In John 8 Jesus proclaims he is the light of the world. His presence is a challenge to all who listen to Him. John records he said to the “Jews who had believed him . . . ‘the truth will set you free’” (John 8:31-32). But there were many others who were not set free. Many very religious people had a difficult time unseeing what they saw was obvious: they were already free. They responded to Jesus, “We are Abraham’s descendants and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?” (John 8:33).
Often the truth about ourselves is the hardest truth to see, particularly when our view of the self is consciously and unconsciously tied to our religious practice and belief. The Jewish leaders saw themselves as descendants of Abraham. With this firm understanding of who they were in the world intricately intertwined with their religious practice and belief, they could not consciously imagine that they were not already where they ought to be. Nevertheless, Jesus insists each of them is “a slave to sin” (John 8:34).
They were caught in spiritual bypass. When religion is used as a defense, it is twisted to help us avoid a deeper truth. As a result, it might cause us to miss seeing reality facing us in our own backyard. Jesus presents a new way.
That should get you started.
I reduced an academic paper Dr. Gwen White wrote in 2005 for my many clients who are facing the interesting and challenging reality that they use their faith as a defense against facing their psychological needs and, surprisingly, entering their next stage of spiritual growth. In the article I’ve provided a link to the original paper housed at CircleCounseling.com where you can find the referenced work, an extensive bibliography ,and a case conceptualization.
To continue reading, please select the “Spiritual Bypass” link from the right column or follow this link.
I ended my service to Circle of Hope as an itinerant, teaching in the meetings of our various congregations. This message was delivered to Frankford Ave at the beginning of Lent, 2018.
I was on retreat this past week, partially to get myself ready for Lent. As I meditated on my journal from the last quarter, I was astounded. For one thing, the Eagles won the Superbowl and the city was inexplicably happy! Maybe even you were happy for a second!
The second astounding thing: I was sick for six weeks. I had a whole Advent of sickness. In December, I went to a huge conference in California. (Yes, that is an intro video by the Dalai Lama). I coughed through the whole conference so loudly and deeply that psychotherapists would turn around and give me concerned looks — probably that blonde woman right there in front of me above. But did I pray? Well yes, I did. It was strange sickness. It was tempting not to pray, to just rely on the miracle of Nyquil and then fall into despair when Nyquil let me down and I was coughing in the night sitting up in a chair because laying down smothered me. It turned to bronchitis and I bet I had some pneumonia.
Then Gwen had an accident as a result of catching flu. She fell in the bathroom and fractured 7 ribs. We ended up in ICU health hell. I had to wear a mask for days. The hospital was much worse than I expected. But did I pray? Well yes. But, surprisingly, it was off and on. It seems like my disciplines are much better when I am on vacation or on retreat, not living my normal life. Surprisingly, If there is a problem, one of the first things to go might be prayer — this is not totally true, of course, but I have found it oddly true of me — and it may be true of you. Gwen, on the other hand, prayed a lot. She had a whole season of rib repair and pain in which to do it. If your life is being changed, you need God, right? Better pray.
Just how weakly constituted, wicked, and selfish we really are is often revealed when we are under duress. I feel bad so I lash out or blame. I feel bad so I withdraw or get resentful. I feel bad so I wait for somebody to come and find me and love me; if they don’t, I go into anger and despair, just like I must have reacted when my mother was talking on the phone instead of changing my diapers (there were only “land-line” phones). What do you do when you feel bad? Ask your husband or wife, if you have one; they can probably tell you. Ask your office mates or team members; they probably have an idea. But do you pray?
That is the question
So that is my main question to you tonight. Do you pray? And it is my question to the whole church. Does anybody pray? A whole Lent is laying before us, a whole prayer season. But will we even do it? Why or why not? Big question.
2018 is going to be wonderful in so many ways. You were announcing it a while back. You will have a new building façade to go with your new neighborhood. Circle Thrift thrives even after a hold up. Your losses from last year have opened the door to newness this year.
But 2018 it is going to be hard, too. Trump is president, and whether you like him or not, he creates havoc and possibly war – or so an 80 billion dollar uptick in military resources might imply. We will have a midterm election and people will think it is the most important thing in the world. The 1% will still be stealing all the money, leaking oil out of their pipelines (like the biggest one ever happening right now off the coast of China), seeing how little they can give us (like healthcare) for as much as they can get in profit, and maybe the general economy will run hot, but maybe it will drop, and we will be left holding the bag, not the 1%. Marginalized people will be exploited, deported, murdered. We, I hope just not you, will have relationship problems, physical problems, employment problems, kid problems, church problems, faith problems, But will you pray?
I think the key issue of getting into the deep water with Jesus and finding that you can have a sustainable life of faith, hope and love is all about prayer.
What is prayer?
When I keep saying the word “prayer” tonight I mean it as an umbrella term. Prayer is all the ways we communicate with God and I immediately need to add, all the ways we commune with God, and connect with God.
So, in my definition there are a lot of subheadings under the heading prayer, some of which you may be more adept at and familiar with than others:
We can sing a prayer: “Oh Lord hear my prayer.”
We can speak a prayer out loud, either together or in private: “Have mercy on me Lord.”
Prayer is intercession: I pray “Help Gwen, she is sick.” (Try it personally, right now: “Touch____they need you.”)
Prayer is asking for something, supplication: “Help me. I am needy.”
Prayer is worship, which is kind of a category all its own: “I praise you Lord.”
Prayer is contemplation – silence, thoughtless. Communing in the deep silence of God. (Try that for ten seconds, right now).
Prayer is meditation – mindful, thought-concentrated. You hear a lot about this, because it is how we “pray without ceasing.” I think it is a good. (Try it. Meditate on something I have said so far, right now). Or just become quiet and let God show you something you need to see or hear right now. Or just be loved. Be touched. Be led. Be turned toward God.
There are a lot of ways to pray. But do you pray? Maybe not – I am not judging you, but I am obviously exhorting you to do it. It is the entry point to the deep, healing, joyful, sustaining life of the Holy Spirit. Prayer is us participating with the Spirit alive in us by the resurrection of Jesus.
Will we get into it?
I like swimming across the lake at our family retreat in the Poconos. But I often don’t like getting into the lake. I am not really a jumper or diver by nature (although that is what I eventually do). You know those people who throw down their towel at the beach and just run in — never been one of those. I’m not even really a slider (but sometimes I try that) — sit on the edge of dock, stick a toe in, slowly get acclimated. I tend to push those people in — it is just taking too long — it seems like torture. So I have a getting in problem when it comes to the lake.
So I understand why some of us rarely, if ever, pray, even though we want to be Jesus-followers and we are devoted to God. We have a getting in problem when it comes to prayer. Prayer is like the deep water of faith. We have to get in it. But it is kind of a shock to the system to pray, like getting into a cold, mysterious lake. I like it when I am in there, even though I am kind of afraid what might be under the surface. But I have to get in. We need to keep getting into the deep water of prayer. It may not be a problem for you. But I haven’t met too many people for whom it is not.
I think we are great at helping people get into prayer. We have Sunday meetings to jump in. We have cell meetings to ease in. But some people are still squeamish about these meetings. They are avoidant or standoffish because they don’t want to get into prayer — that water feels too shocking. “It might be too cold or too something. I will get wet. I don’t know how to swim well. I did not bring a hair dryer. I’m too wicked to be seen in a prayer suit.”
We also offer people a lot of resources for how to pray alone. That is a very important discipline to nurture : how to be one on one with God, But does anyone do it?
What is happening with you when you pray.
Even tonight? What has been happening? I hope you have been looking at how you work.
As I close up, let me give you a few pointers for how to begin or keep praying by using this very famous psalm. You can tell that my goal is to get you praying, not just talk about praying so you can fail or succeed at applying my principles, later.
A lot of you already know this prayer in the beautiful old language of the 1611 Bible commissioned in England by King James. Let’s pray it together right now.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. — Psalm 23 King James Version (KJV)
It is a premade prayer you can use. Six lines. Easy to memorize. I have memorized it, but I have my own version made up of all the different translations I know. I pray it in the night when I wake up anxious and I need to focus on something other than on what I am focusing. I turn it into “You are my shepherd, Lord,” for one thing.
Here is a version from the New Revised Standard Version. I like this version of the Bible because it gets rid of unnecessary male pronouns for God and is still quite beautiful. In this psalm they did not change it because the writer is a male shepherd and he has traded his leadership for God, seeing himself as a sheep. But do what you like, if you are a female shepherd. If you let the world’s identity politics keep you from getting into the water, that is sad.
Pray it out loud.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
my whole life long.
Now let me end by trying to keep you thinking about how this prayer works so you can let it lead you into the deep water and keep praying. It has lovely, basic things to teach.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
Prayer is a constant changing of mind. The shepherd/psalmist accepts that the tables are turned. He is like one of his sheep and God is the loving, attentive shepherd. Even deeper, God, who is like my shepherd, cares for me personally. I am not just part of the herd. I shall not want. I will have what I need. Some of us need to begin all our prayer with that line, since we don’t show up that deeply yet. This is God; this is me. God is my caregiver; I am beloved. God is listening for me; I am praying.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for his name’s sake.
Prayer is turning toward the presence of God. God is with me. In Jesus, God is even more completely with me, no one is left out. Jesus is one of us. Even if you were only like a sheep, green pastures and still waters sound wonderful. If you are a human, a restored soul and a right path sound wonderful. Prayer brings us to those places. God is with us. So we turn to prayer.
I think this is the heart of getting into the deep places right here. See if you can dive in, or ease in, or find a way into the water.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Prayer is turning into the discomfort and away from the evil. Oh my goodness! I had to pray this prayer when Gwen was hooked up on a hundred machines in ICU! It felt like such a dark valley. But I was comforted as I faced that darkness with God.
Sometimes I pray that second part in hope, not in full feeling. My cup is up and Jesus keeps filling it, but I need to turn again and again, because my cup seems to have a hole in it. I wish it were not so, but I wake up hungry and frightened. People I expected to love me don’t love me. Institutions I thought would be on my side do not protect me. I need to pray: the Lord is my shepherd, he restores my soul, even in this dark valley.
Prayer is turning into that reality and sitting down at the table, day after day, and experiencing, eventually, how God is with me, taking care of me. I have many fears and opponents, but God is on my side. So pray.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
my whole life long.
Prayer is turning into hope and the promise. If you read this like it is just a fact, you might never pray it. How can the psalmist know that goodness will follow him? What if something terrible happens?
If you wonder that, too, go back to the first part of the psalm and pray it again. Turn into it.
Change your mind.
Turn into the presence.
Turn into the discomfort and away from evil.
Feel the comfort and the goodness.
Then you pray this last line. Maybe this final stanza should have been preceded with an “Ah.” The psalmist got somewhere. “Ah! Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. Oh yes! I will dwell in the house of God, like a child of God, my whole life long, forever.” So I pray.
So wonderful! Of course everyone prays!
Try diving in to that last part. So hopeful. So trusting. So not like the world usually is. Pray it again, slowly. Maybe do it again until it sinks in.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
my whole life long.
For me during the past few months prayer has been all about the turning. Even during this evening I have been more aware than ever, I think, that I need to keep turning.
Turning away from how my mind usually works and diving in.
Remembering how wonderful it feels to swim freely in the water and not resisting the entry.
Turning to face what I fear and believing God will comfort me and seat me at the table as a beloved child.
Ah.
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Today is Odo of Cluny Day! Europe was not the same after he ignited a reform movement in the 900’s that influenced the continent for good. Get to know him at The Transhistorical Body.
We were all a little confused about lying before Trump came on the scene — if you can remember a time when he did not dominate the air. Even when we were lying, then and last week, most of us wondered if it was the right thing to do. But we also had our reasons to do it.
Psychology will back us up; there are many reasons humans lie. There is bound to be an evolutionary psychologist out there who has “proven” we survived as a species because we are so good at deception. We’re still conflicted about it, however.
Science implies there are facts and there are unproven hypotheses — and we should be on the side of facts, since they are real. But all us humans, if we think about it, know it is difficult to tell one straight truth about ourselves, we are all so complex. At least once a week, I dispute what my wife claims to have said to me — and she may claim it was just an hour ago!
But she, and the rest of us, can’t really prove much of what we assert, even when it comes from the depths of us. And when we look around, it is difficult to have a sure grasp on what is true about almost everything else, the universe feels so mysterious and beyond our complete understanding.
Now we have Trump, ready to impose a reality of his own making – science, common sense, and morality be damned. Some people are gleefully adopting a life of lying and have become, with him, a relentless wave against the common institutions and assumptions Americans hold. Punditry dashed to their computers to explain how Trump won, even though he is a proven, unrepentant prevaricator. How could anyone elect a proven liar? F.D. Flam wrote in Bloomberg:
Trump won with surprising decisiveness, despite his evasiveness and failure to justify his extraordinary claims. It’s tempting to conclude that we live in some kind of post-truth society. Perhaps, instead, we live in a society obsessed the truth, but we’ve lost our appreciation for explanatory depth and different perspectives. At the same time, we’re just as persuaded by a speaker’s confidence as ever.
Most of what passes for “telling it like it is” comes down to Trump making completely subjective judgments with a tone of certainty — that some of his enemies are “losers” or “morons” or “low IQ” or that one of his rivals somehow has a face that’s not fit for office. Some might call this brutal honesty, but there’s nothing honest about it. The Week Magazine calls it “maniacal overconfidence” which “sounds to some people like forthrightness.” In that sense, he is telling it like it is — in his own self-serving head.
In my territory, I can’t ride down the elevator or go to a party without hearing how hard it is to be one of those morons and losers. “Maniacal overconfidence” seems like an overly sweet way to characterize what Trump is full of.
The voice of Jesus
I’m not a pundit, of any merit, at least. But I had to make a few contributions to what people were saying on Facebook and such after Trump won. I was mainly concerned that we all confront the lying before we all conform to it, since it is alarming how quickly the media adapted to “Mr. President” as if he were introducing a new normal. For Christians, I think not conforming comes down to pondering John 8 again if we want to hang on to truth and love, as I do. I still believe in the promise from Ephesians 4: 14-16:
We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming; but speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.
Paul obviously couldn’t care less about what society finds normal. I think he is channeling Jesus, as we all aspire to do if we follow Christ. That’s Jesus, who says, “I am the way, the truth and the life.”
In John 8, Jesus is having an amazing dialogue with religious opponents who are absolutely sure they are living out the truth as best as anyone can. They are just as sure they are speaking God’s truth as Donald Trump is sure he was spared the assassin’s bullet so he could personally make America great again. Most of us are so unsure about the truth and too sure alternative facts cause conflict, we don’t get into it with people on elevators or at parties, even though Jesus apparently would. He tells his opponents:
You don’t even understand what I’m saying. Do you? Why not? It is because You cannot stand to hear My voice. You are just like your true father, the devil; and you spend your time pursuing the things your father loves. He started out as a killer, and he cannot tolerate truth because he is void of anything true. At the core of his character, he is a liar; everything he speaks originates in these lies because he is the father of lies. So when I speak truth, you don’t believe Me. — John 8:43-45
If your first thought after reading this was, “Do I even believe there is a devil?” that’s OK. There is so much theologizing generated by John 8, we might never get done with it. Stick to what Jesus is asserting, don’t stick with your own defensive response. I think the point is, “You need to hear my voice or you will never hear the truth.” Negatively, that is, “If you pursue the things the father of lies loves, everything you say will come from that core.” We’ve got to ponder that before lie-lovers control us inside and out.
Listening in the day of lies
I don’t think Donald Trump is new. He is just the terrible bloom of a society adapting to the media and providing false-self images for it to feed on.
In 1984, Ronald Reagan won every electoral vote except for Minnesota’s, the home state of Walter Mondale. For his first term, he had handily beaten an actual Christian trying to be president with the Iran hostage deal. He later did one of his masterful jobs of lying when he explained the Iran-Contra mess. Reagan was the beginning of all sorts of evils, but his main legacy is using the screen so well. We used to watch him speaking and say, “He is lying, but people forgive him because he looks like he believes it. I’m tempted to believe him myself.”
I did not believe him. He galvanized my faith to stick with The Way The Truth And The Life no matter how effectively the father of lies carpet-bombs my consciousness.
Fortunately, people in my feed were trying to keep me listening last week. I appreciated how Bryan McLaren summed up the process of listening to the Truth and hanging on to it in the middle of anxiety. He really takes himself seriously, as we probably should too.
I don’t think we can listen to the voice of God unless we can learn to hear what is in the silence. So this is one thing I posted. I love how this little tune is usually repeated, second verse same as the first. It makes us wait, slow down, and enter the peace that passes understanding. That is where we are most likely to hear from God.
I also don’t think we can hear the voice of God unless we talk back to, or shout back at, the voices that compete for God’s place in our thoughts and feelings. If we don’t step up, we could be “blown about by every wind of doctrine by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming.” Then Jesus might say, “So when I speak truth, you don’t believe Me.”
Fortunately, several of my friends were not having it. Their minds turned to a defiant song we used to sing in our old church. I dug out a recording from Internet Archive.
Click the picture to go to the song
That song is good shouting back. Sometimes we sang it in a group of 100 or more. It was a good way to reroute some neural pathways.
I am not sure there has ever been a day of lies like this one, since there has never been the kind of media which surrounds us and trains us. But maybe I’m taking myself too seriously, too. After all, Jesus was talking about people who were in such unwitting collusion with the father of lies, they could not recognize the Son of God, for whom they were purportedly waiting, even when he was talking to them face to face!
I feel sorry for those guys. And I feel sorry for us, too, since were are inevitably a lot like them and lying is still extremely typical of human beings. Our media has made it a worldwide industry. But if McLaren is right, and I believe he is, from all the lying the Truth is born again and again.
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Today is Lucretia Mott Day!
Speaking of someone who was “not having it!” She is a premier example of standing up for truth and justice.
Dan White is a kindred spirit I have never met. We’re just Facebook friends. As his story leaks out, snippet by snippet, I admire him more and more as I watch him heal and further develop as a healer. He was deeply engaged in an organic, neighborhood-based church with some nouveau-Anabaptist sensibilities as a community member and pastor. I haven’t heard the whole story, but he was cast out. He posted this the other day:
6 years after I Ieft, I was able to walk my ole neighborhood in Syracuse, NY. I left in a lot of pain. A couple from our Church heard I was in town and asked if we could meet up. I had immediate panic that it was probably a surprise attack. I was not going to accept their invitation but heard the Spirit say – “it’s safe, go.”
How many Jesus followers and people of all kinds are feeling a similar dread when they think they will see someone who hurt or abused them? In Dan’s case there was some healing. But so often there isn’t.
Broken community can really hurt. Many of us from our former church know a lot about that. We’re scattered to the four winds. A book was written to take a skewed look at our demise. It is like salt in the wound. I’m not out six years yet, like Dan, and I already walk in all my old neighborhoods and sit with some old relationship groups. I’m not raw or afraid. But when my new pastor asked about my past last week, I could still get emotional.
Community matters
I will always long for community. I think that is how it is meant to be.
But then, I have never lived alone, not once. I know I am rare. The builders in Philadelphia are building hundreds of apartments designed for one person. About 34% of the population of my city already live that way. The builders are responding to the market demand for isolation.
Unlike those developers, I have been trying to build community for my whole adulthood. The church is a community of love gathered around Jesus. Building that community means a deliberate attempt to connect heart to heart, soul to soul, mind to mind and strength to strength. It is loving like Jesus in truth and action.
Communities other than the church also have such traits in their ideals (like my condo association and the Republican party). But I think we need Jesus to pull it off — the entities I mentioned are decidedly not succeeding. Even when we try to follow Jesus we blow it big time. The promise is one day we will experience it in its fullness. The glimmers we get in our time are miraculous, since the hostile environments in which we bloom are strong.
First Xmas of Sierra St. Household 1981. Verifiably not hippies.
Did I build it or did it build me?
A recent book that fictionalizes my story says I first explored community in a hippy commune. I admit to being hippy adjacent, but if I took the name hippy, it would be a disgrace to the whole idea. So much for journalism. What we did when we moved in together was get deliberate about our life together. We had a common mission and were tired of commuting to our relationships. So we created an intentional household. Acts 2 gave us the solution we needed.
Demo day for the church building we built.
Eventually, that household planted a church. The intentional community was personal and the church was public. The church just celebrated its 40th anniversary.
After we were in Pennsylvania for a few years, we felt moved to plant a new kind of church community in the thirsty but resistant territory of Philadelphia. I loved it. I was a bit lonely at times since most of my comrades were 20 years or more younger than me. But the whole thing was so filled with the joy and laughter of love, I still smile to remember those decades.
Maybe communities grow up like children
Most communitities resemble families. And like families, they grow and change. People move out of the house. People bring new people into the family. Its changeable, even if you don’t want it to be.
So far, all my children and their families live in the Philly metro. I could walk to the home of one of them tomorrow and steal Halloween candy. But we don’t share a roof or even a church now. I miss that, but I don’t regret their growth. Community is always forming, or at least trying to. If it is unformed or deformed it tends to die.
Ultimately, maybe a bit like Dan White experienced, our previous congregation blew up. It deformed big time and people tell stories about it. I don’t really know why it died, for sure; the leaders surprised me with an invitation to leave, so I did. But if the journalist is right, the destruction had a lot to do with power struggles and conflict over individual rights philosophy. Score one for the developers.
We don’t get it right all the time. Friendships die. We cut people off. Children move to Germany. The government bombs Gaza. We get divorced. We undermine churches no matter how well we build one. [One of my most-read posts]
But the need for community will always surface. We make families. We connect in love and build communities. And if we don’t, we want to. If we are outside looking in, we feel lost.
You can expect some love to present itself
Jesus came to seek and save the lost. And he has a lot of friends. They are building community.
Some friends wanted to come over while my wife was housebound, but they caught Covid bad. So we took our first post-surgery outing to have dinner at their house last weekend. The food and conversation felt sweet. I felt a sigh of relief to be loved when so often I doubt I will be.
Remnants of our former church survive. But for hundreds of people its institutional death-match was a huge loss of community. Now it is a case study in loss. People are still recovering, years later, tainted by conflict and cut-off. They’re like couples who lost a child, or had to forgive an affair, or who split because of abuse. The former loves seem unreachable. Now they’re looking to connect in a sea of one-bedrooms, wondering what to do.
I think most of us will find a new way. Dan White has. We recover because we must. We need the love. It is out there to be found.
Over 100 years old and building new community.
I’m surprised I found a new place at St. Asaph’s Episcopal, walking distance from our home. I’m back in a little church. When my wife was laid up from surgery, they brought us food. Then a person from a former place brought herself — a friend from the California church flew out to care. Friends from our former Philly church checked in and prayed. There was a lot of deliberate loving! There was new, conscious tie-building. It was the love that cannot be killed rising up again.
Our dear friend from California visited last week to catch up and cheer up. She is such a great guest! She is a kind listener, so she got me telling stories from my early forties when I left her in California for the wilds of Pennsylvania. It was a time in my life when so much was changing! She teased out bits and pieces I had not considered for a while. For instance, she had not heard many specifics about the sufferings and joys of church planting.
First baptism six months later.
I told her a few stories, but I am not sure she got many accurate specifics. The older we get, the more we remember the results of an event or our interpretation of it, rather than remembering the basic who, what and when, etc. (Levine 2002). So a story I told her about a fulcral moment in my midlife history is true, but not in a scientific way. It feels a little like a story from my beloved The Little Flowers which, if not factually true, should be. I told her I almost never told one important story. She suggested I should, so I am about to.
I gave the telling a trial run at my spiritual direction group. One of the members of our group was about to meet me at the time I was making the memory, a long time ago, now. He said, “I have never heard that story.” I think he was a little disappointed in me, since he had heard many more, less important stories. He suggested my children would benefit from knowing it, so in case I did not tell them, here I go.
The ineffectual church planter
When I came to Philadelphia to plant a church, I had a full head of steam and plenty of conviction. I even had the support of the Brethren in Christ, who generally saw urban areas as far off worlds, at the time. I had inspiration but I did not have a very specific plan. I intended to “make relationships” and let the church organically unfold. This did not go over well with my bishop who thought a phone campaign or some other methodology would work better. After I began, I thought he might be right.
My basic plan entailed walking the streets of downtown Philly and showing up at various street corners, schools and institutions looking for the people God had already contacted who I would gather to form a new church for a new generation. Before I established an office at 4th and South, this was a very dubious process. It was just me and God snooping around.
One day this snooping seemed especially fruitless and downright stupid. I was trudging back to our home in West Philly, head down, defeated. I had nothing. What’s more, I doubted every reason I had moved my family to this unknown place. “No one will talk to me; why would they? I’m not interesting; I’m too old to meet the people I’m looking for. I’m not cool. I’m not nearly as extraverted as I need to be. I’m shy about getting rejected for being overtly Christian. I’m fishing without a hook.”
By Roger Ge in the Daily Pennsylvanian
I did not want to go directly home because I was in a bad mood. It was like I had been hunting for my hungry family and did not have the skill or luck to bring home some meat. “We are all going to starve!” So I sat down in one of the secluded seating areas at Penn to sulk. Looking back, it was like I had a screen up between my mind and the Holy Spirit, because I just did not want to hear it. “Say what you will; I am not listening.” This was unusual, to say the least — I’m not sure I had ever done that. I sat there like I had a spiritual migraine, moving as little as possible, eyes squinted against the light.
The smoking student
Before long, a young woman sat down on one of the other benches to smoke. She was dressed in a mildly punk outfit, her hair bright red. I involuntarily flinched at her presence and curled away a bit. I tried to ignore her, but her smoke wafted my way. She distracted my pity party. But I stayed resolutely rooted in my disgust.
I was succeeding at being inert until she took the few steps across the seating area and stood in front of me, cigarette in hand. “Excuse me” she said. “I feel like you are someone I should be talking to.”
My first reaction was she was trying to help me, I looked so miserable. So I was embarrassed. But I managed to say, “OK. I’m Rod.”
She sat down next to me and looked at her feet. I remember her name, but I don’t recall the details of her story. I probably threw away the journal in which I recorded them. But it was a sad story. It was an afraid story. She was considering ending her life, she felt so alone and unloved.
I told her a bit of my story too. She was surprised I was a Christian and had no idea what a church planter was. But she could relate to how terrible my day was going. She said about my failure, “Maybe I am the only one available today.”
She wanted to hear about faith. “I have nothing else to lose,” she said. I don’t remember how I presented Jesus. And I don’t remember exactly how she received him.
My conversion
I do remember what meeting her did to me, however. I learned two lessons from that encounter which stayed with me for the next 25 years and still inform how I see myself and others.
The first was crucial: It really does matter how much I suck. I hope we have stopped saying “suck.” But it hit the nail on the head then. I was sitting there sucking as a church planter and God nudged someone into my lap. It is exactly what I had hoped would happen in one way or another. One of the reasons I have rarely told this story is my interpretation is too miraculous for me. I don’t like to promise God’s intervention because then I will have to explain Gaza, or Trump, or something. But I took her appearance as a sign. She might as well have been singing with the heavenly host.
The second revelation was equally important: I have no idea what God is going to do. It became inescapable that anything might happen, including things I had never before imagined possible — things could happen even if I was resisting, or had given up hope! The worst kinds of situations were likely to be filled with God’s presence. Two losers being depressed at Penn save each other. It is so unlikely, it must be God.
I told my friend, I think I became a Christian that day, too – an actual, adult Jesus follower. I had been a pastor for years and had not been doing terrible things. But I had never quite experienced all those stories in the Bible: Thomas doubting then seeing, Peter sinking then reaching out his hand, Paul wandering into Philippi and meeting the only woman at the place of prayer, the Psalmist praying, like I sang in an old song, “From the ends of the earth I call to Thee, when my heart is faint.”
I was right about God’s ability to create something out of nothing. But being right is different from being present when it is happening. I was right about being less-than-able to do what I was called to do, but I was wrong about what God was able to do. I knew the stories about Gideon, the Samaritan woman at the well, and others, but I had never been like them very much, yet. They were probably fortysomethings.
I have forgotten many of the specifics of that day — and that whole year, to be honest. But I do remember the meaning of them. I embarrassed myself plenty of times and felt awkward and out of place countless times, but I was never likely again to think my mild suffering was useless. Sucking actually proved to be an advantage for the mission I was given.
And I became much more adept at expecting God to do the unexpected, even more than I asked or imagined, as Paul told the Ephesians. I was converted that day to a faith that relishes uncertainty, because I came to know God who does not live in my mind and principles. My hope is frail, my memory is weak, my imagination is narrow. God is someone else, altogether — and continues to pleasantly surprise me.
I made a trip to the front desk to get the gel packs the OT suggested when she heard about our icemaker breaking. On my way, I stopped by the mailbox and soon opened my Peace and Justice Journal from MCC. {MCC U.S. National Peace and Justice Ministries]. It was all about the Congo. It made me smile.
Just in case you can’t quite place it.
Some of you might wonder, “Why in the world would any news from Congo make you smile?” — especially when your icemaker is broken! It’s true, the Democratic Republic of the Congo is one of the most desperate places in the world — so much suffering! The Human Development Index places it at 180 out of 193 countries (2022). It is completely off the radar of most Americans. But ever since I read King Leopold’s Ghost around 1999, I can’t keep it out of my mind. Having met MCC workers from the Congo and followed the scant news we get about it, I’ve developed an affection.
Plus, this week, on Oct. 12, it is Simon Kimbangu Day (see The Transhistorical Body]. The Congo has produced some amazing Christians. Oct 29 is Christophe Munzihirwa Day. Add to this that one of the most inspiring books of the last decade is Emmanuel Katongole’s Born from Lament: The Theology and Politics of Hope in Africa in which he shares first-hand stories of Jesus followers in the Congo leading the way.
Shush child
In the midst of my own turmoil, which has a decidedly “first world” look to it, I am hoping for some encouragement. You probably are, too, since you are facing an election, a Middle East war and your own troubles. If you’re from the U.S., you might have some connections in North Carolina or in the other areas pummeled by Hurricane Helene – our NC contacts survived relatively well, but they are surrounded by devastation and grief. I am going to say few more words about the Congo, but first, let’s all take a minute in God’s arms and receive a collective shushing.
Don’t fear, because I am with you;
don’t be afraid, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you,
I will surely help you;
I will hold you
with my righteous strong hand. — Isaiah 41:10 (CEB)
When I first read that verse as a kid, I heard, “You need to stop fearing, because it is wrong to fear when God is with you – and he might be displeased.” Maybe I needed that for a developmental season.
But in my later years I hear God shushing me like I used to softly speak to my troubled babies and grandchildren: “Shhh. Don’t be afraid, I am with you. I will always be here as long as I have breath.” When God, the eternal breath of the Spirit, shushes, it is truly an unending promise along with immediate comfort.
I suppose you know we instinctively started shushing babies as soon as they were born because we could feel their shock at entering a world of new and unfamiliar sounds. I suppose when we feel overwhelmed, our bodies may remember the time we experienced our own initial trauma. Shushing recreates the familiar sounds of the womb, providing a sense of comfort and security for that dear baby.
Nowadays, we have machines that shush for us. Some of us create a womblike environment in which to sleep, we are so anxious and so surrounded by anxiety-producing sounds. It is hard to sleep in my neighborhood because there are drag races on a street nearby – one of the last in Philly without a big speed bump! You may have fireworks and sirens going off all night. But be careful how you cope. I think after we are six years old, or so, we had better take care not to become dependent on a machine to sleep.
For now, would you like to slowly go through that shushing word from God, stored up there in Isaiah for you? I think it should take you six deep breaths to get through it. Take a deep breath and slowly read a clause as you exhale. Take a next slow inhale through your nose and gently exhale as you move through all six lines. If you do it again, that is even better.
Shush over the Congo
Now maybe we can consider the Congo and the 115 million people who live there. Over 7 million of the Congolese are displaced persons, driven from their homes by conflict or corruption. It is hard to say just how many refugees add to the population, but there are hundreds of thousands from Burundi, the Central African Republic, South Sudan and Rwanda. That list of countries sounds like a litany of war, terror and starvation to me, a wound on the world.
We have to consider the Congo because raw materials in the eastern part of it are essential for the world’s rush to replace fossil fuels and save the planet. To reach the zero emissions targets by 2050 will mean a 600% increase in mineral demand. The provinces of North and South Kivu, bordering Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi are crucial to providing the global supply chains with the coltan, gold, and cassiterite which fuel green economies.
Kivu is also the home of the largest and fastest growing population of displaced people. DR Congo has 250 local armed groups and 14 foreign armed groups fighting for territory, mines or other resources in the country. In North Kivu, one major armed group, M-23, controls much of northern part of the province. They control key coltan mining villages where people make their money in illegal mines, excavating without machinery. M-23 uses motorcycles, trucks and boats to smuggle coltan into neighboring countries in order to avoid the heavy taxes levied on mineral sales inside DR Congo. Imagine living there, if you aren’t there right now.
Knowing about the Congo can be overwhelming — especially when you feel burdened with problems of your own. I can relate to that. I hope this is not true of you, but I cycled in and out of feeling overwhelmed last week. I needed to turn and turn again into that loving embrace of God, who surrounds me with grace and feeds my hope. There are so many things that are far beyond our capacity to control! If we still feel we need to do that, we have to shrink our world until it is very small. If we keep ourselves that small, the Congo might as well be on another planet. Anything outside your apartment might feel foreign!
We all need some encouragement. Even though this post is filled with difficult things, I hope it also encourages you to latch on to the vast resources of God at your disposal.
Here is a final prayer to acknowledge our need to turn into God and hear the shush of our loving parent — if your are a Mennonite, you might recognize it from Voices Together. Again, take it slow, one breath a line.
Gracious God, when there is nothing we can say,
We give you thanks that your Spirit intercedes for us
with sighs too deep for words.
Loving God, when there is nothing we can do,
we give you thanks that you are working for good
in this world of struggle and pain.
Holy God, when there is nothing else we know,
we still give thanks that nothing in life or in death,
nothing in heaven or on earth,
nothing in this world or the world to come
will ever separate us from your great love through Jesus Christ.
Maybe we should all try that again, praying with the millions of faithful Congolese people, with the people suffering from the aftermath of the hurricane and other disasters. Pray it with the many people pouring out love, skill, time, and resources to help them, and with the faithful lovers in your own life who are there for you, or will be, often when you least expect them and rarely because you feel you deserve them.
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Further resources for learning about the Congo and climate issues:
In 2016 I was an itinerant, moving among our congregations with basic teaching about developing a life in Christ. This one is about the “earth” stage when faith first takes root.
Dates harvested from Hannah, pollinated by Methuselah at the Arava Institute. Photo by Marcos Schonholz
First, let’s talk about the seed that grew this date palm in Israel. This is a Judean date palm that you would have seen everywhere in the time of Jesus. But there was so much war in Palestine during the Roman era that date palm groves were destroyed and this species became extinct by the year 500.
But an amazing thing happened. During excavations at the site of Herod the Great’s palace near Jericho in the 1960’s, archeologists unearthed a small stockpile of seeds stowed in a 2000-year-old clay jar. For the next forty years, these very old seeds were kept in a drawer at a university in Tel Aviv. But then, in 2005, a botanical researcher decided to plant one of the seeds and see what, if anything, would sprout.
She said, “Iassumed the food in the seed would be no good after all that time. How could it be?” She was soon proven wrong. The old seed from an extinct palm sprouted! The resulting tree has been named Methuselah. It has been eleven years, now, and the tree is not only thriving, it has produced pollen, which has been used to germinate seeds on a wild date palm. It is producing more seed.
Jesus probably loves that story — and not only because he was in Jericho many times and had to pass Herod’s palace on the way up the hill to Jerusalem. I think he loves it because God loves seed stories. God is very earthy. For instance, just before Jesus was crucified, he pictured himself as a seed. Everyone read it: “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (John 12:14)
That’s a great way to see a seed – as something that dies to its former way of being as a single, encased seed and transforms into a plant and a seed bearer. God is very connected to how the earth lives. Like you heard a couple of weeks ago, our rendition of the Way of Jesus begins with Earth because God begins with the earth. The creator is earthy, God even became one of us – God got buried in us, got buried in the earth, God has experienced all the longing and loving of being a spiritual being in a body like ours as part of the Earth.
Talking about seed
I hope I can get you comfortable with how Jesus is talking about seeds. In the earth, in your body, in your spirit and not just in your mind. I am going to talk about a word, but if you just hear it like it is a word “seed” on a page, I will fail. The word will be truly extinct. I am talking about Jesus talking about a word like a seed, a Spirit-empowered, miraculous transformative seed.
Jesus and the Bible writers are very comfortable with talking about seed. Like I said, He probably loves that story about an ancient seed in a scientist’s drawer that miraculously comes to life. And he has some favorite stories he made up himself. Jesus tells a very basic parable about the sower and the seed he sows. You might remember it: A sower goes out to sow and the seed finds all sorts of soil with which to interact. Some seeds don’t sprout well. Some are eaten by birds. Some sprout and are choked by weeds. And some find fertile, watered ground and thrive.
I suppose Jesus told that story because he like seed stories. But more so he was talking about himself, the seed, the word of God. It is kind of a Trinitarian-like story, isn’t it? – God the farmer, Jesus the seed, the Spirit charged environment as the soil.
By extension, the Bible writers who quoted Jesus telling the parable, did that because they were talking about their word, their seed of Jesus they cast by writing it down.
There is a lot being taught in that little story. But it all goes back to: The story of Jesus is like a seed that grows in a fertile spirit and an open mind.
One time I experienced a seed of the word lying dormant in one of my oldest friends. When I was in the fifth grade I was awarded the title of “best couple” with my childhood friend, Kim. We were not even embarrassed to be best couple since we had been like brother and sister since first grade. After I left town to go to college I became a full-on evangelistic Christian, sowing seeds like crazy. One time I came back to town and ran into Kim. As she told me the story later, I was totally obnoxious. My side of the story was that I was totally, somewhat blindly, into being a newly “out” Christian. At some point in the conversation I said, “Why aren’t you a Christian yet?” Not exactly the best seed sowing. She told me much later that she swore at that moment never to be a Christian.
I did not remember this event at all until she wrote me a letter about it fifteen years later. Usually it was just Christmas cards between us, but this time I was surprised to get a letter.
She started off with, “I hate to tell you this, but I am a Christian.” She went on to say, essentially, “I vowed I would never become a Christian since you were so obnoxious about it that day. But I was so depressed and my family was such a mess, I guess I did not know what to do. At one point I was feeling especially down and desperate and to my dismay, you came to mind saying, “Why aren’t you a Christian?” And I did not have a good answer. I went to the nearest church the next Sunday and to my surprise, I became a Christian. Thanks.”
The spiritual seed I had planted, a very tiny, compromised seed, had laid dormant for a long time! One would suppose it was extinct. But, to even Kim’s surprise, it sprouted!
Amazing isn’t it? How did that happen? How did the seed germinate in you?
And if the seed of faith has never effectively sprouted in you, what do you think is happening right now?
The germination process
The Bible writers are fascinated with this spiritual germination process. The whole New Testament is kind of a long telling, in all sorts of variations, of how the seed of God is planted in people and how it grows a new, eternal life in them.
If you dig in to what they are saying, the Bible writers might be more comfortable with seed than we are. For instance, the word for the seed sown in the field in the Lord’s story is the same word for human seed: sperma, shortened to sperm in English.
Paul teaches: “If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” – (Galatians 3:29). That’s a nice argument about how Abraham’s faith is the deeper way to know God than Moses’ law. Don’t worry if you don’t know about all that yet. Paul’s basic intention is to talk about being re-seeded by faith through following Jesus. He does not mean we magically become offspring of the father of Judaism, Abraham. He means we are seeded with new life in the Spirit and end up having a remarkable family resemblance to Jesus.
John says, No one who is born of God will continue to sin, because God’s seed remains in them; they cannot go on sinning, because they have been born of God. (1 John 3:9). This is even more explicit. Being born of God is like you were an ovum and the spiritual sperm of God wriggled its way into you and started an incredible spiritual cell multiplication. The seed remains in us John says – it is like God’s spiritual genes combined with ours and are creating a new being who can justifiably be called a child of God.
It is all very earthy and organic, isn’t it? So I get upset when people try to fit this word of God Jesus is and which Jesus sows into the tiny, head-bound, rational philosophy that runs the world. God is the sower and Jesus is the seed. Jesus is the sower and his words are like seeds. The disciples are sowers and the Lord’s words are like living seeds, the Bible is like their seed chest.
It is so troubling when the word of God, that seed which lasts when everything else is extinct, gets reduced to whatever phrases a person can remember from reading the Bible.
Then the Bible gets subsumed under a scientific idea of a word, in which words all become data, and the Bible becomes a book among all the books, in the category “Great religious books.”
By now, the whole idea of faith can be reduced to an emoticon. Way too tiny.
All that stuff I just said is a LOT less than what Jesus is and what Jesus, Paul and John are talking about in the parts of the Bible I have shown you or told you. But a lot of Christians I have known, and even more I have heard about, think the seed Jesus is talking about is the Bible, or some factoid from the Bible or some principle drawn from the Bible. And they can reduce the idea down to clip art.
It is not just a seed thought
The seed is often seen as a thought. And Luke 8:11 quotes Jesus saying about his parable of the sower: This is the meaning of the parable: The seed is the word of God. It sounds very rational. Here is the logic if you think Jesus is being merely rational:
If the seed is a word, that means a thought, we read words with our mind.
And if we are reading words about God, they are in the Bible.
So Jesus is talking about finding the seed in the Bible, since that’s where the parable is anyway.
That kind of thinking works if you are committed to a world that is rational. If you think truth is thought-derived or science-and-math-derived, then you might be thinking right now, “What else could that line possibly say?” If that is what you are thinking then you are probably having an argument in your head most of the time because you believed Descartes and everyone who built on his dictum that, “I think, therefore I am.” When it comes to faith, you probably think “I believe certain things to be true, so I act on them.”
But there is more. When Jesus is done telling his parable of the sower to the crowds, he says, “If anyone has ears to hear, let her hear.”
He is not just making an argument by telling his story, he expects the listeners to be impregnated, to be planted with the seed through relating to the Son of God and hearing the word.
The seed in the story is not just about some thing.
The word of God is not the “concept of Jesus” from somewhere else where thoughts come from. It is not a thought that can happen without a body as Descartes thinks truths must be.
Jesus is not talking about the word reduced to a book or reduced to someone’s limited understanding.
God doesn’t exist, like Descartes said, because we couldn’t imagine him if he didn’t. God exists in another plane of existence altogether that is beyond one’s mind, beyond what we can fully imagine — like God is doing in the person of Jesus and like Jesus is doing as he tells his story of the sower. The whole process of God sowing the seed of grace and truth is about a person in their environment struggling to receive the life being born in their world, like you and I are doing. At some point we are like the seed, like the soil, like the sower. It all goes together in this ecosystem of love Jesus is revealing.
The seed growing in you
A sower goes out to sow. The seeds sown find all sorts of soil with which to interact.
Some seeds don’t sprout, or have such shallow roots in rocky soil they wither in the sun.
Some are eaten by birds right off the hard path.
Some sprout and are choked by weeds.
Some find fertile, watered ground and thrive.
The seed is the word of God, the one who is telling the story about himself is enacting the story as he tells it. Jesus was talking about himself, the living Word of God, and his words are seeds for those with fertile ears. The Bible talks about Jesus telling about himself. The whole book, Old and New Testaments, looks to Jesus, quotes and admires Jesus, and applies the resurrection life of Jesus. The story of Jesus coming, present, working, and coming again is like a seed that grows in a receptive spirit and an open mind.
When Jesus says something to you, he doesn’t want to change your mind, he wants to change your life. If God’s seed sprouts in you, you are going to reproduce life like Jesus lives. If God’s seed remains in you, you are going to feel like living whether all your thinking is in line with your faith or not.
The point of faith is not just thinking correct thoughts and carefully fulfilling conscious behaviors. The seed is planted deeper in us. I say that most of what we do is not all that conscious, anyway. Most of our reactions are pretty automatic. They are mainly trained by who and what we love, not what we think. Starting with our parents, our loves lay out the track for what we do. Our reactions are directed toward what is ultimate to us.
During this speech we have been doing a lot of thinking together. But more important to our faith is how you have been training our loves to live in love. Being in this environment, and exercising the habits of it train our loves for living — this behavior directs your desire back to God. It is where the seed of new life is planted and nurtured.
If you bought the alternative view that you think therefore you are, then you probably have had a constant debate with what I have been saying. You’d have to in order not to lose your sense of self. Descartes taught that doubting is the basis of truth-seeking. You can’t be rational if your mind doesn’t dominate all your other functions.
But Jesus comes along and insists that who and what you love determines who you become and how you live. I suppose it is, “I love, therefore I am.” Jesus says, “If you love me, keep my commands.” (John 14:15).
When he says that, is he saying “Figure out the commandment and do it right, think it through and act — believe and so behave?”
Or is he saying, “My sheep hear my voice and come when I call, they love me and I love them, and I care for them like a shepherd.” I am with them as they seek me in the street and they will find me.
I say, and I think the New Testament writers back me up, that it is the latter. The seed doesn’t just change your thinking, it revolutionizes your loves. Like the Psalmist says, talking about the Law of Moses that Paul says is a weak precursor to the Word of Jesus: I shall run the way of Your commandments, For You will enlarge my heart. (Psalm 119:32). The seed of God is at work in us to train our loves so we love God again and receive the love that all our other pursuits seek in vain.
If you want to be fertile ground for the seed of God, if you want your soul to be a fertile womb for God’s life to be born, stay immersed in the activities and environments that train your loves. Do them, run in them, never merely think them. Have a life, give into the living places.
I think we have organized a healthy environment for you. For instance, we are trying to put together a track that can augment what happens in our cells on the Way of Jesus website that is filled with Gifts for Growing. It begins with Earth for people who are good soil and for those who may not even have the seed planted yet. Stay in it. If you don’t know Jesus yet, or don’t know if you want to trade in your rationalism, that’s OK. We made this environment for you. It can train your loves while your mind catches up.
I won’t go much further except to say run in the way like someone who wants their desires trained for intimacy with God and reconciliation with others.
Engage in the rituals: Daily Prayer, Communion, This meeting.
Be in the cell. It happens every week to train our loves.
Study the Bible like a site map not a text book.
Be baptized and join in the covenant.
Make the church’s map and move with us as we ratify it on the 25th.
These are exercises for a spiritual being in a body. They help us get started again and again, especially when what we think proves to be outmoded and becomes extinct.
I was walking in the woods listening to music, which I love to do when I am not walking with my wife — I like her even more than my music!
I realized something about my music as I walked. I have three versions of one song on my playlists — one by the artist who made it popular, Michael W. Smith (Kelly Carpenter wrote it), one by Marvin Winans, and one by me! I guess I like “Draw Me Close To You!”
But now, after further meditation, I want a rewrite. I will record mine again with improved words, once I am done writing this.
The original song was written because Kelly Carpenter was tired. He was doing church hard and losing the reason he was doing it. He saw himself getting in the way of God’s work. He wanted to get out of the way, to get back to his first love and do things the right way, regardless of the cost.
That’s OK until it goes too far. His lovely little mantra has inspired renewal all over the globe by now (i.e. – a Malagasy version). But I think people may take away some unfortunate messages from it.
A few lines of “Draw Me Close” need a re-write
Draw me close to you Never let me go I lay it all down again, to hear you say that I’m your friend
There is a problem here. I think underneath the lines, he is saying, “I don’t believe you love me unless I lay down my life.” Some people miss the whole point of the gospel because when they hear Jesus saying, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends,” they think Jesus is teaching them a lesson rather than giving them a gift! They think Jesus is putting the sacrifice on them instead of himself!
You are my desire No one else will do Cause nothing else can take your place [I wanna] feel the warmth of your embrace
No rewrite needed here. It is so true. “All my loves are reflections of yours, Lord.” But let’s go on.
Help me find the way bring me back to you.
I think there is an emphasis in this song, and in most of Evangelicalism, that reinforces, “I need to find the way.” I suppose if you’re not sure you are God’s friend, you probably feel lost most of the time. Several of my Christian clients just can’t be found. Being a lost seeker is their identity. If they stopped being one, they would betray who they are, be false to themselves, lose control.
[Cause] You’re all I want
This might be the worst line. I don’t think it is true. This song is full of a lot of other wants. He wants to feel better. He wants to live the right way. He wants to stop wasting his energy on foolishness. He wants to look good in the eyes of others. He wants to write a good song. (He wants credit for writing it, even if Michael W. Smith got all the money and fame). He wants God’s approval. He wants security that he is close to God. He wants to feel things.
Some of his wants are needs. Some of them are desires. Most of it is mixed up and that is just how it is with us.
You’re all I’ve ever needed
This might be the best line. So true. At the bottom, top and all around our needs is our need to live securely with God in the love of Christ and the nurturing of the Spirit.
You’re all I want Help me know you are near.
When I sing this, this is what I mean: “Ultimately, you’re all I want. In the meantime, help me.” Because I don’t always know what I want or know you are all around me. What’s more, I don’t respect my desires, which often makes me feel like I ought to be in control of myself and what going on around me, when I obviously am not.
Maybe we just don’t know what we want
When it comes to desire, Christians, especially, are not too conversant. They think things like, “I need to lay down my own desires so I can get in line with what God desires for me.” Philip Sheldrake wrote a whole book about getting over that error in his thinking. Here is a bit.
On the other hand, desires undoubtedly overlap with our needs and neediness, although it is still possible to distinguish between them. Both may be conscious or unconscious. In fact, it is not unusual to experience a conflict between the conscious and unconscious levels of ourselves. As we reflect on our lives, we can come to understand more clearly how unconscious needs had the capacity to drive us to behave in ways that we actually disliked or that failed to express our truest self. For example, we may be driven by a deeply buried need to succeed, and to be seen to succeed, while on a conscious level we say to ourselves and to others how much we desire to operate differently!
When we choose to talk of befriending desires rather than simply responding to needs we are implying that desires involve a positive and active reaching out to something or someone. Such a movement goes beyond our temporary reactions to immediate circumstances and actually touches upon deeper questions of our identity and our ideals. — Befriending our DesiresPhilip Sheldrake
Rather than laying down our desires and pretending we know what we want, we should respect our God-given capacity to desire and work out our desires in love.
Strangely enough, David Brooks touched on the same subject last week as he lamented the state of the U.S. culture, dominated, as it is, with micro moments of dopamine jolts which keep us from realizing our deeper meaning. He says:
The problem with our culture today is not too much desire but the miniaturization of desire, settling for these small, short-term hits. Our culture used to be full of institutions that sought to arouse people’s higher desires — the love of God, the love of country, the love of learning, the love of being excellent at a craft. Sermons, teachers, mentors and the whole apparatus of moral formation were there to elongate people’s time horizons and arouse the highest desires.
The culture of consumerism, of secularism, of hedonism has undermined those institutions and that important work. The culture has changed. As Philip Rieff noticed all the way back in his 1966 book, The Triumph of the Therapeutic, “Religious man was born to be saved; psychological man is born to be pleased.” — “The Junkification of American Life” by David Brooks (NYT Sep 5)
“Draw Me Close to You” is probably another little dopamine hit for a lot of worshipers. When they heard the first few piano chords the night the video was made, they got a chill of recognition and anticipation. The next song after the video was another little hit with little content but lots of feeling that left them wanting more.
When the “psychological man” (it was 1966, sorry women) gets to the words, looking to be pleased, I think they are more likely to be displeased, essentially unpleasable and perpetually looking for the next thing that might satisfy their unbridled hunger.
Maybe Rieff should have also said the “psychological beings” are born to be pleasing and never quite achieving the necessary splendor — TikTokkers getting abs to get clicks, Christians getting passion worthy of their ideal self and God’s approval.
Let’s make a few adjustments
Draw me close to you Never let me go
Let’s keep these lines. Just think of them another way. Don’t sing them like you’re a wild bronco resisting and needing to be broken. Sing it like a distraught child who needs to be wrapped in security and comfort. Try it. See if you can be drawn in close to God right now. God is close to you.
Instead of “I lay it all down again, “ try
I tune my ear for grace again
Instead of “to hear you say that I’m your friend,” try being more present, less aspirational,
I hear you say that I’m your friend
Or have you never heard that, personally, even though Jesus says it in John 15?
Let’s keep this part:
You are my desire No one else will do Cause nothing else can take your place
Just a small edit, below. Because it is so true: all my loves are reflections of yours, Lord. Let’s lean into that. I don’t just “want to” feel your embrace; I welcome it right now.
I feel the warmth of your embrace
Instead of “Help me find the way
bring me back to you” try:
Guide me on the way Through the dark to you.
I general, I think this song could use more mystery and less transaction. Regardless, let’s not be perpetual prodigal children, wandering in our individual wilderness. We are not in or out of salvation, we are in it all the time. I think this song was always about being in it with God, even when I feel a bit in the dark.
Instead of “[Cause] You’re all I want,” try
You’re who I want
Let’s keep it personal. God is not merely a better desire than the other desires I can choose. Besides, she chose us, according to John 15, we did not choose her.
Let’s keep this:
You’re all I’ve ever needed
It is so true. At the bottom, top and all around our needs is our need to live securely with God in the love of Christ and the nurturing of the Spirit.
You’re all I want Help me know you are near.
Let’s just keep in mind, we’re saying, “Ultimately, you’re all I want. In the meantime, help me.” Because I can’t even keep myself in the reality of your nearness.
With just a few simple tweaks
Is it OK to tweak a very popular song? I obviously think so. So does Michael W. Smith, since he changed the words to the original (which actually made more sense than his). I think my tweaks help us in three important ways:
They help us get out of our power struggle with God.
They acknowledge we are full of needs and full of desires. Our needs are not always aligned with our desires. Our needs matter to God. Our desires lead us to experience God. There is a tension between them, but not a dichotomy. We need to be aware of the tension and not think our needs are desires and vice versa.
They help us not to lie to ourselves and God. Saying, “You’re all I’ve ever needed,” acknowledges our sense of never being satisfied.
Let’s amplify that last bullet to close and acknowledge we are all needy right now. Even as I sing “You’re all I’ve ever needed,” in the back of my mind I am worried I am spending too much time writing this post and wondering if anyone even cares if I did. What’s more, I responded late to someone’s email and I think they’ll think poorly of me. I also ate too much for lunch at a smorgasbord yesterday and feel like I need to get up and get some exercise.
Singing “You’re who/all I want,” also acknowledges the largeness of our desire. Desire is what I worship with. It is what gives me hope of something better. It is place in me where I decide to do something that is from my best and meets God’s best like a kiss. “You are my desire” answers back to God’s desire for me and the burning passion of Jesus to see me come to fullness of life.
Simple songs make a difference. I can sing Kelly Carpenter’s song and let it mean what I want. But I can also sing it with him and relate to the strain he felt when he wrote it. He felt a bit bad about himself and how he was blowing it. He wanted help to get on the right path. Not so bad.
But I just want to note, his desire for God had apparently already put him on the right path. After he had his epiphany, he went home and wrote a song God was drawing him close to write. All over the world, people use it to express their deepest desire.
Most of our worship should acknowledge how much we want to be close to God, not just how much we would like to be close if were weren’t so terrible. Because God has drawn close to us and is close to us right now.
Not long ago, one of my psychotherapy clients who is a Christian had a revelation. Their pastor gave a sermon on Philippians 4:8 and my client realized they were dwelling on all the bad things in their life — especially when it came to their marriage, instead of dwelling on what is good.
I was excited because they were very right. They had been making themselves miserable for years by repeating the same narrative of loss, betrayal and dissatisfaction over and over.
Like many of my clients, Christian or not, they found concentrating on what is good was not as easy as just thinking about new things. I often hear reports like, “I tried what the pastor said, and I could do it a little bit. But then the injustice of it all kept popping up. It irritated me to think what I did not criticize would then become acceptable. I was afraid I would be left without getting anything I need, as usual.” There is always a lot more to it than that, but you might be able to fill in the rest, since you may have a tale of grievance you tell yourself, too.
In the course of my dialogue with that one Christian client, I thought there might be something missing. The life-changing action they were trying to take might need a more fundamental step before they got to a new way to see the world and their mate. I said something like, “Maybe you should take account of how all the beautiful things mentioned in Philippians 4:8 are in you. Then it might not be so crucial if someone else affirmed them.”
Let’s all take a few minutes and account for the goodness we live in, which also lives in us. Dwell in what is good and accept that good dwells in you.
Goodness night and day
Philippians 4:8
Philippians 4:8 is one of those places in Paul’s letters to his disciples where he makes a brilliant summary statement. The Letter to the Philippians (in the New Testament part of the Bible), as a whole, is a sweet, four-chapter, summary of the Apostle’s best teaching. Chapter 4 verse 8 might be a summary of the summary. It certainly deserves to be on all those plaques hanging in Christian bedrooms! It sums up how to live according to who you’ve become in Christ.
Here it is in a more literal translation that is widely used:
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (NIV)
Here is a variation from an artful translation I appreciate:
“Finally, brothers and sisters, fill your minds with beauty and truth. Meditate on whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is good, whatever is virtuous and praiseworthy.” (The Voice)
The string of words that render different ways to see the goodness God built into creation are usually where teachers, preachers and commentators concentrate. We love definitions don’t we? — we say things like “What does that mean exactly?” A pastor could get weeks of teaching out of this one passage, looking at one word at a time. And they might be good sermons.
I’m not sure the definitions make that much difference. It appears Paul took most of the words from common Greek philosophy and morality. He could have thought of quite a few more to use. Regardless of the details of how he said it, his main idea was and is, “We will all be better off if we train our fractious minds to focus on the good given to us and good we have to give others.” You can walk around your house seeing every bit of impurity and dishonor until the next family member you see looks like a threat to your security! But why would you do that if you live in grace?
Beyond common sense
In these famous sentences Paul transcends common sense, which is typical for him, in the way he uses of the Greek word λογίζεσθε. In translations of Philippians 4:8 into English, the verb is often translated “Think about such things,” as in the NIV. John Calvin and The Voice, above, say, “Fill your minds” and “meditate” on these things. I memorized the meaning and intent of the word from the NASB in my college days, which says, “dwell on these things,” as in “be thinking continually” on these things. Other translations say, “account for these things” and “pay attention to these things” and “reckon with these things.”
All those variations are good and important. But they tend to leave the hearer in charge of changing their minds and conforming to a better way of thinking. I think most people come away from the verses (and likely from most sermons!) with, “I need to be accountable for keeping my mind on these things” or “I need to be conformed to these good things so I will be good.” Or maybe I have lived in modern and postmodern times so long, I assume most people think that is how reality works — “I make what is real, real.”
My client assumed they were in charge and it felt weighty and impossible. Their epiphany moved them to see what is good but their judgment moved them to fixate on how their mate was one more example of someone not loving them very well. It felt intolerable. And, to be honest, for them it felt like all the hurts of the past were never going to be touched with anything that would heal them, they just needed to be overlooked. It was up to them to make being overlooked OK. We’re complex.
My reply to them was based on a deeper use of the word λογίζεσθε. We don’t make goodness, it is the gift of God. For instance,
in Romans 6:11, Paul uses the verb in the most basic way he sees it: “In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.” Give up your old way of seeing yourself and others.
In 1 Cor. 13:11 he famously says, “I used to account for things like a child.” But no more. See things like a real human grown up, living in love.
In 2 Cor. 10:2, he experiences confidence in the presence of Christ and accounts for his boldness as a result. Later on in v.5 he sees his work as taking godless thinking and making it captive to the knowledge of God in Jesus. It is the hallmark of Jesus followers that they hope for change and look for goodness to make a difference.
So the revelation of the pastor to my client was a bit more than just changing one’s mind (being “mindful,” we say today) and gaining a better outlook and attitude — I sent them the Enchanted video I love which also questions that mentality.
Before most of us can get to such a gracious way to see others and live in the world with confidence, I think we need to apply Philippians 4:8 to how we see ourselves.
Don’t just dwell on the good, dwell in it
My client did not see themself through any of the lenses on which Paul insists we see the world. They were suspicious of anything that could be called good in them. If they were criticizing their mate, they were sure to be criticizing themself more! They saw themself as failing, unhappy, and filled with an icky bitterness they could not shake. Their transformation needed to be spiritual, too. Deeper than mental hygiene is the spiritual work of being restored by God. We can either cooperate with our redemption or be in charge of it.
So I suggested my client apply Philippians 4:8 to looking at themself and then dwell on all the wonderful goodness they could find in themself. Maybe it would be a memory of what someone else noticed or praised, or maybe it would be some comfort once experienced while snug in their bed. But I was hoping for them to see themselves like God sees them and like I saw them: quite lovely now and prospectively even more wonder-filled in the future and then glorious in the age to come. Paul wants us to account for the presence of God in Jesus for us and the Spirit of Truth who dwells with us.
Give it a try. Don’t just assess things outside yourself, or think about how you are going to act well, certainly not how you are imperfect or bad. Dwell on who you already are, what is built into you, what you have developed, what you desire, your best ideas.
Try thinking about each of the following bullet points so you understand as much as you can. But then go deeper. Lean back into the silence with God and let what they talk about rise up in you. See it and accept who you truly are. Be yourself in Christ.
what is true or noble — honest, honorable — better yet “venerable,” of the Spirit, unique to you.
what is right or pure — what can be judged good and what is just good which no one can judge.
what is lovely or admirable – how you are loved and loveable, how you have shown love, how you have been brave in the troubles of love.
what is excellent or praiseworthy – the things in you which you know are good, like your willingness to read this post and do this exercise.
It may be hard to “think about such things” but it must be done. If all you have is “Jesus thinks I am worthy of saving,” that might be good enough. But dig deep; you are a wonder. God is with you and you are part of a good creation. Dwell on that and you will have more capacity to face the complexities of growing and relating.
Then Gwen had an accident as a result of catching flu. She fell in the bathroom and fractured 7 ribs. We ended up in ICU health hell. I had to wear a mask for days. The hospital was much worse than I expected. But did I pray? Well yes. But, surprisingly, it was off and on. It seems like my disciplines are much better when I am on vacation or on retreat, not living my normal life. Surprisingly, If there is a problem, one of the first things to go might be prayer — this is not totally true, of course, but I have found it oddly true of me — and it may be true of you. Gwen, on the other hand, prayed a lot. She had a whole season of rib repair and pain in which to do it. If your life is being changed, you need God, right? Better pray.
Today is 
All that stuff I just said is a LOT less than what Jesus is and what Jesus, Paul and John are talking about in the parts of the Bible I have shown you or told you. But a lot of Christians I have known, and even more I have heard about, think the seed Jesus is talking about is the Bible, or some factoid from the Bible or some principle drawn from the Bible. And they can reduce the idea down to clip art.
