There have been some special moments this season involving our nativities. Karen reminded me to jot them down so we won’t forget about them. A few weeks ago Karen and the kids were setting up our collection of Nativity scenes all over the house. Both children are rather creative and used the occasion to add their personality to the task. After Nicholas (our self proclaimed herpetologist) put one of his plastic Cobras alongside the porcelain crèche in the den – the most prominent one in the house – Karen commented, “Nicholas! A cobra doesn’t go in a nativity scene!” Nick countered, “I thought Jesus was for everyone.” I guess he has gotten the true meaning of the season after all!
Natalie also had something to teach us about advent. Karen found her switching the baby Jesus from one Nativity to another. The result was rather odd; the slender hand carved olive wood baby was lying at the feet of the holy family and visitors represented by snow men! And the snow man baby Jesus was dwarfing the olive wood scene. Everything looked out of place. Again, how appropriate. We’ve heard the Christmas story so often that it no longer seems odd or out of place for a baby to be born in a barn! Natalie, however, in her own creative way has shown us that the juxtaposition of Divinity with humanity, of royalty with humility, of Emmanuel – God Incarnate – is what the season is really about.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
The meaning of the season....
Our “act of kindness,” taking a meal to some of the homeless in Atlanta gathered at Northwoods Baptist Church was an incredible experience of humility, grace and service. Our children had a good time as well. We joined the effort at the invitation of Karol Vellines, the children’s minister at Peachtree Baptist Church. As the adults gathered in the kitchen of Peachtree Baptist Church to carve the smoked Turkey’s and make the casseroles, the children clumped around one of the tables in the fellowship hall to cut-up fresh fruit for a salad. Once at Northwoods Baptist our children joined the other kids already playing among the toys in one of the Sunday school rooms. I took a break from setting up the buffet line to check on the children. Despite the language barriers (all of the other children were Latino) each group of playing children contained both Americans and Latinos.
Once all the food was gone (every scrap was eaten on the spot or wrapped in plastic and foil to later consumption), the kitchen and dining room cleaned and everyone packed into vehicles some interesting conversations ensued about the evening. Nicholas wondered, “Why were some of those kids mean?” After hearing of the “mean play” we responded, “they weren’t mean, they just play differently than you do.” When we informed them that all of the children with whom they were playing were actually homeless too they were aghast. In that moment the reality of their actions and their kindness emerged. We explained again that the true meaning of Christmas is acting with love like Jesus did. We read them stories out of the Gospels where Jesus tells his followers to feed those who are hungry, cloth those who are naked and visit those in prison. Natalie and Nick wanted us to read the stories over and over again. We explained that when we go through their plethora of toys piled high in the corners of their room gathering the one’s they don’t use we give them to children just like those they played with the night before.
We’ll keep reminding them about the events of Tuesday evening. We will also seek out similar opportunities for us to get involved here at home. There are several homeless ministries in Athens that accept volunteers. It should be easy to find someplace to work.
Oscar Romero has expressed wonderful thoughts about the subject of poverty in light of the advent season (Copied from - http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/martyrs-voice.htm?source=DailyDig):
No one can celebrate a genuine Christmas without being truly poor. The self-sufficient, the proud, those who, because they have everything, look down on others, those who have no need even of God – for them there will be no Christmas. Only the poor, the hungry, those who need someone to come on their behalf, will have that someone. That someone is God, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Without poverty of spirit there can be no abundance of God. (December 24, 1978)
When the poor have nowhere to rest their bodies, and their children fleeing from the cold find only hammocks strung up in the fields and coffee groves, we must recall that the Savior’s good news is for all. The happiness of the Lord who created us to fulfill his salvation is everyone’s. (December 24, 1978)
Christ built his classroom of redemption among the poor – not because money is evil, but because money often makes slaves of those who worship the things of earth and forget about God. (December 25, 1978)
I pray that his words and our experiences of this week will stick in my mind and affect our hearts this season and throughout the year.
Once all the food was gone (every scrap was eaten on the spot or wrapped in plastic and foil to later consumption), the kitchen and dining room cleaned and everyone packed into vehicles some interesting conversations ensued about the evening. Nicholas wondered, “Why were some of those kids mean?” After hearing of the “mean play” we responded, “they weren’t mean, they just play differently than you do.” When we informed them that all of the children with whom they were playing were actually homeless too they were aghast. In that moment the reality of their actions and their kindness emerged. We explained again that the true meaning of Christmas is acting with love like Jesus did. We read them stories out of the Gospels where Jesus tells his followers to feed those who are hungry, cloth those who are naked and visit those in prison. Natalie and Nick wanted us to read the stories over and over again. We explained that when we go through their plethora of toys piled high in the corners of their room gathering the one’s they don’t use we give them to children just like those they played with the night before.
We’ll keep reminding them about the events of Tuesday evening. We will also seek out similar opportunities for us to get involved here at home. There are several homeless ministries in Athens that accept volunteers. It should be easy to find someplace to work.
Oscar Romero has expressed wonderful thoughts about the subject of poverty in light of the advent season (Copied from - http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/martyrs-voice.htm?source=DailyDig):
No one can celebrate a genuine Christmas without being truly poor. The self-sufficient, the proud, those who, because they have everything, look down on others, those who have no need even of God – for them there will be no Christmas. Only the poor, the hungry, those who need someone to come on their behalf, will have that someone. That someone is God, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Without poverty of spirit there can be no abundance of God. (December 24, 1978)
When the poor have nowhere to rest their bodies, and their children fleeing from the cold find only hammocks strung up in the fields and coffee groves, we must recall that the Savior’s good news is for all. The happiness of the Lord who created us to fulfill his salvation is everyone’s. (December 24, 1978)
Christ built his classroom of redemption among the poor – not because money is evil, but because money often makes slaves of those who worship the things of earth and forget about God. (December 25, 1978)
I pray that his words and our experiences of this week will stick in my mind and affect our hearts this season and throughout the year.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
What is Christmas really all about?
I’ve been pondering again what this Christmas idea is all about. Last week I heard a devotional where a commentary by John Boykin was read. The reader had heard the essay on NPR’s All Things Considered and thought it appropriate to share with a group of collegiate ministers this season. In the essay, Boykin, a Christian, calls for fellow followers of Christ to admit the obvious, that the marketing world that has succeeded taking over Christmas as a spending holiday. He suggests, “I'm not fighting the commercialization of Christmas; that fight was lost ages ago. What I'm after is more radical: Disentangling Jesus entirely from this blight on his good name. I'm out to change the bumper sticker from `Keep Christ in Christmas' to `Free Christ from Christmas.’” He goes on to propose that we make Easter our day and take it back from the bit of commercialization in which it has become shrouded (You can hear the whole essay on NPR’s Website: http://www.npr.org/dmg/dmg.php?prgCode=ATC&showDate=02-Dec-2004&segNum=10&NPRMediaPref=WM&getAd=1).
Boykin continues, ”Christmas, by contrast, has no time for what the adult Jesus said and did. Christmas keeps him safely shut up as a baby in the manger, where he can't make his usual noise about people repenting and living a godly life.
So does his birth matter at all? Well, it matters to his followers today as one way of backing up his claim to be the son of God. But that's not the way Jesus, himself, backed up his claim. He pointed not to his birth, but to his Resurrection. So I'll trade a month of Christmases for one meaningful Easter.”
I don’t know if his solution is the one we should follow, but he does bring up some fascinating points to ponder. I think Jesus’ birthday celebration is important. However, it is difficult for most middle and upper class Americans (and others who want to among the world’s richest) to grasp the significance of a tiny baby born into poverty roughly 2000 years ago. But for many in our world who don’t have our wealth Jesus’ birth must be remembered and honored, for in this simple act, God turned the human idea of upper class upside down!
My wife and I were going over our Christmas list the other day. Again we’ve spent way too much on our children. It happens every year. I wonder what message we are sending. I know that our actions communicate so much more than what we say. So…this year we have teamed up with some good friends to prepare a meal for some homeless folks in Atlanta. I’m up early this morning (5:30 a.m.) smoking two turkeys – almost 40 pounds of poultry. They should be ready in time to head to Atlanta at 3:00 this afternoon to finish pulling the meal together. Our children will be involved in the whole process. They went to the grocery store with us last night to buy the food. They will help prepare the desserts today (Mississippi Mud cake!). This afternoon we will all gathering the church kitchen to finish the meal and then we will all serve it.
An article caught my eye this morning. Dorothy Soelle wrote an essay about her experience of finally understanding Christmas after years of frustration with the commercialization of the holiday (http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/soelle-xmas-gospel.htm?source=DailyDig). While studying the text from a historical and theological viewpoint, Soelle discovered the hopelessness of those who were watching the sheep (and probably most in Bethlehem) whose lives where subject to the economic desires of the ruling class in Rome. Historically what we call Pax Romana was anything but peaceful for most of the citizens of the empire. It was known as a time of peace, but at what cost to the lives of those not in power?
As we are in the Christmas season, I wonder how much of the story we can really understand from our perspective? This economic holiday requires that we buy, buy, buy or our whole economy will crash. Even those who can’t afford basics of living put huge debts on credit cards, further deepens their dependence on others. This season should be about freedom. We have chosen to be slaves to the marketing ploys of the economic emperors in our attempt to make meaning in our lives. We want to see the joyous faces (or is it just fleeting happiness or surprise) of our children on Christmas morning. We want to feel we are giving this season.
I’m hoping that this seasons highlight for my family won’t be Saturday morning when the packages are all opened. I’m hoping what matters most, and what matters most to them will be found today in our simple act of service. I’m also hoping that we can carry this out into 2005, helping folks all year long while reflecting back on this event as “why.” For I concur with Soelle, “Without the perspective of the poor, we see nothing, not even an angel. When we approach the poor, our values and goals change. The child appears in many other children. Mary also seeks sanctuary among us. Because the angels sing, the shepherds rise, leave their fears behind, and set out for Bethlehem, wherever it is situated these days.”
This season, may we truly get it, understanding, perhaps for the first time, that the reason so many in churches are not the rich and famous but those we often look down upon is that folks who appear on the bottom are those who are ready to admit that they need something or someone in whom to hope. I pray I will not forget this simple truth, I need Jesus.
Boykin continues, ”Christmas, by contrast, has no time for what the adult Jesus said and did. Christmas keeps him safely shut up as a baby in the manger, where he can't make his usual noise about people repenting and living a godly life.
So does his birth matter at all? Well, it matters to his followers today as one way of backing up his claim to be the son of God. But that's not the way Jesus, himself, backed up his claim. He pointed not to his birth, but to his Resurrection. So I'll trade a month of Christmases for one meaningful Easter.”
I don’t know if his solution is the one we should follow, but he does bring up some fascinating points to ponder. I think Jesus’ birthday celebration is important. However, it is difficult for most middle and upper class Americans (and others who want to among the world’s richest) to grasp the significance of a tiny baby born into poverty roughly 2000 years ago. But for many in our world who don’t have our wealth Jesus’ birth must be remembered and honored, for in this simple act, God turned the human idea of upper class upside down!
My wife and I were going over our Christmas list the other day. Again we’ve spent way too much on our children. It happens every year. I wonder what message we are sending. I know that our actions communicate so much more than what we say. So…this year we have teamed up with some good friends to prepare a meal for some homeless folks in Atlanta. I’m up early this morning (5:30 a.m.) smoking two turkeys – almost 40 pounds of poultry. They should be ready in time to head to Atlanta at 3:00 this afternoon to finish pulling the meal together. Our children will be involved in the whole process. They went to the grocery store with us last night to buy the food. They will help prepare the desserts today (Mississippi Mud cake!). This afternoon we will all gathering the church kitchen to finish the meal and then we will all serve it.
An article caught my eye this morning. Dorothy Soelle wrote an essay about her experience of finally understanding Christmas after years of frustration with the commercialization of the holiday (http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/soelle-xmas-gospel.htm?source=DailyDig). While studying the text from a historical and theological viewpoint, Soelle discovered the hopelessness of those who were watching the sheep (and probably most in Bethlehem) whose lives where subject to the economic desires of the ruling class in Rome. Historically what we call Pax Romana was anything but peaceful for most of the citizens of the empire. It was known as a time of peace, but at what cost to the lives of those not in power?
As we are in the Christmas season, I wonder how much of the story we can really understand from our perspective? This economic holiday requires that we buy, buy, buy or our whole economy will crash. Even those who can’t afford basics of living put huge debts on credit cards, further deepens their dependence on others. This season should be about freedom. We have chosen to be slaves to the marketing ploys of the economic emperors in our attempt to make meaning in our lives. We want to see the joyous faces (or is it just fleeting happiness or surprise) of our children on Christmas morning. We want to feel we are giving this season.
I’m hoping that this seasons highlight for my family won’t be Saturday morning when the packages are all opened. I’m hoping what matters most, and what matters most to them will be found today in our simple act of service. I’m also hoping that we can carry this out into 2005, helping folks all year long while reflecting back on this event as “why.” For I concur with Soelle, “Without the perspective of the poor, we see nothing, not even an angel. When we approach the poor, our values and goals change. The child appears in many other children. Mary also seeks sanctuary among us. Because the angels sing, the shepherds rise, leave their fears behind, and set out for Bethlehem, wherever it is situated these days.”
This season, may we truly get it, understanding, perhaps for the first time, that the reason so many in churches are not the rich and famous but those we often look down upon is that folks who appear on the bottom are those who are ready to admit that they need something or someone in whom to hope. I pray I will not forget this simple truth, I need Jesus.
Friday, December 17, 2004
No Room? Where? In me? In the World?
In The Shaping of Things to Come, Frost and Hirsch suggest that as Christians we need to switch to a missional worldview where we go into the world as missionaries not an attractional mindset in which we put up a sign on our churches and expect folks who need God to come to us. They continue that those of us who seek God within the walls of church, within the sanctuary should head into the world, get comfortable living our faith there, and meet God where God is already at work. We often assume that God is absent from “the world” and we must take him there. That could not be further from the truth. The authors suggest we must look for God at work in all things, in all places and at all times!
As I’ve been interacting with the book (I write all in and over books I read – print is truly interactive media for me) I’ve had a few thoughts along these lines. Why is it when encountering the world, brushing up against its edges, we become like it while giggling inwardly (or outwardly). There is a buzz of excitement within us, as if we are doing something we should not be doing. It is like we feel a since of danger when we meet the world. Is it that we are so uncomfortable because we have become separated from that which Jesus came to redeem? We need to firmly grab hold of Jesus hand, hold onto each other for support, encouragement, accountability, and dive into the world. Our faith must remain pure. Our holiness must be apparent. We must learn to relate without compromising into in, so that God can use us as conduits for the message he is already in the process of delivering. God is there. Why do we not find him? We see only sin when we look at the world. Perhaps we are more attuned to sin than to God. Is our attempt to avoid sin so strong that sin is all we think about? Talk about missing the point of the Gospel and of Paul’s writings! We are now free from the bondages of sin – even our minds should be freed to think about Jesus and redemption, yet we continue to focus on that very thing from which God has freed us! Perhaps we need to focus less on sin and more on God! We should be freed to get out into the world with the Gospel – doing whatever we want to do, doing whatever we need to do to reach the world for Christ!
I remember at seminary a Canadian student was sharing in our “world missions” class how he had begun an informal ministry at the local tavern. Each day he’d go down to the bar, sit on a stool and order a beer. Each day before he left for home, he had the opportunity to share his faith and often lead someone to Jesus. This student was chastised for his choice of ministry venues by almost everyone in the class! How tragic. We haven’t become like Jesus, we have become like the Pharisees!
This morning, “My Daily Dig” appeared in my inbox (http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/TimeOfNoRoom.htm?source=DailyDig). Following the link I was taken to an essay by Thomas Merton about the gospel line regarding “no room in the inn.” It seems to tell a similar tale of longing to go to those who are “in the world:”
Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because he cannot be at home in it - because he is out of place in it, and yet must be in it - his place is with those others who do not belong, who are rejected because they are regarded as weak; and with those who are discredited, who are denied the status of persons, and are tortured, exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present in this world. He is mysteriously present in those for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst. For them, there is no escape even in imagination. They cannot identify with the power structure of a crowded humanity which seeks to project itself outward, anywhere, in a centrifugal flight into the void, to get out there where there is no God, no man, no name, no identity, no weight, no self, nothing but the bright, self-directed, perfectly obedient and infinitely expensive machine.
For those who are stubborn enough, devoted enough to power, there remains this last apocalyptic myth of machinery propagating its own kind in the eschatological wilderness of space - while on earth the bombs make room!
But the others: they remain imprisoned in other hopes, and in more pedestrian despairs, despairs and hopes which are held down to earth, down to street level, and to the pavement only: desire to be at least half-human, to taste a little human joy, to do a fairly decent job of productive work, to come home to the family...desires for which there is no room. It is in these that He hides himself, for whom there is no room.
I hope this season I’ll take some time to reflect on how to get back into the world Jesus dove into as a tiny, helpless babe. I pray God will give me Godly eyes to enable to see Jesus at work all around me. I hope I’ll throw off the shackles of Phariseism with which I’ve voluntarily bound myself and find the freedom to be a missionary to the world in which I live. I pray my faith is up to the task, and has not just become a shadow of the mountain moving faith Jesus talked about to his band so long ago. I hope I can bring the kingdom I have hidden within into the light of the world so others may see it and meet Jesus! I hope….
As I’ve been interacting with the book (I write all in and over books I read – print is truly interactive media for me) I’ve had a few thoughts along these lines. Why is it when encountering the world, brushing up against its edges, we become like it while giggling inwardly (or outwardly). There is a buzz of excitement within us, as if we are doing something we should not be doing. It is like we feel a since of danger when we meet the world. Is it that we are so uncomfortable because we have become separated from that which Jesus came to redeem? We need to firmly grab hold of Jesus hand, hold onto each other for support, encouragement, accountability, and dive into the world. Our faith must remain pure. Our holiness must be apparent. We must learn to relate without compromising into in, so that God can use us as conduits for the message he is already in the process of delivering. God is there. Why do we not find him? We see only sin when we look at the world. Perhaps we are more attuned to sin than to God. Is our attempt to avoid sin so strong that sin is all we think about? Talk about missing the point of the Gospel and of Paul’s writings! We are now free from the bondages of sin – even our minds should be freed to think about Jesus and redemption, yet we continue to focus on that very thing from which God has freed us! Perhaps we need to focus less on sin and more on God! We should be freed to get out into the world with the Gospel – doing whatever we want to do, doing whatever we need to do to reach the world for Christ!
I remember at seminary a Canadian student was sharing in our “world missions” class how he had begun an informal ministry at the local tavern. Each day he’d go down to the bar, sit on a stool and order a beer. Each day before he left for home, he had the opportunity to share his faith and often lead someone to Jesus. This student was chastised for his choice of ministry venues by almost everyone in the class! How tragic. We haven’t become like Jesus, we have become like the Pharisees!
This morning, “My Daily Dig” appeared in my inbox (http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/TimeOfNoRoom.htm?source=DailyDig). Following the link I was taken to an essay by Thomas Merton about the gospel line regarding “no room in the inn.” It seems to tell a similar tale of longing to go to those who are “in the world:”
Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because he cannot be at home in it - because he is out of place in it, and yet must be in it - his place is with those others who do not belong, who are rejected because they are regarded as weak; and with those who are discredited, who are denied the status of persons, and are tortured, exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present in this world. He is mysteriously present in those for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst. For them, there is no escape even in imagination. They cannot identify with the power structure of a crowded humanity which seeks to project itself outward, anywhere, in a centrifugal flight into the void, to get out there where there is no God, no man, no name, no identity, no weight, no self, nothing but the bright, self-directed, perfectly obedient and infinitely expensive machine.
For those who are stubborn enough, devoted enough to power, there remains this last apocalyptic myth of machinery propagating its own kind in the eschatological wilderness of space - while on earth the bombs make room!
But the others: they remain imprisoned in other hopes, and in more pedestrian despairs, despairs and hopes which are held down to earth, down to street level, and to the pavement only: desire to be at least half-human, to taste a little human joy, to do a fairly decent job of productive work, to come home to the family...desires for which there is no room. It is in these that He hides himself, for whom there is no room.
I hope this season I’ll take some time to reflect on how to get back into the world Jesus dove into as a tiny, helpless babe. I pray God will give me Godly eyes to enable to see Jesus at work all around me. I hope I’ll throw off the shackles of Phariseism with which I’ve voluntarily bound myself and find the freedom to be a missionary to the world in which I live. I pray my faith is up to the task, and has not just become a shadow of the mountain moving faith Jesus talked about to his band so long ago. I hope I can bring the kingdom I have hidden within into the light of the world so others may see it and meet Jesus! I hope….
Sunday, December 12, 2004
The (Absolute) Best Christmas Pageant Ever!
Tonight we witnessed The Best Christmas pageant Ever.... Or at least the latest attempt to produce that hysterical play based on the book of the same title (written by Barbara Robinson, Harper and Row, 1972). What made the play so special? Why, my two children, of course! They were the most perfect angels in the angel choir - Natalie with garland halo 'a bouncing upon her head (her constant nodding to keep it moving helped a bit), and Nick with his wings protruding just about his shoulders, his halo placed just so, held tightly in place by the headband at his temples, cushioned by the not-so-delicately wrapped pieces of facial tissue (giving the appearance of white flowers tucked behind his ears!). Joy, joy! The story always gets me - the Herdmans, the town bullies and misfits, show up at church just in time to join the annual production of the Christmas play. To everyone's surprise instead of ruining the production, their wide-eyed wonder and improvisations give the play a raw reality and bring the real meaning of Christmas home to the community. My favorite scenes include a tired, bedraggled, dirty and unkept Mary crying rocking and nuzzling baby Jesus as the Angel Choir softly sings carols behind her and the Angel of the Lord shouting to the shepherds, "Hey, Unto You a Child is Born!" I think we often get so caught up the stuff of this season that we miss out on the baby snuggling next to his tender, but tired and probably a bit confused mom. I think I often need someone to get my attention by shouting in my face, "Hey, Unto You a Child is Born." Maybe then I'll go find a newborn babe to stare at for a while, just to soak in the innocence there; just to find the recent incarnation of spirit freshly bestowed in human life.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Wow! God really trusts us....
Last night at our Christmas worship service my colleague, Franklin Scott, talked about the familier Christmas story with a cool object lesson - he had an alumni bring in her 3 month old baby. As Franklin held the tiny, angelic child he talked about the miracle of God-incarnate. The most profound aspect of his sermon was when he pointed at the baby and said, "see how much God trusts us? He sent his son, his most loved posession to us in the form of a helpless baby." Franklin went on to discribe the helplessness of a newborn, and the care, love and attention they require for survival.
I don't think I had ever considered God's trust of us. What a wonderful picture of the grace and mercy of God for those he loves - he trusted us with Jesus. And he still does. As Jesus is incarnate in each of our lives God trusts us to live that same grace and mercy as we go about our daily activities. We are to literally be the hands, feet, voice, eyes, bodies and minds of Jesus in all we do. We are to allow God to indwell us, and as a result, indwell the world and touch the lives of those we meet each day.
Wow!
I don't think I had ever considered God's trust of us. What a wonderful picture of the grace and mercy of God for those he loves - he trusted us with Jesus. And he still does. As Jesus is incarnate in each of our lives God trusts us to live that same grace and mercy as we go about our daily activities. We are to literally be the hands, feet, voice, eyes, bodies and minds of Jesus in all we do. We are to allow God to indwell us, and as a result, indwell the world and touch the lives of those we meet each day.
Wow!
Sunday, December 05, 2004
What if....
I've been reading The Shaping of Things to Come: Innovation and Mission for the 21st-Century Church, by Michael Frost and Alan Hirsch. I find that I have to stop every few lines and underline a profound comment or thought and pause every page or so to let their common sense application of scripture to our contemporary society and practice of church. My reading has prompted me to re-examine the way I practice my faith and teach Christianity to those in my circle of influence. I have begun asking "what if?" a great deal!
What if we didn't spend so much time focusing on ourselves as practitioners of faith and focused more on other's needs - especially those of those who don't yet profess our faith?
What if instead of assigning folks within our memberships to committees and teams to keep our church machine going, we equiped them and commissioned them to minister where they already live and work?
What if instead of holing up inside of our church walls (seeking sanctuary from the influences "out there") we made "out there" a sanctuary where we worship God with our whole lives (Romans 12)?
What if, instead of spending millions on new church facilities, we used that money to care for the poor, broken hearted, and jailed, making sure everyone had the "cup of water" Jesus told us about?
What if, instead of going once a week as a group to the nursing home to cheer the residents with a song or a testimony we had each person in our group adopt a resident for personal ministry over the whole year?
What if, instead of going once a week to play with kids in the trailer park or the Hispanic community we assigned each student a family to minister to from their first year in college through their senior year? What difference could that student make in their lives as a tutor, mentor, "Mr." or "Ms. Fix-it," and family friend?
What if we took seriously the idea that we should be "in the world" and made every where we go our mission field instead of seeing missions and ministry as something we do only in the summer or on special trips or as some other reserved portion of our lives?
What if we didn't spend so much time focusing on ourselves as practitioners of faith and focused more on other's needs - especially those of those who don't yet profess our faith?
What if instead of assigning folks within our memberships to committees and teams to keep our church machine going, we equiped them and commissioned them to minister where they already live and work?
What if instead of holing up inside of our church walls (seeking sanctuary from the influences "out there") we made "out there" a sanctuary where we worship God with our whole lives (Romans 12)?
What if, instead of spending millions on new church facilities, we used that money to care for the poor, broken hearted, and jailed, making sure everyone had the "cup of water" Jesus told us about?
What if, instead of going once a week as a group to the nursing home to cheer the residents with a song or a testimony we had each person in our group adopt a resident for personal ministry over the whole year?
What if, instead of going once a week to play with kids in the trailer park or the Hispanic community we assigned each student a family to minister to from their first year in college through their senior year? What difference could that student make in their lives as a tutor, mentor, "Mr." or "Ms. Fix-it," and family friend?
What if we took seriously the idea that we should be "in the world" and made every where we go our mission field instead of seeing missions and ministry as something we do only in the summer or on special trips or as some other reserved portion of our lives?
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
A time to listen...
I've subscribed to several thought provoking e-newsletters recently. One arrived in my box this morning and served as a pleasant reminder to not only stop and remember what this season is all about, but also to shut up, stop and remember what this season is all about! This e-newsletter was Dorothy Day's essay, "A Time of Waiting" ( http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/dorothy-day-advent-waiting.htm ). I highly encourage reading her thoughts on the season! I usually view advent as a time of waiting. With small children at home waiting has become an active time - a time of diversion, a time to entertain, a time to be avoided if at all possible! Day's understanding of advent as silence is not only a message we need to hear, it's essential! I've often found with those in my ministry care too much time is spent with God telling, and not enough time listening. I suppose that is also true for me. These words have sparked in me a longing for Day's "Long Loneliness" - a desire to rekindle the God connection within my soul, a desire for silence of speach, of work, of ministry, of life for a bit, so that I can hear and truly experience the coming of God once again into my life and the world.
Monday, November 29, 2004
The Shoeshine Kit
I called Natalie and Nick to the floor of my bedroom: it was time for their first shoeshine lesson. In one hand, I held an old sheet of newspaper; in the other , the well-worn shoeshine kit. As I laid everything out on the floor and carefully opened the box, I could sense their excitement – this was something new and almost holy. I think they also felt my awe in teaching them something so menial and yet, somehow so spiritual. The smell of shoe wax wafted from the opened cedar box – a breeze of days long past and almost forgotten.
I sent Natalie to my closet for my black dress shoes. When she returned I began placing the contents of the kit on the newspaper – the large brush came first followed by the two smaller ones, one with soft bristles stained brown the other black. “Can I try?” they both asked, each picking up a brush and gently rubbing it against their soft skin. Memories shimmered in my mind and I paused to savor each one.
The well-stained buffing cloths came out next; each one bearing earth tone smudges of shoes shined to mirror brightness. Natalie picked up an old stained toothbrush, a question unspoken on her lips. I answered her quizzical look with an explanation and a demonstration. Closing the box and latching the lock, I asked her to place and hold a shoe on the stand affixed atop of the lid. I opened the newly purchased canister of shoe polish, gently brushed the surface of the paste, leaving swirled scars in the shiny black surface. “That smells good,” one of them said. I applied the paste to the scuffed black dress shoe in small circles, dulling the shine. I want to try, Natalie said, reaching for the brush. I held the shoe in place for her and guided her hands, teaching the swirling motion – gentle, soft swirls all along the surface of the shoe.
When we finished, Nick wanted to try a buffing brush. I asked him to choose the softest brush. Using the larger brush, I demonstrated the proper technique and quickly brought the dull surface to a shimmering brightness. “Now it’s your turn,” I said, passing the shoe to him. Half of his arm was swallowed by the large shoe as he tried to hold it just as I had done. He carefully, though clumsily, tried to imitate my quick strokes across the shoe surface. After a few misses and a few collisions, he finally got the smooth motion down. He buffed the shine even brighter.
The shoes were finished way too soon. “Let’s do some more,” Natalie exclaimed while skipping back to my closet. “I don’t have any brown polish Nat,” I called after her. “I’ll have to buy some this week.” The old cans in the bottom of the box were dry, hard and useless. Nick picked up a few cans to check the rattle inside.
I tried to explain to them the significance that my childhood experience of shining shoes with my dad now meant to me. I do not think they caught the depth of meaning it had for me – in fact I really hadn’t noticed it before until the smell of polish wafted through the room.
The day after Thanksgiving as we were carrying the last bits of luggage and “stuff” to the van mom called, “Nathan, do you want your dad’s shoeshine kit?” “Sure,” I replied, without really thinking about it. She met me in the kitchen, “here it is.” When my hand closed around the worn wooden handle the memories came flooding back bringing with them a sudden wave of grief. I turned and winced, tucking another load of “stuff” under my arms while quickly walking back towards the car, seeking to hide my filling eyes from others in the room.
I knew mom had cleaned out dad’s closet and given away most of his clothes in recent months as she sought to deal with her grief as well as clean up some of the clutter that he had collected over 47 years of marriage. She had even tried to give me some of his newer shirts a month or so back. I didn’t think long about it, “no thanks.” They would have just hung in my closet unworn this season until I eventually gave them to Goodwill or the Potter’s House.
The switch from “going to Macon to see my folks,” to “going to Macon to see mom” has not been so hard to make. Yes, I still tear up at times when looking at his picture in my office – he too was a campus minister. The shot I have is of him at his desk, deep in conversation with someone unseen. I miss him most when I want to share a new discovery or success in ministry. I want to give him a call when I have a problem and I need a wise, sympathetic ear. My grief has come in small ripples. It has not yet – if it ever will – flooded over me, drowning me in sorrow or immobilizing pain.
Nevertheless, the shoeshine kit affected me with a warm grief, a good grief – not the cold, lonely kind. The box not only holds the tools to make scuffed shoes look great, but memories of a joyous childhood, sitting on the floor with dad on Saturday evenings, shining our shoes for church the next day.
Over the past 5 months, I have thought about dad a great deal. I’ve tried to recall both good times and bad. I have tried to remember the lessons he taught me as his oldest son, lessons I never want to forget. In these months, I have also tried to remember his words and actions that as a dad I do not want to repeat with my children. Many of those words I only remember as they come out of my mouth!
I hope to make memories with my kids that are lasting. I hope that many of the experiences we share, great and small, will be indelibly marked in their minds by something as simple and yet profound as the smell of shoe polish. I hope they will learn lessons from me that I learned from dad – no matter how scuffed up life makes us, we can always be polished and made fresh again. Moreover, often the scars, though painful at the time are the very things that give us character and strength. It is often not what happens to us that matters most, but what we do with what happens to us that really matters. I want to learn from dad’s life. I want to remember.
I think I will be polishing my shoes a bit more now – whether or not they need shining!
I sent Natalie to my closet for my black dress shoes. When she returned I began placing the contents of the kit on the newspaper – the large brush came first followed by the two smaller ones, one with soft bristles stained brown the other black. “Can I try?” they both asked, each picking up a brush and gently rubbing it against their soft skin. Memories shimmered in my mind and I paused to savor each one.
The well-stained buffing cloths came out next; each one bearing earth tone smudges of shoes shined to mirror brightness. Natalie picked up an old stained toothbrush, a question unspoken on her lips. I answered her quizzical look with an explanation and a demonstration. Closing the box and latching the lock, I asked her to place and hold a shoe on the stand affixed atop of the lid. I opened the newly purchased canister of shoe polish, gently brushed the surface of the paste, leaving swirled scars in the shiny black surface. “That smells good,” one of them said. I applied the paste to the scuffed black dress shoe in small circles, dulling the shine. I want to try, Natalie said, reaching for the brush. I held the shoe in place for her and guided her hands, teaching the swirling motion – gentle, soft swirls all along the surface of the shoe.
When we finished, Nick wanted to try a buffing brush. I asked him to choose the softest brush. Using the larger brush, I demonstrated the proper technique and quickly brought the dull surface to a shimmering brightness. “Now it’s your turn,” I said, passing the shoe to him. Half of his arm was swallowed by the large shoe as he tried to hold it just as I had done. He carefully, though clumsily, tried to imitate my quick strokes across the shoe surface. After a few misses and a few collisions, he finally got the smooth motion down. He buffed the shine even brighter.
The shoes were finished way too soon. “Let’s do some more,” Natalie exclaimed while skipping back to my closet. “I don’t have any brown polish Nat,” I called after her. “I’ll have to buy some this week.” The old cans in the bottom of the box were dry, hard and useless. Nick picked up a few cans to check the rattle inside.
I tried to explain to them the significance that my childhood experience of shining shoes with my dad now meant to me. I do not think they caught the depth of meaning it had for me – in fact I really hadn’t noticed it before until the smell of polish wafted through the room.
The day after Thanksgiving as we were carrying the last bits of luggage and “stuff” to the van mom called, “Nathan, do you want your dad’s shoeshine kit?” “Sure,” I replied, without really thinking about it. She met me in the kitchen, “here it is.” When my hand closed around the worn wooden handle the memories came flooding back bringing with them a sudden wave of grief. I turned and winced, tucking another load of “stuff” under my arms while quickly walking back towards the car, seeking to hide my filling eyes from others in the room.
I knew mom had cleaned out dad’s closet and given away most of his clothes in recent months as she sought to deal with her grief as well as clean up some of the clutter that he had collected over 47 years of marriage. She had even tried to give me some of his newer shirts a month or so back. I didn’t think long about it, “no thanks.” They would have just hung in my closet unworn this season until I eventually gave them to Goodwill or the Potter’s House.
The switch from “going to Macon to see my folks,” to “going to Macon to see mom” has not been so hard to make. Yes, I still tear up at times when looking at his picture in my office – he too was a campus minister. The shot I have is of him at his desk, deep in conversation with someone unseen. I miss him most when I want to share a new discovery or success in ministry. I want to give him a call when I have a problem and I need a wise, sympathetic ear. My grief has come in small ripples. It has not yet – if it ever will – flooded over me, drowning me in sorrow or immobilizing pain.
Nevertheless, the shoeshine kit affected me with a warm grief, a good grief – not the cold, lonely kind. The box not only holds the tools to make scuffed shoes look great, but memories of a joyous childhood, sitting on the floor with dad on Saturday evenings, shining our shoes for church the next day.
Over the past 5 months, I have thought about dad a great deal. I’ve tried to recall both good times and bad. I have tried to remember the lessons he taught me as his oldest son, lessons I never want to forget. In these months, I have also tried to remember his words and actions that as a dad I do not want to repeat with my children. Many of those words I only remember as they come out of my mouth!
I hope to make memories with my kids that are lasting. I hope that many of the experiences we share, great and small, will be indelibly marked in their minds by something as simple and yet profound as the smell of shoe polish. I hope they will learn lessons from me that I learned from dad – no matter how scuffed up life makes us, we can always be polished and made fresh again. Moreover, often the scars, though painful at the time are the very things that give us character and strength. It is often not what happens to us that matters most, but what we do with what happens to us that really matters. I want to learn from dad’s life. I want to remember.
I think I will be polishing my shoes a bit more now – whether or not they need shining!
Sunday, November 21, 2004
It worked!
Yesterday morning, just as I was posting the last entry my wife got a call from the Bible Study leader at our church asking her to lead "tomorrow's" lesson. My wife wasn't available, so I readily agreed to lead the time. I saw it as a chance to try out my "epiphany."
It worked! I got some really funny looks when explaining to the gathered university professors, vets and teachers my thoughts about the way we have been doing Bible Study. However, they were willing to try (I think they were just glad to have someone lead the group - it let them off of the hook!). We began with the Old Testament lesson that would soon be read in corporate worship. I asked my wife to read the long passage through and then for someone else with another translation to read the same passage as soon as the first was finished. There was an odd pause at the conclusion of the readings. I didn't want to have to ask for comments or to give any further instructions, but this being the first time we had tried this approach I thought it best to ask, "does this passage resonnate with anyone's experiences, life, plans or....." I was hoping for a short period of silence - something we Baptist are not used to or fond of in worship or our discussions. However, one of the members quickly jumped in with a very practical experience from the day before. We had some lively discussion as folks were connecting with the rather odd passage about bringing our first fruits to the priest to be given to God. After 10 or so minutes of discussion we jumped to the New Testament reading. We read it in a similar manner. The disscussion picked up on the similar themes in both readings. Soon we were sharing about our lives and how, especially at Thanksgiving we should be reflective of how our lives are lived out gifts brought to God daily, giving God the best of all we are and do, not just from our checkbooks. I said some things to wrap up and offered a prayer of thanksgiving and we headed into worship.
I hope that the others in the class made the same connections to the scriptures as they were read during the corporate worship time. The hour had new meaning as we sang, prayed and read those same passages. When we came the sharing of communion I was able to see my life as a gift brought to God not alone, but as a dad, a member of the body of Christ and as one who is a result of whole Bible story, from my ancient grandparents Abraham and Sarah through to my brothers and sisters in Christ who play out the Gospel narrative.
It worked! I got some really funny looks when explaining to the gathered university professors, vets and teachers my thoughts about the way we have been doing Bible Study. However, they were willing to try (I think they were just glad to have someone lead the group - it let them off of the hook!). We began with the Old Testament lesson that would soon be read in corporate worship. I asked my wife to read the long passage through and then for someone else with another translation to read the same passage as soon as the first was finished. There was an odd pause at the conclusion of the readings. I didn't want to have to ask for comments or to give any further instructions, but this being the first time we had tried this approach I thought it best to ask, "does this passage resonnate with anyone's experiences, life, plans or....." I was hoping for a short period of silence - something we Baptist are not used to or fond of in worship or our discussions. However, one of the members quickly jumped in with a very practical experience from the day before. We had some lively discussion as folks were connecting with the rather odd passage about bringing our first fruits to the priest to be given to God. After 10 or so minutes of discussion we jumped to the New Testament reading. We read it in a similar manner. The disscussion picked up on the similar themes in both readings. Soon we were sharing about our lives and how, especially at Thanksgiving we should be reflective of how our lives are lived out gifts brought to God daily, giving God the best of all we are and do, not just from our checkbooks. I said some things to wrap up and offered a prayer of thanksgiving and we headed into worship.
I hope that the others in the class made the same connections to the scriptures as they were read during the corporate worship time. The hour had new meaning as we sang, prayed and read those same passages. When we came the sharing of communion I was able to see my life as a gift brought to God not alone, but as a dad, a member of the body of Christ and as one who is a result of whole Bible story, from my ancient grandparents Abraham and Sarah through to my brothers and sisters in Christ who play out the Gospel narrative.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
aah, Saturday Morning....
it's a wonderful, rainy, lazy Saturday morning. My family was slow getting out of bed and coming down for our usual morning around the table chatting and reading the paper together. We finished off the time with heaping plates of blueberry pancakes - yum! Of course I was up early. I suppose that's the result of getting older and having too much spinning in my head at any one time. After heading the wrong direction after leaving the Omni Hotel in Atlanta last night, I ended up in who-knows-where on the southwest side of Atlanta. I still don't know how I got where I was. Anyway, instead of getting home at 10:30 it was closer to 11:30. I had lots on my mind as a result of the conference I had attended over the last two days. Not that the conference was that informative, but my thoughts and reading did stretch me.
These days I've been thinking about being a follower of Jesus outside of the normal church experience. It seems we have confused our religious pursuits - church - from being a Christian. While hiding in the sanctuary or refuge of our church buildings (we have become like Quasimodo running from the soldiers in The Hunchback of Notre Dame crying "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!") we are missing the changing world outside of our doors. I wonder if we'll be able to reconnect with those that aren't within the walls with us? I wonder if anyone really wants to?
I've been reading some great books that have really challenged my traditional thinking about how to do church and be a minister to church members and to those who don't do church. I don't know that I can make the switch from being a desk jocky with my faith to someone who is out of the box, seeking God in all of life and trying to make God-connections for folks where ever I go. I'd like to - but I sometimes find that I don't know what to say to folks that don't do the church thing, that don't know churchspeak. I've so cloistered myself for so many years that I wonder if I have anything in common with anyone not in my church club? It's all rather frightening, actually. I've got to find some ways hang out with folks not in my world - just to stay sane. Now that I've noticed the dichotomy I must do something to change before it's too late. What - that's the question that woke me up this morning. It's OK to read about making the switch - but actually stepping out and doing some things to change my point of view? That's a bit tougher....
These days I've been thinking about being a follower of Jesus outside of the normal church experience. It seems we have confused our religious pursuits - church - from being a Christian. While hiding in the sanctuary or refuge of our church buildings (we have become like Quasimodo running from the soldiers in The Hunchback of Notre Dame crying "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!") we are missing the changing world outside of our doors. I wonder if we'll be able to reconnect with those that aren't within the walls with us? I wonder if anyone really wants to?
I've been reading some great books that have really challenged my traditional thinking about how to do church and be a minister to church members and to those who don't do church. I don't know that I can make the switch from being a desk jocky with my faith to someone who is out of the box, seeking God in all of life and trying to make God-connections for folks where ever I go. I'd like to - but I sometimes find that I don't know what to say to folks that don't do the church thing, that don't know churchspeak. I've so cloistered myself for so many years that I wonder if I have anything in common with anyone not in my church club? It's all rather frightening, actually. I've got to find some ways hang out with folks not in my world - just to stay sane. Now that I've noticed the dichotomy I must do something to change before it's too late. What - that's the question that woke me up this morning. It's OK to read about making the switch - but actually stepping out and doing some things to change my point of view? That's a bit tougher....
Friday, November 19, 2004
...an epiphany of sorts
I’ve just had a revelation or an epiphany – everything about the Bible is now different for me. The Bible was never intended to be studied by individuals, but to be read and applied by the gathered community of God. The Bible is God’s revelation of Godself to the Church, the gathered community of believers! His word to us, not to me! It can only be properly understood, digested and applied in community. Looking back on the way the canon came into being and the way the early documents and letters that now make up the Bible were disseminated, it was mostly in communal settings, churches, families, folks getting together to read a fragment here and a letter there. It is only since the invention of the printing press and the resulting spread and availability of books that individuals own Bibles for personal (only) use. I think this is a mistake of modernity of the highest degree. We dissect God's word instead of letting it dissect us! We have become the ones who control the Bible (and thus God's work in our lives) instead of allowing God to control and change us from within the community.
I’m intrigued by the Quakers. I think they’ve got it right on many matters, especially on worship and the speaking of the Holy Spirit to the gathered community of believers. I think I’m going to adapt some of their methods in my Bible Studies for the rest of this year to see what happens.
Starting next week I’m not going to teach my Bible studies (one with a group of guys working through Mark and the other with our senior students in First John). We are going to try a new approach – read a section or chunk, mediate on it and see what God says in response to us as individuals and as a group to apply it to our lives, community, group, etc: No critiquing the work; No analysis; Just our response to God’s word in our lives and community. We’ll see how it works. It’s a very postmodern approach. We’ll teach each other. The focus is not to glean information, but to do spiritual formation – to become more like Christ in all aspects of our lives.
I’m intrigued by the Quakers. I think they’ve got it right on many matters, especially on worship and the speaking of the Holy Spirit to the gathered community of believers. I think I’m going to adapt some of their methods in my Bible Studies for the rest of this year to see what happens.
Starting next week I’m not going to teach my Bible studies (one with a group of guys working through Mark and the other with our senior students in First John). We are going to try a new approach – read a section or chunk, mediate on it and see what God says in response to us as individuals and as a group to apply it to our lives, community, group, etc: No critiquing the work; No analysis; Just our response to God’s word in our lives and community. We’ll see how it works. It’s a very postmodern approach. We’ll teach each other. The focus is not to glean information, but to do spiritual formation – to become more like Christ in all aspects of our lives.
I journal - every once in a while - so I can look back and figure out where I've been on this journey of life and so my kids may be able to one day avoid some of the silly miss-steps I've made along the way. I've read other's blogs over the years. Now I've decided to do more than just make comments on their sites and give a go at my own. Join me for the trip!
Thursday, November 04, 2004
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