Male & Female: Made in God’s Image (Genesis 1:27)
The 2006 New Wineskins Retreat will be held on the campus of Pepperdine University on Friday & Saturday, July 14 & 15, 2006. This year’s theme is “Male & Female: Made in God’s Image (Genesis 1:27).”
Our 2006 featured speakers include Dr. Jeanene Reese (Abilene, Texas); Sylvia Rose (Detriot, Michigan); D’Esta Love (Malibu, California); and Irie Session (Dallas, Texas). Each of these women has experience serving in various roles in the church and as Christian leaders throughout the United States. They will lead us in thoughtful and intelligent discussion on our theme.
The $150 New Wineskins Retreat conference fee includes meals and two nights lodging on the campus of Pepperdine University in Malibu, California. Attendees can register and pay by mail. Send contact information and conference fee to Emancipation Fellowship Ministries, c/o Al Jumper, 8117 W. Manchester #221; Playa Del Rey, CA 90293.
The New Wineskins Retreat is not affiliated with New Wineskins magazine. It began as predominantly African American men in 2000. The retreat provides a non-threatening environment wherein church leaders in our fellowship can experience spiritual formation as well as intellectual stimulation.
“We believe the New Wineskins Retreat is a national event that serves as a good starting point for leaders within churches of Christ to experience at a spiritual and intuitive level a small community given to the practice of authentic racial and gender harmony,” says Dr. Jerry Taylor, coordinator of the New Wineskins Retreat and assistant professor of Bible, missions & ministry at Abilene Christian University.
The mission of the New Wineskins Retreat is to provide a spiritually healthy environment for growth, refreshment and healing, while promoting a resourceful national support network for ministers and leaders, and preserving an open atmosphere conducive for honest dialogue and strategic planning.
The 2005 retreat was held at the Richland Hills Church of Christ in North Richland Hills, Texas. Over 75 church leaders attended to discuss the theme “Undoing Racism in churches of Christ and beyond.”
(repeated from posts at gal328.org and Christian Standard)
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Guilt-Free Pleasures
I don't read nearly as many books as I used to read (though I am really looking forward to reading Darryl Tippens' Pilgrim Heart very soon). But I do read, pretty voraciously - through copies of old Wineskins.
So I won't be misunderstood, I'm talking about the magazine in its first incarnation before the good folks at The ZOE Group became its caretakers.
On and off for about three years, I've been keying in the articles from these archive editions so that they could be added to the New Wineskins Web site, and it has become one of my few guilt-free pleasures. The articles are like a trip on Mr. Peabody's Not-Too-Wayback Machine ... though many of the topics and thoughts are just as fresh as if they had been written for the current issue.
I've had to key in these articles because the VERY expensive OCR (optical character recognition) software I bought for my old Mac worked only a few times when I purchased it some years ago, then it refused to re-install, and then the software company's name disappeared from the web.
A few weeks ago, the renamed company made the mistake of sending me an e-mail to offer me the same software at a discounted price. After discovering that the discounted software was only the Windows version, I began the process of trying to file a service request online ... long story short: The serial number they sent me with the paid version years ago was apparently good only for the trial version, and it expired. The permanent one was never sent, but still available on a site called "www.findmyorder.com" - and if you've ever ordered software online through Digital River, yours is probably still there, too!
Today I was able to reactivate my OCR software, and breezed through more than half of one issue in one afternoon, rather than a couple of hours a night for a couple of weeks. Though I'm not laboriously keying in each word anymore, I still enjoy getting to (proof)read every article to correct the 0.1 or 0.2% error rate - and that's much faster.
So I'm hoping to accelerate the posting of archive issues for those of you who subscribe - I just added the July-August 1998 issue "A Life Beautiful" on Saturday. Look forward to the May-June 1998 issue very soon.
Feel free to indulge your own guilt-free pleasure!
So I won't be misunderstood, I'm talking about the magazine in its first incarnation before the good folks at The ZOE Group became its caretakers.
On and off for about three years, I've been keying in the articles from these archive editions so that they could be added to the New Wineskins Web site, and it has become one of my few guilt-free pleasures. The articles are like a trip on Mr. Peabody's Not-Too-Wayback Machine ... though many of the topics and thoughts are just as fresh as if they had been written for the current issue.
I've had to key in these articles because the VERY expensive OCR (optical character recognition) software I bought for my old Mac worked only a few times when I purchased it some years ago, then it refused to re-install, and then the software company's name disappeared from the web.
A few weeks ago, the renamed company made the mistake of sending me an e-mail to offer me the same software at a discounted price. After discovering that the discounted software was only the Windows version, I began the process of trying to file a service request online ... long story short: The serial number they sent me with the paid version years ago was apparently good only for the trial version, and it expired. The permanent one was never sent, but still available on a site called "www.findmyorder.com" - and if you've ever ordered software online through Digital River, yours is probably still there, too!
Today I was able to reactivate my OCR software, and breezed through more than half of one issue in one afternoon, rather than a couple of hours a night for a couple of weeks. Though I'm not laboriously keying in each word anymore, I still enjoy getting to (proof)read every article to correct the 0.1 or 0.2% error rate - and that's much faster.
So I'm hoping to accelerate the posting of archive issues for those of you who subscribe - I just added the July-August 1998 issue "A Life Beautiful" on Saturday. Look forward to the May-June 1998 issue very soon.
Feel free to indulge your own guilt-free pleasure!
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Pepperdine Lectures
I'll have to leave tomorrow; leave the sunshine, cool breezes and coastal views of the Pepperdine University campus to go home and be a part of my daughter's 10th birthday celebration.
It's a fair trade.
I've never been to a lectureship before. I'm certain that I will try to again. But if it's not in God's will, hopefully it will be within it for me to remember these things for the rest of my life:
I'd better go, or I won't be able to find a seat to discover what Mike Cope has to say about sex and baptism.
That ought to be memorable, too.
PostScript: Missed Mike's session; it was full by the time I got there. Victor Knowles' second session was an excellent replacement. Check out his POE Ministries site.
It's a fair trade.
I've never been to a lectureship before. I'm certain that I will try to again. But if it's not in God's will, hopefully it will be within it for me to remember these things for the rest of my life:
- Being there with three elder couples from my church - and one retired elder couple. Seeing many friends ... some of whom I met for the first time face-to-face (like fellow blogger John Dobbs and James Wiser); others for the first time ever.
- The companionship and encouragement of good folks like David Underwood and Keith Riley, the former of whom has long encouraged me to attend these lectures, and the latter of whom encourages me to collect some thoughts in a book. Maybe I will.
Hearing the grandson of a dear family friend - Philippe Dauner - deliver an outstanding keynote address in the fieldhouse, with his grandmother Colette Daugherty proudly watching.- Telling him that the mother he tried not to be like and look like was once a teenage girl I had a crush on, and the qualities he has indeed inherited from her endeared me to her then.
- Getting an excellent overview of the causes of the rift between independent Christian Churches and the Churches of Christ a century ago from both Rick Atchley and Victor Knowles (by whom I was privileged to sit on the plane from Dallas).
- Hearing Bob Russell speak about the fundamental concepts that the two church fellowships hold dear.
- Attending excellent workshops like Jeff Childers' on the different "quadrants" of spiritual perception among Christians (a kind of JoHari Window analysis) and Dwight Robarts' ponderings on preaching about politics ... all the great reasons why we shouldn't; and all the biblical reasons why we must.
- Being shocked out of my reason to receive an award from the good folks at New Wineskins at the ZOE Group devotional Wednesday morning. I was totally humbled. I will keep the gargantuan plaque as a reminder of God's grace, for it is certainly not a merited award ... especially in view of the lifelong achievements of others honored at the lectures. (I was led to believe they were flying me out here to work at the ZOE table and talk about New Wineskins since Greg couldn't come.) And I will forgive Mike Cope, Larry Bridgesmith, Eric Noah-Wilson, Greg Taylor and anyone else who recruited my wife Angi to join the conspiracy to keep this truth from me.
A moment early this morning when a young doe paused in the parking lot to let me take her photograph ... and emerged from behind the Science Hall again at noon when I was by myself to snap a few closer ones.- Fellowship. The theme of the lectureship, all drawn from the first epistle of John. It could not have been better chosen, nor better lived out by the hosts and participants.
I'd better go, or I won't be able to find a seat to discover what Mike Cope has to say about sex and baptism.
That ought to be memorable, too.
PostScript: Missed Mike's session; it was full by the time I got there. Victor Knowles' second session was an excellent replacement. Check out his POE Ministries site.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
New Wine in Old Wineskins
This picture was taken on a 7 hour layover in Vienna, Austria on my way to Albania. It was on a Sunday afternoon while the cathedral was having worship. Notice the scaffolding. They are trying to revive, renovate this ancient church building. Notice, also, the people milling around the square oblivious to the renovation on the outside and the spiritual renovation on the inside. Can the church reach them?
Rick Warren, minister for the Saddleback Church in Orange County and author of the Purpose Driven Life, said this about the resignation of a national leader and the state of the church in America:
"You can't put new wine in old wineskins. When you try to do that, the skin bursts, and somebody gets blamed. The sad symptoms we see in so many Christian organizations, churches, and denominations today are caused by a number of theological, cultural, and structural problems that are deeper than just personality issues. The causes are both systemic and endemic, and should surprise no one who has been watching the past 25 years. We will either have another genuine Reformation, or the American church will eventually go the way of Europe. Nothing less will solve the problem, so I'm praying and working as hard as I can for the first option."
As a minister of 20 years, college instructor, and now a future church planter; I have wrestled with the following question. "Are our resources best used to plant new churches to reach new people or to revive declining congregations (many which resist change)?" While I understand that the answer to this is yes and yes I am still drawn to have conversation about what is working. While I understand that one life is worth saving, I wonder how many lives are lost (or could be won) because we are trying to convince that one person to do what they should already be doing? Is the Great Commission a suggestion or a command?
What Think Ye?
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Morning Coffee: Cup of Wonder, Cup of Grace
Some cups hold coffee; others hold meaning.
Coffee cups come in all sizes, some are silly, some plain. There are cups received for service, in remembrance of events, in celebration of happenings.
My children have given me cups. I keep them on bookshelves, on my desk, and store in boxes with other treasures.
We use our metal cups from Kenya when we drink our hot African Chai. Someone gave us a dozen ceramic promotional mugs which help us serve large groups of guests. My most used cup is a plain white one with a crack in it. I like the crack. It is my favorite.
Cups hold coffee, tea, or even cold drinks, but for some of us they hold meaning.
My wife once bought a cup-decorating kit. The kids used it to make a personal cup for Grandpa. It became his instant favorite because is reminded him of them. A few years later, they gave him a different one with the phrase “We love you!” written along the inside lip so he’d see it every time he took a sip. A new favorite had arrived.
What’s incredibly important to one person may hold little value to another. I once had a cup that my children gave me. I loved it. It felt good in my hands and to my heart. A visitor to our home dropped it and it shattered. They apologized, but they didn’t share my sense of loss. That cup has special meaning for me; it didn’t for them. Some cups are that way—they have special significance.
This past Easter Sunday we celebrated a cup with special significance and meaning.
Jesus said, “Take this cup and drink it.” It was wine. It was a token – a symbol.
Jesus said, “This is my blood of the covenant.” It sounded….it still sounds…bazaar! What did He mean?
Later, that same evening, he talked about that cup again. His second conversation added to the understanding of the first. He prayed “May this cup pass from me.”. He was praying about his death that would occur that night….that hour!
Pain. Shame. Ridicule. Rejection. Suffering. They were in His cup. Bitter stuff to swallow.
“Let it pass—if possible, but, if not, then let it be.”
“This is my blood of the covenant” meant, “This is the extent of my commitment to the covenant. This is the level to which I’ll go for God’s will. Shame. Ridicule. Loss. Death…even a bloody one. If that’s what it takes, it’s what I’ll give.”
“And when ever you drink this cup” —your personal cup of suffering, loss, scary dose of walking on faith – “remember me.” Recall what I’ve done. Everything is not too much…when necessary.
Truly, some cups hold meaning.
Coffee cups come in all sizes, some are silly, some plain. There are cups received for service, in remembrance of events, in celebration of happenings.
My children have given me cups. I keep them on bookshelves, on my desk, and store in boxes with other treasures.
We use our metal cups from Kenya when we drink our hot African Chai. Someone gave us a dozen ceramic promotional mugs which help us serve large groups of guests. My most used cup is a plain white one with a crack in it. I like the crack. It is my favorite.
Cups hold coffee, tea, or even cold drinks, but for some of us they hold meaning.
My wife once bought a cup-decorating kit. The kids used it to make a personal cup for Grandpa. It became his instant favorite because is reminded him of them. A few years later, they gave him a different one with the phrase “We love you!” written along the inside lip so he’d see it every time he took a sip. A new favorite had arrived.
What’s incredibly important to one person may hold little value to another. I once had a cup that my children gave me. I loved it. It felt good in my hands and to my heart. A visitor to our home dropped it and it shattered. They apologized, but they didn’t share my sense of loss. That cup has special meaning for me; it didn’t for them. Some cups are that way—they have special significance.
This past Easter Sunday we celebrated a cup with special significance and meaning.
Jesus said, “Take this cup and drink it.” It was wine. It was a token – a symbol.
Jesus said, “This is my blood of the covenant.” It sounded….it still sounds…bazaar! What did He mean?
Later, that same evening, he talked about that cup again. His second conversation added to the understanding of the first. He prayed “May this cup pass from me.”. He was praying about his death that would occur that night….that hour!
Pain. Shame. Ridicule. Rejection. Suffering. They were in His cup. Bitter stuff to swallow.
“Let it pass—if possible, but, if not, then let it be.”
“This is my blood of the covenant” meant, “This is the extent of my commitment to the covenant. This is the level to which I’ll go for God’s will. Shame. Ridicule. Loss. Death…even a bloody one. If that’s what it takes, it’s what I’ll give.”
“And when ever you drink this cup” —your personal cup of suffering, loss, scary dose of walking on faith – “remember me.” Recall what I’ve done. Everything is not too much…when necessary.
Truly, some cups hold meaning.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Life on the Farm: Spiritual Insights from Rural Living
“Make straight the way for the Lord.” Jn 1:23b
Mowing on mountains is dangerous. Two autumns ago I borrowed a neighbor’s tractor—a big four-wheel drive orange Kuboto monster tractor...with a lift on the front! Men who ride such beasts develop muscles (mostly around the mid-section). What phone booths do for Superman, big powerful machines, like the one I borrowed, do for farming men. “Arrrggggh!”.
Well, first, I drove it across my pasture dragging a bush hog attachment-- a heavy mower deck with two steel blades--each about 3 feet long and ½ an inch thick—able to take out two inch sapling trees like your Murray mower snips off lawn grass! I was feeling pretty “Arrrggggh!”.
After a manicure of these relatively flat fields my confidence had risen above my intelligence and I determined to take on the hill behind my house. The hill is steep. Very steep. Too steep in fact for safety, but Superman was wearing fourwheel drive orange cape with plenty of horsepower and well, the old saying about men climbing mountains nudged out a win over safety and wisdom.
A friend--who owned his own orange cape--advised me to mow up the hill in reverse and then, without turning around, mow down in forward. I cautiously backed up nearly one hundred yards on a 45 degree - at some points more!- angle. I prayed the brakes would hold. They did. I shifted back into a low forward gear and slowly crept back to the foot of the mountain. Whew. I had to lean back hard into the seat or be tossed overboard. It was nerve racking, but I became more relaxed with each completed pass.
The mowing went well. The mountainside was looking very nice and the tractor wasn’t overheating or staggering under the steady push and pull. I stopped for lunch, taking time to admire my now neatly trimmed fields and half a mountainside. I was feeling pretty satisfied and very “Arrrggggh!”.
I should have remembered that pride goes before a great ‘fall’. I didn’t, or maybe I did but disregarded it. I don’t recall exactly. I do however recall the leap of my heart into my throat. On literally the very last run up the mountain, the hill had begun to slope away steeply to one side in addition to the up and down sloping. I didn’t allow for this when I turned the tires just a little to one side so as to reach a last small area. That’s when the right rear tire lifted off the ground!
I hung in midair as my heart smacked the roof of my head. I shifted my body weight to compensate, but immediately realized it had no effect. My mind raced through a dozen escape scenarios in less than a second while the 5 ton steel death trap decided my fate.
I swore-- I mean, I promised-- I’d never try it again. Proof that the tire returned to earth before the tractor rolled is that you're getting the story via blog rather than eulogy. Had the tractor tipped I'm sure I'd have been crushed.
Level ground is much easier work than hill sides or ditches (which also produce accounts of getting stuck, breaking equipment, and bucking riders off seats).
John the baptizer appreciated the difficulties of working unleveled ground. He came proclaiming that men should make way...level paths...for the arrival of Jesus. Hard, unrepentant hearts are hillsides and ditches that impede the easy arrival of Jesus. Not that Jesus can’t climb hillsides or jump gullies. He can. It’s just that progress is difficult and ill prepared hearts are constantly at risk of falling, loosing their grip, making a faith-crushing misstep, getting stuck or being tossed. Trying to live in Christ with a divided heart is dangerous, even foolish, business-- like mowing on mountains.
When faith seems an uphill climb, it may be that you’re not leveling with the Lord in some area of your life. Be honest with yourself, and with Him. Is there sin? Sin easily entangles progress in Christ. Put it aside. Make level the way for the Lord. Your faith walk will be more secure and you'll experience true “Arrrrggggh!”
Mowing on mountains is dangerous. Two autumns ago I borrowed a neighbor’s tractor—a big four-wheel drive orange Kuboto monster tractor...with a lift on the front! Men who ride such beasts develop muscles (mostly around the mid-section). What phone booths do for Superman, big powerful machines, like the one I borrowed, do for farming men. “Arrrggggh!”.
Well, first, I drove it across my pasture dragging a bush hog attachment-- a heavy mower deck with two steel blades--each about 3 feet long and ½ an inch thick—able to take out two inch sapling trees like your Murray mower snips off lawn grass! I was feeling pretty “Arrrggggh!”.
After a manicure of these relatively flat fields my confidence had risen above my intelligence and I determined to take on the hill behind my house. The hill is steep. Very steep. Too steep in fact for safety, but Superman was wearing fourwheel drive orange cape with plenty of horsepower and well, the old saying about men climbing mountains nudged out a win over safety and wisdom.
A friend--who owned his own orange cape--advised me to mow up the hill in reverse and then, without turning around, mow down in forward. I cautiously backed up nearly one hundred yards on a 45 degree - at some points more!- angle. I prayed the brakes would hold. They did. I shifted back into a low forward gear and slowly crept back to the foot of the mountain. Whew. I had to lean back hard into the seat or be tossed overboard. It was nerve racking, but I became more relaxed with each completed pass.
The mowing went well. The mountainside was looking very nice and the tractor wasn’t overheating or staggering under the steady push and pull. I stopped for lunch, taking time to admire my now neatly trimmed fields and half a mountainside. I was feeling pretty satisfied and very “Arrrggggh!”.
I should have remembered that pride goes before a great ‘fall’. I didn’t, or maybe I did but disregarded it. I don’t recall exactly. I do however recall the leap of my heart into my throat. On literally the very last run up the mountain, the hill had begun to slope away steeply to one side in addition to the up and down sloping. I didn’t allow for this when I turned the tires just a little to one side so as to reach a last small area. That’s when the right rear tire lifted off the ground!
I hung in midair as my heart smacked the roof of my head. I shifted my body weight to compensate, but immediately realized it had no effect. My mind raced through a dozen escape scenarios in less than a second while the 5 ton steel death trap decided my fate.
I swore-- I mean, I promised-- I’d never try it again. Proof that the tire returned to earth before the tractor rolled is that you're getting the story via blog rather than eulogy. Had the tractor tipped I'm sure I'd have been crushed.
Level ground is much easier work than hill sides or ditches (which also produce accounts of getting stuck, breaking equipment, and bucking riders off seats).
John the baptizer appreciated the difficulties of working unleveled ground. He came proclaiming that men should make way...level paths...for the arrival of Jesus. Hard, unrepentant hearts are hillsides and ditches that impede the easy arrival of Jesus. Not that Jesus can’t climb hillsides or jump gullies. He can. It’s just that progress is difficult and ill prepared hearts are constantly at risk of falling, loosing their grip, making a faith-crushing misstep, getting stuck or being tossed. Trying to live in Christ with a divided heart is dangerous, even foolish, business-- like mowing on mountains.
When faith seems an uphill climb, it may be that you’re not leveling with the Lord in some area of your life. Be honest with yourself, and with Him. Is there sin? Sin easily entangles progress in Christ. Put it aside. Make level the way for the Lord. Your faith walk will be more secure and you'll experience true “Arrrrggggh!”
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Preachers Wife Syndrome?
I guess many of you have been following the news concerning the minister who was shot by his wife recently. Here at Metro there are folks who are suggesting that maybe the wife was abused or that we don't know all that went on behind closed doors. Others suggest depression, PPD, or something else. Maybe it is one of those rare cases of domestic violence where the woman has been controlling (and this killing may be an incidence of abuse). I know that we will find out more as the story unfolds. In any case it is a tragedy.
What caught my attention was the story in People magazine about the "role and pressure" of preachers' wives. Lori and I had a great discussion about that. She indicated that she had never felt the pressures described in the article. Interesting. Have we been lucky in our 18 years of ministry together (21 for me) or have we not fallen into the "trap"? Is it possible that ministry is complex enough that the couple need to draw lines of expectations? I hear at times that ministers and wives make the statement, "my wife is (I am) not a traditional preachers' wife" but what does this mean. Is it possible that the congregation is a black hole that sets the expectations of the wife so high that our response is to be different and proud of it? Or is it the couple's responsibility to serve, work hard, and clarify the role of ministry?
I once visited a widowed preachers' wife with my baby one afternoon. After a few minutes of talking she mentioned how important it was that I spent time with my family and it was nice that I took my son visiting. She then began to talk about how her husband (who was a powerful preacher in the church while alive) had put tGod and the church above her family and their children. As I listened I began to ask myself if "traditional roles" are actually the result of preachers who have neglected the most important people in their lives. Is it possible that the pressure on the "preachers' wife" is actually neglect from her husband? Is it possible that PKs and their struggles are actually actions of neglected children?
I love Lori and feel she is my best friend and partner. She works hard and loves the ministry that we do together. Yet, I have to sacrifice (I hate to use that term) and make sure I have the kids and she gets to fulfill her giftedness in ministry. I also know that she gets neglected from the congregation at times, but for me to neglect her is a greater sin. Its hard taking the kids visiting but it gives her a break and them time to see what we do. It frees her up to meet with women and counsel them. I think that 1 Cor. 9 tells us that Peter was accompanied with his wife and no greater joy can there be than when husbands and wives do ministry together.
Are there pressures or neglect? Thanks Lori--I couldn't imagine doing this without you. You help me to see things and understand people's feelings that bring glory and honor to Jesus.
I love you!
What caught my attention was the story in People magazine about the "role and pressure" of preachers' wives. Lori and I had a great discussion about that. She indicated that she had never felt the pressures described in the article. Interesting. Have we been lucky in our 18 years of ministry together (21 for me) or have we not fallen into the "trap"? Is it possible that ministry is complex enough that the couple need to draw lines of expectations? I hear at times that ministers and wives make the statement, "my wife is (I am) not a traditional preachers' wife" but what does this mean. Is it possible that the congregation is a black hole that sets the expectations of the wife so high that our response is to be different and proud of it? Or is it the couple's responsibility to serve, work hard, and clarify the role of ministry?
I once visited a widowed preachers' wife with my baby one afternoon. After a few minutes of talking she mentioned how important it was that I spent time with my family and it was nice that I took my son visiting. She then began to talk about how her husband (who was a powerful preacher in the church while alive) had put tGod and the church above her family and their children. As I listened I began to ask myself if "traditional roles" are actually the result of preachers who have neglected the most important people in their lives. Is it possible that the pressure on the "preachers' wife" is actually neglect from her husband? Is it possible that PKs and their struggles are actually actions of neglected children?
I love Lori and feel she is my best friend and partner. She works hard and loves the ministry that we do together. Yet, I have to sacrifice (I hate to use that term) and make sure I have the kids and she gets to fulfill her giftedness in ministry. I also know that she gets neglected from the congregation at times, but for me to neglect her is a greater sin. Its hard taking the kids visiting but it gives her a break and them time to see what we do. It frees her up to meet with women and counsel them. I think that 1 Cor. 9 tells us that Peter was accompanied with his wife and no greater joy can there be than when husbands and wives do ministry together.
Are there pressures or neglect? Thanks Lori--I couldn't imagine doing this without you. You help me to see things and understand people's feelings that bring glory and honor to Jesus.
I love you!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Let's Go:Thoughts on Missional Living from the Center
Let’s go!
Let’s go to the store.
Let’s go to the mall.
Let’s go eat, watch TV, hang out.
Let’s go for a drive, see a movie or some friends.
Let’s go to work.
Let’s go to school.
Let’s go home.
Let’s go to sleep….let’s go, let’s go, let’s go…..
Go.Go.Go. Constantly, “On the Go.”
….and
….and making
….and making nothing.
Living in motion, in a circle, insignificantly.
Going nowhere. Making nothing.
…Going
….Going
….and gone, without significance.
Still, there is more "going"?
Let’s go to church.
Let’s go to devo.
Let’s go to youth camp.
Let's go join that class.
Let's go read that book.
Let’s go hear that Speaker.
Let’s go listen to that Band.
Let’s go to help over there.
Let’s go to see that work.
Let’s go to experience that blessing.
Let’s go serve those people.
Let’s go!
Let’s go!
Let’s hurry and go……
Going….
Going….
Doing…
Doing…
Going and Doing….
Will no one ask, "Why? Why go?"..............
or, "How shall we go?"...
or, "With what shall we do?"
Oh no! Go! Just Go.
and Do. Just Do!
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Just Hurry!
STOOOOOOOP!!!!”
"Stop it!"
Stop.
Listen.
Stop your "going".
Stop your meaningless motion.
Stop your empty prayers.
Stop your revolving door of events.
Stop the endless moving about.
Stop! Stop!! Stop!!!!!!!!
Just Stop.……please…..
Please, stop.
Think
Slow down…and consider.
Why are you going? Why?
How shall you go?
Consider, "With what shall you do?"
Stop going; start considering.
Stop doing; begin being.
Be with Him.
Be still.
Be quiet.
Be deep.
Be filled.
Be absorbed.
Be nothing.
Be different.
Be alone with God.
Be God's alone.
Just Be.
Be. Be. Be!!
and then….
and then with God...
and then with God and with great humility.....Go.
then...by all means...Go!!! Go!Go!Go! Run!! Charge!!!
Go with purpose!
Go with preparation!
Go with plans!
Go with passion!
Go with Power!
“Oh, Yes! Go!!”, pleads Jesus.
Go, love without condition.
Go, give without reservation.
Go, serve without prejudice.
Go, save my lambs.
Go, feed my sheep.
Go, tend my flocks.
Go, find my coins.
Go, rescue my children.
Go, change the world.
Go, shape the future.
Go, topple kingdoms.
Go usher in Righteousness.
Go…Go…Go!!!!
"Oh, Yes! Yes! Yes!!! A thousand times….YES! Go make disciples…
…and
…and I….
I, personally,….
will be with you."
Now let's go to the store,
to the mall,
to the church,
to them all.
Let’s go to the store.
Let’s go to the mall.
Let’s go eat, watch TV, hang out.
Let’s go for a drive, see a movie or some friends.
Let’s go to work.
Let’s go to school.
Let’s go home.
Let’s go to sleep….let’s go, let’s go, let’s go…..
Go.Go.Go. Constantly, “On the Go.”
….and
….and making
….and making nothing.
Living in motion, in a circle, insignificantly.
Going nowhere. Making nothing.
…Going
….Going
….and gone, without significance.
Still, there is more "going"?
Let’s go to church.
Let’s go to devo.
Let’s go to youth camp.
Let's go join that class.
Let's go read that book.
Let’s go hear that Speaker.
Let’s go listen to that Band.
Let’s go to help over there.
Let’s go to see that work.
Let’s go to experience that blessing.
Let’s go serve those people.
Let’s go!
Let’s go!
Let’s hurry and go……
Going….
Going….
Doing…
Doing…
Going and Doing….
Will no one ask, "Why? Why go?"..............
or, "How shall we go?"...
or, "With what shall we do?"
Oh no! Go! Just Go.
and Do. Just Do!
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Just Hurry!
STOOOOOOOP!!!!”
"Stop it!"
Stop.
Listen.
Stop your "going".
Stop your meaningless motion.
Stop your empty prayers.
Stop your revolving door of events.
Stop the endless moving about.
Stop! Stop!! Stop!!!!!!!!
Just Stop.……please…..
Please, stop.
Think
Slow down…and consider.
Why are you going? Why?
How shall you go?
Consider, "With what shall you do?"
Stop going; start considering.
Stop doing; begin being.
Be with Him.
Be still.
Be quiet.
Be deep.
Be filled.
Be absorbed.
Be nothing.
Be different.
Be alone with God.
Be God's alone.
Just Be.
Be. Be. Be!!
and then….
and then with God...
and then with God and with great humility.....Go.
then...by all means...Go!!! Go!Go!Go! Run!! Charge!!!
Go with purpose!
Go with preparation!
Go with plans!
Go with passion!
Go with Power!
“Oh, Yes! Go!!”, pleads Jesus.
Go, love without condition.
Go, give without reservation.
Go, serve without prejudice.
Go, save my lambs.
Go, feed my sheep.
Go, tend my flocks.
Go, find my coins.
Go, rescue my children.
Go, change the world.
Go, shape the future.
Go, topple kingdoms.
Go usher in Righteousness.
Go…Go…Go!!!!
"Oh, Yes! Yes! Yes!!! A thousand times….YES! Go make disciples…
…and
…and I….
I, personally,….
will be with you."
Now let's go to the store,
to the mall,
to the church,
to them all.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
A Tale of Two Little Brown Churches in the Dell
Actually, there was only one ... to begin with. And it was white; white frame, though some of the paint had faded and chipped off to reveal the brown wood beneath.
I went to church there my freshman year in college with some friends who were older and had cars - since this church was more than twenty miles away in a tiny town across the river.
The name isn't important.
What happened there is, and is the sad story I'm telling. This little church was so small - maybe 30 souls on a Sunday morning - that our visits made quite an impact on attendance. Most of those members were older ladies, a few teen girls, a minister, and the two elders.
The two of them are at the heart of the story, you see.
One of them said something about the other in a barber shop in a town so small that you can't even mutter to yourself without everyone knowing what's on your heart.
I don't know what it was that he said. I didn't live there, you see.
And it's not important to the story.
So the elder who was spoken of by the other pulled up roots and moved about half of the souls in that church with him, over to the abandoned, faded white concrete block building that the Baptists used to use. And in a town too small to have a second stop sign, there were two churches with the same name on their signs.
In the years since then I've told myself that, at 19, I was too young to interfere. Too young to know what to do. But, truth is, I knew what to say. I had read Matthew 18. I had read the letters to Timothy. I could have gently entreated those two church fathers to go to each other and iron out the wrinkles in their relationship; to demonstrate the power of penitence and forgiveness; to show their small community how important is the unity that Christ died to establish among His brothers and sisters.
But I didn't. And neither did anyone else.
It's an intimidating prospect. It's not something you would feel confident about doing. It's not something in which very many people have experience and expertise.
There are a few.
I can recommend a couple of excellent resources for churches - large or small - which need help dealing with conflicts - whether those are large or small. For the ones with problems that might be solved internally, there are outstanding materials available through Peacemaker Ministries. For churches who need help from an outside party (interested, rather than disinterested, in the unity of the saints), I recommend the Center for Conflict Resolution at Abilene Christian University. (My wife Angi had a hand in helping establish it, and some genuinely gifted people like its director Joey Cope and Jerry Strader and Charles Siburt and many others put their very hearts into its mission.)
I've never gone back to that little town in Arkansas with the two little brown churches ... maybe because I still feel a bit guilty about my silence.
I'd like to hope that in the 30+ years since, the rift has healed; that there is still one and only one church there; and that on one or the other of those two miniature buildings a fresh coat of glistening white is applied from time to time.
I went to church there my freshman year in college with some friends who were older and had cars - since this church was more than twenty miles away in a tiny town across the river.
The name isn't important.
What happened there is, and is the sad story I'm telling. This little church was so small - maybe 30 souls on a Sunday morning - that our visits made quite an impact on attendance. Most of those members were older ladies, a few teen girls, a minister, and the two elders.
The two of them are at the heart of the story, you see.
One of them said something about the other in a barber shop in a town so small that you can't even mutter to yourself without everyone knowing what's on your heart.
I don't know what it was that he said. I didn't live there, you see.
And it's not important to the story.
So the elder who was spoken of by the other pulled up roots and moved about half of the souls in that church with him, over to the abandoned, faded white concrete block building that the Baptists used to use. And in a town too small to have a second stop sign, there were two churches with the same name on their signs.
In the years since then I've told myself that, at 19, I was too young to interfere. Too young to know what to do. But, truth is, I knew what to say. I had read Matthew 18. I had read the letters to Timothy. I could have gently entreated those two church fathers to go to each other and iron out the wrinkles in their relationship; to demonstrate the power of penitence and forgiveness; to show their small community how important is the unity that Christ died to establish among His brothers and sisters.
But I didn't. And neither did anyone else.
It's an intimidating prospect. It's not something you would feel confident about doing. It's not something in which very many people have experience and expertise.
There are a few.
I can recommend a couple of excellent resources for churches - large or small - which need help dealing with conflicts - whether those are large or small. For the ones with problems that might be solved internally, there are outstanding materials available through Peacemaker Ministries. For churches who need help from an outside party (interested, rather than disinterested, in the unity of the saints), I recommend the Center for Conflict Resolution at Abilene Christian University. (My wife Angi had a hand in helping establish it, and some genuinely gifted people like its director Joey Cope and Jerry Strader and Charles Siburt and many others put their very hearts into its mission.)
I've never gone back to that little town in Arkansas with the two little brown churches ... maybe because I still feel a bit guilty about my silence.
I'd like to hope that in the 30+ years since, the rift has healed; that there is still one and only one church there; and that on one or the other of those two miniature buildings a fresh coat of glistening white is applied from time to time.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Your Life
Laughing at God
There is a temptation is to laugh at God’s requests, “Surely, God, you don’t mean it!”
"Osaiywa!" (Pray for me). Yelled a babbling crazy man.
Two hundred Africans packed into a mud and wattle building intended for a quarter that number; every chair, bench, and spot on the dirt floor occupied. The crazy man sat near the rear of our packed crowd. His eyes, smoky windows into a hollow room, his mind, clouded by years, yet he persisted, "Osaiywa!".
"Pray for me!" An appropriate request in such an assembly, but the timing was off. We were in the midst of the sermon. Prayer requests were for later. We ignored his first interruption, stared in annoyance at his second, and finally, on his third tirade we hushed him with the promise of our prayers, later, at the appropriate time. This satisfied him, and he sat silently through the next two hours of preaching.
Then, when we were ready, prayer requests were taken. We noted each, then sang another song, prayed a general prayer, listened to a guest youth chorus, and asked for announcements. Instructions were given to visitors regarding a special lunch for them, and someone was selected to lead the closing prayer. That’s when some thinking soul interrupted and sheepishly mentioned the crazy man -- we had almost forgotten his request.
He rose with effort and crept forward with the groping gait of one moving through a dense fog. Carefully, slowly, haltingly, he navigated through an obstacle course of legs and small children who littered the path between his seat and the front. The eyes of the crowd were on him; not compassionate eyes, but sarcastic, rolling eyes that saw absurdity and humor in the old man's manner.
When he reached the front, three of our elders circled around the hunched Patriarch and placing their hands on his trembling shoulders, bowed their heads to petition in his behalf before God. Being good men, they earnestly sought Divine intervention for the old fellow.
I noticed several teenage girls exchanging glances from beneath bowed heads (Yes. I have an amazing ability to close both eyes, bow my head and still see what’s happening in the room.). They labored to hide their amusement, but the continued trade of glances and smiles brought them to the verge of uncontrolled giggles. They obviously felt that the number of "crazies" was now up to four.
Perhaps their assessment of the situation had to do with youth -- when everything serious is silly. Perhaps, it was a bit humorous -- that old man, in the throws of senility, shuffling up before our crowd. Before the prayer concluded they recomposed themselves, donned the costume of religious solemnity, and closed their eyes just ahead of the "Amen".
Laughing at God’s isn’t something new--
-- A frantic father’s daughter is dying. Before reaching home news arrives that she is dead. Catching the words before they crush him, Jesus assures, "The little girl is not dead but asleep." The Scriptures say, "But they laughed at him."
-- "Jesus! Jesus! Heal me!" Pleading words of a beggar man rose from the streets of Jericho. "It's old blind Bartimaeus," Someone snickered, "Someone shut him up!".
-- An ailing woman, weakened from blood loss and penniless from years of paying doctors, convinces herself that if only she can touch Jesus' shirt she can be healed-- though the experts tell her she is being ridiculous and should accept her situation. She tracks him down anyway. Ever so reverently, she tugs on His sleeve. Her touch stops the Healer in his tracks. "Who touched me?" Snickers sputter and embarrassed smirks crisscross the faces of the pushing, jarring crowd, betraying their thoughts; "Is he nuts? Everyone is touching him! Ha. Ha."
-- "Roll away the stone!" Jesus commands. In the rear, smiles flare. The hired mourners catch themselves sharing the crowd's amusement, but quickly recompose and regain their professional sorrow. Even Mary questions his sanity, "Why, Lord, it's been four days. I mean by now he's..."
-- "But Lord, we've fished here all night!" Peter looks back over his shoulder and under his breath cracks a joke to his angling buddies about folks who think they know all about fishing. "All right Lord, we'll try it one more time, just for you. OK fellas, let's humor the Teacher. Pitch your end on the count of three."
-- A room bursts into panic. Those seated fall backward in startled retreat. Those standing duck low. The roof collapses; and when the dust settles, a paraplegic and his blushing friends stare straight into the face of an amused crowd and an angry homeowner. "What idiots!"
Like getting the giggles at church -- inappropriate, but uncontrollable -- the roll of awkward moments continues, when Jesus, on the brink of Divine demonstration, is heckled by snickering sinners and doubting devotees. Listen to their words:
"But how far will so little go among so many?"
"Never Lord! This shall never happen to you."
"When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, 'He is out of his mind!'"
But the old adage applies that, "He who laughs last, laughs longest." Can't you imagine Bartimaeus giggling like a kid as he leapt and ran for the first time in
his life? Or can you see the little girl's flushed lips breaking into a wide grin when she opened her eyes and looked up into her Mother's face? Can't you envision a tidal wave of wrinkles rippling across the healed woman's face every time she cornered one of her former physicians and reminded him, "See, I told you so!"? Mary must have fairly soared with delight as she peeled away the linen strips from Lazarus' face, revealing that familiar lopsided grin of his. How many times do you guess Peter entertained audiences over the years with the retelling of his whale-of-a-tale fishing story? Or, in all history's laboring, can you imagine any job that may have been done with more exuberance than the re-roofing of that house by the former paraplegic?
The crowds were amazed, and we have to wonder what other rib-tickling marvels Jesus was poised to perform, but couldn't, because folks were too preoccupied giggling.
Would you laugh if someone suggested there are things, wonderful things, miraculous things, new things, world changing things God may desire to do in our own time? For the times I have laughed let me request, "Osaiywa".
"Faith is confidence -- founded upon the unfailing almighty character of God -- that the possibilities are limitless" --O. Michel
"Believe me when I say that anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these...." Jn 14:12
There is a temptation is to laugh at God’s requests, “Surely, God, you don’t mean it!”
"Osaiywa!" (Pray for me). Yelled a babbling crazy man.
Two hundred Africans packed into a mud and wattle building intended for a quarter that number; every chair, bench, and spot on the dirt floor occupied. The crazy man sat near the rear of our packed crowd. His eyes, smoky windows into a hollow room, his mind, clouded by years, yet he persisted, "Osaiywa!".
"Pray for me!" An appropriate request in such an assembly, but the timing was off. We were in the midst of the sermon. Prayer requests were for later. We ignored his first interruption, stared in annoyance at his second, and finally, on his third tirade we hushed him with the promise of our prayers, later, at the appropriate time. This satisfied him, and he sat silently through the next two hours of preaching.
Then, when we were ready, prayer requests were taken. We noted each, then sang another song, prayed a general prayer, listened to a guest youth chorus, and asked for announcements. Instructions were given to visitors regarding a special lunch for them, and someone was selected to lead the closing prayer. That’s when some thinking soul interrupted and sheepishly mentioned the crazy man -- we had almost forgotten his request.
He rose with effort and crept forward with the groping gait of one moving through a dense fog. Carefully, slowly, haltingly, he navigated through an obstacle course of legs and small children who littered the path between his seat and the front. The eyes of the crowd were on him; not compassionate eyes, but sarcastic, rolling eyes that saw absurdity and humor in the old man's manner.
When he reached the front, three of our elders circled around the hunched Patriarch and placing their hands on his trembling shoulders, bowed their heads to petition in his behalf before God. Being good men, they earnestly sought Divine intervention for the old fellow.
I noticed several teenage girls exchanging glances from beneath bowed heads (Yes. I have an amazing ability to close both eyes, bow my head and still see what’s happening in the room.). They labored to hide their amusement, but the continued trade of glances and smiles brought them to the verge of uncontrolled giggles. They obviously felt that the number of "crazies" was now up to four.
Perhaps their assessment of the situation had to do with youth -- when everything serious is silly. Perhaps, it was a bit humorous -- that old man, in the throws of senility, shuffling up before our crowd. Before the prayer concluded they recomposed themselves, donned the costume of religious solemnity, and closed their eyes just ahead of the "Amen".
Laughing at God’s isn’t something new--
-- A frantic father’s daughter is dying. Before reaching home news arrives that she is dead. Catching the words before they crush him, Jesus assures, "The little girl is not dead but asleep." The Scriptures say, "But they laughed at him."
-- "Jesus! Jesus! Heal me!" Pleading words of a beggar man rose from the streets of Jericho. "It's old blind Bartimaeus," Someone snickered, "Someone shut him up!".
-- An ailing woman, weakened from blood loss and penniless from years of paying doctors, convinces herself that if only she can touch Jesus' shirt she can be healed-- though the experts tell her she is being ridiculous and should accept her situation. She tracks him down anyway. Ever so reverently, she tugs on His sleeve. Her touch stops the Healer in his tracks. "Who touched me?" Snickers sputter and embarrassed smirks crisscross the faces of the pushing, jarring crowd, betraying their thoughts; "Is he nuts? Everyone is touching him! Ha. Ha."
-- "Roll away the stone!" Jesus commands. In the rear, smiles flare. The hired mourners catch themselves sharing the crowd's amusement, but quickly recompose and regain their professional sorrow. Even Mary questions his sanity, "Why, Lord, it's been four days. I mean by now he's..."
-- "But Lord, we've fished here all night!" Peter looks back over his shoulder and under his breath cracks a joke to his angling buddies about folks who think they know all about fishing. "All right Lord, we'll try it one more time, just for you. OK fellas, let's humor the Teacher. Pitch your end on the count of three."
-- A room bursts into panic. Those seated fall backward in startled retreat. Those standing duck low. The roof collapses; and when the dust settles, a paraplegic and his blushing friends stare straight into the face of an amused crowd and an angry homeowner. "What idiots!"
Like getting the giggles at church -- inappropriate, but uncontrollable -- the roll of awkward moments continues, when Jesus, on the brink of Divine demonstration, is heckled by snickering sinners and doubting devotees. Listen to their words:
"But how far will so little go among so many?"
"Never Lord! This shall never happen to you."
"When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, 'He is out of his mind!'"
But the old adage applies that, "He who laughs last, laughs longest." Can't you imagine Bartimaeus giggling like a kid as he leapt and ran for the first time in
his life? Or can you see the little girl's flushed lips breaking into a wide grin when she opened her eyes and looked up into her Mother's face? Can't you envision a tidal wave of wrinkles rippling across the healed woman's face every time she cornered one of her former physicians and reminded him, "See, I told you so!"? Mary must have fairly soared with delight as she peeled away the linen strips from Lazarus' face, revealing that familiar lopsided grin of his. How many times do you guess Peter entertained audiences over the years with the retelling of his whale-of-a-tale fishing story? Or, in all history's laboring, can you imagine any job that may have been done with more exuberance than the re-roofing of that house by the former paraplegic?
The crowds were amazed, and we have to wonder what other rib-tickling marvels Jesus was poised to perform, but couldn't, because folks were too preoccupied giggling.
Would you laugh if someone suggested there are things, wonderful things, miraculous things, new things, world changing things God may desire to do in our own time? For the times I have laughed let me request, "Osaiywa".
"Faith is confidence -- founded upon the unfailing almighty character of God -- that the possibilities are limitless" --O. Michel
"Believe me when I say that anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these...." Jn 14:12
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Morning Coffee:Gourmet thoughts for your day.
SUNRISE
It's early. Coffee is brewing. Our mountain's hem is glowing in faint silver. The sun will rise soon.
When’s the last time you watched the sun rise? Yesterday? Been awhile? Watching this one with me?
Maybe I should clarify, because I may be asking a different question than you think. I’m not asking when you last saw a risen sun—which is also a beautiful thing. I’m asking, “When was the last time you watched the sun’s rising?"
To witness that fiery ball rupture the horizon and gradually climb into full view you have to stop and focus. Although the earth is spinning at terrific speed, the sun’s rising is almost imperceptible. In fact, without careful observance, little appears to be happening. One second the first bright edge bursts from below the horizon, the next it’s fully launched into the sky’s blue. Silently, steadily, quickly the whole thing transpires with our without our notice.
Other life events can slip by without our notice. Aging, for example. One day we want to be sixteen, then, in no time, we wonder how we got to sixty!
Our children’s growing up is like our own—here and then gone. They break in like bright rays on a steady horizon. Newborns spark a twinkle in a Dad’s eye and spread a warm glow across Mom’s face. Then, before we know it, they’ve launched out on their own...into the blue.
We miss the sun’s rising because we’re too tired, too busy, and too preoccupied. We miss our children’s growing up for the same reasons.
While it’s unfortunate to miss a morning sunrise, it’s a tragedy to miss our children’s childhood. The sun will rise again tomorrow, but their childhood is once.
Today, notice your children. Hold them. Talk to them. Read them a story, or even better, tell them one. Instead of watching T.V., throw the ball. Turn off the phone and tune into their day. Tell them how wonderful they are.
Stop! Look into their eyes. Read their posture. Search their hearts. Sit at their bedside and watch them sleep, listen to them breathe, pray over them. Cherish them.
Many of life’s most beautiful and most precious things pass silently by us unless we resolve not to miss them. No matter their age or distance pause today and enjoy your children. Go ahead. Do what’s brewing in your heart. It’s still early.
It's early. Coffee is brewing. Our mountain's hem is glowing in faint silver. The sun will rise soon.
When’s the last time you watched the sun rise? Yesterday? Been awhile? Watching this one with me?
Maybe I should clarify, because I may be asking a different question than you think. I’m not asking when you last saw a risen sun—which is also a beautiful thing. I’m asking, “When was the last time you watched the sun’s rising?"
To witness that fiery ball rupture the horizon and gradually climb into full view you have to stop and focus. Although the earth is spinning at terrific speed, the sun’s rising is almost imperceptible. In fact, without careful observance, little appears to be happening. One second the first bright edge bursts from below the horizon, the next it’s fully launched into the sky’s blue. Silently, steadily, quickly the whole thing transpires with our without our notice.
Other life events can slip by without our notice. Aging, for example. One day we want to be sixteen, then, in no time, we wonder how we got to sixty!
Our children’s growing up is like our own—here and then gone. They break in like bright rays on a steady horizon. Newborns spark a twinkle in a Dad’s eye and spread a warm glow across Mom’s face. Then, before we know it, they’ve launched out on their own...into the blue.
We miss the sun’s rising because we’re too tired, too busy, and too preoccupied. We miss our children’s growing up for the same reasons.
While it’s unfortunate to miss a morning sunrise, it’s a tragedy to miss our children’s childhood. The sun will rise again tomorrow, but their childhood is once.
Today, notice your children. Hold them. Talk to them. Read them a story, or even better, tell them one. Instead of watching T.V., throw the ball. Turn off the phone and tune into their day. Tell them how wonderful they are.
Stop! Look into their eyes. Read their posture. Search their hearts. Sit at their bedside and watch them sleep, listen to them breathe, pray over them. Cherish them.
Many of life’s most beautiful and most precious things pass silently by us unless we resolve not to miss them. No matter their age or distance pause today and enjoy your children. Go ahead. Do what’s brewing in your heart. It’s still early.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
It's Preacher Feature Time!
Some weeks back I begged my preaching minister, Chuck Monan, to submit a fine message he had delivered on the subject of unity as an article for New Wineskins - and the guy consented! On top of that, managing editor Greg Taylor accepted it, and it went live Monday. You can read it (or listen to it) and see if my risk of sycophanting up to the boss was worth the ribbing I'll get in the church office.
(Though, as I told Chuck when I accepted the communications job there last fall, he's not technically the Boss. That'd be Springsteen.)
Evidently spurred on by my dauntless courage in the face of merciless taunting, Greg Taylor lost no time asking his preaching minister Wade Hodges to contribute an article on the subject of unity and the table, which should appear in a couple of weeks.
And if Greg gets any teasing as a result, I think you'll find the article will be well worth it to him.
(Though, as I told Chuck when I accepted the communications job there last fall, he's not technically the Boss. That'd be Springsteen.)
Evidently spurred on by my dauntless courage in the face of merciless taunting, Greg Taylor lost no time asking his preaching minister Wade Hodges to contribute an article on the subject of unity and the table, which should appear in a couple of weeks.
And if Greg gets any teasing as a result, I think you'll find the article will be well worth it to him.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Bono preaches at National Prayer Breakfast
President George W. Bush asked Bono to speak at the National Prayer Breakfast today. See and hear it here.
Life on the Farm:Spiritual Insights from Rural Living
Goatee: Untangling and Untying from Sin
I was apprehensive when my ‘friend’ offered us a goat, but Benjamin’s face grew a grin. Ten year old boys don’t understand what’s involved in caring for goats, and Dad’s can’t forget when they were ten. We took the goat.
He was medium size, a long beard, long brown and black hair, and a pair of well developed horns, but his temperament was calm and he ate everything. This eating thing was my personal ambition for our new “pet”. We have lots hillsides growing briers, vines, poison ivy and such that are too steep for a tractor or mower and too large for a weed eater, unless it is a four legged weed eater.
Josh named him, Goatee.
We don’t have goat-proof fencing and Goatee doesn’t realize that I only want him to eat in certain areas. So, Goatee wears a long leash. Each morning we locate him on those steep banks or in other areas where he’ll enjoy eating all day tethered to a tree, an old tire, a post or some item that he can’t drag away. He gulps the most amazing stuff: thorny briers, vines, leaves, berries, bark, pine needles, almost everything. He’s a real eating machine, which I like very much. And so, this is an almost perfect arrangement. Almost.
The problem is Goatee’s leash. It gets tangled. He goes round and round trees, brier, vines, gets hooked under rocks or stumps. When he’s stuck he starts bleating. When Benjamin sees Goatee is tangled he has to untangle him and re-tether him again. Without that leash on his neck he’d roam those steep banks freely. That would be perfect.
Yesterday, a lady called me in distress. Her electric bill was overdue and the electric company was threatening to cut off service. She’d called before on several occasions, always with a catastrophe. So, I listened to her story. Her daughter is in jail for drug use, she and her current husband are separated, but he is living with her because his black lung check was stopped due to “someone else’s mistake”, She doesn’t get along with her ex-husband either. She is on disability for her back. All her family is estranged from her and ….. You see the situation.
I know this lady. Her real problem is that she is tethered to Sin. Sin keeps her life in a tangle of troubles. So, I clearly told her, “You know. I’ll help on your electric bill. I don’t mind that, but (her name) you need God in your life, or things like this are going to continue to plague your life.”
She replied, “Oh. I’ve been saved. I go to Church-- when I go-- to the XYZ Church.”
I interrupted her, “I not saying you need to go to church. I’m saying you need God in your life.” She didn’t understand.
What she thinks she needs is someone-- like Goatee needs Benjamin -- to come along ever so often and straighten things out. It is flawed thinking. She doesn’t need someone to untangle her messes; she needs someone to remove her leash.
All of us need is our yoke removed. We need freedom from our addictions; freedom from guilt; freedom from the power of sin in our life; freedom from that which ‘so easily entangles’. (Hebrews 12:1f) People need to be set free.
Yes, we serve those around us. We feed, we clothe, we comfort, we pay their bills, we listen to their stories, we hold their hand, we do all of this and more. What ‘more’? We go beyond their felt needs and address their ultimate one: we boldly, lovingly, courageously tell people, “You have a leash. You need to take it off.”
Satan leashes and tethers people. Helping our neighbor’s hurts, without addressing the tether is dishonest, short sighted and cheap. Christians who only love the body are either ignorant or cowardly. Certainly, we feed mouths, like our Lord did, but we also, like our Lord, seek and save the lost. We untangle their messes, but we also take them to Jesus who said, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has …has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners…to release the oppressed...” Luke 4:18-19
The Body of Christ has done a fair job of untangling messes, but too often, we’ve left the people tethered. Let’s resolve afresh to set the captives free, knowing that whatever we loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven.
I was apprehensive when my ‘friend’ offered us a goat, but Benjamin’s face grew a grin. Ten year old boys don’t understand what’s involved in caring for goats, and Dad’s can’t forget when they were ten. We took the goat.
He was medium size, a long beard, long brown and black hair, and a pair of well developed horns, but his temperament was calm and he ate everything. This eating thing was my personal ambition for our new “pet”. We have lots hillsides growing briers, vines, poison ivy and such that are too steep for a tractor or mower and too large for a weed eater, unless it is a four legged weed eater.
Josh named him, Goatee.
We don’t have goat-proof fencing and Goatee doesn’t realize that I only want him to eat in certain areas. So, Goatee wears a long leash. Each morning we locate him on those steep banks or in other areas where he’ll enjoy eating all day tethered to a tree, an old tire, a post or some item that he can’t drag away. He gulps the most amazing stuff: thorny briers, vines, leaves, berries, bark, pine needles, almost everything. He’s a real eating machine, which I like very much. And so, this is an almost perfect arrangement. Almost.
The problem is Goatee’s leash. It gets tangled. He goes round and round trees, brier, vines, gets hooked under rocks or stumps. When he’s stuck he starts bleating. When Benjamin sees Goatee is tangled he has to untangle him and re-tether him again. Without that leash on his neck he’d roam those steep banks freely. That would be perfect.
Yesterday, a lady called me in distress. Her electric bill was overdue and the electric company was threatening to cut off service. She’d called before on several occasions, always with a catastrophe. So, I listened to her story. Her daughter is in jail for drug use, she and her current husband are separated, but he is living with her because his black lung check was stopped due to “someone else’s mistake”, She doesn’t get along with her ex-husband either. She is on disability for her back. All her family is estranged from her and ….. You see the situation.
I know this lady. Her real problem is that she is tethered to Sin. Sin keeps her life in a tangle of troubles. So, I clearly told her, “You know. I’ll help on your electric bill. I don’t mind that, but (her name) you need God in your life, or things like this are going to continue to plague your life.”
She replied, “Oh. I’ve been saved. I go to Church-- when I go-- to the XYZ Church.”
I interrupted her, “I not saying you need to go to church. I’m saying you need God in your life.” She didn’t understand.
What she thinks she needs is someone-- like Goatee needs Benjamin -- to come along ever so often and straighten things out. It is flawed thinking. She doesn’t need someone to untangle her messes; she needs someone to remove her leash.
All of us need is our yoke removed. We need freedom from our addictions; freedom from guilt; freedom from the power of sin in our life; freedom from that which ‘so easily entangles’. (Hebrews 12:1f) People need to be set free.
Yes, we serve those around us. We feed, we clothe, we comfort, we pay their bills, we listen to their stories, we hold their hand, we do all of this and more. What ‘more’? We go beyond their felt needs and address their ultimate one: we boldly, lovingly, courageously tell people, “You have a leash. You need to take it off.”
Satan leashes and tethers people. Helping our neighbor’s hurts, without addressing the tether is dishonest, short sighted and cheap. Christians who only love the body are either ignorant or cowardly. Certainly, we feed mouths, like our Lord did, but we also, like our Lord, seek and save the lost. We untangle their messes, but we also take them to Jesus who said, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has …has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners…to release the oppressed...” Luke 4:18-19
The Body of Christ has done a fair job of untangling messes, but too often, we’ve left the people tethered. Let’s resolve afresh to set the captives free, knowing that whatever we loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Unity (part 5)
Is diversity a necessary part of the kingdom come on earth? Is the longing I have to worship and be in community and serve with people different from me as well as similar to me part of the divine nature within me?
I want to live in a community of faith in Christ that includes both pacifists and military heroes. I enjoy seeing a cowboy elder hugging a hip-hop baggy pants wearing teenager. Give me the young reaching up to take a stick of gum from an older lady of the church over the rigorously segregated by age "assemblies" many churches have.
Diversity comes not only in a racial sense. Diversity in our churches may mean age, social, economic, denominational, vocational, beliefs, pratices.
No discussion of unity touches reality without dealing with how ready we are to have diversity.
We cannot quote one of the best Restoration pleas quite enough: in matters of faith we have unity, in matters of opinion we have diversity, and in all things charity. What we ought to be vigilant about, however, is to not allow this plea to go undiscussed, as if it's self-evident and a mantra that settles all disputes. It doesn't.
We still must understand what constitutes a faith matter, an opinion matter. For that we do well to understand what was important to Jesus, what was a faith matter to God throughout the witness of Scripture. When the Lord addresses Israel directly or through prophets, here is an example of what He says through the prophet Micah (6:8):
In order to know what is opinion and what is a matter of faith, we must understand what the heart of God says, what Jesus said when he was on earth, and determine from those words, from those actions, what is truly a matter of faith. We tend to gravitate toward this being a list of what we believe, and certainly we have every reason to have as matters of faith a set of beliefs about God, the creator who sent Jesus who was not created into the world, who lived a while among us, taught, loved and healed and was betrayed and given by his own people to be crucified yet he rose on the third day and lives now through us and in us by his Holy Spirit and we wait expectantly for the day of his appearing again.
Yet even to believe all the right things is not the heart of what Jesus seems to be saying to us when he says all the Law and the Prophets hang on the practice of loving God with every stem-cell of our being, and to love our neighbors as if we were loving ourselves. The way we treat our neighbors is a matter of faith. It's time we start taking what Jesus said the Law and the Prophets hang on literally. When will we truly start acting like we say we believe?
This applies to every area of endeavor, be it within churches as we discuss our own practices, in our outreach, in our families, in our neighborhoods, friendships, and extended family relationships, and yes even how we treat the stranger.
Christ still longs for us to be one, to be gathered and unified under his wings. Christ says, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!"
I want to live in a community of faith in Christ that includes both pacifists and military heroes. I enjoy seeing a cowboy elder hugging a hip-hop baggy pants wearing teenager. Give me the young reaching up to take a stick of gum from an older lady of the church over the rigorously segregated by age "assemblies" many churches have.
Diversity comes not only in a racial sense. Diversity in our churches may mean age, social, economic, denominational, vocational, beliefs, pratices.
No discussion of unity touches reality without dealing with how ready we are to have diversity.
We cannot quote one of the best Restoration pleas quite enough: in matters of faith we have unity, in matters of opinion we have diversity, and in all things charity. What we ought to be vigilant about, however, is to not allow this plea to go undiscussed, as if it's self-evident and a mantra that settles all disputes. It doesn't.
We still must understand what constitutes a faith matter, an opinion matter. For that we do well to understand what was important to Jesus, what was a faith matter to God throughout the witness of Scripture. When the Lord addresses Israel directly or through prophets, here is an example of what He says through the prophet Micah (6:8):
He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.And when Jesus is asked what the greatest commandment is, he sets the course of history on its ear when he says, "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments" (Matthew 22:37-40).
In order to know what is opinion and what is a matter of faith, we must understand what the heart of God says, what Jesus said when he was on earth, and determine from those words, from those actions, what is truly a matter of faith. We tend to gravitate toward this being a list of what we believe, and certainly we have every reason to have as matters of faith a set of beliefs about God, the creator who sent Jesus who was not created into the world, who lived a while among us, taught, loved and healed and was betrayed and given by his own people to be crucified yet he rose on the third day and lives now through us and in us by his Holy Spirit and we wait expectantly for the day of his appearing again.
Yet even to believe all the right things is not the heart of what Jesus seems to be saying to us when he says all the Law and the Prophets hang on the practice of loving God with every stem-cell of our being, and to love our neighbors as if we were loving ourselves. The way we treat our neighbors is a matter of faith. It's time we start taking what Jesus said the Law and the Prophets hang on literally. When will we truly start acting like we say we believe?
This applies to every area of endeavor, be it within churches as we discuss our own practices, in our outreach, in our families, in our neighborhoods, friendships, and extended family relationships, and yes even how we treat the stranger.
Christ still longs for us to be one, to be gathered and unified under his wings. Christ says, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!"
Saturday, January 28, 2006
The Hope of Glory
Well, I might as well get into it. I got started thinking about it in my last post at my blog. I wondered how seriously we take the idea that God is in us.
Because it's obvious to me that His Spirit is intimately involved in preservation of unity.
When Paul wrote to Colossae, Christ was in the saints - though it was a mystery.
His Spirit was in the prophets before He was born among men, when they sought the details of that incarnation to serve those who would follow them.
His Spirit was in David, who begged that the Spirit not be taken away from him when he sinned against God.
It was His prayer to be in us.
If His Spirit isn't in us, we aren't His.
His Spirit is how He seals us as His own, and guarantees what He has promised later.
His Spirit is how He strengthens us from within.
His Spirit is how God pours out His love into our hearts.
Our bodies are His temple.
So it's a question more important than whether the Spirit works apart from the Word or how He works or whether He still works today. Because if He dwells in followers of the Word throughout Christians' lives, it's inconceivable that He could be a freeloading parasite, sponging off of the prophets of His book. It's a question more important than how can we know He is in us, because He said He would be and when God says He'll do something, it's as good as done. It's more important than any question raised by the advertisers of GatorAde because it has to do with the water of life, the Spirit of God, the hope of glory:
Is He in you?
Because it's obvious to me that His Spirit is intimately involved in preservation of unity.
When Paul wrote to Colossae, Christ was in the saints - though it was a mystery.
His Spirit was in the prophets before He was born among men, when they sought the details of that incarnation to serve those who would follow them.
His Spirit was in David, who begged that the Spirit not be taken away from him when he sinned against God.
It was His prayer to be in us.
If His Spirit isn't in us, we aren't His.
His Spirit is how He seals us as His own, and guarantees what He has promised later.
His Spirit is how He strengthens us from within.
His Spirit is how God pours out His love into our hearts.
Our bodies are His temple.
So it's a question more important than whether the Spirit works apart from the Word or how He works or whether He still works today. Because if He dwells in followers of the Word throughout Christians' lives, it's inconceivable that He could be a freeloading parasite, sponging off of the prophets of His book. It's a question more important than how can we know He is in us, because He said He would be and when God says He'll do something, it's as good as done. It's more important than any question raised by the advertisers of GatorAde because it has to do with the water of life, the Spirit of God, the hope of glory:
Is He in you?
Friday, January 27, 2006
Beyond the Rituals:Letting God Reign in Our Lives
...true stories intended to touch your heart and change your life...
The Testing of Our Faith
…for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith…may be proved genuine and may result in prise, glory and honor… 1 Peter 1:6-7
Jackson Arap Rono, our first convert among the Kalenjin, has tasted the cup of testing many times. One of the most memorable came on a Sunday morning in 1987.
African praise rose from the ruins of what was once the home of an English Lord named Wellwood. The mansion must have been impressive in its prime, but time and weather had taken their toll and the large ballroom with its parquet floors laid in herring bone style were weathered and drab. On the lawn, beneath towering eucalyptus trees, orchids clustered too tightly and roses, gone wild, choked the front entrance with branches.
As worship neared its conclusion, this tranquil country scene erupted. The local chief and four police officers in a Land Rover roared their way onto the lawn. They demanded to see Jackson. He went out to meet them. They delivered a clear message, "Stop these services immediately, or else you and all your followers will be put in jail. This Church has been declared illegal!" That's it. No explanation. No options. Just the bitter cup.
Jackson stepped back inside and quelled everyone's curiosity by passing on the message. They quickly dismissed with a prayer and everyone hurried home. Jackson went home too, puzzled, dumbfounded, debating over what he should do. Obeying the police meant forsaking God's will. Obeying God meant imprisonment. At that moment Jackson had two difficult options, or, from another perspective, one whale of an opportunity.
For times of such trials and testings God has given us cheerleaders. Abraham, Moses, Deborah, Mary and Joseph, and others surround us and shout, "Do not be afraid! Believe!" They encourage and assure that just beyond our sight, God is waiting in hopes that we will clear the way for Him to act, overtly, in our life. Obedience, faith, risking it for the sake of what is right in God's eyes, puts nails in the coffin of a sermonized God and rolls the stone from the tomb of ritualized religion.
Perseverance in trial. Trust in Truth. Obedience at any/all cost. These are multiples more than mere acquiescence to religious dogma and constitute what it means to live by faith. Only, those who swallow hard and proceed as God prescribes experience Him in this bold, tangible and living way.
Jackson, being a man of faith, didn't debate long. By the time the sun had slipped beyond the African horizon, he had visited every member of the congregation and informed them that he planned to meet next Sunday to worship God, and that he hoped they would join him. Taking the cup of testing into his hands, he drank deeply.
Wellwood -- a serene picture. Breezy and cool. Romantic. Comfortable. Proud. Stable. Established. Historic. To this list a new descriptive was to be added the following gloriously beautiful Sunday morning -- Holy.
The day began apprehensively, shrouded in mist, hidden beyond the clouds. The members arrived in like manner -- quietly, singly, circling cautiously before entry. Then, gaining confidence, they increased until finally a record attendance filled the building! Jackson was there. His family was there. All the members were there. Villagers' children were there. Even one of the well-known drunkards was there. But the chief never came. The police never arrived. It was Sunday, but no one went to jail, because God was there -- Holy.
It seems that God doesn’t prefer to provide easy ways out. Instead, He delights in allowing withered women to bear babies, tumble weeds to sprout rams, desert wildernesses to house angels, and old mansions to produce faith -- Holy.
PS. The Church at Wellwood continues to worship every Sunday and now has its own building. The Chief still hasn't visited.
The Testing of Our Faith
…for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith…may be proved genuine and may result in prise, glory and honor… 1 Peter 1:6-7
Jackson Arap Rono, our first convert among the Kalenjin, has tasted the cup of testing many times. One of the most memorable came on a Sunday morning in 1987.
African praise rose from the ruins of what was once the home of an English Lord named Wellwood. The mansion must have been impressive in its prime, but time and weather had taken their toll and the large ballroom with its parquet floors laid in herring bone style were weathered and drab. On the lawn, beneath towering eucalyptus trees, orchids clustered too tightly and roses, gone wild, choked the front entrance with branches.
As worship neared its conclusion, this tranquil country scene erupted. The local chief and four police officers in a Land Rover roared their way onto the lawn. They demanded to see Jackson. He went out to meet them. They delivered a clear message, "Stop these services immediately, or else you and all your followers will be put in jail. This Church has been declared illegal!" That's it. No explanation. No options. Just the bitter cup.
Jackson stepped back inside and quelled everyone's curiosity by passing on the message. They quickly dismissed with a prayer and everyone hurried home. Jackson went home too, puzzled, dumbfounded, debating over what he should do. Obeying the police meant forsaking God's will. Obeying God meant imprisonment. At that moment Jackson had two difficult options, or, from another perspective, one whale of an opportunity.
For times of such trials and testings God has given us cheerleaders. Abraham, Moses, Deborah, Mary and Joseph, and others surround us and shout, "Do not be afraid! Believe!" They encourage and assure that just beyond our sight, God is waiting in hopes that we will clear the way for Him to act, overtly, in our life. Obedience, faith, risking it for the sake of what is right in God's eyes, puts nails in the coffin of a sermonized God and rolls the stone from the tomb of ritualized religion.
Perseverance in trial. Trust in Truth. Obedience at any/all cost. These are multiples more than mere acquiescence to religious dogma and constitute what it means to live by faith. Only, those who swallow hard and proceed as God prescribes experience Him in this bold, tangible and living way.
Jackson, being a man of faith, didn't debate long. By the time the sun had slipped beyond the African horizon, he had visited every member of the congregation and informed them that he planned to meet next Sunday to worship God, and that he hoped they would join him. Taking the cup of testing into his hands, he drank deeply.
Wellwood -- a serene picture. Breezy and cool. Romantic. Comfortable. Proud. Stable. Established. Historic. To this list a new descriptive was to be added the following gloriously beautiful Sunday morning -- Holy.
The day began apprehensively, shrouded in mist, hidden beyond the clouds. The members arrived in like manner -- quietly, singly, circling cautiously before entry. Then, gaining confidence, they increased until finally a record attendance filled the building! Jackson was there. His family was there. All the members were there. Villagers' children were there. Even one of the well-known drunkards was there. But the chief never came. The police never arrived. It was Sunday, but no one went to jail, because God was there -- Holy.
It seems that God doesn’t prefer to provide easy ways out. Instead, He delights in allowing withered women to bear babies, tumble weeds to sprout rams, desert wildernesses to house angels, and old mansions to produce faith -- Holy.
PS. The Church at Wellwood continues to worship every Sunday and now has its own building. The Chief still hasn't visited.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Editing Wineskins
One of the great joys of editing Wineskins is getting to research foundational work on a particular theme and also read contemporary "takes" on that theme by sometimes up to 50-60 different author submissions. From those submissions, with the help of our editing staff, I peel off layers of the theme and communicate with writers, informing them whether we can use or cannot use their article.
From there, we vigorously edit the articles. In the current stack I've asked for a completely different lead on one article. A review was completely reworked by the author and me. Yet another article was left alone--it was good, written by an English teacher. Even so, she and most writers are willing to allow shaping to their article. And we shape . . .
Many articles are turned upside down and inside out. I want to give you an example of what I enjoy most in working with writers. In many articles submitted, I can see a glimmer of a story that is trying to come out. One of the most common "mistakes" I see in submissions is that the real story doesn't get told. It's not that what is submitted is not a good sermon or good spiritual or biblical point, but submissions often miss the mark on how telling a personal story.
So here's what I'll often do. I ask a writer to tell me more about a particular sub-theme in the piece. That's when I see that glimmer of hope of a deeper story. In several cases, this has totally changed the piece, driven a writer deeper, to the heart of the matter, changed it into more of a story form, more biographical. It matches more of what Wineskins has come to be for readers: a forum for telling our stories of life on the journey with Christ. Stories that are messy and uncertain yet they are authentic, full of hope and restoration and revival and redemption and irony and vitality and when we least expect it God's mercy and grace and forgiveness and love and joy breaks out in the deep middle of our pain, heartache, suffering, anxiety, and grief.
That's why we have whole issues on themes such as "Desperate" and "A Great Grief." And this is at the heart of what drives us to the issue on Unity that we're working on now that pushes the edges, calls us to tell our stories with authenticity and honesty. After all, that's what makes a good sermon, book, article, movie: honest telling of what life is yet also what it ought to be.
From there, we vigorously edit the articles. In the current stack I've asked for a completely different lead on one article. A review was completely reworked by the author and me. Yet another article was left alone--it was good, written by an English teacher. Even so, she and most writers are willing to allow shaping to their article. And we shape . . .
Many articles are turned upside down and inside out. I want to give you an example of what I enjoy most in working with writers. In many articles submitted, I can see a glimmer of a story that is trying to come out. One of the most common "mistakes" I see in submissions is that the real story doesn't get told. It's not that what is submitted is not a good sermon or good spiritual or biblical point, but submissions often miss the mark on how telling a personal story.
So here's what I'll often do. I ask a writer to tell me more about a particular sub-theme in the piece. That's when I see that glimmer of hope of a deeper story. In several cases, this has totally changed the piece, driven a writer deeper, to the heart of the matter, changed it into more of a story form, more biographical. It matches more of what Wineskins has come to be for readers: a forum for telling our stories of life on the journey with Christ. Stories that are messy and uncertain yet they are authentic, full of hope and restoration and revival and redemption and irony and vitality and when we least expect it God's mercy and grace and forgiveness and love and joy breaks out in the deep middle of our pain, heartache, suffering, anxiety, and grief.
That's why we have whole issues on themes such as "Desperate" and "A Great Grief." And this is at the heart of what drives us to the issue on Unity that we're working on now that pushes the edges, calls us to tell our stories with authenticity and honesty. After all, that's what makes a good sermon, book, article, movie: honest telling of what life is yet also what it ought to be.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Unity (part 4)
This morning Sacred Space introduces the start of the Octave, the prayer for unity. This is from the site, a powerful call to pray for unity of all humanity.
This week sees the start of the Octave of prayer for church unity. It has taken us centuries of misunderstandings to reach the point where Christian churches can dare to do that most obvious thing: pray together.Jesus is truly for all. This is not a plea for univeralism. This is a plea and prayer for all people to arise and be drawn to the saving grace of the God who loves people of all nations. Do we dare pray this prayer for unity?
Images like those of John Paul II praying in Canterbury with its Archbishop, or gathering the faith-leaders of the world in Assisi, have taught us so much. When we come close to those of other traditions, and know something of their riches, we can be grateful for the extraordinary fullness of Catholic tradition, and at the same time marvel at the uprightness of Presbyterians, the Friends' passion for peace, the openness of Hindus, the devotion of Moslems.
This is the week when we ask our God to warm our hearts to take in all his children. If the chance arises, it is the week when we should pray with strangers, remembering St Peter's words (Acts 10:34): "The truth I have come to realise is that God does not have favourites, but that anyone of any nationality who does what is right and fears God is acceptable to him."
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
The Face of Unity (Pt 3 on Unity)
What if unity requires face to face contact?
Unity of any branch of humanity--religious, political, familial, otherwise--cannot be fully realized on earth. Fully knowing and being fully known, having no cross purposes with God, and being one with creation is a promise of the end times. Then we will fully know unity.
We can, however, taste unity in that tart green apple form on earth but not without meeting face to face. The dream of WIRED magazine seems to be that economic equity, political unity and equality can come from the internet and technology as the great equalizer. Meanwhile, one billion people today simply want clean water to drink--the technology they want is industrial, as in a drill for water wells.
The way some of us have perceived unity is very narrow, only in terms of church or in religious terms. This waters down and eventually wrecks the whole notion of unity for us, causing us to live a less than missional understanding of what it means to be unified with our creator, with Father, Son, Spirit, with humanity, with creation, with people unlike us. Therefore, we cannot and must not settle for some lofty and unattainable or untouchable, on the one hand, or cheesy and fluffy, on the other hand, version of unity.
Unity is multi-faceted, multi-faced, and we must come face to face with one another to achieve it in the now.
A story in Genesis about a face to face meeting illustrates the intensity of this kind of contact.
Jacob had been away from his brother Esau and his homeland for twenty years when God told him to return (Genesis 31:3). Jacob was terrified to meet his brother face to face. But he didn't have email, and even if he did, that wouldn't have (and still usually isn't) sufficient, adequate, preferred, or even appropriate for the kind of communication that needed to happen.
Jacob was rightly terrified, because he had bilked Esau out of his birthright and his blessing. Jacob acknowledged God had been with him in all his travels, even away from his homeland (with a world view of parochial gods, this was extraordinary). Still, Jacob hedged his bets and put his people in rows, beginning with the slaves, maids, their children, then Rachel and Joseph last.
Even ahead of those companies of his family he sent several messenger companies with gifts to give Esau, and he instructed them to say, "By the way, Jacob is behind us."
Meanwhile, Jacob wrestles with a man in the night--who seems very adversarial yet Jacob says he had met God face to face there. He even calls the place Peniel, meaning "the face of God."
Genesis 33 starts abruptly after that night wrestling and Jacob sees Esau coming with four hundred men. That's when he divided up his family into companies, a hedge against the possibility that Esau was coming to do them harm. Jacob went ahead. Can you see him limping from the man's strange form of blessing the night before--wrenching your hip.
So Jacob is leading the companies, bowing, taking a few steps, bowing again--seven times--dust no doubt on his face. Here we get an image that Jesus brings back in the Prodigal Son story: Esau runs to his brother, falls on him in Jacob's prostrate position, and kisses him.
And then Jacob and Esau wept together.
After some discussion about the gifts, why Jacob had sent them, whether Esau would accept them, Jacob had enough, Esau didn't need them, take them anyway, then Jacob drops the ultimate declaration that causes Esau to accept the gifts.
"No, please! said Jacob. "If I have found favor in your eyes, accept this gift from me. For to see your face is like seeing the face of God, now that youhave received me favorably . . . please accept, for God has been gracious to me, and I have all I need."
And because Jacob insisted with this plea, Esau accepted.
Still, they didn't live together. Jacob went near Shechem. Esau lived in Seir.
In preparation for see his brother, Jacob wrestled with God. We was afraid, but before he met his brother face to face, he met God face to face.
The divine reversal in this story is amazing. Esau reflects the image of God to Jacob.
Whose face do we show to our brothers and sisters? To those who come home after long periods away, what is the face we show them? Can they say, "to see you is to see the face of God"?
Unity requires face to face meeting, first with God, then with one another. But this doesn't always mean we will live together in some supposed blissful unity. Our hips will be broken, and awkward speech will pour from our lips, and life will mute our tongues, and we might choose to live in another land from our brothers.
Yet, to see face to face, even for a day--to see the face of God in our brother or sister--is part of what it means to reach out and touch authentic unity.
Unity of any branch of humanity--religious, political, familial, otherwise--cannot be fully realized on earth. Fully knowing and being fully known, having no cross purposes with God, and being one with creation is a promise of the end times. Then we will fully know unity.
We can, however, taste unity in that tart green apple form on earth but not without meeting face to face. The dream of WIRED magazine seems to be that economic equity, political unity and equality can come from the internet and technology as the great equalizer. Meanwhile, one billion people today simply want clean water to drink--the technology they want is industrial, as in a drill for water wells.
The way some of us have perceived unity is very narrow, only in terms of church or in religious terms. This waters down and eventually wrecks the whole notion of unity for us, causing us to live a less than missional understanding of what it means to be unified with our creator, with Father, Son, Spirit, with humanity, with creation, with people unlike us. Therefore, we cannot and must not settle for some lofty and unattainable or untouchable, on the one hand, or cheesy and fluffy, on the other hand, version of unity.
Unity is multi-faceted, multi-faced, and we must come face to face with one another to achieve it in the now.
A story in Genesis about a face to face meeting illustrates the intensity of this kind of contact.
Jacob had been away from his brother Esau and his homeland for twenty years when God told him to return (Genesis 31:3). Jacob was terrified to meet his brother face to face. But he didn't have email, and even if he did, that wouldn't have (and still usually isn't) sufficient, adequate, preferred, or even appropriate for the kind of communication that needed to happen.
Jacob was rightly terrified, because he had bilked Esau out of his birthright and his blessing. Jacob acknowledged God had been with him in all his travels, even away from his homeland (with a world view of parochial gods, this was extraordinary). Still, Jacob hedged his bets and put his people in rows, beginning with the slaves, maids, their children, then Rachel and Joseph last.
Even ahead of those companies of his family he sent several messenger companies with gifts to give Esau, and he instructed them to say, "By the way, Jacob is behind us."
Meanwhile, Jacob wrestles with a man in the night--who seems very adversarial yet Jacob says he had met God face to face there. He even calls the place Peniel, meaning "the face of God."
Genesis 33 starts abruptly after that night wrestling and Jacob sees Esau coming with four hundred men. That's when he divided up his family into companies, a hedge against the possibility that Esau was coming to do them harm. Jacob went ahead. Can you see him limping from the man's strange form of blessing the night before--wrenching your hip.
So Jacob is leading the companies, bowing, taking a few steps, bowing again--seven times--dust no doubt on his face. Here we get an image that Jesus brings back in the Prodigal Son story: Esau runs to his brother, falls on him in Jacob's prostrate position, and kisses him.
And then Jacob and Esau wept together.
After some discussion about the gifts, why Jacob had sent them, whether Esau would accept them, Jacob had enough, Esau didn't need them, take them anyway, then Jacob drops the ultimate declaration that causes Esau to accept the gifts.
"No, please! said Jacob. "If I have found favor in your eyes, accept this gift from me. For to see your face is like seeing the face of God, now that youhave received me favorably . . . please accept, for God has been gracious to me, and I have all I need."
And because Jacob insisted with this plea, Esau accepted.
Still, they didn't live together. Jacob went near Shechem. Esau lived in Seir.
In preparation for see his brother, Jacob wrestled with God. We was afraid, but before he met his brother face to face, he met God face to face.
The divine reversal in this story is amazing. Esau reflects the image of God to Jacob.
Whose face do we show to our brothers and sisters? To those who come home after long periods away, what is the face we show them? Can they say, "to see you is to see the face of God"?
Unity requires face to face meeting, first with God, then with one another. But this doesn't always mean we will live together in some supposed blissful unity. Our hips will be broken, and awkward speech will pour from our lips, and life will mute our tongues, and we might choose to live in another land from our brothers.
Yet, to see face to face, even for a day--to see the face of God in our brother or sister--is part of what it means to reach out and touch authentic unity.
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