God’s Work? Our Hands.

Posted on by
Reply

This last Sunday my denomination, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) had a nation-wide Sunday dedicated to service in GodsWork-OurHands_Tshirthonor of our 25th anniversary as a church body.

Good stuff happened all over the country as people took to the streets to do acts of kindness and charity.

And we did this all the while knowing that acts of kindness and charity are poor replacements for systemic change and activism.

Really; that’s just the plain truth.  Systems don’t change because I’ve handed a person a sandwich.  Systems change when I press back against a culture that creates the have-nots in the shadow of the haves.

But there is something to be said for the stop-gap measure that passing out a sandwich can do.

I know this because this last Sunday one of our service offerings was what we called “Operation PB&J.”  We made about 100 sandwiches in our church basement utilizing people’s gifts of peanut butter, jelly, and bread, and then a few of us took the train downtown to pass them out to whoever wanted one.

We passed out 100 sandwiches in just under 2 hours, and we walked about a mile and a half.

I want you to pause to let that sink in.

When we got of the train at Chicago and State (just West of the north end of what is known as the Magnificent Mile), we started looking around to see who might be hungry.  This is trickier than you might think because, believe it or not, hunger is not always on the faces of people you pass.  All sorts of questions raced through my mind.

What if we approached someone who was offended that we thought they were hungry?  What if someone asked us for more than sandwiches (which they did)?

We were also wearing our t-shirts that prominently said “God’s Work. Our Hands.” and a part of me worried that people would mistake us passing out sandwiches on busy Michigan Avenue with actually doing “God’s Work.”

In one way it is; people need to eat.  In many ways it’s not.  Charity often just props up a cycle of degredation where the haves can give to the have-nots and feel like they’re doing good.

This all weighed on me.

But as we passed out sandwiches on the street, what was God’s work more than anything were the interactions that we had while doing it.  I’m so impressed with our Youth Director, Brian.  After passing out every sandwich he’d tell me the name of the person he gave it to, and often something about their situation.  And they were sure to know his name, too.  And some of them even got his church card and an invitation to our community.

This, truly, was God’s barrier-breaking work.

And we met Marcus on Lower Wacker Drive, the underbelly of opulence in the city of Chicago.  Lower Wacker is literally feet below the Magnificent Mile, and yet there is no magnificence to behold.  When I came upon Marcus he was telling some teens in a shiny white Lexus that they needed to get back up to the main level.

“Hey, can I interest you in some sandwiches?” I said.

“Sure, man.  I’ll take two.” Marcus said.  No problem, I had plenty.

And then my two companions met Marcus and we asked him where we could pass more out.

“If you go just north of here and around the corner, there’s a whole strip of people over there.”

So we gave him thanks and followed his directions.  And sure enough, we came upon a small village of men and women living on Lower Wacker with shiny Trump Tower visible just over the river.  Some were asleep, some were chatting, some were doing business.  And we started passing out sandwiches, one after another, sometimes three at a time.  And we put them by the sleeping heads, and on some cardboard mats whose owners were off doing other things in the city.

And as we walked out onto the River Walk, we took note of the vast difference between the shopping district of the Magnificent Mile and the shopping district of Lower Wacker.

God’s work?

God’s work would be to flatten those economies in a way that changed life for everyone.  And I do mean everyone.  Because it would change the life of the Mag Mile stores and their patrons (and I’m one of their patrons at times) as well as the patrons of Lower Wacker.

For instance, in most of those stores on the Mag Mile you’ll see a sign that says, “Bathroom is for Patrons Only.”

I get that.

But then you have parts of Lower Wacker that absolutely reek of the acid-smell of urine…and some of the River Walk patrons noted it as they passed, wondering why people would pee there.

Where else is there to go in the place where feet separate the lives of the haves and have-nots, and yet you’re not welcome to utilize the city sewer system through a flush toilet?

Bathrooms are for people with money?

No, bathrooms are for people with functioning biological flush systems, and yet we put a value on even our ability to flush our bodies these days.

That’s symptomatic of an unequal economy.

There would, of course, be many more changes.  Perhaps the lights wouldn’t shine so brightly, and the rents wouldn’t be so high because there would be less money circulating as more hands had some rather than fewer having more.

Something inside of me says that’s God’s work more than our passing out sandwiches.  And yet, I know we did good.  We did do God’s work on many levels…and failed on others.

You realize that life is a mixed bag when you have the resources that allow leisure time enough to reflect on it.

As we walked up Dearborn toward Chicago Avenue, we met a mother and two children.  She had a nice stroller, and the kids were dressed decently, and you probably wouldn’t know she was hungry just by looking at her.  On a whim, though, I said, “Can I interest you in sandwiches?”

She smiled widely and said, “Yes, please!”  Her little boy and little girl introduced themselves to us, Jayda and Jayden.  We had planned on going into the lobby of the Chicago YMCA to pass out the rest of our sandwiches, about a dozen, but this mom happily took the rest.  We all introduced ourselves and she thanked us heartily.

As we walked away Brian said something that I think was really true, “I think we just made her week a little easier.”

Yeah.  I think we did, too.  That’s God’s work done with my hands on Sunday, September 8th.

But what am I prepared to do to make her life easier? That’d be God’s work done with my life…and I’m sometimes a reluctant Christian because Christians continue to confuse that reality.

Syria and Catch-22’s

Posted on by
3

The politician in me is worried aboubombs1t the United States (and the UN’s) response to Syria’s (alleged) use of chemical weapons.

We target military sites…or so we say.  We try to do “surgical strikes.”

But I’m a pacifist; these things scare me.

The Christian in me isn’t worried, though.  The Christian in me, the person of faith in me, is absolutely terrified.

I’m terrified at the video on CNN of the child being doused in water to wash off the chemical agents as he convulses (even if this video is not authentic to the current situation…although it appears it is…it is absolutely horrifying).

I’m terrified that many times we target “military sites” and hit schools and children and people doing business.

I’m terrified that a “surgical strike” actually means we’re just cutting out another slice of our humanity in a failed attempt to show power.

I’m afraid that non-intervention will just result in having to ignore continuing genocide while we sing Christmas carols again this year.

I’m afraid that non-intervention will be a stain upon our moral conscience.

I’m afraid that intervention will be a stain upon our future as the wrong people get the wrong weapons that we manufacture, which means that the wrong people will get paid to continue building weapons with no other purpose than to kill other people, which means that the war machine monster gets fed instead of starved, which means…

Death. A lot of death.

I come from a faith tradition that lifts up a “two kingdoms” doctrine when it comes to the world.  Essentially it asserts that the world is ruled by God, and the world is split into two kingdoms.  The spiritual kingdom of God is ruled by grace, while the kingdom of humanity is ruled by rightly ordered governments and principalities (an extension of God’s Law)*, and we live in both simultaneously.  First of all, I’d argue that Martin Luther never fleshed out this so-called doctrine, and that attempts to do so by scholars are largely just defenses for their own political ideals.  In short: I don’t buy it.  It makes me a bad Lutheran, I guess.  But I think it makes me a good Christian, even if I am so reluctantly.

Secondly, if you show me a rightly ordered government I’ll ride my unicorn over the moon.

I think people of my generation (I’m on the millennial bubble with a cursed 1980 birth year) look back at World War II and largely figure it was “just war.”  But when I listened to (the one time) my grandfather talk about flying over occupied China and being absolutely piss-pants scared about what he was doing and how he was doing it, I’m not sure I even know what “just war” means no matter what metric you put in front of me.

I know people shouldn’t be slaughtered.  I also know people shouldn’t fly planes built to kill other people.

I’m terrified because I care about life, and this is a catch-22.

And a church that is radical enough to understand that only God can redeem in any sort of lasting way is a church where our soldiers and our conscientious objectors are both honored and prayed for, and where our loudest shout as people who claim to be of God is one for the catch-22 nature of this whole damned business.

If life is sacred, that means all life.

And I’m typing this as I hold my son, and I see my son in that little boy being doused in a futile attempt to save his life. And I know he’ll die. And I know we can’t allow these things to go on, and yet I also know that fighting violence with violence only perpetuates violence.

And so…yeah, there we are.

And I am wondering what the church will say about this.  Drumbeats for war are antithetical to the message of Jesus.  Watching innocents (or even the guilty, I would argue) be poisoned and killed without some sort of action is antithetical to the message of Jesus, too.

But real sacrifice for the other…the heart of the message of Jesus…who is really willing to do that?

I just wanted to be honest here. This is what this reluctant Christian is meditating on today.  And I know we will, and should, do something.

I just want to lament about that “something”, whatever it ends up being, and stand with Rachel as she weeps for her children.  And your children.  And my children.  And Syrian children.

All of us.

 

*Many thanks to Pr. Mark Williamson in encouraging me to better define and make more distinct the modern formulation of this “doctrine.”  While I don’t agree that it is a doctrine, I shouldn’t cut it short in deference to brevity.

I’m an Addict

Posted on by
3

I’m addicted to mapl2-imin1-20y cellphone.

I’m addicted to Ted talks.

I’m addicted to social media.

I’m addicted to being connected.

I’m an addict.  I imagine a not-so-distant future where we have TA meetings in churches.

I’m serious.

When I forget my phone at home, I feel naked.  Like missing my drivers license before a cross-country trip.  Or like forgetting my kid at the grocery store.

No really; the anxiety can be that bad sometimes.

It preoccupies my mind. No, that’s wrongly said.  It doesn’t preoccupy my mind.  It colonizes my mind.

I’ll call my wife from the middle of Target to find out where she is when we’re in the same store.

You laugh.  I laugh.  But it’s serious. It’s like laughing the way we do when a friend describes a drinking escapade that is obviously indicative of an issue.  It’s funny and we laugh because if we were to take it seriously we’d have to change our behavior.

And this is the thing: I know it’s a spiritual condition.

It’s a spiritual condition because my phone and my ipod and my computers prevent me from being present.  Oh, sure; I’m up to date.  I read the New York Times like it’s nobody’s business.  Back articles galore.

And I know exactly where folks are because of Twitter and Facebook and…

Except myself.  I’m not sure exactly where I am in those moments.

Because physically I’m in a room with my family, my boy babbling on the blanket spread out on the floor.

But mentally I’m in cyberspace.

And I don’t want to be.

The thing is, I don’t think that Christianity is talking about this addiction very much.  In fact, I often am encouraged in my addiction by other pastors and professional leaders and leadership gurus who encourage us to “up our presence” on social media, on web blogs and chat sites.

Our Klout scores must rise…

And as it rises, my spirituality falls.  Because I’m never present.

Sunday morning can be a time of presence, of course.  As I ring the meditation bell after the scripture readings at services, I fall into the present in a way that really is transcendent.

That’s the irony that I find in worship: it grounds me in the present by lifting me beyond myself.

And I pray for it at other times in my life.

But the bell of a new text calls me from my present into the anxiety of the digital words on my screen; a different scripture reading of sorts that lays claim on my time and attention.  And I worry some about introducing technology into sacred spaces.  I’m not totally against it…but I have mixed feelings about it.

And it has nothing to do with “old” and “new” styles of worship (whatever that means).  It has to do with breaking an addiction.  And I know I rarely listen to any one thing anymore.  Listen; really listen.  I know that meditation is pretty much the only thing I do in a day that doesn’t involve a computer chip (except that I do prefer old-school books to Kindles and Nooks…though I usually am listening to my ipod when I’m reading).

I don’t think we’re doing this very well, church.  We may be encouraging our people’s addictions.  I’m of mixed emotions on it.

I’m not saying the church should be anti-technology; I’m a blogger after all.

But, by God, we’re very much reinforcing the terrible addictions of so many by our deafening silence on this spiritual issue.  And it’s not only making me a reluctant tweeter, it’s making me a reluctant Christian.

And it’s killing me.  Killing us, I think.

Is technology to blame?

It’s interesting to me that technology intends, by profession, to connect the world, and yet by doing so it cuts us off from those right in front of us and around us. And I’m not complaining like the octogenarian who wishes things were “like the old days.”  The “old days” weren’t all that awesome from what I can tell.

I’m really just wondering if we should do something just because we can.

But, I digress.  No; technology is not to blame.

It’s my need to know. To constantly know.

That is to blame.

Perhaps we should stop texting about it and start talking about it as a faith community.  Because our addictions to know are preventing us from being, now.

“Jesus Wouldn’t Like That…” and “What Would Jesus Do” Shouldn’t Be Uttered Anymore

Posted on by
100

I once had a teaimagescher in High School tell me that Jesus wouldn’t like that I told a kid to kiss my ass.

He was probably right, I guess, if I thought Jesus had an opinion on my language when there are wars to be fought and bellies to be fed and slavery to be abolished and the kid in my theater class was getting picked on by another teacher because he had good hair and he liked  to shop more than he liked shop class, and nobody said anything about it.

Not to mention that the kid I had cursed at had been picking on me mercilessly for two years, and I finally had gotten the nerve to tell him that I wasn’t interested in being a chew toy for him to throw around to impress his friends anymore.

I wonder if Jesus has an opinion about that.

We talk about Jesus all the time as if Jesus is opining about our every move, and while part of me thinks this is a healthy response to a theology that reinforces the nearness of God, it can sometimes just be plain stupid.

As catch-22 as “What Would Jesus Do,” when we imagine that Jesus wouldn’t “like” a particular action, I wonder what kind of guilt we think we’re laying on the person.  I think that they’re “Rubik’s Cube” questions.  We puzzle them about, except that with these cubes, there’s no solution.

I think we ask these questions and make these statements because we’re trying to escape the fact that we don’t like it and we don’t know what to do (or we do, but we’d like to pretend we don’t so that we can justify our actions by saying we prayed on it).

When we’re held up a mirror and the truth about ourselves is exposed, we don’t like it.

Truth is, that teacher saw that kid pick on me about 10 times a week for two years.  I wonder if Jesus has an opinion on that.  Maybe that’s why he didn’t like me telling the kid to kiss my ass; I had gotten the guts that the teacher had lacked.

Or maybe the teacher didn’t care.  I don’t know.

What I do know is that we don’t like mirrors. We rebel against them.

Like when I read a little blog the other day where a pastor goes off on Hollywood for flaunting what he calls “anti-Christian propaganda.” It’s a preview about a kid’s movie that talks about how some families have a mom and a dad, while others have two mommies and two daddies, or one parent, or a whole bunch of relatives in one house. Movie looks cute.

Apparently this is propaganda and oppressive for this particular parent.

God forbid that his children hear that families come in all sorts of forms (as if the kid can’t look around and see that).  How dare Hollywood expose his children so such truth?!  The bubble of brainwashing is burst in such ways; that’s not what he wants as a parent, I guess.

I imagine he doesn’t think Jesus would like that.

So I wonder what he’ll do when his kids get invited over to a classmate’s house who has two mommies.  And I wonder if he’ll consider, before uttering “Jesus wouldn’t like that,”  how one of those mommies was forced by society into a loveless marriage at a young age because she had been told that Jesus wouldn’t like her acting on her attraction to women.  And she had broken free of those societal chains that were killing her insides, speaking up in a way that society couldn’t or wouldn’t and found a way to be more whole.

And then I wonder if he might consider that Jesus wouldn’t like his child turning down an invitation to celebrate another child’s birth just because the sight of two mommies might cause some cognitive dissonance for that young kid being raised in a bubble full of half-truths.

Because, as much as the father doesn’t want to believe it, the child will be living in a world where there are two mommy families and two daddy families and divorced families and all sorts of families.  And to pretend that they won’t, well, I wonder if Jesus would like that sort of ignorance…

See the kind of bind we get in when we think like this? We pretend to pit Jesus against these situations when really all we’re doing is crashing the mirror set up in front of us because we don’t like being shown truth and our own inabilities to deal with life situations.

Because my teacher didn’t like being confronted with the fact that I had been picked on in front of him for far too long without him saying a word, and I wasn’t having it from the bully or from the voiceless teacher anymore.  And this father doesn’t like the fact that love comes in a few different forms–even if he doesn’t approve of them–and his speaking out against same-sex couples, his flaunting of his “traditional, Biblical values,” is now being drowned out by other voices of love as he cries out that he is now the oppressed one.

Jesus wouldn’t like that, I think.

And I wonder what Jesus would do in that situation.

And as you sit with those unsolvable Rubik’s Cube questions, perhaps you’ll just come to see, as I see, that they are manipulative ways of trying to get around the fact that we’re sometimes confronted with our own shortsightedness and don’t like it.

Perhaps we shouldn’t get Jesus into the damning business like “Jesus wouldn’t like that” does.  And perhaps we should get Jesus out of the “choose your own Christian adventure” business like “What would Jesus do?” tries to press on us.

Instead, why don’t we live like Jesus lived. Or try to.  And I don’t think you have to ask WWJD in every situation to try to live like the Christ.  We have a pretty good understanding of what Jesus would do: love God and the neighbor as yourself.  Give of yourself for others. Get mad at injustice in the world and act on it, even if it kills you.  Be peaceful. Forgive.

I mean, I guess we can look at the rampant malnutrition in a world full of food and say, “Jesus wouldn’t like that…”  But we won’t, by and large.  Because there’s probably not enough guilt in the world to make us change our economic practices and allow the food insecure to eat well.  We’ll just save Jesus’ damnation for people who use the word ass…

I’m a reluctant Christian sometimes because we’ve confused trying to predict how Jesus would act in the 21st Century and what he’d opine on 21st Century problems without even mastering how to live like he did in ancient Palestine first, and we call it “Christian values” or “the Christian life.”

When you’ve mastered loving your God and your neighbor as yourself, then perhaps we can ponder what Jesus thinks about movie previews and what Jesus would do about it.

My hunch is he’d smile and mark his calendar to go see it.

“Success Will Kill You” or “I Want You to Go Home. Seriously.”

Posted on by
Reply

Isaiah 55 asks a good quesimagestion.

Well…a number of good questions.  Verse two asks, “Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?”

God, if we could only ask that question more.  To ourselves.  To our kids. To our spouses.

But mostly to ourselves.

See, I have a lot of people sit on my couch in a week.  They talk.  I talk.  I listen.  They listen.

There’s a lot of it.

And one thing that I notice more and more from  pretty much everyone under the age of sixty these days is that we have this fixation on 80 hour work weeks and being busy.

There is a nasty myth going around that we need to be the first ones at work and the last ones home.  In fact, there’s a Forbes article from yesterday where entrepreneur extraordinaire John Nazar gives that very same advice.

We don’t.  And it’s killing us.  Jason Nazar may be successful, but at what price?

It’s at this point where I’ll say, “Physician, heal thyself” because Lord knows that I fall into the 80 hour work week trap a lot.

And it costs me.

So much, in fact, that I have a couple of blogs waiting in the wings where I admit to some of my bad work habits and what it’s doing to my spiritual life.

But more than anything I want to tell the majority of these couples, and singles, and people under sixty, to just go home.

Seriously.  Go home.

Part of the bane of the middle class is the idea that success means more money and prestige and more toys and more expensive vacations and more, more, more.  It’s like we get addicted to stuff and once we have a snort of “stuff” we can’t get it out of our noses and we have to consume it until our houses and calendars are cluttered and our hearts are empty.

This is a spiritual problem.  And it’s hard for someone like me because I can pretty much do “work” anywhere.  Because I deal in people, and people have this amazing way of sticking with you and crowding out your vision so that you don’t see your wife or husband or child or partner even when you’re at home because you’re stuck on someone else’s issues that you’ve decided is your own issue.

And by God you’re going to work that problem from sun up to sun down.

Because that’s success.  That’s what it takes.

If that’s it, then I’m going to excuse myself from the race.

And I want you to, too.

Our mothers and fathers fought hard in the labor movements to ensure a 40 hour work week.  And God damn our prosperity because we have kindly forgotten that and have opted in favor of 80 hours and email inboxes that must always be open lest we miss something.

80 hours, which means we burn the midnight oil long after our kids and spouses are in bed.  Because that’s what it takes. It takes us not spending quiet time next to our loved ones to be successful.  It takes being tired and grumpy in the morning to our kid because we have to put food on our middle class tables.

There are people who are working two or three jobs because they have to; that’s what it takes to survive.  That’s a terrible truth that could take some midnight oil to solve.

But many of us are working one job twice over in a week because that’s what it takes to have a three car garage.

Physician, heal thyself.

But I can’t.  And I don’t think the church has sufficiently taken on this issue, which is spiritual in nature, with our congregants.  We bemoan the demise of the family but blame it on mixed up gender roles instead of our addiction to success.  We bemoan that nobody comes on Sunday mornings and blame it on faithlessness and institutional decline instead of the fact that an 80 hour work week doesn’t want another hour of obligation…especially if that time could be spent catching up on work or getting a jump on work. Or spending time with our spouse and kids that we forfeited on Thursday to stay late.

We spend money on things that don’t feed us.  We labor for things that won’t satisfy.

We all know the story of pastors and nurses who sit at the bedsides of the dying and hear them say they wish they had worked less and loved more.  But somehow we all think we’re the exception to that.  And that we won’t regret 80 hours because we’ll retire early. And that’s what it takes.  And it’ll pay off one day.

I ran into a fellow pastor who is hired part-time at a church.  We were chatting and I said, “So what does part-time look like for you?” to which he responded, “Well, if I actually worked part time, I think I’d be a pretty crappy pastor.”

And I disagreed and said so.  I pushed back.  I don’t want to cultivate a society that expects full time work for part time pay, and I don’t want to cultivate an individual who accepts that they aren’t valuable enough to not be defined by their job.

It’s a spiritual issue.  In my work I can “work for God” so much that I lose sight of God altogether because I’m so busy.  In our work we can lose sight of ourselves, of our God-given identities, because we take on the identity of “success.”

Don’t be successful if it’s going to kill you.  In fact, I’d say that success will probably kill you…at least the parts of you that people love most and want most.

Time in community.  Time in family.  These are things I value.  These are things I want my parishioners to value.  Jesus wasn’t successful by any measurable standard.  And yet Jesus followers flock to mega-churches in mega-numbers because they want to be a part of something that succeeds…hoping it will bleed over into their personal lives.

How can we have spiritually healthy people if we have spiritual leaders and spiritual homes who are in the same rhythm as the mega-firm and the mega-business?

By and large, I just want you to go home.  And I want me to go home more. As a Christian, as a pastor, as someone who cares about the health and souls of my people, just go home.

And I want the church to tackle this issue more.

Seriously.

There Aren’t Just Six Types of Atheists

Posted on by
3

CNN had a story yesterday entitled, “Behold, the Six Types of Atheists.”images

Where do I start?

I think it’s fine to have a story on atheism. It’s good, even. I do think it’s telling that, by and large, their atheist choices come predictably from Hollywood, academia, or the loud cast of militant atheism characters (with a notable exception being the Humanist chaplain who has a really wonderful book; I highly recommend it).  God forbid (a little pun there) we pull from atheist business owners, politicians, world leaders, or even regular every day people.

I think that, whether intentionally done or not, touting the usual atheist bastions of Hollywood and academia just reinforces this idea of liberalism going hand-in-hand with atheism.

And it doesn’t.  What about the thinking Christians out there? Or Hollywood theists? There are some, you know.  And they’re not all anti-intellectual and annoying (looking at you Stephen Baldwin and the faculty of Liberty University).

And I’m not saying that we now need a “Behold, the Six Types of Believers” or anything like that, but the closest thing I found on CNN to that story was a similar story pertaining to pics of “born again” celebrities who were either a) annoying about their beliefs or b) hyper fundamentalists.

What about folks like me?  I had a good long while of unbelief.  I came back to the faith quietly, without a lot of fanfare.  I practice my faith with, what I hope is, some humility and thought and a healthy dose of consideration.

What I’m trying to say, I guess, is that there aren’t just six types of atheism.  There are probably 600,000 types.  Because it’s not just enough to say you don’t believe in the reality of a God…we add all sorts of asterisks and appendices to the things we trust all the time.

Likewise, there aren’t just six types of theism or deism or any belief system you might want to name.  There are 6 million types.  Maybe 6 billion…as many as there are people who ascribe to faith in the world.

We don’t configure our worlds the same way.  I’m not talking about relativism here, I’m talking about reality.  If given a survey, I doubt we’d all come up with the same checked boxes within any camp: Christian, Buddhist, Atheist, or Zoroastrian.

And I guess I don’t like CNN trying to play as if there are six types of atheism, whether they’re just “painting with a wide brush” or actually trying to do some reporting (a first).

Because painting with such a wide brush allows authors like Hitchens and Dawkins to paint me into the canvas with people who claim to “believe” and claim the name “Christian” but look nothing like me.  Wide-brush painting might help us say something, but as Richard Yates sagely points out, “Never say anything that doesn’t improve on silence.”

And perhaps our world would be better without half the words in it.  My own words, included.

So, I’m a reluctant Christian; this is true.  But for all my atheist readers, I would encourage you to also be a reluctant atheist in light of CNN’s stereotyping of you yesterday.  After-all, do you want to be pigeonholed somewhere between Keira Knightley and Richard Branson, or would you rather land somewhere between Richard Dawkins and Kurt Vonnegut?

To be fair, I find those characters much less annoying and much more insightful than Kirk Cameron or Joel Osteen…

But I still wouldn’t feel good just being stuck on their continuum.

And as long as we keep imagining that everyone fits in a nice little box, it makes it a lot easier to just dismiss people who don’t think and behave and love and believe like us…and then we can all just make our little camps and never have meaningful interaction again.

Amen?

God’s Will is Not an Algorithm (Looking At You Christian Mingle)

Posted on by
8

I’m prepping to preach on Psalm 25:1-10.  I think it’s timely.images

See, I have serious issues with people breaking the Second Commandment.

I think it’s a woefully misunderstood commandment, by and large.

Most of my Confirmation kids think it’s about cursing when we first come to it in our study of the Decalogue.  By the time they leave, though, I hope they have a broader view…they tell me they do.

I want to impart this much on them: as a preacher I am very (i.e., terribly) nervous about ever saying something from the voice of God.  Because I don’t want to use God’s name, or likeness, or voice, uselessly.  This is really what the Second Commandment is about, I think.

So that lovely billboard that says, “You know that ‘Love one another’ thing?  I mean that.-God”.  I think it’s in bad taste.  And poor form.

And I think it breaks the Second Commandment just as much as those signs that say, “God hates fags.”

I don’t think their impact is the same, of course.  The former is aimed toward a reminder of love, the latter is best used as firewood.  But I think they’re both wrongheaded.

In Psalm 25 we have a student (the Psalmist) entreating the teacher (God) to teach them and lead them on godly “pathways.”  “Show me how to live,” the Psalmist asks.

And if you go to the book store, you’ll see tons of books dedicated to just that.  There are so many in this world who are simply convinced of God’s will, pathway, for not only their life but also yours.

And I am suspicious of it all.  And it gives me the shakes to think that I am culpable at times of falling into that same trap.

It’s like Christian Mingle’s tagline, that online dating service marketed specifically for Christians: “Find God’s Match for You.”

Do we really think that God’s will is algorithmic in origin?  Do we really think that God wants you to choose from a pull-down menu “washboard abs” (an actual choice on that site), and that God’s match for you will appear based on that, your height, and your education level?

God, I hope not.

Why, then, do we think that other things pertaining to God’s will align like this?

Career changes, relationships, neighborhood locations, vacation destination…”where does God want me to go?  What is God’s will for my life?”

So often this is just a way for us to find ways of getting divine support for our own decisions and situations.  I would be the first to admit that I don’t think God wants you to harm yourself or others; I can say that this is not “the good” that God desires for humanity.  But between two career choices?  Or a neighborhood move? Or a relationship?

Can we not be honest about it all and say that to quickly know God’s will…perhaps to know it at all…is really just a way we try to placate ourselves into thinking we’re making good choices?

Leslie D. Weatherhead, that process theologian best known for his work The Will of God (a good, if dated, work), tells the story of the parson who is offered a high-paying job at a new parish in the next city over, twice the salary of his current position.  When a young parishioner asked the parson’s son what his father will do, the son replies, “Well, Dad is praying over it, but Mom is packing.”

I think Dad has made his choice.  Or maybe Mom has.  A humorous (and true) example of this in action.

The worst example of course, and I’ve mentioned this before, is assigning tragedy to being part of “God’s will.”

This is another placation of sorts.  It’s easy for us to deal with life situations if we believe they’re divinely ordained.

But I want to talk about honesty here; I don’t want to be careless just because it’s useful. And I don’t think God wanted your child to die, your mother to have cancer, you to be born with one arm, or that Asiana Airlines flight to crash.

Gravity happens.  Cells divide and mutate…sometimes in ways that are tragic for life.

But to call such things “God’s will” is sick and demented and wrong.  And it’s not any better to say, “Well, I’d never say it at the time because it’s not helpful, but it’s true that it is God’s will…”

In fact, that’s worse because it’s patronizing.

And I think it’s wrong to say that it must be God’s will that these things occur because in such situations people gain great insight, or muster great courage, and that those goods outweigh the tragic bad.

In this vein Weatherhead can again be enlightening.  He notes that tragic situations do not cause great courage or insight, they just uncover it.  And to suggest that such courage or knowledge couldn’t be gained in other, non-tragic ways, is shortsighted.

We either give lip service to seeking “God’s will” while just reinforcing our own, or we proclaim “God’s will” carelessly while not really knowing what we’re talking about.

Both are sad realities for the Christian world.  This is how I see it most often done, though.

To steal Kierkegaard’s famous title, the topic of God’s will should approached with “fear and trembling.”  And with a healthy dose of mystery.

This is why spiritual disciplines are very important.  They’re less than formulaic; anyone immersed in deep discernment can tell you that it often feels like three steps forward and two back when trying to suss out a path in the deep woods of doubt and indecision.

They invite us into mystery.

Finding the will of God is less like being the captain of a ship out at sea whose rudder turns it sharply as the stars realign and the course changes in the captain’s sight.  We want such swift movement…we desire it and love it when people tell us they have such clarity.

But I, by and large, don’t trust it…and don’t encourage you to, either.

I liken it more to being a laborer on an archeological dig where slowly we uncover the thing we are seeking. And even then we sometimes end up uncovering a broken pot when we were hoping for a dinosaur.

The fact that God’s will is difficult…impossible in the specifics?…to determine is clear by those who commit themselves to the monastic life.

It is, in essence, declaring that one might arrive at God’s will by the time the tomb calls us.  Maybe. Hence why it’s a life choice.  And a good bit of discernment goes into deciding to enter an order; it takes years and years.

And sometimes people discern wrongly.  God’s will is not algorithmic in nature.

Instead of always hastily proclaiming knowledge of God’s will, I’d much rather we all agree to stumble blindly (and be honest about it) while fervently praying, discerning, and sifting for goodness in this world as we go.  Seek God’s will; sure.  But let’s not pretend to be so certain or have such clarity.  Let’s not pretend to have quick answers and divine revelations when really all we want is wish reinforcement.

I don’t think Christian Mingle can find God’s match for you.  I think it can find you some good dates, and maybe even a partner (apparently only if you’re straight, though…you can’t seek for the same sex).

But I wouldn’t say that the person you find there is “God’s match” for you anymore than the person you pick up at the bar.  And I think they should be ashamed for using that tagline.  It breaks the Second Commandment.  And it’s a dumb tagline anyway.

Instead of waiting around for God’s will, do something (very Lutheran) and step out into the world.  Sift away at the sands of life as you go; look for the good.  But don’t imagine that you can be on the “wrong path” anymore than you are on the “right path.”

You are on the pathway.  At each step you sift a little more and slowly eek out the beautiful existence.

The Psalmist doesn’t wait for God to teach them the right path before beginning the journey, but instead prays for constant companionship and enlightenment and courage as they go.  I hope I can do that, too.  Hence why I practice spiritual disciplines (as best I can).

So throw away those books that proclaim God’s will for your life is only 200 pages away; you can be “purpose driven” without it, I think.

And if you write such books, do so with fear and trembling and not because you know it will sell in a world where people want quick answers, and literalism, and divine algorithms.  What we need is honesty.  And I’m often a reluctant Christian because honesty seems to be kind of rare in this particular arena.

“Paula Deen and VRA are Spiritual Topics” or “Look, Shiny Objects”

Posted on by
1

You’re tired of hearing about Paula Deen.  I am, too.shiny-objects

But indulge one more thought, if you will.

She was on Today last week giving a teary account of her heart.  Having watched it as it happened, I found it evasive.  I also found it heartfelt.  And I felt bad for her.  And I felt bad for the situation.  And I felt bad for her words and the way her words fall into a long history of words and actions that have hurt people and society and continue to hurt people.

And I felt bad that she couldn’t see her racism.  And how she plays into systems of power…how she is a system of power.

Racism is the mix of privilege and power resulting in prejudice.

This is all troubling.  There’s more trouble, though.

In her interview on Today, Matt Lauer asked if her publicity tour to explain herself and reclaim her image was about money.  And then he went on to list all of the organizations that are dropping her left and right (and we continue to get information about organizations divesting from her name).  And the conversation became about money.

The reality is, though, that the more the media focuses on her hemorrhaging bank account, the less we as a community talk about race. This is the bigger trouble.

And all of these organizations dumping her, are they doing so because racism is bad or because it’s bad business?

In her “apology” (it wasn’t), I heard Ms. Deen talk about her values, about her morals, about her thinking that all of God’s creations are equal.

And she talked about organizations sticking with her and what that meant to her, how they “knew her.”

But what she didn’t talk about was racism and her racism.  And what Lauer didn’t ask her about was racism.

They talked about morals, they talked about money, they talked about talking about apologies.

But nothing about white privilege or racism.

And this all looming under the Voting Rights Act decision from SCOTUS, now stripped from enforcement.  And these two events are connected.  And we fail to see it.

See, this is a spiritual issue.  It’s a spiritual issue because we have become adept at finding the shiny object in the room instead of the threat, and this hurts us at levels deeper than just skin.  Our attraction to distraction is gutting our souls as human beings, as society, as community, as people of faith.

The economization of everything is one of the best shiny objects humanity deludes themselves with.  “Racism is bad for business!  Look at Paula Deen’s situation!” This is what we implicitly hear.  What we should be hearing, I think, is “Racism is bad for society.  It’s bad for community.  It’s bad for your spirit.  It’s bad for our world.”

But when you can put a price tag on something, it becomes about money.  And money is easier to talk about than racism.

This past week of SCOTUS activity provides us with another shiny object lesson.  VRA is stripped of its power, and then DOMA is stripped of i’s power.  One after the other.  I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, think that these verdicts were randomly ordered.  Let’s overturn the past quickly and quietly, and then offer an olive branch of sorts to a progressive future (although it’s a partial olive branch as the justices failed to find any Constitutional basis for marriage equality).

A portion of the population denied marriage before are now opened to the possibility (though not ensured), while a portion of the population who were ensured voting rights are now just “open to the possibility.”

This is a spiritual issue.  We distract and deceive to keep real problems from being addressed.

Richard Rohr talks about this in his book “Everything Belongs.”  He notes that progressives will keep on making mistakes, and conservatives feel their job, then, is to keep those mistakes from being corrected.

We follow this lovely pattern because we easily become distracted from addressing the heart of the matter, and we don’t really like the radical work of changing it that falls outside of “progressive” or “conservative” labels (because, secretly we believe in the system).

And what is that heart of the matter?

People. Community. Society.

Jesus dealt with this all the time.  “What must I do to inherit abundant life?” the rich man asks.  His question has an eye on distractions, as he has “many  things” and wants to add eternal life to his collection.  He economizes everything, even Jesus and abundant life (and so does much of the church…let’s be honest).  The focus is changed by Jesus not on what he has to do, but who he is.  He must sell his objects.

He can’t take it.  He walks away in dismay because he has many things…but lacks himself.

The woman at the well had had five husbands (and we just love to tout her as a whore, though the text doesn’t support it).  She’s differentiated from Jesus by gender, religion, reputation, and even agency (she has a bucket, after all).  Jesus’ focus is on her.

And yet what do we focus on with this oft-preached text?  Her imagined sexual acts.

Shiny objects with some to spare.

This is a spiritual issue.  The world is in love with shiny objects because they keep us from discussing real problems, and the spirit of society, our spiritual lives, community as a whole are worse off.

And for the Christian following Jesus, we have an example of where our focus should be.  And yet…it’s not.

We’re in love with sick systems.

What must we do to inherit abundant life?  Go and sell our shiny objects.

And we walk away with dismay, because we have many…

A Question for the Boy Scouts

Posted on by
9

I wasrainbow scoutsn’t ever a Scout.

I’ve known straight Scouts.

I’ve known gay Scouts.

I’ve known good and bad examples of both gay and straight Scouts, I think.  Their sexual orientation had nothing to do with their failure or success.

But I was never a Scout.

So, I want to ask Scouts a question: which of the 12 Core Value is most important?

Citizenship, compassion, cooperation, courage, faith, health and fitness (inexplicably one value), honesty, perseverance, positive attitude, resourcefulness, respect, or responsibility?

I want to know because I’m trying to understand what the ruckus over gay Scouts and Scout leaders is.

Because, as far as I can tell, encouraging Scouts to stay in the closet through barring and banning threats violates courage, honesty, respect, and responsibility on the Scout’s part, and compassion and cooperation on the establishment’s part.

So I’m trying to figure out how this was ever an issue. It seems like an honest Scout is the best Scout.

And I’m trying to figure out how they can allow openly gay Scouts, but not openly gay Scout leaders.  Are leaders not expected to uphold these values as well?  If they are to teach and model them, I don’t see how it can be otherwise.

I’m just really at a loss as to how this is an issue.  And I’m also at a loss as to how churches are now banning the Scouts over their half-hearted policy change.

Do these churches imagine that everyone in their doors are straight?  If so, they are delusional.

Are they imagining that Jesus would not have dined in the houses of the Boy Scouts because they now allow gay Scouts (but not, for some unknown reason–that I can only imagine has to do with some unscientific and failed belief in sexuality and sexual practice–gay leaders)?  If so, they are not only delusional but also illiterate.

Read the Gospels.

Because just as much as I want to ask the Scouts which of the 12 Core Values is most important, I want to ask those churches now threatening to deny Scouts a home which of Jesus’ teachings are most important.  The one on love?  Peace? Blessing? Self-sacrifice? Compassion?

Or the (non-existent) one on sexual orientation?

I would like to know.

Because my understanding of honesty means being honest with yourself and others, which includes an understanding of your sexuality.  Some might say it’s a personal responsibility thing to be honest about your sexuality.  Some might say it’s a courageous thing.  Some might say such an admittance to yourself and the world takes the conscious decision to cooperate with your sexual orientation rather than deny it to the detriment of your sanity, your health, and your relationships, and shows perseverance to do so in the face of discrimination.  Some might say it takes resourcefulness to pull up the necessary faith in yourself and your abilities to be so honest.  Some might claim it takes respect for yourself and a positive attitude to approach the subject with such openness.  And such openness is indicative of a compassionate nature, and let’s be clear, honest citizens are the best citizens.

In my estimation, it seems honesty might be the key to upholding the 12 Core Values.

So, enlighten this reluctant Christian, made that much more reluctant because we’re represented on front-page headlines by these sorts of squabbles and these mind-boggling banning policies: why is this an issue?

10 Things You Must Do As a Follower of Jesus

Posted on by
3

The God Article, a really interesting website/blog/incubator for thought, recently posted “10 Things You Can’t Do as a Follower of Jesus.”  It’s well worth the reaimagesd.  Interesting stuff.

But, as all scholars familiar with the Decalogue (the 10 Commandments) know, it’s not the “Thou Shalt Not’s” that are difficult.

It’s the “Thou Shalt’s” that cause the problems.

I’ll refrain from murdering most weeks, but remembering the Sabbath…that’s tough.

Because the “thou shalt not’s” are about avoiding things, primarily.  And we love to avoid things because then we can tally how many times we’re successful at not doing bad things when given the option.  And this gives us this sense that we truly are our own saviors.  See, that’s the secret behind a lot of Christian piety: it claims Christ as the savior, but then sets up all these other rules by which you actually get the feeling that you’re saving yourself.

And this is why people love to use the word “temptation” when they talk about sin.  We feel that we can beat temptation with enough will power.  With enough sense, we can avoid the bad and do the good.

With the “thou shalt not’s” of life, all sorts of other things are permissible. You can’t covet your neighbor’s house and wife, but you sure as hell can buy one bigger or marry one prettier!  You shall not murder; maim away.  You shall not bear false witness, but what about slightly false witness?

This is exactly how a rules-based society works: let us know what is over the line so that we can avoid that line.

But with the Christian story, with life, the “thou shalt not’s” are not where the meat lies.  And a Christian life is not rules-based…despite what you might have heard.

For this life the meat lies in the “thou shalt’s.”  Because in them there is no exception.

And a careful reading of the Lord’s Prayer in the Scriptures might be helpful because the best translation is not “temptation” but rather “trial.”

And the time of trial is not one where you are avoiding the bad and choosing the good, but rather are in between a situation to the point where you do not know which way is bad and which way is good and you must step out nonetheless.

And the trial portions are the “thou shalt” portions of life…because choosing for something is harder than being against something.

So, I wonder then, what would be the “10 Things You Must Do As a Follower of Jesus”?

Here’s my attempt:

1) Love the Lord your God

2) Love your neighbor as yourself

3) Repeat #’s 1 and 2

4) No, seriously, 1 and 2 again

5) Why do you think there are other ones?

6) You can stop reading

7) Sigh

8) You really want more rules, don’t you?

9) I can’t give you another thing to do, sorry

10) Why the hell can’t you just do 1 and 2?

And perhaps it isn’t even that easy.

Because the minute you make a list, or a rule, and that becomes a “must,” then obeying them is now the god of your life.

This is the problem with much of organized religion.  It has turned a particular philosophy and worldview (it’s own) into the “way the truth and the life” and it then fails to point beyond itself.

This is what happens when anyone thinks they have a direct revelation.  They, then, become more authoritative than the revelation itself.

We try to turn things into gods all the time, especially ourselves.  This is the true “god delusion”…Dawkins got it wrong.  We delude ourselves into thinking our right thoughts, our correct actions, or even ourselves as the bearer of correctness are gods.

I can avoid murder.  I can avoid bearing false witness.  I do those with some success.

But it’s awfully hard to love God and my neighbor…and even myself, I guess.  And even harder to try and figure out what that means when it comes to buying and selling, ethics and morality, and all sorts of real life issues.

Hell, give me a thou shalt not list any time.  They’re 10 times easier to follow.

But that’s not where the meat lies, and much of the Christian world pretends that the thou shalt not list is super important when it’s really just a way to placate ourselves into thinking we’ve got it all together because we can avoid certain things with success.

Sure.  But can you do #1 and #2 with success?

Call me if you can.  Because I suck at it most days.  And I’m a reluctant Christian because so much of the rest of Christianity pretends they do #1 and #2 well, when really they’re just checking off their “shalt not” lists and patting themselves on their divine backs.