"O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will." (Matthew 26:39b)
Ask anyone who has any thought about what Christianity is all about and you might get a variety of answers. Answers might range from subjects such as theology and belief system, to practices such as Scripture reading or worship. And all of these have a place within orthodox Christianity.
But ask me what is at the very heart of Christianity and this verse is it: "not my will but Your will be done". This was at the heart of Jesus' struggle: would he be obedient to the point of death, destruction, torture, humiliation and rejection? This was at the heart of his mission. Without obedience to the point of death on the cross, all the miracles and teachings would have been meaningless.
The struggle is so great that he comes back a second time restating the prayer: "O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done." This self-denial is at the heart of Lent.
Many people chose to use these 40 days of Lent to "fast" (forego a meal), or "fast" an activity (such as watching tv). Others chose take up an additional burden, such as spiritual reading, extra time in prayer or meditation, or finding ways to serve other people. The purpose of the fasting or the burden-bearing is to use that time and activity to contemplate the sacrifice of Christ for people.
If you take time to ponder Christ's sacrifice as you give up things of significance these next few weeks, or take on additional burdens, let these thoughts, fasts, or burdens be used by God to bring you into conformity with the prayer Jesus prayed. "Not my will but Thy will be done."
Where is the struggle greatest for you right now? Is it in the area of a habit? Is it in the area of a priority? Is it in the area of an attitude? A difficult relationship? Complacency in spirit? Offering forgiveness for past offenses? Accepting a situation in life you'd do just about anything to get rid of?
Let Jesus' prayer be your prayer: "Not my will but Thy will be done."
Let that prayer be like a beacon on your spiritual journey. It will always guide you back to God's will and blessing in your life.
Whenever you're lost, pray it and the Spirit will sustain you, carry you, forgive you, empower you, calm you, embrace you. That prayer is at the heart of Lent. It was at the heart of Jesus' mission. It is the way to the heart of Almighty God.
Grace & peace.
Thursday, March 9, 2006
Saturday, March 4, 2006
Why Do Girls Scouts Sell Cookies at Lent?
A friend of mine asked me that question recently. (For those of you who don't know, Lent is the season for Christians, prior to Easter, when we willingly give up some "extra" in our life or take on some additional burden, for the purpose of reminding ourselves what sacrifice Christ took on for us.) This question was a reminder that often temptation comes from unexpected places. (My favorite Scout cookies would have to be either the Thin Mints or the Coconut Macaroons).
Another friend of mine and I were having a discussion on the opposite end of the equation the same day. We were sharing places where both of us have had disappointments and irritations. But he was able to notice the opportunity for touching lives of other people that he wouldn't have had and finally he said, "Maybe that's the price I had to pay to be able to help them." Sometimes opportunities for blessing come from unexpected places too.
So how 'bout where you live? Will you listen closely to the Spirit that speaks about temptations that sneak in unnoticed? Will you take a moment to examine the chances for blessing that spring out of the places you would normally complain about? "The unexamined life is not worth living." May we take time to be still and hear that still small Voice.
Grace & peace.
Another friend of mine and I were having a discussion on the opposite end of the equation the same day. We were sharing places where both of us have had disappointments and irritations. But he was able to notice the opportunity for touching lives of other people that he wouldn't have had and finally he said, "Maybe that's the price I had to pay to be able to help them." Sometimes opportunities for blessing come from unexpected places too.
So how 'bout where you live? Will you listen closely to the Spirit that speaks about temptations that sneak in unnoticed? Will you take a moment to examine the chances for blessing that spring out of the places you would normally complain about? "The unexamined life is not worth living." May we take time to be still and hear that still small Voice.
Grace & peace.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Bees and Passion
I was watching an interesting PBS presentation on the relationship between people and the environment. The premise was something like this: all of our decisions to move, build, grow, and transplant various species of animals and plants to new places have effects. I'm no physical scientiest so I can't vouch for the accuracy of the assumptions and conclusions, but it was interesting and gave me food for thought.
However, the part that caught my attention was a contrast between two different types of bees. One was Eurpoean and the other African (or "killer"). The guy in the bee protection get-up went to two different hives and poked a stick around, trying to provoke the bees. Then, once provoked, he took a measuring wheel and walked off just how far the bees would keep up the attack, measuring their perseverance. (If you've ever seen "Mythbusters" on the Discovery Channel, think all the science but less personality and tongue-in-cheek humor.)
The contrasts between the two colonies were fascinating. The first colony, the European type, was not easily disturbed. They pretty much ignored the pokes on the wall of the structure from which they would enter and exit. The "bee instigator" really had to work to get these bees into an agitated state. Once they did start to attack, the instigator walked away, marking just how far they'd travel to sting him. The result: a little more than 100 ft.
The second hive, of the African variety, had a totally different attidude about this instigator. His very presence set them off. The narrator said that carbon dioxide given off by the guy would send a signal; simply his breathing got the guard bees ready to fight. Then, when they did attack, there was a swarm; many more than in the previous group. And once the attack started, they were relentless. Bees were even on the camera lense, (a phenomena you didn't see in the first scenario). The "instigator" now started to walk (pretty quickly). The bees were still at it after 100 ft., 200 ft., 500 ft., 800 ft...till more than 1000 ft. had passed and the last bee finally gave up. Later when interviewed, the instigator said, "I knew if I didn't get out of there, they would kill me. Many of them were concentrated around my head."
A couple of things jumped out at me in making "connections" between the bees and the world in which I live, (giving attention and voice to unseen forces andSpirit movement). First, many of us could learn something about passion from that second set of bees. I know any time a religious sort starts talking about passion and fire in this day and age, we all (this writer included) get a little jumpy wondering if this is some sort of fundamentalist, will be calling us to resort to violence or hatred of one sort or another. Nothing could be further from the truth. My tradition tells us to be passionate, not in our hate, but in our LOVE. "LOVE the LORD your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength" and "LOVE your neighbor as yourself." (Empahsis mine.)
I wonder if people would describe your life or my life as one of passion and perseverance. Many of us have come up against crappy examples of chr-I-st-I-an-I-ty (notice how many I's there are?) and rather than tenaciously continuing to look for the real deal, we give up and lump all "organized religion" together. If that's you, take a lesson from the bees. Don't give up too quickly.
Second, notice that the bees responded in a swarm, not as individuals. And that the most effective group at defending what was important, sent a larger, more active swarm. How many of us have decided that spirituality is individiual only? My tradition suggests that it is personal, but not individual (I think that is the way Jim Wallis says it). There are many references to the Church being a body or a family. It is really difficult to be an effective severed thumb. If come from a dysfunctional church background, don't think that is the norm or the only option. Keep looking till you find a group of loving, supportive, passionate people who will nurture, encourage, and challenge you to grow in your own spiritual life.
You know this is all analogy. And like any good analogy, it can only be taken so far. For instance. I don't think our religion is supposed to be used to ATTACK. And I will be the first to say too often religions, chr-I-st-I-an-I-ty among them, have been used to hurt and wound and pick-on people. What a warped use of these tremendous gifts of spirit and truth. Shame on any of us who have done it or allow it to happen in our midst.
But do NOT let someone else's stunted, perverted, grotesque representation of a good, turn you off from finding a personal and communal spiritual passion. That wouldn't BEE good.
However, the part that caught my attention was a contrast between two different types of bees. One was Eurpoean and the other African (or "killer"). The guy in the bee protection get-up went to two different hives and poked a stick around, trying to provoke the bees. Then, once provoked, he took a measuring wheel and walked off just how far the bees would keep up the attack, measuring their perseverance. (If you've ever seen "Mythbusters" on the Discovery Channel, think all the science but less personality and tongue-in-cheek humor.)
The contrasts between the two colonies were fascinating. The first colony, the European type, was not easily disturbed. They pretty much ignored the pokes on the wall of the structure from which they would enter and exit. The "bee instigator" really had to work to get these bees into an agitated state. Once they did start to attack, the instigator walked away, marking just how far they'd travel to sting him. The result: a little more than 100 ft.
The second hive, of the African variety, had a totally different attidude about this instigator. His very presence set them off. The narrator said that carbon dioxide given off by the guy would send a signal; simply his breathing got the guard bees ready to fight. Then, when they did attack, there was a swarm; many more than in the previous group. And once the attack started, they were relentless. Bees were even on the camera lense, (a phenomena you didn't see in the first scenario). The "instigator" now started to walk (pretty quickly). The bees were still at it after 100 ft., 200 ft., 500 ft., 800 ft...till more than 1000 ft. had passed and the last bee finally gave up. Later when interviewed, the instigator said, "I knew if I didn't get out of there, they would kill me. Many of them were concentrated around my head."
A couple of things jumped out at me in making "connections" between the bees and the world in which I live, (giving attention and voice to unseen forces andSpirit movement). First, many of us could learn something about passion from that second set of bees. I know any time a religious sort starts talking about passion and fire in this day and age, we all (this writer included) get a little jumpy wondering if this is some sort of fundamentalist, will be calling us to resort to violence or hatred of one sort or another. Nothing could be further from the truth. My tradition tells us to be passionate, not in our hate, but in our LOVE. "LOVE the LORD your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength" and "LOVE your neighbor as yourself." (Empahsis mine.)
I wonder if people would describe your life or my life as one of passion and perseverance. Many of us have come up against crappy examples of chr-I-st-I-an-I-ty (notice how many I's there are?) and rather than tenaciously continuing to look for the real deal, we give up and lump all "organized religion" together. If that's you, take a lesson from the bees. Don't give up too quickly.
Second, notice that the bees responded in a swarm, not as individuals. And that the most effective group at defending what was important, sent a larger, more active swarm. How many of us have decided that spirituality is individiual only? My tradition suggests that it is personal, but not individual (I think that is the way Jim Wallis says it). There are many references to the Church being a body or a family. It is really difficult to be an effective severed thumb. If come from a dysfunctional church background, don't think that is the norm or the only option. Keep looking till you find a group of loving, supportive, passionate people who will nurture, encourage, and challenge you to grow in your own spiritual life.
You know this is all analogy. And like any good analogy, it can only be taken so far. For instance. I don't think our religion is supposed to be used to ATTACK. And I will be the first to say too often religions, chr-I-st-I-an-I-ty among them, have been used to hurt and wound and pick-on people. What a warped use of these tremendous gifts of spirit and truth. Shame on any of us who have done it or allow it to happen in our midst.
But do NOT let someone else's stunted, perverted, grotesque representation of a good, turn you off from finding a personal and communal spiritual passion. That wouldn't BEE good.
Tuesday, February 7, 2006
Random Thoughts on Spirituality
"The Church is a whore...but she's my mother." Attributed to Martin Luther. Too true. I'm not sure if this is supposed to give me comfort or conviction. Maybe a little bit of both. Thanks for the responses on the last blog entry (hypocrisy in the church). My tendency is to believe that it is no better/worse now. "The poor you will always have with you," Jesus said. He probably could have just as easily said, "The hypocrites you will always have in church" (and everywhere else).
I came across this and found it interesting: (On a plaque marking Abraham Lincoln's birthplace near Hodgenville, Kentucky, is recorded this scrap of conversation):"Any news down t' the village, Ezry?""Well, Squire McLains's gone t' Washington t' see Madison swore in, and ol' Spellman tells me this Bonaparte fella has captured most o' Spain. What's new out here, neighbor?""Nuthin', nuthin' a'tall, 'cept fer a new baby born t' Tom Lincoln's. Nothin' ever happens out here." Is it possible that the most significant things that happen in our lives are often like this? In my faith tradition, there is a story of a prophet who goes out looking for a hearing with God. He is told to stand in the crevice of a rock and God will pass by. A violent wind passes but God's not in the wind. Then an earthquake happens but God's not in the earthquake. Finally, after several big, loud, cataclysmic events...there's a tiny breeze and "a stil, small voice". And that is where God speaks. I don't know about you, but I have a hard time being still enough and quite enough to hear the small voice. But I pray for patience and discipline to develop my ear.
Grace & peace
I came across this and found it interesting: (On a plaque marking Abraham Lincoln's birthplace near Hodgenville, Kentucky, is recorded this scrap of conversation):"Any news down t' the village, Ezry?""Well, Squire McLains's gone t' Washington t' see Madison swore in, and ol' Spellman tells me this Bonaparte fella has captured most o' Spain. What's new out here, neighbor?""Nuthin', nuthin' a'tall, 'cept fer a new baby born t' Tom Lincoln's. Nothin' ever happens out here." Is it possible that the most significant things that happen in our lives are often like this? In my faith tradition, there is a story of a prophet who goes out looking for a hearing with God. He is told to stand in the crevice of a rock and God will pass by. A violent wind passes but God's not in the wind. Then an earthquake happens but God's not in the earthquake. Finally, after several big, loud, cataclysmic events...there's a tiny breeze and "a stil, small voice". And that is where God speaks. I don't know about you, but I have a hard time being still enough and quite enough to hear the small voice. But I pray for patience and discipline to develop my ear.
Grace & peace
Monday, January 23, 2006
Hypocrites in the Church?
Bumper Sticker Hypocrisy: A police officer pulled a driver aside and asked for his license and registration. "What's wrong, officer?" the driver asked. "I didn't go through any red lights, and I certainly wasn't speeding.""No, you weren't," said the officer, "but I saw you waving your fist as you swerved around the lady driving in the left lane, and I further observed your flushed and angry face as you shouted at the driver of the Hummer who cut you off, and how you pounded your steering wheel when the traffic came to a stop near the bridge.""Is that a crime, officer?""No, but when I saw the 'Jesus loves you and so do I' bumper sticker on the car, I figured this car had to be stolen." Citation: Adapted from Homiletics magazine (May 2004); submitted by Gino Grunberg, Gig Harbor, Washington.
It's not a scientific study on my part. But I've asked around. There are a lot of people who personally believe in God. They may believe in a personal Messiah. But they don't participate in organized religion. Why? Overwhelmingly they talk about "hypocrites in the church".
I'm always interested in what believing, non-church attenders think. If you don't mind, send me a quick reply. Do you go to church? Why/not?
Jesus thought hypocrisy was a problem too. The following is from Matthew 7 (via Eugene Peterson's The Message) "Don't look for shortcuts to God. The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don't fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way of life - to God - is vigorous and requires total attention. Be wary of false preachers who smile a lot, dripping with practiced sincereity. Chances are they are out to rip you off some way or another. Don't be impressed with charisma. Look for character. Who they are is the main thing, not what they say."
May the way we live match the things we say we believe.
Grace & peace
It's not a scientific study on my part. But I've asked around. There are a lot of people who personally believe in God. They may believe in a personal Messiah. But they don't participate in organized religion. Why? Overwhelmingly they talk about "hypocrites in the church".
I'm always interested in what believing, non-church attenders think. If you don't mind, send me a quick reply. Do you go to church? Why/not?
Jesus thought hypocrisy was a problem too. The following is from Matthew 7 (via Eugene Peterson's The Message) "Don't look for shortcuts to God. The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don't fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way of life - to God - is vigorous and requires total attention. Be wary of false preachers who smile a lot, dripping with practiced sincereity. Chances are they are out to rip you off some way or another. Don't be impressed with charisma. Look for character. Who they are is the main thing, not what they say."
May the way we live match the things we say we believe.
Grace & peace
Friday, January 13, 2006
'96 Contour & Prayer
I have this 1996 Ford Contour. It is the exact same color as our other vehicle, a minivan. They're both pacific green. People drive by our open garage door, see the identical color on two vehicles, and think we must REALLY love it.
Not really. When we purchased the van, we actually liked another color better at the time. Midnight red. I remember it well. But we didn't like the interior (beige or brown). So pacific green it was. We bought it new, liked the color enough, but loved the van because we were the first owners and the kids could all jump around, have plenty of space, and maybe, just maybe, reduce the traveling fights.
When it was time to purchase a 2nd vehicle, we had very specific requirements: used vehicle, low price tag, high mileage (which for a used car means it's been driven a lot/few mechanical problems [one of the many things I'm NOT is mechanically inclined]), good gas mileage, manual transmission, four doors, air conditioning (which has since needed a little work). Notice, none of the requirements had anything to do with the COLOR. Well we came across the perfect vehicle in our little town. But it happened to be the same pacific green. The kids get tired of explaining the color stories and simply respond, "yeah, they love the color".
I guess most used vehicles have their own quirks. This one has several (having to do with dashboard lights that don't work and a little flashlight to let me know how fast I'm going at night and a strange gear shift when going in reverse).
Another is the speakers on the passenger side in the front are in the door. And there is a short somewhere in the electrical system. Occasionally the speaker goes out, as it did this morning. I pulled into the garage but wanted to hear the end of the song that was blaring on the radio. As I sat there with the engine off but the radio on, I noticed no sound on the passenger side. I simply opened the door, slammed it closed, and presto! I had sound again.
I think that is a little like prayer and meditation. Sometimes in the rush of life, we fail to notice that the speaker is out. That we're not receiving the way we should be. We're so concerned with things that are broken, or getting to where we need to go, or the cool car that just passed us, or the funny bumper sticker or the irritating message, that we fail to realize we haven't been catching all that God wants to send to us. We need a respite, a sabbath, a chance to open the door, slam it shut, and pick up the sounds we've been missing.
In my tradition, hearing is a pretty big thing. "(S)he who has an ear, let her/him hear what the Spirit is saying." "How can they hear if no one tells them?" I don't know what your life is like today. But my prayer for you is that you'll take the time to be silent somewhere along the way, slam the door, and enjoy the music and voices you may have been missing just living on 1 speaker.
Not really. When we purchased the van, we actually liked another color better at the time. Midnight red. I remember it well. But we didn't like the interior (beige or brown). So pacific green it was. We bought it new, liked the color enough, but loved the van because we were the first owners and the kids could all jump around, have plenty of space, and maybe, just maybe, reduce the traveling fights.
When it was time to purchase a 2nd vehicle, we had very specific requirements: used vehicle, low price tag, high mileage (which for a used car means it's been driven a lot/few mechanical problems [one of the many things I'm NOT is mechanically inclined]), good gas mileage, manual transmission, four doors, air conditioning (which has since needed a little work). Notice, none of the requirements had anything to do with the COLOR. Well we came across the perfect vehicle in our little town. But it happened to be the same pacific green. The kids get tired of explaining the color stories and simply respond, "yeah, they love the color".
I guess most used vehicles have their own quirks. This one has several (having to do with dashboard lights that don't work and a little flashlight to let me know how fast I'm going at night and a strange gear shift when going in reverse).
Another is the speakers on the passenger side in the front are in the door. And there is a short somewhere in the electrical system. Occasionally the speaker goes out, as it did this morning. I pulled into the garage but wanted to hear the end of the song that was blaring on the radio. As I sat there with the engine off but the radio on, I noticed no sound on the passenger side. I simply opened the door, slammed it closed, and presto! I had sound again.
I think that is a little like prayer and meditation. Sometimes in the rush of life, we fail to notice that the speaker is out. That we're not receiving the way we should be. We're so concerned with things that are broken, or getting to where we need to go, or the cool car that just passed us, or the funny bumper sticker or the irritating message, that we fail to realize we haven't been catching all that God wants to send to us. We need a respite, a sabbath, a chance to open the door, slam it shut, and pick up the sounds we've been missing.
In my tradition, hearing is a pretty big thing. "(S)he who has an ear, let her/him hear what the Spirit is saying." "How can they hear if no one tells them?" I don't know what your life is like today. But my prayer for you is that you'll take the time to be silent somewhere along the way, slam the door, and enjoy the music and voices you may have been missing just living on 1 speaker.
Wednesday, January 4, 2006
God Weeps
"Where's my cd!?"
"Have you been in my room again!?"
"Shut up!!"
These are some of the phrases flying around our house on a hectic, gettin'-ready for school, tryin' to fly out of the house at 7 am.
(In our defense, I've heard one teenage sibling wish another "good morning", one child volunteer to walk the other to practice, and I hear some pretty good classical piano coming out of the last few minutes of solace.)
But my thoughts are not really on any of this right now.
I had spent the better part of the day yesterday with one eye glancing at the news reports about the miners in WV. I had hoped with everyone else that they had come out alive. When I got up for a drink of water around 1AM this morning, I clicked on the tv to see pictures of wild jubilation as family members believed they would get their loved one back. And then I saw the devastation as they learned 12 of the 13 were dead and the 1 who is still alive is in critical condition.
It leaves you hollow and sad. I had a hard time falling back to sleep in the middle of the night. I had to find something less serious to think about so my brain could be lulled to sleep. C-Span (or was it C-Span 2?) provided the audio monotony to allow me to finally drift off again.
As a trained theologian I tend to think about the transcendant, (or was I trained as a theologian because that's how I tend to think?) Either way, my mind races to passages of the sacred text that might be appropriate. The 23rd Psalm (God is pictured here as a shepherd and we're sheep, "walking through the valley of the shadow of death"), or Jesus standing on a high mountain, over-looking the city in his last moments before torture and crucifixion. (He weeps for Jerusalem, "how I would have gathered you underneath my wings like a mother would protect her chicks".) Or Jeremiah, sent to tell the "people of God" that they were about to undergo some pretty difficult times (having to leave their homeland as punishment for abandoning the covenant of the God who had offered to protect them). Jeremiah is so distraught over the news he has to deliver that he has been given the title "the weeping prophet".
The weeping prophet of a God who weeps. Somehow that's the picture I have in my mind today. That God looks down over the little mining town in West Virginia, (not so different from a mining town where my grandfather gave most of his life in Pennsylvania), and He weeps.
"Have you been in my room again!?"
"Shut up!!"
These are some of the phrases flying around our house on a hectic, gettin'-ready for school, tryin' to fly out of the house at 7 am.
(In our defense, I've heard one teenage sibling wish another "good morning", one child volunteer to walk the other to practice, and I hear some pretty good classical piano coming out of the last few minutes of solace.)
But my thoughts are not really on any of this right now.
I had spent the better part of the day yesterday with one eye glancing at the news reports about the miners in WV. I had hoped with everyone else that they had come out alive. When I got up for a drink of water around 1AM this morning, I clicked on the tv to see pictures of wild jubilation as family members believed they would get their loved one back. And then I saw the devastation as they learned 12 of the 13 were dead and the 1 who is still alive is in critical condition.
It leaves you hollow and sad. I had a hard time falling back to sleep in the middle of the night. I had to find something less serious to think about so my brain could be lulled to sleep. C-Span (or was it C-Span 2?) provided the audio monotony to allow me to finally drift off again.
As a trained theologian I tend to think about the transcendant, (or was I trained as a theologian because that's how I tend to think?) Either way, my mind races to passages of the sacred text that might be appropriate. The 23rd Psalm (God is pictured here as a shepherd and we're sheep, "walking through the valley of the shadow of death"), or Jesus standing on a high mountain, over-looking the city in his last moments before torture and crucifixion. (He weeps for Jerusalem, "how I would have gathered you underneath my wings like a mother would protect her chicks".) Or Jeremiah, sent to tell the "people of God" that they were about to undergo some pretty difficult times (having to leave their homeland as punishment for abandoning the covenant of the God who had offered to protect them). Jeremiah is so distraught over the news he has to deliver that he has been given the title "the weeping prophet".
The weeping prophet of a God who weeps. Somehow that's the picture I have in my mind today. That God looks down over the little mining town in West Virginia, (not so different from a mining town where my grandfather gave most of his life in Pennsylvania), and He weeps.
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