Sunday Night Musing: Faith Mentoring

Tonight at church we celebrated Epiphany since we missed it last week due to the weather. Again, I love the light breaking into darkness images of Epiphany. Stars hang from the ceiling in our worship space. I love the image of the magi: wise men from various parts of the world who read the signs and came to worship the God who came to earth. And of course I love the manifestation of God becoming one of us in an ungodly way.

In this season of Epiphany we're also going to be going through the book of II Timothy. The apostle Paul writes the letter to Timothy with advice on pastoring a church and encouragement in his faith. In the introduction he also recognizes Timothy's grandmother and mother who instrumental in his faith.

I am mindful of the people who shaped my faith. Some are around, but many have passed away. There were a number of older members of my church growing up who played a part in encouraging me and my walk with Jesus. There was Avery Shold, Clifford Shold, Bill Shold, Arlyn Youngberg, Maurice Peterson and other men with whom I sang in the church choir in my teen years and who taught me songs in Swedish as a child. There were my Sunday School teachers (most of whom I won't remember) including Betty Nordine and Ebba Youngberg. Bible camp was a huge part of my faith formation. The DeVries family were the camp managers when I was young--and I was lucky to stay connected with them as I entered in to camping ministry myself. I remember some of my counselors when I was in grade school: Mark Samuelson, Kyle Welander, John Gambs (who was my counselor several times I believe), and Adrian Wolbrink (who after my first summer at camp sent me a letter later with a card with the "Cross in My Pocket" poem and a little cross to keep in my pocket--that follow-up was special to me at a young age). Though I don't remember the speaker's name, the woman who shared at camp my first summer helped me verbalize my commitment. Each of these people (and many more!) invested a little bit in my life and showed me what faith could look like.

I had a few pastors who were influential, but Dave Wells was the one who taught my confirmation class and encouraged me to think about ministry. I had several good youth group leaders along the way: Robert Johnson, the Sunblads, the Linds, the Kischers. As I grew older our denomination's national youth convention was important to me. I witnessed several thousand other students worshiping God freely without inhibition. Speakers like Tony Campolo and Duffy Robbins challenged my walk. At the end of high school I started spending my summers working at Bible Camp where Joel Rude (with whom I later worked full-time), Dave Cairns, Bruce Peterson and many other staff members encouraged and mentored me.

As I entered college, seminary, ministry, and living as an adult, hundreds of people of been important in my faith walk. I can't even try to name them all: various professors, colleagues in ministry, church members, and friends.

And of course, my family has been the most influential. My great-grandparents, grandparents and parents passed on so much said and unsaid faith as did uncles, aunts, great-uncles and -aunts, and cousins of varying degrees.

I thank God for each of the people (and I know I'm forgetting to name some other mentors) who have played an important role in my faith walk, and for those whom I'm learning from today.

Please share in the comments the names of people who have played an important part in your faith walk. I'd love to hear those stories.

Sunday Night Musing: Persistent Widows

In Luke 18:1-9 Jesus tells this story that is often labeled "The Persistent Widow" or "The Unjust Judge." In the parable a widow comes to a judge to ask for justice with some unfair dealings that have happened to her. She keeps asking him for justice against her adversary. Over and over again. The judge admits to being godless and not caring what other people think. Eventually, however, despite his lack of sympathy, empathy, compassion, or justice, he gives in. Her persistence has worn him down. He can't take any more of her, so he gives her justice. Most likely the story should be titled "The Annoying Woman and the Jerk of a Judge," but it's not (it's only Bible publishers that title the sections--they weren't originally there of course).

We're told at the beginning of the passage that Jesus told His disciples this story "to show them that they should always pray and not give up" (Luke 18:1). It's always nice to know the actual intent of a parable. We are to pray often and not give up. And our persistent prayers should be seeking justice it seems.

We're also told that God is not like the judge. He's not uncaring or unjust. He's loving and righteous. 

"And will not God bring about justice for His chosen ones, who cry out to Him day and night? Will He keep putting them off? I tell you, He will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?” (Luke 18:8-9). 

Jesus is concerned that when He returns, He won't find faithful people--people praying persistently. Ouch. I see the finger pointing at me. I fail here. 

A) I don't pray persistently.
B) I don't pray persistently about issues of justice.
C) When I do pray persistently it's usually about me (mostly along the lines of "I want to get over this cold" or "Let today go well").
D) I don't pray persistently.

Now, Jesus taught this, I do believe, not to shame or point fingers, but to encourage His followers. God does want to bring justice for His chosen. Seeking justice is a good thing; I will try to be more faithful. 

Orphans, widows, the imprisoned, the homeless, those going through foreclosure, those in war-torn areas, the persecuted, the oppressed, the immigrant, those discriminated against, the hungry, those with sickness and disease. These are all people who need justice. I can be an instrument to help bring that about. Actions are good; prayer is the first step, though.

Sunday Night Musing: Surrender

Tonight we heard the story of Lazarus and the rich man. Sometimes I just want to hear about how the Scripture applies to my life, telling me what to do. Sometimes the debate of commentaries is tiresome. Tonight, my friend Toyna taught on this passage having us think about the places where we don't see the needs of others and how we may use our resources (time, talents, possessions) to help them.

She also shared that there used to be old Jewish folk tales about a rich man and a poor man who die like in the story Jesus tells. But the folk stories have the poor man going back to the living to give the rich man's family a warning about the after life and living well. Jesus, however, doesn't have that happen. He says that the living have the words of Moses and the prophets. If they don't believe them, then they won't believe even when someone rises from the dead. 

Jesus seems to be saying that we have all we need for faith. We've had Him rise from the dead. Even that wasn't enough for everyone to believe. 

Faith isn't about having enough proof. It's about where our heart is. If we're not ready to give up our own will and follow God's, then no amount of proof of His existence will matter. If we're not ready to surrender all to God, faith isn't really attainable.

I'm learning that surrender is a daily thing for me. Just because I gave my life to Christ once (okay, actually several times over the course of several summers at Bible camp), doesn't mean that I'm living like it each moment. Every day I have to choose to follow Jesus over doing what my own will wants to do.

Each morning I try to remember to pray a prayer of surrender. I don't always remember, but I try. Days seem to go a bit better when I do remember.

And while I'm surrendering I'm keeping my eyes open for the people God places in front of me to reach out to in what ever way they need. Or at least I'm trying.

I Don't Particularly Like to Bait Hooks

Mark 1:14-20 (our text at church tonight) is a familiar passage to most. In it Jesus calls his first disciples: Andrew, Peter, James and John. Two sets of brothers who all made their living netting fish out of the Sea of Galilee. From the passage (and it's parallel in Matthew) comes the familiar phrase, "I will make you fishers of men" (or "I will teach you to fish for people"). It's a nice phrase. Much has been done with it. Maybe too much. If that is our focus of the passage, we have made too much of it.

Pastor Jan pointed out how we're not all fishermen/women. The metaphor only goes so far. Gleaning info from another blog (the author of which I'm forgetting, so I'm sorry I can't point you to the source a little better), Jan noted that if the first disciples had been carpenters, Jesus would have invited them to "follow me and build my Kingdom." If they had been farmers Jesus might have said, "Follow me and sow seeds of Good News." If they had been of some other profession, Jesus would have found an apt analogy for their call to discipleship. Pastor Jan points out that Jesus calls them as they are. He calls us as we are...to be ourselves. That is who He wants. God has only ever created one of us. He needs us to be ourselves that we might each have a unique contribution to His Kingdom.

The other issue I have with how we tend to use the "Follow me and I will make you fishers" line is that we tend to focus on our strengths. Jesus never talks about strengths when He calls people to follow Him. We lived in a leadership-driven world (which is a future blog post in itself); we take strength assessments. We know our spiritual gifts. We learn the top five/seven/ten principles of being a strong leader. But Jesus never calls us to be leaders. He calls us to be followers. And He never tells us to be strong. He tells us that in our weakness, He is strong.

Jesus doesn't call the disciples saying, "Come be leaders and I'll using your fishing skills." Instead He says, "Be my follower, and I'll use what you know to make an impact in areas where you're weak--saving the lost, for instance." As we see the disciples interact with Jesus throughout the Gospels, it's very clear He didn't call them because they were the smartest, brightest, strongest or best that Judea had to offer. They were clearly men with weaknesses. And I believe Jesus called them because of that fact.

As Pastor Jan exhorted tonight--we need to follow Jesus as ourselves...not as the Christian we think we're supposed to be, not hiding our unique characteristics. You may be like me and are still discovering who God made you to be. As you learn to be who you are (and discover who you are), don't hide your weaknesses. Embrace them. Know that through them, Jesus works.

Mary Said Yes

Our text at church on this final Sunday of Advent (how quickly even the long-ness of waiting can go!) was from Luke 1: 26-38. The angel Gabriel visits Mary and says, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you" (verse 28, TNIV).

This in itself is shocking. We have no biblical account of angels showing up since the days of Daniel. Nearly every time an angel does appear to someone, their response is fear. Angels aren't cutesy beings--they are awe-inspiring and fear-inducing. So when one appears to a lowly teenage girl from the streets of Nazareth, we can assume Mary was probably a bit frightened.

And to have an angel tell you that you are highly favored, one can understand why Mary would be "greatly troubled at his words" (v. 29, TNIV) and wonder what this means. She's got to be thinking, "Uh, oh, this can't be good...what does God have up His sleeves now?"

And then Gabriel tells her that even though she's a virgin, she's going to have a child. Not just any child. Mary is to become the mother of "the Son of the Most High" (v. 32). He will sit on David's throne, ruling over the house of Jacob for all eternity. Mary knows that the angel is referring to the Messiah: the Savior whom the Scriptures foretold would come, bringing a kingdom of justice and righteousness.

So here's an unwed teenage girl, being told that God would like her to become the mother of His Son--the Anointed Saving King. There's a lot of pressure in knowing that. There are a lot of feelings of inadequacy. There is fear, confusion and probably even denial going on.

Mary can turn her back on the angel and say, "No way! I'm not worthy and I'm certainly not ready for that to happen." She has that option. But she is open to God's will. So she asks how all this can be possible since she has never slept with a man.

So the angel tells her that it will come about through the Holy Spirit. As evidence that the miraculous can happen, Gabriel tells Mary that her elderly cousin is beginning her third trimester of pregnancy. He assures Mary that what ever God says will happen won't fail.

So Mary, clearly full of humility for a teenager, simply says, "I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me according to your word." Clearly, there is something special about this girl.

But even saying yes to God does not mean things will be easy...or perfect. An unwed mother faced stoning at the worst; at the very least shunning and life-long ridicule for her son. Saying yes could have meant death. But she does it anyway.

Mary doesn't know what lies ahead. She doesn't know that she'll be alone with only Joseph in a unfamiliar city when the labor pains hit. She doesn't know that she'll give birth in a barn, surrounded by livestock and their manure. She doesn't know that her family will have to flee to a foreign land as essentially illegal immigrants in order to escape Herod's murderous plot against baby boys. She doesn't know that she will see her son beaten and killed in the most cruel fashion. It is not an easy road that lies ahead of Mary. She may have been better off saying "no".

But she said yes. And the world was changed because of her decision. And despite all the trials and hardships, I believe Mary--one who treasured and pondered things in her heart--would say that she lived a good life. Not a safe life, but a good life.

May I be willing to say yes to God as well.

A Labor of Love (since it's Labor Day and all)

In the New International Version of the Bible, the phrase "love the Lord your God" occurs thirteen times. "Love your neighbor" occurs ten. Ten times we are told to love ourselves (as our guideline for loving others). The Bible tells us that these are the first and second greatest commandments: to love God and love our neighbor as we love ourselves. Scot McKnight calls this "The Jesus Creed." It is the basis of what we live out when we follow Christ.

We've had a weekend of God, self and neighbors. Friday night, as discussed in the post before this, we had over 50 people in our yard as we had a cook-out with families from the boys' school. Saturday evening we got together with our good friends from our old neighborhood and went to an outdoor concert at Lake Harriet (though we didn't expect it to be as cold as it got). Sunday we went to the farmers market, did some biking and hiking in a park, had our last church service in the park for the year and gathered around a bonfire with friends after church. This morning we gathered at another friends' house on the parkway in North Minneapolis to watch the 10k & 5k race that went in front of their place. Several members from church and a friend from school were running in it. So we camped out on the lawn and cheered them on (while sharing some breakfast food). We ate lunch together and hung out (playing a few games of kubb and molkky as well).

 Our text at church on Sunday night was from Romans 13:8-9: "Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for he who loves his fellowman has fulfilled the law. The commandments, “Do not commit adultery,” “Do not murder,” “Do not steal,” “Do not covet,” and whatever other commandment there may be, are summed up in this one rule: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”" I've mentioned before the struggle I have at times in loving myself (as well as others and God). It's not easy. But the more we do it, the better we become.

Pastor Jan said, "In God's love, we become loving; in our loving others, we experience God's love." When we grow in one area (loving self, God or neighbor), we ultimately grow in all areas. I call the the trinity of love. All three areas need to be there. If we're neglecting one side of the love triangle (God, others, self), we're not fully loving any of the other sides. We can't fully love God if we're hating our neighbor. We're not truly loving others if we despise ourselves.

St. Benedict, in his rule of life for monastic living, said to treat the stranger (as well as the one you know) at the door as if they were Christ. Here I often fail. And sometimes I treat Christ as a stranger. And sometimes I treat myself that way, also. But there are times when I love God really well. There are times I love others really well. There are even times I love myself well. These are the times to build upon--and love from.

If I love myself well, I accept who I am. I take care of my needs. I forgive myself for my faults. This is how I should treat my neighbor. If I love God well, I am spending time with him. I am praising Him for who He is. I am doing what He asks of me. This is also how I should treat my neighbor. Inwardly, outwardly and upwardly we are called to love. Jesus (as well as Paul) says that in doing this, we fulfill all the commands of the Bible. So simple--yet so hard at times. But the more we do it, the better we become.

Doubting Thomas

On Sunday at church we looked at the story of Thomas encountering the resurrected Christ. It was a wonderful experiential evening. My friend Tonya was teaching and she insightfully put together four different encounters based on different learning styles. There was a kinesthetic station of body prayer, an verbal station of telling the story, a tactile station of re-affirming faith through touching physical objects and a visual station with various artists' depictions of the story as well as a video of Nickel Creek's Doubting Thomas song. (I led this station; a few of the art works are shown here.)

Thomas often gets a bad wrap. Matthew 28:17 tells us that more than just Thomas doubted. Mark 16:14 says that Jesus rebuked all the disciples for their lack of faith. Thomas just didn't happen to be present when the rest of them first saw Him.

We all have doubts. Doubts are good. Without going through doubts our faith seldom goes deeper. Doubts mean we're thinking; we're interacting; we're engaged. Faith is a gift from God--not something we can produce ourselves. And just as Christ came to Thomas, He meets us where we are. And Thomas went on to do great things, supposedly being the only disciple who took the gospel outside of the Roman Empire to Syria and India.

So, don't be afraid to be a "Doubting Thomas." Just don't let your doubts hold you back.

Of Prophets and Their Awkward Lives

At church this last Sunday our text was from Ezekiel, when God takes him to a valley filled with dry bones and has Ezekiel tell the bones to come together, putting flesh on them and finally to come to life. It's a somewhat familiar text, but that's probably all most of us know about Ezekiel.

For the most part, we don't know much about most of the prophets outside of Jonah and Daniel. We're familiar with parts of Isaiah and Jeremiah, but if we're reading the Bible the prophets (minor and major) tend to get skipped over. Prophets are tough to read, that's granted. To understand them, we have to understand the historical situation they were speaking to (contrary to popular belief, prophets generally spoke to their contemporary situation, not to future events).

The prophets are also hard to read because we find that God sometimes asks people to do crazy things. Things like marrying an unfaithful prostitute as an object lesson for the nation. Or walking around naked for three years. Or lying on your side in the middle of the city for over a year. I mean, if this is what following God could lead to, don't sign me up!

Yet, if you want to hear the voice of God, listen to the prophets. Most of the time they are speaking the words God has told them to speak. And some of the time it is tough words--usually of impending doom. But only if the people (or nation) don't change their ways. Only if they continue ignoring God. Only if they keep living in sin.

But they also often end with hope. With a promise that God will forgive them. That even after exile, God will bring them back home. That God will work through their consequences to make His love known. That God will bring hope into hopelessness.

And for us, the words of the prophets remind us to not turn from God. Not because bad things will happen to us, but because life is so much fuller when we're living in obedience and in the center of His love. And the words are also reminders for us to speak hope into hopelessness, life into death.

Tough Questions

We had our small group (Chapter House) at our house tonight. We meet two Tuesdays each month. Because there were five Tuesdays in March, it's been three weeks since we met. The boys have been asking for weeks when the next Chapter House will be. We all like the time together (we evaluated it tonight and all came up with that same sentiment).

After eating, the kids went upstairs and watched a movie while the adults talked and shared. Tonight it was The Prince of Egypt. Near the end of our sharing time one of the kids came down to let me know Anders needed me. She said he was scared (he gets quite sensitive during movies).

I went up; he wasn't scared. He was sad that all the babies had to die during the tenth plague on Egypt. At the end of the movie he asked why God had to kill all those people. I didn't know. And I told him so. I mentioned how He gave Pharaoh many chances to listen to Him, but Pharaoh didn't. Anders said that killing everyone wasn't right. I agreed. I don't know why all the firstborn children had to die.

I don't know why God liked Abel's sacrifice better than Cain's.

I don't know why God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. It seems like a pretty heartless test of faith.

I don't know why Lot's wife got turned into a pillar of salt for looking over her shoulder.

I don't know why all the Canaanites had to be wiped out instead of relocated when the Israelites moved in.

I don't know why all the innocent children had to die because of Herod's fear when Jesus was born.

I don't know why Jesus bothered to invite Judas to follow Him.

There are plenty of things I don't know about the Bible. I can come up with my own guesses, but the Bible doesn't answer everything clearly.

There are also things that I don't like in the Bible.

I don't like that James 5:16 says, "The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective" (NIV). I feel that if my prayers (the context of the rest of the verse deals with healing sick people) don't do anything, then I'm not a righteous man (which may be the case, but still...).

I don't like that Galatians 2:20 says, "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (NIV). There are far too many times when it is me who is living--not Christ--so what does that mean for my faith?

I don't like that 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (NIV). I've got plenty of old me still around. I don't often feel like a new creation. So I question whether or not I'm in Christ.

I don't know how to talk about the Bible's stance on the sinfulness of homosexuality with friends who feel that they were born gay. I don't know how to answer their question of why God would make them that way if it is a sin.

I could go on and on about things in the Bible I don't understand or that I don't like. And that's not a bad thing. We should have unanswered questions. There should be things that make us feel uncomfortable. If we read blindly without questioning anything, then we're not really interacting with a living and active text like the Bible claims it to be.

And still, for all the hard stuff in there, there's a lot of stuff I love. Especially the good news parts. The parts where God says He loves me, forgives me (even if I don't fully understand why at times).

And I think God can live with my questions and with me not liking everything that's in there. Hopefully Anders will be able to live with my not knowing how to answer all those questions that arise as well. Maybe he'll be the one to come up with some good answers.

Wandering Companion

This Wandering in the Wilderness theme has been coming into play a bit recently. Last week at church I spoke about Abram's journey (and ours). Tonight the text was about Moses leading the Israelites through the wilderness. They've seen God unleash the plagues upon the Egyptians to convince Pharaoh to release them from slavery, they've walked across the Red Sea on dry land, they've seen God make the bitter waters of Morah sweet, they've eaten the quail and manna that He has provided (for over 2 million people). But they get thirsty (which is expected in a desert), and they get worried (which is legitimate when you're thirsty in a desert). And they complain and grumble. They want to return to slavery. They question where God is at.

Our friend Laura preached tonight. She talked about how the Israelites had a legitimate need. It wasn't wrong for them to worry about getting water to drink while traveling with a couple million other people through the desert. But they forgot about what God had done. They didn't turn to Him and ask for water; they just start complaining. God wanted them to turn to Him. He wanted to have a relationship with them.

Flash forward just over 1500 years. Jesus is walking through Samaria (which a good Jew shouldn't do). He is thirsty; He sits at a well. A woman comes to draw some water. Jesus asks her if He could have some. She doesn't understand why a Jew would be asking her for water. Jesus begins an object lesson (one wonders if that wasn't His plan all along--that He didn't really need water). He tells her that He has living water so that she will never go thirsty. He is inviting her into a relationship with Him. That is the reason He came.

So the question is not "Where is God?" but "Where am I with God?" I admit that for me there are times (many times) when it is hard to have a relationship with God. I'm not always good with relationships in the first place; I don't know how to deal with one with a spiritual being. I'm great with knowledge of God. I don't always do well in living that out. I don't do well at living out my other relationships in life at times.

One of the six affirmations that the Evangelical Covenant Church is built on (we're non-credal) is "Freedom in Christ." Sometimes we take that to mean that we can do infant or adult baptism and not be divided over it. And that freedom is good. But sometimes Freedom in Christ is more about being released from the bondage of slavery to sin. We don't always understand that freedom, however; we don't always know what to do with it. Sometimes, like the Israelites longing for the "comfort" of life in Egypt, we long for the familiarity of our sinful life. At least I have. We forget what God has done for us. We forget what slavery was really like. Bondage provides knowns that freedom doesn't. There is comfort in it--even while it is miserable. Freedom produces unknowns. It means we have responsibilities. There are dangers.

The key is not "Freedom" but "in Christ." We can't do this on our own. We need support. We need encouragement. We need a guide. God led the Israelites through the wilderness as a cloud and pillar of fire. He was with them. Through history He keeps getting back to how it was in Eden when He walked in the cool of the day through the garden with Adam and Eve. First the cloud. Then the Tabernacle where His presence would descend. Then the Temple where He would fill the Holy of Holies. Then His Son walked amongst us. Now we have the indwelling Holy Spirit. Someday we'll be back to walking in the garden with Him. Because He loves us. Because He wants to know us. Because He wants us to know Him.

I wander through the wilderness not alone. God is with me. And while I fail miserably in my relationship with Him, He is patient. And loving. And gracious. He doesn't give up on me. He puts up with my grumbling and complaining. May we learn that better than the Israelites did.

Faith Like a Child

I try as best I can at most meals to pray the daily office from The Divine Hours. It doesn't happen all the time, but the three office each day tend to coordinate with meal times, so it's convenient to fit them into our routine then rather than finding space for doing them by myself. Plus, it's been a nice family "tradition" to have--a ritual, if you will. When we get to the part to do the Lord's Prayer, we often sing it together like we do at church each week (along with the actions we learned when we met the people from our church at camp last spring).

I watch my 2-year old niece and nine-month old nephew three days a week, and when I read the

prayers, my niece sometimes listens with intent. And she always smiles when Nils and I sing the Lord's Prayer. Last week she joined in with us, doing the actions and singing along as best she could. We also sometimes sing a prayer we learned from some friends' kids that goes to the tune of Frere Jacques. She also has joined in on that when we've recently sang it at lunch.

One of my favorite parts of church is when the leader of Kid's Chapel does the ritual for leading the kids from the larger worship gathering to their own lesson time during the sermon. She goes to the table, lifting up the cross and begins singing a version of Sursum Corda that we echo back. The children then follow to their meeting place.

Leader: The Lord be with you.

All: And also with you.

Leader: The Lord be with you.

All: And also with you.

Lift up your hearts! (Kids follow cross)

We lift them to the Lord.

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

It is right to give Him thanks and praise.

After we have sung it through once we can usually hear the children singing it through a second time as they walk down the hallway to their room. I love to hear children's voices in praise.

Rituals and traditions often get a bad rap in the church. And often it's warranted. We tend to hold onto things because "we've always done it that way." We tend to fear change. We can let our rituals become lifeless and meaningless. They can even become legalistic: we do them because we feel we have to do them, and if we don't we feel guilty.

But rituals also have power--at least the ones done with meaning and intent. They connect us with something bigger. They help us set aside time out of our filled lives to take part in something purposeful. They teach us and remind us. They help us walk our faith journey when we're feeling low on faith.

I can't say for sure what my two-year old niece gets out of singing the Lord's Prayer with us. But I think it's something meaningful that she has felt compelled to join in singing it with us. I believe she has some notion that it is something we do for God. It joins her to something larger that she doesn't fully understand now while at the same time giving her some voice for things she does understand.

When Anders goes of to Kids' Chapel singing, he probably doesn't fully understand the words--I know that. Yet, at the same time he is blessing all of us--along with all the other kids. It is right to give Him thanks and praise.

Jesus tells us that in order to enter Heaven we must become like little children (Matthew 18:3). I think there are a lot of components to having faith like a child (including trusting, playing and delighting); I wonder if part of it is in having meaningful ritual. Most children thrive on ritual (bedtime routines, saying prayers before meals, beginning school with The Pledge of Allegiance, holiday traditions, etc.). Maybe we as adults need to be more intentional in having purposeful rituals. And maybe we need to invite our children into them and find delight in their participation. There is joy in knowing (as well as seeing and hearing) that the Way of Jesus continues on in the next generation. The Lord be with you.

Checks and Balances

I intended to write tonight. It's been a while. I've been in a bit of a mid-winter slump, I guess. It's a mixture of the lack of vitamin D/sunlight, lack of exercise, lack of being in nature, along with an unwarranted sense of unaccomplishment right now. Sometimes it's difficult not to let society define you by what you do to earn money. Homemakers work plenty, but have little to show for it in the bank. And, admittedly, there are days that I don't get done the things I intend to get done.

Tonight I worked on balancing our checkbook (which seems to be a highly complicated system that seldom seems to come out right the first time). We started a fresh ledger for 2011 in Microsoft Outlook. This is the first balancing of the new entries. It should be simple. There are few entries. It should all come together and balance nicely. Except, of course, that it's not. And I can't find any glaring reason why it's not. So I'm taking a break to write.

I'm realizing that I sometimes view my life as a ledger. I know I'm not supposed to, but sometimes I put my sins in a column and compare them to my good deeds. Of course, each sin carries a lot more weight than a good deed, so I need to have a lot of good deeds to cancel out each sin. And then I add them out and hope I'm a "good person."

Here's the thing, though--and I often forget this, no matter how much I believe the veracity of it--the sins column doesn't matter. At least not for trying to balance things out. We can't balance things out. And that's not the point of Christianity anyway. It's the exact opposite of what Jesus intends for us.

Jesus wiped away (and continues to wipe away) everything in the sin column. It's gone. Erased. There's nothing there. But He doesn't pay attention to our good deeds column, either. Our actions, while important, aren't what God will weigh out to see if we're a good person or not. None of us are good enough--at least in the presence of a pure and holy God. We've all got some sin. And a little drop of sin taints the pool of purity. So none of us measure up. No matter how much good we've done--we're still not perfect.

But Jesus invites us to accept His love and forgiveness. He invites us to follow Him. He invites us to accept His Spirit to guide us in becoming more like Him. And that is what matters. The more we spend time with Him, the more we become like Him. The more we know His great love for us, the more we are able to love others (and do "good works"). And that's what matters to God: that we know Jesus and live out of love.

But I forget that. I try to measure my "goodness." I let my "badness" get me down. But I don't need to. I just need to focus on Jesus--not my ledger. That's all that matters.

The Story of A Mugging Victim and The Beatitudes

Yesterday we began looking at Jesus' Sermon on the Mount in church by starting with the Beatitudes. It was actually our "informal night" we it was teaching instead of preaching. So we "exegeted" the text--looking at what Matthew intended when he wrote it and peeling away all the presuppositions and assumptions we bring to the text.

Recently a friend on Facebook shared a story that was on NPR a couple years ago about a victim who treated his mugger right. It's a story that should be coming out of the church more. Too often, the church's stories are like the rest of the world: sex scandals, embezzlement, divorce, abuse, hatred.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us we're supposed to be different. We're not just supposed to not murder--we're not to hate, because all people are created in God's image. More than not committing adultery, we're not to look lustfully at each other because people aren't objects and sex wasn't created to be the goal. We're not to take an-eye-for-an-eye, but to be merciful instead of vengeful--even loving our enemies. The Law isn't meant to be a checklist of dos and don'ts, but a guide to help us know how to love God and love each other.

The Beatitudes tell us that the way of the Kingdom is not the way of the world. The world lauds power, wealth, strength, hedonism and vengeful justice. The way of the Kingdom is to realize we need help, to mourn, to be humble, to show mercy, to be pure, to seek peace and to turn the other cheek. These aren't things we can do on our own; these sorts of actions require a dependence on the Holy Spirit. They are the fruit of a life transformed.

And like the mugger in the story, when others encounter a life lived out with Kingdom values, those we encounter are changed. Not only do the Beatitudes show us our blessings, but they show us how to bless others as well.

The Witness of The Daily Office

We've been working on making the daily prayers a part of our lives. Our church uses Phyllis Tickle's compilations of The Divine Hours. We've come to appreciate the rhythms of praying them each day. We don't always get it in, but when we can we try to pray the morning, noon and vespers offices. In my schedule with the kids it usually works best to pray them after meals, together as a family. In the evening I try to get Anders to read a few of the prayers if he's interested. Once in a while Nils will even read some (if we can find short ones without big words).

We have two boys from the neighborhood who are often over at our house after school to play. They've been around at meal time before and know that we pray together. Tonight they left to head home when we sat down for supper, but showed up again before we had finished. I thought they might just go up to the boys' room to play while we finished up, but they hung around. So they ended up joining us for the Divine Hours after supper. One was interested in reading some, and they both joined in singing Our Father (we sing it every week at church, and the boys usually want to sing it at home, complete with actions).

I'm not sure where their families' are spiritually, but the kids at least have a sense of where we are. They know we go to church, have Chapter House (our small group) and pray before and after meals. I hope they've gotten a sense of our love, kindness, generosity and other aspects of our lives as we live out our faith. We haven't preached at them, but have provided a space to see what we live and hopefully find freedom to ask questions.

New Year's Day Bombing

The news today was of a suicide bombing at a Coptic church as worshipers were leaving a midnight mass. It's an horrendous way to ring in the new year. President Obama has denounced the bombing. The Pope chimed in, reminding us that today is supposed to be a World Day of Peace. He called for violence to end against Christians.

The bombing is terrible. 21 died because of hate. Such evens should be spoken out against. And I don't mean to diminish those deaths, but Christians did not show themselves to be any better than the bomber. Immediately, they started retaliating:

In the wake of the New Year's bombing, they [the Egyptian Christians] unleashed their rage at authorities.

"Now it's between Christians and the government, not between Muslims and Christians,'' shrieked one Christian woman as several hundred young men clashed with helmeted riot police in the street outside the targeted church hours after the blast. As the rioters threw stones and bottles, police fired rubber bullets and tear gas to disperse them. Some of the protesters beat Muslim passers-by. (from the AP article as linked above)

Violence against Christians is expected (not condoned, of course, but Christ did warn us that we would be persecuted). Violence from Christians is inexcusable. We are called to be peacemakers, to turn the other cheek, to love our enemy. Violence against us will never end if we keep paying "an eye for an eye."

Lest we point fingers at typical violence in the Middle East, let us ask ourselves how we would respond. Would we want vengeance or would we offer forgiveness. Consider how much violence Christians have caused throughout history--often in the name of Jesus.

May today not just be a day of world peace, but a day we offer prayer for peace in all the years to come. In this new year, may we keep one resolution: to be Jesus' disciple, to love God and love others.

Congress, The Constitution & God's Word

I heard on NPR today that when Congress opens on January 6, 2011, they will begin the session with a full reading of the Constitution. Granted, the Republicans are doing it to show up the Democrats whom they feel ignored the Constitution when they were in control. Whatever the motives, it's not a bad idea. Actually, it's a great idea. Shouldn't those who make the laws be well versed in the law? It's incredible that in our nation's history, congress has never read the entire Constitution.

This probably isn't a bad way to start the new year in our churches as well. Not reading the Constitution, of course, but reading the Law and all of God's Word upon which we base our daily living (or at least should be). Not that we have the time read the entire Bible in one setting, but I wonder how many Christians have read through the entire Bible. I wonder how many churches have read through the majority of the Bible throughout even years of existence.

One of the things I'm grateful for as we read The Divine Hours together as a family is that we hear from most sections of the Bible together as a family. I also appreciate following the lectionary at church for the same reason. Of course, whether or not your church follows the lectionary, we all have the ability to read through the entire Bible. Investing in only a few minutes each day takes us through the entire Scripture. If we claim to follow Jesus, we can't do so without knowing His Words (New Testament) and the words He lived by (Old Testament). If you're one to make resolutions, how about starting with something that will shape your life in tremendous ways?

Giving

I gave a man my gloves today. And some loose change (I honestly didn't have a single dollar in my wallet). I say this not to receive a pat on the back, but to admit that I struggle with giving. It's not that I don't want to give; it's often that I don't trust those who are asking for help. It seems like far too many people have access to markers for their cardboard signs, and they don't look like they're really worse off than I am. We used to carry a box of granola bars or other food in the car to give to people (usually it was Ken, the man who was often on the corner on our way to our previous church).

We actually have a pair of gloves to give to someone in need. Last winter outside our old apartment, a man was trying to give a homeless guy a pair of gloves. He threw them on the ground (he didn't seem mentally well). I picked them up knowing at some point I would come across someone who needed them. I didn't have them with today, so I ended up giving the guy mine (and I'm hoping the other ones fit me).

The guy came up, explaining how the police wouldn't let him ask people for what he needed. He started going into Bible verses--beginning with how God will provide and going into verses about Christmas. He shared how he was homeless and also had schizophrenia. He had six kids because at the time he didn't know better. It got me thinking about being homeless in the winter we're having in Minnesota. About being the child of a man who's mental illness prevents him from having a stable life. About the financial situation we're in and how blessed we truly are, despite struggling at times.

I'm realizing giving isn't about the actual or perceived needs of those who are asking for things. It's about the status of my heart. Do I need someone to prove their burden of need before I give to them? Do I cling to what I have too tightly that I fear giving it away to someone who will misuse it? Do we need to know the honesty of a person to love them?

I don't know how true this man's story was; he seemed sincere. But I realized it didn't matter. He didn't have gloves. I had some. God calls me to give. I don't always want to. I often don't feel I can without sacrificing of what I have. But that's God's example. Giving. Freely. Even of His Son. And so I wished the homeless man a Merry Christmas, wishing him blessings, just as he blessed me in our brief encounter.

One of Those Days

We're having one of those days. I say "we" because I'm pretty sure my wife and I are on the same page, even though we're not in the same place today. Actually, we've had a lot of those days together. They're the days we often don't talk about with others--when someone asks how you're doing, you're still likely to say "fine" or "good," even though it's a lie. And there are points on some of those days where I'm "fine" one moment and not another. Still, I'm not going to gloss over my day today. It's not fine.

It started yesterday with Beth feeling certain that she didn't get the job she had recently interviewed for. It's been almost two and a half years of her trying to get into her field. It's discouraging. And I don't always know how to respond. Sometimes she doesn't want to be encouraged; sometimes she wants to give up. Often I feel inept as a husband. And today she found out that she was scheduled to work from 11 to 5:30 on Thanksgiving Day (at Starbucks, which she enjoys working at, but it's not where she desires to be--nor can we live on the wages), so we don't really get to do a meal together that day. And sometimes, it's just tough be inside all day with 3-4 kids (as much as I love them all).

To be further honest, the Bible isn't always a place of comfort for this--especially in waiting for God's perfect timing. Sarah and Abraham had to wait until they were older than most people live to be to conceive a child. Joseph was in prison for years before being remembered. There are four hundred and some years of waiting between Malachi and Matthew--the Old and New Testaments. It's not always comforting.

One of our church's core principles is reading the Divine Hours twice a day (at least). The Divine Hours are Phyllis Tickle's compilation and adaption of a manual for fixed hour prayer--a modern version of what St. Benedict requested of monastic communities 1500 years ago. One of the things I appreciate about it, is that it's very Psalm-focused. And the Psalms don't gloss over the emotions of being human. I venture to say that there are more of them that share feelings of anger, depression, sadness, loneliness and hopelessness as there are "happy" psalms.

I don't often know how to pray when I'm having "one of those days." I don't have to--others have prayed for me, and the Spirit mediates my groans. Sometimes it's comforting just to know that those prayers of anguish and lamentation are in the Bible. That God can handle what we're feeling, and that other pillars of faith have been in the same boat. It doesn't take away the fact that we want this time to pass, but it's okay to have one of those days.