Discipleship as gift-giving

Several years ago, these plates were given to me as a gift as I departed a call and moved into the next season of my journey.  The gift-giver communicated that she had handmade these treasures to reflect all of the things that I had somehow taught her about herself and about G-d.  She admittedly isn't a crafty person, so creating something like this made it all the more special to me.  Today, they hang over my desk, right in plain sight as a reminder, not of what I've accomplished, but instead that I'm learning the same things.  You see, the beauty of discipleship is that you do life together, truly an "iron sharpens iron" experience.  The very words that she felt she learned from me, I had learned from her. 

     These plates have come to be part of my most treasured gifts because they remind me daily of where my strength comes from. They remind me daily that I am not alone.  They remind me that my story matters and that G-d has been all over it, even in the darkest of times. 
     When a gift is given does the giver know the impact of the gift? In a society that prides itself in allowing the receiver to pick it's own gift, how is there even opportunity for the giver to know the weight of what they have given?  My local grocery store has a kiosk of gift cards from any place imaginable. When  you don't know what to give someone, allowing them to choose their own gift via a gift card or even cash, seems to make sense.  But oh, the gifts that someone has thought out, the gifts that speak a piece of their heart to yours.  Those are the gifts that impact. Those are the gifts that change the world. 
     Discipleship is like gift-giving.  The receiver shouldn't be choosing their own gift, but instead the giver imparts a gift that touches the darkness of our lives.  Why is this important? Because as receivers, it's unlikely that we would choose a gift that transforms everything within us.  

     In discipleship, we give of ourselves, our story, our journey and we give it to one another.  It's in that journey together that we decrease, that we learn our poverty and our dependence, not just on G-d, but on one another as well.  It's in the giving of our whole selves that we learn.  

     We learn...

"G-d's love can always be trusted, and  His faithfulness lasts as long as the heavens." 

"The Lord was always there..."

"When I felt all alone, He was there..." 

"We had no one to turn to or depend on but the Lord..." 

"I will praise you again because You help me and You are my G-d." 

"When I am hurting, I find comfort in your promise that leads to life." 

"G-d showed me..." 

"I don't know what I would have done without Him" 

"Daily, I draw my strength from the Lord..." 

"My power and my strength come from the Lord, and He has saved me."

My Demon Cat is stealing my soul while I basket-weave underwater with mohawked snowmen...

Well, if that isn't the most random blog title ever! All thanks can be given to my wonderful friends who give me topics when topics seem to lack

Topics: My demon cat is stealing my soul, underwater basket-weaving and Mohawked snowmen - GO!

Since my son was about six years old he has said "when my dad dies, I'm getting a cat!" He loves cats. His dad does not.  Every time my kids have brought up the idea of a cat, their dad has shut them down with excuses. Bottom line: he hates cats.  My son is ten now and his older sister is nineteen.  They conspired, compiled money and
in June, despite their dad's grumblings, Frankie the Siamese kitten came home.  (The Demon Cat as my friend calls him) It turns out the boy didn't  have to wait until his dad died, so that's good. And it turns out that cat sure does love daddy!

It was seven years ago that my boy and his dad created this mohawked snowman in our front yard. It was created to look like our friend that sports a mohawk and usually has a Pabst Blue Ribbon in his hand.  They were so proud of this creation! Every year now our snowmen have mohawks.

So how do I tie this all together?

Well, Christmas isn't what I want it to be. It's kinda like my husband having a cat despite his wishes. Truth is - Christmas hasn't been the same since my grandma passed away.  With each passing year, I find myself a little less "in the spirit." At one point my home had seven Christmas trees. Now, I struggle to get up the one.  I would love for my house to be decked the way it always used to be, but I just don't have time or even the want to make it happen.  I'd love to say that the demon cat is stealing my soul, but this problem existed way before Frankie.

As I age, winter is dragging me down.  I love building snowmen (especially cute ones with mohawks!) I love sledding, ice skating, seeing the Christmas lights. But I dislike the cold, the lack of sun, and the darkness.  Through this season I just feel like I don't measure up to all the pretty cards I've received, the homes of friends that are beautifully decorated, or all the bake goods that fill my Facebook feed. It seems that everywhere, but my house, people are making fantastic Christmas memories. On most days, I feel like taking up underwater basket-weaving would be easier than trying to fulfill all the Christmas expectations that I have for myself, not to mention the demands of others.

So topics escape me right now and I turn to my friends for inspiration! My demon cat is stealing my soul while I ponder basket-weaving underwater with mohawked snowmen! You see, we aren't alone! We may feel that way, but truth is, we all struggle. We all, at some point, secretly feel as if we don't measure up. In the times where I struggle, I try my best to reach out to friends. I depend on relationships to perk me up! I look to my friends and my family to make me laugh, to make me smile, to show me love and let me show them love. Christmas is different and I'm learning to be okay with that.

Faith in what?

SCRIPTURE:

"Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of the boy, and he was healed from that moment. Then the disciples came to Jesus in private and asked, "Why couldn't we drive it out?" He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."  

~ Matthew 17:18-20

THOUGHTS:

I used to wear a glass pendant around my neck that contained a mustard seed, as a reminder to myself to keep that tiny measure of faith.  In the darkest of hours, it is often hard to do.

A few years back I was teaching at a local rescue mission on this passage.  The women listening were women who knew G-d or at least had an idea of who G-d was. Their understanding of G-d was skewed and marred by their often times horrible experiences with well-meaning Christians. Most had never read the Bible, although it had been used as a weapon against them.  Many had never heard this passage and all of them had never seen a mustard seed. They had imagined in their hearts and minds that this seed that Jesus spoke of must have been huge. It must have been some magical, unobtainable seed that only the most religious, the most righteous, or the least broken could achieve.  And broken they were, so the ability to overcome seemed so out of touch, completely out of the question to their reality.  

The next day, I took a jar of mustard seeds from my pantry and decided I would show them.  A moment that highlighted my privilege - I have a pantry. I have seen a mustard seed. These women never had that chance, until this day.  So I took the jar and I gave each woman this tiny seed without telling them what they were. I just placed one in each of their hands and asked them to hold it, to be careful to not drop it or lose it.  When everyone had theirs in their hand, I said, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move.'"

There were not many words that day, mostly tears and silence as these women for the first time realized that Jesus didn't require all that they had thought or all that they had been told.  This idea of faith became in that moment simple to them. It became obtainable to them.  There was nothing magical or out of reach anymore, but instead if they could just muster up a sliver of hope for their future, they could say to the mountains of their lives, 'Move.'

Over and over when Jesus tells us to have faith, I often times wonder who He's asking us to have faith in?  You see, these ladies had no faith in themselves.  Sure, it was easy to know that there is a G-d and we've all heard stories of Jesus. And deep down we all want to believe in a Savior, to believe in something bigger and better than ourselves.  They had no problem believing in G-d. Their problem was believing that there is a G-d who believed in them. Their problem was believing in themselves.

The disciples believed in Jesus. I mean, come on, they gave up everything to follow Him.   They left their families, their jobs, their homes and they followed this rebel Rabbi.  They had faith.  I do not believe for a second that Jesus was accusing them of not believing in Him.  But instead, Jesus was asking them to believe in themselves, to see what He saw in them, to believe that they were worthy and that they could move mountains. 

Can we believe in ourselves? Can we have a sliver of hope, a mustard seed of faith that we can change the world? Or even just that we can change our own destiny? Can we have a mustard seed of faith that allows us to move the mountains of addiction, the mountains of abuse, the mountains of shame and guilt? Can we have a mustard seed of faith to believe that healing and restoration within ourselves and our communities is possible?

That day at the rescue mission these women not only held a mustard seed in their hand, but they opened a piece of their hearts, if only the size of a mustard seed, to believe that they could move mountains. 

ACTION:

  If we can just believe in ourselves enough to realize that we are worthy of love, that we are worthy of restoration, that we are worthy of the fullness of G-d, we can change the world.  May I find the mustard seed within myself and allow it bloom into compassion, mercy and love for our world. 

Doubt in my Soul

It has been a while since I have pulled out "The Inspired Box." So here's one for you.  

SCRIPTURE:

"Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen." 

~ Hebrews 11:1 

THOUGHTS:

We do not have faith in things that are knowable. Faith cannot be simply in things that we know to be true. In fact, the very essence of faith is believing in things you cannot see.  Faith is irrational.  It's not believing in what you know to be true, but instead choosing to believe in what could be absolutely wrong.  Faith cannot exist without some measure of doubt.  If there is no doubt about the thing, then there is no reason to hope for it to be real, because we know that it is.  That is not faith.  That is knowledge of reality.

I have faith in Jesus, not because of facts that add up to faith, but instead because of doubts that over and over lead to hope in things not seen.  My faith is not consumed by knowing things to be true, but instead it is guided by my willingness to embrace what is unknown.  My faith knows doubt and knows it well.

Beyond the vast amounts of doubt in my soul, which I believe are absolutely okay and that Jesus himself doubted "my G-d, my G-d, why have you forsaken me?" ---  I choose to believe that G-d is for me and not against me. I choose to have faith in something I cannot see and ultimately I cannot always explain or even feel.  But I embrace my irrational friend called faith and I let her guide me to hope, to imagination, to creating a better world.  

ACTION:

Faith is not something I can force on someone else. But perhaps in letting people have space to doubt they will find a faith of their own in things that they cannot see.  I want to be creating space where doubt is welcome and faith is fostered.

Sacred Pants

“There is nothing so secular that it cannot be sacred, and that is one of the deepest messages of the Incarnation.” 

― Madeleine L'Engle

The other day a friend and I had to make a trip to Walmart.  We had been working on a project all day and needed one final thing to complete it.  We were a mess. I was wearing my "painting clothes." The whole way there we laughed at how thankfully we were going to Walmart and not the mall because at Walmart we'd fit right in.  I love to paint. I'm not Van Gogh or Monet, but I love to paint walls and houses and sometimes things a little more creative.  Years ago I started wearing the same clothes to paint - a pair of blue sweat pants and a light blue shirt.  Even though I am a very clean painter, the clothes are covered in paint.  Knowing that I wear these "painting clothes" whenever I paint, my friend said, "Your pants are like the Traveling Pants."

Have you ever seen "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants"? Four lifelong friends have to spend their first summer apart. They go shopping and amazingly they find one pair of jeans that fits each of them perfectly, despite their varied body shapes and sizes.  The girls decide to have shared ownership and these pants spend the summer traveling between them, experiencing family turmoil, first love, tragic loss and lots of exploration.  In the midst of story is the magical element of these pants that saw so much of growing up and learning.

When my friend said, "Your pants are like the Traveling Pants?" It hit me for the first time that I had unintentionally created one of the most sacred items in my possession.

These pants were worn by my husband before I ever knew him, through boot camp, through his time on Active Duty and then through the first several years of our relationship until they no longer fit him or until I grabbed them one day that I wanted to paint a wall and needed something that I didn't care if I ruined.  They were his and they didn't really fit anymore, so that day over 10 years ago they became mine. My painting pants.  Painting pants that I'm sure already had such a deep story. They were pants that had already seen so much in his life.

I never intended for these pants to be anything more than a comfy pair of sweats that I could feel free to wipe my hands on, spill paint on and basically trash.  But the other day on the way to Walmart I was struck with the sacredness of what I was wearing.

You see, these pants have painted every home we have lived in during our nearly 20 years of marriage; two of which no longer are standing. They have painted the nurseries of our children when I was expecting. They have painted the rooms that we have invited people into over and over. These pants have painted the homes of my grandparents, parents and siblings.  Hours have been spent in these pants laughing, crying, and grieving because painting is therapeutic.  These pants have painted three different offices that I have inhabited, each with their own stories.  These pants have painted homeless shelters where they brought hope and new life to women who have been through so much.  These pants have painted the home of a dear friend who couldn't herself because of cancer.  These pants have painted the walls of my church as I have attempted to create sacred space for my community.  I guess in sense you could say, these pants have painted my life.

These pants have become sacred.  And when I look down, I see a rainbow of colors that each hold a sacred moment in my life.

I walked into Walmart that day holding my head high because I was clothed in the sacred and I wouldn't have it any other way.  These pants are sacred because love has been incarnated in every moment of their existence. My painting pants make their own rounds, never worn by others, but always presenting themselves in service to others.  They are my "traveling pants" that have seen so much. Like the pants in the movie, they've seen family turmoil, love, tragic loss and indeed, lots of exploration.  They have grown up with me and in them I have learned so much.

F*** Cancer

Three summers ago, I received word that one of my dearest friend's cancer had returned. It had been two years since her first diagnosis and we thought she was good.  I remember the emotion so vividly - the heartbreak, the fear, the anxiety, the anger. I spent a lot of time crying, a lot of time praying. Quite frankly, I was blubbering mess.

The Sunday after receiving that news, standing in church, I found myself unable to breathe, nearly collapsing. I rushed out of the sanctuary, pressed my back against a cold brick wall and let myself sink to the ground. In this moment another friend that was there came, lowered herself to the floor and wrapped her arms around me. It was as if her entire body enveloped me, she just held me and together we sat there and cried uncontrollably. 

Today, my friend has been fighting this second battle for three years. We have been up and down, in and out of the hospital. There have been so many moments of joy and many moments of crushing pain. And still she fights. She has the strength of a super hero. 

When I've been with her I've found myself just staring, wanting to take in every expression, every freckle, every twinkle of her eye. I don't want to miss a thing and sometimes that has paralyzed me. Sometimes I haven't been able to even express the emotion and yet it is still inside me. I hang on her every word, fearful of losing her and angry that she has to go through this. The cancer isn't stopping. It's like a tidal wave that just keeps hitting and is doing everything to pull you under. 

The fear remains real.

The heartbreak is ever present.

The anger invades

and with all that I am

I beg for her healing. 

It's like a bad dream. 

I want a happy ending

so badly it hurts.

Desperately, I press my back against a cold brick wall and sink into the ocean of tears. 

This week, as the battle intensifies, as we brace for the next round, I find the emotion wanting to come out. So I cry out in anger... "F*** cancer!" I cry out in heartbreak... "This isn't fair!" I cry out in desperation... "Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy!" And I find myself in the realization that perhaps it's hard to express my emotion because I feel as if He isn't listening...

And I'm left trying to keep the tidal wave from stealing my hope. Sometimes it's okay to say "This sucks" and it's probably always okay to say "F*** cancer!"

The person nearest you

"Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you."                                                                                              ~ Mother Teresa 

This week Mother Teresa was declared a saint by Pope Francis.  I downloaded her book this past week on Audible "A Call to Mercy: Hearts to Love, Hands to Serve." After listening for a bit, I realized that this is a book I should have just bought in print.  

Mother Teresa was not perfect. Sainthood is not about perfection. It is about faithfulness. This book reveals struggles that she had, but more than anything it reveals her heart for G-d and for people.  It reveals her faithfulness in such a humble way.  

In today's western Christianity, as much as we say it is not about numbers, the reality is that it is.  As a pastor, I go to conferences, meet new people, and the first question is always how big is your church? How many people attend on a Sunday? Numbers are the proverbial pissing fight and the person with the largest count gets to pat themselves on the back as the day's success story.  We justify this with quick comebacks, like "each number is a soul for Christ." Numbers matter in religion because the belief is that numbers pay the bills.  And there's some truth to that, but it's not really how the Kingdom of G-d works. 

What if all of it is bull? What if Mother Teresa is right? What if we are never to worry about numbers, but instead just love the person next to us? What if keeping buildings doesn't matter? What if the latest technology doesn't matter? What if all that matters is the people in your life? What if all the mess of world was redeemable through simply loving our neighbor as ourself? 

One woman who dared to ask these questions and had the audacity to look at the one in her care, changed the world for thousands and left a shockwave of compassion in her trail.  She was a trailblazer! A pioneer! A faithful follower of G-d...following Him into the gutters of India with courage and humility to help and serve the one nearest her.  

In my world, I needed this reminder.  My role is not about numbers, but it is about loving those in my care. My struggles are real, as they were for Mother Teresa, but I find rest from those cares in pouring my life into the people whom G-d loves passionately.  I needed a reminder to just love G-d with all that I got, and love others with His help.  

May Mother Teresa's life be an inspiration to us all to live faithfully to the call of love! And may we be reminded that the one in front of us is enough.  

Flourishing

I am currently reading a book entitled Why Place Matters: Geography, Identity, and Civic Life in Modern America. The book is a compilation of essays by various authors, addressing contemporary America's loss of the importance of the sense of place and community.  The publisher's of this book have categorized it as Policital Science/Civics and Citizenship/Public Policy/City Planning & Urban Development. This is not a book that you will find at Lifeway or even in the religion section of Barnes & Noble; however, the semiotics of place and community are essentially a spiritual, faith-filled concept at their heart.  Let me explain.

In his essay, "Making Places," Mark T. Mitchell, a professor of political theory at Patrick Henry College argues that "human beings have a deep and abiding longing to belong" and that "our human longings are best fulfilled in the context of vibrant local communities." These communities must "foster a more rooted existence" and "cultivate the art of place-making." He suggests four essential elements of place-making.  Place-making is about creating safe-spaces for people that allows our world to flourish.  Within place-making:

1. There must be "a sense of limits." 
2. "We must come to orient our lives around long term commitments and a recognition of natural duties." 
3. We must "recover the language and sense of providence, vocation, and stewardship. 
4. We must acknowledge that "place-making is an art that requires time and practice."

As I was reading, I was left with the undeniable sense of the "righteousness" in Mr. Mitchell's proposal for place-making.  After all, his essential elements were on G-d's mind when He was place-making the Earth for humankind.

When we look at Genesis 1 & 2, we see the narrative of creation, the creating of a place. This place was not like you or I creating a room that has good feng shui or even a worship space that is inviting for all. This was G-d, the Creator of the universe, making a place that we would come to call home.

This place called Earth was created with a sense of limits.  They are written all over the story.  The light was separate from darkness; evening and day were called forth.  The mountains rose up, breaching the face of the water; land and water were told where to gather.   Humankind was molded, life breathed into our beings, and we were given a home.  This home came with limits. "You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil." G-d knew we are creatures who need limits. Safe places and communities require boundaries. This place that G-d created had physical boundaries, as well as spiritual.  Place-making must involve limits, or fences that cue us to where the place begins and ends and how we are to live within in it.

Additionally, this place that G-d created was oriented "long term commitments and natural duties." It is important to acknowledge that this created place was not just about the commitment of humans towards the place and its Creator, but that the Creator had a deeper commitment that outlasts any attempt that humans put forth.  G-d created the place. He created humankind. He walked with them daily in this place.  When things went wrong He clothed them and did not abandon His creation. The Creator has infinite commitment and created the concept of natural duties.  So for humankind in this place that was created they were given each other to find commitment in. "Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh...become one flesh." Humanity was welcomed into this place called Earth, a place where we would live forever and given duties to care and tend to it. Safe places and communities require long term commitment.  G-d did not create a place that was meant to be jumped in and out of.  His creation is a place that He is committed to and invites us to mirror that commitment and duty in our everyday actions.

The Creation Story in Genesis is full of providence.  G-d is all over it; moving and working to create a place and a people.  Look at the verbs that are attributed to G-d: "the Spirit of G-d was hovering," "G-d said," "He called," G-d blessed them," "G-d saw," "G-d made," "He rested," "G-d formed," "He breathed," "He planted," and "G-d caused." That is providence; G-d in the midst of the place, even when He cannot be seen.  In this narrative, He is seen plainly and He is giving the created place over to His created being to stewarded.  Humankind, here is your vocation, here is a piece of your purpose in this place.

"Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground...Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it." 

 G-d created a place in which providence, vocation and stewardship were essential. Now, we could argue for hours on what this vocation and stewardship look like, but for this post that's not my focus.  When this place called Earth was created, G-d in His ultimate place-making called us to a specific vocation, to indispensible duties and fulfilling or not fulfilling those duties has natural consequences.  Stewardship is about being able to leave the created place to those who come behind us.

Finally, as you read the creation story and imagine the beauty of each element, we must remember that G-d in the midst of place-making the Earth also created time.  He created time as holy, not only the seventh day, which was blessed and to be set aside for rest, but each and every day He called good.  Place-making takes work and rest.  It takes time and practice.

The semiotics of place and community are a spiritual, faith-filled concept at their heart.  The G-d of the universe, the pioneer of creating place and community, set forth essential elements that we cannot ignore as we approach joining Him in sub-creating. We must seek to create places and communities with long term commitment and natural duties for those involved.  We must seek to create places and communities that welcome limits as guideposts and invite the language and reality of providence, vocation and stewardship.  We must seek to create places and communities that honor both the gift of time and practice through work and rest.  

After all, G-d did...and we are called to join Him in creation.  Can we join G-d in creating places and communities in which humankind can flourish?  

Rising From The Ashes

"Well, religion has been passed down through the years by stories people tell around the campfire. Stories about God, stories about love. Stories about good spirits and evil spirits."

~ Andrew Greeley, Roman Catholic Priest

Camp Mission Meadows, Lake Chautauqua, NY (07/23/2016)

     Not visible in this photograph is the faint smoke plume rising from the ashes of what had been a decent fire the evening before. Just about 10 hours earlier there had been about 150 junior high students and their camp counselors gathered around this campfire, telling stories, singing songs and praying.
     Around campfires we tell stories.  In Junior High, being a cool kid was directly tied to your ability to cause your friends sleepless nights over the zombies and vampires that your mind would manifest into tales of horror. Campfires facilitate relationship.  We sit around them and chat, as if the world melts away.  I want to propose something else.  Campfires foster healing because campfires promote telling.  Around campfires, even the shyest of us, tell stories.  We muster up enough courage, as if the embers of the fire fuel our hearts, to speak out.
     As we listen to the stories of those gathered around us, we find space and openness to begin to tell our own stories.  "Storiest about God, stories about love. Stories about good spirits and evil spirits." Around campfires we become not only good listeners, but we find the value of the story.
     Our stories are meant to be told. Our stories are meant to be found in the midst of God's story and the story of his people. We are meant to sit around campfires.  Perhaps the Church should reclaim and resign the art of campfire storytelling? Perhaps every house of worship should have a communal campfire in their yard.
     As we speak around the campfire, we burn down walls of division.
          As we speak around the campfire, we learn to tell our story and we learn to tell it well.
     As we speak around the campfire, the stories of our lives rise from the ashes
          and the flames of the Holy Spirit ruminate in our souls.
     As we speak around the campfire we are healed.

Microscopes & Stages

Every single day I live under the stress of what will people think.  I live my life publicly, on a stage of sorts, and that means I live under a microscope.   Some days I detest that microscope; longing to be just another person, who doesn't have people depending on them for the care of their souls. Other days, I love the microscope. It holds me accountable to the virtues that I profess.  And on all days, good or bad, I love my calling to be that person who cares for the souls of others. So on those bad days when the mechanical stage of the microscope has been raised to the max and the objective lens magnifies my every move, I can't help but feel that I've failed in some way to live up to the standard people demand of me.  Sometimes on those days, I've done all the things I know to be true and right and yet, it wasn't enough for the people peering in the eyepiece, as much as they have focused in, somehow their lens is still blurred and they cannot truly see me or G-d in me.

When you live on the mechanical stage and your life is illuminated and investigated, there is only one thing that will get you through the day. You trust that you have a calling and that the only lens that matters is the lens through which G-d sees you. 

 

You learn that there will be people who bless you and there will be people who curse you. You can be doing everything right and this will still be the reality. You can be in the gutter or you can be on the mountaintop, people will bless you and people will curse you because at the end of the day it's not about you. It's about them and their heart. It is not your job to seek the affirmation.  It is not your job to try to force blessings from people.  It is not your job to convert people's behaviors and choices. 

 

It is your job to be yourself. It is your job to do what you are supposed to do as a child of G-d. We are asked to be faithful to who He has created us to be and that's it. 

And what is it that we are called to do: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our G-d, the Lord is One. Love the Lord your G-d with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and love your neighbor as yourself." " What is it that the Lord requires of you: to ACT JUSTLY, LOVE MERCY and WALK HUMBLY WITH YOUR G-D."

We all, every single one of us, has been asked to change the world. I cannot do that through policing people's behaviors, morals and values, or even policing my own. The only hope I have of changing the world is through the very virtue of being who I am called to be - embracing my brokenness and my wholeness and living in the paradox that is freedom in Christ. We change the world through just being ourselves passionately following the Master of the Universe. We are being asked to change the world through loving G-d with all we got, and loving our neighbor. We change the world through acting justly, loving mercy and walking humbly with G-d.  

In a world, where human microscopes are our daily reality, may we be a people who trust in the lens of G-d's love to give us our value, worth and purpose.  May I be a person who rests securely in who I am in Him.  

Shake it off

In Matthew 10, Jesus instructs his disciples to go out.  He tells them to heal the sick, raise the dead, drive out demons, break the bonds of oppression - to give freely because they have freely received.  Jesus tells them to be among the people, in fact to stay in the homes of those willing to have them.  But he also tells them in many senses to not be bullies, to not be pushy, or demand that people believe like them or even that people receive them.  Jesus tells them that if they are not received with openness and peace, to shake the dust from their feet and move along. 

I have a feeling a lot of life is about learning to "shake the dust off your feet".

Not everyone will agree with you, not everyone will believe like you, not everyone will have the same ideologies, perhaps some will have none at all, but that doesn't mean it's our job to change those people.  And this isn't even about reaching the lost necessarily.  Jesus sent the disciples into the people of Israel, into their own people.  Reality is even other followers of Christ will be different than you. They will dress different. They will make different choices. Their interpretations will not sound the same as yours.  And you will have to learn how to shake the dust off your feet and love them anyways.

It's our duty to open ourselves to all and let those who are willing come close and for the rest we must learn to shake the dust off our feet. We each have a mission and passion, we must live from that. We must live from love.

There's an art to shaking the dust off our feet and still truly loving our neighbors at the same time. That's what we must learn because if we don't, the dust piles up and with it bitterness, hatred, arrogance and unforgiveness begin to rule our lives.  

So what does shaking the dust off your feet mean to you? How are you living this out?

Turning Tables

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, "who is this?" The crowds answered, "This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee." Jesus entered the temple area and drove out all who were buying and selling there.  He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. "It is written," he said to them, "My house will be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a 'den of robbers.'"  The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple area, "Hosanna to the son of David," they were indignant.  

~ Matthew 21:10-15 

Imagine with me for a moment this scene.  Jesus, a well-known man enters the city. The crowds are yelling out "Please save! Please save us, we pray!" That's what "hosanna" means. The word is a paradox.  It's a cry from the depth of their beings for a Savior and yet a cry of celebration because this Savior was present. "Hosanna, Please save us to the son of David." "Hosanna, please save us, in the highest." The people were in desperate need of a Savior, and they had some sense of that reality, enough to gather and cry out.

So this man, this Jesus, the prophet, after a long journey and a steep ascent to Mt. Moriah, where the temple was located. He enters. Now, Jesus was not a high priest and because of that he could enter no further than any other Israelite.  Being an Israelite male gave Him access tomuch deeper courts than most others.  The first court was for Gentiles. All along the inner walls and gates that led to the next court were words forbidding any Gentile or unclean person from proceeding any further.  If they did, the punishment was death.  It is in this court that we find Jesus - the court of the outcast, the most outer court of the temple that was reserved for the lowest of people. Here we find this Savior.

The teachers of the law and the chief priests valued this court so little that instead of being a place of worship for the outcast, the sojourner, the Gentile, it became a market that lined their pockets.  It became a place where little, if any at all, worship could be done. Crowded. Constant commotion.  Confusion. Noise. Contention. Fraud.  These things served only to build bigger walls between the people who came to worship and G-d. The powers that be created a space that allowed for walls of oppression that were bigger than the physical stones that towered over all who entered. There was no chance for this space to be a safe-haven. There was no ability for this space, this temple court, holy and sacred, to be a house of prayer. "Hosanna, please save us." The crowds needed a Savior. 

The teachers of the law and the chief priests, the money-changers, the people who held power, put their rights above all else, including their neighbors. Their complete disregard for the outcast brought on a righteous turning of the tables. The cries of the people would be answered, but not in the way that those holding the power liked.  Jesus created space.  In His turning of tables,  He lifted the oppressed. He restored their place in worship.  He tore down walls.  He welcomed the outcast, the sinner, the Gentile and He welcomed the blind and the lame to sit at His feet and be healed.  This is appropriate ministry for the house of G-d. He made the temple an oikos - He made it a home, a family. In these moments, He created a safe place for ALL! 

Are we creating safe places for ALL? Are we tearing down walls of oppression? Or are we protecting our own rights? The teachers of the law, the chief priests, the money-changers, the people who held power, well, quite frankly, they were pissed! They were indignant. They were angered and infuriated that their rights had been squelched.  Funny thing about anger is that it's really hard to be virtuous and righteous, to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly when our anger incites shameless acts of self-defense.

Jesus created safe places for ALL.  We are called to manifest Him.  We are called to lay down our rights, to turn the tables of oppression and bring freedom to ALL. When we do that, the Kingdom comes! 

Fear or Faith?

"They came back to Moses and Aaron and the whole Israelite community at Kadesh in the Desert of Paran. There they reported to them and to the whole assembly and showed them the fruit of the land. They gave Moses this account. 'We went into the land to which you sent us, and it does flow with milk and honey! Here is it's fruit.  But the people who live there are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large. We even saw descendants of Anak there. The Amalekites live in the Negev...'  

Then Caleb silenced the people before Moses and said, 'We should go up and take possession of the land, for we can certainly do it.' But the men who had gone up with him said, 'We can't attack these people; they are stronger than we are.' And they spread among the Israelites a bad report about the land they had explored. 'The land we explored devours those living in it. All the people we saw there are of great size. We saw Nephilim there...we seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them.' 

~ Numbers 13:26-14:9 

Fear does funny things to us.  Fear paralyzes us.  This is what happened to the people of Israel.  A people who had seen first hand G-d in big, bold miracles, like liberating them from Egypt, parting waters, and killing their enemies.  This G-d commanded them to teach their children of the miracles He had performed, to remember all the mighty works that He had done, to never turn aside from trusting that G-d is with them. G-d is with them even when they cannot see Him. Any and all success was only possible because of their surrender to G-d. And yet, here they are ascribing to men what is only meant to be ascribed to G-d. "They're too powerful." "They're too strong." "They have mighty walls." 

In ascribing to their enemies the power that should only be ascribed to G-d, they failed.  They allowed their fear to distract them. They allowed their fear to disconnect them from G-d. They allowed their fear to call themselves unworthy - to equate themselves to grasshoppers and to assume the world saw them the same way.  Fear ravishes us. Fear devours us.  Fear is the enemy of faith.  

The people of G-d, the people who had witnessed His mighty hand and powerful miracles, allowed their own fear to conquer their lives.  The word for community here means "witnesses" or "testimony givers." These were G-d's testimony givers - the ones who would carry His story to the world and their fear broke their mission.  

Today, we do the same.  The evil one has no power except that which we give him, that which we relinquish to him.  In our fear, we ascribe to him power that is only G-d's.  We ascribe to him miraculous deeds as if he has the attributes of G-d.  He doesn't. He is not all-powerful. He is not all-knowing.  He is not omnipotent. He is not omniscient. He is not divine. Those are the attributes of G-d and G-d alone. We see our enemies as people who have power over us, as people who can harm. We let our fear determine how we think the world sees us. Our fear pins us to our own insecurities. Our fear looks us in the face and utters untruths about who we are. Our fear clouds are witness. Fear ravishes us. Fear devours us. Fear is the enemy of faith.  

Caleb and Joshua, followers of a really big G-d, stood before their people, silencing them and calling them to account.  "We should go up and take possession of the land, for we can certainly do it...the Lord will lead us into that land, a land flowing with milk and honey, and will give it to us. Only do not rebel against the Lord and do not be afraid of the people of the land, because we will swallow them up. Their protection is gone, but the Lord is with us. Do not be afraid of them." 

In Mark 10, we see the story of the rich young man who says, "Lord what must I do to follow you?" Jesus replies "sell everything you own, give to the poor and follow." The man can't do it.  The man can't surrender. He can't trust. Jesus continues "With man this is impossible, but not with G-d, all things are possible with G-d." Sounds a lot like Caleb and Joshua's declaration.  

Everything is possible with G-d. G-d alone is mighty. Any success we have, no matter how hard we have worked (and work we must)...any success we have only happens when we surrender control to G-d and trust him. Only G-d can do it, but He does it through us. Fear ravishes us. Fear devours us. Fear is the enemy of faith. 

We have choice. Fear or faith? Which do you choose? 

Being Left Behind

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. He will remove every branch in me that does not produce fruit, but whatever produces fruit he will purify, to make its fruit abundant...Stay in me and I in you."

~ John 15:2-4 

It can be heartbreaking to see things change. It can feel like someone has crushed your spirit when people decide to leave.  This is especially so when they do it in a way that leaves the left behind questioning.  How people choose to leave says a lot about their maturity, both spiritual and emotional.  This is especially true in the body of Christ, the Church. When we follow Jesus we are called to embody him, to manifest him and when Jesus left he talked it out.  He was clear and plain spoken about his intentions.  (John 14) 

Some of the most beautiful moments in my ministry have been in those desperately hard conversations about whether to stay or go. When we are attentive to the difficult path that calls us to value one another and to share in transparency, G-d is present and the pain somehow lessens. But we're human.  We get mad. We don't get our way. We throw temper tantrums and we stomp out or we leave quietly, exiting through the back door hoping no one will notice we have departed.  We avoid phone calls. We dodge the questions 'where are you?' 'are you ok?' We pretend like we're sick or that we've just been busy.  Very few of us stay to talk it out. Very few of us seek to adjust or lay our wants down.  Most of us want it our way and many of us use G-d as a scapegoat.  "G-d, told me to leave." As if G-d tosses and turns, here one day, gone the next.  

G-d created us for community.  G-d created us for one another. Sometimes we break that or forget that. Sometimes we run, instead of work it out.  Sometimes we place ourselves above the Kingdom or above the community.  However, the community is sacred - a holy expression of the body of Christ.  It's sacred enough that we should lay ourselves down for it. 

When people leave, no matter the terms, our hearts grieve and we're tempted to let fear set in. We're tempted to chase or to change to make them come back.  It's like a vine having a branch cut off. If we could ask the vine, she would say it hurts. It hurts for the branch that has been cut as well. But with time the wound heals, the roots grow stronger and a new abundant fruit is produced on what remains.  

So let's re-sign, re-imagine what it means to be left behind. When we are left behind, let's look up and anticipate the fruit that's coming.  Let's position ourselves for what G-d can do when we submit to the work of the vinedresser.  Being left behind is not a bad thing. It is a G-d thing! Those left behind get the opportunity to do greater things!

Midnight ramblings

"Know therefore that the Lord your G-d is G-d; he is the faithful G-d,keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments."

~ Deuteronomy 7:9 

Over and over I fail myself

Over and over I fail G-d

Again and again He never fails me

Again and again He reaches down into my soul

He lifts me to His mountain tops.  

Again and again 

His covenant proves true

Unconditional love

Love that speaks to the heart

Love that heals the wounds of the past 

Love that reminds me I am alive 

I am not dead 

I am not dead

I hold His life 

I hold His love

I hold His very breath

Even when I fail 

when His laws escape me

even when it seems I have not loved him

He restores my soul

He calls my name

He speaks His love

When I fail, He re-signs

When I waiver from the path

He redeems the course 

His grace is bigger 

I know it to be true.  

For a thousand generations

He lives His covenant of love...

He lives it in me

City of Refuge

The Bible speaks of places that were to be Cities of Refuge in the nation of Israel.  In these cities, the most deplorable people were welcome.  These people were offered assylum in these cities that would welcome them in, allowing them to take part in life just as they were - baggage and all. Cities of Refuge were not seen as places of protection, but instead places where atonement could be fostered. Rabbis believed that people who murdered were not just murders but instead people with stories.  They had stories that led them down the path of death and thus these cities would offer grace and mercy. They would offer opportunity for acceptance, healing and restoration for all.

What if the people of God built cities of refuge, instead of walls of exclusion? What if the people of God embraced every single person, no matter what they have done?

During my time in Portland this past week, I fell in love with her. I could not help but see Portland as a modern-day city of refuge of sorts. People from all over the world, from outcasts for their "weirdness" to those who are young urban creatives, have assembled within her jagged walls seeking assylum, seeking refuge. Maya Angleou said, "The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." There's something deep within us all longing to be loved. There's a force within our souls passionately pursuing belonging-ness.  An Eternal Master Creative created humanity for community. We were created for one anotherness. Portland is a city that, at least on the surface, embraces the weird, the broken, the sinner, the creative, the open. The question is does it offer a place of atonement, a place of grace.  I can't say. She's not my home.  But that leads me to questions about myself and about my church.   

The biblical cities of refuge were to be operated and ran by the priestly class. The priests of the nation were called to care for all who would enter.  These priestly folks would extend grace and mercy to all who were unwanted and even to those who the world sought to kill.  As followers of Christ, we are a priesthood of believers. We are all to be ministers of the Gospel, caring for the poor, caring for all we meet. Am I creating a city of refuge? Am I offering assylum within my heart and life to those who are most in need of it? Is the Church a city of refuge for the broken, for those who do not look like us, or smell like us? Are we creating safe spaces for all no matter the labels we could assign to them?  Is the Church fostering an environment of protection and connection? Or are we creating cities with ten-mile high walls of exclusion, asking people to jump higher? Sadly, I do not have an answer that I am comfortable with.  

The Church has created spaces in which people are not free to be themselves in awe of an Eternal Master Creative. And so the world creates spaces like Portland where people have a freedom in being themselves, weird, strange, young urban creative,..anything. In Portland, you dress how you want to dress, you speak how you want to speak, you sing in the key that you want to sing and all who wander are not lost. Gospel transfiguration starts with embracing our humanity. The Gospel is about becoming uniquely human by a reconnecting to our Eternal Master Creative and lively freely and boldly in his creativity.

Church, we have missed something. We stand at a crossroads with our world and we must make a choice. Will we be a city on a hill? A city of refuge? A city of grace and mercy? A city of love and connection? Or will we remain behind our walls of exclusion, holding tightly to our own salvation? 

I dream differently to jazz

Last night after a very long but blessed business trip, I climbed aboard the plane at PDX and found my seat. I was looking forward to this four hour flight that was ahead of me. I don't sleep much but enough usually, over this trip deep sleep escaped me.

A gentleman sat down next to me and well, I've never met a stranger. He stood out entering the plane because the stewardesses made a big deal about space. He and his friends were spread all over the plane but they all came carrying instruments, having to store them in the very back. 

As I prepared myself for the long flight, adjusting my jacket, getting my earbuds ready and detangled, I asked him how he reclined his seat. Being new to this airline I couldn't figure out how to do it. Turns out it took extra effort for me anyways since the lever was under the seat and you had to simultaneously pull the lever and push back with your back. With my vertical challenges and short arms, reclining seat turned out to be quite an amusing sight for all around. 

I asked this gentleman what instrument he played and if he was from Portland. He wasn't, but he played the trombone. Jazz was his trade. Tired as I was, I thanked him for his help and asked him one more question: "If I were to find one  Jazz artist on Apple Music to listen to for the flight who should I find?" After a moment of consideration his response was - Brad Mehldau. 

I looked him up. This Brad guy is a pretty prolific artist, so the gentleman picked an album for me. I laid back, closed my eyes and drifted off with my pink pillow wrapped snugly around my neck.

If you meet me, I might randomly ask you for an album to listen to. It keeps my musical life diverse. 

Music speaks to my soul. I'm a feeler. I feel everything deeply. I gave up memorizing music, albums, or who sings what a long time ago because I am also a thinker. My mind goes a mile a minute and inconsequential things are left to the side as I process, which to the horror of some and the joy of others I am an external processor. I talk things out. I write things out. Too some that means I talk too much. I guess, music joins me in the conversation and speaks to the deepest parts of my soul. 

No, I'm not going to tell you my dreams because you wouldn't understand, but I will tell you that I dream differently to jazz. Something in my soul listened intently while my eyes and my mind rested and I danced in my seat. 

I awoke as we were landing and I thanked this gentlemen. "Thank you for picking the soundtrack to my dreams."

He looked at me strangely, thought about it, then giving a twinkling smile said, "Ha! You're welcome!"  

Knowing that the man next to me was not the man on the album cover he had chosen, I asked him if he played music like that and he said no, his was a little different. Turns out I was sitting next to a pretty prolific jazz artist in his own right! And I dream differently to jazz. 

At the end of the day I'm selling shoes...

 This week I had the opportunity to visit the headquarters of what has to be the largest shoe company in the world. During a tour, I listened as the young man leading graciously shared the story of his employer. This story was not just about his employer. It was evident that the story of this company had become fully his own story. He knew the language, he knew the story and he knew his place within the story. He had a home in this company. 

His words were eloquent and elaborate as he shared his heart for over 2 hours. He didn't talk about marketing in the traditional sense, he talked about virtues: 1) be authentic 2) have commitment 3) know your story and 4) believe in that story. He also clearly labeled his ability to see reality for what was.  But he closed with this "at the end of the day, I'm selling shoes and I don't ever want to disconnect from that." This is the art of his business. 

The art of being a pastor is often times seen as unique. Unique because of the high expectations. The future of your church rests on your shoulders and everything has the potential to be your greatest masterpiece or your greatest mistake. The virtues are the same: 1) be authentic 2) have commitment 3) know your story and 4) believe in that story. 

While I dislike the imagery of "church as business", I was struck this past week at how the same basics apply.  At the end of the day, my job as pastor is to connect you to your story within God's story. To show you the Good News of God's solution to the formlessness, emptiness and void that exists in your life. 

And these virtues are not just for me as pastor , but also for you as follower. 1) be authentic 2) have commitment 3) know your story and 4) believe in that story.  The Church has the power of the Spirit among us when we live out these virtues with one another. We must be all-in!!

Are you authentic? 

Do you have commitment? Not so much, to the Gospel, of course you have that. This commitment is about the community. Are you committed to the community? 

Do you know your story? Do you know the story of God? Do you know the story of your community? 

Do you believe in that story? 

Two things we should get right

It has been so hard to have words to speak about the Orlando massacre. Sunday morning I did not see the news. I got up, got ready and did my Sunday morning routine.  I didn't know what had happened until after the worship service when people were already leaving. 

My daughter came and said "mommy, you didn't see this this morning?" Questioning my lack of acknowledgement and showing me her news feed...My immediate response was heartbreak and tears. All I had seen in that moment were brief facts - 50 dead, Orlando gay bar, largest mass shooting in US history.  I grabbed a microphone. (It took a bit to get it back on, as our sound people were already shutting down.) I was shaking and in tears, but I called my people back to the center, gathered in a circle and I led my church to pray...feeling helpless and absolutely crushed. Prayers of repentance for the hatred humanity harbors for one another, for the horrible things that we do to one another. A prayer of lament. A prayer for people we never met and will never be able to. A prayer for families and friends of those in Orlando. Prayer that seemed to be completely inadequate. 

In Matthew 22, Jesus the Messiah delivers the great commandment to his followers, which echoes the commandments given to the Jewish people in Deuteronomy in Leviticus: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the law and the prophets hang on these two commandments." 

Speaking not just to Christians, but to all of humanity, hear me when I say: if we get no other commandment right, we will have done well just to complete these two. If we fail at everything else in life, but we love one another, we have succeeded.  

The LGBTQ Community is made up of our neighbors. They are our brothers, our sisters, our cousins, our aunts, uncles, mothers and/or fathers. They are human beings created in the very image of God and worthy of dignity and respect. 

How we, as followers of Christ respond in tragedies... How we respond as followers of Christ in every moment of every day must be in love. I struggle to find words to adequately communicate what is going on inside my heart.  My heart has been crying since I heard. It has been hard to fight back tears every single moment. I have had the urge to just hug random strangers (I haven't). I have been more kind. I have been slower to speak, acknowledging God in every face I have seen, pausing to see the unseen, and seeking ways to love others, because prayer, although powerful and needed, doesn't seem enough. 

We are called to break the chains of injustice, to untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free. These things inherently make us uncomfortable because they make us lay down our own expectations, our own rights, our own freedom, our own lives, so that others might have freedom. I believe that in times like this we must find a faithful path in the words of Paul in Romans 9 when he says, "I would wish myself cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people." Basically, I would go to hell if it means that one person might know the love of my God through me. 

Lent 2016

Here we are at the beginning of another Lenten journey. Today is Ash Wednesday and I'm heading to observe this sacred day with my Catholic sisters and brothers as well as people from many other faith traditions. 

Ash Wednesday kicks off 40 days of Lent. A period of time in which Christians remember Christ's 40 days fasting in the desert enduring the temptation of Satan. The ashes we wear today are unique. These ashes are made from Palm branches, specifically from the previous Palm Sunday. These ashes are blessed and then placed on mass goers foreheads. The Pastor/Priest recites the words "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." Or perhaps "Repent, and believe in the Gospel." Both are appropriate. 

During Lent we remember our humanity. We recall our utter dependence on the Creator for our life. We draw close to the Holy Spirit in our weakness and we remember the love of a matchless God. 

All of humanity understands the need for change in our lives, no matter our faith tradition. All religions have some form of fasting and season of change. For Christ followers we use this time of Lent to embody Christ, to breathe in the Holy Spirit and exhale love. 

Our question for Lent should not be so much "what am I going to give up?" But instead, "what in me is going to change so that Christ might better flow through me and out of me to others?