Please tell me there is still some good in the world

Recently, at a wedding I attended, a friend of ours was sharing stories about his job. He is a teacher for children with severe behavioral disabilities. The stories he shared about what the kids were capable of doing, and the traumatic events in their lives that have led them to this place, astounded us. Someone turned to me and said, "Please tell me there is still some good in the world." I sat and stared at her, stunned. In a moment, all I was thinking was, "I should be able to do this. This is my job as a pastor. It is my job to reassure people of God's grace, in spite of everything. This is what I am called to do." In the moment pause that it took me to realize I didn't know what to say, she explained what she was asking. "I can't believe these stories. They break my heart. How can people do that to children? How can we be so evil to each other? The whole world is like this! Please tell me that there's hope."

Hope? I should be able to respond to that too. Grace, hope, good news... that's what I'm called to proclaim. I said, "There's still good in the world." And that's all I said. That's all she asked for. That was good enough for her, for that moment. The conversation moved elsewhere. But I was silenced. Shamed. I didn't have anything to say. I didn't have any proof, any examples, any ideas of where to find goodness, grace, and hope in a world so full of pain.

This conversation has troubled me ever since. It is indeed my vocation to proclaim good news in a world of pain. God has called me to preach grace and the promise of a coming kindom into a world that can't hear it and will reject my message and probably me, too. Where is this hope and goodness that God is calling me to preach?

In asking her own questions of faith, this woman did not know she was questioning mine as well. But I struggle, sometimes (maybe even often), to see God's work in the world. I am convinced beyond belief that God is working and present and working through us. I know without a doubt that when we try, we can find experiences of God's kindom already come and in the process of coming all around us. But how often do I try? And how often do I step out of the world as-it-is to experience the world as-it-will-be?

This Sunday, at St. James, we will celebrate a baptism. In the baptism service, we pray that God will remind us of God's grace. We renounce the powers of the world and the forces of evil, and we turn ourselves from this world as-it-is to look firmly into the world as-it-will-be, to step into an alternative reality, the reality of God's kindom. We celebrate God's claiming of one more child into the Christian communion, celebrate God's grace as evident in that child's life and present in that child's heart. We also promise to help that child live into that new, alternative reality. Which means we'll have to live into that same reality, the world as-it-will-be. And we do that, almost immediately. We sit down at a meal together, at God's table, where every person regardless of everything is welcomed and fed. We are no longer Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, 'black' nor white, rich nor poor, child nor adult. We are one communion, one holy family - with all the saints of every time and place. We are, in that moment, the kindom come.

That baptismal service, complete with the Eucharistic meal, is an important reminder of God's work in the world, and God's work in us. A wise pastor once reminded me: At baptism, God claims us as her own. God puts her spirit deep within us. So no matter what happens, no matter what evil enters us or enters the world, we are always claimed as God's own. We can never be fundamentally shameful or evil, because that choice has already been made for us. Whatever evil, traumatic, horrific things might happen in our lives, God was there first. Even before baptism, God knit us in our mother's womb. We can't change that. Nothing can change that. No matter what happens, baptism comes first. God claims us, and she doesn't let go.

This Sunday, we'll pray over the water and trust that God's spirit is placed deep within the baby's soul. And we'll pray: "...Praise to you for the water of baptism and for your Word that saves us in this water. Breathe your Spirit into all who are gathered here and into all creation. Illumine our days. Enliven our bones. Dry our tears. Wash away the sin within us, and drown the evil around us..."

May it be so. And may the hope and goodness of God be present and evident in our lives today, in ways we can see, feel, touch, taste, and know. And may we have the grace to accept God in our lives and in our world. To live not in the world as-it-is but in the world as-it-will-be. Amen. 

Church's mission

 Matthew 25:31-40
31 "When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, "Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.' 37 Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' 40 And the king will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.'



God calls the church to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and shelter the homeless...
I can't say just why this happens, but it tends to be that in the late summer (and around Christmastime) that people who live on the edge tend to need the most help. Perhaps it's because of the heat, or higher electricity bills, or higher gas prices... or any other of a myriad of reasons. Still, almost no one had stopped by the church to request assistance for months. And suddenly, it seems that every day someone is walking into the church, hoping for a prayer and a little help. At St. James, our policy is to invite these folks in and I listen to their stories. Mostly, we have small gift cards that we give out, along with a prayer for God's grace, goodness, and presence in that person's life. Occasionally there will be enough money in to help with a utility bill or bus/train fare. These gifts are always met with grateful smiles and handshakes, and we send them on their way. But their names remain on our prayer list, as we continue to pray for God's presence and grace in their lives.


It didn't occur to me until just today that these requests are precisely the kinds of requests Jesus is talking about in Matthew 25. For pastors, people seeking assistance can be one of the most difficult parts of our jobs. It is not that pastoral care with such folks is particularly difficult - though it can be, if the person happens to be using drugs or alcohol, or mentally ill, or a number of other difficulties that present in peoples' lives. Rather, we feel the need to be good stewards of the limited resources our congregations have to give to people. We make church policies to combat feeling used or taken advantage of. We use our guts and our prayers in the hope of making good, life-giving decisions rather than supporting life-damaging habits. However, when making such decisions, it can be so easy to fall into judgment. In a fast-paced world of meetings and appointments and ever-necessary sermon preparation time, taking time to talk with folks can begin to feel like a burden, one more thing on the agenda to make us late to the next thing.


Still, these people come, and we are called to sit with them, listen to them, pray with them, help them. And, I have discovered that when I take time to be fully present with these people, they often have deep lessons to teach me. Their faith, hope, joy, and love -- in spite of or even because of their life circumstances -- is inspiring. I have learned to say out loud that what we give at St. James is a gift to that person, no strings attached. We hope that people will use what little we have to give in life-giving ways. We hope that God's grace might shine in a little corner of that person's life. We hope that our prayers buoy those people when they most need it. But it is a gift, and we can't require that it be used in any certain way; we can't add expectations and rules. We give gifts because of our desire to give, not because of the other person's desire to receive or intent to use. We give gifts as one response to God's grace to us. And, we give gifts because in doing so we meet Jesus: hungry, thirsty, homeless, naked, sick, imprisoned.


So, I hope people keep coming. And I hope I keep learning. And I pray my church keeps giving... that we might indeed see the Son of Man coming in glory and recognize him from someone we happen to have met once before, on a hot summer day at the end of August,  hoping for a prayer and a little bit of help.

Why Do We Worship the Way We Have Always Worshiped When People Keep Changing?

I've been wondering about this myself lately. Why do we worship the way we do? Do we worship intentionally, or do we just show up at church hoping the cookies and conversation will be good afterward? Do we care to come into the presence of the Sacred on Sunday morning... or do we fulfill our obligation and then go home again, feeling better about ourselves? For me, some Sundays are celebrations of the joy of God's presence, active in the world and in my life... and some Sundays come closer to "work." One more day, one more sermon, one more service.

Then reality hits me: if this is what I'm called to do, if this is where I'm called to be, if this is where God's people are meeting to worship, then the Sacred is present here. I am in the presence of the Sacred, treading at the hem of the skirt of Heaven. And I'm missing it.

There's nothing wrong with the way we "do church" these days. For some people, myself included, we can indeed feel the thinness of space during Sunday morning worship -- the thinness that tells us that we're near God, or more correctly, God has come near us. There's a sense of being on the edge, in relationship with someone bigger, in the capable hands of a presence emanating Life, Healing, and Wholeness.

This space is Holy space. Inviting. Incomparable. Incommunicable. Indispensable.

So, then, why are there so many people who don't enter this space? So many who, upon entering a church building, still don't enter this space? How is it possible that people "do church" and fail to find "Holy Space," the presence of the Sacred?

This question bothers me because I believe that we all need Sacred Space in our lives. I believe that God calls us not simply to "be spiritual" but to "be in sacredness." God's presence can be known in ourselves and the quietness (or loudness!) of the world around us -- but God's presence is certainly known in the worshiping community, the space where we gather with one another to celebrate God's healing and relational presence in this world. When we "do church," we seek this awareness. When we "do church," we seek this presence. When we "do church," we seek this Sacred Space.

So why do we worship the way we have always worshiped? Part of the answer, I believe, is that we've liked it that way. Part of the answer is that we get lazy. Part of the answer is that we don't think about or know how to create spaces where people who worship differently than us can step into Sacred Space. But this, I believe, is where the church needs to be, or at least needs to be going. God is present in this world and in our lives in many places, many spaces, many gatherings. God's presence is known in Sunday morning stoic Lutheran services and joyful Pentecostal services. God's presence is known in Bible studies and prayer meetings taking place in homes, coffee shops, store fronts, and bars. God's presence is known on playgrounds and in family conversations in the car. If God's presence can be known in all of these gatherings (and countless gatherings I can't even imagine), why does the church only recognize some of them?

I wonder, what will church look like in 50 years? I don't know what it will look like, but I'm certain it won't look like it does today. In my imagination, church will be moving towards smaller gatherings: home churches, storefronts, gatherings at the local park. I imagine church will gather around community gardens, in monastic retreat centers, through community organizing. I imagine people will be looking to find Sacred Spaces in smaller places, through relationship and education and communal prayer and worship. I also imagine that the church, if it moves in this direction, will miss larger gatherings at times, and we'll see a revival of Revivals or retreats and other opportunities for many churches to gather together and worship, finding Sacred Space in the gathering of hundreds, or thousands, or even hundreds-of-thousands.

I don't know if my imagination is "right." But I do know that it's important. We need to imagine what church might look like in the future. It is through our imagination that we might create new Sacred Spaces, Holy Places, for people like and unlike us to step into the presence of the Holy. Let us keep open minds, open hearts, open imaginations, and live into the spaces that God is still creating for all of us. Keep open to the thinness of space in some places, many spaces, and tread gently on the hem of God's kindom come.

Romantic God?

Check out the latest essays in "Cafe: Stirring the Spirit Within."  Especially look at the faith reflection by Pastor Sue Schneider. She points out that even in our creation myths, we have been taught that women are the completion of men... but much of the later Biblical witness reminds us that we are all children of God, heirs in our own right. Julie Stecker's article gives several examples of women living into their identities as single women, loved by God and loving their lives. Definitely worth perusing!

Memorial Day Invocation

The invocation I gave at the Memorial Day ceremony in Western Springs this year:

We gather together this morning to celebrate.

            We celebrate a country of promised freedom, and the continuing commitment to ensure that all people might call themselves free.

We celebrate the many men and women who have served in the military at our behest.

            We celebrate the courage and commitment of thousands of service people who have given their all in service to their country.

           

We gather this morning to honor.

            We honor all who have left behind family, friends, and community to serve in the military.
            We honor those who have loved these United States enough to risk everything for her prosperity.
            We honor men and women throughout the years who have dedicated their lives to our freedom and our rights.

We gather this morning to lament.

            We lament the state of a world where war seems the only or most expedient answer to our nation’s problems.
            We lament the state of our nation which welcomes men and women back from war zones with silence and refusal to hear the stories of war.
            We lament the state of our souls, ready to send others to do what we would dare not – and then refusing to recognize our own culpability in what they have done.

We gather this morning to mourn.
            We mourn for all those who have given their lives in wars they believed in.
            We mourn for all who have sacrificed their lives in wars they didn’t believe in.
            We mourn for all who survived war zones, only to lose their lives in the fight against mental illness.

But most of all, we gather this morning to remember.
            We remember the service personnel we have loved and lost.
            We remember the sacrifices of so many in the service of their country.
            And we remember our God, who redeems the unredeemable; forgives the unforgivable; and encourages that we love – both our neighbor and our enemy.

So, this morning let us celebrate, honor, lament, mourn and remember. And, as President Abraham Lincoln concluded his second inaugural address:
“With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”

Happy? Mother's Day

It's just past Mother's Day, and I've been talking with other (mostly female) pastors about whether it's appropriate to celebrate Mother's Day in church. The history of Mother's Day isn't actually Christian. Rather, the roots of Mother's Day are traced back to the Greek celebrations of women and motherhood through the goddesses. The celebration of Mother's Day in the US began when one woman believed that all people should honor and appreciate their mothers - a quite secular beginning, as it were. Thus, the question arises whether we should celebrate secular holidays in church on Sunday mornings.

Of course, the reality of our society is that we fail to separate secular and church holidays. The 4th of July tends to be marked and celebrated in church, and Christmas and Easter are celebrated in the secular world. This being the case, I've been considering how one might honor mothers and Mother's Day in the church in a distinctly Christian way. That meaning how might we honor mothers while recognizing the Christian values of discipleship, justice, and peace.

The Religious Institute provided the resource that we at St. James used on Mother's Day. The litany we read reminded us of many things: that not all mothers wish to be mothers; that some women wish to be mothers and have not been able to bear children; that many women are mothers of children that never lived, or that died young; that many mothers go without pre-natal care; that many mothers die in childbirth because they don't have proper medical attention. All of these realities must be lifted up when we think to honor mothers in the church. But there is another reality that the celebration of Mother's Day ignores: that not all children have mothers who have cared for them, loved them, or nurtured them as they should. All people have mothers - that is how we are brought into this world. But there are many orphans, both children whose parents have died and those whose parents simply don't care for them. In recognizing Mother's Day, we must also recognize the importance of 'other' women in the lives of children (and adults) who might have taken on this role.

Here we understand that for many people, Mother's Day may cause as much pain as joy. The pain of having lost a wonderful mother is one reminder, though painful, of God's presence and God's grace in our lives. However, the reminder that the Bible says "honor your mother" while at the same time she beats you or abandons you leaves us confused and hurting. The reminder that you are a mother because of rape or because your husband has forced you to become a mother also leaves us hurt and confused. The reminder that you could not bear children and so people do not consider you the mother of your adopted children leaves us hurting and lost. God's will for our lives is healing and hope -- discipleship, justice, and peace -- not hurt, confusion, and chaos. Furthermore, women who have had miscarriages or still-births, women who have been unable to get pregnant, women who have lost children, women who have had abortions, and women who have chosen not to be mothers... all of these might be alienated, hurt, and confused during the celebration of Mother's Day. What is God's word of hope for these women?

As the article linked in the heading for this post indicates, women still are not free in our society to choose not to be mothers. Such women are considered selfish or presumed to be gay. When might these women, who contribute to society and church, be lifted up and recognized as graced children of God? And when might children of abusive or absent mothers be reminded that they, too, are graced children of God? When do we remember that mothers whose children have died are also graced children of God? When do we remember that women who have not chosen motherhood but who had it chosen for them are themselves graced children of God?

This is not to say that mothers should not be recognized and honored. The world has many mothers, and motherhood is a difficult calling and profession. Mothers around the world deserve the recognition they get on this one day -- the recognition that they work hard, love profoundly, and live in the world with grace. But those others also deserve a day, a time to be recognized and honored. So, with Mother's Day just behind us, let us recognize those in our lives and in our world who find that day hurtful and confusing. Let us remind these that they, too, are children of a loving Mother God who lives in their world and their lives with grace. And let us remember that God's grace extends to all God's children - and we honor the image of God in all of us.

God bless us all on this day, and on all days. Amen.

"Top cardinal, Tarcisio Bertone, blames paedophile crisis on homosexuals"

Words fail me to describe my reaction to reading the article above. To quote:

Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the Vatican Secretary of State, said: “Many psychologists and psychiatrists have demonstrated that there is no relationship between celibacy and paedophilia. But many others have demonstrated, I have been told recently, that there is a relationship between homosexuality and paedophilia. That is true. That is the problem.”

 This is an outrageous accusation. Not only is it untrue that there is a decisive link between homosexuality and pedophilia, it fails to recognize the statistics. Children are far more likely to be abused by people of heterosexual orientation than by people of homosexual orientation. Furthermore, statements like this one focus attention on potential perpetrators, rather than focusing attention where it belongs: on caring for the victims and survivors of such abuse. I am unaware that either celibacy or homosexuality are directly linked to child sexual abuse. Rather, abuse of any kind is linked to a power and control dynamic in which a person with power (in this case the priest) executes that power by demeaning a person with less power (in this case, children). This power can be exhibited in many ways, one of which is sexual abuse. Statistically speaking, males who abuse children are more likely to be of heterosexual orientation, or as this article asserts, no recognized sexual orientation. Making accusations like this one takes the onus off of the church to help past victims and prevent future occurrences. It is the church's responsibility to do everything in its power to ensure safe space for all of God's people. Pretending that the problem exists solely because of some group that can be blamed and punished does not do anyone any good.


But that's not the end of it! The article continues:

Giacomo Babini, the retired Bishop of Grosseto in Italy, was quoted by an Italian Catholic website as complaining about a Zionist attack on the Church. In an interview he was said to have described Jews as the “natural enemies” of Catholicism. “Deep down, historically speaking, the Jews are deicides [God-killers],” he said. 

I take exception to anyone who calls Jews 'God-killers' (even excepting that by adding "historically") without recognizing that Christians, too, are God-killers, as are Romans and Africans (remember Simon of Cyrene) and anyone else that may have been present at that public execution. So it is indeed unfair and in fact sinful to label this historical event as a Jewish problem or a Jewish sin. Jesus was not killed because of one person or one religious group. Rather, Jesus was killed because the social structures of the world could not and would not tolerate his preaching, teaching, healing, and living into a different-looking world. Jesus challenged the rules about what is clean and dirty. Jesus challenged the rules about who one can talk to our eat with. Jesus challenged the rules about what it is to be sick or healthy. He challenged the rules about what it means to be living in sin or righteous. And the people with power in that society refused to allow Jesus to change the status-quo. In fact, some of the people without power did the same thing -- trying to join those with power by aligning their opinions and their 'vote' to what those in power would have them say... a vote for crucifixion.

Dare we believe that it would be any different today? If Jesus were to come healing people, would we not call him possessed? If Jesus were to come proclaiming forgiveness of sins, would we not call him psychologically disturbed? If Jesus were to come teaching the homeless, walking through radioactive dumps with children, and sitting to eat with them without first washing his hands, would we not call him dirty and unclean?

No, it is not the Jews who killed Christ. It was us. All of us. Because we could not then and still cannot bear the message that he brought and brings to us: God's kin-dom is not of this world. God's power does not become manifest in violence. God's healing and grace are extended to the world, the whole world... and this grace is realized only when those who have more than enough share with those who have not enough.

I fear that those who have not enough are more aware of God's daily grace even than I am - and I think I look for it!  But when every moment of one's life is contingent on God's presence and grace, noticing seems to become a regular part of life. Might God's kin-dom come when we all recognize that every moment of all of our lives are contingent on that presence and grace?

God's kin-dom will only come when we stop blaming our neighbors for the problems of the world, and start recognizing that we have some part in those problems as well. Only when I recognize my failures and sins, and begin to confess, repent and remediate them, will anyone else be willing to do the same. And, when we all reach that point, perhaps God's kin-dom will indeed be present.

Holy (hell) Week

I picked up that title from someone on facebook. The busiest times for pastors are the month before Christmas and the month before Easter... but I suspect that Holy Week tops any other time of the year for busy-ness and to-do lists and sermons to preach. Anyway, I'm living through my first Holy Week as a pastor, and so far it's not so bad... but we'll have services every day/night from now until Sunday... which will be no small feat - especially since I need to give a sermon or reflection at at least 3 of those services.

So, I have sermons to craft and "things" to do (before a week of vacation next week) and people to visit and letters to write and calls to respond to... all of the everyday business of the church. I am sitting in my office with the sun shining brightly through the window, and the flowering bush -- I'd share what kind it is if I had any idea -- reaching out its radient yellow flowers to me, and the grass luscious green in the park, and children's laughter floating toward my ears... and for a moment I wish I were a child again, allowed to experience spring with laughter and freedom instead of to-do lists and obligations. But then I recognize this springtime, this sunshine, this laughter are all rays of God's grace. God isn't suggesting to me that I cannot enjoy spring with laughter and freedom. In fact, I suspect if I found the source of that laughter, God would be among those children laughing too! Jesus wouldn't be spending his time writing his sermons behind a desk, but basking in the sunlight with his friends. I worry that when we focus too much on our jobs, our tasks, our obligations, we forget that God's grace extends to us everywhere and in every place. We miss God's grace. And in the process, we miss also God's very presence in our world, in our lives.

And I think, that's what Holy Week is all about ... remembering God's presence and grace in our world and in our lives...

So I've decided that I'm not going to spend the day indoors, behind my desk. Maybe God created cell phones so we could make our phone calls from a tree we've climbed. Maybe God created laptops so we could craft sermons in the park. Maybe God created me to bring sunshine to those people I visit, to walk outside with them or open their blinds. Maybe God created the whole world so that we might remember God's grace and God's presence in every moment of our lives.

I might stick around and finish this post with something clever, but the playground outside is calling. I hope you find God's grace and presence today too... I'll meet you and God at the swings!

Church of the Misfits?

I know it's well past Christmas now, but about springtime I always start singing Christmas songs again. Lately I've been thinking about Rudolph & the Island of Misfit Toys. This has come to mind with regard to St. James in an interesting way. As it turns out, a part of our identity seems to be that most of us don't "fit in" with whatever society has told us we are or should be... but at St. James, we are a collection of people who are loved, cared for, and befriended without regard to our 'misfit' status in some other part of the world.

Perhaps I love St. James so much because that is how I identify. Christian society (generally) says that women should not be pastors. Society says people should be nationalistic first and social-justice oriented second (if at all). Society says (even still) that women should be the ones to take care of the home and the children -- work should come second. But I don't identify with the shoulds. I identify with Rudolph and Hermey, who sing that it's OK to be "A Couple of Misfits."

Throughout my life, my best friends have been the people around me with strong identities. People who know who they are and what they stand for -- and yet, are open to hearing and even considering other points of view. That is, open to hearing and considering, but not by giving up their own positions. What is astounding is that these people, by and large, aren't the "popular" folks. Popularity arises when a person of strong personality or charisma manages to find followers who are willing to mold their own ideas to that of the popular opinion... and thus the popular group grows... until it reaches the limit of "us" and "them." In this case, many of the "them" wishes they were "us," and often they try their hardest to become what the popular group would have them to be.

For misfits, it is not so. Misfits retain their identity and require others to do the same. Misfits do not invite followers, but engage partners... i.e. conversation partners or debate partners. Even as misfits seek their identity, they seek it on their own path, in their own ways, with their own words. So then the question arises, does Christianity merely invite followers (even disciples), or can Christianity engage misfit partners as well?

Certainly, Christianity seeks to make disciples of Christ -- that is in fact our "Great Commission" (Matthew 28:16-20). We do indeed seek to follow Jesus' teachings and practices, to walk where Jesus walked. And popular Christianity does just that... to an extent. Popular Christianity shares the good news of Jesus' life and death and (sometimes) resurrection. It shares the good news that Jesus can bring healing to your body, your soul, your life. But I worry about popular Christianity. I worry about religious experiences that are easy, popular, even fun...

...because although Jesus was 'popular' in the sense that he had and has lots of followers - the 12 apostles, plus many disciples, plus the huge crowds that came to see and hear - he wasn't popular with the powerful groups. He wasn't popular with the government. He wasn't popular with the church. In fact, Jesus was killed by a collusion of church and state -- the Powers that Be. What did he do so wrong? Well, I think Jesus was himself a misfit. He spoke respectfully to women. He touched unclean people. He dined with "sinners" and hated tax collectors. He found the misfits in society and spent time with them -- like Zacchaeus the tax collector who was so far outside of the crowd that he had to climb a tree to see Jesus. Jesus saw him, found him, dined with him, and changed his life. Jesus didn't take away Zacchaeus' identity. Jesus didn't tell Zacchaeus what to think and you'd better not ask questions. Jesus wasn't about forming groupies. Rather, in all of Jesus' interactions, he sought partners. Conversation partners. Debate partners. Partners who, in engaging with Christ, might find themselves healed and their lives changed.

It is that to which I think we are called. To follow Jesus not in "what would Jesus do" style - though that's a good start! - but in how might we engage the Christ within us and the Christ within our neighbor that both of our lives might be changed. And that is not easy. Because that requires not just sharing what Jesus did, but doing what Jesus did. Not only feeding the hungry, but asking why there are hungry. Not only healing the sick, but ensuring the sick can get healthcare. Not only putting money toward eradicating homelessness, but working against the injustices in the world that cause it. And those, my friends, are not popular causes. Identifying any of those issues will define you as misfit. But it goes beyond that, even. We remember that Christ died for the healing (salvation) of the world. If we are to follow Jesus, we follow even unto death. Those parts of our own selves that retain selfishness, jealousy, envy, pride, enmity, even power... we must learn to let them die... so that we might rise, clothed with the righteousness, faithfulness, forgiveness, and humility of Christ.

This is the misfit-ness of Christ. The savior who didn't meet the expectations of his people. The God who became like us in order to heal us.

And so, I believe, the Christian church can indeed be a church of misfits. St. James' people come together into loving Christian community, embracing one another in a way that the world does not and perhaps cannot. In a way that even other churches may not. Perhaps that is why I love these people so much. Perhaps that is why I am called to this place in this time. And perhaps we might learn to embrace an identity of Church of the Misfits. With the misfit Christ as our guide.

To trust... or not?

My latest devotional book is "Reasons for Hope" by Jose Luis Martin Descalzo. Having just started it, I cannot comment on the frame of the book as a whole, or on its real suitability for devotional reading. However, today I came across a single paragraph that drew me up short. Today, we read about trust:

"I have always maintained that trust is an integral part of human life, that rather than live with an armor-plated soul, it would be better not to live at all. If I cannot trust those around me, if I put up a barrier of barbed wire around my life and around my heart, I am not hurting the people who come close to me. I am hurting myself. An untrusting heart gets old quickly. A heart that is shut up tight is deader than a heart whose owner has already passed away." (6)

Trust is a strange, intriguing, difficult facet of life. We learn trust - at least theoretically - as infants and children, having strong adults around us who help us interpret the world and know what to expect. For so many children, when they learn trust in this way, their first instinct becomes to trust with reckless abandon. They offer life and love and freedom to everyone they meet. When I meet such children, I feel their joy in life; I too experience their trust that in the end, all will be OK.

But the world we live in is not a fundamentally trustworthy place. Sinful people inhabit a broken world. Terrible things happen to the earth - like earthquakes and blizzards and tsunamis. Terrible things happen to people - like kidnapping and burglary and rape. As children grow, responsible parents carefully teach them about the dangers in the world, ideas of how to keep safe-r. And the challenge becomes sharing the reality of danger, without crushing the necessity of trust.

Over and over again, the Bible tells us "Do not be afraid." God hopes for us, God desires for us, a sense of safety, of trust, of love. God reminds us that fear and despair do not get to win. God's very presence in the world is a presence of trust and of peace. Yet, even though the angels preach this message again and again, fear exists. The angels do not extinguish all danger. God does not break into the world and suddenly wipe away all things bad or painful or tragic. Rather, God invites us into a journey to the kin-dom. A journey begun in the Bible stories we've collected. A journey in which this broken and sinful world (and this broken and sinful generation) finds healing, mending, care, peace... and trust. As we join this journey, as we take part in the healing to be done, as we begin to trust again - even with reckless abandon - we begin to discover God's peace. We begin to discover that, with God's community, we can trust in spite of the danger. We begin to discover that our trusting hearts are open hearts - hearts open to our neighbors, hearts open to our world, hearts open to God's peace.

Lent comes quickly; on Wednesday this 40-day journey will begin again. Are you ready? Am I ready? May we use this time, this journey, to take the journey toward the kin-dom. May we use it to recognize the places our hearts have become hardened or deadened. May we use it to repent from these places. May we use it to ever so slowly learn again how to trust. And may we allow our transformed hearts to take part in the coming kin-dom... as together, we journey on.

Discernment

As St. James and I continue walking into our future together, I find we constantly ask God, "Where are you calling us now?" "Where are you calling me now?" As part of the discovery process, I've begun reading Discernment: a path to spiritual awakening by Rose Mary Dougherty. Today, I read:

“Discernment is ultimately about love. It is about seeing, in the moment, the loving action that is mine and having the freedom to respond and to act.”

Today, I am not free. Today has been a difficult day, for no reason outside myself. Today I am bound by shame, some of which is rightfully mine, and some which is not. There are mistakes I have made, tasks I have been incapable of doing or completing, conversations I have done poorly or not at all. There are also haunts of my past and present, things that have been done to me, ways people have acted or failed to act that have hurt me. All of these culminate, some days, in a difficult, encumbering shame.

Today I am not free. I am not free to discern, because my vision is suddenly myopic. I am not free to respond in love, because I am not able to receive this love. I am not free to act, because I am paralyzed by the shame that encompasses me. 

Today, I am not free. And yet, the Loving One still reaches out. The Loving One still reminds me I am named and claimed as a Child of God. I am not destined to be bound by shame. I am not destined to a life without freedom. The embrace of the Loving One does not prevent or obliterate shame. Rather, this touch of God heals. 

Discernment is gift, not goal. In my seeking, in my hoping, in my needing, discernment comes. May I welcome this – thoughtfulness, wisdom, experience, relationship, healing touch. May I welcome God into my midst, into myself.