Joy amid the dust

Remodeling continues in the house in which I live. Amid the in and out of contractors and faithful  volunteers, the house continues to transform into something new and wonderful. As I am excited about what can be, and what is happening in the house, I am also aware how temporary everything seems to me at this time. As I navigate through the house, I am aware that the utility room is different now because we are making room for something new. As I climb the stairs to the second floor bathroom, I am mindful that the bathroom downstairs – the one that has served me well over the past year is no longer the same. Walls have been torn out, the shower, sink, and toilet are no longer in its space, and for now this room is unusable. Regardless, I know that this is temporary for we are making room for something new. My spirit rejoices as I sit at the breakfast table and watch the sun rise in the eastern sky, filling my kitchen with morning light. I am able experience this because, the wall between the kitchen and the dining room has been removed, allowing the early morning light to flood the kitchen, reminding me that the skeleton of an open wall is just temporary and there will be something new; For even remodeled homes must make its journey through the dark places and valleys where there is neither beauty nor order. As for now, I know that what was, is no longer and what is to be is still unclear, but I know that my discomfort with the dust and disorder is only temporary for from the future comes something new. 

As I write, our Jewish brothers and sisters are in the midst of the Festival of Sukkoth. Sukkoth, also known as the Festival of Booths or Tabernacle is that joyous time of year following the solemn Jewish holiday of Yon Kippur. Sukkoth comes at a time of year when the harvest is in, Yon Kippur prayers have been said, and hearts are filled with gratitude and thanksgiving for all that God has done for them. The word "Sukkot" means "booths," and refers to the temporary dwellings that the Hebrew people were commanded to live in during their period of wandering in the wilderness – that time before the Hebrew people entered the Promised Land, the future that was promised to them as far back as Abraham and Sara. This joyous festival was more than celebrating the end of the solemn holiday of Yon Kippur or the in-gathering of the harvest, it was also a time to remember that the time in the wilderness, though  painful, is temporary -- temporary like the dust and disorder within the house in which I live. Out of the ruins, comes something new. 

In many ways, both the unfinished house and the Festival of Booths – Sukkoth, reminds us that so much of life is temporary and seems to always be under construction. The story behind the Festival of Booths speaks to me in this time of transition.  Just as the generation who doggedly persevered through the wilderness with Moses, so must we journey on together, confident that God is leading us to something new. One day the house will be finished, welcoming your spiritual leader and his/her family to your community. One day the temporal feeling of this interim time will break forth with a sense of hope and permanence. One day, the waters, dividing the Jordan River will wash back over the rocks of the past, closing one chapter and allowing this congregation to thrive and live life together in a new land, in new ways. One day,  we’ll look at this time as a period of tearing down old things and embracing something new. In the meantime, we must persevere for we are still traveling the wilderness, setting up a temporary dwelling place and looking forward to the new land! One day this time of impermanence will come to an end and O what a day of rejoicing that will be! In the meantime, we joyfully carry on amid the dust of the past as it slowly clears away.

A Balanced Call

⁸ He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
   and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8

           I do not recall studying this passage in Sunday School nor do I remember a particular sermon about this passage from the prophet Micah in my early years. Being the son of a preacher, I suspect that I must have come across the passage a time or two in those years, and probably knew quite a bit more about the Bible, theology, and church stuff than my friends and peers, but I don't remember connecting with this verse until many years later. A pastor mentor shared this passage with me as a way to explain his own calling, his own ministry, and his own identity as a pastor and teacher of the Jesus gospel

            I don’t remember hearing his explanation about this passage, but do remember how transfixed I had been by this passage. I remember how it touched me and clarified my own sense of call and my identity as a pastor. This passage has become something of a “touch-stone” for me in those times when ministry is less than enjoyable and feels more like a daily grind than the joy of serving God and God's Church, it reminds me of this marvelous, beautiful and exasperating call that defined me over twenty-five years ago. “… And what does the Lord require of you…” 

            As a young child, I was told by family, friends, relatives and church people that I was “…a kind person.” Still to this day when folks talk about me, introduce me or share their thoughts about me, they mention that I am a kind and gentle person. I get this. I don’t know that I could be anything else. So the “…love kindness…”  mandate seems to fit my personal sense of who I am and who I have probably always been.  The other two parts of this passage, “…do justice…” and “…walk humbly with your God…” have shaped  my understanding of what it means to model a Christian walk and what it means to be a pastor and member of the United Church of Christ. My professors, many of my colleagues, and most definitely the United Church of Christ have defined for me the meaning of "doing justice". Acts of justice are acts of love and grace that call us out of our protected and insulated world and into the world to live out the great commission, “...go and baptize all people…”  Likewise, “…to walk humbly with your God” is a personal call to nurture and grow a meaningful and abiding relationship with the one who created me and gave me breath.   As I continue to walk humbly with God, I find myself on a winding road into a deeper understanding of a faith that continues to call forth my gifts and my call  to witness,  with conviction and passion, the work of Jesus, the Christ.

            I am drawn to this verse because the mandates, "...to love kindness, do justice, and walk humbly with your God..."  are not static – they continue to change and grow as God reveals more truth and light to me. Walking faithfully with Jesus Christ, with God and the Holy Spirit means to me that we must always be winding our way through that labyrinth of faith that brings us closer to the divine spark that shapes and forms us for God great and marvelous realm.  This passage, for me, is a perfect balance as I seek to live my life in this world and my call to continue to do the ministry that God has inspired within me. It is a descriptive understanding of this inward and outward journey of the Spirit that has captivated me from my birth. 

 

God: Guard Dog of the American Dream?

It happened three times in two day. I was casually visiting with folks and it didn't take long before current news topics were brought up. It could be the precarious situation in world politics, a geopolitical chess game. It might be partisan haranguing in our national capitol or more violence in our cities. When these topics come up, I am aware how carefully I must walk through these mine fields.  I have yet to live in a community where my own thinking about political and social issues is consistent with the majority of the population around me.  My views are vastly different and so careful navigation is important.  In the communities I have lived the folks will blame the terrible things that are happening on issues that I simply cannot agree. They are convinced that the reason terrible things happen in the world and our nation is because we've taken prayer out of the schools. They are upset because there are some folks who want to return to the time when the Pledge of Allegiance did not include “…under God.”  They believe that because there are churches and pastors who believe that American flags don’t belong in Christian sanctuaries, adds to the troubles of the world. They will tell me that Muslims cannot be trusted and because there are those who would like to remove the phrase “In God we trust” from our money are additional reasons for our troubles. When I hear such talk, I can feel my adrenalin rushing and the hairs on the back of my neck, rising in protest.  Surely you cannot be serious. Is your God so impotent that your knowledge of God is limited to patriotic phrases, praying in school, an unreasonable fear of diversity and other religion, or a piece of cloth that represents a particular tribe? Is God, only real to you when God shows up on our money, in our national propaganda, or in our public classrooms? Is God, to you, just a guard dog of the American way?  How pitiful. How sad. How hopeless. How unfortunate. I think that for those who think more deeply and critically, one would find this as disturbing as I do. This God is too small. Let me tell you about my God. My God is bigger than America’s guard dog.

My God is not a reactive avenger who sweeps away all those things we do not like; stamping it with the seal of approval about American exceptional-ism.  My God is not beholden to forced prayer or classroom mantras proclaiming God’s greatness. God doesn't need America, or any nation for that matter, to do the work we've been asked to do. My God is a forgiving, merciful, gracious parent who loves all creation with perfect, holy, faithful, and compassionate love. My God is bigger than an added phrase to our nations pledge of allegiance or words engraved on our American money. What God really needs are men and women, youth and children from all tribes and nations to embrace all of creation as a blessing rather than an enemy, a partner rather than a rival, and a people alive with God’s grace and so confident in God’s continued blessing that we don’t need God to be our guard dog for our narrow view of the world and its troubles. Instead of believing that prayer in school, phrases  engraved on our money as the answer to our troubles,  maybe we need to repent, ‘rethink’ our God. Maybe this God has become too small and too easily eclipsed by our own feelings of greatness.  Instead of domesticating God by putting words about God on our money, we need to be more courageous and follow God, believing that God will show us an even better way.

Can we believe in a God who blesses us so that we are blessing to others and at the same time see others, including all other religions and cultures, as a blessing to us? Our God is bigger than our shallow phrases printed on our money. Can we believe in a God who created all of us for the common good? This is a bigger God than the one we pledge to in our allegiance to our flag. Can we believe in a God who has enough grace for Muslims and Jews, Catholics and Protestant, or atheist and agnostics too? This is a bigger God than the one we use to legitimize our ignorance and our fear.  Can we believe that in our wandering and in our questioning, in our doubting and in our fear, God still has a good plan for us and a good plan for others too? This God is bigger.  When we drift from seeing all others as God’s special creation, we are thinking only of me, our clan, our nation, or our particular brand of religion, and soon our sense of who we are as God’s created people grows stale, sour, and toxic. Our faith tells us that God is not for us and against all others. Instead God is for us and for others too. God loves everyone, everywhere with no exceptions. God is not our own personal guard dog that protects us from the world. No God is the One whom we trust to take us to a different place, trusting that that what we know isn't as good as it gets. My God is not a guard dog, protecting what is safe and comfortable for us. My God is bigger than that. Won’t you come and meet my God? 

Sanctuary

Washington UCC, Cincinnati

The stories are different, but tragically following a similar narrative. Young children who have experienced more tragedy in their young lives than most of us would have to face in a lifetime. Each child trying to survive in an environment that hardly nurtures an existence, yet alone, learning the tools, skills, and resources that will be needed to survive in an increasingly hostile nation toward the poor, oppressed, ignorant, and those struggling with the demons of mental health.  Where can one find sanctuary in the midst of life’s struggles to survive?

We were working on a puzzle together; a couple of other friends nearby were playing Connect Four. As Ryan and I were struggling piece by piece with the puzzle, quietly planning our strategy for the next step in solving our puzzle problem, there was an outburst from our friend at the other end of the table, “Aw! Not fair!” and from my side of the table in the midst of puzzle solving, heard Ryan say, “Life isn’t fair!”  Shocked and curious, I asked, “I’ve heard that before, Ryan, who told you that life isn’t fair?” Without missing a beat, the 11 year old said with a voice of quiet certitude, “No one” he said, “I’ve learned it the hard way.” Where can one find sanctuary in the midst of life’s struggles to survive?

Noah is 12 years old and lives a life more tragic than anyone his age should even experience in an R-rated movie.  The highpoints of his life seem to revolve around issues of abandonment, violence, and one adult disappointment after another. His young body wound tighter than a rubber-band, always seeming to live in a mode of survival and distrust, coping the best he can, the only emotion modeled in his life is that of anger and hostility. How many times has he stood between his mother and her abuser? Who knows? He says many, many. Why would he have any respect for the adults in his life? Instead of thinking about dreams for tomorrow, he’s busy surviving in a world he didn’t choose or deserve. Where can one find sanctuary in the midst of such conflict and hopelessness?

Her name is Anastasia. As I swim and talk with her, she asks about the Chlorine in the water. I explain to her the importance of Chlorine in a swimming pool and also what Chlorine can do to our swimming suits as we continue to swim, explaining that between the Chlorine and the sunshine, over time our swimming suits could fade. She sat quietly for a while and then she said, “Maybe if I swim a lot my skin will fade and I can be white.” I didn’t know what to say. I had heard this before, but they were only stories told to me a second or third time around. I was stunned. I said to Anastasia, you know, ebony and the color black are among my favorite colors. I think black is beautiful and you are beautiful too. How can one find sanctuary in the midst of life’s struggle to be accepted no matter how God made us?

There is a popular song that has been circulating around youth ministry and youth circles for several years. The title of the song is “Sanctuary” and the lyrics to the refrain are as follows:

 Lord prepare me 

to be a sanctuary

pure and holy, tried and true

with thanksgiving, I'll be a living

sanctuary for you.

The words and the theology, more theologically conservative than my own, do cause me to pause and ask about the meaning of a living sanctuary. Historically, socially, and theologically sanctuary was considered a place of refuge, a safe place for one who is fleeing for his or her life or finding themselves in a place where they are a stranger, an alien in a foreign land. This is the intent behind why we call our holy gathering place, a sanctuary. It is a place of protection, a place of refuge for the spiritual pilgrim on a journey of grace and wholeness. Although the lyrics and the song seem to imply an invitation that God, the One who redeems us and saves us, can find a “living sanctuary” in us. I think this is too simple, too idealistic and even for the most affluent and faithful, pretty irrelevant, until we can see the meaning of a “living sanctuary” as not a place for God – for God does not need to be safe from a cycle of poverty and pain, a place of hatred and injustice, or a place where a child must choose between dreams and survival. We need to look at this song as more than pious words of thoughtful thanksgiving for the One who created us and see ourselves as a “living sanctuary” for one another. Can we be a living sanctuary for Ryan, Noah, Anastasia, or others who barely exist in a world they did not choose or want? Could a “living sanctuary” be an invitation to open our hearts and our lives to be a healing presence in an unsanitary and perplexing world where there are no good choices? Maybe for a time, fourteen of us chose to be a “living sanctuary” for the children and families of this community. Maybe we were the hands and feet, the eyes and ears to build up the Body of Christ, just maybe.