Tag Archives: love

Like ripping up money

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What would you do with a five dollar bill, if someone just gave it to you — no strings attached?

What if I just ripped it up?

You may react to this wanton act of waste. With good reason. Although it’s only five bucks — with it I could have bought a couple cups of coffee, a bag of milk, or provided change for the parking meter.

Better yet, I could have given it away to someone in need or towards a good cause.

Our reaction may reflect the belief in equating the value of something by the number of dollars associated with it. Our economy runs on the exchange of those dollars for that thing. Inherent value is thus measured.

I don’t think we would ever question that way of running our economy and our daily lives.

A school principal stood in front of a group of students at the start of the school year and, without any introduction, did just that: ripped up a five-dollar bill. The students gasped in horror: “Don’t do that!” “What are you doing?” “Are you crazy!!”

He went on to say that’s what happens when students don’t show up for classes, don’t study for exams, don’t complete their homework, skip practice, or don’t apply themselves in some way to the course of learning — it’s just like ripping up money.

They waste the value inherent in the functioning of their minds, their hearts, their bodies. What is more, they throw away the potential growth of the inherent value of their lives.

There was another reaction by some of the students who witnessed the destruction of the five dollar bill. They laughed, cajoled and cheered on this demonstration of waste. In response, the principal remarked that it’s sometimes easier to accept, even laugh at, someone else’s folly — someone else’s waste of talent and potential. Because it’s not my five-dollar bill that’s being ripped up.

“What if you did that with your money?”

The students settled down. It makes a whole lot of difference when it’s your very own money being destroyed and lost. The principal encouraged students to take individual responsibility for their own decisions. So, that their behavior would reflect not a waste of the beauty, goodness and inherent value of life but a growing, flowering and open expression of the gift of life.

Unlike the value of money — or anything in the world that depends on the exchange of material goods — our lives speak of an inseparable worth, a “peaceful worthwhileness in each person” (p. xii, Rowan Williams, Where God Happens: Discovering Christ in One Another). The value of life cannot be reduced to a dollar amount. The gift of our life that we offer to the world cannot be measured. The value our creator God sees in us cannot be contained or removed by any measure of economy.

We can certainly throw our lives away in wasteful living, unhealthy lifestyles, and destructive relational patterns — as the Parable of the Prodigal Son demonstrates (Luke 15:11-32). But the inherent value of each of our lives can never be ripped out of our hearts. Our God is always ready to welcome us home to ourselves, to the true purpose of our lives, and into the arms of a loving God.

Not a prize to win but a gift to celebrate

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When the lost sheep is found, and the lost coin is recovered, there is much rejoicing in heaven (Luke 15:1-10). God celebrates. God is pleased. God is honoured. And all are invited to the party.

The shepherd’s friends and neighbours are invited to the celebration. The woman calls her friends over to rejoice together. For what has been found is so precious to the one who finds.

A couple of months after I was married, my wife and I raced to the beach in Goderich Ontario at the end of the workday. Because the bluffs overlooking Lake Huron there are high, you can watch the sunset twice. First at the beach level; then, as soon as the sun sets you run up the stairs some fifty feet to the top of the bluff, turn around and see the sun go down again.

That evening, we arrived too late to watch it twice. The sun was setting from atop the bluff when we got there. But we didn’t drive all the way there not take a short walk along the beach. So, after the sun set, we descended the steps and walked onto the sand as the day’s light quickly dissipated.

Because it was getting dark, we decided not to walk far, but just to sit down on the sand and watch the amazing array of yellows, blues, reds, and orange in the sky. Not only was it getting dark, but the late summer temperatures quickly plummeted. And it was getting cold.

And when our hands get cold, the blood vessels restrict and our fingers narrow somewhat. After about 10 minutes of sky-gazing, we went to get up to go, and with shock and horror I realized my wedding band was no longer on my finger. It had slipped off.

At first we froze in indecision. What do we do? Give up? Accept the loss? After all, to find a ring in a 25 square foot area buried in soft sand full of pebbles and wood chips in the waning light of day seemed impossible. Despair began to creep into my heart.

We said to each other that rather than just give up, we should at least try. So with a stick we drew a square in the sand, and on our hands and knees raked with our fingers every square inch of that boxed area.

It was nearing pitch black as we approached the last corner of our ‘fenced’ area. Suddenly the tips of my fingers felt something cold and metallic. I scooped up my ring and we darted up those steps feeling giddy and light on our feet. The joy, the relief! All was not lost!

In Luke 15, Jesus responds to the Pharisees with stories whose climax is a party, a rejoicing, a celebration. The upshot of the these parables is an invitation to all people, including the sinners and the tax collectors to join together in the celebration of God’s kingdom.

But what about the Pharisees? Are they included, too? I wonder about the 99 sheep left behind.

I wonder what the 99 sheep must have felt, when the shepherd leaves them alone to go after the one who has broken all the rules? What is the shepherd thinking? A crazy risk, wouldn’t you say? 99% of the shepherd’s assets are left unprotected, vulnerable. And, for what? One, lost, misguided, rebellious lamb?

I see a similar dynamic here to the elder son in the story of the Prodigal Son which immediately follows these ones in Luke 15. The elder son who has faithfully remained and worked on his father’s land resents his brother who is shown so much love and attention. And, for what? For running away, squandering his father’s inheritance, shaming the family only to return to the biggest party ever thrown? For him? How fair is that?

We see here that God’s economy is not based on merit, but on mercy. God’s economy is upside down. While our culture is built on merit, God’s kingdom is built on grace. For, God is merciful, gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Psalm 103:8).

What Jesus is saying to the Pharisees is that the sheepfold – the family of God – exists primarily for those who are not yet members of it – especially those we would consider ‘lost’.

Here we see some values that emerge from a focus on God’s character, values that we would do well to consider in the church.

Let’s say we are the sheepfold, the flock whose Savior is Jesus, the great Shepherd. Where do you think Jesus will be found? Based on this scripture, I’m thinking the attention of our Lord is focused, relentlessly, on those who are not yet here.

By implication then, whatever we decide to do in the church, we would do well to ask this question: Whose purposes does a certain action serve? Ourselves? Whom are we serving, in all our work in the church? Do we make decisions on programs and worship practices that serve our needs? Or, do we see things from the perspective of those who are not here every Sunday? — who are on the fringes of the community, who are somehow distant? What would benefit them?

Because that’s where Jesus is. He’s out there. Looking. Searching. And we know the end of the story: He invites everyone to the table for a celebration. Even the religious types.

When Jesus leaves the 99 in order to search out the one, when you think about it, the shepherd must be putting a whole lot of trust and faith in those 99. He wouldn’t leave them for a while without believing in his flock, believing they had the ability and the resources to do what they had to do during his absence.

God has faith in us all. God believes in each one of us. And God will have faith in anyone who returns home to live in loving relationship with Jesus – whether the sinners, the tax collectors, the Pharisees …. [complete the list]

Because it is a gathering for everyone to celebrate not a prize won, but a gift given by an all-inclusive God whose sights are set beyond the pen, beyond the borders of safety, beyond the walls of any church.

Impossible demands Incredible love

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Mark Wahlberg is known for his acting prowess in films like “The Perfect Storm”, “Italian Job”, “The Fighter” and will star in next year’s “Transformers” sequel. He recently gave an interview with CNN’s Piers Morgan about the transformation in his life – from being a brawler and coke addict as a teenager to being a faithful Christian who now starts each day going into a church to pray.

Piers asks Mark Wahlberg, “What do you pray for?” He basically answers by saying he wants to be the best person he can be – responsible, a good neighbor, father, son, and servant to God.

On one level, I appreciate very much when popular, culture icons like Mark Wahlberg give public testimony to the Christian faith. His example gives a positive impression to the power of prayer, especially among younger people. “What do you pray for?” seems to strike a chord, since it is fashionable for skeptics who question God’s loving existence to point to unanswered prayer. Have they considered the very goal of prayer?

In the Gospel of John, one of the first words recorded out of the mouth of Jesus when he meets up with a couple of his disciples are: “What are you looking for?” (John 1:38). Apparently Jesus, too, recognizes the significance of, first off, identifying what it is we want, or expect, from God.

We may feel like the early disciples of Jesus did, then, when they asked Jesus: “Teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). Jesus responds by instructing them to say what has become known as the “Our Father” or “The Lord’s Prayer” – the paramount prayer of Christianity.

So, what does Jesus tell us to ask for? In Luke’s version of the Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11:1-4), the first thing we ask for is “Thy Kingdom Come”. Perhaps this can give us a clue to the aim and nature of our Christian prayer.

In the interview, Mark Wahlberg says that he would rather give favours than receive favours. It is natural, is it not, to want to believe that our redemption and transformation will happen as a result of our good efforts? Even prayer becomes about telling God what we want and desire, about actualizing our dreams for a better world and life by our energy and efforts and eloquence.

There is much in this Gospel text to suggest that our growth and maturity rests with our initiative: “Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened” (v.9-10). We resonate with those words, don’t we? They roll off our tongues easily enough! And we tell ourselves to buck up!

Yet, how many times have we given up on prayer because what we asked for so diligently hasn’t come to pass? We may have prayed and prayed and prayed for release from some kind of bondage or for someone else’s well being. And whatever it is continues to burden our lives. The issue remains unresolved.

This conundrum might be best described with forgiveness. In the Lord’s Prayer we ask God for forgiveness. But this forgiveness, it seems, is conditional upon our ability to forgive ‘everyone’ indebted to us! “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”

That’s a tall order! Yikes! Have I forgiven – truly forgiven – others who have hurt me? And not only the one person that first comes to mind – but everyone who has ever hurt me? If not, will God forgive me?

Right after the Lord’s Prayer Jesus tells a rather weird story about going to a friend in the middle of the night to ask for three loaves of bread. Notwithstanding the awkward position in which you would be putting your friend in the middle of the night, why on earth wouldn’t you have something as basic as bread in your house at any given time?

Why would you be all out of bread in the first place? In a culture devoid of corner stores and open-all-night Seven-Elevens, you would think folks in Jesus’ day would plan ahead and have food stored up. Obviously a subtext of Jesus’ story here is the irresponsibility, laziness, short-sightedness, and sinfulness causing you to go to your friend in the first place.

How many times have I withheld grace or forgiveness from someone because I have felt they haven’t done their part enough to deserve my help?

On one hand I admire the person going shamelessly and boldly to the friend. It takes guts to interrupt someone, especially at night. Perhaps we can learn from this the trust and confidence you have in your friend to help you. Similar to the trust and confidence we are called upon to place in God.

Elsewhere in the New Testament the writer John expresses it this way: “I write the truth to you because you already know the truth” (1 John 2:21). We receive these words of Scripture and the word of God in Jesus Christ not because we don’t know it or don’t have it. We receive the words telling the truth of Jesus today because the truth and presence of Jesus already resides within us – at that deep level, in our hearts. The bible’s message is given to us to remind us, to help us re-member, what is already living within us.

And so with confidence, boldness, and shamelessness, we approach the “throne of grace” (Hebrews 4:13) with our pleas for help – even when those requests are misguided, selfish and born from our own weaknesses.

And this is the point, I believe, of the Gospel. Ultimately it is not about our efforts to make something of prayer and our relationship with God. Rather, it is about a God who will help us, no matter what. Jesus reminds us that God is always willing to offer us the help we need in order to live out the truth of Christ within us for the sake of the world which God so loved (John 3:16). Such is the incredible love of God even in the face of impossible demands.

While God receives all our prayers, however tainted with our ego compulsions, fears and neediness, the power of prayer resides in ‘thy kingdom come’ – which some ancient transcripts translated as “Your Holy Spirit come upon us and cleanse us.” Such a rendition is worth considering, because it is consistent with the last verse (13) of the text: “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

I wonder about the positive changes we desire for our lives. I wonder about how we shall pray for the good things we seek for ourselves, those we love, the church, and the world around us. What do you pray for? – the Holy Spirit? – the deep yearning for an experience of God’s love and grace and forgiveness? – that our lives be transformed according to love of God for us and for the world?

Will we pray for, and in, God’s will?

When we pray, “Thy kingdom come” are we willing to let ‘my kingdom’ go? (Richard Rohr).

What do you expect from God?

Good things! Good things, for the sake and love of the world, in Christ Jesus.

Get lost!

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It’s not every day you hear a bishop tell you to ‘Get lost!’

So, we paid attention. Bishop Katharine Jefferts-Shori of the Episcopal Church in the United States quoted in her address to the Joint Assembly a retired New York bishop dismissing the people at the end of Holy Communion; instead of saying, ‘Go in peace and serve the Lord!’ he said: “Get up! Get out! Get lost!”

Get up. Get out. Get lost. … Excuse me?

Instinctively the Gospel story (Luke 10:25-37) asks us to relate to the Samaritan in each of us – the part of us that wants to care for another, to show mercy.

But we seek clarification, more specific instruction. On whom should we focus our caring? We may echo the lawyer’s question: Who is, then my neighbor?

Get up and get out, yes. But on condition: To show mercy to my loved ones. To those I choose to help, on my terms, according to my schedule and beliefs, to those who are like-minded and belong to my church?

But then aren’t we really behaving like the priest and the Levite in the story? For all we can tell, they could have been on their way to performing some great act of kindness to family members, to members of their religious community. They may have been called to a pastoral emergency. They may have just received word that a loved one was taken ill, or dying.

Whatever the case, the priest and the Levite were walking down that road between Jerusalem and Jericho – a dangerous road by all accounts – with purpose and intent. Whether they were motivated by self-preservation or a private, personal mission – they missed something.

It’s not just about showing mercy, but about showing mercy in a particular way and circumstance that pulls us beyond our selfish preoccupations.

At the Joint Assembly of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada and the Anglican Church of Canada, both churches confessed that the church is facing challenging times in fulfilling its mission. How can the church not only survive, but thrive, moving forward into a very complex future and social reality?

A theologian from South India teaching now in the United States, Rev. Dr. Christopher Duraisingh, challenged the Joint Assembly to consider a reversal of thinking. He said that normally we think first of the church; that is, taking care of the church – its institution, its maintenance, its membership. And we believe that if we take care first of the church – then we will discover our mission; that is, what it is we are supposed to do.

But, Duraisingh said, it’s got to be the other way around: First, we do mission. And when we take the risk to engage God’s mission in the world, then we will find the church. Very challenging and prophetic words, I find. First, we look to what God is doing and calling us to do out there – and do it. And when we do, we will discover not only the church, but a reinvigorated, revitalized and renewed church.

Part of the difficulty of appreciating this notion of the church (i.e. being first concerned about mission to the world) is that we miss the emphasis in the Bible on social justice. You see, many of the first hearers of these stories that were later written down, were persecuted people themselves – the poor, the marginalized, the persecuted, the enslaved. They could relate in a way privileged societies couldn’t.

That’s why it’s so important for us who seek renewal, both in our personal lives but also in the church, to focus our attention ‘out there’. And befriend those who are poor. They may have something to teach us.

We ‘get up’ from our complacency and denial and avoidance of the issues facing our lives. We begin to see fresh possibilities and dream big dreams of God’s kingdom on earth.

Then, we ‘get out’ of the comfortable pew. We courageously and boldly step out of our comfort zones to go places we never thought possible to care for those who interrupt our self-preoccupied lives.

And, then, we ‘get lost’. Get lost?

In order to show mercy, we must also be willing and open to receive mercy. And that mercy, according to this most famous story of the New Testament, comes from a most unexpected person. The part of us that is the man coming down from Jerusalem – likely a Jew, then – who is attacked by robbers, stripped bear and vulnerable, and left to die by the side of the road …

From where does mercy come to him? Jews and Samaritans hated each other, embroiled in a doctrinal conflict over where to worship God; Jews upheld the Jerusalem temple, while Samaritans did not.

Mercy comes from an enemy. Mercy and grace come from the least likely person we would imagine to help us. That is why this story is so radical, so cutting edge, so uncomfortable. This is not just about being nice to people. This story is about challenging each one of us in our presuppositions about who is in and who is not.

Grace and mercy is offered to us even when we have the courage to see God’s presence in the least expected places in our lives.

So, let’s “Get lost!” Get lost to our self-centered, self-righteous selves. Let’s “Get lost!” to the pretense that we are always right. Let’s let go to let God show us what God is up to and the grace and mercy God wants to show us from people we would least expect it to come from.

Get up! Get out! Get lost!

Amen.

The cost of invitation? Still, love.

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A preacher I heard once illustrated the Gospel text (Luke 9:51-62) by giving his farming community the analogy of tilling straight rows in a field. When Jesus says, you can’t plow a field by looking backwards, the challenge is put to keep looking forward. Good advice, especially if you are interested in making your rows straight.

But, you can’t be looking just in front of your feet, the preacher went on to say. You look at a tree or fence post at the opposite end of the field you are tilling, and aim for that. The trick is, you have to keep your eyes set on that tree in the distance — without wavering — while you make your way across. This is the best way of making sure your lines are straight. A good illustration for living the Christian life, right?

But, I’ve wondered, what happens if the fog rolls in or the heat of the late day causes the horizon to shimmer? What happens when the goal in the distance is blurred by climatic circumstances you have no control over? What to do when you can’t see or experience the ‘goal’ even though you know what that goal is supposed to be?

I’m no farmer. But I remember in my first parish in southern Ontario, I was immersed in the farming culture of working the land. Most of the farmers in the region between London and Stratford worked on large swaths of land.

The farmers in the area also worked hard to introduce me, a city-boy at heart, to their pastoral lifestyle. And they were very patient and loving about it. Once I was invited to sit for hours in an air-conditioned, hi-tech cabin of a gigantic tractor as we traversed the rolling fields tilling the land.

One aspect of following Jesus that jumps out in the Gospel text (Luke 9:51-62) is the cost of being a disciple. It’s hard, because attachments to material security are jeopardized in the mission of Jesus — “Foxes have holes and birds have nests” but Jesus has no place to call home. Jesus implies that those who would risk following him must expect and count on losing something of value to them. Are they up for it?

Last week when Michael Harvey spoke to a large group of Lutherans and Anglican in Ottawa, he put it out there that he didn’t know how Canadians — who are so concerned about offending everyone and apologize for everything — would deal with the challenge to invite people to church. He said that we’re so worried that we might lose a friend, our reputation, or upset someone.

Consequently, we lock ourselves into un-healthy and un-Gospel patterns of uninviting. And he challenged us to consider not so much our IQ (a quotient signifying intelligence) but our NQ (our ability to deal with rejection when people respond, ‘no’, to our invitation).

He also reminded us that the challenge is to invite — and not worry or be concerned about whether or not people respond positively to our invitation. That’s God’s bit, he said. It’s not about us — whether people come to Christ or the church or ‘arrive’ at their spiritual awakening. Our job is simply to invite and remember we are part of God’s larger plan that we can’t fully see right now.

The disciples want to bring the fire of God down upon the Samaritans who rejected them. Recalling the prophet Elijah’s act of vengeance when he called upon fire from the heavens to usurp his enemies (1 Kings 18:36-40) and eventually destroy them, the disciples of Jesus feel justified in their request. Good on them, right?

But Jesus turns the impulse on its head. God’s thoughts are not human thoughts; God’s ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9). This Lukan Gospel reminds us again, and again: The way for Christians to deal with detractors is not revenge and violence, but a ‘letting go’ kind of love. “Love your enemies,” Jesus says (Luke 6:27-35). This is what we’re about, as followers of Jesus. In case anyone was wondering.

Moreover, the table-turning, rug-pulling response of Jesus gives us a clue to the character of God, and God’s kingdom.

Under God’s reign, even when we don’t get it right, we need not fear the fury of God. God’s response to our misdeeds and disobedience is not punishment and vengeance. God will not send down fire to incinerate us and our evil ways.

God will heal us by the ‘no strings attached’ method of love. Not forced upon us nor coerced out of us by obligation, guilt, slick marketing or manipulation, Jesus’ approach is nevertheless uncompromising. Jesus ‘sets his face to Jerusalem’ amidst the conflicts of his earthly journey.

In Jerusalem awaits the Cross — the place of his self-giving, costly love for us. We need not fear God. Only an opportunity missed for extending the message and gift of hope and the experience of unconditional love. Do we bind ourselves in our sin? Do we lock ourselves into patterns of self(ish)-preservation? Or, do we freely give of ourselves in acts of hospitality and generosity towards others?

Even though southern Alberta suffered greatly in the wake of the floods there, what has astounded so many is the generosity of people there and across Canada to help. So many invitations to find shelter in other people’s homes not affected by the flood rendered some of the temporary shelters irrelevant. In the time of crisis, people just helped where they could. The gifts of hospitality were given by invitation to those who had no place to lay their heads.

What we do in worship is a sign and symbol of what we do in the world. For example, in the Christian ritual and sacrament of Holy Communion, the gifts of bread and wine are brought to the altar by the people gathered. Later, the consecrated food comes back from the altar to be served to those who first brought it forward.

Whenever we are willing to give and hand over for the sake of others, is returned to us as the gift of Jesus Christ in us. I am sure that many affected by the floods in Alberta experienced the loving presence of Jesus through the invitation of others in their act of generosity.

In the early grades especially, when my kids brought their scribbles and drawings from school, they showed and offered us parents their artwork. We put their work on the fridge door for all to see. I noticed how much pride they had, brimming with satisfaction and delight.

The gift (not perfect), when given, is returned, hundredfold; when we exercise some courage and risk-taking to share the gift of Christ with others (not alone), we will be blessed to receive Christ’s loving, forgiving, gracious presence in us — and people will notice.

I don’t know what motivated my farmer friend in southern Ontario to invite me to ride with him in his tractor. It can be a lonely job, farming, all by yourself on acres and acres of fields. He was proud to tell me the tricks of his trade, tilling the earth row upon row. It was a gracious exchange, a friendly encounter and ultimately affirming for both of us. Out of that invitation and experience together, I believe, we both were encouraged on the ways of our unique and separate lives.

Whatever challenges we face or losses we endure on the field of life and on our journeys towards the goal, when we take those risks and do it together, I believe we will experience the affirmation of our journey and be blessed by the steadfast, uncompromising love of God in Christ Jesus.

Cry baby? or Cry faithful!

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To cry is to admit vulnerability. And somehow — unfortunately — has the act of weeping in our competitive, dog-eat-dog world become for many a sign of a weak, inadequate disposition to life and faith? Young boys, especially, have been taught, “Don’t cry!”, right?

In pastoral ministry, we need to be careful when people are grieving and crying for a loss not to rush to excuse their behavior — which really only betrays our discomfort. We need to be careful not to hurry the grieving to accept some ‘silver lining’ of any devastating situation. When resurrection is proclaimed prematurely, harm can be done.

Preaching on the Gospel texts during these first Sundays after Pentecost, I notice a common behavior on the part of those who receive the gifts of healing and forgiveness:

When her only son died the widow from Nain must have wept for Jesus to say, “Do not weep”; and the woman wept as she washed Jesus’ feet with her tears in the house of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7). The ‘sinful’ woman here, you will notice, does not ask for forgiveness. But her confessing heart says it all. No words are necessary.

Not only in these texts but throughout the Scriptures the faithful people of God cry. Crying is the body’s way of confessing the truth about ourselves and our situation. The biblical form is called, the Lament. In our lament, we openly raise our cries to God when we are sad, angry, defeated, suffering, lost. A primary example of a lamenting context was the Babylonian Exile — when in the Hebrew Scriptures we read about the people of God being ousted from their land and their temple, and taken to work and live on the banks of the Euphrates far away from home.

Jesus himself wept over Jerusalem in the days leading to his arrest and crucifixion (Luke 19:41). Jesus wept over the death of his dear friend Lazarus, to the point forming one of the shortest verses in the Bible: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Jesus cries. Would we dare rush to Jesus when he weeps and say, “Don’t cry. It’ll be alright.” It seems to me we need to let Jesus weep.

Early Christians called it the gift of tears. The wisdom of the ages points to the healing power of tears, a cleansing of the inner life. The desert monk, Abbot Pimen, said: “Weep, there is no other way to perfection” (p.59, Paul Harris, “Frequently Asked Questions about Meditation, the Path of Contemplative Prayer”).

Our faith and our traditions of prayer that validate the act of crying, weeping and lamenting offer us a path to healing, hope and wholeness. I pray for a vision of community where Christians are honest with themselves in their faith and in their pain, who seek authenticity in their relationship with God and others, who are not afraid to be themselves before God, even to be vulnerable to others in confession.

On the journey – How

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This is the tricky one. Especially for us goal-oriented, success-hungry, ambitious types. For us who, almost compulsively, dive into our work. For those of us who first ask when a new idea is presented: “How will this work?”

And so we draw the second circle of our ‘trinity’ of circles. This one just on the inside of the larger ‘wow’. From the ‘wow’ we move to the ‘how’. The exuberance of youth must at some point translate into a work-able, do-able, achievable proposition. Somehow, the dream needs to have traction on the ground. We have to do something in order to make it happen. This, is the ‘how’ part of life.

But, as I said, this is the tricky stage. Because for so long we have convinced ourselves into believing that if anything good is to come in our lives, it’s because we’ve accomplished it or deserved it or earned it by our hard work.

To a degree, there is some truth here. We make decisions to the best of our judgment, hoping that we exercise discernment and wisdom. We work hard with good intentions. We are motivated to create a better society, and we act on it.

But more and more people are discovering that just because they work very hard at something, doesn’t necessarily mean they will succeed. More and more people are discovering this harsh reality on the journey of life and faith. Just because you sweat blood, sweat and tears in pursuing some ‘wow’ goal in life, doesn’t necessarily mean you will achieve it. What then?

Should we give up? Should we sit idly by and not do anything, resigned to fate? Like I said, this ‘how’ thing is tricky.

It’s also no surprise that this circle represents the second person of the Holy Trinity — Jesus. The first ‘wow’ circle was God the Father, the Creator, the beginning point. This second person of Jesus is the Saviour, the Redeemer. Jesus is the ‘how’ to journeying on the path of faith and life.

Up until this point, we may have thought that journeying in life through the ‘wows’, the ‘hows’ and the ‘nows’ was unidirectional — that it was all up to us to get it right. Jesus’ grace and presence in our lives suggests a two-way relationship. What we put into life is our approach to life and to God that says: “Thank you!” What we put into life are our efforts that don’t pretend nor presume our salvation and the salvation of the world depends on us.

Jesus won salvation for us already! He’s done the job. He’s figured out how to restore broken human relationships. Jesus offers us, and those we meet, forgiveness, grace, a new fresh start over in life — each day of our lives!

Jesus doesn’t love us because he has to; Jesus loves us because he wants to. “This frees us to simply receive that love, rather than feverishly try to make ourselves worthy of it” (p. 236, Richard Rohr, ‘On The Treshold of Transformation’).

Worth living for? Worth working for?

Together, now!

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When we feel, however, that in our lives we are neither on a vacation nor able to fulfill our vocation, what then?

Perhaps we are at a loss for words. Perhaps we are so dis-spirited and dejected that we feel hopeless and without purpose and meaning. Perhaps our spirit can do nothing other than cry to God for help: ‘Abba! Father!’

Saint Paul had something to say about that: When we cry ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spiritbearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God … (Romans 8:16)

The very fact that we turn our selves to face God, the very fact that we think about God – good or bad thoughts! – the very fact that we lift our hearts to God even in pain and suffering, is God’s Spirit touching ours. We are indeed ‘children of God’ before we do anything remarkable, life-changing or effective. We are already given our inheritance before we can earn it or prove somehow we are worthy of it, before we are rid of all that ails us.

One salient fact in the Pentecost story from the Bible stands out – right at the beginning: When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place …(Acts 2:1)

Normally when we read or hear this text, we hurriedly breeze through this first verse to get to the sensational parts of the wind blowing through the place and the tongues of fire appearing on the disciples’ heads. We so readily go to what stimulates and excites us, don’t we?

Yet there is a gentle, subtle truth here, which also reveals the Holy Spirit’s action in our lives: We cannot do it alone.

Sometimes we seek renewal in nature, in solitude, by ourselves, secluded, isolated – in nature, on a vacation. And we feel God’s presence. We say, “the spirit of God is here.” Maybe so.

But Lutherans and Christians in general, I believe, would affirm that the Holy Spirit’s power is not primarily individualistic. The Holy Spirit, based on the biblical witness on the Day of Pentecost, comes to those gathered ‘together in one place.’

The only way we can truly and effectively live out our vocation, is to be with others, engage the world around us, and do it together.

Apart from the ever-expanding community of faith, the Christian Gospel cannot be effectively witnessed and proclaimed. Apart from the community of faith, you and I may do good works and be good citizens. Apart from the community of faith, we may find comfort and solace in distractions and the seductions of our materialistic culture.

But, if you want to see true, spiritual power and healing in your life and those around you – let’s do it together, and watch God’s Spirit change the world!

Even on a vacation, let’s live out our vocation – together!

To be Lutheran, to be ‘both-and’

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What is our vocation? Professor Mary Jane Haemig at Luther Seminary in Minneapolis/St Paul describes it this way: Our vocation was born in us when we were created by God. When we were born, we received our vocation to care for others in creation, to serve a world in need.

Basically, our common vocation as human beings is mutual support and care, which reflects our interdependence with one another and the importance of all our relationships – with creation, with ourselves, with others, and with God.

Professor Haemig goes on to say that at our Baptism, God forgives us our sins of failing to live out our vocation. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are forgiven and set free to live for the sake of others. The cross of Christ not only saves us from our sins, it saves us for serving the needs of others.

Reflected here is something that characterizes the Lutheran brand of Christianity. Those of us who undertook the “Lutheran Course Two” this past month – including our new members whom we receive formally this day – discovered this “two-handed” style of thinking that is prevalent not only in Lutheran theology but in our practice of faith. For example, one of Martin Luther’s famous sayings was that we are simultaneously saints and sinners.

Not either/or, this or that, black or white. But both/and.

Rather than pit a vacation apart from vocation, then, we would affirm that vocations can still be lived out during a vacation. Martin Luther was very clear to state that all people in society were members of the ‘spiritual’ class – not only bishops, pastors, and religious people. Even the most mundane of jobs can be living out our God-given vocation. It’s not so much what we do, but how we do it.

With what attitude and attention to others around us do we approach and do our jobs? Can we be on vacation and still exercise our vocation – when we spend time with our family and nurture our friendships and build healthy relationships reflecting the love and truth of God? On the other hand, can our vocations be fun, at times – as are vacations?

Yes, and Yes!

A mutual, loving relationship in the name of Jesus

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“I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” (John 17:26)

Did you catch the Huffington Post article this week about the fastest growing baby names? ‘King’ and ‘Messiah’. Yes, ‘King’ and ‘Messiah’.

Expectations for our children must be growing!

While we may joke about what our names mean, the humour always reveals a glimmer of truth: Our names do reveal something of our essence. Our names are gateways into our character. People get to know us, first, by knowing our names.

My first name is Martin — I was born on Reformation Sunday (always the last Sunday in October), named after the church reformer of the 16th century, Martin Luther. And it so happens I am a Lutheran pastor!

My second name is Emanuel — which in the Hebrew language identifies God’s presence, meaning “God is with us”. In the Gospel of Matthew (1:23), Emanuel is ascribed to the coming Messiah. I like to think God is always with me.

My last name — Malina — as you may know reading this blog, means, from the Polish language, ‘raspberry’. I like to think raspberries convey sweetness.

Well, that pretty well sums it up! Now you know who I am!

What does your name signify about you? Inquiring can be both an amusing and insightful exercise.

In the Gospel reading (John 17:20-26) for this seventh Sunday after Easter, in the High Priestly Prayer, Jesus prays for the unity of his disciples present and future (that’s us!). There, we find a delightful play on words (in Greek) between ‘one’ (hen) and ‘in’ (en).

Indeed, to be one with another is to be in them. Jesus describes his intimate relationship with the Father this way. When I was a teenager in the 1980s, we used to talk like this to describe something or someone we liked — I’m in to that kind of music; or, I’m in to that person.

Our God is a relational God, to begin with. And, what is more, this relationship is characterized by affection and love. The word ‘love’ is mentioned five times in this short passage about divine and human unity.

The reciprocity of love described here necessitates some engagement on our part. We are called to respond. “In the name of Jesus”, we pray. “In the name of Jesus”, we involve ourselves in Christ’s mission on earth. “In the name of Jesus” we live, we breathe, we move and have our being. We are part of this dance with Jesus; we have a vital role to play in our relationship with God.

Because what Jesus teaches us is what is vital to any healthy relationship whether divine or human: mutuality. We speak here of a mutual relationship of love. Should Jesus live in us, which he promises to do, we engage in mutuality. That is, what you want most from this relationship with God — you first give.

If you want forgiveness, try forgiving others and yourself.

If you want love, give it to someone else.

If you want respect, show respect to God and to others.

And this concept of mutuality operates, really, in all healthy relationships — whether marriage, work, friendships, families, etc. At first, it may feel counterintuitive. Because what you want is something you may feel you lack. The paradox, however, lies in precisely the opposite: You will only receive what you think you don’t have, by giving it out to others.

But lest we get it into our heads that we must be like our ‘King’ or ‘Messiah’ — even if our names reflect such a designation! — stop, breathe, and let go of the pressure, demands and expectations of your perceived purpose in life!

The relationship of love begins when God calls us by name (Isaiah 43:1). When God says our name, we are blessed indeed. God’s voice naming us calls us back to ourselves. In the garden the morning of the resurrection, Mary mistakes Jesus for the gardener; it isn’t until Jesus speaks her name, “Mary”, when she is brought back to herself — and recognizes Jesus for who he is, the risen Son of God (John 20:16). The mutual relationship is born, and reborn, each time Jesus calls us by name.

Unlike what happens in a dance, the two partners involved in the covenant relationship with God are not entirely equal. We are not Jesus. And while in the Holy Spirit we can do great things for God and God’s mission, the first move comes from Jesus. He chose us (John 15:16). He called us by name to join in the dance. He makes the first move. Because when we slip and fall in the dance of life and love — which is bound to happen — Jesus is there to pick us right up again.

Because God loves us first.