Liberal or Conservative? Herding at the Poles of American Society and Religion.

I encountered something interesting the other day, which I think is worth writing about. I hope I am not the only one writing about it. In fact, after I get my thoughts down here, I am going to do some research to see who else is writing about it.

Here's the story of what I encountered the other day: as I was leading a group of seminary interns in their Fall Cluster Gathering, I was given the task of simply being a listening post in their small group and a mouth piece for their conversations as we gathered in a larger group. Interns met with me in one room and supervisors met with the Luther Seminary Contextual Education guru, Steven McKinley in another room.

What interns were asked to share was essentially their happies and crappies of internship so far. Happies were very general, and for the most part, what I expected. Crappies, however surprised me.

I've served the Con. Ed. office of Luther in this capacity for about 3 years now. It's a very, very simple job, though I do believe it is important. It certainly was a job I appreciated someone having when I was an intern. In 3 years, I can almost predict the kinds of things interns will come up with. They are usually pretty standard. This time, however, there was a slight twist. What I discovered was really not all that new. In a way, I've heard it before. This time though it had a different flavor.

Interns were struggling to find their voice as intern pastors. They were going through the typical motions of finding out what their place is in internship and what role they should play. They were trying to figure out how to be leaders when they weren't really sure how much of a leadership leash they had.

What was different was the fact that their struggle to find their voice was coming in some very complex, hot button issues. Homosexuality and the church/faith, racism, Right Wing/Left Wing political discourse, immigration, poverty and the government's role to care for the poor.

Don't get me wrong, these are not new topics. We hear about them everyday on the news. In fact, since August/September (when these interns started) these topics have been in the news quite often. What is different is that these interns were being placed in conversations about these things, struggling with them, and then actually taking the risk of sharing their struggles in that Cluster meeting to a degree that I haven't seen before.

Without giving away too much, they were very quick to identify themselves and their congregations or the denomination in one category or the other: Liberal and Conservative. And their categorizations were political, social, and theological. They could easily rank themselves and the people they served in one category or the other.

It seems to be the nature of American society (maybe even global society) to polarize itself. The tendency to "herd" at the extreme ends of a spectrum, whether that be political, social, theological, or otherwise, is a fascinating concept/reality to me. On the whole, we like black and white, in and out, this and that kinds of thinking. There is very little room for the middle ground; and worse yet, there is very little room for someone to be an individual.

I wonder how this happened? I wonder if there are any people around anymore who want to be individuals? I wonder what the implications are if we don't have anyone who wants to be an individual, but only part of the herd at one end of the spectrum or the other?

As for the question of how this happened, Edwin Friedman writes something interesting in his book, "Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix." Friedman's thesis, that some systems are chronically anxious and they need leaders who focus on managing their own anxiety and not the anxiety of others in the system, is brilliant. Leadership is an emotional process. In chronically anxious societies, like pre/post/and currently-in-recession America, the system will display very predictable patterns of behavior. One predictable pattern in a chronically anxious system like ours is the "herding instinct."

Friedman says in his book, "In the herding family [or any system; i.e. government, society, institution, etc.] dissent is discouraged, feelings are more important than ideas, peace will be valued over progress, comfort over novelty, and cloistered virtues over adventure. Problems are formulated in rigid either/or, black-and-white, all-or-nothing categories" (Friedman, Edwin. "Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix." 2007, The Edwin Friedman Trust, Kindle ebook, Location 1285).

Chronically anxious systems "herd" together like cows, horses, or sheep that are frightened. This herding takes place in our society, especially in American politics and religion, at the poles of liberal or conservative.

When I was meeting with the interns the other day, their tendency to classify themselves as liberal or conservative, either theologically or politically, was very evident. It was like cows herding at the gates of a pasture. Above each gate was a sign that said either, Liberal or Conservative. Their nonverbal ques were the most interesting, each taking a very carefully postured, almost dominating position in their chair when they self-identified which herd they were with. We might as well have gotten out the branding irons: Liberal Ranch in this pasture and Conservative Ranch in this pasture.

It was fascinating to watch and be part of. I know that interns always struggle to find their voice on internship. But it seemed that what they were really struggling to find was the herd's voice with which they most identified and how to share that voice when placed in the same pasture as another herd. 

If leadership really is about self-differentiation and managing your own emotions in a chronically anxious system of church or society, we'd better be careful. Perhaps we need to teach our interns how to remain emotionally self-differentiated and how to take a well-defined stand while remaining connected to the system. Perhaps they would be better pastoral leaders if we encouraged them to be emotionally stable, self-differentiated individuals, rather than herding at the poles.

In fact, perhaps everyone in a leadership role could be encouraged to do be self-differentiated, to manage their own anxiety. Pastors could use this encouragement. Government leaders could use this encouragment. Company executives could use this encouragement. Everyone could. Check your pulse, manage your anxiety, be well-defined and connected.

For God's sake, don't spend all your time herding at the poles. Get out into the pasture and play!

Accept and Believe: synonyms?

So, here's one I've had my own my own struggles with and now routinely journey through with others as they struggle: the supposed synonymous relationship between the word "accept" and "believe."

For reasons I have not spent  much time exploring, these words have become nearly synonymous in American Christianity. My thesis: these words, while perhaps related in some ways, should be carefully distinguished.

When Scripture uses the word "believe" we often assume that it means we must accept something, as if "believe" is an imperative verb everytime it is used. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life" (Jn. 3:16). Many of us assume that "everyone who believes," means the same thing as, "everyone who accepts." But, I wonder, does "believe" really mean "accept?"

As far as I can tell, the Scriptures do not say that the two are the same. In fact, I can't find a single place in all of Scripture where it says you must "accept" anything in order to be saved. When asked what he must do to be saved, the jailor who was holding St. Paul and his partner-in-crime, Silas, was told by Paul and Silas, "Believe on The Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household" (Acts 16:31).

"Believe," over and over again this is the word that is used. In other parts of Scripture, "believe and be baptised," is what indicates salvation. But that word "believe" still figures prominently. 

When I was in college, I was absolutely convinced that "believing" was my work, my job, me doing the accepting. It is what God required of me for salvation. And then my boat was rocked by a Lutheran professor with enough guts to proclaim to me something different: "it's not about you, Chris." He hammered away at me, over and over and over, that believing is not my work, not my requirment. Believing is a gift.

English translations of Greek words found in the Scriptures are often varied in order to make a sentence flow more smoothly. English is a clunky, barbaric language in this way. But the point I want to make in saying this is that the Greek word for "believe" and "faith" is the same: pistis. Faith and belief are synonyms, but "accept" is not.

So we have Paul's letter to the Romans which says, "The righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe...they are now justified by his grace as a gift." (Romans 3:22). Or more clearly in Ephesians, "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God--not the result of works, so that no one may boast, " (2:8-9). We are saved through faith, through belief, through pistis. And this is a gift, not something we do.

Requiring that we accept the gift turns the grace of God into simply another "work," another law to follow, one more thing to do. This grace is "not the result of works," but the sheer gift of God. This is, perhaps, where Lutheran theology rubs most against American Christianity. Lutheran theology hammers this point all the way home. American Christianity has come to understand faith and belief as something we do, the way we accept Jesus as our personal Lord and Savior. But faith and belief, at least in Scripture, are emphasized as a gift, not the result of works.

So, how can we be sure that we are saved if we have nothing to do with it? God is not a liar. God tells the truth and when God says something will happen, it will. God makes promises and always comes through. Take a look at Noah, Abraham, Moses, David and even Jesus. God comes through in spite of human sinfulness. When God says something, it is.

When God says, you are forigven, you are my child, you belong in my kingdom, you are saved, it means you simply are. It's like waking up in a strange and foreign land without any idea about how we got there. It just happens. And it's all about God, it's all God's doing, so that none of us can boast about it for ourselves. None of us can say, "Well, I've accepted Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior and you haven't, so therefore I am saved and you are not."

Faith (believing) is not something we do, but a gift from God.

Grow Up: Part 2 - In the Neighborhood

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Last week we started our sermon series on the book of Ephesians, St. Paul’s letter to a church that was in pretty good shape, but needed to grow up a little bit. Growing up, for church in Ephesus, and growing up for us are not easy things, we discussed. In fact, growing up physically, mentally, and socially are really nothing compared to growing up spiritually. Growing up spiritually takes a lifetime of living.

This week we move on to more of what St. Paul was teaching the church in Ephesus about growing up. If we really are going to grow up spiritually like St. Paul tells us in this letter, we are going to need to start walking around the neighborhood. We can’t spend our time playing with toys in the basement or playing in the sandbox in the backyard. Growing up means riding our bikes out into the neighborhood. And as we know very well, the neighborhood can be a pretty scary place.

The neighborhood is not like the home. For many of us, though unfortunately not all of us, the home is a pretty safe place to begin growing up. It should be. God has given parents the task of caring for and raising children in the way that they should go. Home is usually a pretty safe place to grow up. But the neighborhood; well that’s a little different.

But in order to grow up, we need to venture out at some point. At some point our parents have to let us start riding our bike in the street instead of riding in the driveway. What we learn riding on the street is that in the neighborhood there are a lot of other homes, too. Our home is not the only one. There are other people out there. We’ve been walled off for them in our homes, but when we venture into the neighborhood we find that there are even more walls with more people behind them.

Even though the neighborhood is a different place grow up, God is there, too. God is not just in the nice and neat and safe place of the home. God is on the street. And so if God is there in the neighborhood, it would stand to reason that maybe there is something in the neighborhood that we need to know in order to grow up spiritually.

Ephesians 2 is about growing up in the neighborhood. The neighborhood is full of walls with all kinds of different things and people behind them. The home is walled off, safe from the neighborhood. But now that we are in the neighborhood there are even more walls than we thought. In fact, until now, they’ve been keeping us separate from one another.

That’s what was happening to the church in Ephesus. The walls between God’s people and the Gentiles had been keeping them apart. There were dividing walls between God’s people and the Gentiles. And the church in Ephesus somehow hadn’t quite spent enough time in the neighborhood to realize that there were others outside of the walls, people who were not part of God’s people. Or if they did know they were there, they didn’t really want to spend a whole lot of time recognizing them.

We do the same thing. We wall ourselves off from other people. We like to think we are the people of God here in this place and they are the ones on the outside. But God has no inside and outside. God is in the neighborhood, too. The walls that the people of the church in Ephesus had made were keeping them separate from the God who was out in the rest of the world.

St. Paul reminds the church, “So then, remember at one time you Gentiles by birth...remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.”

Remember, St. Paul reminds the church, that you were once on the outside of the walls. Remember that at one time you had no home in the neighborhood. You were strangers, illegal aliens wandering in the neighborhood without a home.

“But now,” St. Paul says, “in Christ Jesus you who once were fare off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.” In the neighborhood where God is there are no walls. Growing up and going out into the neighborhood means encountering others who are not part of our home, but who are still in the neighborhood that God has made and is active in.

Being in the neighborhood means being outside the walls. It means that Christ has broken down any dividing walls that once kept us apart from one another. Growing up means encountering others. And let’s face it, other people are scary! They are different from us. They don’t act like us, talk like us, look like us. I’m not just talking about people who are a different race than we are. I’m talking about the people living right next door to you, the people who are in your neighborhood. Even they are pretty scary if you stop to think about it. They might be unrighteous sinners like the Gentiles for goodness sake.

But Christ has not left us with a bunch of rubble when he broken down the dividing walls, the walls of hostility between people. Instead, Christ has built us up. St. Paul says, “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you are also built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”

 What an incredible image! Before all of this, God’s people had a temple, a physically building with walls keeping people separate. Christ broke down the dividing walls and instead of putting up new walls, Christ built up the household of God with God’s people. God’s holy dwelling is no longer walls of brick and mortar, but people. The temple of God is up and walking around in the neighborhood. There are no walls, we are not separated, we are built together as the body of Christ in the world, a holy temple moving around and learning what it means to grow up spiritually, built spiritually into a holy dwelling place for God.

Growing up in the neighborhood means walking around in it. And God is there. Rough as the neighborhood might be, as scary as town might have become, God has not built us a temple of brick and mortar, but called us to be the body of Christ, walking around in the neighborhood.

In the name of Jesus. Amen. 

someone else who wrote something interesting:

churchismessy.com: Why I called out Joel Osteen and Joyce Meyer"

"...the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity..."

Wrote this one for the 4th of July. Forgot to post it. Got busy and then went on vacation. Typical. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Leave your feedback.

*****

After a long, hot summer of meeting in closed delegation in the year 1787, our Founding Fathers framed a new governing document, the Constitution of the United States of America, "in order to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity..."

Much ink has been spilled reflecting on this governing document and its enduring worth. This constituting document of our United States not only establishes and maintains the law of our great nation, but is also useful as a piece of history; and, perhaps even more importantly, serves as a clarion call to those of us living united in this great nation to engage ourselves in vigorous and lively civic participation.

Such civic participation is not only a responsibility of all citizens of these United States, but more strongly may be considered one of the "Blessings of Liberty" as defined in the Constitution. One often forgotten element of this Constitution is the general, yet essential, emphasis on the opportunity and Blessing of Liberty. The blessings and opportunities of Liberty and civic participation afforded by such Liberty cannot be overstated. Responsibilities to civic engagement are well and good; however, our Liberty, our freedom, affords us the opportunity and blessing of engaging in our shared civic life.

Collective memory in this country is far too short. How can we, only a short 237 years from the Declaration of our Independence, have forgotten the pressure under which the new inhabitants of this beautiful country had lived?

July 4th of every year Americans gather to celebrate Independence Day. This national holiday recalls our difficult separation from the rule of the King of Great Britain and finds itself rooted in another of our most important and enduring documents, the Declaration of Independence. Here we recall these important words, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

These "self-evident" truths concerning equality among all human beings and the endowed, unalienable rights of Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness, were carefully discerned by our Founding Fathers and diligently protected by all who have given their lives to ensure that they can never be taken from us.

There is no greater crime in America than lazy and sloppy civic engagement. Our Life, our Liberty, our pursuit of Happiness, are Blessings and opportunities. Civic engagement among civilians is the highest form of honor we can give to these self-evident truths, to our Founding Fathers, and to all who have died in service to this great country. A magnetic, yellow ribbon on the bumper of your car, a sign in your yard that proclaims, "Support our Troops!" are nothing compared to your time, your talents, your resources, given in service to the general Welfare of ourselves and our Posterity.

Our civic service is not to some certain government, not to some certain political party, but to the ideals of this great United States of America; we give ourselves to the self-evident truths of Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. We simply must put aside our polarized, political scheming and begin engaging in civic service for the sake of our fellow human being. We must not let our Founding Fathers and all of the brave men and women who have died for this country go unhonored by our lazy and sloppy participation in civic life. We must be engaged, we must be involved.

Whether we choose to involve ourselves in paid, public civil service, heroic and unnoticed volunteerism, or simply stewarding our time in our churches, we must be engaged. No one, young or old, weak or strong, has any excuse. You have not put in your time. Your years of service are not over. You do not have the right to back off. You have the opportunity, the Blessing, of serving. Civic engagement is a Blessing of Liberty, a blessing of our freedom as Americans. Your time of service is only up when you go to rest in the arms of your Creator and Redeemer.

So get to work, America. Quit your fighting, your scheming, your vitriolic backbiting. Get out there. Serve your fellow human being. Engage in civic life. For the sake of our Blessings of Liberty, for the sake of our freedom as Americans, Go!

Jack be nimble; Jack be quick

This is one that has been in the blog-hopper for a long time now. My ideas on it are not fully developed yet (maybe they never will be).

I was asked recently by the Bishop of the SWMN Synod, Jon Anderson, if I might give 3-4 minutes in our synod's annual assembly coming up in June to considering this question: "As we journey into the next twenty five years of the synod's life, what are your hunches about how God is calling us to move forward our shared life and work together in the name of Jesus?"

I am honored to have been asked to speak briefly on the subject, humbled by the topic to be considered, and most importantly curious whether there will even be another twenty five years of synod life.

Bishop Jon asked me this question, I think, because he was interested in something new the congregation I serve is trying. With rural communities in steady decline and rural congregations reflecting that downward trend in numbers, we are having to approach how we "do church" differently than we ever have.

Gone are the glory days when a rural congregation's sanctuary seating 300+ people needed two Sunday morning services. Gone are the glory days when a rural congregation, in a town like the one in which I live, could support 60+ committee positions and have each committee be thriving and active. Gone are the glory days when solo pastors in a rural congregation like the one I serve could rely upon a steady stream of local leaders to take strong roles in church leadership.

I'm not one for overblown, scare-tactic-like statistics. Statistics like these are often spouted off in order to frighten us into spreading ourselves thin in church ministry. If we truly do believe that God our Father is still our Maker, that Christ the Lord is still our Savior, and that the Holy Spirit is still our Advocate, Comforter, and Guide, then we don't really have much to worry about if the church numbers declining. If God really does have the whole world in His hands, then what are we doing worrying about declining numbers and church leaders that are stretched way too thin?

The glory days are gone. Popular opinion might say, "it's about time!" I might say that, too, but not because it's popular. I say that because it is opening us up to think about ministry in a new, perhaps even better way. I'm not worried about declining numbers. In fact, it might be a blessing in disguise.

Why is that, you ask? First, I believe that these declining numbers are finally forcing our hands. Our big, bulky structures that reflect the glory days are being stretched to the breaking point. We can't support the big, bulky structures of 60+ committee positions in a church that worships 100 on an average Sunday. We can't support rural, solo pastors running themselves ragged trying to pump life into 10 committees that barely have even one semi-interested person on them.

This has implications for synod and church wide ministry, too. If it is true that congregations are being stretched thin trying to support big, bulky structures then synod and churchwide ministry must be suffering equally, if not more so. Big, bulky structures built on the glory days of American Christianity are unsustainable. Synods are cutting programming, staff, and even critical resources for doing their work. Churchwide has done the same. We are being forced to reveal our cards.

Second, I believe that these declining numbers are finally forcing us to consider our relationships in ministry and not our ministry programs. I've been reading this really good book by Dr. Andrew Root at Luther Seminary called, "The Relational Pastor." His thesis, paraphrased by me, is that church ministry has emphasized building relationships for the sake of getting people involved in the programs or winning them over to the Christian faith. Relationships only serve the purpose of getting people in the door, or getting people active in the life of the church. The crucial part of his thesis is that relationships should be seen as the goal of ministry, not a tool for getting people involved in ministry programs.

With declining numbers, once well-supported programs fall apart. And not only that, our decline in numbers is seen as losing influence on people's lives. Declining numbers easily becomes about how the church is "losing." Mainline denominations are losing the numbers race.

An exhausting list of remedies are imagined for our declining numbers: do worship better, become more inclusive, become more relevant, focus on Latino ministry, etc.

Relationships, at one time, were developed in order to win influence. Now that we are losing influence in our relationships, our numbers are in trouble.

So be it; and good riddance. Relationships ought to be the goal of ministry, not a tool for getting people involved in ministry programs. Declining numbers force us to focus on the relationships as the goal of ministry. (I'd secretly like to think that the church may even grow in numbers if we start treating the relationships as the goal of ministry).

I'm not worried about declining numbers. I think it might be a blessing in disguise, forcing us to look out our big, bulky structures and how we build relationships as the goal of our ministry.

At Clarkfield Lutheran, we've restructured to do away with that 60+ person committee structure. We're down to 20 positions. And we are focusing on the relationships we develop through our ministry. Our ministry programs (the ones that still run smoothly) are about building relationships with people. People and our relationships with them are our goal. We want better relationships.

I have used two terms to talk about this important shift: our structures should be both "nimble" and "flat."

Nimble means that the church must shake off its big, bulky structures in favor of something more flexible, more nimble, better able to move with changing culture and times. I like to picture myself at both 350lbs and 175lbs. At 350lbs, my 5 foot 8 inch frame would be WAY to bulky to shift if something came my way. But at 175lbs, I might have a shot. We need to be nimble, shaking off big, bulky structures that weight us down.

The other term, "flat," is one that I think is also very important and it emphasizes the importance of building relationships for the sake of building relationships. Flat structures are structures are not towering with hierarchical authority, but authority resides much lower on the totem pole. Flat structures take advantage of where authority really comes from. Online social networking has flattened our world significantly. People decide what is trendy by viewing what others in their social networks are talking about. We even use terms like "trending" when something on Twitter is being talked about a lot.

Mainstream news media likes to check in with their Twitter followers to see what is trending on Twitter. Images and quotes are "shared" and "liked" on Facebook. Posts with more "shares" and "likes" have more influence. And the people on the bottom of the totem pole are deciding what has authority and influence. No one is telling these people what is trendy. The design world once set the tone for what is trendy; now they only follow trends and try to anticipate the next trend.

This is not to say that the church must follow the trends of the culture. Some will use what I am saying to justify that the church in needs to be trendy and accommodating to the culture. Nothing could be more detrimental to the church. This is what we've done in the past; we've tried to build relationships by being trendy and therefore winning influence. But the relationships themselves are the end goal, not the means to an end. Paying attention to what is trending is a tool for building relationships, not the other way around. We don't accommodate, we speak the truth in love, building relationships with the people God has put us into relationship with.

If there is a synod life in twenty five years it will have to be both nimble and flat. The same is true of churchwide life as well, I think. We're trying to be nimble and flat in the church I serve. We are trying to shake off big, bulky structure so we can build relationships.

My refrain for the next 25 years in ministry will likely be this: "Jack be nimble; Jack be quick," because if I am not, really great opportunities for building relationships will be lost. Big, bulky structures and relationships for the sake of programs and influence will block my view of Christ moving in my midst. Christ will walk right by, maybe in the person who is hungry or hurting, and I will never see him. The church needs to be on the move with God, not bogged down by bulky structure. "Jack be nimble; Jack be quick."

It's not about you.

Here's the trouble: You have been conditioned to consume. Western society has duped you into thinking that everything in life is available for your consumption; or not.

Homo sapien (wise man) has not evolved into a more intelligent species; instead, homo sapien has (d)evolved into homo consumptor (consuming man).

The fine folks at Apple are often picked on (and I'll admit I own and love more than three of their products), but you don't have to look much further than the iPhone, iPod, and iPad to know that Apple knows intuitively that you are homo consumptor. iThis and iThat; products made for individual consumption. Marketing has become a multi-billion dollar business, providing jobs for millions. We sell things to people because people are nothing more than what they buy. Gone are the days when we traded, bartered for, or (gasp!) even produced our own stuff from the stuff God gave us.

Lest you think I am some sort of Lutheran pastor luddite, I have no problem with buying things. In fact, it's quite necessary for survival in the economy and system we live in; and I even enjoy the occasional shopping spree.

Yet, my identity is not defined by what I buy. I am not homo cosumptor. I am a human being, thank you very much. I am defined by my God, who marked me with Christ's cross in my baptism and sealed me as a child of God forever. As St. Paul writes, "I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now life in the flesh I live by faith in the son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20, NRSV).

Not only has Western society mistaken our identity as purely consumer, we have mistaken ourselves for the same. Not everything in this world is made for your consumption. In fact, everything in this world is made for your stewardship, not your consumption. You are a steward.

God has given you the gifts you are blessed with to take good care of, not simply consume. As a steward cares for the goods that his lord has given him charge over so, too, do we care for the goods our Lord has given us charge over. In the garden, God gave dominion over creation. "God blessed them, and God said to them, 'Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.' God said, 'See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.' And it was so. God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good" (Genesis 1:28-31a, NRSV).

While there are parts of creation that are meant to be consumed, i.e. the food we eat, not everything in creation is consumed. Some, most of it, is meant to be stewarded and cared for.

We watch human beings abuse the gifts they are given in endless iterations of the same, sad patterns of consumption. Consume, consume, consume. It becomes about getting my needs met. Me, myself, and I. Soon enough, me, myself, and I have become our gods and we enshrine them in the stuff we collect, setting up altars of junk.

Junk is not the only thing we insist on consuming. Everything in our lives has become something to consume. Women are asked to dress seductively so that we can photograph them, manipulate the images, put them in a magazine or on a website, and consume them with our eyes. War and action are staged and filmed; death on the big screen, put on display to view and marvel at. Worship and bible study have been something we either 'like' or 'do not like' as if the worship we offer God were somehow better in one way or another.

The last one is the one that really bugs me lately. We think worship is something to be consumed or not. "I don't like this style of worship. This hymn isn't very good. That pastor at that church isn't the kind of pastor I like. I'm just not into that kind of thing." These are all the excuses we make to dismiss worship, as if worship were something we could consume, or not.

Worship is not about you. It's about God. And worship is a gift, meant to be stewarded by us and lead us into encountering God. Not everything is made for consumption and worship is one of those things that is made to enjoy and care for.

What would the world look like if we stopped consuming and started stewarding? I suspect we'd have a lot less abuse and a lot more care for the things God has made. We'd have a lot more people in worship not to consume, but to worship.

It's not about you. It's about God. Now get over yourself and start stewarding what God has given you!

Lent 1 :: Feb 17 :: Luke 10:25-42

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Our two lessons for today might seem like they don’t have very much in common, but they share one, fundamental theme: distraction. Perhaps you’ve met some of the people who are the easily distractible types. You know, the one’s whose trains of thought keep hopping the tracks and you can never keep up. I know that there are even a few of you here who are like that.

Me, I’m the kind of person who has to follow a train of thought until it comes to a complete stop. But I want to twist this around a little bit and make you think about this all very differently.

Those of you who are much more like me, the kind of people who have to follow a train of thought until it comes to a complete stop, are guilty of distraction as well. How, you ask? Let me tell you.

As much as my kind of brain is applauded for being on task and for being perseverant, my kind of brain is also missing everything that it is not able to focus on. Every little piece of information that doesn’t happen to be on the same train as the one chugging through my head is completely missed. I fail to notice, when I am reading a book, the wonderful conversations going on the hallway. I fail to notice the beautiful sunset when my eyes are glued to the TV. I fail to notice my beautiful little girl twirling in her princess dress when my mind is fixated on the frustrating thing that happened at church that morning.

While I might not be easily distractible, I am also missing out on much of life. You see, life happens in the interruptions. Life happens in all the little things that go on around you, some of which you might notice and some of which you don’t. Life happens in the distractions.

Those of us with one-track minds, who cannot possible jump the track for some other distraction, are cursed with blinders, causing us to miss everything going on around us.

That’s the kind of distraction we are talking about in our lessons for this morning. It’s the kind of singularly focused, unshakable attention of the lawyer and Martha, the law keeper.

In the first lesson, we have the lawyer, who is out to test Jesus. He asks Jesus, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Now, you have to understand a thing or two about Jesus if you are going to understand why Jesus responds the way he does. Jesus is the master storyteller, a master teacher, he is a true Jewish rabbi. Turning the question right back around, Jesus asks the lawyer, “You’re the lawyer. What is written in the law? What do you read there?”

And the lawyer responds with the Greatest Commandment from Leviticus 19:18 and Deuteronomy 6, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus says, “yes, you’re right. So get out there an do it.”

Imagine the offense the legal expert took when Jesus assumed he hadn’t been following the law. So, to continue to test Jesus, the lawyer asks, “Well, who is my neighbor?”

And this is where Jesus’ mastery comes in. He tells the legal expert a parable. It’s a story about a man who’d been traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho (just the opposite of Jesus who was traveling from Jericho to Jerusalem were he would be beaten a crucified). On the road, the man was mugged, and left half dead. Two priests walked right past the man left for dead, a regular priest and a priest of the Levitical order, one who knew the law from Leviticus about loving your neighbor as yourself. Except that neither one of them must have understood who their neighbor was.

And then Jesus works his story telling magic. Just then, Jesus said, a Samaritan walked by. A SAMARITAN! Can you believe it? He stopped, helped the man, cleaned him up, got him a place to stay and anything else he needed. A Samaritan! Now, Jesus reminds the lawyer, who followed that law of loving neighbor as yourself?

The one who showed him mercy, the lawyer chokes out, unable to even say the word Samaritan.

Precisely, Jesus says, now get out there and do the same.

Jesus uses the story to show just how distracted by the law the two priests were. In doing their very best to avoid being made unclean by the dying man, the priests walked right past the man left for dead. These two priests were so distracted by the law of uncleanness that they completely avoided the law to love one’s neighbor as one’s self. Their singular focus, their one track minds, led them to completely avoid a hurting, dying man on the road.

Sometimes in life, in fact more often than any of us would care to admit, we are so distracted by our singular focus that we completely avoid loving our neighbor as ourselves. Even when we are trying to be virtuous and morally good, we forget that we are called and commanded by God to love God and to love our neighbor. This great commandment goes unnoticed by us because our one-track minds are focused on other things, even if they are virtuous and good.

Our mission, our calling, God’s commandment, is to love God and love our neighbor. Loving God means stopping when someone is hurt and caring for them. Loving God means forgetting about our own, singular agendas, even if they are good, to sit with someone who is in pain, either emotionally or physically. Loving God means loving your neighbor.

Our virtues often get in our way. Our best efforts are often our biggest enemies. This is why I believe Sunday worship is so important. We are all out in the world, doing our best to live good and decent lives, but we are distracted by those things. We need someone to tell us to remember to love God by loving our neighbors. We need someone to throw us off track.

Just like in our second lesson where Martha was so distracted and worried about making sure the house was in perfect order for her houseguest, she forgot the better part of all of it: that Jesus was in town and he was there to preach and teach.

Our distractions, even if they are good ones, keep us from loving God and loving our neighbor. Our focused attention, even when it is on something worthwhile and worthy, often blinds us to the real life that is going on around us.

In the first lesson, the lawyer wanted to know how to inherit eternal life, but Jesus showed him what real life was all about. Jesus pointed out to the lawyer that eternal life has its roots and origins in what life is like here down on earth. These parables are down to earth stories about how to love God and love neighbor.

So, people of God. You are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing: and that one thing is Jesus Christ himself. He will show you what real life is. He will show you the love of God in the little princess dancing while you are distracted by that bad thing that happened at work that day. He will show you the beautiful sunset while you are sucked into the TV. He will show you the wonderful, fruitful conversations while you are stuck in a book. Even if your focus is a worthy one, pay attention. God has a gift for you. In Jesus Christ, his gift is being made known and it is life-giving.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Confessions on Ash Wednesday

Psalm 51:1-17 (Common English Bible)

1Have mercy on me, God, according to your faithful love!

Wipe away my wrongdoings according to your great compassion!

2Wash me completely clean of my guilt;

purify me from my sin!

3Because I know my wrongdoings,

my sin is always right in front of me.

4I’ve sinned against you—you alone.

I’ve committed evil in your sight.

That’s why you are justified when you render your verdict,

completely correct when you issue your judgment.

5Yes, I was born in guilt, in sin,

from the moment my mother conceived me.

6And yes, you want truth in the most hidden places;

you teach me wisdom in the most secret space.

7Purify me with hyssop and I will be clean;

wash me and I will be whiter than snow.

8Let me hear joy and celebration again;

let the bones you crushed rejoice once more.

9Hide your face from my sins;

wipe away all my guilty deeds!

10Create a clean heart for me, God;

put a new, faithful spirit deep inside me!

11Please don’t throw me out of your presence;

please don’t take your holy spirit away from me.

12Return the joy of your salvation to me

and sustain me with a willing spirit.

13Then I will teach wrongdoers your ways,

and sinners will come back to you.

14Deliver me from violence, God, God of my salvation,

so that my tongue can sing of your righteousness.

15Lord, open my lips,

and my mouth will proclaim your praise.

16You don’t want sacrifices.

If I gave an entirely burned offering,

you wouldn’t be pleased.

17A broken spirit is my sacrifice, God.

You won’t despise a heart, God, that is broken and crushed.

In Psalm 51 we wade into an ever-rolling stream of confession. Confession of sin is a Christian practice that first acknowledges that we are created beings, good but not perfect. And even in our goodness we are sinful (sin-full).

I find that this is a very foreign concept for most Americans to grasp, even Americans who have been Christians their whole lives (not to mention Lutheran Christians, who sorta have a monopoly on the fully sinner/saint language). We like to believe that we are pretty much good, most of the time. Well, you know, not always, but sorta, I guess kinda good. Right?

Yes and no. We are sinful; from our first ancestors, Adam and Eve, until the tiniest, newest born baby. Sin is the condition under which we are born; we are brought into the world sinful. It is, I admit, difficult to look at your innocent little newborn and say, you are sinful, you are mortal, and this means that you must die someday.

Even more difficult, perhaps, is when we mark our very young and very old in worship on Ash Wednesday with a cross of ashes. That stark symbol of sin and mortality, the cruel cross, placed on the forehead of our very young and our frail old is in stark contrast to the way Americans typically view themselves.

When we convince ourselves that we are mostly good, most of the time, without acknowledging our condition of sin, the cross seems like only a cruel instrument of torture rather than the instrument of our salvation. We convince ourselves that our sin does not, in fact, lead to our death. And so we begin to think that we are also immortal (though I've never heard anyone admit this to me outright).

The cross on our foreheads is a reminder that we are dust and we will return to dust. We are created beings, locked in a world of sin and we are sinful, ourselves. And that sin leads us to death. Our death. The one we don't like to talk about.

That is why, I think, Ash Wednesday is so important. You have a preacher (whether it be a pastor or some other person) physically impose the ashes on your forehead and mark you with the cross and force into your ears the words, "Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return." There is no escape. You are mortal, sinful. You are a creature, not the Creator.

The carbon of ash and the carbon of live, human cells meet in the cross. 

The cross is placed on the forehead, together with the truth that we are dust and we will return to it. And so, I think, Ash Wednesday is a good place for confession and Psalm 51.

"Have mercy on me, God, according to your faithful love! Wipe away my wrongdoings according to your great compassion!"

Today I confess:

 :: Lord, I don't trust you. I'm afraid of losing my job at the church I serve.

 :: Lord, I don't trust you. I'm afraid that my family will not follow and serve you.

 :: Lord, I don't trust you. I'm afraid that we won't have enough money to pay our bills.

 :: Lord, I don't trust you. I'm afraid that the whole Christian church on earth is collapsing and there is nothing that can be done about it.

 :: Lord, I don't trust you. I'm afraid of death and losing all of the good things I have here on earth.

 :: Lord, I've wronged you. I've said things about people that are unkind, mean-spirited, and just plain lies.

 :: Lord, I've wronged you. I've not taken care of the poor, the sick, the mentally ill, the frail, the homeless, the sad and brokenhearted.

 :: Lord, I've wronged you. I've not prayed like I ought. I've not read Scripture like I ought. I've not proclaimed your Word through word and deed like I ought.

 :: Lord, I've wronged you. I've not not praised you when you should have been praised.

 :: Lord, forgive me. For those things that I have not named, the lies that I've told myself, the things I've left hidden because I am too ashamed to speak them aloud.

 :: Lord, forgive me. In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Today, I invite you to remember your mortality. I invite you to recall your sin. I invite you to confess. And when you do, know that the absolution is soon to follow:

In the name of Jesus Christ, your sin is forgiven. Amen.