Lent and letting go...

In the book Common Prayer - A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals, the authors reflect on the season of Lent this way:

"It is a time of repentance, of considering Christ's sufferings and rethinking how we are called to take up our own crosses. Some of us give up things like chocolate or television during this season as a sort of fasting, and others try to integrate something new into their lives, like visiting folks in prison, sewing clothes, exercising, or praying. It is a good season to rethink how we live and to let some things go, or maybe even to develop some new holy habits."

It is the last statement I feel particularly drawn to.

You see, this will be my first Lent and Easter season when I will be serving as a hospice chaplain through my participation in a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education. What better season than Lent to journey with patients and their families through the last days of life? To reflect on the mortality of our earthly lives while resting in the resurrection hope we have in Jesus?

This will also be my first Lent and Easter season when I will be under consideration for a pastoral appointment in the Florida Conference of the United Methodist Church. What better season than Lent to pray and to fast (more so than usual) in order to become more closely connected to God and to seek His will? To rethink how I am called to take up my own cross?

On the other hand, this will be my last Lent and Easter season in my current ministry setting and my last as a seminary student. Spring of Life UMC and Asbury Theological Seminary have each been incredibly important places on my faith journey. The people and memories from each will be forever etched into my mind, forever a part of my story. It goes without saying then that learning how to say goodbye, and say goodbye well, is a priority for me. What better season than Lent to rethink how I live and let some things go?

It is for all of these reasons that I will be fasting from social media throughout Lent. Beginning with Ash Wednesday and continuing through Easter Sunday, I will be on a Sabbatical of sorts from Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and my blog.  In the time every day when I normally would be reading Facebook posts or tweets, I will "fix my attention on God" and seek to be "changed from the inside out." (See The MESSAGE, Romans 12:1-2)

My learning goals for CPE include learning the ministry of presence and the art of spiritually supportive listening. What better season than Lent to remove the distractions that come with social media in order to do just that? To be fully present, with ears to hear the still, small voice of God? That is my prayer anyway. 

I also pray that your journey through Lent brings you closer to our risen Lord. May the grace and peace of Jesus Christ be with you, my friends.

Remembering Martin Luther King, Jr.

Fifty years ago this April, Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote these prophetic words in his Letter From Birmingham Jail:

There was a time when the church was very powerful. It was during that period when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being “disturbers of the peace” and “outside agitators”‘ But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were “a colony of heaven,” called to obey God rather than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were too God intoxicated to be “astronomically intimidated.” By their effort and example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and gladiatorial contests.

Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an arch supporter of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church’s silent and often even vocal sanction of things as they are.

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today’s church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has turned into outright disgust.

Perhaps I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world? Perhaps I must turn my faith to the inner spiritual church, the church within the church, as the true ecclesia and the hope of the world.

Our spiritual parents...

I read something by Henri Nouwen not long ago that really resonated with me. It certainly is not the first time that has happened...I love Henri's writing. And, as is also quite often the case, I read it at a time when I needed some perspective on events that were unfolding around me. Here is what Henri wrote:

"Joy and sorrow are never separated. When our hearts rejoice at a spectacular view, we may miss our friends who cannot see it, and when we are overwhelmed with grief, we may discover what true friendship is all about. Joy is hidden in sorrow and sorrow in joy. If we try to avoid sorrow at all costs, we may never taste joy, and if we are suspicious of ecstasy, agony can never reach us either. Joy and sorrow are the parents of our spiritual growth."

 Joy is hidden in sorrow and sorrow in joy.

How very true. I cannot tell you how often I have reflected on a sorrowful situation only to discover that joy had also been present all along. How does the saying go? Our vision is always 20/20 in the rearview? It certainly is.

Still, I had to pause and think about the rest of this sentence and the assertion that sorrow is hidden in joy. I tried to apply this thought to remembering the birth of my children. Where might sorrow have been hidden in such joyful moments of my life? As you might imagine, it didn't take long to figure out. With the birth of my firstborn daughter nearly ten years ago came the sorrow of my Mom's ongoing battle with cancer. With the birth of my son four years ago came the sorrow that my Mom would not meet him this side of heaven and be here to watch him grow up. With the birth of my youngest daughter last year came the sorrow that my dear sister had lost a baby several months earlier and was grieving not being able to bear children of her own. 

It is  quite true. Joy and sorrow are never separated.

This week I appeared before the Board of Ordained Ministry for the Florida Conference of the United Methodist Church, seeking their approval for licensing as a local pastor. This milestone gave me ample opportunity to reflect on my spiritual journey, my movements from grace to grace and and the joys and sorrows along the way, that ultimately led me to such a moment. 

It was six years ago this week that I served God and the people of Spring of Life UMC for the first time as a part-time worship music leader. Had you told me then that I would leave my career in financial services in order to attend seminary full-time and pursue ordination, I would not have believed you.

It was eight years ago this week that my Mom died from ovarian cancer. Had you told me then that I would be conducting my first patient visits as a hospice chaplain on the very anniversary of her death, I would not have believed you. 

In my reflection I found my understanding of what Nouwen meant when he wrote that joy and sorrow are the parents of our spiritual growth. It has been said that sometimes the way to God is not up but down. The deep sorrow I felt over my Mom's cancer and death took me into the darkest places of my heart. Yet, it was in that place, the very end of myself, that God sowed seeds for a new life and spiritual growth. Without that time of sorrow, I doubt very seriously I would be on the journey I am on today. And so, I have learned from my spiritual journey that God's grace is found in every moment of joy and sorrow we experience in our lives. I've also learned that I must positively respond to God's grace in these moments so that I might grow spiritually. 

So, I invite you to reflect on your own spiritual journey. Looking in the rearview, how have you seen joy and sorrow as spiritual parents to help you in your growth? How have your joys and sorrows helped mold you and shape you into the person you are today? How can you positively respond to God's grace in your present joys and sorrows so that you grow and become more fully the person God created you to be?

It's another Foto Friday!!!

This is a picture I carry with me in my Bible. It was taken July 4, 1971, in a chapel at Pearl Harbor, HI. Pictured are a Roman Catholic Chaplain on the right, my surrogate godparents on the left, and, if you haven't guessed already, I am in the middle being baptized. Want to know what I love most about this picture? That my Mom and Dad loved me so much that less than 3 weeks after I was born they desired to enter into a covenantal relationship with me and God, promising to raise me with steadfast love and nurture in the Christian faith. I fully believe that the journey I am on today began in the moment captured here on film. Thanks be to God for His grace and for my parents and their love for me.

This I believe...

So, I read something today in a text for my Christian Ethics class that pretty much leaped off the page at me. It was a quote from a church historian named Martin Marty. He said:

"One of the real problems in modern life is that the people who are good at being civil often lack strong convictions, and people who have strong convictions often lack civility." 

As I reflect on the state of political discourse in our country with one month until Election Day, I couldn't agree with Mr. Marty more. I don't know about you, but I am quickly tiring of the strong political convictions and associated lack of civility. And I am tired of the endless voice mail messages being left on my phone by the political party I chose to affiliate with when I registered to vote all those years ago. I no longer want to affiliate with any party because there is no party (or politician for that matter) that speaks entirely to me or for me. As I look through the lens of what has become my Christian worldview, they all fall short in one way or another. I said the other day, and right or wrong may very well mean it, "I no longer care who wins the election... I just want it over with."

But back to my friend Mr. Marty because he left me feeling somewhat concerned about what he said. I consider myself to be a fairly civil person. So, does this mean that I lack strong convictions? Is this why I ain't got no dog in this hunt called Election 2012? Am I apathetic because I don't believe in things as passionately as those around me that are firmly entrenched in their political camps? 

While I might not share the strong political convictions of many around me, I know that I do believe these words from St. Augustine: 

“Christ is not valued at all unless he is valued above all.” 

 As followers of Jesus we need to remember what Paul told us in Ephesians 4:4-6: 

"We are one body and one Spirit, just as we were called to the one hope of our calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all."  

This means that if Christ truly is valued above all, then our primary identity and allegiance is to Him alone. So, we are first Christian brothers and sisters, united under the lordship of Jesus Christ, before we are Republicans, Democrats, Independents or even Americans. When we fail to remember this important truth, or its rightful place above all other convictions, we are doomed to coexist in a rather uncivil state of disunity. 

Tonight, as I watch my Facebook newsfeed explode with posts from each side of the political spectrum commenting on this first debate of Election 2012, the extent of my political conviction can be summarized in this way: There is no political party or candidate that can claim the ability to save the country when there is only one Savior.  His name is Jesus the Christ and He is Lord.

The power of lament...

lament |ləˈment|

noun - a passionate expression of grief or sorrow

One of the most famous expressions of grief and sorrow found in Christian hymnody is the timeless "It Is Well With My Soul," written by Horatio Spafford. Spafford's wife and four daughters were making a trans-Atlantic crossing in the 1800s when their ship collided with another and sank within 12 minutes. Tragically, all four daughters drowned. Spafford's wife was, miraculously, one of very few survivors. While making the very same trans-Atlantic crossing to be reunited with his wife, Spafford experienced a sustaining comfort from God as his ship passed the approximate place his daughters drowned that allowed him to write these words:

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll - Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, ‘It is well with my soul.’"

These beautiful lyrics, penned in the midst of unimaginable grief, serve as a powerful reminder that God’s love and comfort can indeed be found within the trials we face and beyond our sorrows.

Today, as we reflect on the events of September 11, 2001, where we were and how we felt, we are starkly reminded that we all experience trials and sorrows that, as Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann puts it, cause us to descend into states of “disorientation.” In our disorientation, we lament and have raw conversations with God, where we articulate our hurt and anger as we raise to Him the cries of our wounded hearts. We sometimes even question our faith.  King David, who is responsible for most of the Book of Psalms, was fearless in his expression of hurt and anger with God.  In fact, Eugene Peterson estimates that around 70 percent of the content of the Book Psalms is based in lament.

Still, most of the time, the lament expressed in many of David’s songs are followed by thanksgiving and praise.  Why?  Well, herein lies the beauty of the lament.  The lament, the cry out to God, invites Him into our circumstances. Brueggemann writes this: 

“Where the cry is not voiced, heaven is not moved and history not initiated. And then the end is hopelessness. Where the cry is seriously voiced, heaven may answer and earth may have a new chance.”

Seriously voicing our cries becomes an act of worship that also leads to remembrance of God’s faithfulness to us in the better days of our past, which in turn serves to remind us of where our hope is found. Thus, we too are able to move from lament to praise, from a state of disorientation to orientation.    

I wonder though if worship music in the church today has lost sight of the lament. The market is saturated with songs of “orientation.” Songs of joy, hope, peace, love, and assurance of God’s continued presence in our lives. Upbeat songs like “How Great Is Our God” and “Our God Is Greater” and “Oh Happy Day.” Not that these songs don’t bear important truths, mind you. But aren’t churches filled with broken people suffering under the weight of hurts, habits, and hangups? And if they are, should they really be expected to sing “You are good all the time, all the time You are good” when they’ve just lost a job or are losing their house or are fighting with their teenagers or are going through divorce or are mourning the loss of a loved one? I would argue, no. 

But we can acknowledge that sometimes the sun shines down on us and sometimes it doesn’t.  Sometimes the world is all it should be and sometimes it’s just not. Sometimes we walk roads marked with suffering. With that in mind we help people learn to sing: 

“Every blessing you pour out, Lord, I’ll turn back to praise. When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say, ‘Blessed be the name of the Lord.” 

That song is a modern lament, a real gift to the church, written by Matt and Beth Redman well over 100 years later than “It Is Well With My Soul” but written from a similar place. It was written from their grief and loss associated with numerous miscarriages. It also happened to be written a few short weeks after September 11, 2001. In a sea of countless songs about the sovereignty and majesty of our Almighty God (of which we certainly MUST sing), this song stands out as one of very few reminders that in the often harsh realities of human life we also need to know how to lament.  

Singing songs like “It Is Well With My Soul” and “Blessed Be Your Name” and praying the psalms of David teach us how to lament. It would be a tragic thing indeed if we ever find ourselves in emotionally dark places we would rather not be, like 9/11, and be unable to truthfully say, “It is well with my soul.”

The other six days...

The title of this blog post is borrowed from a wonderful book by R. Paul Stevens that bears the same title. I explained a few blogs ago that the name for my blog, Every day, ordinary worship, was inspired in large part by Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of the apostle Paul's words in Romans chapter 12, verses 1 and 2. You should know that the crux of Stevens' book served as inspiration as well.

 

Of what it means to do what he calls people theology, Stevens writes:

"So a theology of the whole people of God must expound the unity of the people of God, exploring the meaning of the dispersed life, as well as the gathered life, of the people of God." (p. 9) 

I remember sitting in a small group book study in my church several years ago (before I discerned my call to ordained ministry), struggling with the meaning of my "dispersed life." I felt like I didn't know how to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ in my workplace and that in the busy-ness of my "other six days" God was getting what was leftover from my life.  

I think that is why I now find myself so particularly drawn to the idea of my "every day, ordinary life" playing such a significant role in my worship of God.  Nearly anything I do, except sin, can be done in a way that brings glory, honor, and praise to God.  We are called to love God and love neighbor, right?  So, if we love God through our work (faithfully performing the tasks set before us and giving thanks to God for the provision we are given in return) while loving our neighbor (our co-workers, customers, etc.), doesn't that honor God? Can we go so far as to call it "ministry"? I think so. 

Consider also these words from Stevens:

"It is holy ministry to play with one's children or to listen to a friend." (p. 104)

I LOVE that! If playing with our children or listening to a friend can be considered "holy ministry," think of all the other things we do in our every day, ordinary lives that might also be considered "holy ministry."

It is my fervent prayer that the people of God I am called to share life with come to realize that they are all ministers of the gospel and that they embrace their "holy ministries" with the whole of their every day, ordinary lives.  I pray that, as my dear friend Steve Harper recently wrote in his blog (which I encourage you to read here), our journey together as the people of God "allows us to find and follow God's will in the daily round - the grace which enables us to experience God in the ordinary."