Her name was Fermina, and she drove Florentino wild. “51 years, nine months and four days,” he nurtured his love for her, and on the evening of her husband’s death, in the middle of her living room, he finally told her how he felt.
Fermina was, understandably, unimpressed. She cursed at him, forced him to leave her house and wallow in his unhealthy ‘love’ somewhere else. She would grieve her late husband without Florentino’s company, thank you very much. And yet, over the next weeks and months, they traded letters back and forth, discussing this, and so much else, in the secrecy of pen and ink. Until, eventually, the offense of Florentino’s selfishly timed confession was forgiven, and something like mutual respect, maybe even love, developed.
That story has haunted me for years, ever since I read Love in the Time of Cholera during college. I’m still not sure why I chose that book when I did. Perhaps a vague memory of seeing it once on a respected teacher’s desk. Nevertheless, it taught me many things. How to love a story on its own terms. How to recognize the vastness of ‘loves’ in the human heart; some of its many shades and shapes, temptations and distortions. But mostly, I walked away from the novel with greater appreciation for how, in the words of St. Paul, “love endures,” and how it must evolve through life’s many changes to do so.
But this is a newsletter article, not a book review. So let me explain why I’m thinking about Florentino and Fermina. It’s because of Lent, and our on-going 2010 congregational theme- Go To All Peoples: Transforming Community with Disciples. This Lent, I want to invite y’all to join me Wednesday evenings at 6 PM for a class I’ll be ‘teaching.’ The working title is “Love’s Got Everything To Do with It,” and the subject matter will be our denomination- The Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). For about an hour weekly, we’ll meet in the sanctuary to explore our faith tradition; its roots, its history, its famous phrases, but most especially why, in my (and many others’) eyes, it offers a uniquely compelling way of practicing faith for contemporary Americans like you and me…and our neighbors.
After all, has anyone ever asked you, “What kind of church do you attend?” And you say, “Disciples of Christ.” And they respond, “What?! Is that a cult? Fundamentalist? You mean it’s not Lutheran?” When I opened my bank account last year, someone asked what the church I served was about. I stammered, “Well, it’s, uhhh, nice, and, uhhh, welcoming, and…” And I’m the preacher! I was just nervous, of course, since that’s a rather personal subject to tell a stranger. But the truth is I love my church and its heritage, and I think it should be, in words of one Servant Leader, “a bigger deal.” Indeed, the reason for this year’s theme is that I believe the Disciples of Christ way doing church isn’t just ‘nice,’ or ‘friendly.’ It’s potentially transformative, for all peoples, or at least those we courageously invite to learn about and love us.
So I’m going to lead a class about our brand of faith, beginning February 23, which is the Wednesday after Ash Wednesday. I hope you’ll join me, and get better at describing why this church challenges you, excites you, even transforms you. And in case you’re tempted to skip because you already know the basics, let me suggest that this won’t simply be “Disciples for Dummies.” We’ll be exploring new interpretations of our faith tradition, which I’ve recently read and think y’all should learn. Like this- According to renowned Disciples Scholar and Leader, Rev. Dr. Newell Williams, our church is about falling in love with God. Not obeying God, or bringing about God’s Kingdom on earth. But living in love with the God of all who loves all. We’ll explore what that means, its many implications and how that truth has evolved and transformed as Disciples have grown for two centuries now, and counting.
How’s that for love with staying power? Florentino would be impressed. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
To the limit…
On the slopes of the Colorado ski mountains of my youth, there was a code you were expected to follow. Unwritten, of course. But as in many cultures, Colorado ski culture adopted complex, undeclared rules, and you abided by them, or…well, I just did what was expected.
Here’s my simplified version of that code: always go to the extreme. Understand that this wasn’t for everyone, just those who’d reached a certain skill level. But if you could reasonably assert you were a good skier, people expected you to constantly push yourself, to be consistently skiing terrain that was at or near the limit of your ability, at speeds that made you nervous. Sure, first thing in the morning, you could take it easy, but don’t let that be the norm. The skiers I skied with were fascinated by the extreme, drawn to it, and overcoming my limits was the goal each time we buckled.
I stopped following that code (mostly) after two major concussions in two years, but that’s another story. I now always ski with helmet!
I’ve been thinking of this behavior recently because of some interesting, unexpected conversations. With some of you, and with friends outside our church, the topic of “knowing God” has suddenly become fashionable. More specifically, I’ve had multiple discussions about exactly how much anyone can know about God. In other words, what are the limits of our knowledge of God? Can we know God to the extreme?
The skiing metaphor helps me in many respects. For instance, the great joy of skiing the way I once did were those many times I eclipsed my own expectations. Occasionally, I would stand at the top of a steep, narrow run, and get terribly nervous. I had no choice, though, but to ski it. No turning back. After a few slow, hesitant turns, my confidence would build. I’d make another turn at higher speeds, or with greater flare. And soon enough, I’d be at the bottom, looking up, thinking, “Wow, I just skied that! And lived! Awesome!” So the next time I attempted that run, I was less nervous. I believed in myself more. My sense of my own limits had expanded.
I wonder if God works that way, if there are times we think, “There’s no way I can know what God thinks, or wants, or hopes for,” and suddenly, for whatever reason, we’re surprised with something like knowledge. Like have you ever faced a heart-rending, difficult decision? About your direction in life? How to care for an aging parent or friend? How to give up something that’s bad for you? And for a time, you wish God was more clear, that you knew God’s will better?! I have. And there’s no perfect formula for finding that answer. Nevertheless, my experience of faith has been that when I step out in faith, give up expectations for what I believe God should say (or what I want to hear!), and trust, something happens. Maybe it’s sudden internal clarity, or some tough love from a spouse, friend or parent. Maybe it’s a scripture verse or story. But somehow, God’s will or God’s character suddenly becomes more known, or in the words of Psalm 119, God’s Word or even Godself becomes “a lamp unto my feet.” And even though it’s rarely a spotlight to my horizon, often that simple lamp is enough.
Of course, the skiing metaphor works other ways too. Like no matter what you want, there are some runs no one can ski. Like there are limits to knowing God on this side of eternity as well. And then there are times when a person misunderstands their true limits, and skis much too recklessly, out-of-control and hurts others because they weren’t humble enough about to accept their limitations. Religious folk can do that too.
I guess, then, for me, living an active live of faith involves continual negotiation between humility about the limits of our knowledge about God, and confidence that God will reach out to us, guide us, and actually wants to be known. Any thoughts of your own? Wanna go skiing? In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Here’s my simplified version of that code: always go to the extreme. Understand that this wasn’t for everyone, just those who’d reached a certain skill level. But if you could reasonably assert you were a good skier, people expected you to constantly push yourself, to be consistently skiing terrain that was at or near the limit of your ability, at speeds that made you nervous. Sure, first thing in the morning, you could take it easy, but don’t let that be the norm. The skiers I skied with were fascinated by the extreme, drawn to it, and overcoming my limits was the goal each time we buckled.
I stopped following that code (mostly) after two major concussions in two years, but that’s another story. I now always ski with helmet!
I’ve been thinking of this behavior recently because of some interesting, unexpected conversations. With some of you, and with friends outside our church, the topic of “knowing God” has suddenly become fashionable. More specifically, I’ve had multiple discussions about exactly how much anyone can know about God. In other words, what are the limits of our knowledge of God? Can we know God to the extreme?
The skiing metaphor helps me in many respects. For instance, the great joy of skiing the way I once did were those many times I eclipsed my own expectations. Occasionally, I would stand at the top of a steep, narrow run, and get terribly nervous. I had no choice, though, but to ski it. No turning back. After a few slow, hesitant turns, my confidence would build. I’d make another turn at higher speeds, or with greater flare. And soon enough, I’d be at the bottom, looking up, thinking, “Wow, I just skied that! And lived! Awesome!” So the next time I attempted that run, I was less nervous. I believed in myself more. My sense of my own limits had expanded.
I wonder if God works that way, if there are times we think, “There’s no way I can know what God thinks, or wants, or hopes for,” and suddenly, for whatever reason, we’re surprised with something like knowledge. Like have you ever faced a heart-rending, difficult decision? About your direction in life? How to care for an aging parent or friend? How to give up something that’s bad for you? And for a time, you wish God was more clear, that you knew God’s will better?! I have. And there’s no perfect formula for finding that answer. Nevertheless, my experience of faith has been that when I step out in faith, give up expectations for what I believe God should say (or what I want to hear!), and trust, something happens. Maybe it’s sudden internal clarity, or some tough love from a spouse, friend or parent. Maybe it’s a scripture verse or story. But somehow, God’s will or God’s character suddenly becomes more known, or in the words of Psalm 119, God’s Word or even Godself becomes “a lamp unto my feet.” And even though it’s rarely a spotlight to my horizon, often that simple lamp is enough.
Of course, the skiing metaphor works other ways too. Like no matter what you want, there are some runs no one can ski. Like there are limits to knowing God on this side of eternity as well. And then there are times when a person misunderstands their true limits, and skis much too recklessly, out-of-control and hurts others because they weren’t humble enough about to accept their limitations. Religious folk can do that too.
I guess, then, for me, living an active live of faith involves continual negotiation between humility about the limits of our knowledge about God, and confidence that God will reach out to us, guide us, and actually wants to be known. Any thoughts of your own? Wanna go skiing? In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, January 22, 2010
What a neighbor…
I rarely watched “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” as a child, which I now find sad. I’ve since read about it, even seen it a few of times, and it seems he was a cool guy. A former minister, so I read somewhere, turns out that one day he got fed up with the speed of children’s programming (how cartoons move so rapidly from one image to the next), and decided to make his own show.
Have you seen the show on PBS before? It’s striking how patient he is doing the simplest things- using a toy dump truck to pick up rocks, moving around in his golf cart automobile. This slowness of pace, apparently, allows children’s imaginations to insert themselves more actively into each situation, and therefore fill in parts of the story that Mr. Rogers can’t get too. After all, when operating a dump truck (or pretending to…), there’s so much more to consider than picking up and dropping rocks. You have to know (or imagine) the size of rocks, and weight, and color, and maybe why you’re doing it in the first place. Discovering those parts of the story takes time, and part of Mr. Rogers’ neighborly gift was giving children he invited into his neighborhood time enough to contribute to these stories themselves, and to let their imaginations work.
Maybe you don’t often think of imagination as a neighborly gift, but think again. I watched a wonderful movie the other day, all about the power of imagination. You’ve likely heard a thing about it- The Blindside, starring Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw (among others). It’s basically a true story about Michael Oher, current starting right tackle for the Baltimore Ravens. Mr. Oher grew up in rough circumstances; in and out of foster homes and, for a time in high school, homeless. Eventually, though, he came to attend a Christian school, one of whose families, one day, noticed that not everything was great for “Big Mike.” In fact, they took him in, clothed him, fed him, eventually adopted him. And he went to Ole Miss on a football scholarship, won All-SEC and All-American honors, and he even made the Dean’s List before becoming a first-round NFL draft pick. It’s a beautiful story, depicting the importance of believing in yourself and others, the riskiness and transformational force of Christian love.
But it’s also about the power of imagination; about how imagination may not be something you can wrap and give to or receive from a neighbor, but if you manage to nurture it or spark it, the consequences can be life-altering. For instance, this young man didn’t believe, at first, he’d go to college, make good grades, etc. But when his circumstances began changing, he let his imagination begin changing, and that made the crucial difference. Likewise, this all-white upper class family never believed they’d adopt a large black teenager from the projects. But their imaginations broadened and they came to love him, which transformed them and even changed assumptions and perceptions around them too. Like when their uncle received a rather unexpected Christmas card…
In any event, I’m thinking this week, as many of you are too I’d bet, about our neighbors to the southeast: the devastated and poverty-stricken island nation of Haiti. Our denomination’s global mission leaders, over the past few years, have helped me learn more about Haiti’s troubling plight, as the poorest nation in our hemisphere. But like many, I’m shocked anew by the nearness of this disaster to my country. And heartbroken. And I wonder whether imagination matters in this situation. Could we have imagined the consequences of this earthquake, though we knew of their poverty? Maybe… Could we have imagined the situation’s impact on the hearts and compassions of our country, and the world? Can we imagine a better, more whole future for Haiti? Can Haitians?
I hope so, and I hope we care to seek answers to that last question when news cameras go home. Imagination will be especially powerful then, I suspect. But communities of faith, who worship a resurrected savior that still calls us to love all our neighbors, should specialize in imagination.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- If you want to donate, click this link- www.weekofcompassion.org/haiti Read more!
Have you seen the show on PBS before? It’s striking how patient he is doing the simplest things- using a toy dump truck to pick up rocks, moving around in his golf cart automobile. This slowness of pace, apparently, allows children’s imaginations to insert themselves more actively into each situation, and therefore fill in parts of the story that Mr. Rogers can’t get too. After all, when operating a dump truck (or pretending to…), there’s so much more to consider than picking up and dropping rocks. You have to know (or imagine) the size of rocks, and weight, and color, and maybe why you’re doing it in the first place. Discovering those parts of the story takes time, and part of Mr. Rogers’ neighborly gift was giving children he invited into his neighborhood time enough to contribute to these stories themselves, and to let their imaginations work.
Maybe you don’t often think of imagination as a neighborly gift, but think again. I watched a wonderful movie the other day, all about the power of imagination. You’ve likely heard a thing about it- The Blindside, starring Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw (among others). It’s basically a true story about Michael Oher, current starting right tackle for the Baltimore Ravens. Mr. Oher grew up in rough circumstances; in and out of foster homes and, for a time in high school, homeless. Eventually, though, he came to attend a Christian school, one of whose families, one day, noticed that not everything was great for “Big Mike.” In fact, they took him in, clothed him, fed him, eventually adopted him. And he went to Ole Miss on a football scholarship, won All-SEC and All-American honors, and he even made the Dean’s List before becoming a first-round NFL draft pick. It’s a beautiful story, depicting the importance of believing in yourself and others, the riskiness and transformational force of Christian love.
But it’s also about the power of imagination; about how imagination may not be something you can wrap and give to or receive from a neighbor, but if you manage to nurture it or spark it, the consequences can be life-altering. For instance, this young man didn’t believe, at first, he’d go to college, make good grades, etc. But when his circumstances began changing, he let his imagination begin changing, and that made the crucial difference. Likewise, this all-white upper class family never believed they’d adopt a large black teenager from the projects. But their imaginations broadened and they came to love him, which transformed them and even changed assumptions and perceptions around them too. Like when their uncle received a rather unexpected Christmas card…
In any event, I’m thinking this week, as many of you are too I’d bet, about our neighbors to the southeast: the devastated and poverty-stricken island nation of Haiti. Our denomination’s global mission leaders, over the past few years, have helped me learn more about Haiti’s troubling plight, as the poorest nation in our hemisphere. But like many, I’m shocked anew by the nearness of this disaster to my country. And heartbroken. And I wonder whether imagination matters in this situation. Could we have imagined the consequences of this earthquake, though we knew of their poverty? Maybe… Could we have imagined the situation’s impact on the hearts and compassions of our country, and the world? Can we imagine a better, more whole future for Haiti? Can Haitians?
I hope so, and I hope we care to seek answers to that last question when news cameras go home. Imagination will be especially powerful then, I suspect. But communities of faith, who worship a resurrected savior that still calls us to love all our neighbors, should specialize in imagination.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S.- If you want to donate, click this link- www.weekofcompassion.org/haiti Read more!
Friday, January 15, 2010
Go to all peoples…
I must confess. For some time, I was seriously disillusioned with the Great Commission. And I wasn’t alone. Many of my Christian (and non-Christian) pals found this aspect of Christian faith distasteful. They cringed at its exclusionary mentality. They scoffed at its seeming hubris and conceit. They were shocked by how unlovely a doctrine this Great Commission was, and considered it especially ironic for a religion that speaks so often about ‘Love.’
I say ‘they’ in the sentences above; I mean ‘we.’ For some time, I shared those concerns, and in many respects, continue to still. You might recall a story I’ve shared before, about a conversation that changed my life. I was chatting with a buddy in his car, when religion came up. I, wanting to be a ‘good Christian,’ decided this was my time to do what Jesus wanted- to convince my friend he needed to become a Christian like me. So I lectured him on everything I knew was true- stuff about sin, and God, etc.- and much of that sounded strange to my friend. He answered, “Shane, I gotta be honest, you sound really arrogant.” And it hit me. I wasn’t loving my friend or listening to him. I wasn’t even being honest about my own doubts and fears. Instead, I was doing what I thought my faith required, which was force others to accept a worldview that they just may not find liberating.
This experience was the final straw in my long-awaited break from the traditionalist religion I’d learned as a youth. Finally, I rejected the idea that the mission of Christianity was first, foremost and only about the Great Commission. Many churches think that. I once thought that. No longer, though, and for a while I even thought Christians should never share their faith, ever!
In case you’re unclear about this “Great Commission,” let me explain. At the end of Matthew, after Jesus’ resurrection, he tells his disciples, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all peoples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you. And lo, I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Like all Scripture, that gets interpreted in many ways. But a famous and powerful interpretation is the so-called “Great Commission,” i.e. that Jesus’ final order to his Disciples was to make everyone in the world become Christian, or die trying. Some even claim that churches should spend no resources, time or talents on any other mission, until all the world confesses that Jesus is Lord.
I think differently. I believe a) our faith prioritizes loving hospitality over indoctrination, and b) Matthew’s final verses mean something very different. Indeed, something valuable Christian congregations can offer our neighborhoods these days is a new example of ‘doing church’ than focusing solely on the Great Commission. For there is another way, and I think it’s amazing! The faith in Jesus that inspires me calls for intimacy between all God’s peoples, deep respect for individuality and free thought, persistent concern for justice, and compassion for the poor and lonely. I know others who’ve been inspired, even transformed by such faith. And this good news could transform many more, if only they knew…
Thus, I’m a born-again fan of these verses in Matthew, and so I chose them as the foundation for our 2010 Congregational Theme. You needn’t believe that all the world needs to be Christian in order to believe that the world needs Christians. Jesus’ brand of faith, his life, death and new life, still have transformational power. Not for everyone, of course, but surely for many. And people should know that. Christians should be proud of that. We can speak powerfully about the wonder and mystery of our faith without being either arrogant or embarrassed. I pray we learn to do that better over the next year. And so will grow as a faith community, provide greater care to our neighbors, and discover our lives and families more invigorated by the ever-present strength and love of our resurrected Lord, Jesus. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
I say ‘they’ in the sentences above; I mean ‘we.’ For some time, I shared those concerns, and in many respects, continue to still. You might recall a story I’ve shared before, about a conversation that changed my life. I was chatting with a buddy in his car, when religion came up. I, wanting to be a ‘good Christian,’ decided this was my time to do what Jesus wanted- to convince my friend he needed to become a Christian like me. So I lectured him on everything I knew was true- stuff about sin, and God, etc.- and much of that sounded strange to my friend. He answered, “Shane, I gotta be honest, you sound really arrogant.” And it hit me. I wasn’t loving my friend or listening to him. I wasn’t even being honest about my own doubts and fears. Instead, I was doing what I thought my faith required, which was force others to accept a worldview that they just may not find liberating.
This experience was the final straw in my long-awaited break from the traditionalist religion I’d learned as a youth. Finally, I rejected the idea that the mission of Christianity was first, foremost and only about the Great Commission. Many churches think that. I once thought that. No longer, though, and for a while I even thought Christians should never share their faith, ever!
In case you’re unclear about this “Great Commission,” let me explain. At the end of Matthew, after Jesus’ resurrection, he tells his disciples, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all peoples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you. And lo, I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Like all Scripture, that gets interpreted in many ways. But a famous and powerful interpretation is the so-called “Great Commission,” i.e. that Jesus’ final order to his Disciples was to make everyone in the world become Christian, or die trying. Some even claim that churches should spend no resources, time or talents on any other mission, until all the world confesses that Jesus is Lord.
I think differently. I believe a) our faith prioritizes loving hospitality over indoctrination, and b) Matthew’s final verses mean something very different. Indeed, something valuable Christian congregations can offer our neighborhoods these days is a new example of ‘doing church’ than focusing solely on the Great Commission. For there is another way, and I think it’s amazing! The faith in Jesus that inspires me calls for intimacy between all God’s peoples, deep respect for individuality and free thought, persistent concern for justice, and compassion for the poor and lonely. I know others who’ve been inspired, even transformed by such faith. And this good news could transform many more, if only they knew…
Thus, I’m a born-again fan of these verses in Matthew, and so I chose them as the foundation for our 2010 Congregational Theme. You needn’t believe that all the world needs to be Christian in order to believe that the world needs Christians. Jesus’ brand of faith, his life, death and new life, still have transformational power. Not for everyone, of course, but surely for many. And people should know that. Christians should be proud of that. We can speak powerfully about the wonder and mystery of our faith without being either arrogant or embarrassed. I pray we learn to do that better over the next year. And so will grow as a faith community, provide greater care to our neighbors, and discover our lives and families more invigorated by the ever-present strength and love of our resurrected Lord, Jesus. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Like a child…
If you’ve never been, I highly recommend a visit to the Children’s Museum in St. Paul. Bring the grandkids, the neighbors’ kids, do whatever it takes. Our hometown Children’s Museum is something Twin Cities folk should be proud of. You can trust me. I’m an uncle.
We went there recently since, as you may know, Tabitha’s family had come to town. Between everyone, there were six adults and four young boys- ages 15 months, 15 months, 3 years, and 5 years. The weekend after Christmas actually brought two trips to the Museum, my first ever encounters with that establishment. I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that one room was filled with dinosaurs (always awesome!), another had a leaf-blowing machine that occupied kids for hours, still another was involved inordinate amounts of splashing, while the highlight was when we made our very own thunderstorm. Very cool stuff. By the end of both afternoons, I was exhausted. But the energy spent was worth it, for both the children and the adults. We laughed a lot, learned some, laughed more, and experienced all kinds of wonderment and awe. It only cost nine bucks, but there’s no way to assess the full value of such moments. Who knows just how much was learned, or what skills the children began developing? Or the confidence gained? You can’t peak into kids’ heads, or their futures, and you don’t need to. The experience was worthwhile in its own right, I’m convinced, regardless how much the boys retain in their active memories.
One takeaway I do hope, however, that sticks with them is the basic philosophy of this Museum- “Sparking learning through play.” I like that idea, and wish we’d all take it more seriously. Of course, for young children, ‘play’ is a superior learning technique than the books or tests we use later in life. Without mature language or analytical skills, for children things like games, imagination and pretending do a great job of encouraging creative problem solving or teaching cooperation. That, in turn, nurtures smarter, more work-friendly children, which benefits parents, society and the kids themselves. And it’s just good fun!
The problem is that, all too often, we don’t age very effectively. Getting older means we encounter more complex and dangerous situations. Consequently, we develop more sophisticated tools for learning about or coping with these situations, and that’s good. But here’s the problem- Sometimes adults don’t build on top of what they learned as children. Rather, they replace what they learned as kids about the value of play, with the ‘more mature’ skills, emotions and learning methods they acquired as adults. Adults can discuss complex financial arrangements, psychotherapy, political scheming and American Idol, but too many neglect to play anymore. They think ‘play’ is beneath their adult dignity, something left behind in adolescence, like acne or voice cracks. I saw this at the Children’s Museum, when some parents sat off to the side, scowling at the raucous, joyous kids, as if they believed they had better things to do than jump in and join the fun. Too bad.
The truth is, however, that play could really help people nowadays, if we let it. Because something us ‘mature’ adults too often do is settle for what’s conventional and unchallenging. Rather than risk trying something off-the-wall, or using our imaginations to conceive of fantastic new ideas and dreams, we accept the limits others impose on us. We let what’s already happened dictate what will happen. And we stop having fun, the kind that makes your body quiver, or your mouth fall open wide. Play works differently. It revels in ‘what could be,’ or ‘what would be great if…’ It’s a blast! And it fosters an expectation of good things. That won’t make good stuff always happen, of course. But there’s something theologically true about believing that this life God gave you is good and filled with blessing, possibility and joy, even in the midst of pain. So I pray, this week, you’ll take time to play. Let your imagination run wild, and perhaps the Spirit will learn you something incredible. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
We went there recently since, as you may know, Tabitha’s family had come to town. Between everyone, there were six adults and four young boys- ages 15 months, 15 months, 3 years, and 5 years. The weekend after Christmas actually brought two trips to the Museum, my first ever encounters with that establishment. I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that one room was filled with dinosaurs (always awesome!), another had a leaf-blowing machine that occupied kids for hours, still another was involved inordinate amounts of splashing, while the highlight was when we made our very own thunderstorm. Very cool stuff. By the end of both afternoons, I was exhausted. But the energy spent was worth it, for both the children and the adults. We laughed a lot, learned some, laughed more, and experienced all kinds of wonderment and awe. It only cost nine bucks, but there’s no way to assess the full value of such moments. Who knows just how much was learned, or what skills the children began developing? Or the confidence gained? You can’t peak into kids’ heads, or their futures, and you don’t need to. The experience was worthwhile in its own right, I’m convinced, regardless how much the boys retain in their active memories.
One takeaway I do hope, however, that sticks with them is the basic philosophy of this Museum- “Sparking learning through play.” I like that idea, and wish we’d all take it more seriously. Of course, for young children, ‘play’ is a superior learning technique than the books or tests we use later in life. Without mature language or analytical skills, for children things like games, imagination and pretending do a great job of encouraging creative problem solving or teaching cooperation. That, in turn, nurtures smarter, more work-friendly children, which benefits parents, society and the kids themselves. And it’s just good fun!
The problem is that, all too often, we don’t age very effectively. Getting older means we encounter more complex and dangerous situations. Consequently, we develop more sophisticated tools for learning about or coping with these situations, and that’s good. But here’s the problem- Sometimes adults don’t build on top of what they learned as children. Rather, they replace what they learned as kids about the value of play, with the ‘more mature’ skills, emotions and learning methods they acquired as adults. Adults can discuss complex financial arrangements, psychotherapy, political scheming and American Idol, but too many neglect to play anymore. They think ‘play’ is beneath their adult dignity, something left behind in adolescence, like acne or voice cracks. I saw this at the Children’s Museum, when some parents sat off to the side, scowling at the raucous, joyous kids, as if they believed they had better things to do than jump in and join the fun. Too bad.
The truth is, however, that play could really help people nowadays, if we let it. Because something us ‘mature’ adults too often do is settle for what’s conventional and unchallenging. Rather than risk trying something off-the-wall, or using our imaginations to conceive of fantastic new ideas and dreams, we accept the limits others impose on us. We let what’s already happened dictate what will happen. And we stop having fun, the kind that makes your body quiver, or your mouth fall open wide. Play works differently. It revels in ‘what could be,’ or ‘what would be great if…’ It’s a blast! And it fosters an expectation of good things. That won’t make good stuff always happen, of course. But there’s something theologically true about believing that this life God gave you is good and filled with blessing, possibility and joy, even in the midst of pain. So I pray, this week, you’ll take time to play. Let your imagination run wild, and perhaps the Spirit will learn you something incredible. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Love thy enemy…
Because you, probably, didn’t grow up in Colorado, you can’t know how big it is for me to take this week’s vacation. Like last year, we’re meeting another married couple for a week-long ski vacation. These are pals from seminary- she’s a pastor, he’s a construction manager. [Random, but related story- When I told this to one of our members, who will remain unnamed, she responded, “Shane, don’t you have any friends who are hookers?” “WHAT?!?!” I responded. And she explained, “Well, you’re always spending time with other pastors. I just wondered if you had other kinds of friends.” “Oh! That’s what you meant,” I answered. “You caught me way off guard. But be warned, since you went there, I’m quoting you in an upcoming letter.” And so I did. Just another reason I love my job- the unexpected things Plymouth Creekers come up with!]
Anyway, the major change from last year is that this time we’ve decided to forgo Colorado for a week in Lake Tahoe, California- site of the 1960 Winter Olympics, in case anyone forgot. And like I alluded to above, this is a big step for me. Growing up in Colorado, I spent countless hours blustering and bellowing to any within earshot that no skiing in North America could compare to the Rockies. And that was double true for California! For some reason, the mythology of the ski slopes I grew up skiing included a belief that overcrowding was always a function of vacationers from Texas and California (which we felt justified a special disdain for those states). Then, my sister moved to California, and my Colorado-inspired, passionate denunciations of the West Coast only increased in antipathy and volume.
I, of course, had never skied in California, nor had I tested whether the California-tourist hypothesis held water. But really, that was beside the point. Sometimes your loyalties to one place or thing aren’t rational or well reasoned. They’re visceral, instinctual, the product of love and upbringing, not careful analysis or intellectual acuity. So if you told Younger Shane that one day he’d intentionally bypass a Colorado ski trip for…gasp…California. Well, let’s just say you’d have to bring tissues to wipe his nose, and have patience as he tried desperately to overcome his self-disappointment.
It’s a humorous image to ponder, and mostly tongue-in-cheek, of course. But those memories and the impending vacation have me thinking about ‘enemies,’ and especially Jesus’ quote above. Whenever I’m tempted to consider Jesus an everyday guy who never wanted to mix things up, I force myself to remember this quote: “Truly you’ve heard it said, ‘Love your friends, but hate your enemies.’ But I say unto you, ‘Love thy enemy, and pray for those that persecute you.’” It’s a remarkable claim, right?! Radical, even, and not always welcome. I guess when Jesus claimed God’s love was available to all people, indiscriminately, he really meant it.
So what does it mean to love your enemy? Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Pretend your enemy is your friend.” That would be foolish, and untrue, and Jesus believed in truth. Nor does Jesus say, “Ignore your enemy, and hope s/he goes away.” That wouldn’t help, because if your enemy is a true enemy, they won’t ignore you, even if you ignore them.
No, Jesus instructs us to love our enemies, and love is an active verb. We’re called to engage these destructive forces and people, albeit constructively, hopefully, and wisely. Can you both fight an enemy and love them? Is it responsible to do otherwise?! I know people whose greatest enemy is addiction. How do you love that enemy? You fight it, of course, though Jesus likely meant people, rather than psychological forces… And what about these recent terrorist attacks, or attempts. Love that enemy? On what grounds? To what end?
No answers today, just comments I hope provoke ideas of your own. Send your thoughts my way. If I get enough, I’ll write a follow-up that includes our collective wisdom on this thorny topic. In the meantime, may your week be lovely, and may you love all you meet. Even your enemies, whomever they are. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Anyway, the major change from last year is that this time we’ve decided to forgo Colorado for a week in Lake Tahoe, California- site of the 1960 Winter Olympics, in case anyone forgot. And like I alluded to above, this is a big step for me. Growing up in Colorado, I spent countless hours blustering and bellowing to any within earshot that no skiing in North America could compare to the Rockies. And that was double true for California! For some reason, the mythology of the ski slopes I grew up skiing included a belief that overcrowding was always a function of vacationers from Texas and California (which we felt justified a special disdain for those states). Then, my sister moved to California, and my Colorado-inspired, passionate denunciations of the West Coast only increased in antipathy and volume.
I, of course, had never skied in California, nor had I tested whether the California-tourist hypothesis held water. But really, that was beside the point. Sometimes your loyalties to one place or thing aren’t rational or well reasoned. They’re visceral, instinctual, the product of love and upbringing, not careful analysis or intellectual acuity. So if you told Younger Shane that one day he’d intentionally bypass a Colorado ski trip for…gasp…California. Well, let’s just say you’d have to bring tissues to wipe his nose, and have patience as he tried desperately to overcome his self-disappointment.
It’s a humorous image to ponder, and mostly tongue-in-cheek, of course. But those memories and the impending vacation have me thinking about ‘enemies,’ and especially Jesus’ quote above. Whenever I’m tempted to consider Jesus an everyday guy who never wanted to mix things up, I force myself to remember this quote: “Truly you’ve heard it said, ‘Love your friends, but hate your enemies.’ But I say unto you, ‘Love thy enemy, and pray for those that persecute you.’” It’s a remarkable claim, right?! Radical, even, and not always welcome. I guess when Jesus claimed God’s love was available to all people, indiscriminately, he really meant it.
So what does it mean to love your enemy? Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Pretend your enemy is your friend.” That would be foolish, and untrue, and Jesus believed in truth. Nor does Jesus say, “Ignore your enemy, and hope s/he goes away.” That wouldn’t help, because if your enemy is a true enemy, they won’t ignore you, even if you ignore them.
No, Jesus instructs us to love our enemies, and love is an active verb. We’re called to engage these destructive forces and people, albeit constructively, hopefully, and wisely. Can you both fight an enemy and love them? Is it responsible to do otherwise?! I know people whose greatest enemy is addiction. How do you love that enemy? You fight it, of course, though Jesus likely meant people, rather than psychological forces… And what about these recent terrorist attacks, or attempts. Love that enemy? On what grounds? To what end?
No answers today, just comments I hope provoke ideas of your own. Send your thoughts my way. If I get enough, I’ll write a follow-up that includes our collective wisdom on this thorny topic. In the meantime, may your week be lovely, and may you love all you meet. Even your enemies, whomever they are. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, January 1, 2010
With you always…
This time last year, we initiated an experiment in ‘doing church differently,’ which I think is worth repeating. The idea came from a pastor who once told me about something interesting his church did. Like all good ideas, this needed to be stolen. So we stole it. I’m referring, you might’ve guessed, to 2009’s Congregational Theme- “A Table Before Me: God’s Open-Armed Adventure.” In diverse ways, from educational activities to the website to mission work to a sermon (or twenty), that theme weaved its way through our church life. 2009 was an adventurous year! We tried new things, thought challenging thoughts, sparked fresh ideas- some of which we implemented, some of which we didn’t. Most of all, I think we learned many important things about God, each other and ourselves.
But while the adventure continues, it must change. Indeed, that’s a fundamental fact about God’s open-armed adventure- change is always happening, whether we notice it or not. That’s true for churches as much as for nature or Brett Favre’s retirement ambitions. So we’re going to build on last year’s successes, while venturing out into a whole new direction. In other words, during 2010, Plymouth Creek will continue to experiment with using a Congregational Theme to direct and focus our life together, but with a new year comes another theme. And your 2010 Congregational Theme is… (cue the drum roll, and the triumphant trumpet music)-
Does it seem like there’s A LOT going on in that phrase? I hope so. The plan is to spend all year excavating, exploring and being formed by the many ideas this theme can ignite. But before we begin, I want to highlight three things, which form the core of what I hope we achieve this year together:
1. 2010 will not be about us! Our theme verses are Matthew 28:19-20, known by many as “The Great Commandment.” The theme begins like the verses do, though “Go to All Peoples” is my translation, rather than the typical, “Go, therefore, and make…” By 2011, we’ll know much more about this important calling, and especially how to do it in ways faithful to our beliefs about inclusivity, free thought and respect for non-Christian religious practices. Still, the goal will be to look outward, constantly, and to do so together.
2. That begins by reigniting our innate love for community! Something PCCC loves to do is love each other, and have fun together. Indeed, many of you came to this church because someone invited you to have fun and establish relationships with other church members. And the conviction of Jesus is that building intimate community transforms lives. So to kick things off, I’m preaching a 2nd annual Cinema Sermon Series for four consecutive Sundays, starting January 17. Each sermon will use a different movie as its primary ‘text.’ The day before each sermon (Saturday afternoon- 3 PM), everyone and their friends are invited to watch that movie in our Sanctuary. If you can’t make it, there’s a schedule elsewhere in this newsletter telling which movie will be used for which Sunday.
3. Our community is unique: We are Disciples of Christ! And it’s my deep conviction that the Disciples of Christ way of practicing faith has potential to transform our broader community in wonderful ways if we’re willing and able to be and share that good news. So all year long, we’ll learn more about our rich and goodly heritage, especially how the Disciples of Christ message is so relevant and important for this 21st-century world. One way YOU can help embody this message is to write “This I Believe” statements, like the one later in this newsletter. Email me, or slip yours under my door, unsigned, if you prefer.
You should know I truly believe 2010 will be monumental for Plymouth Creek Christian Church. Transformative, even. That will take effort, energy, creativity and prayer. But we have that stuff, and more besides. We have Jesus’ Table in our midst, a dynamic and inspiring piece of furniture that’s open to everybody. In 2010, let’s make sure they know it. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
But while the adventure continues, it must change. Indeed, that’s a fundamental fact about God’s open-armed adventure- change is always happening, whether we notice it or not. That’s true for churches as much as for nature or Brett Favre’s retirement ambitions. So we’re going to build on last year’s successes, while venturing out into a whole new direction. In other words, during 2010, Plymouth Creek will continue to experiment with using a Congregational Theme to direct and focus our life together, but with a new year comes another theme. And your 2010 Congregational Theme is… (cue the drum roll, and the triumphant trumpet music)-
Go to All Peoples: Transforming Community with Disciples
Does it seem like there’s A LOT going on in that phrase? I hope so. The plan is to spend all year excavating, exploring and being formed by the many ideas this theme can ignite. But before we begin, I want to highlight three things, which form the core of what I hope we achieve this year together:
1. 2010 will not be about us! Our theme verses are Matthew 28:19-20, known by many as “The Great Commandment.” The theme begins like the verses do, though “Go to All Peoples” is my translation, rather than the typical, “Go, therefore, and make…” By 2011, we’ll know much more about this important calling, and especially how to do it in ways faithful to our beliefs about inclusivity, free thought and respect for non-Christian religious practices. Still, the goal will be to look outward, constantly, and to do so together.
2. That begins by reigniting our innate love for community! Something PCCC loves to do is love each other, and have fun together. Indeed, many of you came to this church because someone invited you to have fun and establish relationships with other church members. And the conviction of Jesus is that building intimate community transforms lives. So to kick things off, I’m preaching a 2nd annual Cinema Sermon Series for four consecutive Sundays, starting January 17. Each sermon will use a different movie as its primary ‘text.’ The day before each sermon (Saturday afternoon- 3 PM), everyone and their friends are invited to watch that movie in our Sanctuary. If you can’t make it, there’s a schedule elsewhere in this newsletter telling which movie will be used for which Sunday.
3. Our community is unique: We are Disciples of Christ! And it’s my deep conviction that the Disciples of Christ way of practicing faith has potential to transform our broader community in wonderful ways if we’re willing and able to be and share that good news. So all year long, we’ll learn more about our rich and goodly heritage, especially how the Disciples of Christ message is so relevant and important for this 21st-century world. One way YOU can help embody this message is to write “This I Believe” statements, like the one later in this newsletter. Email me, or slip yours under my door, unsigned, if you prefer.
You should know I truly believe 2010 will be monumental for Plymouth Creek Christian Church. Transformative, even. That will take effort, energy, creativity and prayer. But we have that stuff, and more besides. We have Jesus’ Table in our midst, a dynamic and inspiring piece of furniture that’s open to everybody. In 2010, let’s make sure they know it. In all things,
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)