Category Archives: Spiritual direction

Don’t hunker down. Expand your tent

A life in the Spirit, Building community, Life as the church, Spiritual direction, , , , ,

For many years, now, even before the pandemic, we have all been scrambling to find a new place in an upended world. Our institutions, from the federal government to the classroom, all seemed to be deteriorating, Our churches, associations, families, marriages feel threatened or unsustainable. More and more young people have begun to live alone, with the workplace as their main place to relate outside their bunker — and even then much of that relating has been consigned to a screen, sometimes in their bedroom.

Booming business for bunkers

Now that Trump has taken the helm, pardoned a slew of criminals and installed billionaires in new thrones (one, at least, giving a Nazi salute for the cameras), half the country is wondering what to do. And from what I hear, one of their solutions is to “go to their tents:” don’t watch the news, hunker down, shore up their family or small group of friends and try to survive. That is understandably defensive. And it is not a new response to a social mess.

But it is not the right time to go back to our tents. It is time to infect the society with truth and love.

The Biblical Trump

When Rehoboam, perhaps the Trump of the Old Testament, became king after his father Solomon died, he had a choice. He could lighten up on his father’s grandiosity or follow in his footsteps. Solomon had built an oversized kingdom on the backs of his people: high taxes and conscripted labor to build a lavish temple and palaces big enough for his many wives, stables and more. The people were tired of it. The king was a one-man 1% collecting all the wealth.

The elders, like the Episcopal bishop, and Catholic Archbishop preaching to Trump last week, asked Rehoboam to lighten up. He told them to come back later and he’d tell them what he planned. Then he went and talked to his cronies who lived with him in his bubble. They advised him to double down. In our context their advice would be, “Tell them they must say the election was stolen. Tell them you’re going to pardon bitcoin criminals. Tell them you want to conquer Greenland.” In Rehoboam’s context it was, “Tell them your pinky has more girth than your dad’s loins. Tell them, ‘If my dad set on you with whips, expect me to  set on you with scorpions.’”

The elders did not like his answer. Their response was so legendary the storytellers compiling the history could quote a song about it: “What share have we in David? / We have no inheritance in the son of Jesse. / To your tents, O Israel! / Now, see to your own house, O David!” (Today we’d cue up Le Mis). They took the place name “Israel” with them and left Rehoboam with just the tribal area of Judah. The call, “To you tents, O Israel!” is reminiscent of how the tribes organized themselves in the encampments on the way from Egypt. It was like another exodus from an oppressive ruler.

I think a lot of the people I know are unwittingly or deliberately going to their tents. They are leaving Mark Zuckerberg’s predatory social media, boycotting Amazon, not touching anything smelling of Musk, turning their exhausted backs on Trump and the next outrageous thing he says or does. That’s understandably defensive. But I don’t think it is worthy of us.

The vision of an expanding tent

In the 580s BC, King Zedekiah of Judah chose the wrong ally. (Trump might be deciding, “Europe or Russia?” right now). Babylon destroyed the temple in Jerusalem and exiled the elite, including the prophet Ezekiel. Other citizens fled to Egypt. The Assyrians had previously done this to the Northern Kingdom in the 720’s BC. A prophet among the exiles in Babylon, speaking in the spirit of Isaiah, prophesied Israel’s return to the place of the ancestral tents. His vision is the antidote we need to the poisonous atomization to which we are tempted to surrender in our own exile.

In Isaiah 54 the prophet has God speaking to a “barren” people whose tents are empty of children. They are desolate, as you may well feel this week. Discouraged. Exhausted. Afraid. Instead of hunkering down in exile, he calls them to respond to a vision of something better, something only God can do.

Enlarge the place of your tent,
And let them stretch out the curtains of your dwellings;
Do not spare;
Lengthen your cords,
And strengthen your stakes.
For you shall expand to the right and to the left,
And your descendants will inherit the nations,
And make the desolate cities inhabited.

Historically, the prophet is talking about returning to Israel, which the Persian Empire eventually allowed. But I think its broader meaning, a spiritual meaning, calls me to make a bigger tent, not a smaller one, because we need to gather ourselves and build something ancient and new to meet the challenges of the latest tyrants. We need to shore up or re-establish a community where the love of Jesus reigns.

To be honest, Trump Christians believe he is the new Cyrus returning them from exile and making a place for their tribe to again rule God’s chosen nation, the United States. I think that is a ruinous delusion; you can decide for yourself. I don’t think Trump or the U.S. is exceptional or chosen, just a decent port in the choppy ocean of history. We don’t need to fight for the control of the nation as much as we need to salt it with the grace we enact within and from our tent.

Jesus tabernacling

The ultimate guide for our ongoing exodus is Jesus, who is pictured as an expansive tent. The key verse in John uses an ancient image that calls us away from our division and isolation and empowers us to not only envision but practically extend our tent pegs in expectation of an ingathering.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. — John 1:14

The more literal translations accurately trade “dwelt” for “tabernacled.” I agree it was John’s intent to reference the big tent, the “tabernacle of meeting” the Israelites set up during their sojourn where God met them. Jesus is the tabernacle where the world meets God face to face. Jesus is the tabernacle from where the people-God-calls-out of the world gather to meet in truth and love.

Now is not the time to isolate, avoid, wait or play defense. At least that is not Jesus’ strategy for the good life. Now is the time to relate: to God and to one another. The antidote to every disaster is to stick with God and love one another in practical ways. Many people know this and are making it happen, but you and I need to do it, too.

During the pandemic and because of the Evangelical/Catholic delusion about Trump, the church took a hit. You may still be out of church. You may have turned your back on Jesus altogether and explored the many alternatives cropping up. But many of my readers wish they could find some place to be the church with integrity and action. Exhausted as you may feel, now is the time to find it or build it.

We need the church now, as much as ever

Thirty years ago we planted a great church for the “next generation.” Little did I know what would hit us during the pandemic, and I thought Trump was just a brief, worst nightmare. It was a great sojourn for me and hundreds of other people.  Seeds of that work are still ripening even now.

Even though many churches have taken a hit, there are plenty of revived or reviving churches to join. My friend just joined a new church in Baltimore. If I were in Southwest Philly I’d sojourn with Salt and Light. If I were in Northeast Philly I’d probably be with Oxford Circle Mennonite. In my neighborhood near St. Joseph U., I’m part of the newly-expansive St. Asaph’s. I dare say most churches are not fully on the Trump bandwagon and certainly are not in favor of scaring undocumented people to death or tormenting trans folk. I think most believers know dominating others, lying, or having a devotion to violence and greed will never be OK. They want real stuff.

Jesus is still tabernacled among us, full of grace and truth. We need to meet him personally and meet with him together with others for our mental and spiritual health, in order to experience our deepest loves and desires, and to keep the world from falling off the cliff of its own self-destruction. Maybe more than ever, we need to gather around Him, share our spiritual gifts and natural strengths, do our part in making the love that will not only benefit us but make a better future.

God bless you as you do the good you do in the school, workplace or neighborhood association. But “me against the world” will never be enough. It is likely to make you a minion of TikTok. The people of God need to be with God and each other in their basic tent of dwelling, their portable, flexible, developing homeplace, not only in their hearts, but in their face-to-face relationships and joint action. There is no time to lose by lamenting and laying low.

I rejoined the church two Lents ago. I started a new small group, and we are about to start another. I decided to give what I have to a local expression of the Body. It feels right. I feel a bit hopeful. And even in my uncertainty, I feel like I’m in the tent where I belong. What is God giving you to be and do to meet the challenge of this wild time in history? I doubt the call is, “Go to you tent.”

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Today is Mahalia Jackson Day! Check in with her at The Transhistorical Body.

Seven mistakes that could neuter your faith (2016)

A life in the Spirit, Spiritual direction, , , , , , ,

Faith feels kind of fragile. This is a message from 2016, but I think it still works for this year, when passion is blunted and fear is high. 

Don’t struggle with prayer

Epaphras, who is one of you and a servant of Christ Jesus, sends greetings. He is always wrestling in prayer for you, that you may stand firm in all the will of God, mature and fully assured. — Colossians 4:12

Epaphras struggled in prayer, wrestled. It was hard. If we do not learn to pray, our faith dies. In every era of life, the struggle is different. When we suffer, it is especially hard to pray and especially fruitful.

So how do we learn how to pray? A father from the Desert was asked by a novice “Abba, how do I pray?” The father answered, “Pray and the prayer will teach you everything.”

That’s a good piece of direction. Here are some more specific hints.

  • Establish a minimal daily routine. Reaching consistency is the most important goal.
  • Get warmed up to pray. Use a book or an app, maybe. Look over your notes from Sunday. Read the Bible or the writings of great guides – they whet your appetite for prayer.
  • Create a praying atmosphere. Use icons, candles, incense, prayer beads. They all contribute to decreasing distraction and increasing Holy Spirit awareness.
Artsy prayer corner
  • Involve both the spirit and the body. Kneel or stand, bow your head, raise your hands, lay prostrate.
  • Set reasonable expectations. In a society that enjoys instant gratification every day, one can abandon prayer after a couple of “failed” attempts. Prayer takes patience.
  • Don’t obsess on mystical experiences. It is important to discern among the spirits. Visions and experiences need to sit and prove themselves. Our pride can deceive us. We can turn prayer into an achievement or a competition
  • Remember that prayer is more than your “quiet time.” It is linked with repentance, humility, charity and fasting, etc. It happens in community. It is being in the presence of God all day and staying in dialogue.

Prayer is an encounter with God, is building up a personal relationship that needs nurturing and perseverance. The more we communicate the closer we become to any person and to the person of God. The conversation becomes more rewarding every time.

You have already been doing some evaluation by going through the list above. Make a plan to implement the element of the list that moved you the most — or maybe the one that seems to be the greatest struggle.

Let your sharing erode

 We were not looking for praise from people, not from you or anyone else, even though as apostles of Christ we could have asserted our authority. Instead, we were like young children among you.

Just as a nursing mother cares for her children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well. – 1 Thessalonians 2:6-8

The Thessalonians have a tight community and they are experiencing the kinds of things people in community fear. Some people take advantage. Other people hold back. A few people try to hold things together and end up feeling burned out. There is always a pull towards isolation and tepidity. We’re made for that by sin. If we let our sharing erode our faith could die.

Paul writes his letter so that the new life of his church plant won’t get wrecked by the unconscious erosion of their sharing – not just of money (although that is a big thing in Thessaloniki) but of love and the kind of covenant keeping that makes family out of strangers.

He uses his own sharing as an example. When he came to town, he was purposely dependent on them. He could have been in power, but he was like a child. Likewise, they were dependent on him. He was like a mother and they were defenseless children. Why? It was love. Love moved him to share the good news of Jesus which is all about God’s love moving Jesus to share eternal life. What’s more, love moved Paul, just like God, to share this life personally. Paul’s message wasn’t about love, it was love in the flesh.

After a while, sharing money or sharing life in community can feel wearing if they lose connection with passionate love – a love so deliberate it comes from heaven in Jesus or walks from Syria to Greece in Paul. When is the last time you shared in an extraordinary way? How long has it been since you checked to see if your passion is fairly represented in how you share your money? Celebrate the joys, if they reflect your answer. Pray for courage and confidence if the answer presents a challenge.

Be threatened into silence

“What are we going to do with these men?” they asked. “Everyone living in Jerusalem knows they have performed a notable sign, and we cannot deny it. But to stop this thing from spreading any further among the people, we must warn them to speak no longer to anyone in this name.”

Then they called them in again and commanded them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John replied, “Which is right in God’s eyes: to listen to you, or to him? You be the judges! As for us, we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.” – Acts 4:16-20

It is interesting to wonder what is going on with Peter. When confronted in the courtyard the night of Jesus’ trial, he denied he was a Jesus follower three times! After he received the Holy Spirit, he performed a miracle and refused to stop talking about it when the same court that condemned Jesus ordered him to do so. Not long after, however, when he travelled to Antioch, to Paul’s church of Gentiles and Jews, he “began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group” (see Galatians 2:11-21). Even the boldest among us can be threatened into silence. It neuters our faith. We become hypocrites who supposedly have a faith with public principles, yet we are afraid of the consequences of being public.

These days, people are afraid to say something on Facebook because they might look like the kind of person who would say something on Facebook! If they talk about Jesus or their church, they are afraid someone will judge them for being too into themselves, or too aggressive, or too something, so they are shamed by the very thought of being shamed by the latest judge.

But if you can’t talk about Jesus like you talk about your latest vacation, or your family, or the various causes that heighten your passion, hasn’t your faith become of no consequence? What does it mean if the Lord is not the most consequential person alive from the dead?

Pray: Give me boldness to speak about what I have seen and heard of You.

Maybe you should imagine frightening situations — like telling your parents you are a Christian, or telling some significant person about what you now believe. You might rehearse talking about it in front of the mirror – that might lessen the terror when you actually encounter the real-life situation. Sharing your fears with others might help, too. Talk to them about what you felt and decided when you read today’s reading.

Write down your story of faith so you can really see it. Then you won’t need to invent it on the spot when you feel like you have an antagonist looking at you skeptically. Hold up your story to God as an offering and say, like Paul, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

Stop making new friends

“Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you,  leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift. – Matthew 5:23-4

In the long run, worship and prayer easily become very singular, personal, private. You are probably reading this alone and it never crosses your mind to share the experience with others. The U.S. is so steeped in individualism, you probably rarely think or asking for help or sharing personal things. The reading for today speaks into such a situation – the Jewish people having a long, insular faith devoted to staying free from outside influences.

Jesus suggests the worshiper leave the scene of the sacrifice as it is being enacted when he or she realizes the real impurity must be expiated relationally. They remember how they have wronged someone and must make it right. The work of the altar is about reconciliation. And that is not just healing a breech between a person and God, but healing the breech in a divided heart so prone to ignoring sins against love.

Our faith is neutered when we stop making friends with new people because we busy at our altars – doing church, satisfied in prayer, happy for therapy, stabilized enough to make money and buy insulating comforts. Whole churches effectively close their doors because they are busily grooming the relationships they have already domesticated. None of the New Testament writers recommend anything but pushing into new relationship territory. Jesus would have us love our enemies – just because we can.

Pray: Remind me Lord when I come to prayer and ignore my sins against love.

Obviously, when Jesus says “be reconciled” he is talking about people who have something legitimately against us, not just that they are upset and we should feel responsible. We are to be free to love with abandon, we are not abandoned to repairing every breech.

Dare to think beyond the security of your present life with God and the people of God. Who should become your new friend? Where should you go looking for a new friend?

While we are at it, let’s look at our church as a whole. Are we allowing people to become our friends? Do we think of them, even as we are worshiping, or would that seem like a violation of our space?

Put the church on the other side of a boundary

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness….

[E]ven if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. So you too should be glad and rejoice with me. – Philippians 2:5-7…17-18

Who is God? Look at Jesus and you can see. There He is making himself nothing, finding a way to express self-giving love in the most redemptive way possible. Who am I in Christ? Paul often says “Look at me. I am the chief of sinners being used by God. Here I am emptying myself, pouring myself out like Jesus.” Both Jesus and Paul are demonstrating the joy of knowing and expressing their true selves. Even though Jesus is making himself a slave and Paul is in prison for his faith, they rejoice.

People who have grown up with this message often hear it upside down, as if this selflessness was a demand, not a promise. They have been so required, they have never chosen, and have a grown up faith that is full of boundaries. They are still pouring themselves out of their false self, not out of the inexhaustible joy in the Spirit. God and God’s people end up threats who will steal life, not give it.

These generalities don’t fit every person, since people are not standard. But the idea is worth pondering. If you are putting the church and its work on the other side of a boundary, if you have to “set a boundary” so you will feel comfortable or safe, what does that mean? Could your faith be more a reaction than an action? Isn’t it being neutered if the very thing that should give it life seems to be stealing it? Jesus and Paul don’t seem to be losing the promise and holding back even though their circumstances are dire.

Pray: Help me to get out of myself and into the Body.

Consider what script is running in your head about the church, in particular. Note your resentments and fears, your disappointments and resistance. It does not matter if they are legitimate or not. But they could be neutering your faith.

Try crossing your boundary. Volunteer to give your spiritual gift in a practical way. Go to the Sunday meeting four times in a row with the intention of pouring yourself into them, “on the sacrifice and service of someone’s faith.” Or do that thing you have been intending to do as a representative of God’s people and don’t tell a soul, just do it whether anyone notices or is there to judge it or not.

Look liberal and act conservative

Read Colossians 2:16-23

These rules, which have to do with things that are all destined to perish with use, are based on merely human commands and teachings. Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.

One of the things that neuters faith, hope and love the quickest is imposing a new holiness code. Paul is against it. He respects the Law of Moses and the interpretations that grew up around it. But Jesus shows it to be the mere tutor it was, not the standard it pretends to be. Likewise, he tries to undermine the latest teachings of the latest lawgivers who find a reading in the stars or a vision by which to order everyone according to their new rules of purity. He calls is “delighting in false humility” and being “puffed up with idle notions.”

There are so many good things that are, in essence, disconnected from the head, who is Christ, but are very connected to the latest political theory or scientific realities. We can look “liberal” like we are into the latest thing, while we are very conservative, practicing the oldest of deceptions. Wearing nonexploitive clothes, drinking the right coffee, eating farm direct produce, biking, practicing the right kind of yoga, not vaccinating your child, being fit, not bathing, having a beard, voting Green, not voting, protesting a lack of diversity, judging inappropriate speech – the younger one is, the more rules there seem to be! There is a new holiness code, but Jesus did not make it up!

Pray: Help me see beyond the shadows to Christ.

Good intentions are the shadows of the real good to come, which is connected to the head, from whom the whole body grows as God causes it to grow. Take a moment to be freely and securely connected to the head as part of the body of Christ, free of any false criteria that condemns you.

Take a brief inventory of (not a condemning look at) your “identity.” What parts of your “lifestyle” are really based on the rules of people? Can you name a few rules you can safely live without in the light of Jesus? Get rid of some “shoulds” that could lock you up.

“Trust” the leaders instead of being responsible

I can’t impress this on you too strongly. God is looking over your shoulder. Christ himself is the Judge, with the final say on everyone, living and dead. He is about to break into the open with his rule, so proclaim the Message with intensity; keep on your watch. Challenge, warn, and urge your people. Don’t ever quit. Just keep it simple.

You’re going to find that there will be times when people will have no stomach for solid teaching, but will fill up on spiritual junk food—catchy opinions that tickle their fancy. They’ll turn their backs on truth and chase mirages. But you—keep your eye on what you’re doing; accept the hard times along with the good; keep the Message alive; do a thorough job as God’s servant. – 2 Timothy 4:1-5 (The Message)

Timothy was Paul’s apprentice. He was young, but he was put in charge of leading one of the churches. He faced a lot of things that make many people his age run from responsibility: hard work, opposition, people without a stomach for the truth. The main thing that neuters faith might be that people want their leaders to have faith for them, even force it on them, provide them a weekly mirage of it, be a larger than life example of it to enjoy vicariously.

A church should be devoted to apprenticing responsible leaders. There should be about one in every ten people. That means if sixty groups or missions got started this year, the ten founders in each one would all need a leaders the church produced. The generative capacity of the whole church will be neutered if we are not able to do that.

You might not need to be a group or mission leader, but you do need to be responsible to give what you have been given. It is not the leaders’ church. You do not attend “Rod’s church” (someone called it that). It is the Lord’s church. And, as Paul warned Timothy, “God is looking over your shoulder. Christ himself is the Judge, with the final say on everyone, living and dead. He is about to break into the open with his rule, so proclaim the Message with intensity; keep on your watch.” We would like this judgment to somehow be non-threatening, but it is a threat. We don’t get to live someone else’s life; we are responsible for the one we have. We can’t “trust our leaders” and let them decide everything and do everything; we need to be our part of the team.

Pray: Help me keep my eye on what I’m; accept the hard times along with the good; keep the Message alive; do a thorough job as God’s servant.

Maybe you do not have the stomach for this “solid teaching.” Or maybe you are surrounded by people whole have weak stomachs, so you feel kind of embarrassed to eat a rich diet. It doesn’t matter; we need to eat the bread of life and not turn away when Jesus offers us his body and blood. We are called and honored with good work to do. We must not make the mistake of being untrustworthy.

Are there any responsibilities you have been given as part of the body that you are shirking and letting one of the leaders do?

Does God protect us? : The music sends a message

A life in the Spirit, Music, Spiritual direction, , , , , , ,

During my four years In college, I was in a choral practice every day, Monday through Friday. I think I loved every day — at least I do now, as I look back on it. I learned a lot about much more than music, but it is the music that keeps rising up to bless me.

On Friday, the music was there to meet me as soon as I woke up. I was startled awake because of a dream. I won’t tell you all of it, but the part that woke me up was about being on a straight road going very fast and then realizing I had fallen asleep. When I jolted awake, I did not know where I was. I eventually found out I had gone to Maryland in my dreams!

I know how this actually feels because I did fall asleep once when we were driving to San Francisco for the weekend from So Cal – back in the day when all-night things were pretty normal. I fell asleep at the wheel and woke up just as I was about to enter an overpass curving over a railroad track. I still remember the feeling of shock and terror, then relief.

I definitely felt protected by God in my dream and in my experience.

Does God protect us?

In my dream, though, I felt a bit ambivalent. Was I protected? Honestly, my unconscious was having an ongoing intellectual discussion just before I woke up.

But even before I opened my eyes, a song came to mind. It was a solo I sang in college. We performed Honegger’s King David, which is a rather difficult, not-too-melodic drama. I did not really get it. But my director often gave his ignorant protégé solos which were over his head and labored to help me perfect them. He had one good reason to deploy me: I actually felt what was behind the sacred music. We were in a secular setting and he was surrounded by music majors who cared more about Honegger’s technique than his motivation. I never got the technique that well —  my mentor had to mark my scores with endless instructions. But I did get the faith.

I realized years later that the little solo he gave me in King David was really half a solo. A new, older tenor had joined the choir who read music like I read the newspaper, and he wanted a solo in the piece. My director did not want to disappoint him, so he gave him the first half, which was more like an intro to my second half, which might be the most melodic measures in the whole work.

My one line was a soaring moment of assurance God gave David in his old age. Essentially, it was, “You’ll be OK even though Absalom has upended your kingdom.” Whether Psalm 121 is really about that, who knows? I didn’t even think about it. I just sang,

He will not suffer thy foot to be mov-ed,
for he is on high, watching above.
The Lord who is thy keeper neither slumbers nor sleeps.

That one line of music has stuck with me my entire adulthood. It pops up at just the right time, over and over.

To hear the pro sing it, you’ll have to scroll to section #21 “Psaume” at about 54:00

I’m not sure I can promise what you want

Again, and again in my life, especially when I feel threatened, that one line of Psalm 121 comes to me in a song. I’m thinking about it today, but I normally don’t. It just happens.

In my dream, God protected me. He kept me. God is my keeper, even in Maryland.

Intellectually, I would not defend that God can be relied on to keep me from flying off an overpass and into Bakersfield. But in my dream, I definitely felt God had protected me when I woke up in Maryland. I told God as we pondered together, “I don’t believe you constantly protect me,” because my experience tells me otherwise, and I cannot justify why God would not protect everyone who is abused by more than I have been. But I also said, “I do believe you watch over me and suffer with me,” since inexplicable grace happens and I feel God suffering with me and comforting me, heart, soul, mind and strength.

Practically, the fact is, I risk and imagine further risks almost every day under the assumption I am protected, that my future is in God’s hands. I prayed, “Your lack of slumber is the eternity in which I wake and sleep and defy death.” God being with me and me being with God is what is safe, not being kept unharmed. Escaping harm is exciting and comforting, too, but it is kind of the surface of things. One day I will, in fact, die. I will then only defy death because I am with God and God is with me. God will not keep me from the “harm” of dying. When I finally die, Jesus will take my hand and lead me into the fullness of eternity.

Feeling the confidence to live the risky life we all live is better than avoiding the troubles I fear. I think the world has so much trouble right now there will never be enough avoidance to deal with it!

But I can promise grace will happen

I have had the blessing of faith my whole life which has allowed me not to worry too much about my safety. But I have many clients, especially those who have been traumatized, who struggle every day with how God did not save them and how they can’t save themselves. They’ve flown off the bridge from which I was saved.

I can’t make a promise God will keep them, like the psalm appears to promise. (But let’s be clear, Absalom had already raped his father’s concubines in public, so David’s foot was mov-ed a lot!). Even so, I do have evidence that gives me hope that even the more damaged, distressed people can find security.

Grace happens all the time. It is as hard to explain as waking up just before you were going to fly over a guard rail. For instance, once a client had a vision in which a significant spiritual figure met them while they were meditating. The person saw themselves crouching in the dark, and the spiritual figure put a hand on their shoulder and said, “You are not a loser,” among other things. When I heard that, I did not reply with a therapeutic “That’s interesting.” I yelped with glee. I welcomed that extraordinary experience and was shocked at the same time. I saw it coming about as much as I expected to fall asleep at the wheel.

God comes to meet us all the time. Jesus knows we need the immediacy. We need the ongoing incarnation of his truth and love. He said, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” As sure as the angels instructed the shepherds, God watches over us.

Having trouble believing angels talk to shepherds? Look up in the air, more. Look beyond the limits you have imposed on the sky’s boundary. Help is on the way. If you don’t see it, it may already be here. At least I know God is here.

How did the first week of Advent go? Did you gauze it?

A life in the Spirit, Spiritual direction, ,

On the first day of Advent a bunch of stuff descended on me. Some of it was a bit difficult, like preparing to move in a month or so, and fulfilling a new assignment from my pastor. Most of it was just seasonal fun: having a party, scheduling concerts, buying gifts. And, as you know, I follow the news which also seems to be descending on everyone I meet.

I had intended to sit down and have some extended time with God and make my way into Advent: Jesus prophesied, Jesus incarnate, Jesus present with me, Jesus coming again. But it just was not working. I finally decided this Advent was going a different direction than usual. Instead of considering how I would enter into Advent with Jesus, I decided to consider how Jesus was entering into Advent with me.

Here was and is my prayer: You are incarnate in life as it is. I welcome that.

It has felt good to investigate how I use Advent.

Originally, the season of Advent was supposed to be like Lent: a somewhat sober preparation to open up to the coming of Jesus. Christmas was the beginning of the celebration, not the end (as in “the twelve days”). But when the end became getting a gift on Christmas, the spiritual discipline was upended. So the incarnation might be the most neglected spiritual foundation for postmodern Christianity.

Instead of marveling at our self-giving God during Advent, who deigns to be a human, in all our corruption and pain, we idealize the baby and tidy up the stable. I was late getting Christmas cards this year, so I had to drive clear over to Manoa to the Hallmark store. They are nice. The manger scene has almost no hint of war, ignorance or suffering.

I also managed to put up my very tidy, artificial tree. It is quite beautiful. It reminds me it is “Christmas.” But it is more full of magic than majesty. It probably has more to do with whimsy than worship. I do have a lobster ornament and a dancing hippo, after all, not to mention a plump mermaid and a hand-blown pig. I think it is charming and hospitable, but it is part of an aesthetic and somewhat anesthetic.

I learned how to pair my I-phone with my blue tooth speaker and started playing my Christmas playlist. As a person who sings along with muzak in the store, the playlist can really dominate. I collect all the voices that please me and set an atmosphere; it can function as a musical bubble. I included Respighi’s “Laud to the Nativity” we sang in college. As I listened to the pro sing my tenor solo, I criticized how bad I performed it. I missed the Nativity and the laud as I critiqued the performance.

The aura of Christmas has, for centuries, been refined to the hilt: peaceful (snow on snow), candlelit or firelit (chestnuts roasting), calm and bright (wax burning your hand as you sing on Christmas Eve). We pull out the stops to denude it of most trappings of the original event. We may have colluded with each other to buffer the reality of God with us. Really, those of us who have birthed babies know very well the Christ child was not sleeping in “heavenly peace” with his stressed-out parents in a barn.

I don’t need a buffered relationship

As I was praying, I was distressed that I was messing up my Advent ritual! I was not even praying right. Hmm.  Holiday capitalism and our godless perfectionism gets in the way of Advent. All our excessive, ritual buffering (like our favorite sign off, “Stay safe!”) subverts a prayerful Advent. Jesus is like Doris Day getting shot through a filter.

Doris Day was a famous singer in the 1940’s who became a romantic-comedy movie star in the 50’s and 60’s. She’s on my “pop” playlist a few times. She did not like her freckles so she would tell the cameramen, “Gauze me baby” so she could sing Que Sera Sera. The operators applied Vaseline to the lens or used a very sheer piece of silk or plastic to soften her appearance on screen and later mask her wrinkles. She glowed.

Wouldn’t you say that Jesus is effectively  gauzed during Advent? Aren’t we seeing him through a controlling lens? I don’t need that. Syria is transforming and Trump is sitting with Macron in Notre Dame. Come, Lord Jesus. Do not stay locked up in that Christmas card!

Christ the Savior is born, again

My prayer became, “I dare not let you get cleaned up. I need you down in the dirt, in the stable with me.” I didn’t say, “Down in the shit,” since that would be unseemly. But no one knows the shit of humanity better than Jesus, right?

Much more than complaining about society and humanity, I want the Spirit of God unleashed by Jesus in me, so I am not only born again but I give birth to him in significant ways.

Ronald Rolheiser has encouraged me to do this birthing many times. For him, Mary is a model to imitate not a maiden to admire. From her we get the pattern of incarnation in our lives, hopefully ignited by Advent:

  • Let the word of God take root and make you pregnant
  • Gestate that by giving it the nourishing sustenance of your own life
  • Submit to the pain that is demanded for it to be born to the outside
  • Spend years coaxing it from infancy to adulthood
  • Do some pondering, accept the pain of not understanding and of letting go.

I guess I am old enough to do some pondering. I don’t make complete sense and neither does Advent or the whole weird world. I think I can let go of the temptation to jump into controlling all that. If I resist, I will be able to welcome Jesus to do what He does: become incarnate in my messy existence. In like manner, I will be much more likely to give birth to the work of the Spirit in me, right in the middle of the turmoil of a world in great need of the true Savior.

Spiritual Bypass — a new resource article

A life in the Spirit, Doing Theology, Psychological growth, Spiritual direction,

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.

 

But does anybody pray?: Many encouragements to do so

A life in the Spirit, Spiritual direction, ,

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.

Listening in the era of lies

A life in the Spirit, Doing Theology, Spiritual direction, , , , ,

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.

@brianmclaren

If you’re afraid, anxious, tired … election. #terrified #tired #trump #harris

♬ original sound – Brian D. McLaren

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.

*************************************

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.

Visit her at The Transhistorical Body.

Deep peace to you.

A life in the Spirit, Spiritual direction,

A follow up to Monday’s post and Tuesday’s historic election.

Here is a wish from two all stars from my former church community, and me.

I will always long for community

Building community, Spiritual direction, , , , ,

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.

Conversion: The smoking woman and the dejected church planter

A life in the Spirit, Spiritual direction, The Mission, , ,

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.