Where have all our prophets gone?

A few years ago in our Sunday School class we read through a really thought-provoking anthology on the topic of peacemaking.  The authors included the likes of Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Thich Nhat Hanh and Mahatma Gandhi, along with many, many others.  When we had worked our way through most of the book, a rather disquieting sense of forboding settled over the group.  For months we had been applauding these brave and prophetic voices from our past.  But increasingly, we realized it was hard to lift up prophetic examples in our present.  At this point in history, when we seem to need those wise voices serving as a moral compass, certainly as much as at any other time in history, it begs  the question, where have all our prophets gone? 

If we turn to the Bible for counsel, then in the interest of honestly, I have to admit scripture doesn't present the prophetic job description in a terribly attractive light.  To demonstrate,  let's use Jeremiah and Jesus as Biblical examples.  First, Jeremiah.

Jeremiah spends 50 years pleading with Israel to repent, warning them that if they do not, they will bring about their own devastation. In the meantime, competing prophets reassure the people and tell them they are in the midst of a new era of peace, no worries. Jeremiah is eventually imprisoned two different times, and only escapes the second time through the mercy and intervention of a well-placed friend. For fifty years Jeremiah gets to see doom creeping ever closer. His warnings become increasingly strident and shrill. And it’s all for naught. He is ignored. The Babylonians invade and Jerusalem falls. Even after Jeremiah is proved tragically right, still people don’t want to have anything to do with him, at least not in his lifetime. Does this sound like a way of life we’d like to sign up for?

And then we have Jesus. He is in his own community, announcing the start of his ministry, wasting no time getting down to prophetic business, which includes telling his friends and acquaintances that while he has great power and will accomplish many wonderful things, he won’t be able to do anything for them, because they won’t ever truly believe. What follows is the first assassination attempt on Jesus’ life and yet somehow he passes through their midst, unharmed (Luke 4). Yeah, that sounds like fun, right? Speaking really hard words of truth to the community that’s supposed to love you the most and then facing their rage and blinding hatred?

Jeremiah’s no fool. He knows no one in their right mind would volunteer to be a prophet. When God comes calling, Jeremiah says, “God, I’m not a good speaker and besides no one’s going to listen to me. I’m just a kid (Jer. 1).” But God sees in Jeremiah exactly what he’s looking for. And thank God for that, because we have been learning from Jeremiah’s courage, his conviction, his passion for the past almost 2,500 years. We need prophets. We need the voices of prophets speaking from the past, but we also need their voices in the present.

In this age, we do have minor prophetic voices speaking, but we are missing the major prophets - the lightening rods that seize national attention and stir tremendous controversy and dialogue. It’s not a good sign, when the major prophetic voices fall silent. And while I think this is what has happened, I can’t say for sure why it’s happened.

Part of me is tempted to blame technology. In some ways, all our gadgets with their ever-increasing capabilities to plug us into trivial games and entertainment sites, seem to dull our senses and numb us to some of the harsh realities being played out under our noses. Technology has also made prophesying a lot less hazardous and therefore less powerful. We can prophesy from the safety of our homes. And so in some ways the prophetic voices are innumerable, but they all kind of blend together into a white noise that seldom pierces our consciousness.

Part of me blames a watered down understanding and practice of Christianity. In the church, we’re taught to be nice. And it’s not nice to step on people’s toes. What other people think matters and so we tailor our message to accommodate rather than to challenge. Some people think pastors play a prophetic role. Maybe to a degree, but this is also a pretty watered-down version of prophecy, for several reasons.  But prophecy tends to be more effective when it hits you with your defenses down. Two, a pastor's livelihood depends on a congregation's goodwill. As a pastor, I know about how far I can go before I need to stop. And  I am grateful my congregation gives me a lot of latitude.  Still, there’s a line drawn in the sand that I’d better not cross over if I want to continue to being a pastor. And three, speaking just personally, being nice is pretty deeply ingrained in my psyche.  I don't like making people uncomfortable, or even worse, angry.
One, a congregation can ready itself to hear a challenging 20 minute sermon one morning a week.


Part of me blames churches that don’t even try to nurture prophetic voices in their midst. Most churches do not work at teaching people how to speak truth to power. Why? Because budding prophets are going to need practice. And guess who they’ll need to practice on? And what church needs that? Certainly Jesus’ hometown synagogue wasn’t up to the task.

Blame fixing isn’t a terribly productive enterprise, but we also need to come to terms with the dangerous situation we are in, in order to do something about it. The worsening condition of our environment comes immediately to mind. There has been no shortage of prophetic voices going back decades telling us we need to change our ways, or life as we know it will cease to exist. But there’s been a real disconnect between this prophecy of doom and the prophetic appeal to rectify the situation. Most vocal voices, urging people to do their part, accommodate far too much. They are way too nice. They suggest that if we make a few painless changes here and there it will be sufficient. But there’s a profound disconnect between environmental catastrophe and the proposed remedy of changing out light bulbs and driving less. Either things aren’t quite as dire as some environmental prophets would have us believe or the prophets we rely on to tell us very specifically how much we need to change our lifestyles don’t have the courage to speak. I know a lot of people prefer to think it’s the former. Prefer to think this whole issue has been overblown. But the science tells us, actually screams in our faces warning us the threat is not only real, but everyday is becoming less a threat and more a reality. Therefore, I long for some sort of public and powerful figure to start giving it to the American populace without mincing words. I want someone to tell us all exactly what we need to do, the life-changing sacrifices we need to start making. And I want this voice of authority backed up by a government who is more concerned about our future well-being than it is about it’s re-election prospects. I don’t want anymore kidding around. I want us to hear the painful truth and I want that truth backed by very unpopular action. If the silence continues, I fear we’re going to go sailing over the edge of no return with our heads still stuck in the sand.

That’s not to say we won’t go sailing over the edge even if we have that prophetic voice grabbing hold of our ears and yanking our faces up out of the sand. Humanity has a poor track record when it comes to listening to its prophets. But at least the prophetic voice offers us the hope we can still do something to change everything around. And maybe this time we’d even listen. I love the book of Jonah because the people actually listened to their prophet and averted disaster in the process.

I don’t want to abdicate responsibility here either. If we know we need to make changes, there’s no sense lollygagging about, waiting for some prophet to come around and tell us to get busy. And yet, sometimes what we need to finally tip the scale in favor of action is a prophetic voice telling us to get off our behinds and get to it.

We are not all called to be prophets. But I think we are all called to nurture those prophetic voices in our midst. Here are some traits I think God would look for in a prophet. A few are obvious.
* The individual would need to have a very real sense of God’s call. Often a call from God can feel kind of wishy washy. Is it a genuine call or is it just our imagination? I think a prophetic call has to go beyond wishy washy.

* A prophet also needs to have a burning passion and conviction, otherwise his or her words won’t ring true. No one will even pretend to listen.

* An earnest striving for humility is also called for. Humility probably doesn’t come very naturally for most prophets and yet, even prophets can get it wrong. He or she must know how to tread lightly enough to acknowledge if they’ve inadvertently headed down a dead-end or they run the risk of becoming a false prophet. Maybe another way of saying this is that prophets need to seek out an accountability structure.

Those are the obvious ones, but there are a few other essential qualities too.
*A prophet needs to be an individual who can nurture hope. Prophets aren’t going to win a whole lot of popularity contests, but they do have one really big thing going for them. If they are urging change, they must think that change can still make a difference.  They must still have hope. And hope can energize a massive amount of change. It can nudge people from immobilized fear into tentative action. Prophets must be people of hope.

*Prophets must also have a capacity for love that goes beyond what is ordinary. "And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing (I Cor. 13:2)."  Actually, this entire I Corinthian passage is like the core component of the prophet’s training manual. A prophet has to love people to such a degree that he or she feels compelled to do all they can to bring people back into a right relationship with God - even when it means speaking difficult truths. The only time it is appropriate to call a person or a people to task is if it is done with love. Love is not a sappy feel good emotion. It is strong.  It is strident.  It is also a smidge scary. Too many would be prophets do not have the proper understanding of or capacity for love.

*I’m going to add one more to this list, all though there may be some exceptions to this one. Most prophets will get their start when they’re young. There’s a reason God came to Jeremiah when he was only a teenager. Think back over the list of qualities I’ve named. Some of the most discerning, passionate, convicted, hope-filled, idealistic and loving people I know are children, adolescents and/or young adults. And there’s a couple more things young people have going for them. They aren’t yet tied down.....on so many different levels. But speaking in practical terms, they usually don’t have children and are often single. They don’t have mortgages or long-term commitments to a career. They are less future oriented and more present focused. It is exceptionally difficult to speak hard truths when you know your family might bear the brunt of your honesty, or when you know your job or livelihood might be put at risk. Youth also have a certain confidence, some might say arrogance, that gives them the assurance they need to stand up for what is right at any cost. Youth have energy to spare, they are brash.  Life hasn’t yet drilled it through their head that it is wisest to look before you leap.

If people don't feel called to be a prophetic voice themselves,then it seems we all should at least be about the business of nurturing people, and in particular young people, in our spheres of influence. And I say this with a trembling heart, because I have a child who has many of these qualities in spades and I am working to nurture these gifts I see in her with a sense of ambivalence. Do I wish the role of prophet on anyone I love, much less my own child? So yes, I nurture with a little reluctance thrown into the mix and I know that someday this means she might turn her prophetic eye on me and knowing my daughter as I do, I predict she will be uncompromising and probably uncomfortably right in her assessment. How will I respond? I don’t take criticism well. I can only imagine that tendency will have to be multiplied several times over when the critical source is my own child.

But that’s how it works, isn’t it? If you aren't called to be a prophet or if you decline the call, then your other option is to be of help in encouraging others and this means being willing to listen and take their words to heart. Prophesying is lonely work, but it’s essential too. We need our prophets and so we must figure out a way to help them be born and to mature. That’s got to be a foundational call for the church.

I've heard many young prophetic voices in books and online.  My favorite is a youtube video dating back to 1992.  The clip shows Severn Suzuki, a 12 year old girl, bolding addressing the United Nations as a representative for The Environmental Children's Organization.  Her words and warnings are even more timely today, 20 years later.  I applaud not only young Severn, but her parents, her community, her teachers, everyone who played a role in encouraging Severn to find her voice at such a young age.  Today Severn continues her work on behalf of our environment as a social activist.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZsDliXzyAY
 
My prayer - May the prophetic silence soon be broken and may we be willing to listen.

　
　
　

Ten Things You Don’t Have to Believe to Follow Jesus

I have mentioned before that I often agree with my atheist friends.  Their criticisms of Christianity often leave me cheering.  I agree wholeheartedly...well not quite.  Even as I am cheering there is a small part of me that wants to say, “you do know there are people out there who believe in Jesus and are not like that, right?”  There is another part of me that is saddened by such conversations because I know there are good hearted people out there who struggle with some of the beliefs being criticized. Yet they think they have to believe that way in order to be “Christian”.  So, for the sake of that small part of me that wants to defend myself (I think it is called pride) and for the sake of those who want to believe differently but think they can’t:  here are a few things that I don’t think you have to believe in order to follow Jesus.  Whether you can still be called Christian or not depends on the speaker and frankly I don’t know why we should care.  The point is following Jesus.

1. You don’t have to believe in a place or state of eternal torment otherwise known as Hell.
2. You don’t have to believe atheists, muslims, hindus, buddhists, agnostics etc. are going to hell.
3. You don’t have to believe homosexuality is a sin or that homosexuals are going to hell.  (Wow, there is that hell thing again.)
4. You don’t have to believe women should be submissive to their husbands.
5. You don’t have to believe science is the enemy.
6. You don’t have to believe evolution is a farce.
7. You don’t have to believe prayer in school is a good idea.
8. You don’t have to be a Republican. (or a Democrat for that matter.)
9. You don’t have to believe that Heaven is up in the sky somewhere.
10. You don’t have to believe in substitutionary atonement: the idea that Jesus died as a sacrifice instead of us as our sin had earned us God’s wrath to a capital punishment sort of level.  

Certainly belief in these things is possible as a follower of Jesus but not necessary.  There are many well respected theologians who do not believe these things.  (If you would like to do some reading about any of the above topics let me know and I will post some links.) Some would argue “clear words of scripture” demand such beliefs. But realistically what that means is the “clear words of the particular scriptures to which I am paying attention.”  We all emphasize some scriptures over others.  For example, paying attention to 1 Corinthians 14:34 for women to be silent in church requires ignoring or fancily interpreting 1 Corinthians 11:5 which urges women to cover their heads when prophesying.  Difficult to prophesy while being silent.  "Clear words of scripture" often aren't so clear after all.

Those who follow Jesus don’t agree on everything.  The above ten are only a few of the areas where there can be disagreement.  Jesus sets us free to be who we are, not force ourselves into a particular package labeled Christian, not fret about whether we believe the right things.  Jesus sets us free from toeing the line someone else has drawn and free to get busy following him by loving our neighbors.

The power of love versus the love of power

Weapon
The will to power destroys the power to will.
The weapon made, we cannot help but use it;
it drags us with its own momentum still.

The power to kill compounds the need to kill.
Grown out of hand the heart cannot refuse it;
the will to power undoes the power to will.

Though as we strike we cry, “I did not choose it,”
it drags us with its own momentum still.
In the one stroke we win the world and lose it.
The will to power destroys the power to will.
- Judith Wright
　
The Bible presents such a vast array of ideas about and understanding of God. Take Psalm 29 and Isaiah 42 as an example. The theologies behind these two passages are jarringly different. Psalm 29 speaks about an all powerful God whose mere voice breaks down trees and strips the forest bare. The concluding verses describe God as enthroned above all the chaotic violence of his creation and the psalmist asks God to bless God’s people with this kind of strength as well.

Then we have Isaiah 42. In this passage God is speaking joyfully and tenderly about a servant leader that delights God’s very soul. This servant leader is characterized by his tenderness and his will for justice. “A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.” This passage concludes speaking about old things passing away and new things springing forth.

So Psalm 29 offers us an image of a God who revels in majestic power. Isaiah 42 presents a God who loves the leader who works compassionately and tirelessly for justice. Let’s go ahead and stir some gospel into the mix as well. Matthew also offers an interesting contrast.

In the third chapter of Matthew we have John the Baptist on the banks of the River Jordan preaching a fiery message of brimstone. In verses 11-12 he says, “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

This is immediately followed up with the baptism of Jesus. But given John’s description of Jesus, this baptism text is a little disconcerting. Jesus appears at the river, with no pomp or ceremony. He isn’t even preaching. John is clearly taken off guard and tries to finangle the situation so that Jesus can baptize John, rather than vice versa. But Jesus won’t have any of it. He requests that John baptize him in the same manner he’s been baptizing everyone else.

Next we have heaven opening and the spirit of God descending. But again, according to the text, this is not the majestic and otherworldly scene we like to imagine. Matthew indicates that Jesus was the only one who noticed God’s entrance. And God’s spoken words take us right back to Isaiah 42. “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Then Jesus heads off into the wilderness and faces temptation. And what does the tempter offer Jesus? Power. A power that manipulates and controls. And this kind of power Jesus will have nothing to do with.

So on the one hand we have God as presented by Isaiah, and we have Jesus as presented by Matthew. On the other hand we have God as described in Psalm 29 and we have John the Baptist. What intrigues me here is the differing understandings of power. Power as embodied by God, power as understood by people. Almost always, implicit in humanity’s grasp of power is the idea of “power over”. This is a glaring and troubling motif throughout the Bible. But I am convinced this is not God, but rather humanity’s version of an avatar for God. Because there is also an equal and opposing view of God and power that emerges again and again throughout scripture and this understanding of God’s power is the polar opposite of people’s take on the word. There is a timeless divide here and one the church has lived out since its very inception.

In his book, In the Name of Jesus, Henri Nouwen writes, “When I ask myself the main reason for so many people having left the Church during the past decades in France, Germany, Holland, and also in Canada and America, the word “power” easily comes to mind. One of the greatest ironies of the history of Christianity is that its leaders constantly gave in to the temptation of power--political power, military power, economic power, or moral and spiritual power--even though they continued to speak in the name of Jesus, who did not cling to his divine power but emptied himself and became as we are. The temptation to consider power an apt instrument for the proclamation of the Gospel is the greatest of all. We keep hearing from others, as well as saying to ourselves, that having power--provided it is used in the service of God and your fellow human beings--is a good thing. With this rationalization, crusades took place; inquisitions were organized; Indians were enslaved; positions of great influence were desired; Episcopal palaces, splendid cathedrals, and opulent seminaries were built; and much moral manipulation of conscience was engaged in. Every time we see a major crisis in the history of the Church, such as the Great Schism of the eleventh century, or the immense secularization of the twentieth century, we always see that a major cause of rupture is the power exercised by those who claim to be followers of the poor and powerless Jesus.”

What power struggles do you contend with? In what ways do your desires for power shape you and your life? We all struggle with issues of power and we all like having power in some way or another. I can’t speak for all of humanity, but a desire to have “power over” does seem to be an endemic trait among people of more privileged societies, straight across time. Maybe when you are born with “power over” so much of the world, as most of us are, the taste of power then grows addictively sweet. But our practice of power is not God’s power at all.

Jimi Hendrix once said, ““When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.” I don’t know much about Jimi Hendrix, but I like how the quote, perhaps unintentionally, names God. God is the power of love. That is God’s power. And God’s love isn’t some feel good, Hallmark emotion. The love of God can very well strip trees bare and leave the wilderness shaking. In this way, the Psalmist is correct. God’s love is terrifying in its sheer force and magnitude. Yet paradoxically, God’s love is also tender and gentle. "A bruised reed he will not break." But this force of love is never used to overpower or oppress, never. God’s love is the most powerful force the world will ever know, but instead of embracing God’s idea of power, we seem to prefer to stick with our own notions.

Why? Because love requires so much more of us than power does. Power allows us to be distant, removed, in control. We get to be seated on a throne above all the chaotic mess in the trenches. On the other hand, love requires engagement, trust, vulnerability, surrender, messiness, servanthood. Love is so much more difficult than power and so, as a civilization, we keep right on allowing the love of power to overcome the power of love. Despite the fact that this is about as contrary to scripture, and to God’s nature as you can get.

I find John 21 very telling. This is the final chapter in the gospel of John, verses 15-16 -“When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’ A second time he said to him, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ And he said to him, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep.’”

Now this might seem as if Jesus is commissioning Peter to take charge, to have power over this community if it weren’t for the words which follow in verses 17-19. Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.’ (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, ‘Follow me.’”

We’ve seized on these verses as a beautiful description of what it means to grow old and it certainly is this, but that wasn’t quite what Jesus was expressing. Rather, Jesus indicated the shift in our understanding when we mature. When we grow older and wiser we realize that true leadership isn’t about “power over” others, but is instead servant leadership and the empowerment of others. And so Jesus, resurrected from a horrible death on the cross only days earlier, turns to Peter and says, “Love me. Teach others how to love me and follow my lead.” Servanthood, that’s where all the real power lies.

I think for most of us, what I've written isn't anything new. We know all this.......on a head level. But it takes a lifetime of learning to begin to comprehend in the deepest parts of who we are, exactly how all-encompassing, all-empowering and mighty God‘s love really is. May we find ways, each day, to open ourselves to the most powerful love of all, that love who came near so long ago in the form of Servanthood.

The Atheists Are Right and What Can Be Said About Tornadoes

I think the atheists are right.  Actually I agree with the agnostics and unchurched too and all those who think the church is full of hypocrisy.  Before you start responding with the typical “the church is full of people, and people are sinners so of course we aren’t perfect,” hear me out.  I suspect that the hypocritical feel of the church has less to do with sinners who make mistakes and more to do with the beliefs we profess.  Let’s give those outside of the church a little credit for some brains, after all.  They know people make mistakes.  They know people don’t always live up to their own values.  Certainly sexual abuse committed by church leaders and other scandals don’t improve the image of the church but I think the heart of that tarnished image has more to do with what we say.  Often what we profess to believe is inconsistent, self-contradictory and paints a picture of a god who is unworthy of worship.  

Sometimes this inconsistency is most obvious when it comes to controversial topics.  For example, the issue of homosexuality.  Often the belief that homosexuality is a sin is said to be based on words of scripture.  Yet folks who quote these “clear words of scripture” in regards to homosexuality take a more interpretive stance on words of scripture that urge giving all our money to the poor.  I am not advocating a particular view of homosexuality at this point (I’ll leave that for other posts).  One could hold the opposite view of homosexuality and be inconsistent as well.  This is about avoiding hypocrisy. 

Then there are the more everyday proclamations to which we likely don’t even give much thought.  We thank God that we were spared from some calamity when others were not spared.  Do we then think those who were not spared are being punished by God?  Do we think they are bad people?  Do we think they forgot to pray?  If we don’t believe it is somehow the victims fault than do we believe that God chose not to intervene on their behalf?  Then should they be cursing God while we are praising God?  If we don’t believe any of those things than it seems inconsistent to proclaim that God spared us.  Of course, we could always just praise God for the good and proclaim the bad as just chance or “things we don’t understand.”  But if we don’t understand why bad things happen then how can we claim to know why good things happen?

I recently read “Becoming a Thinking Christian” by John B. Cobb, Jr. in which he calls Christians to think about just such matters.  He urges people to think theologically and root out the true basis of their beliefs, searching for inconsistencies.  I believe such deep thought is of tremendous value.  When we speak of God and live out our faith without such thought we are in danger of contributing to the image of the church as hypocritical.  We are in danger of painting a picture of a god who is fickle, and is sometimes all-powerful and other times horribly powerless.  We are in danger of teaching our kids our beliefs only to have them grow up and recognize our inconsistencies and so reject our faith altogether.  

This is not about being intellectual or going to seminary or being an expert on any topic.  This is simply about thinking about the things you already believe.  Do these things make sense?  Are they consistent?  What do these beliefs say about God? At school, at work, at home, in many areas of our lives we are forced to think about what we do or say.  We wouldn’t keep a job very long if we didn’t.  Our faith requires thought too.

Otherwise the church doesn’t just look hypocritical, it looks plain old silly sometimes.

As you may have read in Lynn’s blog earlier, our community was struck by tornadoes a few days ago.  Though this served to bring forward some of what was already on my mind, what I have written is not about something anyone said or did regarding the tornadoes.   From all that I have heard and seen the community’s response has been wonderful.  But thinking of the tornadoes does make me want to express something about what I do believe can be said on this occasion.  I do believe all that we have, all that we are, and our very lives are gifts from God.  Those affected by the tornados, from those I count as friends, to the children who make me smile, to those I barely know or don’t know at all, all are precious. All of these are precious to our community, to our world, and most especially precious to God.  I am tremendously glad that these precious lives are still amongst us.  There is much I hesitate to say (as outlined above) but this I proclaim with confidence.

Furthermore, since all we have is gift from God it is only right that we share our gifts with others when they go through difficult times.  So to those whose homes and farms lay in tatters I proclaim this also: we, your friends, neighbors, and community will be here lending a helping hand in the days and months and years to come. 

In a tornado's aftermath: grief and grace

Yesterday we celebrated Holy Humor Sunday in church. Along with many other Christian fellowships, my congregation honors resurrection joy the week after Easter with a time of worship dedicated to laughter. We tell jokes and share funny stories. In the past, we’ve even decorated our worship space with balloons. But yesterday I didn’t feel much like laughing.

Saturday evening, over 100 tornadoes swept across the plains of Kansas and carried along with them trees, sheds, shingles as well as years of hard work and more than a few dreams. When the winds died down, cattle were left lying on their sides in the fields, felled by broken bones. Tin twisted around trees. Telephone poles were snapped in half.

Friends of ours will more than likely watch their old farmhouse get bull dozed later today. This old family home shook its fist at the violent storm and stood strong even while the tornado bore down upon it. It sheltered its family, hunkered down in the cellar. But its bones were also irreparably damaged. While we are so thankful no one was hurt, we grieve over the devastation of what such a short time ago was their well tended homestead…their home.

And from a distance, we add our heartfelt sorrow to those mourning the loss of loved ones in neighboring Oklahoma.

No, my heart wasn’t laughing yesterday. And yet, the resurrection stories we reflected upon in worship were comforting. I was reminded of the disciples’ grief following Jesus’ death. Not only had they lost their friend, they had also lost their religion, so to speak. Everything that had come to give their life meaning and direction had been stripped away and they felt betrayed, duped. Their despair is palpable in these stories. They hide themselves away from the public out of fear and according to the gospel of Mark, they spend their time together weeping and mourning.

Then something interesting begins to happen. There, in the midst of despair, Jesus/God begins to resurface in predictably unpredictable ways. He floats into the room where the disciples are cowering. He comforts Mary. He warms the hearts of believers on the Emmaus road. Most poignant perhaps is a story from the book of John. Peter decides to go fishing and his friends go with him to lend physical and moral support. They fish all night and catch nothing. Then around daybreak, a stranger hollers at them from the shore to cast their net on the other side. Idiotic suggestion, but they hadn’t anything to lose, so they give it a try…..and haul in a mother lode of fish! It clicks. Peter feels the presence of God and throws himself overboard, running for shore, running for God.

In a very similar way, God came near in my hometown of Little River Saturday night and through much of the day on Sunday, breaking through despair and grief. I was frustrated driving off to church yesterday morning, to serve my congregation which resides outside my home community, because I knew the most profound expressions of church were already forming at these sites of devastation around Little River. God was breaking in through fear, sorrow and loss as family, friends and neighbors gathered together to form a community of love and support around those who were hurt. Most often we see the face of God, we experience God, through our relationships with others.

There, surrounded by uprooted trees, flattened buildings and broken hopes, tears and laughter intermingled. Despair and grace embraced. Crucifixion and resurrection were honored, not in words, but in action.

Allergic To God Talk

I am allergic to God talk.  This is sort of an awkward thing, being that I  preach on occasion and write a blog that is often about faith.  Yet it is true.  When someone says "God loves you" or "Praise Jesus" or repeats the name "Jesus" more than once in a conversation, I cringe and want to flee.  Partially this is prejudice on my part.  I automatically assume that folks who talk like this believe a certain way, a way that I find... unhelpful.
  
But prejudice often has its roots in pain.  People who use God talk are often the very ones who think I am going to hell because I am a woman who preaches.  In my experience, the words "God loves you" have often been accompanied by a subtext that says "if you will say this particular prayer" or "if you will believe like I do" or a host of other conditional statements.   Sometimes the subtext is pretty subtle but I detect it as saying something like, "God loves you and so will forgive you the weakness of your faith as expressed in your blasphemous doubts."   Rarely in my life has "God loves you" really meant just that.  


Saying Jesus every other word generally means something like "see how holy I am" and "I am not a 'lukewarm' Christian like you." 

Do I sound bitter?  I guess I am in a way.  I have also journeyed with others who have experienced God talk to mean hatred against gay people, oppression of women, and judgment for difficulties in their lives. 


So, when I read an article about people doing really good work I find myself dismissing that good work as soon as I read that the work was accompanied by the words "God loves you."  When I hear someone's confident assurance that prayers will be heard, I assume that I would be dismissed as heathen if I admitted my doubts and struggles in regards to prayer.  


Then I read a pair of really good blogs (http://rachelheldevans.com/mainline-and-me and the follow up http://rachelheldevans.com/passionate-mainline-aric-clark) about the problems with mainline traditions as compared to evangelicals.  As I read about the lack of "fire in the belly" in mainline denominations I wanted to scream "But there is so much baggage attached to talk about God that we are afraid to say anything for fear of sounding like one of those people!"  Yet I know that is not the whole issue, there is a lack of passion in mainline churches sometimes.  We all need to be called to a passion for justice and peace and loving one another.   This is a passion in which we could be united.  This is a passion for following Jesus.  There are many in evangelical circles and mainline denominations who could find common ground here.


And I need to learn not to assume that folks who say Jesus a lot, love people only to the extent that they are potential converts.  I pride myself on being open minded yet God talk shuts me down faster than you can say "praise Jesus." 


I'll work on it... Lord willing.


There, how was that?

What does the resurrection mean?

I think I was in college when an older cousin gave me an interesting novel to read. In the book, the resurrection of Christ is exposed as a hoax and then you see how the whole institution of Christianity responds to this new reality. Essentially, things begin to fall apart. I remember feeling rather scandalized at the audacity of the author, but I suspect, unbeknownst to me, a seed got planted. At that time, however, belief in a physical resurrection was essential to the foundation of my faith. If I were to let that belief crumble, I was of the opinion that my whole faith would disintegrate along with it. Since then, the seat of my faith has changed often and it is no longer so reliant upon tradition, creed or dogma. In numerous past blog posts I have expressed my doubt about the literal interpretation of much of scripture, so maybe it won’t come as a surprise to hear I have reservations about the literal resurrection as well. However, literally true or not, my faith wouldn't falter.

A few blog posts ago I shared that the first New Testament books to be written were Paul’s epistles, composed around 20 years after Christ’s death.* Paul talks about resurrection, but it seems to mean something different for him than it does the later gospel writers. In fact, Paul doesn’t seem at all familiar with the story of the empty tomb. Let me be clear, Paul absolutely believes in the resurrection. He spends an entire chapter in I Corinthians talking about it and how essential this understanding is. But the resurrection he speaks of is not so much a physical reversal of death as it is a spiritual rebirth into life eternal.

In I Corinthians 15:42-44 Paul writes, "So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a physical body, there is also a spiritual body."

And in Philippians (3:10-11) he writes, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

Mark was the first gospel written, and his is a pretty abbreviated Easter story. Mark actually spends way more time with the crucifixion. He concludes with a very short chapter 16 in which a young man in a white robe tells the women who come to the tomb that Jesus has risen. But Mark ends on a doubtful note. Because while the man tells the women to go and share the good news, the final verse in this book is, “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” That’s it. The end. Most Bibles do add both a short ending for Mark as well as a longer ending. The longer ending includes some of the more familiar elements such as Jesus appearing to Mary of Magdalene, the commissioning of the disciples and the ascension. But both endings are acknowledged as later additions.

And an interesting thing happens with the Easter story as time goes on. Matthew, the second gospel to be written at around 50 years after the death of Jesus, adds much more detail to the story. Luke adds even more. And John, the final gospel to be written, has the longest Easter story yet. So the story keeps developing, but it also keeps changing. Between these different gospel accounts you find contradictions all over the place. Did a group of women go to the tomb that morning, or did Mary of Magdalene go with Mary, or did just Mary of Magdalene go on her own? We have all three versions here. Did Jesus appear to Mary of Magdalene or not? These stories tell it both ways.

Resurrection stories were not a new thing. There are a number of stories about gods who were resurrected from the dead. It was an effective way to lift a person up as someone set apart, someone who embodied the divine or to clearly distinguish between a god and a human.

This is a more objective take on the matter. I also have a completely subjective one. The other day a friend talked about trying to find a time in Jesus’ life when he experienced the grief that comes when a loved one dies. She concluded the only example we have in the Bible is Jesus’ grief when his good friend Lazarus dies. Jesus is heartbroken over this loss. But then how does Jesus handle things, how does he live with this loss? Well, he doesn’t. He goes and resurrects Lazarus. He brings him back to life. And you know, that’s not a very helpful model for grief if we take this story literally. I find a parallel there with Christ’s resurrection as well. It’s not comforting for me to imagine God stepping into time and reversing the natural order of things in order to restore Jesus to physical life when all the rest of humanity has or will go through the experience of physical death without a physical resurrection ………Lazarus excepted.

But Paul’s assumption is that the very real resurrection Jesus experienced is one that is available to each of us. “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.” And listen to these words from Romans 6:4-5 - “Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.”

In my church on Easter Sunday, we bring flowers in memory of loved ones no longer with us. We offer up our real grief and let it mingle with resurrection joy. I think Easter is inextricably linked to our understanding or lack of understanding about eternal life. Here too, our ideas continue to evolve just as they have regarding our approach to resurrection. Throughout most of the Old Testament there isn’t much thought given to the afterlife other than the belief that when a person died their soul went to a morally neutral place called Sheol. Then towards the end of the Old Testament, but in particular in the time span between the two Testaments, the idea of a separate heaven and hell comes into being with the understanding that in the afterlife you will either be rewarded or punished for your conduct in this life. From this developing dogma we proceed into the fiery pits of hell, different levels of hell, purgatory and heaven, the pearly gates, streets paved with gold and lots of harp playing. Maybe at one time harps were all the rage, but I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone in my life interested in playing the heavenly harps. Today, intense hope bordering on belief I encounter regularly is simply that after death we will come into God’s presence in a new way, we will be reunited with our loved ones and all will be as it should be. We’re not quite sure what this will all look like, so we don’t ever really attempt to talk about the details. Actually, we don’t spend a lot of time talking about heaven, period, except leading up to and during funerals.

In March of 1997, Time magazine ran an article called, “Does Heaven Exist”. The following quote represents the main thrust of the article,
　
“And yet, in a curious way, heaven is AWOL. This is not to say that Americans think death ends everything or even that they doubt heaven's existence. People still believe in it: it's just that their concept of exactly what it is has grown foggier, and they hear about it much less frequently from their pastors. To reverse the words of the old spiritual: Everybody's goin' to heaven, just ain't talkin' 'bout it. The silence is such that it sometimes seems heaven might as well not be there.”

Then last year, Time did a feature story on a recently released book by a young and rising evangelical pastor named, Rob Bell. Bell is the founder and pastor of a 7,000 member church in Michigan. And he’s mixing things up. Experimenting with what it means to be church and expanding and/or calling into question a lot of theological assumptions. Anyway, last year he released a book which called into question the whole concept of hell, creating a bit of a firestorm in the evangelical community. However, I’m going to guess his opinions didn’t raise nearly as many eyebrows in mainline denominations because as far as I can tell many people in the mainline churches have been questioning the idea of hell for a couple of generations already.

It feels to me like our understanding of heaven and hell keep getting closer and closer to this world and this life. In a Sunday School lesson a few weeks ago, the John scholar who authored this particular series wrote, “Eternal life in John is a present reality that we share with God as God’s children.” That same Sunday a parishioner got up and shared with us her spiritual director’s belief that we experience heaven in the here and now. For most of my life I’ve believed hell is separation from God, heaven is union with God and when I voice that opinion, no one‘s ever disagreed. And a few weeks ago in a blog post I shared my hope that we are moving towards a fulfillment of God’s Kingdom here in this world.

So why at Easter of all times would I feel compelled to call into question Jesus’ physical resurrection and all our old and newer understandings of heaven and hell? I mean, what a kill joy! What I observe among Christians is an increasing schism between said beliefs and actions. Nowhere is this disconnect more evident then on the topic of death and life after death. I’ve had the opportunity, as a pastor, to journey with many individuals, family and friends towards death. And there have been a few individuals along the way who haven’t shrunk from death but have approached its inevitability with peace, firm in their beliefs about what lay beyond for them or their loved one. In other words, I’ve seen their said beliefs reflected in their actions. But many of the Christian people I’ve worked with have been quietly terrified of death, whether it was their own death or that of a loved one.

I experience this and I believe over the past several generations our theology, our traditional ways of understanding God have become cracked as new discoveries and understandings keep emerging. Instead of addressing the cracks, we’ve ignored them. I also think there’s a direct link here to the diminishing numbers in our churches. Most of the time ignoring the cracks works well enough in the short term and we’re actually unaware of to what degree our lives have parted from our said beliefs. But this catches up with us in the face of death, when we can’t ignore the cracks anymore and have to instead really wrestle with what exactly we believe. And this process takes time, often more time than people have left when death draws near to them or their loved one.

This feels a little like my mission now - to figure out exactly what I believe and in the process, challenge others to pull out and rethink long held assumptions as well, just to check and see if maybe those beliefs don't fit us so well as we like to think they do. Nor do I need or even want people to come out at the same point I do. How boring would that be?! But I am disturbed by the unexplored disconnect between our long held and assumed beliefs as contrasted with our lived lives. How we live says so much more about what we believe than our words do. And I think the church has really been coming apart at this seam, between belief and action.

This is all well and good, but it still doesn’t answer the question we ache to have answered. What does happen after we die? The most honest thing I can say is that I don’t know and no one else does either. But here’s what I believe. We see evidence of eternity all around us. We experience eternity everyday if we’re tuned in and paying attention. I believe God is eternal. So then it’s a small leap to believe we have that which is eternal within us as well and that after our physical death our essence, our spirit is united with the essence of God as well as with the spirits of all those who have gone before us. How this happens goes far away to a place beyond the reach of my understanding and/or words. I believe that time "when all tears will be wiped away" is a description of what we’re moving towards in this life and not in some heaven light years away. I also believe the spirit of everyone who’s ever been, will and do participate in that fulfillment.

Paul’s understanding of a spiritual resurrection rings as truth in my ears. I believe Jesus was risen. That God’s spirit and the spirit of Christ became one and that in the realm and nature of God, Christ lives. And along with Paul, I anticipate and hope for some form of this resurrection in the lives of all people. So I celebrate Easter. I celebrate resurrection joy. And I find Easter hope renewed in my life each year on this special day.

So I join with the faithful in the joyful Easter proclamation, "Christ IS risen! He is risen indeed!"

*While information about dating the books of the New Testament can be found in a wide variety of sources, the easiest route is to use wikipedia and read about the majority conclusions in Biblical scholarship.

Take Up Your Towel And Follow Jesus

Someone beloved to me is suffering from a horrific disease right now.  If I could fight this disease with a sword all my pacifist tendencies would run screaming for the hills and I would take up that sword and I would fight.  Just the thought raises a rage up within me that is passionately intense and I long for such a sword.  

I can’t help but think that Jesus must have felt some of this, human as he was.  Because of who he was and what he did the poor and the outcast and the sick were drawn to him and so he saw suffering every day.  He healed and he taught and he called for others to follow him, yet still the suffering was all around.  Some part of his humanity must have wanted to take up a sword and fight it.  Yet he knew that violence was not the answer.  There was another way.  So instead of a sword, he took up... a towel and filled a basin with water.  Washing the feet of his followers, an act of loving service, he called them to do the same.

In the midst of such thoughts I took a walk by the river.  With our recent drought, the river has been mostly dry for almost a year now.  A very blessed rain came upon us earlier in the day and so as I walked toward the river I could hear the sound of running water.  It was such a welcome sound that it stirred a longing within me so that even though my questioning and pondering of late has left me unsure what it means to pray, yet in that moment I understood that I do not know how to not pray.  So, I prayed:

God, let your grace wash over me so that I can find some peace in my soul.  Your kingdom is not yet fully realized and so this life still hurts way too much to find total peace.  Yet fill me somehow with peace enough so that I can take up that towel with determination that I will fill that basin, with my own tears if I must, but somehow 

I will wash your children’s feet. 

I will serve.  

I will love.  

This is the only way of hope.  This is the only way to bring forth the Kingdom of God.  Love is the only way.

It is time to take up our towels and follow Jesus.

The failure of the cross: A Palm Sunday reflection

Several years ago I watched an excellent movie called, “Into the Wild”. Closely based on a true story, it is about a young man, Christopher McCandless, who comes from a well-to-do but quite dysfunctional family. Following his college graduation from Emory University, he attempts to cut himself off from every form of responsibility, commitment and relationship in an attempt to experience his understanding of true freedom. He becomes a wanderer and on his travels he meets many fine people who provide an extraordinary witness to the primary importance of relationship in a person’s life. One of his final friendships is with an 80 year old man, Ronald Franz. Ronald has a talk with Chris about forgiveness and “how in forgiveness we find love.” Franz continues, “and when we love, the light of God shines upon us.” But Chris is so bitter towards his parents as well as enamored with his notion of freedom and his dream of living for a few months by himself in the wilds of Alaska, he is unable to appreciate the gift of relationship offered to him time and time again.

In April of 1992, Chris hikes into the Alaskan wilderness and makes his camp in an abandoned bus near the foot of Mount McKinley. For two months he revels in his freedom, but loneliness begins stealthily creeping in on him. After reading Dr. Zhivago, he has an epiphany moment and writes in his journal, that “true happiness must be shared.” Shortly thereafter, he attempts to hike back out, but the river he originally waded through is swollen and too dangerous to cross. He returns to the bus and in August of 1992, hunters find his body in the bus where Chris had eventually starved to death just weeks earlier. Days before his death Chris writes a note for all the loved ones he left behind. “I’ve lived a happy and blessed life. Goodbye.” And in the movie, as the viewer lives with Chris in his final moments, we watch as the sun bathes Chris’ peaceful face in glorious light.

A theme deeply embedded in the Holy Week narrative is how often failure gives way to life. Young Chris McCandless - despite his great intelligence, his loving and compassionate nature, his commitment to justice, his multitude of gifts - failed. He failed to understand one of the most basic truths of all, we need one another. We are hard wired for relationship. By the time Chris recognized this truth, it was too late...…..or was it? I tend to believe that as soon as Chris was able to accept his need for others he experienced a lot of healing. He was able to love, really love people again. I also believe Chris didn’t die alone. I think during those final few months in the wilds of Alaska, Chris felt himself surrounded by the presence of God and when Chris died, the glory of God’s light shone all around him. And that most important truth Chris learned out there in Alaska, all alone save God, continues its powerful witness today through both the book and movie inspired by his life.

The Bible is filled with failure after failure. You can’t read but a few pages before you trip over someone’s mistake and most often it’s a mistake with tremendous repercussions. The Bible begins in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve failing miserably. As we continue on, we read about Noah’s failure, Abraham and Sarah’s failures, Isaac and Rebecca’s failure, Jacob’s failure, Moses’ failures, Saul’s failures, David’s failures. It’s just one after the other.

You would think this record of human limitation, our propensity to sin and doubt, would produce a hope-starved account of our relationship with God. But this isn’t the case at all. Instead the Old Testament offers us a beautiful and richly woven narrative in which the steady stream of human failures gives the whole its surprisingly pleasing texture and warmth. In essence, we find these failures transformed into an abiding testament of God’s faithfulness and love.

Yesterday in churches around the world, we celebrated Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. This is one of the most bittersweet occasions in the Bible. As Jesus rides down the street on a donkey, accepting the cheers and adulation of his followers, one hopes his increasing popularity will give him greater power and voice. Everyone seems joyful and happy. But the reader knows this story is about to take an unexpected and grievous turn. For Jesus is being set up, by the Pharisees certainly. But more especially by his own insistence on speaking hard truth. Jesus is being set up to fail. For this is what the cross represents - failure. The Pharisees fail to provide prophetic leadership. The people fail to find courage to speak truth in the face of oppressive and dangerous power. The disciples fail in their lack of vision. Peter, James and John fail to stay awake, fail to provide companionship for their friend in need. Peter fails, denying Jesus three times. And Jesus, Jesus accepts his bitter cup and with knowing intention embraces the failure of crucifixion, a shameful death on the cross. Yet in these horrifying failures, the seeds of salvation are sown. This is the scandal of the cross. The failure of all failures - the world kills the embodiment of God, the Son of Man is crucified. It is little wonder the cross has been a stumbling block for believers for centuries. Why must failure provide the context for resurrection? But it couldn‘t be otherwise, could it? Only failure truly provides the means for resurrection. Jesus’ death on the cross opened us to a whole new understanding of God's unlimited love and grace. For it is failure that gives birth to grace, always....…always.

Because Holy Week prompts reflection on our own personal failures, I look at my own life and wince at my many failures. Presently, the awareness of failure I carry most often on my emotional surface is how I fall short as a mom. No matter how hard I work to do what’s right, I am also uncomfortably aware of the many times I fail. But admittedly, it is more difficult to discern failure in the present. Hindsight is remarkably well-suited to identifying both failure and victory, when we can more clearly see how our actions reverberate through the months or years that follow.

When I look back over the course of my life, it is easy for me to put my finger on a time in my life defined by failure. My senior year in high school I started experimenting with alcohol. But what began as a curiosity soon morphed into a real problem with alcohol abuse as I drank increasingly often and in far greater amounts for the next six years. Only when I stood at the absolute brink of alcoholism was I finally able to confront my failure. I was fortunate in that I was able one day to walk away and leave that part of my life behind me. But guilt and regret became my new companions. I mourned the waste of those years, the opportunities lost I could never retrieve. And then, at some point many years ago, I began to understand and appreciate a resurrection of sorts emerging from my failures. My knowledge of addiction, my experiences with suffering opened in me a great depth of empathy for others and I began to realize the ways in which sorrow can give one a voice.

Each of our lives have been shaped to some degree by failure, our own and other’s. This is life. Palm Sunday ushers us into this uncomfortable time of reflection, but though difficult, it is also a great gift as the only way to truly appreciate grace is to experience it. As we walk through this painful week ahead and relive Biblical tales of failure which call to mind our own, may we also be aware of resurrection seeds sown, of grace which steps up to greet our every failure, of the love of God which shines around and within us always, even in the darkest of nights.