LEARNING TO WALK

Storms and Summons

2011-08-03T10:51:00.002-04:00

I haven't preached in a while at church, but am in the midst of preaching three straight weeks before I head to Duke for some continuing education. Right now I'm working on the lectionary text for this week, which is Jesus walking on water and Peter doing it for a little while.

I'm not quite sure where I'm headed yet for Sunday, but a strong possibility is that Jesus summons us, encouraging us for service in the kingdom by seeing possibilities in us that most people don't. It seems to me that in the history of Jesus' relationship with Peter is a constant calling, both a constant affirming of Peter's potential for leadership and a calling to risk-taking leadership that Peter, even the bold Peter, could never come up with on his own.

Reflecting on this text reminds me to be grateful for the many people in my life who did that for me - who both saw gifts in me that I didn't in myself and who challenged me to walk towards Jesus even when I wasn't quite sure the way or what the results would be. I also hope that I have done that for some people that I have come to know.

A Return - With a Culinary Gift

2011-07-16T16:38:00.007-04:00

It's been too long, so I thought I would at least bring a gift with a return to the blog. We are currently staying at a friend's condo at the lake while our house recovers from flooding, so perhaps inspired by the lake views and the life without lawn maintenance, I chose to bake some catfish. I found a recipe off the web and went to work. It was so simple and so good that even I can make it and will again.

First, procure catfish.

Next combine vegetable oil, garlic salt, dried thyme, and paprika in a bowl and then place it on the fish. (For a spicier version you can add cayenne pepper and hot pepper sauce.)

Then put the fish into the oven and bake for 10-13 minutes at 450 degrees. Finally, add some vegetables and bread to look like a champion husband.

The Ingredients:
2 tablespoons canola oil
2 teaspoons garlic salt
2 teaspoons dried thyme
2 teaspoons paprika
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
1/4 teaspoon pepper
4 8 oz catfish fillets

Saturday Afternoon Special

2010-04-03T11:13:00.004-04:00

I once won a preaching award, not so much because of my own skill, but because a friend of mine nominated me for it.

I take preaching very seriously. I think it is critical, as a former mentor said, the best hearing the church gets is on Sunday morning. Before I was a pastor, I was one of those people who would tell you that if the sermon wasn't any good, then church wasn't any good. I know, it's petty, it's an unfortunate characteristic of the 21st Century Consumer Culture, but it is, what it is. The sermon matters.

And because I believe that the sermon matters, a large part of my week is spent preparing for my sermon. Now, of course I do pastoral care, and I teach Bible study, and I pray and I visit and I do all those things, but I do believe that a large part of my job is in my sermon preparation and execution.

And then there is Holy Week. As Debbie wrote, it only became Holy Week after the Resurrection, and most of the time it is not particularly fun for pastors, particularly those in small churches without much help. There is Holy Thursday, and there is Good Friday, and then there is getting ready for Sunday, two services for us and most people I think. And to top off my first Holy Week in Greystone, we lost a saint on Sunday, and so Monday night I was preaching a funeral and Tuesday morning assisting at a graveside.

Because of my poor planning, and the other things that came up, I have yet to write my Easter sermon. It's Saturday morning and I'm just beginning. I have my ideas. So, Mary Magdalene and I are doing the same thing - working and watching, waiting and hoping. She will receive the risen Lord. I'm hoping my congregation will receive a sermon worthy of such an event.

Come Holy Spirit.

A Parable of Common Sense

2010-03-12T11:57:00.004-05:00

Further proof that David Brooks is one of the most astute observers of our society.

As a pastor, what he describes about the government rings way too true in our houses of worship.

Perspective

2010-03-03T11:09:00.003-05:00

It's been quite a bit stressful over here of late. The wife-to-be has been out of work and is having to job hunt in the worst economy of our lives without really being able to know where to focus the hunt. We are trying to sell a Decatur condo in the midst of a housing recession, and of course, like all UMCers under appointment, are waiting on pins and needles to see if we are staying or going while also trying to explain increases in health and pension costs to our churches, who live in a county facing 15-20 percent unemployment.

So, in the midst of all this, I took half a day off Monday and went to Johnson City to get my haircut. This might surprise some of you, but I really haven't been able to replace my Salon Red cut easily in the land of the farm. So, I went to the mall to get the cut and started talking to the young hairdresser. She was telling me about her boyfriend, all of 19, who she had been dating for six months. For four of the six months he has been serving in Afghanistan and recently told his girlfriend that he wanted to make a career of it in the military. Awesome.

It turns out my problems aren't so bad.

It Finally Happened

2010-01-20T14:33:00.005-05:00

I've been making my way through some form of ministry with people (monks, students, religious professionals, country church folk)for the better part of two years now. I had been able to put it off for this long, but finally I decided to dive back in - not to the blog, but to theological reading.

For the better part of two years now I have done my best to really avoid the theological reading. I have read some of the Spiritual classics, I've read some for a seminary class I helped with last year and some for the commissioning papers (although to be honest, my brain has been joined with the spirit of Wesley's for some time now). But for the most part I have stuck to history, fiction and useless blogs and facebook (Best reading in this realm: Run by Ann Patchett, Juliet Naked, Nick Hornby's new one, and of course, David McCullough's 1776.)

But the other day I decided it was time to dig in. When you are tillin' souls out here in the country, you don't have a whole lot of time for theological reflection. You are running from the hospital to some old lady's house, from Bible Study preparation to District meetings, and sometimes all you can manage is a quick breath before you try to remember what who you are going to say and what particular need or ailment brought you here.

And as I have been trying to not set the church ablaze for a few months now, I have noticed that I need some helping thinking about just what I am doing and how I am supposed to go about doing it. Out here on the edge of the district, I don't run into a bunch of budding theologians. I talk to friends and mentors on the phone and try to make the best of it, but I also came to realize that I needed to start relying again on the wisdom of the saints who have gone before - you know, to help me focus how I am spending my time so I can try somehow in the midst of all this mess of counting people in the seats and surviving charge conference to proclaim and live into the kingdom.

I'm a little far away from Sister Cassell and Candace, Joshua and Parker, Penniman and the Methodist Trinity, Pugh and Sister Beth and the rest of my crew, so I decided, with the help of the Cokesbury gift card, to begin some conversations again.

I was a little bit like an addict returning to the bar, but I went to work, efficiently and with a 30 percent discount. So, I started with Barbara Brown Taylor and then went to Wally B, I booked a table with Richard Foster and dessert with Dallas Willard. Niebuhr and I will sit down for coffee, H. Richard, not Reinhold, of course, and I'll probably try to dive back into God's Ambassadors, to remember how we've done this thing for so long and remember how much fun reading E. Brooks was back in the day.

So, I'll let you know how it goes. But for now, here's my dance card for the next couple of weeks.

An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor
The Word that Redescribes the World, Walter Brueggemann
Longing for God, Richard Foster and Gayle Beebe
The Responsibility of the Church for Society, H. Richard Niebuhr
Knowing Christ Today, Dallas Willard

And it's four months

2009-10-27T10:00:00.003-04:00

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." - Margaret Mead.

Invitations

2009-07-23T14:28:00.002-04:00

So, all in all things are off to a fairly good start. I have tried to heed Rev. Camphouse's words of wisdom and have tried to come in without a vision but instead to listen and to help the people try to figure out just what in the heck God wants to do here. So I have been visiting like a crazy person, making trips to the hospital, catching up on House season 4 and most of all, learning the tricks of the trade that operating a riding lawnmower involves.

As I have been listening and preaching and pastoral caring what I have discovered in many ways is that its much easier to think about how the church and how the pastor should do things than it actually is to do them. One of the things that I have been thinking most about and trying to figure out how to do well is invitation.

Much of my thinking on this issue starting in a conversation with my Baptist-leaning dad over dinner. My churches have a history that involves a weekly altar call (Those of you who remember my time at the Candler Office of Worship will find this full of karma). Not surprisingly, we are currently not doing an altar call. I was explaining this to my father and he getting quite concerned; and he challenged me to think about how to invite people to consider salvation.

Now I explained to my dad that as a United Methodist Mr. Wesley would never talk about one moment of being saved but that our whole lives we were in the process of being saved, but that didn't seem to answer it. And as I have walked away from our dinner conversation, I have been thinking a lot about what it means to invite people to live the Christian life, in worship, in Bible study, in pastoral care and in our life together as a church.

I don't think that the traditional altar call or even the invitation to Christian discipleship that most of us have somewhere in our bulletins really get the whole thing, but I am having trouble visualizing what not just welcoming folks to hang out with us or even serve on one of our committees but inviting them to participate in the Christian life looks like.

This thought has been kicking around my head for a couple of weeks and I still don't have a clear direction about it. I think part of it is probably creating space for responses to the word that include silence and contemplation. I imagine part of it is creating some space for a public response, because our faith is public. And I imagine part of it is inviting folks into small groups that wrestle with the practices. And I imagine another chunk of it involves inviting folks to participate in justice in our community. I'm not sure how it fits together and my guess is that I won't have it all figured out for a while.

It turns out this stuff ain't easy. Maybe its time to go back to school.

Changes

2009-07-02T09:47:00.003-04:00

So, it's been a little while since I posted. Getting commissioned, receiving an appointment, leaving Atlanta and moving to Greeneville will do that to you. There is other news that many of you know about, but employment issues prevent me from blogging about it just yet. It is very good news, and life, despite being apart from Erin and adjusting to a new place, is relatively good.

A few things that have been noteworthy in the last couple months and the first few days of my new appointment.

1. A helpful neighbor giving me a heads up about the importance of the KJV.

2. It is really helpful being connected to fellow pastors, particularly when you have to figure out something as crazy as going from Atlanta to the farm.

3. We heard Adam Hamilton at annual conference this year. I think we probably should have read more of Hamilton in seminary. Although I didn't agree with him on everything, he had very good things to say, was theologically sound, and has figured out how to involve people in a UM community of faith that seems to live out a Wesleyan way of life in some good ways. Plus, once you enter the church he is one of those people you have to be able to be conversant in.

4. We made what I think was a good decision to approve direct billing for pastor's health insurance at annual conference. It's going to be a challenge for some smaller churches, but if people aren't going to pay apportionments in full, then we have to be responsible. This feels like a tough, challenging, but ultimately responsible facing of reality.

5. Who knew that three different churches in one charge meant three different hymnals? Apparently, I should have.

6. In our conference the commissioning service is connected to the retirement service. Quite humbling watching pastors who have served 51 years pass the mantle to us. Exciting, invigorating, challenging. A good reminder of what we are committing ourselves to. With God's help.

6. Being young, single and the new pastor, I have more garden-fresh vegetables than I know what to do with.

You would think that living in a new place, about twenty five minutes from anything (and by anything I mean Wal-Mart, Ingles, the Applebee's and Zaxby's), apart from the boss would lead to more consistent blogging. It probably will, but I make no promises.

It's a 40-Incher

2009-05-17T22:04:00.003-04:00

It's been much discussed, much-researched, much-obsessed over, but yesterday I made an investment that will no doubt change my life.

Yes, I bought a television. But not just any television - a 40-inch, 1080 p, 120 hz top of the line, state of the art Samsung television.

I wasn't planning on such a purchase a couple of months ago, but after learning that my new placement will take me to the edge of civilization, a friend said, "Ogle, I think a big screen television now becomes a completely justifiable purchase." Figuring that the television and I would be rediscovering our relationship, I readily agreed.

I have been researching what I "needed", how much I was willing to spend, and yesterday those two factors came together thanks to an end of the model year, a Best Buy associate eager to make a sale and a girlfriend who knows how to haggle for a half-price television.

I know my life will never be the same. I don't know how I did ministry before this purchase, but I am quite sure that my new parishioners will greatly benefit from this investment. And I have a feeling I might be attracting some visitors to watch football on Saturdays.

Yes, life is good.

The Boss Makes YouTube

2009-04-17T16:25:00.002-04:00

So, Erin, who is the director of development for Easter Seals here in North Georgia, was interviewed by a children's television station. And to make things even better, her interview is posted on YouTube. Her interview starts about a minute in. She's the one who looks like she's older than 12.

In case you are interested, you can still register for the Easter Seals walk at Grant Park, which is tomorrow and begins at 9 at Grant Park. I'll be the good looking one passing out t-shirts.

Low Mileage Tires and High Anxiety

2009-04-15T15:55:00.003-04:00

So, I don't think I could ever run a ponzi scheme. I just don't have the stomach for it.

I got a flat tire after hitting a GINORMOUS pothole on my way home on Monday. Considering it was my second one in ten days and knowing that I needed to get a new set soon anyway, I went ahead and took the plunge.

I like to consider myself pretty laid back and able to roll with the punches, but the reality of spending that amount of money living on a seriously reduced income took all the energy out of me. I was so worried about my ability to make it through the end of June on my current income (to any worried readers I will be able to do, so no need to send donations) that I lost all ability to do much of anything. I graded a couple of papers, holed myself in my room, ate some gourmet eggs that Erin cooked for me, listened to her sermon on trust, and then went to sleep.

I also realized, in my afternoon of nothingness, how lucky I am. Although I have been through quite a bit of things over the last couple months, I also have friends and family who helped me out and would continue to do so if I asked.

I am not sure how people who have to live paycheck to paycheck do it. The increased stress level and heightened anxiety of living this way for five months has given me a great appreciation for the chronically poor and the more than 5 million Americans who have lost their job in this financial meltdown.

While we often speak about the burden of making ends meet without adequate resources, the psychological burden often goes unnoticed. Anxiety and stress make it harder to work, harder to keep up the struggle against all the forces of depression.

I'm very thankful to have a job, thankful that this paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle will end soon, and wanting to pray for all those folks who don't have the same luxury.

A Cautionary Tale

2009-04-01T20:39:00.002-04:00

"I blame the radio for sowing a good deal of confusion where theology is concerned. And television is worse. You can spend forty years teaching people to be awake to the fact of mystery and some fellow with no more theological sense than a jackrabbit gets himself a radio ministry and all your work is forgotten." - Gilead

Good, Smart, Christian Folks

2009-03-18T19:26:00.003-04:00

It has become quite clear to me, in the course of the last week, that I hang out with a bunch of very good and very smart people.

I assume that most people who go to graduate school would say the same thing, but I can't help but think that I have been particularly blessed by being surrounded by so many people who deeply love the church, who have been blessed with great intelligence, and try to join these two things in spite of the many forces that try to keep them apart.

Last Tuesday I had coffee with my friend Josh where we tried to figure out how to be good and faithful truth tellers in incredibly difficult and sensitive pastoral situations. Later that night I had dinner with Heather, a committed Christian activist, to discuss how seminary and faith interacted with relationships and vocation in a terrible job market.

This is only in one day, and doesn't count the dinner Erin and I had with Ben and Laura as we discussed our respective ventures in the academy and the church, as well as bookshelf construction. In the surprise of the night Laura actually declared that I sounded quite pastoral.

Erin and I have been discussing how to read the Bible while reading Eugene Peterson's Eat This Book during Lent. I get the chance to speak frequently to my friends out in the ministerial wilderness across the country, and it is not uncommon after these conversations to think how lucky I am. That was the case after praying over decisions of the Cabinet with Lance.

I am in the process of saying a long goodbye to my Atlanta community. I will leave in June to head back to Tennessee and know that I will make new friends and meet new colleagues in ministry, but they will have big shoes to fill. I hope to find a way to stay connected with these people who have blessed and shaped my life, because quite frankly, I know I'll need their voices and wisdom to hold me accountable and to help me be the most faithful disciple and pastor I can be.

Public Accountability

2009-03-09T09:40:00.003-04:00

So, I went to Zesto's yesterday, taking the boss out for a big night on the town.
While we we waiting for our ice cream, the lady behind the counter asked a customer a question.
"Are you OK?", she asked a young woman, who presumably had been at Zesto's for quite some time.
"I mean, he's had his tongue down your throat for about two hours. I just want to make sure you can still breathe."
Amazing.

When Bad Things Happen to Bad People (Genesis 9)

2009-03-04T17:22:00.001-05:00

The gauntlet was thrown down. A friend of mine, a thoughtful scholar and colleague, devoted to the past, present, and future of the United Methodist Church threw down a challenge. Search the deep recesses of your mind, he asked, and remember the last time you heard a sermon on Original Sin in a United Methodist Church. Original Sin, that famous or infamous doctrine, that emerges from the beginning of the Bible and haunts us today with its shocking bad news – that somehow despite being wonderfully made in the image of God that all of us, every single one of us, is completely and totally distorted. That no matter how good our intentions, no matter how well we mean, that our wills are curved to sin and fall out of relationship with God. John Wesley, the founder and shaper of our particular way of being the Church, said that our tendency to sin is so great, that the result of Adam and Eve’s sin in the garden is that we have lost the image of God within ourselves. The point of our Christian lives, the one thing needful and the one purpose of our being, is to regain the image of God that we lost.

It shouldn’t really surprise us that most of can’t remember too many sermons focusing on Original Sin. This awful reality, confirmed every morning in new newspaper and every night on the 11 o’clock news, isn’t an idea likely to grow your church. People aren’t flocking to hear their preacher tell them how bad they are, the wretchedness of their wills, and the corruptness of their very existence. Although there are some churches and some denominations who train preachers to pound their congregations into submission every Sunday morning, we Methodists like to talk about more pleasant things, like faith, and hope, and love. A friend of mine named Ellen, a bright and faithful Christian who went to a church bent on convincing her of her sinfulness put it this way – Ogle, I’m tired of hearing every Sunday how awful I am. A comforting and life-affirming doctrine it isn’t.

God, is turns out, in our Scripture passages this morning isn’t in a real life-affirming mood. While we tend to view God more as a grandfather and grandmother, wrapping us in a warm embrace, God really hasn’t been in a mood for hugging. Human beings, the highlight of God’s creation, have not quite turned out as God had planned. While God created us, both male and female in God’s image, things went awry quite quickly. Instead of creatures living in harmony with God and each other, human beings rejected God. They horded pieces of the creation, they lied, they cheated, they stole, and most egregiously, they murdered. The stench of the earth rose up to high heaven - God was angry, God was remorseful for even beginning this project. God was so sorry at the people and the world that had distorted his good creation, that God wanted to start over. God was going to wipe out every human being and every animal on the earth. Things would be better, God thought, the next time around.

And if there’s anything we know about this God, about the God who created the world from chaos, is that God doesn’t do small-scale. When God wanted to start over, God did it with water, gallons and gallons of cleansing and chaotic water, water that was unpredictable, uncontrollable, and unwieldy. Noah, somehow, found favor with God, for some reason God thought well of Noah, and chose to make Noah the person he would start over with. You know the story, Noah, his wife, and his sons built the ark, with all the animals, two by two, and waited out the flood for 40 days on the ark God commissioned them to build.

What is striking about this story of Noah, what is striking about the this piece of Scripture, is not that it names humanity as utterly sinful, because we all know that we are. What is striking about this story is not that God tries to obliterate creatures that conspire against the divine plan. What is most striking is what comes next, that God’s answer to the problem is not to finish the job, but to stop, and to make a promise. This premise, destruction of the world and all that is in it, is not a foreign one to readers or moviegoers. There are scores of movies, Independence Day comes to mind, when the earth is on the path to destruction and someone has to figure out how to defeat those engineering the destruction. Some force has to be defeated and someone has to do the defeating.

But that’s not what happens here. God stops the flood. It is the agent of destruction, God, who limits the destruction. The covenant between God and Noah, which we read earlier this morning, is a covenant that goes one-way. There is nothing in the covenant that Noah promises, God is the only one who speaks in this covenant. God promises never to do anything like this again. Never again will water cover the earth, separating humans and animals from one another. Never again, God declares, will I try to obliterate all of creation. Genesis records that God says in his heart that never again will I destroy every living creature as I did in the flood. Annihilation is off the table.

His name is Gary, and the more you get to know Gary, the more you begin to think that annihilation isn’t such a bad option. I met Gary in a large class at seminary, a class of about 140 people. If you surveyed the remaining 139, my guess is that at least 135 wouldn’t disagree with the sentiment. Gary suffers from high levels of anxiety, which leads him to act in ways that make you want to smack him. Gary argues with professors. Gary blasts other students in his class. Gary violates confidentiality. Gary is the student, and somebody’s parishioner, from hell. We’ve all got people like Gary in our lives, some of us have more than one of them I imagine, and they remind us that the fact that God takes annihilation off the table is no small thing.

This is why God’s covenant with Noah, and by extension us, is so astounding. Human nature, our propensity for sinfulness and wickedness, does not change after the flood. Our genetic makeup, our tendencies, our very way of life remain just as messed up, just as twisted, just as life-destroying and death-inducing as they were before. God does not promise not to annihilate humanity again because God has assurance that we will not act as horribly as we did before. No, as you all well know, we act just as stupid, just as sinfully, just as wickedly as those before us. You want wickedness, we’re your people. You want lying, we can do that. Cheating, the name Alex Rodriguez mean anything to you? Stealing – pick a CEO. Murder, watch the news. God limit’s God’s option, takes annihilation off the table, despite who God knows we are and despite what God knows we will do. God knows just who we are and just what trouble we will get into, and in this covenant, commits to be in relationship with us in spite of all that.

Because by taking annihilation off the table, God is committing to remaining in relationship with us. Relationships, as we all know, are incredibly hard work. To be in relationship with someone is to be committed to that person, regardless of how crazy, how mean, how difficult, and most importantly, regardless of how much they hurt you, damage you, and wrong you. Being in covenant with people, in essence being in relationship with some one, is about being vulnerable, about being open to being hurt and moving forward despite the hurt. By moving beyond annihilation, God has committed to being vulnerable, and all the hard work that this entails. In this covenant God commits to finding a new way to be in relationship, as those of you who are married know the phrase, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, in the good times and the bad times, until death do us part

God, being just, cannot abide or tolerate sin. Our relationship with God requires, even demands, holiness and justice. God is holy and just, and God’s willingness to remain in relationship with us does not mean that God turns the other way and ignores our sin. God will have to find a way to both deal with our sin and remain in relationship with us. As those of you who have been in long-term relationships, whether in a romantic or married relationship, or who have been friends with someone for a long time, know that God is not going to be able to remain unaffected by this commitment. God’s relationship with human beings will not be a smooth one, it will not be one without its share of bumps and bruises, or more appropriately, its beatings and betrayals.

This covenant, this idea, sort of makes you want to ask God if he knows what he is getting into. There are some situations, that you know are good for you, but you aren’t sure about for someone else. A good friend of mine faced a similar situation not too long ago. Josh had been dating his friend Emily for a long time. They met while working in a volunteer program and began dating soon thereafter. They first started dating long distance, but united in Atlanta, where Josh went to seminary and Emily started teaching. One day Josh finally came to his senses and asked Emily to marry him. Emily, in the upset of the Century, said yes. Josh responded the only way he knew how, with one of the best lines ever recorded in an engagement proposal. “As your future husband, I’m thrilled with your decision. As your friend, I have to say that I question your judgment.”

As one on the receiving end of this promise, I’m thrilled. As a human being, I sort of question God’s judgment on this one. By limiting his options, God is committing to something remarkable. Our sin will affect God. Our desire to break our relationship will hurt God. Our madness will malign God. This is not going to end well. No, this will not end well.

Genesis 9:8-17

8 Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, ‘As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.’ God said, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.’ God said to Noah, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.’ ⁹¹⁰¹¹¹²¹³¹⁴¹⁵¹⁶¹⁷

David Brooks and Original Sin

2009-02-26T12:22:00.004-05:00

Since when did David Brooks, the conservative voice on the New York Times Editorial Page and one of the smartest columnists in the country, start talking about Original Sin?

Brooks wrote a fascinating column this past week in which he talks about his concern over the stimulus plan and the massive changes that are afoot in the country as a result of the economic crisis. His major concern is not so much in the programs that will be funded by the stimulus and the details of changes to come, but the philosophy behind them.

The debate, Brooks argues, hinges on just how much we can know and just how capable we can be at rapid institutional change. The debate is whether it is even possible to know enough or be competent enough to engineer transformational social change from the West Wing of the White House and the halls of Congress.

While these are debates that so-called conservatives and so-called progressives have been debating for centuries, what is fascinating for me is that this debate goes all the way back to Augustine and to the Garden. If we believe that our minds were warped by the Fall like our bodies and our souls, then our thoughts, our ideas, our motivations are all curved, distorted, and broken as well.

This means that we can never be sure of much, other than that we are flawed and that God is in the process of transformation. This, Brooks would argue and I would agree, requires a serious amount of modesty in estimating just how much we can do and just how effective we can be in government as well as in the church.

Humility and modesty, in both the the government, the church and the world, seems to be the order of the day.

It must be Lent.

You're Fine

2009-02-14T12:30:00.002-05:00

Two words, it turns out, can make quite a difference.

On Monday I sat for an hour and a half in front of three people, defending my theology, receiving constructive criticism and trying to remain calm during one of the most important interviews of my life. On Tuesday afternoon I got the word - you're fine. You're fine translated didn't mean that the person across the room was impressed with my attire that would have made a Republican Congressman proud - white dress shirt, red white and blue striped tie, navy blue suit. Instead, it meant that I had passed my interview with the Board of Ordained Ministry.

It hasn't even been a week, but already something feels different. Being commissioned - which is the technical term that means you passed your interviews and will be commissioned as a probationary elder at Annual Conference in June - is a weird thing. I could still do ministry as a licensed local pastor without being commissioned, including serving communion, performing baptisms, marrying folks and burying folks. But there is something a little different, I'm not quite sure what it is.

Maybe it is the church setting me apart for leadership (part of my riveting answer to what is the meaning of ordination in the context of general ministry to the church), maybe its knowing that this is what three years of seminary and a lot of Christian life prepared me for, or maybe its something about the Spirit. I've been thinking a lot about words lately. Preaching every week means you have to come up with a lot of them. I read other authors' words, I hear musicians' words, I put out a lot of words for people myself.

Commissioning is more than words, but the words have power. I have always been one who thought that words were useless without being joined to actions that match them. I still like that idea, but I'm not so sure.

Words still have the power to make a difference. Words still have the power to resonate with something inside of us, to join us to something greater, and to take us somewhere we wouldn't have gone on our own. This, in a sense, is why we perform liturgy together and why we reserve space every Sunday for one person to come out of our congregation and talk to us about God's word.

I don't know all the places I am headed, although its likely somewhere in East Tennessee. I just know that two words have made me think a lot this week. They've made me thing about where I want to go, and more importantly how I want to get there. They've helped me see that I want to learn again how to pray, to help me see that I need to be shaped more by some words than others, to know that lots of people are watching, and that lots of people are invested in me.

You're fine. We're all counting on it.

On Becoming Pastor Dan

2009-01-10T08:24:00.007-05:00

I'm not quite sure exactly how it happens, but sometime after getting a degree and sometime before you step into the pulpit, you get a name.

In my case, I get a title in front of my name, and the name I've been going by for my whole life gets shortened. I have, somehow, someway, become Pastor Dan.

As some of my readers know, the last couple months have been a whirlwind. I, like so many other people, lost my job due to financial cutbacks. After a less than faithful response to said news, I really got to work, or more aptly, other people got to work on my behalf. A former professor offered me a job as a teaching assistant. People I barely knew pitched in. The biggest change is that I'm now officially a pastor-in-charge - for the next five months I am the pastor at Underwood United Methodist Church (1671 Howell Mill Road NW, Atlanta, GA if anyone would like to come and see the show!)

Tomorrow will be my second Sunday at Underwood, and its going to be quite the learning experience. I'm starting to learn what it means to preach every Sunday, to grapple with texts on behalf of a congregation, even a congregation of 15. This week I'm going to tackle organizing the office, which looks like a tornado hit it. I file Conference reports. I change the Church sign every week. I organize and plan worship (BDM would be proud I think).

I will return to Tennessee in June, but for the next few months I will be proclaiming the Gospel, serving communion and maybe doing a baptism, and hopefully not doing too many funerals. I'll be figuring out what worship means, I'll be trying to guide us to the valley of Lent and to the triumphant victory of Easter.

It's weird, really. This is what I have spent the last four years of my life planning for, how to lead a congregation of folks trying to hang on to faith in the midst of a community that doesn't seem to think much of it. I'm the preacher. I'm the leader. I'm the one they're going to harass when they're feeling anxious. I'm the one whose sermons they're going to listen to. And ultimately when life becomes rough, I'm going to be the one they come to unload their souls and try to figure out just what difference Jesus makes in all this.

Just call me Pastor Dan.

Live in Elgin

2008-11-22T13:24:00.002-05:00

A Few Observations

- Elgin, Illinois might have the nicest public library in America. (New release movie rentals, and coffee shops with magic shows!)

- Screaming children are great forms of birth control.

- Loud talkers on the airplane make a two-hour flight seem like six.

- Its really funny when a friend is trying to eat chocolate cake while watching a character in a movie write words using human feces.

- Illinois is frickin' cold in late November.

- Lucinda Williams doesn't do happy well.

- Kitchen tables turned coffee shop tables with Sister are good for the unemployed soul.

Bad Moon Rising

2008-11-20T16:41:00.005-05:00

I don't usually believe in omens. But last Friday seriously made me reconsider.

I began the day in Philadelphia, where I was visiting Mission Year team members. As I made my way to the airport, I came to a red light. The light turned green, and just as I was ready to go, a woman and her children started slowly crossing the street, right in front of my car.

Not being thrilled, I honked my horn. The woman, turned, stared intently at me, and then gave me the bird (yes, right in front of her children.) This was no. 1.

When I returned to Atlanta, my boss met me at the airport, and after I picked up my checked luggage, informed that my job was being cut due to budget problems. (If you haven't heard about my response, rest assured it was characteristic and memorable.) This was no. 2.

If I have any doubt, I had lunch with a former professor of mine yesterday. As we were eating, he handed me my fortune cookie. The message inside: Be prepared to change your plans.

Enough said.

On Elections and Heroes

2008-11-04T15:33:00.005-05:00

I am frequently asked a question.

I live in an impoverished neighborhood, which will probably vote 95 percent for Barack Obama today.

I just graduated from one of the country's most liberal theological academies, where the split today will probably be 80-20 in favor of Barack Obama.

I voted for John Kerry in 2004, Harold Ford in the Tennessee Senate race in 2006 and for Jim Martin in the 2008 Georgia Senate race.

"Why, oh why, Daniel," they ask, "are you voting for John McCain?"

Today, was a day I thought would never happen. It was a historic day for our nation and a wonderful day for me. Election Day 2008. November 4, 2008.

That's because this election day I voted for John McCain.

In an election that is historic and wonderful for many reasons, mostly connected to the candidacy of Barack Obama, I am incredibly grateful for the chance to vote for John McCain.

Although I thoroughly expect the nation to take a historic step forward and elect Barack Obama, I am also personally sad that John McCain most likely will never be President.

Like many people I discovered John McCain in the runup to the 2000 Presidential election and followed him throughout the last eight years as one of the few people willing to display political courage.

He lashed out when President Bush and Karl Rove smeared him in South Carolina for the audacity to have adopted a child who wasn't white.

He worked countless times with some of the most liberal democrats in the Senate - Russ Feingold, Ted Kennedy, Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden - to pass bills he thought would benefit the country, even if they hurt him politically.

He notoriously supported the surge in Iraq, when everyone else was running for political cover.

It is only the most recent in a trend that has defined his political career - McCain has never been afraid to say the tough truth, even if it cost him a vote. Some say that was only the McCain in 2000 - I ask them to re-read his convention speech when he called out his party on the convention floor or the primary race in Michigan - when he told Michigan voters the truth about the auto industry. Michigan voted for Mitt Romney.

Political courage doesn't get you big crowds.

Unfortunately the country seems to be going in a different direction. Like many I have been disappointed by John McCain's campaign and his pick of Sarah Palin. He has not run his best campaign, but I do not know that it would have mattered, with the excitement over Barack Obama, the most hostile media climate for a major party candidate since Watergate, and the economic downturn all conspiring against him.

My father frequently laments that one of the problems with America is we don't have any heroes anymore. That's not true, at least for me.

I discovered my hero eight years ago on the campaign trail, fighting in vain against President Bush, and I've watched him fight an uphill battle against Barack Obama too. But long odds won't stop me from wearing my McCain hat and t-shirt in South Atlanta today.

America may reject a former war hero. But it will take more than one lost election to make me forget what I know - John McCain is one of America's bright lights. The past year hasn't changed that.

Church Leadership, by Honest Abe

2008-10-09T09:39:00.006-04:00

As many of you know, I recently became so fed up with the current Presidential election, that I went on a political fast of sorts. For almost two weeks, I consciously avoided some of my favorite websites - politico.com, washingtonpost.com, nytimes.com, huffingtonpost.com, and even dear old Red State. What I found was that I really didn't miss presumptuous Hope, Sarah Baracuda, or the veering off track of the Straight Talk Express.

One of the great things of swearing off politics for a while (and not having a television) is that it gives you the chance to do things you've wanted to do for a while. Being a history dork and wanting to believe that a President (or Presidential candidate) might actually offer hope, I chose to limit the politics that came into my head to Abraham Lincoln. I had long wanted to read Doris Kearns Goodwin's opus on Lincoln's cabinet, Team of Rivals, so I took the 753 pages as a challenge. I finished my month-long journey last night, and emerged with the conviction that Honest Abe had some great advice for those of us trying to learn how to lead, whether that be in corporations, non-profits, or more specifically for me, the church.

753 pages later, here's what I learned.

1. Surround yourself with talented people, even if you don't like them. Lincoln won the contested nomination for President out of the Republican Party, defeating William Seward, Salmon Chase and Edward Bates. After winning the Presidency, Lincoln worked to bring them all into his cabinet. They fought, they schemed, and they bickered (with each other and with Lincoln), but their intelligence, experience, and differing ideological, theological and philosophical convictions strengthened the country and made Lincoln a better President.

2. Take the blame, share the credit. Throughout his Presidency, Lincoln made a habit of giving his cabinet members credit when things went well, and taking blame and responsibility upon himself when they didn't. It not only reflected the reality (the buck stops with the President) but he gained immense respect from his cabinet and the country for it.

3. Find chances to be grateful. Often times Lincoln found an opportunity to write an appreciative letter or thank a member of his cabinet when he had actually done the work. It cultivated loyalty and allowed people to hear the criticism he would offer later.

4. Remember who is in charge. Many who advocate this style of leadership forget one important part of Lincoln's office - everyone knew who was in charge, and it was Lincoln. Although Lincoln would listen to his cabinet, and take their advice even when he didn't like it, Goodwin consistently points out that it was Lincoln who ultimately made the decisions, and when he made up his mind, the discussion was over. And everyone knew it.

5. Chemistry is overrated, competence is what matters. Salmon Chase spent much of 1863 cultivating Radical Republicans who thought Lincoln was not committed enough to their agenda. His hope was that he would use this base to run for President against Lincoln in 1864. Lincoln was well aware of his scheming, but refused to let it persuade him to fire or marginalize Chase. Chase tried to resign several times. Lincoln denied his first several attempts, but eventually did accept it. After he did so, he nominated Chase to be the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

6. Be slow to anger. What those who opposed Lincoln from the South couldn't grasp was that Lincoln was quick to forgive, and wanted to bring the South back into the Union a quickly as possible. He didn't favor punitive damages to the South and hoped that Jefferson Davis would escape capture so he wouldn't be punished severely. Lincoln was convinced that not berating and humiliating Southerners would be the best way to rebuild a fractured country and coalition.

Why I Love My Church

2008-10-05T21:06:00.005-04:00

By almost any definition, my church would be labeled as a failure.

We are located directly across the street from a large and prestigious college. Our church is minutes from downtown Atlanta - a hop from the Aquarium, the Fox Theater, and perhaps most importantly, Octane Coffee Bar.

We were once a prestigious church featuring the who's who of Atlanta.But, in a typical Atlanta story, the neighborhood changed, people got scared, and moved out of Atlanta and out of our Church.

So on a really good Sunday morning, we have thirty-five people attending our one worship service and six people attending our only Sunday School class. Our United Methodist pastor is not a seasoned veteran of the appointment system, but a part-time student who has not yet completed seminary.

But around 11:40 this morning, none of that seemed to matter.

Because our church is not too far from downtown, we also get our fair share of homeless men and women to show up. Our church has a relationship with one man in particular - I'll call him John (the same name as Jesus' friend and beloved disciple) - who often hangs around our church, sleeps on the steps, gets his mail delivered and is one of our most faithful attenders on Sunday morning.

Well this Sunday, John missed Sunday School for the first time this semester and missed the entire sermon and most of the Sunday service. He showed up about five minutes before communion, hair disheveled, speech slurred. In short, he was late, he was drunk, and he was loud.

One of our members walked John up the line to communion, where she helped him with the bread and then helped him dip it into the cup. Our pastor, the young seminarian, greeted John with a smile - "John, this is the body of Christ, broken for you. We love you and we're glad to see you."

After communion, the pastor stood up and preached his second sermon of the day.

"Sometimes I think that the words we say and the things we do here aren't all that real. But then Jesus shows up in the forms I wouldn't expect - like a man walking in drunk, or high or God knows what. John is a challenge to us and everything we say and we do. He reminds us that while we may not be as outwardly broken as a drunk homeless man, inside we're just as broken. And somehow God invites us into fellowship with Him and each other."

Afterwards we all went downstairs, and we shared another meal. A potluck with the best chicken, vegetables, and dessert Southern church ladies can put together. There were four tables, all full, and John was there, eating and drinking, laughing and smiling.

We all had smiles on our faces too. Because somehow we all knew that by the odd timing of the Spirit, God had given us a gift. A so-called failed church has been transformed - by a wild-eyed and raving Jesus disguised as our drunken friend.

Feeding on the Word

2008-08-12T14:02:00.003-04:00

As we’ve crisscrossed the country with Jesus over the past few weeks, we’ve found ourselves in a traveling classroom - walking with the Messiah in the school of the Kingdom. In the recent Gospel readings we’ve seen Jesus doing all sorts of teaching to all sorts of people. He intimately addresses his twelve disciples. He speaks to the large crowds who follow him. He even tries to teach his enemies.

His course of study is widely varied yet strangely focused. He lays out commands for discipleship – take up the cross and follow him. It will be a few chapters before we figure out just how hard this cross business is. Jesus tells us just who to fear –not the one who can kill the body but the one who can kill the soul. He announces that the people are to welcome the ones their leaders have historically rejected – the weak children and the worrisome prophets. And over the last three weeks Jesus has spent an awful lot of time trying to explain the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom, it turns out, is like a sower who extravagantly sows seed. It’s also like a mustard seed, and a treasure in a field. It’s a woman working a little leaven into a ton of flour, and a pearl of great price, a net that catches fish to be sorted later, and it’s somehow both weed and wheat.

But in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus tries to leave the teaching behind. He’s actually trying to mourn – he’s deeply moved when he gets word that Herod had executed his friend and colleague in kingdom work - John the Baptist. Jesus flees the city and we find him way out in the country, miles away from anything but the Sea of Galilee. The crowds won’t let him get away, and like the prophets warned, descend upon him from the North, the South, the East and West. It’s late, well after dinner time. They’re hungry, and to make matters worse, they’re miles away from anywhere where somebody could get something to eat.

Jesus’ disciples, like that ornery housemate or annoying co-worker I imagine some of you might know about, are always the one who seem to catch the blame for everything. They are the ultimate scapegoats for those of us with more than two thousand years of history on our side. If I were with Jesus, we say, I wouldn’t doubt like Thomas. I wouldn’t deny like Peter. But this time, it seems, they just might get it right. They have taken all of Jesus’ wisdom from the teaching they have heard and have tried to apply it. They are, it appears, perfect students.

Using excellent common sense they turn to Jesus and say, “Look man, it’s way after dinnertime. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, and these people are hungry. We don’t have near enough to feed them, so let’s get them home before it gets too late.” The disciples would win a medal for crowd control, Christian hospitality, and good housekeeping. But Jesus doesn’t quite see it that way.

As he tends to do, he blows them and us away with a simple line –

“Don’t send them away. You feed them.”

You feed them.

But Jesus, we’ve got five loaves of bread and two fish, and there is no way we can satisfy this crowd. There’s five thousand men and at least a few thousand women and children here. If we don’t get them out of here, they might not eat and they just might turn on you, and more importantly, on me.

But Jesus, being Jesus, wouldn’t flee. Oh no, instead he began a pattern that we continue in the church today - He took food, bread and fish, thanked his Father for it, blessed it broke it, and fed more anywhere between 10 and 20,000 people if you dare to count women and children.

It was, as we say, a full-on miracle. Jesus took meager proportions and turned them into a meal that really fed a whole bunch of people. Jesus turned five loaves and two fishes into a meal that satisfied. The Gospel writers leave us no doubt that this was a feast to be remembered – the feeding of the five thousand is the only miracle story that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John all write about. Nothing else caught their attention that much – not walking on water, not calming storms, not even healing a man born blind.

Like most miracles, the feeding of the five thousand leaves us with all sorts of questions. The one that I’ve been asking is this - Why were the disciples so surprised? What did they miss? They had been following Jesus for a real long time, they had seen him do all sorts of things before. They had seen him perform plenty of miracles and healings. He had exorcised demons and even gotten the best of the Pharisees. I mean, after all, as Jimmy told me last Friday at his house, anything’s possible with Jesus. Thousands of books have been written about the faults of these disciples, but I don’t think we need to read them all to figure out how the disciples messed up this time - they didn’t know their Bibles.

That’s because from the beginning of God’s saving work with his people to the present day, God has been in the business of miraculous feeding.

- Remember in Exodus - When the Israelites were wondering in the wilderness, hungry and desperate for food, God dropped Manna from the sky. Out of thin air, the God of Israel fed an entire nation.

- And remember Deuteronomy when we found out that God’s promise wasn’t only about milk and honey, but “a land in which you will eat bread without scarcity in which you will lack nothing.”[1]

- And remember how it isn’t just God who miraculously feeds, but those charged with doing God’s work. Elijah had the audacity to tell a starving widow and malnourished son preparing for their dying meal together to fix him some dinner. He promised that God would provide and God did, to the tune of food for days.

- And remember Elijah’s partner in prophetic miracles, Elisha, who took twenty loaves of barley and some fresh grain and made it into enough food to feed 100 hundred people with plenty left over.

Yes, in the feeding of the five thousand, we see that Jesus has gone beyond teaching. Jesus is revealing that he is not only a prophet of God, but is God himself. Elijah and Elisha miraculously fed people, but not to the magnitude that Jesus did. This is no mere prophet - This is the Messiah.

We won’t get Jesus’ full identity for a few more chapters, but we’re starting to see glimpses. Jesus feeds four thousand more in another miraculous feeding. Peter confesses that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God, surrounded by the symbols of empire at Caesarea Philippi in chapter 16. He’ll manifest his glory in front of Peter, James, John, and of course Moses and Elijah, on the mount of transfiguration in chapter 17.

I’ve been here at Holy Comforter for just about two months now. Like many of you, I wasn’t sure quite what to make of the place when I first showed up and just what Father Mike, you all, and God had in store for me. But what I’ve found in visiting you in your homes, sharing coffee and getting a contact high on the Smoker’s Porch and making a joyful noise to the Lord in noon prayer (although I imagine God might be the only one who finds the noise that comes out of my mouth joyful) is what a whole lot of others have – that Jesus Christ is in the midst of us. Do you remember that time when Jesus told us how when two or three are gathered in his name he will be there? Well, he seems to show up in this place all the time.

Jesus also tells us that in the Gospel of John that he is the bread of life, that those who eat and drink of him will never die. Jesus sure did a lot of eating and a lot of feeding in his ministry. One of the worst charges directed at Jesus never seems to go away – the man ate with sinners. He joined them at table, and he also fed them – in miraculous feedings where he turned loaves and fishes, the ordinary meal of the First Century peasant, into food enough to feed a bundle.

His greatest feeding took place originally in an upper room, and he does it every Sunday in churches all over the world. Jesus took bread, he blessed it, gave thanks for it, and broke it, giving real bread to real people in real places. This is my body, broken for you. He ate with sinners, Judas was there after all.

He added wine this time and blessed it, poured it, gave it to his disciples, and told them to drink it. Real nourishment for men, women and children of all ages, stations and locations. This is my blood, the cup of the new covenant, poured out for you and for many. And we’ve been doing it for more than two thousand years.

I don’t know about you, but I’m never quite sure what to do when we’re invited to this table. It almost feels like too much – coming to eat at Jesus request. But if I’ve learned one thing from being fed again and again, it’s this - Jesus Christ is right here, right now. And he’s calling us forward, begging us to receive him and his life-giving bread. So, as we like to say at Holy Comforter – come on up, its time to eat. Thanks be to God.

In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. AMEN.

[1] Deut. 8:9-10

Matthew 14:13-21

14:13 Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns.

14:14 When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.

14:15 When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, "This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves."

14:16 Jesus said to them, "They need not go away; you give them something to eat."

14:17 They replied, "We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish."

14:18 And he said, "Bring them here to me."

14:19 Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds.

14:20 And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.

14:21 And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

The Angel's Couch

2008-08-06T07:01:00.009-04:00

Her name is Jess.
She is a girlfriend of a friend of my roomates, and one morning about a week ago, I woke up to find her sleeping on our couch. And there she has been, every night ever since.
I've gotten bits and pieces of her stories over the past week. She has graduated high school and is planning to attend college in South Georgia, which will begin next week. A little while ago her mother decided that she would not allow Jess to attend college and refused to sign the loan she needed for school, for reasons unknown. Undeterred, Jess went out and got the loan anyway, and when she told her mother, her mom kicked her out of the house.
Needing a place to stay, she ended up on our couch, and she's been a part of our community ever since.
One of the great things about our house is that we are always entertaining guests. A roomate's sister is doing an internship and has been occupying the guest bedroom for about a month now. When Shane Claiborne came to Atlanta, his film crew threw their sleeping bags on our floor.
All our guests have left an impression, but none like Jess. She is a living reminder that the world outside our house is not always as kind as the one we try to make inside our home. Every night I drive home and see the problems - the street walkers and corner loiterers, the drug pushers and the prostitutes, and the despair and desperation that waits around every turn.
Then I come home and wait for Jess to show up. She usually arrives well after I have gone to bed, but in the morning there she is. She is a living reminder of the despair, how family can let us down. But she is also a reminder of the power of hope and faith. She is an incarnate testament to not being defined by circumstances.
This weekend Jess will leave for college and we will miss her. She is not much of a talker, but despite her quietness she has left an impression. There's a lot of talk these days in Christian circles about the recovery of hospitality as a vital practice. Its not only a vital practice but has been a great gift to our community.
That's because in offering a lumpy couch to this strong and beautiful woman, I know that we've entertained an angel, whether we were aware of it or not.

I'm Alive - An Update from the Monastary

2008-07-27T16:37:00.011-04:00

So, its been a real long time since I posted. We just got internet in our house on Friday, so as I promised my two readers, I would post an update. I actually have quite a few things to blog about, so will try to do that in the coming days.

As many of you know, I have begun living in an intentional Christian community here in Atlanta - we're about a mile from Turner Field in a community littered with crime, joblessness, drugs and despair. But it also has its fill of love, hope and faith. I live with three wonderful roommates who are doing their best to be faithful and make a difference in our community. I serve as the community chaplain - my role is to help my roommates connect what they are doing in our neighborhood to our faith and discipleship.

Mike, the youngest of our group, is trying to start a coffee shop in our neighborhood. Community Grounds will open at the end of August. Andra works twenty hours a week at Barnes and Noble and twenty as a youth director for Community Fellowships, a church just up the street from our house. Katie has been taking a well-earned summer off but will begin working as a teacher in a startup middle school. We'll add another member, named Zack, to our community in about a month.

While I have been living in community, I have been doing CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education), which will come to a close in two weeks. Many students have to do CPE for ordination in their respective denominations, and most choose to do them in a hospital setting. My program is a little different in that my ministry settings are in the urban context.

I have spent my mornings at two mission parishes of the Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta. The Church of the Holy Comforter is not a synonym for Bedside Baptist, but a congregation whose congregants are mostly mentally ill. The Emmaus House is a community center located in Peoplestown, right next to Turner Field, that serves the residents of a community that was devastated by Atlanta's concept of urban renewal. CPE has been incredibly exhausting (I usually go to bed at 9:30 during the week), but has been a wonderful way to learn how to be a more faithful pastor. The lessons I have learned this summer will go with me wherever I do my pastoral work.

I will finish CPE on August 8 and then take a week off before I begin my job as the program administrator for Mission Year. My summer has been filled with a lot of work, but I have been doing plenty of reading (one of my friends commented that fiction is, "like crack for you.) I've enjoyed life without cable, although I have to frequently check the internet for Cubs scores, and read about a book a week.

My CPE supervisor said this next year will probably change my life, with the urban living and Christian community that I have placed myself into. No TV. Sharing resources. Yes, even sleeping in a bunk bed. Living with neighbors not like me. Lots of reading. Yes, it's only been a couple months, but so far, I agree with Sheryl Crow that, a change will do you good.

A Life in Books

2008-05-24T16:47:00.007-04:00

I just finished reading Paul Elie's wonderful biography, The Life You Save May Be Your Own, which chronicles the lives of four Twentieth Century American Catholics: Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Flannery O'Connor and Walker Percy.

Elie reveals that the four authors were well aware of one another and often came into contact with each other. Merton and Day shared lively written correspondence. Merton and Percy met at Merton's famous hermitage. Percy and O'Connor met briefly as well. Even more than sharing correspondence, Elie makes the point that the authors were shaped by similar books along their journeys.

The books, not surprisingly, were not all theological, but some were. Percy, Merton and Day were all mesmerized by Dostoevsky, most famously the Idiot and the Brothers Karamazov. Merton and Day had their hearts pulled by The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas A Kempis. Finally, O'Connor, Merton and Percy were all shaped in some way by Jacques Maritain's Art and Scholasticism.

Sneaking a peak at the libraries of these modern day saints piqued my interest and it forced me to consider the books that have influenced me the most. Some are theological, some are academic, some are personal and some are merely good fiction. They follow in no particular order.

The Cost of Discipleship, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

I read this book while I was trying to decide whether to attend seminary. It made me think plenty, but like many before me, it challenged me to be a more faithful Christian.

Take This Bread, by Sara Miles.

Christianity is not a philosophy but a lived way of live. Sara Miles' moving memoir of her conversion and ministry that it inaugurated not only helped me think about the mission and nature of the church, but is powerful testimony about the way the Gospel still moves in radically unexpected ways.

A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving

You know what's coming but you still can't help but being moved by the ending. A wonderful tale of friendship and the power of love.

It Is Finished

2008-05-06T11:26:00.003-04:00

By it, of course, I mean my MDIV at Candler. For the past three years my life, in one way or another, has been defined by my schedule as a masters student who studies theology. I have about a month now where my life won't be scheduled as much, which I am going to enjoy.

I don't really know what to make of the fact that I have finished, but I'm sure it will hit me soon or later. Graduation is Monday, so I'm sure that will change my perspective on things, but for now, I'm just starting to catch up on reading some things I want to read and taking seriously my vocation as a bum.

I move in with the monks on June 1st and then start CPE June 2 here in Atlanta. So, do not worry my friends, a schedule and vocation will emerge soon enough. For now, I'm enjoying my break, going to the pool, reading, and spending time hanging out and re-connecting with friends that I neglected during the school year.

It is finished. God is good.

The Character of a Priest

2008-04-09T10:36:00.004-04:00

It is this familiarity with the face of humanity and this fidelity in prayer that equips us for the most demanding aspect of the interpreter's task. We can't uncover the face of Christ in people unless we have the habit of real attention to human faces in all their diversity – but also the habit of familiarity with the face of Christ. How do we recognise him, let alone help others to do so, if we are not spending time with that face, in the study of Scripture and in adoration and silence? Faithful and persistent looking into the face of Jesus is the essential condition for connecting people with each other; without that, all we can offer is human goodwill, human shrinking from the cost of conflict, our own limited skills of sympathy and listening. But if we try to remain familiar with Jesus, we believe that our listening and mediating has a sacramental dimension, mostly imperceptible to us, but real and energising. We are allowing some fuller reality in to the situation, the reality in whose climate we live: the priestly mediation of Christ.

- Rowan Williams, 2004

The Storm Has Passed Over

2008-03-15T11:18:00.003-04:00

As many of you saw on the news last night, we had quite a storm in Atlanta (Mayor Franklin confirmed this morning that it was indeed a tornado). Downtown took the worst of it, with office buildings, cars, and sporting arenas alike all taking a good bit of damage. A loft complex in Cabbagetown collapsed, but thankfully everyone has been accounted for. Fortunately, I have checked with my friends who live in the most dangerous area and everyone seems to be fine.
I didn't completely avoid the storm, however. I went out to eat in Grant Park last night with two friends and the storm swept through at just about the time we were leaving. Almost immediately after we left Six Feet Under, the restaurant's power went out. The lights also went out on most of Memorial Drive, which it made it particularly difficult to see.
Unfortunately, the darkness, the wind, and the rain prevented me from seeing a downed street sign with twisted metal lying in the middle of Memorial. I hit the sign, but fortunately didn't do too much damage to my car, just a dent and some scraping on the right side. I did manage to dodge another sign on my way home.
My few hundred dollar scratch isn't too bad, but the experience was definitely scary. A man who was already on the sidewalk came and checked to make sure we were OK. I told him we were, and he asked if we could call 911 with his address, and we did. I was so rattled by my own accident, that I didn't even ask if he was OK. I assume he was since he was out checking on us, but I wish I would have been more aware of him to ask a simple question.
It is unfortunately the case that most of the time we are preoccupied with our own crises and situations that we too easily can ignore those of other people, even if they are right in our face. Next time, I pray that I will stop, look, and see.

How Not to Speak of God

2008-03-03T09:05:00.004-05:00

Peter Rollins in his book, How Not to Speak of God, reminds us that it is just as important to avoid saying the wrong things about God as it is figuring out how to say the right ones. This is of course a huge challenge, and one that few, if any, of us have figured out.

Nonetheless, I couldn't help thinking about Rollins' book after dinner on Friday night. I was at a dinner for a Christian organization when a lady blurted out, "I don't know why God made poor people, maybe it was so we could know him better." In sum: God made people poor in order to reveal himself to rich Christians.

After I fainted and had to be taken to the emergency room, I regained enough composure to reflect on the event. This woman is a dedicated Christian who clearly does not mean what she said. The way she is living her life and her dedication to helping those in poverty repudiate her spoken theology that poor people exist for rich people. That being said, speaking in this way about God is problematic for countless reasons. But before I cast this woman out of the kingdom, I think we must also admit that we have all been in her shoes, speaking about God in ways that if we actually thought about it would repulse us at one time or another. I certainly know I have.

One of the many benefits of theological education is that it forces you, at least sometimes, to think about how we speak of God. We are reading and talking and singing and reflecting about God so much in such a concentrated experience that how we speak of God is always near the front of our minds. Although we still put our feet in our mouths (me more than most), the tendency is decreased because of our constant reflection on God.

It seems to me that one of the great thrusts of Christian education in our churches and in our communities should focus on providing our people a vocabulary with which to speak and think about God. Not only the words, but the grammar in order to speak with confidence and credibility in the world. A non-Christian at dinner Friday night would (and should) have been repulsed at hearing this discussion of God. For a God who creates poor people to suffer for the purpose of bringing rich people closer to this God is not a God worth worshiping.

We know that this is not the character of God, for the character of God is one who gives to all of us in our poverty and who promises to give to us the riches of the kingdom, which are not always material, just in case you are reading Creflo. How can we teach one another how to speak credibly of God? How have we learned to speak of God and what would help us? I know I need help in my God-talk. Do any of my three readers have any ideas?

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts

2008-03-02T09:02:00.006-05:00

Mama said there’d be days like this. There’d be days like this, mama said, mama said. But what Mama didn’t say was that there would be texts like this.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes it seems like there are always passages of Scripture that apply so much better to other people than they do to me. Like when I’m driving down Ponce de Leon and a rich person in their Mercedes or Hummer with a don’t worry about the car my treasure’s in heaven bumper sticker, it takes all I have to not ask if I can tell them a little story about a Rich Young Ruler. Or when another believer wears their Jesus on their sleeve, all I want to do is tell them a little something about praying in secret. And I could be wrong, but I imagine that there are some of you here today who can think of a passage or two of that you might like me to pay more careful attention to. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am.

The difficult part about this story that we know so well is that it is not pointed at other people. Quite the opposite actually – this is tale that is pointed straight at us, at you and at me. I stand before you as a proud member of this community of scholarship. We are students and teachers and support personnel who are dedicated to becoming a community of excellence. Among us are students and teachers who excel at connecting theology with life. Our community is littered with artists of all kinds – preachers and poets, hip-hop and high church, musicians and mimes. In short, we are smart. We are talented. Our faculty is among the best in the world. We are the best and the brightest. There is very little that we can’t do. Don’t believe us? Just ask us, we’ll tell you.

The problem, my dear friends, is that in our text this morning, gifts and graces, are not what is held up as important. It is neither talent nor ability, acumen or expertise that qualifies David to be king. It seems that people like us are exactly the ones Samuel was looking for when he was sent to find the new king. He was impressed with the size and good looks of Eliad. This one has the makings of someone who could lead us. Surely this is the one. Next! Six more brothers made the walk and six more brothers went by without being anointed as the new king; six more times the answer was the same. Next!

Exasperated and ready to be done with it, Samuel asked Jesse if there was another brother, somewhere else. There was, Jesse said, but he was with the sheep. They sent for the child, and waited for him. Well, you know the story. David, the unlikely one with beautiful eyes but more importantly the heart that God was looking for, is anointed as king. The ultimate outsider becomes the insider, a lesson for all of us in Christian leadership. It is what is inside, the heart, that matters. What distinguishes David from the previous king, Saul, is his willingness to obey God, hence obedience is essence of the divinely approved heart. It is through the least among us that the Gospel comes in power.

These are all nice conclusions, but I don’t think any of them lead us to the heart of the story, actually. These words are all fine and good, but they miss the primary word within the story. They don’t get just who is in charge.

That’s because the primary actor in this scene is not Samuel. His choice would have been Eliab, but that choice didn’t get made. The primary actor isn’t David, even though he is the one who has the heart that meets the divine standard. Really, David doesn’t do anything besides go where he is told and passively receive an anointing. The primary actor, the one who is in charge in this story and all the stories, from start to finish, is God. It is God who tells Samuel to go to Bethlehem. It is God who tells Samuel to go pick a king. It is God who tells Samuel to pick David as king. It is not David who snatches God’s spirit for himself, but it is God who bestows his Spirit on the little boy.

As we follow David’s story from this point on, it becomes clear that it is not David’s gifts or skill that are the cause of his success. The military skill of a small boy is certainly not equal to a giant Philistine warrior with a proven track record. The political cunning of the new king should not equal the expertise of an experienced king. The source of David’s success is none other than the living God. When God declares his covenant with David, God reminds us how David has risen to power and whose work it really has been – God took David from the pasture, God removed David’s enemies from his path and it will be God who will make his name great and who will establish an eternal kingdom through David. It is not David who has made the covenant, but is the covenant making God who has made David.
This is not just the story of David. This is how God works. God transformed Moses from a stammering idiot into a leader who threw off the yoke of the most powerful empire in the world. It wasn’t the word of the people that brought down that wall in Jericho, it was the word of God. Time would fail me to mention all accomplished by Jesus, God with us. And the Apostle Paul put it this way: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, coining the ultimate Christian motivational phrase.

It has been with much excitement and a little bit of obsession that I have been following the presidential nominating process. (My first two clicks in the morning are politico.com, and realclearpolitics.com.) One of our great messianic temptations as Americans is the picking of a president in which every four years we choose a new savior. But more than two hundred years of elections have taught us, that in terms of American salvation, the promises are always much grander than the broken government that follows. And while we all can and should get excited over our respective candidates, salvation is not coming to our towns wrapped in American flags and under political banners - whether they are accompanied by a Straight Talk Express, Thirty Five Years of Experience or Change We Can Believe In. That’s because despite the many talents of the politicians, and they are many, the problems and pitfalls are always much greater than gifts of our new leaders. Despite their abilities, human power and potential just aren’t quite enough.

The problems of David’s day were just as large. The disappointment of Saul’s kingship had resulted in a fractured Israel and a disloyal king who was taking on the one who was the source of his power. It is not an indictment of God that the God of Israel intervened. That God picked a leader was merely a divine recognition of the severity of the situation. Because only God would do. We see in David that left on his own that this boy king just as often got in his own way as he worked for good. If you have any doubt, read a little story about Uriah and his wife. The difficulties presented by a divided people and a disloyal king couldn’t be fixed by even the best personal skills and human abilities. It took a God willing to work with and through a chosen human to bring about an eternal kingdom and a household of God.

This old story with its ancient rituals has plenty to say to those of us called in a technological age. Despite all our gifts and all our talents, the prospect of doing ministry in God’s service is daunting, and I don’t know about you, but I think it has become even more so in the last three years. The problems that confront men and women of faith are just as difficult as those that stared at David in his first appointment. Conservative and liberals do battle over every possible issue, self-righteousness reigns, justice seems anywhere but immanent and idols of all stripes seem to be winning the fight.

As I reflect on the ministry that I have done over the years, I am simply amazed at the work God has done in spite of me. My career is filled with incoherent sermons, inadequate answers to tough questions, and patterns of pastoral care that would make Karen Scheib cringe. How I could be a leader in a church called to work for justice, to reconcile and make new, to make disciples of Jesus Christ and further the mission of God is beyond me. Actually in spite of our gifts, we can’t help but hear the voices. Your sin is too great; you’ll never be good enough. You don’t have enough faith yourself, how could you ever nurture anyone else’s? But those aren’t the voices of truth. No my friends, those words smell of smoke.

To borrow the words of John Newton: I am a great sinner, but oh Christ is a great savior. I don’t know what Bible you’ve been reading, but the one I read tells of a God who overcomes our inadequacies to make us co-workers and co-heirs in bringing forth the kingdom. It tells me about how God calls a young man from the womb and appoints him a prophet to the nations. About how God appoints prophets and truth-tellers, disguised as wives and mothers, tricksters and hookers, to do God’s bidding. Isaiah reveals a servant who has been commissioned to make universal justice the way of the whole wide world. We are the recipients of the grace which comes when God joins flesh in Jesus that makes all of our ministry possible. And through the power of the Spirit, disciples and deviants, miscreants and martyrs left us more than a Creed; but a living witness that whispers our names and calls us forward.

The Lord said to Samuel, ‘How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons.’ ²Samuel said, ‘How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me.’ And the Lord said, ‘Take a heifer with you, and say, “I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.” ³Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what you shall do; and you shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you.’ ⁴Samuel did what the Lord commanded, and came to Bethlehem. The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, ‘Do you come peaceably?’ ⁵He said, ‘Peaceably; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord; sanctify yourselves and come with me to the sacrifice.’ And he sanctified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice.

6 When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, ‘Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord.’^* ⁷But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’ ⁸Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, ‘Neither has the Lord chosen this one.’ ⁹Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, ‘Neither has the Lord chosen this one.’ ¹⁰Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, ‘The Lord has not chosen any of these.’ ¹¹Samuel said to Jesse, ‘Are all your sons here?’ And he said, ‘There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.’ And Samuel said to Jesse, ‘Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.’ ¹²He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, ‘Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.’ ¹³Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward. Samuel then set out and went to Ramah.

The Audacity of Hope

2008-02-18T20:27:00.004-05:00

On a cold New England Night, the impossible happened. Two people left for dead, one this summer and one last week, rose from their respective political graves. Over the summer the question facing John McCain wasn’t whether he could ride an early victory to the Republican nomination, but whether his campaign could manage enough cash to survive the summer. The one-time frontrunner had become an afterthought, crushed by a conservative wave of enthusiasm for a Northeastern governor, a 9/11-made mayor, a lawyer-turned-actor-turned Senator-turned actor-turned candidate again, and another boy from Hope.

Hillary Clinton’s problems were more recent in timing and focused in scope. National polls had favored Clinton by almost thirty points in the summer and pundits had begun planning her coronation to the Democratic nomination. But then Barack Obama happened, and after Obama won the Iowa Caucuses last week, polls in New Hampshire had Obama with a 10-point lead on Tuesday – the day of the primary. It was so bad for Clinton that the machine-like Hillary almost cried during a lunch at a New Hampshire diner. On Tuesday afternoon, pundits and prognosticators weren’t speculating about Bill’s role in a second Clinton administration, but whether Hillary’s campaign was finished less than two weeks into the nominating process.

But just a few hours later, the experts were singing a whole different tune. The Washington Post declared Hillary, “The Comeback Kid”, the same title her husband earned after rallying in New Hampshire 16 years earlier, after she defeated Obama by almost eight thousand votes.[1] At the same time Hillary was announcing she was back, McCain supporters were chanting that the Mac was back after he defeated Mitt Romney by more than thirteen thousand votes. A beaming McCain told his chanting throng, “We sure showed ‘em what a comeback looked like.”[2]

But as improbable as McCain and Clinton’s new status were to conceive, their new prominent political standings pale in comparison with the new things declared in the 42^nd chapter of Isaiah. This chapter is one of the controversial servant passages in Isaiah – in which Christians have tended to identify God’s servant as Jesus while others have insisted the servant is Cyrus, the Persian King, still others the people, and still others the most prominent cultural savior of the day. While the identity of the servant is a matter of great significance, even more important is what Isaiah announces the servant will accomplish.

The prophet’s good news is that God’s servant will not rest until the whole earth is covered with justice. The word justice is mentioned three times in the first four verses of this passage alone, when the servant’s purpose is put forth. Verse 1: God’s spirit has been put on the servant so he will bring justice to the nations. Verse3: The servant will faithfully bring forth justice in that he will not make his voice heard in the street or break a bruised reed or quench a dimly burning wick. Verse 4: The servant will not grow faint or be crushed until justice has been established in the earth. The message is striking: God’s servant will not rest until justice is the way of this whole wide world. And God will not execute justice in the traditional way – through violence and raw force. With neither sharp swords nor smart bombs will justice come forth. A candle on the cusp of being snuffed out will survive the servant’s work, and a bruised reed - a plant that can easily be broken - will also not be crushed by this servant. This servant cares for the weak and the vulnerable to the highest degree.

The word justice can and has sometimes served as a catch-all term used to justify whatever a person or a particular group wants. A person’s definition of justice often depends on their particular social and economic location. The definitions of justice we might hear in South Atlanta are probably a little different that those we would hear in Buckhead and different than those we might hear in Baghdad. Some Christian ethicists have tended to roughly define justice as a state where each person gets what they are due. But the definition Isaiah is using is not a catch-all term that anyone can manipulate and it goes far beyond the vague notion of justice as getting your due. Justice in this case is not getting what you deserve, but according to Walter Brueggeman, who used to teach Old Testament a few miles away in Decatur, God’s justice as revealed through the law of Moses and in the pronouncement of the God’s prophets is a complete reordering of society so that the most weak and the most vulnerable among us can live with dignity.[3]

We desperately crave this divine justice. And here’s the thing: Universal justice means this justice with dignity isn’t coming only to Jerusalem but stretches all the way to Jonesboro Road and everywhere in between. We will see this day of the Lord when men and women don’t have to degrade themselves by selling their bodies just to pay the rent. When children half my age aren’t being recruited to peddle poison and push drugs. When God’s children of all ages won’t ever again have to choose between broccoli and blood pressure medicine.

Isaiah won’t let us simply wait on this day of the Lord. God speaks through the prophet to tell the people that it is through Israel that God will bring forth this justice. It is through Israel, a people who have been conquered and are living in exile. There might not be a more powerless group of people on the planet! Justice will come through the agency of the people who follow and pledge allegiance to the one true God, Yahweh, the God of Isaac and Abraham and Jacob and Ruth and Naomi and Isaiah and Jeremiah. The vocation of those, both then and now, who pledge allegiance to the God revealed in the Scriptures, is to bring forth justice, to “open the eyes that are blind, to bring out prisoners from the dungeon.” Our vocation, the divine calling that each of us has received from the God of Israel, is as a body of believers, to bring forth justice, to release our brothers and sisters from captivity and blindness in whatever forms they exist.

Not too long ago my friend Ben and I were having one of those discussions you have when you’re in graduate school and have too much time on your hands. One afternoon we were despairing at all the problems we saw, particularly in our classmates. One after another with problems too many to count and seemingly too big to solve, wonderful people devoured by their personal and societal demons. He looked at me, his eyes full of severity and passion, and said it – “There’s just not enough band-aids to go around.” As much as we both might have wanted to, we were powerless to spring these people from their debilitating captivity. Or so we thought.

Ben and I were operating with the framework of former things in mind, but in this text God speaks through Isaiah of wondrous new things. The new thing that God is declaring to the prophet beforehand is that this universal dignity will be come to pass. The servant, whose purpose is to bring forth universal justice, will succeed. Justice and dignity will ring from Mesopotamia to Metropolitan Avenue. The people, whose vocation is to open the eyes that are blind and bring out prisoners of dungeons, will succeed. The dignity that will be brought into being through the people who declare their allegiance to the one God of Israel is guaranteed to succeed. Talk about the audacity of hope.

Its success is not dependent on the financial or political capabilities of the people. Its success does not rest on the abilities of people to organize grassroots and community support. Its success is ultimately not dependent on the people’s gifts and resources. The people’s work for justice will succeed not because of the people’ strength but because of the strength of God. God - the Lord who created the heavens, the Lord who spread out the earth, the Lord who gives breath to the people, has guaranteed this success. God has called the people in righteousness with the express purpose of giving sight to the blind and liberating the prisoners. God would not use us to accomplish a task that cannot be accomplished. And if God can create the earth from chaos and sustain our lives at every second of every minute of every day, then we know, that even when this task looks impossible, God can accomplish it.

One of the most hopeless situations imaginable must have been Africans living under apartheid in South Africa. For years the white majority had violated, tortured and subjected the Africans to all kinds of oppression and relief appeared nowhere in sight. Desmond Tutu knew and had experienced many of the horrors. He had been thrown in jail for trying to end this horrible system.

Jim Wallis, who many of you know as the editor-in-chief of Sojourners magazine, tells the story of hearing Tutu preach in Cape Town one night during the movement. As Tutu stepped up to the preach, you couldn’t help but notice that hundreds of police had surrounded the church and even more surrounded the back walls of the church, prepared to take notes and record Tutu’s sermon. Tutu pointed his finger at the police trying to intimidate him and the crowd, and then told the truth. “You are powerful. You are very powerful, but you are not gods and I serve a God that cannot be mocked. So since, you’ve already lost, I invite you today to come and join the winning side.”[4]

The power of injustice is pretty small really when compared to the power of God. The injustice that is all around us is no different than the injustice the prophet Isaiah saw all around him. In chapter 41, immediately preceding our text, God speaks through the prophet and challenges all the people about the Gods they are serving. The kings, the alliances, the riches and the hosts of other Gods that the people are putting their trust in. The final verse of chapter 41 puts it this way: “No, they are all a delusion; their works are nothing, their images are an empty wind.”

The idols that bring forth injustice today are making the same claims for ultimacy that those idols did. Selfishness and violence and insecurity that give us the drugs and the despair, the homelessness and the helplessness are no less powerful than the perceived power of those policemen staring down Tutu. But while they too are full of power, they also aren’t gods. And we serve a God that won’t be mocked and a God who won’t rest until every idol is defeated and who won’t quit until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

[1] Balz, Dan. “With Echoes of Clinton ’92, Another Comeback Kid”, The Washington Post. Jan. 9, 2008, A8.

[2] McCain, John. “Remarks by John McCain on New Hampshire Primary Victory”, Jan. 8, 2008. http://www.johnmccain.com.

[3] Brueggeman, Walter. Isaiah 40-66: Westminster Bible Companion. 42.

[4] Wallis, Jim. God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets it Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get it.

Isaiah 42:1-9

Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him;
he will bring forth justice to the nations. ²
He will not cry or lift up his voice,
or make it heard in the street; ³a bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
he will faithfully bring forth justice. ⁴
He will not grow faint or be crushed
until he has established justice in the earth;
and the coastlands wait for his teaching. ⁵Thus says God, the Lord,
who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
who gives breath to the people upon it
and spirit to those who walk in it: ⁶
I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
I have given you as a covenant to the people,^*
a light to the nations, ⁷ to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness. ⁸
I am the Lord, that is my name;
my glory I give to no other,
nor my praise to idols. ⁹
See, the former things have come to pass,
and new things I now declare; before they spring forth,
I tell you of them.

"Fools Be Gone - Matt. 25:1-13"

2008-02-03T08:54:00.001-05:00

I don’t often preach on the bus, if by preaching you mean talking about Jesus or the Bible. Rant maybe, but preach – nah, that’s just not how I roll. But a while back, I actually found myself trying to explain the Parable of the Ten Maidens on the bus. In my attempt to save a little money during the school year, I park my car at the mall and ride the bus to school. As I was making small talk on the bus one morning, I found myself explaining to a doctoral student in anthropology that this parable was tormenting me. (Why a tale about ten maidens is tormenting to a single man is another story for another time.)

Well about two hours later we ended up on the same bus again - I in the front and her in the back. As we were waiting for the bus to leave, she shouted: “So what’s this parable all about anyway?” In front of a cadre of Emory students, I then explained my take on the parable, with its five wise maidens and five foolish ones, the lamps, the sleep, the groom and all of it - my exegetical and homiletical brilliance on display for the whole bus to see. My new friend was, well, unimpressed. “Don’t you think the parable should be more actual? I mean, five wise and five foolish - it should probably be more like nine foolish and one wise.” The parable itself was foolish, she said. I felt her pain.

If John Dominic Crossan is right and parable does subvert the world, this little tale in the Gospel of Matthew is certainly a parable. Those of you who know me can say without a doubt that it’s a rarity when I think of myself as foolish. I actually like to think of myself as quite wise. But after wrestling with this text, flip-flopping more times than I can remember about how to preach it, I felt foolish. The anthropologist said the parable was foolish. The preacher felt foolish. Foolishness was all around. In that case, maybe this parable simply confirmed the world.

That’s because foolishness appears, at least to me, to be all around. A sex-obsessed society has left deep scars in its wake: fatherless children, marriages destroyed, the devastation of HIV, waves of women and men with needs and desires unfulfilled and unmet. It’s not just sex, though. An ever increasing percentage of American children are overweight and out of shape. Stories and faces of anorexia, bulimia and devastating eating disorders haunt us. We can too easily name friends and families ravaged by the terrors of alcohol and drug abuse.

We live in a world wrecked by war and on a planet victimized by violence. We know a world where deep inequalities rooted in selfishness leave very few with far too much and way too many with far too little. We might like to keep foolishness out in the world and wisdom in the church, but unfortunately we know all too well that there’s plenty of folly inside our sanctuaries too. Newspaper scoops and television gotchas have exposed that power plays of folly abound in our churches, whether it be the high-profile abuse scandals or government sponsored inquiries into the finances of prosperity-peddling preachers.

About a year ago I heard James Forbes preach in Atlanta. Forbes, the pastor of the Riverside Church in New York, finished his sermon with a rap, proclaiming that there was, “No time for foolishness.” It’s no surprise since the tragic stories I mentioned earlier scream not for foolishness, but wisdom. We want and desperately need to banish all this foolishness from our lives, our communities and our churches, and for good reason. We need to forsake our folly for the good path, but we can’t do it. Preachers try to shame individuals and congregations to leave their foolishness behind. It’s still here. Christians of both political stripes engage in lobbying to end foolishness through legislative fiat. It’s still here. And don’t think that if one of those preachers being investigated by Congress is found in the wrong, somebody won’t get fired – we’ve tried to get rid of foolishness by getting rid of people for years. It’s hopeless – its still here and we can’t get rid of it.

When we hear Christian talk of foolishness and wisdom, Paul looms large, and wisdom can sometimes get a bad wrap. God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, Paul writes. But Matthew is a different story. Matthew is drawing on the Wisdom tradition of the Old Testament, like Psalms and Proverbs - staples of the faith. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, Proverbs tells us. Wisdom is not what prevents us from experiencing God, Matthew might say, but wisdom is what points us towards God; to understanding justice, righteousness, and the good path.

A cursory reading of Matthew’s Tale of Ten Maidens doesn’t appear to give us much hope, or wisdom either. There’s no way around it - Jesus is telling us a parable about eschatological judgment, a statement about who will be in, who will be out, and the difference between the two. From chapter 21 when Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey to shouts of Hosanna in the Highest to chapter 26 when the wheels of the crucifixion are set in motion, Jesus is preparing his disciples for life after he is gone. By the time we get to our parable, the emphasis of his teaching is clear – Jesus wants us to know how to live and how to be prepared for the coming of the Kingdom.

Our parable is a warning: be prepared for the long haul. In the parable, only the wise and their lamps are allowed into the wedding banquet, the foolish are left alone in the dark. The bridegroom, who we are to take as Jesus, gets rid of foolishness by getting rid of the foolish. The foolish arrive late to the party, and are told, “I never knew you.” Many commentators have speculated that Matthew wants his reader to interpret the lamps as faithful discipleship, and that those who lived faithfully throughout their lives could be welcomed into the Kingdom.[1] Johnny-come-lately Christians trying to cheat the system need not apply. “I never knew you,” the bridegroom says. Those of us who look in the mirror and see more fool than wise aren’t left with much hope by this reading.

However, despite the parable’s context and original intent, I don’t think this is the only word that God has in it. For if this parable is to be Gospel - if it is to be good news - then it can’t only be a word of judgment and blood-curdling fear. And Jesus’ vision of the Kingdom of Heaven is not a tale of despair but one of shocking good news. What if the five foolish and the five wise don’t represent separate individuals, but different parts of our lives; equal parts wise and equal parts foolish? What if Jesus is telling us that the eschatological feast is not one in which some deemed wise will make it while some deemed foolish will be left outside? What if the good news of this parable is that the darkness, the foolishness that prevents us from sharing God’s marvelous light with the world, is what is left behind in this eschatological vision of the kingdom? That at God’s banquet, only the best of us, only the wisdom that leads to righteousness will be present; our folly will be out of sight, out of mind?

This might reek of a liberal trying to avoid judgment, but I don’t think it is. This reading of the parable leads us to one of the core elements of the Christian life –sanctification. The foolish maidens aren’t allowed into the wedding banquet because foolishness itself isn’t allowed in. Only wisdom that leads to righteousness is. The good news of this parable is the good news of the Christian life – that God is never done with us, that God is continually pruning the foolish away and replacing what is gone with Godly wisdom so it is possible for us to enter the banquet. It is in this process of sanctification that God is actively refining us so that we look less like sinful human beings and more like Jesus.

Fortunately, God is not passively watching to see if this happens and judging us if we don’t make it, but is working with us, molding us and shaping us to reflect divine wisdom instead of sinful folly. The point of the Christian life is the sanctification that leads to holiness and a life modeled after the God we know to be revealed in Jesus Christ. And it is Gospel that God provides the sanctifying grace to help make it happen.

We know, deep down, that this is true. We can each look back at some of the foolishness in our lives that has been replaced by divine wisdom as God has worked within us. Some of the sins that once owned us – and we could all recite a laundry list of them – no longer define us. We can look back at the people we were when we first knew Christ and see where foolishness has left the building, and divine wisdom has moved in.

Hillary is a friend of mine, who throughout the course of her life, has been riddled by doubt. For much of her life, Hillary confronted her demons by drinking alcohol, lots and lots of alcohol. A friend recalls a day-long drive to a meeting when they had to stop three times on the trip, not for lunch or gas, but so Hillary could buy more beer, which she would then put away in the car. Well, not surprisingly, all this came crashing down on her, and after an alcohol-induced altercation at work, Hillary had to leave her job.

This isn’t the end of the story, however. Forced to enter rehab, Hillary examined her life and vowed to leave the alcohol behind. Sober for five years, she attends weekly Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and preaches a message of hope for those wanting to live a life without as she calls it, “the booze”. At a dinner over the summer, Hillary announced that her alcohol-induced public disgrace was the best thing that ever happened to her. Her foolishness behind her, she no longer is trying to numb the pain but is celebrating the new life God has given her.

We also know that Hillary’s story isn’t the only side of the coin. We look around our world and see that foolishness still abounds. We realize that sometimes my friend on the bus was right, that it seems like there are nine foolish maidens and one wise one in ourselves, in our churches and in our world.

But we know that God is at work, and that God’s word is not one of unbearable fear but of unlimited hope. That’s because the end point of sanctification is not a time when some of our foolishness is gone, while some remains. John’s Revelation claims that we are waiting on a new heaven and a new earth, where sin will be vanquished and the divine wisdom of righteousness will reign. Those victimized by the societal foolishness of war and inequality now have hope that the way it is now is not the way it always shall be. There will be a new heaven and a new earth; this sin-stained creation, with its pain and its tears, its mourning and its crying, is not the last word.

The good news of this parable is nothing less than what Miroslav Volf calls the central Christian hope – that there will be a final and irrevocable reconciliation in which all will be made right.[2] The foolishness that shackles our souls will be gone, replaced by wisdom that will free us to announce and proclaim the glorious light of God’s goodness and new creation. For those mixed up with equal parts wise and equal parts fool, this is very good news indeed.

[1] Donahue, John. The Gospel in Parable, 103-04

[2] Volf, Miroslav. Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness and Reconciliation, 110.

I'm Talking About Practice

2007-12-30T13:22:00.002-05:00

I don't like Pete Carroll, or at least I didn't use to. Maybe it was that his teams dominated like few college teams have over a three year period. Maybe it was ESPN's hype machine talking too much about USC or maybe it was all those Heisman Trophies the Trojans won. Maybe it was the way Carroll struts and stomps on the sidelines during games, or maybe it was jealousy at the way they owned college football supremacy, snatching it away from programs in my beloved Southeast Conference. For whatever reason, something about the guy just rubbed me the wrong way.

But as I was making my way through the Internet this morning before church, I stumbled across a wonderful profile of USC's coach in the L.A. Times. The opening story of Carroll visiting men and women in some of the roughest neighborhoods and listening grabs your attention, but there was another piece of the story that stuck with me this morning in church.

Carroll has to pass through the USC music building on his way from his office to the practice field, and the sound of wannabe musicians pounding out notes day after day serves as an echo of one of Carroll's central themes.

“One thing I’ve learned, which I was taught a long time ago but didn’t grasp at the time, is the power of practice,” Carroll says. “The discipline that comes from practice, that allows you to transcend the early stages of learning and take you to a point where you’re free floating and totally improvising. Through the discipline, the repetition, you become free.”

I spent four years as a sports reporter, so the idea of a football coach stressing the importance of practice doesn't register as breaking news. However, reading Carroll talk about the routine of practice and the way that discipline can free us piqued my interest.

One of the hardest parts of my time in seminary has been finding ways to practice my faith in the midst of studying. I know practices are all the rage in theological education (thank you Diana Bass and Craig Dykstra), but Carroll's point led me to think about the ideas in a slightly different way.

I attend a school of theology that views itself as progressive, constantly defining itself against conservative or evangelical ways of doing things. Professors have talked about defining spirituality and faith as not as structured or defined as their more conservative brethren often do. For example, prayer is not sitting down and reading the Bible and then talking and listening to God, but prayer can be many different things. Life is prayer.

All this is well and good, but I wonder if we have to get to a certain point for this to take root. Maybe we need a discipline, a practice, that can then free us as we progress in our faith. I have found that as legalistic as it might sound, spending time reading and praying, a "devotional time", is important and can help me nourish the spiritual life that others might find in more broader terms. The discipline, the process of going over something, of doing it again and again, is worthwhile. As Carroll claims, we can only be free, maybe we can only go deeper as we cultivate the routine.

I can't remember the sheer number of times that I have heard coaches proclaim, "you play how you practice." Allen Iverson's protests to the contrary, practice matters. If we practice, if we spend our time cultivating a way of doing something, then we can improvise and maybe move beyond that to something deeper or " better".

I'm hoping to practice. I'm hoping to find a way to practice what I believe, to be trained and formed into patterns that will help me become the person that God has called me to be. Sounds like a good New Year's resolution to me.

A Samaritan Theology

2007-12-06T16:27:00.001-05:00

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ He said to him, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ He answered, ‘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 neighbour as yourself.’ And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbour?’ ³⁰Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. ³¹Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. ³²So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. ³³But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. ³⁴He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. ³⁵The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.” ³⁶Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ ³⁷He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’

The Good Samaritan. In “Along the Road”, the sociologist Robert Wuthnow chronicles that, in fact, this classic story of Christian faith matters, and matters greatly. Wuthnow undertook the task of trying to figure what difference the Parable of the Good Samaritan has on American society. He interviewed scores of Christians and non-Christians alike, asking them to retell the story and about what significance it had on their lives. Wuthnow found that those who knew the story, and had heard it in the context of regular church attendance and particularly by experiencing the story either as the Samaritan who helped or as the wounded man who needed help, were much more likely to sign up to help other people. The great moral tale, the Good Samaritan, is helpful. It formed people to go and do likewise. The people had gotten it, we were looking at a real live Biblical success story. There’s only one problem. This parable, this well-known tale of helping and do-gooding, is not a parable primarily concerned about ethics, about doing good. It’s a parable of theology – it is, a word about God.

We all know the story. A man was on his way to Jericho and got mugged. The robbers stole his money. They took his clothes. And so he couldn’t get away, they beat him. They might have kicked him. If they had a weapon they probably used it on him too, maybe cutting and slashing him to a bloody pulp. The attack was so thorough, so complete, that they left him for dead, not even bothering to hide the body or get him off the road. When people across the street saw him, he looked half-dead.

Two religious officials, one a priest and another a Levite, maybe on their way to the temple, passed the man on the other side of the street. The Bible says that they saw him, yet they passed on by. They could have thought he was dead. They could have kept walking because they didn’t want to be ritually defiled by a dead body. We don’t know. All we know is that they kept on keeping on and they too, left him for dead. Then, a third man appears, a Samaritan. He sees the man, has mercy on him, bandaging, rubbing oil and wine on his wounds, and securing lodging for the man. He was the neighbor. Go, and do likewise. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.

You see, the Samaritan isn’t just any neighbor. He’s not Uncle Joe or even the nice little man who lives down the street. The Samaritan is Hillary Clinton to the wounded man’s James Dobson. The Samaritans and the Jews had been fighting since about the eighth Century B.C.E. It shouldn’t surprise us that the Samartian woman Jesus met was shocked when he asked her for water. The hatred between Jews and Samaritans was so bad, that according to Josephus, during one particular Passover some Samaritans scattered bones of a dead human in the temple, not only defiling the temple but also preventing the celebration of the feast. Georgia Tech students stealing UGA have nothing on these guys.

The fact that the Samaritan is a sworn enemy makes things a little different. Whereas modern do-gooder interpretations tend to focus on the parable as a moral exemplar for helping the needy in society, Patristic interpreters of the early church had a different take. The parable was not about an ethical imperative – to help the needy in the world – but it was an allegory of God’s plan of salvation and an entry path for persons into the church. Whereas moderns tend to understand themselves as passing by the man on the road – in a position of power – Patristic interpreters looked at the parable and saw themselves on the ground, beaten and left for dead, waiting for someone to help.

Jesus’ tale is Gospel, it is powerfully good news. It is good news for the lawyer – he gains insight into the law of love. It is good news for the Samaritan – he is a hero. It is good news for the wounded man – he gets taken care of. And it is ultimately good news for its hearers, who whether we know it or not, are ourselves beaten and broken, callous and cut up along the road. That’s because Jesus isn’t offering a tale about what to do in this passage. In this well known parable he is revealing just who God is. The parable of the Good Samaritan is ultimately a revelation of the character of God.

But before we can talk about God, we need to talk about us. It’s not as much in vogue to talk about it much these days, but from the Apostle Paul way back when to Reinhold Niebuhr only a little back when, Christian theologians have affirmed that humans are sinful. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, Paul writes. Wesley said that the goal of the Christian life was to recover the image of God that was lost through sin. Whatever the words say, we know that most of the time we are working against the will and plan of God. God desires reconciliation and we foster division. God desires sharing – take the cloak off your back and give them your tunic too – but from the day we leave the womb we are constantly clamoring for ourselves. Wasting water in a drought, cashing a big check while another can’t eat, or hiding my Halloween candy so my little brother can’t have some. We know just who and what we are.

The Samaritan in the parable didn’t leave his enemy bleeding on the ground. And neither does God. For even though we are often God’s enemy, fomenting rebellion and living against God’s desire for the world, God still sees us. God still sees us and has compassion. God, like the Samaritan in the parable, saw our needs. God sees that, like the man in the story, we are hurting. God sees that the sin and evil have ransacked us along the road, beating us beyond repair and leaving us for dead. But our sin and our sad, sad, state does not prevent God from seeing that we need help, and then crossing the road to heal us. The Apostle Paul spends the first half of Romans slaying us, slicing and dicing us by detailing all the ways that we sin and rebel against God. But at its height, the text sings as Paul declares, “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

The turning point of the parable comes when the Samaritan sees the man, and “has compassion” on him. The Greek word that is translated as having compassion is used twelve times in the New Testament, all in the Gospels. Nine times it refers to God’s compassion as revealed in the Incarnate One, Jesus. The Samaritan isn’t a unique man willing to transcend religious politics or an extraordinary guy walking down the road one day. The compassion that he shows isn’t an attribute to be imitated. Instead, his compassion reveals that the Samaritan is nothing more or nothing less than a description of the Christ, Emmanuel, God with us. We see in the compassion extended to the man lying in the road the compassion God extends to each and every one of us. The Good Samaritan is a reflection of the love of God.

Over Thanksgiving I listed to a sermon. The focus: What must I do to be saved? My uncle, an avowed agnostic and the song leader in the local Church of Christ, is mad at God. His eyes getting wider and his hair flying every which way as he leaned forward, he couldn’t understand why God did it. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for God to put me here and see if I could live up to all this. Give all your money to the poor. I’m selfish. I can’t do it, but that’s what the Bible says. Leave your mother and your father. I would never do that. I can’t do that, but that’s what the Bible says. If it was up to me, I would never have been born. The point of the whole thing is to get to heaven, and I know I’m not making it. It’s going to be hot where I’m going. What kind of God is that, who creates you and knows you are going to fail, knows you are going to be damned? I didn’t ask for that.”

His misreading of this parable and the New Testament is a tragic one. He is haunted by his own texts of terror, the ones that keep him up at night and the ones which prevent him from loving God instead of fearing God. What he doesn’t get is what the lawyer in our tale didn’t get. The lawyer asked Jesus the question about his neighbor wanting to justify himself. My uncle thinks that he has to justify himself too. But the message of the New Testament is that we don’t justify ourselves; God does that, and already has.

Terrifying thoughts like the ones that tormented my uncle helped Luther to the claim that this parable speaks to. How can I be righteous before a holy and righteous God. Impossible. But what is impossible with man is possible for God. We are justified, made righteous, not by works of our merit, but by faith apart from the works of the law. Sola Fide: Faith alone. The wounded man didn’t pick himself up by his bootstraps, dust himself off, anoint himself with oil and wine and make his way to an inn. The Samaritan did, risking himself for the sake of that wounded traveler. We don’t reconcile ourselves and don’t heal ourselves from the sin and evil that has ravaged us. God does that.

The story of the Good Samaritan is about a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, but the hope in the story is in the one who is on his way to Jerusalem, and who will die there. The fundamental claim of the Christian faith is that God is made flesh in Jesus, who is crucified and resurrected for our sake. God crosses the road, for us. The great mystery of faith. Thanks be to God.

Wuthnow, Robert. “On the Road”, Acts of Compassion: Caring for Others and Helping Ourselves, 157-87

Donahue, John. The Gospel in Parable, 130

Hultgren, Arland. The Parables of Jesus, 98-99

Overhearing Catechesis

2007-11-26T17:51:00.000-05:00

I was sitting in church yesterday, waiting for the processional to begin, when it started. The father, who I believe to be a seminary professor of some kind, asked his daughter whether she knew what was significant about this Sunday. She didn't know the answer, and he responded, that it was the last Sunday of the Christian Year. Christ the King Sunday ended the year, and a new year would begin the following Sunday with Advent. Then a crazy thing happened. The daughter, who couldn't have been older than 10, recited to her father, in order, the liturgical seasons of the Christian calendar. I don't think I could do that. In fact, I know I couldn't.

But it didn't end there, either. She asked her father about the differing Christian traditions in the Gospels, specifically about the differences between Mark and Luke's account of the birth. They then went on to discuss the origins of humanity, and how the mythical story really dated back to the Tower of Babel and Adam and Eve. No one really believes all humanity descended from Adam and Eve, he said, and only people who can't think critically do.

Another seminary professor demonstrated her practice of catechesis when after communion, her son wanted to dip his hand in the water in the Baptismal font. She let him do it, of course, but she wouldn't let him rub the water over his hair. No, she took his head and formed the sign of the cross. The child probably won't know what it means now, but down the road I imagine all this formation will help him know what he is doing, whether he buys into it or not.

I don't think it was their doctorate's worth of knowledge that led to this intentionality, but simply a belief that these moments of formation matter. The small actions, the ritual and the education, are powerful. The little moments of the tradition are very significant, and over time, can form us and our children into the way of Jesus.

Existentials Over Eggs

2007-09-29T12:45:00.001-04:00

I've landed in the middle of existential crises - not my own, thankfully. Over the course of the past week, I've been engaged in conversations with my roommate and one of my best friends here at Candler about the import of faith in some pretty big decisions in their lives.

It started with a drug-induced (prescribed of course) blast about radical discipleship and comfortable living and came to a crescendo this morning. I discussed one of Wesley's famous questions - "How can I be assured?" over scrambled eggs and overpriced bacon with one friend and returned home to hear the other, taking a respite from devouring Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution, announcing that he was going to write a book, The Gospel in the Suburbs. The book, of course, has already been written, but I hope he writes it or at least thinks more about it.

I couldn't help but walk back to my room with a smile on my face as I began to procrastinate from writing my CPE application. Not because I was enjoying their plight, but because I thought that these are the questions we should have been asking the last two years. Not the questions about whether a theologian had credibility if they used masculine language for God or whether you could be a republican and a Christian at the same time.

But the real ones, the ones about, "How can I know that God is God and not my own imagination" and "If I believe that God is, how do I live into that? How do I live into that in the inner city? How do I live into that in the ivory tower of the academy? How do I live into it in the suburbs? How do I live into it in the ordination process? How do I live into that in my relationships? How do I live into it in my life?

I came to seminary in part hoping to find a community that would allow me to ask these types of questions with like-passioned people all struggling with what it means to be the body of Christ, redeemed by his blood. I have been having these conversations more and more of late, about how to follow Jesus and not ourselves.

I will be really disappointed if I don't have more of them. This week has contained some of the deepest theological reflection of my life here in Atlanta. Existential crisis...a mark of the church? Maybe not, but not far away I think.

The Cost of the Kingdom

2007-09-12T14:23:00.000-04:00

Sept. 9, 2007. Luke 14:25-33.

Like many children, I grew up in awe of my father. At no time or place was this more apparent than at the grocery store. It was not his deft decisions in selecting flavorful the freshest fruits or the greenest vegetables. That’s because anyone who knows my mother knows that any choices that involved more than a carton of milk or box of cheerios were hers and hers alone. But what enamored me most when we went Krogering for cheerios and milk was Rex’s ability to answer questions. You see, my father, was born and raised in Sevierville, where he has lived almost his entire life. People knew him as a child and watched him grow before there very eyes. So when the local boy grew up to possess a powerful judicial mind, his friends and neighbors couldn’t resist the desire to ask him their most pressing legal questions. “Judge, let me just ask you about this, it’ll only take a second…” And so it would begin, and twenty minutes later it would end. There was no legal question that my dad couldn’t answer. He discussed DUIs and domestic disturbances with diplomatic aplomb and tackled tort challenges with a smile on his face. It was amazing.

About 15 years later I found myself really wishing I had my dad’s ability to answer the questions. I was in Washington D.C., visiting Alan, an old friend, when he posed a question. Wanna-be theologians are often as easy targets for this type of thing as sitting judges. But before getting to the question, let me tell you about my friend Alan. Alan is a rising star in the legal profession. Fresh out of the University of Virginia law school, he spent the last year clerking for a federal judge and will spend the next as a lawyer in an international tribunal. His intellectual talents have yielded him financial reward – he can easily afford his $2100 a month apartment, because for the first time in his life the son of two educators has disposal income instead of institutional debt.

As we sat on the couch reminiscing about the longago days of our youth, Alan posed the question. “If I really believed what I say I believe,” he began, “why shouldn’t I sell all I have?” Now there’s a question that will flip the room upside-down. The beauty of an earnest heart asking questions driven by his faith was there, but that sentiment didn’t answer the question, and he was looking to me to solve his quandary. “These are the times that try men’s souls”, Thomas Paine wrote. Pastoral responsibility was staring me straight in the face – and I wanted to crawl under the couch.

The Gospel text this morning, in which Jesus lays out the conditions for discipleship is one of those that makes you understand where Mark Twain was coming from - “It’s not what I don’t understand about the Bible that bothers me. It’s what I do understand.” Jesus doesn’t mince words. Plain talk is best understood and Jesus lays it, and us, out. To become my disciple you must hate your family. To become my disciple you must, hate life itself. To become my disciple you must sell all your possessions. Take up your cross, and follow me to Jerusalem. Hate your family. Hate your life. Sell everything. Follow me to suffering and death. A model for church growth this is not.

Christians have been avoiding the radical demands of this text for years. Those of us who want to talk about social implications of the Gospel like to play Jesus, hammering the crowds! How can you be a Christian and drive a BMW? People are starving. The command is to sell all you have, not sell out! A second option is even easier. They say, “I mean, you can’t take that text literally. The shelters would be even more overcrowded. Welfare would be out of control. Families would fall apart. And the last time I checked, the Ten Commandments said honor your mother and father, not hate them.

But the problem is that we can neither play Jesus nor ignore the passage’s stark literal demands. We can’t avoid one simple fact: We aren’t Jesus; we are the crowds. This is a text about who Jesus is, who we are, and how we fail to connect the two. The crowds, like us, are attracted to Jesus. There’s just something about him – the way he teaches them, the way he welcomes them, the way he speaks things to their hearts in a way they have never experienced before. But Jesus declares that he isn’t looking for a following; he’s demanding followers.

He doesn’t want people to serenade him in the sunshine only to disappear after dark. This call to discipleship accommodates no middle-ground, no sitting on the fence, standing on the sideline, flip-flopping, cut-and-run or any other cliché you can come up with. The cost of discipleship is not cheap, but Jesus is looking for disciples who will pay it. To spell it out: the cost of discipleship is an all-or-nothing commitment that relativizes every other aspect of our lives. Family obligations, economic stability, employment security and a host of other comforts and commitments no longer dominate. This is why Jesus warns his following to count the cost. He wants them to know that to follow him means to embrace a life of suffering that the culture screams: Run while you can! But its not enough to know the cost, but to understand what following Jesus requires, and then to join him on the road to Jerusalem. Don’t stop to bury the dead. Carry Your Cross. Don’t stop to kiss your family goodbye. Carry Your Cross. No one with one eye on their life, their work and their family and only one eye on Jesus is fit for the Kingdom. Only those who devote their whole lives to Jesus and follow him to the Cross.

The parable of the Great Banquet immediately preceded this call to discipleship in Luke’s Gospel. In the parable, a man who we are to infer is Jesus, invites people to a great feast. The first ones invited refuse to come. One has to tend to property. Another to his animals. Another to his family. The man responds by inviting the poor, the lame and anyone else who will come, but those who denied the request, Jesus tells them and us, will never taste his dinner.”[1] Connecting these two passages helps us get the fullness of this stark demand that Jesus lays out. Jesus is asking the crowds one of those “Who do you say that I am?” questions that he loves so much. If the answer is that he is the Son of the Living God, then they will sell all and follow him. In other words, there is no reason to devote yourself to Jesus and the expense of everything else if you aren’t convinced that he is literally God with us. But if we believe that he is, then we are to devote our lives to following him. Only in losing ourselves and in giving our lives can we gain a life, he says. You can’t taste the feast without taking up the cross.

The problem with being a people of the Book, is that the words it contains are not mere speculation, but words that force us to examine our lives and the lives of those around us. To call one’s self a Christian, or a follower of this Jesus, means to examine our lives in light of this stark call to discipleship. If you will permit me, I think this text particularly has something to say to Kern Church right now. The Gospel always examines us, but counting the cost seems to be the only appropriate action for a church asking and struggling with what it means to be a “Kingdom Church”. From what Jim tells me, this dangerously titled Bible Study will be one that examines what it means to a community of people that follows Jesus by focusing not on what you want, or what the advertisers, sociologists or church growth strategists tells you to want, but on what the Gospel requires of you. If you will permit me, first let me commend you. These are the questions the Gospel demands to ask, and too few people actually raise them. So, give yourself a hand for asking the hard question.
But since you let me commend you, let me also warn you. Know what you are getting into by taking on “Kingdom Church”. The Bible tell us that pointing towards a Kingdom-driven church does not mean affirming our own ideas about how the world should look, but in imagining what John Donahue calls, “a world that points beyond itself and back to God.”[2] And as Jesus so forcefully warned us, this is painful. And if you are faithful to this calling, earnestly wrestling with, thinking about and enacting what it means to be point not to yourselves or even your own church community, but beyond the world and to God, this will hurt, and hurt a lot. Becoming a Kingdom Church might mean stretching your own theological imagination to praise God by practicing your faith in ways that you aren’t comfortable with. Becoming a Kingdom Church might require you to open your facilities to people you don’t like. They might be the Scouts. But they also might be people you wouldn’t want your boys or girls near. Becoming a Kingdom Church might mean letting go of pride in your tradition and history and anticipating a bold future in following Jesus.
Becoming a Kingdom Church might mean a lot of different things. But the Gospels tell us that if you want to know what a Kingdom Church looks like, look to one – the Holy One in fact, Jesus the Christ. But be warned, his answer is not the easy one. He will call you down the path of discipleship - the one that will take you places you don’t want to go, but ultimately will lead you to life truly lived and a feast that will not cease. [3] See friends the truth that we want to believe but have such a hard time with is that true life comes from giving ourselves to God and each other. It’s not in hoarding our money or protecting ourselves from change or clinging to our families or friends when God calls us somewhere else. The path of discipleship is an invitation to the eternal banquet and life with God, and Jesus tell us we can’t reach the end without walking the path.

You may have forgotten by now, but I suspect you have a lingering question…Daniel, you never told us how you answered Alan’s question. Well, first I stumbled around for a few minutes, tripping over my tongue – as anybody who participated in my Sunday School class here saw on a frequent occasion. But after this, I tried again. I said Alan, the financial question is there, but the truth of the matter is that Jesus doesn’t demand your money, he demands your life. Any thing, any possession that prevents us from following him, has to go.” We looked at each other, bewildered at what we both suspected. “Of course, the hard part isn’t in the knowing, but in the doing.” So my prayer this morning is that God will give me and Alan and Jim and all you fine people in this place the strength to count the cost and the courage to live into and towards God’s kingdom by following Jesus down the hard road of discipleship that leads to the elaborate feast that has no end. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. AMEN.

[1] Luke 14:15-24

[2] Donahue, John. The Gospel in Parable, 11.

[3] Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. The Cost of Discipleship.

In Pictures

2007-08-26T20:19:00.001-04:00

As promised, although somewhat belated, are some pictures from my trek through the fair Commonwealth, as well as those from my best friend's wedding (cute I know), in Birmingham, Alabama. Talk about three stacks of high society. :)

The National Cathedral

A Mosaic from the National Cathedral

Sister Cassell and Yours Truly at Mill Mountain

A Cross from the 9/11 Rubble of the Pentagon

Anyone need a bath?

Abe says Hi

Lookin' Good...

CROSSING THE COMMONWEALTH

2007-08-15T18:02:00.000-04:00

So, I know my four readers were wondering why I haven't been posting. The answer is quite simple: I've been in Virginia.

I spent a week driving through much of the Commonwealth, visiting Candler friends (Mr. Willson, Mr. Woodworth, Rev. McNabb, Sister and Sister's Mom, Ms. Diggory) and Wake friends (Rev. Whalen and Trammell) as well as seeing the sites (pictures to come).

The official purpose of my visit, however, was a District Committee on Ordained Ministry meeting, in which clergy and regular ole church members quizzed me on my call to ministry, the reasons I wanted to transfer into the Virginia Conference (I was previously a candidate in the Holston Conference, which covers a sliver of Southwest Virginia, East Tennessee, and a nook of North Georgia), and other questions about my own life and experience of faith over twenty-seven odd years.

DCOM meetings, which consist of both clergy and laity members and exist as a means for districts to examine candidates for ministry (deacon, elder and local pastors) and ideally help them discern how to fulfill their call to ministry, can range from spectacular to snorefest. Fortunately, this meeting was not one of the snorefest variety.

In fact, the District Superintendent was incredibly complimentary and gracious in welcoming to the meeting, yet also helped me perfect my Bill Clinton impression (the tip - biting your lip a little.) The questions from the committee were both challenging and thought-provoking, including these nuggets:

- "Is good news to the poor" something you do, or is it ministry?
- "How does an experience in a homeless shelter translate to life in a local church?"
- "I am the new head of my evangelism team at church. What should I do?"

These questions and more made me think, challenging me to articulate theology and how it is lived out. Apparently I answered OK, because I was approved as a transfer candidate.

My reward: The chance to apply for commissioning, a year-long process of examination, which after glancing at the requirements, may be the end of me. If successful, I will be commissioned as a probationary elder in Roanoke in June. Hope to see some of you there.

A FIRST STEP

2007-07-30T14:09:00.000-04:00

I'm ready to take a step.

Two years at seminary, in which life is skewed much more towards thinking right than living right, has made me tired of intellectual arguments divorced from discipleship and hungry to actually try to live into the life that Jesus calls us to.

While the blogosphere might seem to be an inappropriate place to begin this journey primarily about action and not words, it is my hope that this forum will be a way to think, write, and join with others (most notably Sister) in a conversation and a way of life that engages the fullness of the Christian call of discipleship. As such, this blog will attempt to wrestle with Scripture, theology, Christian practice and the current state of the church and attempts for it to be more faithful. Although I hope to review books and will no doubt comment on readings that are helpful (or not), those looking for technical arguments of systematic theology might be disappointed with this blog but no doubt enriched by visiting Brother Penniman. (The read of the summer so far has been Sara Miles' Take This Bread.)

A warning: The viewpoints expressed here represent those shaped by and rooted in Wesleyan theology and spirit. Readers might get tired of Wesley quotes ad nauseum, and will also learn more than they ever wanted to know about attempts to get commissioned as a minister of the Gospel in the United Methodist Church. The warning fired, I will apologize ne'er again.

This blog and post represents a victory for Sister, who not only sits accross the table at San Fran and disappointingly nearing the end of her three-plus years in Atlanta, but hopes to satisfy her desire for a pithy blog filled with Christian (and likely some UnChristian) writing.

This opening salvo fired, let us attempt to take another step.