Courage in Relationships

One of my favorite parts of the holidays is the way it brings together friends and family. I’m not great at sending birthday cards or having long phone conversations, so I appreciate cultural norms that bring us face to face. There’s nothing like really connecting with others when you share space.

I also love people-watching. When I was working on my undergraduate degree, I nearly got a minor in sociology – the academic way to say people-watching. And in seminary, I took family system classes – the theological, psychological way to say people-watching.

So I couldn’t help but watch during holiday get-togethers. I noticed how unkind one dear woman was to herself. When something would go awry, she would often preface her aside with “well, that was stupid…” or “I’m so stupid…” I was saddened that a mature, faithful woman would speak so harshly to herself. And you know that there was probably more going on internally.

I noticed the curious way we all fall back on old habits when we are around our family of origin – the family we grew up with. When we’re with our parents, we can’t help but become something like the children we once were, and sometimes that’s not very pretty. We follow long standing patterns of relating with siblings – teasing them about weight, lateness, etc. – no matter how old we are.

Recently I’ve been trying to read my Brene Brown book, The Gifts of Imperfection, again. I can race through novels in under a week, but I’ve been trying to read this book for over a year because it’s like rich fudge – I can only read a little bit before it’s too much. I have to set it down to reflect.

Brown says that the three gifts of imperfection are courage, compassion, and connection. The latter two I get and value already. But she points out that the three are inextricably linked together. So it took me a while to unpack what she had to say about courage. It rang a bell in my mind because “courage” was the word I chose to guide my journey in 2014.

According to Brown, courage is less about heroics and more about the original definition of the word, which meant to share your heart by telling your story. If you think about it, and how all of our stories are complex messes of sweet successes and utter failures, you’ll have a good idea of why this is the definition of courage.

Brown also happens to be a shame researcher and it was through her work that she came to discover these gifts. Because shame can’t stand courage. Shame thrives on secrecy, embarrassment, and fear. When we overcome shame by having the courage to share our story, connecting with another in authentic relationship and receiving compassion, shame is banished!

Watching the dear ones in my life these holidays, I wondered how much of our familiar ruts are based on shame and just how much courage it would take to intentionally speak the truth of our lives to one another. And how much stronger our bonds could ultimately be if we did.

We’re built to live in relationship, with each other and with God. It’s no coincidence that Jesus says, “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (Matthew 18:20). It’s also not coincidental that this teaching comes right before the question of how many times we have to forgive one another. To be in relationship, we have to be ready and willing to exercise forgiveness muscles that may be weak from lack of use.

Another point Brown makes in her book that made me stop to reflect was about self-talk. If we are called to forgive our brothers and sisters, we are also called to forgive ourselves. And yet, think about your typical day. If you’re anything like me, you probably find yourself lacking in the mirror, on the scale, on the road, as a parent, and on and on. It’s easy for us to become our harshest critics.

But if we are to be loving and kind toward others, we have to start practicing that with ourselves. So, next time you find yourself slipping into the easy, unredeemed rut of speaking negatively toward yourself, remember the magnificent God who made you and have courage. You are a beloved child of God and nothing can change that. Praise be to God!

How do We Know?

When we come to faith in God, our response is to witness to God, to help others know the God we have come to know. And yet, God is so transcendent, so other and yet so near, that we can never wrap our minds completely around this mystery.

We often get stuck in post-Enlightenment thinking that lifts up analysis, descriptions, and theories as the best or only ways of knowing. It’s head knowledge.

But you know as well as I do that there are lots of other ways of knowing things, ways that come through our spirit, our gut, or our intuition. Limiting our ways of knowing to our heads downplays what we might learn in other ways.

We are minds, to be sure, but we’re also bodies. At this time of year, when we celebrate God’s incarnation, when God consented to life in a body, it’s worthwhile to see how our bodies might teach us.

Bodies have ways of knowing that are different from and yet intimately connected with the mind’s ways of knowing. Some neurobiologists hypothesize that we automatically, almost reflexively, confront an unknown stimulus with the question “What is it?” If we think of God as the ultimate first, we can understand our constant questioning, trying to understand “what is it?”

Even as our minds are constantly trying to know the world, the primary way we have to do this is through our bodies. While Enlightenment thinking would tell us that we can use “pure” reason, realistically we know that everything we consider with our minds passes through the filter of our bodies.

The ancient church had a saying for this - lex orandi, lex credenda – which just means that what the people do truly reflects what the people believe. If we say we believe in serving the poor, clothing the naked, and feeding the hungry, yet do nothing toward these beliefs, you can be pretty sure we don’t really believe those things.

One intentional way we teach ourselves through our bodies in through ritual. Theologian Theodore Jennings writes that “ritual action is a means by which its we discover who we are in the world and ‘how it is’ with the world.” Or, to put it more simply, the way we learn to do things is by doing them.

Sounds ridiculously simple, right? But consider learning to ride a bicycle. If I were to say to someone, “Here is a bicycle. There are two wheels, which are attached to a metal frame. The brakes stop the wheels by friction by either pads or discs and are controlled by levers on the handlebars, which you hold with your hands. To ride the bicycle, you sit on the seat and balance on the wheels. To move forward, place both feet on the pedals and push them around in circles.”

This is only one silly example of how many times people learn how to do things by doing them, rather than by explanation or instruction. Jennings goes on to say that “the performance of a ritual, teaches one not only how to conduct the ritual itself” but also how to behave “outside the ritual space – in the world epitomized by or founded or renewed in and through the ritual itself.”

To put it another way, just as a bicycle teaches us how to ride it, the bread and cup at the Lord’s Table teach us how to be fed and share with one another. In baptism, we gently, carefully use water to symbolically wash a body, knowing that there’s also a soul being renewed. It’s simple, but indescribably beautiful.

We can be transformed by the rituals we follow. The hope of all of our Christian rituals is that the way we are in worship – loving, kind, patient, attentive, joyful – might become the way we are in the world. In worship, we practice being a citizen of the Kingdom of God so that we can carry our passport into the world, re-presenting God to all we meet.

Christmas Eve is a rich time for ritual. When I was a child, we baked cookies and put the best ones out for Santa Claus with a big glass of milk. When I became a Christian, I added the ritual of worship – hearing the story of the Christ child in the manger, sharing communion, and lighting candles. If you want to know God, consider joining us at the Krum Church at 7pm. There’s always a place for you at God’s house!

the Grateful Life

When my husband and I first got married, we were rich in things and short on cash. We had plenty of clothes and two great cars thanks to our parents’ generosity all our lives and plenty of household items thanks to our friends’ and families’ generosity through wedding gifts.

But not having a lot of disposable income taught us that there was a lot more to life than stuff. We survived just fine on PB&J’s and canned soup. And when our first anniversary came around, the simple spaghetti dinner that my husband cooked meant more than eating at a fancy restaurant.

So when our first child was born, we, like many parents, wanted the best for him. But our fervent prayer, as we were once again blessed by the generosity of family and friends was this – May our child have everything he needs and only some of what he wants. May he have to save up for some things and learn to be satisfied and happy with what he already has.

Now as Christmas draws near and my firstborn is old enough to really want things, I’m having trouble figuring out how to help him live into this prayer. I know I wanted things when I was a child, but my husband would tell you that I’m notoriously hard to shop for now. And the reason is that I’m usually more than content with what I have.

So as my son sat busily circling things in the Toys ‘R Us catalog that came in the mail, I wondered how I could help him learn what I’ve learned, even in the middle of one of the most consumeristic times of the year. It’s important to me, because this season is really about God and God’s generosity in giving God’s own Son to be our Savior.

I don’t have it all figured out and there are plenty of other areas where I struggle, but here are some things we’re going to try to teach our children to live the Grateful Life rather than the greedy one.

1) Be a gratitude role model. I have to live what I preach, even at home. In my prayer life, I count my blessings. Saying these blessings out loud can reinforces this type of modeling. “I’m so happy you are in my life.” “I’m so grateful to have good friends.” “Your Dad is the best Dad in the world.”

2) Give thanks. Children of all ages can write or draw a picture of the things they are thankful for. Some grown-ups call this a blessing journal. Or start a simple bedtime ritual of asking what your child is grateful for each day.

3) Treat others with kindness. In these busy, crazy times of social networking and little connection to real people, it’s important to be present in the moment whether that means letting someone merge on the highway or holding the door open. Saying “thank you” is a first step. Rudeness toward others speaks of entitlement – that others are not as important and are in our way.

4) Take action. Recently the librarian at my son’s school fell and broke her hip. When we got home, I asked him if he’d like to make her a “get well” card. He was delighted! He got busy with stickers and markers, then helped me mail it. Simple acts are great ways to share joy and nurture gratitude.

5) Keep it simple. I’m guilty of wanting to take my firstborn to every class and special event. I want him to experience everything! But when we take our walks around the neighborhood, I’m reminded that any moment can be special if you take the time to be present. When we focus on people, relationships, or the wonder of creation, it’s easy to find awe and gratitude.

6) Talk about the world. It’s easy to get frustrated when my child asks “why?” for the 200^th time in the day. But even as I’m in the midst of changing brother’s diaper, cooking dinner, answering the phone, and who knows what else, I try to respond to my son’s honest curiosity. Why rain is important to the earth, where our food comes from, and all the other things that are important to our family. I want him to be able to see the world from outside his four-year-old shoes because our gratitude grows when we’re able to understand the other side of things.

Courage in 2014

Just after the first of the year, words started popping up on my social media. Single words shared what my friends, colleagues, and family members were going to focus on in 2014. I embraced the idea since this year brought a whole lot of new to my life – new church, new home, new role, new people. And every new beginning gives the opportunity to grow into who we’d like to become.

Looking for the origin of this idea, I found One Word 365 and MyOne Word. One Word 365 said: “Forget New Year’s Resolutions. Scrap that long list of goals. Choose just one word. One word that sums up who you want to be or how you want to live. One word that you can focus on every day, all year long. It will take intentionality and commitment, but if you let it, your one word will shape not only your year, but also you. It will become the compass that directs your decisions and guides your steps.”

God is my compass, but I also know the power of words to shape us and the world we live in. After all, God called creation into being through the Word. So I prayed, asking God what I would need in the year ahead, how I might grow, who I might become with all the opportunities and challenges ahead.

COURAGE is my word for 2014. You can read the original post about that here. This is the word God is speaking into my life that I’m confident will not return empty, but accomplish what God has in mind (see Isaiah 55:11). 

This all came to mind because our church is in the midst of our Disciple’s Eleven series. God’s revelation to us is not just a story about a divine being, but about divine love and God’s desire for relationship with us. To live healthy, whole lives as disciples, we need relationships!

Last Sunday we talked about Barnabas, the son of encouragement. En-courage-ment. Courage - from the Middle English corage, equivalent to the Old French cuer which means heart. If courage is to have heart, then encouragement is to put heart back into someone when life has left them battered, bruised, and bleeding. If I am to have courage, then I also need a Barnabas (or ten) who encourage me, who slap me on the back and make me take a breath when I’ve stopped breathing deeply in the Spirit.

This next Sunday, we’ll talk about Peter and Paul, focusing on how we all need a Yoda. Yoda is, of course, the Jedi master and teacher of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker from Star Wars. 

For Christians, we see this principle in Peter and Paul as they become mentors, coaches, and spiritual teachers for the fledgling church. We need people to look up to – wiser, God-energized guides who help us find our way through challenges that aren’t for faint hearts or weak stomachs.

One way I’ve seen courage playing out in my life this year is in my search for Peters/Pauls. In my new role, I’ve realized how much I don’t know about tax code, electrical systems, and so many other things. And although it sometimes stings my pride or makes me shove things around in an overloaded calendar, I’ve sought out mentors.

In a culture that glorifies busy and hurry, it’s hard to have the patience of presence to allow the gradual work of learning to occur. A lot of life is just osmosis as we soak up wisdom and experience simply by being with another. Osmosis was how protégés like Timothy, Titus, Epaphroditus, Erastus, Epaphras, Silas, Luke, John Mark, and others learned from Paul. They traveled with him, watched what he did, and then were given their own assignments to see how well they were developing their potential.

In another church I served, the senior pastor gave this blessing to each baptized person, “(Name), your church loves you. We make this vow in your presence, to surround you in steadfast love. Who you are is God’s gift to you. Who you become is your gift to God. Amen.” I always found it such a succinct, beautiful summary of life. Spending time with our Peters/Pauls helps us grow into the gift we ultimately offer to God. And that takes some courage.

Independent, Free, & Brave

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed...”

I imagine, like most people, that I often observe traditions without giving them too much thought.

That’s been the case for me with July 4 most years. The day would find me in typical celebration of this American holiday – enjoying a barbeque with friends and family and ooo-ing and ahhh-ing over fireworks.

But this year I spent some time with my good friend, Google, digging into our collective roots, reading our Declaration of Independence, and ruminating on what our unique society has created and taken over the course of nearly 240 years of being.

The quotation above is just a small snippet from the beginning of the Declaration of Independence, laying the groundwork for setting forth a list of grievances against the King in order to justify the breaking of ties between the colonies and the mother country in the eyes of the world. While a vote in the Continental Congress severing our ties actually happened on July 2, 1776 and there is some dispute about when the Declaration was signed, some suggesting dates as late as August, July 4 has come to be the date when we celebrate this document and the foundation it laid for our country.

As much as we celebrate, I wonder how much we believe the words of the document itself? Do we really believe that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness?” Of course, Mr. Jefferson, as chief author of the Declaration, speaks in the mode of his day. I would hope that our postmodern sensibilities would include women in our belief of equality, although we’ve had voting rights for less than 95 years. And there are so many other glaring inequalities that you and I could cite.

Even as I write this, I wonder where to take my stand. The 56 signers of the Declaration obviously felt compelled to take their stand, to stake their reputations and their lives with bold strokes of ink. A wise colleague of mine differentiates carefully between “kingdom issues” and the sensationalized issues we see bandied about by pundits. He takes his stand on matters of the kingdom, those things that are close to the heart of God. The other he lets fall away like dross.

I appreciate his wisdom because I’ve seen too many good and godly people take their stand and alienate people left and right. Our magnificent nation staked its claims on these self-evident truths of equality and yet like so many of us, individually, has wandered, strayed, and sinned with startling regularity. Jesus cries, “"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Matthew 23:37).

I wonder what Jesus cries when he looks over our nation. Are we willing? As Barbara Brown Taylor wrote, “If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus’ lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world - wings spread, breast exposed - but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand.”

Jesus chooses to identify as a mother hen - no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles - who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. Which Jesus does, arms spread, breast exposed.

I believe God’s Word still speaks, seeking to gather us in, guiding us in the ways that lead to life. If we mean what we say, let’s take our stand. May we use our independence in ways that glorify God! 

Are we listening?

As a preschooler’s mom, I often say, “Are you listening to me?” When my son says yes, I usually follow up with, “What did I say?” Although a logical part of my mind knows better, the busy, everyday part thinks that if my child will just listen, then he will do as I say.

Writing that makes me laugh. He is my child, and this from the woman who had a heart-to-heart with the Southern Baptist pastor who presided at the wedding to share that she was not going to say “obey” in her vows. I listen to my husband, but that doesn’t mean I obey.

Reflecting on this as a parent, I saw a Facebook post from Momastery, a blog by Glennon Melton. She wrote, “My suspicion is that we all THINK we're listening when what we're really doing is simply waiting another person out so we can say our piece. So we can bring things back to us, so we can explain why we're righter, so we can fix things and fit them to our already established schema.”

When I was training as a Stephen Minister, one of our core practices was listening. We were to receive whatever was shared with us. Most people don’t feel heard on a regular basis. But for those who are experiencing difficult transitions – divorce, loss, diagnosis – the confidence of knowing there is at least one person who is really listening is a blessing.

Have you ever known a gifted listener? I met one early on in my ministry, when I was just fumbling toward God’s calling for my life. He let me pour out my heart, never giving any indication that he may have anything else to do but hear what I was saying. Over time, I noticed that he had this gift even in crowds. He was never one to look over your head, scouting out a better networking opportunity. Instead, he was completely there, present to the moment, listening to you.

Long before we had the gift of inexpensive written words thanks to Mr. Gutenberg which led to higher literacy rates, ancient peoples told stories. Experts usually call this an oral culture, that their histories and identities were conveyed by word of mouth. But I suggest that rather than an oral culture, ancient peoples had aural cultures, based on hearing.

Early in our Scriptures, we read, “Hear therefore, O Israel, and observe them diligently, so that it may go well with you, and so that you may multiply greatly in a land flowing with milk and honey, as the Lord, the God of your ancestors, has promised you. Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates” (Deuteronomy 6:3-9).

“Hear,” “observe,” “hear,” and “keep” are used before “recite,” “talk,” “bind,” “fix,” and “write.” God asks God’s people to listen first, to keep these words in their hearts, before they take any steps toward speaking, even to their children. It’s the course of wisdom, and especially convicting for this pastor who has a tendency to speak first.

Melton’s post shared some words from Mark Nepo: “To listen is to continually give up all expectation and to give our attention, completely and freshly, to what is before us, not really knowing what we will hear or what that will mean. In the practice of our days, to listen is to lean in, softly, with a willingness to be changed by what we hear.”

Imagine if we really listened that way – to God, to our families, to our friends, to our enemies, and beyond. How might we be challenged and change and grow?

So this week, I’m going to stop trying to get my son to listen to me so much and I’m going to listen to him instead. When he struggles to tell me how sad it made him when a friend wouldn’t share with him, I’ll do my best to listen patiently. I can’t wait to see how I might change by leaning in. Consider to whom you might listen. I pray it becomes an avenue of blessing.

Finding our Meaning

When you are a little kid, you don’t get to decide much about your life. At least I know that’s the way of it most of the time in my house with my 3-year-old son. His agenda is directed, for the most part. “It’s dinner time, please come to the table.” “It’s almost time for bed, let’s put on our PJ’s.” “Please hurry, we’re running late.”

As often as I can, I try to give him some decisions, letting him try out his human autonomy in safe ways. We intentionally started this after I read an article on toddler-guided walks. I have always enjoyed neighborhood walks – getting exercise, visiting with neighbors, and enjoying outdoor time. When my son was an infant, this was easy and adult-guided since he was in his stroller. But as he became a toddler, it became clear that his idea of a walk and my idea of a walk were different.

Every so often, we would take a toddler-guided walk. I put aside the frustration and enjoyed seeing the world anew through his eyes. He was eager to pick up sticks and leaves, handing me the best treasures to take home. Once we discovered a little pile of sand at the bottom of a neighbor’s driveway and spent a good 30 minutes playing there.  And I’ve had the delight of sharing some of the fun things I remember from my childhood – blowing dandelion puffs, playing with roly-poly’s, and watching the wind make pinwheels whirl.

It’s a gift to get out of my head, off of my agenda, and engage with the world in the present moment. As human creatures, we tend to live in the past, reliving old glories and rehashing old mistakes, or the future, thinking about dinner or planning for retirement. It’s hard for us to live right here, right now, even though it’s all we really have. That’s part of the wisdom in the prayer Jesus taught his disciples. “Give us each day our daily bread” (Luke 11:3). When we pray, Jesus encourages us to live in this moment, to ask for what we need this day.

When we have time, we take little boy-guided drives. On the way home, my son regularly requests to see the police cars, the fire trucks, or the house that was damaged by fire and is being repaired. On our way between the fire trucks and the house, there was another house under construction. We both enjoyed seeing the work progress and noted when it was finished.

But just yesterday, my son asked, “What did they do to that house?” “They fixed that house so people could live there. A house is meant to be lived in,” I said. Again, being in the moment, explaining this beautiful, broken creation to my child, led me to a little epiphany. We are all meant for something.

In the words of one of our newer hymns: “As a fire is meant for burning with a bright and warming flame, so the church is meant for mission, giving glory to God’s name. Not to preach our creeds or customs, but to build a bridge of care, we join hands across the nations, finding neighbors everywhere” (Ruth Duck, The Faith We Sing #2237).

This past week, I got to join hands with my Jesus-siblings from four other local churches as we built a bridge of care to feed children in our community. Krum First United Methodist Church, Christian Center Assembly of God, First Baptist Church, New Beginnings Fellowship, and Plainview Baptist Church are working together to provide weekly lunch sacks to students served by the free or reduced lunch program in Krum ISD.

 

I believe it pleases God when we set aside our differences of creed and custom to do good in God’s name. Monday mornings we roll up our sleeves, sorting food and stuffing sacks. Monday evenings we head out into our community, distributing food. Each church is handling different food items as well as providing volunteers. If you are interested in serving, please just get in touch with any of the churches. We’d be glad to have you! And if you know of a child who might be hungry this summer, get in touch with us so we can let you know where they might go to receive.

As sons and daughters of our God, we are meant for something. Connect with a family of faith to go deeper, love more, and find your meaning in this life.

Summer Disciples

It’s officially summertime! Not being a student anymore, this doesn’t mean as much to me as it used to, but I still get the hankering for snow cones, watermelon, visits to family, and long days by the pool when the temperatures rise.

I know I’ve mentioned it before, but my husband teaches private music lessons in addition to his doctoral work. And every summer, he’s faced with the same challenge – students who have been diligently working to improve on their instrument and in their musicianship are eager to take a break.

I can relate. Who doesn’t want a break now and then? A chance to get away, relax, and break up the routine. My husband always has a serious conversation with his students, reminding them that if they take 3 months off, they will not pick up where they left off in the fall.

That’s true for all of us when it comes to the places in our lives when we are earnestly striving to grow. While a vacation may do us good, we don’t pick up in exactly the same place when we come back. It’s the same for a musician, an athlete, and a follower of Jesus. Being a pastor, I know that long, hot days and fun, late nights often mean skipping worship on Sunday. I really do understand and, on a morning like this past Sunday, when the wind’s blowing, the rain’s pouring, and the thunder’s rumbling, I would have been tempted to stay in bed if it were an option.

But, even before I was a clergyperson, I knew my life was better and stronger when I lived it with my family of faith. When I was away, especially for an extended period, like the years I was in seminary or the summers served with the Air Force, I missed things. I remember being heartbroken to find out about the deaths of dear souls when I got back. I missed the things that living out a committed relationship offered.

Likewise, the Bible is not just a story about God, but about divine love and God’s desire for relationship with us. While we may only gather to worship 1 hour each week, God wants to be a part of our lives 24/7. And God gives us brothers and sisters in our lives to help embody God’s love to us and for us to love in return.

To live healthy, whole lives as disciples, we need relationships, guides, and guards who can help us on our journeys and be with us when we reach our destinations. This summer, at the Krum Church, we’ll be considering 11 companions that every person needs on life’s journey. Each one becomes a gift of God to us. We’ll also look to see how we offer this companionship to others.

Just recently, I realized I was in need of some mentoring. Moving from being an associate pastor to a senior pastor has led me to find some of my growing edges. So I reached out to a couple of colleagues, asking them out to lunch, and bringing all my questions with me. It was such a blessing to sit with partners in ministry, sharing our hearts and experiences, as we continue to offer the good news of Jesus Christ in the world. I left each meeting with a renewed sense of call and purpose.

Strangely enough, I also find myself on the side of mentoring others. After six years of full-time ministry, I’ve learned a thing or two, so I regularly get calls, texts, e-mails, or Facebook messages from those seeking a word of wisdom or encouragement. I pray they find the same sense of blessing through our conversations.

We’re never done learning and growing in this life. We’re called to have one hand up, seeking to grasp the hand of those ahead of us and pulling ourselves forward. We’re called to have one hand back, offering our grip to those behind us and pulling them up with us. We stand in the gap, offering authentic, loving relationships on behalf of the God who loves all of us.

This Sunday, we’ll talk how we all need a Nathan in our lives. The name Nathan means “gift,” but Nathan the prophet was more than a gift to King David. During David’s reign, Nathan provided him with expert counsel on lots of things, but he also spoke directly to the heart of the king. May we all find a person who speaks to our heart.

Spirit-Filled

Not that long ago I was just beginning to attend church. I had come to be a Christian through a Wesley Foundation, a United Methodist campus ministry. So while I was familiar with praise music, loved communion, and was growing in faith through Bible study and relationships with other college students as well as the campus pastor, I had no idea about the church year.

I went to worship one Sunday to hear our pastor encourage us to wear red the next week to help celebrate the church’s birthday. I assumed it might be something special in this particular church, but I was in! I had nothing red, so that week I went shopping, found something that was reasonably priced, and looked forward to wearing it on Sunday.

That next Sunday was Pentecost. And while there were a lot of folks wearing red in the room, it wasn’t like any birthday party I was expecting. Instead, we heard the scripture story that is often pointed to as the origin of the church – Acts 2:1-17. The disciples, who had just witnessed Jesus ascend into heaven, were told before he went that they needed to wait.

They’re all gathered in one place, when suddenly there is an overwhelming sound like a violent wind and tongues that looked like fire, came to rest on each of them. They were filled with the Holy Spirit and could speak in other languages so that they could witness to the good news of Jesus Christ to all people.

Some people were amazed and in awe. Others assumed the worst – that these no-good followers of that radical rabbi were drunk. But Peter, always willing to step out ahead and called to be the rock of the new church, stood up to offer his witness to all. This was not drunkenness! This was the fulfillment of prophecy – “In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams” (Acts 2:17).

One thing I learned about the church year is that it repeats, starting over in Advent. This helps us follow the life of Christ through birth, ministry, death, and resurrection, imprinting upon us the pattern of the “pioneer and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2).

Come Sunday, it will again be time to celebrate the birth-day of the church, the pouring out of God’s Spirit upon God’s people, as we hear the Pentecost story. At the Krum Church, we’ll conclude these Great Fifty Days of Easter by affirming that Easter People are Spirit-Filled.

That pastor in the church I attended as a new disciple of Jesus asked us to wear red to remind us of the fiery nature of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit moves as it will, bringing forth new life, advocating for us and all creation, and praying for us when our words fail.

In the ancient near east, the writer of Acts tried to capture the nature of the Spirit with powerful metaphors like “strong wind, gale force” or a “wildfire” as Eugene Peterson renders it in his modern translation, The Message. I wonder if we tried to describe the Holy Spirit in our post-modern words what we would say.

Is the Holy Spirit like electricity, powering and illuminating our lives? Such a constant that we have no idea how we would do life without it? Or is the Holy Spirit more like the internet, connecting and informing us across all boundaries that were formerly considered insurmountable?

Of course, no language is ever adequate to capture the essence of God, but we are called to use words in our witness, as Peter does. When we use these metaphors, when we try to understand the nature of God with our finite minds, it’s like trying to capture the spirit of the sea in a Dixie cup. It’s true, as far as it goes, but it’s not the whole truth. But putting these glimpses together help us know God better.

God wants us to know him because that’s part of being in a relationship. Paul writes, “Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). So don’t underestimate the longing God has for you and your capacity to grow in love and understanding. I pray God pours out the Spirit upon us all so that we can be good news to the world!

Waiting on God

I hate waiting. There, I said it, and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. We wait in lines and in doctors’ waiting rooms. We wait for test results and for traffic lights to change. We wait for our favorite TV shows to start and for our loved ones to arrive home.

So it was a surprise when I was following the readings for this Sunday to find the word that summarized the reading, Acts 1:6-14, was “wait.” I read it again, but that was the word the Spirit had for me in this season. So, I set out to overcome the glorification of busy-ness that our culture often promotes and find the way that Easter people wait.

The first memory that came to me was the mornings at my grandparents’ house on the lake. They have both gone on to glory now, but when I was little, I would often spend a good bit of my summer with them.

Each morning, I would stumble out of bed, blearily setting out to find my grandparents. Without fail, they would be out in the “arky” room, a screened in porch with a beautiful view of the lake. My Mumo would open her arms and I would climb into her lap, just resting in their soft conversation and the smell of coffee. Together, we would wait with the earth, watching the birds and squirrels go about their business, seeing the sun crest the tree line, all of creation coming to be a new day without haste or any effort from us.

Waiting is a common theme in our Scripture. Abraham and Sarah wait for the child who will fulfill God’s promise to them. God’s people are enslaved in Egypt, waiting for deliverance, then wandering and waiting for forty years in the desert before they enter the Promised Land. A persecuted and suffering nation waits expectantly for God’s promises to be fulfilled in a Messiah who will bring justice and usher in a new kingdom.

So it should come as no surprise that the first verse from the reading for Sunday, Acts 1:6, poses a question from the disciples to the risen Christ, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” The disciples are a part of a waiting people and they are anxious for the time to be now. Like a child on a road trip, they wonder, “Are we there yet?”

Despite what some would have us believe, God’s great acts in history don’t occur everyday or even frequently. Most of the Bible deals with real people living in the long gaps between God’s mighty acts. We can wonder why we have to wait so long, and get frustrated that we’re not there yet, but this is part of the mystery of our God. Jesus replies to the disciples, “"It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority” (Acts 1:7).

So, what is our part to do as we wait? Our reading has a few words of guidance from those first disciples:

1) Don’t just stand around watching for Jesus to come back. This earned the disciples an angelic admonishment, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11).

2) Wait for the Holy Spirit. “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

3) Stay together and pray. “All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together” (Acts 1:14a).

Bishop Will Willimon writes that “waiting, an onerous burden for us computerized and technically impatient moderns who live in an age of instant everything, is one of the tough tasks of the church.” Waiting implies that there is something that needs to be done that’s beyond our individual abilities. Something that can only be done together, undergirded by prayer and by the power of the Holy Spirit.

So Easter People wait. We wait actively, not staring up at heaven, but engaging our lives for the sake of the gospel with our brothers and sisters in Christ. I pray this Sunday finds you devoting yourself to prayer, together with a family of faith. There’s always room for you at our house.

The Reality of Evil

A few years ago, a colleague of mine introduced me to NPR. Since then, I’ve gotten fond of feeling smarter when I get out of the car. Recently, I caught part of All Things Considered, featuring Emily Parker, the author of Now I Know Who My Comrades Are, as she explained how the Internet is changing activism. While the program itself was interesting, one quote resonated with me: “Fear, isolation, and apathy are the most effective weapons of authoritarian regimes.”

Beyond the intentional use of these tools by tyrannical governments, these same things are just a few of the ways that evil works in creation. While many folks are not quick to talk about evil, it is a reality that exists in our world. And we can’t fully appreciate the love and grace of God without measuring the height and depth of evil.

Some talk about evil in a personified way – the devil or Satan (from the Hebrew word ha’satan, which simply means “the accuser”). Others, myself included, tend to talk about evil as the accumulation of sin, personal and corporate, that has accumulated over time such that none of us get to start with a blank slate in this life.

Evil is insidious. To share a personal example, this week, I had to make a decision about an invitation from my conference, the regional body that oversees United Methodist churches. It was a great honor and something I have sincere interest in doing. However, there remains the little fact that the start of the training would fall right around my due date. I was divided. Did I decline for the sake of my family and potentially set my career back? Or did I commit to the training, pressing through the late stages of pregnancy and the sleepless nights as the mother of a newborn?

I ended up calling a trusted friend to hear my thoughts and help me figure out what I should do. And through our conversation, I saw clearly how I had resisted evil in one little way in my life. I overcame my fear of appearing weak or unambitious to discern what was truly right for me, what was truly life-giving and of God in this season of life. I refused to let myself be isolated, thinking that I had to make this decision alone without prayer and counsel.

Fear, isolation, and apathy affect us individually and corporately. The Wall Street Journal reported that recent voter turnout for federal elections in India reached 66%, or about 814 million people. In comparison, 57.5% of eligible voters in our country voted in the 2012 elections, which equates to 126 million people. It astonishes me that so many of us don’t vote when the right to vote was so contested and hard won for many. It’s apathy. It’s believing that our voice doesn’t matter. It’s withdrawing our gifts and graces from the larger body. And it’s not a way that leads to life.

These are only a few examples of things that can be the slippery slope, the seemingly innocent temptations, the habits of our minds, and the way evil can work in the world. This week, at the Krum Church, we’ll talk about how Easter people work the fields. I’m not much of a gardener or farmer, as any of my church folks can tell you, but I do believe that Jesus calls us to the fields.

For the past few weeks, I’ve also been out asking for donations or sponsorships for our Senior Breakfast. It’s a 50+ year tradition our church has of celebrating our graduating seniors. And I’ve been wonderfully surprised at the generosity of our community. In many cases, all I have had to do is ask and the gifts are given, cheerfully and willingly. But I have to work the fields. The gifts don’t come in unless someone asks.

As Christians, we are called to do the same. Jesus “said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest’” (Luke 10:2). Our brothers and sisters are waiting for a word of good news, something that gives hope and life in the midst of fear, isolation, and apathy. We have been entrusted with the gospel, not to hoard, but to share and celebrate. Our friends, family, and neighbors don’t become part of the Body of Christ unless someone asks. May we all be good news to someone this week!

A Good Conspiracy

A few weeks ago, I attended one of my husband’s doctoral recitals at UNT. He is a saxophonist and, for one piece, he played with a quintet of other woodwinds. What struck me most powerfully, besides its beauty, was the fact that there was no director. Just six individuals, keeping an eye and an ear toward each other as they made music.

This was a good conspiracy. The less common definition of “conspire” is “to act in harmony toward a common end” (see merriam-webster.com). It comes from the from the Latin “conspirare,” from the root parts “con,” which means together, and “spirareto,” which means breathe. Originally, to conspire was simply to breathe together.

I know, my English degree is showing as we explore these word roots, but language is important. That’s why we spend so much time in the words of Scripture. Words have power. “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it” (Isaiah 55:10-11).

 

God’s word goes out and does not return empty. In Hebrew, the word for wind/breath/spirit is “ruah.” Usually, you can’t see your breath. It’s intangible; you can’t grab it. When all is well, we don’t think about it too much. But the ancient measure between a living person and a dead person was breath – one had it and the other did not. 

In that recital, the musicians were conspiring. They were literally breathing together as they brought forth something more wondrous than any of them could have alone. I could see it in the movement of their shoulders and hear it in the rippling waves of sound that came from their instruments. And most magnificently of all, even as they breathed together, they listened to one another, balancing the volume of each part so that no one was dominant or out of accord.

There are so many lessons we can learn from the arts. It’s powerful to breathe with our fellow creatures and with our Creator. When I breathe with others, when I get down to the basic things that make us human – like wanting the best for our kids, longing to feel safe and secure, needing enough food each day – I am able to have compassion. I am able to see deeper than the picky, pesky things that separate us and see them as my brother or sister, struggling just as much as I do just to breathe sometimes.

When we breathe with our Creator, when we allow our spirit to be one with the Holy Spirit, who knows what we might do?! We become comforted such that we can offer comfort. We are set on fire for God, our souls restless for justice and righteousness. We are empowered to be change agents in a broken world desperately in need of good news that transforms.

This Sunday at the Krum Church, we’ll affirm that Easter people witness. It’s a word that’s gotten a bad reputation, as we might recall a street preacher with a bullhorn, condemning people to hell without even knowing their names. Or the awkward teenager handing out sinner’s prayer pamphlets which promise to bring eternal life without relationship.

Being a witness is our Christian calling and I encourage those of us who are shy about it, because we’ve seen it done poorly or hurtfully, to reclaim it! Being a witness is simply about being someone who has seen something happen and is willing to tell about it. I pray that you have seen the word of God work in your life. That is something to talk about!

One of our gospels states, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people” (John 1:1-4). May the life that comes through Jesus Christ –abundant, overflowing, grace-filled – come into being in us. And may we have the courage to tell someone!

Living in Community

Come Sunday at the Krum Church, we’ll remember that Easter people live in community. Not just the superficial community some of us may settle for – the wave to the neighbors, drive through downtown, smile politely but keep the deep things to ourselves stuff of over-scheduled, underfed lives. We are made to live in community. It’s what God intended! God, who lives in community within God’s own self in the eternal relationship between Father, Son and Holy Spirit, created us with the same capacity and necessity for love.

I found this wonderful story recently on Momastery, one of my favorite blogs: In carpentry, “sometimes an existing joist, which was designed to handle a certain load, becomes too weak. Maybe it was damaged by water or fire. Maybe it still has structural integrity but an addition is being constructed and the new load is going to be a lot heavier than before. Either way, now it is not as sturdy as it needs to be.

When a builder needs to strengthen that joist, she puts a new member right next to the original one and fastens the two together. Sometimes, two new joists are needed- one on either side. Do you know what they call that? A Sister Joist.”

We need our brothers and sisters and they need us. Sometimes something has happened in our lives, some tragedy or circumstance that has left us grieving and broken. Or perhaps good, new challenges have come along such as a change of job or the addition of children and the new load is heavier than before.

The common perception that Christianity is primarily about the individual and a personal relationship with Jesus Christ is an insidious, modern heresy. Like the serpent in the garden, it whispers that we can be enough on our own.

But look at Jesus’ own ministry! Jesus didn’t collect a studio of students and only teach private lessons. No, he called together a small group, knitting them together in relationship with himself as well as with one another. The small group of the disciples and their rabbi was dynamic and life-giving. It allowed for questions to surface and lessons to be taught while ensuring that when the teacher was no longer physically present, they wouldn’t be alone in this life. Not only would the disciples receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, to comfort and empower them, but they would have each other.

It’s a good thing for all of us who call ourselves Christian to echo this example. If, for today, we aren’t the joists that need shoring up, then we are the ones called to stand alongside others, to lend our strength for a season. Because it all goes around in time. Those who lend strength today will need to borrow it someday. And if we live outside a deep community, our resources in times of need will be sorely lacking.

Some of us are blessed to find our first and best community in our families. This week also brings us Mother’s Day, an American holiday which originated with Anna Jarvis, a laywoman from the Methodist Episcopal Church in Grafton, West Virginia in 1907.

While for some of us this holiday is a straight-forward obligation to call our moms or make sure we get a gift for the mother in our household, I ask us all to remember that for many, it’s not that simple. Motherhood, like any human relationship, can be a messy reality.

So, as you do your shopping or get your cards in the mail, consider praying for mothering relationships in all their forms. Those who have struggled with infertility. Those for whom motherhood was unwelcome or challenging. Those who have lost children to death. Those who have struggled in relationship with their mothers. Those who opened their hearts to children through adoption or foster care. Those who struggle to balance the demands of family life with work and other commitments.

Maybe Mother’s Day can be an opportunity to live a greater reality of what it means to be family. Jesus said, “Who are my mother and my brothers? Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother” (Mark 3:33, 35). In this simple statement, Jesus reconstitutes what it means to be a family, calling us to extend the love we usually reserve for our nuclear families much wider. So, this week, consider embracing the Creator’s blueprints and live in community.