Andrew Jackson, Jesus, and Me

Recently, I needed a haircut. By that, I mean that I suddenly couldn’t tolerate my hair situation (last cut in May), and I wanted a trim RIGHT NOW. I wasn’t even willing to wait for my regular place in my town, but instead looked online where I was to see if I could get it done IMMEDIATELY. 

(If you’re neurotypical, the idea of being unable to wait for a haircut probably seems very odd. All my neuro-spicy folks know what I mean.) 

I went into a place where I knew they probably couldn’t mess up a trim and was the only customer in the place. As I was checking, a woman and a tween (her daughter?) came in behind me. They also checked in and we were seated in side-by-side chairs, probably six feet apart. 

After I had discussed my instantaneous trim needs with the stylist, I was then listening to the other stylist discuss the desired haircut with the tween. She wanted all her hair gone, a dramatic chop! As she spoke with her stylist, she explained why and included that her father had passed away a few days earlier. 

The stylist gasped and offered condolences. She asked what happened. The child said, “Illness”, but the adult (mom?) said, “He lost his battle with depression.”

The stylist offered condolences again and then told a story about loss in her family. I know this was to show understanding and solidarity, but the end result was the mom walking away to examine the product display. When your grief is fresh, you don’t always have the capacity to process other people’s stories or even to receive them graciously. Everything you have is concentrated on keeping yourself going for the people who need you. 

As our haircuts continued in tandem, I listened to the tween talk about hair and then listened to the whisper of the scissors in both our stations. I thought about what I might say to the woman. I knew some good books to offer, and I had colleagues in the location I trusted, if she needed a clergyperson or just someone to listen. 

I also know that, in grief and overwhelm, it can be hard to discern good intentions. Sometimes an encounter with a stranger, no matter how well meaning, is just too much information to process. 

I wanted to do something, anything, that could be helpful, and I felt that I had one choice. As I gathered my things after my cut, I motioned to my stylist that I wanted to pay for both haircuts. I paid, tipped well, and left without saying anything to anyone. 

I have fairly extensive experience in being with people in grief. I am not a stranger to a conversation around the pain and mixed emotions of being left behind after someone completes suic*de. I have worked with children after loss. 

I also know that sometimes words are not the thing. Sometimes silence is the thing. Silence may involve listening. Silence may involve service, even for someone you don’t know. 

That woman expected to pay $20 or so for that haircut, so I don’t think I made a significant financial contribution to her situation. I do think, though, that a paid for haircut could be a tiny bit of hope or comfort in a bleak midwinter. It is enough to know that someone heard her pain and wanted to help a little. And if many people around her help a little, it can change a lot. 

When we treat money as a taboo subject, it means we also don’t discuss what good can come from it. The cost of that haircut wasn’t nothing to me. I have kids. I have bills. I have student debt I’m still paying. It was, however, what I hope someone would do for me or for someone I love in the same situation.

Little generosities, small kindnesses, gentle silent service can make big differences. You don't have to have the right words. It is often enough to just do one small thing.

Andrew Jackson was not Jesus. 

But an Andrew Jackson can do the work of Jesus in a moment. It can dispel a kernel of the shadow of grief. Sometimes that’s all you can do. 

And it is enough.  

God's Long Now

Easter Sunday

Luke 24:13-35

If God had a clock, what would it look like? What would God’s desk calendar look like? I’m not just  thinking about marking the passing of time; I’m thinking more about the scope of time. Most of us are familiar with a 24-hour clock. We’ve seen or we’ve been people with five-year-journals or planners. 2^ndPeter says that for God, one thousand years is like a day and a day is like one thousand years. 

God’s concept of time is what I would call the “Long Now”. When humans talk about the Long Now, they are discussing time in ten thousand year increments. They work to think on a grand scale about time, about people, about medicine, about the care of the earth. The Long Now is a shift toward thinking that’s not just about investing or retirement, but for a reality that we cannot even imagine, for a time and a people or a planet, long after we are forgotten on this plane of existence.

I find the Long Now fascinating, but I’m even more intrigued by the idea of a Divine Long Now. It pulls at my spirit to think that God’s sense of time is so high, so deep, and so broad, that God’s sense of now puts us in the same time frame as Abraham and Sarah, as King David, as Jesus, at the women at the tomb, as Cleopas and his friend. God’s now already encompasses our own descendants, ten, twenty, and thirty generations out from us. God’s Long Now is a horizon we can barely grasp, and yet its scenery is so replete with holy grace and healing that we cannot ignore it.

Why am I thinking about God’s Long Now and God’s sense of time?

I think the Emmaus story contains what is possibly the most painful statement for humans to utter. We had hoped. Cleopas and his friend are probably drained. They witnessed the crucifixion. They stayed in Jerusalem until the sabbath was complete and then headed back to Emmaus. They heard the witness of the women, but were unsure how to understand it. 

So they say those words, “We had hoped.” I think “we had hoped” is exactly the opposite of the Long Now. We had hoped says we wanted to see this, we wanted to witness God’s glory in our lifetime, we had expectations that were not met, we do not know how to understand what has happened. We had hoped that the good old days would last forever. We had hoped that we would hold onto power. We had hoped that it would be our turn to be on top and maybe get to do a little oppressing of our own. 

We had hoped. 

Where people say, “We had hoped”, God says, “The story isn’t finished. In fact, we’ve only just begun. I’ve been keeping promises for generations. I’ve upheld every covenant I’ve made. I’ve worked to heal creation again and again and again. I’m pouring out love and mercy and grace, even to the extent of walking among you. And you think we’re finished?”

In my holy imagination, God sighs, with compassion, as Jesus walks down that road, explaining the scriptures, revealing God’s nature, character, and faithfulness… again. As this goes on, the Spirit is on the move- shoring up the witness of the women, bringing new life to bear in plants and animals, inspiring faith in people who were witnesses to the crucifixion at the margins of the story. Even as Jesus focuses on a pair of followers, God’s view of the Long Now is on the move.

God’s planner is eternal. And I don’t mean like our perpetual calendars, where you just shift the numbers to show a new date. I mean, God’s scope and plan for the on-going outpouring of love, the effort to bring us all into right relationship, the making of all things new (which is different than all new things)… God is always doing that work. As long as God is doing that, the only time that exists for the Divine is now.

When we think of first-century Palestine, when we think of the lie of Pax Romana, when we consider the other places or times that the incarnation could have taken place, that Jesus could have been born… we are only considering that from our own perspective in time. In God’s Long Now, Jesus life, death, and resurrection were but a minute ago and none too soon because people just seem(ed) unable to grasp the nuances of Divine control and power, revealing holy love. 

What happens to our understanding of time if we realize that we have been baptized into God’s Long Now? Our grief and pain over death remain very real. Our frustrations with the world remain true. We remain in compassionate disagreement with one another over many things.

And yet, we know that our trust in God, our generosity, our patience, our kindness, and our joy matter deeply because they bear witness to the reality that God is not made in our image, but that we are made in God’s. Our Easter joy is rooted in and grows out of the truth that God forgives and brings resurrection and restoration out of the worst that humans can do. When our hope in this truth bears fruit, the harvest is for justice and peace, for compassion and healing, for the little, the lost, and the least, for the prodigal son, his frustrated brother, his grieving father, and his unmentioned mother.

All creation lives for and leans toward this blessed alleluia-filled, glorious Easter blessing: that resurrection is always now. That God’s power was neither stronger then or is coming stronger in the future, but is now as it always has been. God’s Long Now means that Jesus breathed again just a second ago. He only just broke the bread at the table with Cleopas and his friend. It has only been a minute since Jesus inspired Augustine and Aquinas, since he strengthened Martin and Katie Luther, since he moved people to build Notre Dame cathedral the first time, since he stirred firmly those who worked to spread the good news in word and deed around the world, since he gave the inspiration to people to build this very church. Each of these people, these faithful, these witnesses could have looked at what they faced and said, “We had hoped.” Instead, they stepped out bravely in faith. And in God’s divine time, all of it happened right now.

And a right now resurrection includes, surrounds, and compels us to be people we never dreamed we could be, to do good that never previously occurred to us, to be present to one another, showing up, in ways new and old, but with timing that is always now.

We are God’s people by God’s call, God’s faithfulness, and God’s use of us in the world. We are resurrection people- serving a God who renews, restores, and reforms life and lives through grace upon grace. We are Easter people.

And because of God’s divine plan of time, Easter is always now. Jesus breathes again, in us, now. The earth is relieved, now. Our alleluias ring out now. We respond to grace now.

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. He is with us, between us, in the breaking of the bread, out in the world forever, but also and always right now.

Amen.

Fair to the Flag

Flags outside the sanctuary doors of Lutheran Church of Hope, Anchorage Alaska

More than once recently, I've been asked my opinion regarding flags in the sanctuary. I've written about my respect for the flag here, but I'd like to address the specific question directly.

Regarding flags (national or otherwise) in the sanctuary of a Christian church: I do not believe this is fair to the flag. 

The United States Code (the US Flag Code) states the following:

• (175) (k) When used on a speaker's platform, the flag, if displayed flat, should be displayed above and behind the speaker. When displayed from a staff in a church or public auditorium, the flag of the United States of America should hold the position of superior prominence, in advance of the audience, and in the position of honor at the clergyman's or speaker's right as he faces the audience. Any other flag so displayed should be placed on the left of the clergyman or speaker or to the right of the audience.

It can be inferred from the document that "superior prominence" means to other flags. Where the flag of the United States is present, it is meant to be the unifying symbol for those who behold it. The proper display of the flag is meant not only to stir feelings of patriotism but also a sense of pride and shared community history and goals. That is the job of the flag.

The flag cannot do that job in a Christian sanctuary. The specifically unifying symbol of a Christian sanctuary is the cross of Christ. It is the symbol of his resurrection- thus drawing our hearts and minds to his birth, life, teaching, miracles, ignominious death, and God's power above all. The death of Jesus came at the hands of government officials and the wishes of religious people- all of whom sought control over the power and mercy of God as revealed in Jesus the Christ. The cross is the most powerful symbol wherever it is present.

Thus, the flag would be, at best, second to the cross.

In a sanctuary or chapel, however, the cross is rarely the only symbol of Christ's faithfulness and God's demand on the lives of the faithful. The presence of a baptismal font and/or an altar on which Holy Communion is served are also symbols of God's promise, God's presence, and the power of the Holy Spirit. The events of baptism and communion drive us back again and again to the Christ who feeds us and unites us as children of God. We are made into a community with the saints on earth and the saints who have gone before through the font and the altar.

With their presence, the flag slides to fourth.

Then there is the written Word, the Holy Bible, which people died to have translated into the vernacular. Scripture in the language of the common people represents the lives and works of men and women who believed that God speaks directly to everyone through the Spirit. The power of the narrative of Scripture belongs where it can be read, discussed, wept over, wrestled with, and treasured. Martin Luther wrote that we cannot begin to value the Bible enough until we have studied it for 100 years.

Now, the flag is fifth.

Jesus says,  “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” Matthew 6:24

I am not arguing that the flag of the United States represents wealth. Jesus isn't discussing flags here, but the first part of the verse remains decidedly true regardless of the topic of discussion. When we are in a Christian sanctuary, we are Christ's first. (That's actually true everywhere.) In the church, we are children of God- not our denomination, not our city, not our country, not even our own family. We belong to God and it is God's demands on our lives that must and do take precedence. 

You can have more than one vocation at a time and the vocation of responsible citizen is one that I value and take quite seriously. All vocations, however, are subsumed into the primary one of being a baptized child of God, which is always our primary identity.

When I examine those vocations in their proper order, I am stirred by the Spirit to be sure that I am treating the flag of my country respectfully. Thus, I do not wish to display it in a place where it is of fourth or fifth prominence. I wish it to be displayed where it can rightfully do its job and that place, in my mind, is not in the sanctuary of a Christian church.

Choose This Day (Revised)

Joshua 24:1–2a, 14–18, John 6:56-69

If, in the morning, I open my eyes,

My first decision thereupon lies.

Will I continue to lie in the bed,

Allowing my thoughts to run through my head?

Will I get up and go to the shower,

Regardless of both the weather and hour?

What of the children, who may want me to play?

What of the tasks that call me this day?

From the moment of waking, there are choices to make,

What will I give this day? What will I take?

I want to be saintly, say my first thoughts are of God,

But sometimes they’re not and, in that, I’m not odd.

We may rise with the sun or maybe at noon,

And most of us promise to get with God soon.

Yet, that instant, a choice has been made-

The balance of time againstGod has been weighed. 

We can’t do it all. Surely God understands.

Did not God make this world, its chores, its demands?

But in each thing we choose, and it ischoosewe must

We have decided in which god we shall trust.

When we make decisions for work or for pleasure,

With money or time, talents or leisure,

With each small decision we leave or we make,

We all choose a god for each task’s sake.

When Joshua says, “Choose this day whom you’ll serve.

My household and I, from God we’ll not swerve.”

He means the God of justice and freedom,

The God who through the desert did lead them.

This God of providence, of mercy and manna

Compared to all others, She proved top banana.

For the Israelites, Joshua lays out a decision,

Because, in history, they’d treated God with derision.

Sometimes God seemed so far and so distant,

They struggled to find His mercy consistent.

Yet, who gave the manna? Who gave the quail?

Who brought forth the water when the people did wail?  

“People of Israel,” Joshua said,

“Turn all that you’ve known around in your head.

Think of the guidance through both day and night,

Think of God’s grace. Think of God’s might.”

The people responded, “Our choice has been made.

We’ve looked around. It’s the Lord who makes grade.

Only one God says, ‘I am who I am’

The same God who was served by our dad, Abraham.”

Israelites promised to serve God, what may come,

For richer, for poor, when happy, when glum.

The years passed, however, and memories faded.

People forgot this choice and became jaded.

The desert, the manna- they all became history.

What God’s doing now… that became mystery.

It became easier to feel freed by law and instruction,

Only community’s structure prevented destruction.

But that structure left some people wanting,

The gift of the law seemed rather daunting.

Late onto the scene, the rabbi, Jesus, appeared.

Some people rejoiced. Some people jeered.

Then, and again, he talked about bread

About life here right now andlife after we’re dead. 

He healed sick people, he fed many others,

But his teaching confused both sisters and brothers.

What was this about flesh to eat, blood to drink?

A hard teaching to swallow, most people did think.

Said his disciples, “Jesus, this is enough.

What you’re talking about- it’s too much. It’s too tough.

We don’t like it. We don’t understand.

We’d like to quit you, but it doesn’t seem that we can.

We’ve looked around as to where we might go.

The problem is, there’s some truth we doknow. 

Within a world of struggle and strife,

Only You have the words of eternal life.

Only you have offered hope in the future,

Between God and us, you are the suture.

Even though it grows quite hard to stay,

We cannot leave you or your way.”

The disciples decided (or most of them did)

It was with Jesus that they placed their bid.

They decided, as their ancestors had,

To be on God’s side couldn’t be bad.

And so I say to you this day…

“Wait, Pastor Julia, I’ve something to say…”

“What is it, my child, what bothers you so?”

“Well, you’ve confused me. And so I must know

I thought God chose us. I thought it was done. 

I thought the war’s over. The fight has been won.

Didn’t Luther write we’d never say yes…

Without God’s Spirit, we can’t acquiesce!

If you tell me, ‘Today you must choose’

Are you not setting us up… to lose?”

You are right, my dear, in every way.

And yet you made a choice today.

You came to be here, to be in communion

To pray, to eat, to embody reunion.

Each day, we see gods far and near.

We can worship success. We can give over to fear.

We can spend our resources or over-honor our kin,

We can reverence our bodies from our toe to our chin.

We can make work our idol, honored, adored.

We can seek that which gives immediate reward.

But in the end, it all fails. It all becomes dust.

These idols- they’ll fade, they’ll die, they will rust.

In the end, what we need is something that lasts,

Something that goes beyond all other forecasts.

What can bring order to confusion and strife?

Only the hope of eternal life.

Eternal life, both for there and for here.

A growing, a knowing, a ridding of fear.

This is what Jesus offers- in body and blood.

Without that promise, bread and wine are just mud.

Like us, they’re from dust and to dust shall return,

But through eating and drinking, still we can learn

That God has chosen in creation’s favor,

The presence of Christ is what we savor

When we gather at table, both willing and able

To experience Jesus as the Truth and not fable.

To trust, to be open, is the choice we must make,

Each day, in the moment right when we wake.

In every moment, we choose a god to serve

With all that we have, each sinew and nerve.

 Our God is a God on the side of all of creation, 

Who knows and who loves without cessation.

Who gives us each talents, who gives us each gifts,

Who forgives our sins, who mends all our rifts.

Who with body and blood has chosen to feed us.

Who through valleys and o’er mountains, has chosen to lead us.

Lord, where could we go? You made us, you know us.

Now, through the Spirit, continue to grow us.

God has called you by name, so as your fear eases,

Choose your god every day. I recommend… Jesus.

When It's Complicated

A few days ago, I was driving down a busy Anchorage road with both my kids in the car. I glimpsed something in my lane up ahead and tried to make sense of what it was. As part of my brain registered that it was a crumpled American flag in my lane, the other part of my brain began to scan for where I could safely pull off and grab it, before it was run over, soiled, further disrespected.

I have not said the Pledge of Allegiance in years. I remember clearly the curious looks I got for standing with my hands by side on my son's first day of kindergarten, silent while everyone else recited along with the principal over the intercom. I love to sing and the American national anthem is great for a soprano who wants to pretend she's Beverly Sills, but I stay quiet. My relationship to my country is not my greatest allegiance and I've pledged everything I've got to the One Who Loved Me First.

Due to my activism, my efforts to bring change on a variety of levels of society, to what people are sure they know about my politics... (Just a week ago someone mentioned assuming everyone in a group was registered as voters for a certain party- I'm not registered with any party.)... due to what people see and hear from me, assumptions are made. For most of those doing the assuming, it is an impossible idea that I would be found sprinting down the sidewalk toward a crumpled American flag, hoping to reach it before the situation was any worse. Yet there I was.

When I was about 50 yards from the flag, a man sprinted across several lanes of traffic from the other side of the road and snatched it up, rescuing the cloth itself from additional ignominy. And I returned to my car, panting, trying to figure out how to explain to my children why their mom was suddenly possessed with a frantic need to rescue a particularly patterned fabric from the street.

I barely understood the frantic need myself.

I wanted to save my own hope in the flag as a symbol of what this nation can be and could be.

I wanted to show my children that you can be deeply frustrated and disappointed and still faithful.

I want to continue to have the hope of General Lafayette in the "perpetual union of the United States" that it may "one day save the world".

Inside me, beyond how impotent I feel, how grieved, how desperate, how revolutionary, I believe there is a soul of an idea of who the United States can be that seeks to repair the wounds of the Doctrine of Discovery, to heal and repent of the on-going injury of enslavement, racism, and white supremacy, that truly embraces the concepts of equality and equity relative to justice, access, and opportunity.

My jaw is tight, I cry, and I'm so tired.

Better is possible.

Surely, better is possible.

It is a sign of high privilege that I can even entertain that notion.

And, yet, I know that I am an Esther among Esthers, an Abigail among Abigails, a Huldah among Huldahs, a Priscilla among Priscillas. I am not alone in the work or the call or the disappointment or the anger.

I will resist the efforts to cave and accept oppression, silence, complicity, lies, or misdirection as normal, representative, or necessary.

I will fight.

And I will hope.

And, if I have to again, I will sprint down a sidewalk along Tudor Road on a Monday evening, to rescue a tangible symbol that is more than history; it is possibility. It is that possibility that my Truest Allegiance will not let me ignore.

A Better Way

A friend recently expressed frustration that empowering people to take ownership and leadership takes a lot more time than doing something one's self. This is true... in the short term. In the long term, empowerment is the more efficient means of reaching a given destination because empowerment involves honest recognition of one's own limitations, the skills of others, the need for community and relationship, and the reality of having a few more eyes on an issue. 

As a person who often makes an idol of efficiency, I confess that I have sometimes let empowerment fall by the wayside. This is not because I lack the skills to empower others, but because I haven't taken the time to offer the opportunity or been willing to let something flounder when others didn't step forward. I have come to realize, through time and experience, that enabling is not actually an efficient path to any destination other than the Land of Resentment, Burnout Island, or Frustration Station. 

In the church, as with many other organizations, good leadership does not mean that one or two or even a small committee handle the majority of the work. Instead, good stewardship of the resources of people, locations, time, and money means sharing duties between those who have the necessary skills, those who could learn them, and those who would like to assist, but not be in charge. 

Lay leaders, as well as clergy, can be guilty of taking the enabling path by way of control (doing it alone resentfully or instructing how it should be done). They may also grow tired of doing a thing, but not let go of it- lest it be changed or "done wrong". Some may make a choice, certain that their way is correct and that change is good, and lead off- only to find that no one has followed. Others may distribute activities, chores, or roles without considering the skills, abilities, and desires of the ones whom they are pressuring as recruits. 

Empowering involves a certain level of vulnerability- a willingness to be honest with one's yes and one's no, the effort to ask for help or explanation, the patience to listen reflectively and with self-control, and a level of discernment via the Holy Spirit. None of these things are outside of the grasp of anyone in the church. Often we tolerate bad behavior because that's just "the way someone is" or because we don't like confrontation. Both of those options seem efficient, but are the way of enabling. 

The fruits of the spirit- love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control- all contain an element of honesty within them. When we embrace and are embraced by this honesty, then we can become communities of empowerment, not enabling. And empowerment seems like the most efficient way to help one another live the baptized life of imitating Christ to which we have been called. 

Wholeheartedly

I've been having a lot of difficult conversations lately. Racism, sexism, classism, privilege, and anti-LGBTQ sentiments are all part of my usual fare. Then I have the occasional conversation with a person who is put off by religion or by religious people, so then I am in heavy listening mode. Good energy in patient listening takes away some of the energy I would put toward careful writing.

All this listening has changed my prayer life. I find now that my most common prayer is "Soften my heart. Soften my neck." I know that a hard heart and a stiff neck, both metaphorical, will interfere with the patience and kindness that I am trying to embody. I actively seek Christ in myself and in the other person by focusing on even my internal organs being gentled by the Savior.

This has caused me to pay attention to how often church people bifurcate their lives. Our bodies are our daily vehicle- the daily throne of God and inhabitance of Christ, driven by the Spirit. The experience of church, Bible study, the sacraments, and mutual building up for discipleship that happens in the fellowship of other Christians is a kind of fueling up for the rest of our time. It is not the only time we drive the car.

When I talk about living and dying for Christ, remembering that there is only one God, or yielding to pull of the Holy Spirit, I mean doing it in the grocery store, at the mailbox, in the bank drive-thru, and at the dog park. I mean that because I trust that Jesus means that when he explains discipleship to the apostles and all those gathered around him. A faithful life is a whole life. A whole life means every minute of every day. In order to live all our minutes faithfully, we may need to change how we pray, how we talk, and how we listen.

So, brothers and sisters, because of God’s mercies, I encourage you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice that is holy and pleasing to God. This is your appropriate priestly service. Romans 12:1

There is not a part of the day when a Christian is not in Christ. There is no place that we can go that is outside of God's view or the Spirit's urging. There is no time that we are "off duty" and can make choices that have nothing to do with the faith we have been given. As much as Western Christians like to think of their faith as private and personal, being a person of Christ recreates your entire self, reorienting your understanding to comprehend that all that you have, all that you are, and all that is belongs to God.

Being a follower of Christ is our reality. It impacts our every decision. If we are not thinking about or considering that fact, it is not that it doesn't have an impact, it is that we are ignoring it. The non-religious people I meet who are grieved by or frustrated with Christians notice this the most. The actions of those who claim to follow Christ surprise them most because their Monday-Saturday actions don't match their Sunday words.

If you see yourself in this, I encourage you to adopt the prayer of "Soften my heart". Perhaps you need to be in my conversation schedule. We are compelled, by Christ's love for us, to witness to his love, call to turn around (repentance), and show his mercy in all we say and do, every day, in every place, with all people.

Altars, Altars Everywhere (Sermon)

Outline for sermon based on Acts 17:16-31

Paul wanders through Athens, sees idols, and is dismayed at the sight.

What idols would someone see wandering through Anchorage? LCOH? Our home/car/backpack?

In order to convince the Athenians to put up an idol to a new god, the evangelist of the new deity must assert the ability to speak of the deity and the deity’s desires. One of the desires of the god must be to reside in Athens. The god’s Athenian residency must bring good will and blessing to the citizens.

Yet, the Athenians have installed an altar to an unknown god.

What actions in our life that would indicate to people that we worship a known God or an unknown god?

Paul speaks to them the one whom they have classified as “unknown” is actually God over all things. This God is not limited in space, time, or material, but is the source of all things. This God is not a small provincial idol, but the Divine Presence of every place and within whom everything “lives and moves” and has being. Furthermore, God is not capricious, creating blessing and suffering with equal whimsy. Instead, God has continued to create revelation of the Divine will.

It was God’s pleasure to reveal the Divine desire for relationship through worship, prayer, and service (summed up as discipleship) through the life and teaching of Jesus. God has also communicated an intention to judge all people on their discipleship and, according Paul, Jesus’ resurrection is the sign that this judgment will occur. There is time to repent (to turn around) and to live in imitation of Christ.

How do we do that, if we know longer see him?

Jesus tells us that we are not orphaned, but we have the Holy Spirit- who comes alongside us and guides us specifically in worship, prayer, and service to others.

Did the Athenians go out and tear down their idols?

Did the story of God’s omnipresence and power and Jesus’ resurrection move them to a conversion and dedication of their city, their homes, and their lives to the one true God?

Does it happen for us?

What are your (our) idols- not just visible things (like habits or physical items), but also intangibles like convenience, patriotism, intelligence, rationality, logic, efficiency, novelty, traditions, orthodoxy, or perfection? Idolatry can take all kinds of forms. These things can be our “unknown gods”, but they often have bigger place in our lives that the God who actually saves us from death, hell, and ourselves.

A thought to meditate on this week: how would you (we) need to alter our routines, homes, or lives to demonstrate that God- Holy Parent, Holy Son, Holy Spirit- has our truest devotion and our highest allegiance? What would that look like? And what holds you (us) back?

Christian Bill of Rights: Amendment IV

Amendment IV 

The follower on the Way of Jesus cannot escape the power of God. No place is beyond the reach of the Spirit. No relationship outside of the hand of Christ. There is nowhere to go and so the follower must learn to wrestle with and to rest within both the Real Presence and the felt absence. This is the tension of the faith.

The same night [Jacob] got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the

By Talmoryair (Own work)
[CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)],
via Wikimedia Commons

man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip wasput out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.”

Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip. (Genesis 32:22-31)

Litany for Loosing

This was written for a prayer service in Anchorage, Alaska in response to a significant rise in reported homicides and other personal crimes. It has a partner in the Litany for Binding.

Holy God of all creation, you are always moving toward resurrection, restoration, and reformation. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we are open to this work.

We truly welcome this.

God of love and light, you have provided us with diversity in race, creed, sexuality, experience, gender, and spiritual gifts- all of which can be used for healing and peace. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we are open to this work.

We truly welcome this.

God of peace and hope, open our eyes and ears to see and hear stories of pain and promise that we might hold space for one another and move toward reconciliation. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we are open to this work.

We truly welcome this.

God of consolation and mercy, those who grieve need accompaniment not only in the hours after death, but in the weeks, months, and years ahead. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we are open to this work.

We truly welcome this.

God of justice and peace, help us to value the vocations of all who live within our city, peace officers and fire fighters, teachers and municipal employees, tourists and residents. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we are open to this work.

We truly welcome this.

God of the living Word, grant us the courage and will to challenge complacency, resignation, and resistance against change and community. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we are open to this work.

We truly welcome this.

Holy God, you are the ground and source of our very being. You have revealed your faithfulness through keeping your covenants, sending your prophets, and through the birth, life, and resurrection of Jesus, your Son and our Savior. Knowing that you cause all things to work for good, we dare to ask that we would see that in Anchorage here and now. We ask to be part of how you heal and restore this city. We ask for change and we seek to accept how it convicts and transforms each of us in its wake. Stir up your Holy Spirit in us and send your peace to us and through us into the world. We ask all this in Christ’s name… [and all God’s children said]… Amen.

Ammunition

Ruger Redhawks next to bear paw print, 2008

"Mommy, somebody has a gun."

My five-year-old called these words out to me before we'd even been at the playground for 2 minutes. 

My head snapped up and my eyes darted. I saw a furtive figure dart away from my son and across the playground, diving under the other set of equipment. 

My two-year-old was already on a a swing, calling for me to push her. 

There were three pre-teen girls laughing and playing some game out in the ball field. 

We had passed a woman walking her dogs when we came in, but there were no other adults. 

"Mommy, somebody has a gun." 

My dad instilled intense respect for guns into his children. I never had a toy gun, in part, because we were taught and able to use real guns for target practice and/or hunting. Guns are tools, not toys. 

My husband has deeper feelings about guns, if possible, than my dad did. Two large safes guard the weaponry of our house. Always. 

I've never been afraid of guns (other than the kickback of some calibers.)

Today I was frightened by someone with a gun. 

"Mommy, somebody has a gun." 

Gripping my phone, I edged to where I could see a baby-faced, nine or ten-year-old boy hiding from me. I glimpsed the orange caps of his toy rifle and pistol. I saw the curved edges of two fake daggers stuck, blades down, in the pea gravel. He obviously didn't want me to see him or his arsenal. He watched me out of the corner of his eye while he moved the gravel around to create a high wall between him and me. Yes, today I watched a white child build a bunker to hide in with his weaponry. 

We only stayed a few minutes at the playground before I told the kids we just had to go. 

All I could think was: 

1. Kid, you have no idea how privileged you are. No one is calling the cops about you, running around with toy guns (God rest Tamir Rice) and with no parent in sight (God bless Debra Harrell). 

2. Who taught you to hide with guns? To stockpile an arsenal and eye those around you. I think a nine-year-old is a little young for the hardcore "in case of government overthrow". 

3. What will you grow up to think you are owed? Is anyone, anywhere talking to you about the black and brown bodies in your very city- their worth, their dreams, their realities? 

4. What game are you playing with these guns? You're not pretending to hunt. You're not playing war. You're not pretending to skeet shoot or be at the fair. And why are you hiding? 

5. What would I have done if I had been armed, as I often am (literally, loaded for bear)? Would I have approached this child, with a hand on my .357? I can imagine many people I know (and love) saying, "What if it hadn't been a child? Wouldn't it have been better to have your gun with you and stopped something?" 

Sure, but that's not approaching from positive gun control. That's reactive gun control. 

I want the adults in this child's life to say, "These are tools, not toys. Here's what we use guns for." 

I want them to say, "Find a friend and go to the playground together." 

I want them to say, "This city is full of black, brown, tan, and white bodies. They matter as much as we do. Here are the stories of our family and stories of their families." 

I recently told my pastoral intern that I'd be glad to take her to the range to show her how to shoot. I am and I will. We'll do the same, eventually, for our children. We'll always have a sidearm at the river or on camping trips. All of this goes hand-in-hand with the messages above- over and over and over. 

That's the only way to change the automatic reaction that comes locked and loaded with "Mommy, somebody has a gun." 

When You're Wrong

Hey, people of Westboro Baptist Church, 

Greetings in the name of God, whom we seek to worship and glorify with our words and our works. 

I acknowledge your right to be outside Beau Biden's funeral. You can say whatever you want there. 

It's your right. 

Just because it's your right, though, doesn't make it right. 

You've articulated on your website (godhatesfags.com) that you feel the need to be outside at that funeral, shouting against the grieving people inside, because the Biden family, as Roman Catholics, will likely pray using the rosary and your congregation perceives that to be idolatry. 

So, on June 6th, you think that the greatest use of your tax-free dollars and God-given energy is to scream about idolatry in the use of the rosary outside of a church wherein a funeral is being held for a 46-year-old husband, son, father, brother, and friend.

Your "press release" quotes several passages about idolatry, including: 

See, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse: the blessing, if you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I am commanding you today; and the curse, if you do not obey the commandments of the Lord your God, but turn from the way that I am commanding you today, to follow other gods that you have not known. Deuteronomy 11:26-28

and 

Little children, keep yourselves from idols. 1 John 5:21

I have some Scripture I'd like to quote back to you, not because I want to trump you, but because Scripture is useful for reproof and correction (2 Timothy 3:16). We who are believers are to use it for such a purpose among ourselves, so that we can be ambassadors for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:20), carrying God's message in him to the world. 

 If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world. James 1:26-27

Our words are the greatest threat to our witness. Is crusading against the rosary at a funeral a good use of your words or your witness? Is that the work in which you are seeking the Spirit’s help? Can you honestly say that it is caring for the widows and the orphaned in their distress, not to mention anyone else who is grieving?

Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”  No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.”  Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Romans 12:9-21

I was going to select some verses from Paul’s letter above, but they all seemed pertinent. You have the zealousness down pat! Good job. However, have you spent that zeal and energy in improving the lives of your fellow Kansans? Are all around you sated, quenched, healed, visited, and accompanied?

Lastly, I want you to consider Jesus’ own words as written in Matthew’s gospel account:

Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.  Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. Matthew 5:11-12

It’s worth noting that Jesus connects this passage to the call to live with a purity of heart, a peacemaking spirit, meekness, and demonstrations of mercy, among other things. If you are doing all of the above and you find yourself persecuted because of your faithfulness in those things, then the words of reward may apply to you.

However, just because people deride what you’re doing… just because people try to keep you away from their gatherings and disdain your motives… just because people don't like what you're doing...

It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re being persecuted.

Sometimes it just means you’re an asshole.