How much time do you have?
The answer, of course, is “I don’t know.” None of us knows for certain the day or hour when our life on this earth will end. Oh sure…we can manipulate the system to a certain extent. Plenty of exercise and rest. Good diet. You know the routine. But all the bran muffins or deep knee bends in the world won’t change the inevitable. We are mortal, and we will die.
The subject is close to my heart as I come to grips with the death of a friend and teacher. The earthly end for John came suddenly and at what seems more and more like an early age. It simply drives home the point that there are limits…that not everything is within our control.
Better, then, to concentrate on those things which we can influence. Better, then, to focus less time and anxiety on our dying and more on the value of our living.
On July 13 back in 1989, our neighbor passed away. She was in her mid-twenties…a bright and lively young woman who taught in the nearby Catholic elementary school. She went in for what was supposed to be routine surgery and died on the operating table.
Her death was a wake-up call for me…a big dose of my own mortality. It became clear that it was time to quit running away, and to do what I had sensed for some time was my true vocation. Over the course of the next year, I quit my job, the Mrs. and I sold the house, loaded up our kids and all our worldly possessions, and moved six hours away so that I could go to seminary. Twenty years later I look back on that watershed moment, and am thankful to God...not for the loss, but for the opportunity it bore.
The point is to make the most of what we have. Life is a gift…not a possession. Today is ours because a gracious God has willed it to us. And something about who we are is evident in how we choose to spend the gift of each precious day.
John spent his days well. He was a powerful blessing to those around him. I’m hoping that, at least on balance, the gift of life I’ve been given will eventually be regarded the same way.
And I urge you to join me in this. Oh sure…pass the muffins. Take a hike. Don’t forget your vitamins. Better yet: live today as fully and faithfully as you can. It is what you can do to thank God for the moment.
15 July 2009
01 July 2009
Not for wimps...
Christianity, that is. It's not for wimps. Taking the Gospel into the world means running headlong into the rejection and disregard that have been traveling companions for the good news ever since the beginning. It's that whole cross thing. Want to be a Christian? Then you better look good on wood, as the old saying goes.
...which is one of the reasons why we take our kids to Confirmation Camp.
That was last week's adventure: five days of running around the hills and woods at LMC. It's a great place staffed by good, faithful folks who have the awesome responsibility of sharing the faith with little kids and teenagers. It's a lot of fun...everything from cannonball contests at the pool to silly songs at campfire. And it's a place to be tested instead of coddled...to learn that you can do more than you ever thought possible.
Have you ever climbed a rock wall? For the lean, lanky and athletic, it's a matter of reaching the next hand-hold and scampering up. But for most kids, it's a real challenge. Fear of heights. Fear that the folks on the rope might not be able to hold me. Fear that my legs and arms just aren't strong enough to hang on. Fear that I'll fail in front of my peers. It's a risk just to decide to do it.
And it's a risk that every one of our kids took. They worked hard. They trusted the folks who were holding them even when they couldn't see them. They discovered a group of friends who screamed their encouragement when letting go seemed like the best option and cheered them at the end. They didn't quit...and in the process learned that they're tougher and more able than they thought they were.
I'm glad we go to camp and do Bible study and play games and swim and sing. But I'm especially glad that we go to camp to push ourselves...to try something new and seemingly dangerous...to go places where we wouldn't ordinarily go, and learn to trust that it's going to be OK in the end...that God has a hold of the rope, and he's not letting go.
Someplace...somehow...we need to learn to trust that. Why? Because it's true. Because it's the strength we need to live. Because following after Jesus can be a tough business. Because Christianity isn't for wimps.
...which is one of the reasons why we take our kids to Confirmation Camp.
That was last week's adventure: five days of running around the hills and woods at LMC. It's a great place staffed by good, faithful folks who have the awesome responsibility of sharing the faith with little kids and teenagers. It's a lot of fun...everything from cannonball contests at the pool to silly songs at campfire. And it's a place to be tested instead of coddled...to learn that you can do more than you ever thought possible.
Have you ever climbed a rock wall? For the lean, lanky and athletic, it's a matter of reaching the next hand-hold and scampering up. But for most kids, it's a real challenge. Fear of heights. Fear that the folks on the rope might not be able to hold me. Fear that my legs and arms just aren't strong enough to hang on. Fear that I'll fail in front of my peers. It's a risk just to decide to do it.
And it's a risk that every one of our kids took. They worked hard. They trusted the folks who were holding them even when they couldn't see them. They discovered a group of friends who screamed their encouragement when letting go seemed like the best option and cheered them at the end. They didn't quit...and in the process learned that they're tougher and more able than they thought they were.
I'm glad we go to camp and do Bible study and play games and swim and sing. But I'm especially glad that we go to camp to push ourselves...to try something new and seemingly dangerous...to go places where we wouldn't ordinarily go, and learn to trust that it's going to be OK in the end...that God has a hold of the rope, and he's not letting go.
Someplace...somehow...we need to learn to trust that. Why? Because it's true. Because it's the strength we need to live. Because following after Jesus can be a tough business. Because Christianity isn't for wimps.
15 June 2009
Beautiful distraction...
We worshiped outside yesterday...underneath the oaks and beeches of the parsonage back yard. Clear, blue sky. Gentle breeze. Couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day...just glorious.
And just one problem. There's an oriole living at the wood's edge...and boy, can he sing loud. All the way through the prelude...all the way through the sermon...all the way through the entire liturgy...this silly bird was perched high up behind the altar, warbling like it was his day job.
More than a few folks commented afterward that it was wonderful, but a bit distracting. "Every time you opened your mouth, Pastor, that bird would just sing louder," was one comment delivered with a grin. Upstaged by a bird. Hmmm.
Or maybe not. Perhaps we were the ones intruding. The woods, after all, is the birds' home...not ours. It's probably foolish to think that we can set up shop out there as though we belong. Indeed...it may have been our songs...our words...that were the real distraction.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those "humans are no better than insects" kind of folks. Neither am I ready to give up our worship times in the back yard. But it would be a good thing for us to go into that space mindful of the One to whom it truly belongs...and to be ready to join in the worship that the birds, the flowers and the trees are themselves already busy rendering unto God.
We sing the canticle on Easter Vigil: "All you works of the Lord, bless the Lord." Maybe we need to be singing it (or at least remembering it) on those magnificent Sunday mornings when we get to sing with the birds.
And just one problem. There's an oriole living at the wood's edge...and boy, can he sing loud. All the way through the prelude...all the way through the sermon...all the way through the entire liturgy...this silly bird was perched high up behind the altar, warbling like it was his day job.
More than a few folks commented afterward that it was wonderful, but a bit distracting. "Every time you opened your mouth, Pastor, that bird would just sing louder," was one comment delivered with a grin. Upstaged by a bird. Hmmm.
Or maybe not. Perhaps we were the ones intruding. The woods, after all, is the birds' home...not ours. It's probably foolish to think that we can set up shop out there as though we belong. Indeed...it may have been our songs...our words...that were the real distraction.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those "humans are no better than insects" kind of folks. Neither am I ready to give up our worship times in the back yard. But it would be a good thing for us to go into that space mindful of the One to whom it truly belongs...and to be ready to join in the worship that the birds, the flowers and the trees are themselves already busy rendering unto God.
We sing the canticle on Easter Vigil: "All you works of the Lord, bless the Lord." Maybe we need to be singing it (or at least remembering it) on those magnificent Sunday mornings when we get to sing with the birds.
28 April 2009
Failure is not an option...
A friend reminded me of that quote today…attributed to Gene Krantz, flight director for the ill-fated Apollo 13. (For those of you who are either too young or haven’t seen the movie, the crew and ship were almost lost because of a malfunction in the ship’s service module.) When men’s lives are in jeopardy and a blockbuster movie is in the making, I suppose that failure is not an option. At least not one we care to entertain.
But let’s be honest here. Failure is always a distinct possibility. Things go wrong…sometimes spectacularly, like when oxygen tanks blow gaping holes in space ships. Sometimes, however, it’s just the pile of little things gone sideways that can leave us staring at the mess in which we sit. And when (not if, but when) that happens, we can learn a lot about ourselves by how it is that we react to the situation.
Reaction 1: we can find fault and fix blame. This seems to be the most fashionable response. Take a glance at our current economic and political scene, if you need an example. Finger-pointing, innuendo and despair are as common as hot air in Washington. Does this solve anything? No. But we’re under the impression that it makes us feel better for a few minutes, assured that it wasn’t me who screwed up but that ^*#$%@ from the other office/party/administration/etc.
Reaction 2: we can decide that failure isn’t the end of the road. This, it seems to me, is the most faithful reaction for Christians. After all, we claim one as Lord who was, in many respects, a dismal failure. I mean, really: you can’t fail much bigger than by getting yourself hung up naked and killed. Turns out, however, that what looked initially like a resounding “F” merely opened the door for an “A+” that we could never have imagined.
Now…I’m not suggesting that we should invite failure, or that we should not do our best to succeed at whatever tasks are set before us. But we should not let our failures and our foibles stifle us or keep us from moving forward towards whatever God has in mind for us. Since we’re not perfect, we’re going to need the Lord to get us there anyway. And, thanks be to God, giving us the future seems precisely what God has in mind.
So, lighten up. Relax. Do your best for the sake of the Christ who loves you. Then let it go and let God be god. Whether our projects fail or succeed is not nearly so important as whether or not we are faithful to the one who walks with us every step of the way.
But let’s be honest here. Failure is always a distinct possibility. Things go wrong…sometimes spectacularly, like when oxygen tanks blow gaping holes in space ships. Sometimes, however, it’s just the pile of little things gone sideways that can leave us staring at the mess in which we sit. And when (not if, but when) that happens, we can learn a lot about ourselves by how it is that we react to the situation.
Reaction 1: we can find fault and fix blame. This seems to be the most fashionable response. Take a glance at our current economic and political scene, if you need an example. Finger-pointing, innuendo and despair are as common as hot air in Washington. Does this solve anything? No. But we’re under the impression that it makes us feel better for a few minutes, assured that it wasn’t me who screwed up but that ^*#$%@ from the other office/party/administration/etc.
Reaction 2: we can decide that failure isn’t the end of the road. This, it seems to me, is the most faithful reaction for Christians. After all, we claim one as Lord who was, in many respects, a dismal failure. I mean, really: you can’t fail much bigger than by getting yourself hung up naked and killed. Turns out, however, that what looked initially like a resounding “F” merely opened the door for an “A+” that we could never have imagined.
Now…I’m not suggesting that we should invite failure, or that we should not do our best to succeed at whatever tasks are set before us. But we should not let our failures and our foibles stifle us or keep us from moving forward towards whatever God has in mind for us. Since we’re not perfect, we’re going to need the Lord to get us there anyway. And, thanks be to God, giving us the future seems precisely what God has in mind.
So, lighten up. Relax. Do your best for the sake of the Christ who loves you. Then let it go and let God be god. Whether our projects fail or succeed is not nearly so important as whether or not we are faithful to the one who walks with us every step of the way.
24 March 2009
Finding comfort...
It’s been a tough winter in these parts. Most folks I talk to are glad for the promise of spring. Too many deaths, including the young and seemingly healthy who aren’t supposed to die. Relationships that just don’t seem to be working out the way we had envisioned they would. New jobs with big expectations and lost jobs with no prospects. Layer on some angry politics, a global economic crisis and the usual dose of seasonal affective disorder and you’ve got a banquet-sized recipe for despair. How’s a person supposed to muddle through?
This past Sunday’s readings included a strange tale. Israel was grumbling in the wilderness (not so strange, actually) and God decides to punish them by sending fiery/poisonous serpents into their midst. (Why do I hear my father’s voice when I read this story: “I’ll give you something real to cry about…”) The people are bit; some of them even die. Eventually, they go to Moses and beg for relief: “Ask the Lord to take away these snakes!” Moses takes their request to the Almighty. Rather than removing the serpents, however, God comes up with another idea. He tells Moses to fashion a snake on a stick…a likeness of their troubles to be held up over the folks. And God promises that, if the bitten and bothered look up to this fascinating display, they would be healed.
I wonder: What is it that we modern (or post-modern) human beings look up to when we are in the midst of suffering and death? What gets our attention when we are hurting the most? March Madness? The on-going political drama in Washington? That bottle of Jack Daniels in the cupboard? There are plenty of ways in which we are invited and encouraged to soothe our bitter woes. Too bad most of them are simply a matter of denial…ways to cover over the pain with emotions, loyalties and addictions that can’t ultimately save us.
Or…we can go face-to-face with death itself. “And I, when I am lifted up, will draw all people to myself.” Jesus makes that promise just days before his crucifixion…before he is raised like a snake on a stick to be a healing sign for those who are ready to look up and live. In Christ, crucified and risen, two things become clear: God does not abandon us, even in the face of death; and death (along with its minions of despair and fear) does not have the final word for us.
Oh sure…the snakes are still there. Winters like the one we’ve just had will continue to plague us. But we can find comfort in knowing that, through good times and bad, we are safe in the arms of one whom death cannot conquer, whom fear cannot poison, whom despair cannot stop. Even on SAD days, we say “thanks be to God.”
This past Sunday’s readings included a strange tale. Israel was grumbling in the wilderness (not so strange, actually) and God decides to punish them by sending fiery/poisonous serpents into their midst. (Why do I hear my father’s voice when I read this story: “I’ll give you something real to cry about…”) The people are bit; some of them even die. Eventually, they go to Moses and beg for relief: “Ask the Lord to take away these snakes!” Moses takes their request to the Almighty. Rather than removing the serpents, however, God comes up with another idea. He tells Moses to fashion a snake on a stick…a likeness of their troubles to be held up over the folks. And God promises that, if the bitten and bothered look up to this fascinating display, they would be healed.
I wonder: What is it that we modern (or post-modern) human beings look up to when we are in the midst of suffering and death? What gets our attention when we are hurting the most? March Madness? The on-going political drama in Washington? That bottle of Jack Daniels in the cupboard? There are plenty of ways in which we are invited and encouraged to soothe our bitter woes. Too bad most of them are simply a matter of denial…ways to cover over the pain with emotions, loyalties and addictions that can’t ultimately save us.
Or…we can go face-to-face with death itself. “And I, when I am lifted up, will draw all people to myself.” Jesus makes that promise just days before his crucifixion…before he is raised like a snake on a stick to be a healing sign for those who are ready to look up and live. In Christ, crucified and risen, two things become clear: God does not abandon us, even in the face of death; and death (along with its minions of despair and fear) does not have the final word for us.
Oh sure…the snakes are still there. Winters like the one we’ve just had will continue to plague us. But we can find comfort in knowing that, through good times and bad, we are safe in the arms of one whom death cannot conquer, whom fear cannot poison, whom despair cannot stop. Even on SAD days, we say “thanks be to God.”
18 February 2009
Everyday stuff...
I'm writing this entry on February 18...the anniversary of the death of Martin Luther in 1546 at Eisleben, Germany. He happened to be at Eisleben (which was also where he was born in 1483) because a couple of the local bigwigs were engaged in a quarrel. He went to help negotiate a settlement between them so that peace and prosperity might be restored in the area. It was difficult, mundane work (accompanied by some of Luther's usual earthy commentary...this time about the usefulness of lawyers).
While there, he became very ill and died in a small, borrowed room in an obscure house in this tiny little town. No fanfare. No ER-like rush to save the great motivator of the Protestant Reformation. And the bigwigs and their beloved lawyers didn't get their disputes settled either.
So much for being the "big man on campus."
...but fitting as a reminder of the nature of Christian life. While our tendency is to look for glory, we are called instead to faithfulness. Bling and notoriety would be good, we think (and so the world tells us). But in fact, simple loving service to God and to one another is a much better indicator of the disposition of our hearts and the destiny of our souls.
And perhaps that doesn't sound exciting enough for us, but it is indeed good news. It is good news because it sanctifies our everyday living. It is good news because it reminds us that each moment of every life is precious to God. It is good news because it allows us to follow Christ whose own humility and obedience opened the way to a life that even death could not end.
So today or this week or whenever you find yourself slogging through the seemingly endless grind of the mundane, remember: God is working through you to bring life and hope and possibility even there. It is our calling and our privilege.
While there, he became very ill and died in a small, borrowed room in an obscure house in this tiny little town. No fanfare. No ER-like rush to save the great motivator of the Protestant Reformation. And the bigwigs and their beloved lawyers didn't get their disputes settled either.
So much for being the "big man on campus."
...but fitting as a reminder of the nature of Christian life. While our tendency is to look for glory, we are called instead to faithfulness. Bling and notoriety would be good, we think (and so the world tells us). But in fact, simple loving service to God and to one another is a much better indicator of the disposition of our hearts and the destiny of our souls.
And perhaps that doesn't sound exciting enough for us, but it is indeed good news. It is good news because it sanctifies our everyday living. It is good news because it reminds us that each moment of every life is precious to God. It is good news because it allows us to follow Christ whose own humility and obedience opened the way to a life that even death could not end.
So today or this week or whenever you find yourself slogging through the seemingly endless grind of the mundane, remember: God is working through you to bring life and hope and possibility even there. It is our calling and our privilege.
02 February 2009
Do we have to?
If you are (or were ever) a kid, you've said this. If you are an adult, you've thought it. The situations might vary from time and station in life, but our reaction to compulsion...to the rule of someone else's law over us...is remarkably consistent.
And while it would be nice to think that we never have those feelings about our relationship to God or to the Church, that's simply not the case. Ask any 13-year-old who's been hauled out of bed in time to make Sunday School...or any 47-year-old who knows that going to church means missing the pre-game show. The reaction is the same.
I think we learn that reaction from assuming that this "Gospel" the Church talks about all the time is really just another way of forcing us to do stuff we'd rather not do...to sit still and pay attention and give our money and shut up. If that's what you've been hearing as "good news"...well, it's no wonder that your reaction is "do I have to." It is my firm belief however (and I think Fr. Martin would back me up on this) that more law...more guilt...more demands...those things are not the Gospel at all.
Try this on for size instead: The Gospel of Jesus...the good news of God's grace and love for us...are not about what God demands from us. It's about what God unconditionally gives us: forgiveness, hope, freedom and such rich possibility that's there's no other way to describe it other than to call it "new life." The good news is that all this is ours simply because God has chosen to love us. That's it. End of story. You don't have to do anything. These gifts are yours already.
So where does all this law stuff come from?
Well...it has its place. But the law always comes after the fact that God comes to us first. Think of it this way: Because God forgives us, we are free to forgive one another. Because God's engagement with the world is in love and humble service, we are free to love and humbly serve one another and God. Because God chooses life over death, we too can set aside all those things that would (and do!) kill us and choose life instead. And we do these things not because we have to. Remember: God's taken care of what must be done. We do these things because (drum-roll, please) we get to.
Ooooh...now there's a turn.
Can you imagine how joy-filled and fun faith and life would be if we approached it with a "get-to" rather than a "have-to" attitude? You don't have to go to Bible study; you get to learn and experience more about how gracious God is. You don't have to go to Church; you get to share God's joy and comfort with the rest of God's people. You don't have to stop the dishonoring, killing, lying, coveting and adultery (just to name a few of our favorite commandments); you get to live in peace and harmony with your neighbor.
It's a fact: God's grace opens up the very best deal in the world...and you "get to" be a part of it. Really now...who wouldn't want to be part of something so good?
And while it would be nice to think that we never have those feelings about our relationship to God or to the Church, that's simply not the case. Ask any 13-year-old who's been hauled out of bed in time to make Sunday School...or any 47-year-old who knows that going to church means missing the pre-game show. The reaction is the same.
I think we learn that reaction from assuming that this "Gospel" the Church talks about all the time is really just another way of forcing us to do stuff we'd rather not do...to sit still and pay attention and give our money and shut up. If that's what you've been hearing as "good news"...well, it's no wonder that your reaction is "do I have to." It is my firm belief however (and I think Fr. Martin would back me up on this) that more law...more guilt...more demands...those things are not the Gospel at all.
Try this on for size instead: The Gospel of Jesus...the good news of God's grace and love for us...are not about what God demands from us. It's about what God unconditionally gives us: forgiveness, hope, freedom and such rich possibility that's there's no other way to describe it other than to call it "new life." The good news is that all this is ours simply because God has chosen to love us. That's it. End of story. You don't have to do anything. These gifts are yours already.
So where does all this law stuff come from?
Well...it has its place. But the law always comes after the fact that God comes to us first. Think of it this way: Because God forgives us, we are free to forgive one another. Because God's engagement with the world is in love and humble service, we are free to love and humbly serve one another and God. Because God chooses life over death, we too can set aside all those things that would (and do!) kill us and choose life instead. And we do these things not because we have to. Remember: God's taken care of what must be done. We do these things because (drum-roll, please) we get to.
Ooooh...now there's a turn.
Can you imagine how joy-filled and fun faith and life would be if we approached it with a "get-to" rather than a "have-to" attitude? You don't have to go to Bible study; you get to learn and experience more about how gracious God is. You don't have to go to Church; you get to share God's joy and comfort with the rest of God's people. You don't have to stop the dishonoring, killing, lying, coveting and adultery (just to name a few of our favorite commandments); you get to live in peace and harmony with your neighbor.
It's a fact: God's grace opens up the very best deal in the world...and you "get to" be a part of it. Really now...who wouldn't want to be part of something so good?
27 January 2009
Three bottles of dish soap...
...and a few rolls of garbage bags, some serving utensils, and ice cream sandwiches. I have no idea why someone would steal these things from the church kitchen. But they're all missing of late. And (consequently) there's talk about building security and catching a thief and who's going to pay to replace stolen stuff in the meantime.
My first thought about the mini-uproar surrounding these things was that folks were over-reacting to the situation. Then I remembered. Hospice was called in yesterday for one. The cancer has returned in liver and bone for another. The chemotherapy isn't going all that well for one more. Some difficult decisions had to be confronted about long-term care for a loved one. And yet one more was laid off permanently after sixteen years of hard work and loyal service. That's in the last 16 hours.
Sometimes, it's just easier to be mad about dish soap.
Thankfully, anger isn't the only reaction. There's been lots of fervent prayer. And a family gathered with their ailing one around Word and Meal. One is taking up her Bible in a new way. Still another is learning forgiveness. Even amidst the tears, hope grows.
So faith stirs within us.
Perhaps the more cynical would dismiss this pious activity as "foxhole religion." They may, to some extent, be right. But if we take seriously the notion that God meets us in our deepest need, then we should be looking...anxious and expectant...to find wholeness and salvation when we need it most.
Make no mistake: there will be difficult outcomes here. Several funerals. Financial struggle. Criminal charges. But there will be...indeed, already is...Christ here, too. We walk tearfully, angrily and yet confidently through all that comes our way when we remember that we do not walk alone. Thanks be to God.
My first thought about the mini-uproar surrounding these things was that folks were over-reacting to the situation. Then I remembered. Hospice was called in yesterday for one. The cancer has returned in liver and bone for another. The chemotherapy isn't going all that well for one more. Some difficult decisions had to be confronted about long-term care for a loved one. And yet one more was laid off permanently after sixteen years of hard work and loyal service. That's in the last 16 hours.
Sometimes, it's just easier to be mad about dish soap.
Thankfully, anger isn't the only reaction. There's been lots of fervent prayer. And a family gathered with their ailing one around Word and Meal. One is taking up her Bible in a new way. Still another is learning forgiveness. Even amidst the tears, hope grows.
So faith stirs within us.
Perhaps the more cynical would dismiss this pious activity as "foxhole religion." They may, to some extent, be right. But if we take seriously the notion that God meets us in our deepest need, then we should be looking...anxious and expectant...to find wholeness and salvation when we need it most.
Make no mistake: there will be difficult outcomes here. Several funerals. Financial struggle. Criminal charges. But there will be...indeed, already is...Christ here, too. We walk tearfully, angrily and yet confidently through all that comes our way when we remember that we do not walk alone. Thanks be to God.
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