Imagine the Possible

Imagine the possible! Imagination! What a gift. All great and wonderful things begin with an idea, an imagined thought, or a flood of passion that brings us to our knees and we imagine what could be done, what we could do and we ask the question, what can I do to be the hands and feet of God, the ears and eyes of the Jesus Christ, and the voice of the Holy Spirit? Imagine what is possible.

From time to time I listen to a radio station that plays songs from the 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s. While driving one day, I heard the song by Clint Holmes’ a onetime hit single, “Playground in my Mind.” I couldn’t believe it, I knew the song. I hadn’t sung that song in maybe 35 years or more, but I remembered the song and I remembered why I enjoyed it. I am drawn to that song because I was that child on the playground, the one who played innocently and cooperatively on that playground – the one that brought comfort to the singer. I was living the love. I was laughing and I was playing. I was the escape from a sad and lonely world and the child who knew no other way, but the way of love and innocence. Likewise, I can also imagine that there are many, many people who feel that the world has let him down and I suspect that the writer of this playful, yet prophetic song from the 70's captures the complexity of our world and our experiences. Let's look at some of the lyrics:

When this old world gets me down

And there’s no love to be found

I close my eyes and soon I find

I’m in a playground in my mind

Where the children laugh and the children play

And we sing a song all day.

Imagine what is possible. The gay teen-ager is bullied, beaten and feeling the world has let him down. Where’s the love? Imagine what is possible. A high functioning autistic young man asks a friend to his senior prom and just a day or so before he would pick his date up, she calls and tells him she won’t be attending prom this year. This old world gets him down. Where’s the love? Imagine what is possible. She’s overweight, living with an alcoholic mother who in her drunken state reminds the obese child that she is worthless and that no man would ever want to marry her and she feels that the world has let her down. Where’s the love? Imagine what is possible. When such mean and hateful things happen to God’s children, why wouldn’t we close our eyes and visit that playground in our minds? Why wouldn’t we want to visit that park where there are no sad faces, no hateful words, and no fighting – just smiles and laughter, free spirits, and cooperation. Oh the wonders that we find in the playground in our minds.

As I babble on about imagination and the possibilities, I am reminded of the still speaking God who is calling upon all creation to be God's hands and feet and to imagine a playground fit for all God's children. Perhaps the children on the playground are our prophets and teachers today? I wonder? Ba, ba, ba, ba! La! La! La! Imagine the possible!

You may say that I’m a dreamer – but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us and the world will live as one.

Imagine, John Lennon

Life's Holy Hands

His hands were oily and grimy from years and years of working on cars and trucks. The hands tell a story about hard, dirty work that gives peace of mind to those who are not quite sure of the difference between four-cylinders and eight.

Her hands were strong, soft and gentle. How many lids had she tightened with her hands? How many times had she immersed her fingers and hands in warm, soapy water to bathe a child or clean a dish? Her hands have a story to tell too, a story about caring and nurturing, cleaning and scrubbing.

I looked at his hands and noticed that he had picked the skin and nails to the point that his fingers were scarred and bleeding. Could this have been his way of dealing with his anxiety and the stress of life? Or was it something else? His hands tell a story about a life of suffering and a life of pain. It is a story about battles with life's demons, a constant struggle with addictions that cripple the body and breaks our spirits.

I'm remembering the newborn hands of my children. Their hands tightly clasp into two tiny fists that had not yet learned how to use the muscles and the bones to open their tiny hands to discover the mysteries of the world and to begin to weave the story that would become their own. Their hands small and beautiful were still waiting to receive the joy of new discoveries.

I am remembering the holy hands that held me when I was small, strong hands of gentle strength. I am remembering the men and women along my own journey who reached out their hands to catch me when I fell or encouraged me when I was feeling too comfortable with my life. I am remembering Mrs. Rietz, a member of the church choir who asked if I had ever considered ministry? I remember Mrs. Kuhlman who encouraged me to use my voice to sing praises to God. I remember Rev. Reiter and the congregation of St. John's in Granite City who believed in me and allowed me to explore my call as pastor and teacher. I am remembering the day Dr. Wehril called me into his office and spoke clearly and beautifully about my gifts for ministry and blessed me on a journey that I was just beginning. Hands, holy hands touch our lives and show us another story that we can live. Each set of hands that touch us, are the holy hands of God that offers us living water that nourishes us and fills us to overflowing. And we are changed.

As I babble on about the holy hands and the hands that have touched my life, I am wondering about the holy hands that have touched your life. How has God reached out to you? Who are the people who offered you living water? Like the hands that have changed our lives, so do our hands have the ability to change lives. So do our hands have a story to tell. So does God use our hands to change lives. Your hands are holy too. What story will your hands tell?

The Way Home

I needed to get home on that snowy, windy night. The winter wind was blowing pretty hard and it was cutting interesting formations in the snow along the side of the road. I glanced across a farmer's field. Two months ago, the land was waiting for a farmer's combine and now the once productive field had been transformed into a snow-white desert as the cold, north wind created small mounds of dry, blowing snow. At times I wondered if I was actually on the road or at the very least, the correct side of the road. The blowing snow and dark night made it difficult to know for sure where the road was under the weight of my moving car. I was grateful that I had traveled this road many, many times before and had a pretty good idea as to the bends and turns of this road. As I traveled slowly and cautiously through this winter wonderland, my mind recalled the words from the prophet Isaiah:

"A voice of one calling in the desert prepare the way for the Lord, make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God."
Isaiah 40:3

I thought how frightening and perfectly awful it would be to have car trouble on this cold and wintry night and how much worse it would be if I were traveling in a place that was not so familiar to me. It was like a wilderness, a desert place, a place of gnashing and chattering teeth. Yet, there was a beauty about this night that reflected the awesome power of God. I kept traveling through the wilderness. I was on my way home and my memory of the road, the landscape, the familiar buildings were signs to me that I was on the right track.

John the Baptist lived in the wilderness and preached. The people came to hear him preach, they came to see where God resides. After Jesus was baptized by John, he went into the wilderness and saw the face of God. There are countless mystics throughout the generations that have lived in the wilderness where they have known God. The voice of the one calls us out of the world and into the wilderness where God dwells -- in the empty places, the wild places, the places we least expect to find a comforting word. The voice of the prophet from the lonely and desolate wilderness calls through the wind and the snow and invites us home.

The snowy, windy night was not a night I would choose to be on the roads. But even in the wind, the snow, and the ice, the grace of God could be seen. Along the road I was traveling, I could still follow a trail that would lead me home. Perhaps it was a night to experience God in the wilderness, the place where we are least equipped to survive and are the most dependent upon the grace of God. Maybe the cry from the wilderness is an invitation to come into the desert, the empty place, the wild place and discover the place where God dwells. Perhaps this IS THE WAY home -- through the wilderness.

As I babble on about snowy nights, empty places and a voice that calls us into the wilderness, I begin to see that the chaos of blowing snow on a cold and windy night is much like living this life. This life that is so unpredictable, often menacing, at times lonely and cold and other times beautiful and timeless. Yet, even in in the storms of life , one can follow a faint trail that leads us home -- home to the voice that calls us into the desert and shows us the way home.

The Lights of Phoenix

When flying, I often sit next to the window. It was a beautiful Autumn day when I flew into Phoenix, Arizona. The day I flew, it was a clear day and looking out the airplane window was a pleasure. I saw fields, perfectly sectioned off, many in nice squares. There were some green, green circles that looked like it was a part of a circular irrigation pattern. From the window of the airplane, I saw ribbons of highways with tiny matchbox cars moving along like the steady pace of marching ants. The further west I flew, the bluer the sky was and wisps of clouds added to that awesome feeling of flying high above the beautiful land we call America.

Slowly the dark, evening sky hid my remarkable view of the land beneath me and I closed my window to rest my eyes for a little bit. Shortly after I closed my window, the voice of the pilot announced that we would be landing in twenty minutes and to prepare the cabin for landing. I opened the window and saw the flickering of thousands, perhaps millions of lights from the city of Phoenix below.The lights of Phoenix. In the valley, you can see for miles and for miles I saw lights upon lights and I remember saying to myself, "O my gosh, what would America do without their oil?"

I admit, I was surprised that that thought jumped into my mind. Its not like I haven't seen the night lights of other cities filling the night sky. Now, in the weeks before Christmas, private homes will outline their homes and yards with colorful lights and electronic displays of Christmas in America. As I was thinking about what I saw, I attended worship at Shadow Rock United Church of Christ and the scripture the pastor used came from Paul's first letter to Corinth:

"Everything is permissible" but not everything is beneficial. Everything is permissible but not everything is constructive. Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others."
I Corinthians 10:23-24

Now the phoenix rises! As Americans we have an incredible amount of freedom and an independent streak that often muffles the beating of a caring and responsible heart. In so many ways, the lights of Phoenix I saw from my airplane window were symptomatic of how careless and irresponsible we have become with the land we have been given, for a time, by God. We take and take and give nothing in return. How responsible is this? Just how Christian are we, really? The lights of Phoenix streaming across the desert valley reinforces, for me, an image of America that I am finding increasingly unpleasant and myopic. And I am reminded by Paul, "Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial." Surely, our insatiable thirst for oil is neither beneficial nor constructive. How long will it be before the phoenix rises from the ashes of our greed, our irresponsible use of freedom, and our cold and calloused hearts. The gospel is clear, it is counter-intuitive to what America has become. As Paul reminds the generations, "Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others."

When will the phoenix rise again? I babble on about freedom, about responsibility, about the environment, and about Christian stewardship. Yes, we have the freedom to use and misuse the gifts of this land. Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial. When will we set aside the radical freedom that we, as a nation, have nurtured and encouraged and begin to live within the real limits of the earth's resources? From the desert below, the bright lights of Phoenix rise. Could it be the phoenix that comes from freedom and responsibility or will it be the phoenix of unharnessed greed that plummets the desert lights into the darkness of unfettered freedom? Only time will tell.

Is there a balm in Gilead?

"Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physcian there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people?"
Jeremiah 8:22

Jobs are scarce and I'm happy to have one.
My boss has been paying me in cash for the work I have done
It's less than minimum wage and from time to time I'm not paid at all
But jobs are scarce and I'm happy to have a job

I'm just a child, but my mind is sharp and I want to know more.
My parents work hard and they tell me they can't pay their bills anymore
So there's no money for television and the newspaper is no more
I'm just a child, but my mind is sharp and I want to know more.

I love my community, but there is so much that needs to be done.
How do we get drugs off the streets, stop teen-agers from smoking and drinking?
There's so much work to be done, but where to begin? I wish I knew.
I love my community, but there is so much that needs to be done.

I know I am different, God made me that way.
I like who I am. I am gifted. I am creative. I am hopeful. I am who I am created to be.
I wish others could see my spirit and not what they do not like to see in me.
I know I am different, God made me that way.

Is there a balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people?
Jeremiah 8:22

Embracing our God-gifted Spirit

Recently, Fresh Air of National Public Radio ran an old recording of an interview with late singer and song-writer, Abby Lincoln who passed away on Saturday, August 14th. In a 1993 interview, Terry Gross of Fresh Air asked Abby Lincoln about her glamorous singing career in night clubs and how that affected her as a singer and artist. Abby Lincoln commented that early in her career image was everything -- you dressed in evening gowns with every hair in place, looking like certain artists because that was expected of a singer, particularly a black singer in the era that she was singing. in the midst of the interview she expressed how very confining it was for her because she could not be what she wanted to be, she had to fit an image that was acceptable to her audience. In the interview Abby responded to Terry's image question by saying "people believe what they see."

Initially, Lincoln's statement seemed rather innocuous and predictable. The more I thought about this statement, the more profound it seemed to me. How often don't we live our lives by living out the expectations of others? As young parents we worry about whether or not our child is developing normally and we enroll our children in everything from "books and babies" at the public library to parent-child swim lessons at age 2. As our kids get older, we enroll them in every summer program, extra-curricular activity, and private lessons because our kids must be in good in something. After all its all about image. Instead of letting our children discover their potential on their own, we choose to orchestrate our child's social life so they won't appear different than the other children. Its all about image. Even as adults we get "hung up" on image. We spend a great deal of money on our make-up, on our hair, and on our clothing. It's all about image. We have to own the newest car, the best gun, the biggest house, or have a home theater and entertainment center installed in our basement. All of this is about image -- an image that binds the spirit within us and pushes the sacred and the real further and further from the Creator God who lovingly and carefully created us. Instead of freeing the God-gifted spirit within us, we bind up our spirit with material chains that keep us from warmly and lovingly embracing the spirit within.

Lincoln shared openly her struggle of coming to peace with her own skin -- her own spirit. She never really felt comfortable with the 'acceptable image', the one her audience expected of a singer and song-writer. Her struggle with image eventually led her to shift from night clubs, jazz venues and formal concerts to songs that reflected the human struggles of the world. She wrote songs about justice, songs about peace, songs about responsibility and song of social consciousness that often reflected upon the struggles of African Americans. It was only when she found the strength to forge her own image that she was able to embrace the God-gifted spirit within her. Are we comfortable with our skin? The one that God breathed into us or are we strung out on an image that satisfies the expectations of others?

And so I babble on. I babble on about image an image that we believe we must project for our neighbors and friends because we are so afraid of the God-gifted spirit within -- the One who formed our inward parts and knit us together in our mother's womb. Are we afraid to come face to face with the spirit within us and so we create an alternative image that keeps us safe from facing our emptiness. What chains bind our spirits today? Are we able to embrace the God-gifted spirit within us? Or will we continue to fill our spiritual emptiness with images that make our neighbors smile? The answer is in you.

Ekklesia: The Meeting of the People

Our tour guide asked the following question at the tomb of King Philip, "Did the shield create democracy or did democracy create the shield?" His question to us has certainly created some consternation to one who believes violence, war of any kind, and personal greed is contrary to the Christian faith. Our guide did not answer this question, but nonetheless his observation has caused me to think about his question in the context of community.

Before I reflect on Christian community as a partial answer to the Christian faith, I will need to give the reader some context for the question. As a child, I remember being fascinated with ancient wars such as the ones fought throughout ancient Greece. How many times didn't I use the lid of a garbage can for a shield and a broken tree limb as my weapon of choice as I fought the great battle in my own imagination. As I moved from the childhood years to the adolescent years, I remember how much Greek mythology fascinated me. I enjoyed reading about the great battles, sometimes the battle between the Greek gods and sometimes real battles fought in the name of mortal Kings and ancient nations. In Greek mythology such wars were depicted in the same way as my imaginary battles of childhood -- I fought them with shield and sword. Not long ago, I watched the movie, 300. This was Hollywood's rendering of an actual battle between the Greeks and the Persian empire that history knows as the Battle of Thermopylae. In this historical event, Sparta sent 300 men to guard a narrow pass through the mountains preventing the Persian Empire from advancing deeper into Greek land. Although grossly outnumbered, the Spartans through their superior discipline and a phalanx of men standing shoulder to shoulder with overlapping shields and layered spear points, created an impenetrable wall for the King Xerxes and his army. In the end, thousands of Persians were killed while only 2 or 3 Spartans met their death on the battle field. More on this later.

The second idea that our tour guide presented was the issue of democracy. We know from our own history that democracy was not an invention of America, but it was the way ancient Greece governed its people throughout most of its history. In every ancient Greek city we visited, we saw the ruins of churches and buildings, but we also saw theaters and public forums -- public places -- where the people would gather and where decisions were made. Throughout our tour of Greece, it was made very clear that people willingly participated in building the cities, the temples, and the public places. We know from ancient manuscripts that those who assisted in building these beautiful buildings and spaces were paid for their labors. All things were done together for the good of the whole community. The thinkers, statesmen, and leaders of ancient Greece believed that they were stronger as a nation if "the body" or the gathered community voluntarily worked together. Although Athens was eventually captured by the Persian army, thus putting an end to democracy until 1960 -- 300 men standing shoulder to shoulder with their shields at the Battle of Thermopylae did hold off the Persians for a time.

The Apostle Paul knows how to talk to the Greco-Roman world. Just as Greece and later Rome believed in the importance of "ekklesia", the meeting of the people. The Greek word "ekklesia" was later used to identify the church, however, it is important to know that originally it meant "a summons to the citizens to gather." It was the ekklesia that met together in a public place and debated and made important decisions. On his many trips to the Grec0-Roman world, the Apostle Paul draws upon this same image as he talks about Christ's church and how he addresses conflict among opposing groups. In his letter to Corinth he writes, "Now I appeal to you,brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you should be in agreement and that there should be no divisions among you, but that you should be united in the same mind the same purpose." (1 Corinthians 1:10)

Did the shield create democracy or did democracy create the shield? In the end it doesn't matter because what matters are the virtues and principles behind both democracy and the shield. If either are to be used effectively they must be used as a group. An individual in a mountain pass will not survive the battle. One person's interest does not make up a democracy and a divided congregation compromises the integrity of the whole church. And so I babble one with a question that is not so much about what came first, but a question that calls upon the virtues of working together as the body of summoned and passionate people to meet in the public forum and to willingly and openly debate the issues and the solutions. A public forum is not to prove who is right or who has a more superior idea. Rather, we are called to the public forum to find the unifying theme that summons the body together to find the best solution to important issues that unify rather than divide. Such was the way of ancient Greece and so may it be among the church today.