Matthew 19 - A Story of Control

“What do I need to do to get eternal life?” the rich man asked.

The question itself was proof that the man didn’t understand grace. And Jesus said, “Brother, you know the commandments, right?”

“Indeed I do,” replied the man, “and I follow them religiously.”

So Jesus, realizing that there was something else going on with this guy, went a bit deeper. “Let’s see what exactly is in charge of his life,” he thought. To the man he said, “Okay, my friend, here’s all you have to do now. Go and sell all your stuff and then give the money away to people who need it. Then come and follow me.”

The rich man’s jaw dropped, his eyes opened wide as he stared in stunned disbelief at Jesus. And then he just turned away and walked off, because he could think of nothing to say. Whatever it was that was in charge of his life, it sure wasn’t him. It sure wasn’t God. Truth be told, it was his wealth.

In that moment, he realized that his wealth controlled him. The thought of giving it all away immobilized him. Any power he had ever had, he had given up to his material possessions, and that idea hurt him deeply. Before his encounter with Jesus, he was living under the illusion that he was in charge of his own life. Afterwards, he understood that he still had a lot of work to do.

Before meeting Jesus, he bought into the myth that he was worth something at all because he was worth something on his balance sheet. Through his challenge to generosity, Jesus was trying to teach him that people aren’t defined by wealth, but by the unconditional love of God. It seems it was a difficult lesson for the man to learn.

Somehow, it doesn’t seem to have gotten any easier.

Gentleness and Joy

Images of horrific, gratuitous violence and suffering permeate our world. At the same time, images of inane, “anything goes” euphoria suck our collective attention spans. It is almost as if we feel like we need to counter the negative stuff all around us with equally extreme ecstasy in order to balance it out.

There is a more excellent way.

The “church’s marching orders” listed in Galatians 5 include “gentleness” and “joy.” The two ideas intertwine quite well, for joy is not a shallow, chipper glee but rather a deep, abiding gentle satisfaction of the soul.

For example, consider sports. I am a fanatic of the Kansas City Royals. (You probably didn’t know that about me; I try to keep it a secret.) Rooting for the Royals is fun this year. It can bring a smile to my lips and a cheer to my throat. It brings me glee, but it does not bring me joy.

Playing with our two-year-old so that he gets to giggling uncontrollably with his big belly laugh, dimples on full display, eyes twinkling … now THAT brings me joy. Watching our daughter perform on stage; listening to our son describe the world he is creating in his imagination; hearing my wife sing … joy, joy, joy!

Experiencing the grace of God made known through the selfless love of others ... JOY!

The way to counteract the horrific suffering and violence that permeates the world is not via shallow, frivolous escape into silliness. Rather, the way is Christ’s way. The way is Christ. Christ who calls, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Gentless. Joy. Forward, march!

Fifty Years

What happens to the power of an idea as fifty years pass by? How does it change?

As time mixes into it, does it become blurry, diffuse?

As the distance between now and then lengthens, does sentiment and emotion add a pretty border and a rosy tint?

You know how, when you have a vivid dream at night, then you wake up in the morning and it almost immediately starts to fade?

The only way to hold on is to tell someone about it. To share it. In the re-telling, the mixture becomes more concentrated, the picture becomes clear, the details sharpen.

An idea changes over time, but we get to decide how it changes. We have power to determine if the idea will flow and grow and pick up speed, or just drift into a stagnant pond of empty nostalgia.

Anyone can co-opt anyone else’s idea. Anyone can punch and twist and abuse and confuse. But some ideas are tougher than others, surprisingly so. And some ideas have champions who will not allow them to be used so poorly.

I am a champion of the idea that all human beings are worth something. As much as hatred and prejudice and war and poverty and violence have tried to knock it around, that idea has proven to be a whole hell of a lot tougher than anyone ever thought.

You matter. Whatever color or age or sexual identity, whatever country you’re from or language you speak or religion you practice or don’t, whatever the demographic, you are worth something.

Fifty years ago, that idea was proclaimed by a champion with a dream. May we never ever allow it to blur, become clouded, tinted rosy and hung up on the wall to admire.

What happens to an idea over time?

Well I guess that’s up to us, isn't it?

A Grace Embassy

I have frequently heard people say, “I love Jesus, but I don’t need the church.” It is a trendy notion these days. A video titled “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus” was posted in January 2012; it has over 25 million views and people still leave numerous (mostly rude) comments every day.

It is illuminating that a response video titled “Why I Love Religion, And Love Jesus” has a mere 760,000 views. Clearly not quite as virally popular as the original. (Although this video also has similarly rude comments being posted daily.)

To tell you the truth, I often sympathize with the Pro-Jesus / Anti-Church point of view. Many times the one who holds such a view has been hurt, ostracized, judged, or otherwise treated quite poorly by someone in the church. This genuinely painful experience is then projected onto “the church” as a whole.

At the same time, I know that there are people who use the idea as a rationalization to perpetuate their own comfortable lives. Often the one who does so will use terms like “irrelevant” and “old-fashioned” to describe church. Following Jesus is relegated to a consumer-driven search for what works for me, what fits into my calendar, and what’s the latest fad being shared on pinterest.

In the first chapter of John, Jesus calls Andrew whose immediate response is to go and invite Simon to follow him, as well. Jesus then calls Philip, who immediately goes to Nathanael and invites him along, too. It seems to me that “the church” started forming pretty quickly after Jesus started calling. Maybe there’s something to the notion that Jesus didn’t really intend for us to try to follow him all on our own.

It is when the church forgets that we are supposed to be helping people follow Jesus and becomes something else - ANYTHING else - that we get into trouble. The church is neither a self-help group, a community action agency, a social club, nor a status symbol. And I would add, the church is not a disciple making factory, as many seem to think.

The church is the embassy of God’s grace in the world, and members of the church are Christ’s ambassadors. The church doesn’t have a mission; God has a mission. And it is for the sake of that mission that we are the church.

Be Extraordinary

The tag line for our current worship series is “Ordinary People - Extraordinary Lives.” The idea is that God calls and equips ordinary people like you and me to be extraordinary for God’s sake.

Sometimes I’m afraid the church sells itself short. We tend to let our ordinariness rule the day, and settle for “just fine” when God is really calling us to “amazing.” God operates in the cosmos of miracle and eternity and omnipotent, and much of the time we’re stuck in the muck of relevant and popular and trendy.

Imagine Mary, in all her ordinariness, called by God to give birth to the Son of the Most High, who would be great and inherit the throne of King David, ruling over a never ending kingdom … and what might have happened had her response been, “No thanks. Joseph and I are just fine here in Nazareth.”

The truth is, they were just fine. And they would have been just fine had God not called her to be the mother of Jesus. They would have remained just fine their whole lives, and even been quite comfortably content with Joseph carving and building, having a family, raising their kids.

To hear Christ’s call is to understand that there is more to life than “just fine.” To be a part of the church means you have a deep desire to be extraordinary, to connect to a power that is immense, to be a part of something that is bigger than you alone.

The paradox is, the church is extraordinary precisely in its inherent ordinariness. We are Mary, an ordinary young woman called to participate in a miracle. It is daunting. It is scary. It is humbling.

And yet it is who we are called to be. It is the church. Just us ordinary people, called to live extraordinary lives.

Called

You might call it the call that started it all - the call of Abram. He would become known as Abraham, which means in Hebrew, “The Father of a Multitude.” In fact his story is a part of several different world religions, including Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and Baha’i.

Into this one life, which was by all accounts a rather ordinary one, God spoke. God called, and Abram heard. The call was to go to the place God was sending him. God gave no further detail than that.

“Go, Abram. Pick yourself and your family up from where you are now and go to where you will be when you get there.”

God’s portion of this call would be to bless Abram, make his name great, and through him extend the blessing to all the families of the earth. God wasn't very clear on the details at this point, either.

“I will bless you, and through you, bless the world.”

It was so fuzzy. No flowcharts. No five year plan. No specific, measurable, attainable goals, much less any means for reporting them to the conference office. Just a call to go, and a promise to bless.

And you know what the most extraordinary thing is? This: “So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.”

The call that started it all was a call to trust, to humility, to a faith that had to be at peace with uncertainty. Abram followed without knowing the details, or even the desired outcomes. He was called, and he went.

An ordinary person, an extraordinary life. The call was, “Go.” And Abram went.

Reframe it with Resurrection

“Kids are leaving!”

“Change or die!”

“The church is doooomed!”

It has become quite trendy in the church to make sweeping pronouncements such as these. Consultants, coaches, superintendents, bloggers, experts of various levels of expertise, and so on - all seem to be chipping in these days about how awful the situation is, and getting worse every moment.

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you’ve probably read something I have written on this topic. I find myself a bit outside of the mainstream when it comes to questions of the church’s imminent demise. I’m not inclined to hand-wringing and navel-gazing. Instead, I find myself inclined toward resurrection.

It is from that perspective that I read the piece that made its way around the interwebs last week. It was called “Why Millenials areLeaving the Church,” written by Rachel Held Evans.

I almost always like reading what Rachel Held Evans has to say. She writes a lot, and I haven’t read everything she’s written, but what I have read I like. But I will admit that I definitely cringed when I saw the title to her recent post on CNN.com. “Why Millennials are Leaving the Church” is a title that sets the stage for another hand-wringing, navel-gazing lament.

At first, I was upset with the generalization that an entire generation of people has a rather uniform critique of religion that the church was struggling to hear and understand. Been there, heard that. At first, it was just more of the navel-gazing same. But then I realized that this was clearly not just another “Change or Die” piece written by a church insider.

“We long for Jesus,” she said. “Like every generation before ours and every generation after, we long for Jesus.”

Evans’ short (and easy to read - I hope you do) piece is a call for substance, for meaning, for theology. It is a call to rid ourselves of obsession over superficial style and moralistic sermonizing and reclaim the depth, the complexity, the challenge of truly following Jesus.

Yes! Yes, please, and more of it.

Now … Can we please not frame that in “I-told-you-so” language? Can we please not write hand-wringing headlines for pieces with such life-affirming truth? Could we please re-do the prelude to this service so that it doesn’t set such a negative tone for the proclamation of the Good News?

The church does not need to change because we are dying.

Rather, the church is changing because God is at work in the world.

The choice that faces church leadership is not whether to change or not. The choice that faces church leadership is how exactly we will cooperate with the vast and transformative changes that clearly are taking place. These changes, I believe, are no less than a great resurrection movement of the Holy Spirit.

Much of that movement seems to be taking place outside of the outdated structures of the church. It’s happening over in the garden while the disciples are sitting in a locked room, wringing our hands and worrying. However, many, many churches are responding to that new movement in exciting and creative ways, and that’s where I believe church leaders need to place our focus.

No need to wring hands, no need to lament, no need to get all worried! God is doing a powerful, wonderful, brand new thing. A healthy doctrine of resurrection will convince you of that.

Come on, church. Let’s go out to the garden with Mary and see what God’s up to these days.

Lay Down Your Life

First he told them; then he showed them.

First Jesus said to his disciples, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Then he went and did it. “In case any of you were wondering what exactly I meant by that - here, I’ll show you.”

As difficult as that may be to wrap your mind around … that Jesus freely gave his own life for us … consider the fact that his radical definition of love immediately follows his command that his followers are to love one another in the same way.

“Love one another as I have loved you,” he says, “and in case you were wondering exactly how I love you - here, I’ll show you.”

Here, I’ll show you.

And then he did it. He laid his life down, quite literally. Knowing that his words would seem hollow without action to bring them to life, he chose a path that led directly, unavoidably toward his own death.

How much of the time is our decision to follow Jesus expressed in hollow and meaningless words, lacking the action to back them up?

What is Jesus asking us to do? How do I “lay down my life” for somebody else in 2013 in Springfield, Missouri? I mean, I’m a pretty nice guy. I’m friendly. I hold the door open for people. I volunteer at my kids’ school. Is that it? Is that what Jesus meant?

“[Costly grace] is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life,” wrote Dietrich Bonhoeffer in The Cost of Discipleship. I wonder; has my discipleship cost me my very life?

Jesus said, “Here, I’ll show you.” And he went and did it. He died.

What does it mean for us, here and now, who are commanded to do the same?

This Sermon - Justice, Hairspray, Race, and Perhaps Yoda?

My sermon is focusing on the movie "Hairspray" this week. You know, the musical with the "pleasantly plump" and incessantly chipper Tracy Turnblad who pushes her 1960s Baltimore relentlessly toward racial integration and acceptance of people's differences. Pushing boundaries, accepting one another, unconditional love ... stuff like that.

The themes for our worship services are set months in advance, and when this Sunday's worship theme was first planned, it was going to have been last Sunday, July 14. That would have meant that it would have been the day after George Zimmerman's verdict came out.

As it is, we had to switch weeks, so now it's a week and a day later. Much has been said in the intervening time. Anger. Elation. Disbelief. Calls for action. Calls for calm. Hoodies and Skittles. Smug satisfaction. Defiant hatred.

"Listening" to all of that, I'm trying to construct a sermon that centers on the scandalous action of the woman in Luke 7, who approached Jesus during a dinner party at Simon the Pharisee's place, cried all over his feet, dried him off with her hair, and then proceeded to slather anointing oil all over them, which to me makes a pretty good parallel to the actions of Tracy Turnblad, whose similarly shocking agenda included celebrating her own big body type, busting a few gender barriers, and ... what was that other thing? Oh yeah, dancing with the "negroes" on the Corny Collins television show - LIVE! "You can't stop the beat!"

There is an inevitability at the heart of the "Hairspray" plot. Full racial integration and acceptance is the assumed future, and anyone who resists it is pretty much a big square.

MLK often quoted Rev. Theodore Parker's idea that the arc of the moral universe may be long, but it must bend toward justice.

(Note to self: that would be a good quote to include in the sermon at some point.)

I believe that idea ... but ... Sometimes my faith in that notion is shaken. When I know that there are parents who have to console their children when they ask why they were not born with differently colored skin. When I know that there are parents who are absolutely terrified to allow their teenagers to walk through certain neighborhoods. When I know that store clerks follow certain kids around in their stores but not others.

When I realize that fear still rules, still dominates, still grips our world with such intensity and strength, in spite of what the angels always tell us, which is something along the lines of, "Do not be afraid."

I mean, come on, people! Did we learn nothing from Yoda? "Fear is the path to the dark side," remember?

So there's this sermon I'm trying to write.

The upbeat, happy, buoyantly hopeful beat of "Hairspray" held up against the death of a young black man whose killer faces no legal consequences for his actions.

The unconditional love of Jesus contrasting with the flawed, broken reality of this fearful world.

The cosmic bending toward justice of the universe's moral arc in tension with humanity's sinful, finite capacity.

Yep. Better get started.

Who Do I "Speak For"?

I read this line in an article in the Springfield News-Leader this morning:

“All respondents except two, Campbell United Methodist Church and Emmaus, said they speak for their congregations, not just for themselves as leaders.”

Here’s the deal. The city of Springfield is making a rather awkward attempt to engage the question of whether to add sexual orientation to the city’s anti-discrimination language. A part of their process was a survey sent via email to pastors all around town; there was a link in the email that took me to the online survey.

One of the questions on the survey asked if I as the pastor “speak for the congregation.” I thought this was a no brainer - “Of course not. The congregation I serve speaks for themselves.” But apparently out of the 56 churches surveyed, there were only two who answered this way.

So let me tell you why I answered the way I did, a way that obviously places me well outside of the mainstream.

First of all, I know for a fact that people in my congregation think all kinds of different things about homosexuality. Obviously, there is more than just one way to see things. (Less obviously, there are more than just two ways to see things.) It is a myth that there is only one faithful Christian belief set; it is likewise a myth that there are only two. Faith rarely deals in either/or. Followers of Jesus are a diverse group, to say the least.

And so how could I possibly speak for my congregation when my congregation reflects such an array of opinions? Surely our society has matured beyond the glorification of homogeneity. Campbell UMC must be one of those rare congregations that has figured out how to love one another in spite of our differences of opinion. We feel that our diversity is a strength, and a part of our core identity as a congregation.

Secondly, it is tricky to make the claim that pastors truly “speak for” congregations in any context. I may be revealing my Methodist tendencies here, but nevertheless it remains that we are not Baptist, nor AG, nor any of the other pastor-centric structured churches around us. We are Methodist, and I for one am proud to claim a distinctly Methodist identity.

That means we are governed by conference. A group of people makes decisions at every level - the Charge Conference locally, through the Annual Conference, Jurisdictional Conference, and on through the General Conference for the denomination as a whole. No single person “speaks for” a Methodist entity at any level of our governance, and that’s the way I like it. Granted that it makes for some frustrating procedures and processes sometimes, but I believe the trade-off is worth it.

Thirdly, I need to say that my saying that I do not speak for my congregation does not indicate that I am a “moral relativist,” as some might fear. I believe what I believe, and draw upon the “Wesleyan Jazz Combo” (Scripture as the lead instrument, with tradition, reason, and experience as the rhythm section) to inform my theological reflection. I’m pretty confident in my belief that the Bible is clear in what it condemns with regard to sexuality, and a mutually loving and respectful, covenant relationship between two adults who are of the same gender is never condemned anywhere in Scripture.

And with that said, I am aware that there are some who agree with me, some who wholly disagree, some who sort of disagree but aren’t sure why, some who agree partly, some who haven’t really given it much thought, and a whole host of other opinions. And knowing this, I cannot in good conscience “speak for” the entire congregation on this particular question. All I can do is articulate my own belief and engage differences of opinion with respect and grace.

One could make the case that I am in fact speaking for the congregation as I describe it. I’ll go along with that. For example, when I make the claim that Campbell has figured out how to love one another in the midst of our differences, I am in a way “speaking for” the congregation. At the same time, I fully expect that someone who knows the congregation and doesn’t agree with me would call me on it if I said something nutty.

FYI, the other congregation, “Emmaus,” whose response was that they do not “speak for” the congregation, is described on the website as “led by a group of pastors - no single person is in charge.” They hope to create an “attitude of encouragement and accountability” in their ministry. Sounds pretty cool! Like something any congregation should strive for, in fact.

So I hope you understand my reasoning behind answering the way I did on the survey. It’s not that I do not feel I am a “leader” for Campbell UMC; it’s that I would never dream of “speaking for” a group of people who are perfectly capable of speaking for themselves, and doing so with grace, respect, and love.

Forgiving Yourself

Sometimes the hardest person for you to forgive … is you.

People tend to be quite gracious toward others, but incredibly hard on ourselves. Guilt, self-punishment, and second guessing one’s own actions are enormous burdens to try to carry through life. And often we can carry them around for years and years.

Why is learning how to forgive one’s self so difficult? Why does it seem to be so much easier to forgive others than ourselves? Why are we so hard on ourselves?

Dr. Joretta Marshall, professor of pastoral care at the Eden Theological Seminary says, “I think people often try to forgive themselves for the wrong things. We think we ought to forgive ourselves for being human and making human mistakes. People don't have to forgive themselves for being who they are.” (http://www.webmd.com/balance/features/learning-to-forgive-yourself)

In other words, it may be hard to forgive ourselves because it is hard to separate our identity from our actions. If you do something that harms another person, and you realize it, it is your action that needs forgiveness, not your identity. Learning how to forgive the action will often help release the burden on the self, and lead to healthier actions down the road.

Forgiveness does not condone your act; quite the opposite - forgiveness acknowledges that the act was wrong. And forgiveness does not altogether eliminate the consequences of your act; those consequences likely must still be faced, and forgiveness is what empowers you to face them.

To forgive yourself, then, is actually quite a selfless move to make. You acknowledge that you were wrong, begin to atone with those you harmed, and address the consequences unencumbered with guilt or self-loathing. It may be very difficult, but ultimately it makes a world of difference.

Yes, You May Move The Table

Last Sunday morning, one of the tables in Fellowship Hall was about ten feet out of place. Before worship as I walked by, I heard the people sitting at the table talking about it. They weren’t really griping, just having a good time. “Somebody moved our table!” they moaned.

In that “hardee har har” style of Sunday morning conversation that happens so often, they were discussing the possible reasons their table may have been moved, who may have moved it, and the inconvenience caused by the mysterious shifting furniture.

I couldn’t stop myself from chiming in, “You know, you could just sit there and complain about it; or you could hush up and move it back!”

It was light hearted and all in good fun, but I’ve been thinking about it for the past couple of days, and it has become something of a metaphor. I wonder: how often do people in the church think they need someone’s explicit permission to “move the table?” And moreover, how often do people in the church sit there and complain about the fact that “the table has been moved” instead of just getting up and moving it back? Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Once I was talking with the evangelism team of one of the churches I have served. I told them that I’d like to hear some ideas from them about ways they could equip the congregation to reach out into the community. “Like what?” they asked. I suggested something simple and common, like printing business-type cards for people to hand out to others.

There was a dramatic pause. And then the response, “We can DO that?”

Yes, church. You can do that. Move the table. Print the cards. Share the love. Do the stuff the church does. You do not need explicit permission to do the stuff that you should be doing anyway.

Occasionally I have noticed Communion servers standing there in the front after their section has all been served, and I’d swear they are looking directly at that person sitting in the wheelchair waiting for the bread and juice, but they absolutely will not go serve them until someone says specifically, “Will you please go serve them?” They know the person needs to be served, and they know that it is their job to serve them, but they need it stated explicitly. They need to be given permission.

Now, I understand where that comes from, to a point. People mostly like to know what the rules are, and mostly like to follow them. People don’t like to think they are doing something “wrong.” And so we can overcompensate, and not do anything at all. And then complain about how nothing is being done.

On the other hand, it is an absolutely JOY to see people who are doing church with focus, energy, and a sense of calling. Such people do not need the pastor to give them permission to do something, because the mission of the church has already given them permission. When ecclesiology shifts from maintenance of institutional structure to the people on God’s mission, it is a thing of beauty to behold. The Holy Spirit has given them the vision and energy, and the church itself has equipped them to engage in ministry that is powerful, fruitful, and meaningful.

There’s nothing a pastor likes more than to stand up and cheer for the church being the church. If you are a pastor who is doing it right, you discover things being done by your congregation rather than having to initiate everything yourself. What I would love is for every single person in the church to know with certainty that, if it supports the mission of the church, they have permission to do it. I would much rather have to help people dial it back a bit instead of having to crank it up in the first place, you know what I mean?

Think about the guys in Luke 5 who brought their paralyzed friend to Jesus for healing. Finding the doorway blocked with a crowd of people, they carried him up onto the roof and lowered him down through the ceiling, right in the middle of the crowd.

Notice, they did not ask anyone’s permission to do so. Their “mission” was to get that guy close to Jesus, and they were going to do whatever it took to accomplish that mission, even if that meant a highly … shall we say “unconventional” approach.

I wonder, if I was their pastor, would I have cheered for those men or would I have cringed at their approach?

Standing in that crowd, craning my neck for a glimpse of Jesus, would I have thought, “What the heck are those guys doing up there? They’re probably going to get in trouble for this! I’m sure the Board of Trustees has not approved this course of action!”

Or maybe, “Crud, I wish I had thought of that! Now let’s see, how could I finagle it so that I get the credit for this idea?”

Or, if I was those guys’ pastor, would I have been able to cheer for them, encouraging their commitment to the mission, affirming their unwavering focus on their friend’s need, and highlighting them so that others in the congregation would be edified by their example?

I want to be a pastor who doesn’t have to say, “Yes, church you may ‘move the table.’” Every single time. Just go ahead! You may. A thousand times you may.

Church, you have permission to be the church, and let me tell you, it doesn’t come from me.

Baby D, You Are Beautiful

Hey Baby D, I’ve got some stuff to tell you. You’re going back home tomorrow and so before you go I just want to make sure that you know some stuff. I might not get a chance to tell you this later on, so I’m going to tell you now, okay?

First of all, I love you very much. So does Mommy Erin and Cori and Wes and G-man. We love you so, so much. We think you are absolutely beautiful, in every sense! We’ve loved you ever since you were two days old, the day that we first met you and you came to stay with us for a little while. Now you are six months old, and we love you more than ever! And remember, we will love you for your whole life, no matter what.

And also, your Mommy and Daddy love you very much. They always have, and they always will. They had some really important stuff they needed to take care of before you could go to live with them, and now they’ve taken care of all that stuff and they are ready for you! Isn’t that great! They’ve seen you every single week of your life, and every visit they’ve loved you more.

Wow! You have so many people who love you. What a lucky boy you are!

Hey D, people are going to tell you that you look just like your Mommy. The first time I met her, I told her so. It’s true - you are your Mommy’s little boy, through and through. She’s kind of quiet and shy, but I get the feeling that she’s really strong, too. And beautiful, just like you! I know that she’s going to do her very best for you, and that you will learn a whole lot from her. She’s going to take care of you all the time now, so you be really nice to her, okay? Help her out.

Try not to spit up on her as much as you spit up on us. You are a very spitty baby. We tried and tried to figure out how to make you not spit up so much, but you were having none of it. At seemingly random times, and most often when there was no bib or burp rag available, and frequently all over a brand new shirt or pair of pants. It’s almost as if you planned your spit-ups for the most (least?) opportune moments. Not your most beautiful moments, perhaps.

You’re a strong little turkey, that’s for sure. You can hold your own weight on your legs; if you could figure out the balance thing you’d be standing on your own! You’re just about able to sit up by yourself, but we keep pillows behind you to catch you when you fall over. And hey, you can roll over now, every now and then, but it kind of makes you mad when you end up on your tummy and then you don’t know where to go from there.

Then there’s your hair, which tends to stick straight up. Look, I’m really sorry about that. At first, Mommy Erin thought it was cute so after your baths she made sure she dried it all sticking up crazy like that. And now even when we try to brush it down it just goes “boing” up in the air all over the place. I must confess though, it actually pretty cute. Beautiful, in fact. And it perfectly matches your personality. So maybe I’m not quite as sorry as I said before.

One thing that I hope never changes, Baby D, is your smile. When you smile your mouth opens so wide it looks like you are going to start singing! Your eyes twinkle and you’ve got this wonderful dimple in your cheek and your whole body sort of shakes and flails out of control. Feet, hands, head - you smile with your whole entire body, and it makes everyone who sees it really, really happy. It may be your most beautiful thing!

Sometimes I like to put my nose on your cheek, right by your ear. Then I wuffle my face back and forth and gently nibble on your neck. This never fails to crack you up. I try not to do it too often, and give you plenty of breaks. But you have to realize, it’s all for the sake of seeing you smile. I’m going to miss that smile.

Smile at your Mommy and Daddy a lot, okay? It will make them really happy, too.

Listen, I know that it is going to be kind of confusing right at the start. You’re going to wonder where we are and not have any idea even how to ask the question. That might make you kind of nervous or anxious at first, while you’re still getting used to living with your Mommy and Daddy all the time.

I think you’ll especially wonder where G-man is. And he’ll wonder the same thing about you. You’ve shared a room for the last six months, after all. That’s your whole entire life, and one quarter of his! He’s your best buddy.

G loves you so much, and even though you can’t say it yet, it is obvious that you love him. You two boys play with each other all the time, on the living room floor, on our bed, in your room. He calls you “Koka,” and he tries to give you your binky when you don’t really want it, and the throws toys at you sometimes, and he likes to pat your head which often knocks you over, and he lies down beside you on the floor and looks at your face and laughs, which then makes you laugh and that makes him laugh even more. You adore him. Quite often just as we are calling out to G to tell him he’s being too rough with you, that’s just when you laugh with delight. Oh well.

The G-man is going to miss you, Baby D.

But here’s something. Your Mommy says that she wants us to come and visit you sometimes, and maybe you can come visit us, too. We will try to stay in touch with her, so she can call us whenever she wants to.

Yeah, I know. It’s not going to be the same. But that’s how it goes, isn’t it? Here’s something I really want you to know: Things change. That’s what happens when you live; people grow, people change, people learn, people move, people leave. We can never keep things just like they are; that’s not really living, is it? Whatever happens, we’ll still love you, though. That’s a promise.

Sometimes people tell us that they could never be foster parents because they’d love the kids too much to let them go. What they don’t understand is that the number one reason that we’re “letting you go” is exactly because we love you so much. Loving another person means that you want what is best for them, even if it makes you kind of sad. Even if it breaks your heart, in fact.

And so we’re not really “letting you go.” We’re sending you home, to live with your Mommy and Daddy, because that’s where you need to be. We will always, always, always be here for you if you need us. And we love you forever, no matter what.

You are beautiful.

Some Marital Thoughts

I have been following a public conversation here in Springfield that has been rekindled by the proposal to amend the city’s anti-discrimination stance to include sexual orientation and gender identity. In many ways the conversation has been a reiteration of the same arguments we’ve been having for years and years. And so I’ve been content to let the conversation play out without comment.

But something I read this morning snagged my attention, and I think that it is noteworthy. Dr. George Wood, General Superintendent of the Assemblies of God, wrote a letter to the editor that appeared this morning. It is unremarkable for what it says, in that it essentially restates the basic anti-gay marriage arguments, adding nothing new to the conversation.

However, it is remarkable for what it omits. I have read the letter a half a dozen times, and I cannot find any mention of procreation anywhere.

For years and years it has been one of the core arguments of the anti-gay marriage position that marriage must be a heterosexual relationship because the fundamental purpose is procreation. Why would Dr. Wood omit it from his public contribution to the current discussion? In fact he goes so far as to list off Genesis 1:26 and 1:27 to lend support to his position, but omits 1:28, which is the “be fruitful and multiply” verse.

Dr. Wood offers the following as his definition of marriage: “God creates and commends marriage as the sexual union of a man and a woman.” In this new definition of marriage, Dr. Wood leaves in the sex but doesn’t mention the babies. Perhaps he has done so as a concession to heterosexual couples who cannot or choose not to have children.

For the record, I strongly disagree with the definition of marriage as merely a “sexual union.” My definition includes the ideas of covenant and partnership and mutual respect and love. I define marriage as a life-long, covenant relationship between two adults who have promised one another to care for each other with mutual love and respect for ever and ever, no matter what happens. I simply cannot concur with the thought that marriage is all and only about sex.

I’m doubtful that anything else new will come out of this latest public discourse on the issues surrounding homosexuality, but I’ll keep my ears open. If I do hear anything else noteworthy, I’ll most likely have a comment or two to add. 

In the meantime, I'd like to ask a question. Do you consider marriage to be a "sexual union?" Feel free to answer either in the comments or on Facebook.

Church Membership: Part 3 - "Fight the Power"

Personally, I blame the Baby Boomers.

Though that statement works for any number of topics, I apply it in this case to the degradation of church membership. No offense. Don’t take it personally, and all that jazz.

Those who were in their teens and twenties during the 1960s developed a pretty substantial anti-institutional attitude. It was all “fight the power” and “stick it to the man” and so on. Then they became forty and fifty year olds in the 1990s, and began assuming leadership roles, including in the church.

The movement of the boomer generation back to church in the late 80s and 1990s is fairly well documented. A part of that movement brought with it the residual distrust of institutional structure. This created a tension within and around the church. How do people who are geared to “stick it to the man” talk about being a part of something like the church? What does “membership” mean anymore?

Many have dismissed “membership” altogether, reasoning that it is not necessary to support an institution by joining it in order to be a follower of Jesus. This sentiment is expressed vividly with slogans like “Spiritual but not religious” or “I love Jesus but I hate the church.”

Congregations compensated by minimizing their denominational connections, sometimes quite dramatically. The denomination logo is on the sign, but it’s tucked away down in the corner where you have to squint to find it.

Many creative, innovative, and vibrant expressions of church have emerged as a result of the rejection of the institution. From cowboy church to hip hop worship services, unique, independent faith communities popped up with amazing energy, and it was a wonderful thing to witness. In many ways, the definition of church has been forever altered, and I applaud the change.

I’d like to think we live in a “post-anti-institutional” time. (Aren’t I cool? I put the word “post” in front of a term. Hipster me.) In other words, I believe we’ve moved beyond the animosity of “I love Jesus but hate the church.” We’ve realized how naïve that viewpoint is, I think. I hope.

To be sure, there are still those who value the institution of the church over the mission. These tend to be status quo kinds of people who are reticent to change. And at the same time, there are still those who tilt at the windmill of the institution, though that battle really doesn’t need to be fought any more.

I say that because I believe it.

It isn’t attractive to “stick it to the man” when “the man” is a dysfunctional, antiquated, irrelevant hairball of bureaucracy that means next to nothing in the world today. Anyone who pays any attention to the General Conference and Judicial Council of the United Methodist Church should be aware of that. And every denomination has its own parallel, I’m sure. Railing against the institution at this point is almost bullying.

All that is to say that I’m trying to reclaim “membership” as an idea that is helpful, healthy, and conducive to helping people become followers of Jesus who are changing the world for God’s sake. Remember? The mission? Being a member of a church isn’t about supporting the institution. If it ever was, it shouldn’t have been. Being a member of a church is about confessing the need for support and accountability in our corporate Christian discipleship.

On Sunday, a lifelong church member came to me and asked about the congregation’s budget. I told him that the document was available if he wanted to take a look. No, he said, I don’t need to see it, I was just wondering “if the church needed me to give some more to support the budget.”

Old school. Notice the ecclesiology - I’m not a part of the church; the church is an external group that needs me to support it. Being a member to this older member still means institutional support.

I told him, “We don’t talk about giving in terms of supporting a budget. Our gift is a proportional response to God’s gifts to us.” He got it. And I think that makes sense to people, once it sinks in. The transformation does take some time, however.

Any time you gather a group of people together, it gets messy. But gathering together sure beats trying to go it on your own. It’s hard to follow Jesus all by yourself. Lacking support, one tends to burn out. Lacking accountability, one tends to wander aimlessly. People gather together to become church to avoid those pitfalls. Will there be conflict? Yes. Will there be struggle? Of course. Will personalities clash? Yep. It is inevitable, in just about any group that gathers.

Why would I encourage anyone to join a church? Honestly, I wouldn’t. My mission is to encourage people to follow Jesus, and the support and accountability that church membership provides seems to me like the best way to do that. When church membership is done well, it is a truly beautiful relationship to behold. 

(This is Part 3 of a 3 part series on church membership. Part 1 is called "Support and Accountability" and Part 2 is called "Why Bother.")

Whatever Kind of Love, Take Care of Each Other

Simon, do you agapao me more than these?

Yes, I phileo you.

Simon, do you agapao me?

Yes, I phileo you.

Simon, do you phileo me?

Yes, I phileo you.

This is a watered down version of the series of three questions Jesus asks Simon Peter in John 21:15-17. For each of the Greek words I’ve italicized, the NRSV translation is “love.”

So, at one time I thought that the point was in the repetition. Jesus asked three times to counteract the three denials, and Peter was hurt because Jesus had to ask him three times if he loved him, as if Jesus didn’t trust his first two answers. It was the number of times Jesus asked that was at the heart of the passage.

Then I learned Greek, and saw that the first two times Jesus asked, he used a different word than he did the third time. Jesus asked with “agapao” the first two times, and “phileo” the second time. So I thought it was the fact that Jesus changed the meaning, from a self-sacrificial abiding love to more of a mutual friendship kind of love. And that is why Peter was hurt, because he realized he didn’t love Jesus the way Jesus wanted him to.

And then I read some commentaries, many of which say that John used the words agapao and phileo as synonyms throughout his Gospel, and that’s how they were being used here. So it was back to thinking that it was the number of times Jesus asked that hurt Peter, not the content of love.

And then I realized that it isn’t two different questions Jesus asks - it is three. The first question includes the phrase “more than these.” Jesus doesn’t just change the question between #2 and #3; he changes each question. The exegetical move I have made here is: it doesn’t matter how John uses the two different terms elsewhere. What matters is how he is using them here.

If I might paraphrase the three questions:

1) Do you have a selfless and abiding love for me more than you do for anyone or anything else?

          Simon: Jesus, you're like a brother to me!

2) Well, do you at least have a selfless and abiding love for me?

          Simon: Yeah, well, you're like a brother to me, man.

3) Okay, so do you love me like you would love a brother, then?

          Simon: Yep. I suppose so. 

See, I do not think we have to choose between Peter being hurt by the triple repetition and Peter being hurt by the changing questions. I think it is quite possible he is hurt by both. He is hurt because he realizes that he does not have the kind of love for Jesus that Jesus asks of him.

And whatever the question, whatever the response, Jesus’s comeback is, “Take care of people.” Feed them, tend them. Be a shepherd for the flock, lambs and sheep alike. Take care of people.

In other words, whatever your relationship with Jesus looks like, the corresponding call is going to be the same. We’re supposed to take care of each other. Whatever kind of love (or not) we have for Jesus.

Take care of each other.

Church Membership: Part 2 - "Why Bother?"

A friend of mine comes to worship at our church when she’s not out of town for work. She’s gung-ho about mission and service, and has served with tireless compassion and dedication on several mission trips.

But she hasn’t joined the church. She’s not a “member.” When I ask her about it, she says that since she’s out of town so much for her work, she isn’t able to be here as much as she would like to. And if she can’t make the commitment, she isn’t going to join.

I cannot begin to tell you how much I respect her for that!

Nobody should ever pressure a person to join a church. It’s something a person chooses to do. My friend worships, serves, gives; from outward appearances she seems like one of the most active members of the congregation. But she hasn’t become a member of the congregation because the circumstances of her life do not allow her to make the kind of commitment she wants to make.

Being a member of a church is about “want to” - not “have to.” Why bother becoming a member? Quite simply, because you have chosen to follow Jesus, and subsequently you have realized that by yourself you cannot do so. You need some people to help you. And in return for their help, you will offer yours to them.

Because the fact is, it isn’t easy to follow Jesus. C.S. Lewis puts it this way: “If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.” The Gospel is challenging, and the call to follow is rarely a call to comfort.

You may ask: Well, if it’s not a “have to” kind of situation, why would anybody “want to” then?

I may respond: Because life is supposed to be meaningful, and following Jesus is what provides that meaning.

I heard Donald Miller say recently that deep down people do not actually want to live lives that are successful; people want to live lives that are meaningful. I’ve been pondering that idea ever since.

People find meaning from all kinds of sources. Career. Status. Family. Science. Baseball. Star Wars. Helping people. Hurting people. Just about anything can provide a person with a sense of purpose, a foundation for life. But much of it is transient, and provides only a temporary touch point.

I think there is innate in people something that seeks to transcend. We seem to have been hardwired with an inkling that there is more to the world that what is apparent on the surface. And along with that inkling is the suspicion that the “something more” is what infuses life with meaning.

Jesus is speaking directly to that inkling when he says, “Follow me.” Initially there is a sense that maybe, just maybe, this way could lead somewhere. There’s a small nudge, a kind of hesitant but eager desire to see what might happen. When the way is walked well, with the love and support and encouragement of other followers of the way, it doesn’t take too long for the confirmation to come. Life means something. There is purpose, there is vision, there is a mission to undertake and good friends with whom to undertake it.

Last night, the Chamber Choir from Kickapoo High School came to our church to sing at a fundraiser concert for a mission trip. Now, I don’t know the faith backgrounds of all of the kids who were here. I don’t know what the “believe” or even if they do. But I know that nobody required them to be here, to give a couple hours of their weekend away like they did. They were here because they chose to be here, and they chose to be here because a member of their choir is also on the mission team hosting the fundraiser, and she asked them to be here.

Whether it was to show support for their friend, or because they wanted to help fund the mission trip to Kenya, or just because they love to sing together - they chose to be here because it meant something to them. Their presence here was not because their director required it; he wasn’t even here! It was because the experience was meaningful.

In the same way, a person chooses to be a member of a congregation. Not because someone requires it. Not because it is expected. Not because you will be graded at the end of the quarter, and this stuff is going to be on the quiz.

You choose to “show up” and be a member of a church because you want to follow Jesus, and doing so infuses life with transcendent meaning.

(This is Part 2 of a three part series on church membership. Part one is called “Support & Accountability.” The working title for part three is “But What About the Jerks?”)

Church Membership: Part 1 - "Support & Accountability"

I got to teach confirmation class yesterday. During the class I said, “At the end of these classes you are going to make a choice about whether or not you want to become a member of the church. Nobody is going to force you. It’s going to be your choice.

“And let me tell you, if you don’t have any intentions to do the stuff that church does, you probably shouldn’t join. That’s how seriously I take church; that’s how important it is to me.

“If you aren’t going to worship every week, be active in a small group, give proportionately, serve those in need, and invite others, then you might think about waiting until you’re ready to do that before becoming a member of the church.”

Why would I encourage people to join a church?

Honestly … I wouldn’t.

The truth is, I encourage people to follow Jesus, and if joining a church is the best way for them to do that, brilliant. I’ve heard plenty of people say, “I don’t need to be in a church to follow Jesus.” Who am I to argue? I wouldn’t dare limit the capacity of God to work outside of the parameters of church membership.

There are only two reasons to become a member of a church: support and accountability. Both of these functions are focused on the church’s mission - helping people become disciples of Jesus who are changing the world for God’s sake.

I do not find it easy to be a disciple of Jesus Christ by myself. The church is a group of people whose mission is (in part) to help me in my discipleship.  Their purpose for existing is to help people (like me) follow Jesus. That’s a staggering thought.

And it’s reciprocal. At the same time my membership means that I’ve promised to help others in their discipleship, as well. That means we support one another and hold one another accountable to our task - making the world a better place, a place that looks a lot more like God wants it to.

If you need neither support nor accountability in your discipleship, don’t join a church.

I’m serious. If you and God are just fine without being a part of a church, don’t join one.

And if you are not going to help people become disciples changing the world for God, then don’t join.

And if you are not going to accept the help being offered you in your own discipleship, don’t join.

Said another way: if you are not going to do the stuff that churches do, you maybe shouldn’t join one.

The church exists because the mission exists, and all the church does ought to be geared toward that mission. Every activity should be aligned with supporting discipleship.

And what does that support look like? Nothing revolutionary here, plenty of books written on the topic, plenty of bishops preaching to congregations on the subject - it looks like

- worship together every week,

- being a part of a small group for growth and fellowship,

- giving proportionately of your income,

- serving others by helping people who need help, and

- creating a culture of invitation and hospitality.

These practices are a congregation’s offer of discipleship support and accountability to people. If you’re not going to accept that offer, you probably shouldn’t join a church.

“But Andy, I don’t do that stuff, and God and I are doing fine. Why you gotta be a hater?”

Again, let me assure you that I have no desire to limit what God is capable of doing outside of the church. I intend no judgment one way or the other; church membership is not “good” or “bad.” It is simply “helpful,” for me and for many others, in providing support and accountability for Christian discipleship.

At the same time, I cannot call a pattern of life Christian discipleship if it really isn’t. If it quacks like a duck, it probably isn’t a toothbrush. In order to clarify what I mean when I say Christian discipleship, let me make five distinctions.

DISTINCTION ONE:

First, I’d make a distinction between weekly worship and what I’d call “occasional” worship: once a month, once every six weeks, once and a while. It seems that we often try to fit worship into our schedules, rather than ordering our entire week around worship. Whether its sports, work, or a weekend at the lake, worship just slips down the priority list and we tend to become occasional worshipers rather than weekly.

DISTINCTION TWO:

There is a clear distinction between intentional small group participation and the frenetic activity and hyper-scheduled lives we tend to lead. Participation in a small group is where the deepest growth in discipleship happens, specifically with regard to two practices: faith formation and fellowship with others. But in order to grow deeply, we have to slow down, create time and space for the Spirit to move, and truly be present with a regular small group. When we are rushing from there to here and back again, there’s no chance to experience that level of growth.

DISTINCTION THREE:

When it comes to our generosity, there’s a big difference between giving “proportionately” and giving “conveniently.” Proportionate giving is sharing a percentage of one’s income with the church each pay period, with the Biblical 10% tithe as the goal. On the other hand, giving “conveniently” looks like dropping a bill or check (with a random amount always ending in five or zero) in the plate on those occasional worship Sundays. With electronic giving options, these days it’s easier than ever to give proportionately. (And we could have a whole discussion about whether that’s a good thing or not!)

DISTINCTION FOUR:

There’s a distinction to be made between serving “out there” in the community and serving one’s self. It’s as clear as the distinction between selfless and selfish. I see a lot of the church serving only the church, or the family, or the self. Not that there’s anything wrong with that inherently, but the kind of service Christ calls for is clearly “out there,” in the community, where it is risky and uncertain and you might get hurt. Christian service ought to make the world a better place for God’s sake, or said another way, contribute to the construction of the reign of God on earth.

DISTINCTION FIVE:

Finally, we need to make a distinction between a culture of invitation and a culture of comfort. A culture of comfort focuses inwardly and we tend to be withdrawn, awkward with, or even hostile to strangers. Christian discipleship requires a culture of invitation, in which the church is out and about in the community, involved with groups and activities that allow us to make friends with people who are not a part of a church. A culture of invitation does not have proselytizing the heck out of people as its goal, but rather the goal is just to become friends with people. Period. God will take care of the rest.

(To be continued. The working title for part 2 of this post = “Then Why Bother?”)

Doubt is Holy

It’s one of those phrases from scripture that is so well known it has become a part of the common vocabulary - “Doubting Thomas.” Problem is, it’s a misnomer.

Stick with me for a while here…

There is a word that means “doubt” in New Testament Greek. It’s diakrino, and it’s found a few times here and there in the New Testament, like Matthew 21:21 where Jesus says, “If you have faith and do not doubt, you could say to the mountain, ‘Get up and jump in the ocean,’ and it would.”

That’s a word John might have chosen if he had wanted it in chapter 20, and John never wasted a word. The word John used in chapter 20 verse 27 is not diakrino, though. It is apistos. That’s the word pistos, or “faith,” with the prefix a-, meaning “without.”

For those of you who are Greek Geeks, we’re talking about the phrase μὴ γίνου ἄπιστος ἀλλὰ πιστός, in verse 27.

The NRSV and the NIV both have Jesus saying to Thomas, “Do not doubt, but believe.”

The King James Version actually gets this one much closer to right when it translates the phrase, “Be not faithless, but believing.”

I might translate it, “Don’t be faithless; be faithful.”

So what?

If you’ve skimmed the first few paragraphs, I hope you’ll start reading now. This is the “So what” of that little linguistic exercise.

Too many people think that following Jesus doesn’t leave you any room to doubt. “Doubting Thomas” is never intended as a compliment. We too often think of “doubt” as the opposite of “belief,” which means it must be a bad thing. And so many people go through life denying doubt, craving certainty, and otherwise diminishing the mysteries of the cosmos.

As evidence, consider the overabundance of phrases like “The Bible clearly says…” tossed so thoughtlessly about in so many conversations these days. This theology says, “There’s one way to see things, and if you don’t see things precisely that way, you are just wrong. And if you doubt any of this stuff precisely the way it’s been presented … well, I’ll pray for you, dearie!”

The way I see it, doubt is not the opposite of faith. As a matter of fact, expressing your doubt can be an act of great faith. Faith is what gives you the courage to continue on in the presence of doubt. Actually a doubt that is expressed courageously and faithfully can lead to a fuller understanding of the truth. On the other hand, stubborn unwillingness to acknowledge doubt causes people to stagnate, and leaves them ill-equipped to deal with life’s inevitable fluctuations.

Doubt leaves us room to dialogue with one another. Doubt primes our curiosity. Doubt fuels discovery, pushing us deeper and stretching us outward at the same time. I might even go so far as to say that doubt is necessary for faith to mature.

Once the church taught that the earth was flat. Somebody doubted that, and now we understand God’s creation much more fully. I imagine there were many diverse responses to the newly offered hypothesis that the earth is actually a sphere.

            1 - One may have rejected the new knowledge in favor of the orthodox doctrine.

            2 - One may have rejected the church, thinking that if you can’t trust one teaching, you can’t trust any of them.

(Both of these responses reflect an immature understanding of the creative power of doubt.)

            3 - One may have incorporated the new knowledge into a new understanding of God and grown in the process.

(This response embraces the doubt and uses its power to launch into a deeper truth.)

My advice? As soon as someone says, “The Bible clearly says” or some similar code phrase that indicates they have no doubts, you should exit the conversation.  It isn’t going anywhere, anyway. People with no doubts are scary to me. And people who insist that nobody should have doubts when it comes to questions of faith are theological tyrants.

Not only is doubt okay, it is holy. Doubt is necessary to maturing in faith, and in life in general. I hope you will embrace your doubt, express it with confidence, and see how you might just grow in the process.