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Faithfulness always sets the stage for healing. And sometimes, faithfulness and consistency are what do the healing.

This is an excerpt from a longer sermon on the Book of Acts. 

In the third chapter of Acts is a striking story about John and Peter healing a man who could not walk.  Or, at least that’s how I’ve generally read the story; that it’s one about Peter and John healing a man.  But I’m beginning to see that it’s also about something more subtle but equally powerful.  On their way to the synagogue, they come across this man, who was taken by friends or neighbors to sit and beg at one of the city gates.  When he asks Peter and John for alms, Peter famously replies “silver and gold I have not, but what I have I give to you” and then proceeds to lift the man up, saying “in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise and walk.”

For years I’ve read that story as bing about the “in-an-instant” healing. Only recently been struck by the other, pivotal part of this story. It’s in verse two. Five verses before the scene’s climax.

People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple.”

Every day, friends or neighbors… someone would carry this man to the temple so that he could ask for help.

Every.
Day.

What happens if, on the day this striking and challenging story was to take place, those same folks had forgone their daily act of kindness and service?

You’re the teacher in whose classroom is that girl who is always on the edge of flunking out. Whose home-life is a mess and whose friends have already dropped out.

You’re the foster parent to a child who has been tossed around by his own family as well as the system.

You’re the friend to that fool who can’t stop shooting himself in the foot socially, financially and otherwise.

You’re the caseworker who has seen the same file dozens of times, over and over.

You’re the brother of a man whose addiction is devouring more and more of his life though he can’t see it or chooses not to.

Keep showing up. Keep teaching. Keep parenting. Keep caring. Keep working. Keep loving and telling the truth.  Because faithfulness always sets the stage for healing. And sometimes, faithfulness and consistency are what do the healing.

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Ted Nugent and Convicted Civility

Acting like a jerk in order to draw attention to my ideas doesn’t make my ideas more interesting, it makes me seem like a jerk. Of course, I’m thinking of Ted Nugent but also of the larger arena of conversation. I’m thinking of the hundreds of folks who applauded him yesterday and the many more who have applauded him since.

I don’t have many thoughts on Ted Nugent’s political positions.. I’m not interested in them. Not because I think I’ll disagree with him but because every time I’ve heard him communicate his ideas, he’s been insulting and degrading of those he disagrees with. Ideas that cheapen people are cheap ideas and rarely worth anybody’s time or effort to consider or even argue with.

At the Q conference in DC, I enjoyed watching Jim Wallis and Richard Land not only share ideas and share a stage but share a sincere and mutual respect for one another. Wallis is a prophetic and insightful leader of the political left, while Land is a brilliant commentator and champion on the political right.  They disagreed about Immigration, Abortion and the Federal Budget.. but not completely.. they met in several areas on each of those topics and their respect for one another framed their disagreement with hope that two brilliant and convicted men can work together for the common good.

At the same conference, Gideon Strauss introduced the room to a phrase I will be chewing on for the foreseeable future: “convicted civility.”  That respect for the opposing ideas of others, and more to the point, respect for those who hold those opposing ideas does not mean compromise of my convictions.  In fact, I ought to believe the things I believe with my whole heart and still engage in conversation with those who disagree about those things because people are more important than ideas.

People are more important than ideas.  In fact the goodness of an idea is established in the goodness it brings to people.  Therefore, my goal in engaging with ideas I disagree with cannot be the destruction (politically or otherwise) of the people who hold them.

Sunday Reflection: Waiting On A Promise (Repost from April, 2011)


(Last year during Lent, I taught on King David and the way his identity defined his life’s work. This is a reflection from that teaching. Below is a short audio excerpt from the sermon.)

I sincerely believe God makes promises. Those promises can be awfully confusing in light of our circumstances.

Just before the prophet Samuel anointed David King of Israel he had installed Saul as King of Israel. What this meant for David was that he had to wait. Having been given this promise of identity, David then had to live for a time under circumstances that did not at all reflect that promise. In fact, during that time of waiting David has to serve and obey the man who “stood in the way” of his promised destiny.

Maybe you were promised something. Or maybe there is something you have always known about yourself but your life’s circumstances have dictated something different. Do you trust the things you were promised or do your circumstances dictate your understanding of yourself?

I’m not referring to the the scenario in which someone of my build laments his “shoulda-been” days as an NFL linebacker. This can obviously be abused and misunderstood…

…but after a series of failed relationships, should you buy the idea that you’ll always have to settle for a man whose love and consideration are fleeting at best?

…or after years of toiling away at jobs that suck the life out of you, should you buy the idea that you’ll never have fulfilling work doing something you’re good at; work that adds beauty to the world?

…and then there is this general “promise” many of us have some strange inkling of that some “good” is to come of all this.

I sincerely believe God makes promises. Some of them are quite personal and some are general. I want those promises to shape my hopes and expectations for my life and the lives of those I love rather than bow to the circumstances I often find myself in which say “those good things cannot be.”

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CMY(K): People Are Not Their Problems

In writing the letters that make up part of the CMY(K) project, I wanted to model an approach to pastoral practice that emphasized the Person rather than the Problem.  Eugene Peterson makes a compelling argument in his most recent memoirThe Pastor that far too much ministry focuses on relieving people of their problems; constantly calling attention to some issue or another.  I’m certainly guilty of this, myself.

But I am not defined by my problems and bristle at the thought of being primarily seen in the dark light of what is wrong with me.

The proper focus of Christian discipleship is the growth and shaping of a whole person who is loved by God as they are.  Discipleship is not the resolution or eradication of an individual’s set of issues so that they can become acceptable to God and His people.

In other words; in answer to questions I’ve been asked such as..

“Do you deal with homosexuality in your church?”
“Do you deal with doubt among your congregates?”

I would have to answer “No.” Not because sexual identity is unimportant or difficult to address or because everyone in my congregation is unshakably confident in the things they believe. But because I don’t want to “deal with” issues. I want to “deal with” people. I want to do my best, according to what wisdom I’ve been granted, to help them hear, interpret and then act on what they are hearing from God; trusting that He, in His wisdom, will speak to them about what specific things He is working on, shaping, changing or removing.

You can pick up all three CMY(K) ep’s at iTunes
You can find more about the CMY(K) project at http://cmykproject.info/
 You can dance if you want to. You can leave your friends behind here.

 

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Sunday Reflection: Why I Don’t Hate Religion

I am a Christian. I am a religious person. In fact, wish I were more so. I wish I more religiously cared for my own mind and body; more religiously cared for my family and more religiously served my neighbors. I wish I more religiously acted on the decisions I make when I have the eyes to see and the ears to hear clearly.  I wish I more religiously practiced and acted on what I believe to be True and Good and Beautiful.  I am a religious man because I practice what I believe and only wish I were more faithful to my religion.

Perhaps obviously, I’m responding to the viral video entitled “Why I Hate Religion But Love Jesus.”  Even side from the generally false and far-too-easy accusations leveled against “churches,” the young brother’s poem is an example of what I find worst in religious practice: reactive emotionalism.  I believe I understand  what he’s reacting to. The cross-cultural, multi-ethnic, multi-generational, communal practice of Christianity is often messy and sometimes downright ugly. Yet I would suggest that the thing to do in response to poorly practiced religion is to work at practicing it well and helping others to do the same.

Serve the poor.
Support single mothers.
Visit and encourage the imprisoned.
Pray.
Study.
Sing.
Heal.

All of which are outward evidences and practices of inward convictions and beliefs

Religion is exactly that; the outward practice of my inward conviction and belief.  It is the pattern created by regularly and consistently (and communally) acting on what I believe.  Without the outward work of my life (my religion), the inward conviction I have regarding the Goodness, Truth and Beauty of God in Christ is meaningless (James 2:14-26). I practice my faith regularly and consistently instead of allowing it to be an emotionally-rooted and nearly thoughtless sequence of reactions, each with a life-span roughly equivalent to that of a YouTube video’s popularity.

Thoughts On The Passing of Christopher Hitchens

“The order to ‘love thy neighbor as thyself’ is too extreme and too strenuous to be obeyed.”

This is one of the lines from Christopher Hitchens’ book “God Is Not Great.”  It’s not a small thought or some quippy, dismissive jab; Hitchens sincerely believed that the strain of christian moralism hurt people mentally and emotionally… and I agree with him.  For this reason and many others, I’m deeply thankful for the work of Christopher Hitchens.  

Reading Hitchens exposed for me the difference between playing a game against the practice squad in practice drills vs actually getting hit in the mouth by an opposing team; I had to mean what I said and know what I meant when I made crazy religious claims like “prayer works,” or that I was “born again” or even that “God is good.”  His work forced me to face my religious claims and practices from outside my tradition and honestly, critically evaluate what it is I believe wholeheartedly vs what I only claim to believe.  In doing so, he performed a service that very few within my tradition either can or will perform; to sincerely challenge the roots of faith without the safety net of cherishing that faith. 

-His challenge that religion does not make people more “moral” led me to see the difference between learning to live well and learning to “be good.” I recognized that I do not believe that religion makes people moral and furthermore that it should not be the goal of religion to do so.

-His challenges regarding the effectiveness of prayers for healing led me to far more critically receive such claims and more fully rejoice when I come to believe them true.  

-His challenge that religion gives license for all kinds of destructive acts led me to deeply re-evaluate the ways I justify aspects of my own behavior in light of my calling or vocation.  I’d not previously dealt with how serious a thing poorly practiced religion is and that it really does destroy lives.

When a pastor, speaker or chaplain presents a challenging question, those in attendance know that, in the end, the issue will be resolved; much in the same way a crisis is presented in an adventure film. We all know that somehow, Borne or Bond or Batman is going to make it out alive, get the girl and defeat the bad guy.  But with Hitchens, this was and is not the case; He believed firmly that religion was not only false but damaging.  Hitchens wasn’t asking questions in order to prepare the faithful for conversations they might have “out there in the world,” he was telling the Truth as he saw it and challenging those in opposition to either prove that it was not or change the way they thought and lived.  Such a confrontation and conversation has been priceless for my faith to be sincere and be fully lived.

I am better for having read, watched and listened to Christopher Hitchens.  I am clearer on the difference between believing in God with all the challenge, mystery and internal conflict that comes from such a belief and settling into a kind of faith that dismisses critique as blasphemy only. 

In the run-up to the ‘04 election, journalists joked that if Senator John Kerry was asked for the time, he would give a thirty minute lecture on the making of wrist-watches.  In contrast to Sen. Kerry’s verbosity, was the heavily circulated six-word explanation for America’s preemptive intervention in the Middle-East: “They hate us for our freedom.”  This wasn’t a single-party catch-phrase; it was frequently used by members of both major parties.  But as time has passed we’ve come to see that each of those six words carried with it its own depth and nuance.  We’ve learned what many foreign policy experts knew in 2004…

..that “They” are not a single, collected body with a single, centralized, anti-Western agenda. 

..that “hate” is not always the best way to describe the mood of everyone who takes issue with US foreign policy. In the case of many younger men and women, “disappointment” and “anger” are far more appropriate and accurate descriptions.

..that, even when “hate” is an accurate descriptor, it often isn’t “our freedom” that illicits hatred; it is what some of us choose to do with it.  For example, the critique by many Muslims (though shared by even more with no religious affiliation) that American industry “exploits women like consumer products or advertising tools.”

Of course, this isn’t a blog about foreign policy.  I’m not a foreign policy expert.  I wouldn’t want to make the decisions necessary to be one; it’s a difficult and complicated endeavor deserving more nuance in communication than  “They hate us for our freedom.”  I am growing more comfortable with letting go of the comfort that comes from the aphorisms I often use.  Certainly there is truth in simple words.  Yet the power of truth is in how it is lived out.  While simple words like “nothing is certain but death and taxes” or “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” or even “God is good” can be an impetus for a more courageous engagement with life, once I am engaged I find that I must move beyond the aphorism and embrace complexity and even, at times, contradiction.

I believe “God is good” with my whole self. I’ve bet my life on it, actually.  Yet, I know that the lived reality of that aphorism is rather complex; that each of these words carries with it a world of complexity.

Aphorisms are not containers for truth. They are more like access points or doorways. From a distance, everything on the other side of a doorway is framed nicely and neatly. But once you are IN the doorway, the world on the other side is revealed to be made up of far more than the doorway can frame.

Here are a few Thanksgiving thoughts I’ve put together from notes to a recent sermon. I hope to have the audio in hand shortly and will likely post it to Facebook and Twitter
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“Thanks”
“Thanks” is short for “Thank you,” which is, itself short for “I thank you.”  With every reduction, a human element of the phrase is eliminated; first “I,” then “you.”

The english word “thank” comes from the same root as the word “think,” which means “to hold in one’s mind” or “to perceive.”  So, at least part of what I am saying when I say “thank you” is that I see the person at the other end of the exchange.  I am acknowledging that they are more than a vehicle for the distribution of goods and services; more than just an instrument of economy. 

Recognizing the human on the other side of a gift exchange means recognizing a gift as the result of choice.  The gift-giver chose generosity and kindness over selfishness and greed and I believe that it is worth noting whenever someone chooses their better nature.

“No problem”
In his insightful book “The Dangerous Act of Loving Your Neighbor,” author Mark Labberton laments the cultural shift from responding with “You’re welcome” to responding with “no problem,” writing that  “The phrase assumes that the service offered is primarily measured by the cost to the one serving….”

I can think of ways I’ve expressed this sentiment:

No problem.. It was on my way
No problem.. I had an extra
No problem.. Because you’ll pay me back
No problem.. It didn’t cost me anything

But if it was a problem, the chances that I’d do it take a dive.

Labberton goes on: “The fact is, however, that a lot of the service we need to receive and offer is really going to be a problem… Our lives are meant to carry and share in the problems of others.. That’s called love… Our goal is not to keep the cost of love as low as possible.”

Which is why, along with the author, I prefer the words “You’re welcome.”

“To say ‘you’re welcome’ carries with it an acknowledgement of the dignity of the person who thanked you, your intentionality as the giver and even the value of the gift.”

I would take this a step further and suggest that it is this sentiment “you’re welcome,” that frames the entire exchange.  In offering a gift or my time etc,.. I am actually offering a part of myself; Instead of giving according to the toll it takes on me I give according to the relationship I have or desire to have with the recipient, welcoming them into my life, even if in a small way.

As a christian, I find this expressed in these timeless words from John’s apostolic letter:

“We love because He first loved us.”

I am welcomed by God through Christ. And in Christ that welcome comes at the cost of the Cross. This frames the way I now offer myself to my world. I give of myself to a world that is welcomed into relationship with God; I get to extend that welcome in acts of generosity and kindness.  When those acts are seen and I am thanked for them, I then have the opportunity to proclaim that welcome aloud.

My friends and I used to hike and run around Mt. Diablo with my High School History teacher, John Millar.  He loved the mountain and knew it intricately; the seasons for certain flowers, insects or animals, the natural pattern of streams and creeks. He even knew where, should we venture off the marked trail, we could continue to make steady progress up the mountain.  Hiking and jogging with him, we came to know the mountain as he knew it, which meant we came to know it by the names he used.

About eight hundred meters up the Mitchell Canyon was a small hill Millar had named after one of his other hiking and jogging mates.  Just over a mile up that same canyon was another trail Millar would call “White’s Canyon.” Another mile past “White’s Canyon” we would normally stop to stretch at what he called “the ball-diamond.” Of course, none of these names appear on the maps issued by the State of California. These were Millar’s names. And by these names we came to know the mountain for ourselves.

The Mountain itself was, and always will be “Mt. Diablo”; it was too special a place for us to rename it wholesale. And, of course, the terrain itself never changed because of what we called it. But by renaming its landscape we came to know and love it as more intimately ours.

I chose (and still choose) to know the terrain of life as it is named by those who have lived it and loved it before me. “The official map,” as it were, can provide a way of initially seeing where I am but when it comes to something like the birth of a child, the death of a close friend, a first major vocational success or a cancer diagnosis, the official names and descriptions can fall dramatically short. It’s all well and good to know “this is the birth of your son,” but navigating the emotional and spiritual space of such a thing has always required a more personal and nuanced naming. More than that, the many times I’ve found myself “off trail” and in places that have no official names,  I’ve benefited greatly from having the experiences of other off-trail hikers passed on to me.

Part of why I do what I do as an artist and teacher is to help re-draw maps whose names are either insufficient, worn out or missing altogether; the kind of thing John Millar and other wise men did for me.

 

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Sunday Reflection: Lost and Found… at same time

I was jogging along 75th street in Prairie Village, KS (just outside of Kansas City) when a vehicle rolled up behind me and the driver honked. If you’re a jogger* you know that such a thing is at least bad etiquette… I thought I was about to be run over and die.  I jumped 4-feet** in the air before looking behind me to see a young girl with her father in a minivan.

The pulled up next to me and the father leaned across the passenger seat asking…

Do you know where Prairie Village is?
Actually” I replied “you are currently in Prairie Village.”
Oh.. Ok. I guess I thought it’d be more.. I dunno… more houses. We’re looking for 4000 71st Street.

I reached for my iPhone and punched in the address to Google Maps. As I leaned in to show him what The Google said about their next steps, his daughter produced her iPhone with Maps pulled up.  She had the same image on her screen as I did.

We keep going a few blocks and go right on Belinder, right?”
Yeah,” I stammered, “that’s why my phone says as well.”
Well, thanks for the help” her father said.. and they were off.

Often you get where you’re going and it doesn’t look the way you thought it would.  So you need the confirmation of someone else in the same place that “this is it.”

Often you know what comes next but need the confirmation of a fellow traveller that what you are planning to do is what they would do given the same circumstances and information you have.

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*one who jogs
**more like 7 inches or so.