A monthly column by The Reverend F. Richard Garland

HOMECOMING AND NEW LIFE

Published February 22, 2010

 It is a story of two sons and their father. Rich in image and insight, it is a poignant story about homecoming and new life - of unhappy choices, forgiveness, compassion, reconciliation and healing.

It is unfortunate that the story is usually known as “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” In becoming focused on the ‘sin’ of one ‘prodigal’ younger brother, plus the stubbornness of an elder brother, it is easy to miss the larger dimensions of why Jesus told the story in the first place. As with all of his parables, this story does not stand alone, but is set in context. Jesus has been teaching about hospitality, of what it means to be a disciple, of the joy of finding that which has been lost.

Take a moment to recall or reread the parable in Luke 15:11-31. Central to the story is the subtle affirmation of unconditional love. Even though the younger son squanders a generous inheritance, the father loves him. Even before the younger son can beg for pardon, the father welcomes him back with love and forgiveness. Even though the younger son deserves less, the father orders a celebration. And even when the older son acts like a twit, the father invites him into the celebration. This is a story about unconditional love that turns religious and social conventions upside down.

At the end Jesus does not tie the story up in a neat little moralism. There is no, “If you do this, you’ll get that.” There is no moral to the story. What we have is one son who does something foolish and then comes to his senses. And we have another son who follows all the rules and ends up being foolish. And we have a father who invites both sons to a feast and ends it all by saying: “We had to celebrate because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life, he was lost and has been found.” What are we to make of it all?

In an exquisite reflection on the parable, “The Return of the Prodigal Son,” Henri Nouwen writes: “Unlike a fairy tale, the parable provides no happy ending. Instead, it leaves us face to face with one of life’s hardest spiritual choices: to trust or not to trust in God’s all-forgiving love.” [p.75] And Nouwen asks of all who would reflect on the parable: “Will they understand the father’s joy? Will they let the father embrace them? Will I? Will they be able to step out of their recriminations and share in the celebration? Will I?” [p.114]

If learning to trust or not to trust in God’s all-forgiving love is one of life’s hardest spiritual choices, then an even harder choice is whether we trust or not trust God enough to offer that unconditional love to others. Homecoming has no lasting meaning if it does not lead to new life.

In his song “Rocky Mountain High,” John Denver sings: “He was born in the summer of his 27th year - Comin' home to a place he'd never been before - He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again...” There is a subtle and profound wisdom in the lyric. It echoes something that Jesus tried to teach Nicodemus - you don’t have to be young to be born from above and see the kingdom of God. [John 3:3] Homecoming is what we experience when we receive compassionate, unconditional love, the kind of love which God offers in Jesus, even though it may be in a place where we have never been before. We are not condemned to our yesterdays. Instead, we are invited to come to that home where we are welcomed with an unconditional love that makes us whole.

There was a man who had two sons. When one of the sons returned after squandering his inheritance, the father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. “Bring out a robe - the best one - and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive; he was lost and is found!” Let the party begin!

That’s where the story ends - with an invitation to a feast. It is a poignant story about homecoming and new life - of unhappy choices, of unconditional love, of forgiveness that comes before repentance, of compassion and reconciliation, of stubborn resistance, and more. We really don’t know how it turns out, except that the father is determined to celebrate. Could it be that this is also a story of our relationship with God? That there is something of our story in this story? That our faith is more about relationships and unconditional love than it is about doctrines and creeds, or order and discipline? While I will leave that for you to ponder, I do know this: no matter what we have done or where we have gone, God welcomes us home with an unconditional love that makes us whole. That is very good news indeed!

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FIRST THINGS FIRST

By The Rev. F. Richard Garland

Published January 14, 2010

The ancients did not climb mountains for recreation. It would never have occurred to them, for the mountains were the place where the gods lived. To have ventured there would have risked the displeasure and wrath of the divine. Mortals knew their place. It was not in the mountains! Unless, of course, they went with an expectation that their lives might be transformed - that they would see the face of God and live.

Thus it should come as no surprise that the Bible is full of stories that take place on mountains. Moses receives the law there. Elijah hears the still small voice there. Jesus goes off to pray there. He is transfigured there. He preaches there. The Temple is located there. It is the place of the Ascension. And more.

One could write at length on any of these stories. But lately though, I find myself reflecting on Moses’ experience on Mount Sinai. As I read and reflect, I realize that The Ten Commandments are not as simple as they seem. And, It strikes me that few people who talk about them actually start at the beginning! So, I find myself being drawn to the first two commandments as a foundation for what follows:

“I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery;  you shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them” [Exodus 20:2-5a]

When Moses went to the mountain, he met God again for the first time. First it had been a burning bush. Now, in the wilderness before the mountain, Moses is summoned to the top of the mountain. Which, by the way, was covered by a thick cloud and smoke, and was trembling violently with thunder and lightening. God had something to say: “I am God!. There is no other! Don’t even think of putting something else in my place!”

More and more I believe that one of the essential issues for us as people of faith is that we forget to put first things first. We’re busy trying to rethink church. We’re concerned about how other people are doing with obeying the last five commandments. We’re trying to be agents of social justice, social change, and compassion. All of these are important works of faith, but sometimes we forget why we are doing them in the first place. God is God! There is no other!  Don’t even think of putting something else in God’s place!

There is much in our world today that gets in the way of faithfulness, not the least of which is a financial crisis that has threatened to unravel a cherished way of life. In his new book, “Rediscovering Values: A Moral Compass for the New Economy,” Jim Wallis warns: “If our goal is to get back to business as usual, we will soon be right back to what got us into so much trouble, because what was usual is exactly what got us here in the first place.” To make his point, he goes on to identify a series of contemporary idolatries, asserting that idolatry “...often takes the form of choosing the wrong priorities, trusting in the wrong things, and putting our confidence where it does not belong.” Sounds like a spiritual issue to me!

The dilemma for a person of faith is how to live in the context of one’s culture, guided by a moral compass. The Biblical witness is clear about that. Our ‘true north’ is this: There is One God, and there is no other. We are called to ask of our every thought, of every value, of every relationship and allegiance, of every action and service, of every creed, of every act of devotion, of every measure of faith, “Does it point to and affirm, in word and deed, that God is God?” If it does not, it is an idolatry and pulls us off course.

If you want to have a mountain top experience, be prepared for a little thunder and lightening. If in the process you happen to meet God, expect God to do the talking. And If you are looking for guidance in how to live your life and faith, anticipate that God will expect you to put first things first.

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TREASURE EVERY DAY

By The Rev. F. Richard Garland

Published December 26, 2009
 

Several years ago, on a Sunday morning not long after Christmas, I was sitting in my kitchen looking out over my back yard. It was my quiet time before coming to worship. My eye was drawn to movement and I saw an animal on the path in the woods beyond my fence. The brisk steps and long bushy tail looked at first like a cat, but a closer check revealed a face like a dog, longer legs than a cat, and a beautiful grey-brown coat. It was a fox!

It moved quickly along the path, looking from side to side, alert to any potential threat. There was more movement - a second fox, a little smaller, just as beautiful, keeping pace with the first. I watched, enthralled. Then there was another - a third fox! But the movement was different. This one also moved quickly, but it stopped, looked back and then from side to side, and moved on. Every several yards it repeated the routine, ever vigilant to danger. I was standing now and watched as they disappeared over the hill in the woods - a family on the move.

The Christmas story doesn’t end on Christmas Day. There is a star that guides Magi to the birth. Strange and foreboding gifts are offered. Then a warning: “Don’t tell the king.” “Flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child to destroy him.” Then an anguish: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children.” We forget this part of the story at our peril. If we try to confine Christmas to a baby and choirs of angels and silent and holy nights, we will miss the power of the story to deal with reality of life.

I wonder how many saw the Holy Family long ago as they went quickly to Egypt. Joseph and Mary must have been especially careful as they moved along their route, constantly alert lest some threat endanger the precious life they conveyed. They understood that even in a world of beauty and hope there are those who threaten the promise of its fulfillment. They accepted the watchfulness required of them as they sought safety and peace. They saw it as a sacred trust, and gave witness that to be careful and caring is an insight from the Spirit.

There are those who are relieved that the holidays are over. Some are worn out from all they have been doing, and need the rest. Some are grieving a loss, which the festivities of the holidays have made all the more painful. Some have been lonely, watching gathered families while theirs were far away. Some have been overwhelmed, as they are reminded by the celebrations and the meaning of Christmas, that the world is still imperfect and in need of mending. “Just make it go away!”

It is before this reality of life that we must resolve that Christmas not end for us on Christmas Day. A careful reading of the Biblical texts reveals that Jesus is born with a purpose and a future: “He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High.” [Lk 1:32] “This child is destined for the falling and rising of many.” [Lk 2:34] “He will save his people from their sins.” [Mt 1:21] This Jesus is a child for all seasons. We can learn from him how to cope with seasons of busy-ness, grief, pain, loneliness, and injustice - and, in the learning, find a way to cope.

The Christmas Note was simple, but profound. At the end, Diane had written: “Wishing you a happy and healthy Holiday Season. Treasure every day.” Good counsel any time. Coming from Diane and Ken at this Christmas, it had special meaning. Diane had shared that Ken had injured his back at work and was out of work from mid July to the beginning of November. And, she had begun her letter by writing: “On March 5, 2009 my life started anew with a double lung transplant. After a few set backs, I am doing very well. I have a lot to be thankful for.” A year earlier she was not sure how many days she might have left to treasure. Coming from her, “Treasure every day” is a profoundly moving entreaty.

From time to time we are privileged to see the sacred pass before us, and its Presence can sustain us, even through the most difficult times, when we have to be vigilant. So, resolve, in this new year, to treasure every day. I assure you that, in Immanuel, you will find rest for your soul, life in all of its abundance, and hope for a weary world.

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LIVING LARGE AT CHRISTMAS

Published November 10, 2009
 

Have you ever watched a child's sheer delight in anticipating Christmas? When you take the bright eyes and the eager faces and the giggles, and add it to the mystery of the gift of the Christ Child from God, you have everything that anyone could ever want for Christmas. There is nothing more beautiful!

And yet, for some folks, the approach of the Christmas Season is often accompanied with a sense of dread. They feel confronted with so many expectations: too much to do and buy; too little money to accomplish it - a creeping guilt that some people will think the less of them if they don’t do it all - Christmas, the most wonderful time of the year, suddenly becoming little more than a duty overlaid by religious language. How did it ever come to this?

Not long ago I read Henri J.M. Nouwen’s brilliant little book “The Return of the Prodigal Son.” In a section where he describes how God seeks people out, he writes: “Many consumerist economies stay afloat by manipulating the low self-esteem of their consumers and by creating spiritual expectations through material means. As long as I am kept ‘small,’ I can easily be seduced to buy things, meet people, or go places that promise a radical change in self-concept even though they are totally incapable of bring this about.” [p.107] If that doesn’t describe the tension at Christmas, I don’t know what does.

It occurred to me that the stresses at Christmas are, in fact, a spiritual struggle. When we are tempted to meet our spiritual needs through material means, when we are seduced to satisfy a distorted sense of need to buy something that will ultimately leave us even emptier, we are reduced to a shell of what we were created to be - made small, if you will - drawn away from the purposes of God. God didn’t send Jesus to keep the economy afloat! God sent Jesus to embody Love. God sent Jesus to grow up and announce Good News, and call people to compassion and justice.

In truth, the story of incarnation is about living large. When told of what is come to pass, Mary cries out: “My soul magnifies the Lord ...” Upon hearing the choirs of angels and seeing the child, the shepherds return to their fields rejoicing. Drawn by a star, the Magi bring gifts and kneel to worship. In each instance people’s lives were enlarged. What was once Word is now made flesh. And when the baby grew up, people were fed, and healed, and made whole. Lives were transformed as hope took root. That is good news in a time where we are diminished by economic woes, the ills of the world, and fears of disappointment. We need to find ways for our hearts and our lives to be enlarged by faith, hope and love. The birth of the Christ Child is an invitation for us to begin living large.

It is an invitation to learn to enjoy each day to the fullest, feeling free to change our routines and schedules, remembering that people are more important than things. It means looking for spiritual fulfillment and enrichment rather than someone else’s idea of the ‘perfect gift.’ It means focusing on people gathering in the presence of God instead of comparisons of what we got for Christmas. Christmas began with the birth of the Holy One of God. The mystery of Divine Grace took human form and lived among us, full of Grace and Truth, the very fullness of God. That is an invitation to put Christ at the center of Christmas, and discover that there is, in every moment, something to savor and enjoy.

One of my favorite Christmas memories is of watching a toddler escape from his parents during a Christmas Eve Service and crawl into the center aisle of the Church, just far enough away from his parents that they couldn't scoop him up without making a commotion. While everyone began to smile, he stretched out on his tummy, put his elbows on the floor and propped his chin up on his hands and proceeded to survey the service. He watched me, the candles and flowers in the chancel; he looked at the banners; he checked back occasionally at his somewhat embarrassed parents; and he even rolled over on his back and looked at the light and shadows dancing on the ceiling. He was having a good time! We saw a child in our midst, full of grace and truth, and he showed us how to appreciate life with awe and wonder.

Christmas can do that to people. The vision of a child can bring out the child in us all so that we might begin living large at Christmas.

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A TRANSFORMING PERSPECTIVE

Published October 2009

In her wonderful little book, “Dakota: A Spiritual Geography,” Kathleen Norris writes of living in Dakota: “...this is my spiritual geography, the place where I’ve wrestled my story out of the circumstances of landscape and inheritance.” She says of it: “A person is forced inward by the spareness of what is outside and visible in all this land and sky. The beauty ... does not give an inch to sentiment or romance.” She quotes Jose Ortega y Gassett: “Tell me the landscape in which you live, and I will tell you who you are.”

Truth be known - each of us carries within us, out of our own unique experience, a spiritual geography that shapes us. In many respects it is a transforming perspective. So, when the Ken Burns’ documentary series, “The National Parks: America’s Best Idea,” was shown last month, it brought back for me a flood of memories. More importantly, it helped me in reflecting theologically about the world in which we live. It may seem like heresy for some, but when I am out in the raw grandeur of nature, it is for me a sanctuary - holy, humbling, unsafe, transforming.

Factoid: Whether one is standing at the south rim of the Grand Canyon or on the plain before the Grand Tetons, the elevation is about 7,000 feet. In one place you peer downwards a mile through space and time to a distant river - in the other you peer upwards over a mile to wind swept peaks covered with snow. Both places are truly beautiful, wild and humbling - more so when one ventures into them. One cannot be in their presence without confronting one’s own limits.

Ironically, the vast western spaces that are now so much a part of my own spiritual geography were not a part of my early experience. I grew up in a place that had been scraped flat by glaciers thousands of years before. Personal geographies differ from one person to another. Some people’s geographies include the oceans, or urban scapes punctuated by parks, or farms, or village greens. Sometimes, when we live in places of spareness that force us inward, we would like to reshape them or escape them to places of healing and hope. For better or for worse, in every case we are shaped by the landscapes in which we live. From time to time our geographies change, expand, narrow. Always they shape our identity.

One of the marks of Ken Burns’ documentaries is the deft use of music to underscore the film. Thus it was no surprise to hear Ferde Grofé’s: Grand Canyon Suite when that story was being told. Even more compelling was another tune that was prominent throughout the six segments of the series - a traditional English folk tune to which the hymn This Is My Father’s World is set. Time after time scenes of stunning beauty were accompanied with the reminder: “This is my Father’s World.”

I was reminded of Psalm 8: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor ... O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” The Biblical witness reminds us that “The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it.” It is a transforming perspective.

In a world where places of natural beauty are prey to hucksters and commercial interests there is a spiritual obligation to remember to whom it all belongs. Jesus reminds us that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like the lilies of the field. To truly understand Abraham, Moses, Elijah and Jesus, one must consider the effect of mountains. Faithful people in all generations saw the creative power of God in the world in which they lived. There is a spiritual geography and we forget that at our peril.

The world around us is a window into the heart of The Creator, and into the source of our spirit. To behold its infinite beauty is to gain an insight into eternity. To be humbled by its timeless majesty and power is to gain an insight into our place within it.

When we take the time to contemplate the scope, the power and the beauty of the world in which we live, it is an opportunity to look beyond ourselves and consider that there is a universe larger than ourselves. It bids us confront our limits and even our fears. It bids us look within ourselves and discover who and what has shaped us. That is what Jesus invited his disciples to do as they walked in the hills and along the lakeshore. It became for all who walked with him a transforming perspective.

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IT IS A MATTER OF COMPASSION

Published September 14, 2009
 

One cannot understand the life and ministry of Jesus apart from his compassion. When he fed and healed people, it was out of compassion. In Matthew 9 we read: “Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”

While the rudeness and deliberate lies are bad enough, it is the absence of compassion that troubles me most about the current considerations for the future of health care in our nation.

A very personal story: My father died in 1970 after an extended battle with cancer. A man of modest means, had it not been for Medicare, the medical costs would have bankrupted him. And had it not been for a little bit of Social Security income after his death, my mother would have had no income whatsoever. Except for the compassion of a society, two hard working people, committed to traditional family values, would have been penniless at the end of their lives, and then stigmatized by their plight. I will always be grateful that these government run programs were available to them. My parents received a measure of dignity in a difficult time. It was a matter compassion.

That said, I am old enough to remember the nasty debate over the passage of Medicare. I am enough of an historian to know that there was a nasty debate over the passage of Social Security. So I am not surprised that a similar nastiness is playing out today as our nation considers the future of health care. While different people will have different perspectives on how best to deal with the issue, I believe, that for people of faith, it is a matter of compassion.

Why is it that, although we as a nation spend more per-capita on health care than any other nation, we rank 29^th in the world in infant mortality and 24^th in life expectancy? Why is it that over 15% of our people have no health care coverage? Why is it that almost all of us are but a major illness away from financial ruin? Why is it that more than 60% of the people who go into bankruptcy do so because of medical bills? What is it that is wrong with this picture?

Perhaps we have forgotten that compassion is essential for a healthy society. When compassion is absent, we get trapped in “bottom line” thinking that tends to forget about those who have modest resources or little power. If access to health care is a privilege afforded to some and not to all, or provided for a season but then taken away, then we are creating a second class citizenship that will ultimately cost far more to our society than it ever would cost to provide health care to all. It is a matter of compassion.

If we as people of faith are to bring anything to this national discourse, it must be to make sure that the matter of compassion is raised in everything under consideration: the same kind of compassion that Jesus had for the crowds, because they were harassed and helpless; the same kind of compassion that a father had for a prodigal son; the same kind of compassion that a Samaritan had for one who had fallen among thieves; the same kind of compassion that healed the sick and fed the hungry. If we do not do that, who will? If we do not speak up for the least and the lost, who will?

This issue is too important to be left to the rich, the powerful, and the politicians alone to decide. The voice of compassion must also be raised. We know that when money, power and politics collide, it is always messy. But we have also seen that from the messiness something good can come, even from the government. Nearly forty years ago my father and my mother were the beneficiaries of two programs that gave them help and dignity when they needed it most. It is time for all, no matter what their age or their station in life, to have access to that same opportunity. It is a matter of compassion!

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A PLACE FOR SACRED RELATIONSHIP

Published July 28, 2009
 

The book looked like a good candidate for some light summer reading - “The Gospel According to Starbucks.” “Perfect!” I thought - a little theology, a little culture - besides, I had once met the author, Leonard Sweet, at Pastor’s Assembly - so, into my Cokesbury shopping bag it went. Little did I know! It turns out that the book is as much about connections and relationships as it is about coffee.

As you would expect, the metaphor for the book is the Starbucks Coffee Company and how it managed to grow its business by not just selling coffee, but by selling a unique experience where coffee lovers could enjoy their favorite beverage. Colors, lighting, music, aroma, personal service, and a carefully cultivated corporate image create that experience for people, over four million times a day. Leonard Sweet argues that, behind the success lies an important affirmation: “That life is meant to be lived with passion, and that passion is found and practiced through experiences, connection, symbols and images, and the full participation of every part of your being.”

Think about that! Is church just a place where we go, or is it a community of faith where life is lived with passion, full of experiences, connections and relationships with people, rich with symbols and images that invite full participation of every part of our being? If you would have told a first century Christian that they had a beautiful church, it never would have occurred to them that you were talking about a building. They would have pictured people: people who had experienced the Lord and were connected to each other in a deep relationship of faith, people who loved one another and took care of one another.

Sweet thinks that much of the problem with the church today is that: “The church has divested itself of the connection business in order to focus on the principle business, the proposition business, and the being right business. The church is by and large no longer in the relationship business.” Ouch!

And, Sweet takes it a step further: “The church lost credibility as a place for sacred relationship when it chose to specialize in formulating and advancing a better spiritual argument. The result is that people who came to the meeting house got connected with ideas and formulas more than they did with God and with other people.” Pointedly, Sweet asks: “Who is looking for a another argument? Did Jesus die to win an argument? Did Jesus die to give us a better position paper?”

So how do we get back into the relationship business? Sweet thinks that it begins as people “become living expressions of God,” and as we begin the process of “growing a soul that radiates such beauty that it bears the Maker’s mark and bares the Creator’s signature.” He repeats two questions from Anglican writer Esther de Waal, a specialist in Celtic spirituality and monastic hospitality: “Do people see Christ in us? Did we see Christ in them?” The church would be a very different place if these two questions were uppermost in our lives and the practice of our faith.

Not long ago I had the opportunity to tour the new East Greenwich [RI] UMC building. I was particularly taken with the design of the educational facility. I asked the pastor, Dr. William Trench, if there was a particular purpose behind the design. He was quick to answer: “Yes! We wanted to create a place where people could hear the voice of Jesus.” Perfect!

That tracks with my own experience. I remember the people in the church where I grew up. They helped me to know Jesus, and he helped me to know God. I remember the suppers and the sales and the opportunities to spend time with people who loved me. I remember the reverent awe of our worship together. I remember laughter, and tears, shared by people who would do anything for each other. I remember their deep faith which, in retrospect, was always larger than doctrine and dogma. I remember their affirmation of my own faith. In short, they created, a place of sacred relationship. And it was there that I heard the voice of Jesus.

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OUTBOUND, UNBOUND, ACTIVE

Published June 10, 2009

Sometimes the best way to make an important discovery is through a series of insightful questions. That happened for me not long ago while watching a video clip about the meaning of church. A speaker asked: “What if church was less about Sunday and more about the other days of the week? What if church wasn’t just a place we go, but something we do? What if church was the way it was in the beginning: outbound, unbound, active?” The questions set my imagination on fast forward - racing to a myriad of possibilities.

The very earliest followers of Jesus were drawn together because his life and words were good news in their otherwise bleak world. They saw in his resurrection that nothing, not even death, could separate them from the love and power of God. And, at Pentecost, they experienced for themselves the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. It changed the way they lived, and, over time, they would begin to transform the world.

The church today is a far cry from those first gathered people who would soon be called “Christians.” Then it wasn’t about dogmas, creeds, buildings, and forms of worship. Then It was about a relationship to Jesus and to each other. It was about a way of life that was not conformed to the world. It was about a profound commitment to showing mercy, doing justice and walking humbly with God. It was about providing food to the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and those in prison.

So, when exactly did the word ‘service’ come to mean what we do for one hour on a Sunday instead of what we do through the rest of the week? “What if church was the way it was in the beginning: outbound, unbound, active?” What if the church looked beyond the confines of Sunday, wasn’t tied down by convention, and was active in the world outside its doors?

Not long after those questions unleashed in me a myriad of possibilities, at a gathering for worship, we sang the now beloved hymn, “Here I am Lord.” The text is rooted in Isaiah 6:8 - “And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ Then I said, ‘Here am I! Send me.’” It is a verse that, from the beginning, has been central to my call to discipleship.

Suppose, just suppose, we resolved to take the words we love to sing on Sunday and put them into action during the rest of the week. To hear the cry of the people who dwell in dark and sin and bear the light of Christ to them! To continue to reach out to the people who turn away and to bear with them their pain! To break stony hearts with a heart of love, to speak to them the Word of the Lord! To tend to the poor and those who limp under the weight of the world! To transform the Communion Bread into food on the tables of the hungry! To offer lives as a living witness to the Love of God!

As I joined my voice with others, I began to see that these words may not have been written just for singing on Sunday. I saw that they have also been written to shape how we will live the rest of the week - for how we live in our families and our neighborhoods - for how we will relate to the persons we work with, or go to school with, or meet in the store - for how we will shape public policy toward the poor and the alien - and more. Would that change for us the meaning of the words we love to sing: “I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.” Be assured, perhaps warned, that the Lord will lead us, if we are willing to go.

The earliest followers of Jesus were willing to go wherever the Lord led, and they became a church that was outbound, unbound, and active. Can we do any less?

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HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?

Published May 17, 2009

Recently I ran across an article that reported that some 46% of the 1,012 participants in the annual Fidelity Investments study of millionaires said they “do not feel wealthy and are taking action to reassess and rebuild their wealth.” As I was trying to wrap my head around how that must feel, I realized that I simply do not have a reference point for that kind of thinking. With the local unemployment rate now above 10%, debt at staggering levels, home foreclosure rates nearing record highs, and many working home owners struggling to stay afloat, I couldn’t help but wonder: “How much is enough, anyway?”

Over the years there have been “prosperity preachers” in pulpits and boardrooms who contend that the scripture tells us that faithfulness will result in wealth, with the subtle implication that if we are not rich it is because we are not really faithful. Theirs is a selective reading of the Bible at best. If one takes the time to find out what the whole Bible has to say about such matters, one will find ample warning about the corrosive qualities of wealth and riches. Most telling is Jesus’ “Parable of the Rich Fool” [Luke 12:13-21] which ends badly for one whose life consists only “in the abundance of possessions,” that is, those “who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich towards God.”

This is not a new issue. In the Eighteenth Century, John Wesley spoke eloquently of “The Use of Money.” [Sermon 50]. He observed: “It is an excellent gift of God, answering the noblest ends. In the hands of his children, it is food for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, raiment for the naked: It gives to the traveler and the stranger where to lay his head. By it we may supply the place of a husband to the widow, and of a father to the fatherless. We may be a defense for the oppressed, a means of health to the sick, of ease to them that are in pain; it may be as eyes to the blind, as feet to the lame; yea, a lifter up from the gates of death!” Therefore, counseled Wesley. “Gain all you can.”

Wesley took it a step further: “Having gained all you can, by honest wisdom and unwearied diligence, the second rule of Christian prudence is, ‘Save all you can.’” “Expend no part of it merely to gratify the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eye, or the pride of life.” “Having, first, gained all you can, and, secondly saved all you can, then give all you can.” “Employ whatever God has entrusted you with, in doing good, all possible good, in every possible kind and degree to the household of faith, to all!”

Wesley practiced what he preached. As a matter of faith he began to limit his expenses so that he would have more money to give to the poor. In a year when his income was 30 pounds and his living expenses 28 pounds, he had 2 pounds to give away. The next year his income doubled, but he still managed to live on 28 pounds, so he gave 32 pounds to the poor. In the third year, his income jumped to 90 pounds. By the fourth year, instead of letting his expenses rise with his income, he kept them to 28 pounds and, with an income of 120 pounds, his giving rose to 92 pounds. So much for not feeling wealthy and taking action to reassess and rebuild his wealth.

There is a principle in Scripture that might be called, “The Manna Principle.” Paul once appealed to the Corinthians to give generously for the relief of people in Jerusalem who had fallen on hard times. He asked for a fair balance between the Corinthian’s abundance and Jerusalem’s need, so that: “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little.” [2 Corinthians 8:15] It is a reference back to the Exodus when, as the people gathered the manna in the wilderness, “...those who gathered much had nothing over, and those who gathered little had no shortage.” [Exodus 16:18] “The Manna Principle” was that each had enough - nothing more, nothing less.

So, how much is enough? Listen again to what John Wesley has to say: “First, provide things needful for yourself; food to eat, raiment to put on, whatever nature moderately requires for preserving the body in health and strength. Secondly, provide these for your wife, your children, your servants, or any others who pertain to your household.” In Wesley’s mind this was “enough.” Beyond that: “Do good to them that are of the household of faith, and do good unto all men.”

If by chance you are not feeling wealthy and are thinking about reassessing and rebuilding your wealth, perhaps the best place to start is with a reexamination of what it means to be wealthy. Jesus, knowing that where our treasure is our hearts will be also, invited people to be rich toward God, rather than to store up treasures for themselves. Come to think of it, that is a good principle for all of life. That way, however much we have may just turn out to be enough.

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Published April 16, 2009

A MOST SURE VISION OF GOD

There is a little Chapel in South County where sometimes I have gone to worship with a friend. It is an intimate, somewhat formal setting for worship.  A beautiful stained glass window showers color throughout the Sanctuary.  An “Eternal Light Candle” suspended from the ceiling and two tall Altar Candles remind us of the Presence of God.  The rich symbolism on the  Paraments, the vestments, and the hand embroidered needlepoint kneelers tells the story of our Faith. The Chalice, centered on the Altar, makes clear why we gather there.

There are three very bright spotlights that flood the Chancel and the front wall of the Sanctuary with light.  One Sunday I noticed on the Chancel wall three shadows from each of the Altar candles, and I was startled by something I had never before witnessed. Although each candle was burning brightly, what fascinated me was that there was no shadow from either flame.  Amazing! I suppose there is a scientific explanation for the phenomenon. I don’t know. What struck me was that looking at the shadows of the Candles on the wall did not reveal their complete form nor their most powerful symbol.  It became for me a parable of our vision of God.

Too often we look for God in the pale reflections of human symbols. But, as beautiful and important as those symbols may be to us, they do not and cannot show the whole of Who and What God is.  We draw our conclusions about God from how other people speak of God. But, as eloquent and powerful and familiar those words and songs may be, they do not and cannot tell the whole story of how God is and will be in relationship to humanity and the created order. Our symbols and words and songs of God are but reflections on a wall. If we want a vision of God, we will have to look at the fire of God’s Presence. If we are content in faith to settle for pale reflections, then our vision of God will lose its capacity to redeem our daily lives.

The author of the Book of Hebrews reminds the faithful that, “... you have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest, and the sound of a trumpet ... but you have come to the city of the living God...” As important as the traditional symbols of God’s Presence are, there is something more. There is set before us a vision of the city of the living God, a city which has the glory of God as its light, a community of faith and hope.

If we look only at the shadows of our own symbols of God, the presence of God will be obscured.  If we depend only upon our own light, we shall surely live in darkness.  There is one Light and the Name of that Light is Christ.  There is one God who will be whom God will be.  To know that is to come to the City of the Living God.  The most sure vision of God is revealed to those who look beyond light and shadows to see the fire of God’s Presence, and then, with their gratitude, offer to God their reverence and awe in worship, and set about to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God.

DON’T FORGET WHO IS THE DIRECTOR

Lately I have been reflecting on ministry and the church - partly because I have been trying to sort out what God is calling me to be and do in this season of my life, and partly because I am troubled that church and religion seems to have become more at risk of becoming captive to narrow minded, unloving, almost strong armed agendas.

I must confess that I have a love/hate relationship with the church. I have seen the church in its glory: a sacred space where people are welcomed, nurtured and healed; where Word and Sacrament have inspired people and communities; and from which courageous faith has gone into the world to witness and work for justice and mercy.  I have also seen the church in its meanness: closed to ‘outsiders,’ rife with ‘turf battles,’ gossipy, with people resistive to the gospel, and sometimes even abusive.

God called people into ministry before they were called into churches. Jesus began with ministry not an institution: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." His two commissions were for ministries: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” and  “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” The Church came later.

Sometimes I think that the organized, institutional church gets in the way of ministry.  I’ve thought that for a long time and often wondered why. Recently I found an insight in a most unusual place. One of the few programs that I watch regularly on TV is “Inside the Actor’s Studio” on the Bravo Channel. Host James Lipton was interviewing Russell Crowe. A student in the audience asked, “Mr. Crowe, what do you do when you don’t agree with your director? How far do you push?” He replied: “Well, we talk and I try to make my point. If the director doesn’t agree, I do it his way.” Responding to puzzled looks in the audience, he went on, teaching passionately: “It’s not your ‘gig,’ it’s the directors ‘gig.’ To pursue the disagreement would be to waste everyone’s time.” Then he said: “Look, it’s someone else’s story. We’re all the story tellers. That’s what we do!”

The church flounders when people forget Whose story it is, and Who is the Director. Yes, we have a story to tell to the nations, but it is God’s story of Good News in Jesus Christ. It’s not about ‘our church’ or ‘our denomination.’ It’s not about who has the authority or position of power. It’s about being witnesses for Jesus “in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” It’s about loving “the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength,” and loving “your neighbor as yourself.” And it’s about giving food to the hungry and something to drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, taking care of the sick, and visiting those who are in prison. We have to be “on message” if we are to be faithful and effective.