Hope or An Advent Prayer.

You had it when you formed us from dust.
Abraham had it when you promised him children in old age.
Moses had it when he led your people out of captivity.
Israel had it in the height of captivity; when the world as they knew it seemed to end.
Mary had it when visited by the messenger of the LORD.
The poor shepherd had it when the heavenly hosts sang to them.
The wisest in the world had it when they went looking for you.
The disciples had it when they left everything to follow you.
The blind, sick, and lame had it when they cried out to you for healing.
The prostitutes, thieves, enemy soldiers, and tax collectors had it when they came to you for mercy.
The martyrs had it in the face of certain death.
Your followers throughout the ages have demonstrated it in their faithfulness to You and your Kingdom.
You have it in your people, the holy assembly called the church, to be a faithful image of you in the world.

Hope begins and ends with you.

May we, your people, continue to hope in your ability to create something beautiful out of the minuscule and insignificant.
May we hope in the face of the impossible.
May we hope in the midst of captivity.
May we hope in times and circumstance that appear to have no good outcomes.
May we hope in the miraculous.
May we hope in heavenly surprises.
May we hope in fulfillment of promises.
May we hope in the journey.
May we hope in your willingness and ability to heal.
May we continue to hope for mercy in our constant failings.
May we hope in the face of death.
May we continue to embody your promises as a witness to your everlasting faithfulness.

Amen.

Grace and Peace.

The Auger or Why Ask "Why"?

I think "Why?" is the auger of the lexical/grammatical world. It is one of those words, when paired with the ever-important question mark, that begs to drill down deep. People, including (especially?!?!) children, use it when they want or need to go below the surface of things. Sometimes it is spoken out loud and sometimes it is the quiet, inner engine that drives us to the subterranean depths of our everyday experiences. Some people are afraid to use it and others don't know when to stop using it. It has led some people to amazing new worlds, while others continue to dig endlessly in despair.

I wonder, sometimes, if it is encoded in our DNA (insert your joke about "why" chromosomes here). As soon as children come into the world, they begin collecting information about their existence. As they become mobile, they embody the "why?" as they stick things in their mouths, tear stuff up, and basically get into everything. Once they learn language, "Why?" comes shortly after the "momma", "dada", and "mine". "Why?" remains pretty prevalent until parents finally shut it down with "Quit asking "why?"! It is because I said so, that's why!" It only slightly deters children until they are teens, and then it re-emerges until it is quieted once again by threatened or exhausted parents, teachers, and religious leaders. Some survive, but others put away that ever-so-important tool and settle for life as it is handed to them.

I rediscovered "Why?" when I was in seminary. I was allowed/encouraged to use it. I was able to dig below the surface of so many things that I was once told or led to believe were off limits. I read things that I was told were unprofitable. I experimented with things that I was told belonged to other faith traditions that were "dead" or less spiritual than the one to which I belonged. I experienced pain and suffering in a new ways that required "why?" to get beyond the nice answers that good church folk generally give to aid and comfort the one in pain. "Why?" was my friend once again.

Post seminary, I tried to teach others to use it. I have since learned that not everyone wants to dig below the surface. Some because "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Others because it is just too painful or risky to go too far below the surface. Still others simply out of fear of what they will find...or not find. Asking "Why?" has a way of taking simple things and making them incredibly complex, which may be another reason why people don't like using it. While I can understand and respect that much better now, I couldn't then...Why? The reasons are too numerous to count.

One of the most natural places that almost all people do use "Why?" is in times of suffering or tragedy. Recently, I have been in close proximity to a lot of that: friends losing wives and children, relatives with cancers and inoperable tumors, good people losing jobs and visited by all kinds of undue hardships (mostly as a residual effect of greed in the upper echelons of our economic system...but that's another note at another time). "Why?" is one of those words that emerges from a deep place within us, much like a groan or whimper when we get hit unexpectedly. It is an honest and primal response that seeks to be answered. We turn to family, friends, and religious leaders for answers. We call upon God. Much like an auger drilling deep, the answer to the "Why?" that emerges in these times requires time. There are no simple answers, and sometimes the answer is at the surface (yes, God is in control...), but runs deep and takes time to get there (...but why did it have to happen to me?).

In time, you may find an answer...or you may find that that there just isn't an answer beyond "because." I have found, though, that "why?" has enlarged my world and engulfed me in the wonderful mystery of life. My faith has become more solidified, simply because it is just that: faith. I do not have all the answers (I think to have them would make me a god...or at least god-like), but find myself more enthralled by the possibilities that "Why?" uncovers. Maybe that is why "why?" is so important to me; not for the answers it finds, but the numerous possibilities and hope that can emerge just by asking.

Grace and Peace.

A Great Gift or The Season of Advent

I cannot believe that we are already in the Christmas season, with its onslaught of competitive bargaining for our spending. Despite the over-emphasis on "stuff", this is has always been my favorite season. I have so many great memories of Christmases past and the great effort my parents put into balancing the sacred and secular aspects of the season; that is, the birth of Jesus with the arrival of Santa Claus.

Every Christmas Eve, after all the festivities of preparing for the Big Day were completed, my parents would gather my sister and I for the reading of the Christmas story as a last event before bedtime. I never recall ever liking this part of the evening because I had heard the story so many times and it seemed like such a waste of time...I needed to get to bed so I could wake up early and open presents. After the story, we would take time to pray and give thanks for all God's bountiful blessings. Looking back, it is obvious this was my parents' way of reminding us all of why we celebrate in the first place.

When I was in seminary, I was introduced to another important way Christians throughout the ages have remembered and celebrated the birth of Jesus: Advent. I was not reared with this tradition because the churches we attended considered such things unnecessary and quite possibly affiliated with some aspect of idolatry (which, unfortunately, was pretty much their response to just about anything that did not have its beginnings within our tradition). Anyway, I discovered the importance of Advent for the church and for my life, and recognized it as an incredible gift from the church of old to the church eternal. It became a recognition that the birth of Christ, and subsequent return, requires more than one day of recognition and celebration. It was also a reminder that the church lives by a different calendar than the rest of the world.

Advent causes us to take a slow look at the lives of the original cast of characters and consider the immense ramifications of the incarnation. It bids us to reflect on the implications of such a radical event in human history and how that effects us today. It (re)focuses the church on the virtues of hope, faith, peace, and love. Advent calls Christians to not only remember the birth that happened so long ago, but also of the ongoing hope we are to maintain as we patiently await His return. It is the beginning of the new year on the Christian/Liturgical Calendar; the new beginning of walking in "real-time" the journey of Jesus and the history of the church.

While many of my church friends don't understand its importance, or just dismiss it as something that "other" churches do, this has been an incredibly important aspect of my formation as a Christian...just as it historically has been for most of the church (and all of the western church prior to the Protestant Reformation). I don't know if it is simply because it is something new to me, the incredibly powerful symbols associated with its celebration, the lengthening of reflection time on the story of the incarnation, or its link with the church that extends past the last 200 years, but the recognition and celebration of Advent has been one of the most important and meaningful gifts I have received in adulthood.

So, in this season of buying and giving, I find myself wanting to slowly wait. In the midst of hustle and bustle, I look for silence and stillness. As others seek the perfect gift, I want to reflect on the ultimate gift...and pray, as the church has traditionally done during this season, "Maranatha! Come Quickly, Lord Jesus!"


Grace and Peace.

A Psalm of Silence or A Meditation in the Midst of Trials.

Sitting.
Listening.
Waiting.
Crying.
You are present, yet so distant.
We call out to you on behalf of your creation who are suffering, sick, and in need;
For broken relationships, sick children, loss of loved ones, need of jobs.
We hope in the midst of your silence.
You call out to your creation to come and find rest, healing, and provision;
For broken relationships, sick children, loss of loved ones, need of jobs.
You hope in the midst of our silence.
You are on your distant throne, yet you are present.
Sitting
Listening.
Waiting.
Crying.

Redeeming.
Restoring.




Grace and Peace.

Fleeting Moments or Today (in honor of Kyle)

Today.
It began without our knowing it.
It is pregnant with sadness and laughter, celebration and tragedy, the ordinary and unexpected, despair and hope.
We, and the world around us, will be changed because of it.
It started slipping away before we realized it.
It will be over before we know it.

Embrace today.
Do not presume a tomorrow.
Experience each moment fully.
Breathe deeply.
Feel the sun on your face.
Feel the wind blowing against your skin.
In your pain, cry hard.
In your joy, laugh uncontrollably and without shame.
Slow down when you eat and taste the rich flavors that make up your meal.
Take off your shoes and walk slowly through the grass.
Be fully present to your friends and family.
Refuse to let the stress and demands of tomorrow rob you of this moment.
It is the only Today you and I will have.



Grace and Peace.

Redemption or Sometimes All You Can Do is Breathe.

A few years ago, I pastored a church. Yep...me. For many of my friends who knew me back in the days in SE Texas, this is one of those things that many of them would never have imagined for me or my life. Quite frankly, at that time...neither could I. God is funny that way. Anyway, in that church, there was one family that sat together that stood as my image of redemption. They were a unique mixture of exes, love children, and steps...that all sat and worshiped together; they came to the Lord's Table and broke bread together. It was weird (in a good way) and wonderful experience; it was the Kingdom of God right there in our midst. It was a picture of redemption.

Redemption, in my reading and limited understanding, is, in essence, God taking the broken things and using them for divine and eternal purposes; a re-making of all things into something new...like my life and the life of the family in my church. This is different from God "willing" something to happen, as so often many of life's tragic events are interpreted. It is more along the lines of God transforming the broken things and tragedies of life into something beautiful and new. It is stealing the "last word" from the things that try to destroy us and declaring that God is ultimately the beginning and the end; the Alpha and Omega, to borrow from the Bible.

Too often, in the pain that comes from existing in a broken world, we fail to realize this. We find ourselves wrestling with a God who claims to be the definition of love and goodness, but our experience(s) are to the contrary (this seems especially so in times of tragedy). Faithful followers of Christ try to offer words of comfort; most are true, just spoken at the wrong time. We want to hope and believe, but deep down inside we are dominated by fear and doubt. In those moments, I have always reminded myself (and others) to just breathe.

In breathing, we recognize that we are still alive. With each successive breath, we take one small step beyond the chaos seeking to destroy us. In breathing, we also can be reminded that the One who breathed life into creation at the beginning is the breath of life that will enable us to walk in our time of struggle...and create something beautiful out of our chaos; something more beautiful than our eyes have seen or our minds could conceive.

Redemption.


Grace and Peace.

Bring Out Your Dead or When the Saints Go Marching Out

For many Christians, this weekend is a time of remembering the great women and men of God who were killed for or died in their faith. These days of remembering and celebrating are called All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Until about 11 years ago, I had only known of this weekend as most in America do: Halloween. Unfortunately, many pastors and congregations still only know it as such...and miss a great opportunity for their church to remember the lives of the Christians who have gone before them; the "saints" who modeled the Christ life for them and upon whose shoulders their faith is built.

All Saints and All Souls days are not new. They are old; very old. One of the reasons many Protestants haven't heard of them, much less celebrated them, can be traced to the Protestant Reformation. Unfortunately, many important formative practices were thrown out at that time because they were considered "something that Roman Catholics do"...as if that were a bad thing. Ironically, in America, the same churches that find holy days such as All Saints/All Souls as too Catholic, have absolutely no problem remembering their war dead in the context of worship on Memorial Day weekend and Veterans Day and Fourth of July. Weird, huh?

The church needs to have their own Memorial Day; a day for bringing out the dead and holding their lives before their congregations as a reminder of how we might all remain more faithful to our calling. A day to remember the great sacrifices people have made for the sake of God's Kingdom. A day to celebrate the lives of parents and grandparents (not necessarily our own) who modeled the way of the Kingdom for us when they were alive. A day to reflect on the deceased church members who faithfully rocked us (or our babies) in the nursery, taught our Sunday School classes, and cried through the congregational prayer times for the sick and hurting in our churches. A time to celebrate the "Great cloud of witnesses" that are cheering on this current generation of Christ-followers to remain faithful and obedient until our time comes to join their ranks.

This weekend, I will remember the names and lives of holy ones from our history: the early martyrs, St. Augustine, Aquinas, the Desert mothers and fathers, Day, King Teresa, Luther, Calvin, Bonhoeffer, Barth, Yoder, Wesley, Spurgeon, Wigglesworth. I will also remember the lives of those saints I knew and who knew me, and shaped my life: my grandparents who modeled their faith; The men and women of Calvary Assembly of God and Frayser Assembly of God in Memphis,TN that formed my earliest images of God; the deceased men and women of Nederland First Assembly of God who prayed for me and believed in me through my teenage years; Aunt Bev, who was a kindred spirit in my journey; former church members like Mr. Britton, Ms. Moore, Ms. Roberson, Mr. Bozarth that taught me, as a young minister, about living and dying. I will remember my teachers: Dr. Conyers, Dr. Foster, and Dr. McEntire. I will remember my friends who were gone too soon: Kyle Lake and Jennifer Kelley.

So, this weekend - whether your church does it or not - bring out your dead. Remember the lives that were shared with you in order that you might know and live a more faithful Christian life. Allow those memories to cheer you on in your own following of Christ. Remember that your faithful life (notice, I didn't say perfect) is a model of faithfulness that others who are following behind will one day will remember and give thanks for as you, dear saint, take your place alongside those who have gone before.


Grace and Peace.

**If you would like, please leave names and/or stories of the "saints and souls" who have been models of the Christian faith for you in the comment section below**

The Doxological Life or An Alternative to "My" Life.

One of the first claims of ownership that children make is "Mine!" As cute as that claim may be at first, the long term practice has deep and residual effects. "Mine" moves from childhood testing of boundaries to a lifelong, identity-forming proclamation. The things we claim as "Mine" as adults become so intricately intertwined with our identity, we often fail to recognize we are more than what we claim as ours. Entire lifetimes are spent in the endless pursuit of what I can claim as "Mine" (I want more to be mine!), in order for us to feel good about ourselves; to feel accepted.

This way of being shapes the very fabric of our existence. Our current economic structure is predicated upon our incessant hunger for more things to have and own. Without it, our structures fail and we all, seemingly, end up without. This has global ramifications, because our economic structure is tied to global markets as well. So, those in power have nothing to gain by helping individuals practice anything other than consumption; wanting more of "mine".

Ironically, in the practice of "mine", the owner becomes the owned and gives their entire being to the collecting and protecting stuff in the name of ownership. We are enslaved not only in an endless cycle of wanting/needing more, but a life of fear induced by the thought of losing what we claim as ours. This extends beyond things like houses, cars, and toys to life; that is, breathing, heartbeats, and such. In all of our effort to keep what is ours, and the further entanglement into the myth of mine/ownership, we fail to see the only way to be free - to have the truly abundant life: the recognition of life as a gift.

When we begin to not only see, but practice, life as a gift, we are truly free to live the abundant life; the good life. When we not only proclaim with our mouths, but live as such, that nothing lasts forever, then we make a revolutionary proclamation to the powers that be that our lives and freedoms are not contingent upon what is "mine", but upon the One who claims creation as their own. When we finally make peace with the fact that everything is finite and gift, we can live what I (and others) call a doxological life; a life of thankgiving.

Many Christians sing the Doxology in their churches as a confession of God's provision. It is an act of worship. But there is a great need in our culture for Christians who will not only sing the doxology as a worship act, but will practice making their life an act of doxological worship. Christians whose entire life is about practicing something other than "mine". Christians who recognize that everything - and I mean EVERYTHING- is a gift from God. Think about the implications of that for a second. What would it mean for you today if you truly recognized that there is no real reason for you to be alive right now reading this, or to have the food you ate (or chose not to eat...or to have a choice to eat or not!), or to have the clothes you put on, or the edifice of wood and brick that keeps you out of the elements? Would it change how you practiced your life if you recognized that no matter how far you try to trace your claims of "mine" that it ultimately ends with being a gift from God, and that every gift can be given and/or taken away?

I think that if we practiced this recognition - this doxological life - the hold that things tend to have on our lives might be loosened a bit. We might be able to see that cars are meant to get us places, homes are to keep us out of the elements, food is to sustain us...well, you get the picture. Additionally, we may be more prone to see the "other" who does not have a way to get places, or homes to keep them out of the elements, or food to sustain them as a gift as well. Instead of seeing them as burdensome people who are merely wanting what is "mine" without all the work "I" put into it to making it "mine", we might see them, too, as gifts. We may see them as fellow humans, like ourselves, who are in need of unmerited (without worthy qualification) grace. A gift that reminds us of why God gifts us in the first place...for the redemption of his creation. And isn't that just like God to give us stuff, not so we can claim it as "mine", but in order to practice giving it away...and in doing so, proclaiming to the world that we are indeed God's.

It is in losing our lives that we find life; it is in weakness that strength is made perfect; It is in letting go of the things that own us that we gain everything.

Grace and Peace.