On silence

Whether we live alone or with others, work in a crowded room or in isolation, whether we are naturally quiet or boisterous, silence terrifies. Why else would we fill our auditory spaces with the clutter of whirs, clicks, and broadcast chatter? Why do our minds and hearts roar with words? We may cherish momentary quiet after a busy day, but soon we are filling it up with words on a printed page, or with imagined conversations with our bosses.

 

Silence terrifies because it demands our attention. The steady drone of bass lines and mechanical hums becomes part of the atmosphere, but let a room fall silent and all eyes (and ears) become alert. In extended silence, we cannot drown out the voices in our heads, usually our own, telling us what is wrong and right with us. What we ought have done; where we have failed; all we must do to occupy the space with sound and activity again.

 

But it takes an extended silence to hear God. When, after time, our own internal voices grow hoarse and we are simply present to the air, we are able to hear beyond the worry and the daily. We are able to hear The Eternal. God speaks in the whirlwind, of course. God plucks us out of regular to show us the lights of the Kin-dom.  But in silence, God speaks in extended sentences: God speaks God's dreams. Only then we are able to pay attention and hear.

 

Maybe we are not only afraid of silence, but afraid of finally hearing God? Where might we be compelled to go -- who might we become -- if we had the room to listen?

 

On prophets

On the fourth anniversary of our invasion of Iraq

 

Scripture -- Jeremiah 38:4-6

 

The officials said to the king, "This man [Jeremiah] ought to be put to death, because he is discouraging the soldiers who are left in this city, and all the people, by speaking such words to them. For this man is not seeking the welfare of the people, but their harm." King Zedekiah said, "Here he is; he is in your hands; for the king is powerless against you." So they took Jeremiah and threw him into the cistern of Malchiah. Now there was no water in the cistern, but only mud, and Jeremiah sank in the mud.

 

Meditation -- from Archbishop Oscar Arnullo Romero (murdered just before consecrating the Eucharist, March 24 1980. His homily had called for soldiers to stop violating human rights of their own people and obey God's higher law )

 

You heard today in the first reading the accusations: "Death to that Jeremiah! He's demoralizing the soliders and all of the people with those speeches. That man doesn't promote the people's good, but their harm."

 

See how the accusation against the prophets of all times are the same. When the prophet bothers the consciences of the selfish, or of those who are not building with God's plans, the prophet is a nuisance and must be eliminated, murdered, thrown into a pit, persecued, not allowed to speak the word that annoys.

 

But the prophet could not tell them anything else. Read in the Bible how Jeremiah often prays to God, "Lord, take this cross away from me. I don't want to be a prophet. I feel my insides burning because I have to say things even I don't like."

 

It's always the same. The prophet has to speak of society's sin and call to conversion, as the church is doing today in San Salvador: pointing out whatever would enthrone sin in El Salvador's history and calling sinners to be converted, just as Jeremiah did.

 

Prayer

 

Lord of justice and mercy, restrain my heart from its fear of others' anger, and retrain it to listen only to you.  If my tongue remains silent, pour your words out over it so that you may be heard in the city streets. If my hands grip my comfortable chair, propel me into the halls of power to speak your truth and to call your people to repentence. If my life remains quiet while the world is in anguish, take my life and do it over, for your vision for the world is more worthy than my wants.  Use me fully, so that at the end of my days I may stand before you, your faithful servant. In the name of Jesus my Christ, and in the names of those who heeded your call, I pray: Amen.

Losing out by envy

In the gospel of Luke, Jesus tells the powerful parable of the younger son, who, having demanded and been given his inheritance, squanders it.  The young man indulges in dissolute behavior and ignores his father and his family. When the gift has long been spent and gone, he is caught up in a famine in the countryside, and in order to live must do things repugnant to him, including feeding pigs.  Finally, he is broken and repentent, and returns to his father's house. He asks for forgiveness; his father forgives and welcomes him with a celebration.

 

It's a very familiar story. And for many of us, the next lines are just as familiar: "Now the man's elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.' Then [the elder brother] becamse angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, 'Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.'"  (Luke 15:25-30)

 

With whom do you identify: the elder or younger son? We who have been nominally faithful -- baptized young, biweekly or weekly church attenders, givers of a portion of our income -- often find ourselves siding with the elder brother. The dutiful one. The one who has never left his father's side.  The one who does everything and receives nothing.

 

What cheek! What utter gall!  From our Father's perspective, we too may be said to have squandered our inheritance and chosen to live with pigs.  Have we used our gifts, fully and to God's glory? Is the earth unspoiled and clean? Are our brothers and sisters cared for? Are any in prison whom we have not visited? 

 

The envy we feel is a denial of our own sorry state of sinfulness.  How much better it would be for us if we identified with the younger brother, who was humble enough to return and ask for forgiveness, rather than the elder, who through his own envy nearly missed out on the party!

 

Wanting to be great

The gospel of Matthew says it at 20:26: Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant. Mark, at 10:43. Luke says it at 22:26, like this:  But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves.  And John, the mystic theologian, writes at 21:18: Feed my sheep.

 

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote it this way:

Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important -- wonderful. If you want to be recognized -- wonderful. If you want to be great -- wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That's your new definition of greatness. And this morning, the thing that I like about it ... by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great. Because everybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Eintein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermo-dynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love. And you can be that servant.

You can be that servant. You can be great.

Wonderful.

Being a new song

Throughout the Psalms, we are directed to "sing to the Lord a new song."  Why a "new song"? Why not an old, comforting song that God already knows and may like well? The Psalmist doesn't say.

 

Perhaps we are to sing a new song as a new song comes alive in us.  Perhaps the new song is the life that shoots up when we are in joy in God.  Perhaps we ourselves are to be a new song, our lives and our words a hymn to God's glory, majesty, and radiant love.

 

St. Gregory of Nazianzus (4th century) describes the Christian as "an instrument played by the Holy Spirit."  Mechthild of Helfta (13th century) wrote "God plays upon the harp of the Spirit, sounding the strings strongest in love: and to this mystical music, humanity is beckoned to sing."

 

Imagine that you are the instrument for the Holy Spirit's creative musical power.  How would you need to be prepared for that holy song? What tuning might you want to do, in order for Her to make beautiful music through you?  Would today's song be a lament or a praise? And how might humanity be beckoned to sing, through the new song that can only be created through you?

 

 

Today's prayer is Psalm 33. May you be a new song to the Lord today:

Sing joyfully to the LORD, you righteous; it is fitting for the upright to praise him.

Praise the LORD with the harp; make music to him on the ten-stringed lyre. Sing to the Lord a new song; play skillfully, and shout for joy.

 

For the word of the LORD is right and true; God is faithful in all God does. The LORD loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of God’s unfailing love.

 

By the word of the LORD were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of God’s mouth. God gathers the waters of the sea into jars and puts the deep into storehouses.

 

Let all the earth fear the LORD; let all the people of the world revere the Lord. For God spoke, and it came to be; God commanded, and it stood firm.

 

The LORD foils the plans of the nations; God thwarts the purposes of the peoples. But the plans of the LORD stand firm forever, the purposes of God’s heart through all generations. Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD, the people chosen for God’s inheritance. From heaven the LORD looks down and sees all mankind; from God’s dwelling place God watches all who live on earth -- God who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do. No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength. A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear God, on those whose hope is in God’s unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.

 

We wait in hope for the LORD; God is our help and our shield. In the Lord our hearts rejoice, for we trust in God’s holy name.

 

May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you.

Jesus nature

I've never known quite what to make of Jesus Christ.  I understand Jesus, the man of Nazareth who trusted God completely, conformed himself to holiness, was vulnerable and loving and righteous in his humanity. Who laughed and cried.   I also understand the holy Word of God present from the beginning, that manifests in creation and human soul-intelligence.  And I understand the title "Christ", simply Greek for Messiah and savior, but haunted with overtones of the Word.  And I fully accept that all these things were (and are) present in that one being, Jesus whom we call Christ.

 

But precisely how, I haven't a clue.  And no amount of theological pondering or metaphysical sleight-of-hand has made it make any more logical sense.  Fortunately, I know I am not alone. The gospels do not agree on their understanding of the metaphysics of Jesus. The Council at Nicaea wrestled out a formulation that is more poetry than physics.

 

It's the God part that mucks it all up.  God is beyond me, beyond us. And whenever God puts a hand to something, it is by its having been touched utterly unfamiliar.  Evolution is easy. Pre-big-bang is not.

 

Cyril of Alexandria, in the 5th century, wrote, "The inexpressible glory of the supreme Being could not be seen pure and unveiled by bodily eyes, for Scripture says, No one can see my face and live. The only-begotten Word of God had therefore to become like us in our weakness by clothing himself in a human body."

 

God wanted to be seen. Hence Jesus. That's enough for me, today.

God hides

How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? 

Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.  (Psalm 13)

Teresa of Avila, the 16th century mystic, wrote, "How is it that, when there is so little time to enjoy your presence, you hide from me?"  She meant that earthly life is short, and so every living momnet with God is precious.  But reading her question now, I can't help but think about our busy schedules, and how everything we do requires use of our minds.  Even our leisure time is spent trying to "fill time", as if time were an enemy to be conquered.

But openness to God requires an uncluttered mind -- a mind that has some space to receive God. Even a moment here and there that is not addled by the crush of doing is a space for God to enter.  But while we are "wrestling with our thoughts", God hides.

During this time of attention and assessment, set aside some uncluttered time for God. Sit still, even for a few minutes. Take a walk (which is good for your body as well as your soul). Have a bath instead of a shower. Let God appear from out of the absence, and give light to your eyes.

Prayer

Unhide yourself, O God, from behind the obstructions of my thoughts. There is so little time, in life and in my day, to enjoy your presence: I cannot risk losing a moment of it.  Come out where I can see you; let me heart serenade you. And give your light to my day, that each moment and morsel might shine in your glory. Amen.

Kingdom of Heaven

I love this on the Kingdom of Heaven. It is from A Matter of Eternity, Selections from the Writings of Dorothy L. Sayers (Eerdsmans Publishing Co. 1973)

 

"The Kingdom of Heaven," said the Lord God, "is among you." But what, precisely, is the Kingdom of Heaven? You cannot point to existing specimens, saying "Lo, here!" or "Lo, there!" You can only experience it. But what is it like, so that when we experience it we may recognize it?

 

Well, it is a change, like being born again and re-learning everything from the start.

It is secret, living power -- like yeast. It is something that grows, like seed.

It is precious like buried treasure, like a rich pearl, and you have to pay for it.

It is a sharp cleavage through the rich jumble of things which life presents: like fish and rubbish in a draw-net, like wheat and tares, like wisdom and folly; and it carries with it a kind of menacing finality;

it is new, yet in a sense it was always there -- like turning out a cupboard and finding there your own childhood as well as your present self;

it makes demands;

it is like an invitation to a royal banquet -- gratifying, but not to be disregarded, and you have to live up to it;

where it is equal, it seems unjust; where it is just, it is clearly not equal -- as with the single pound, the diverse talents, the laborers in the vineyard, you have what you bargained for;

it knows no compromise between an uncalculating mercy and a terrible justice -- like the unmerciful servant, you get what you give;

it is helpless in your hands like the King's Son, but if you slay it, it will judge you;

it was from the foundations of the world; it is to come; it is here and now; it is within you.

 

It is recorded that the multitude sometimes failed to understand.

All creatures pray

What a glorious day to be in love with the Lord!  Orange blossoms of light emerge over the mountains into a clear sapphire sky. Crisp air. Quiet.

 

Have you spoken with God this morning? Said your thank-you for the gift of awakening, asked for help with your fasts? Have you prayed? 

 

"Every creature prays. Cattle and wild beasts pray and bend the knee. As they come from thei barns and caves they look up to heaven and call out, lifting up their spirits in their own fashion. The birds, too, rise and lift themselves up to heaven: They opn out their wings, instead of hands, in the form of a cross, and give voice to what seems to be a prayer.  What more need be said on the duty of prayer? Even the Lord himself prayed."  (Tertullian, 3rd century)

 

Like the birds, raise your hands now. Stretch out your arms in adoration, reaching for God. If you have no words in your mind, let your heart sing "Thank you, Lord, for another day. I love you."  If you have a song, sing it loudly with your hands lifted and your eyes raised.  And then bring your arms in, putting your hands in the classic prayer position, and tell God what you need today. Just today.

 

All creatures pray and praise their God. Let us be among them.

Lenten meditations

I've been writing Lenten meditations for anyone who wants to receive them, as I have the last two years.  I thought I'd post them here too from time to time; you can sign up for them at Google Groups -- the group is "Course Corrections".

 

 

If we actually begin living as if the kingdom of God is at hand, or if we live as if living into heaven, our lives will change.  One of the changes that may come is estrangement from those who knew us "before".  In the same way an addict may lose all his friends when he gets clean, the one who aims for God's better world may have trouble retaining those who are content with the vainglories of this world.

 

Jesus warned of this. He knew that taking a different road might change one's traveling companions.  "Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division. From now on there will be five in one family divided against each other, three against two and two against three. They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law." (Luke 12:51-53)

 

An African-American spiritual speaks of this -- the living for God's kingdom and the division it brings:

 

I am a poor pilgrim of sorrow, I'm tossed in this wild world alone,

No hope have I for tomorrow, I've started to make heav'n my home.

Sometimes I am tossed and driven, Lord, sometimes I don't know where to roam.

I've heard of a city called heaven, I've started to make it my home.

 

My mother has reached that pure glory, my father's still walking in sin,

My brothers and sisters won't own me, because I am tryin' to get in.

Sometimes I am tossed and driven, Lord, sometimes I don't know where to roam,

I've heard of a city called heaven, I've started to make it my home.

 

The first challenge for Jesus followers is to begin to make heaven our home, right now.  That is -- to live as if this were God's kingdom, as if God were in charge now. Once we start making heaven our home, the desires of this world seem paltry indeed. But the continuing struggle may be not only within our own living, but in living with others in this foreign "home". 

 

Prayer:

God, you have made heaven my true home. I long to live in your kingdom, to behold your glory, and to witness the union of your children and creation.  This world is often a mere shadow of what will be, and I yearn to keep my eyes focused beyond this.  But I love my husband, my wife, my brother and sister. Help me to keep your kingdom as my true home, and to love those who hearts don't yet see your promise. Help me keep to my path, and keep my hand open to others who might wish to travel with me. Keep me roaming toward you. Amen.

 

 

What is security?

In the last week, our church campus has had some minor but extensive vandalism, and a smash-and-grab car breakin. The vandalism occurred on a Saturday night, and was clearly high energy gone wrong: a broken window, overturned picnic tables, small fire, etc. The breakin happened during our Fat Tuesday celebration: a broken window, a stolen purse.

 

After the smash-and-grab, the officer who took the report told us there had been a number of these things in our area, mostly at the churches and community center. No hate; just sin. She advised us to get an alarm system for the campus, which of course would do nothing for cars, but might protect equipment and provide peace of mind.

 

The campus has been vandalized before, and there have been break-ins before.  For the first time, I've contacted alarm companies.  I don't know why. I don't feel unsafe. And I don't feel targeted. But somehow this time it felt prudent.

 

Prudent.  My husband the not-senior-pastor reminds me that our community may not be called to be prudent.  A lot of recovery groups use our campus: what would it mean to have alarms on the space? What would it feel like to the Jesus followers we're trying to develop to require that they know a code to use His campus? (And, can you find it hidden in Revelation or the Mona Lisa?)

 

He challenges me to think of ways to outreach to the community, and model vulnerability and welcome. I'm thinking about my fiduciary duty to the corporation to advise and secure its property.

 

But it's the Lord's property. I believe that with my whole heart. And what is security, other than God's love?

 

"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety." Psalm 4:8

The Best for Last

I have a new idol - Doug Pagitt, from Solomon's Porch. I just attended his session: "Options for Ministry in an Emerging World: For, With and As Postmoderns." He did a wonderful job of describing how churches and church leaders can work for, with and as the postmodern world. Which is probably why he chose that title for his talk. I got my nuggets, many of them, many of which I will share with you later in hours of excited and probably confused ranting. Look forward to it.  

I also realized two things: first, that the disciplines drawn on by church leaders over the years have radically changed. "Back in the day," church leaders drew on the disciplines of academics (Eugene Peterson). In the 80s, etc. (I know my timeline is not precise here), church leaders drew on the disciplines of business practice (Robert Schuller). Today, at least in this conference, we seem to draw on sociology. Which works for me, because that's my background! None of these draws are inherently "good" or "bad" but they do signal significant shifts in how we're doing church.

Which I will talk about later. Don't worry, never fear, I have a CD of Pagitt's presentation for everyone. You won't be left out. And now, we're off to the zoo, to LA, to let all this sit and digest. It's been fun. God bless you!

Pastor Bran

Trust and Truth

I spent the morning at Dan Kimball’s discussion “fundamental truths in one emerging church.” I like his church, and his approach, but it’s sometimes hard to spend 90% of a session framed in an argument our church is not a part of – the Evangelicals vs. the Emergent Church (cue the dramatic music, please). Coming out of the liberal mainline, we just have different struggles, and different arguments. That being said, I got my nugget in spades (I attend these sessions believing that there is one nugget in each one that I can ponder and use). He said, in slightly different words (sorry, Dan, for paraphrasing!), that the core issue of Truth is now Trust. That we have moved from a propositional, deductive way of learning about truth to a relational one. To take that idea further, our job, as church leadership, is to be trustworthy – to build relationships of trust with God and then with people, so that other people can trust what we trust (God). Genuine, open, loving, struggling, joyful, transparent, trustworthy faith shining forth from genuine, open, loving, struggling, joyful, transparent, trustworthy people is what the world is hungry for.

 

The afternoon was Eugene Peterson. Great pastor, great scholar, great man, great modern. I’d love to share my nugget with you about his discussion of the role of the pastor in the modern church and compare it to my thoughts on the role of the pastor in the post-modern church, but it needs diagrams. My kingdom (mine, not His) for Zoho.

 

Pastor Bran

 

Getting it right

I was in a yoga practice this morning that the leader (Shelley Pagitt of Solomon's Porch) couldn't call "yoga" because it's hard for some Christians.  Yoga is, after all, a religious practice at its core that we westerners have absconded and neutered, turning it into breath mindfulness and exercise with an Eastern flavor.  (We like that in the US.  Eastern religions aren't really religions because they're not challenging. We love the exotic, because we have no investment in the outcome.) Anyway, Shelley properly reminded us that "stretching" isn't a competition.  My demon voice muttered, "of course it's a competition!" as I pushed through a tight right groin muscle.

 

I like to think I'm not competitive. And in many areas I'm not -- I'd sooner drown my Playstation Mario than practice wall kicks, would rather lift a slovenly 80 than hurt to do 100. But sometimes going to workshops I have to beat the demons with a stick, as I compare myself and our ministry to others and theirs.  Forget holier than thou.  I'm aiming for up to par.

 

So it's always a relief in the internal battle to sit in a seminar and experience coherence -- to be taken out of the better-than/worse-than DMZ and into a spacious place.  It's not about being affirmed in what's in my heart (which is nice. Let's be honest with one another.) but about experiencing hope and Godliness. Truth in an eternal sense.

 

Truth is never eternal in its details, but in its essence, in its wholeness and beauty.  In the Glory. And what place of breath mindfulness that is.

Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

A story I like to tell about Elane and I involves a dinner we had early in our dating relationship. We were in LA, actually, visiting friends. We were having dinner at a nice restaurant, nicer perhaps because we were both in seminary and restaurant visits (along with time together) were not the norm. As the evening unfolded, we began what became a very heated discussion, on the topic of The Incarnation. Our views differed. Voices were elevated, cheeks were flushed, tears were shed, briefly. Hours later when we came to enough comfort with each other’s positions to leave reconciled if not in agreement, we left for the hotel with beautiful plates of cold, untouched pasta still on the table. I decided after that dinner that it would be wise for us to learn when and how to put some topics on hold. And I also decided that I didn’t want to spend my life with anyone who could not argue, cry and turn over an orderly dinner to wrestle with the unruly Gospel.

 

Last night it was Salvation. I don’t think either of us would claim to understand the mechanism of salvation – how or when exactly God pulls us into God’s Jesus-centered embrace, or what else God may be doing in the human story apart from pulling us close in that particular embrace. I think both of us believe salvation through Jesus to be real, tangible, and reliable (okay, at least I do). I think we both believe though you can recant, you can choose to intentionally step away from that embrace, you can’t sin your way out of it (at least I do). The heat of our discussion had more to do with the shades and emphases – how to describe salvation as both decision and lifelong practice. The tricky bit is in describing both/and – not either/or. If there is an either/or, we stand on opposite sides.

 

We’ve matured a little over the years. While there was heat, there were no tears, and we both ate well. And this morning I woke up with a new clarity. For me, the description of the both/and, decision and practice of salvation, boils down to what will get you there. In order to come to faith, I needed to be given a complete change in mindset – a reordering of priorities, of frameworks, of thought – and I needed to play with that in my mind and heart, trying it on, thinking about it, wrestling with it, talking about it. That’s the leading towards decision. I needed someone to try and describe for me what the new world looked like, in order to choose to step into it. Others need to experience little portions of the larger whole in order to take little steps forward towards it – to start by living a small thing new, then seeing how that is and moving a little closer. That’s practice. Some people need to begin to live like people of faith, in order to know deep in their souls that their faith is real.

 

Luckily, God creates for us a both/and world, full of people who might just have that missing word, or action, or tear, or laugh to lead you to embrace more fully the one embracing you. Just remember to eat first.

 

Pastor Bran

 

 

Loving the work more than Jesus

There is a one-man drama being done right now, in which a theologian goes into the next life. He is asked by Jesus, did your work bring others closer to me? Did you enjoy it?  Did you love it more than you loved me?

 

Of course the theologian, an honest and loving (and beloved) man, must admit he did. He did love the work on behalf of Jesus, sometimes, more than Jesus himself. A tragedy. A blasphemy.  So he asks Jesus for forgiveness.  And Jesus replies: you have my word on it.

 

We have Jesus' word on it: once we have chosen -- made the singular, eternal, and active decision to claim him as Lord -- in baptism, he has chosen us for eternity.  He has a claim on us, and embraces us in a loving hold that will never slip, never let go.  If we step away, if we fall or fail, Jesus never lets go. So that in this life, and the next, God continues to urge us toward him.  Our choice is eternal, because God will never ever stop believing in us and urging us closer. 

 

The kingdom of God is at hand. Take the hand.

The Media is the Message

I spent the afternoon session in “The Gospel According to Electronic Culture: Why Changing the Methods Always Changes the Message” by Tim Condor. It was like I had gone back in time to my brief stint at the University of Chicago, studying the sociology of popular culture! Who knew I would be hearing and reading quotes from Marshall McLuhan this week?!?

Mostly, it was a discussion about how we are moving and have moved from a print culture to an image culture, a linear, sequential and left-brain culture to an amorphous, right-brain culture, from a modern culture to a post-modern culture, from an Evangelical (big-E) church culture to an emergent church culture, from a more-concerned with “in” and “out”/“saved” and “not-saved” culture to a only concerned with following Jesus culture, from a Paul culture to a Jesus culture. Having come into the church in a post-modern culture, all I could say was, “Amen!” I mean, while I understand what the big deal is from a historic and sociological perspective, I have nothing but kudos from a personal and theological perspective.

Except… well, there’s one, tiny, niggling little thing that keeps cropping up. When we dumped the didactic approach to salvation (say the sinner’s prayer and you’re good to go), did we also take away the certainty of God’s grace? Personally, while I take no delight (and not much interest) in whether God has marked anyone else as His eternity-wise, in the dark of night (after all, we are called in scripture to tell the Good News, never, ever, are we called to judge what that will mean) I take great comfort in the fact that I believe he has marked ME. I take comfort, when this world is dark, that the promise of scripture is true – that “whosoever” means me too, that I am good enough, right now, even in my failures, even in my sorrows, even when I am not deserving. It is, in fact, what enables me to get up again when I fall. God asked, I said yes, and it is meaningful, forever. The waters of baptism are not fleeting.

In our new, emergent, post-modern, flowing, glorious, Jesus-following experience of God, are we losing the permanence of salvation?

Pastor Bran

God’s Swag

Before I left for the conference, a colleague of mine asked if it was the kind of conference where you get “swag.” For those of you who haven’t attended a professional development conference recently, “swag” is that stuff that vendors and companies give away free to get you to buy more (see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swag). I laughingly replied that they probably would be giving out t-shirts with “Zondervan ROCKS!” plastered across them. (Again, for those not “in the know,” Zondervan is a very large Christian publisher, and the primary sponsor of the National Pastor’s Convention. They don’t, in my experience, give t-shirts.)

It turns out, we got swag! Sure, it’s no magic-8 ball to give you all the answers you need to your common technical problems (“reboot”, “user error”, “it’s a new feature”), but it is swag nonetheless. So far, I’ve collected a book on Spiritual Marriage, a classic from William Wilburforce, a kids story-bible, a CD of collected hits from Todd Agnew. We were too late for the limited number of Contagious Christian kits (don’t worry, it’s an evangelism primer – interesting points, not for our context).

We got the second round of swag before hearing Phyllis Tickle give a feisty 10 minutes on prayer, and before Ruth Halley Barton’s talk on the importance of keeping our souls fed and connected to God in ministry. They both left me with nuggets to take home and ponder: “When the shepherd is starving, he will feed on his sheep.” “If we name the truth in God’s presence, God will come.” “We aim for servanthood, not to be a service provider.”

It’s the last of those that I will chew on more, and not just tuck into my growing good reminder pile. What is the difference between servanthood and providing service? I think it’s something about attitude, relationship, and heart. The service provider serves the people above all. The servant serves the master, and in so doing, serves the people. The service provider gives of what he or she has, or owns, or controls. The servant is sent with that which the master has. The service provider is responsible for what is provided. The servant is responsible for serving the master.

I believe it is part of our call to use our hearts, minds, spirits not just to follow Jesus, but to help others experience the joy of doing the same. But sometimes its comforting to be reminded that at the end of the day, when we are the best we can be, as classy, as articulate, as polished, as sincere, as relational, as caring… well, we’re still just the swag, enticing others to invest in the creator.

Thoughtfully,

Pastor Bran

Eugene Peterson's Bible study

This morning, Eugene Peterson (The Message and the Renovare movement and materials) led Bible Study. It's at 7:30 a.m., but the large room was pretty full. The thing about Peterson is he's deep, and he's been doing this a long time, so a Bible study turns into a sermon in the best possible sense -- a reflection on the meaning of Scripture in (faith) life. I took notes (which are below) so I'd remember the details and be able to share them with you. But I wish I'd showered in him -- let the words and beyond the words shower upon me. I'm not a recaller of details -- I'm more of an absorber and integrater of ideas/experiences -- so I take notes to recall. It is the washedness, the cascade, that moves and feeds me. (So spending time with Todd Agnew on stage later meant a lot for my soul.)

Anyway -- Eugene Peterson. I'm going to get the recording, if they do one, so you can hear.

Here are my notes; the Scripture is Luke 1: 67-80, known as the Canticle or Prayer of Zechariah).

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(The "i" references are Peterson's -- his reflections)

We pray in the large context of God’s creation and salvation. Prayer is answering speech.

Beginners and all of us “wish upwards”; this is the beginning of prayer.

I’d like to be remembered as man who demolished all the perfectionism in prayer. God is generous with his children learning (forever) how to pray. We don’t know how to pray, and yet we pray.

You never really learn how to pray – like climbing a mountain: you never learn to do it, but you learn to make your way.

One of the advantages we have is a textbook for prayer, used by Jews and Christians forever. For us, the Psalms are in the center of the Bible. If the five books of Moses are the starting place – the basic word of God – and the Gospels are the starting place – the revelation of Jesus – the Psalms, our textbook for prayer, are right in the middle.

Prayer is a response to the word of God – the word we get in Scripture and as individuals in our daily lives.

One of the problems of the American church is that we have prayer groups and Bible study groups, as if we could be specialists.

For 18 centuries, the church prayed the day, which orders the day. Regular set prayer rescues us from the tyranny of circumstances and of emotion. It forms our lives around and in God. (We lost a lot in the post-enlightenment after the first 1800 years.) They become the calisthenics for faith.

Zechariah’s prayer is just what I’m after today. There are five prayers in Luke – in church order (the order assigned in the hours)

1. Mary’s prayer: “Let it be with me according to your word.” (a prayer of acceptance) (early morning)
2. Zechariah’s prayer: “Blessed is the Lord, the Lord God of Israel.” (morning)
3. Angel’s prayer: “Glory be to God in the highest” (noon)
4. Mary’s prayer: Magnificat “My soul magnifies the Lord.” (evening)
5. Simeon’s prayer: Nunc dimitis “Let it be with me according to your word.” (nighttime)

You can tell from Zechariah’s prayer he’s been praying the Psalms all his life – 19 allusions to the Hebrew Scriptures in his prayer; 10 from the Psalms. The HS didn’t give him a new prayer on the spot; but he had soaked himself in God speaking our lives into being through the prayers of the Scriptures.

The death of prayer is generalization, abstraction – or just praying for whatever happens. The death of prayer is also overdetermining, functionality. Prayer is intimacy with God.

The prayer begins with Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit; it ends with John being strong in the Holy Spirit.

Luke is the only gospel writer who wasn’t in a face-to-face conversational relationship with Jesus. He’s very aware he’s in on the 2^nd phase of Xn life. As a result, he’s very aware of the power and necessity of the HS – and that the way you get in on the face-to-face with Jesus as a 2^nd phase Xn is through prayer.

Salvation is not merely saving us from our own sins, but saving us into the vast “country” of God, into God’s glory creation. We are saved into the kin(g)dom of God. It’s not just knowing where you are on the map; it’s taking in the fragrance of God. (Being & becoming in God.) It’s not about getting to the top, getting to heaven, getting to the end. The Way is about living, memory, etc.

Zechariah is praying his whole lifetime in the moment of holding the baby Jesus. It’s not the end (– it’s the wholeness, fruition, fullness).

Then he speaks to John: the prophet, the one – we! us! pastortypes – whose work is to be identified as a prophet, preparing the Way of the Lord for others. Not a historian, but telling people what’s going on, which has to do with the forgiveness of sins.

Then he speaks to Jesus: the dawn, the dayspring, from on high, breaking upon us to give light to those who are in darkness. The word “break” is related to scope – like someone seeing everything and noticing. Us. We’re suddenly in the world of God’s revelation in a fresh new way.

The conclusion of the prayer: Zechariah has been speechless since the conception of John in Elizabeth’s womb, and when he gets his tongue back -- his words have been nine months gestating in his womb – the first thing is that they burst out in prayer. He prays us into the company of those whom God has used in the world.

Prayer keeps company with the multigenerational (ancient, global) followers, faithful, pray-ers.

The center of the prayer is, “and you, child, shall be called the prophet of the most high. You shall go before the Lord to prepare his ways.” You, John. You, Eugene. (You, Elane.)

Who am I? I am the prophet, to given the word to prepare the Lord’s way. It’s not my way, it’s not my word, it’s not my agenda. It’s not my world. And the conclusion is not mine, but the light, the Lord’s – this country of salvation that I walk in, live in.

Morning prayer

As the liturgical world hunts for means to make ancient methods feel contemporary, the evangelical world discovers the value of ancient words, repeated by gathered body over centuries.

 

This morning I attended 7 a.m. liturgical prayer. There's a prayer chapel here, tabernacled in the space of two small conference rooms.  A tall rough-hewn cross is planted in the center, with bowls of candles and visuals of Jesus around it on the floor.  Fabric streams from the cross on the floor and from the ceiling, and there are other separate prayer spaces created in what is otherwise a plain institutional room. It feels intimate and holy. 

 

When familiar words echo softly in the early morning air, it also feels ancient. Or everlasting.

 

I miss this.  I'm drawn to the Hours anyway (There's a workshop on that too, here. Old is new in some places.) so it hits me where I live.

 

For a year I opened up the Sanctuary Tuesday mornings for early prayer.  I know today that I'm not the only one who longs for that order, that ancient and global connection.

 

It may be time again.

 

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Eugene Peterson is emphasizing the importace of ordered prayer -- the Hours -- in his Bible study.  Ahhh....

Notes from Under the Elephant

I began my time at the National Pastors Convention this morning sharing a van ride from the airport with Elane, a gaggle of sales people from some company in the Midwest, and a man I was sure hated me.

Being a post-modern, pro-queer, evangelical Jesus-freak is not always easy. In this time in which the Christian world divides sharply and often destructively around issues of sexuality (let alone gender identity!), I often arrive at primarily conservative Christian conferences with some fear in my heart. What if someone brings up “the issue”? What if I have to take a stand? What if I fail to take a stand? What will people think of me? What will I think of me? It has been said that it’s easy to ignore the elephant in the room, unless you’re sitting under the elephant. From my elephant-impaired vantage point, it was easy this morning to project my worst fears on my fellow van-rider. His cheerful (and probably standard) response of “I’m blessed” to our “how are you” became a comparison rather than a thanksgiving. The slight movement of his head (we were sitting behind him) at the sales peoples chatter about favorite bars became an exaggerated rolling of the eyes rather than a simple stretch of the neck. By the time we disembarked at the hotel, I had already put a hundred divisive exchanges in our history. His smile and “enjoy the conference” did nothing to heal the rift between us.

Thank God for music. It was somewhere in the second praise set at the opening session that I started to actually let go. It’s hard to think the worst of those with whom you are singing grateful praises to God. Looking around the room amidst the music that reminded us of the One who thought of us above all, even upon the cross, I could think only about earthen vessels and precious treasure. All of us are broken, and all of us are beautiful. In the big picture, there is no one great dividing line, there are only all the little cracks each one of us bears, each one of us brings humbly to the feet of the Master for healing. Any person at this conference, (or anywhere, for that matter) may dislike me, and that is painful. But I know the deepest wounds we feel are those between brothers, brothers who have forgotten how alike they truly are.

Since then, I have earmarked DVDs of skits for the youth ministry (half-off from Zondervan! Woo-hoo!), found two “ah-HA!” issues in my coaching ministry about which to ask for support and accountability from the staff, tried on at least two different reframings of our church mission, reflected and wept in joy for what I have witnessed God doing with our ministry team leaders.

I have also committed to make at least one overture a day to truly connect with someone I don’t know. I’m here, Lord. And I’m listening.

Pastor Bran

Brian McLaren General Session

Of course I love Brian McLaren. See my earlier posts on that.

 

Here's what he said just now:

…       A leadership lesson: becoming a friend to myself

o       Lincoln: I desire so to conduct the affairs of this administration so that if at the end… I have lost every other friend on earth, I shall at least have one friend left, and that friend shall be down deep inside me

…       How do I talk to myself as a pastor? Meaner than I would to anyone else?

…       What do I expect of myself? Do I allow myself grace?

…       How do I respond to my failures? Do I speak to myself with any kind of grace?

…       If you’ve got a lot of people criticizing you, and you join them, you’ll be outnumbered.

1.      Acknowledge your pain to God

a.       When you take a lot of pain in, criticisms, etc., acknowledge how extinguishing it can be to the soul – and that you have a soul

2.      Find some non-utilitarian friends, friends who aren’t dependent on your sermon, work, or care. Take hold of the power of generative friendship – it’s worth getting on a plane to spend an afternoon with people who help you rest in the grace of God.

3.      Give yourself permission to create or find safe places – boundaries for protection from toxic people and situations, time and social space to think (plausibility structures).  (Sometimes when people catch your faith, you catch a little of their doubt.)

a.       Thinking is a social action … the more on the margins you are, the harder it is to think – you’re stretching and the margin is stretching… it requires connection and space. When you think with others, the center of gravity shifts (and then a countermovement happens). 

b.      Get a cohort.  And if you burst from the pack, find a new cohort.

4.      Know what recharges you .. and do it religiously. Beauty, laughter, rest, sport, art, stupid movies.

a.       And when possible, delegate or drop what drains you.

b.      Realize that ministry is not life – You have to “smoke what you’re selling” (Rob Bell). If you’re telling people to be grounded in God and care, if you’re telling them that work is not life: remember.

c.       Being a pastor is your job, not your whole ministry, not your whole life.

d.      Give yourself permission to have a life.

5.      Do pre-emptive communication: communicate clearly and redundantly and wisely – even if you aren’t certain, communicate.

a.       Do not answer a badly framed question: reframe them or deconstruct them.

b.      Ask needed questions.

c.       (“I have defended myself, but I have never regretted being kind.”)

6.      Expect criticism

a.       Prepare for it in solitude (with God)

b.      Process with friends

c.       Respond in solitude (with God)

7.      Lean into God. Believe God is for you. Stay in touch, even in doubt, maintain first order disciplines (the praying, the reading, the giving, the serving, the friendships, even when your theology about it falls apart and you don’t believe anything you’re ever preached about it.). Rely on your friends’ faith while yours is in pain.

8.      Admit what you must do, what you cannot do, and what you cannot not do.

9.      Allow yourself to be human – boldly: strengths, weaknesses, work, rest, intensity, latency, public, private, sexuality, intimacy, money, family.

a.       The great martyrs of the faith didn’t ask their spouses to go with them. Garrison Keillor

b.      A special note to young men: there is something in us as men that wants to conquer and compete, to prove yourself. In the ministry that thing can get very twisted. So that what looks like passion for God is really just a passion for marking trees.

c.       A special note to women: it’s still pretty closed to women (95/5 in evangelical churches, 85/15 mainline) – dropout rates for women are still high (and they’re higher for men than they used to be): the systemic stresses still get in the way.

d.      It’s not all about me. It’s also people, systems, change.

10.  Spend time, intelligence, money, or energy, you choose, in your professional development – consultants, good books, conferences, vacations, therapists. Invest in yourself.

11.  You don’t have to do this – to be a leader in times of transition – and it’s okay to leave. It’s not evil to leave. But you are needed, and this is a great adventure. Challenging times can destroy us, or they can elicit from us actions and virtues we didn’t even know we had.

 

Our culture has been orphaned. But maybe the times have changed, and some latent sociability may be elicited from us to nurture the culture, the orphaned world.

My new favorite website

For soaking in the presence of God through music and imagery

 

http://www.soaking.net/

Listening to nudges

Sunday, a member of Council (which is our only standing board) decided to resign to focus attention on other good works he is doing. I was really proud of him for doing that.

I've been in organizations in which anger or despair is the automatic response to resigning from a board. The underlying sense is scarcity: there aren't enough people to do the work so anyone who leaves is a traitor.

We're really trying to become a community in which people listen to God's nudges, try new things, make and keep commitments, and renegotiate their commitments when they discover that God really is nudging a different direction (or has in fact provided different gifts). It takes a lot of courage to try things, be open to course correction, and to try new things. It takes courage to be accountable to your community. And we find new life, become new, when we heed the movement of the Spirit.

Anyway, I was really proud.

After that, the meeting went to talking about an adult baptism coming up at the end of the month. The candidate wants to be baptized by immersion (which I wholeheartedly support), but being a certain stream of Christians we have no baptismal pool. The same fellow who withdrew from Council heard a nudge, and started talking specs.

Now he's leading the baptismal pool build. And two Christians will be (re)born: one through baptism, one through the touch of the Spirit.

Oh! And another man, who is officially a member of another church, but leads a shared ministry and comes to our Bible study, will stand with the baptismal candidate. Her choice.

Big grins all around.

Relieving anonymity

Christianity Today has started a new line of blog/newsletter/downloads/etc. for women leaders. I had signed up for the newsletter, and visited the blog today. Read all the entries, read the bios of the editorial board. Immediately felt unworthy.

In one of the blogs, the editor asks readers to introduce themselves. I'm thinking: sure, why not. Tell 'em who is out here rooting for them (and looking for others).

Consider using a pseudonym: Lone She-wolf (what are female wolves called, anyway?)
Consider using just a first name: Elane (that could be anybody, right?)

Decide that it's so like women to just use our first names -- as if using our last names gives us too much authority, or might truly identify us (and sets us up to be recognized for our failures -- couldn't be our successes, right?), or makes us less friendly and approachable.

Realize: that's the problem. Mine anyway: claiming my power/God's power/successes/hopes.

So I use my whole name. But I don't name my church, 'cause then I'd really be on the hook.

Apparently I still have some work to do.