At each meeting of our Servant Leaders (those spiritual leaders whom other churches call “Elders”), I ask, “How’s the health of the church?” The reason is that we’ve decided that Servant Leaders care about health; the bodily and familial health of members struggling with surgery, loss, pain, etc. But also the communal health of the church itself, our common trajectory in faithfulness.
Well, a couple months ago, responding to this question, we talked about our church’s values of “unconditional hospitality” and “freedom of belief.” Acknowledging that different folk pursue these differently, nevertheless we pondered how we could be more forthright with ourselves and guests about how this church puts those values into practice.
So the Servant Leaders decided to begin a conversation with y’all. And being Plymouth Creek, it began on a bulletin board. Have you noticed that the bulletin board outside my office has changed? On one side, there’s advertising for August 25’s School of Congregational Learning, hosted by Lake Harriet Christian Church (you should go!). But on the other side are rainbow colored Music Notes and a simple statement. Titled “There’s Harmony in Diversity,” the fuller statement reads: “We are a small church who welcomes everyone with warmth and love, regardless of age, disability, economic status, ethnicity, family status, gender, race, sexual orientation or social standing. This inclusiveness makes us an even stronger and more loving Christian community. There are notes in search of harmony in our community- How can we invite them to join in our song?”
As I’m sure you noticed, the statement begins simply. Most churches say they “welcome everyone with warmth and love.” But as it continues, more definition arises. Indeed, some of the categories it names cause consternation in many churches. Obviously, there’s the claim to welcome all regardless of sexual orientation. But even commitments to embracing diversity in ‘economic status’, ‘ethnicity,’ ‘age,’ when churches try to implement them, can produce awkward moments, perhaps serious disagreements among the faithful.
Now, I assure you, this bulletin board wasn’t attempting to pick fights! Rather, we wanted to encourage the church to think more about our values. When we claim to value ‘unconditional hospitality’ are some folk not included? Do we celebrate ‘freedom of belief’ when someone expresses beliefs we consider uncomfortable, even wrong? You likely know that I try to avoid putting limits on hospitality. It seems Christ’s job, not mine, to draw boundaries around grace. But I also honor the variety of opinions among the followers of Christ, and think that two people disagreeing around, but staying at, the Table is just about as holy a moment as we’re bound to see in these divisive days.
Nevertheless, the statement wasn’t just about what I or the Servant Leaders (who certainly don’t always agree with me!) believe about Plymouth Creek. We want to know what you think, how you’d update or amend that statement. Are there other, unstated values demanding acknowledgment and reverence? Are there ways of achieving “harmony” we failed to consider?
And more than that, the Servant Leaders want to know how you think we can make all this more than talk. Notice the final question: “There are notes in search of harmony in our community- How can we invite them to join in our song?” I firmly believe that the 21st Century Christian Church ought be a place where variety joins in praise. And I think many folk who don’t go to church now just might reconsider if they learned about a church where they can authentically be themselves. Where they’re not judged for their doubts or questions, can share and experience the unique expressions of faith they love, where they can invite friends who are skeptical of Christians by saying, “I’m telling you, Plymouth Creek is different!”
Are we that church? Do we need to do more to get there? And how should we share that identity with folk beyond our walls? No answers yet, just questions, which I hope you’ll dialogue with me about. For whatever faith is, it’s certainly a symphony of discoveries and harmonies, continually changing and evolving. And I, for one, feel richly blessed to be playing divine music with you!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The power of intimacy…
I’m spending this week directing a week-long summer camp in Iowa. Again. You’ll remember that I’ve done this work, on our Region’s behalf, each of the past three years. Driving four hours south and east, sleeping amongst the trees, giving talks to and leading activities for young men and women in both Middle and High Schools, singing, running, guffawing, praying, and otherwise seeking God throughout this out-of-the-way Holy Ground.
This year’s a bit different, however, in that we’ve got only six campers. The previous years weren’t much bigger- 9 and 10, respectively. Ours is a specialty camp, Equestrian Camp, where the youth ride and care for horses every morning. And the ranch at which this equine activity occurs has capacity for only 10. Thus, we’ll always be small fish in the much larger pond of our Regional Camping Ministry. Still, being but six has an appreciably more minute feel. And I’ll be honest, when I first heard that numbers, my enthusiasm plunged.
I mean, sure, these kids deserve an enthusiastic, meaningful camp experience, and they can’t control how many others sign up. But I worried that it wouldn’t be worth my time this year. That this small group would have no energy. That we’d bore ourselves by too much contact with too few people. That the critical mass needed for transformative ministry wasn’t achieved, and we’d hate it.
But here I sit, late at night on the third day of camp, and I’m reminded of a theme I’ve preached to you over and over- God’s most transformative power expresses itself in intimacy. And know that by intimacy, I don’t mean anything sensually suggestive. Rather, I’m talking the closeness created by sharing more than superficial conversations, getting to know more than what makes others politely chuckle, but what makes them laugh hysterically. Or cry. What quirky comments your neighbor always repeats, and why that matters to him. What foibles your neighbor will commit, and how you’ve learned to appreciate her regardless. Intimacy’s entangled with humility, patience and forgiveness. And it’s only achievable in small enough groups, where two or three are gathered, like Scripture says.
Or even six. Well, eight, if you count me and my co-counselor. And what do you know? This group’s grown close quickly, and joyfully. These young people don’t see their cadre’s size as a failure, but a blessing. They’re more able to be the best self they want to be, without cowing to the socially acceptable behavioral straightjackets of typical school life. Having no cliques to navigate, they’ve made the only friends available. Each other. And they seem to find the company quite fine.
As does their director. Fact is, I’m enjoying myself much more than I expected. They’re asking interesting questions, sharing personal stories, listening to each other. Many of those things that, in my planning, I hope may occur, seem to work in this intimate setting. My campers really ‘get it.’ And sure, we haven’t enough for some usual camp activities. An epic Capture the Flag Adventure isn’t in the cards for us, alas! But that stuff, while fun, isn’t nearly as important as these youth striving to grow together, become more faithful young adults. Truly, they believe that a week at this camp can help them become better people, better Christians. And halfway through, I will say, I believe it too.
Pop Quiz: What did Jesus call the two most important commandments? Answer: Love
God fully, and love your neighbor as yourself. Now imagine loving anyone fully, imagine truly loving yourself, but doing so without nurturing a deeply intimate relationship. It doesn’t work, does it? Love requires intimacy. More than nice feelings, warm fuzzies, sentimentality, love’s a full-bodied, full-souled, full-mind-engaged undertaking. At least, at its most transformative, love demands we open ourselves to others as much as we’re able. And you just can’t do that if you’re unwilling to think small. To get involved in intimate relationships, to share life with a precious, delightful few. But Jesus suggests, as I’m re-learning this week, that kind of work contains the very power of God, who knows us, and loves us each more intimately than any.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
This year’s a bit different, however, in that we’ve got only six campers. The previous years weren’t much bigger- 9 and 10, respectively. Ours is a specialty camp, Equestrian Camp, where the youth ride and care for horses every morning. And the ranch at which this equine activity occurs has capacity for only 10. Thus, we’ll always be small fish in the much larger pond of our Regional Camping Ministry. Still, being but six has an appreciably more minute feel. And I’ll be honest, when I first heard that numbers, my enthusiasm plunged.
I mean, sure, these kids deserve an enthusiastic, meaningful camp experience, and they can’t control how many others sign up. But I worried that it wouldn’t be worth my time this year. That this small group would have no energy. That we’d bore ourselves by too much contact with too few people. That the critical mass needed for transformative ministry wasn’t achieved, and we’d hate it.
But here I sit, late at night on the third day of camp, and I’m reminded of a theme I’ve preached to you over and over- God’s most transformative power expresses itself in intimacy. And know that by intimacy, I don’t mean anything sensually suggestive. Rather, I’m talking the closeness created by sharing more than superficial conversations, getting to know more than what makes others politely chuckle, but what makes them laugh hysterically. Or cry. What quirky comments your neighbor always repeats, and why that matters to him. What foibles your neighbor will commit, and how you’ve learned to appreciate her regardless. Intimacy’s entangled with humility, patience and forgiveness. And it’s only achievable in small enough groups, where two or three are gathered, like Scripture says.
Or even six. Well, eight, if you count me and my co-counselor. And what do you know? This group’s grown close quickly, and joyfully. These young people don’t see their cadre’s size as a failure, but a blessing. They’re more able to be the best self they want to be, without cowing to the socially acceptable behavioral straightjackets of typical school life. Having no cliques to navigate, they’ve made the only friends available. Each other. And they seem to find the company quite fine.
As does their director. Fact is, I’m enjoying myself much more than I expected. They’re asking interesting questions, sharing personal stories, listening to each other. Many of those things that, in my planning, I hope may occur, seem to work in this intimate setting. My campers really ‘get it.’ And sure, we haven’t enough for some usual camp activities. An epic Capture the Flag Adventure isn’t in the cards for us, alas! But that stuff, while fun, isn’t nearly as important as these youth striving to grow together, become more faithful young adults. Truly, they believe that a week at this camp can help them become better people, better Christians. And halfway through, I will say, I believe it too.
Pop Quiz: What did Jesus call the two most important commandments? Answer: Love
God fully, and love your neighbor as yourself. Now imagine loving anyone fully, imagine truly loving yourself, but doing so without nurturing a deeply intimate relationship. It doesn’t work, does it? Love requires intimacy. More than nice feelings, warm fuzzies, sentimentality, love’s a full-bodied, full-souled, full-mind-engaged undertaking. At least, at its most transformative, love demands we open ourselves to others as much as we’re able. And you just can’t do that if you’re unwilling to think small. To get involved in intimate relationships, to share life with a precious, delightful few. But Jesus suggests, as I’m re-learning this week, that kind of work contains the very power of God, who knows us, and loves us each more intimately than any.
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Being a homer…
As I type this, I notice that the US women’s gymnastics team has just won Olympic gold. Cue chants of “U-S-A, U-S-A!” It’s always fun to watch a winner, amen?!
Being unable, alas, to see the competition for myself, I can’t say whether I agree with the judges. But being a loyal American citizen, and thereby assuming the Olympians’ victory reflects glory on me by proxy, I’ll assume they deserve the lauds and praises they received.
Of course, I imagine that patriotic individuals in other countries, whose own athletes competed fervently too, might be grumbling now about, “Having been robbed by biased judges.” We hear such comments every Olympic Games, and sometimes, they’re warranted (see: French Judge, Figure Skating, 2002). By and large, however, I believe most such complaints are simple “homerism.”
For those uninitiated into sports journalism lingo, “homerism” describes a common phenomenon. A “homer” is a fan who can’t see past her own biases, who always assumes that her “home team” is better, whatever the situation. Thus, any loss isn’t because your preferred team/athlete proved poor competition. Oh no, it was cheating, or missed calls, or “Having a bad day.” A true homer, therefore, will watch each match with passion, informing anyone within earshot why his team is truly The Best. Further, a frequent consequence of “homerism” is that every other participant must be rationalized into inferiority. “The Denver Broncos have the best quarterback, winning tradition, plus their locker room smells like peonies. Whereas the Oakland Raiders can’t be trusted to babysit children, let alone win.” It’s alleged that a certain Plymouth pastor has said before something like that before. He would be, ipso facto, an out-and-out Homer for the Denver Broncos.
And the Olympic Games, it’s been noted, produces such reactions abundantly. In fact, life itself, I would argue, yields homerism of many varieties. From the trivial- Sports loyalties- to the dangerous- say, Racism. For some reason, it’s a common human experience to identify with certain ideals or persons, and then make disparaging comments of those not included in your designated ‘in-group.’
But does that need to happen? Can’t we prefer what we prefer, choose our loyalties for whatever reason, while at the same time respecting the goodness of those we oppose? For example, the other day I read, “Only 100 days until the Presidential Election is over.” I thought, “Thank you, Good Baby Jesus, only 100 more days!” I reacted this way because I, like many, am distraught by the nastiness of modern politics. Mind you, I care deeply about politics. I love our democratic system, recognizing that how I vote has power to harm or help others in significant ways. Yet if ever there’s a modern example of “homerism” at its most petty, it’s how many politicians treat others of opposing views. Lies are developed, crafted into TV ads, sold to viewers as reasons to despise opponents. Therefore, substantive exchanges of views descend into zero-sum battles of nasty sound bites. It’s like tribalism funded by specially interested homers.
And lest we exonerate ourselves, the truth is- It’s our fault. I mean, we’re a democracy, right? Our elected officials, theoretically, respond to our wishes. Which is to say, I believe the homer-mentality of modern politics starts with us. If “We the People” didn’t reward divisive political behavior, wouldn’t our national/state/local leaders stop backbiting and name-calling? What if we, in daily conversations with folk who don’t share our political values, decided, “You know, this person, whom I don’t agree with, does care about society, and while I wish her views and vote would change, I value her as person, and fellow citizen.”
So let that be my wish for the final 100 days of this election season: That everyday people- the republic’s true power- reject political homerism. Indeed, throughout our lives, let’s resolve to “love our neighbors as ourselves.” Even those we see as ‘adversaries,’ folk whom God calls, “Beloved.”
And, while I’m at, Go Team USA!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- This week’s spiritual practice- Scripture Memorization. Find a favorite Bible text, and memorize it by Sunday! Suggestions- Micah 6:8, Ephesians 4:1, 1 Corinthians 13:13, Psalm 23. And send me your favorites! Read more!
Being unable, alas, to see the competition for myself, I can’t say whether I agree with the judges. But being a loyal American citizen, and thereby assuming the Olympians’ victory reflects glory on me by proxy, I’ll assume they deserve the lauds and praises they received.
Of course, I imagine that patriotic individuals in other countries, whose own athletes competed fervently too, might be grumbling now about, “Having been robbed by biased judges.” We hear such comments every Olympic Games, and sometimes, they’re warranted (see: French Judge, Figure Skating, 2002). By and large, however, I believe most such complaints are simple “homerism.”
For those uninitiated into sports journalism lingo, “homerism” describes a common phenomenon. A “homer” is a fan who can’t see past her own biases, who always assumes that her “home team” is better, whatever the situation. Thus, any loss isn’t because your preferred team/athlete proved poor competition. Oh no, it was cheating, or missed calls, or “Having a bad day.” A true homer, therefore, will watch each match with passion, informing anyone within earshot why his team is truly The Best. Further, a frequent consequence of “homerism” is that every other participant must be rationalized into inferiority. “The Denver Broncos have the best quarterback, winning tradition, plus their locker room smells like peonies. Whereas the Oakland Raiders can’t be trusted to babysit children, let alone win.” It’s alleged that a certain Plymouth pastor has said before something like that before. He would be, ipso facto, an out-and-out Homer for the Denver Broncos.
And the Olympic Games, it’s been noted, produces such reactions abundantly. In fact, life itself, I would argue, yields homerism of many varieties. From the trivial- Sports loyalties- to the dangerous- say, Racism. For some reason, it’s a common human experience to identify with certain ideals or persons, and then make disparaging comments of those not included in your designated ‘in-group.’
But does that need to happen? Can’t we prefer what we prefer, choose our loyalties for whatever reason, while at the same time respecting the goodness of those we oppose? For example, the other day I read, “Only 100 days until the Presidential Election is over.” I thought, “Thank you, Good Baby Jesus, only 100 more days!” I reacted this way because I, like many, am distraught by the nastiness of modern politics. Mind you, I care deeply about politics. I love our democratic system, recognizing that how I vote has power to harm or help others in significant ways. Yet if ever there’s a modern example of “homerism” at its most petty, it’s how many politicians treat others of opposing views. Lies are developed, crafted into TV ads, sold to viewers as reasons to despise opponents. Therefore, substantive exchanges of views descend into zero-sum battles of nasty sound bites. It’s like tribalism funded by specially interested homers.
And lest we exonerate ourselves, the truth is- It’s our fault. I mean, we’re a democracy, right? Our elected officials, theoretically, respond to our wishes. Which is to say, I believe the homer-mentality of modern politics starts with us. If “We the People” didn’t reward divisive political behavior, wouldn’t our national/state/local leaders stop backbiting and name-calling? What if we, in daily conversations with folk who don’t share our political values, decided, “You know, this person, whom I don’t agree with, does care about society, and while I wish her views and vote would change, I value her as person, and fellow citizen.”
So let that be my wish for the final 100 days of this election season: That everyday people- the republic’s true power- reject political homerism. Indeed, throughout our lives, let’s resolve to “love our neighbors as ourselves.” Even those we see as ‘adversaries,’ folk whom God calls, “Beloved.”
And, while I’m at, Go Team USA!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- This week’s spiritual practice- Scripture Memorization. Find a favorite Bible text, and memorize it by Sunday! Suggestions- Micah 6:8, Ephesians 4:1, 1 Corinthians 13:13, Psalm 23. And send me your favorites! Read more!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Christian unity…
When I first encountered the Disciples of Christ in seminary, I knew nothing about the denomination. I’d ask, “What church do you attend?” My Disciples friends said, “Disciples.” I’d respond, “Never heard of them. What are y’all about?” And, inevitably, folk would quote one of several slogans, phrases used to communicate the faith tradition’s values since its earliest days. “We’re not the only Christians, but Christians only”; “In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things charity”; “No creed but Christ, no book but the Bible, no law but Love.” But my favorite was this gem of early Disciples lore: “Unity is our polar star,” reflecting our founders’ core conviction.
Recall that Disciples emerged on the American frontier not long after the American Revolution. Inspired by that unique experiment in human liberty, many Christian communities subsequently experienced remarkable growth. New sects proliferated, offshoots and splinter movements multiplied. They were free, after all! Thus, these liberated Christians sloughed off old dogmas and certainties. In favor of, well, new dogmas and certainties.
For example: some Presbyterians split into Old Lights, New Lights, Reformed, etc.. New Baptist brands abounded into an impressive array of titles. Yet many Christians, specifically the Disciples Movement founders, found this abundance troubling. Yes, they celebrated freedom too, but lamented the explosion of divisions. “Can’t we all just be Christians,” these people thought. “Can’t we be different and still one?” So they launched out to eliminate the human-made distinctions that divided folk, and profoundly proclaimed that at Christ’s Table, all, indeed, are welcome.
Hence- “Unity is our polar star,” the point in the night sky that orients every traveler. In the centuries since, thankfully, we’ve learned that not every Christian division results from failure. Precisely because all God’s children are created equal, and different, various groups have various desires, needs, instincts and gifts. So after Jesus prayed on his final night in John’s Gospel, referring to all who’d come to believe- “May they be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me”- he’d probably okay different denominations developing to share diverse gifts. Still, the dream of unity, of God’s unified Reign of Love on earth, ought remain a guiding light. Especially for us Disciples, who called that our polar star.
Of course, how we pursue unity in our small, wonderful church includes partnering with local faith communities for worship and study, caring for God’s Creation together, serving people in need. But at the denominational level, we need leaders who make Christian Unity a primary focus. And, fortunately, we have someone in the person of Rev. Dr. Robert Welsh, President of our denomination’s Council on Christian Unity. Basically, his job involves promoting unity in our churches, and sharing our church’s witness to national and international gatherings of faith communions. For example, when the most recent Pope was commissioned in Rome, most denominations sent someone to bring greetings. For Disciples, I believe that person was Rev. Welsh, who also represents us at the National and World Councils of Churches, among other things.
And the reason I share this is that Plymouth Creek will have the privilege to receive Rev. Welsh’s ministry this month. Specifically, on Sunday, August 26, this national church leader will ascend our humble pulpit to preach about Christian Unity. As you can tell, I’m rather excited, and not just because it means one less sermon for me! Rather, the number one reason I became a Disciple was because of our church’s commitment to unity. Having spent my youth in multiple different churches, I’d grown sick of hearing folk focus on what divides us. In seminary, I longed for a church who was content with being, “just Christian.” Hence, when I discovered a denomination that prized Unity as “its polar star,” I was hooked. And the rest, as they say, was history!
So I hope you’ll make a point of joining me for worship Sunday, August 26. It’s quite the honor, I must say, that Rev. Welsh would stop by. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find ourselves reenergized to work for greater unity in our community. Worse things could happen than Christians living as one.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Recall that Disciples emerged on the American frontier not long after the American Revolution. Inspired by that unique experiment in human liberty, many Christian communities subsequently experienced remarkable growth. New sects proliferated, offshoots and splinter movements multiplied. They were free, after all! Thus, these liberated Christians sloughed off old dogmas and certainties. In favor of, well, new dogmas and certainties.
For example: some Presbyterians split into Old Lights, New Lights, Reformed, etc.. New Baptist brands abounded into an impressive array of titles. Yet many Christians, specifically the Disciples Movement founders, found this abundance troubling. Yes, they celebrated freedom too, but lamented the explosion of divisions. “Can’t we all just be Christians,” these people thought. “Can’t we be different and still one?” So they launched out to eliminate the human-made distinctions that divided folk, and profoundly proclaimed that at Christ’s Table, all, indeed, are welcome.
Hence- “Unity is our polar star,” the point in the night sky that orients every traveler. In the centuries since, thankfully, we’ve learned that not every Christian division results from failure. Precisely because all God’s children are created equal, and different, various groups have various desires, needs, instincts and gifts. So after Jesus prayed on his final night in John’s Gospel, referring to all who’d come to believe- “May they be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me”- he’d probably okay different denominations developing to share diverse gifts. Still, the dream of unity, of God’s unified Reign of Love on earth, ought remain a guiding light. Especially for us Disciples, who called that our polar star.
Of course, how we pursue unity in our small, wonderful church includes partnering with local faith communities for worship and study, caring for God’s Creation together, serving people in need. But at the denominational level, we need leaders who make Christian Unity a primary focus. And, fortunately, we have someone in the person of Rev. Dr. Robert Welsh, President of our denomination’s Council on Christian Unity. Basically, his job involves promoting unity in our churches, and sharing our church’s witness to national and international gatherings of faith communions. For example, when the most recent Pope was commissioned in Rome, most denominations sent someone to bring greetings. For Disciples, I believe that person was Rev. Welsh, who also represents us at the National and World Councils of Churches, among other things.
And the reason I share this is that Plymouth Creek will have the privilege to receive Rev. Welsh’s ministry this month. Specifically, on Sunday, August 26, this national church leader will ascend our humble pulpit to preach about Christian Unity. As you can tell, I’m rather excited, and not just because it means one less sermon for me! Rather, the number one reason I became a Disciple was because of our church’s commitment to unity. Having spent my youth in multiple different churches, I’d grown sick of hearing folk focus on what divides us. In seminary, I longed for a church who was content with being, “just Christian.” Hence, when I discovered a denomination that prized Unity as “its polar star,” I was hooked. And the rest, as they say, was history!
So I hope you’ll make a point of joining me for worship Sunday, August 26. It’s quite the honor, I must say, that Rev. Welsh would stop by. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find ourselves reenergized to work for greater unity in our community. Worse things could happen than Christians living as one.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Cry out…
I’m not sure why, when terrible things happen, many play the ‘proximity game.’ But it happens. Someone says, “Did you hear about (insert terrible news story here)?” Another says, “I’ve got an uncle whose co-worker’s daughter lives nearby…” Or something. Case in point: In 1999, two gunmen opened fire on students at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado. I didn’t attend Columbine, knew few, in fact, who did. Yet for years after, whenever Columbine was mentioned, I’d make certain to point out that Littleton was my hometown. Did I think my ‘proximity’ gave me special insight into the tragedy? Did I unconsciously presume I had greater right to grieve? Maybe I sought prestige in such conversations, since I’d “been nearby”? Perhaps I had little else to say, so I just said, “I lived there.”
Honestly, in the face of tragedy, proper words don’t exist. Whether you went through it, know someone who did, or simply read about it, I don’t believe there’s a sufficient response to unexpected suffering. So ‘playing’ what I’ve dubbed “the proximity game” isn’t bad or insensitive. Repeating well-worn clichés about “things happen” or “time will heal” isn’t terrible. It’s just not enough. Nothing’s ever enough. Not when evil reaches out to extinguish light. Not when goodness gets shattered.
Presumably you’ve guessed that I’m writing this in response to another mass shooting in Colorado. Last Friday, a troubled young man shot 71 people in a movie theatre, killing 12. Predictably, many (myself included) have spent time since asking, “Why?” Why did he want to kill? Why couldn’t he be stopped? Why would God create a world where such tragedy is even possible?
Again, I’m sure I don’t know why we ask why. But I wonder if this search for answers comes from a longing to reestablish control. Hoping fervently that life is (at least, ought to be) always good and fair, these things knock us collectively off bearing. So, as if the grief of multiple lost lives isn’t enough, we’re faced with thoughts we find terrifying: That randomness exits; that evil somehow happens. Perhaps, we tell ourselves, if we find a satisfying answer to “Why,” we’ll feel more in control, less threatened by the world’s sudden instability. But the truth seems to be that no words are adequate for such a task.
At least, no explanatory words can sufficiently respond to tragedy. But our religious tradition does model other ways to react. Throughout the Hebrew Bible, and in stories of Jesus’ torture and death, our faithful forbearers sought solace in lamentation. The thinking went that, when confronted with gross injustice, violent tyranny, tragedy and loss, at least people could cry out to God. Could lament and wail, bellow and express their deep sadness and unease. This wouldn’t solve the problems, but it would keep memories alive. Indeed, for some of Scripture’s writers who endured tragedy and oppression, their cultures sought their silence in the face of terrible events. As if to say, “Don’t say anything. We, the powers that be, have control,” Scripture’s writers faced pressure to bear their burdens by shutting up.
But to say nothing, to not pass on memories of your pain, that’s another way of letting the perpetrators of tragedy prevail. Lament, on the other hand, requires courage in the midst of pain, perseverance through sadness. Conviction that what is, shouldn’t be; that we can, and should, work to make life better for all. It’s not a sufficient answer to “why,” not an all-healing balm. But lament’s a necessary response to tragedy, if we seek to overcome.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- This week’s spiritual practice is petitionary prayer. Think of something outside your life that you find disturbing. Prayerfully imagine what those involved are going through, what troubles they endure. And without pretending God will simply do whatever you ask, still, name what you’d wish would change, if it was you struggling. This builds compassion in our spirits, and deeper connection with other children of God. And who knows? Perhaps God will reveal how you can become an answer to your own prayer Read more!
Honestly, in the face of tragedy, proper words don’t exist. Whether you went through it, know someone who did, or simply read about it, I don’t believe there’s a sufficient response to unexpected suffering. So ‘playing’ what I’ve dubbed “the proximity game” isn’t bad or insensitive. Repeating well-worn clichés about “things happen” or “time will heal” isn’t terrible. It’s just not enough. Nothing’s ever enough. Not when evil reaches out to extinguish light. Not when goodness gets shattered.
Presumably you’ve guessed that I’m writing this in response to another mass shooting in Colorado. Last Friday, a troubled young man shot 71 people in a movie theatre, killing 12. Predictably, many (myself included) have spent time since asking, “Why?” Why did he want to kill? Why couldn’t he be stopped? Why would God create a world where such tragedy is even possible?
Again, I’m sure I don’t know why we ask why. But I wonder if this search for answers comes from a longing to reestablish control. Hoping fervently that life is (at least, ought to be) always good and fair, these things knock us collectively off bearing. So, as if the grief of multiple lost lives isn’t enough, we’re faced with thoughts we find terrifying: That randomness exits; that evil somehow happens. Perhaps, we tell ourselves, if we find a satisfying answer to “Why,” we’ll feel more in control, less threatened by the world’s sudden instability. But the truth seems to be that no words are adequate for such a task.
At least, no explanatory words can sufficiently respond to tragedy. But our religious tradition does model other ways to react. Throughout the Hebrew Bible, and in stories of Jesus’ torture and death, our faithful forbearers sought solace in lamentation. The thinking went that, when confronted with gross injustice, violent tyranny, tragedy and loss, at least people could cry out to God. Could lament and wail, bellow and express their deep sadness and unease. This wouldn’t solve the problems, but it would keep memories alive. Indeed, for some of Scripture’s writers who endured tragedy and oppression, their cultures sought their silence in the face of terrible events. As if to say, “Don’t say anything. We, the powers that be, have control,” Scripture’s writers faced pressure to bear their burdens by shutting up.
But to say nothing, to not pass on memories of your pain, that’s another way of letting the perpetrators of tragedy prevail. Lament, on the other hand, requires courage in the midst of pain, perseverance through sadness. Conviction that what is, shouldn’t be; that we can, and should, work to make life better for all. It’s not a sufficient answer to “why,” not an all-healing balm. But lament’s a necessary response to tragedy, if we seek to overcome.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- This week’s spiritual practice is petitionary prayer. Think of something outside your life that you find disturbing. Prayerfully imagine what those involved are going through, what troubles they endure. And without pretending God will simply do whatever you ask, still, name what you’d wish would change, if it was you struggling. This builds compassion in our spirits, and deeper connection with other children of God. And who knows? Perhaps God will reveal how you can become an answer to your own prayer Read more!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Great stories…
Ever have a conversation that, over time, grows in importance? I had one during a Bible study in college, when a guy who was only visiting took issue with something I said. I don’t recall the exact topic, but soon enough we got meta, no longer discussing a particular Biblical story, but The Whole Holy Bible.
FYI, it wasn’t an angry brawl; more a passionate exchange of ideas. Specifically, I argued the classic Evangelical Protestant belief- that the Bible is perfect and infallible, inerrant in every respect. He, by contrast, had a more open, nuanced view; acknowledged the decidedly human elements in Scripture’s creation; claimed that, to really take the Bible seriously, we must accept, even honor those ‘flaws’. And to drive his point home, he said that thing I’ve yet to forget. “Shane, think of the Bible as a love story about us and God, written over many years, by many people, with all their limitations and successes, contradictions and insights. It’s not perfect, and not alone, but it’s the greatest love story I know.”
I (for once) had nothing to say. I stammered something, but mostly just soaked in that beautiful description. I went home eventually, thinking I’d had an enjoyable night. But I woke up only gradually to how profoundly it had shifted my spiritual center.
You see, what I’d previously articulated is what some call “Bible Idolatry.” This idea’s that, in doggedly confessing that Scripture’s perfect, some Christians put (their interpretation of) the Bible above God. Not intentionally! I believe most Christians try to be faithful, just as best we know how. But the truth of God is always greater than our understanding of God’s truth. So to act like any book’s as perfect as God (even one as rich as the Bible) sounds akin to creating an idol.
But that’s how I once believed. I didn’t claim to know Scripture perfectly. No way! Nevertheless, I basically believed that if I or anyone did totally understand the Bible, I/they/we’d have God fully figured out. The Bible was that perfect, I thought. Thus, I’d created an idol. And this Bible study visitor pointed that out. Fortunately, he was a good Christian. He didn’t gloat or mock me, didn’t dismiss my faithfulness, though he saw through my spiritual mistake. Instead, he helped me see another way of being faithful, of relishing the love story that is Scripture.
Among the very few Bible claims I do consider literal, eternal truth is 1 John’s simple statement that “God is love.” I also confess that God, evolutionarily, ‘created’ humanity, with our limitations and possibilities and never stopped loving us. Therefore the Bible, I now believe, is a record of how Love’s been received, rejected, interpreted and praised by various historical communities over vast swaths of time. It’s not the only record of Love’s interaction with the beloved, certainly. God is always greater! But what an incredible story, amen?! Told by some remarkably creative people.
And why I keep returning to it, time and again, is that this Great Love Story is the one that’s most formed the religious communities that have formed me. In other words, to use a Biblical phrase, it’s my “goody heritage.” Undoubtedly, some stories within the Greater Story speak more clearly to me about Love than others. Indeed, some ways previous generations described Love, I no longer accept. Yet because I’ve learned Love through Scripture’s pages, been challenged by it to spread love more fully and farther, I still trust the Bible as my surest entryway into Love’s abode.
And I’m grateful for that years-ago conversation that helped me understand this story more clearly. More fully. More lovingly.
P.S. - This week’s spiritual practice: Story Meditation. Read a favorite Bible story. Read it again! Then pick an object or character and picture what that person/thing looks like. Imagine smells, clothing, dialogue, expressions, as you walk through the story again in your mind. I.e. fill in the text’s missing details. Most importantly, trust that the Spirit guides your imaginative work. Thus, in noticing what extra details you imagine, you can accept that as God helping you better interpret the story’s many meanings. Read more!
FYI, it wasn’t an angry brawl; more a passionate exchange of ideas. Specifically, I argued the classic Evangelical Protestant belief- that the Bible is perfect and infallible, inerrant in every respect. He, by contrast, had a more open, nuanced view; acknowledged the decidedly human elements in Scripture’s creation; claimed that, to really take the Bible seriously, we must accept, even honor those ‘flaws’. And to drive his point home, he said that thing I’ve yet to forget. “Shane, think of the Bible as a love story about us and God, written over many years, by many people, with all their limitations and successes, contradictions and insights. It’s not perfect, and not alone, but it’s the greatest love story I know.”
I (for once) had nothing to say. I stammered something, but mostly just soaked in that beautiful description. I went home eventually, thinking I’d had an enjoyable night. But I woke up only gradually to how profoundly it had shifted my spiritual center.
You see, what I’d previously articulated is what some call “Bible Idolatry.” This idea’s that, in doggedly confessing that Scripture’s perfect, some Christians put (their interpretation of) the Bible above God. Not intentionally! I believe most Christians try to be faithful, just as best we know how. But the truth of God is always greater than our understanding of God’s truth. So to act like any book’s as perfect as God (even one as rich as the Bible) sounds akin to creating an idol.
But that’s how I once believed. I didn’t claim to know Scripture perfectly. No way! Nevertheless, I basically believed that if I or anyone did totally understand the Bible, I/they/we’d have God fully figured out. The Bible was that perfect, I thought. Thus, I’d created an idol. And this Bible study visitor pointed that out. Fortunately, he was a good Christian. He didn’t gloat or mock me, didn’t dismiss my faithfulness, though he saw through my spiritual mistake. Instead, he helped me see another way of being faithful, of relishing the love story that is Scripture.
Among the very few Bible claims I do consider literal, eternal truth is 1 John’s simple statement that “God is love.” I also confess that God, evolutionarily, ‘created’ humanity, with our limitations and possibilities and never stopped loving us. Therefore the Bible, I now believe, is a record of how Love’s been received, rejected, interpreted and praised by various historical communities over vast swaths of time. It’s not the only record of Love’s interaction with the beloved, certainly. God is always greater! But what an incredible story, amen?! Told by some remarkably creative people.
And why I keep returning to it, time and again, is that this Great Love Story is the one that’s most formed the religious communities that have formed me. In other words, to use a Biblical phrase, it’s my “goody heritage.” Undoubtedly, some stories within the Greater Story speak more clearly to me about Love than others. Indeed, some ways previous generations described Love, I no longer accept. Yet because I’ve learned Love through Scripture’s pages, been challenged by it to spread love more fully and farther, I still trust the Bible as my surest entryway into Love’s abode.
And I’m grateful for that years-ago conversation that helped me understand this story more clearly. More fully. More lovingly.
P.S. - This week’s spiritual practice: Story Meditation. Read a favorite Bible story. Read it again! Then pick an object or character and picture what that person/thing looks like. Imagine smells, clothing, dialogue, expressions, as you walk through the story again in your mind. I.e. fill in the text’s missing details. Most importantly, trust that the Spirit guides your imaginative work. Thus, in noticing what extra details you imagine, you can accept that as God helping you better interpret the story’s many meanings. Read more!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Bogged down…
For reasons that transcend my minuscule homeowner experience, my home’s AC doesn’t stand up well to 90 degree heat. Perhaps I need to get it serviced. Pray to God it doesn’t need replacement! Whatever the case, though, last week’s heat wave wasn’t particularly enjoyable.
I mean, mornings were mostly alright. Evenings had reduced external pressures on the system. But as days progressed and the sun would rise, so would my living room thermostat. It never hit the outside temps of 95, thank the Lord. But 85-88 were regular readings, and try though I might, I couldn’t get it back down.
Thus, evenings were spent sweltering in sticky shirts, torso and toes marinating in self-produced saltwater. And I remembered, then, what a strange phenomenon heat can be, particularly when forced to abide warmth without much escape. You start by noticing a tingling on the skin; sweat glands kicking in to produce epidermal evaporation. Then, not long after, you get real, real frustrated. Like OMJesus, I can’t stand this blasted heat! But strangely, a next phase occurs, once your shirt has soaked trough: suddenly you stop noticing the heat as often or as much. A kind of acceptance sets in, which makes the temperature more bearable. And unless forced into activity, you can take that for awhile before worrying about heatstroke. In other words, you bog down, a kind of bodily defense. For, once bogged down, heat’s less of a problem.
But really, who wants to live in a bogged down state of being? It’s better than constantly feeling terrible, but that’s about all that can be celebrated. You think more slowly, move less often, desire fewer interactions with others. Rather than full speed ahead, life proceeds at 75%. Yet it’s not only those of us battling our AC that deal with bogged down living. Spiritually speaking, I bet many people have that experience.
For example, has a moment of prayer or worship ever moved you profoundly? Maybe you wept, shouted hallelujah, smiled wider than seemed possible… But does that happen during every prayer, after every Sunday morning? Me neither, and that’s fine. We ought be realistic. It’s virtually impossible for most people to live in a constant state of spiritual electrification.
Still, I’d like to hope that most of us are open to receiving it, to seeking it. Except I’ve learned that the longer we go between moments of deep spiritual connection with God or others, the more we begin feeling, well, bogged down. Perhaps at first, we felt the lack of spiritual exuberance keenly, uncomfortably. But over time, it grew less painful, began to seem normal. And maybe we forgot that more engaged spirituality is possible. Maybe we even began to mock others who strived for such holy enthusiasm.
That’s why, this summer, I’m focusing on “Spiritual Growth”. To remind ourselves that spiritual energy is a renewable resource, if we work at it. The great gurus across the ages acknowledge something I find liberating- that though there’s one destination, there are many diverse ways to encounter authentic divinity. Perhaps meditation works for you. Perhaps singing works for me. Or a sermon, or daily prayer, or sweat-inducing exercises like yoga. The point is we shouldn’t simply content ourselves with going through the motions. We can, even should, expect God to electrify our souls! To occasionally cast over our spirits some heavenly AC. After all, God’s not up in heaven, apathetically watching the world like bad TV. In Jesus, God got involved, reached out to energize and empower us. I pray, then, you say this week, “Alright God, I’m ready. No more bogging down for me!” It may surprise you how cool and wonderful you’ll feel.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S. - This week’s spiritual practice is borrowed from Eastern spirituality- Mantra. Mantra is meditation focused on one word or phrase. If you’ve never done it, try this: Slowly repeat Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God,” for about ten minutes. Let that idea fill your spirit as you breathe deep, expecting God to reach out to you in return. At the end, say, “Amen,” stand and up go about your day, hopefully refreshed by God’s presence within.
Read more!
I mean, mornings were mostly alright. Evenings had reduced external pressures on the system. But as days progressed and the sun would rise, so would my living room thermostat. It never hit the outside temps of 95, thank the Lord. But 85-88 were regular readings, and try though I might, I couldn’t get it back down.
Thus, evenings were spent sweltering in sticky shirts, torso and toes marinating in self-produced saltwater. And I remembered, then, what a strange phenomenon heat can be, particularly when forced to abide warmth without much escape. You start by noticing a tingling on the skin; sweat glands kicking in to produce epidermal evaporation. Then, not long after, you get real, real frustrated. Like OMJesus, I can’t stand this blasted heat! But strangely, a next phase occurs, once your shirt has soaked trough: suddenly you stop noticing the heat as often or as much. A kind of acceptance sets in, which makes the temperature more bearable. And unless forced into activity, you can take that for awhile before worrying about heatstroke. In other words, you bog down, a kind of bodily defense. For, once bogged down, heat’s less of a problem.
But really, who wants to live in a bogged down state of being? It’s better than constantly feeling terrible, but that’s about all that can be celebrated. You think more slowly, move less often, desire fewer interactions with others. Rather than full speed ahead, life proceeds at 75%. Yet it’s not only those of us battling our AC that deal with bogged down living. Spiritually speaking, I bet many people have that experience.
For example, has a moment of prayer or worship ever moved you profoundly? Maybe you wept, shouted hallelujah, smiled wider than seemed possible… But does that happen during every prayer, after every Sunday morning? Me neither, and that’s fine. We ought be realistic. It’s virtually impossible for most people to live in a constant state of spiritual electrification.
Still, I’d like to hope that most of us are open to receiving it, to seeking it. Except I’ve learned that the longer we go between moments of deep spiritual connection with God or others, the more we begin feeling, well, bogged down. Perhaps at first, we felt the lack of spiritual exuberance keenly, uncomfortably. But over time, it grew less painful, began to seem normal. And maybe we forgot that more engaged spirituality is possible. Maybe we even began to mock others who strived for such holy enthusiasm.
That’s why, this summer, I’m focusing on “Spiritual Growth”. To remind ourselves that spiritual energy is a renewable resource, if we work at it. The great gurus across the ages acknowledge something I find liberating- that though there’s one destination, there are many diverse ways to encounter authentic divinity. Perhaps meditation works for you. Perhaps singing works for me. Or a sermon, or daily prayer, or sweat-inducing exercises like yoga. The point is we shouldn’t simply content ourselves with going through the motions. We can, even should, expect God to electrify our souls! To occasionally cast over our spirits some heavenly AC. After all, God’s not up in heaven, apathetically watching the world like bad TV. In Jesus, God got involved, reached out to energize and empower us. I pray, then, you say this week, “Alright God, I’m ready. No more bogging down for me!” It may surprise you how cool and wonderful you’ll feel.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S. - This week’s spiritual practice is borrowed from Eastern spirituality- Mantra. Mantra is meditation focused on one word or phrase. If you’ve never done it, try this: Slowly repeat Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God,” for about ten minutes. Let that idea fill your spirit as you breathe deep, expecting God to reach out to you in return. At the end, say, “Amen,” stand and up go about your day, hopefully refreshed by God’s presence within.
Read more!
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