Sunday, February 25, 2018

A Child shall lead them

I've been struck this week by the maturity, compassion, hope, and wisdom of a group of high schoolers who have gone through unimaginable tragedy, and yet have emerged to the other side of that as leaders who are inspiring more people for their movement than has happened in my memory. 

And yet, these same young people have been targeted by cruel words, innuendo, and political hate speech.

That's the way of prophets though. 

Prophets live in the wilderness always. They sit on the margins of the "inside" and lay bare the tragic flaws of those who sit comfortably there.

Prophets take the more difficult path through the wilderness when it would be so much better for them to go around it or hide from it.

A seventeen year old should be getting ready for college; filling out applications; planning prom and senior week.

But instead, these young people are calling out from the wilderness they've been thrust into to decry a system that has failed them.

They've had to face the glare of the media spotlight and rally the troops to make change that protects the rights - and the safety - of all, rather than keep the status quo that protects the rights of just some.

Who told them to be so bold?

Who guided them into this wilderness to turn them into leaders?

Into prophets?

It is easier to not speak up. There are so many things on any given day that I know I sit in silence about rather than shouting from the rooftops about the injustice of it all.

A groups of young people is showing me that the easy way won't get you out of the wilderness.

They are showing us all.


Isaiah 11:6

The wolf shall live with the lamb,
    the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
    and a little child shall lead them.

Monday, February 19, 2018

Corporate Freedom

Someone recently suggested to me that I read the book The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. Without going into a review or book report, one of the basic premises of the book is how we have learned overtime to sabotage ourselves from true joy and spiritual and mental health.

That's really an oversimplification I suppose, but the book covers four ways we can help get ourselves out of this self-sabotage, by making four agreements with ourselves: be impeccable with your word (tell the truth and use words wisely and kindly); don't take anything personally (something I know I am frequently guilty of); don't make assumptions (again, finger pointing to self!); and always do your best.

I suppose there's a lot of new age-y self help wisdom in these pages, but there is also a lot of Truth (with a capital T). I found myself nodding along until I got the chapter on how to transform by breaking our old habits (or, as the book calls them, our old "agreements").

In reaching these new agreements, Ruiz says that we must learn how to become truly free: free as a child is free. Again, I nodded at first (thinking how Jesus himself lifted up children as a model of faith).

But then Ruiz said something that gave me pause. What he meant by the freedom a child shows is doing what we want and being "completely wild." The real us is the child who doesn't grow up, and in healing ourselves, we are free to live our own personal dream; to live our own truth.

Now, again, there is some oversimplification here and I have not read the entire book yet to see how Ruiz reconciles this idea of freedom to the responsibilities we have to each other.

But this idea of individual freedom seems to me to be one that most of us do understand and know well. We live in a nation where personal and individual freedoms are lifted up as the ideal. In our faith as well, we tend to view the individual elements of it: a personal relationship with Christ; freedom to worship as we as an individual sees fit; private prayer; our individual salvation, etc.

Even in Lent we tend to focus on the individual need for repentance. We have private ways of living our Lenten disciplines.

Yet one of the most central themes of our faith is community. From the moment God told Abraham that in him all the families of the earth would be blessed, the communal nature of God's experience with us has been paramount. Salvation is not simply an individual event. God is out to save the world (or the cosmos as the Greek translation even more fully captures).

And as part of that, our true freedom is always wrapped up with that of our neighbor.

In the music Hamilton in the song My Shot, the character John Laurens puts it this way: "But we'll never be truly free until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me." 

We are not free unless we are all free.

That doesn't mean there is no individual component to our faith. And it doesn't mean that we don't have individual dreams and a need to let our "wild child" out from time to time.

But as Lent leads us into the wilderness, we remember that the journey is not one we take alone.


Genesis 12:2-3 

I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

Matthew 22:36-40

“Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Into the Wilderness

When I began this blog several years ago, I was guided initially by two things. The first was my recent commissioning as an Associate in Ministry for the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America). The second was remembering how helpful and impactful it had been for me in my very first Seminary class - Old Testament I with Dr. Bob Robinson - to write free flowing thoughts and musings on scripture passages in the journal Dr. Robinson had us keep.

Much has changed in the past several years. Now I am no longer an Associate in Ministry, but a Deacon for the ELCA. It is a title and brand I have not fully lived into, and frankly am not sure if I ever will. The Diaconate is a ministry that is still new to me in terms of understanding. It is certainly not one I felt called to when I made the choice to become an AIM rather than a Diakonal Minister, the closest thing to a Deacon the ELCA formerly had.

I was intentional about using the word AIM in the title of this blog, and have decided not to change it. I still feel I am wandering. And I still feel like that wandering is AIMing somewhere. I guess I am still feeling like an AIM, not a Deacon.

Another thing that has changed is that I am no longer in my first call. For a few reasons I left that congregation a few months ago even before I had another call. It was the right time to go.

In the subsequent months I've thought that this time away from a call would be a kind of sabbatical. A sabbath time where I would clear my head and heart and be ready when another call came.

Things haven't turned out that way so far. Instead, the past six months for my family have been frequently stressful and sometimes downright painful for many reasons which aren't really necessary to get into. None of us feel like this is sabbath time. Instead, it's been as if we are three boats bumping up against each other in stormy, rocky waters as we try to find a place to land together.  All three of us have been dealing with things that are trying. And we are all dealing with them individually, as well as communally.

It has felt instead like Wilderness time. Not Sabbath time.

And that brought me back with a thud to why I began this blog. Wandering is something the Israelites did in the Wilderness. And while that wandering felt perhaps aimless for them, for God it was aim-full. That image was one that hit home for me on March 27th, 2013 when I wrote my first post.

Dr. Robinson showed me how to use scripture as something to wrestle with in a purposeful way. To wander AIM-fully though passages to help bring me out of the wilderness.

And nowhere is that image more relevant than in Lent. We remember in Lent Jesus' sojourn to the Wilderness to be faced with temptation. We remember the Israelites sojourn in the Wilderness to wander to the promised land.

I am still wandering. Still in the Wilderness. But Lent offers a time to find purpose in both. Wrestling with scripture as Dr. Robinson taught, brings life and rebirth. It brings creativity and insight.

I've strayed from this blog for a while during the pain of the past months. And staying away hasn't taken away that feeling of wandering or of wilderness. It is time for me to remember that wandering AIM-fully is how I felt called to write to begin with. So as a Lenten discipline, rather than giving up coffee and chocolate or any manner of items that I usually come up with for Lent, it is time to return to wandering with purpose. 

Maybe Sabbath does come in the Wilderness.



Mark 1:9-13 

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Can anything good come out of El Salvador?

Or Haiti?

Or the continent of Africa?

...Or Nazareth

For Phillip, who hailed from Bethsaida, clearly his hometown was a standout compared to the backwater town of Nazareth.

"Can anything good come out of Nazareth" he asked Nathanael, when the other man tells him about this amazing itinerant preacher from that neck of the woods. Nathanael gushed about this Jesus. Moses in the law as well as the prophets all foretold him. Nathanael was convinced of this. Something good had come out of Nazareth.

And Nathanael told Phillip to come and see just what that was.

Something - someone - life changing had come out of Nazareth.

I've not been to El Salvador or Haiti, but I have been to Africa - to the country of Tanzania. And I've seen all the good that comes from there. I've seen the beauty of the land, and the faithfulness and richness of life of the people.  So, so much good from a place that I feel so fortunate to have seen.





Because someone said to me "Come and see." And so I went.

I've seen pictures of Haiti - a gorgeous jewel of a place where suffering has demonstrated courage and hope in a people who have dealt with more than I ever will.

I remember the 80s and the terror that people from El Salvador faced from a Civil War that tore them apart. And when someone might ask "Can anything good come out of El Salvador," I can begin with "Oscar Romero" and go from there.

We live in a time where nationalism is rearing its frightening head and countries are being segregated into worthwhile or shitholes. I don't like to use profanity in my blogging, but that's the word that was used. And glossing over it isn't helpful.

Say that word to yourself. Say it aloud. If it isn't one you like saying or hearing, then ask yourself, is it something that should be used about such beautiful countries from which springs such beautiful people? 

Can anything good come out of Haiti? Or El Salvador? Or Tanzania? Or Iran? Or Syria? Or North Korea?

Yes.

Can anything bad come out of Norway? Or Germany? Or England? Or the United States of America?

Yes.

Something good came out of a forgotten little no-nothing town two millennia ago. And so to imagine that there is a distinction based on the nationalistic, racist ideas of our modern empiric leader is to forget that God so loved this whole entire world - the cosmos. Not one place more than any other.

And if you aren't certain of that, then go and see what beauty there is to behold in all those places that you might least expect it.


The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Sermon 9/17/17 Matthew 18:20-35


Luther Seminary professor and theologian Rolf Jacobson has this to say about what’s happening in the entirety of Matthew chapter 18, which Pastor Mark reminded us last week has to do with discipleship. Jacobson says this:

In Matthew 18, Jacobson said, “Jesus is painting a picture of a community that is so frightening, that I don’t think I want to be a part of it.”

And that community is the church.

Now, hopefully Jacobson is speaking with his tongue at least a little bit in cheek, but if you look at all of chapter 18 here’s where he’s coming from:

·      To be the greatest you have to be humble more like a child and less like an oh-so-certain-you are right adult.

·      And boy oh boy, woe to you if you trip someone else up in their belief in Christ.

·      Also rejoice more over the person that was lost and then found, than the 99 who stayed and did what they were supposed to, you know, cleaning up after the church picnic, serving on committees, visiting the homebound, singing in the choir...

·      If you have a conflict with someone in the church, go work it out with them face to face, first one to one, and then if necessary, with others. You don’t get to just ignore them – and not listen to them - and think the problem will go away.

·      If you can’t make peace with someone, there is a way to put someone outside of the boundaries of the community.

·      And today, forgive over and over again. Because since you’ve been forgiven, your forgiveness of others is expected.

And that, says Rolf Jacobson, is frightening when you really think about it. Because really…we all know we aren’t really good at following all of these discipleship rules from Jesus. If we were, we wouldn’t have had all the temple talks on conflict here in the past several weeks.

Or there wouldn’t be arguments between sisters and brothers in Christ about what kind of worship is best…or whether politics has a place in church or whether to add on to the church building or not. Or the many other myriad of things church folk have gotten into arguments over in the past 2000 years.

So if we aren’t a little bit anxious when faced with Jesus’ idea of a community of disciples, then maybe we should be.

Or at the very least, it should give us pause.

If we approach Matthew 18 as a series of rules Jesus is giving us to be the right kind of disciples, then put me firmly in Rolf Jacobson’s camp. It scares the daylights out of me because I know I don’t always do it right.

But there is another way to look at this. In Matthew 18 why is Jesus giving all these rules about discipleship? What is it he’s aiming for?

Somewhere the answer is in that idea that where two or three are gathered in Jesus’ name, community is formed.

What if Matthew 18 isn’t so much about the rules of discipleship, but instead about the kind of relationship God is offering through discipleship? About the kind of community that can form in Jesus’ name?

Now admittedly we all know that relationship is also hard – just as hard maybe as following rules can be.

And one of the things that can trip relationship up more than anything is lack of forgiveness. Can any relationship survive without it?

But, oh, yeah…forgiveness…that’s hard too.

So while it gives some hope that maybe Matthew 18 is more about relationship than rules, it sure doesn’t make it all that much easier since relationships and forgiveness are still really difficult.

And just in case we forget this, Jesus provides this parable about forgiveness that just seems kinda terrifying.

Matthew has a few parables that don’t appear in the other gospels, and this is one of them. Now here it might be a good idea to take a step back to remember just what parables are and what they are not.

They are not a clear-cut line by line representation or allegory where every character has a direct counterpoint to someone in our life.

So, just lining up God as the king and the ungrateful servant as that person who we are arguing with in our life right now, isn’t really what Jesus is going for.

Instead, parables – especially parables like this one – are meant to disrupt our oh-so-very-certain adult way of knowing we are right to teach us a little humility. Parables introduce us to – shock us into seeing - an alternate world-view or way of living.

They throw us off balance. They jar us out of our egos. They show us a world that is frankly so unbelievable that we can’t help but be left wondering how we manage to get things right even some of the time!

This parable is shocking us to get a glimpse of what an entirely different way of forgiving looks like. It is saying “what would a world or community or church or family look like where forgiveness was as important and as natural as breathing?”

As natural as it is for this king.

One of the things you need to know about this generosity of forgiveness the king here you can’t grasp unless you know exactly what 10,000 talents is.

A talent was apparently equivalent to 130 lbs. of silver. And a first century laborer would need to work for roughly 15 years to be able to earn that much, so 10,000 talents would take 150,000 years to pay back!

150,000 years! Not sure about you, but I’m fairly certain I don’t have that much employment time in me. So in essence, what the king was forgiving was impossible for anyone to pay back.

That example was helpful for me to know because honestly, when you think of forgiving in purely economic terms – as in this parable seems to – for me it is a bit easier to understand forgiveness. I mean, forgiveness of debt is pretty straightforward.

But forgiveness is much more difficult when it comes in other terms: in terms of violence or hurt that we do to each other.  There are things in this life that quite frankly, we collectively term “unforgivable.”

But that is exactly what this king does. He forgives something that is after all, unforgiveable. Who can possibly pay back 150,000 years of labor?
And that is the point that I believe is meant to shake us out of our way of seeing things more than anything.

We could simply judge the first slave in his own inability to forgive a much smaller debt and stop there. And certainly he does fail in that area – as we all have done.

But I think what Jesus wants us to be shocked by is this: how does someone who is treated to an unbelievable, undeserved, monumental, completely life-altering gift of mercy and grace remain utterly oblivious to it? How does it not make him run from his master in amazement and wonder and gratitude that he can’t help but share that gift with others?

Martin Luther wondered about that very idea and in that wondering we are now 500 years later celebrating everything that came out of it.

I love what Pastor and theologian David Lose says about that. He says:

Luther realized “that righteousness was not God’s expectation, but instead God’s gift. And once he realized that some of God’s favorite things to do are to forgive those who seem unforgivable, love those who feel unlovable, and make right those things that seem so persistently in the wrong, Luther was freed not only from his fear of punishment, but also freed to love and forgive and care for those around him.”

Forgiveness is still hard. Relationship is still hard. Community is still hard, whether that community is made up of two or three or of over a hundred.

Some things will still seem or feel unforgivable, where we can’t imagine forgiving them once, let alone 77 times.

But here’s the thing, fortunately we don’t have the last word on forgiveness.

Fortunately, God’s inconceivable, utterly undeserved, amazing grace does. God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness comes even when we can’t seem to muster it up individually or communally.

And that mercy continues to call us out of our own egos into relationship with people we might not otherwise have anything to do with, and into community where we keep struggling along to try to work out what this alternative way of living looks like.

And even when we keep messing up, which clearly we do, God keeps calling us back to try again. And then when we mess up yet again, still God calls us and loves us and feeds us to strengthen us for another try, wanting always to show us how forgiveness is a reality for the whole community.

During communion, Lyndsey will sing “Please Come” by Nichole Nordeman which puts God’s mercy for ALL into perspective.  I want to share some of the lyrics with you as I close.

Oh, the days when I drew lines around my faith
To keep you out, to keep me in, to keep it safe
Oh, the sense of my own self entitlement
To say who’s wrong or won’t belong or cannot stay.

‘Cause somebody somewhere decided we’d be better off divided
And somehow despite the damage done, He says “come…”

There is room enough for all of us, please come.
And the arms are opened wide enough, please come
And our parts are never greater than the sum.*”

I close with her words and hope that as you come today to this table they will strengthen you, wherever you are in terms of conflict or forgiveness, so that you can see, taste, hear, smell and feel that mercy when it comes your way, no…OUR way, as we are gathered in Christ’s name.


Amen.

*From Nichole Nordeman "The Mystery" (2000)

Thursday, September 14, 2017

A little more: Matthew 18:15-20

Matthew 18:15-20 (NRSV)

“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

What would a community look like if all anyone ever did was ignore those they were angry with? Or talk behind their back? Or in the parlance of today, "ghost" them?
Would relationship really work then? Would community?
Jesus gives some pretty clear and logical steps for handling conflict. And he gives the reason for it as well.
When there is a group of us gathered in Jesus name, he is there. A community is formed around that. But if we don't communicate with each other - even in the hard times - then the relationships will fail.
Unfortunately in a day of social media and email being the primary sources of communication, it has become far too easy to let go of this idea of working through difference through open communication. Far easier to write an angry Facebook post or drop a lengthy email that can lack context or give the reader a chance to respond or even understand the "tone" that sits behind the email.
We have moved away from directly communicating our problems, our conflicts - and even our joys and hopes - one to one, face to face.
And it has had broad ranges of impact on our communities: our home communities, our church communities, and even our larger community and world.
Who is someone you are struggling with today that you could go to, talk to, listen to as a fellow human being so that relationship would be healed?

Lord, give me courage to meet face to face with those I am in conflict with and help us to hear each other. Amen.

Monday, September 11, 2017

A little more: Ezekiel 33:10-11

Ezekiel 33:10-11(NRSV)

Now you, mortal, say to the house of Israel, Thus you have said: “Our transgressions and our sins weigh upon us, and we waste away because of them; how then can we live?” Say to them, As I live, says the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways; for why will you die, O house of Israel?

If there is anything I can think of that comforts me in Scripture more than anything else, it is this: that God wants me to live.
That for God, nothing is better than when someone turns back from sin or from wrong-doing or from evil or from anger, and turns instead to life. To love. To hope. To forgiveness. To repentance.
That when I feel completely broken, or have messed up, or am feeling alone or slighted or have done the slighting, that God's ultimate hope for me is that I return to living.
If you have been in deep conflict or stress, as I have found myself in recently, then you know how cut off from truly living you feel when being in one of those states. Sin means to be apart or separate from God, or turned into ourselves. 

Conflict and stress can often leave us feeling isolated, because sometimes the pain becomes so great we cut ourselves off from those who would heal us or help us.
That isn't living.
And what God wants for us is living.
The hardest thing in conflict for many people is to meet face to face and hash it out; to resist the notion to sit and stew in our anger or grief.

But life comes when we face the challenge of turning back from that isolation: when we seek out the one who has hurt us or who we have hurt and together we choose life.

God wants us to live! So, why would we choose otherwise?

Teach me to turn toward life! Amen