Did it really happen?

I keep reading on facebook and other places lately a great deal of questioning about the validity and veracity of stories.  Did the "deer crossing" lady really exist?  Did the story about the man who gave the robber his coat, too, really happen?  Did the story about the homeless people returning hugs really happen?  And finally, even, did Jesus really exist?  People are very concerned about the reality of these stories, or rather, their historicity.  People are also concerned about the historicity of things other people actually still remember.  Did the Holocaust really happen?  Did the moon landing really happen?  Are these things real?  Are they historically accurate?

Personally, I think all of these things really did happen, they really are historical events.  But to me the bigger question is not "Did this really happen?" but rather, "Is it true?"  And to me, these are VERY different questions.  A friend and fellow pastor has said to me on more than one occasion, "I don't know if it happened, but I know it is true."  Again, while I believe the above things did historically occur, it doesn't really matter.  What matters is the truth they give us.  The deer lady crossing gives us the truth that humans are sometimes silly, sometimes miss the obvious, sometimes not always brilliant and sometimes in our blind spots we make ourselves look ridiculous (but also can bring great joy in the form of deep laughter to many others).  Who cares if it was real or not?  I don't.  It gave me a great laugh, and that's what mattered to me.  The man who gave the robber his coat shows us the truth that sometimes kindness can make a real difference in the life of another human being, especially when that other human being is not deserving of that kindness.  Taking the risk of greeting meanness with love does sometimes change people in radical ways and has the potential of changing the world.  That truth shows itself again and again.  It just doesn't matter if this particular example of it is historical or not.  The truth of the homeless people returning hugs while the people who have a lot of "stuff" won't is that it is often the people who have the least who are willing to give the most.  This too is a truth that shows itself again and again in the world.  Did this particular example really happen?  Who cares!  We need to be reminded of its truth regardless.  The same with all of the other examples.  People can do horrible things, like the holocaust.  People can do amazing things, like the moon landing.  And yes, God comes to be with us and shows us a path of love and healing and radical peace.  God brings resurrection out of death when we look for it, when we choose to participate in it, when we keep our eyes open to see it.  Do I believe it was historical?  Yes.  But it doesn't matter to me as much as the fact that it is TRUE.

I think we get so caught up in the question of historicity that I fear we miss the meanings in these events. We miss the deep truths of the stories.  We miss what they have to teach us and show us about life, about humanity, about what is possible and what must be confronted and changed, about the very nature of God.  I would almost rather we all decided these stories weren't true so we could stop arguing about their historicity and get back to the fact that every one of these stories has meanings that can deepen and enrich and teach and lead us fully into the life God wants for us.  When we are so focused on whether they are historical or not, we miss the messages God gives us through these awesome events; through the beautiful, the horrible, the precious and amazing, the warnings of what can happen and what can be, and the possibilities of what we can do with God and with one another.

Look deeper.

Look beyond what happened or didn't happen.

Instead look for truth.

Our stories, historical or not, are full of truths.  Thanks be.

Sunday's Sermon - Taking Offense and Turning it to Good

Genesis 45:1-28, Matthew 15:10-28

What do we take offense at?  What do you take offense at?
Now, a more important question that I don’t need you to answer, but just ponder to yourself for a few minutes: Does it help to take offense?  Do problems get solved?  Injustices corrected?
In the face of injustices, sometimes it feels like there are only two responses.  The first is to get angry.  And the second is to turn that anger inwards and to just accept the pain and injustices that come our way, often accompanied by a sense of helplessness or even hopelessness.  Anger often involves lashing out.  And one or both of these responses may include walking away, leaving the situation that has offended us.  Sometimes anger can make a difference.  Sometimes speaking out the truth in anger, like Jesus did as he turned the tables of the money changers in the temple, will make a difference, affect change, challenge and overcome injustices.  We don’t know the results of Jesus’ actions on that day, but we do know that the story of his turning those tables continues to inform us, educate us, make a difference in how Christians understand their church buildings and what they can and should be used for.  But other times anger does not actually make things better.  When anger is not accompanied by something productive, like ideas about how to change things, a direction for ways in which something might be done differently, or an offer of help for ways in which something could be done differently, then it tends to also be simply destructive.  And that other option of just accepting the injustices?  Of walking away?  That doesn’t help either.  Walking away doesn’t make things better.  And as Christians we are called to do something about injustices and to change the pain or cruelty that we experience or witness.
But what I would like to propose today is that there is at least one other way to deal with injustices, both personal and communal.  Today’s scriptures gave us two stories.  The first is the story of Joseph.  The kids showed us this story in their production of Joseph: from the Pit to the Palace.  But for any who might have missed it, Joseph was not very popular with his brothers.  He was favored by his father, which led to his brothers not liking him very much at all.  But he also chose to share with his brothers that he had had dreams of them bowing down to him.  This, too, failed to make him a very popular member of the family.  So the brothers threw him in a pit and then sold him as a slave to Ishmaelite traders, telling their father he had been killed.  This was an amazing injustice that lead Joseph into slavery, and then into prison.  Eventually he ended up as Pharaoh’s helper – in charge of Egypt’s land.  But not before a great deal of suffering had taken place.  How did he feel towards his brothers?  How did he handle all that had been done to him?  How did he treat those who had almost killed him and sent him to a life they knew would be horrible?  When they came to him begging for food, not recognizing him, what did he do?  Here was the perfect opportunity to get his revenge, to act out in anger and revenge.  He could have turned them away.  He could have announced, “as you did to me, so I do to you” and refuse to give them food.  He could have locked them up, or sold them as slaves.  And truthfully, he didn’t let them off easy.  He wanted to be sure they had changed.  But once he had seen that their hearts had changed, that they were no longer the young men who had done this terrible thing to him, he forgave them and acted towards them with grace and love, providing food during the famine, rescuing those who had wanted him dead, providing for these his torturers for years – caring even for those who had hurt him so badly, recognizing and remembering that in the end the path they forced him down, while not an easy one, led to life for all of them.
In the gospel lesson for today we have two examples given to us of ways to respond to things we don’t like.  We first have the Pharisees.  They are offended by what Jesus says and they react with OFFENSE.  They react by being angry, by pulling away, by plotting his destruction, and in the end by having him put to death.  In contrast we have the Canaanite woman who asks for help for her daughter.  Even though Jesus first ignores her and then insults her, she, in great contrast to the Pharisees, does NOT choose to act with offense.  Instead she acts with gentle, non-attacking, straight-forward persuasion.  She does not get angry.  But neither does she crumple, give up, or walk away.  Instead she offers a different perspective.  The Pharisees became offended but nothing came of that reaction of offense except, in the end, the crucifixion of an innocent man.  They did not get Jesus’ attention by acting offended.  And they certainly didn’t persuade him to change his tactics or change his mission or his approach or anything.  Jesus’ response when his disciples mentioned the Pharisees offense was to tell the disciples to leave them alone.  “The blind are leading the blind,” he said. Their offense came to nothing except anger and pain for themselves, and dismissal by Jesus.  But in contrast, the woman who chose to not act with offense, the woman who instead gently but persistently chose not to leave, not to act in anger, not to get mad NOR to just accept what came her way and in helplessness to walk away, the woman who instead showed up and asked for what she wanted with determination but again without becoming angry – this woman, THIS woman got what she wanted, challenged Jesus and changed his approach to her and to all the other gentiles who followed in the gospels.
How do we respond when people offend us?  Do we pick up our toys and go home?  Do we feel helpless and hopeless?  Do we act out in anger?  Or can we choose this other way, speaking our truth in peace, with determination but also without attacking, without rancor, perhaps with humor and with the simple but powerful act of being present?
I read in the news that a high school student in Tennessee was suspended this last week for saying “bless you” to another kid when he sneezed.  Apparently the teacher was offended by this and considered it an infringement on the separation of church and state.  While I personally believe very strongly in a separation of church and state, the purpose of that separation is to allow each person to practice and live out their own faiths, whatever they may be.  To suspend a person for an act of kindness that originated from their faith (and that’s assuming that it wasn’t just a flippant automatic response, which is also a possibility), is to fail to understand the purpose and reasoning behind a separation of church and state.  It is, instead to impose on an individual rules about where and how they can express their faith, the exact opposite of what the separation was intended to do.  Putting my strong opinions about this aside, a teacher’s offense at an act of kindness will no doubt have lasting negative effects on those around her.  Already, the community has become more divided around this issue.  Instead of people talking to each other, listening to each other and growing in that listening, people are entrenching in their own opinions and acting out with anger, with aggression, with attacking, accusing, hurtful words.  An act of kindness has become the center of a controversy that has turned people bitter, angry, has made enemies out of friends and created a stubbornness and unwillingness to hear each other that will be HARD to overcome.  I wonder what would have happened if, instead of suspending the girl, the teacher had used the moment to open a conversation about separation of church and state, what that means, how that should be lived, the history of that policy, and where it has taken us now.  People might still have disagreed, but if the conversation were set in an atmosphere of exploration, people might have learned and grown from it.
When I was in college I lived in a Christian co-op with 19 other students in what was the campus ministry center.  Living in this center involved a commitment to participate each week in one of the regular programs of the campus ministry center.  It also involved committing to attending a weekly potluck and each week one of us put on a program for the others to consider some aspect of faith or living out that faith.  The community I lived in was very diverse, ethnically and in every other way.  And while we were supposed to be committed to growing together as a community and as a body of faith, there were divisions.  There were smaller groupings of friends within the community.  One week, the woman leading the conversation was a white woman who had felt excluded by the rest of the community.  She led a program in which we were all invited to pick someone we didn’t know well and try to get to know them better.  I don’t remember all the ins and outs of this conversation.  But I do remember that about a year later, one of my friends, a Latino man, shared with me that the people of color within our community had felt the presentation was racist and excluded THEM.  I was stunned.  I was shocked because they had said nothing at the time.  They had left the community at the end of the year, found housing elsewhere without ever explaining why they left, without ever telling the community that they were angry or hurt or upset.  I asked Mike why this group had never voiced their feelings.  And he told me “we, people of color, do not believe it is our job to have to educate white people on their racism.”  Well, they are right.  As people of color, it is not their job to educate the rest of us on our bad behavior.  Women don’t have the JOB of educating on sexism.  Poor people don’t have the job on educating about poverty. People with disabilities don’t have the JOB of educating those who don’t.  It is not the job of people who might have experienced any kind of injustice to educate those who perpetrated it.  However, as CHRISTIANS, as people of FAITH, it is our job to act with love towards ALL people.  It is not an act of love to walk away without talking to people.  It is not an act of love to refuse to engage one another, even our ENEMIES in open and honest conversation.  Scott Peck defines love as “working towards the highest spiritual growth for the other”.  It does not work towards the others’ highest spiritual growth to walk away.  It does NOT work toward the others’ highest spiritual growth to hide behind feeling “offended”.  We are called to move beyond that.  To instead find peaceful, humorous, loving but truthful ways to be present and open and real with one another.
I will admit I do not always find this easy.  Not at all.  When Eldest received a 75% on her assignment the first day of class which was to have her parent sign her syllabus, a syllabus I did in fact sign, I found myself quickly moved towards feeling offended.  This was MY assignment.  Had I spelled my name wrong?  Why did I get a 75% on signing her syllabus?  But my decision to be offended started me off on the wrong foot with Eldest’s teacher.  Instead of being present, again using humor, or simply asking if there had been a mistake, I approached it with my bristles out.  This served no one.  Least of all Eldest.
There are so many things we could be offended by on a daily basis.  So many.  That person turned without using their turn signal.  That person snarled rather than smiling.  That person failed to invite everyone to their party.  That person wrote something that could have applied to us.  That person failed to remember that someone was gifted in a particular way and to include them in a project.   That person gave an excuse that we know was an untruth.  Well, again, we can find things to cause us offense daily.  And when we fail to speak up, sometimes those little things start to add up until we are so offended we explode or leave.  Hanging on to our grievances isn’t the solution.  But reacting with offense or walking away are not usually productive options either.
So what do we do when we are feeling offended?  Well, first I think taking a deep breath is a always a good start.  Remembering the Canaanite woman, remembering Joseph, remembering how others responded without a sense of being offended when they could easily have done otherwise, remembering our call to forgive, remembering our call to love even our enemies, remembering that we can do a lot more good and spread a lot more love by choosing something other than offense.  All of this can help.  But the bottom line is that I think it takes practice.  And looking at the good models we have in some people helps.
Ben Weir is one of my truest heroes.  He was one of the Lebanon hostages in 1985.  He was held for 16 months and suffered cruelly.  He is also a friend.  And truly one of the kindest, gentlest spirits I have ever met.  I remember one time when I was with him he was confronted by an angry attacking young man – “what kind of God do you believe in anyway?  You went over there as a MISSIONARY to try to convert people to a hurtful religion and you were punished because of it.  You got what you deserved.”  And Ben’s gentle, quiet, but listening response… “I’m sorry that you are feeling angry.  For me, my faith got me through that time.  But I understand that can be hard for folk going through hard times.  I would be happy to listen any time to what you have experienced.”  I never once heard him snap or respond in anger.  And even after his cruel treatment, he remained one of the world’s most respected advocates and workers for peace in the Middle East.  His gentleness permeates everything about him.  And through his actions he modelled for me, as for many, a person I would like to be.  One who chooses a different way.  Who listens.  Who loves.  Who sees.  And who shows up, no matter what injustice or offense is aimed his way.
My prayer for all of us is to find that kind of peace, that kind of wisdom, that kind of LOVE.  Amen.

Sunday's Sermon - Finding Meaning in Suffering

Malachi 3:1-3
I Peter 4:12-18, 5:6-11

 “There stood Beethoven, gravely ill and totally deaf.  Eyes closed, he kept conducting the orchestra even after they had ceased their performance and the audience had risen to its feet in thunderous applause.  As a singer stepped from the choir to turn him around to see those whose shouts of “bravo” resonated throughout the concert hall, tears of elation filled his eyes.  Perhaps the worst loss a composer could experience had been the catalyst for a remarkably adaptive creativity that allowed him to transcend his tortures to become immersed in the thrill of conducting the premiere of his Ninth Symphony, the “ode to Joy”.  At that moment, and not only in spite of but BECAUSE of his adversity, Beethoven had experienced the thrill of thriving through adversity.”  _ prelude of Beethoven Factor by Paul Pearsall (Hampton Roads Publishing Company, VA., 2003)

I’ve found myself thinking a great deal about suffering lately.  And today’s passages really explore it and call us to look at it once again.  The Christian Education study that we have been doing on Wednesdays with Gary has been awesome.  It is called, If you want to walk on water, you’ve got to get out of the boat by John Ortberg (Zonervan, 2003, Michigan) and explores many aspects of stepping out in faith to walk as Jesus has called us to do, with God and each other.  The study explores our fear, the risks we take, how we perceive failure and also what we do with suffering because when we do take the risks of stepping out of the boat and stepping onto the water, there will be times when we suffer as a result, when we fall into the water, when we fail.  And yet, even though we know there will be suffering, we are still called to do it.  We are still called to step out, take the risks of faith, go through the fire to come out on the other side, purified.  In one of the chapters, John Ortberg looks at what he calls the “resilience factor”.  He says, “People who not only survive but grow through difficult situations have (been found to have) three qualities in common:  1.  They take action, seeking to reassert some command over their destiny rather than viewing themselves as helpless victims.  2.  They have a larger-than usual capacity for what might be called moral courage – for refusing to betray their values.  And 3.  They find meaning and purpose in their suffering.”  In the book, the Beethoven Factor, the new positive psychology of hardiness, happiness, healing and hope, Paul Pearsall says a similar thing, especially in regards to finding meaning and purpose in suffering.  He says that some people who suffer don’t become victims or even survivors, instead they become thrivers, people who actually grow through and because of their pain and suffering.  He lists twelve characteristics of such people, but many of them also have to do with finding meaning and purpose.  Number one on his list is that reasons can be found behind the things that happen to us, though it is up to us to figure out the reason.  Number eight is that thrivers make sense of what has happened or is happening to them.  In other words, both of these studies emphasize again and again the importance in finding meaning and purpose in our suffering if we are to come out stronger, thriving and resilient on the other side.
For much of the world, suffering is pointless.  Our culture tells us the purpose of life is “fun”, or happiness.  And in that context, suffering can have no meaning which I think is why so many people in our culture have such a very difficult time when pain does come.  Where is meaning and purpose in suffering when the goal is just to “be happy”?

But for Christians, it is different.  The Bible never tells us that life is about being happy or comfortable or at ease.  Meaning and purpose have many levels and many layers and therefore we can’t say there is one reason or one purpose behind any individual’s suffering, we can’t determine for anyone else what their suffering is about, or why is it happening or what good God can bring out of it for any one person.  None the less, what we can and do know as people of faith is that God can and does bring purpose, meaning and new life out of suffering if we work with God, if we are open to God’s movement through the pain.  God creates meaning even when we can’t find it.  God brings resurrection out of death.  And for me, today’s passages really touch on the “reasons”, the purpose, the meaning behind all that we suffer.  The passage from Peter says that God uses suffering to “test” us.  I don’t really like the word “test” because for some that can imply that God authors our suffering to see how much we can put up with.  That isn’t my experience of God.  The God I experience does not create our suffering, but does use it to challenge us.  And that is actually the truer meaning behind the Greek word that is here translated as “test”.  It is more accurately translated “challenge” in the sense that God uses our suffering to challenge us to grow, to learn, and to deepen in our connection with God and with life.  I find the same meanings present in the Malachi passage.  Our suffering purifies us, it refines us.  As John says, it also “prunes” us.  Our suffering can lead us to be more godly, but only if we are open to the purpose God has in it, open to being “refined” through the hardships.
As Rick Warren, author of Purpose Given Life said in an interview, “We were made by God and for God, and until you figure that out, life isn't going to make sense…Life is a series of problems: Either you are in one now, you're just coming out of one, or you're getting ready to go into another one.  The reason for this is that God is more interested in your character than your comfort; God is more interested in making your life holy than (God) is in making your life happy.  We can be reasonably happy here on earth, but that's not the goal of life. The goal is to grow in character, in Christ likeness.”
As we know, this isn’t easy.  The Bible tells us this isn’t easy when it compares the process to the pruning of branches, to the refining of metals.  Growing in character means loving more fully, more deeply, even those we don’t like.  Getting there is hard.  And knowing exactly how to do this, how to love more deeply and fully is a challenge.  So God pushes, God “refines” us and “prunes” us so that we might bear more fruit, so that we might be the pure, refined silver we are meant to be.  That hurts.  It just does.  But that also gives meaning to the suffering that comes.  Again, I’m not saying that God causes our suffering.  What I am saying is that when we do suffer, God can use it and DOES use it to refine us if we are open.  While I don’t believe God purposely wants us to hurt, I do believe God can bring and create meaning through our suffering by allowing it to teach and refine us into more godly people.

I shared this story with you before.  Some women in a Bible study came across this passage from Malachi, “God will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.”  And so one of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work.  She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver.  As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up.  He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.  The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says:  'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.'   She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time.  The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire.  If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.  The woman was silent for a moment.  Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?'
He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it.'
   “…When I see my image in it”.
God refines us until we are truly in God’s image.  What an amazing and wondrous act of love on God’s part, to be with us in that suffering to the point where we are truly made in God’s image.  To be in the image of the God of love, is to love.  To be in the image of the God who loved us so much that that God was willing to die for us, is to love each other so much that we are willing to die for each other.  Not easy.  But that is what being in relationship with God pushes us towards, and challenges us to do.
The last time I mentioned this story, Fran approached me afterwards and said something that I also think can help us through times of suffering.  She said, “How hot it must be for God to sit there and refine constantly.”  That is the other part of Jesus on the cross as well.  God is with us in our pain, God is with us in our suffering.  And God is standing alongside in the heat, also suffering but still intent on helping us grow through and beyond our trials.

A Hawaiian elder once said, “God sometimes tears at the fabric of our lives so that we will learn to be better weavers and to show us how to more deeply appreciate being given the chance to weave.  We may not see the final pattern, but we are wise if we try to find new patterns and become more patient and creative weavers.” (Beethoven Factor, xxviii)

And it doesn’t end there.  As the passage from Peter tells us, “After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, the one who called you into his eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will himself restore, empower, strengthen, and establish you.”  So finally, the other side of suffering comes.  We are refined, we are made new, and in that newness we are brought to healing, to strength and to a stronger place.  Thanks be to God.

Sunday's Sermon: You are not Alone

1 Peter 3:13-22, John 14:15-21
This passage from John follows up on what we talked about last week.  “I will ask and God will send you another companion who will be with you forever.  This Companion is the Spirit of Truth, whom the world can’t receive because it neither sees him nor recognizes him.  You know him, because he lives with you and will be with you.”  Again, people of faith actually SEE things that the rest of the world can’t or won’t see.  People of faith actually RECEIVE gifts that the world can’t because it can’t or won’t receive them.  As people of faith, we experience God and the gifts God gives.  Today we are talking about the gift of an ever- presence Spirit, the Advocate, the Spirit of Truth.  That experience of God, that choice to see with eyes of love, that choice to see the blessings that surround us – that experience changes the way we see the world, and the way we interact with the world.
       When I look at a stranger, I see a child of God, a beautiful creation and that changes the way I interact with that person.  When I hear a song on the radio, I hear messages from God, and that changes the way I receive the music and words – I receive them in a spirit of listening for God’s voice and being blessed by the constancy and steadfastness of God’s presence.  When I take things in such as bread and grape juice, I feel that these are gifts from God, reminders of God’s presence, and that fills me with gratitude.  When bad things happen I can see them as the blessings of opportunities to grow in my faith, grow in my patience, grow in closeness to God and God’s people.  When good things happen, I can experience living in the joy of God with God rejoicing too.  Living a life of faith is different than walking each day as if we were ALONE.  And living as people of faith means recognizing that God not only never leaves us alone, but calls us to stand with one another as well – to be advocates and companions to those around us.  When God calls us to love even our enemies, to love our neighbors as ourselves, I think God is especially calling us to stand with those who cannot see, who do feel “orphaned” in the world, and who do not feel God’s Advocate living within and around them.   Through standing with people who are feeling that isolation and aloneness we can help them feel God’s love, we can bring them to God’s love.
       His name was Tim. He had wild hair, a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans, and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He was brilliant.  Kind of profound and very, very bright.  He did not begin college as a Christian.  Across the street from the campus was a well-dressed, very conservative church. They wanted to develop a ministry to the students but were not sure how to go about it.. One day Tim decided to go there, just to see, just to check it out, almost as an anthropological experiment, he wanted to see and understand what these people did on Sundays and why.  He walked in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair.  The service had already started and so Tim started down the aisle looking for a seat.  The church was completely packed and he couldn’t find a seat. By now, people were really looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one said anything. Tim got closer and closer and closer to the pulpit, and when he realized there were no seats, he just squatted down right on the carpet.  People were really uptight, and the tension in the air was thick.  About this time, the minister realized that from way at the back of the church, a deacon was slowly making her way towards Tim.  The deacon was in her eighties, had silver-gray hair, and was wearing a beautiful, lovely dress. A godly woman, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly, she walked with a cane and, as she started walking toward this boy, everyone was saying to themselves that you couldn't blame her for what she was about to do.  How can you expect a woman of her age and of her background to understand some college kid on the floor?  It took a long time for the woman to reach the boy.  The church became utterly silent except for the clicking of the woman's cane.  All eyes were focused on her. You couldn't even hear anyone breathing. The minister couldn’t even preach the sermon until the deacon was finished. And then the congregation saw this elderly woman drop her cane on the floor… With great difficulty, she lowered himself and sat down next to Tim on the floor, making the decision to worship with him and by doing so to show him that he won't be, that he isn’t alone. Everyone choked up with emotion... When the minister gained control, he finally said, 'What I'm about to preach, you will never remember. What you have just seen, you will never forget.'  The truth of that came in the form of Tim returning after that service, weekly.  Converted by the love of an elderly woman who made the decision to act as Jesus acts – being with people, no matter who they are, where they come from or where they are going.
After last week’s sermon, I ended up in several conversations with people about those who don’t attend church but say they are people of faith.  Well, maybe.  Maybe they really are people of faith.  But I tend to think people don’t come to church for a couple reasons and one of them is that again, relationships with God take time and work and people simply don’t want to put that time and work in.  Coming to church means taking your faith seriously, taking time to actually work on your relationship with God.  That takes commitment to the real thing and it is a practice that as we here know feeds us, feeds our souls, and invites us to see and experience God at a completely different level.  That kind of commitment also holds us accountable, something people who are not part of church communities may feel uneasy with.  Being part of a faith community helps us to build our faith around sound principles.  It is interesting to me that there is a movement towards people attending non-denominational churches.  The thinking is that these churches are somehow not “tainted” by the dogma built up in our denominations.  But to me, these churches are opportunities to dive into a cultish experience.  Our grounded, sound denominations have worked through their stuff.  They’ve had time to develop, to mature in their faith, to be grounded in practices, beliefs, and understandings that again hold us accountable and make it much harder to go spinning off into dangerous religious tangents.  The practice of showing up weekly invites us into scheduled time with God.  That doesn’t LIMIT our time with God.  We can add more and more time through our prayers, our study groups, our faith disciplines, conversations with other people.  But it means that at least one time each week we will be talking and in conversation with God.  It also means that we have that time each week to remember, again, that we are NOT alone.  The Advocate, the Spirit that Jesus sent is with us, always.  And it is in the strength of that connection with God that we also stand with one another in our faith and in our commitment to love as Jesus loved, to follow in the Way of Jesus, to be his people.
       A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services regularly, stopped going.  After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit him.  It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire. Guessing the reason for his pastor's visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a comfortable chair near the fireplace and waited.  The pastor made himself at home but said nothing.  In the grave silence, he contemplated the dance of the flames around the burning logs.  After some minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone then he sat back in his chair, still silent. The host watched all this in quiet contemplation.  As the one lone ember's flame flickered and diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more.  Soon it was cold and dead.  Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting.  The pastor glanced at his watch and realized it was time to leave.  He slowly stood up, picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire.  Immediately it began to glow, once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.  As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said with a tear running down his cheek, 'Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I will be back in church next  Sunday'.
Jesus has sent us the Advocate.  Jesus has also sent us one another.  We are blessed to be in community with God and with each other.  Our call then is to spread and share that community with others.  Amen.

Making Amends, Part III or..."Rebuilding what was broken"

Tyler put this in a comment after my last blog post, but I felt it deserved it's own post:

Thanks, Tyler, for the image.  Beautiful, truly.
When we are willing to give what is broken our best effort and materials, what we make can be stronger, more beautiful and MUCH more interesting.

Still the choice is always there - do we put in the effort? Or do we throw away the broken pieces, declaring them beyond repair?

Personally, I think we throw things away far too quickly and easily in this culture...things, relationships, people.
I'm guilty as well.

But look at what we miss out on when we make that choice?

Making Amends, part II

Recently a friend posted on facebook the following:

I found myself thinking about this a great deal.  We do make mistakes.  We do break things in other people and break relationships and break hearts, etc.  Sometimes this is done with malice and intention, but I don't think that's the norm.  We are human and we mess up and people get hurt.  Even when we are careful, even when we are thoughtful and strive to be loving, we make mistakes and people get hurt. On the other side of this coin, loving means risking, so things in us will get broken; our hearts, as I said in an earlier post this week, will be broken.  All of us will do damage, experience damage, make mistakes, and have mistakes made in our direction that injure us.  

So is the point of this little illustration that saying sorry is pointless, meaningless, and does no good?  I don't think so.  I do think starting with "I'm sorry", especially when it is a genuine feeling can go a long way.  But perhaps the point is that it just isn't enough.  Making amends means taking it to the next step. What can we do to help heal the brokenness in one another?  How can we be part of putting the plate that is another person's feelings, ego, pride, or sense of self back together?  That may look like conversations, listening to the damage we have really done and being willing to hear it, sit with it, address it.  Sometimes it means something different.  And sometimes there is nothing we can do except pray.  Sometimes, if the plate is a relationship, it is broken into so many pieces that it simply can't be mended.  There can be healing in letting it go just as there is healing in choosing to work it through.  We also have to recognize that even when the plate is mended, it will never be the same.  Often the glue that puts it back together makes those places, those joints, those broken lines stronger than they ever were before.  But the lines, the scars remain and forever change the face of the plate.  And sometimes the plate is so damaged that rebuilding it looks like making something entirely different.  But the different thing can be even more beautiful if we are committed to working and making and creating it together.

Of course the obvious second lesson is that we do need to be aware, to think, and to strive to not do such damage in the first place.  But again, it is not realistic to expect that we will never hurt one another.  The deeper we go in relationship with one another, the more chances for pain and the deeper the hurts when they come.  That's part of being human.    

We start healing by recognizing that we have done serious damage, whether we meant to or not.  We start healing by seeing the breaks, and not just apologizing for them but offering to help mend them.  We start the healing by recognizing that the damage done means that the design has changed.  We start healing by envisioning new designs together that can be even more beautiful, scars and all.

To risk loving...

David Whyte wrote, "Heartbreak is unpreventable; the natural outcome of caring for people and things over which we have no control, of holding in our affections those who inevitably move beyond our line of sight. Heartbreak begins the moment we are asked to let go but cannot, in other words, it colors and inhabits and magnifies each and every day; heartbreak is not a visitation, but a path that human beings follow through even the most average life. Heartbreak is our indication of sincerity: in a love relationship, in a work, in trying to learn a musical instrument, in the attempt to shape a better more generous self. Heartbreak is the beautifully helpless side of love and affection and is just as much an essence and emblem of care as the spiritual athlete’s quick but abstract ability to let go. Heartbreak has its own way of inhabiting time and its own beautiful and trying patience in coming and going."  (©2013 David Whyte.  Excerpted from HEARTBREAK From the upcoming book of essays CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.)

I've found myself sitting with this quote a great deal this last week.  As I mentioned in my article about trust, loving and trusting are risks we take.  They are part of living, truly living, but they do involve risk.  When we choose to love, we are taking the risk of heartbreak.  When we choose to trust, we are taking the risk of being betrayed.  And I think that most of us strive to find a balance - we choose to trust those we think are trustworthy.  We choose to love the "sure thing" or to love those who are most likely to love us in return so we aren't hurt as often, so our hearts aren't broken.  But even with precautions, our hearts still get broken, in big things and in small.  Even things not being quite the way we thought they were or hoped they would be are heartbreaks that we experience when we truly care.

In the face of that, I love the idea that "heartbreak is our indication of sincerity", and, as he says further in the same article, "heartbreak may be the very essence of being human, of being on the journey from here to there, and of coming to care deeply for what we find along the way…"

I think one of the hardest things about heartbreak can be the feeling that we care so much and so deeply about someone who does not feel the same way (and as always, this can be family, friend or romantic relationship - any of it).  Having our hearts broken while watching our loved one's joy can lead us to feel unworthy, unlovable, "less than".  But I think Whyte's article actually gave me a different perspective to stand on.  To love, to put ourselves fully out there, to risk caring - these are the very things that make us human, that make us "worthy".  The more deeply we love, the more deeply we reach into our humanity and into the greatest sense and source of our worth and being.  (The other side of this then is that when someone can give us up, can let us go, without a sense of loss, or "heartbreak" that is an indication of a LACK of sincerity, a lack of depth to the love they gave.  And eventually, we have to realize that this was not a love we would have wanted or that would have served us in the long run anyway.)

But the next step then is what do we do with that heartbreak?  As a family we just finished watching, for the first time, Star Wars I, II and III.  Watching Anakin descend into the dark side because of his heartbreak was powerful for me in many ways.  First it was a reminder that evil does not manifest from no-where.  Evil comes when people are hurt and handle that hurt badly.  Or, to be even more precise, evil happens when we are willing to do anything to AVOID that heartbreak which is so central a part of life, of living, of being human.  And again, the result?  Even when you strive to avoid the heartbreak, it comes.  No matter what you do to avoid it, it still comes.  Anakin still lost Padme, despite the fact that he turned to the dark side in order to save her....no - BECAUSE of the fact that he turned to the dark side in order to save her.

So once again, we are faced with a simple truth.  We can do everything to avoid the heartbreak.  We can be determined not to love. We can choose evil and hate instead.  We can isolate ourselves.  We can do all kinds of things that keep us from loving and living.  And will we then be able to avoid heartbreak?  Still, the answer remains NO.  So we have a choice.  We can live and love and have our hearts broken.  Or we can die and hate and have our hearts broken.  If we choose the second, we fail to live and our lives are simply dark.  But if we choose the first, while we will still have broken hearts, we will also find love, live love, and experience great joy as well.  And the love that we find and create and participate in can also heal us from heartbreak.  Seems an obvious choice to me.  Not always an easy choice, but an obvious one.