (4 different churches for a single mother taking the bus—you get the picture) and then having to balance when the different checks come… not really very helpful.
Let’s get challenged by something: you are working the system. You had way more than a $200 gas bill. The Lord paid it all. He did not give you $50 worth of salvation and then tell you to try Buddha or Mohammed or help a little old lady cross the street, and maybe it would all work out! It’s called grace. You’re working the system. You said you’d repent and lead a new life, but it’s hard and the old life keeps cropping up, and you need His mercy anew! Thank God He did not say, “they’ll become dependent on me. I dare not offer them salvation! They’ll just work the system to their advantage. Why don’t they just straighten up?”
You won’t find anybody more interested in making sure someone’s life doesn’t change if the church helps them. And that’s the key—most times we don’t really care or try to see that their lives change. But that is what we are called to. What if we decided to be graceful? What if we sought to meet needs thoroughly? Now, we won’t do that most times because, well, it’s crazy talk. But it is only crazy talk if we are not willing to follow through. And it’s our long inability to follow through that keeps our charity as no charity at all.
I have long wanted to have what I call “walking around money,” that is, some funds that are available to always be ready so that if someone is in need, if I pass someone on the street, or I visit a poor house, that I won’t have to be there with some pious words and the hope that maybe things will work out. So I keep a stack of Wal-Mart gift cards with me, and if there is a need, we try to meet it as best we can.
But let’s go deep, and put forward a plan that can get us back to how we are supposed to live as God’s people. We have learned that the biggest problem facing the kids (and therefore the families) in our community is transience. That is, by November 1/3 of the students at the elementary school had not started there. What that means practically, is that the kids have to start all over each time they move. They fall behind, and if they have learning difficulties, it only gets worse. For the family, it’s not much better: they fall behind each time they move, too, in terms of money and reputation among people who might rent homes. The school principal says that if kids can stay in the school for three years, they can overcome most learning difficulties or being behind.
So, how do we address something like this? We came up with an idea, a Methodist idea, an early church idea: what if we meet the needs that cause people to move? That is, instead of waiting until the family is behind on rent, let’s figure out what the gap is and subsidize that gap. The practical result is that we keep the child in the school because we kept the family in the neighborhood. So. Are you willing to spend, say, $250 a month on a few families?
No, actually, most people would not be. For all the reasons we talked about above—it’s working the system, maybe they need to work harder, etc. But, those reasons were also exposed as shams because we talk ourselves out of generosity because we won’t take on the whole of the work of charity.
See, we have to be willing to go deep. That is, the Lord has blessed this already because the school has paired us with our first family, the family of a little girl I have been working with on school issues. Who knew it would be her family? And when I approached the family and said we would like to help, they were a bit shocked. Who does such a thing? They were still freaked out when I told them it’s because of Jesus ( thumbnail way of saying Luke 14 and Matthew 25…).
I also laid out that we would be asking them to be willing for me and Curtis Book (our missions pastor) to meet with them, to discuss where the money goes, how to budget, set priorities, learn life skills, and talk about new life in Jesus. Hey, if you take my rent, you gotta take my love.
The only way to actually be generous is to not give money, but rather to give the money it is going to take to get the job done, and then enter their lives in love. A little bit of money for a gas bill makes no difference. Pay more generously and enter into the real work of long-term transformation. This is why you came to Jesus. If He had forgiven only part of your sins and then left you to fend for yourself, what a mess you’d be in! But instead, He paid it all, and left you His continuing presence in the Holy Spirit and Holy Communion. He sticks with you through the hard times, not leaving when you are selfish, lazy, or ignorant. Lord, may we be willing to deal with others as you have dealt with us. Amen.
So how did all this happen? Well, it started on a small scale in Clark County. The missions person, Becky Taylor, was pretty generous with people in need. I learned a lot from that. And the need was everywhere. Pretty soon Frankie Moore and Cynthia Long were wanting to feed people. So wherever I went, I was not empty-handed, and quite simply, the Lord blesses that.
I am really just a country pastor in the heart of the town. I visit, like Wesley asked his pastors to, from house to house, to find the social needs and spiritual needs. Woe to me if I can preach the Gospel but cannot feed the hungry!! And though I don’t get to pray for sick calves or mean horses anymore, or help people load hay, it’s not that much different, the visiting from house to house. Maybe the needs are more stark, or maybe they are just more concentrated.
Somebody gave me $3,000 for my “discretionary” fund. I don’t know what all will happen with it, but I can guarantee you I will never be embarrassed again by saying I can’t help. Or won’t help.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Riders on the Storm
Saturday was a such a good day. We hung out with the boys, went to see Charlotte's Web, had a good dinner together-- all seemed as right with the world as it can be in our situation. I stepped into Kroger to pick up something quick. When I came back out, I saw that Melissa was laying on the floor of the van, stuck between the seats. I thought maybe she had had a seizure, but she said she didn't think so, and she was not in the usual fog after one. I was mad, sad, worried all at once-- there were the boys in their car seats, unable to do anything. To add insult to injury, John said he didn't think it was a seizure; I had always hoped he would never have to deal with that. His great strength was his weakness: he is my helper in so many ways, and he could not do anything to help his mommy. Joe said, "I hollered for you, Daddy. Did you hear me?"
Luckily, in spite of being worried, John got back to his normal self. By bedtime he was talking about protecting Joe from bad guys. John has definitely made things easier for Joe. Every transition that the boys make is harder for them, given Melissa's illness. But John keeps a stiff upper lip for Joe, holding his hand or putting his arm around him. And so Joseph becomes something of a spokesman; he hollered for me while John worried what to do. Most times, Joe will step forward to speak on their behalf. I guess they're like Moses and Aaron.
I spent some time talking to the boys about how to help Melissa if she has a seizure. Ack, what a discussion. I wonder why I forget sometimes with the boys what I try to live with-- being up front and honest about situations? I thought the boys would be wigged out by talking about it, but they were glad to know what to do. Joe said, "And I'll pray."
We also spent some time on perspective. That is, Melissa's cancer is gone, hopefully to stay. So if she has seizures, that's a lot better. We'll pray and trust those will be gone, too.
In the midst of all this, we still find so much joy in the Lord. I visited the Itoula family a few days ago, discussing the problem of their children still in the refugee camp in Gabon. I read them Psalm 126, the Psalm we rejoice in so much. We prayed about getting ready to sing this Psalm when their children come: "When the Lord brough back the captives to Zion, we were like men who dreamed! Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy."
Luckily, in spite of being worried, John got back to his normal self. By bedtime he was talking about protecting Joe from bad guys. John has definitely made things easier for Joe. Every transition that the boys make is harder for them, given Melissa's illness. But John keeps a stiff upper lip for Joe, holding his hand or putting his arm around him. And so Joseph becomes something of a spokesman; he hollered for me while John worried what to do. Most times, Joe will step forward to speak on their behalf. I guess they're like Moses and Aaron.
I spent some time talking to the boys about how to help Melissa if she has a seizure. Ack, what a discussion. I wonder why I forget sometimes with the boys what I try to live with-- being up front and honest about situations? I thought the boys would be wigged out by talking about it, but they were glad to know what to do. Joe said, "And I'll pray."
We also spent some time on perspective. That is, Melissa's cancer is gone, hopefully to stay. So if she has seizures, that's a lot better. We'll pray and trust those will be gone, too.
In the midst of all this, we still find so much joy in the Lord. I visited the Itoula family a few days ago, discussing the problem of their children still in the refugee camp in Gabon. I read them Psalm 126, the Psalm we rejoice in so much. We prayed about getting ready to sing this Psalm when their children come: "When the Lord brough back the captives to Zion, we were like men who dreamed! Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy."
Monday, January 08, 2007
Martha, Barbaro and Shipwreck
Melissa’s surgery went well. The doctor said the spleen just about jumped out. We won’t know for a few weeks if it works. That’s average. But it may be apparent even more quickly. But for right now, we’re happy that it went well, and she did not need any blood. She had a lot of pain after the surgery, and was not able to move much, but in a few hours, she picked up.
She was really peaceful about it all. I guess given everything else, this is small stuff. She said beforehand that lately with God and her it’s been all about trust. So she wasn’t worried.
When Melissa went in for the first chemo in 2005, it was when Martha Stewart was getting out of jail. There were news stories, and everyone was talking about Martha, feeling sorry for Martha. I was not too sympathetic; if I had done what Martha did, the cavity search would still be going on. Melissa was really mad, tho. She said that Martha did something wrong and was getting out of jail, and there Melissa was, having committed no crime and starting a two-year sentence (that’s what she called her chemo regimen… little did we know!)
Then came Barbaro back in the Spring. That was crazy. A horse was treated better than most humans, but again, there’s Melissa being irradiated. The cynic inside her said our lives must be really shallow if we get so worked up about a horse. And it only makes it worse if you say it’s because there’s so much money involved… It’s one of those moments where you laugh at how things don’t change. Wesley wrote a great essay more than 200 years ago, I think it’s called “On the Present Scarcity of Provisions.” Basically, he was decrying the idea that there are too many people to feed when the best land in England goes first to horses for racing then to grain for whiskey. Wake up, Kentucky!
And now it’s that dude who had to get rescued because he was trying to sail around the world and his boat sank. I am glad they rescued the guy, but at some point you have to wonder how come no one ever says to themselves, “I need an extreme rush! I need to face down danger and possible death! I want to do something that will demand focus and endurance! Even if I can’t get leukemia, can I at least take 105 minutes of radiation and chemo that can cause secondary cancers? Hoo-ah!” Somehow it’s cool to have to call everybody in to get you off a mountain, out of the sea, or cut off your own arm because you had to have that rush. This has been a two-year rush, but where are all those pansies?
You see why I like Cake’s song, “The Distance,” so much:
No trophies, no flashbulbs, no flowers, no wine
He wrestles with something he cannot define
Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse
Assail him and impale him with monster-truck force
She was really peaceful about it all. I guess given everything else, this is small stuff. She said beforehand that lately with God and her it’s been all about trust. So she wasn’t worried.
When Melissa went in for the first chemo in 2005, it was when Martha Stewart was getting out of jail. There were news stories, and everyone was talking about Martha, feeling sorry for Martha. I was not too sympathetic; if I had done what Martha did, the cavity search would still be going on. Melissa was really mad, tho. She said that Martha did something wrong and was getting out of jail, and there Melissa was, having committed no crime and starting a two-year sentence (that’s what she called her chemo regimen… little did we know!)
Then came Barbaro back in the Spring. That was crazy. A horse was treated better than most humans, but again, there’s Melissa being irradiated. The cynic inside her said our lives must be really shallow if we get so worked up about a horse. And it only makes it worse if you say it’s because there’s so much money involved… It’s one of those moments where you laugh at how things don’t change. Wesley wrote a great essay more than 200 years ago, I think it’s called “On the Present Scarcity of Provisions.” Basically, he was decrying the idea that there are too many people to feed when the best land in England goes first to horses for racing then to grain for whiskey. Wake up, Kentucky!
And now it’s that dude who had to get rescued because he was trying to sail around the world and his boat sank. I am glad they rescued the guy, but at some point you have to wonder how come no one ever says to themselves, “I need an extreme rush! I need to face down danger and possible death! I want to do something that will demand focus and endurance! Even if I can’t get leukemia, can I at least take 105 minutes of radiation and chemo that can cause secondary cancers? Hoo-ah!” Somehow it’s cool to have to call everybody in to get you off a mountain, out of the sea, or cut off your own arm because you had to have that rush. This has been a two-year rush, but where are all those pansies?
You see why I like Cake’s song, “The Distance,” so much:
No trophies, no flashbulbs, no flowers, no wine
He wrestles with something he cannot define
Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse
Assail him and impale him with monster-truck force
A Child's Prayer
Wow, there are just so many layers to prayer. Firday night I told Joe that Courtnay didn't feel good. Courtnay works at the church and is a favorite of the boys, altho she has for the moment been supplanted in their affections by Allison Krauss. Anyhoo, Joe stops to pray and says, "Heavenly Father, Courtnay doesn't feel good. Amen." I was immediately struck by his simple statement. He didn't ask God to do anything. He just stated the facts. A child knows something is up, but doesn't always know the answer. Joe does this in lots of areas. "I'm hot" or "I'm hungry," and then we do what seems best. BUt isn't it funny-- there's always that moment of frustration where you say, "what do you want to eat?" or "why don't you take off your coat." But what profound faith to say to God, "Courtnay's sick" and trust Him to know what's best.
Father, my children are burdened with me and my grown-up ways. Amen.
Father, my children are burdened with me and my grown-up ways. Amen.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Prayer and Preaching
There is a great and mystical connection between prayer and preaching. I learned at First Church that once we started having times of intercessory prayer during the services that the worship became more powerful—music, preaching, the feel of the service, because God’s people were praying, and people knew there was always a team back there praying. But it goes deeper than that. It reaches down into the life of the people from the lives of the worshipping congregation in heaven. And it does more than impact preaching. But preaching is on my mind right now.
When the angel Gabriel announces to the priest Zechariah that he will have a son, John (to be called the Baptist, although he sure seems like a Methodist to me…), it comes at the time of prayer, the time of burning incense (Luke 1:8-10). So, the proclamation of the birth of the one who will lead the way for the Messiah comes at the time of prayer. The task of the preacher is much like John’s, to prepare the way by convincing people of sin and showing them the way to Jesus, so should it not come at the time of, at the cost of, prayer?
A few years back, Melissa shared something powerful with the prayer meeting at Dunaway. In Revelation 5:8, there are golden bowls of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. She shared with us that she visualizes her prayers as being in those golden bowls of incense, and how the prayers of all the saints around the world, perhaps from all eternity, are in those bowls.
I have noticed a connection between the bowls of incense and prayer in Revelation and the incense and time of prayer in Luke. That is, in Luke, the incense and prayer come at the time that announces the coming of the one who will prepare the way. The incense-as-prayers of the saints in Revelation come as the Lamb whose blood has cleansed believers of sin, is declared worthy because His blood has saved us from sin. And indeed, John the Baptist cried out, “Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!”
Prayer must surround the word of proclamation if it is to have any effect at all, if it is to be more than just words, however fine, however well-put together, however full of Scripture. If there is no prayer, there will be no power. And it must be more than the preacher’s own prayer and study time, which anyway if most people are honest is more study and less prayer. No, there must be thick prayer rising up to God from the many people.
When the angel Gabriel announces to the priest Zechariah that he will have a son, John (to be called the Baptist, although he sure seems like a Methodist to me…), it comes at the time of prayer, the time of burning incense (Luke 1:8-10). So, the proclamation of the birth of the one who will lead the way for the Messiah comes at the time of prayer. The task of the preacher is much like John’s, to prepare the way by convincing people of sin and showing them the way to Jesus, so should it not come at the time of, at the cost of, prayer?
A few years back, Melissa shared something powerful with the prayer meeting at Dunaway. In Revelation 5:8, there are golden bowls of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. She shared with us that she visualizes her prayers as being in those golden bowls of incense, and how the prayers of all the saints around the world, perhaps from all eternity, are in those bowls.
I have noticed a connection between the bowls of incense and prayer in Revelation and the incense and time of prayer in Luke. That is, in Luke, the incense and prayer come at the time that announces the coming of the one who will prepare the way. The incense-as-prayers of the saints in Revelation come as the Lamb whose blood has cleansed believers of sin, is declared worthy because His blood has saved us from sin. And indeed, John the Baptist cried out, “Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!”
Prayer must surround the word of proclamation if it is to have any effect at all, if it is to be more than just words, however fine, however well-put together, however full of Scripture. If there is no prayer, there will be no power. And it must be more than the preacher’s own prayer and study time, which anyway if most people are honest is more study and less prayer. No, there must be thick prayer rising up to God from the many people.
Orth it Up
A couple of days ago, I was discussing some plans for a service of prayer and fasting that I want to have every Wednesday during the lunch hour. I hope that it will be something that brings some peace into the day—the peace of repentance and the peace of staying close to God in fasting. And I hope that there is just some peace and quiet. Bonnie MacDonald, deacon at Christ Church, would always begin her pastoral prayers with a time of silence. I took that good advice and started, too, and someone remarked to us that it was the only time of silence they had during the week.
Anyhoo, part of my plan involves some fixed praying and also some incense, both as a pleasing aroma (part of the peace and quiet) and also to symbolize the sacrifice of prayer, ascending to God. So I pulled out my censer (I have always wanted a censer, and it was my Christmas gift to me). Rosario came in and said, “All right! Way to orth it up!” So now we have a new word, “to orth,” to make something orthodox.
Even as I write, we are “orthing it up.” When the boys were first born, they came at the times when I was working on my Board of Ordained Ministry paperwork. It’s a long process and took a lot of time and effort. I would put the babies in a bassinette next to the computer and they would nap or play while I worked. I like to think it’s why they both like my set of books on the Early Church Fathers—they were right there with them from the beginning.
Anyhoo, it has been a good day for us—playing, huge naps (all four of us!) and a good dinner at a Mexican restaurant. So now, I have some stuff to write, sermons to prepare, and the boys are in bed. They seem ok that I am here in the monitor’s glow. And I have a CD of Gregorian Chant in, low volume. John says, “can this be my lullabye?” Way to orth it up, John!
A few days ago, Joseph was singing to Melissa, “You are so beautiful to me.” I thought, why is she beautiful to him? In the end, it has nothing to do with how she looks, it has to do with who she is to him, his mommy. When does that change? When does beauty quit being about the inner quality? St. Peter said, “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1 Pet 3:3-4). Way to orth it up, Joe!
Anyhoo, part of my plan involves some fixed praying and also some incense, both as a pleasing aroma (part of the peace and quiet) and also to symbolize the sacrifice of prayer, ascending to God. So I pulled out my censer (I have always wanted a censer, and it was my Christmas gift to me). Rosario came in and said, “All right! Way to orth it up!” So now we have a new word, “to orth,” to make something orthodox.
Even as I write, we are “orthing it up.” When the boys were first born, they came at the times when I was working on my Board of Ordained Ministry paperwork. It’s a long process and took a lot of time and effort. I would put the babies in a bassinette next to the computer and they would nap or play while I worked. I like to think it’s why they both like my set of books on the Early Church Fathers—they were right there with them from the beginning.
Anyhoo, it has been a good day for us—playing, huge naps (all four of us!) and a good dinner at a Mexican restaurant. So now, I have some stuff to write, sermons to prepare, and the boys are in bed. They seem ok that I am here in the monitor’s glow. And I have a CD of Gregorian Chant in, low volume. John says, “can this be my lullabye?” Way to orth it up, John!
A few days ago, Joseph was singing to Melissa, “You are so beautiful to me.” I thought, why is she beautiful to him? In the end, it has nothing to do with how she looks, it has to do with who she is to him, his mommy. When does that change? When does beauty quit being about the inner quality? St. Peter said, “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1 Pet 3:3-4). Way to orth it up, Joe!
In Defense of Brute Force
Some years back, I started getting interested in the Japanese game, Go. Actually, my interest has come in three waves, and the first two waves died for lack of time or someone to show me how to play. The third phase of my interest came to an end about a year and a half ago. See, Go is a strategy game, but it’s not like chess. It’s a 19x19 grid, and players take turns placing a black or white pebble on the points of intersection. The goal is to surround as many of your opponents pieces as possible. There is not a set opening, as in chess, where all the pieces are on the board. The game has almost infinite variety. So much so, in fact, that a computer can’t play it and win, whereas in chess, a computer can now beat the greatest players because it can predict all the possible moves.
Chess is a game of force, whereas Go is a game of patience. Maybe that’s not the right word. You take possession of property in Go by surrounding an opponent’s pieces, and the patterns that develop from that are beautiful. You take control in chess by bluntly forcing the opponent off the board, by bringing more force to bear than your opponent has.
I confess, I was interested in Go because of its elegance. I like chess a lot, but Go had some hold on my imagination. I also used to like bonsai. I always wanted to have a cedar or pine bonsai that I could make to look like the memories of my childhood on the beaches of California’s Central Coast—windswept and battered, but the tree endured, flourished, even, in spite of circumstances.
But my interest in Go ended because my interest in bonsai ended, and my interest in bonsai ended in George Strunk’s office. See, he has a bonsai plant there, in its nice little enameled trough. But it is totally dead. All its needles may be gone by this point. I asked him about it, and his answer was a real wake-up call. He said he just could not get into bonsai, could not bring himself to accede to the very idea of bonsai. He went on to say that he thought it was unnatural, to keep something from growing, to prune it, to take it out of its pot and prune its roots to keep it small, to keep it from growing. “It’s not the Kingdom,” he said.
Sometimes you need someone else to shake you out of complacency. You think you know something, you think you’re sold out to something. In my case, I like to think I am sold out to the growth of the Kingdom, the agricultural metaphors of Jesus. And yet there was a double-mind of interest in bonsai.
I know that sounds melodramatic, but I think that what was behind what George was saying was you have to believe. I don’t mean just lip-service, or think it’s a cool idea. But there is more to it than even working hard at it.
So there I was. I let go of bonsai, and Go, too. Because around the time that I heard George’s parable, I was also reading Victor Hanson’s Carnage and Culture, a book everyone should read. Hanson discusses the Western way of war in contrast to non-Western ways. He says what makes the Western way more effective is that it is finally amoral and not ritualized. That is to say, it is not so much interested in how as in what. There is a goal that is independent of the means to the extent that the Western way adopts and adapts to accomplish the ends of war as opposed to the forms.
This is what I mean by the title of this blog entry—in defense of brute force I mean we have to let go of notions about church that may be pleasing, elegant, or time-honored. Bonsai are pleasing. Go is elegant. Sure, if you want to sound cool at a cocktail party, read Sun Tzu. But if you want to win, try de Jomini. Sure bonsai is fun in a solipsistic way, but better the man who plants a tree that produces fruit that produces seeds to produce many more trees to produce fruit…
There is a K-mart future for the United Methodist Church. That is, in the next 10 years, we will see an acceleration of churches closing, especially in the rural areas. Some will close because older congregants die. Some will close because they are run by wolves and vultures. Some will close because the pastors, perhaps hampered by wolves and vultures, won’t bring in the new people who have moved to the country. But close they will. And then there will be one option: to sell the property. And then we will, like K-mart, make a killing. Then comes the crucial moment. What will we do with the money?
What we should do is put it into starting new congregations all over the place, even in the poorest, inelegant places. Find by hook and by crook the kinds of pastors who can start a new work, and rebuild the church. What we will do, I am afraid, is send the money to the bureaucrats who can prop up the same failed plans that got us into this mess in the first place. But for a little while there will be a chance to lay aside things that are pleasing and even elegant in our own tradition for the things that will get the job done. From the beginning, the Kingdom has been forcefully advancing…
Let me give you an example of the frightening problems at the highest levels of the United Methodist Church, the jokers who get too much of our money. When I was at Christ Church, I was doing some research on how do churches grow by conversion, not transfer. Our growth comes from transfer—people moving from one town to another, or people who come from another denomination. That’s not growth. You can see it in a horrible piece of reality: there is no county in America that has more people attending church now than it did in 1990. Lots of churches have grown, but Christianity is dying. So, the key is to learn how to get back to making converts to the faith.
So, I did the logical thing. I called and emailed the United Methodist Church’s General Board of Discipleship and asked for the Evangelism bureau. We have a few people heading that up for the church. I asked what I thought was a simple question: which UM churches are growing by “profession of faith,” that is, conversion? I figured once I heard about who was doing it, I would look for churches about Christ Church’s size and learn from them.
They did not know. The very people in charge of evangelism for the largest mainline denomination in America have no idea which of their churches are growing by profession of faith; the people in charge of evangelism do not know which churches are doing evangelism!
But they did have a suggestion for me: I should get in contact with GCFA, the General Council on Finance and Administration. This agency keeps all the records for the UMC. So, since every church turns in a yearly report that has a line for “professions of faith,” they should be able to tell me which churches are growing by professions of faith.
Now, disregard the fact that maybe the evangelism gurus in the Board of Discipleship should already know that. So I got in touch with GCFA. Naturally, it’s not really their job to worry about that specific line in the report. They offered to send me the data reports of all 40,000 or so United Methodist Churches and then I could look at the profession of faith lines for each church…
Finally I broke down and called a retired bishop, Bishop Looney, who started the Foundation for Evangelism. I guess he started it because the bureaucrats weren’t doing evangelism. He gave me the names of a few churches based on my criteria. He knew it off the top of his head—because first, there are very few churches growing this way, and because he keeps up with such stuff.
We can keep doing what we’ve been doing. Or we can take the chance that is going to be offered us: to put our money to good use. Quit doing it the way we have been and do something that works. We have such an elegant structure, vast and sprawling, and many times that is all Go comes down to—a game that is about a beautiful and unpredictable complex design. Looks cool in a coffee house, but it’s not very good training for war.
Chess is a game of force, whereas Go is a game of patience. Maybe that’s not the right word. You take possession of property in Go by surrounding an opponent’s pieces, and the patterns that develop from that are beautiful. You take control in chess by bluntly forcing the opponent off the board, by bringing more force to bear than your opponent has.
I confess, I was interested in Go because of its elegance. I like chess a lot, but Go had some hold on my imagination. I also used to like bonsai. I always wanted to have a cedar or pine bonsai that I could make to look like the memories of my childhood on the beaches of California’s Central Coast—windswept and battered, but the tree endured, flourished, even, in spite of circumstances.
But my interest in Go ended because my interest in bonsai ended, and my interest in bonsai ended in George Strunk’s office. See, he has a bonsai plant there, in its nice little enameled trough. But it is totally dead. All its needles may be gone by this point. I asked him about it, and his answer was a real wake-up call. He said he just could not get into bonsai, could not bring himself to accede to the very idea of bonsai. He went on to say that he thought it was unnatural, to keep something from growing, to prune it, to take it out of its pot and prune its roots to keep it small, to keep it from growing. “It’s not the Kingdom,” he said.
Sometimes you need someone else to shake you out of complacency. You think you know something, you think you’re sold out to something. In my case, I like to think I am sold out to the growth of the Kingdom, the agricultural metaphors of Jesus. And yet there was a double-mind of interest in bonsai.
I know that sounds melodramatic, but I think that what was behind what George was saying was you have to believe. I don’t mean just lip-service, or think it’s a cool idea. But there is more to it than even working hard at it.
So there I was. I let go of bonsai, and Go, too. Because around the time that I heard George’s parable, I was also reading Victor Hanson’s Carnage and Culture, a book everyone should read. Hanson discusses the Western way of war in contrast to non-Western ways. He says what makes the Western way more effective is that it is finally amoral and not ritualized. That is to say, it is not so much interested in how as in what. There is a goal that is independent of the means to the extent that the Western way adopts and adapts to accomplish the ends of war as opposed to the forms.
This is what I mean by the title of this blog entry—in defense of brute force I mean we have to let go of notions about church that may be pleasing, elegant, or time-honored. Bonsai are pleasing. Go is elegant. Sure, if you want to sound cool at a cocktail party, read Sun Tzu. But if you want to win, try de Jomini. Sure bonsai is fun in a solipsistic way, but better the man who plants a tree that produces fruit that produces seeds to produce many more trees to produce fruit…
There is a K-mart future for the United Methodist Church. That is, in the next 10 years, we will see an acceleration of churches closing, especially in the rural areas. Some will close because older congregants die. Some will close because they are run by wolves and vultures. Some will close because the pastors, perhaps hampered by wolves and vultures, won’t bring in the new people who have moved to the country. But close they will. And then there will be one option: to sell the property. And then we will, like K-mart, make a killing. Then comes the crucial moment. What will we do with the money?
What we should do is put it into starting new congregations all over the place, even in the poorest, inelegant places. Find by hook and by crook the kinds of pastors who can start a new work, and rebuild the church. What we will do, I am afraid, is send the money to the bureaucrats who can prop up the same failed plans that got us into this mess in the first place. But for a little while there will be a chance to lay aside things that are pleasing and even elegant in our own tradition for the things that will get the job done. From the beginning, the Kingdom has been forcefully advancing…
Let me give you an example of the frightening problems at the highest levels of the United Methodist Church, the jokers who get too much of our money. When I was at Christ Church, I was doing some research on how do churches grow by conversion, not transfer. Our growth comes from transfer—people moving from one town to another, or people who come from another denomination. That’s not growth. You can see it in a horrible piece of reality: there is no county in America that has more people attending church now than it did in 1990. Lots of churches have grown, but Christianity is dying. So, the key is to learn how to get back to making converts to the faith.
So, I did the logical thing. I called and emailed the United Methodist Church’s General Board of Discipleship and asked for the Evangelism bureau. We have a few people heading that up for the church. I asked what I thought was a simple question: which UM churches are growing by “profession of faith,” that is, conversion? I figured once I heard about who was doing it, I would look for churches about Christ Church’s size and learn from them.
They did not know. The very people in charge of evangelism for the largest mainline denomination in America have no idea which of their churches are growing by profession of faith; the people in charge of evangelism do not know which churches are doing evangelism!
But they did have a suggestion for me: I should get in contact with GCFA, the General Council on Finance and Administration. This agency keeps all the records for the UMC. So, since every church turns in a yearly report that has a line for “professions of faith,” they should be able to tell me which churches are growing by professions of faith.
Now, disregard the fact that maybe the evangelism gurus in the Board of Discipleship should already know that. So I got in touch with GCFA. Naturally, it’s not really their job to worry about that specific line in the report. They offered to send me the data reports of all 40,000 or so United Methodist Churches and then I could look at the profession of faith lines for each church…
Finally I broke down and called a retired bishop, Bishop Looney, who started the Foundation for Evangelism. I guess he started it because the bureaucrats weren’t doing evangelism. He gave me the names of a few churches based on my criteria. He knew it off the top of his head—because first, there are very few churches growing this way, and because he keeps up with such stuff.
We can keep doing what we’ve been doing. Or we can take the chance that is going to be offered us: to put our money to good use. Quit doing it the way we have been and do something that works. We have such an elegant structure, vast and sprawling, and many times that is all Go comes down to—a game that is about a beautiful and unpredictable complex design. Looks cool in a coffee house, but it’s not very good training for war.
Monday, January 01, 2007
New Year
Already, this New Year is better than last. Last year, we knew we were headed for bone marrow transplant, that the disease would spread rapidly by the time we could get the transplant, and who knew what would happen? Who knew where things would stand at this point?
So we are thankful and full of praise. We are glad that things like seizures and splenectomy are not life-threatening parts of the disease. We are blessed. Family and friends have made this journey not just easier, but possible. So, what will this year be like? I am hoping it will be like last year, from the standpoint of relying on God. You can't go wrong there.
Happy New Year!
So we are thankful and full of praise. We are glad that things like seizures and splenectomy are not life-threatening parts of the disease. We are blessed. Family and friends have made this journey not just easier, but possible. So, what will this year be like? I am hoping it will be like last year, from the standpoint of relying on God. You can't go wrong there.
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
On the way
Today, on the way home from school, we got to wondering how we came up with some goofy hand sign we use. Joe finally said, "we all came up with it together," which I thought was a pretty good answer; there's a lot of power in doing things that way, in thinking of things that way. I mentioned that was kind of how the Holy Spirit worked in believers. John then said, "The Holy Spirit reaches into His pocket and pulls out his glue stick and keeps everyone together." Truly, the Fathers could do no better.
When the angel Gabriel announces that Elizabeth will give birth to a son, Zechariah can't believe it. Then the angel stops him from being able to speak until the child is born. But when Gabriel comes to Mary and tells her she will give birth to a son conceived by the Holy Spirit, she expresses doubt in the same way that Zechariah does, but she is not struck silent. I wonder why.
Greater love hath no man than that he take his children to Chuck E. Cheese for two and a half hours...
p/g
When the angel Gabriel announces that Elizabeth will give birth to a son, Zechariah can't believe it. Then the angel stops him from being able to speak until the child is born. But when Gabriel comes to Mary and tells her she will give birth to a son conceived by the Holy Spirit, she expresses doubt in the same way that Zechariah does, but she is not struck silent. I wonder why.
Greater love hath no man than that he take his children to Chuck E. Cheese for two and a half hours...
p/g
Monday, December 25, 2006
Christmas Morning
It's been said that it took the wise men, the kings, whatever they were, two years to get to Jesus, but all the shepherds had to do was cross the field! I guess the shepherds didn't have anything to lose; if they go and it's a bust, oh well, they had a diversion from the monotony and cold of watching flocks by night. If it's true, well, then nothing will ever be the same again.
The magi, on the other hand, have a lot to lose. But I'm not sure they knew that going in. Some of the early church Fathers say that the star in the sky marked the end of astrology. They didn't mean horoscopes, they meant something much more. Astrology was big stuff in the ancient world. It was about the only certainty pagans had about their gods-- the stars moved in predictable patterns, and if you were learned, possessed mysterious knowledge, you could predict eclipses or the flooding of the Nile. It was all-important knowledge. Something new in the sky-- a comet, or some strange alignment of planets meant something. Maybe good, maybe bad; better check it out. So the magi followed a sign they knew something about.
But they did not know that with the birth of the Christ Child certainty had come into the world. No more need to look at goat livers or chicken bones to determine the future, or the nature of the gods. The one and only god had come into the world, took on flesh, shown great love and mystery.
They knew they had to worship Him. But were they happy about it? What did they do with it? Your life changes when you accept the babe born in Bethlehem. The things the magi had-- wealth, status, power, knowledge-- mean very little in the wake of Christ's birth. That is, they mean very little if you depend on them for happiness or peace. The end of astrology means not only certainty about God and who He is; what He is like is availible in the person of Jesus; the end of astrology means that all the things we hold on to must go. They are increasingly revealed for the hollow and empty things they are. There's never enough money. The love runs out. You can't drink it away.
We have a lot to lose, don't we? I think of the drunk who came by the church. To exchange to the certainty of the love of Jesus for his bottle, he thinks it's too much. I once thought in broader strokes-- the intrusion into my life and rights of a God who can say what is holy and unholy was too much to take. So much of who I was and what I liked to do had to die.
We are blessed when we wake up before it is too late, when we realize that all our ways are leading to death, and that the birth of Christ is an invasion, a beginning of the end. All the forces of darkness, death, and corruption are going to be swept away. They couldn't, can't, see it coming. But we do, even though (as the Apostle Peter says), "we suffer grief for a little while."
I think there is a new birth today. I hold the Christ Child and pray that He will grow in me. I want my home to be a "Little Nazareth," where He can grow and speak to us.
p/g
The magi, on the other hand, have a lot to lose. But I'm not sure they knew that going in. Some of the early church Fathers say that the star in the sky marked the end of astrology. They didn't mean horoscopes, they meant something much more. Astrology was big stuff in the ancient world. It was about the only certainty pagans had about their gods-- the stars moved in predictable patterns, and if you were learned, possessed mysterious knowledge, you could predict eclipses or the flooding of the Nile. It was all-important knowledge. Something new in the sky-- a comet, or some strange alignment of planets meant something. Maybe good, maybe bad; better check it out. So the magi followed a sign they knew something about.
But they did not know that with the birth of the Christ Child certainty had come into the world. No more need to look at goat livers or chicken bones to determine the future, or the nature of the gods. The one and only god had come into the world, took on flesh, shown great love and mystery.
They knew they had to worship Him. But were they happy about it? What did they do with it? Your life changes when you accept the babe born in Bethlehem. The things the magi had-- wealth, status, power, knowledge-- mean very little in the wake of Christ's birth. That is, they mean very little if you depend on them for happiness or peace. The end of astrology means not only certainty about God and who He is; what He is like is availible in the person of Jesus; the end of astrology means that all the things we hold on to must go. They are increasingly revealed for the hollow and empty things they are. There's never enough money. The love runs out. You can't drink it away.
We have a lot to lose, don't we? I think of the drunk who came by the church. To exchange to the certainty of the love of Jesus for his bottle, he thinks it's too much. I once thought in broader strokes-- the intrusion into my life and rights of a God who can say what is holy and unholy was too much to take. So much of who I was and what I liked to do had to die.
We are blessed when we wake up before it is too late, when we realize that all our ways are leading to death, and that the birth of Christ is an invasion, a beginning of the end. All the forces of darkness, death, and corruption are going to be swept away. They couldn't, can't, see it coming. But we do, even though (as the Apostle Peter says), "we suffer grief for a little while."
I think there is a new birth today. I hold the Christ Child and pray that He will grow in me. I want my home to be a "Little Nazareth," where He can grow and speak to us.
p/g
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Hide and Seek
“I am frightened by the corrupted ways of this land—if only I could kill the killer”
--Alannis Morrissette, “All I Really Want”
“Then the king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, whose names were Shiprah and Puah, ‘When you help the Hebrew women in childbirth and observe them on the delivery stool, if it is a boy, kill him…. Now a man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman, and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket fro him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the banks of the Nile” (Exodus 1:15-16; 2:1-3).
“When they [the magi] had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. ‘Get up’, he said, ‘take the child and his mother and escape into Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him’” (Matthew 2:13).
The summer days in Germany were long. The sun did not start going down until around ten. So we kids stayed out as long as we could. Our favorite game was hide and seek. The way we played it was a lot more fun than I had played it in the States. But one day, something strange struck me, something that has come back on me a few times since the boys were born.
I realized that in some way, Hide and Seek is a vicious game of survival training. Can you hide from the hunter? Can you find the prey? Answers to those questions mean life or death in many parts of human history. I remember thinking about the Holocaust and the terrible stories of people trying to hide, but being given away by a crying child. Or a mother who had to smother her child to save the lives of many. Then I got back to playing.
I know, I know, I have a dark streak in my personality, one that is at once fearful of violence and convinced that part of my task is to resist it and help others do the same. I suppose there was something of a call in my childhood thoughts about hide and seek.
Sometimes when I see John or Joe running across the field to the creek, I am tormented again by those childhood thoughts. How slow children are, how weak. And then, as a man, I now know that if people are weak, they are taken advantage of. It’s even legal to do so, because they are weak and can’t stand up for themselves. An instructive moment: I mentioned to a colleague that “activists” in the church community have missed the main justice issue in America: abortion. The reply was that if I asked the people in the community if abortion was the main issue, they wouldn’t agree. I replied “That’s because the people for whom it is an issue are dead.” The dead do not get to speak, and a fetus can only raise a hand in a startle-reflex. Why are we so scared of children? Moses and Jesus would have a hard time being born in our own day. There is nothing new under the sun, and the more things change, the more they say the same.
A few nights ago, we were playing hide and seek downstairs. Normally this is such a good game, and I don’t really think about my darker thoughts. I mean, one of us hides and the other two snuggle on the couch while we count. (When boys get older, they don’t snuggle with dad as much, so you have to sneak it in where you can). Thursday night Joe lamented that he doesn’t know how to hide very well. Dark clouds rise. Then, he was hiding in a good place, but two of his toes were sticking out. That was it. We went on playing, but I was twisting inside. Do I give him a crash course in hiding? There’s nothing sadder than desperation.
Of course it’s ridiculous, but then again it is not. Does anyone deny the existence of evil, its particular fondness for the weakest and most vulnerable? We sometimes think it is a limited thing, something that happens to the unfortunate few. We can feel bad when we hear about it, but it won’t touch us. Finally, evil exists in a million forms, and perhaps the most pernicious are not the physical manifestations, but rather the devilry of domination and control in relationships.
I met a man a few days ago who came to the church looking for some clothes. He was a drunk, and said, “I’ll be honest, I shit all over myself. I can’t go around stinking like this.” It was pretty bad, for sure. I mentioned that there was a deeper filth all over him that he had to let go of, too.
“I’d rather die,” he said.
“You’re going to,” I said. And then he told me that his dad gave him whiskey to shut him up when he was a baby and small child. He could not hide from that hunter.
p/g
--Alannis Morrissette, “All I Really Want”
“Then the king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, whose names were Shiprah and Puah, ‘When you help the Hebrew women in childbirth and observe them on the delivery stool, if it is a boy, kill him…. Now a man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman, and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket fro him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the banks of the Nile” (Exodus 1:15-16; 2:1-3).
“When they [the magi] had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. ‘Get up’, he said, ‘take the child and his mother and escape into Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him’” (Matthew 2:13).
The summer days in Germany were long. The sun did not start going down until around ten. So we kids stayed out as long as we could. Our favorite game was hide and seek. The way we played it was a lot more fun than I had played it in the States. But one day, something strange struck me, something that has come back on me a few times since the boys were born.
I realized that in some way, Hide and Seek is a vicious game of survival training. Can you hide from the hunter? Can you find the prey? Answers to those questions mean life or death in many parts of human history. I remember thinking about the Holocaust and the terrible stories of people trying to hide, but being given away by a crying child. Or a mother who had to smother her child to save the lives of many. Then I got back to playing.
I know, I know, I have a dark streak in my personality, one that is at once fearful of violence and convinced that part of my task is to resist it and help others do the same. I suppose there was something of a call in my childhood thoughts about hide and seek.
Sometimes when I see John or Joe running across the field to the creek, I am tormented again by those childhood thoughts. How slow children are, how weak. And then, as a man, I now know that if people are weak, they are taken advantage of. It’s even legal to do so, because they are weak and can’t stand up for themselves. An instructive moment: I mentioned to a colleague that “activists” in the church community have missed the main justice issue in America: abortion. The reply was that if I asked the people in the community if abortion was the main issue, they wouldn’t agree. I replied “That’s because the people for whom it is an issue are dead.” The dead do not get to speak, and a fetus can only raise a hand in a startle-reflex. Why are we so scared of children? Moses and Jesus would have a hard time being born in our own day. There is nothing new under the sun, and the more things change, the more they say the same.
A few nights ago, we were playing hide and seek downstairs. Normally this is such a good game, and I don’t really think about my darker thoughts. I mean, one of us hides and the other two snuggle on the couch while we count. (When boys get older, they don’t snuggle with dad as much, so you have to sneak it in where you can). Thursday night Joe lamented that he doesn’t know how to hide very well. Dark clouds rise. Then, he was hiding in a good place, but two of his toes were sticking out. That was it. We went on playing, but I was twisting inside. Do I give him a crash course in hiding? There’s nothing sadder than desperation.
Of course it’s ridiculous, but then again it is not. Does anyone deny the existence of evil, its particular fondness for the weakest and most vulnerable? We sometimes think it is a limited thing, something that happens to the unfortunate few. We can feel bad when we hear about it, but it won’t touch us. Finally, evil exists in a million forms, and perhaps the most pernicious are not the physical manifestations, but rather the devilry of domination and control in relationships.
I met a man a few days ago who came to the church looking for some clothes. He was a drunk, and said, “I’ll be honest, I shit all over myself. I can’t go around stinking like this.” It was pretty bad, for sure. I mentioned that there was a deeper filth all over him that he had to let go of, too.
“I’d rather die,” he said.
“You’re going to,” I said. And then he told me that his dad gave him whiskey to shut him up when he was a baby and small child. He could not hide from that hunter.
p/g
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Christmas Songs
Last night we had a Christmas Singing Service. I guess there were 80 or so of us together, and we had polled the congregation to find our favorite Christmas hymns. Then we just sang, and were blessed. The Itoula family sang, Princia Itoula did a solo and so did Noella Mapigano, Magdalena Rodriguez, and Nancy Agrinsoni. Denis Diaz led us in Feliz Navidad. All told, we sang in English, Spanish, French, Swahili and Lingala. I hope everyone got to see that we were all together, a very diverse group of people, but all together as children of God.
Afterwards, we had dessert. It was so good to see everyone together. I sat at a table with some kids—Rosy, Joyce and Jose Itoula, Alex, Savanna, and Lainie. Kids are quick to be friends. But the adults, well, we still sometimes separate because it’s easier. That’s ok. I like nothing better than walking around to tables, introducing people, and causing trouble, then leaving.
It always comes back to guts. Will we be one family? Will we make a choice to not simply tolerate, but to embrace? I’ve been in too many places where people “value” diversity. Funny, but the people who talk most about diversity rarely model it, because they are content on the surface to see lots of difference, but don’t really want to accept that different people may actually have something to say! More importantly, diversity doesn’t happen if you can retreat somewhere to a homogenous place. It means actually living together.
I know this is an uphill battle. In fact, I suspect that I may lose. We may lose. That is, we will have misunderstandings. We will grow weary of trying when it is easier not to. We will not “submit one to another, out of reverence for Christ” (Ephesians 5:21). Only our love for Jesus and the Holy Spirit will sustain this work.
I learned an important lesson in Winchester: if you do the right thing, the money and the people show up. It’s hard to trust that, but I have not been disappointed yet. Our ministry is to all people, but especially to the poorest of the poor among us. So we are marginal, and it is always going to be a struggle to survive, to find people willing to be here not just in worship, but also in terms of community life. And then, the very people who are our constituents do not have the kind of money it takes to run a mission. But we are also a church. First and foremost a place of preaching. So we are a weird thing, but a good thing, and I hope people can see that, and join us. If you want a glimpse of heaven, come visit us sometime!
p/g
Afterwards, we had dessert. It was so good to see everyone together. I sat at a table with some kids—Rosy, Joyce and Jose Itoula, Alex, Savanna, and Lainie. Kids are quick to be friends. But the adults, well, we still sometimes separate because it’s easier. That’s ok. I like nothing better than walking around to tables, introducing people, and causing trouble, then leaving.
It always comes back to guts. Will we be one family? Will we make a choice to not simply tolerate, but to embrace? I’ve been in too many places where people “value” diversity. Funny, but the people who talk most about diversity rarely model it, because they are content on the surface to see lots of difference, but don’t really want to accept that different people may actually have something to say! More importantly, diversity doesn’t happen if you can retreat somewhere to a homogenous place. It means actually living together.
I know this is an uphill battle. In fact, I suspect that I may lose. We may lose. That is, we will have misunderstandings. We will grow weary of trying when it is easier not to. We will not “submit one to another, out of reverence for Christ” (Ephesians 5:21). Only our love for Jesus and the Holy Spirit will sustain this work.
I learned an important lesson in Winchester: if you do the right thing, the money and the people show up. It’s hard to trust that, but I have not been disappointed yet. Our ministry is to all people, but especially to the poorest of the poor among us. So we are marginal, and it is always going to be a struggle to survive, to find people willing to be here not just in worship, but also in terms of community life. And then, the very people who are our constituents do not have the kind of money it takes to run a mission. But we are also a church. First and foremost a place of preaching. So we are a weird thing, but a good thing, and I hope people can see that, and join us. If you want a glimpse of heaven, come visit us sometime!
p/g
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Christmas Greetings
What a year! So many changes-- we thought we would be done with leukemia in the fall of 2005, then just before Christmas we got the bad news Melissa would need further treatment, meaning bone marrow transplant. Decisions about where-- Vanderbilt or UL? We think we made the right choice, and anyway, Melissa is disease-free since August! It’s been a long recovery from the rigors of the transplant, but she gains strength everyday. We have a long way to go. We continue to ask for your constant prayers, as the cancer could come back. But everyone is upbeat, and no matter what, we keep living!
We are serving at The Rock La Roca United Methodist Church, and if you have followed this blog, you know what a freaked out place it is! We are very blessed to be in such a ministry. I can’t put my finger on it, I couldn’t have planned it, could not have conceived it, but when I am in it, I know it is what I have been looking for in a group of believers.
John is 6 years old and lost his first tooth a few weeks ago. He is in Kindergarten at Cornerstone Christian Academy. Joseph is 4 and also goes to Cornerstone for preschool. I cannot say enough what blessings they are in our lives. I turned thirty-seven and am a diligent student at the School of Hard Knocks.
This is now the 13th Christmas since I accepted Christ as Lord and Savior. I love Advent and Christmas, maybe it was the years in Germany? There was so much happening this time of year there. The Feast of St. Martin (Nov 11) kicks it off. Then Dec.5 we put our shoes out for St. Nikolaus. We ravaged our Advent calendars. We opened gifts Christmas Eve. All was calm and bright.
I meditate a lot on the baby Jesus, the mystery of the Incarnation. I think of Mary and Joseph raising Him. I wonder about what it means that the Word could not walk or speak. I remember how much I look forward to each new place the boys go in their development, the things they say, can say, can understand. And then I wonder about the first time Jesus spoke. What did He say? When He learned to speak, did we learn to listen? When He speaks, He says, “come and see.” “Follow Me.” “Give up everything.”
All of you are in our prayers. We wish you a Merry Christmas, with all the fullness of the meaning of the season!
p/g
We are serving at The Rock La Roca United Methodist Church, and if you have followed this blog, you know what a freaked out place it is! We are very blessed to be in such a ministry. I can’t put my finger on it, I couldn’t have planned it, could not have conceived it, but when I am in it, I know it is what I have been looking for in a group of believers.
John is 6 years old and lost his first tooth a few weeks ago. He is in Kindergarten at Cornerstone Christian Academy. Joseph is 4 and also goes to Cornerstone for preschool. I cannot say enough what blessings they are in our lives. I turned thirty-seven and am a diligent student at the School of Hard Knocks.
This is now the 13th Christmas since I accepted Christ as Lord and Savior. I love Advent and Christmas, maybe it was the years in Germany? There was so much happening this time of year there. The Feast of St. Martin (Nov 11) kicks it off. Then Dec.5 we put our shoes out for St. Nikolaus. We ravaged our Advent calendars. We opened gifts Christmas Eve. All was calm and bright.
I meditate a lot on the baby Jesus, the mystery of the Incarnation. I think of Mary and Joseph raising Him. I wonder about what it means that the Word could not walk or speak. I remember how much I look forward to each new place the boys go in their development, the things they say, can say, can understand. And then I wonder about the first time Jesus spoke. What did He say? When He learned to speak, did we learn to listen? When He speaks, He says, “come and see.” “Follow Me.” “Give up everything.”
All of you are in our prayers. We wish you a Merry Christmas, with all the fullness of the meaning of the season!
p/g
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Otherworldly
I told david and Noella (two of our Congolese people) that the church in America is weak. They nodded and said they had noticed as much. Noella asked, "How many of your people can fast three days?" What can you say? As a United Methodist pastor, I took a vow that says among other things that I will "teach fasting and abstinence by precept and example." I know that I have preached on it a lot, try to keep to fasting on Wednesdays, but on one even humors me about fasting. It's too serious, I suppose.
David then asked, "Do you have a Baptism School?" Apparently where he went to church in Congo, they had a long-term class to get people ready for baptism. And when you passed, they took you before the congregation, but if someone said you were still living in sin, oh well, start over. We think, "Oh my! How harsh and judgmental." St Cyril did not think so. Neither did St. Ambrose. Or Augustine. Or more recntly, John Wesley. My church in Winchester kicked a guy out in the 1870s because he sold a bum mule to someone. Now that's discipleship. I could at least say to David, we are working on in-depth discipleship program.
A month or so ago, I asked them what their names mean. The oldest boy is Malippo, and it means "reward." The youngest boy is Benjamin. The family's last name is Mapigano, which means "war." Noella said they changed Benjamin's last name to... "Espoir," or "Hope."
David related that when the genocide in Rwanda happened, and people spilled across the borders, his mother took care of people as best could. David fussed at her a little bit because it was taking away from the family's meager provisions. She told him, "One day we may need someone to take care of us." He couldn't argue with her on that. "And now," he said, "here we are." Praise God.
We laughed a little bit about some things. It's cold to them here. They have never seen natural ice. But David said some people he knows were resettled to Norway.
p/g
David then asked, "Do you have a Baptism School?" Apparently where he went to church in Congo, they had a long-term class to get people ready for baptism. And when you passed, they took you before the congregation, but if someone said you were still living in sin, oh well, start over. We think, "Oh my! How harsh and judgmental." St Cyril did not think so. Neither did St. Ambrose. Or Augustine. Or more recntly, John Wesley. My church in Winchester kicked a guy out in the 1870s because he sold a bum mule to someone. Now that's discipleship. I could at least say to David, we are working on in-depth discipleship program.
A month or so ago, I asked them what their names mean. The oldest boy is Malippo, and it means "reward." The youngest boy is Benjamin. The family's last name is Mapigano, which means "war." Noella said they changed Benjamin's last name to... "Espoir," or "Hope."
David related that when the genocide in Rwanda happened, and people spilled across the borders, his mother took care of people as best could. David fussed at her a little bit because it was taking away from the family's meager provisions. She told him, "One day we may need someone to take care of us." He couldn't argue with her on that. "And now," he said, "here we are." Praise God.
We laughed a little bit about some things. It's cold to them here. They have never seen natural ice. But David said some people he knows were resettled to Norway.
p/g
Saturday, December 09, 2006
No Need for Name-Calling...
In the last two weeks three different people have referred to The Rock La Roca as part of “the emerging church.” I know they meant well, but I took it hard. The only think I know about the so-called emerging church movement is from Brian McLaren, and I don’t care much for his stuff. I think it’s an attempt to soak off the vibe of some sentimental notion of the pre-medieval church. There’s a loose definition that says there are new kinds of churches “emerging” that aren’t “traditional” in the way we have tended to think about church. Fine. But the end result for me has to be that we don’t do or say anything new.
p/g
p/g
Monday, December 04, 2006
Dancing Days Are Here Again
All I can do is keep falling back on Psalm 126—“When the Lord brought back the captives to Zion, we were like men who dreamed. Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.”
My thoughts on this Psalm are always closely related to Psalm 121, especially “He will not let your foot slip, He who watches over you will not slumber.” The only way you can understand that is living with it for a long time. If you want it as an instantaneous promise that nothing bad will ever happen, then I guess you’re right—it’s foolish and wishful thinking.
But if you trust 3000 years of peoples’ faith and your own experience with God over the long haul you see that it means precisely what Paul said. None of us are getting out of here alive, sin and evil are real. But, “nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
So, a few days before the scan when we were tired of waiting, wondering, trying to prepare for the worst, Melissa said simply that if it’s bad news and a downhill slide, she’s ok because she’s going home. Not an easy conversation. But imagine if you did not have the going home part, just bad news and a downhill slide.
But for now, we are delivered. I’m not sure what to say in prayer. Maybe the more you have to say, the less important things are? When it’s vital, life and death, maybe there is only silence in the face of God’s awesomeness.
p/g
My thoughts on this Psalm are always closely related to Psalm 121, especially “He will not let your foot slip, He who watches over you will not slumber.” The only way you can understand that is living with it for a long time. If you want it as an instantaneous promise that nothing bad will ever happen, then I guess you’re right—it’s foolish and wishful thinking.
But if you trust 3000 years of peoples’ faith and your own experience with God over the long haul you see that it means precisely what Paul said. None of us are getting out of here alive, sin and evil are real. But, “nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
So, a few days before the scan when we were tired of waiting, wondering, trying to prepare for the worst, Melissa said simply that if it’s bad news and a downhill slide, she’s ok because she’s going home. Not an easy conversation. But imagine if you did not have the going home part, just bad news and a downhill slide.
But for now, we are delivered. I’m not sure what to say in prayer. Maybe the more you have to say, the less important things are? When it’s vital, life and death, maybe there is only silence in the face of God’s awesomeness.
p/g
Multi-Cultural
An instructive moment at Wal-Mart: I was there with David Mapigano, the father of the Congolese family we are sponsoring. We were laughing and joking about how much we're alike-- 2 boys, 2 years apart, wives much taller than both of us... Then I saw Julio, one of our parishioners. We waved him over and tried to have conversation, altho my Spanish is grim. I understand half of what is said to me but can't say much back. David and Julio tried to talk a little, and that was awesome-- recognizing that they were both immigrants and had something in common, and knowing that they were both Christians. I was standing there thinking, "I can't believe that I am the pastor of such a freaked out church!" I don't think I have a had a moment more thankful for my calling, and for the opportunity that we have at The Rock La Roca.
And then at the evening service, a black man said to me at communion-- "merci pour la message ce soir." Well, it's a Spanish-speaking service and here's this guy speaking French. I talked to him and his wife after the service, Luc and Joannie. They are from Haiti and heard that there was a church that had preaching in French. Joannie said, "God wants everyone to be together, that's why this is happening."
Can we do it? Are we tough enough? Are we bold as love? Multi-cultural churches generally fail. It's too easy for people to choose to go to a place where it's one language, one type of people. But I do not think the La Rocans are like that. I used to think people come here because they choose to. Now I am wondering if part of it is alos being chosen, being called, and then submitting to work through how God's spirit is pushing through us.
p/g
And then at the evening service, a black man said to me at communion-- "merci pour la message ce soir." Well, it's a Spanish-speaking service and here's this guy speaking French. I talked to him and his wife after the service, Luc and Joannie. They are from Haiti and heard that there was a church that had preaching in French. Joannie said, "God wants everyone to be together, that's why this is happening."
Can we do it? Are we tough enough? Are we bold as love? Multi-cultural churches generally fail. It's too easy for people to choose to go to a place where it's one language, one type of people. But I do not think the La Rocans are like that. I used to think people come here because they choose to. Now I am wondering if part of it is alos being chosen, being called, and then submitting to work through how God's spirit is pushing through us.
p/g
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