Filed under: Bible, Christianity, Church, God, Grace, Inspiration, Jesus, Prayer, Religion, Sermon, Spirituality
Romans 7:15-25a
I must have been about 10 years old when I had my very first crisis of faith. It was and is still the most serious crisis of faith that I have encountered. At 10 years old I realized that I would not be perfect. Now that may be obvious for anyone here who has been given the opportunity to know me well, but for a young child this was a shattering revelation. I did not know what to do with this new information. It filled me with an immense fear, a fear of my potential and a fear of whether God could ever accept such a disobedient child.
A little background is in order. Sanctification is the theological term that was used quite liberally in my childhood to describe the state of spiritual growth that I should expect after I made that decision to ask Jesus into my heart. We were always showed some sort of graph that moved from a low degenerate point to total regeneration. Although perfection was never mentioned it was said that over time we would be perfecting our faith over time. There was a promise that we would improve, become much closer to the perfection that Jesus Christ represented.
As a ten year old I was convinced that I was destined for hell. I looked around at the problems in my world; in my family and in my own mind determining that there was no way that I would ever move toward perfecting my faith. I had done everything right. I read my Bible constantly, until its red cover was worn and falling apart. I reverently memorized scripture. I prayed ecstatically. Most of all I tried my hardest to be a good boy.
So, when the realization hit me that I would never be perfect it shattered my faith like a broken mirror. At first my response was that I would merely try harder to be a good boy. I am almost ashamed to admit that I kept trying for the next ten years. Putting my shoulder to the grindstone and attempting to please everyone that I met. I thought that being liked was the closest that I would get to become perfect. So, I spent my time trying to make others happy. Yet, in my mind I was still a failure. I could still be petty, angry, selfish, jealous and controlling. For some reason my faith was telling me that I was dirty and damnable. For too long I wallowed in the realization that the good that I wished to do I did not do.
Finally I gave up. Really I just gave in. I gave up on my perfectionist dreams, gave up on being a good Christian, gave up on being acceptable to God, gave up on ever living up to my own definition of a good boy. What I gave in to was cynicism, low self esteem and a terrible sinking feeling of nihilism that any of my faith would make any difference in the end.
I had to wait until my 30’s to actually hear the hope that is contained in Paul’s stunning confession of failed faith. The fact that Paul went from participating in the persecution and death of prominent disciples of Christ into being blinded by the presence of Jesus on a road to Damascus is usually where we end our biography of the church’s first and most prominent theologian. Yet, as the book of Acts indicates this Missionary was a complex and complicated human. He broke off with those he couldn’t work with, went against the will of the spiritual leadership of the church by traveling into Asia Minor, used offensive language in the book of Galatians to describe those Christ followers who wanted the Gentile converts to get circumcised to name only a few of the ways that he was imperfect.
So, with such an imperfect example it is refreshing to find such humility coming from such an important church teacher. The good that I wish to do I did not do. Isn’t that more refreshing than the self-help schlock that we are told to embrace in the church. The secret isn’t that if we positively vision things happen that our lives will improve exponentially and we will be successful, rich, self actualized Jesus’, the plain truth is that we live mistake riddled, uncertain and sometimes tragic lives. We get angry when we should be calm, jealous when we should be supportive, petty when we should be magnanimous, in denial when we should be brutally truthful, insensitive when we should care yet when it comes to being a Christ follower we want to believe that somehow these will all go away and we will become good boys and girls.
Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but Christ loves the imperfection in you. If you were perfect Christ would have nothing to do with you. He proclaims that he has come for the sick not the righteous. Look at all the people that he surrounded himself with during his very short ministry on earth. They are a motley crew of prostitutes, alcoholics, thieves, revenuers, mental patients, people with disgusting diseases, rotting corpses, the poor, religious misfits and on and on it goes.
The real significance of the placement of this passage is not only the admission by Paul that he is a troubled, sinful soul. The real significance is that it is in the center of a book that is extolling the free grace of God on us imperfect beings as being the most radical notion of Christ’s life, death and resurrection. It is a grace that by its very definition cannot be earned or deserved. It is a grace that is total anarchy in its implications toward our own human freedom. It is a grace that flows from our creator’s overflowing love. So, this is the context for Paul’s great admission of imperfection, his admission that he will never be a good boy. We should not keep sinning because we are dead to sin. Yet, we know that we will still sin, disappoint and fall short of the glory of God. In the end God’s grace is sufficient for all of our needs, even if that means accepting that we will never achieve perfection.
Your will tends toward emptiness.
Emptiness drowns you and you flee it,
with no sign of stopping.
Emptiness
deepening the blue of certain veins.
Emptiness before the dark
fatigue of eyelids
and immense dejection.
You endure it unwillingly?
You are a passive accomplish?
Cold assails you but you seek it,
and you adapt to stormy
overcast evenings,
concoct for yourself
premature twilights
with their weight of time, time, time.
Time slides toward more clouds
that splay out, clumsy vague shapes
of nothing.
Listen to me. Resist the allure
Jorge Guillen
We know that you know death,
because it is the ultimate human experience.
When the coarse of a life is complete
we often stand confused and wondering.
There are so many questions
we know will never be answered.
The absence of someone dear
is disorienting and inconceivable.
Death reminds us of our own lives
and the many things we still wish
to have happen in our timeline.
Let us be fully present with our sorrow,
give us the companionship of others,
remind us of the lives that constantly touch ours
and be a comforting source of strength.
Filed under: Bible, Christianity, Church, God, Grace, Inspiration, Jesus, Peace, Prayer, Religion, Sermon, Spirituality
Jeremiah 28:5-9
The buzz around Chicago had already begun. For some reason it was especially acute at Moody Bible Institute where I was a student. Maybe it was because I was studying to become a missionary that the talk had reached a fever pitch. A famous minister was coming to speak at one of the Churches within walking distance of my school and everyone from the Chicago Tribune to my fellow classmates had an opinion on this person’s impact upon the local church.
Unfortunately, I was in an environment that felt this deeply religious man was a threat to their Christianity. From the anger and fear that was generated from my professors I thought that this man must represent all that was bad and watered down by the so-called “Liberal” mainline churches. We were instructed that he symbolized a form of theology called liberation. We were told that it was only a thinly veiled interpretation of scripture that wanted to substitute Karl Marx for Jesus Christ. Others opposed this minister’s participation in the political scene and his unambiguous public statements against his President. Religious leaders should participate in the spiritual and not the political after all. Some parsed his sermons and public statements to gather clues to string together in an attempt to brand him as someone outside orthodoxy. After all he seemed to affirm the validity of all religions. To some he was an outright heretic, terrorist and instrument of Satan.
We were strongly discouraged from seeing this man or falling into Lucifer’s trap. We were warned that sometimes the Devil came as an angel of light to trick us. Some believed that this man was only pretending to be a Christian and had many goals that were destructive to the church. I even heard the dreaded a word, antichrist.
So, what was all the fear about? How could one man bring so much anger against his message? What was so threatening about this man? I was determined to find out. I must admit that I was too frightened of being seen going to the church that I did not see him live. Instead I sat hunched listening closely to the one speaker in my clock radio as this man in a thick accent preached a message that blew away the remnants of my rigid fundamentalist Christianity. As I listened I felt like I was in hiding and that soon this message would force me to change. I knew that my childish faith must grow and be something totally different, I must take a painful path toward growth. His was a message of civil rights, a message of reconciliation, a challenge to my own powerful government to bend toward the powerless, a brave message of care for those who society wanted to ignore and I knew that the Spirit of God was speaking through the words of this amazing man.
The next day the Chicago Tribune ran a front-page picture of the South African Bishop Desmond Tutu and it was the first time that I had actually studied a picture of this Nobel Peace Prize winner. Yet, even the clinical treatment that the press gave his words could not stop the Spirit from rekindling a spark in me that the printed words from his sermon caused. Again I read the words of someone interested in peace.
It wasn’t until much later that I read the incredible story of how Bishop Tutu bravely mediated the anger of 120,000 people during the funeral of assassinated Communist leader Chris Hani and saved the bloodshed from an all out riot. He addressed the seething crowd by leading them in the chant “We will be free! All of us! Black and white together!” His penchant for peaceful reconciliation in the face of state power was evident in the speech that he gave by saying, “We are the rainbow people of God! We are unstoppable! Nobody can stop our march to victory! No one, no guns, nothing! Nothing will stop us from moving to freedom! We are moving to freedom and nobody can stop us! For God is on our side!”
Since that time Desmond Tutu has been the embodiment of Jeremiah’s prophet of peace. He has led the painful Truth and Reconciliation Commission to speak the truth of the horrible actions during the years of apartheid in South Africa. He also has spoken out against poverty, homophobia, spoken boldly against violence to immigrants and as an advocate for those who suffer from HIV/AIDS. He is truly a prophet of peace.
In the end only peace matters, this is the message of the prophet Jeremiah. What a startling word. Especially in a country where our bombs kill thousands and we are never faced with their carnage. I read this passage last week and it was as if I had read it for the first time. I was startled and began to wish and long for peace. It was as if the prophet had said to me, “It is only when you can envision the last American soldiers coming home, when we care enough to have the last prisoner in retention kept from torture, when someone cares to stop the last innocent women in Sudan from being raped, when we start redistributing our cities wealth to the poorest neighborhoods of this district, when we demand that healthcare is no longer denied the poor, it is when we begin to break down our artificial barriers to others because of ethnicity, country of origin, religion, sexual identity and class that we will see the fulfillment of the prophecy of peace.”
You see peace is not a therapeutic state, nor is it merely the politically expedient treaties signed by hostile nations it is the restoration and reconciliation of God to humanity and in turn humanity with one other. So, only someone who is spiritually and physically ill by the violence in God’s world can be a part of this final prophetic vision for peace in the world. Jeremiah is the prophet who is fed up with God’s message to the people of Israel. His divine message of violence and destruction slips into this stunning message of hope. I must confess when I read it last week I was taken back to the words that I heard on the clock radio so many years ago. It was words that said in the end only the prophecy of peace matters.
It may mean absorbing the powerful violence of an oppressor so that others might not feel the lash. It may mean destroying a promising career because God’s vision of equality burns too brightly in your heart. It may mean having less material possessions because the spirit is convicting you against wanton consumption and in finding your value in possessions. It may mean standing up against violent individuals when everyone else merely wants to ignore and live in denial of the truth. It may mean a pastor saying that it is not good enough to merely write checks to causes, but that we are required to have an active faith that motivates a commitment and participation in community.
Peace is messy, peace requires risk, peacemaking is not for the fainthearted, but Jeremiah reminds us that it is when the words of prophets like Desmond Tutu are fulfilled that all prophecy will be fulfilled. In the end Peace is the ultimate goal of a God who cares about relationships. God desires paradise restored and for all humanity to return to the state of harmony in which they were originally created. Let the Spirit move you toward peace because it is God’s ultimate wish for creation.
Filed under: Christianity, Prayer | Tags: Bruce Reyes-Chow, General Assembly, Presbyterian Church U.S.A.
After a lot of hard work Bruce Reyes-Chow has become the moderator of the General Assembly. For those of you in my church that is why I traveled all the way to San Jose. Those of us who worked Bruce’s booth are exhausted and excited. Bruce has so many obvious talents to lend to the church. As someone that often feels that he is limning the borders of his church I have been encouraged by his openness and transparency. There is something happening in the church and I can only assume it is the Spirit. Pray for Bruce and the church as it copes with change.
I miss everyone back in D.C. (I am too much of a homeboy). I will be out here until thursday. On my to do list are visiting the worlds largest flea market, stopping at the goodwill I keep passing and maybe getting up the courage to go to the tattoo/piercing shop near the convention center. Pray for me. I’m tired and a little punchy.
Peace
Brian
Some streets team
with aimless wanderers
drifting dazed toward
the next block
of animated conversation.
Others inherent purpose
shuffles them toward
something important,
a progress soon erased
by history’s uneven crawl.
Those who can not walk,
can not pace these streets
sit in their metal chairs,
calling out to the wanderers,
or they sit on a stoop
sipping from cans peeking
from brown sacks
and a plastic bottle’s
amber liquid.
They only lift their heads
occasionally from a sidewalk’s
parallel lines.
Children stay only awhile,
stopping at a crosswalk
reaching up for a hand
or kicking forward
on a two wheeled razor.
A cafe’s talk reveals
that our community
is pure entertainment.
All who are cast
on our various screens
inhabit this neighborhood.
Each posses wild gestures
and bawdy laughter,
harsh tones melt
at innate generosity,
then back into loud
and friendly accusations.
In our limited time
we scrunch into corners.
We hope to know
what it is to stretch
like a canvas to a boards
anchored at several points,
yet ready for a brush
to lavish decorative strokes
that will in time
become our identity.
Filed under: Christianity, God, Grace, Jesus, Prayer, Religion, Spirituality, Tuesday Prayer
Irritation and agitation pick like a jealous brother.
With each poke, each prod a muddy eddy of emotion
is being stirred and excited.
Clear this pool of emotion,
turn fear, anger and resentment
into something useful and helpful.
Provide us a menagerie of service
that takes the self pity out of life.
Filed under: Bible, Christianity, Church, God, Grace, Inspiration, Jesus, Prayer, Religion, Spirituality
Romans 5:1-8
Someone screwed up; it was a clerical error really. It was obvious that there had been some kind of oversight. The Committee on Ministry that gave Carol and I permission to interview for our first congregations had inadvertently missed a deadline in our call process. The rules are rigid governing a minister’s move from laity to ordained clergy and this clerical error would cause Carol and I months of grief. We were told that even though it was our last semester of seminary (a time when most seminarians interview at multiple churches to determine their first church) we would have to wait an extra 3 months for the committee to approve us. All because someone forgot about us!
I was furious. I was angry with these ministers, I was angry with myself for not being more assertive and most of all I was angry with God. As the end of semester approached our situation became even more desperate. Our seminary needed our housing, our possessions were put in the garage of the bookstore manager, we had no money, no jobs, no place to live and on top of it all as soon as we left school our Sallie Mae student loan payments became due. We bounced from summer house sitting assignments, to in-laws, to friend’s couches up the east coast and to a tent in the Florida everglades. It was depressing.
Our fellow classmates already had multiple opportunities to choose from and we hadn’t been able to attend one interview, not one church had seen our resume. When a church became interested in Carol we jumped at the opportunity to visit with them. Soon they had arranged two positions in South Louisiana for us both. Since there were no other possibilities for us in one place we jumped at their offer. We felt like it was the best that we could hope for at that point.
For me it was an ill fit from the beginning. Even though I loved the congregation my church was very conservative both politically and theologically. I felt muzzled and constrained from freely talking about my own opinions. Plus, it was a dying church in a demographic that held little promise for any growth. Then there was the pay. Even though we didn’t expect this profession to be lucrative, after 14 years of school between the two of us we did hope to begin to pay off the debts that education brought. After a couple of years of being some of the lowest paid ministers in one of the poorest areas of the country we knew we could not survive. We knew we had to leave.
I was tired, burnt out, defeated and I felt like an utter failure when I left. We were broke and I did not have a job. Staying at home with our 1 year old after our move to Rhode Island I asked God why I had been called to this profession. Why could I not support our family? Why was I suffering? In time, with the help of others, I realized that my suffering was merely an illusion. It was a creation of my own low self-esteem and grandiose self-importance. The world was not conspiring against me this was just life. What is life if it isn’t filled with both the comic and the tragic? I was encouraged to embrace the tragic as important to my life. So, I endured.
Over time, and the support of caring people I was eventually able to quit looking at myself as the victim of life. I was able to look at these challenges that I had encountered in my life as valuable lessons that were forming me into the person that I was in this moment. I learned that the anger that I was nurturing inside was not harming anyone else except for me. It didn’t happen overnight, but through much prayer, meditation, conversations and honesty with myself I returned to hope. I began to look toward my own involvement in my calling. It forced me to be an active participant in my career instead of expecting others to carry me. It gave me hope that all I needed was right in front of me, that even in the most trying of circumstances tomorrow will be a new day. I have become convinced I can survive most things and still be helpful to others in the end.
I will not pretend that my desperate situation at work is suffering on the scale of the loss of a loved one, nor is it the entrenched poverty that Carol and I encountered from many of the people that we met in the delta. It is not even the worst suffering that I have encountered in my life, a suffering that I hold close to my chest like a good poker player. Yet, it was an intense, frightening and sustained suffering that turned out to be a totally unnecessary stress in my life. In the end I am glad that I experienced it, it was a lesson learned and coming through the other side has given me hope.
In Romans Paul’s brings forward the least compelling argument for the reason for suffering. It is that suffering eventually produces hope. Here Paul is not suggesting that our suffering will save us in the end. He is making a much more nuanced argument.
It is an argument of the progression of suffering to hope. What is in between the terrible tragedies of life and a timid resignation to hope are endurance and character. Endurance does not mean going it alone. In Paul’s world it meant reliance on the arms and feet of the community who are representing Christ here on earth. In our modern context it can mean support groups, therapists, psychiatric treatment, medication, as well as the network of others who help you to make it from the bed to the world in the days after tragedy’s wake.
Next, Paul believes that this daily endurance brings about character. There is no question that enduring suffering gives us depth as individuals. We might want happiness at this point from God, but all we are given is character. I can hear my father egging me on after every difficult task that I didn’t want to complete saying, “It will build your character.” Begrudgingly I soldiered on and finished the task, and he was right it built my character.
Finally, there is hope. Hope is such an underrated benefit of salvation. We want certainty, we want positive feelings, we want everything immediately to be all right but in the end we are left with hope. It may not be what we want, but in this life it is certainly what we need. What is the central core of that hope? It is that there is something greater than yourself, something Spirit infused into our hearts that represents divine love. It is that even in our failures, our suffering, our deepest despair we are loved and loveable.
When you are in the middle of suffering these words about hope may ring hollow. Yet, I do believe that hope, as a goal is much preferable to cynicism, depression and nihilism. It may be a long road of enduring to get to hope, but it is when we have made the journey that we sometimes can have faith that we are loved and held closely by our creator.
Some artist’s successes
are almost as interesting
as their exquisite failures.
These failures are like wax melting
in a sun’s increasing heat
that frees carefully placed feathers.
A once soaring Icarus
tumbles awkward, grotesquely
to the earth’s unforgiving crust.
It is in the pathology
of the thud, the violent
cracking of bones
that we know both
the infinite reach for perfection
and gravity’s constant pull
