“Good sorrow makes good joy possible.” I came across this sentence in an essay about Ash Wednesday. I thought about it as I talked with my prayer partner this morning about our own observance of the season of Lent.
Our culture tells us that sorrow is bad, that the greatest good in life is to have fun. We’re trained to avoid feeling badly about anything except as a kind of entertainment: we’ll cry at a movie and then walk unfeelingly past a suffering homeless person.
But Lent invites us into sorrow and pain and suffering. The 40 days of Lent remind us of Jesus’ suffering in the wilderness before he started his public ministry. Jesus didn’t have to suffer. He willingly took on human form to experience the worst of our condition, be tortured and die, so that we might have eternal life. So it’s good to have a season to quit avoiding suffering, to consider what Jesus has done for us, to realize my brokenness and the brokenness of the world I live in. And then I can have “good joy”, joy that’s not the result of self-medicating my soul with entertainment but joy that knows the depths of God’s love for me and this world.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
images
This Sunday is a unique Sunday for Grace Community and a significant Sunday for one of our families: a baby is being dedicated AND her dad is being baptized! And we just had a baby dedication last Sunday and we’ll have another in less than a month.
I wear a robe to do baby dedications. Some might wonder why. I wasn’t raised in a “liturgical” church. In fact, I was raised in a very austere, conservative church: no images, no artwork in the sanctuary, no candles. Use of the word "ritual" was always negative. The focus was on Bible study and telling others the Gospel. So why the candles and robes today?
Part of the answer is found in a book I just finished reading, “Called out of darkness” by Anne Rice (yes, of “Interview with the vampire” fame). She recalls the images, sounds, textures and even smells of her Roman Catholic upbringing in New Orleans. Then she writes of her 38 years as an avowed atheist, out of which God called her back to himself. The power of that call was obviously due to the work of the Holy Spirit. But God used the rich physical presence of her early upbringing to continually remind her that he loved her and was calling her back to himself.
I think the richest part of my early church upbringing was the wonderful music. We didn’t have candles or robes or images, but we loved music, especially classical music. In that music I sensed the beauty, goodness and truth of God. I’m sad that we don’t use more of that sort of music in our worship today (but I’m not going to insist snobbishly that we use music in our worship that has become inaccessible to many people). But I think that in our visual culture we can offer images, including the image of the pastor in a robe and the people of the community laying on hands in blessing, to give our kids the sense that God is present in the life of our worshiping community.
I wear a robe to do baby dedications. Some might wonder why. I wasn’t raised in a “liturgical” church. In fact, I was raised in a very austere, conservative church: no images, no artwork in the sanctuary, no candles. Use of the word "ritual" was always negative. The focus was on Bible study and telling others the Gospel. So why the candles and robes today?
Part of the answer is found in a book I just finished reading, “Called out of darkness” by Anne Rice (yes, of “Interview with the vampire” fame). She recalls the images, sounds, textures and even smells of her Roman Catholic upbringing in New Orleans. Then she writes of her 38 years as an avowed atheist, out of which God called her back to himself. The power of that call was obviously due to the work of the Holy Spirit. But God used the rich physical presence of her early upbringing to continually remind her that he loved her and was calling her back to himself.
I think the richest part of my early church upbringing was the wonderful music. We didn’t have candles or robes or images, but we loved music, especially classical music. In that music I sensed the beauty, goodness and truth of God. I’m sad that we don’t use more of that sort of music in our worship today (but I’m not going to insist snobbishly that we use music in our worship that has become inaccessible to many people). But I think that in our visual culture we can offer images, including the image of the pastor in a robe and the people of the community laying on hands in blessing, to give our kids the sense that God is present in the life of our worshiping community.
Friday, February 13, 2009
pain
Is it OK to be disappointed in my life? Is it OK to be disappointed with God? My spiritual director has been pointing out to me that there is a difference between resigning myself to “the way things are” and expressing my disappointment to God and making it a matter of prayer. In our last session she pointed out that this is the pattern of many of the Psalms. They start with expressions to God of deep “negative” emotions such as disappointment, anger, desperation. Then there is a rehearsal of God’s character. Only after this work is done can the psalmist then come to a place of expressing hope and trust and even joy and delight in God.
I’m a bit of a contradiction within myself. I’ve always tried to isolate myself from emotional pain by making myself an observer of my pain and then deciding whether or not to try to do something about it. If not, then I can conveniently encapsulate the pain and try not to feel it. If I do something about it, it’s almost as if I’m working on someone else’s life. Yet, part of me wants to fully experience life, to not be distant, but to be immersed in both the joy and the pain.
Jesus didn’t distance himself from pain. He wasn’t the emotionless, ethereal figure that is often portrayed. He cried over his friend Lazarus’ death, identifying with the pain of his friends, Mary and Martha. And then he did what he came to do: he raised Lazarus. Jesus agonized in the Garden of Gethsemane. Then he set himself to go about the work that the Father had for him, torturous death on the cross as the payment for my sin and yours.
There are a lot of things in life that are disappointments and sources of pain for me. Part of my journey is to learn to be like Jesus, experiencing the pain and also working through it so that it informs and motivates me in the work that God has given me, both on myself and in my world.
I’m a bit of a contradiction within myself. I’ve always tried to isolate myself from emotional pain by making myself an observer of my pain and then deciding whether or not to try to do something about it. If not, then I can conveniently encapsulate the pain and try not to feel it. If I do something about it, it’s almost as if I’m working on someone else’s life. Yet, part of me wants to fully experience life, to not be distant, but to be immersed in both the joy and the pain.
Jesus didn’t distance himself from pain. He wasn’t the emotionless, ethereal figure that is often portrayed. He cried over his friend Lazarus’ death, identifying with the pain of his friends, Mary and Martha. And then he did what he came to do: he raised Lazarus. Jesus agonized in the Garden of Gethsemane. Then he set himself to go about the work that the Father had for him, torturous death on the cross as the payment for my sin and yours.
There are a lot of things in life that are disappointments and sources of pain for me. Part of my journey is to learn to be like Jesus, experiencing the pain and also working through it so that it informs and motivates me in the work that God has given me, both on myself and in my world.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
radical
The word “radical” brings to mind edgy, extreme, in-your-face types that are loud and flashy. The appeal of a phrase like “radical faith” is in the images it brings to mind, images that fit easily into our media-soaked culture’s idea of celebrity.
In the recent issue of Christianity Today, Mike Barrett writes about finally meeting a true radical: a missionary who trains pastors to plant churches in Delhi, where it’s dangerous to be a Christian, let alone do church planting. Who would do such dangerous, radical work? A guy who doesn’t make much money, hasn’t written any books, and isn’t on TV. He wears normal clothes, has no body piercings and sports a Chicago businessman’s haircut. “I walked the streets of Chicago and Denver looking for someone with an in-your-face Jesus sign hanging on their back, a Snowboarders for Christ meeting, or a skate park evangelism team.“ But what Barrett found was that “God is not speaking more profoundly to the good-looking loud ones. He’s moving powerfully through the simple ones who only wish they had the time and money to be a Snowboarder for Christ.”
A true radical is someone who is so firmly planted in a belief system that s/he is able to withstand the currents of society and continue living counter to the culture. The word itself comes from the Latin word “radix” or “root”. A radical is someone who gets to the root of things. Jesus was a radical because he cut to the heart of the matter and showed us what abundant life could be and then offered it to us (John 10:10). And now he calls us to follow him.
In other words, every Christian is called to be a radical.
In the recent issue of Christianity Today, Mike Barrett writes about finally meeting a true radical: a missionary who trains pastors to plant churches in Delhi, where it’s dangerous to be a Christian, let alone do church planting. Who would do such dangerous, radical work? A guy who doesn’t make much money, hasn’t written any books, and isn’t on TV. He wears normal clothes, has no body piercings and sports a Chicago businessman’s haircut. “I walked the streets of Chicago and Denver looking for someone with an in-your-face Jesus sign hanging on their back, a Snowboarders for Christ meeting, or a skate park evangelism team.“ But what Barrett found was that “God is not speaking more profoundly to the good-looking loud ones. He’s moving powerfully through the simple ones who only wish they had the time and money to be a Snowboarder for Christ.”
A true radical is someone who is so firmly planted in a belief system that s/he is able to withstand the currents of society and continue living counter to the culture. The word itself comes from the Latin word “radix” or “root”. A radical is someone who gets to the root of things. Jesus was a radical because he cut to the heart of the matter and showed us what abundant life could be and then offered it to us (John 10:10). And now he calls us to follow him.
In other words, every Christian is called to be a radical.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
finding joy
A friend gave me a book for Christmas called “There is a season.” It’s a contemplation on a serigraph that is itself a contemplation on the famous passage in Ecclesiastes ("to everything there is a season..."). I love this phrase from the introduction to the book: “Joy is the spirit of God in time.”
When I think about time it’s usually to make sure I’m using it as efficiently as possible. The result: I’m in one place but thinking about where I need to be next. Could it be that by trying to transcend time I’m actually missing out on the presence of God? God has entered our space/time in the Incarnation. When God shows up, there is not efficiency, but joy. “In Your presence there is fullness of joy.” (Psalm 16:11 NASB)
When I think about time it’s usually to make sure I’m using it as efficiently as possible. The result: I’m in one place but thinking about where I need to be next. Could it be that by trying to transcend time I’m actually missing out on the presence of God? God has entered our space/time in the Incarnation. When God shows up, there is not efficiency, but joy. “In Your presence there is fullness of joy.” (Psalm 16:11 NASB)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
calling
I’ve been wondering why President Obama seems different to me than the two presidents who’ve preceded him. I’m now realizing that it’s because of something that can be summed up in one word: calling. Unlike Presidents Bush and Clinton, President Obama seems to understand that his new job is not a means to power, but that it is a calling in itself, that there’s a task that must be done simply because it is a noble, if difficult, task. That sense of calling made his inaugural speech reference to George Washington compelling and not merely sentimental. Without it, The Onion is right in snidely remarking that America has now given it’s worst job to a black man (“a black man can’t catch a break” they wrote on 11/5/08). But with a sense of calling there is dignity and determination in tackling the most powerful office in the world.
Is my job a calling or a means to my own ends? I may not desire power, but I surely have a desire for happiness and comfort. It might be appalling to think that some pastors look at their job as simply a means to get a paycheck so that they and their families can live comfortably, but I’ve heard the accusation before (I’ve had an awkward moment when a leadership team member told me that his job was to keep me from becoming so powerful that I could influence my paycheck.) And that same accusation can be leveled at many of us who look at our jobs, whether as employees or as spouses or parents or whatever it is that gives us the tasks for the day, as something other than work that is given to us by God because it is worthwhile work to do.
So when in his inaugural speech Pres. Obama referred to his oath of office as a “sacred oath” I hope he meant it (history will tell). And I hope I will come to have a similar sense of calling that will give dignity and determination to the work that God has called me to do each day, whether it’s washing dishes or writing code or picking up the kids or participating in a meeting (OK, so I don’t write code: I do the other three). As the Book of Common Prayer teaches us to pray each day: “…and in all we do, direct us to the fulfilling of Your purposes.”
Is my job a calling or a means to my own ends? I may not desire power, but I surely have a desire for happiness and comfort. It might be appalling to think that some pastors look at their job as simply a means to get a paycheck so that they and their families can live comfortably, but I’ve heard the accusation before (I’ve had an awkward moment when a leadership team member told me that his job was to keep me from becoming so powerful that I could influence my paycheck.) And that same accusation can be leveled at many of us who look at our jobs, whether as employees or as spouses or parents or whatever it is that gives us the tasks for the day, as something other than work that is given to us by God because it is worthwhile work to do.
So when in his inaugural speech Pres. Obama referred to his oath of office as a “sacred oath” I hope he meant it (history will tell). And I hope I will come to have a similar sense of calling that will give dignity and determination to the work that God has called me to do each day, whether it’s washing dishes or writing code or picking up the kids or participating in a meeting (OK, so I don’t write code: I do the other three). As the Book of Common Prayer teaches us to pray each day: “…and in all we do, direct us to the fulfilling of Your purposes.”
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
change
My kids had the day off from school today, so I took the day off, too. That gave me the luxury of waking up and watching the pre-inaugural TV coverage starting at 6:30 am PST, and then watching the actual inauguration of Pres. Barack Obama with my family (except for my 6 year old who was downstairs watching cartoons: we'll kid him about that for the rest of his life, I'm sure).
I can't add anything to what's already been said about the gravity of this day for the history of this country. I hope that I was able to transmit to my kids something of how I feel about the historic significance of what we saw. Two nights ago I was chatting over dinner about the recent protests in Oakland over the shooting of an unarmed black man by a BART policeman. The contrast between the two televised events is striking. As Pres. Obama's election campaign reminded us, change is certainly needed.
I can't add anything to what's already been said about the gravity of this day for the history of this country. I hope that I was able to transmit to my kids something of how I feel about the historic significance of what we saw. Two nights ago I was chatting over dinner about the recent protests in Oakland over the shooting of an unarmed black man by a BART policeman. The contrast between the two televised events is striking. As Pres. Obama's election campaign reminded us, change is certainly needed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
