Alas, Google tells me that the year’s worst day approaches. Daylight Saving Time begins officially Sunday, March 11.
Yes, I know. There are good reasons for this change of time. More sunlight farther into the evening will boost our collective spirits, increase productivity for some workers, allow my puppy and I more time to run. And for that, we’ll be grateful, eventually. But the day itself is heartbreaking, when we ‘spring forward’ in wee morning hours, then awake to discover that a precious hour of sleep has disappeared. Oh the horror! Oh the madness! Oh how I’d better plan ahead! I’ll survive, I’m sure, but please be sensitive at church that morning (assuming you don’t accidentally sleep in!).
I don’t know much about daylight saving's history in our country; my memory vaguely offers theories about improving conditions for farmers during planting and harvesting time, or helping commodities traders better coordinate with global partners, or something. But in the abstract, the very idea that we have power over the clock- can wind or unwind it at whim to create more light- seems very metaphorical and meaning-rich, an exercise in playing God.
For most cases, certainly, I’d recoil at that suggestion. The prophets were studying this month in worship for the Lenten Sermon Series (A Prophet? Me?! Imagine that…) vocally denounced any attempt to diminish the first-place greatness of God. But in this instance- mimicking God by creating light- I’d give us a pass, perhaps even recommend the notion. Bear with now; I realize we’re discussing analogy, not actuality. But hearken back to Scripture’s first chapter, which I’ve discussed in this forum before. Act one by our Lord: “Let there be light.” Not many verses later we get: “Let us create humankind in our image.” Usually, I take that evocative phrase to mean that we’re created to be creators, co-creators with God, as some would say. But maybe we can push the envelope further, and suggest that what we’re created to create with God is what Godself actually created. Light. Life. Order, balance and illumination. That certainly tracks with St. John’s understanding of Jesus’ mission. “In the beginning was the Word…and the Word was God…the Word shone light into the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it.” When Jesus left, of course, he left us with the task of continuing his ministry; lighting up the darkness that threatens the world around us, illuminating the world with love.
This month, y’all may know that an annual Minnesota tradition continues. The Minnesota Foodshare, sponsored by the Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches (on whose Board I serve), annually uses March to raise over half of the food supplied to Minnesota’s 300+ foodshelves. Our local foodshelf, IOCP, has encouraged member churches to join the effort by donating food, toiletries and money to help out. They’ve also received a matching grant from Mosaic Corporation to the tune of $20,000, meaning that for every item donated, IOCP receives an additional dollar. That dollar, when spent at local food banks, secures about 10 pounds of food, so the leveraging effect is considerable.
And Mosaic/IOCP decided to go an extra step this year- spice up the food drive- inviting participants to create sculptures with the food donations they receive. With the Plymouth Creek youth, we’ve designed a sculpture that looks like a lantern, which when built will literally light up our sanctuary (due to strategically placed lamps inside the structure). In other words, I’m hoping you’ll join me and other PCCCers to create light this month by bringing food donations to church that will feed hungry families in our community (and specifically, if you could make those donations cans or boxes that are white, blue and green, that’d be ideal!). Call it an invitation to do something you were created to do: exercise your God-like image and power to brighten the world around you with generosity and love.
And while you’re doing that, let me encourage to take an additional step- Pray for guidance on further ways you might shine the light of God’s love to your neighbors. Then go out and show your neighbors the wonderful brightness of our Lord.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
What’s the vision…
For Christmas, I received a GREAT gift: a coupon for another cooking class. The venue was Kitchen Window, a wonderful cooking store in Uptown. The class I chose- Knife Skills- occurred on a recent Monday evening. So around 6:30, I wandered in, took my spot at one of the room’s high-top tables and prepared to slice and dice, and not injure myself for three hours.
Y’all likely know that for many months, years now actually, I’ve been developing a love for cooking. And through all my experimenting and learning, I’ve realized that a cook’s greatest friend must be the knife s/he wields, and especially the skills s/he develops to use that tool effectively. After all, before any fire starts or oven heats, food must be readied, and what results will be shaped by how well that preparation was performed. Through trial, error and more than several Band-Aids, my knife skills have steadily improved. But the reason I took this class was my obvious lack of theoretical cutting knowledge. One evening at Kitchen Window wouldn’t dissolve that deficit, I knew, but I will admit to now thinking much more clearly about what I’m doing with blade in hand.
One particular insight I gleaned, which maybe you’ll find enlightening, has to do with vision. The instructor said that before cutting or slicing into any roast, onion or pile of potatoes, a good chef must have a notion, a hope, a vision for what the food will look like at the end. Say you’re dicing potatoes (cutting them into cubes shaped like, well, dice) in order to roast them. If you haphazardly, carelessly attack the root veggies, you’ll produce a mound of multiple shapes and sizes, each to be cooked at the same temperature for the same period of time. The outcome? Simple. Some overcooked pieces, others undercooked, and your dinner guests not uttering the hoped-for oos and ahs.
But if, before beginning, you have a vision for the basic size of each piece, you’ll then be able to plan the various cuts you make- start to finish- each contributing efficiently to the goal.
Now, stop salivating over dinner, and ponder spiritual growth. Perhaps these same preparatory principles apply, though it’s a tougher arena, I realize. One approach I’ll admit applying to my own soul-stretching is much like the novice knifing I inflicted on previous meals. I’ve haphazardly read this book, tried that meditative method, followed cultural fads and inhaled the so-called ‘life-changing’ ideas of whatever author tops this week’s bestseller lists. Sometimes, I’ve been fed well by this method. Honestly, though, I’ve usually found my spirit parched, unsatisfied, hungry still. Other times, though, I’ve had a vision for the growth I want to achieve; greater fluency in prayer, clearer direction for my life’s journey, peace during particularly troubled times. With that vision in mind for where I’m headed, I’ve then made strategic choices about how to spend my energies, time and money, and often- not always, but much better than otherwise- the results worked decently.
For instance, when discerning my professional path- specifically whether to pursue Navy Chaplaincy- I entered the Navy’s Chaplain Candidate program, went through training, studied the lives of previous chaplains and prayed earnestly on that topic. After a couple years, the ‘answer’ became clear: No, that’s not it. Rather, I’m called to be a church pastor. From the outside, it may’ve looked liked a roundabout road to that decision. But during those years, I became a Disciple of Christ, met my wonderful wife, became ordained, secured my first pastoral post and gained unique, profound experiences other pastors can’t claim. And through it all, my original vision held: I want to serve God through my career, and grow in proper ways to get there.
I write that not to brag- again, that’s one success story in the midst of many that didn’t work- but rather, to season your mind for the following question. What’s your current vision for growth in life- spiritual, professional, personal? And once you’ve decided that, what ‘cuts’ or steps can you make to achieve that vision?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Y’all likely know that for many months, years now actually, I’ve been developing a love for cooking. And through all my experimenting and learning, I’ve realized that a cook’s greatest friend must be the knife s/he wields, and especially the skills s/he develops to use that tool effectively. After all, before any fire starts or oven heats, food must be readied, and what results will be shaped by how well that preparation was performed. Through trial, error and more than several Band-Aids, my knife skills have steadily improved. But the reason I took this class was my obvious lack of theoretical cutting knowledge. One evening at Kitchen Window wouldn’t dissolve that deficit, I knew, but I will admit to now thinking much more clearly about what I’m doing with blade in hand.
One particular insight I gleaned, which maybe you’ll find enlightening, has to do with vision. The instructor said that before cutting or slicing into any roast, onion or pile of potatoes, a good chef must have a notion, a hope, a vision for what the food will look like at the end. Say you’re dicing potatoes (cutting them into cubes shaped like, well, dice) in order to roast them. If you haphazardly, carelessly attack the root veggies, you’ll produce a mound of multiple shapes and sizes, each to be cooked at the same temperature for the same period of time. The outcome? Simple. Some overcooked pieces, others undercooked, and your dinner guests not uttering the hoped-for oos and ahs.
But if, before beginning, you have a vision for the basic size of each piece, you’ll then be able to plan the various cuts you make- start to finish- each contributing efficiently to the goal.
Now, stop salivating over dinner, and ponder spiritual growth. Perhaps these same preparatory principles apply, though it’s a tougher arena, I realize. One approach I’ll admit applying to my own soul-stretching is much like the novice knifing I inflicted on previous meals. I’ve haphazardly read this book, tried that meditative method, followed cultural fads and inhaled the so-called ‘life-changing’ ideas of whatever author tops this week’s bestseller lists. Sometimes, I’ve been fed well by this method. Honestly, though, I’ve usually found my spirit parched, unsatisfied, hungry still. Other times, though, I’ve had a vision for the growth I want to achieve; greater fluency in prayer, clearer direction for my life’s journey, peace during particularly troubled times. With that vision in mind for where I’m headed, I’ve then made strategic choices about how to spend my energies, time and money, and often- not always, but much better than otherwise- the results worked decently.
For instance, when discerning my professional path- specifically whether to pursue Navy Chaplaincy- I entered the Navy’s Chaplain Candidate program, went through training, studied the lives of previous chaplains and prayed earnestly on that topic. After a couple years, the ‘answer’ became clear: No, that’s not it. Rather, I’m called to be a church pastor. From the outside, it may’ve looked liked a roundabout road to that decision. But during those years, I became a Disciple of Christ, met my wonderful wife, became ordained, secured my first pastoral post and gained unique, profound experiences other pastors can’t claim. And through it all, my original vision held: I want to serve God through my career, and grow in proper ways to get there.
I write that not to brag- again, that’s one success story in the midst of many that didn’t work- but rather, to season your mind for the following question. What’s your current vision for growth in life- spiritual, professional, personal? And once you’ve decided that, what ‘cuts’ or steps can you make to achieve that vision?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Young people…
I’ve heard the following question many, many times, “Why don’t more young adults attend church?” And, as a young adult, that question weighs deep on my soul. I like imagining my grandkids having a faith community to love and watch them grow; teaching them stories about Jesus, cheering their accomplishments, forgiving their failures. I pray a community of Christians will sing my life’s song whenever the good Lord asks me to join Her in eternity. At my core, I believe strongly in God’s faithfulness, meaning that whatever challenges and changes the church faces, it will endure- in some fashion- long after me.
But let’s be real, friends. Christian churches face challenges and changes galore. And chief among them is our continued struggle to attract more young women and men. Perhaps no bigger issue unites diverse Christians- Evangelicals, Main-Liners, Catholics, Pentecostals- all experience mass anxiety over their churches aging! And I’ve heard more ‘solutions’ to this conundrum than I care to remember. Is it because this generation finds our worship boring? Maybe. Are we too ‘set in our ways’ for people who crave change and experimentation? Sometimes. Perhaps today’s young adults are too entitled, self-involved or obsessed with technology to worship God? I detest that theory. Though I would, wouldn’t I?!
Then there’s the idea that this generation of young people hold negative stereotypes of Christians, and avoid church because they don’t think Christians share their values. Statistics show that more of today’s youth than any previous in America grew up with ‘no religious affiliation’. Church attendance isn’t much lower than American history’s average. It’s actually higher than years in, say, the mid-18th Century or post-Civil War. But even during such eras, non-church goers would say, “I’m Baptist, or Catholic, or Jewish, or…” That’s no longer true for many of my contemporaries. Cultural expectations that people ‘be religious’ have long been in decline. Many young people’s parents, then, had no faith allegiance, so they have none either. Thus, whatever beliefs they formed about Christianity were gleaned from media sources, friends, parental biases, web surfing. Meaning rarely did it come from direct experience; hymn singing, Sunday School, or- God forbid- preaching!
So now, some Christians worry that my peers hold a distorted image of ‘real Christianity’. Along with other young adult Christians, I have numerous non-affiliated friends who glance warily upon church. Thus, I (and other YA Christians I know) have endured many conversations that go something like this: “Shane, you’re cool- a little cheesy, but I like you. But you’re waaaaay different than other Christians. Aren’t you? They’re all judgmental, right? Disparage other religions, hate gay people, spend more time worrying about whether I’m cussing or drinking or having sex the way they want me to than whether the planet’s being polluted, poor people are dying, women are being beaten...you know, what really matters?!” I’ve responded by saying, “Dude (alas, I still use this antiquated word), some Christians are like that, but that’s not the whole story…” Indeed, I wouldn’t remain Christian if I thought that matched with reality, that ‘real Christianity’ required such constant judgment and division.
But I don’t! I believe the heart of Jesus’ teaching is love- for God, ourselves, and every neighbor. His church and his followers have challenged me to respect others and myself more fully, to make better decisions with my money, my life’s direction, with the ideas and organizations I support. I have a richer spiritual life, more peace, generosity and hope in my soul, because Jesus’ Disciples have welcomed and taught me. And I wish- profoundly, earnestly- that such stories (for I’m not alone, right!?!) are what made the headlines, guided the conversation, shaped the expectations of faith for fellow young adults.
But wishing something doesn’t make it happen, does it? It’s up to me and like-minded Christians to tell our stories, speak above the din, distractions and distortions of the present day. Would a community of Christians committed to openness and service, shining brightly and speaking boldly about this more loving way, would that be an answer to this question of church decline that haunts us so? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I wonder…I pray…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
But let’s be real, friends. Christian churches face challenges and changes galore. And chief among them is our continued struggle to attract more young women and men. Perhaps no bigger issue unites diverse Christians- Evangelicals, Main-Liners, Catholics, Pentecostals- all experience mass anxiety over their churches aging! And I’ve heard more ‘solutions’ to this conundrum than I care to remember. Is it because this generation finds our worship boring? Maybe. Are we too ‘set in our ways’ for people who crave change and experimentation? Sometimes. Perhaps today’s young adults are too entitled, self-involved or obsessed with technology to worship God? I detest that theory. Though I would, wouldn’t I?!
Then there’s the idea that this generation of young people hold negative stereotypes of Christians, and avoid church because they don’t think Christians share their values. Statistics show that more of today’s youth than any previous in America grew up with ‘no religious affiliation’. Church attendance isn’t much lower than American history’s average. It’s actually higher than years in, say, the mid-18th Century or post-Civil War. But even during such eras, non-church goers would say, “I’m Baptist, or Catholic, or Jewish, or…” That’s no longer true for many of my contemporaries. Cultural expectations that people ‘be religious’ have long been in decline. Many young people’s parents, then, had no faith allegiance, so they have none either. Thus, whatever beliefs they formed about Christianity were gleaned from media sources, friends, parental biases, web surfing. Meaning rarely did it come from direct experience; hymn singing, Sunday School, or- God forbid- preaching!
So now, some Christians worry that my peers hold a distorted image of ‘real Christianity’. Along with other young adult Christians, I have numerous non-affiliated friends who glance warily upon church. Thus, I (and other YA Christians I know) have endured many conversations that go something like this: “Shane, you’re cool- a little cheesy, but I like you. But you’re waaaaay different than other Christians. Aren’t you? They’re all judgmental, right? Disparage other religions, hate gay people, spend more time worrying about whether I’m cussing or drinking or having sex the way they want me to than whether the planet’s being polluted, poor people are dying, women are being beaten...you know, what really matters?!” I’ve responded by saying, “Dude (alas, I still use this antiquated word), some Christians are like that, but that’s not the whole story…” Indeed, I wouldn’t remain Christian if I thought that matched with reality, that ‘real Christianity’ required such constant judgment and division.
But I don’t! I believe the heart of Jesus’ teaching is love- for God, ourselves, and every neighbor. His church and his followers have challenged me to respect others and myself more fully, to make better decisions with my money, my life’s direction, with the ideas and organizations I support. I have a richer spiritual life, more peace, generosity and hope in my soul, because Jesus’ Disciples have welcomed and taught me. And I wish- profoundly, earnestly- that such stories (for I’m not alone, right!?!) are what made the headlines, guided the conversation, shaped the expectations of faith for fellow young adults.
But wishing something doesn’t make it happen, does it? It’s up to me and like-minded Christians to tell our stories, speak above the din, distractions and distortions of the present day. Would a community of Christians committed to openness and service, shining brightly and speaking boldly about this more loving way, would that be an answer to this question of church decline that haunts us so? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I wonder…I pray…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, February 10, 2012
Fellowship and Hospitality…
Here’s a ‘learning scenario’ I encountered in seminary.
Imagine you’re a pastor, visiting a new family to the church. Y’all shake hands at their front door. They introduce you to their dog. When escorted into the living room to sit down for a chat, on the table is a platter of fresh-made cookies. Ms. New Person says, “Please, pastor, have a cookie.” But you’ve a) just come from another engagement that included cookie eating, and b) made a New Year’s resolution to cut down on sweets. What, the teacher asked, do you do?!
I, of course, get to cheat on this test, since my honest answer is, “I’m sorry, I never eat sweets” (substitute buffalo wings, however, and I’m in trouble!). But you can imagine how unintentionally tricky that could be, right? After all, many Christians feel compelled to give and receive graciously. Hospitality, in fact, is so central to our ideals, our value system, that every week we replay a ritual of table fellowship. “All are welcome at Christ’s Table,” we say, claiming that as our reason for gathering.
And that’s right! We are people of the Table! Called to serve and be served, opening our lives to all. But in the real world of everyday worship, work and rest, unconditional and unlimited hospitality is tough. When someone wants to serve us, we may not like what they’ve prepared. When someone needs serving, we may not want to step in. A new person may seem to us strange or uninviting. Or maybe we’re simply feeling timid or insecure.
Nevertheless, we’re called to reach out constantly to others, to become, if you will, hospitality experts. And as anyone with expertise in anything will tell you, what separates pros from amateurs is how well one does under pressure. When the doing of something is tough, and yet you get it done, that’s when you know you’ve become good. For instance, I suspect many people given enough time and second chances could cook a wonderful meal for guests. The great dinner party hosts, however, do it every time, and with last second notice, if required. Sure, the work may be hard; s/he might be exhausted by evening’s end. Still, dinner would be amazing, and guests would leave satisfied.
That’s an easy, if incomplete, metaphor, I think, for what you and I are called to do as Christians. Every Sunday, someone new could walk into our building. And that Sunday, you or I may feel tired, annoyed or distance. We could, of course, just say, “Well, let someone else welcome them. It’s my turn to take today off.” But I suspect we feel some urge to suck it up and be nice. Similarly, we could be in the grocery store line, or at a local meeting, hoping to just be left alone, when something happens unexpected- a person nearby needs help or engages us in polite conversation. As Christians, people of the Table, do we ignore the opportunity or step up?
I won’t push this idea too far. I’m sure we could create many alternative scenarios to complicate the issue. All I’m hoping is that we take a moment, this week, to remember that hospitality- welcoming others into fellowship- is a fundamental call of being Christian. It’s a ministry that each of us (in our own way, sure) is asked to undertake. A consequence of baptism, or something.
One way we do that at our church, of course, is by supplying something simple to gnash on after worship each Sunday. FYI, there’s a new sign-up sheet available that has many empty slots, and I’m hoping that y’all will soon change that fact! If you have procedural questions, let me know. You needn’t do much work; Mike and Donna make the coffee. Just bring treats, or healthy snacks, or whatever you feel best says to guests, “Hey, I’m glad you’re here! We hope you feel welcome!”
But even beyond that, I invite you to ponder anew this week- In church, at home, in my everyday life, how am I reaching out to others, making neighbors feel welcome, offering the same hospitality our Lord’s already offered me?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Imagine you’re a pastor, visiting a new family to the church. Y’all shake hands at their front door. They introduce you to their dog. When escorted into the living room to sit down for a chat, on the table is a platter of fresh-made cookies. Ms. New Person says, “Please, pastor, have a cookie.” But you’ve a) just come from another engagement that included cookie eating, and b) made a New Year’s resolution to cut down on sweets. What, the teacher asked, do you do?!
I, of course, get to cheat on this test, since my honest answer is, “I’m sorry, I never eat sweets” (substitute buffalo wings, however, and I’m in trouble!). But you can imagine how unintentionally tricky that could be, right? After all, many Christians feel compelled to give and receive graciously. Hospitality, in fact, is so central to our ideals, our value system, that every week we replay a ritual of table fellowship. “All are welcome at Christ’s Table,” we say, claiming that as our reason for gathering.
And that’s right! We are people of the Table! Called to serve and be served, opening our lives to all. But in the real world of everyday worship, work and rest, unconditional and unlimited hospitality is tough. When someone wants to serve us, we may not like what they’ve prepared. When someone needs serving, we may not want to step in. A new person may seem to us strange or uninviting. Or maybe we’re simply feeling timid or insecure.
Nevertheless, we’re called to reach out constantly to others, to become, if you will, hospitality experts. And as anyone with expertise in anything will tell you, what separates pros from amateurs is how well one does under pressure. When the doing of something is tough, and yet you get it done, that’s when you know you’ve become good. For instance, I suspect many people given enough time and second chances could cook a wonderful meal for guests. The great dinner party hosts, however, do it every time, and with last second notice, if required. Sure, the work may be hard; s/he might be exhausted by evening’s end. Still, dinner would be amazing, and guests would leave satisfied.
That’s an easy, if incomplete, metaphor, I think, for what you and I are called to do as Christians. Every Sunday, someone new could walk into our building. And that Sunday, you or I may feel tired, annoyed or distance. We could, of course, just say, “Well, let someone else welcome them. It’s my turn to take today off.” But I suspect we feel some urge to suck it up and be nice. Similarly, we could be in the grocery store line, or at a local meeting, hoping to just be left alone, when something happens unexpected- a person nearby needs help or engages us in polite conversation. As Christians, people of the Table, do we ignore the opportunity or step up?
I won’t push this idea too far. I’m sure we could create many alternative scenarios to complicate the issue. All I’m hoping is that we take a moment, this week, to remember that hospitality- welcoming others into fellowship- is a fundamental call of being Christian. It’s a ministry that each of us (in our own way, sure) is asked to undertake. A consequence of baptism, or something.
One way we do that at our church, of course, is by supplying something simple to gnash on after worship each Sunday. FYI, there’s a new sign-up sheet available that has many empty slots, and I’m hoping that y’all will soon change that fact! If you have procedural questions, let me know. You needn’t do much work; Mike and Donna make the coffee. Just bring treats, or healthy snacks, or whatever you feel best says to guests, “Hey, I’m glad you’re here! We hope you feel welcome!”
But even beyond that, I invite you to ponder anew this week- In church, at home, in my everyday life, how am I reaching out to others, making neighbors feel welcome, offering the same hospitality our Lord’s already offered me?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Religion bashing…
Last week, one of y’all showed me a youtube video that’s been making noise recently. I’d seen it on many a facebook friends’ pages, but hadn’t yet watched the clip. Titled “Why I hate religion, but love Jesus,” if you have a few extra minutes, check it out.
Here, though, is a recap. It’s a four-minute monologue from a young adult believer, apparently well schooled in slam poetry and evangelical atonement theology. About the former, slam poetry is a spoken-word art form resembling hip-hop without music. The performer passionately and rhythmically performs an original work of poetry, mixing urban lingo and personal observation with linguistic dexterity and bravado. As modern art goes, I’m a big fan.
Regarding evangelical atonement theology, I’m not as sympathetic. In short, this belief system claims that Jesus’ blood sacrifice was the perfect way of satisfying God’s righteous wrath. And only by accepting this fact, then working to convince others, can people avoid the dark destiny of Hell. You probably know I’m none-too-keen on such assumptions; Jesus’ death speaks to me, rather, of the lengths God will go to show us how much God loves us. Thus, I assume God opens doors to grace through pathways outside Christian faith, though I find following Jesus most satisfying, personally.
Nevertheless, in the afore-mentioned video, the artist claims fervently his life’s been changed by Jesus. And given that I’ve witnessed that happen to many people- myself included- I say, despite our theological disagreements, “Right on, friend. Preach!” Another claim he makes is something I’ve also encountered before, namely that sometimes there’s a difference between ‘religion’ and ‘faith.’
Now, I wouldn’t take that opposition too far. Oftentimes, I find the distinction people make between the two rather forced. Most of ‘religious’ people I know are faithful, good, authentic believers, who participate in church because they want to, not from blind obligation or delusion. The ‘religion’ this guy eviscerates, rather, is way of “believing” that prizes ritual over passion, tradition before the Spirit, safe action over bold commitment, comfort instead of mission. And he’s right that some churches or Christians seem overly committed to a status quo that’s willing to forget the needs of the poor and marginalized so we can feel good while praying. If, indeed, that’s what it means to be ‘religious,’ I want no part of it. Jesus, after all, undertook great measures to proclaim God’s love for everybody. “Whatsoever you do unto these, my children- even the least…” and all that jazz.
So if the slam poet toned down his attacks on religious people, complicated the picture slightly, he and I would have a good conversation. I, too, pray Plymouth Creekers will make faith without works anathema to their self-identity. I, too, hope our worship services aren’t empty words and vapid murmurings, but earnest efforts to lay our entire, broken, beloved selves before the Lord of Lords, seeking desperately to be uplifted, empowered and sent forth. I, too, imagine gatherings of believers with the temerity, the inspiration to expect God will keep doing new things. In our lives, through our lives, because we’ve decided to be together; a community shining bright as a beacon of Christ’s table, open to all, serving all.
So the reason I avoiding condemning ‘religion’, per say, is because I believe we’re all in this for the long haul. History shows that “God’s Kingdom come on earth” isn’t something that will happen next week. It’s an ongoing dream manifesting itself in many ways, across many cultures, through the love of many families and faithful friends. Indeed, it’s so hard to accomplish we’ll never make it on our own. We need companions for the journey; we need each other! The wisdom of our forbearers, the energy and nerve of our youth. And without a church to harness that, receive it, direct it in mission together, our hopes for a better future will likely flicker and fade.
Therefore, may we be religious, not in the stale, but enduring sense: a gathering of disciples inspired and inspiring, by each other, to each other, for the sake of God’s amazing grace. That, my friends, would produce a message worth filming.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Here, though, is a recap. It’s a four-minute monologue from a young adult believer, apparently well schooled in slam poetry and evangelical atonement theology. About the former, slam poetry is a spoken-word art form resembling hip-hop without music. The performer passionately and rhythmically performs an original work of poetry, mixing urban lingo and personal observation with linguistic dexterity and bravado. As modern art goes, I’m a big fan.
Regarding evangelical atonement theology, I’m not as sympathetic. In short, this belief system claims that Jesus’ blood sacrifice was the perfect way of satisfying God’s righteous wrath. And only by accepting this fact, then working to convince others, can people avoid the dark destiny of Hell. You probably know I’m none-too-keen on such assumptions; Jesus’ death speaks to me, rather, of the lengths God will go to show us how much God loves us. Thus, I assume God opens doors to grace through pathways outside Christian faith, though I find following Jesus most satisfying, personally.
Nevertheless, in the afore-mentioned video, the artist claims fervently his life’s been changed by Jesus. And given that I’ve witnessed that happen to many people- myself included- I say, despite our theological disagreements, “Right on, friend. Preach!” Another claim he makes is something I’ve also encountered before, namely that sometimes there’s a difference between ‘religion’ and ‘faith.’
Now, I wouldn’t take that opposition too far. Oftentimes, I find the distinction people make between the two rather forced. Most of ‘religious’ people I know are faithful, good, authentic believers, who participate in church because they want to, not from blind obligation or delusion. The ‘religion’ this guy eviscerates, rather, is way of “believing” that prizes ritual over passion, tradition before the Spirit, safe action over bold commitment, comfort instead of mission. And he’s right that some churches or Christians seem overly committed to a status quo that’s willing to forget the needs of the poor and marginalized so we can feel good while praying. If, indeed, that’s what it means to be ‘religious,’ I want no part of it. Jesus, after all, undertook great measures to proclaim God’s love for everybody. “Whatsoever you do unto these, my children- even the least…” and all that jazz.
So if the slam poet toned down his attacks on religious people, complicated the picture slightly, he and I would have a good conversation. I, too, pray Plymouth Creekers will make faith without works anathema to their self-identity. I, too, hope our worship services aren’t empty words and vapid murmurings, but earnest efforts to lay our entire, broken, beloved selves before the Lord of Lords, seeking desperately to be uplifted, empowered and sent forth. I, too, imagine gatherings of believers with the temerity, the inspiration to expect God will keep doing new things. In our lives, through our lives, because we’ve decided to be together; a community shining bright as a beacon of Christ’s table, open to all, serving all.
So the reason I avoiding condemning ‘religion’, per say, is because I believe we’re all in this for the long haul. History shows that “God’s Kingdom come on earth” isn’t something that will happen next week. It’s an ongoing dream manifesting itself in many ways, across many cultures, through the love of many families and faithful friends. Indeed, it’s so hard to accomplish we’ll never make it on our own. We need companions for the journey; we need each other! The wisdom of our forbearers, the energy and nerve of our youth. And without a church to harness that, receive it, direct it in mission together, our hopes for a better future will likely flicker and fade.
Therefore, may we be religious, not in the stale, but enduring sense: a gathering of disciples inspired and inspiring, by each other, to each other, for the sake of God’s amazing grace. That, my friends, would produce a message worth filming.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
A Prophet? Me?! Imagine That…
I’ve whined before about society co-opting, then warping, ‘religious’ words. Like, any idea how ‘Jesus Christ’ became a swear word? Or ‘righteous’ a mid-90s surfer synonym for ‘good’? Me neither!
I’ve also noticed a similar phenomenon, though nearly the mirror-opposite- religious words receiving distorted meanings within religious communities. Consider, for example, ‘salvation.’ Contra commonly held belief, the Bible rarely, if ever, uses salvation to mean ‘granted admission to Heaven after death.’ Sure, I was taught that; maybe you were too. But throughout Hebrew Scripture and into the Christian Testament, salvation has a primarily this world focus. Israelites are “saved” from bondage in Egypt. Kind David prays for “salvation” from military enemies. In Philippians 3, Paul urges readers to “work out your salvation,” like it’s an ongoing, divinely directed, here-and-now process. For it is! God’s goal is abundant for all life, in this life! Or as Jesus put it, “God’s Kingdom come, God’s will be done on earth...” I do believe that God’s saving grace includes eternal life embraced by love. But eternal life- salvation- begins, well, now.
Another word(s) that’s also received oft-misleading meanings, I believe, is ‘prophet’ (and its relative ‘prophetic’). Many believe, of course, a prophet is someone who sees into and predicts the future. A fortune-teller, crystal ball expert, clairvoyant, mystical, eerie. To be fair, some Hebrew and Christian scriptures interpret prophetic texts much that way. But that, as they say, ain’t the whole truth.
You may already know- and if not, I’m going to tell you :)- that contemporary biblical scholarship uses “prophetic” differently. After reading closely the texts and stories of Israelite prophets (a substantial portion of Hebrew Scripture), these modern scholars note how little space the prophets devote to foretelling events. Sure, sometimes they wax melancholic about the coming “Day of the Lord.” They dream and scheme, wail and boom about impending doom or God’s deliverance. Even within these passages, however, a higher purpose emerges than simple prediction. The prophet’s main concern, in fact, is what’s at hand, the present.
After all, why predict God’s imminent wrath unless you’ve a strong case this wrath is warranted? And believe me (or read Jeremiah), prophets spent much energy on that task! Similarly, even those sections we recognize from Christmas pageants and Handel’s Messiah, about “Every valley shall be exalted” and “Unto us a child is born”, are examples, primarily, of imaginative social critique. The prophets, this theory goes, along with whatever else they were, were mostly poetically inclined observers and commentators. Bold, daring, creative souls who imagined something more holy than what they saw around them. And wouldn’t stay silent about it, sometimes enacting this new reality.
As such, we can celebrate ‘modern prophets’; bold, daring, creative souls like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day and Mohandas Gandhi. Notice, David Koresh and Harold Camping don’t make the list, because those disturbed men cared/care more about future-casting, “be damned!” (literally) with the present. And while authentic prophets may not always like what they see, they also love the world and God’s children with fervency and hope.
So what’s this to do with Plymouth Creek? Well, one effect of modern prophetic scholarship is renewed interest, among many Christians, for cultivating our own “prophetic imaginations.” “No way, Shane!” You might protest, “A prophet? Me?!” To which I’d respond, honestly, “It’s possible. Imagine that…” Indeed, I believe that’s an important skill for Christians to develop, with God’s guidance of course. An ability to look clearly upon the world that is, discern where it falls short of God’s justice, freedom and righteousness, and then prophetically imagine what it could be with God’s- and your- help.
And to that end, we’re directing worship this Lent. Every Sunday, we’ll explore one great story or text from the Hebrew prophetic tradition, all in preparation for the greatest prophetic act of all: The Resurrection of Jesus! The defeat of sin and death on Easter morn! Which he accomplished believing that you and I could follow his lead; help God’s Kingdom come on earth, God’s glory shine brighter. But it takes bold, daring, creative souls- prophets- to make that happen. Like you. Me?! Imagine that…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
I’ve also noticed a similar phenomenon, though nearly the mirror-opposite- religious words receiving distorted meanings within religious communities. Consider, for example, ‘salvation.’ Contra commonly held belief, the Bible rarely, if ever, uses salvation to mean ‘granted admission to Heaven after death.’ Sure, I was taught that; maybe you were too. But throughout Hebrew Scripture and into the Christian Testament, salvation has a primarily this world focus. Israelites are “saved” from bondage in Egypt. Kind David prays for “salvation” from military enemies. In Philippians 3, Paul urges readers to “work out your salvation,” like it’s an ongoing, divinely directed, here-and-now process. For it is! God’s goal is abundant for all life, in this life! Or as Jesus put it, “God’s Kingdom come, God’s will be done on earth...” I do believe that God’s saving grace includes eternal life embraced by love. But eternal life- salvation- begins, well, now.
Another word(s) that’s also received oft-misleading meanings, I believe, is ‘prophet’ (and its relative ‘prophetic’). Many believe, of course, a prophet is someone who sees into and predicts the future. A fortune-teller, crystal ball expert, clairvoyant, mystical, eerie. To be fair, some Hebrew and Christian scriptures interpret prophetic texts much that way. But that, as they say, ain’t the whole truth.
You may already know- and if not, I’m going to tell you :)- that contemporary biblical scholarship uses “prophetic” differently. After reading closely the texts and stories of Israelite prophets (a substantial portion of Hebrew Scripture), these modern scholars note how little space the prophets devote to foretelling events. Sure, sometimes they wax melancholic about the coming “Day of the Lord.” They dream and scheme, wail and boom about impending doom or God’s deliverance. Even within these passages, however, a higher purpose emerges than simple prediction. The prophet’s main concern, in fact, is what’s at hand, the present.
After all, why predict God’s imminent wrath unless you’ve a strong case this wrath is warranted? And believe me (or read Jeremiah), prophets spent much energy on that task! Similarly, even those sections we recognize from Christmas pageants and Handel’s Messiah, about “Every valley shall be exalted” and “Unto us a child is born”, are examples, primarily, of imaginative social critique. The prophets, this theory goes, along with whatever else they were, were mostly poetically inclined observers and commentators. Bold, daring, creative souls who imagined something more holy than what they saw around them. And wouldn’t stay silent about it, sometimes enacting this new reality.
As such, we can celebrate ‘modern prophets’; bold, daring, creative souls like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day and Mohandas Gandhi. Notice, David Koresh and Harold Camping don’t make the list, because those disturbed men cared/care more about future-casting, “be damned!” (literally) with the present. And while authentic prophets may not always like what they see, they also love the world and God’s children with fervency and hope.
So what’s this to do with Plymouth Creek? Well, one effect of modern prophetic scholarship is renewed interest, among many Christians, for cultivating our own “prophetic imaginations.” “No way, Shane!” You might protest, “A prophet? Me?!” To which I’d respond, honestly, “It’s possible. Imagine that…” Indeed, I believe that’s an important skill for Christians to develop, with God’s guidance of course. An ability to look clearly upon the world that is, discern where it falls short of God’s justice, freedom and righteousness, and then prophetically imagine what it could be with God’s- and your- help.
And to that end, we’re directing worship this Lent. Every Sunday, we’ll explore one great story or text from the Hebrew prophetic tradition, all in preparation for the greatest prophetic act of all: The Resurrection of Jesus! The defeat of sin and death on Easter morn! Which he accomplished believing that you and I could follow his lead; help God’s Kingdom come on earth, God’s glory shine brighter. But it takes bold, daring, creative souls- prophets- to make that happen. Like you. Me?! Imagine that…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, January 27, 2012
Always with you…
Much of what Jesus said are wonderful, heartwarming, powerful ideas and words. “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.” “I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen, Brother Jesus! Of course I’ll follow you!
But if you keep reading, less…comfortable notions emerge; concepts that paint a more complicated picture. “I didn’t come to bring peace, but a sword.” “Love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you.” “Those who want to preserve their lives, will lose them. But those who lose their lives for my sake, will keep them.” Seriously, Jesus?! Are you joking?!
Then there’s the following hard saying that’s received plenty of attention over the centuries. “The poor will always be among you, but you will not always have me.” Leave aside- for the time being- that the latter half of that sentence contradicts something we encountered in paragraph one (both of which occur in the Gospel of Matthew, by the way). At face value, the idea’s disturbing; obvious perhaps, but something you’d want Christ to admit only in whispers. After all, the image we likely hold of our Savior includes unrelenting compassion for the world’s poor. Some theologians even argue (correctly, I’d contend) that if Jesus were made to chose, he’d show a “preferential option for the poor.” Yet in that sentence, it’s almost like Christ says, “Whatever we do, poverty will endure. So don’t worry too much about it. Just believe in me.”
First, a little context, for those confused by this thought. At least in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says it to his disciples in reaction to a strange event. They’re having dinner in Jerusalem, scant few days before his betrayal and execution, when an unnamed woman saunters in with an expensive jar of perfume. She breaks the seal, pours the contents over Jesus’ head. The disciples respond indignantly, “Why’d she do that?! We could’ve sold that for lots of money, and given it to the poor.” The Anointed One responds, “The poor will always…etc.” He then interprets her actions as loving preparation for his burial. Not the typical dinner party event, but surely quite memorable.
Nevertheless, we’re left with profound cognitive dissonance. “Didn’t this guy proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor’?” Yes, in fact, he did. But the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive. What matters is how we respond to Jesus’ frank admission of poverty’s pervasiveness. Given that throughout his life, Jesus made understanding and alleviating poverty a top-three priority, I suspect we’re not to believe, “The poor will always be with us, so let’s not put in too much effort to help.” Instead, we’re always to keep their needs atop our moral priorities too.
The trouble is, for modern Christ followers living in American suburbs like ours, we’re often uninformed about the lives of the poor. Who are they? Where do they live? Can we meaningfully help? Lots of stereotypes about poor folk persist, of course, likely filling our minds with unpleasant images. But separating truth from myth, fear from courageous engagement, isn’t easy, especially with so much else vying for our attention.
To that end, I want to ask you to join me for an event next month. You’ve maybe heard me announce this in church already, but if not, please consider putting it on your calendar. On February 27, from 6:30-8:30 at IOCP, our church is co-sponsoring (with twelve local faith communities) a “Community Conversation about Local Poverty.” I’m helping plan (and emcee), and we’re crafting an evening I hope you’ll find meaningful. The goal is helping attendees discover who the poor are in our midst, the challenges they face, ways the broader community assists, and crucially, what we all need to do to help out. You know that stereotype about a homeless man in a cardboard box under the freeway? Doesn’t match the truth of suburban poverty, but what, you may ask, does?
Well, we’ll answer that February 27. So I hope you’ll attend, for Jesus claimed the poor will always be with us. But so will he, he said, inspiring us to live and reach out with compassion.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S. - Space is limited, so you’ll need to register ahead of time. Either talk to me, or email Jill Kohler at IOCP to get on the list.
Read more!
But if you keep reading, less…comfortable notions emerge; concepts that paint a more complicated picture. “I didn’t come to bring peace, but a sword.” “Love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you.” “Those who want to preserve their lives, will lose them. But those who lose their lives for my sake, will keep them.” Seriously, Jesus?! Are you joking?!
Then there’s the following hard saying that’s received plenty of attention over the centuries. “The poor will always be among you, but you will not always have me.” Leave aside- for the time being- that the latter half of that sentence contradicts something we encountered in paragraph one (both of which occur in the Gospel of Matthew, by the way). At face value, the idea’s disturbing; obvious perhaps, but something you’d want Christ to admit only in whispers. After all, the image we likely hold of our Savior includes unrelenting compassion for the world’s poor. Some theologians even argue (correctly, I’d contend) that if Jesus were made to chose, he’d show a “preferential option for the poor.” Yet in that sentence, it’s almost like Christ says, “Whatever we do, poverty will endure. So don’t worry too much about it. Just believe in me.”
First, a little context, for those confused by this thought. At least in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says it to his disciples in reaction to a strange event. They’re having dinner in Jerusalem, scant few days before his betrayal and execution, when an unnamed woman saunters in with an expensive jar of perfume. She breaks the seal, pours the contents over Jesus’ head. The disciples respond indignantly, “Why’d she do that?! We could’ve sold that for lots of money, and given it to the poor.” The Anointed One responds, “The poor will always…etc.” He then interprets her actions as loving preparation for his burial. Not the typical dinner party event, but surely quite memorable.
Nevertheless, we’re left with profound cognitive dissonance. “Didn’t this guy proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor’?” Yes, in fact, he did. But the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive. What matters is how we respond to Jesus’ frank admission of poverty’s pervasiveness. Given that throughout his life, Jesus made understanding and alleviating poverty a top-three priority, I suspect we’re not to believe, “The poor will always be with us, so let’s not put in too much effort to help.” Instead, we’re always to keep their needs atop our moral priorities too.
The trouble is, for modern Christ followers living in American suburbs like ours, we’re often uninformed about the lives of the poor. Who are they? Where do they live? Can we meaningfully help? Lots of stereotypes about poor folk persist, of course, likely filling our minds with unpleasant images. But separating truth from myth, fear from courageous engagement, isn’t easy, especially with so much else vying for our attention.
To that end, I want to ask you to join me for an event next month. You’ve maybe heard me announce this in church already, but if not, please consider putting it on your calendar. On February 27, from 6:30-8:30 at IOCP, our church is co-sponsoring (with twelve local faith communities) a “Community Conversation about Local Poverty.” I’m helping plan (and emcee), and we’re crafting an evening I hope you’ll find meaningful. The goal is helping attendees discover who the poor are in our midst, the challenges they face, ways the broader community assists, and crucially, what we all need to do to help out. You know that stereotype about a homeless man in a cardboard box under the freeway? Doesn’t match the truth of suburban poverty, but what, you may ask, does?
Well, we’ll answer that February 27. So I hope you’ll attend, for Jesus claimed the poor will always be with us. But so will he, he said, inspiring us to live and reach out with compassion.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S. - Space is limited, so you’ll need to register ahead of time. Either talk to me, or email Jill Kohler at IOCP to get on the list.
Read more!
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