Category Archives: faith

Lord’s Prayer: Fourth Petition

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Give us this day our daily bread.
Hundreds of millions of people pray the Lord’s Prayer today. Tens of millions will pray it tomorrow. We all say it.
We all say, “Give us this day our daily bread.” Millions of people say this and yet there are still hungry people. There are people who do not have enough. People who are unable to make ends meet. People who will go to bed tonight with growling stomachs. Children who will go without eating because they depend on the school lunch program for a meal each day and now it’s summer.
Most of us have enough. In fact, most of us have more than enough. And most of us are not hungry right now, unless we happened to skip breakfast today.
And yet we pray, Give us this day our daily bread.
We pray it and we pray in concert with all people around the world. It is not Give me or Give my family. It is Give us. We are praying with people who believe like us, who are living faithfully in God’s promises… we are praying with people who believe like us on behalf of everyone.
To pray for daily bread for all people and to expect the fulfillment of that petition is to take seriously three things.
1.    That you were serious about the 2nd and 3rd petitions (Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven).
2.     That you understand that God has not predestined some people for suffering.
3.    That you believe everything any of us have is a gift from God.
These three things, along with the Holy Spirit, combine to create a different kind of hunger than one for food. In Matthew, Jesus teaches this prayer in the context of the Sermon on the Mount- a long set of lessons about how to live faithfully. Hunger is mentioned more specifically in the Beatitudes- the series of specific instructions for holy living- living into Thy kingdom come…
Here Jesus says, Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness for they shall be filled.
God does not desire that anyone should be hunger- should have that feeling of hollow emptiness- should want for anything. Therefore, those who have enough, who have more than enough, should be hungering to share, hungering to improve the circumstances of those around them, hungering for justice for all people, hungering that no one should feel separated from God because of essentials they do not have.
Give us this day our daily bread is not an empty prayer. Or it shouldn’t be. With so many people praying it and expecting that Jesus would not have us pray falsely or without hope of answer, we have to seriously ask ourselves what gets in the way of this prayer being answered.
Those of us with enough to eat who will not be hungry for long today, if at all, are called (called!) to specifically hunger and thirst, to crave, something better. And in that craving, we are supposed to be moved to be a part of how God answers that prayer.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Everyone hungers until all are fed.
If we dare to ask for it, we must dare to act on it. Amen.  

Why are you Eating? (Sermon 8/12)

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1 Kings 19:4-8; Ephesians 4:25-5:2; John 6:35, 41-51
            My best friend and I are what you might call “eating friends”. She lives in Pennsylvania, but when we know we are going to get together- we immediately start making a list of restaurants in the area in which we will be. We make choices about which days to eat the big breakfast, lunch, OR dinner. We also have foods we both buy or bring, only on trips, because they are our vacation foods and because we enjoy eating them together. For us, the experience of eating together is a fun part of our relationship and our memories of things we have done together. (For the record, we do things other than eat. I think.)
            What are some of the reasons we eat? We eat for pleasure. We eat because it’s time. We eat because we’re hungry. Anyone who has worked at losing weight knows that it’s easy to fall into the trap of eating because you’re lonely, bored, or sad. We eat when we’re celebrating and when we’re grieving. But when it comes down to it, we eat to stay alive. We eat because without eating, we cannot function.
            So, we understand that while we often have many, sometimes overlapping reasons for eating, there is one basic reason why we eat- to stay alive. So here’s my follow-up question to that: why do we trust in Jesus? What are some of the reasons why we put our faith in Jesus, a Jewish man of two centuries ago, who some say was the Messiah of God?
            We may have faith in Jesus the Christ because of some experience- internal or external. We may trust in our tradition and the tradition of our families, a part of which is belief in Jesus. We may still be questioning in our hearts, but feel that Jesus is the best bet for an anchor in a rocky sea. We may be seeking our best life now and a great return for bread cast out upon the waters. Of all these reasons, when it comes down to it, why do we believe in Jesus?
            We want eternal life.
We want eternal life. We want to stay alive. We want heaven. We want the reunion with those who have gone before us. In a way that is beyond our imagination, we want the banquet and the rejoicing and the tree of life and city beyond imagination and the parade of nations and the drying of all tears and abounding joy. We eat to stay alive and, often, (more often than not) we look to Jesus as our ticket to doing the exact same thing. We treat the bread of life like a ticket to heaven. We look at the table as a foretaste of the feast to come and, when it doesn’t turn to ashes in our mouths, we see it as insurance and assurance that we will be at that feast.
            But the life of faith is so much more than that. More importantly, Jesus is so much more than a ticket to ride or insurance toward immortality. In today’s readings, God’s story unfolds to help us understand that bread of heaven (and bread from heaven) is for the life of the world, eternally. Which is wholly different than being for eternal life.
            When Elijah is fleeing from Jezebel (the actions preceding today’s excerpt), he travels to the end of the known world and then goes one more day- just to be on the safe side. He’s ready to die. He wants to die. God sends a messenger to Elijah, bringing him food and telling him to eat. Why does Elijah  need to eat? Because his work is not done. He has to eat for life- his own life and for the life of God’s word in the world. As a prophet, his work of speaking truth, of revealing God’s power, of bringing hope to God’s people is not yet over. Thus he receives bread for the journey because it is not time for him to die. Elijah receives bread from heaven, the bread of life, for his life here on earth (and for the other lives whom he encounters as well).
            When the crowds gather around Jesus, they grumble about what he has to say- even though he’s fed them, healed them, and generally amazed them. Still, they know his people, they’ve seen his followers, they know he sleeps and has physical needs. What’s this about heaven? Yet, he tells them the One who has come from God is the bread of life. The bread of life comes for the life of the world. Jesus explains that the bread of life feeds us for eternal life and for life right now.
            Like the crowds, we do not always like that “life right now” part. What does that look like? The writer of Ephesians says it is a life of uplifting speech (no slander, no backbiting), a life of kindness and gentleness, a life of forgiveness and imitation of Christ. Would this be the same Christ who gave up his life for the sake of the world? Are we supposed to imitate that Christ?
            That’s where our experience of Jesus gets tough- where we’d rather think about eternal life, than what’s happening right here and now. When the imitation of Christ means loving our enemies, not the ones far way, but the ones next to us, the ones who we see in the grocery store, at the family reunion, at the communion rail… When the imitation of Christ means trying something new and uncertain… When the imitation of Christ means admitting that you’re not, that we’re not in control… When the imitation of Christ means living by faith, and faith alone… all of that makes the bread of life seem a little dry and to catch in our throats.
            Eternal life, whatever it is like, will be fantastic. But we are here now. The bread of life… the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ that we experience in communion, in Word, and in community… this bread of life is food for this journey, nourishment so that we can live, sustenance so that we can live right now, provisions so that we can live right now for the sake of the world. Fuel for the imitation of Christ.
            Our faith is not a retirement plan. It is not a moral system that we use for guidance on occasion. We have been given the gift of faith, so that the world might know the joy of salvation, the salvation that has come through Jesus the Christ. We have been baptized into God’s history for the life of the world, the life of the world right now. We are fed- as a community and as individuals- in communion and in prayer- through the power of the Holy Spirit. We are fed so that we can stay alive. Alive in faith. Alive in Christ. Alive to do the work to which we have been called and to which we are being led.
            We are eating friends, food friends, bread sharers. Being fed from heaven right now- for Christ’s sake and for the sake of the world.
Amen. 

My Hour with Thomas

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On the second Sunday in Easter, our church observed Bright Sunday (or Holy Humor Sunday)- extending our resurrection celebration. In addition to kazoos, jokes, and laughter, we had an interview with the apostle, Thomas.

Good morning, everyone, and thank you for joining me today on Theology in the Morning with…Pastor Julia! We’ll have a special food giveaway later this hour, but right now let’s meet our special guest. You may know him as the Eeyore of the disciples or the famous doubter, but let’s welcome… Thomas the Apostle!
Thank you so much for coming today. How do I address you? None of you apostles seemed to come with a last name.
Thomas is fine.
Thank you for that. Well, let’s get to it. I think the first question we’d all like an answer to is: Where were you when Jesus showed up that first time?
You know, Pastor Julia. If I’m willing to do the time and space travel it takes to come here and answer questions for you and these other fine folks today, I’d think you’d come up with a better first question. Everyone wants to know and what are you going to say if I tell you that it was my turn to empty the dirt pot (if I may be subtle)… or that I had gone out to get more bread or wine… or that it was just pretty rank in that room with 10 other scared men. Whatever I tell you is going to disappoint you, so all you need to know is that I wasn’t there. Can you live with that?
Wow! I must say, Thomas, I did not expect you to be so frank. I suppose…
It’s like this. I loved Jesus, still do. I mean, I see Him every day now, so can’t really complain. But three years of parables… that can make a man crazy. I wanted some plain talk and I don’t mind telling you that when he did get around to telling it like it was, it was hard to swallow. Since the resurrection, my goal is to tell the truth- straight up. No parables, no metaphors. Also, I don’t spend time on what doesn’t matter. Where I was doesn’t matter in this interview.
Well, thank you for your frankness. Moving on then, what did you think when the others told you that Jesus had been in the room with them?
Honestly, I thought they had all gone crazy together. We were so keyed up, scared, and jittery. It seemed possible that they had a group vision or something. What happened with Judas hit us all pretty hard. Not just because he had traveled with us and been a friend, we thought, but also because most of us understood that anyone of us could have easily done what he did. Maybe not in the same way or for the same reasons, but still… Anyway, when I came back and everyone was tripping over themselves to tell me about Jesus’ return. It was just too much. I’m sure you’ll want to list out the history of Thomas the doubter, but can anyone here tell me that you wouldn’t have said the same thing in the same circumstances?
I’m pretty sure I can’t say that I would have been different. So, what was it like when you did see Jesus?
What do you think it was like? I wanted to throw up and throw myself at his feet, all at the same time. Even after the crucifixion, even when we weren’t entirely sure what to believe about where his body was, we still knew the truth of what we had witnessed when we traveled with him. I still can hear Lazarus’ voice lifting out of that tomb. I can still see the stunned expression of blind men seeing for the first time, of people who walked, of people who heard and received a word of forgiveness. So, even when we as disciples didn’t know what to think… we had these powerful experiences to chew over with one another. Those experiences formed our understanding of Jesus and, in that upper room, none of us were willing to admit to thinking we might have been wrong, even though we all had that thought. And then he was there!
If I may interrupt, how did he come through that wall?
You may not interrupt. That’s not important to the story. However he did it, it was done! And there he was and I was terrified and thrilled and ashamed and gratified and… Even now, it’s too overwhelming to think. Suddenly, when he appeared, everything I knew came into place. The last rock in a wall. The opening move of a game. It was like the most powerful end and at the same time the most astounding beginning of any story, song, or even battle that you might see. Suddenly, I knew that this was my Rabbi, my teacher, and my God, THE God… right there. When he offered for me to touch him, I couldn’t dare. Moses only saw God’s backside and lived to tell about it. What would happen to lowly Thomas who asked for proof, got it, and then pressed his luck?
That’s such an amazing story, Thomas. We’re all curious about what you did next, but this is supposed to be a light-hearted Sunday. We’ve all been enjoying laughing and your story seems so heavy.
It’s not that heavy when you actually think about it. You don’t think there’s humor in it? Believe me, I laugh every time I consider that Jesus didn’t punish me for asking a question. He could have said, “Impudent wretch! Did you ever listen when I was talking?” But he was as kind and generous in resurrection as he ever been.
And, you, you dare to think that this is not a story of joy? What kind of interpreter of scripture are you? There are three gifts in that story and youget two of them. Jesus gives peace to all disciples, he gives proof to me, and he blesses those who won’t quite have the same experience I did. You get peace! AND a blessing! What more do you want?
Well, proof might be nice.
Proof! Ha! Proof is like the buzz of those kazoos that you were playing earlier. It’s great while it lasts, but then it grates on you. It takes your breath away and then leaves you empty of mystery. Proof gives you a tangible experience for a while, but it doesn’t allow for height and depth and breadth and range.
If you have proof, will you have peace? Will your questions end or will they increase? If you received proof, would you relinquish your blessing? The comfort of the Spirit? The experiences you have resurrection in communion and in community and in creation?
I don’t know, but doubting seems so…
What is doubt? It’s like proof, it comes and it goes. If you banish one question, another will arise. Your faith, God’s gift of faith to you, is not the absence of doubt. It’s action in spite of doubt. It’s moving forward, even while questioning. It’s closing a door, but knowing that Jesus just might come through the wall.  You’re learning as you go, just like I was. Just like Peter. Just like Andrew, James, John, and all the women who helped us along the way. But you have written accounts to help your faith. You have the promise and the presence of the Spirit. The resurrection has always been your reality.
And you have my story, my little story that you try to make big in all the wrong ways. What was I doing? How did he come through the wall? How about this?!? Jesus knew my questions, brought me the answer of his own body, did not strike me dead on the spot, and offered a blessing to everyone who doesn’t get what I got. How about that to make your Sunday bright? And your tomorrow? And the day after that?
Wow, Thomas, I don’t know how to thank you for coming in today. You’ve been an amazing guest. I’d like to talk to you more after the break about your life after the upper room, but first we have some messages from our sponsors. Folks, I just want to repeat something Thomas said: Your faith, God’s gift of faith to you, is not the absence of doubt. It’s action in spite of doubt. It’s moving forward, even while questioning. It’s closing a door, but knowing that Jesus just might come through the wall.

Amen

Unraveling Religion

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I recently read Christianity After Religion, a new book by Diana Butler Bass. I reviewed the book here. 


Bass unpacks the struggle in contemporary society between Christian dogma (teachings) and Christian practice (habits). She argues that Christianity in America (and around the world) is undergoing a Great Awakening, the fourth in American history. 


One of the hallmarks of this awakening, Bass writes, is way people are combining their experience of the Holy with reason that comes through study, examination, and experimentation. Faithful people are trying to bridge the divide between the head and the heart and come together in the territory of the Spirit. Bass calls this experiential faith or experiential religion. 


Experiential faith seems to turn the current expectations of  religious life upside down. Bass details how in our vocations and our hobbies, we learn by joining a profession, a group, a mentor. We take on the habits of the people or person from whom we are learning. Over time, we then come to believe things about our profession or hobby- what it means to us and how it helps us. We belong, then behave, and then believe. Yet, we expect people to these tasks in the exact opposite manner when it comes to church.

If you want to knit, you find someone who knits to teach you. Go to the local yarn shop and find out when there is a knitting class. Sit in a circle where others will talk to you, show you how to hold the needles, guide your hands, and share their patterns with you. The first step in becoming a knitter is forming a relationship with knitters. The next step is to learn by doing and practice. After you knit for a while, after you have made scarves and hats and mittens, then you start forming ideas about knitting. You might come to think that the experience of knitting makes you a better person, more spiritual, or able to concentrate, gives you a better sense of service to others, allows you to demonstrate love and care. You think about what you are doing, how you might do it better. You develop your own way of knitting, your own theory of the craft. You might invent a dazzling new pattern, a new way to make a stitch; you might write a knitting book or become a knitting teacher. In knitting, the process is exactly the reverse of that in church: belonging to a knitting group leads to behaving as a knitter, which leads to believing things about knitting. Relationships lead to craft, which leads to experiential belief. That is the path to becoming and being someone different. The path of transformation. (202)
 

With all due respect to John Wesley, I think that’s one of the best descriptions of sanctification this Lutheran has ever read. The contemporary narrative touts Christian faith as adherence to dogmas and standing firmly behind the line of orthodoxy, no toes in sight. That’s Christian perfectionism, not perfection, and that’s not what Bass has in mind. Nor the early church. Nor Jesus. 
We are brought ever closer to the possibilities God has stored within us through our Christian practices. The practices, prayer, study, hospitality, discipline, communal life, create the space for the Spirit to bring us to perfection. We can best learn these practices from people who already love them, who are further along in their “mastery” than we are. 
Here’s the question for us and for our congregations: do we love the Christianity we are practicing? Are we experiencing Christ? Are people learning about the Way of Jesus through us and from us? 
It’s time to consider what it means to belong… to behave… to believe, in that order. Can we unravel what is a couple centuries of religious expectation and knit back together, with the help of the Spirit, a new way of living as Christians? 

The Gospel I Need to Hear (Sermon for 1/8/12)

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Sermon for Epiphany 1, Text: Mark 2:1-22

          Sometimes I need a sermon myself. I don’t mean that I need one written for me because I’m tired or uninspired. I mean that I need to hear one.  Usually, I have four or five of you in mind and I hope that the Spirit speaks to all of you through the written and spoken words on Sunday. Yet, sometimes I ended up preaching the Word that I needed to hear and I hope something came to you as well.
            Today, as we look at the stories of people who meet Jesus, I felt like I should be honest about what I want to hear. Perhaps you have the same plea as you listen to these stories. We have a story of friends interceding, a paralyzed man walking, doubtful scribes, uncertain disciples, and adoring crowds. These are the people Jesus meets and it’s hard to decide which thread to follow. Healing, forgiveness, welcome, celebration, correction, renewal, restoration, resurrection- any and all of these are messages I want to receive. How about you?
            Pastor, speak to me of healing. I need to hear that miracles can still happen, that they do still happen, that they will still happen. I want to hear, again, that God heals through medicine  and through miracles and, sometimes through death, through death. Assure me, with sincerity, of the double significance of this gospel story. First, Jesus releases the man from the sins that plague and disturb him- a powerful symbol of the power and grace of God. 

          In order to prove that his power was of God, Jesus then healed his physical ailment, cured whatever bound him to his pallet. In the face of cancer and all manner of other illnesses, Preacher, tell me with confidence that the healing power of God in Jesus is not limited to a house in Capernaum, but that it transcends space and time and the bounds of our understanding. This is the gospel I need today.


            Pastor, speak to me of Epiphany- of a dawning light and a great understanding. In my daily life, I hear a lot of people talking and it all begins to sound the same. I remain hopeful, but cynicism and frustration curls the edges of my hope. I feel kind of like a Pharisee, because I just want something to make sense and to fulfill my expectations. Structure, continuity and tradition provide reliability and stability in chaotic times. A season of new understanding, of A-ha! moments, of bright inspirations is exactly what I need, but not necessarily what I want. 

          Preach to me about the meaning of Emmanuel- God with us. Remind me that there is nowhere I can go that God has not preceded me, nowhere that Jesus does not accompany me, nowhere that the Spirit does not receive me. This is the gospel I need today.
            Pastor, speak to me of sin and of release. Speak the hard truth about sin- about its power to separate us from our neighbors and to make us feel separated from God. Look me in the eye and tell me that sin is action and intention, both concrete and nebulous. Use words that are familiar, but help me understand in a new way that sin is the things I have done and left undone, said and remained quiet about, things I have given too freely and things I have withheld. 

            Now preach to me about release. I don’t want to hear about forgiveness only, about a formula or words that make things right. I want a powerful, truthful, toe-curling honesty about release- release from the fear of death, release from the captivity of sin, release from the mistakes of the past, release into the freedom of a new future in God. Speak to me of the release that is offered through Jesus, every day, every minute. Pastor, speak to me of amazing grace and do not stop. This is the gospel I need today.


            Pastor, speak to me of resurrection. I know that is the wrong season, that we have not yet trudged through Lent to the gleaming white of Easter morning. Nevertheless, I look at today’s gospel and its words of feasting and celebration. I read of new wineskins to receive new wine. This kind of new life makes me think of renewal. Remind me again that God has promised not to make all new things, but to make all things new. Could it be, Pastor, that resurrection happens within us before it happens to us? 

             Is it possible that God-with-us in the person of Jesus was bringing new life to Levi, to John’s disciples, to the outcasts, and even to the Pharisees before the tomb was thrown open? Help me to chew over the idea that spiritual resurrection comes before the resurrection of the body, but is just as important. Tell me in no uncertain terms that God was resurrecting through Jesus Christ long before Easter Sunday. Resurrecting faith, resurrecting community, resurrecting hope, resurrecting relationship. Tell me this is not a metaphor. This is the gospel I need today.
            Pastor, I like it when Jesus says, “I have come not to call the righteous, but the sinners.” I like that a lot, except that I would like to be a little bit righteous. Isn’t Lutheran theology that we are all righteous and sinners at the same time? So aren’t I a little bit righteous? Break it to me gently, one more time, that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Ugh. Again. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. 

            Okay, I’m ready to hear that my perceptions of myself (and of others) fill up my wineskin and get in the way of the fresh wine that Jesus would put in there. Bring it on home, Pastor, and tie together the truths that I have to release what I think of myself and others, so that I can be open to the healing, the epiphanies, and the resurrection that God has in front of me. Not only that God has in front of me, Preacher, but that God is doing in me and around me. Not only in me and around me, but perhaps, Pastor, with God’s grace and gifts, through me and with me. Today, I am one of the people whom Jesus meets. This is the gospel I need today.
Amen. 

Friday Five: The A-ha! Moments

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Over at RevGalBlogPals, kathrynzj spurs us along an Epiphany theme: 

This past holiday season is not one I will soon forget, but not for the reason some may think. Certainly, it was a busy one for those involved in the life of the church. The 1-2 punch of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day on a Sunday brought more than a few of us to our knees (or hopefully to a more comfortable napping position).

In the midst of the holiday season I had one of those moments where a path suddenly was made clear – A-ha! This experience has prompted me to wonder what some of your A-ha moments may be.

They can be mundane – a realization that you like/don’t like a certain food or that you really look good in that color you never had the guts to try. They can be sacred – a way to better pace your day clicks into place or finally a devotion or meditation practice that really works for you. They can be profound – the moment you realized he/she was the one (or wasn’t)or the moment you realized where your deepest passion could meet the world’s greatest need. 

Please tell us – what are five (more or less) of your ‘A-ha’ moments. Where have you had a moment of clarity?



1. From the time I was five, I really, really, really wanted to be President of the United States.  I played church, using the clothes hamper as a pulpit. People found their way to me to unburden themselves of problems. I was interested in what I would later figure out was family systems and developmental issues. Nevertheless, I really wanted to go into politics, which I perceived as an avenue for helping people. I went to many events around my state and outside it, designed for high schoolers were interested in politics, government service, and law. Then the Clinton impeachment dovetailed with my first class in psychology. Suddenly, I could see clearly what I wanted to do and where it wouldn’t happen: the White House. Not only was that not too likely to happen, but I didn’t have the drive to pursue that end through the means necessary to do so. I liked stories, forming relationships, and personal touches. “Hail to the Chief” will never play for me and I’m okay with that. A-ha!


2. A-ha #1 led to A-ha #2. When I transferred to a four-year college, I was majoring in psychology. I specifically picked a school that had a strong psych department, with an emphasis in developmental disabilities. In particular, Meredith College had an autism intervention program wherein students were trained and children were helped in reaching their highest level of functioning. I was (and am) very interested in this work. I had a client with whom I enjoyed working and I looked forward to taking on more. Then one day, after working for several weeks to get the client to use a spoon, I arrived to see him eating Cheerios with his hands. His very tired mother said, “I just didn’t want to fight with him about it today.” A-ha! came the epiphany. This work was exhausting and led to much frustration, with occasional bursts of hope and inspiration. I saw myself burnt out at 26. Yikes. I looked at my colleagues in the program and they didn’t have the same feelings. I realized this was not my vocation, for this time in my life, possibly ever. I finished with that client and never took another intervention rotation. I declared a second major in religion (with my first in psychology) and, well, the rest is history. I remain extremely interested in developmental psychology and read frequently about the new concerns, developing interventions, and the latest in disability issues. 


3.  A-ha! Sometimes you have nothing but good choices and God will be with you in which ever path you choose. I understand through physics that time moves both forward and backward, but as a human being- I live it forward and learn from it backward. When I was graduating from college, the path I thought I would take fell through in November. Then in late March and early April, I suddenly had three choices for my future: a position as a caretaker in a L’Arche community in Boston, a position assisting in a congregation in England through the Young Adults in Global Mission program of the ELCA, or a position, through Americorps, with KNOM Alaska Radio Mission in Nome, Alaska. I decided against L’Arche before I got to the final steps, but I was offered the other two spots within one week. A pastor told me that sometimes we get to choose from among blessings, part of free  will and part of God’s faithfulness to us and in us. A professor told me I should take the job I didn’t think I’d get again. So I moved to Nome, Alaska to be the Deputy News Director for KNOM (Yours for Western Alaska) from August 2002- July 2004. Two years in Nome changed my life. It was neither a better or worse choice than England. It was a different 
choice. 

4. I had a list of things I wanted in a life partner (in my case, a husband). When I met the man I eventually married, he was so many things I never expected or planned for. His career wasn’t what I would have picked, I wouldn’t have described him if you asked for physical characteristics, our meeting in a bar wasn’t my dream encounter. Yet he met what I really wanted and, more importantly, showed me what I couldn’t live without- so I married him. Those things I couldn’t (and can’t) live without were a real A-ha! 


5. My final A-ha! happens again and again. Within one’s sense of call to ministry, within seminary, within the process of call, no one tells you that you will eventually look up from presiding at the table or praying or the announcements and realize that you love the congregation you serve. I mean you LOVE them. In the moment that it happens, you will feel punched in the stomach because you will realize 1) the power they have to hurt you, 2) the hopes you have for them, 3) the hopes GOD has for them, and 4) like Moses, you will not likely be with them when they reach the Promised Land. Oh, it hurts! It burns! You will rejoice with, ache for, mourn among and swear about the flock for whom you pray. The only relief comes from knowing that you cannot save them and that’s not your job. The congregation I serve is a part of me in a way I cannot describe and that will not let me go. So I care for them and they care for me and we move forward together toward, God willing, more epiphanies. 

Unexpected, Mysterious and Fun

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I’ve been trying to think of what to say about this article from the New York Times, in which the author calls himself a “None”- meaning no religious affiliation. It’s not this designation that bothers me. I’m also not too upset when he goes on to comment on how many such Nones get turned off religion by religious people. Been there, seen that, had it happen to me.

Here’s the thing that gets me:

We are more religiously polarized than ever. In my secular, urban and urbane world, God is rarely spoken of, except in mocking, derisive tones. It is acceptable to cite the latest academic study on, say, happiness or, even better, whip out a brain scan, but God? He is for suckers, and Republicans.I used to be that way, too, until a health scare and the onset of middle age created a crisis of faith, and I ventured to the other side. I quickly discovered that I didn’t fit there, either. I am not a True Believer. I am a rationalist. I believe the Enlightenment was a very good thing, and don’t wish to return to an age of raw superstition.We Nones may not believe in God, but we hope to one day. We have a dog in this hunt.Nones don’t get hung up on whether a religion is “true” or not, and instead subscribe to William James’s maxim that “truth is what works.” If a certain spiritual practice makes us better people — more loving, less angry — then it is necessarily good, and by extension “true.” (We believe that G. K. Chesterton got it right when he said: “It is the test of a good religion whether you can joke about it.”)By that measure, there is very little “good religion” out there. Put bluntly: God is not a lot of fun these days. Many of us don’t view religion so generously. All we see is an angry God. He is constantly judging and smiting, and so are his followers. No wonder so many Americans are enamored of the Dalai Lama. He laughs, often and well.

This gets my dander up in a variety of ways. First, and you may read however much defensiveness you wish into this because I can’t stop you, I appreciate reason and science and I don’t check my understanding of either at the church door. I don’t expect anyone else too.

But I take my reason and science right in there with me and somehow, someway, somewhere… they encounter mystery. It’s not hocus-pocus or woo-woo, it’s something intangible, indescribable and desirable.  Mystery is not automatically irrational, it’s just inexplicable.

Truth isn’t what works. What’s true is true, regardless of our ability to believe it. All of which means that I could be wrong in what I believe. I could be a little wrong (this life could be all there is). I could be a lot wrong (see: Reformation, the). I could be going to hell (does that really need parenthetical explanation?).

When Eric Weiner says that God is not a lot of fun these days, I think he might be talking to the wrong people or listening to them. The loudest voices don’t speak for God. They speak for themselves or whoever is paying them. They don’t speak for me. Speaking for myself, I have a darn good time.

Being religious, for me, is full of surprises, moving moments, laughter, questions and
discussion. And I see lots of people around me having a good time as well. I saw people laughing together tonight as they distributed food. I heard clergy laughing today as they pieced together sermon ideas for this week. I heard children giggling through the Christmas story and I heard adults chuckling about how to tackle serious issues related to healthcare.

I’ve said the wrong words during church, choked on what I was singing when a spider jumped on music, forgotten major points of what I was going to say and even skipped elements of the service. Nothing happened. To me that’s not because there is no God, but because God isn’t worried about that.

I don’t think God’s worked up about perfect worship. Solemn faces. Pristine on-key singing. Regimented liturgical actions.

For me, my life of faith is on the edge, pushing the envelope, and skidding right up to the altar rail and thinking, “The Spirit led me back again! All right! We must be okay! Grace wins again!” Because I believe in a God of fullness, a fleshed out God who lives and breathes in all creation. The God who made me laughs, because I laugh and I am made in God’s image.

I believe this. I believe it is true, but my faith doesn’t make it true. It either is true or it isn’t. And I am living, whole-heartedly, like it is.

Which brings me back to mystery. Just because you can’t pick apart and explain every detail doesn’t make something unreal, dishonest or untrue. In age of science and reason, I think it’s good for all of us to know that there are things we cannot explain, we cannot fully grasp, we cannot totally control. That’s right. We’re not totally in control and it SUCKS to admit it.

Some things are mysterious. The pull and push of certain sounds, sights and smells can be unraveled and unraveled, yet still remain, in part, unexplained. And here’s where I think some Nones (not necessarily the author) and certain religious fundamentalists are singing from the same page. Everything has to have an explanation. Either it’s God or science. Having an explanation is about control.

Mystery. Learn to live with it. Learn to embrace it. Roll in it and let it wash over you. Babies in hay, stirring songs, sunrise, sunset, quiet nights, bustling cities, bread and wine and thou, fire, flower buds, blue skies, water, first words, last words, kisses, and amazing coincidences.

There will be some things you will never explain. This is most certainly true.

And you just have to laugh about that.

Work It (Essential Passages #10)

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Many moons and what feels like a lifetime ago, I started a series of reflections on what I consider to be the 50 most essential Bible passages. (You can read the first one here and look for others in the blog archive.) That seemed like it wouldn’t be that difficult. In fact, when I began I thought I would fill out the 50 long before I ran out of passages, but that hasn’t been the case. Each time I think of the project, I become overwhelmed with the passages I think are important, some I like and some I don’t. Then I just don’t write because I want my end result to be perfect.


Nevertheless, I think this is an important project for me and I need to get back onto the horse and ride boldly into the terrain of commenting on my own canon. We all have books and passages we prefer to others. We owe it to ourselves to yield to the prodding of the Holy Spirit to examine those selections that we treasure, those we loathe and those we fear. Having said this, I’m going to tread into the historically un-Lutheran-friendly waters of James for today’s entry.

“What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.

But someone will say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Show me your faith without works, and I by my works will show you my faith. You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder. Do you want to be shown, you senseless person, that faith without works is barren? Was not our ancestor Abraham justified by works when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was brought to completion by the works. Thus the scripture was fulfilled that says, ‘Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness’, and he was called the friend of God. You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. Likewise, was not Rahab the prostitute also justified by works when she welcomed the messengers and sent them out by another road? For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead.” James 2: 14-26


Martin Luther famously referred to James as a “book of straw” (useful for burning). It wasn’t because Luther thought the book was totally rubbish, but because he saw the danger of its misuse by church officials to undermine the doctrine of salvation by grace through faith that he believed to be of the utmost importance. There has been much ink spilled on this controversy, but the major passage in question is worth at least one more examination. (What Biblical passage isn’t?)

Many contemporary Christians have carefully absorbed the lesson of being saved by grace and, so comforted, are eager to let their expressions of faith be limited to worship and, perhaps, some social justice efforts. However, this passage is as critical to the life of a Christian as is the passage from Romans that it seems to answer. (See Romans 3: 20-28, Ephesians 2:8-9) If we are saved by grace through the faithfulness of Christ, then what are we to do?

After careful sermon after sermon that underscores (and underscores and underscores), the salvation of all mankind that came through the resurrection of Christ, we may finally come to understand (and, yea verily, to believe) that we cannot save ourselves. It doesn’t mean that we don’t still wrestle with this or become frustrated at our lack of control. Yet, at some point, we are consoled by the knowledge that salvation is beyond us. God has chosen us, we did not choose God. The faith we have is a gift, a work of the Holy Spirit.

If we have this gift then, what’s the big deal? We’ve got it. We believe. We have faith in Christ’s salvific work and believe we have been justified (made right) with our Maker. So what’s with works? We know works-righteousness is bad, “w-r” being the idea that you can earn your salvation. That being said, it does not mean that works are bad.

Faith without works is meaningless, says this passage from James. Let’s step back for a minute. Don’t think about your works and faith- think about the Son. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit form one holy trinity with 3 separate persons. As they watched creation devolve from God- centeredness, God the Three-in-One decided the time had come to bring people back around from sacrifices and scrabbling fearful faith. The Word came among us. A Son was born to us. Jesus walked on earth, full of grace and truth, as that of a Father’s only son. Jesus pointed to the life that God desires for his creation, for God’s concern for all, about the coming judgment and how to be a sheep and not a goat (i.e., how to actually be a follower of Jesus and not just a hanger-on).

Jesus was crucified for his radical notions and his upset of the political and religious apple cart of his day. His adherence to God’s word led to Golgotha. However, that was not the final word- the resurrection is. God’s final statement in Jesus was to say that the powers of earth, including death, do not, cannot and will not win. Because we believe in the two complete natures of Christ (fully human and fully divine), we can see faithfulness unto death in the plan of God. We can see that faithfulness because of Jesus’ works.

Jesus did not just say, “I proclaim to you the year of the Lord’s favor.” He didn’t just announce the greatest commandment and the one like unto it. Jesus fed people, healed people, cast out demons, wept for Jerusalem, threw a few tables, snapped at a couple disciples, raised the dead, cursed fig trees, hung out with soldiers, tax collectors and prostitutes, predicted bad times, took naps, walked on water, preached, taught, played with children, danced at weddings and hung out at least one well. As the fully divine living Word, he could have remained above the world, faithfully bringing some people to God in other ways. But his faithfulness compelled him from the Father (as fully divine, he can’t just passively be sent) and into creation to bring the good news. (Remember, it’s gospel even before the resurrection part of the story.) His works in the world point to his faithfulness. As fully human, they point to his faithfulness to the Father even unto death.

It is by Jesus’ works that we understand his faithfulness (and the love of God for creation). We could not have faith without them. We would not be saved by grace through Christ’s faithfulness without his work in the world.

I’m not advocating a simple “What would Jesus do?” as a response to salvation. You must consider “What would Jesus have me do?” (Because you can always rationalize that you aren’t the Son of God and his actions might not apply to your situation. But his commands always will.)

What the writer of James is pointing out is that there can be no resting on the laurels of faith. Standing on the promises, you might be covered by Christ’s righteousness and, therefore, be made right with God, but that’s not the end of the story. Christ’s work in you bears fruit. If you believe that you have been saved, why wouldn’t you take that message out with you? How could you keeping from singing? Why wouldn’t you shout it from the mountain tops? Why wouldn’t you feed people, heal people, hang out with tax collectors, soldiers and prostitutes, dance at weddings, drink wine, see who’s at the well, overturn conventions, play with children, make a little ruckus, pass out water, cast out demons and weep for the judgment to come- all in the name of the grace you have received through Jesus the Christ.

Eugene Peterson has this paraphrase of James 2:26: “The very moment you separate body and spirit, you end up with a corpse. Separate faith and works and you get the same thing: a corpse.” Faith without works is lifeless. There’s nothing to flesh it out. This is the reason we know that God loves bodies- because without them- nothing gets done. There’s no sitting with the sick without a gluteus maximus. There’s no preaching without a mouth and ears (or something for typing!). There’s no feeding without hands and feet. There’s no hoping without a body that absorbs a new day and its possibilities.

Faith is faith. Jesus saves. We who believe have been gifted in the knowledge of his faithfulness. We’re called, through the Spirit, to respond to it. To bring other people to a place and time where they can see that same faithfulness. It’s not just about preaching- it’s about body evangelism. It’s about making sandwiches, counting toilet paper squares, buying socks, anointing with oil, washing feet and building houses.

Faithful living requires living. Living is about work.

We think of baptism as a second birth, by water and the Holy Spirit.

My son was born 9 days after his due date. We joked that he didn’t want to be born because coming out means work: breathing for yourself, eating, etc. Being born does require work. You don’t do the birthing yourself, but afterwards- everything you do is a response to that one event.

Same thing with being born again.

Evil

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My devotional for today was titled “Evil”, which immediately intrigued me because I have been thinking about the presence of evil and sin in the world a lot this week. This week’s gospel contains Jesus’ famous words, “Get thee behind me, Satan.” That phrase has churned up different thoughts and emotions about Satan’s work, presence and purpose in the world.

When people ask about sin or about the forces that oppose God, I admit that sometimes I am at a loss for how to explain this. In truth, the presence of evil and God’s allowance of it in this world is another mystery of our faith (like the presence of God in the sacraments or the resurrection). Some people aren’t very willing to embrace “it’s a mystery” as a real answer to their questions, but in the life of faith– sometimes that’s the only answer we have.

Theologian Frederick Buechner had this to say about evil: “Christianity… ultimately offers no theoretical solution [to the problem of evil] at all. It merely points to the cross and says that, practically speaking, there is no evil so dark and so obscene- not even this- but that God can turn it to good.”