Much of what Jesus said are wonderful, heartwarming, powerful ideas and words. “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.” “I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen, Brother Jesus! Of course I’ll follow you!
But if you keep reading, less…comfortable notions emerge; concepts that paint a more complicated picture. “I didn’t come to bring peace, but a sword.” “Love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you.” “Those who want to preserve their lives, will lose them. But those who lose their lives for my sake, will keep them.” Seriously, Jesus?! Are you joking?!
Then there’s the following hard saying that’s received plenty of attention over the centuries. “The poor will always be among you, but you will not always have me.” Leave aside- for the time being- that the latter half of that sentence contradicts something we encountered in paragraph one (both of which occur in the Gospel of Matthew, by the way). At face value, the idea’s disturbing; obvious perhaps, but something you’d want Christ to admit only in whispers. After all, the image we likely hold of our Savior includes unrelenting compassion for the world’s poor. Some theologians even argue (correctly, I’d contend) that if Jesus were made to chose, he’d show a “preferential option for the poor.” Yet in that sentence, it’s almost like Christ says, “Whatever we do, poverty will endure. So don’t worry too much about it. Just believe in me.”
First, a little context, for those confused by this thought. At least in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says it to his disciples in reaction to a strange event. They’re having dinner in Jerusalem, scant few days before his betrayal and execution, when an unnamed woman saunters in with an expensive jar of perfume. She breaks the seal, pours the contents over Jesus’ head. The disciples respond indignantly, “Why’d she do that?! We could’ve sold that for lots of money, and given it to the poor.” The Anointed One responds, “The poor will always…etc.” He then interprets her actions as loving preparation for his burial. Not the typical dinner party event, but surely quite memorable.
Nevertheless, we’re left with profound cognitive dissonance. “Didn’t this guy proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor’?” Yes, in fact, he did. But the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive. What matters is how we respond to Jesus’ frank admission of poverty’s pervasiveness. Given that throughout his life, Jesus made understanding and alleviating poverty a top-three priority, I suspect we’re not to believe, “The poor will always be with us, so let’s not put in too much effort to help.” Instead, we’re always to keep their needs atop our moral priorities too.
The trouble is, for modern Christ followers living in American suburbs like ours, we’re often uninformed about the lives of the poor. Who are they? Where do they live? Can we meaningfully help? Lots of stereotypes about poor folk persist, of course, likely filling our minds with unpleasant images. But separating truth from myth, fear from courageous engagement, isn’t easy, especially with so much else vying for our attention.
To that end, I want to ask you to join me for an event next month. You’ve maybe heard me announce this in church already, but if not, please consider putting it on your calendar. On February 27, from 6:30-8:30 at IOCP, our church is co-sponsoring (with twelve local faith communities) a “Community Conversation about Local Poverty.” I’m helping plan (and emcee), and we’re crafting an evening I hope you’ll find meaningful. The goal is helping attendees discover who the poor are in our midst, the challenges they face, ways the broader community assists, and crucially, what we all need to do to help out. You know that stereotype about a homeless man in a cardboard box under the freeway? Doesn’t match the truth of suburban poverty, but what, you may ask, does?
Well, we’ll answer that February 27. So I hope you’ll attend, for Jesus claimed the poor will always be with us. But so will he, he said, inspiring us to live and reach out with compassion.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S. - Space is limited, so you’ll need to register ahead of time. Either talk to me, or email Jill Kohler at IOCP to get on the list.
Read more!
Friday, January 27, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
A tasty burger…
This week, I’m driving north to spend time with my good buddy Mark. He’s the pastor of First Congregational UCC in Moorhead. We met while living in Kentucky, together cheered for the local basketball team. So after he moved to Minnesota, we’ve made a point of carving out regular time to hang out. Usually, he comes south to the Cities. But fair is fair, so it’s my turn to drive up.
And this time, Mark and I will have a mission: Evaluate the food and atmosphere of several burger joints in Fargo/Moorhead, and identify which merits the title of “Best in Town.” Not only will this accomplish a basic human function (eating), but also give us something to talk/argue about during our time together. Win-win, as they say. We’re also considering creating a tin-foil trophy, and after we’ve made our decision, return to the winning restaurant to ‘present’ the manger-on-duty with our prize. Maybe film the encounter; post it on Youtube. Surely we’d receive incredibly confused smiles, but perhaps they’d also deem it free marketing, so give us a 10% off coupon, or something. I’ll let you know.
You may think this a strange topic for a weekly pastoral letter, and you may be right. But I hope it spurs your own memories of times did something ridiculous with a friend just because. I have another buddy who looks exactly like a guy in a Vikings/beer ad I’ve seen around town recently. Knowing he’s decidedly not a Vikings fan (Patriots…grrr) I find that ironic and funny, and so email him a picture of this ad every time I see it. We live in different cities, rarely get together. But at least we can stay connected with goofy photos and emails.
Does that sound familiar? Are there simple, quirky, personal ways you connect with friends or loved ones? One of the great lessons of my life occurred a few nights after my brother-in-law died. I was eighteen then, he was twenty-three, as was my sister, his wife. Being a motorcycle accident, the situation was dreadfully tragic. So she and I, the following week, stayed up late many nights- talking, processing, bawling, praying- and one night, she said this: “Shane, know what’s funny? My clearest memory of that day is calling Jeff on his lunch break. It lasted five minutes; I did most of the talking, telling him how excited I was about this great deal I’d just found on kids shoes. He said he was happy too. I said, ‘I love you,’ and hung up. That was the last conversation I ever had with my husband.”
We remarked how unlike a Hollywood ending it was. No profound words about life’s meaning; no final revelations; just an overly exuberant chat about saving fifteen bucks on shoes. But what she said next made all the difference. “I’m glad that’s what we talked about, because I wouldn’t have that conversation with anyone but Jeff. I mean, who cares that much about finding a great coupon?! Well, I did! And sharing with him something that goofy and trivial, but personal and important is what made Jeff my husband.” My beliefs about what makes relationships meaningful have never been the same.
So I’m going to Moorhead this week to invest more meaning than is objectively important into the textures and tastes of burger joints in my friend Mark’s hometown. Why? Because I like burgers, of course! But mostly because I’ve come to believe that even the simplest things, the quirkiest things can provide our lives richness and grace. If we open our hearts to loving others, that is, to sharing what moves us, no matter how trifling. To be honest, I still struggle with that more often than not. But sometimes I do alright and will soon have the burger receipts to prove it!
And since this a pastoral letter, let me leave you with a question. If you think I’m right about this dynamic being valuable for our intimate relationships with friends or family, then tell me- What are the quirky, simple but profound experiences you share with God?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
And this time, Mark and I will have a mission: Evaluate the food and atmosphere of several burger joints in Fargo/Moorhead, and identify which merits the title of “Best in Town.” Not only will this accomplish a basic human function (eating), but also give us something to talk/argue about during our time together. Win-win, as they say. We’re also considering creating a tin-foil trophy, and after we’ve made our decision, return to the winning restaurant to ‘present’ the manger-on-duty with our prize. Maybe film the encounter; post it on Youtube. Surely we’d receive incredibly confused smiles, but perhaps they’d also deem it free marketing, so give us a 10% off coupon, or something. I’ll let you know.
You may think this a strange topic for a weekly pastoral letter, and you may be right. But I hope it spurs your own memories of times did something ridiculous with a friend just because. I have another buddy who looks exactly like a guy in a Vikings/beer ad I’ve seen around town recently. Knowing he’s decidedly not a Vikings fan (Patriots…grrr) I find that ironic and funny, and so email him a picture of this ad every time I see it. We live in different cities, rarely get together. But at least we can stay connected with goofy photos and emails.
Does that sound familiar? Are there simple, quirky, personal ways you connect with friends or loved ones? One of the great lessons of my life occurred a few nights after my brother-in-law died. I was eighteen then, he was twenty-three, as was my sister, his wife. Being a motorcycle accident, the situation was dreadfully tragic. So she and I, the following week, stayed up late many nights- talking, processing, bawling, praying- and one night, she said this: “Shane, know what’s funny? My clearest memory of that day is calling Jeff on his lunch break. It lasted five minutes; I did most of the talking, telling him how excited I was about this great deal I’d just found on kids shoes. He said he was happy too. I said, ‘I love you,’ and hung up. That was the last conversation I ever had with my husband.”
We remarked how unlike a Hollywood ending it was. No profound words about life’s meaning; no final revelations; just an overly exuberant chat about saving fifteen bucks on shoes. But what she said next made all the difference. “I’m glad that’s what we talked about, because I wouldn’t have that conversation with anyone but Jeff. I mean, who cares that much about finding a great coupon?! Well, I did! And sharing with him something that goofy and trivial, but personal and important is what made Jeff my husband.” My beliefs about what makes relationships meaningful have never been the same.
So I’m going to Moorhead this week to invest more meaning than is objectively important into the textures and tastes of burger joints in my friend Mark’s hometown. Why? Because I like burgers, of course! But mostly because I’ve come to believe that even the simplest things, the quirkiest things can provide our lives richness and grace. If we open our hearts to loving others, that is, to sharing what moves us, no matter how trifling. To be honest, I still struggle with that more often than not. But sometimes I do alright and will soon have the burger receipts to prove it!
And since this a pastoral letter, let me leave you with a question. If you think I’m right about this dynamic being valuable for our intimate relationships with friends or family, then tell me- What are the quirky, simple but profound experiences you share with God?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Friday, January 13, 2012
Gifts Combining…
Do you remember Genesis 1? God says, “Let there be light,” and so on and so forth. And in six “days” (or billions of years, if we believe the scientists) the entire cosmos were created. Then, near the chapter’s end, God creates humankind. “Male and female, God created them, in God’s own image.” Countless commentators have since tried understanding that elusive idea. Created in God’s image. What does that mean?!
I’d be open to several interpretations, but my favorite is one that sticks closely to the text. To put it different, we should ask, “What does the author of Genesis 1 mean by that claim?” And the answer, I believe, is simple: We are creators.
After all, what has God done in the Good Book up to this point? Very little! Except, you know, create. Therefore, the image of God that we can reasonably infer in Genesis 1 is that of a Creator, a Masterful Improv Jazz Musician, a Cosmic Artist, if you prefer. It’s a very little step, then, from that to claiming the title of creators ourselves; we being created in God’s Image and all.
But hold up! Wait a minute! We’re going off the rails, right?!?! I mean, I don’t know about you, but I can’t create, you know, a world! Obviously, that’s not what the Genesis writer intends. The creative capacities of God and ours are of different magnitudes of order. Remember, we’re created in God’s image, not created as gods! But once you get past that hang-up, the idea of ‘creator’ is a wonderful self-image to adopt. Or to put it in the language of my seminary professors, we are co-creators with God. More so than any other species on our planet, we’re tasked with continuing Creation, adding beauty and wonder to the world around us, protecting the lush richness and careful balance that evolved during the eons of God’s Creation.
What that means, of course, are so many things I can’t count! How careful are you to recycle? Do your eating habits hurt Creation? How much of your income helps create meaningful living for the most vulnerable people or plants in our midst? Relevant as those questions are, however, there’s one we Plymouth Creekers are about to encounter soon. In our worship and work as a faith community, are we seeking to create more and greater beauty?
The answer is, and has been I think, a resounding Yes! I like to believe that our church enjoys exploring new music and art, fresh ways of thinking, when it comes to worshipping God and working to make God’s Kingdom come on earth. Nevertheless, we were blessed this year with a talented and dynamic intern- Lynda- whose myriad of past church experiences include worship and music leadership. Or, to put it differently, Lynda is a beloved child of God who loves- LOVES- to create, through art, through music, through many more media besides. So to help her meet her learning goals in the internship, we’ve asked her to share her creative gifts, and in doing so, help us each more joyfully express our identity of co-creators with God.
What that means, practically speaking, is that during Sunday services, throughout the up-coming month-long Cinema Sermon Series, we’ll also be learning new music, which Lynda will introduce, teach and lead. She’s quite the piano player, as you may’ve already learned. And along with our very-creative-in-her-own-right Music Minister, Jeremae, she’s been helping prepare the choir to learn these new songs. Of course, all this new stuff will mean that our worship will feel less ‘normal.’ Songs will be less familiar. Worship elements will be jumbled around. I’ll preach still, of course, and we’ll blessedly take communion. Otherwise, the month could feel like a grand experiment.
And my prayer is that will be a great and wonderful thing! One of church’s highest priorities, after all, is sharing and receiving the innumerable gifts God’s showered upon God’s co-creators. By singing and worshipping with Lynda, then, we’ll not only fulfill that mission. We may even be inspired to create beautiful outpourings of goodness and hope in our own lives as well!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
I’d be open to several interpretations, but my favorite is one that sticks closely to the text. To put it different, we should ask, “What does the author of Genesis 1 mean by that claim?” And the answer, I believe, is simple: We are creators.
After all, what has God done in the Good Book up to this point? Very little! Except, you know, create. Therefore, the image of God that we can reasonably infer in Genesis 1 is that of a Creator, a Masterful Improv Jazz Musician, a Cosmic Artist, if you prefer. It’s a very little step, then, from that to claiming the title of creators ourselves; we being created in God’s Image and all.
But hold up! Wait a minute! We’re going off the rails, right?!?! I mean, I don’t know about you, but I can’t create, you know, a world! Obviously, that’s not what the Genesis writer intends. The creative capacities of God and ours are of different magnitudes of order. Remember, we’re created in God’s image, not created as gods! But once you get past that hang-up, the idea of ‘creator’ is a wonderful self-image to adopt. Or to put it in the language of my seminary professors, we are co-creators with God. More so than any other species on our planet, we’re tasked with continuing Creation, adding beauty and wonder to the world around us, protecting the lush richness and careful balance that evolved during the eons of God’s Creation.
What that means, of course, are so many things I can’t count! How careful are you to recycle? Do your eating habits hurt Creation? How much of your income helps create meaningful living for the most vulnerable people or plants in our midst? Relevant as those questions are, however, there’s one we Plymouth Creekers are about to encounter soon. In our worship and work as a faith community, are we seeking to create more and greater beauty?
The answer is, and has been I think, a resounding Yes! I like to believe that our church enjoys exploring new music and art, fresh ways of thinking, when it comes to worshipping God and working to make God’s Kingdom come on earth. Nevertheless, we were blessed this year with a talented and dynamic intern- Lynda- whose myriad of past church experiences include worship and music leadership. Or, to put it differently, Lynda is a beloved child of God who loves- LOVES- to create, through art, through music, through many more media besides. So to help her meet her learning goals in the internship, we’ve asked her to share her creative gifts, and in doing so, help us each more joyfully express our identity of co-creators with God.
What that means, practically speaking, is that during Sunday services, throughout the up-coming month-long Cinema Sermon Series, we’ll also be learning new music, which Lynda will introduce, teach and lead. She’s quite the piano player, as you may’ve already learned. And along with our very-creative-in-her-own-right Music Minister, Jeremae, she’s been helping prepare the choir to learn these new songs. Of course, all this new stuff will mean that our worship will feel less ‘normal.’ Songs will be less familiar. Worship elements will be jumbled around. I’ll preach still, of course, and we’ll blessedly take communion. Otherwise, the month could feel like a grand experiment.
And my prayer is that will be a great and wonderful thing! One of church’s highest priorities, after all, is sharing and receiving the innumerable gifts God’s showered upon God’s co-creators. By singing and worshipping with Lynda, then, we’ll not only fulfill that mission. We may even be inspired to create beautiful outpourings of goodness and hope in our own lives as well!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Football and faith…
Anyone who’s read these letters semi-frequently knows of my deep, deep love for the Denver Broncos. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of the family gathered around our TV, cheering wildly as John Elway quarterbacked one of his patented come-from-behind victories. Alas, my Mile High Heroes haven’t been great in recent years, culminating in an awful 2010-11 campaign. And this year began badly too. We lost four of our first five games, our quarterback got benched, the collective emotional state of Broncos Nation plummeted to irrational levels of despair.
Until a miracle happened- a new quarterback named Tim Tebow took over, and suddenly we’re winning again. A lot. Like, seven of the next eight, often in dramatic fashion. It was euphoric. I might even say, heavenly. The only problem being that Tebow’s play was erratic. Indeed, for most of these victories, he played lousy, until the game’s final moments when he’d morph into Elway Re-Incarnate.
Naturally, those who professionally comment on sports were dumbfounded, and endless debate ensued. But what really sparked controversy was Tebow’s personality. He’s an out-spoken Evangelical Christian, you might already know, born to a missionary family in the Philippines, attends church regularly, begins most interviews with, “I want to thank my personal Lord and Savior Jesus,” and ends with, “God bless you.” In a sports world that’s grown religiously cynical because of Jesus-thanking athletes kneeling in prayer after scoring touchdowns, one day, then sniffing cocaine in a strip club the next, Tebow’s seemingly stand-up character and public professions of faith became, to some, a breath of fresh air, while to others, a baffling annoyance.
I, too, have struggled with how to feel about Tebow. And I don’t just mean his hot-and-cold throwing abilities. I mean, especially, the non-stop, albeit genuinely nice, religious language. Some Christian churches, of course, teach that to their congregants. They believe the Church’s number one mission is to convert non-believers, and thereby save their damned souls from Hell. Thus, every conversation outside of church ought try to steer itself toward religion, hopefully “winning” the other person “for God.” As best I can tell, this is the Christianity Tebow endorses, as the ‘what we believe’ section of his father’s ministry’s website makes clear.
The Christianity I preach and practice, however, is different. Sure, I believe that if more people faithfully followed Christ’s teachings and examples, the better off we’d all be. And that’s especially true for already self-describing Christians. But I don’t believe that the only way to avoid Hell is to become Christian. Indeed, I’m skeptical that God would send any of God’s beloved children to eternal pain and torture. I put my faith, rather, in love and God’s abundantly amazing grace.
So normally, I find aggressive evangelism awkward, and in some cases, profoundly judgmental. Which puts me in a strange position vis a vis the new leader of my favorite team. Were he to ask me for spiritual counsel, I’d invite him to embrace a more open Christianity, one that’s respectful of religious differences. He could still evangelize; indeed, we all should “be and share” the Good News. It’s just he, and we, should also recognize that God’s much bigger than anything we could ever put in words.
But I also believe that you and I and Tebow can disagree about God, and still be good Christians all. For a better test of faithfulness than what you believe is what you do. And in that category, I’ve come to (mostly) respect the man. For one, it’s clear his religion’s authentic, not contrived. He’s not just trying to look good so he can sign richer endorsement deals. Plus, his own foundation, though saturated with Evangelical language, builds orphanages in the Philippines and sends disabled children to Disneyland. Sure, other things he’s supported- Focus on the Family, for instance- I don’t. But in every interview I’ve seen, he goes out of his way to be respectful and kind. Not a fire-breathing, Bible-beating Evangelical, but decent, good-hearted, even humble. And because I consider humility as good a religious value as any- regardless your faith tradition- he’s got me cheering for him. On the field, and off.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Until a miracle happened- a new quarterback named Tim Tebow took over, and suddenly we’re winning again. A lot. Like, seven of the next eight, often in dramatic fashion. It was euphoric. I might even say, heavenly. The only problem being that Tebow’s play was erratic. Indeed, for most of these victories, he played lousy, until the game’s final moments when he’d morph into Elway Re-Incarnate.
Naturally, those who professionally comment on sports were dumbfounded, and endless debate ensued. But what really sparked controversy was Tebow’s personality. He’s an out-spoken Evangelical Christian, you might already know, born to a missionary family in the Philippines, attends church regularly, begins most interviews with, “I want to thank my personal Lord and Savior Jesus,” and ends with, “God bless you.” In a sports world that’s grown religiously cynical because of Jesus-thanking athletes kneeling in prayer after scoring touchdowns, one day, then sniffing cocaine in a strip club the next, Tebow’s seemingly stand-up character and public professions of faith became, to some, a breath of fresh air, while to others, a baffling annoyance.
I, too, have struggled with how to feel about Tebow. And I don’t just mean his hot-and-cold throwing abilities. I mean, especially, the non-stop, albeit genuinely nice, religious language. Some Christian churches, of course, teach that to their congregants. They believe the Church’s number one mission is to convert non-believers, and thereby save their damned souls from Hell. Thus, every conversation outside of church ought try to steer itself toward religion, hopefully “winning” the other person “for God.” As best I can tell, this is the Christianity Tebow endorses, as the ‘what we believe’ section of his father’s ministry’s website makes clear.
The Christianity I preach and practice, however, is different. Sure, I believe that if more people faithfully followed Christ’s teachings and examples, the better off we’d all be. And that’s especially true for already self-describing Christians. But I don’t believe that the only way to avoid Hell is to become Christian. Indeed, I’m skeptical that God would send any of God’s beloved children to eternal pain and torture. I put my faith, rather, in love and God’s abundantly amazing grace.
So normally, I find aggressive evangelism awkward, and in some cases, profoundly judgmental. Which puts me in a strange position vis a vis the new leader of my favorite team. Were he to ask me for spiritual counsel, I’d invite him to embrace a more open Christianity, one that’s respectful of religious differences. He could still evangelize; indeed, we all should “be and share” the Good News. It’s just he, and we, should also recognize that God’s much bigger than anything we could ever put in words.
But I also believe that you and I and Tebow can disagree about God, and still be good Christians all. For a better test of faithfulness than what you believe is what you do. And in that category, I’ve come to (mostly) respect the man. For one, it’s clear his religion’s authentic, not contrived. He’s not just trying to look good so he can sign richer endorsement deals. Plus, his own foundation, though saturated with Evangelical language, builds orphanages in the Philippines and sends disabled children to Disneyland. Sure, other things he’s supported- Focus on the Family, for instance- I don’t. But in every interview I’ve seen, he goes out of his way to be respectful and kind. Not a fire-breathing, Bible-beating Evangelical, but decent, good-hearted, even humble. And because I consider humility as good a religious value as any- regardless your faith tradition- he’s got me cheering for him. On the field, and off.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Sunday, January 1, 2012
God’s Abundant Family and…You!...
How big is God’s family? Perhaps you’ll say, “It’s huge! Abundantly, gargantuanly, ginormously HUGE.” And that’s about right. The basic claim of Christian belief, I think, is that the God of Creation, our Divine Parent, is best defined with one word: Love. Which applies eternally. To all.
So the family table at God’s house doesn’t lack for people! The question for Christian churches, then, can appear simple, deceptively so- Does God’s eternally abundant grace and love set the places at our tables? Or are we limiting the invite list, removing chairs for people we don’t deem…acceptable?
The honest answer for most churches is no and yes, respectively. Even if we wish otherwise. Part of that’s our human penchant for sin and fear. But another part is that we’re human, i.e. limited. We simply don’t have God’s eternal stores of compassion and forgiveness. In God’s world, there’s “no Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female” (Galatians 3:28), for Christ opened his arms wide to all, reconciling the world to God. In our worlds, however, we’ve doctor’s appointments, family matters, differences of opinion and values, all of which sap our energy for including everyone into our family of faith, or estrange us from folk who don’t like us.
Nevertheless, Plymouth Creek decided last January to become “a beacon of Christian openness and service in the Northwestern Suburbs”; to shine bright the light of eternal love Christ offers to everyone. And a year into making that vision a reality, the results are exciting! A community garden. New ministries to one another (the bus) and with the community (IOCP Service Night). Higher worship attendance. What a year 2011 was! What a year 2012 will be!! Yet there’s only so much we can do, only so wide we can open our hearts and arms. Not because we want less. It’s just we’re limited; we’re human. So while God’s family may be HUGE, our task is to focus our efforts, to decide what “open” and “service” means for us.
Because it could look different in different places, right? I’ve been to church-sponsored homeless dinners where, before eating, everyone had to listen to a sermon. It was service, sure, but felt needlessly underhanded. I’ve also been to churches who opened their communion table for people to receive God’s bounty, but only if you recited their preferred Creed, voted for their designated candidate, married the right person their designated number of times, or received baptism in their sanctioned way. I couldn’t stomach the elements of Christ’s body and blood in those churches, though I’m sure they’re included in God’s family. It’s just, I wanted something different from where I worship and serve God.
So as your pastor, I wonder what ‘Christian openness and service’ means to you? All year, in fact, I’ll ask that question in a variety of ways. Which may not always be comfortable, alas. After all, we’re not the same; we think differently about some things. But what makes the Disciples branch of the Christian Family Tree so powerful is our commitment to unity, while honoring differences. Nevertheless, to focus our limited resources for ministry, our church should decide what ‘openness’ and ‘service’ means to us. And, therefore, what we’ll teach to families and children we welcome to our church.
But it won’t only be uncomfortable. Indeed, it should be spiritually enriching, even fun! And to begin, we’re doing another Cinema Sermon Series. Starting January 15, and for the following three Sundays, my morning message will pair scripture with a movie. First up- The Help, then On the Water Front, Babette’s Feast and finally, How To Train Your Dragon. And I chose these movies because each speaks about family. Particularly, they’ll challenge our understandings of the boundaries and blessings of God’s Abundant Family. Then, hopefully, help us better define our personal roles in making that family a good one. So please join me for the series, and in more urgently extending God’s love to all. For many beyond our walls don’t know how great that love is, how deep and wide, open and eternal. But they can- will- if we do our part, and shine!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
So the family table at God’s house doesn’t lack for people! The question for Christian churches, then, can appear simple, deceptively so- Does God’s eternally abundant grace and love set the places at our tables? Or are we limiting the invite list, removing chairs for people we don’t deem…acceptable?
The honest answer for most churches is no and yes, respectively. Even if we wish otherwise. Part of that’s our human penchant for sin and fear. But another part is that we’re human, i.e. limited. We simply don’t have God’s eternal stores of compassion and forgiveness. In God’s world, there’s “no Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female” (Galatians 3:28), for Christ opened his arms wide to all, reconciling the world to God. In our worlds, however, we’ve doctor’s appointments, family matters, differences of opinion and values, all of which sap our energy for including everyone into our family of faith, or estrange us from folk who don’t like us.
Nevertheless, Plymouth Creek decided last January to become “a beacon of Christian openness and service in the Northwestern Suburbs”; to shine bright the light of eternal love Christ offers to everyone. And a year into making that vision a reality, the results are exciting! A community garden. New ministries to one another (the bus) and with the community (IOCP Service Night). Higher worship attendance. What a year 2011 was! What a year 2012 will be!! Yet there’s only so much we can do, only so wide we can open our hearts and arms. Not because we want less. It’s just we’re limited; we’re human. So while God’s family may be HUGE, our task is to focus our efforts, to decide what “open” and “service” means for us.
Because it could look different in different places, right? I’ve been to church-sponsored homeless dinners where, before eating, everyone had to listen to a sermon. It was service, sure, but felt needlessly underhanded. I’ve also been to churches who opened their communion table for people to receive God’s bounty, but only if you recited their preferred Creed, voted for their designated candidate, married the right person their designated number of times, or received baptism in their sanctioned way. I couldn’t stomach the elements of Christ’s body and blood in those churches, though I’m sure they’re included in God’s family. It’s just, I wanted something different from where I worship and serve God.
So as your pastor, I wonder what ‘Christian openness and service’ means to you? All year, in fact, I’ll ask that question in a variety of ways. Which may not always be comfortable, alas. After all, we’re not the same; we think differently about some things. But what makes the Disciples branch of the Christian Family Tree so powerful is our commitment to unity, while honoring differences. Nevertheless, to focus our limited resources for ministry, our church should decide what ‘openness’ and ‘service’ means to us. And, therefore, what we’ll teach to families and children we welcome to our church.
But it won’t only be uncomfortable. Indeed, it should be spiritually enriching, even fun! And to begin, we’re doing another Cinema Sermon Series. Starting January 15, and for the following three Sundays, my morning message will pair scripture with a movie. First up- The Help, then On the Water Front, Babette’s Feast and finally, How To Train Your Dragon. And I chose these movies because each speaks about family. Particularly, they’ll challenge our understandings of the boundaries and blessings of God’s Abundant Family. Then, hopefully, help us better define our personal roles in making that family a good one. So please join me for the series, and in more urgently extending God’s love to all. For many beyond our walls don’t know how great that love is, how deep and wide, open and eternal. But they can- will- if we do our part, and shine!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Says a lot…
I’ve mentioned before my belief that, if anything good comes of tragic events, it’s that people often respond with greater compassion and community awareness. I witnessed this dynamic nearly firsthand during my senior year in high school. On April 20, not far from my house, in the halls of Columbine High School (which I did not attend, by the way), two disturbed young men opened fire on their classmates and teachers. It was the deadliest school shooting in American history. And for months, a dark veil of grief and shock hung over my suburban community.
At the same time, though, people in grocery stores or at the mall didn’t cast distrustful, fearful glances upon strangers and fellow shoppers. Rather, they- we- made a point of helping others out; holding doors longer and more frequently, going out of our way to smile and say thanks. At a couple makeshift memorial sites in a park adjacent to Columbine, people left cards, flowers and posters, expressing their pain, loss and sorrow. And we didn’t judge whether those mourners ‘had a right’ to their emotional turmoil or not. Instead, we nodded in respectful silence, even occasionally joined hands and prayed. I learned those weeks that, while humans may not be totally decent at our core, at the very least there’s good in most of us, that tragedy can somehow bring out.
I also learned, in the months that followed, that this deep down goodness can just as easily recede, be forgotten, get buried in the rush of life. For as that fateful afternoon faded in our collective consciousnesses, the normal indifference that had typified my suburban community reestablished itself as the renewed normal. People didn’t stop to help as much. Smiles gave way to scowls. Again, folk muttered about, “Those darned kids” or “Those clueless geezers,” and ‘community’ evaporated under the heat ‘isolation.’ So I wonder- why do we all feel so busy and self-involved in normal times, when during extraordinary times it’s easy take time out to be kind?
Sorry for sounding dreary just days after Christmas! It’s just that I noticed this year a similar dynamic taking shape. Last Saturday, I stopped by my old house to pick up a package. We’d ordered a gift for friends and meant to give it to them Christmas Day, but alas, accidentally shipped it to house we used to rent. So I rung the old doorbell, and the current renters answered the door. I said, “Hi, I’m Shane. I used to live here. Did you receive our box from Amazon?” They said, “We got it right here.” I answered, “Thanks a lot!” They said, “No problem. And by the way, Happy Holidays!”
This wasn’t the first such interaction I’ve had in the past month. In fact, since basically the week before Thanksgiving, I’ve ended many a conversation with such a sentiment of my own. Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Enjoy the Turkey! Or whatever. And usually, this is in addition to the typical, “Have a nice day.” During the Holidays, it seems, we- many of us, at least- feel impelled to go the extra step, take an additional moment to wish goodwill and peace upon the world and people around us. Thankfully, it’s a wonderful event, not a tragic one, that moves us to such kindness. Nevertheless, when this Sunday has passed, and we’ve no longer an extra reason to be extra kind (Happy New Year!), what does it say about us that, in all likelihood, we’ll revert to the same ole quick and meaning-starved clichés to end our interactions with neighbors and strangers?
I don’t know, in truth. Maybe it doesn’t say much at all. But, it still being the holidays, and since I’m feeling especially optimistic, perhaps this year will be different. Maybe people- I, we- will keep finding excuses to express excessive kindness. A random, “Merry Monday!” Or surprising, “Happy Saturday!” That’d be something, wouldn’t it? Exuberant outbursts of goodness as a normal, not abnormal, event. It’d be like we began believing that all of life is extraordinary, every moment a gift from God. It’d be like we began believing…what God already believes about us.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
At the same time, though, people in grocery stores or at the mall didn’t cast distrustful, fearful glances upon strangers and fellow shoppers. Rather, they- we- made a point of helping others out; holding doors longer and more frequently, going out of our way to smile and say thanks. At a couple makeshift memorial sites in a park adjacent to Columbine, people left cards, flowers and posters, expressing their pain, loss and sorrow. And we didn’t judge whether those mourners ‘had a right’ to their emotional turmoil or not. Instead, we nodded in respectful silence, even occasionally joined hands and prayed. I learned those weeks that, while humans may not be totally decent at our core, at the very least there’s good in most of us, that tragedy can somehow bring out.
I also learned, in the months that followed, that this deep down goodness can just as easily recede, be forgotten, get buried in the rush of life. For as that fateful afternoon faded in our collective consciousnesses, the normal indifference that had typified my suburban community reestablished itself as the renewed normal. People didn’t stop to help as much. Smiles gave way to scowls. Again, folk muttered about, “Those darned kids” or “Those clueless geezers,” and ‘community’ evaporated under the heat ‘isolation.’ So I wonder- why do we all feel so busy and self-involved in normal times, when during extraordinary times it’s easy take time out to be kind?
Sorry for sounding dreary just days after Christmas! It’s just that I noticed this year a similar dynamic taking shape. Last Saturday, I stopped by my old house to pick up a package. We’d ordered a gift for friends and meant to give it to them Christmas Day, but alas, accidentally shipped it to house we used to rent. So I rung the old doorbell, and the current renters answered the door. I said, “Hi, I’m Shane. I used to live here. Did you receive our box from Amazon?” They said, “We got it right here.” I answered, “Thanks a lot!” They said, “No problem. And by the way, Happy Holidays!”
This wasn’t the first such interaction I’ve had in the past month. In fact, since basically the week before Thanksgiving, I’ve ended many a conversation with such a sentiment of my own. Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Enjoy the Turkey! Or whatever. And usually, this is in addition to the typical, “Have a nice day.” During the Holidays, it seems, we- many of us, at least- feel impelled to go the extra step, take an additional moment to wish goodwill and peace upon the world and people around us. Thankfully, it’s a wonderful event, not a tragic one, that moves us to such kindness. Nevertheless, when this Sunday has passed, and we’ve no longer an extra reason to be extra kind (Happy New Year!), what does it say about us that, in all likelihood, we’ll revert to the same ole quick and meaning-starved clichés to end our interactions with neighbors and strangers?
I don’t know, in truth. Maybe it doesn’t say much at all. But, it still being the holidays, and since I’m feeling especially optimistic, perhaps this year will be different. Maybe people- I, we- will keep finding excuses to express excessive kindness. A random, “Merry Monday!” Or surprising, “Happy Saturday!” That’d be something, wouldn’t it? Exuberant outbursts of goodness as a normal, not abnormal, event. It’d be like we began believing that all of life is extraordinary, every moment a gift from God. It’d be like we began believing…what God already believes about us.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Knowing God…
Recently, a spiritually curious and thoughtful buddy asked me a good question. “When people say they ‘know God,’ what do they mean? Can anyone know…God?!” We were playing a board game at the time, so I had trouble answering fully. I mean, can you do that question justice while demolishing your opponents? So here’s my more considered response. (Btw, I lost the game…bummer)
Firstly, I said that no serious religious thinker claims to fully ‘know God,’ not without serious qualifications. Even as brilliant a Christian thinker as St. Thomas Aquinas admitted the ultimate limitations of human thought. But he developed a strategy for ‘knowing’ God that I’ve found helpful, which may seem thick at first, but truly, it’s good stuff.
Aquinas said that all knowledge about God is analogical, i.e. we don’t know God as God is, but only through analogy to our experience. Sure, we ‘experience’ God, but way different than we experience eating. So the first thing to remember when saying, “I know God is…” is that we don’t know eternal facts about God. God is much greater than our experience!
Still, God is also not not like some things we’ve experienced. For instance, many call God Father, though God isn’t our biological pops. Still, God’s also not unlike a father, in some respects. We call God caring, loving, wise, kind, and fathers (should) share those characteristics. Thus, God’s is not not my father, even though God’s not John Isaac.
Hence, Aquinas says, God is a father by analogy, or God is like a father in critical respects. Again, that may sound too complicated by half, but consider two reasons this idea’s important. #1, by starting with, “God is not, ultimately, a father,” we recognize that every analogy for God is incomplete. As father-like as God seems, God’s also very mother-like. Plus, many had terrible and abusive fathers. To say, then, God is a father, without leaving wiggle-room, makes God sound unsafe or oppressive to folk those with bad dads. The point is we ought never pretend our analogies about God are facts about God. That equals idolatry, because God is always greater!
#2, by accepting analogy as a way to ‘know God,’ we open ourselves to constantly new ideas about God. When I first accepted that Mother was as valid an analogy for God as Father, I discovered vast troves of powerful divine knowledge. My mother is creative, compassionate, giving, and through that knowledge of her, I’ve learned about God my divine Mother.
Of course, some analogies for God are inappropriate. For instance- God is like a chair. A few years back, as an ironic critique of intelligent design theory, some claimed God was a Flying Spaghetti Monster. I found this satire of bad science funny and compelling. Spiritually speaking, though, God-as-Flying-Spaghetti-Monster falls flat.
So how can we decide between useful divine analogies and foolish or oppressive ones? Well, for Christians, I believe, it begins with Jesus. We confess- by faith- that the baby born in Bethlehem is our starting point when seeking knowledge of the divine. Put differently, for Christians, Jesus is the fullest revelation of God we know. Thus, we know Jesus was born a poor peasant. So we ‘know’- by faith- God is like a poor, vulnerable babe, i.e. God values all people, especially the most vulnerable. We know Jesus taught compassion, justice and forgiveness. So Christians ‘know’- by faith- God’s like a loving, just and merciful leader. God, of course, isn’t just the historical person Jesus of Nazareth. Before he was born, God was. After his death, God remained. But God- for Christians- is not not the historical person Jesus. Rather, God is like what we saw in him. In fact, we believe God is more like Jesus than any other person or thing. However, because there’s much we don’t know about Jesus, we must be open to other metaphors, ideas and analogies if we’re to know God better. Nevertheless, if ever we wonder whether an idea’s appropriate, we can ask, “Does this contradict what we know about Jesus?” Then, perhaps, we gain greater knowledge about the God we worship and serve.
Sorry Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Firstly, I said that no serious religious thinker claims to fully ‘know God,’ not without serious qualifications. Even as brilliant a Christian thinker as St. Thomas Aquinas admitted the ultimate limitations of human thought. But he developed a strategy for ‘knowing’ God that I’ve found helpful, which may seem thick at first, but truly, it’s good stuff.
Aquinas said that all knowledge about God is analogical, i.e. we don’t know God as God is, but only through analogy to our experience. Sure, we ‘experience’ God, but way different than we experience eating. So the first thing to remember when saying, “I know God is…” is that we don’t know eternal facts about God. God is much greater than our experience!
Still, God is also not not like some things we’ve experienced. For instance, many call God Father, though God isn’t our biological pops. Still, God’s also not unlike a father, in some respects. We call God caring, loving, wise, kind, and fathers (should) share those characteristics. Thus, God’s is not not my father, even though God’s not John Isaac.
Hence, Aquinas says, God is a father by analogy, or God is like a father in critical respects. Again, that may sound too complicated by half, but consider two reasons this idea’s important. #1, by starting with, “God is not, ultimately, a father,” we recognize that every analogy for God is incomplete. As father-like as God seems, God’s also very mother-like. Plus, many had terrible and abusive fathers. To say, then, God is a father, without leaving wiggle-room, makes God sound unsafe or oppressive to folk those with bad dads. The point is we ought never pretend our analogies about God are facts about God. That equals idolatry, because God is always greater!
#2, by accepting analogy as a way to ‘know God,’ we open ourselves to constantly new ideas about God. When I first accepted that Mother was as valid an analogy for God as Father, I discovered vast troves of powerful divine knowledge. My mother is creative, compassionate, giving, and through that knowledge of her, I’ve learned about God my divine Mother.
Of course, some analogies for God are inappropriate. For instance- God is like a chair. A few years back, as an ironic critique of intelligent design theory, some claimed God was a Flying Spaghetti Monster. I found this satire of bad science funny and compelling. Spiritually speaking, though, God-as-Flying-Spaghetti-Monster falls flat.
So how can we decide between useful divine analogies and foolish or oppressive ones? Well, for Christians, I believe, it begins with Jesus. We confess- by faith- that the baby born in Bethlehem is our starting point when seeking knowledge of the divine. Put differently, for Christians, Jesus is the fullest revelation of God we know. Thus, we know Jesus was born a poor peasant. So we ‘know’- by faith- God is like a poor, vulnerable babe, i.e. God values all people, especially the most vulnerable. We know Jesus taught compassion, justice and forgiveness. So Christians ‘know’- by faith- God’s like a loving, just and merciful leader. God, of course, isn’t just the historical person Jesus of Nazareth. Before he was born, God was. After his death, God remained. But God- for Christians- is not not the historical person Jesus. Rather, God is like what we saw in him. In fact, we believe God is more like Jesus than any other person or thing. However, because there’s much we don’t know about Jesus, we must be open to other metaphors, ideas and analogies if we’re to know God better. Nevertheless, if ever we wonder whether an idea’s appropriate, we can ask, “Does this contradict what we know about Jesus?” Then, perhaps, we gain greater knowledge about the God we worship and serve.
Sorry Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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