Jesus Who? The Age of Reverent Agnosticism

Earlier this week, a friend of mine sent me a study that said that 50% of Americans don’t think that Christmas is a religious holiday. Another friend sent me a survey that said 47% of Americans don’t trust clergy– the highest percentage since the question was asked! Another friend called and said he attended the worst clergy Christmas party ever, because one colleague lamented the whole time over the looming reality that clergy will no longer have their housing tax exempt and they can’t get any respect. I have a lot of depressed clergy friends!

In a society where the only press clergy get is when a denomination defrocks one of their own thereby creating a war within themselves one week before Christmas, lets face it, we clergy are our own worse enemies. We are accused of being divisive, because we are. We are accused of having double standards, because we do. We are accused of not practicing what we preach, because we don’t. We clergy are as human and sinful and vulnerable and needy as anyone. We are trying to figure it out just like everyone else. And if anyone out there suggests that they have it all together and they have all the answers, run!

In April, 1966, Time Magazine wrote on the cover or their magazine the now infamous words, “Is God Dead?” They wrote that the current crisis of faith could be healthy for the church, and that it might force clergymen and theologians to abandon previously held certainties: “The church might well need to take a position of reverent agnosticism regarding some doctrines that it had previously proclaimed with excessive conviction.”[5]

Today, some fifty years later it seems to me the church has taken the position of reverent agnosticism to the point that we have lost our sacred identity.

I don’t think Christmas will ever be forgotten, but Jesus might.

The other night I heard Ben Stiller explain the meaning of Christmas to Steven Colbert. He said, “Yeah, I like Christmas. Its a time to give thanks and appreciate all the blessings in our lives.” Really? That’s the meaning of Christmas? About all the stuff we have and how fortunate we are to have it?!

In the name of reverent agnosticism, Christmas has become a day when we count all our stuff and say, “Man, I am lucky!!”

Charles Schulz tried to bring some Jesus back when he had Linus read from Luke 2, and then say:

“That’s was Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

Christmas will come and go this year. We will eat, unwrap, sing, play and give. The question is will Jesus be remembered, and if he is remembered, how we will remember him? Will he be remembered as a personal friend? God, I hope not. Will he be remembered as a personal counselor or physician, or our personal genie who will make all our wishes come true? Lord, in your mercy.

Will he be remembered as the ultimate representative of Love? Real, honest, profound love? Will he be remembered as the ultimate representative of sacrifice? I pray it be so. Will we own up to words like sin and redeem and recognize that we do and we are. It’s about love. It’s about redemption. Christmas is not a day, or 12 days. Christmas is a state of mind. Not our minds, but the mind of Christ.

This is not a question of “what would Jesus do?” It’s the question of “how would Jesus be?” How would he be in a world where most people don’t know what to do with him, where many commercialize him, where others make false statements in his name?

Wait.

I think that happened.

Here is how he responded. He had meals with people everyone hated. He hung out with sinners. He healed wounds and he called out demons. He wrote in the sand. He considered the lilies. He welcomed children. He calmed troubled waters.

Here is how he was. He was welcoming. He was honest. He was angry. He was direct. He named injustice. He noticed bleeding women and little men. He liked calling people “brood of vipers.” He listened. He forgave. He lived peace.

I don’t expect this little essay to make a dent up against the business of Christmas. I do not expect us to do the season differently. I do hope that in some way we can all be different. Can we be Christ-like? Can we live not doing more, but being other?

I don’t want to be a reverent agnostic, I want to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.

Christ Has No Body

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which is to look out
Christ’s compassion to the world;
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about
doing good;
Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.

– St Teresa of Avila

Civility, Or….was that a think it or a speak it?

“People who cannot restrain their own baser instincts, who cannot treat one another with civility, are not capable of self-government… without virtue, a society can be ruled only by fear, a truth that tyrants understand all too well”
― Charles Colson, How Now Shall We Live?

“Was that a think it or a speak it?” That’s the question we ask our kids when they are fighting with each other, and they say something that was hurtful. “Was that a think it or a speak it?” It’s a question we need to be asking ourselves as adults too. Sometimes I get tired, overly annoyed, or just fed up and speak before I think. I always regret it. I always wish those words hasn’t come out of my mouth. When that happens I feel like I turn a different color. Like my soul turns the color of vomit. It’s not attractive.

When I think before I speak and I choose how I respond in a more conscientious way, I find that my soul and my sense of self is more translucent, free and content.

Here’s the thing, we have a lot of comments out there on the web, in emails and on Facebook, where people have chosen to vomit on each other. They have not thought before they wrote or thought about the energy, feelings or impacts the comments will have on other people or society as a whole.

What kind of people do we want to be?

I don’t have an answer for this. I’m a big advocate for Freedom of Speech. I understand how easy it is to write a snarky comment without worrying about accountability.

But here’s the thing, at the end of the day there is always accountability. We are always accountable to our souls, our inner self, and ultimately each other, and when we express hurtful things, we are really ultimately hurting ourselves, and all of society whether we know it or not.

I think our society needs to call people accountable to rude, hurtful behavior. I think we need to be assertive when we see comments that are pukey. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be critical, angry or assertive. I’m saying that we can be all of those things without being a jerk.

We need to teach society to stop and think, “was that a think it or a speak it?” We need leaders to model civility.

“Aspire to decency. Practice civility toward one another. Admire and emulate ethical behavior wherever you find it. Apply a rigid standard of morality to your lives; and if, periodically, you fail ­ as you surely will ­ adjust your lives, not the standards.”
― Ted Koppel

Moments of Clarity

There are moments when I wonder why I am a pastor. I get frustrated with denominational dilly-dallying, Presbytery pandering and session snarkiness. Sometimes I wonder if ministry matters. The world tells us that the church matters less today, or it matters in a different way today than it has in the past. Sometimes I get tired of the process, the budget, the need to over communicate, and the politics. Sometimes I can worry if my profession will become obsolete.

And then God gives me moments of clarity.

When I talk to children about Jesus dying on the cross and we draw pictures of heaven, and one little boy’s depiction looks like the set from “Dance Fever” and he tells me that heaven has a dance floor.

When an elderly woman walks out of the sanctuary, clutching her cane, with tears down her face because she is in such pain, and we stop right there and pray for healing.

When a small group gets together and there is absolute trust in the room and we talk about issues such as power and sexuality and death and the things that Jesus valued.

When we have a Bible study and we talk about Jesus giving us our daily bread, and there is an awareness that we all need to be fed with daily bread, and the question is asked, “how do I get fed?”

When children sing in front of the sanctuary and wave palm branches and a four-year old little girl spots her daddy and is so excited to see him she can’t help but blow him kisses.

When I visit the retirement home on Sunday afternoons and after worship we talk about receiving and giving help in a time and place when the body and mind are feeling are more helpless. And grace and listening happens.

These are my moments of clarity. It’s why ministry matters. It’s why the church exists. It’s a sacred community. A vow. A living experience. An invitation.

I’m pretty lucky to do what I do.

Community in Conflict: Letter to the Editor

Our school district is experiencing some pretty serious conflict. I wrote this letter to the editor for our local paper and it still hasn’t been published. I am getting annoyed, so I am publishing it here.

I attended the Cedar Falls School Board meeting on February 27 and witnessed the resignation of superintendent Mike Wells. While there was serious conflict and disagreement in the room there was also shared values of providing optimal education to our children. This is our common ground. Likewise all parties took responsibility for their failings. Those who spoke acknowledged that communication had been less than adequate and asked for forgiveness. These are signs of health.
Unhealthiness is evident in the feelings of mistrust between the staff, the school board and the superintendent. The question is “how do want the future to record this difficult time?” What do we want the next chapter to read? We need to have enough vision that this moment while painful, is not the final moment. I believe we can rise to the challenge.

We need to step into this next chapter with a focus on restoration and reconciliation. We achieve this through truthfulness and transparency. Truthful communities are communities of encouragement and hospitality. Miroslav Volf writes, “Without the will to embrace the other there will not be truth between people, and without truth between people there will be no peace.”

Conflict in all relationships is expected. We should anticipate it. It seems to me that most conflict arises because of poor communication. Ed Friedman, author of Generation to Generation writes, The colossal misunderstanding of our time is the assumption that insight will work with people who are unmotivated to change. Communication does not depend on syntax, or eloquence, or rhetoric, or articulation but on the emotional context in which the message is being heard. People can only hear you when they are moving toward you, and they are not likely to when your words are pursuing them. Even the choicest words lose their power when they are used to overpower. Attitudes are the real figures of speech.

When people don’t feel heard, communication shuts down.
When people don’t care if everyone is heard, trust dies.

I think about my week as a commissioner at the General Assembly meeting of the PC(USA) and I remember all the rhetoric and eloquence spoken, and I realize that there was little listening, lots of power, and no trust.

I think about our government leaders and their pattern of putting their heals in the ground with little listening, lots of power, and no trust.

We have got to be better than this. We have to expect more from our leaders and ourselves. It’s time we come to the table, expecting conflict, with our egos in check and a willingness to listen. Conservative, liberal, church folks, school folks, neighborhood folks. We need to change our attitude and start trusting each other again.

After Reading the News

After reading the news this morning:

The government is going to allow for horses to be slaughtered in New Mexico
A child was killed
in a bathtub
A dog was abused and neglected
to death
I stopped reading the news.

I was shocked to discover that I was not shocked.

Numb? Yes.
Disgusted? Yes.
Saddened? Yes.

But not shocked.

Dear God,
I long to be shocked by actions of evil and brutality. My soul has become callused by stories of missing children, poverty, and corruption to the point that its tough exterior is no longer impacted by that which used to bring me to tears. I want to expect the best out of people, not assume the worse. I want to be accused of being optimistic. I want my feelings of retribution toward those who abuse the innocent, to be turned into passion for justice. Turn my silent hopelessness into a bright voice that says, “no more, no more, no more!” Amen.

Dancing On The Gym Floor

 

Tonight I watched my beautiful daughter dance on the gym floor.
I watched a diminishing little girl and the shadows of a young woman.

Tears of love striped my face.

Tonight I watched beautiful children join hands and circle the gym floor.
With laughter and glee, defying the bitter January cold,

“you can’t keep us from fun!”

Tonight I watched beautiful families embrace.
Grandparents, siblings, babies, swinging, clapping

in the simple gaiety of life.

Tonight I watched the splendor of togetherness.
Joy created.

Time stood still.

Tonight I watched my beautiful daughter dance on the gym floor.

 

 

Who did you start out to be? And who are you becoming?

In honor of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

This is from my morning devotional Inward/Outward. I highly recommend subscribing to their devotionals.

Becoming Ourselves by Kayla McClurg

When I reflect on the life and witness of Martin Luther King, Jr., one thing that strikes me is obvious: he didn’t start out to be who he ended up being. He didn’t set out to be a visionary leader, intent on making an impact on the country and culture of his day. He allowed himself to be created. Slowly, layer by layer, choice by choice, he became himself. He didn’t choose “leader of a mass civil rights movement” from a list of vocational options. His identity emerged gradually from within as he yielded to the guidance of the community and listened and prayed and read and participated and took the risks of creativity that were uniquely his to take.

Underneath who we think we are, who people expect us to be, are as-yet-undiscovered aspects of our true identity–layers waiting to be uncovered. Martin Luther King, Jr. was the minister of a local church, husband and father, a dedicated preacher who devoted hours to preparing sermons that were theologically sound and probing. This was a good fit for him. He wasn’t searching for a new identity. But he found himself interested in the writings of Henry David Thoreau about civil disobedience and Gandhi’s thoughts about nonviolence. He became interested in some folks who were questioning the color barriers in their town and were beginning to devise ways to stand up to them. He didn’t have answers, only questions. He followed the questions, exploring the hints that came layer by layer, thus becoming more of himself.

Thus it was surprising, and yet not surprising at all, that within hours after a seamstress named Rosa Parks had “sat down for what she believed” he had been named spokesperson for a fledgling resistance movement. When he got home and told Coretta what had happened, he said he knew at a gut level that he was being asked inwardly to move beyond words and ideas and to put theory into practice. He said he knew he could no longer stand by and do nothing because to do so was to be a perpetrator of the evil he deplored.

Twenty minutes later the same young man who had a reputation for giving sermons only after hours of preparation was standing before a crowd of about 4,000 people speaking extemporaneously of the challenges and opportunities that lay before them. Part of what he said was this:

Sometimes a person gets tired…. We are here this evening to say to those who have mistreated us so long that we are tired–tired of being segregated and humiliated, tired of being kicked by the brutal feet of oppression…. We come here tonight to be saved from the patience that makes us patient with anything less than freedom and justice.

King knew he had a calling–to be a preacher and a father and a citizen. What he discovered little by little was that these dreams would be fulfilled far beyond his imagination. What about us? Are we still becoming ourselves? Are our deepest callings still unfolding, beyond our imagination? Or have we become too patient with being less than we really are?

Information on Martin Luther King is borrowed from the biography called King, a Biography by David Levering Lewis.

Source: Unknown

Hidden Scars and Inner Fire

It was April in 7th grade and that meant it was time for track in PE, or for me, hell. It meant we had to run the mile, and jump over those hurdle thingys and attempt to thwart our bodies over the high jump.  Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. I wanted to be  in theatre, in choir, or English, or home.  Anywhere but on that track, in the middle of an Illinois cornfield.

I hated it not only because I was the slowest, least agile kid in the seventh grade, but because it was in those 30 minutes that the bullying would be the worse.

His name was Warren and our lockers were right next to each other.  Every morning he would make gross, suggestive sounds under his breath, as we put away our coats and got out our books.  He would  make comments about my body, about what was too small, and what was too big.  He would be just insulting enough without being overt enough to make me feel like I could report him. – And no, he did not “like” me. This quiet harassment took place all school year.

Then came the spring and track.  Every day as I attempted to run a mile in less than 15 minutes, Warren and his friends, who had finished in under 8, would sit on the hill and laugh and throw rocks at my feet as I huffed around the track.

Finally one day I had enough. Warren and his cronies had to stop. I ran over, jumped on top of Warren and tried to hit him as hard as I could.  For some reason, the PE teacher, who never noticed anything, noticed this. I was sent to the office.  Mortified. Sweat, dirt and tears mixed together. I was so nervous, “Oh God, I’m going to be suspended!  Or worse, they are going to call my Dad!”

I went to the counselors office and cried and shared everything.  I was not suspended. They did call my Dad. Warren stopped picking on me.  Track ended. So did 7th grade, thank God.   Summer came, and when school started the next fall I learned that Warren had moved to Chicago.

Schools today do a much better job in addressing bullying. I had assemblies on drugs and alcohol prevention, my kids have assemblies on bully awareness. I think my kids are far better prepared today to confront bullying than I was, or at least I hope they are.

We know as adults that bullies show up in our work places, our churches and on the Highway. I believe that the only way to stop bullying in our society is for the culture to be mature enough to say that such behavior is unacceptable. – Which is why junior highs and church sessions are so vulnerable….that’s a joke.

But in all seriousness, we have to raise the bar of expectations of how we treat each other as a culture in order to put an end to bullying, harassment and violence. Only by setting the standard of acceptable behavior, can that behavior be obtained.

Here is my list of Do’s and Dont’s in dealing with a bully of  all ages.

Don’t make excuses for their behavior.

Don’t justify their behavior.

Don’t think you can change them or make them “like” you.

Don’t ignore it and hope it goes away.

Do address the behavior immediately. Call it out. “Dude, that is NOT happening.”

Do tell an adult or friend. Solidarity brings power.

Do find a way to regain power. Tell the truth. Call it like you see it. Your truth matters.

I think all of us have painful memories of bullying, like what happened to me in 7th grade. Some, much, much worse, I’m sure.  We all have stories locked up in our adolescent psyches that are still a part of who we are, and explain why we are cautious or defensive around certain issues today. It would be wise for us to treat each other with the understanding that we all walking around with hidden scars. 

While we all have hidden scars, we also have an inner fire that empowers us to step up, speak out, and stand strong.  Let’s stoke that inner fire and be stronger for it.

Just a side note, today I am a runner. – I found that inner athlete, deep down underneath that self-doubt and insecurity. – I’m still slow, but I don’t care.