Return.

“O begin! Fix some part of every day for private exercises....

Do justice to your own soul; give it time and means to grow.
Do not starve yourself any longer. Take up your cross and be a Christian altogether.”

-- John Wesley

 Lent begins tomorrow with Ash Wednesday!
(Ash Wednesday Service is in the Sanctuary at 6:30pm)

Word for the Week: Return

The Hebrew and Greek words for “repent” literally mean to turn around;
to turn away from sin and evil and to turn back to where we belong.

Repentance is a return to God.

Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of God, and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand;
repent and believe in the gospel." ~Mark 1:14-15

Hospitality: The Good Bad and Ugly

Walking into our church's Wednesday night dinner, I was immediately pulled aside by our church's much-beloved retired minister.

"See that couple over there?" he said. "You should probably go and say hello to them because they were really upset when you asked them to move seats last week. They left the church once when someone told them they couldn't sit in their pew--but they're back now, so you should be very nice to them. [And please don't say anything to them about moving.]"

In other words, if these people are not happy, they will leave the church.
And when I asked them to share their table with others, I upset them.
So I should go out of my way to apologize. Because the purpose of church is to keep people happy.

Seriously?

I kind of felt like this on the inside:

First of all, I did NOT ask them to move last Wednesday. We had a family of five who were brand new to the church; here for their very first church dinner and none of the tables had five empty spaces...except one. One table had two people at it (our tables seat eight) and as I walked over to speak with them, they were getting up to put their plates away.

My memory might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I said, "Oh? Are you guys leaving? Because we have a brand new family who needs five spaces to sit..."

And then when the family started sitting down, (and I KNOW I'm remembering this part right) the young mom looked at the elderly lady and said "please don't leave--we'd love to talk with you."
...but the elderly lady said "No, it's fine. We were leaving anyways."
NO ONE ASKED THEM TO MOVE!!!!!

More importantly. who cares if we did?? If you're a member of this church, I expect you to be friendly enough and Christ-like enough to give your seat to someone else who needs it more--especially if they are new and there is no where else for them to go. We have an open communion table for a reason. Share your space. 

I wanted to march over and chew them out. make it a teaching lesson.

Instead, I went with grace (see Proverbs 25:21-22) and walked to their table with a warm smile--at least on the outside. I was still inwardly seething. They answered with biting words and angry glares, but I was proud of myself for being a better person than them.

...until I remembered that my lunch conversation was about Jesus' words from the cross: "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do."
I realized later that they probably DON'T know how much hurt they're causing. Their sin--their blind selfishness--wasn't allowing them to see others. ...and I realitzed that an existence like that must be lonely.
So I DID pray for them--and this time I really meant it.
And I repented of my own Pharisaical prayer (c.f Luke 18:11)

On a positive note, we also had a little girl who came to the children's ministry for the first time. Our kids gather in the dining space and then migrate (duck-like) to the children's area, so as we started to make our way over, I introduced her to a few of the kids. Most of them said 'hello' and smiled, but ONE little girl in particular--a beautiful and occasionally awkward little girl who doesn't always know how she, herself, fits in-- she took the time to murmur a delighted "oh! you're new! Would you like me to show you the way?" ...and they walked away hand-in-hand.

I melted.
MELTED.

Almost burst into tears on the spot.

THAT, my friends, is the kingdom of God.
Aand why children will always ALWAYS be welcome there.

(and why we should welcome others)

Canadian Bacon

I'm late posting this, but I preached last Sunday on 1 Corinthians 8 (Paul's discussion about food sacrificed to idols:

Food. Meat. Thus the bacon...)

Per Allen's suggestion, I'm working hard to keep my sermons focused on ONE idea--which is hard since every text has twenty possible implications.  And even then I struggle over whether I'm faithfully preaching 'the text' or 'the theme'.And whether I'm picking the right theme for the needs of my congregation ...still struggling through all that, actually.

But last week week, there were two implications that stuck to the drawing board: 

1) faith isn't something we do alone. ("look beyond the bacon question and notice the person sitting next to you. Community is important.")

2) sometimes being right is less important than being love. ("we may have to sacrifice/inconvenience ourselves in order to welcome everyone to the table. You can have all the right answers and still miss the point. Community is important.")

The second idea is particularly relevant considering our church still has some fiesty divisions over worship etiquette (coffee refills during the sermon ruffle feathers at one service. Coffee at all would be a sacrilege at the other)--but I went with the first theme, because you have to SEE the person beside you before you're willing to sacrifice for them.  

--> full disclosure, my sermon still tried to straddle both themes a bit, but the similarity held then together. And the main idea was clearly the first theme. 

Images that resonated:

Pushing to be first. To be right. And causing others to stumble. Found online: http://www.gbcdecatur.org/sermons/Trippin.html

And my painted meditation:

In this case, painting was a LAST process (a reflection--not early exegesis) so it affirmed the direction and solidified the theme. 

"Notice the big picture. Don't get caught in black and white questions or 'choosing sides' because you'll miss the green spaces and areas of growth. Our call is to abide in Christ, the vine, and grow in faith together."

Grace upon Grace

I celebrated communion this morning with an interdenominational group of ladies--women who have long been meeting together for Bible study and prayer--women who know and love each other--women who just finished a study of Henri Nouwen's With Burning Hearts (a book about communion/eucharist and how it should shapes the Christian life).

...and it was beautiful.
holy.
Deep.

It took my breath away to see women calling each other by name and sharing Christ with each other--women who previously shared the words "in the name of Christ, you are forgiven" with smiles that spoke more deeply of peace than any handshake.

It was touching to see the prayer of confession settle into silently closed eyes--and the "holy holy" words of Isaiah echo in joyful voices.

And it was powerful to remember that I AM deeply thankful for the Holy mystery of communion.
...and I'm craving the day when deep, loving, joyful community will sweep over the entire earth and the Kingdom of God will reign.

I crave it because I got a taste of it this morning.
...and it was GOOD.

Praise be to God, indeed!

Idioms and Allen

One of the things I appreciate about my senior pastor is that he reads the Bible. I mean really reads it.
Not in a showy "three hours a day" thing he brags about, but in a way that allows scripture intrinsically seeps into his language. I know this because he pops out with these incredibly appropriate but off-hand metaphors:

• once, he described early ministry as "runnin' around cuttin' off ears"  (Mark 14:47; John 18:20) meaning he thought he was doing the right thing, but it was all in his intentions--not Christ's--and it ended up causing more busyness than good.
• This morning we were talking about my preaching style and he gave some great critique (in general,my sermons tend to cover a lot of beautiful ground rather than drive a single point home. My sermons are mosaics or tram-tours rather than specific invitations)--but he also warned me to keep preaching in a way that is authentic to me. "now don't run around in Saul's armor if it doesn't fit..." (1 Samuel 17:39)

...mmm and there was another one that I can't remember now, but the whole thing makes me think of Kavin Rowe's (and Duke's) theological push for the "scriptural imagination." And James K.A. Smith's insistence that worship, scripture, liturgy, prayer--these things shape what we think about (i.e. the actual content of our thoughts) but they're far more effective when they shape how we think. In other words, true worship is a fundamental re-working of the very system that hold thoughts and ideas together. Our behavior and our lives are only surrendered when the Word of God (when Christ) takes root in the deep cortex of our imagination.

And I know that it's there for Allen. Christ is there.

(here's more from James K.A. Smith about the difference between Christian formation and education)

Are we yet alive?

Never leave a fire burning when you go to sleep. It's not safe. 

You never know when a rogue spark might jump back to life and catch some unsuspecting twig. 

That's why, at night, when the campground settles down and the moon rises, every good Girl Scout (or Boy Scout or any good camper who may or may not be happy)--they know to scatter the coals. Everyone knows that if you want a fire to burn down, you push it apart; you create distance so it'll cool faster. 

...so why is there so much distance in the church? Why is it that the community of faith whose call is to fan spiritual gifts into flame--why is it that so many of us don't know the name of the person sitting next to us? 

If we want to see our churches alive and full of fire, we need to come together and breathe new life on the coals that still burn. We need beg for the Holy Spirit who lit the fire at Pentecost--the Holy Spirit who pulls us together; calls us to CONNECT and encourage.

Because as long as there is a spark, there can be fire. And I want to see the church alive.

The Fault in Our Kitchen

...while making cinnamon toast

Husband: "Wait, you butter the bread BEFORE you put it in the toaster?"

Me: "Of course. What do you do?"

Husband: "I'm not defending my position. You make better toast than me. I'm merely admitting that I know where my fault lies."

Me (clearly delighted with my comeback): "In the stars?"

Husband: "No! In St Andreas." 

Me: "The ocean?" 

Husband: ... :(

Me: "oh. California? I'm bad at geography..."

Husband hugs me

The toaster dings. 

Life is delicious.