Here’s a ‘learning scenario’ I encountered in seminary.
Imagine you’re a pastor, visiting a new family to the church. Y’all shake hands at their front door. They introduce you to their dog. When escorted into the living room to sit down for a chat, on the table is a platter of fresh-made cookies. Ms. New Person says, “Please, pastor, have a cookie.” But you’ve a) just come from another engagement that included cookie eating, and b) made a New Year’s resolution to cut down on sweets. What, the teacher asked, do you do?!
I, of course, get to cheat on this test, since my honest answer is, “I’m sorry, I never eat sweets” (substitute buffalo wings, however, and I’m in trouble!). But you can imagine how unintentionally tricky that could be, right? After all, many Christians feel compelled to give and receive graciously. Hospitality, in fact, is so central to our ideals, our value system, that every week we replay a ritual of table fellowship. “All are welcome at Christ’s Table,” we say, claiming that as our reason for gathering.
And that’s right! We are people of the Table! Called to serve and be served, opening our lives to all. But in the real world of everyday worship, work and rest, unconditional and unlimited hospitality is tough. When someone wants to serve us, we may not like what they’ve prepared. When someone needs serving, we may not want to step in. A new person may seem to us strange or uninviting. Or maybe we’re simply feeling timid or insecure.
Nevertheless, we’re called to reach out constantly to others, to become, if you will, hospitality experts. And as anyone with expertise in anything will tell you, what separates pros from amateurs is how well one does under pressure. When the doing of something is tough, and yet you get it done, that’s when you know you’ve become good. For instance, I suspect many people given enough time and second chances could cook a wonderful meal for guests. The great dinner party hosts, however, do it every time, and with last second notice, if required. Sure, the work may be hard; s/he might be exhausted by evening’s end. Still, dinner would be amazing, and guests would leave satisfied.
That’s an easy, if incomplete, metaphor, I think, for what you and I are called to do as Christians. Every Sunday, someone new could walk into our building. And that Sunday, you or I may feel tired, annoyed or distance. We could, of course, just say, “Well, let someone else welcome them. It’s my turn to take today off.” But I suspect we feel some urge to suck it up and be nice. Similarly, we could be in the grocery store line, or at a local meeting, hoping to just be left alone, when something happens unexpected- a person nearby needs help or engages us in polite conversation. As Christians, people of the Table, do we ignore the opportunity or step up?
I won’t push this idea too far. I’m sure we could create many alternative scenarios to complicate the issue. All I’m hoping is that we take a moment, this week, to remember that hospitality- welcoming others into fellowship- is a fundamental call of being Christian. It’s a ministry that each of us (in our own way, sure) is asked to undertake. A consequence of baptism, or something.
One way we do that at our church, of course, is by supplying something simple to gnash on after worship each Sunday. FYI, there’s a new sign-up sheet available that has many empty slots, and I’m hoping that y’all will soon change that fact! If you have procedural questions, let me know. You needn’t do much work; Mike and Donna make the coffee. Just bring treats, or healthy snacks, or whatever you feel best says to guests, “Hey, I’m glad you’re here! We hope you feel welcome!”
But even beyond that, I invite you to ponder anew this week- In church, at home, in my everyday life, how am I reaching out to others, making neighbors feel welcome, offering the same hospitality our Lord’s already offered me?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, February 10, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Religion bashing…
Last week, one of y’all showed me a youtube video that’s been making noise recently. I’d seen it on many a facebook friends’ pages, but hadn’t yet watched the clip. Titled “Why I hate religion, but love Jesus,” if you have a few extra minutes, check it out.
Here, though, is a recap. It’s a four-minute monologue from a young adult believer, apparently well schooled in slam poetry and evangelical atonement theology. About the former, slam poetry is a spoken-word art form resembling hip-hop without music. The performer passionately and rhythmically performs an original work of poetry, mixing urban lingo and personal observation with linguistic dexterity and bravado. As modern art goes, I’m a big fan.
Regarding evangelical atonement theology, I’m not as sympathetic. In short, this belief system claims that Jesus’ blood sacrifice was the perfect way of satisfying God’s righteous wrath. And only by accepting this fact, then working to convince others, can people avoid the dark destiny of Hell. You probably know I’m none-too-keen on such assumptions; Jesus’ death speaks to me, rather, of the lengths God will go to show us how much God loves us. Thus, I assume God opens doors to grace through pathways outside Christian faith, though I find following Jesus most satisfying, personally.
Nevertheless, in the afore-mentioned video, the artist claims fervently his life’s been changed by Jesus. And given that I’ve witnessed that happen to many people- myself included- I say, despite our theological disagreements, “Right on, friend. Preach!” Another claim he makes is something I’ve also encountered before, namely that sometimes there’s a difference between ‘religion’ and ‘faith.’
Now, I wouldn’t take that opposition too far. Oftentimes, I find the distinction people make between the two rather forced. Most of ‘religious’ people I know are faithful, good, authentic believers, who participate in church because they want to, not from blind obligation or delusion. The ‘religion’ this guy eviscerates, rather, is way of “believing” that prizes ritual over passion, tradition before the Spirit, safe action over bold commitment, comfort instead of mission. And he’s right that some churches or Christians seem overly committed to a status quo that’s willing to forget the needs of the poor and marginalized so we can feel good while praying. If, indeed, that’s what it means to be ‘religious,’ I want no part of it. Jesus, after all, undertook great measures to proclaim God’s love for everybody. “Whatsoever you do unto these, my children- even the least…” and all that jazz.
So if the slam poet toned down his attacks on religious people, complicated the picture slightly, he and I would have a good conversation. I, too, pray Plymouth Creekers will make faith without works anathema to their self-identity. I, too, hope our worship services aren’t empty words and vapid murmurings, but earnest efforts to lay our entire, broken, beloved selves before the Lord of Lords, seeking desperately to be uplifted, empowered and sent forth. I, too, imagine gatherings of believers with the temerity, the inspiration to expect God will keep doing new things. In our lives, through our lives, because we’ve decided to be together; a community shining bright as a beacon of Christ’s table, open to all, serving all.
So the reason I avoiding condemning ‘religion’, per say, is because I believe we’re all in this for the long haul. History shows that “God’s Kingdom come on earth” isn’t something that will happen next week. It’s an ongoing dream manifesting itself in many ways, across many cultures, through the love of many families and faithful friends. Indeed, it’s so hard to accomplish we’ll never make it on our own. We need companions for the journey; we need each other! The wisdom of our forbearers, the energy and nerve of our youth. And without a church to harness that, receive it, direct it in mission together, our hopes for a better future will likely flicker and fade.
Therefore, may we be religious, not in the stale, but enduring sense: a gathering of disciples inspired and inspiring, by each other, to each other, for the sake of God’s amazing grace. That, my friends, would produce a message worth filming.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Here, though, is a recap. It’s a four-minute monologue from a young adult believer, apparently well schooled in slam poetry and evangelical atonement theology. About the former, slam poetry is a spoken-word art form resembling hip-hop without music. The performer passionately and rhythmically performs an original work of poetry, mixing urban lingo and personal observation with linguistic dexterity and bravado. As modern art goes, I’m a big fan.
Regarding evangelical atonement theology, I’m not as sympathetic. In short, this belief system claims that Jesus’ blood sacrifice was the perfect way of satisfying God’s righteous wrath. And only by accepting this fact, then working to convince others, can people avoid the dark destiny of Hell. You probably know I’m none-too-keen on such assumptions; Jesus’ death speaks to me, rather, of the lengths God will go to show us how much God loves us. Thus, I assume God opens doors to grace through pathways outside Christian faith, though I find following Jesus most satisfying, personally.
Nevertheless, in the afore-mentioned video, the artist claims fervently his life’s been changed by Jesus. And given that I’ve witnessed that happen to many people- myself included- I say, despite our theological disagreements, “Right on, friend. Preach!” Another claim he makes is something I’ve also encountered before, namely that sometimes there’s a difference between ‘religion’ and ‘faith.’
Now, I wouldn’t take that opposition too far. Oftentimes, I find the distinction people make between the two rather forced. Most of ‘religious’ people I know are faithful, good, authentic believers, who participate in church because they want to, not from blind obligation or delusion. The ‘religion’ this guy eviscerates, rather, is way of “believing” that prizes ritual over passion, tradition before the Spirit, safe action over bold commitment, comfort instead of mission. And he’s right that some churches or Christians seem overly committed to a status quo that’s willing to forget the needs of the poor and marginalized so we can feel good while praying. If, indeed, that’s what it means to be ‘religious,’ I want no part of it. Jesus, after all, undertook great measures to proclaim God’s love for everybody. “Whatsoever you do unto these, my children- even the least…” and all that jazz.
So if the slam poet toned down his attacks on religious people, complicated the picture slightly, he and I would have a good conversation. I, too, pray Plymouth Creekers will make faith without works anathema to their self-identity. I, too, hope our worship services aren’t empty words and vapid murmurings, but earnest efforts to lay our entire, broken, beloved selves before the Lord of Lords, seeking desperately to be uplifted, empowered and sent forth. I, too, imagine gatherings of believers with the temerity, the inspiration to expect God will keep doing new things. In our lives, through our lives, because we’ve decided to be together; a community shining bright as a beacon of Christ’s table, open to all, serving all.
So the reason I avoiding condemning ‘religion’, per say, is because I believe we’re all in this for the long haul. History shows that “God’s Kingdom come on earth” isn’t something that will happen next week. It’s an ongoing dream manifesting itself in many ways, across many cultures, through the love of many families and faithful friends. Indeed, it’s so hard to accomplish we’ll never make it on our own. We need companions for the journey; we need each other! The wisdom of our forbearers, the energy and nerve of our youth. And without a church to harness that, receive it, direct it in mission together, our hopes for a better future will likely flicker and fade.
Therefore, may we be religious, not in the stale, but enduring sense: a gathering of disciples inspired and inspiring, by each other, to each other, for the sake of God’s amazing grace. That, my friends, would produce a message worth filming.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
A Prophet? Me?! Imagine That…
I’ve whined before about society co-opting, then warping, ‘religious’ words. Like, any idea how ‘Jesus Christ’ became a swear word? Or ‘righteous’ a mid-90s surfer synonym for ‘good’? Me neither!
I’ve also noticed a similar phenomenon, though nearly the mirror-opposite- religious words receiving distorted meanings within religious communities. Consider, for example, ‘salvation.’ Contra commonly held belief, the Bible rarely, if ever, uses salvation to mean ‘granted admission to Heaven after death.’ Sure, I was taught that; maybe you were too. But throughout Hebrew Scripture and into the Christian Testament, salvation has a primarily this world focus. Israelites are “saved” from bondage in Egypt. Kind David prays for “salvation” from military enemies. In Philippians 3, Paul urges readers to “work out your salvation,” like it’s an ongoing, divinely directed, here-and-now process. For it is! God’s goal is abundant for all life, in this life! Or as Jesus put it, “God’s Kingdom come, God’s will be done on earth...” I do believe that God’s saving grace includes eternal life embraced by love. But eternal life- salvation- begins, well, now.
Another word(s) that’s also received oft-misleading meanings, I believe, is ‘prophet’ (and its relative ‘prophetic’). Many believe, of course, a prophet is someone who sees into and predicts the future. A fortune-teller, crystal ball expert, clairvoyant, mystical, eerie. To be fair, some Hebrew and Christian scriptures interpret prophetic texts much that way. But that, as they say, ain’t the whole truth.
You may already know- and if not, I’m going to tell you :)- that contemporary biblical scholarship uses “prophetic” differently. After reading closely the texts and stories of Israelite prophets (a substantial portion of Hebrew Scripture), these modern scholars note how little space the prophets devote to foretelling events. Sure, sometimes they wax melancholic about the coming “Day of the Lord.” They dream and scheme, wail and boom about impending doom or God’s deliverance. Even within these passages, however, a higher purpose emerges than simple prediction. The prophet’s main concern, in fact, is what’s at hand, the present.
After all, why predict God’s imminent wrath unless you’ve a strong case this wrath is warranted? And believe me (or read Jeremiah), prophets spent much energy on that task! Similarly, even those sections we recognize from Christmas pageants and Handel’s Messiah, about “Every valley shall be exalted” and “Unto us a child is born”, are examples, primarily, of imaginative social critique. The prophets, this theory goes, along with whatever else they were, were mostly poetically inclined observers and commentators. Bold, daring, creative souls who imagined something more holy than what they saw around them. And wouldn’t stay silent about it, sometimes enacting this new reality.
As such, we can celebrate ‘modern prophets’; bold, daring, creative souls like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day and Mohandas Gandhi. Notice, David Koresh and Harold Camping don’t make the list, because those disturbed men cared/care more about future-casting, “be damned!” (literally) with the present. And while authentic prophets may not always like what they see, they also love the world and God’s children with fervency and hope.
So what’s this to do with Plymouth Creek? Well, one effect of modern prophetic scholarship is renewed interest, among many Christians, for cultivating our own “prophetic imaginations.” “No way, Shane!” You might protest, “A prophet? Me?!” To which I’d respond, honestly, “It’s possible. Imagine that…” Indeed, I believe that’s an important skill for Christians to develop, with God’s guidance of course. An ability to look clearly upon the world that is, discern where it falls short of God’s justice, freedom and righteousness, and then prophetically imagine what it could be with God’s- and your- help.
And to that end, we’re directing worship this Lent. Every Sunday, we’ll explore one great story or text from the Hebrew prophetic tradition, all in preparation for the greatest prophetic act of all: The Resurrection of Jesus! The defeat of sin and death on Easter morn! Which he accomplished believing that you and I could follow his lead; help God’s Kingdom come on earth, God’s glory shine brighter. But it takes bold, daring, creative souls- prophets- to make that happen. Like you. Me?! Imagine that…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
I’ve also noticed a similar phenomenon, though nearly the mirror-opposite- religious words receiving distorted meanings within religious communities. Consider, for example, ‘salvation.’ Contra commonly held belief, the Bible rarely, if ever, uses salvation to mean ‘granted admission to Heaven after death.’ Sure, I was taught that; maybe you were too. But throughout Hebrew Scripture and into the Christian Testament, salvation has a primarily this world focus. Israelites are “saved” from bondage in Egypt. Kind David prays for “salvation” from military enemies. In Philippians 3, Paul urges readers to “work out your salvation,” like it’s an ongoing, divinely directed, here-and-now process. For it is! God’s goal is abundant for all life, in this life! Or as Jesus put it, “God’s Kingdom come, God’s will be done on earth...” I do believe that God’s saving grace includes eternal life embraced by love. But eternal life- salvation- begins, well, now.
Another word(s) that’s also received oft-misleading meanings, I believe, is ‘prophet’ (and its relative ‘prophetic’). Many believe, of course, a prophet is someone who sees into and predicts the future. A fortune-teller, crystal ball expert, clairvoyant, mystical, eerie. To be fair, some Hebrew and Christian scriptures interpret prophetic texts much that way. But that, as they say, ain’t the whole truth.
You may already know- and if not, I’m going to tell you :)- that contemporary biblical scholarship uses “prophetic” differently. After reading closely the texts and stories of Israelite prophets (a substantial portion of Hebrew Scripture), these modern scholars note how little space the prophets devote to foretelling events. Sure, sometimes they wax melancholic about the coming “Day of the Lord.” They dream and scheme, wail and boom about impending doom or God’s deliverance. Even within these passages, however, a higher purpose emerges than simple prediction. The prophet’s main concern, in fact, is what’s at hand, the present.
After all, why predict God’s imminent wrath unless you’ve a strong case this wrath is warranted? And believe me (or read Jeremiah), prophets spent much energy on that task! Similarly, even those sections we recognize from Christmas pageants and Handel’s Messiah, about “Every valley shall be exalted” and “Unto us a child is born”, are examples, primarily, of imaginative social critique. The prophets, this theory goes, along with whatever else they were, were mostly poetically inclined observers and commentators. Bold, daring, creative souls who imagined something more holy than what they saw around them. And wouldn’t stay silent about it, sometimes enacting this new reality.
As such, we can celebrate ‘modern prophets’; bold, daring, creative souls like Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day and Mohandas Gandhi. Notice, David Koresh and Harold Camping don’t make the list, because those disturbed men cared/care more about future-casting, “be damned!” (literally) with the present. And while authentic prophets may not always like what they see, they also love the world and God’s children with fervency and hope.
So what’s this to do with Plymouth Creek? Well, one effect of modern prophetic scholarship is renewed interest, among many Christians, for cultivating our own “prophetic imaginations.” “No way, Shane!” You might protest, “A prophet? Me?!” To which I’d respond, honestly, “It’s possible. Imagine that…” Indeed, I believe that’s an important skill for Christians to develop, with God’s guidance of course. An ability to look clearly upon the world that is, discern where it falls short of God’s justice, freedom and righteousness, and then prophetically imagine what it could be with God’s- and your- help.
And to that end, we’re directing worship this Lent. Every Sunday, we’ll explore one great story or text from the Hebrew prophetic tradition, all in preparation for the greatest prophetic act of all: The Resurrection of Jesus! The defeat of sin and death on Easter morn! Which he accomplished believing that you and I could follow his lead; help God’s Kingdom come on earth, God’s glory shine brighter. But it takes bold, daring, creative souls- prophets- to make that happen. Like you. Me?! Imagine that…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, January 27, 2012
Always with you…
Much of what Jesus said are wonderful, heartwarming, powerful ideas and words. “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.” “I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen, Brother Jesus! Of course I’ll follow you!
But if you keep reading, less…comfortable notions emerge; concepts that paint a more complicated picture. “I didn’t come to bring peace, but a sword.” “Love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you.” “Those who want to preserve their lives, will lose them. But those who lose their lives for my sake, will keep them.” Seriously, Jesus?! Are you joking?!
Then there’s the following hard saying that’s received plenty of attention over the centuries. “The poor will always be among you, but you will not always have me.” Leave aside- for the time being- that the latter half of that sentence contradicts something we encountered in paragraph one (both of which occur in the Gospel of Matthew, by the way). At face value, the idea’s disturbing; obvious perhaps, but something you’d want Christ to admit only in whispers. After all, the image we likely hold of our Savior includes unrelenting compassion for the world’s poor. Some theologians even argue (correctly, I’d contend) that if Jesus were made to chose, he’d show a “preferential option for the poor.” Yet in that sentence, it’s almost like Christ says, “Whatever we do, poverty will endure. So don’t worry too much about it. Just believe in me.”
First, a little context, for those confused by this thought. At least in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says it to his disciples in reaction to a strange event. They’re having dinner in Jerusalem, scant few days before his betrayal and execution, when an unnamed woman saunters in with an expensive jar of perfume. She breaks the seal, pours the contents over Jesus’ head. The disciples respond indignantly, “Why’d she do that?! We could’ve sold that for lots of money, and given it to the poor.” The Anointed One responds, “The poor will always…etc.” He then interprets her actions as loving preparation for his burial. Not the typical dinner party event, but surely quite memorable.
Nevertheless, we’re left with profound cognitive dissonance. “Didn’t this guy proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor’?” Yes, in fact, he did. But the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive. What matters is how we respond to Jesus’ frank admission of poverty’s pervasiveness. Given that throughout his life, Jesus made understanding and alleviating poverty a top-three priority, I suspect we’re not to believe, “The poor will always be with us, so let’s not put in too much effort to help.” Instead, we’re always to keep their needs atop our moral priorities too.
The trouble is, for modern Christ followers living in American suburbs like ours, we’re often uninformed about the lives of the poor. Who are they? Where do they live? Can we meaningfully help? Lots of stereotypes about poor folk persist, of course, likely filling our minds with unpleasant images. But separating truth from myth, fear from courageous engagement, isn’t easy, especially with so much else vying for our attention.
To that end, I want to ask you to join me for an event next month. You’ve maybe heard me announce this in church already, but if not, please consider putting it on your calendar. On February 27, from 6:30-8:30 at IOCP, our church is co-sponsoring (with twelve local faith communities) a “Community Conversation about Local Poverty.” I’m helping plan (and emcee), and we’re crafting an evening I hope you’ll find meaningful. The goal is helping attendees discover who the poor are in our midst, the challenges they face, ways the broader community assists, and crucially, what we all need to do to help out. You know that stereotype about a homeless man in a cardboard box under the freeway? Doesn’t match the truth of suburban poverty, but what, you may ask, does?
Well, we’ll answer that February 27. So I hope you’ll attend, for Jesus claimed the poor will always be with us. But so will he, he said, inspiring us to live and reach out with compassion.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S. - Space is limited, so you’ll need to register ahead of time. Either talk to me, or email Jill Kohler at IOCP to get on the list.
Read more!
But if you keep reading, less…comfortable notions emerge; concepts that paint a more complicated picture. “I didn’t come to bring peace, but a sword.” “Love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you.” “Those who want to preserve their lives, will lose them. But those who lose their lives for my sake, will keep them.” Seriously, Jesus?! Are you joking?!
Then there’s the following hard saying that’s received plenty of attention over the centuries. “The poor will always be among you, but you will not always have me.” Leave aside- for the time being- that the latter half of that sentence contradicts something we encountered in paragraph one (both of which occur in the Gospel of Matthew, by the way). At face value, the idea’s disturbing; obvious perhaps, but something you’d want Christ to admit only in whispers. After all, the image we likely hold of our Savior includes unrelenting compassion for the world’s poor. Some theologians even argue (correctly, I’d contend) that if Jesus were made to chose, he’d show a “preferential option for the poor.” Yet in that sentence, it’s almost like Christ says, “Whatever we do, poverty will endure. So don’t worry too much about it. Just believe in me.”
First, a little context, for those confused by this thought. At least in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says it to his disciples in reaction to a strange event. They’re having dinner in Jerusalem, scant few days before his betrayal and execution, when an unnamed woman saunters in with an expensive jar of perfume. She breaks the seal, pours the contents over Jesus’ head. The disciples respond indignantly, “Why’d she do that?! We could’ve sold that for lots of money, and given it to the poor.” The Anointed One responds, “The poor will always…etc.” He then interprets her actions as loving preparation for his burial. Not the typical dinner party event, but surely quite memorable.
Nevertheless, we’re left with profound cognitive dissonance. “Didn’t this guy proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor’?” Yes, in fact, he did. But the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive. What matters is how we respond to Jesus’ frank admission of poverty’s pervasiveness. Given that throughout his life, Jesus made understanding and alleviating poverty a top-three priority, I suspect we’re not to believe, “The poor will always be with us, so let’s not put in too much effort to help.” Instead, we’re always to keep their needs atop our moral priorities too.
The trouble is, for modern Christ followers living in American suburbs like ours, we’re often uninformed about the lives of the poor. Who are they? Where do they live? Can we meaningfully help? Lots of stereotypes about poor folk persist, of course, likely filling our minds with unpleasant images. But separating truth from myth, fear from courageous engagement, isn’t easy, especially with so much else vying for our attention.
To that end, I want to ask you to join me for an event next month. You’ve maybe heard me announce this in church already, but if not, please consider putting it on your calendar. On February 27, from 6:30-8:30 at IOCP, our church is co-sponsoring (with twelve local faith communities) a “Community Conversation about Local Poverty.” I’m helping plan (and emcee), and we’re crafting an evening I hope you’ll find meaningful. The goal is helping attendees discover who the poor are in our midst, the challenges they face, ways the broader community assists, and crucially, what we all need to do to help out. You know that stereotype about a homeless man in a cardboard box under the freeway? Doesn’t match the truth of suburban poverty, but what, you may ask, does?
Well, we’ll answer that February 27. So I hope you’ll attend, for Jesus claimed the poor will always be with us. But so will he, he said, inspiring us to live and reach out with compassion.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
P.S. - Space is limited, so you’ll need to register ahead of time. Either talk to me, or email Jill Kohler at IOCP to get on the list.
Read more!
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!
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