This week's scriptures are Genesis 22: 1-14 and Matthew 10: 34-42.
The Genesis passage for this week, often referred to as "The Binding of Isaac" is one of the more disturbing passages in the Hebrew Scriptures. The Matthew passage with its "who ever does not hate mother and father" and "I have come to bring not peace, but a sword" may not be quiet as disturbing as Abraham getting ready to make a sacrifice out of Isaac...but it's close.
As I'm living with these two passages this week there are a couple of thoughts that keep coming back to me...and before I share them I want to offer a big THANK YOU to Jeremy for his conversation with me about them-it really helped my processing of these passages.
Now....
Part of the problem is that we tend, way too often, to look at God through the lens of our culture and/or our family. We get caught up in what C.S. Lewis referred to as "Christianity and..." This is a view of our faith that defines our belief in terms of things which have nothing to do with Christianity, and, finally, these things take over and become part of our understanding of what it means to be Christian.
Abraham, lived in a culture in which the sacrifice of children was, if not normal, not unusual either. What WAS unusual in this story is that God relinquished any claim to human sacrifice here. In fact-with one exception-there is no occurance of human sacrifice in the Hebrew faith from this point on. One way to look at this story is that it is the account of the Hebrew faith breaking with the cultural expectation of human sacrifice.
This all sounds really good til we get to the Matthew passage. We don't have any trouble believing that faith should not demand human sacrifice. But when Jesus says, "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and who does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me".....that's harsh.
Can we challenge ourselves to look at our faith and seperate out all that isn't Jesus? Can we put Jesus first? Can we be willing to go against those who would make culture or family or politics a god?
These are the thoughts that are moving me toward Sunday. I hope you'll join us as we continue to explore these passages and what they mean for us and our faith today.
Hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
A Dark Story of Crooked Lines
This week's scriptures (a whole bunch of them): Genesis 16: 1-16, 21: 8-21;
Psalm 69: 1-3 and 16-18, 86: 1-10; Matthew 10: 26-39.
Whew! I don't think I've ever posted this many scriptures for a Sunday before. And to be prefectly honest with you, as I read them I'm not totally sure where we're going to wind up on Sunday when it comes time to preach.
What I do know is that the story of Sara and Hagar is a dark story of jealousy and rage; of using people to get our goals met; of God's hearing the cry of the mistreated and the throw-away; and of God (to use the words of an old Portugese proverb) "drawing straight with crooked lines."
It is faith in this....in God's action in the face of our pain and despair....that gives the Psalmist the strength to call out. To say, 'I'm drowning here,' and to give voice to the anguish of the moment.
And it is this understanding of His Father's concern for us-not just as a piece of history or part of some ongoing Will-but as individuals, as persons, that causes Jesus to remind us that not even a sparrow (often used by the poor for their sacrifice or as food) falls without God's knowledge.
The idea that the same God who is the God of history-who has a hope, a dream for what creation will be....cares about you and me in all our tiny, small, petty, cruel, heroic, humanness....it is truly an Awe-ful thing.
That God heard the cries of Hagar and Ishmael does not diminish or excuse Sara's cruelty or Abram's cowardliness in sending them into the wilderness. But if I have to live in a world where cowardliness and cruelty are often in the driver's seat, I'm grateful that God hears the cry of those who are driven out.
A final word. One of the things that I love about scripture...even when it makes me squirm...is that it does not blink in the face of the truth about the people whom God called to be God's friends. It does not soft-soap their shortcomings or their sins. The Hebrew Scriptures are especially noted for their brutal honesty about the human condition and its potential for being less that what we are called to be. It gives me hope that if these persons, with their issues, found a place in God's friendship, perhaps there is room for me as well with all of my sins.
See you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Psalm 69: 1-3 and 16-18, 86: 1-10; Matthew 10: 26-39.
Whew! I don't think I've ever posted this many scriptures for a Sunday before. And to be prefectly honest with you, as I read them I'm not totally sure where we're going to wind up on Sunday when it comes time to preach.
What I do know is that the story of Sara and Hagar is a dark story of jealousy and rage; of using people to get our goals met; of God's hearing the cry of the mistreated and the throw-away; and of God (to use the words of an old Portugese proverb) "drawing straight with crooked lines."
It is faith in this....in God's action in the face of our pain and despair....that gives the Psalmist the strength to call out. To say, 'I'm drowning here,' and to give voice to the anguish of the moment.
And it is this understanding of His Father's concern for us-not just as a piece of history or part of some ongoing Will-but as individuals, as persons, that causes Jesus to remind us that not even a sparrow (often used by the poor for their sacrifice or as food) falls without God's knowledge.
The idea that the same God who is the God of history-who has a hope, a dream for what creation will be....cares about you and me in all our tiny, small, petty, cruel, heroic, humanness....it is truly an Awe-ful thing.
That God heard the cries of Hagar and Ishmael does not diminish or excuse Sara's cruelty or Abram's cowardliness in sending them into the wilderness. But if I have to live in a world where cowardliness and cruelty are often in the driver's seat, I'm grateful that God hears the cry of those who are driven out.
A final word. One of the things that I love about scripture...even when it makes me squirm...is that it does not blink in the face of the truth about the people whom God called to be God's friends. It does not soft-soap their shortcomings or their sins. The Hebrew Scriptures are especially noted for their brutal honesty about the human condition and its potential for being less that what we are called to be. It gives me hope that if these persons, with their issues, found a place in God's friendship, perhaps there is room for me as well with all of my sins.
See you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Like Sheep Without A Shepherd
This week's scriptures are Matthew 9: 35-38 and 10: 16-25.
Matthew 9:36 tells us that as Jesus went about in the cities and villages and saw the crowds "he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd."
Now, as a prelude to understanding this verse it might be helpful to notice what Matthew records Jesus has having been up to before this verse and his sending out of his disciples: he's cleansed a leper, healed a centurion's servant, healed Peter's mother-in-law (and those who came to the house when they heard about it), stilled a storm, healed a paralytic, been ranted at by the Pharisees for hanging out with sinners, raised a dead girl, healed a woman who was hemorraging, given two blind men their sight, and given a mute man back his voice....and that's just in the space between this verse and 8:1! No wonder, being faced with this overwhelming expression of human suffering, that Jesus would look at his disciples and say 'the harvest is plentiful...ask God to send help.'
Jesus looked around him and was acutely conscious of the state of 'harasssed helplessness' of those who came to him. What do harassed sheep do? The become nervous. They may run in circles. They flock closer together. Except if they're seperated. Then a sheep will become paralyzed and lay down. This is why we see pictures of the 'Good Shepherd' carrying the sheep. The creature has frozen and cannot even respond to the voice of the shepherd (which it will do under other conditions). I'm reminded of experiments done on traumatized mice. They were shocked without any ability to escape their cage...then they were put in a cage with the door open...having been exposed to this inescapable trauma, they would go to the corner of the open cage, huddle down, and not move to escape further shock---even though there was now a door open for them.
How many of us know people like that? How many of us, if we're honest, have places in our lives where we are like that?
Frightened, frozen, unable to see the doorway(s) to freedom. We ask ourselves, perhaps, "can't they hear God saying that they are loved? Can't they hear the shepherd's voice?" But the honest answer is "no, they can't." In my work as a therapist, I often see traumatized clients who's entire early life had been a case of "inescapable shock." You know them too. The battered spouse, the grown up abused child, the abandoned one.
This is the 'harvest' that Jesus was talking about. It wasn't about 'saving souls' when a few verses later Jesus sent out his disciples. He sent them out saying, "proclaim the good news, 'The kingdom of heaven has come near.' Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons" (10:7-8)-these, by the way, were the things Jesus had just been doing. The coming of the kingdom meant that human needs were being met. Illness was cured, alienation releaved, voices long silences were being heard.
As we look at our world; as Broadneck explores the new opening phase of its life; can we hear Jesus saying, 'Look! there's work to be done...ask God to send help' and can we realize that, just like the disciples...that help is us.
Hope to see you on the water Sunday for our outing.
Shalom,
Stephen
Matthew 9:36 tells us that as Jesus went about in the cities and villages and saw the crowds "he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd."
Now, as a prelude to understanding this verse it might be helpful to notice what Matthew records Jesus has having been up to before this verse and his sending out of his disciples: he's cleansed a leper, healed a centurion's servant, healed Peter's mother-in-law (and those who came to the house when they heard about it), stilled a storm, healed a paralytic, been ranted at by the Pharisees for hanging out with sinners, raised a dead girl, healed a woman who was hemorraging, given two blind men their sight, and given a mute man back his voice....and that's just in the space between this verse and 8:1! No wonder, being faced with this overwhelming expression of human suffering, that Jesus would look at his disciples and say 'the harvest is plentiful...ask God to send help.'
Jesus looked around him and was acutely conscious of the state of 'harasssed helplessness' of those who came to him. What do harassed sheep do? The become nervous. They may run in circles. They flock closer together. Except if they're seperated. Then a sheep will become paralyzed and lay down. This is why we see pictures of the 'Good Shepherd' carrying the sheep. The creature has frozen and cannot even respond to the voice of the shepherd (which it will do under other conditions). I'm reminded of experiments done on traumatized mice. They were shocked without any ability to escape their cage...then they were put in a cage with the door open...having been exposed to this inescapable trauma, they would go to the corner of the open cage, huddle down, and not move to escape further shock---even though there was now a door open for them.
How many of us know people like that? How many of us, if we're honest, have places in our lives where we are like that?
Frightened, frozen, unable to see the doorway(s) to freedom. We ask ourselves, perhaps, "can't they hear God saying that they are loved? Can't they hear the shepherd's voice?" But the honest answer is "no, they can't." In my work as a therapist, I often see traumatized clients who's entire early life had been a case of "inescapable shock." You know them too. The battered spouse, the grown up abused child, the abandoned one.
This is the 'harvest' that Jesus was talking about. It wasn't about 'saving souls' when a few verses later Jesus sent out his disciples. He sent them out saying, "proclaim the good news, 'The kingdom of heaven has come near.' Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons" (10:7-8)-these, by the way, were the things Jesus had just been doing. The coming of the kingdom meant that human needs were being met. Illness was cured, alienation releaved, voices long silences were being heard.
As we look at our world; as Broadneck explores the new opening phase of its life; can we hear Jesus saying, 'Look! there's work to be done...ask God to send help' and can we realize that, just like the disciples...that help is us.
Hope to see you on the water Sunday for our outing.
Shalom,
Stephen
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
How Can I Give You Up?
This week's scriptures are Hosea 5: 15- 6: 6, 11: 1-9, 14: 1-9.
I love the story of Hosea. It is filled with longing and anger; pathos and passion. It is Hosea's way of looking at his own life, and in conversation with God, coming to believe that "this is how God feels about the relationship with God's people."
It's not a pretty story by any means. Hosea marries a woman named Gomer. But Gomer is a prostitute. She has children by other men. She abandons him. Hosea rages. He gives the children names like "not pitied" (another version of this name is "never again forgive") and "not mine." In fact, no sooner has Gomer weaned her daughter "not pitied" than she conceived "not mine." Finally she leaves. And if Hosea was like most of us, this would be the end of the story.
But somehow, Hosea saw in what happened between him and Gomer, an example of what was happening between God and Israel. Hosea came to believe that God's heart was being broken just like his was broken. And, wonder of wonders, God showed him that the story didn't stop with anger...not God's story with Israel, or Hosea's story with Gomer.
God tells Hosea "Go again and bestow your love on a woman loved by another man, an adulteress; love her as I, the Lord, love the Israelites..." And Hosea does. He goes and finds Gomer-who is for sale. We don't know if she's been put on the auction block as a slave, if she's working as a temple prostitute, or if Hosea buys her back from a pimp. What we do know is "I bought her for fifteen pieces of silver, a homer of barley, and a measure of wine..."
When God, through Hosea, talks about the deep love that God has for Israel, Hosea uses incredibly beautiful feminine images of a mother teaching her child to walk, bending down to breastfeed her infant, and lifting her baby to rub it's face against her cheek. God uses the equivilent of childhood pet names in talking to Israel and even in the midst of God's anger at Israel's unfaithfulness says, "How can I give you up...a change of heart moves me, tenderness kindles within me...I shal not turn and destroy Ephraim, for I am God, not a mortal; I am the Holy One in your midst."
No Biblical writer, in my mind, has come so close to the heart of God's anguish at humankind's betrayal and lack of trust; or to the depth of the love that moves God to stay connected to us...even at tremendous price.
And we could stop here...but it wouldn't be the whole story. Because if we take this story to heart, you and I aren't Hosea (and we're certainly not God)-we're Gomer. Loved-when there was no reason to keep loving; forgiven-when there was no right to expect it; bought back and brought home-when we were the ones who sold ourselves out in the first place.
Hosea doesn't pull any punches. He's incredibly blunt and brutal about Gomer and Israel's sin; about God's anger (and his). But he makes the point that God's love doesn't pull any punches either. God will not pretend that our sins don't exist, that they haven't happened. But God refuses to be controlled by, defined by our sin, our failure, our shortcomings. Consequently, we don't have to pretend either. We can come to God with all we are, all we've done, and trust that God's response to us...just like it was to Israel...will be "how can I give you up?...I will heal my people...I will love them freely."
God's love for us is bigger than where we've been, or what we've done. That love still seeks us out and brings us home.
Hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
I love the story of Hosea. It is filled with longing and anger; pathos and passion. It is Hosea's way of looking at his own life, and in conversation with God, coming to believe that "this is how God feels about the relationship with God's people."
It's not a pretty story by any means. Hosea marries a woman named Gomer. But Gomer is a prostitute. She has children by other men. She abandons him. Hosea rages. He gives the children names like "not pitied" (another version of this name is "never again forgive") and "not mine." In fact, no sooner has Gomer weaned her daughter "not pitied" than she conceived "not mine." Finally she leaves. And if Hosea was like most of us, this would be the end of the story.
But somehow, Hosea saw in what happened between him and Gomer, an example of what was happening between God and Israel. Hosea came to believe that God's heart was being broken just like his was broken. And, wonder of wonders, God showed him that the story didn't stop with anger...not God's story with Israel, or Hosea's story with Gomer.
God tells Hosea "Go again and bestow your love on a woman loved by another man, an adulteress; love her as I, the Lord, love the Israelites..." And Hosea does. He goes and finds Gomer-who is for sale. We don't know if she's been put on the auction block as a slave, if she's working as a temple prostitute, or if Hosea buys her back from a pimp. What we do know is "I bought her for fifteen pieces of silver, a homer of barley, and a measure of wine..."
When God, through Hosea, talks about the deep love that God has for Israel, Hosea uses incredibly beautiful feminine images of a mother teaching her child to walk, bending down to breastfeed her infant, and lifting her baby to rub it's face against her cheek. God uses the equivilent of childhood pet names in talking to Israel and even in the midst of God's anger at Israel's unfaithfulness says, "How can I give you up...a change of heart moves me, tenderness kindles within me...I shal not turn and destroy Ephraim, for I am God, not a mortal; I am the Holy One in your midst."
No Biblical writer, in my mind, has come so close to the heart of God's anguish at humankind's betrayal and lack of trust; or to the depth of the love that moves God to stay connected to us...even at tremendous price.
And we could stop here...but it wouldn't be the whole story. Because if we take this story to heart, you and I aren't Hosea (and we're certainly not God)-we're Gomer. Loved-when there was no reason to keep loving; forgiven-when there was no right to expect it; bought back and brought home-when we were the ones who sold ourselves out in the first place.
Hosea doesn't pull any punches. He's incredibly blunt and brutal about Gomer and Israel's sin; about God's anger (and his). But he makes the point that God's love doesn't pull any punches either. God will not pretend that our sins don't exist, that they haven't happened. But God refuses to be controlled by, defined by our sin, our failure, our shortcomings. Consequently, we don't have to pretend either. We can come to God with all we are, all we've done, and trust that God's response to us...just like it was to Israel...will be "how can I give you up?...I will heal my people...I will love them freely."
God's love for us is bigger than where we've been, or what we've done. That love still seeks us out and brings us home.
Hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
How Then Do We Live?
This week's scriptures are Genesis 6: 5-22 and Matthew 7: 13-29.
If you take a look at the titles of the blogs for the last couple of weeks you'll see a conversation taking place with myself (and hopefully with you):
"What Does God Think of Us?" is followed by the question "If God Cares So Much, Then How Come....?" This is a basic question that has troubled humankind for centuries. Whether you ask it as "how can a loving God allow suffering?" or "why do bad things happen to good people?" or in more painful, deeply personal ways (I will leave you to speak your own) it is a set of questions-and answers-that will shape our responses to the world around us.
According to some geological theories, about 12,000 years ago, toward the end of the Ice Age, glaciers in the Northern Hemisphere began to melt. Oceans and seas grew deeper. About 7,000 years ago the Mediterranean Sea's waters pushed northward slicing through what is now Turkey and flooded into the Black Sea with 200 times the force of Niagra Falls.
Seared into the memories of terrified survivors, the tale of the flood was passed down through generations; from the Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic on into the Hebrew Scriptures account of Noah.
I read an interesting comment while preparing for Sunday's sermon. It isn't a pretty comment, but it rings true to me. The writer said that we've taken a story of terror and turned it into a cute little story about animals coming two by two. The truth, he pointed out, was that Noah looked over the ship's railing at the bloated corpses of animals and people floating in a scene of absolute devastation.
Talk about being overwhelmed. And yet...and yet each day, Noah sent out a bird. It wasn't a big thing to do. It wasn't some great act. He turned a bird lose. He committed a small, single act of faith in God's promise that this wasn't the end...that there was more to come...that God would, in fact, live up to God's word.
It is easy for you and me to feel overwhelmed as well. For me, accounts of 38,000 cases of PTSD resulting so far from the Iraq war; the tragedies in China and Myanmar; and the brutal violence in Zimbabwe are mind numbing. When I add to those stories the ones I hear closer to home from both victims and perpetrators of abuse; from those suffering from physical illnesses who are denied insurance coverage; the requests for help with food and electricity.....
Jesus talked about this at the end of the Sermon on the Mount. He said, "Everyone who hears these words and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house..." Can you relate so far? I sure can. But listen to the rest: "...but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock."
Now I've got some other things I want to add to this on Sunday; but for now, I want to point out that being "founded on the rock" looks a lot like what we talked about on this past Sunday when we explored "living in trust" as opposed to "living for security." It isn't that we're not afraid, or that we don't have issues to deal with. It's that we do the little things. Like Noah, we 'send out a bird.' We commit small acts of faith in God's promises, based on what Jesus has taught us about what God is like....'everyone who listens and acts, builds on the rock.' The action may be small. It isn't the size of the act, but the direction we take it in.
What 'bird' will you send out this week? Will you respond to Joann's request and write a letter to Zimbabwe? Will you make a contribution to relief aid somewhere? Will you live today in hope...despite what your past may have been? Maybe you'll plant your garden..and that beauty will be your statement in the face of all that is destruction. All of these may be 'birds' that we send out from the deck of our life's ship into the face of the overwhelming turbulence we see. Acts of faith that God loves us and all creation; and that this love will speak the final word.
Oh...a hint about Sunday...if you look at this scripture, ask yourself: 'what was the first thing Jesus did after talking about listening and doing in imitation of Him as building on the rock?'
Hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
If you take a look at the titles of the blogs for the last couple of weeks you'll see a conversation taking place with myself (and hopefully with you):
"What Does God Think of Us?" is followed by the question "If God Cares So Much, Then How Come....?" This is a basic question that has troubled humankind for centuries. Whether you ask it as "how can a loving God allow suffering?" or "why do bad things happen to good people?" or in more painful, deeply personal ways (I will leave you to speak your own) it is a set of questions-and answers-that will shape our responses to the world around us.
According to some geological theories, about 12,000 years ago, toward the end of the Ice Age, glaciers in the Northern Hemisphere began to melt. Oceans and seas grew deeper. About 7,000 years ago the Mediterranean Sea's waters pushed northward slicing through what is now Turkey and flooded into the Black Sea with 200 times the force of Niagra Falls.
Seared into the memories of terrified survivors, the tale of the flood was passed down through generations; from the Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic on into the Hebrew Scriptures account of Noah.
I read an interesting comment while preparing for Sunday's sermon. It isn't a pretty comment, but it rings true to me. The writer said that we've taken a story of terror and turned it into a cute little story about animals coming two by two. The truth, he pointed out, was that Noah looked over the ship's railing at the bloated corpses of animals and people floating in a scene of absolute devastation.
Talk about being overwhelmed. And yet...and yet each day, Noah sent out a bird. It wasn't a big thing to do. It wasn't some great act. He turned a bird lose. He committed a small, single act of faith in God's promise that this wasn't the end...that there was more to come...that God would, in fact, live up to God's word.
It is easy for you and me to feel overwhelmed as well. For me, accounts of 38,000 cases of PTSD resulting so far from the Iraq war; the tragedies in China and Myanmar; and the brutal violence in Zimbabwe are mind numbing. When I add to those stories the ones I hear closer to home from both victims and perpetrators of abuse; from those suffering from physical illnesses who are denied insurance coverage; the requests for help with food and electricity.....
Jesus talked about this at the end of the Sermon on the Mount. He said, "Everyone who hears these words and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house..." Can you relate so far? I sure can. But listen to the rest: "...but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock."
Now I've got some other things I want to add to this on Sunday; but for now, I want to point out that being "founded on the rock" looks a lot like what we talked about on this past Sunday when we explored "living in trust" as opposed to "living for security." It isn't that we're not afraid, or that we don't have issues to deal with. It's that we do the little things. Like Noah, we 'send out a bird.' We commit small acts of faith in God's promises, based on what Jesus has taught us about what God is like....'everyone who listens and acts, builds on the rock.' The action may be small. It isn't the size of the act, but the direction we take it in.
What 'bird' will you send out this week? Will you respond to Joann's request and write a letter to Zimbabwe? Will you make a contribution to relief aid somewhere? Will you live today in hope...despite what your past may have been? Maybe you'll plant your garden..and that beauty will be your statement in the face of all that is destruction. All of these may be 'birds' that we send out from the deck of our life's ship into the face of the overwhelming turbulence we see. Acts of faith that God loves us and all creation; and that this love will speak the final word.
Oh...a hint about Sunday...if you look at this scripture, ask yourself: 'what was the first thing Jesus did after talking about listening and doing in imitation of Him as building on the rock?'
Hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Thursday, May 22, 2008
If God Cares So Much, Then How Come.....?
This week's scriptures are Isaiah 49: 8-16 and Matthew 6: 24-34.
The Bible Study group on Monday found that these scriptures may raise as many questions as they give answers. They are comforting passages; that's true. But they also force us to ask some hard questions about our own anxieties and fears.
The passage from Isaiah is a good example. In the early verses, God-through Isaiah-talks about all the good things that have been done for God's beloved Israel. Look at the language:
"I have formed you" "I have destined you" "I answered you" "I came to your aid"
But Zion's reply to this is "The Lord has forsaken me: my Lord has forgotten me." Israel's fear of abandonment is strong. So, apparently, are the trust issues of those that Jesus reminds in our Matthew passage not to worry about their life, "what you will eat or drink, what you will wear."
Unfortunately these verses don't mean that everything is okay, that we can count on God filling our every need right now. If that were true, what would that say about Christians in other parts of the world (or even in America) who go hungry, who are poorly clothed, who suffer from illnesses brought on by poverty?
Things don't go the way we would like. Trouble is all around us; personally and from a world wide perspective.
It's easy to start feeling like the Hank Williams Jr. song that starts off
"The preacher man says it's the end of time
and the Mississippi river she's going dry.
The interest is up and the stock market's down
and you only get mugged if you go down town"
The song's solution, unfortunately is that owning a "shotgun, a rifle, and a 45" takes care of those problems. It's a solution (or some version of it) that can look very attractive when we're feeling helpless and anxious. It's a power based solution. But is it the solution we're called to?
Two things leap to mind for me (and there will probably be others before Sunday):
The first is that we live in an 'Escatological Hope.' That means we believe somethings about what the Final Word is going to be. We believe that God is moving in and through history to heal and restore creation. That movement is often bumpy and rough; and confusing to us as we stand in our little bit of the road. But we hold tight to our faith that God is going to have the final say.
The second thing is a belief that part of God's answer is us. You and I are called to be part of God's action. Listen to these verses from our Isaiah passage:
"I have formed you, and destined you to be a light for peoples, restoring the land and allotting once more its desolate holdings." God goes on to describe how the prisoners will go free, those in darkness will come into the open. How "one who loves them will guide them and lead them by springs of water." God speaks of calling creation home, "Theya are coming; soe from far away, some from the north and the west, and others from the land of Syene."
If it's going to happen...if the Kingdom of God is going to come...then you and I are going to have be part of the coming. Jesus told us, "the kingdom of God is within you" this is the same kingdom that is described as yeast in the bread baking in the oven...the thing that makes the loaf rise.
Still and all, we fear being forgotten. Our anxieties about tomorrow still trouble us, even if they're just a vague feeling underneath it all. We need to acknowledge this; put it on the table with God...that's part of what Zion was doing in the Isaiah passage.
Maybe...at least in part...that's the conversation:
US-It's dark and I'm afraid
GOD-I'm here. I've always been here
US-I'm scared you'll leave. It's dark, I can't see what's going on and I can't see you.
GOD-Listen to my voice. I'm right here. I could never leave you...I love you.
US-(breathing a little calmer) Let me try to light a candle, someone else might be scared of this dark too.
It's a thought. We'll look at it further on Sunday.
I know many folks will be on the road this weekend. Please drive safe. And if you're in town, we hope you'll join us for worship on Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
The Bible Study group on Monday found that these scriptures may raise as many questions as they give answers. They are comforting passages; that's true. But they also force us to ask some hard questions about our own anxieties and fears.
The passage from Isaiah is a good example. In the early verses, God-through Isaiah-talks about all the good things that have been done for God's beloved Israel. Look at the language:
"I have formed you" "I have destined you" "I answered you" "I came to your aid"
But Zion's reply to this is "The Lord has forsaken me: my Lord has forgotten me." Israel's fear of abandonment is strong. So, apparently, are the trust issues of those that Jesus reminds in our Matthew passage not to worry about their life, "what you will eat or drink, what you will wear."
Unfortunately these verses don't mean that everything is okay, that we can count on God filling our every need right now. If that were true, what would that say about Christians in other parts of the world (or even in America) who go hungry, who are poorly clothed, who suffer from illnesses brought on by poverty?
Things don't go the way we would like. Trouble is all around us; personally and from a world wide perspective.
It's easy to start feeling like the Hank Williams Jr. song that starts off
"The preacher man says it's the end of time
and the Mississippi river she's going dry.
The interest is up and the stock market's down
and you only get mugged if you go down town"
The song's solution, unfortunately is that owning a "shotgun, a rifle, and a 45" takes care of those problems. It's a solution (or some version of it) that can look very attractive when we're feeling helpless and anxious. It's a power based solution. But is it the solution we're called to?
Two things leap to mind for me (and there will probably be others before Sunday):
The first is that we live in an 'Escatological Hope.' That means we believe somethings about what the Final Word is going to be. We believe that God is moving in and through history to heal and restore creation. That movement is often bumpy and rough; and confusing to us as we stand in our little bit of the road. But we hold tight to our faith that God is going to have the final say.
The second thing is a belief that part of God's answer is us. You and I are called to be part of God's action. Listen to these verses from our Isaiah passage:
"I have formed you, and destined you to be a light for peoples, restoring the land and allotting once more its desolate holdings." God goes on to describe how the prisoners will go free, those in darkness will come into the open. How "one who loves them will guide them and lead them by springs of water." God speaks of calling creation home, "Theya are coming; soe from far away, some from the north and the west, and others from the land of Syene."
If it's going to happen...if the Kingdom of God is going to come...then you and I are going to have be part of the coming. Jesus told us, "the kingdom of God is within you" this is the same kingdom that is described as yeast in the bread baking in the oven...the thing that makes the loaf rise.
Still and all, we fear being forgotten. Our anxieties about tomorrow still trouble us, even if they're just a vague feeling underneath it all. We need to acknowledge this; put it on the table with God...that's part of what Zion was doing in the Isaiah passage.
Maybe...at least in part...that's the conversation:
US-It's dark and I'm afraid
GOD-I'm here. I've always been here
US-I'm scared you'll leave. It's dark, I can't see what's going on and I can't see you.
GOD-Listen to my voice. I'm right here. I could never leave you...I love you.
US-(breathing a little calmer) Let me try to light a candle, someone else might be scared of this dark too.
It's a thought. We'll look at it further on Sunday.
I know many folks will be on the road this weekend. Please drive safe. And if you're in town, we hope you'll join us for worship on Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
What Does God Think of Us?
This week's scriptures are Genesis 1:1-2:4a (and probably 2:4b-2:9), Psalm 8, and Matthew 28: 16-20.
First of all, I'd like to thank the folks who commented on last week's blog. Kara's comments about creating a space where things can happen and Jeremy's comments about the need for us to risk vulnerablility are important lead-in's to this week's conversation.
I would maintain that one of the reasons that most of us find it so difficult to risk vulnerability...with God, with others, even with ourselves...is that we tend to see ourselves as being judged rather than embraced. Another way to put it is that we do not believe that people (or God) will embrace/love us unless we are some how "good enough" to deserve that love.
Even when we give 'lip service' to the idea of God's love being free, unconditional, and for everyone, there is the little voice in the back of our head that hedges our bets, that wonders if this kind of love is truly possible.
For those of us who grew up in homes where it felt like love was doled out based on our accomplishments; or where violence and abuse were common; such love is almost beyond belief. In fact, we can be suspicious of the words that come from scripture or the church when our life experience was to hear one thing ("Mommy and Daddy love you just like you are") and experience another (the feeling that love was given or withheld based on what we produced).
For many of us, our experience of love has felt more like running for office that the recieving of a free gift. We feel like we have to store up enough "votes" or "trophies" or whatever before we can safely expect to be cared for.
Even those moments of exquisite awareness of God's love for us are often accompanied by words like those of the Psalmist:
"What is a frail mortal, that you should be mindful of him/her, a human being that you should take notice"
Or those of Chris Christofferson:
"Why me Lord, what have I ever done
To deserve even one, of the pleasures I've known?
Tell me Lord, what did I ever do,
That was worth love from you, or the kindness you've shown?"
The truth is that the answer is "Nothing...and we don't have to." This is shocking to most of us. It goes against the grain. But it doesn't go against scripture. The Bible keeps telling us things like: "God showed God's love in that while we were yet sinners...." and "greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." The truth is that God doesn't love us because we're good.
In fact, there's some pretty steamy stuff in scripture that points to the idea that God's feelings toward us are more like those of a lover in the erotic sense. The Song of Songs, in addition to being incredible (and vivid) love poetry, compares God's love for humankind to a young couple who can barely restrain themselves. And the description of the Church in Revelation as "prepared as a Bride for her husband" builds on this image.
his isn't an intellectual exercise....God loves, craves, desires, "has the hots for" humankind. And what's more, God created us to have that kind of desire for God. This is why St. Augustine could say "our hearts are restless til they find their rest in Thee." God wants you (and me) in a big way. And we were created for that relationship. All our seeking, all our wandering, all the striving/addiction/craziness/hungry for we don't know what....it's our search for the true home that we find only in God. Just like (if we're lucky) the true home we find in the arms of our lover.
Good parents...good lovers...when these are at their best, they point us toward another reality. All of them point to-but can't even begin to describe-how God feels about us. You and I are called to join this terrifying, joyful, giggly, tearful dance of Life....and we can only risk the vulnerablility to step into the music when we know how God feels about us.
God loves you. Come join the dance.
Hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
First of all, I'd like to thank the folks who commented on last week's blog. Kara's comments about creating a space where things can happen and Jeremy's comments about the need for us to risk vulnerablility are important lead-in's to this week's conversation.
I would maintain that one of the reasons that most of us find it so difficult to risk vulnerability...with God, with others, even with ourselves...is that we tend to see ourselves as being judged rather than embraced. Another way to put it is that we do not believe that people (or God) will embrace/love us unless we are some how "good enough" to deserve that love.
Even when we give 'lip service' to the idea of God's love being free, unconditional, and for everyone, there is the little voice in the back of our head that hedges our bets, that wonders if this kind of love is truly possible.
For those of us who grew up in homes where it felt like love was doled out based on our accomplishments; or where violence and abuse were common; such love is almost beyond belief. In fact, we can be suspicious of the words that come from scripture or the church when our life experience was to hear one thing ("Mommy and Daddy love you just like you are") and experience another (the feeling that love was given or withheld based on what we produced).
For many of us, our experience of love has felt more like running for office that the recieving of a free gift. We feel like we have to store up enough "votes" or "trophies" or whatever before we can safely expect to be cared for.
Even those moments of exquisite awareness of God's love for us are often accompanied by words like those of the Psalmist:
"What is a frail mortal, that you should be mindful of him/her, a human being that you should take notice"
Or those of Chris Christofferson:
"Why me Lord, what have I ever done
To deserve even one, of the pleasures I've known?
Tell me Lord, what did I ever do,
That was worth love from you, or the kindness you've shown?"
The truth is that the answer is "Nothing...and we don't have to." This is shocking to most of us. It goes against the grain. But it doesn't go against scripture. The Bible keeps telling us things like: "God showed God's love in that while we were yet sinners...." and "greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." The truth is that God doesn't love us because we're good.
In fact, there's some pretty steamy stuff in scripture that points to the idea that God's feelings toward us are more like those of a lover in the erotic sense. The Song of Songs, in addition to being incredible (and vivid) love poetry, compares God's love for humankind to a young couple who can barely restrain themselves. And the description of the Church in Revelation as "prepared as a Bride for her husband" builds on this image.
his isn't an intellectual exercise....God loves, craves, desires, "has the hots for" humankind. And what's more, God created us to have that kind of desire for God. This is why St. Augustine could say "our hearts are restless til they find their rest in Thee." God wants you (and me) in a big way. And we were created for that relationship. All our seeking, all our wandering, all the striving/addiction/craziness/hungry for we don't know what....it's our search for the true home that we find only in God. Just like (if we're lucky) the true home we find in the arms of our lover.
Good parents...good lovers...when these are at their best, they point us toward another reality. All of them point to-but can't even begin to describe-how God feels about us. You and I are called to join this terrifying, joyful, giggly, tearful dance of Life....and we can only risk the vulnerablility to step into the music when we know how God feels about us.
God loves you. Come join the dance.
Hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
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