Holy Saturday is the great pause between the dark, lonely, painful hours of crucifixion and death, and the first light of Easter morning where the stone has rolled away, the body is gone, and we see that the whole game just changed.
I'll leave it to Tony Campolo to help remind us what time it is.
May this Holy Saturday be restful for you, and may you experience the joy of Resurrection tomorrow and for all time.
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Saturday, April 07, 2012
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
The Time to Turn to God
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
All the faithful should listen to the word as it is announced in the liturgy or in Bible services and respond according to their ability. In this way, for the whole church, Lent will not be merely a season simply of a few formalized penitential practices, half-understood and undertaken without interest, but a time of metanoia, the turning of all minds and hearts to God in preparation of the Paschal Mystery in which some will for the first time receive the light of Christ, others will be restored to the communion of the faithful, and all will renew their baptismal consecration of their lives to God in Christ. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 114
What word or phrase- a mantra, like "Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me"- as you pass over these last days toward Easter?
I find it very meaningful to use the phrase, "Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner" as a breath prayer (repeated over and over in my mind while breathing in and out), because saying along with the rhythm of breathing reminds me that continually seeking God's grace and mercy is the rhythm of the life of a Christian.
But this question made me think of something else today. Forty four years ago today, in Memphis, Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot and killed while in town supporting a sanitation worker's strike. The night before, he preached an eerily prophetic final sermon.
So, to paraphrase Dr. King, the mantra that comes to my mind today is "we will get there". I get so easily discouraged when I turn on the news or talk to people who seem convinced that there are not enough resources for all people to have a full, healthy life, that destructive wars are inevitable, or that people will never change.
So as I am preparing to proclaim the good news of the Resurrection on Easter morning, I have to keep repeating "we will get there" so I can preach it with this kind of conviction.
All the faithful should listen to the word as it is announced in the liturgy or in Bible services and respond according to their ability. In this way, for the whole church, Lent will not be merely a season simply of a few formalized penitential practices, half-understood and undertaken without interest, but a time of metanoia, the turning of all minds and hearts to God in preparation of the Paschal Mystery in which some will for the first time receive the light of Christ, others will be restored to the communion of the faithful, and all will renew their baptismal consecration of their lives to God in Christ. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 114
What word or phrase- a mantra, like "Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me"- as you pass over these last days toward Easter?
I find it very meaningful to use the phrase, "Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner" as a breath prayer (repeated over and over in my mind while breathing in and out), because saying along with the rhythm of breathing reminds me that continually seeking God's grace and mercy is the rhythm of the life of a Christian.
But this question made me think of something else today. Forty four years ago today, in Memphis, Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot and killed while in town supporting a sanitation worker's strike. The night before, he preached an eerily prophetic final sermon.
So, to paraphrase Dr. King, the mantra that comes to my mind today is "we will get there". I get so easily discouraged when I turn on the news or talk to people who seem convinced that there are not enough resources for all people to have a full, healthy life, that destructive wars are inevitable, or that people will never change.
So as I am preparing to proclaim the good news of the Resurrection on Easter morning, I have to keep repeating "we will get there" so I can preach it with this kind of conviction.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Hosanna!
If every tongue was still, the noise would still continue.
The rocks and stones themselves would start to sing!
Happy Palm Sunday. Even in the midst of how somber most of Holy Week is, may you know the joy of Jesus coming and anticipate the Resurrection to come.
The rocks and stones themselves would start to sing!
Happy Palm Sunday. Even in the midst of how somber most of Holy Week is, may you know the joy of Jesus coming and anticipate the Resurrection to come.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Who is Church to me?
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
We must in all things seek God. But we do not seek Him the way we seek a lost object, a "thing". He is present to us in our heart, in our personal subjectivity, and to seek Him is to recognize this fact. Yet we cannot be aware of it as a reality unless He reveals His presence to us. He does not reveal Himself simply in our own heart. He reveals Himself to us in the Church, in the community of believers, the the koinonia of those who trust Him and love Him. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 223
Who is "the Church" for you? In what ways do you experience God's revelation to you?
My home church's slogan is "We Are About Relationships". They're emphasizing that what's important about the church is not programs or buildings or anything else. It's the relationships we have with one another and with God that shape our faith journey, and things like buildings and programs have to be structured to contribute to the nurturing of those relationships.
While I love that slogan and absolutely agree with it theologically, I'm an introvert. So defining what "it's all about relationships" means for me is a bit more complicated than people I know who are extroverts, who've never met a stranger and draw strength from time spent with groups of people.
Furthermore, as a pastor, I spend a lot of my time helping others "do" church and "be" church for one another. And while I get a great sense of satisfaction out of this, most of the time I can't truly worship when I'm leading worship. This is the case for most pastors, at least the from what I've seen.
I have had some moments that are exceptions to that, and they are wonderful moments.
In theory, the Tennessee Annual Conference is my "church", because I am a member of the conference as opposed to being on the rolls of a congregation. And while I do find some great moments of deep soul-to-soul connection when I am with some of my colleagues, the gatherings of the whole conference are mostly about business, and even the times we worship together aren't always the most worshipful for me.
The people who are most fully "the Church" for me are my family. When I'm spending time with Jessica, Kate, and Claire, I feel the peace and love of God, even when the kids are acting crazy and trying our patience.
The most soul-edifying conversations I have are after the girls are in bed and Jessica and I are having a glass of wine and talking about whatever is on our minds, most of which ends up coming back to faith. Our relationship began as divinity students, and that's shaped how we've been ever since.
I hope that over time, particularly now that I've finished the ordination gauntlet and been welcomed as a peer with the other ordained elders and deacons, that I will develop some other relationships that constitute "Church" for me. But again, I'm an introvert, so developing and deepening those relationships is going to take a lot of intentionality on my part.
We must in all things seek God. But we do not seek Him the way we seek a lost object, a "thing". He is present to us in our heart, in our personal subjectivity, and to seek Him is to recognize this fact. Yet we cannot be aware of it as a reality unless He reveals His presence to us. He does not reveal Himself simply in our own heart. He reveals Himself to us in the Church, in the community of believers, the the koinonia of those who trust Him and love Him. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 223
Who is "the Church" for you? In what ways do you experience God's revelation to you?
My home church's slogan is "We Are About Relationships". They're emphasizing that what's important about the church is not programs or buildings or anything else. It's the relationships we have with one another and with God that shape our faith journey, and things like buildings and programs have to be structured to contribute to the nurturing of those relationships.
While I love that slogan and absolutely agree with it theologically, I'm an introvert. So defining what "it's all about relationships" means for me is a bit more complicated than people I know who are extroverts, who've never met a stranger and draw strength from time spent with groups of people.
Furthermore, as a pastor, I spend a lot of my time helping others "do" church and "be" church for one another. And while I get a great sense of satisfaction out of this, most of the time I can't truly worship when I'm leading worship. This is the case for most pastors, at least the from what I've seen.
I have had some moments that are exceptions to that, and they are wonderful moments.
In theory, the Tennessee Annual Conference is my "church", because I am a member of the conference as opposed to being on the rolls of a congregation. And while I do find some great moments of deep soul-to-soul connection when I am with some of my colleagues, the gatherings of the whole conference are mostly about business, and even the times we worship together aren't always the most worshipful for me.
The people who are most fully "the Church" for me are my family. When I'm spending time with Jessica, Kate, and Claire, I feel the peace and love of God, even when the kids are acting crazy and trying our patience.
The most soul-edifying conversations I have are after the girls are in bed and Jessica and I are having a glass of wine and talking about whatever is on our minds, most of which ends up coming back to faith. Our relationship began as divinity students, and that's shaped how we've been ever since.
I hope that over time, particularly now that I've finished the ordination gauntlet and been welcomed as a peer with the other ordained elders and deacons, that I will develop some other relationships that constitute "Church" for me. But again, I'm an introvert, so developing and deepening those relationships is going to take a lot of intentionality on my part.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Communion in Forgiveness
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
Christ will not be visible to the world in His Church except in proportion as Christians seek peace and unity with one another and with all men. But since conflict is inevitable, unity cannot be maintained except in great difficulty, with constantly renewed sacrifice, with lucid honesty, openness, humility, the readiness to ask forgiveness and to forgive. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 217
If Lent is the Church's call to forgive and to be forgiven, how are you answering it?
I'll tell you a little secret about the church, which you may already know. People don't leave their junk at the door. We bring all of ourselves into the church: the good, the bad, and the ugly. People are still people, even in the church. Maybe especially in the church.
Most of the time this is a good and healthy thing, if we're honest about it. But we run into trouble when we put on the facade of having everything figured out, because after a while the junk we're pretending isn't there begins to surface, and we end up doing all kinds of mental gymnastics to justify it under the guise of having it all figured out.
I know I sound like I'm pointing my finger at other people, even when the question is about me. I promise I'm not trying to, so please hear me out.
I say this because I have an extremely hard time forgiving people who create chaos in the church to compensate for unresolved junk in other areas of their lives. Sometimes these folks are labeled clergy killers, and while the term has a lot of truth to it, it can quickly turn into a destructive label that just perpetuates the problem.
That's what I allow to happen to me, at least. Instead of allowing the understanding of the "clergy killer" phenomenon to give me compassion for those folks' places of deep brokenness, I let it become a label that excuses me from seeing them as anything other than a problem to be contained or eliminated.
(Sidenote- I don't currently find myself in the midst of any of this kind of conflict. If I did, I probably wouldn't blog about it, even in such a general way, as it would likely just make the problem worse)
I may have very good reasons to be angry at someone who bullies a pastor or other church staff, but I can have a very hard time letting go of that anger, and I don't ask God for help letting go of it nearly as much or as sincerely as I should. There's a part of me that somehow feels justified or empowered by holding on to it, even though the only one it harms is me.
Holding on to anger and not wanting to forgive makes it that much harder for me to receive forgiveness. If someone I considered to be a "clergy killer" called me up and offered their forgiveness for the things I had done wrong (real or perceived), I would probably have a difficult time believing they were sincere. And the chances of me calling them up to ask for forgiveness and offer my own are quite slim.
Lord, you call us to forgive just as we are forgiven by you, but I confess I often don't want to forgive. Help me have the desire to persist on the journey of forgiveness. Amen.
Christ will not be visible to the world in His Church except in proportion as Christians seek peace and unity with one another and with all men. But since conflict is inevitable, unity cannot be maintained except in great difficulty, with constantly renewed sacrifice, with lucid honesty, openness, humility, the readiness to ask forgiveness and to forgive. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 217
If Lent is the Church's call to forgive and to be forgiven, how are you answering it?
I'll tell you a little secret about the church, which you may already know. People don't leave their junk at the door. We bring all of ourselves into the church: the good, the bad, and the ugly. People are still people, even in the church. Maybe especially in the church.
Most of the time this is a good and healthy thing, if we're honest about it. But we run into trouble when we put on the facade of having everything figured out, because after a while the junk we're pretending isn't there begins to surface, and we end up doing all kinds of mental gymnastics to justify it under the guise of having it all figured out.
I know I sound like I'm pointing my finger at other people, even when the question is about me. I promise I'm not trying to, so please hear me out.
I say this because I have an extremely hard time forgiving people who create chaos in the church to compensate for unresolved junk in other areas of their lives. Sometimes these folks are labeled clergy killers, and while the term has a lot of truth to it, it can quickly turn into a destructive label that just perpetuates the problem.
That's what I allow to happen to me, at least. Instead of allowing the understanding of the "clergy killer" phenomenon to give me compassion for those folks' places of deep brokenness, I let it become a label that excuses me from seeing them as anything other than a problem to be contained or eliminated.
(Sidenote- I don't currently find myself in the midst of any of this kind of conflict. If I did, I probably wouldn't blog about it, even in such a general way, as it would likely just make the problem worse)
I may have very good reasons to be angry at someone who bullies a pastor or other church staff, but I can have a very hard time letting go of that anger, and I don't ask God for help letting go of it nearly as much or as sincerely as I should. There's a part of me that somehow feels justified or empowered by holding on to it, even though the only one it harms is me.
Holding on to anger and not wanting to forgive makes it that much harder for me to receive forgiveness. If someone I considered to be a "clergy killer" called me up and offered their forgiveness for the things I had done wrong (real or perceived), I would probably have a difficult time believing they were sincere. And the chances of me calling them up to ask for forgiveness and offer my own are quite slim.
Lord, you call us to forgive just as we are forgiven by you, but I confess I often don't want to forgive. Help me have the desire to persist on the journey of forgiveness. Amen.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Time is the Medium of our Salvation
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
To say that the redemption is an ever present spiritual reality is to say that Christ has laid hold upon time and sanctified it, giving it a sacramental character, making it an efficacious sign of our union with God in Him. So, "time" is a medium which makes the fact of redemption present to all men. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 49
With whom do you most "share time"? With whom should you be sharing more time?
This seems like a leading question. I think the "right" answer is to say that I spend the most time with my family, friends, job, etc., and that I need to be sharing more time with God.
But that canned answer reinforces the bifurcated sacred/secular understanding that has more roots in Plato and gnosticism than in a genuinely Judeo-Christian understanding of the creation.
That last sentence is a mouthful of seminary speak. Let me explain.
If I assume that time that I spend with my family, friends, at my job, on hobbies, etc., is not "time shared with God", then I'm saying that God is only present in specific times and places- in church, when the pages of my Bible are open, or when I'm by myself having some quiet time. In essence, I'm having a very limited view of God.
But one of the running themes throughout the Bible is the un-limitedness of God. God gets upset with the worship of idols because people are giving something limited, therefore controllable, the adoration due to that which is ultimate. They're putting something far less than God in the place of God. So if I'm only "sharing time" with God in those unique moments, then the god I'm sharing time with isn't God, because that god is too small.
As Merton puts it, "Christ has laid hold upon time and sanctified it". I think he's talking primarily in the cosmic sense, but this is demonstrated in the incarnation of Jesus, as well.
Jesus lived the fullness of the human experience. He experienced joy and laughter, as well as pain, suffering, and death. The life, death, and Resurrection of Jesus claims that not only is God present in every single moment of our lives, but God also has the last word in what it all means.
So if I truly believe the claims made by the incarnation and the Resurrection, then all time is time shared with God. The only question is whether I am aware of that or not.
When I forget this, I treat everything like I own it, as if it exists solely for my benefit. But when I am aware that every thing and every moment is infused with God's presence, then I treat everything as a gift, over which I have a sacred trust and for which I am accountable to God for how I handle it.
So maybe a better question is, how aware am I of who is present in all the moments of my life, and what do I need to do to make myself aware of what's really going on?
To say that the redemption is an ever present spiritual reality is to say that Christ has laid hold upon time and sanctified it, giving it a sacramental character, making it an efficacious sign of our union with God in Him. So, "time" is a medium which makes the fact of redemption present to all men. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 49
With whom do you most "share time"? With whom should you be sharing more time?
This seems like a leading question. I think the "right" answer is to say that I spend the most time with my family, friends, job, etc., and that I need to be sharing more time with God.
But that canned answer reinforces the bifurcated sacred/secular understanding that has more roots in Plato and gnosticism than in a genuinely Judeo-Christian understanding of the creation.
That last sentence is a mouthful of seminary speak. Let me explain.
If I assume that time that I spend with my family, friends, at my job, on hobbies, etc., is not "time shared with God", then I'm saying that God is only present in specific times and places- in church, when the pages of my Bible are open, or when I'm by myself having some quiet time. In essence, I'm having a very limited view of God.
But one of the running themes throughout the Bible is the un-limitedness of God. God gets upset with the worship of idols because people are giving something limited, therefore controllable, the adoration due to that which is ultimate. They're putting something far less than God in the place of God. So if I'm only "sharing time" with God in those unique moments, then the god I'm sharing time with isn't God, because that god is too small.
As Merton puts it, "Christ has laid hold upon time and sanctified it". I think he's talking primarily in the cosmic sense, but this is demonstrated in the incarnation of Jesus, as well.
Jesus lived the fullness of the human experience. He experienced joy and laughter, as well as pain, suffering, and death. The life, death, and Resurrection of Jesus claims that not only is God present in every single moment of our lives, but God also has the last word in what it all means.
So if I truly believe the claims made by the incarnation and the Resurrection, then all time is time shared with God. The only question is whether I am aware of that or not.
When I forget this, I treat everything like I own it, as if it exists solely for my benefit. But when I am aware that every thing and every moment is infused with God's presence, then I treat everything as a gift, over which I have a sacred trust and for which I am accountable to God for how I handle it.
So maybe a better question is, how aware am I of who is present in all the moments of my life, and what do I need to do to make myself aware of what's really going on?
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
"Words" for our salvation
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
If we cling to immature and limited notions of "privacy," we will never be able to free ourselves from the bonds of individualism. We will never realize that the Church delivers us from ourselves by public worship, the very public character of which tends to hide us "in the secret of God's face." ~ Seasons of Celebration, p. 27
Since Lent began, what "words have you heard for your salvation?
"It's not about you"
That's not a new "word" from God by any means, but it's one that I constantly need to hear. I've been feeling a little bit guilty that I didn't "give up" something for Lent other than the time to do this devotional practice. I guess giving up coffee or alcohol or meat has a more romantic feel to it, something I can wear as a badge of honor. But that, of course, is to miss the point of Lenten fasting entirely.
The reminder that I'm getting over and over is that as much as my limited vision and massive ego would have me believe it, I am not the center of the universe. I am God's beloved child, but my purpose is to serve others. None of this is about me.
This is probably the word I need right now, because I could quite easily get a big head about being ordained this summer. In the United Methodist Church, the path to ordination as an Elder is extremely long, complicated, and taxing. I've experienced setbacks and levels of frustration and despair that I had never known before. So I suppose I have some right to feel proud that I've completed all the requirements and been approved.
But just because I have that right doesn't mean it's the best thing for me to do, especially knowing how quickly I can get a big head and start to think that it's all about me. I've gotten lots of congratulations from people, and great affirmation from those that were present during my BOMEC interviews last week. Having to work so hard to get to this stage, it would be very easy to assume that ordination is something one earns.
The words that the bishop pronounces over the person being ordained are "take thou the authority of an Elder". The word "authority" implies responsibility and high expectations that one will use their authority in the proper way.
In all the time I've served as a pastor, I've been empowered to do certain things and granted access to very intimate moments in people's lives with the trust that I can play some role in heightening everyone's awareness of how grace is present in that moment. Just as my serving has been for the glory of God and for others to grow in love and grace, so is my ordination.
I may be the one being ordained at conference this year, but, praise God, it's not about me.
If we cling to immature and limited notions of "privacy," we will never be able to free ourselves from the bonds of individualism. We will never realize that the Church delivers us from ourselves by public worship, the very public character of which tends to hide us "in the secret of God's face." ~ Seasons of Celebration, p. 27
Since Lent began, what "words have you heard for your salvation?
"It's not about you"
That's not a new "word" from God by any means, but it's one that I constantly need to hear. I've been feeling a little bit guilty that I didn't "give up" something for Lent other than the time to do this devotional practice. I guess giving up coffee or alcohol or meat has a more romantic feel to it, something I can wear as a badge of honor. But that, of course, is to miss the point of Lenten fasting entirely.
The reminder that I'm getting over and over is that as much as my limited vision and massive ego would have me believe it, I am not the center of the universe. I am God's beloved child, but my purpose is to serve others. None of this is about me.
This is probably the word I need right now, because I could quite easily get a big head about being ordained this summer. In the United Methodist Church, the path to ordination as an Elder is extremely long, complicated, and taxing. I've experienced setbacks and levels of frustration and despair that I had never known before. So I suppose I have some right to feel proud that I've completed all the requirements and been approved.
But just because I have that right doesn't mean it's the best thing for me to do, especially knowing how quickly I can get a big head and start to think that it's all about me. I've gotten lots of congratulations from people, and great affirmation from those that were present during my BOMEC interviews last week. Having to work so hard to get to this stage, it would be very easy to assume that ordination is something one earns.
The words that the bishop pronounces over the person being ordained are "take thou the authority of an Elder". The word "authority" implies responsibility and high expectations that one will use their authority in the proper way.
In all the time I've served as a pastor, I've been empowered to do certain things and granted access to very intimate moments in people's lives with the trust that I can play some role in heightening everyone's awareness of how grace is present in that moment. Just as my serving has been for the glory of God and for others to grow in love and grace, so is my ordination.
I may be the one being ordained at conference this year, but, praise God, it's not about me.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
The "Inmost Secret" of Our Being
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
The great paradox of Christian personalism is this: it consists in something more than bringing to light the unique and irreplaceable element in the individual Christian. On the contrary, Christian personalism does not require that the inmost secret of our being become manifest or public to all. We do not even have to see it clearly ourselves! We are more truly "Christian persons" when our inmost secret remains a mystery shared by ourselves and God, and communicated to others. ~Seasons of Celebration, pp. 21-22
Consider the "inmost secret" at the core of yourself that is shared with God and remains a mystery.
Can something be known and still be a mystery? Aren't those conflicting terms? If we read a mystery novel, we find out who the killer is in the last couple chapters, and the mystery is over. Isn't that how it works?
In the modern world, yes. The fundamental assumption of modernity is that everything can be known, facts can be discerned, and that knowledge gives us power. But we've lost a deeper sense of mystery that the ancients understood. They knew that there was much that could not be known, and with a deep humility they participated in the mysteries that they knew they could never understand in a way that would give them control or resolution. They participated in them because these mysteries made them whole.
As much as we've overdone things in modernity, we still have mysteries that we get to participate in. Love is fundamentally a mystery. I can sit down and write a very long list of all of Jessica's wonderful qualities, but when I knew I wanted to marry her I did not make a list to see if the sum total of those qualities made us being together the logical conclusion.
The same thing goes for our daughters, Kate and Claire. We can tell you all the wonderful things about them (much of Jessica's blogging is devoted to that), but they don't have to achieve a certain score for me to be ecstatic about being their daddy. This isn't math. It's love. It's a mystery in which we participate, never fully understanding what it is in a cognitive sense, but knowing it on a deeper level than words ever could define.
That's the reason we have sacraments in the church. The waters of Baptism, the bread and wine of Holy Communion are physical, tactile things that point beyond themselves and participate in that divine mystery to which they point. We cognitively get to understand just enough to allow us to drop our guard and participate in these mysteries.
So what is the "inmost secret" at the core of myself? Quite simply, it's that I'm God's child, created in God's image, and called to proclaim that truth that I can barely even begin to wrap my mind around. But the good new is that I don't have to be able to wrap my mind around it! I get to participate in the mystery!
The great paradox of Christian personalism is this: it consists in something more than bringing to light the unique and irreplaceable element in the individual Christian. On the contrary, Christian personalism does not require that the inmost secret of our being become manifest or public to all. We do not even have to see it clearly ourselves! We are more truly "Christian persons" when our inmost secret remains a mystery shared by ourselves and God, and communicated to others. ~Seasons of Celebration, pp. 21-22
Consider the "inmost secret" at the core of yourself that is shared with God and remains a mystery.
Can something be known and still be a mystery? Aren't those conflicting terms? If we read a mystery novel, we find out who the killer is in the last couple chapters, and the mystery is over. Isn't that how it works?
In the modern world, yes. The fundamental assumption of modernity is that everything can be known, facts can be discerned, and that knowledge gives us power. But we've lost a deeper sense of mystery that the ancients understood. They knew that there was much that could not be known, and with a deep humility they participated in the mysteries that they knew they could never understand in a way that would give them control or resolution. They participated in them because these mysteries made them whole.
As much as we've overdone things in modernity, we still have mysteries that we get to participate in. Love is fundamentally a mystery. I can sit down and write a very long list of all of Jessica's wonderful qualities, but when I knew I wanted to marry her I did not make a list to see if the sum total of those qualities made us being together the logical conclusion.
The same thing goes for our daughters, Kate and Claire. We can tell you all the wonderful things about them (much of Jessica's blogging is devoted to that), but they don't have to achieve a certain score for me to be ecstatic about being their daddy. This isn't math. It's love. It's a mystery in which we participate, never fully understanding what it is in a cognitive sense, but knowing it on a deeper level than words ever could define.
That's the reason we have sacraments in the church. The waters of Baptism, the bread and wine of Holy Communion are physical, tactile things that point beyond themselves and participate in that divine mystery to which they point. We cognitively get to understand just enough to allow us to drop our guard and participate in these mysteries.
So what is the "inmost secret" at the core of myself? Quite simply, it's that I'm God's child, created in God's image, and called to proclaim that truth that I can barely even begin to wrap my mind around. But the good new is that I don't have to be able to wrap my mind around it! I get to participate in the mystery!
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
Freedom and Responsibility
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
Before we get to today's devotional thoughts, I want to say thanks for all the prayers and good wishes that went out for me and the other candidates interviewing at BOMEC these past few days. My interview was very challenging, but it went well. I'll find out if I'll be ordained this year on Thursday afternoon, so I'm going to try to keep myself busy over the next 48 hours!
That being said, let us hear from Fr. Thomas...
Our abdication of responsibility is at the same time an abdication of liberty. The resolution to let "someone else", the anonymous forces of society, assume responsibility for everything means that we abdicate from public responsibility, from mature concern, and even from spiritual life. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 20
Have you turned over responsibility for your life to the influences of our culture? To whom and to what have you made yourself subservient?
Subservient? Hmmm... I'm not sure about that one. I prefer to think in terms of accountability. I have willingly entered into relationships where I am accountable to my wife, my children, my congregation, my Bishop and District Superintendent, the Annual Conference, etc. I have made covenants with each of these individuals/entities that I take seriously, and in times when I would prefer to do things that are in conflict with those covenants, I choose not to because of the promises I made, and because I would not want to deal with the consequences of breaking those promises, even if I was the only one who ever knew.
All that being said, though, Merton was profoundly concerned with Christians accepting their social responsibility. He did not anticipate, nor would he have supported, the rise of the Religious Right, but during his time, he was disturbed to see Christians, or any human beings for that matter, casually accept the inevitability of nuclear war with the Soviet Union, poverty, and racism, among other things.
I was born twelve years after Thomas Merton died, but in my own time, far too many of my Christian brothers and sisters casually accept, and even advocate war with Iran, just as they did war with Iraq.
We look the other way as our brothers and sisters suffer in generational poverty, and when someone dares question the morality of our economic system, we attack with words like "socialist" and worse.
We look the other way, and are sometimes even the aggressors against our dark skinned brothers and sisters who "look Muslim", regardless of whether they are or not.
So as a follower of the Prince of Peace, the one who proclaims God's favor to each and every single person, the one who "fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty" (Luke 1:53- a passage that should scare those of us with the time and resources to sit around and blog to death), I can't sit by silently as injustices occur. I can't throw up my hands and say that there's nothing I can do. Maybe there isn't but I won't know until I try. Not if I really want to call myself his disciple.
This is the freedom for which Christ has freed us. So let our voice be heard.
Before we get to today's devotional thoughts, I want to say thanks for all the prayers and good wishes that went out for me and the other candidates interviewing at BOMEC these past few days. My interview was very challenging, but it went well. I'll find out if I'll be ordained this year on Thursday afternoon, so I'm going to try to keep myself busy over the next 48 hours!
That being said, let us hear from Fr. Thomas...
Our abdication of responsibility is at the same time an abdication of liberty. The resolution to let "someone else", the anonymous forces of society, assume responsibility for everything means that we abdicate from public responsibility, from mature concern, and even from spiritual life. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 20
Have you turned over responsibility for your life to the influences of our culture? To whom and to what have you made yourself subservient?
Subservient? Hmmm... I'm not sure about that one. I prefer to think in terms of accountability. I have willingly entered into relationships where I am accountable to my wife, my children, my congregation, my Bishop and District Superintendent, the Annual Conference, etc. I have made covenants with each of these individuals/entities that I take seriously, and in times when I would prefer to do things that are in conflict with those covenants, I choose not to because of the promises I made, and because I would not want to deal with the consequences of breaking those promises, even if I was the only one who ever knew.
All that being said, though, Merton was profoundly concerned with Christians accepting their social responsibility. He did not anticipate, nor would he have supported, the rise of the Religious Right, but during his time, he was disturbed to see Christians, or any human beings for that matter, casually accept the inevitability of nuclear war with the Soviet Union, poverty, and racism, among other things.
I was born twelve years after Thomas Merton died, but in my own time, far too many of my Christian brothers and sisters casually accept, and even advocate war with Iran, just as they did war with Iraq.
We look the other way as our brothers and sisters suffer in generational poverty, and when someone dares question the morality of our economic system, we attack with words like "socialist" and worse.
We look the other way, and are sometimes even the aggressors against our dark skinned brothers and sisters who "look Muslim", regardless of whether they are or not.
So as a follower of the Prince of Peace, the one who proclaims God's favor to each and every single person, the one who "fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty" (Luke 1:53- a passage that should scare those of us with the time and resources to sit around and blog to death), I can't sit by silently as injustices occur. I can't throw up my hands and say that there's nothing I can do. Maybe there isn't but I won't know until I try. Not if I really want to call myself his disciple.
This is the freedom for which Christ has freed us. So let our voice be heard.
Friday, March 02, 2012
Imagining the 40 Days
No blog reflections on my Merton devotional today. Between the coming storms and rereading all my papers for my BOMEC interview on Tuesday, my energies are focused elsewhere.
I will, however, share a video I saw on Matthew Paul Turner's blog, imagining what Jesus' 40 days in the wilderness were like.
May you find peace and strength in the midst of whatever wilderness you may be in today.
I will, however, share a video I saw on Matthew Paul Turner's blog, imagining what Jesus' 40 days in the wilderness were like.
May you find peace and strength in the midst of whatever wilderness you may be in today.
Thursday, March 01, 2012
God's Goodness
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
(The saint) is united to God by the depths of his own being. He sees and touches God in everything and everyone around him. Everywhere he goes, the world rings and resounds (though silently) with the deep harmonies of God's glory. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 137
How has God been good to you?
God has been good to me in so many ways, but I find the most helpful way to understand God's goodness to me is by realizing how God is giving me opportunities to be good to others.
I've been very fortunate in life. More fortunate than most people.
I know I'm supposed to use the word "blessed" when I'm talking about the good things in my life, but I feel like that implies that others aren't blessed if their children aren't healthy like mine are, or they didn't have the opportunity to go to the kind of schools I did. Maybe that's just semantics, but since my call is to help people know who God is, I feel like I need to be very aware of how the things I say can affect people's perceptions of who God is.
I have to confess that I get more than a little agitated when I hear other white, relatively well off males brag about how their success in life is all their doing, that no one gave them anything along the way, that they are entirely "self-made", and therefore have no obligation to help others.
Whenever I hear that kind of talk, I want to sarcastically ask, "so you breastfed yourself when you were a baby?"
The truth about me and anyone else who considers themselves successful is that we're the beneficiaries of those who gave tremendous gifts to us. Whether its parents who raised us, teachers who gave us valuable life lessons, clergy who instilled us with values, or anyone else, no one gets to a place of success (in the world's eyes, at least) truly "on their own".
So one of the biggest ways I see God's goodness to me is in terms of how it gives me opportunities to be good to others.
I've had the opportunity to go to very good schools, so that gives me a responsibility to impart knowledge to others.
I have more than my share of financial resources, so I have the responsibility to share with others. I have the opportunity to consume far more than my share of the world's resources (and I routinely do), so I have the responsibility to cut back and conserve as much as I can so more is available for others who don't have the kind of ready access that I do.
Jessica and I are very fortunate to have a healthy, mutually beneficial relationship with one another, and loving supportive families. We have two children who are healthy and, from early indications, seem to have the potential to develop high abilities and aptitudes. That gives us the responsibility to freely share all the love we receive, and to raise our girls to be people who understand their tremendous responsibilities because of the good fortune that they have had.
God has been very good to me through others who have created the opportunities and advantages I've had in life. Therefore, I have the responsibility of passing on what I've been given and of making the world a better place for others, just as it was made a better place for me.
I believe that doing that is a deeper act of praise than any words or songs ever could be.
(The saint) is united to God by the depths of his own being. He sees and touches God in everything and everyone around him. Everywhere he goes, the world rings and resounds (though silently) with the deep harmonies of God's glory. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 137
How has God been good to you?
God has been good to me in so many ways, but I find the most helpful way to understand God's goodness to me is by realizing how God is giving me opportunities to be good to others.
I've been very fortunate in life. More fortunate than most people.
I know I'm supposed to use the word "blessed" when I'm talking about the good things in my life, but I feel like that implies that others aren't blessed if their children aren't healthy like mine are, or they didn't have the opportunity to go to the kind of schools I did. Maybe that's just semantics, but since my call is to help people know who God is, I feel like I need to be very aware of how the things I say can affect people's perceptions of who God is.
I have to confess that I get more than a little agitated when I hear other white, relatively well off males brag about how their success in life is all their doing, that no one gave them anything along the way, that they are entirely "self-made", and therefore have no obligation to help others.
Whenever I hear that kind of talk, I want to sarcastically ask, "so you breastfed yourself when you were a baby?"
The truth about me and anyone else who considers themselves successful is that we're the beneficiaries of those who gave tremendous gifts to us. Whether its parents who raised us, teachers who gave us valuable life lessons, clergy who instilled us with values, or anyone else, no one gets to a place of success (in the world's eyes, at least) truly "on their own".
So one of the biggest ways I see God's goodness to me is in terms of how it gives me opportunities to be good to others.
I've had the opportunity to go to very good schools, so that gives me a responsibility to impart knowledge to others.
I have more than my share of financial resources, so I have the responsibility to share with others. I have the opportunity to consume far more than my share of the world's resources (and I routinely do), so I have the responsibility to cut back and conserve as much as I can so more is available for others who don't have the kind of ready access that I do.
Jessica and I are very fortunate to have a healthy, mutually beneficial relationship with one another, and loving supportive families. We have two children who are healthy and, from early indications, seem to have the potential to develop high abilities and aptitudes. That gives us the responsibility to freely share all the love we receive, and to raise our girls to be people who understand their tremendous responsibilities because of the good fortune that they have had.
God has been very good to me through others who have created the opportunities and advantages I've had in life. Therefore, I have the responsibility of passing on what I've been given and of making the world a better place for others, just as it was made a better place for me.
I believe that doing that is a deeper act of praise than any words or songs ever could be.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Being Pruned
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
The Cross is the sign of life. It is the trellis upon which grows the Mystical Vine whose life is infinite joy and whose branches we are. If we want to share the life of that Vine, we must grow on the same trellis and must suffer the same pruning. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 131
In what way would you consider yourself "a vine that God has pruned"?
I think the biggest "pruning" I've ever gone through is having to let go of my need for the approval of others. As I've said before doing these Lent posts, and at other times on the blog, there have been times in my vocation as a pastor (I really don't like the phrase "my ministry", but that's a subject for another time) that I've felt like I couldn't do anything right and that everyone was upset with me.
That perception wasn't entirely true, of course, more the effect of the fact that people tend to speak up more when they don't like something than when they do, but that's how it felt, and it wasn't fun.
It has been during those times that I've realized that I'm putting my eggs in the wrong basket. People's approval is very fickle. The Bible shows lots of examples of people who are totally dialed in with what God is doing, and it makes everybody upset at them!
As I recall, none of these biblical heroes enjoyed opposition and disapproval from others. Many of them wanted to, and sometimes did, run away. So while Jesus says, "blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me" (Matthew 5:11), not too many people feel blessed in that moment. I certainly don't.
That is, of course, assuming that the times when people have been upset with what I'm doing have been because I've really been doing God's will. I'm very hesitant to play the "persecution" card, and that's for God to judge, anyway.
I'm I am, indeed, a "pruned vine" in this respect, then the pruning process is ongoing, and the places where the branches have been cut away are still quite raw and vulnerable. I still like to be liked, and the real test of how I've grown in this respect will be when another season where I feel more disapproval than approval comes.
The Cross is the sign of life. It is the trellis upon which grows the Mystical Vine whose life is infinite joy and whose branches we are. If we want to share the life of that Vine, we must grow on the same trellis and must suffer the same pruning. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 131
In what way would you consider yourself "a vine that God has pruned"?
I think the biggest "pruning" I've ever gone through is having to let go of my need for the approval of others. As I've said before doing these Lent posts, and at other times on the blog, there have been times in my vocation as a pastor (I really don't like the phrase "my ministry", but that's a subject for another time) that I've felt like I couldn't do anything right and that everyone was upset with me.
That perception wasn't entirely true, of course, more the effect of the fact that people tend to speak up more when they don't like something than when they do, but that's how it felt, and it wasn't fun.
It has been during those times that I've realized that I'm putting my eggs in the wrong basket. People's approval is very fickle. The Bible shows lots of examples of people who are totally dialed in with what God is doing, and it makes everybody upset at them!
As I recall, none of these biblical heroes enjoyed opposition and disapproval from others. Many of them wanted to, and sometimes did, run away. So while Jesus says, "blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me" (Matthew 5:11), not too many people feel blessed in that moment. I certainly don't.
That is, of course, assuming that the times when people have been upset with what I'm doing have been because I've really been doing God's will. I'm very hesitant to play the "persecution" card, and that's for God to judge, anyway.
I'm I am, indeed, a "pruned vine" in this respect, then the pruning process is ongoing, and the places where the branches have been cut away are still quite raw and vulnerable. I still like to be liked, and the real test of how I've grown in this respect will be when another season where I feel more disapproval than approval comes.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Acts of Charity
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
The call to "do penance" is based not on the fact that penance will keep us in trim, but on the fact that "the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand". ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 130
What was your last act of "charity"? Why did you do it?
Why, that's easy, my last act of charity was, uh... hang on a second...
To quote Rick Perry, "oops"
After a minute or two of thinking I remembered that last week I was helping fill bags at Arlington's food pantry because there were several people there all at once, and our one volunteer was looking a bit overwhelmed. I sat there talking with one guy for a few minutes, hearing about his struggles, and we said a quick prayer together.
OK, not a bad act of charity, but why was I blanking for a couple minutes? It's not because I'm such a charitable guy that I just can't keep track of all the works of mercy I do, and it's certainly not because I'm so humble that I don't keep count.
I talk a good game and challenge people to make acts of mercy part of their discipleship, but when that question gets turned on me, I stumble for a few moments.
My blanking in answering that question reminds me that I'm often so busy being a pastor, I forget to be a disciple of Jesus. I'm very fortunate that my call is also my vocation, and I spend my time helping others grow in their discipleship, which I guess you could interpret as acts of charity.
Remember how I said a "quick prayer" with that guy? It was quick because I had a massive "to do" list sitting on my desk.
The unfortunate truth is that I've fallen into the trap of busyness. I'm working very hard on getting The Road up and running, preparing for my ordination interviews, plus all the normal pastoral duties I do, and I've unfortunately been neglecting my own discipleship, even though the reason I'm a pastor in the first place is because I felt a profound call at a fairly young age to devote my whole life to being a disciple of Jesus.
Lest I beat myself up too much (which, as Father Merton points out, is not the purpose of Lent), I have been fairly faithful to works of piety, but as Mr. Wesley emphasized, acts of mercy as just as essential. When the two get out of balance, our priorities and perspectives get out of whack. Say, for example, spending too much time on the nuts and bolts work of ministry while having a hard time remembering what my own last act of charity was.
The call to "do penance" is based not on the fact that penance will keep us in trim, but on the fact that "the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand". ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 130
What was your last act of "charity"? Why did you do it?
Why, that's easy, my last act of charity was, uh... hang on a second...
To quote Rick Perry, "oops"
After a minute or two of thinking I remembered that last week I was helping fill bags at Arlington's food pantry because there were several people there all at once, and our one volunteer was looking a bit overwhelmed. I sat there talking with one guy for a few minutes, hearing about his struggles, and we said a quick prayer together.
OK, not a bad act of charity, but why was I blanking for a couple minutes? It's not because I'm such a charitable guy that I just can't keep track of all the works of mercy I do, and it's certainly not because I'm so humble that I don't keep count.
I talk a good game and challenge people to make acts of mercy part of their discipleship, but when that question gets turned on me, I stumble for a few moments.
My blanking in answering that question reminds me that I'm often so busy being a pastor, I forget to be a disciple of Jesus. I'm very fortunate that my call is also my vocation, and I spend my time helping others grow in their discipleship, which I guess you could interpret as acts of charity.
Remember how I said a "quick prayer" with that guy? It was quick because I had a massive "to do" list sitting on my desk.
The unfortunate truth is that I've fallen into the trap of busyness. I'm working very hard on getting The Road up and running, preparing for my ordination interviews, plus all the normal pastoral duties I do, and I've unfortunately been neglecting my own discipleship, even though the reason I'm a pastor in the first place is because I felt a profound call at a fairly young age to devote my whole life to being a disciple of Jesus.
Lest I beat myself up too much (which, as Father Merton points out, is not the purpose of Lent), I have been fairly faithful to works of piety, but as Mr. Wesley emphasized, acts of mercy as just as essential. When the two get out of balance, our priorities and perspectives get out of whack. Say, for example, spending too much time on the nuts and bolts work of ministry while having a hard time remembering what my own last act of charity was.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Fasting from Harmful Thoughts and Speech
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
The Christian must deny himself, whether by fasting or some other way, in order to make clear his participation in the mystery of our burial with Christ in order to rise with Him to a new life. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 122
How can you "fast" from thoughts and speech that harm others, the community, and yourself?
I think I do a fairly good job of not giving voice to the meaner things that come across my mind around most people. That is to say, I'm very good at seeming like I'm not a judgmental person. But the truth is, of course, much more complex than the "best foot forward" one tries to present to others.
If you were to plant a listening device in my home or in my car you'd get a clearer picture of how I engage in thoughts and speech that are harmful to others, the community, and myself.
My wife, Jessica, is my closest friend, and we almost always say exactly what we think to one another. That's a good thing for the most part, because we all need people with whom we feel safe to express ourselves with no fear of retribution, and that's especially important in an intimate partnership like a marriage.
The downside of this freedom to speak my mind, however, is that I sometimes give voice to some of the uglier things that cross my mind. By allowing them to go from my brain out my mouth, I'm letting those harmful thoughts have more power than I would if I simply acknowledged that they were there and moved along.
I can be particularly mean when I think someone is being smug, judgmental, and a know-it-all. I get that way because those are the qualities I don't like about myself, and it's like looking in the mirror and seeing something I don't like. It's the speck to my log, if you will.
This will happen in the car, too. I've gotten better about giving verbal or non-verbal signs of my displeasure with other drivers now that Kate repeats every single thing I do or say, but if I'm by myself and listening to political chat on the radio, I'll just let loose when I hear a clip of a politician saying something I consider to be ridiculous.
So to answer today's question, I'm going to "fast" from harmful thoughts and speech by not giving voice to those thoughts, simply acknowledging that they're there, and moving on. I'll even try forcing myself to say a prayer for those that drive me nuts.
After all, Jesus said we should do that, so it might just be good for me.
The Christian must deny himself, whether by fasting or some other way, in order to make clear his participation in the mystery of our burial with Christ in order to rise with Him to a new life. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 122
How can you "fast" from thoughts and speech that harm others, the community, and yourself?
I think I do a fairly good job of not giving voice to the meaner things that come across my mind around most people. That is to say, I'm very good at seeming like I'm not a judgmental person. But the truth is, of course, much more complex than the "best foot forward" one tries to present to others.
If you were to plant a listening device in my home or in my car you'd get a clearer picture of how I engage in thoughts and speech that are harmful to others, the community, and myself.
My wife, Jessica, is my closest friend, and we almost always say exactly what we think to one another. That's a good thing for the most part, because we all need people with whom we feel safe to express ourselves with no fear of retribution, and that's especially important in an intimate partnership like a marriage.
The downside of this freedom to speak my mind, however, is that I sometimes give voice to some of the uglier things that cross my mind. By allowing them to go from my brain out my mouth, I'm letting those harmful thoughts have more power than I would if I simply acknowledged that they were there and moved along.
I can be particularly mean when I think someone is being smug, judgmental, and a know-it-all. I get that way because those are the qualities I don't like about myself, and it's like looking in the mirror and seeing something I don't like. It's the speck to my log, if you will.
This will happen in the car, too. I've gotten better about giving verbal or non-verbal signs of my displeasure with other drivers now that Kate repeats every single thing I do or say, but if I'm by myself and listening to political chat on the radio, I'll just let loose when I hear a clip of a politician saying something I consider to be ridiculous.
So to answer today's question, I'm going to "fast" from harmful thoughts and speech by not giving voice to those thoughts, simply acknowledging that they're there, and moving on. I'll even try forcing myself to say a prayer for those that drive me nuts.
After all, Jesus said we should do that, so it might just be good for me.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Fear and Mercy
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
Now one of the things we must cast out first of all is fear. Fear narrows the little entrance of our heart. It shrinks up our capacity to love. It freezes up our power to give ourselves. If we were terrified of God as an inexorable judge, we would not confidently await his mercy, or approach him trustfully in prayer. Our peace and our joy in Lent are a guarantee of grace. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 117
How are fear and mercy factors in my relationship with God?
The concept of "fearing God" has never really sat well with me. My parents grew up in churches were they were taught about an angry, scary God of whom one should be afraid. They made sure to raise my brother and I to know that God is first and foremost characterized by love.
I've always equated the "fear of God" more with respect and honor than with being afraid. 1 John 4 says that "perfect love drives out fear", and God's love is perfect.
In college I was involved in an evangelical campus ministry, and one of their big emphases was that we were totally unworthy of God's love, and to be very, very afraid of going to Hell. That coincided with my untreated depression getting worse, and it took a long time for me to really believe that I am worthy of God's love, because God created me in love. I tend to have some strongly negative reactions when I hear that theology being espoused, because it makes me recall a time in my own life when I let some religious group convince me that I really should be afraid of God.
The concept of God's mercy implies that we do need mercy, and many of us on the liberal end of the theological spectrum tend not to emphasize that enough, probably because we fear sounding like the "turn or burn" crowd. God's mercy doesn't just barely cover God's disappointment with our shortcomings, as some theologies imply. God's love and mercy so eclipse God's disappointment that it's barely noticeable anymore.
I heard someone point out one time how horrible it would be to have a spouse or parent who constantly reminded us that we were horrible and that we're lucky they tolerate us. That would be considered emotional abuse. God is not emotionally abusive. God is a loving parent who, yes, gets disappointed with us, but that's because God knows we can do better.
During Lent, as I reflect on all my shortcomings, I'm trying very hard to do so in light of God's infinite mercy, and to be joyful that these shortcomings don't have to define me.
Now one of the things we must cast out first of all is fear. Fear narrows the little entrance of our heart. It shrinks up our capacity to love. It freezes up our power to give ourselves. If we were terrified of God as an inexorable judge, we would not confidently await his mercy, or approach him trustfully in prayer. Our peace and our joy in Lent are a guarantee of grace. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 117
How are fear and mercy factors in my relationship with God?
The concept of "fearing God" has never really sat well with me. My parents grew up in churches were they were taught about an angry, scary God of whom one should be afraid. They made sure to raise my brother and I to know that God is first and foremost characterized by love.
I've always equated the "fear of God" more with respect and honor than with being afraid. 1 John 4 says that "perfect love drives out fear", and God's love is perfect.
In college I was involved in an evangelical campus ministry, and one of their big emphases was that we were totally unworthy of God's love, and to be very, very afraid of going to Hell. That coincided with my untreated depression getting worse, and it took a long time for me to really believe that I am worthy of God's love, because God created me in love. I tend to have some strongly negative reactions when I hear that theology being espoused, because it makes me recall a time in my own life when I let some religious group convince me that I really should be afraid of God.
The concept of God's mercy implies that we do need mercy, and many of us on the liberal end of the theological spectrum tend not to emphasize that enough, probably because we fear sounding like the "turn or burn" crowd. God's mercy doesn't just barely cover God's disappointment with our shortcomings, as some theologies imply. God's love and mercy so eclipse God's disappointment that it's barely noticeable anymore.
I heard someone point out one time how horrible it would be to have a spouse or parent who constantly reminded us that we were horrible and that we're lucky they tolerate us. That would be considered emotional abuse. God is not emotionally abusive. God is a loving parent who, yes, gets disappointed with us, but that's because God knows we can do better.
During Lent, as I reflect on all my shortcomings, I'm trying very hard to do so in light of God's infinite mercy, and to be joyful that these shortcomings don't have to define me.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Living with Illusions
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
The acceptance of reality is always a liberation from the burden of illusion that we strive to justify by our errors and our sins. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 116
What are the illusions in my life that I accept as reality?
Wow, if I were to be thorough, we'd go on all day and not even scratch the surface. I know I have lots of illusions about my life and the world around me that aren't true, and I'm quite certain that I don't even know what most of them are!
But the one that comes to mind first deals with my vocation as a pastor. It's an illusion called "pastoral effectiveness".
I'm in my first year at Arlington, and while I know this church and I are a very good fit for one another, I know the "honeymoon" period is still ongoing. We're still getting to know one another, and the newness of it all is exciting. That's not to say that bad things will start happening, but the reality of human relationships is that after you start getting used to someone, you start to notice more things that bug you.
Attendance and giving have generally been trending in positive directions, and people have had a lot of nice things to say about me (which I do not take for granted, because I've been in places where I couldn't do anything right in a congregation's eyes). We're starting a new worship service soon, as well as exploring the possibility of some other new ministries to our community. People's attitude about the church is generally very positive and enthusiastic.
So the illusion I'm tempted to accept as reality is that all of these good things are the direct result of me being a very effective pastor, and to imply by silence that God has only had a marginal role.
This temptation is especially strong right now because I'm interviewing for full ordination in less than two weeks, and the benchmark the Board of Ordained Ministry sets is seeing that a person has demonstrated "effective ministry".
Pastors certainly do have a lot of influence over the way things go in their congregation. Their leadership can help things go in positive or negative directions. But like the President, Bishop, or any other leader, pastors get more credit than they deserve when things go well, and more blame than they deserve when things go poorly.
So if I draw pride from the illusion that the times when things are going well are all because of me, I set myself up to be absolutely destroyed when things don't go well, because I will believe others when they place the blame squarely on my shoulders.
The truth is that, like any other relationship, the pastor/congregation relationship is a two way street. There's a lot to be said for chemistry, and all parties in the relationship have the potential to bring out the best or the worst in one another.
I believe that my time with Arlington will be judged successful in the final analysis, at least by the metrics and standards that the United Methodist Church is emphasizing right now. But I want my real goal to be judged by God as having been faithful to my task and have lived with integrity to who God has created me to be.
But none of those things will happen if I allow myself to live with the illusion that everything lives and dies on "pastoral effectiveness". I play my part, but this is God's work. The times that I forget this, I get in big trouble.
The acceptance of reality is always a liberation from the burden of illusion that we strive to justify by our errors and our sins. ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 116
What are the illusions in my life that I accept as reality?
Wow, if I were to be thorough, we'd go on all day and not even scratch the surface. I know I have lots of illusions about my life and the world around me that aren't true, and I'm quite certain that I don't even know what most of them are!
But the one that comes to mind first deals with my vocation as a pastor. It's an illusion called "pastoral effectiveness".
I'm in my first year at Arlington, and while I know this church and I are a very good fit for one another, I know the "honeymoon" period is still ongoing. We're still getting to know one another, and the newness of it all is exciting. That's not to say that bad things will start happening, but the reality of human relationships is that after you start getting used to someone, you start to notice more things that bug you.
Attendance and giving have generally been trending in positive directions, and people have had a lot of nice things to say about me (which I do not take for granted, because I've been in places where I couldn't do anything right in a congregation's eyes). We're starting a new worship service soon, as well as exploring the possibility of some other new ministries to our community. People's attitude about the church is generally very positive and enthusiastic.
So the illusion I'm tempted to accept as reality is that all of these good things are the direct result of me being a very effective pastor, and to imply by silence that God has only had a marginal role.
This temptation is especially strong right now because I'm interviewing for full ordination in less than two weeks, and the benchmark the Board of Ordained Ministry sets is seeing that a person has demonstrated "effective ministry".
Pastors certainly do have a lot of influence over the way things go in their congregation. Their leadership can help things go in positive or negative directions. But like the President, Bishop, or any other leader, pastors get more credit than they deserve when things go well, and more blame than they deserve when things go poorly.
So if I draw pride from the illusion that the times when things are going well are all because of me, I set myself up to be absolutely destroyed when things don't go well, because I will believe others when they place the blame squarely on my shoulders.
The truth is that, like any other relationship, the pastor/congregation relationship is a two way street. There's a lot to be said for chemistry, and all parties in the relationship have the potential to bring out the best or the worst in one another.
I believe that my time with Arlington will be judged successful in the final analysis, at least by the metrics and standards that the United Methodist Church is emphasizing right now. But I want my real goal to be judged by God as having been faithful to my task and have lived with integrity to who God has created me to be.
But none of those things will happen if I allow myself to live with the illusion that everything lives and dies on "pastoral effectiveness". I play my part, but this is God's work. The times that I forget this, I get in big trouble.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Ash Wednesday Reflections
(Note- I'm using Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton as my Lenten devotional this year. I'll be blogging the journaling prompts most days.)
"Even the darkest moments of the liturgy are filled with joy, and Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten fast, is a day of happiness, a Christian feast." ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 113
Ash Wednesday is one of my favorite liturgical holidays, but a day of happiness? Lent a season of celebration? I've never thought of them in that way. The ultimate outcome of this season: the Resurrection? Sure, that's joyful. But I've always thought of Ash Wednesday and Lent as fundamentally solemn times that make the joy of Easter that much greater by contrast.
"Even the darkest moments of the liturgy are filled with joy, and Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten fast, is a day of happiness, a Christian feast." ~Seasons of Celebration, p. 113
Ash Wednesday is one of my favorite liturgical holidays, but a day of happiness? Lent a season of celebration? I've never thought of them in that way. The ultimate outcome of this season: the Resurrection? Sure, that's joyful. But I've always thought of Ash Wednesday and Lent as fundamentally solemn times that make the joy of Easter that much greater by contrast.
Thursday, February 02, 2012
Lenten Discipline
I've been pondering lately what to take on as my discipline for Lent this year. In past years I've fasted and prayed during lunchtime, and last year I gave up alcohol, which was a healthy thing since I was coming out of a very high-stress period. It dampened March Madness just a tad though...
I like to do something different every year, picking something that will really challenge and strengthen me where I'm at in my life at that moment. I've found that my experience of God's presence is much more profound if I do that.
This defining characteristic of this particular season in my life is busyness. I'm working a lot more hours at Arlington than I did at Bethlehem (in many ways this is a good thing, which is probably the subject for another post), and this will especially be the case this Lent, as we're working toward the launch of our yet-to-be-named Alternative Worship Service at Arlington.
So while I can't give up busyness altogether for Lent, I can do something to intentionally slow down the tempo. I'll be making it my daily practice to take some time each morning (usually first thing when I get to the office) to read and meditate on the day's entry from Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton.
This book is produced by the Merton Institute for Contemplative Living, whose retreats and programs have been a great blessing to me during some very difficult times.
The reason I'm talking about this on the blog is that I'll post my reflections each day (well, most days), and I invite you to join me. Click the link above to order the book, and if you're so inclined, share your reflections and reactions in the Comments section. We could form a virtual small group doing this together.
That's what I'll be doing. How about you? Sound off below and share what, if any, Lenten discipline you've selected and why, or why you choose not to do so, if you're comfortable sharing that. All opinions are welcome, but please be respectful of others. No judgments or condemnations here.
I like to do something different every year, picking something that will really challenge and strengthen me where I'm at in my life at that moment. I've found that my experience of God's presence is much more profound if I do that.
This defining characteristic of this particular season in my life is busyness. I'm working a lot more hours at Arlington than I did at Bethlehem (in many ways this is a good thing, which is probably the subject for another post), and this will especially be the case this Lent, as we're working toward the launch of our yet-to-be-named Alternative Worship Service at Arlington.
So while I can't give up busyness altogether for Lent, I can do something to intentionally slow down the tempo. I'll be making it my daily practice to take some time each morning (usually first thing when I get to the office) to read and meditate on the day's entry from Lent and Easter Wisdom from Thomas Merton.
This book is produced by the Merton Institute for Contemplative Living, whose retreats and programs have been a great blessing to me during some very difficult times.
The reason I'm talking about this on the blog is that I'll post my reflections each day (well, most days), and I invite you to join me. Click the link above to order the book, and if you're so inclined, share your reflections and reactions in the Comments section. We could form a virtual small group doing this together.
That's what I'll be doing. How about you? Sound off below and share what, if any, Lenten discipline you've selected and why, or why you choose not to do so, if you're comfortable sharing that. All opinions are welcome, but please be respectful of others. No judgments or condemnations here.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Shameless Self Promotion- 2012 Edition
Lent is approaching and many pastors are thinking about sermon series for Lent. Ministry Matters has published an outline of a series I did a few years ago called "Giving It Up". It began with the idea of people giving certain things up for the 40 days of Lent, and considers things that God wants us to give up permanently.
You can find the article here. If anyone would like the full text of any of the sermons, I'd be happy to send them to you.
You can find the article here. If anyone would like the full text of any of the sermons, I'd be happy to send them to you.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Stations of the Cross
Tonight we celebrated Good Friday by walking the Stations of the Cross. I know this is something Protestants don't often do, but we thought we'd take advantage of worshipping in a Roman Catholic space where the stations are along the walls of the sanctuary.
Over the traditional rendering of each station is an additional piece of artwork (created by the lovely and talented Jessica Kelley) representing the emotional impact of each station. We photographed them after tonight's service, and they will remain through Easter Sunday. Come see them in person if you're in the Clarksville area this weekend!
Station 1- Jesus is Condemned by Pilate
the words on the surface of the water in the bowl are a selection of the sins of humanity for which Jesus died
Station 2- Jesus is given his cross
Station 3- Jesus falls for the first time
Station 4- Jesus meets his Mother
Station 5- Simon of Cyrene carries the cross
Station 14 (close-up)- The Empty Tomb
Over the traditional rendering of each station is an additional piece of artwork (created by the lovely and talented Jessica Kelley) representing the emotional impact of each station. We photographed them after tonight's service, and they will remain through Easter Sunday. Come see them in person if you're in the Clarksville area this weekend!
Station 1- Jesus is Condemned by Pilate
the words on the surface of the water in the bowl are a selection of the sins of humanity for which Jesus died
Station 2- Jesus is given his cross
Station 3- Jesus falls for the first time
Station 4- Jesus meets his Mother
Station 5- Simon of Cyrene carries the cross
Station 6- Veronica wipes the face of Jesus
Tradition says that the cloth Veronica used to wipe Jesus' face retained his image, creating one of the treasures of the early church. We used this one to remind ourselves that we are all created in the image of God, and are called to serve as his representatives in the world.
Station 7- Jesus falls the second time
Station 8- Jesus meets the daughters of Jerusalem
Station 9- Jesus falls the third time
Station 10- Jesus is stripped of his garment
Station 11- Jesus is nailed to the cross
Station 12- Jesus dies on the cross
Station 13a
In the Catholic tradition, this station recalls Jesus being removed from the cross and being mourned, usually by his mother, we made a slightly different choice, as you will see in a moment)
Station 13b- Jesus is laid in the tomb
Station 14 (wide shot)- we thought it would be cool to have this one on the altar
Station 14 (close-up)- The Empty Tomb
Our final station ends with the Resurrection, because Jesus' death is not the end of the story, and Sin, Evil, and Death do not have the last word.
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