Evan Abla & Julia Roat-Abla

2009-10-27T11:51:00.000-07:00

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

2009-05-10T09:31:00.000-07:00

“I'm not going to do to your wife what your father's mother did to me!” She said.

“But can't you just do the laundry for me? I'll learn when I move out.”

My mom said, “Oh, this isn't just about laundry. Before you leave this house you will be able to do laundry, cook, sew, and clean.” That was when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter how much I protested I would learn to do laundry, cook, sew, and clean. Thanks a lot, mom.

I grew up on James Bond movies, the A-Team, and Remington Steele. My mother and I would watch Bond movies together. I remember whenever Dr. No, Goldfinger, or The Man with the Golden Gun came on television mom would let me stay up late to watch it, even on a school night. Even to this day I hold a fondness for James Bond that I cannot explain especially considering my nonviolent tendencies.

What concerns me as I think back to how this affected the way I looked at women. James Bond didn't exactly treat women with the utmost of respect and equality. However, it was never Bond's womanizing that attracted either my mother (a thought that is laughable and kind of creepy as I think about it after writing it) or for me. It was the intrigue, the mystery, that which is shrouded just beyond the surface. It doesn't always come out in the movies, but Ian Fleming's books are riddled with this darkness. I cannot explain it directly. It can only be spoken of negatively, by what it is not. Mystery is that which is hidden. If it is revealed it is no longer mystery. Its revelation causes it to cease to exist. The same is true of intrigue. My mother taught me to love mystery and intrigue and to maintain its existence by my love. That is the only thing I can think of that explains how I feel about James Bond.

I learned to do the laundry. I learned to separate colors and fibers. I learned to wash certain articles of clothing in hot and others in cold. I learned when to use bleach, how much fabric softener to use and just how to cut the softener so that it lasted longer. It was ritualistic the way she explained it to me. It was a ritualistic cleansing for the clothes and I became the high priest. My mother was teaching me the value of ritual and I was learning a deep lesson.

Once, she told me a story of when her cousin came to visit. She said that when she was little she had paper dolls she would dress up. When she played with her cousin sometimes her paper dolls would fall ill and die. Her cousin would preside over the funeral for the fallen paper dolls. He would pray for them, their families, and then my mother would bury them. It was an interment to remember, I'm sure. Her cousin grew up and became a priest. I grew up to love ritual, high church liturgy, and this story of my mother's paper doll funerals. I also learned to treat laundry as a sort of rite in and of itself. Now, I won't let my wife do the laundry. I'm always afraid my whites will come out pink.

I was listening to NPR recently and heard that Americans sleep more than many other peoples of the world. The researcher said we were the most obese people and at the same time we spend the least amount of time sitting at the table to eat by almost an hour a day. This also feed directly into our happiness or lack thereof. What I hear from that is that we eat quickly and sleep too long. Because of that we're huge. This only gives me more intellectual fodder for why we shouldn't nap. My wife is a napper. She loves to come home and saw a few logs over lunch or after work. I've never understood it. When I was a kid my mom would make me take a nap every Sunday afternoon between church services. We would eat lunch, or Sunday dinner (I never understood why she called it dinner, I mean wasn't it lunch?), and then mom would make me take a nap. To ensure that I did, she would climb into her bed and have me lay next to her while she read to me until she fell asleep. Dad, of course, was already asleep in the chair downstairs, sleep-watching the baseball game, or the golf open, or the (insert expletive here) football game. Mom would read me Calvin Miller or C. S. Lewis, but mostly C. S. Lewis. We started with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and we ended with The Space Trilogy. I remember that I fell in love with good literature and sneaking out. Mom would fall asleep and I would slip quietly out of bed and go outside to shoot squirrels with the pellet gun my brother bought me for my birthday.

I've never been particularly observant when it didn't have to do with people. As a married man I have had to focus hard to be a good gift buyer for my wife. Growing up I didn't buy gifts well for for my loved ones, even my mother. Once, on a trip to Chicago's Water Tower Place I bought her a book at whatever overpriced bookstore was there. My mother was a voracious mystery reader, but in my non-observant way I mistook the sensual covers of filthy romance novels for the pulpy, risque covers of noir mystery novels. I bought my mother (write it!) a filthy romance novel for Christmas. This half confession of guilt, half pronouncement of insanity was met with gracious delight from my mother. Though I know she must have been disappointed, more that my mother's son thought she liked romance novels than in the actual gift, my mother was delighted at the book I gave her.

I've received gifts since in which I've been disappointed, but I would never let on. The grace of a welcomed gift received by my mother has left an indelible mark on me that I will never forget. Every gift I receive is a gift from someone's heart. Kids come to me all the time with crayon scribbled construction paper with my name on it and the word “luv” or “awsum” or “Pstr Evun iz cul.” Every scrap of paper or paper mache is a priceless treasure that I carefully place on my refrigerator door. Even if my whites turn pink, I don't show disappointment.

Once mom picked me up from school. I climbed into the Ford Escort station wagon. It was gray with two pin-stripes (maybe maroon) running down the side, just underneath the windows. Mom was always had a lead-foot and was driving a bit faster than the law would've allowed. When she turned the corner time literally stopped. I remember my birth, a sort of wetness and then a lot of pressure followed by noise and light until the darkness of sleep settled over me. I also remember every other little event of my life, until I realized the door was only half closed. That fact, of course, was only obscured by the realization that the door was not locked and my seatbelt was resting firmly against the car interior and was not strapping me in. It was a good thing that I was leaning against the door when Mom took the corner, otherwise I would never have realized the value of the seatbelt.

When I flew out of the car and landed, rolling down the road, I watched the Ford Escort's wheels nearly roll over my legs. I remember thinking, “Wow! That car is really close . . . and this concrete road really hurts.” I cried my eyes out and I wasn't even faking. But my mom, she was white. When we walked, well, actually I was limping, into my dad's office, my dad asked, “What happened?” Mom was a ghost. Not even melanin challenged albinos could claim the whiteness that was my mother. She was almost translucent. I stopped crying and I remember thinking, “She's more hurt than I am.”

Nevertheless, my mother taught me many things, such as how to do laundry, sew, clean, and cook. I also learned to read, love intrigue and ritual, and to always take my martinis shaken and not stirred. And no matter how much guilt I feel about the way James Bond treats women or about how I once gave my mother a romance novel instead of a mystery novel I have to give my mother credit for the most important thing: my whites will never be pink as long as I wear my seatbelt. Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

On this eve, sincere thanks, Dr. Drury.

2009-03-07T22:53:00.001-08:00

Since this is my last Sunday at Parkview . . . I guess it's appropriate that Keith Drury just recently posted on the "Roles for 'The Preacher's Wife,'" on his blog. I find it rather amusing in a scarily-so-true kind of way -- especially the Ordained staff member and Parallel pastors types.

Hello. My name is Julia Roat-Abla. I am a Parallel Pastor.

His writing was in response to this . . . as gratingly frustrating as this is . . . at least they're honest about it. I absolutely love how honest they are, clearly stating, ". . .registration for the conference, housing, and meals are available only to men." (emphasis added) Apparently the ladies may not even room with their husbands during the conference. However, Moody does not leave the pastor's wives entirely out in the cold, as, "Pastors' wives may attend the general sessions (not breakout sessions). . . ." Um . . . thanks? I'm just wondering exactly these breakout sessions include. A Finnish steam bath, perhaps?

An Open Letter: Fencing in the Playground

2009-02-19T16:23:00.000-08:00

I thought this edited version of a response I've written to a Parkview parent may put some of this transition in perspective. As you may already know, I've accepted the position of Pastor of Discipleship for Children and Adults at Belmont United Methodist Church here in Dayton. Changing churches is always a bittersweet time, saying goodbye and then saying hello in the very next breath. It can be fraught with misunderstanding and disappointment as well as excitement and anticipation.

That said, optimistically I believe, I have been a victim of unintended consequences. The fact is, the Church of the Nazarene directly connects monetary compensation with pastoral status from district licensing on. That may not make a whole lot of sense, but what it means is, if I'm not paid, technically the experience side shouldn't count. So, for instance, if Evan were to go back to being volunteer at a church, even after almost 6 years (or more) in full time ministry, he would have to start over on his years of experience in order to be ordained. And technically, according to general church policy, it wouldn't matter how much I worked, without some sort of acknowledged compensation that experience doesn't count for ministry time. I don't know that those consequences of that policy are intended, but I've been enjoying the good will of church leadership ever since I offered to forego my salary way back in Kansas City. Because I have been willing to continue to forego any kind of compensation or salary (granted, so that I could continue to serve in some capacity alongside Evan, and not pushing the issue from the beginning), I have had to have 'special status' as an ordination candidate and eventually elder so that any of my experience would count. I've been burned by this already.

That's not to excuse it, but just give a little bigger picture. And honestly, the fact that I am a woman seems to complicate the issue even further (but that's a whole 'nother can of worms). So, with that being said, I did not decide to leave Parkview simply because I'm not being paid. Obviously, that has contributed to the difficulty of navigating the situation, but it definitely is not THE reason. I want to be clear about that. I'm not bitter or angry. I think the opportunity for us to come to Parkview opened up exactly when we needed it. I still believe that was a huge answer to prayer, considering the (literal) desert we were in. And I think when this opportunity at Belmont opened up, I had to at least see what the possibilities might be. When the door opened for service that proactively sought out a person with my gifts, experience and passions, I chose to step through it.

The last thing is that almost everyone (at least those that have talked directly to me) has been extremely positive and supportive. I have not sensed a mean or ungracious or even ignorant spirit that could have been. Of course, most of those that we've talked to know us and know our hearts, but I don't want to give that impression of the people at Parkview. I doubt most have any inkling of the issues at play.

I know that me not being at the same church with Evan will present some challenges, but that's the difficulty of two people who are married having the same call to full-time ministry. This deserves conversation, not condemnation.

I have likened it already to the assumptions people would make about married professionals such as doctors or lawyers. It would not be uncommon for two physicians or two attorneys to be married. But is there any requirement by law or within culture that maintains these couples must practice their profession together and in one office? Is one's ability or effectiveness to heal or practice law dependent upon the other's presence? Perhaps the situation is different, by nuances, but I believe the basic assumption that co-pastoring or team-ministry should be our only option has no basis.

I think Evan is quite capable at being a children's pastor. :) And I can, perhaps, actually function as the supportive pastor's wife that I'm supposed to be. And he for me (pastor's husband, that is).

I'm thinking that this new arrangement is kind of like putting a fence around the playground. Perhaps boundaries need to be clarified for ministry and for marriage to expand and live in the freedom it's supposed to enjoy. Perhaps what our expectations for our ministry have been and what others assumptions for our ministry would be have just not lined up. This has been an unspoken fear that has in some ways held us back from the radical obedience God calls us to, and maybe we've not had the courage to address it until now. And we just are at a point where both expectations and assumptions are going to need to be reevaluated.

But I don't think that's a bad thing because I think the issues at work here are far bigger than just me and this particular situation. It's good though, however hard it may be going through it, to be a part of something bigger than yourself. Any thoughts?

Book Meme

2008-11-29T07:12:00.000-08:00

I have been tagged with a "book meme" and I'm just now getting around to responding to it. Here's the way it works. Apparently, I grab the closest book to me, which happens to be Vol. X of the Jackson edition of Wesley's Works (Letters, Essays, Dialogs, and Addresses). I then turn to page 123 and find the fifth sentence. After that I post the three following sentences. Here goes"

"Then the Priest, with the Minister, say the psalm, Judaica me, with Gloria Patri, at which he is to bow his head to the cross. Then he repeats the Introibo, making with his right hand the sign of the cross from the forehead to the breast. Then he bows his head and body to the altar and there he stands bowing till the Minister saith, Misereatur. When he saith, Mea culpa, he smites thrice upon his breast with the right hand; and thus the Missal proceeds in its ceremonies in all the remaining parts of service."

Now, I'm tagging My sister, Marsha.

At the Wall Declaration

2008-09-12T08:46:00.000-07:00

There's been a lot going on, about which I really can't go into detail, but I think it's important that Evan and I share this as a first step towards accountability with our brothers and sisters in Christ.
What I can say is that we like where we are -- Ohio. The Midwest suits me fine, and Evan's ok with it, except for allergies. We LOVE our house, which I think is rare in pastoral ministry. It's not extravagant, but it is an absolutely beautiful old house that has pretty much everything we want, little that we don't want, and just enough room for the future. Evan has also benefited immensely from his time at UTS. It has been the medicine he has needed at several critical points.
That said, the suburban lifestyle that we have had to adapt to here has been a struggle. I don't think this is particular to Ohio, but it is very different from the urbanized or the rural cultures of our previous churches. It is subversive and deceptive, particularly when it comes to living a Christian life, and I think both Evan and I have been at some loss in how to live the way we feel we have been called and continue to minister to people with such different values and priorities.
I don't say that demeaning or arrogantly. But this has been our growing observation, even as we continue to deepen our relationships with the people we've met here.
However, we've hit a wall. And we've both needed a new measure of grace to know whether to climb over, dig under or build a door. Thankfully, God has placed a few people in our lives that have given us encouragement to keep going, even if they have not told us what we need to do. They have also challenged us.
And to that end, we have made a decision to begin truly living by the priorities and convictions of our calling. And we will live with the consequences of them. We have concluded that if we do not reclaim some of these things, we will not survive.

Therefore, we declare:

1. Sabbath will be observed in our household.
2. Further simplification of our necessities and our luxuries so that we may give more to others in the local and global community.
3. The Christian calendar will be our mark for time.
4. Greater focus on our educational and professional goals as they support our call serve the Church.
5. Our practice of specific behaviors (ie. detachment, lectio divina, OSL, etc.) that will allow us to continue in our vocational ministry.

These are five broad declarations that have many specifics already attached to them. Those are things that probably don't require posting on a blog site. But I just wanted to let you know, that we may be saying "No," to somethings now, and "Yes," to some other things that we would not have not too long ago.
I hope that you will pray for us as we begin to reorient our life toward this recovered vision our life in Christ.

God Is Not Just Interested In Your Soul

2008-09-12T08:35:00.000-07:00

"The gospel at its best deals with the whole man, not only his soul but his body, not only his spiritual well-being, but his material well-being. Any religion that professes to be concerned about the souls of men and is not concerned about the slums that damn them, the economic conditions that strangle them and the social conditions that cripple them is a spiritually moribund religion awaiting burial."

--Martin Luther King, Jr. from A Testament of Hope, ed. by James M. Washington

Your Mama's Nuts!

2008-09-04T07:08:00.000-07:00

OK, I know I'm going to make some people mad, but I've got to just get it out there and if you don't understand then fine, whatever. This is also going to ramble a bit . . .
First an example:
Some of you may know that as I've gotten older I've actually become more "liberal." I use that term very loosely because I am not liberal theologically. Neither am I fundamentalist. But I tend to approach politics the way I approach church. As much as it pains me sometimes, I tend to honor the faith or political persuasions of my fathers. I think there is something to be said about blessing being passed down through generations honoring God. When I'm fencewalking I tend to go conservative politically as well.
All that to say, I was kind of excited about Sarah Palin as McCain's VP pick. To this point, McCain kind of creeped me out. I'm not big into military service being the sole character qualification for President, even if it's an amazing story. I perceive McCain as an opportunist and barely conservative.
But, I like Sarah Palin.
Why?
First, she's a reformer. It is possible for those with a conservative bent to expect reform within an institution. Does "conservative" mean anti-change? I don't think it has to.
Even better, she's a reformer of her own party. It seems pretty easy for Dems to hold Pubs "accountable," and vice versa, but how many are willing to look internally, admit wrong and clean house?
Of course, it helps that she's a woman. And not just a man in rainbow's array of women's pantsuits. She actually wears dresses and her hair long. That cracks me up. Plus she's like a baby machine, which is very disconcerting. She's been criticized and picked apart endlessly for this fact. Which is quite funny (not funny ha ha, of course, but your know, funny queer) considering our uterine abilities are what make us women uniquely useful to society.
Unlike Hillary, who displayed her frigid femininity in a very over-population-conscious token Chelsea, Sarah just can't stop producing these babies!
That admiration might seem strange coming from me -- childless -- with only passing desires to bear children. I mean, how many times have I heard or heard implied the wisdom that is apparently immediately bestowed on a woman who has born a child? Give me a break.
But more than this child-bearing ability, is Palin's ability to be a GOVERNOR of a state and the mother of a five-month old SPECIAL NEEDS child at the same time. Unlike so many women in my age group, Palin has not abdicated her responsibility or role within the community because she bore a child 5 months ago or has four others following behind.
Admittedly, one factor that has kept Evan and I from having children is that we have an inkling that we would not be able to serve the Church with the same depth or bredth that we currently do. Children are a commitment of money, time and love that we would, at this point, rather offer the Church than anything else. Furthermore, the sad fact is, men do not have to answer for their families in the way women do - whether it's in professional, academic or ecclesial worlds. But Palin has challenged that notion for me. Must I sacrifice my potential intellectual and societal contributions for my potential children? Palin suggests I do not.
So Mothers, tell me I don't understand. No, you don't understand. Tell that to Sarah Palin.

Vote for Sale

2008-08-22T21:08:00.000-07:00

Here's the deal, I don't know who to vote for. I need your help. I'm looking to be convinced. I'm trying to decide who to vote for. Which loser should be president. The fact is that one must be an absolute megalomaniac to even want to be president. "Oh, look at me! I'm the only one who can lead the world!" So, here's the deal. My vote goes to the highest bidder! The currency is the best argument (fact based) as to who will be the best person for the job. That is to say, not the lesser of evils. The lesser of evils is not acceptable. I will vote for the best person for the job, whether or not that person is "officially" running.

So, here it is. The bidding begins now!

Up Next - the new Peel-a-Meal Communion - SuperSized!

2008-08-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

A new article from slate.com, "The Chick-fil-A Church." I particularly appreciate the view of Eddie Johnson, "Just like that Chick-fil-A owner/operator, I'm here in Nashville to open up our franchise and run it right," wrote Eddie Johnson. "I believe in my company and what they are trying to 'sell.' "

Lord have mercy.

Fear

2008-07-15T06:59:00.000-07:00

"Only weak thinkers fear strong images. The publication that convenes itself as a polite dinner party, serving only strained polenta and pureed peas, need not invite me to sup."

Jack Shafer, slate.com, "The New Yorker Draws Fire"

Point C?

2008-07-13T21:06:00.000-07:00

Evan had a children's meeting today. He was talking about what the children have been doing with the money from their Sunday morning offering.

Evan and I have reflected on this several times in the past few weeks, especially since his class at Ginghamsburg UMC. It’s been a long road. I don’t think either of us are “naturally” compassionate people. But I pointed out to Evan, as we’ve struggled ourselves with identifying with our very upper middleclass, comfortable congregation, that there is tangible evidence of a movement from point A to point B. Last year the elementary children raised money for Heifer International - $150.00 total for the entire year. Rather pitiful for a church that raises over 1 million dollars a year. I think this was kind of discouraging for Evan.

This year, Evan decided to do the micro-financing for Rwandans. On Sunday mornings he’s been careful to explain the history of the situation between the Hutu’s and Tutsi’s in April 1994. The Hutu’s, after growing tensions with the Tutsi tribe, marched upon the “cockroaches" and "tall trees” (the names they called the Tutsi’s to dehumanize them) and cut the Tutsi trees down with machetes and garden tools. Between eight hundred thousand and one million people died within one hundred days. In six months, our elementary children have raised over $250 for the Rwandan people. Evan has seen children bring $5 and $10 bills of their own money to put in the toilet plungers he uses for offering plates.

Then, in today’s meeting, one of the parents in the meeting suddenly realized what her daughter was talking about the other day as she counted down from five. A child in the world dies from hunger every five seconds, her daughter told her. The mother dismissed it at the time. But her daughter knew better. Even if her daughter could not identify with true hunger or starvation, she could still identify with a nameless child.

It seems to me that true giving originates not from sympathy but from empathy. That is solidarity. We can only give as Christ gave when we attempt to walk in someone else's shoes. I admit I usually fail miserably at this because usually when I give, I like it -- because it makes ME feel better about myself. My pity for someone else’s situation rarely crosses over to something Christlike. But when I have done it right, it hurts. Shouldn’t I grieve? Shouldn’t I really lose something? The logical end of following Christ does not end at our own salvation. It is taking up the very cross he bore through the streets of his beloved city; it is sacrifice for others.
Do we kid ourselves otherwise? Thinking that the goal of drawing our children and families into Christian service is that they will enjoy it. That they find “fulfillment.” It becomes another drug, another Baal of choice, that widens the gulf between “us” and “them;” between ourselves and our neighbor.

I love the hymn of Philippians 2. It’s something I haven’t gotten past because I haven’t gotten there yet.

If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (NRSV)

Urgent Prayer Request

2008-07-03T09:03:00.000-07:00

In an unfortunate incident earlier this week, Uncle Sam threw up all over our church.

This, following the annual hotdog eating contest.

He had just eaten an entire package of Hebrew National hotdogs, but lost the race to the smaller, more efficient six-time hotdog eating champion Takeru "Tsunami" Kobayashi.

When he entered the foyer,

he apparently was overcome by the gaseous

incense fumes

emanating from the sanctuary.

Local emergency workers calmed him down by

repeatedly singing America the Beautiful

and Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Uncle Sam is currently recovering from the incident at a local VA hospital.

Cards with money and silk flowers are welcome.

Learning to do good

2008-07-01T19:11:00.000-07:00

Hear the word of the Lord,
you rulers of Sodom!

Listen to the teaching of our God,
you people of Gomorrah!

What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord;
I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts;

I do not delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats.
When you come to appear before me, who asked this from your hand?

Trample my courts no more;
bringing offerings is futile;
incense is an abomination to me.

New moon and sabbath and calling of convocation—
I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity.

Your new moons and your appointed festivals my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me, I am weary of bearing them.

When you stretch out your hands,
I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers, I will not listen;
your hands are full of blood.

Wash yourselves;
make yourselves clean;
remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes;
cease to do evil,

learn to do good;

seek justice,

rescue the oppressed,

defend the orphan,

plead for the widow.

Come now, let us argue it out,
says the Lord:

though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be like snow;

though they are red like crimson,

they shall become like wool.

If you are willing and obedient,

you shall eat the good of the land;

but if you refuse and rebel,

you shall be devoured by the sword;

for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

Isaiah 1:10-20 (NRSV)

sculpture, Phillip Ratner, 1998, Israel Bible Museum

Time Out!

2008-06-27T07:47:00.000-07:00

I been working almost exclusively with pre-schoolers the past 2 years at church and thoroughly enjoying watching Super Nanny. slate.com recently published a great article on effective use of the timeout.

It underscores what we (Evan and I), as behaviorists, have said before about longterm effective reinforcement - Positive/negative, Certain and Immediate consequences. I am not a parent, but I have experienced many times in a multitude of contexts how consistency and calmness results in obedience and respect. I'm pretty good about the immediate and the calmness aspects. I had not considered the timing. When I enforce a timeout with a child, I usually use terms like "take a break," rather than "time out," in part, simply to remove them immediately from the bad behavior and create a space where they can start over with new positive behaviors. I also try to name specifically what their doing wrong. Even though some things we have read have said to not provide an individual warning once the rules for behavior are laid out, I try to enforce the consequence after only one warning. That can be a hard thing to do.

The other thing I've noticed is that, even at a young age, the child will try to shift blame or include others in the correction. (This is true of tattling in general.) This may not seem fair, but I simply call the child on his/her own behavior. e.g. "I told you not to do this . . . not Bud. You need to think about your actions not Bud's. Etc."

I think this has been pretty effective because I think they sense I'm not there to make their lives miserable. They also know I mean what I say. And they will obey me, then, in other things as well.

These are some great kids!

What do you think about this article's definition of the time out? What would your greatest weakness be in implementing the technique according to the article? Any other suggestions in making the timeout effective?

Ha Ha . . . Ahem.

2008-06-26T09:38:00.000-07:00

Admittedly less vitriolic than my own previous post, Jim Wallis comments on the JD BO tiff.

I appreciate his recognition of consistent pro-life convictions emerging among younger evangelicals.

I remember this big picture connection between God and life being made for me at a seminar with Tim Green on Old Testament preaching (or something like that) at MVNU. Thanks Tim!

Top Ten Things You Never Thought About Recycling

2008-06-25T13:36:00.000-07:00

Some of my earlier posts on auntjuls have been talking about recycling, upcycling.

Here's an article on some often discarded items that can actually be reused or repurposed instead of simply thrown away.

Ha Ha!

2008-06-24T10:31:00.000-07:00

James Dobson is apparently the authority, also, on who is or is not distorting Scripture.

If you're not from Illinois, you may not understand. But I am from Illinois, so I'm always a bit suspicious of those in Illinios politics (sorry Marc) and the Chicago machine. I'm not sold on Obama for reasons other than that. But who is J.D. to declare who is rightly or wrongly using Scripture?

I'm sure there are some things that JD actually knows something about -- spiritual arrogance, self-publicity, moral condescension, oh yes, and some psychology . . . but is the interpretation of Scripture really one of these? Somehow, I doubt it.

Amazing . . .

Lo-Teching It

2008-06-20T08:22:00.000-07:00

We're so enamored by hi-tech things. Slate's Explainer article, The 25-Cent Flood Protection Device, is a great illustration of the efficiencies and advantages of things lo-tech.

It got me to thinking. What other things might be just as, or more effective, by using the lo-tech rather than hi-tech solution?

Now, I am not a Luddite but I think it is worth questioning our modern assumptions.

Fried: Follow up to Chicken Post

2008-06-19T13:28:00.000-07:00

Maybe I really just don't understand what grace is, or what means of grace are -- but if it/they isn't/aren't fundamentally salvific in nature, then what is it?

Why make ourselves available to any means of grace - sacrament or not - if they're not going to work a change in our life?

If these aren't the things that do bring us into right relationship with God then why do anything at all?

Why is this salvific nature of sacrament such a problem?

Finally, it seems we have so "spiritualized" our salvation that we are no longer capable of being entirely saved. That is heart, soul, mind and strength.

What a position for us, of all people, to find ourselves in!

Top Ten New Species with Pictures!

2008-06-18T06:46:00.000-07:00

The Top Ten New Species were announced by the International Institute for Species Exploration (IISE) at Arizona State University. These were new species discovered and classified in 2007.

Photo Credit: IISE/ASU

A Strange Sight

2008-06-17T18:46:00.000-07:00

auntjuls.blogspot.com

Stuck in my Craw

2008-06-16T09:57:00.000-07:00

OK, maybe I'm just missing something here, but my understanding of the Nazarene's stance on infant baptism is that it is a symbol, but it is not salvific. Huh?

If that's the case than what's the point at all? How can we claim to have any understanding of sacraments, grace or God if baptism is effective only in certain situations?

I'm on the cliff ready to jump . . . please tell me I'm missing it.

Intro to Christian Ed

2008-06-13T10:23:00.000-07:00

Once again, I am teaching. Yeah!
Once again, I am teaching something I have had no formal training in. Yeah!

I was (and am) happy to have the opportunity to teach for the Southwest Ohio district ministry classes. As usual, it happens to be something that I, myself, did not go to school for. That's ok. I imagine most professors are making up most of their stuff too. I'm teaching Introduction to Christian Education. Fortunately, unlike physical science, I do not have to take another certification test in order to teach this.

I went online and found 4 or 5 different CE syllabus from different Methodist, Nazarene schools and cobbled together my own working bibliography and outline for the class.

The truth is, education seems to get relegated to the side lines in favor of more attention getting ministry endeavors -- preaching, music, etc.

Walter Bruggeman has said, “Every community that wants to last beyond a single generation must concern itself with education.” That's must be true not just for a faith community, but it is particularly true.

I think the most liberating thing for me was realizing that education in the faith takes place everywhere in the church -- but we need to be aware and intentional about it. I figured this out at St. Paul's in Kansas City. I was trying to acclimate myself to my new associate pastor position, really understanding what that meant for my call and that local community. I read Educating Congregations by Charles R. Foster. He talked about creating events within the life of the church that form and transform. Just as the Passover recalls the Exodus story in vivid chewy details, a local faith community must recall and recreate the moments in their journey that made and make them who they are.

When I figured this out, it opened up new horizons for purpose in what we did and what we said. Just a few opportunities I had in the time I was there - a series of worship banners and paraments for the entire church year, fellowship infused with meaning (St. Patrick's Day cabbage and corned beef, Shrove Tuesday pancakes, etc.), Remember your Baptism video (including people from our church telling their baptism stories), intergenerational and family events (marble tournament, Advent wreath making night), ministry to our local parish (Block Party, staff prayer as we walked around the blocks of our neighborhood), Covenant groups using Wesley's covenant questions, creating a multi-cultural Nativity set with Anglo shepherds, Asian and middle-Eastern wisemen, an African angel, and an Indian Mary. But the list could go on.

The thing that I remember about these community events and efforts were 1) their intentionality 2) the intergenerationality 3) their participation.

What Evan and I struggle with right now is the conviction that pastoral ministry is substantially different than any other job in the world. The time I need to spend in prayer, preparation and in activity is qualitatively and quantitatively different than a CEO, a lawyer, a teacher, doctor, or any other profession would need to spend doing what they do. Because we are not CEO's or business people, my bottom line is not money, or tasks completed, or even numbers people. It is lives.

And as Anna Carter Florence points out in her recent lectionary reflections, "Think about the ordination services you have taken part in, recently. Have Jesus’ words in this passage ever appeared in the liturgy? My job is to charge the newly ordained, so I charge you, our Associate Pastor for Christian Nurture here at First Church, to do four things: cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. Start with the Sunday School and then go after the youth group."

I appreciate that.

For this is the essential nature of Christian education -- a growing knowledge of Christ so that we may actually become more like him. And Christ does not call any of us to a faith built upon the most gold stars for attendance, the longest most urgent prayers, or the most convincing argument for the world being made in seven days. Empty works, false piety, intellectual bullying are not faith.

Vital Christian faith comes in our being restored to his Image. Meaning and integration comes as we see Him in each other. We see the Holy Spirit at work in our own lives and in the lives of our brothers and sisters. We can begin to name where God is among us. And where He still needs to come.

So that's what I have to say about CE right now. Where does CE take place in your local congregation? Is is "working" or isn't it? What events, outside the formal settings such as Sunday School or specific Bible study, does your community learn the faith?

Day 2. A Long Walk to Nowhere

2008-05-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

Sorry, not many pics today.

We thought we would go over to the Westside Market today, so we walked over a bridge with a highway and huge trucks barrelling past us.

We got over there. Found the market. It's closed. I was kind of irritated. So we're going to try again tomorrow.

3.5 miles - ok, I'm tired and I think my head got burnt some more.

So I worked on finishing my curriculum stuff the rest of the afternoon. Evan went geocaching for awhile.

We went to an Irish pub a couple blocks away for dinner. Evan had shepherd's pie and I had fish and chips. Very good. We sat and read for awhile. Evan read Ullyses, of course.

Tomorrow, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (hopefully with Paul and Tiffany), Westside Market, and a Rejuvinating Hand Treatment at the Spa downstairs. I've never had a manicure so we'll see.

Cleveland Day 1

2008-05-28T15:36:00.001-07:00

Progressive field is only 4-5 blocks away.
We get to our seats and it is FREEZING because we're in the shade the entire time. It was a school day - so we had these hordes of kids in our section getting up and down the entire time. We moved down with the people behind us for awhile to sit in the sun where some lady asked us to move because the kids with her were supposed to be coming. I said, "Ok," and smiled. I would get up when they actually got there. The lady next to me totally gave her dirty looks and we started talking. If they can't sit in their seats and watch the game then surely I can keep warm for a little while.
Here we are finally in the sun. The kids still wouldn't sit down but we were warm.
The Indians lost 6 to 5. Oh well, it was still fun. And after all that we ended up with sunburns!
On the way back to the hotel, we went geocaching in an old cemetery. We found two different caches in there, and I always like visiting old graveyards like this.

Tuesday in Cleveland Ohio

2008-05-27T20:44:00.000-07:00

"Who is this Utta?" from Urban Legends, BIO channel

Well, we made it to Cleveland and it is cold! We're staying at the Hyatt Regency downtown. It is about a mile from Jacob's (Progressive) Field, and a part of the Arcade. The Cleveland Public Library appears to be right across the street. We're going to check that out before we leave.

Right now we're sitting in bed, both on our Facebook pages playing the dot game. Chatting. Watching Urban Legends on some channel I've never heard of.

We stopped outside Columbus at a weird little Max&Erma's. It was this strange 70's Gobbler-esque building with a roof that covered about 3/4 of the building. We got their pretzel stick appetizers, which were really good. Then we got the fresh chocolate chip cookies before we left. As you may know, Evan does not eat dessert, but he has a weakness for chocolate chip cookies. Mmmm. . .

We bought some T-shirts for the game tomorrow but as cold and windy as it was tonight, I'm afraid we're going to be freezing. We'll take some pics tomorrow. Until then . . .

2008-05-03T08:06:00.000-07:00

In a world of hawks and doves, is there room for a cardinal?

Chance, 1996-2008

2008-04-19T06:12:00.000-07:00

Funeral Blues

W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

It's Been a While

2008-04-16T21:03:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in a while. It's for good reason. While I could say it's because I've been busy (and that's a lot of it), it's not the only reason. I have been questioning a lot of things. Why is it that those of us who claim we are a part of the Kingdom of God do not believe it to be THE Reality, but rather the ideal? Why do we describe God's salvific work in sports related terms (i.e. "winning souls")? What happens when you or your church doesn't have a winning season (that is, at least 50 wins and 50 losses)? What happens if your church is more interested not drinking than in feeding the hungry? Why didn't Christ say, "Go into all the world and make 20 disciples every year."? It would've made everything easier. For a church that's so interested in not being associated with anything that smacks of works righteousness, we love to quantify our works. But hey, what are you going to do?

I don't know why, but I've been thinking about Elvis Costello's "God's Comic." Maybe God should've given the world to the monkeys after all. Here are the lyrics:

I wish you'd known me when I was alive, I was a funny feller

The crowd would hoot and holler for more

I wore a drunk's red nose for applause

Oh yes I was a comical priest

"With a joke for the flock and a hand up your fleece"

Drooling the drink and the lipstick and greasepaint

Down the cardboard front of my dirty dog-collar

Now I'm dead, now I'm dead, now I'm dead,

now I'm dead, now I'm dead

And I'm going on to meet my reward

I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared

He might of never heard God's Comic

So there he was on a water-bed

Drinking a cola of a mystery brand

Reading an airport novelette, listening to

Andrew Lloyd-Webber's "Requiem"

He said, before it had really begun, "I prefer the one about my son"

"I've been wading through all this unbelievable

junk and wondering if I should have given

the world to the monkeys"

Chorus

I'm going to take a little trip down Paradise's

endless shores

They say that travel broadens the mind, till you

can't get your head out of doors

I'm sitting here on the top of the world

I hang around in the longest night

Until each beast has gone bed and then I say

"God bless" and turn out the light

While you lie in the dark, afraid to breathe and

you beg and you promise

And you bargain and you plead

Sometimes you confuse me with Santa Claus

It's the big white beard I suppose

I'm going up to the pole, where you folks die of cold

I might be gone for a while if you need me

Now I'm dead, now I'm dead, now I'm dead,

now I'm dead, now I'm dead and you're all

going on to meet your reward

Are you scared? Are you scared? Are you scared? Are you scared?

You might have never heard, but God's comic

Pentecost 70ish Days early: Mud Pies and Hot Air

2008-03-03T21:12:00.000-08:00

Read Genesis 2:4-7

What is it about Spring that we love so much? You know I like autumn and summer, and sometimes winter, when the snow has just fallen and everything is so white . . . but spring is just such a sigh of relief after being cold and wet and rainy for months. Even when it’s still kind of nippy outside, and you still have to wear a jacket, you can smell spring in the air, like nothing else. You know exactly when the season changes when it’s spring.

In fact, if you walk down any bath and beauty

isle, spring is what they sell – read some of the labels and brands of bath gel, soap, shampoo, etc.

I don’t think it’s an accident that we celebrate one of the most important day of the Christian year in the spring.

In fact, the day we celebrate the Lord’s resurrection is timed to go along with the season itself. Easter actually means “spring.” We use eggs and bunnies and flowers to remind ourselves of what the celebration is about – new life, growth, a fresh start.

I wonder if it was always spring in the Garden? You know . . . plants always growing and flowering. Fresh, clean smells. Water keeping the grass and plants lush and beautiful. And if this is the world that we lived in, why don’t we live in it now?

I think you know the answer to that question: Adam and Eve. Now these were the creatures that we just read about. The creation that he first thought about when he went out to the riverbed to make mud pies. His fingernails full of mud, there was a crust of dirt all the way up to his elbows. He had formed these riverbeds in the early days of

his creation after He separated the waters above from the waters below. Then he had pooled those waters below into oceans and seas and lakes and flowing rivers. What was left was sticky, goopy and brown. He remembered that when he started shaping the mud into human form.

God was getting warm with all this work, and he stared up into the sun that he had created just a few days ago. It baked the mud and caused a warm breeze to make the

river sparkle. God wasn’t finished.

The body lay limp by the river, all wet and slimy, until God came over and held the man’s head in his hands and did the first CPR ever.

The breath of God filled the man’s lungs up like a balloon and then God took his muddy fingers and gently squeezed his chest.

God had put a little bit of himself into the man. Not that he would be God, himself, but that he would take the same pleasure in playing the mud or in being warmed by the sun as God the Creator himself did. He wanted something, someone to share his pleasure with and that someone would need to have that ability to smile like God, to talk like God, to respond to creation like his creator. Being made of the earth itself and alive now because of God’s own breath, God figured that this man, and very soon the woman, would be his comp

anions in this new creation of His. They could reflect his pleasure and his affection for his creatures in the world.

But His final and most daring act of creation was actually the ones who messed everything up. You see, God had created something very special within them. He put something of himself in them. And it was something so unique, so different, so dangerous that despite such beautiful surroundings and a perfect relationship with God, they said, “No!”

Instead they looked at themselves in the mirror and said “Yes - we can do this on our own. We don’t need God to be like him . . . “

But what would we see in a mirror if there were no face looking into it? What happens to the image in the mirror when the lights are turned off? There is no i

mage, no reflection. The image of himself that God had created in us was distorted, changed, marred when we said “No” to him.

This is Bad News.

Like the paintings that Pastor Evan showed last night, God’s image in us becomes water damaged, cracked and stained. The things in this world, like sin, wear us down to where or thoughts, our attitudes our selves don’t look anything like what God created us to be. We need the artist to come back and restore His image upon us.

Read: 2 Corinthians 5:16-17

Have you ever tried to see these images? The secret to seeing them is not to look at the picture, but to look through it. Here’s a couple designs . . . can you tell what these images are?

This is God’s image in us. He not only restores his image in us so that we reflect Him in the world, but we also look at the world differently as well. We see it with new eyes, as his creation, deserving on respect, compassion, even love. And it’s not really something that we’ll immediately see by looking at the surface of things . . . God imbedded this image deep within us and when he restores His image he gives us eyes that can see beyond the surface of things.

This is the Good News.

Remember the Fruit of the Spirit – Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindnes, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-control? These don’t happen because were good at these things. Their not personality traits – we’re not born with any of these things. In fact, because Adam – so many years ago, said “No” to God, these fruit don’t grow in us naturally. What they do is show a restored image in us. When we bear these fruit in our lives – by showing kindness to others, be being gentle, by encouraging peace with our parents, friends, etc., choosing to do the right thing and exercising self-control over behaviors that can harm us – we exhibit the Artist’s restoration of our painting.

God is the one who is kind and gentle, patient and faithful. If we can reflect those things we are who we are supposed to be.

Remember, this is Good News, because it God’s Holy Spirit that makes this happen. If you can think of things right now in your life that has not been kind, or gentle or loving, or good, know that at some point you have said “No” to God. You’ve tried to create an image on your own, and you realize that it is not what you have been created to be.

Know, also, that God, through His own Spirit, is ready and able, to restore His image within you.

What Makes It So Merry?

2007-12-25T11:18:00.000-08:00

Christmas carols are an easy thing to dismiss. I’m kind of a scrooge and so I easily tire of Christmas tunes. There are a few advent songs I love (“Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” and “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”) and I’m a sucker for any Charles Wesley hymn so I’m always up for “Hark the Herald,” but last night something happened. At the Christmas Eve service at our church we sang a verse to a particular song that I hadn’t heard before (the verse). I don’t know why, but I just hadn’t.

Now, I’m not a scrooge because I don’t like Christmas, I just don’t like the busy-ness. This is actually, theologically, my favorite time of the year. This is when we celebrate the Incarnation. After all, Athanasius said, “God was made man, that man might be made [like] god.” All of salvation begins with a crying baby. But, I tire of all the commerce and materialism (easy for me to say, of course) that I’m just as guilty of as anyone else.

But this year was different. While singing “O Holy Night” we actually sang the last verse. I’ve never heard that verse before. I don’t remember singing it as a child or growing up. As an adult even when caroling we only sing the first verse if at all. The words were written (translated) by John S. Dwight well over a hundred years ago. Dwight was born in Boston and is buried there in Forest Hills Cemetery. Considering all of this, here is the part of the third verse that truly brought me into the presence of Christ this year:

Truly he taught us to love one another;
his law is love and his gospel is peace.
Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,
And in his name all oppression shall cease.

That is the power of Jesus Christ. That by his name every knee shall bow and tongue confess, oh, and don’t forget that slaves will be free and all oppression shall cease. This is the good news of Jesus Christ. This is what makes Christmas truly merry.

Christmas Surprises

2007-12-19T09:01:00.001-08:00

I love Christmas surprises. You know the ones I mean. They are the ones that give us a true understanding of grace. Good Christmas surprises teach us that stuff just isn’t all that important. Last week I got an email out of the blue from an old friend who just happened to remember me while he rummaged through an old box of toys. Ben then called me later in the day.

Ben and I were pretty much best friends. We would walk home from school together. We played GI Joe. We watched the GI Joe animated movie. We sneaked around as though we were some sort of Special Forces team shooting at cars with our toy assault rifles. I worked his paper route when he went on vacation. We even threw rocks at cars and then hid behind a fence at the church (don’t try that at home). Ben reminded me of a time over at Pierre Moran mall, across the street from my house. We ran into some bigger kids on skateboards. After we did something to annoy them, they chased us all around the mall. I hope there are more fun stories to remember as time goes by.

I love remembering people and the things we did in the past. I had a good childhood and so it’s easy. For some, I know, it’s not as easy. Have you ever received a call, visit, or letter from someone you’ve not heard from in a while? Do you have any good stories from your childhood?

Prepare the Way of the Lord

2007-11-29T21:41:00.000-08:00

This time of the year always reminds me of Isaiah 40. This is a passage of hope. And how many of us can use a little hope right now? Isaiah 40 is the first chapter in what many scholars call Second Isaiah. It was written after the first 39 chapters (or First Isaiah) and by a different author, though we don’t know who that author was. Some even suggest that it was written by a school of thinkers during that time. It was probably written in Babylonia around 540 BC before the Israelites’ journey home.

The Israelites had been conquered and both the kingdoms had fallen. They were exiled to Babylonia and lived, built houses, planted gardens, living life just as Jeremiah had suggested (Jer 29:5-6). Isaiah 40, however is about their imminent return home. Isaiah compares this journey to the Exodus from Egypt and into the Promised Land, only better. For the Exodus Israelites the journey was long and treacherous. There was no road. They were chased by Pharaoh and needed food and water from God when they were hungry. God was their shepherd for the journey home, and they certainly needed their shepherd. Isaiah says that this new journey home will be much better. The paths will be straight and the terrain covered with Eden-like growth. There will be water everywhere and instead of a Pharaoh chasing them it will be King Cyrus (commissioned by God) sending them home. God will not only shepherd them, God will carry them home.

This message was wonderful for the Israelites to hear. It was a message of hope in a time of living as aliens and strangers in a foreign land. It was also a message of preparation. Here is verse 3, “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight the desert highway for our God.” The season of Advent is a time to prepare the way of the Lord. It is a time to reflect in prayer and contemplation on being returned to the image of God. It is also a time to prepare for new and exciting ways for God to use you to bless the world and people around you. How can you reflect God’s image to your neighbors, friends, and family? What are some things you can do in your neighborhood to help show someone the love of Christ? Preparing the way of the Lord is about drawing closer to Christ in order to be sent out into his creation.

Advent is not only a season that prepares us for the Incarnation, Jesus’ birth. It is also a season that prepares us for the second coming of Jesus. In many ways we live in a time between. It is a sort of Holy Saturday, that day between (terribly) Good Friday and Easter Sunday. We await the second coming of Our Lord. But don’t get too comfortable in Babylon. Oh, do your work, build a home, grow your garden, but keep in mind that the King of Glory is coming again!

MY TOP TEN COLLECTIONS

2007-10-27T18:14:00.000-07:00

Evan sent a tag around earlier and this really doesn’t have anything to do with that, but I’ve been wanting to blog for a while, and not wanting to start with a rant, I thought I would share my top ten collections.
Evan and I are both pack rats, so this undoubtedly does not cover all our collections. But perhaps it gives some insight into who I am and who we are since Evan lets me continue to collect these things.
These are in no particular order, but enjoy!

Skulls. At one time this complemented by 4-H projects of bugs and rocks. I no longer have those assemblies, but I have saved my skulls for posterity. The first skull I found myself underneath the pussy willow tree and the big picture window at my childhood home. I had probably been performing autopsies on local tadpoles with my trusty rusty play saw (ah, those were the days . . . ), when I moved on to archeology. I now have a full bird skeleton, a couple mice, a really cool beaver, squirrel, and a couple more dogs. I did have a deer at one time, but it’s not in there any more?

Tomie de Paola books. Evan could probably tell you when we first found out about his books; I don’t remember. I believe the first one we got was about Saint Benedict and Scholastica. Absolutely beautiful, but very innocent, pictures. From there, at Half-Price Books I found a compilation of Bible stories written and illustrated that he had signed. That was kind of cool, even if it’s not worth anything. I’ve also acquired some of the Strega Nona series, one about pancakes, and of course, Clown of God.

Magazines. I’m an addicted magazinoholic anyway, but I’m usually cutting them up or ripping them apart. The three that I SAVE are Martha Stewart, Victoria, Mary Engelbrite. I have had to whittle my stash down as we’ve moved around the country because they’re such a doggone pain to lug around, but these are several I can’t part with – mainly Christmas, fall, and certain spring ones that talk about either lavender, lilacs or eating things out of the woods.

Black Amethyst Depression glass. This collection began when E and I picked out our wedding china. Actually it began before that when Evelyn Ross bought us a china service for our wedding that was rimmed with black and silver. We picked out Wedgewood Fleur Damask, which happened to be discontinued 6 months after we got married to match that. In the process I found this depression glass that was fairly unique, but worked beautifully with the china. I’ve bought odd pieces here and there, in antique stores, ebay, etc., but I never really pay that much for it. The stuff I like has inlaid silver designs, and those aren’t too common.

Medicine bottles. Another archeological find but this time in the woods. Since my mom and dad’s property has been inhabited for more than 100 years, there are junk piles in strange places. There’s also a rumor that gold is hidden somewhere, but Dad has borrowed my cousin Steve’s metal detector and not found more than some pennies. However, at some point, I was messing around out there and dug up some old medicine bottles – electric bitters, sarsaparilla, etc. Every time I go home in the spring, when the weedy undergrowth is down, I go out and dig some more. Last year, I found two bottles from local Havana pharmacies. Right now they are waiting for display on my porch.

Passion music. After following the church year at St. Paul’s and developing a rule of life, I began looking for music to listen to during Lent. I did a paper at seminary comparing the passion narratives of Bach’s St. Matthew’s Passion and Handel’s Messiah. I found a couple recordings of those, but have also gotten St. John’s (Bach) and St. Matthew’s (Golijov). Try listening to the Messiah during Lent sometime. As Evan and I are desperate to recommit our time to Christ’s calendar, I’m hoping to get Mozart’s classic Requiem for this coming Lent.

Vintage Christmas junk. I’m really not crazy about the commercialism that is Christmas, but I just can’t help myself when it comes to amassing piles of scratched up Shiny Brites and Twirling Santas. It’s always going to be better than Halloween. I actually shed a whole tub of Christmas crap before we moved from Guymon, but I couldn’t part with the vintagy-est stuff. I remember I found a whole bag of Santa’s at a thrift store in KC for less than $12. Then I bought a whole stack of ornaments in a now-closed antique store in Havana. Somewhere I also found a ziplock of plastic reindeer. I actually got back into it just recently when I discovered the thrift stores of Dayton. I had been living too far south, too close to Centerville and Oakwood to know. I’ve already procured a paper honeycomb Santa, 2-3 boxes of shiny brites, a big ceramic Christmas tree, and an old plastic light up snowman.

Newest collection – Salem Christmas Eve dishes. This leads me to my newest collection, still in the Christmas category. I happened across these at the St. Francis Thrift Store on Wilmington Pike. They’re the coolest shapes and they have these little retro images sprinkled all over them. The two larger bowls were $3, the smaller $2. I got on ebay to see what else I could find, and ended up purchasing 6 hot chocolate mugs in the same design. All I can say is: I paid more than $2 a piece for them (from Paypal, Evan.) That’s all I could find so far, but I’m looking forward to hunting more down.

Old Religious Ephemera. Evan and I have both taken this on. Evan moves more towards icons Eastern and Western. I tend to find old OLD Catholic stuff and other visually interesting items. We both like pictures or icons of Jesus when we can find them. We’ve found things at estate sales, thrift stores, monasteries. Evan has moved these images to his office (since he has one). I have a poster of old Sunday School story cards hanging over my computer desk. I found an old first Communion certificate in a Jacksonville, Illinois antique mall from 1895. It’s beautiful, with gold leaf and script. It seems Providential that I should have found it.

Unfinished travel scrapbooks. Finally, there are my bags and bags of partially completed travel scrapbooks. I have one from high school and my trip to Clinton’s inauguration that I’ve been hoping to redo since I returned. That was over 15 years ago! Also, the Orpheus Israel tour, Scotland to see Angie in 1994, St. John’s monastery, and most recently Italy. I’m sure there’s others. I just brought the album from our DC trip in May upstairs. It’s not done either, but I’m tired of it. These things are meant to be shared and looked through on solitary occasions. They almost have more character and interest with things hanging out and little notes stashed away than they would perfectly arranged and positioned.
So there they are. My top ten collections. I’m sure there are others considering how long it takes us to pack and move. I hope you’ve gotten to know me a little better.

First Paschal Sermon of St. Gregory of Nazianzen called "The Theologian"

2007-10-08T12:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the Lamb was slain
And the door-posts were anointed,
And Egypt bewailed her Firstborn,
And the Destroyer passed over us,
And the Seal was dreadful and reverend,
And we were walled in with the Precious Blood.
Today, we have escaped from Egypt and from Pharoah; And there is none to hinder us
From keeping a Feast to the Lord our God —
The Feast of our Departure;
Or from celebrating that Feast,
Not in the old leaven of malice and wickedness,
But in the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth, Carrying with us nothing of ungodly and Egyptian leaven.
Yesterday, I was crucified with Him;
Today, I am glorified with Him;
Yesterday, I died with Him;
Today I am quickened with Him;
Yesterday, I was buried with Him;
Today, I rise with Him.
But let us offer to Him Who suffered and rose again for us — you will think perhaps that I am going to say gold, or silver, or woven work, or transparent and costly stones, the mere passing material things of earth, that remains here below, and is for the most part always possessed by bad men, slaves of the world, and of the Prince of the World.
Let us offer ourselves,
The possession most precious to God, and most fitting; Let us give back the image that is made after the Image, Let us recognize our Dignity; let us honour our Archetype;
Let us know the power of the Mystery,
And for what Christ died.
Let us become like Christ,
Since Christ has become like us.
Let us become God's for His sake,
Since He for ours became Man.
He assumed the worse
So that He might give us the better;
He became poor,
So that we through his poverty
Might become rich;
He took upon Him the form of a servant
That we might receive back our liberty;
He came down,
That we might be exalted;
He was tempted,
That we might conquer;
He was dishonoured,
That He might glorify us;
He died,
That He might save us;
He ascended,
That He might draw Himself to us,
Who were lying low in the Fall of sin.
Let us give all, offer all,
To Him who gave Himself
As Ransom and a Reconciliation for us.
But one can give nothing like oneself,
Understanding the Mystery,
And becoming for His sake,
All that He became for ours.

Monks in Burma

2007-10-01T06:31:00.000-07:00

Cords of wood piled by the thousands
Bleed the blood of monks
Discarded as though they were the
Carcasses of animals.
The loss of life, points of consciousness,
means the loss of neighbors
to love and honor as we are commanded.
Cords of bleeding wood piled high by the thousands
burn in the fire of tyranny.

Join us as we pray for peace in Burma.

Lazarus and Dives: Luke 16:19-31, a short perspective

2007-09-25T12:03:00.000-07:00

Luke is a dramatic new interpretation of Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic condition. This is particularly true of these passages that deal with wealth, money, mammon, etc. According to Luke, and this is most likely a bit caricatured, there are the Pharisees who see in the world that the righteous prosper and the wicked suffer. In opposition to this view is Jesus who demands that we rethink/reinterpret Deuteronomy and demands blessings on the poor urging the open sharing of one’s possessions.

Luke describes the rich as particularly unrighteous and the poor worthy of all glory and honor under heaven in a story Jesus tells. This parable, by the way, is the only parable told by Jesus that includes two actual names, Lazarus and Abraham. Lazarus was poor, but not poor like many folk in the West who still have homes, cars, computers, televisions, and cable. This was extreme poverty, poverty that kills. He was on the ground outside of the home of Dives, the traditional name given to the rich man. Lazarus would hallucinate about receiving the scraps from Dives’ table, the scraps that the pigs would get instead. Jesus even said dogs would lick Lazarus’ wounds.

Dives, the rich man, dressed in purple and fine linen, an obvious literary reference to just how wealthy he was. He would feast sumptuously every day while Lazarus wasted away just outside his door. By the way, the linens and purple garments aren’t only a literary reference to Dives’ wealth, they also point to the one who should be wearing them, Lazarus. These are garments that Jesus himself would have rejected in favor of giving them to Lazarus. This story is about the great overturning after all.

Lazarus dies and is carried away by angels to be with Abraham. This point was probably particularly pejorative to the Pharisees as Luke paints them as folks who felt that they were the only ones who deserved to be in the presence of Abraham. Dives dies too, and goes straight to hell. As Dives is burning, he asks Abraham to send Lazarus to him with a drop of water to cool Dives. To me, this seems worse than if he’d asked them to change places, a slap in the face to someone who has suffered so much. Dives is turned down and Abraham describes a great chasm between Lazarus and Dives that cannot be overcome. This chasm that Abraham describes existed between Lazarus and Dives even before they died. It was a socio-economic chasm as much as it was a physio-spiritual chasm.

He then asks if Lazarus could be resurrected and go warn Dives’ brothers and friends about the consequences of their lifestyle. Again Dives was turned down and Abraham reminds him that they would not listen. After all, they haven’ listened to the prophets or Moses. This was a slap in the face to Pharisees that follow the law to their letter. Jesus, with Abraham as his mouthpiece saying they’re going to need more than the law. Jesus is saying that something even bigger than the law is needed here, something like perhaps a resurrection.

The tension in this story is continued even now among us, Jesus’ own followers. I and my top 4% in the world salary exemplify this as much as anyone. This story, remember fails to separate the generous rich from the ungenerous rich. Therefore, there is no excuse. We must do more to eliminate the chasm between rich and poor and it must come from the hearts of givers. There is no outside force other than the Holy Spirit herself that can destroy the gap. Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on us, who think that by the law alone we will be saved. By the power of the Holy Spirit change our hearts, change my heart, so that I give more, perhaps even all!

The Shrewd Steward: Luke 16:1-13, a short perspective

2007-09-19T12:22:00.000-07:00

Luke 16:1-13: This parable is often too hard for folks to deal with and so sometimes it is dropped from the preaching schedule altogether. But something about this story that really strikes a nerve in people. According to Sarah Dylan, most commentators say that this is about how the shrewd steward acts decisively and Jesus is describing the “inbreaking of the Kingdom of God call[ing] upon us all to act decisively.” Just as for Dylan, this is not enough for me. Therefore questions must be asked. Was Jesus really commending a crook? Is it purely allegorical? If so, whom does the master represent? What is it that the shrewd steward does? Taken at face value, this story makes Jesus sound as though he approves of deceit. But let’s look further. Let’s answer the last question. What is it that the shrewd steward does? Well, the shrewd steward forgives debt.

So, it seems this passage for Dylan is about forgiveness, an overarching theme throughout the Gospels, and one that can hardly be dismissed. If it is about forgiveness, then despite the reasons the steward forgives, despite that he had no right to forgive, he forgives and it perhaps redeems him in the eyes of his master. What are the implications for us as Christians if Dylan is correct? Then we must forgive, even if forgiveness helps us, even if we have no right to forgive, even if it doesn’t benefit us at all. We must forgive with flagrant irresponsibility even.

There is another theme however, this one highlighted by Fred Craddock. Verse 10-11 says, “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches?” (Hmm, perhaps this is justification for more churches to accept tithe from Lotto winnings.) This shifts the focus onto another theme throughout the gospels, being faithful with what is given you. It is also found in the parable of the talents. Craddock sees the meaning in this parable much more straight forward and simple (not simplistic) than Dylan.

For Craddock, these two verses concern the stewardship of possessions. Considering all the dangers in possessions, “it is possible to manage goods in ways appropriate to life in the Kingdom of God”(Craddock, Interpretation: Luke 191). He says this is an argument of a fortiori (from the lesser to the greater, specific to the general). If one is responsible for the small things then one will be responsible for the large things. Jesus perhaps is saying , “No, really, you should sweat the small stuff.” Craddock says that very few of us will do huge things this week, win a war, win a gold medal in the Olympics, build a better mousetrap. However, we might vote, encourage a friend, share a meal with friends. “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much.”

Between the two views, Dylan and Craddock, we can see that even forgiving in the very little can lead to flagrant forgiveness in the very big. Seeing these two views together can give us a balance between. Perhaps we should be like the shrewd steward, wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove.

Christian Caste System

2007-08-02T06:34:00.000-07:00

I'm sure the recent comments of Pope B-16 have been thoroughly blogged about. My friend Eric said, "Well, he is Roman Catholic, what else is he going to say?" His comments are both insightful (and probably a little defensive of RC), but I have to say that I'm partial to the comments of N. T. Wright. Read his response here and tell me what you think.

From one second class Christian citizen to others, I'm going with Colossians 3 on this one. Either Vatican II was an honest attempt at ecumenism or it was a deceit. RCs can't have their Eucharist and eat it too!

What do you all think?

Book Tags!

2007-07-30T07:56:00.000-07:00

I was also, after begging, tagged by Monty for a list of top-ten most influential books in my life. You'll probably see more fiction on my list than most because of my respect for narrative. Story tells us so much more about God, ourselves, who and what we love, than any book of theology, history, or whatever. By the way there is a Bible exemption for the list. So don't be thinking you're holier than me because you would include the Bible. There are a million and one other reasons why you are holier than me, so don't even think about it. Anyway, here goes:

10. On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Probably speaks more about when I grew up than anything. It is a book that speaks to particular subcultures of every generation.

9. Salvation on Sand Mountain by Dennis Covington. Brilliant with one of the most remarkable last paragraphs ever.

8. The Logic of Renewal by William Abraham. Mmmm, canonical heritage. (gurgling sounds).

7. How to Travel with a Salmon by Umberto Eco. This is a book of essays, but to be fair I would add his novel Foucalt's Pendulum.

6. Fear and Trembling by Soren Kierkegaard. Oh to be a Knight of Faith. Oh, also Philosophical Fragments and Post Unscientific Conclusion to the Philosophical Fragments by Soren Kierkegaard. The first time I read the first volume I read it over night. It was too much for one night.

5. The entire Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. What a brilliant story. With wonderfully (though I am sure unintentional) theological themes such as victory over death, community, turning the other cheek, good vs. evil, etc.

4. Ethics and Infinity by Emauel Levinas. Brilliant!

3 1/2. White Noise by Don Delillo. Yeah, just read it and you'll understand why it's at 3 1/2.

3. The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon. Ahh, the wonders of the anti-detective story.

2. Of Water and the Spirit by Alexander Schmemann. This very sacramental Eastern look at baptism has probably influenced my thinking of what sacrament is more than any other book. From exorcism to chrismation, it deals with the entirety of baptism. There's also a very poignant look at infant baptism.

1. The Moviegoer by Walker Percy. This is a book that I have read too many times to count. It is also a book that I have given away copies of too many times to count.

11. Here I add a few that should be top ten, but that there wasn't room for: The Brothers Karamozov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (this would list at number eleven even though I believe it to be tied in first place as the greatest work of literature in all of history with James Joyce's Ulysses), In the Name of Jesus by Henri Nouwen, Openness of God by Clark Pinnock, Killing Mr. Watson by Peter Mathiessen, and Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.

There's my list. It probably changes a lot and I would say that it should. Coming up with a top ten is ridiculous.

Oh, yeah, for my tags . . . hmm . . . Chad, Eric, Caleb, Ben, Marsha, Joy, and John.

Tagged!

2007-07-23T07:02:00.000-07:00

Hoorah! I have been tagged to share eight random facts about myself. This particular tag comes from Monty. I am then to tag 8 others to do the same. Here are the rules:

1. players start with 8 random facts about themselves.
2. those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.
3. players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

Here they are:

Bears are my favorite animal. This is not to be confused with monkeys as the funniest animal. I would love to have one of each, I think it would be fun.
I like bluegrass . . . a lot, especially Mountain Heart, the Grascals, and Wildfire. (but don't tell anyone as it's not very cosmopolitan of me.)
I am a huge Simpsons and Harry Potter fan which is apparently a very dangerous thing for a Nazarene.
As of August 13th of this year, I will have lived in 19 houses in my 31 year life.
I once raised Madagascar hissing cockroaches for fun.
I was baptized in the Jordan River in Israel.
My favorite saint is St. Seraphim of Sarov
I think the current trend in theology of reconciling science to itself is a canonization of a particular epistemology and therefore dangerous. Also, it's really, really boring.

Eric, Marc, Marsha, Ben, Caleb, anyone in KC, and anyone in Guymon, OK

Holy Orders

2007-07-16T07:29:00.000-07:00

You are reading the writing of a very proud husband. This week at the Southwest Ohio District Assembly, the Church will honor God's call to pastoral ministry in Julia's life. The Church will bestow Holy Orders upon her, ordaining Julia Elder in the Church of the Nazarene and we are very excited.

Last weekend I read Dennis Covington's Salvation on Sand Mountain (If you have not read it, read it now!) and he reminded me of something. Our Lord first appeared to Mary Magdalene (who is to be honored as equal among the apostles), and she was to tell the disciples of his resurrection. She was the first of preachers of the truly Good News of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ that defeated death once and for all. It was the disciples who did not believe her and insisted on seeing for themselves.

This week I am proud of my wife, God's most holy call on her life, and the Church's bestowment of Holy Orders.

Psycho Kitty

2007-05-30T19:28:00.000-07:00

Now, for a bit of levity . . . this is (was) our cat . . . Awww, wasn't he cute. He was a gift to myself for my 30th birthday, which completely sucked . . .
Now, meet our cat, Vegas.

That's right, Psycho Kitty. People wonder why we don't have children. Because I'm afraid they will turn out like him.

Anybody who has met him knows that he is a bit . . . well, eccentric. We just want to say, on record, that he does love US -- maybe not anyone else -- but he can be very sweet. I think he would be perfect as an lolcat (see slate.com slideshow). Add your own captions as needed.

LiLo Kitty . . .

Fraidy Cat

Kitty Socks . . .

jfr.

2007-05-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

Today my heart broke. I heard of a pastor in Gig Harbor, Washington state who has allegedly raped and molested a little girl (a member of his own family). I used to pastor this little girl and serve with the so-called pastor. My heart lies in the street, broken, lifeless. I am left with the epistemic questions of faith. What sort of God would allow this to happen? What sort of God, in whom all power and majesty and honor are bestowed, could stand by allow a seven year old to be raped and molested by a pastor and her father. He was to be the very presence of Christ and the very form of the Father to her, but he chose to blaspheme God by heinously violating her. Today, I cry for this little girl and her family. I have not spoken to them in almost three years, but my heart broke today.

The Church of the Nazarene and its leaders submit a report full of statistics lamenting the fact that we've only grown by .6% in the US and that there is a leadership vacuum in the church. I say there is a theology vacuum in the church today. This church, the Church of the Nazarene, seems to be more interested in theories of leadership and growth than theodicy (answers to the problem of evil) and doctrine of God (whether or not Jesus really was resurrected). Woe to you, Church of the Nazarene, when you hear of victims of your pastors and hurt not. Woe to to you, Church of the Nazarene, when you concentrate on the Maxwellian leadership and not the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. When a church is more interested in the skill set for leadership of its pastor, in the numerical growth of its churches, in whether or not its seminarians and its college graduate pastors know how to lead a board meeting than in how it handles the epistemic questions, the questions of faith, like how to deal with the problem of evil or the Holy Spirit and her charisms and how they might inform how the church is run, then that church might as well lie down because it has already died!

Tonight, after I (seriously questioning my faith) taught my kids at church about the power of God, I prayed a prayer of protection for them. I raised my hands and said, "May the God of creation, redemption, and resurrection protect you. May the Holy Spirit fill you and surround you that no evil on earth my touch you. I pray these things in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

It is not leadership that will change this church, it is theology. Our pastors must be able to answer serious epistemic questions of theology before they can run a good board meeting (I don't even know what a good board meeting is anyway). I pray now that the Church of the Nazarene will stop trying to look like Coca-Cola co. and Wal-Mart and start looking like the Kingdom of God. I pray this in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Problem of Evil

2007-05-16T19:27:00.000-07:00

LLESENIA PURECO

DOB: Jul 22, 1998Missing: Aug 24, 2006Age Now: 8Sex: FemaleRace: White/HispHair: BlackEyes: BrownHeight: 4'3" (130 cm)Weight: 55 lbs (25 kg)Missing From:GUYMONOKUnited States

Llesenia (Llesi) is a little girl we knew once . We tried to be her pastors. We visited her in the hospital when she was sick. She came to VBS. She worshiped with us on Sunday morning.

But apparently, Llesenia is forgotten. She is missing. We don't know now whether she is dead or alive. As if we didn't really know where she was already. . .

All because the people -- the lawyers, the judges, the parent, the social workers who were supposed to protect this little one's life -- have valued their own time, careers and concerns over hers.

Llesenia suffers (or suffered) from the washing of hands. An entire nation of Pontius Pilate's.

"It's not our fault!" says the faceless system organized to disperse guilt.

"Who is to blame?" they ask incredulously throwing up their fists of paperwork.

Is it the perverse pedophile from whom she may have contracted a deadly disease upon her return to her mother's home?

Or some other violent boyfried who gave her scars on her head and her knee?

Or the arrogantly pious mother who only showed affection at the child's hospital bedside?

Or is it the Texas County, OK judge who tossed this child dismissively from chaos to love and back to a terrorized existence once again?

Or was it the State of Oklahoma's social worker who preserved the biological "family" at any cost?

I feel the guilt of this child's life and, perhaps, death, because at some level she needed salvation. Not merely the salvation of her soul -- but the salvation of her very life. And maybe I didn't pray enough for it. For I know I never fought hard enough or spoken loud enough or preached long enough to ever make a difference.

I knew her and I knew what was going wrong. What could I have done?

Vacation Musings

2007-05-14T07:10:00.000-07:00

Julia and I returned last night from the District. We took a true vacation to Washington DC to visit some friends of ours. We also saw some extra-typical District stuff. Thanks to our wonderful friends the Kazees, Rob, Jane, Abby, and Lilly, we stayed just off of Georgia Ave in the heart of the District. We parked the car and road the Metro for the entire week (except when we went to visit Julia's cousin). DC has an amazing public transit system. We only waited long for a bus twice and both times were off hours.

Here are a couple of highlights of our trip. 1) We got to see and visit one of our favorite families in all the world, the Kazees. Rob Kazee is pastoring at National Church of the Nazarene and they live only a few blocks from the church in a beautiful parsonage there in the District. I taught the girls to stack and we had fun with that all week. We all went to the National Zoo on Friday. 2) The evening we spent with Rob and Brian Postlewait at a German restaurant downtown. We enjoyed an evening of our favorite kind of conversation: God, Church, and friends. 3) We got to see Julia's cousin Lenora and her family. They live on a dairy farm (her husband Richard is a dairy farmer) in Mt. Airy, MD. That was fun. 4) We visited another of our favorite families, the Freys. Eric and Antonina pastor Toronto Church of the Nazarene in Toronto, OH. They took us out on the river in his boat. What fun! 5) I ate 19 crabs at the Dancing Crab, a little shack off of Wisconsin Dr. in the District. 6) We visited the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, a Basilica at Catholic University of America, again in DC. The Basilica was a kick back to Byzantine architecture with small prayer shrines off of the main Cathedral dedicated to churches around the world. Very beautiful.

I think those were my favorite things. Julia will probably post some more details.

Repelled by Community

2007-04-28T12:44:00.000-07:00

I was talking with a good friend of mine yesterday about the church and community. We served together in Kansas City and, in fact, he was my pastor there. We were talking about a church he served where folks may not have been particularly interested in what it meant to be a community of faith. I reminded him that this is true in all churches throughout all time.

It is remarkable in the Christian church that we have such a unique (in all the world religions) model of unity in Jesus of Nazareth and ideal of the unity of the Holy Trinity and yet we have more trouble than anyone in living out that unity. My friend said, "It's strange how we are both drawn to and repelled by community."

It is true. Community and unity of believers are called to be a-part of one another's lives. Apart may be the best word to use here. It is a word that in the second sentence of this paragraph means together, and yet it is a word that means divided, as in apart from. Of course, I believe in the radicalization of community, just as Jesus prays for us in John 17:21-23: that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me (NRSV). Though this sort of community is what we desire, we are also repelled by it so much that when we see even the possibility of it, we will create dissension and dismemberment in order to undermine it. It is the sort of soured milk we insist that others smell, knowing in our hearts that the milk was never meant to be soured.

The icon pictured above is of Saints Peter and Paul embracing. It is a compelling, charming icon of the saints. When I see it I feel like I should turn away in offense, but I know I want to truly know what this window into heaven shows me, unity. Gregory Boyd wrote in Myth of a Christian Nation, "By God's design, people are not to be won over to his kingdom primarily by our clever arguments, scary religious tracts, impressive programs, or our sheer insistence that they are going to hell unless they share our theological opinions. No, they are to be won over by the way in which we replicate Calvary to them. They are to see and experience the reality of the coming Kingdom in us." The reality of the Kingdom of God is not merely an ideal, it is as real as the body and blood of Christ. It is time for the community of faith to call on the Holy Spirit to ignite us, melding us together as an alloy: One body under One God by One Baptism.

Let us pray, together, Fr. Sergius Bulkakov's prayer for unity:

O Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour

thou didst promise to abide with us always.

Thou dost call all Christians

to draw near and partake

of Thy Body and Blood,

But our sin has divided us

and we have no power to partake

of Thy Holy Eucharist together.

We confess this our sin and we pray Thee,

forgive us and help us to serve the ways

of reconciliation, according to Thy Will.

Kindle our hearts with the fire

of the Holy Spirit,

give us the spirit of Wisdom and faith,

of daring and of patience,

of humility and firmness,

of love and of repentance,

through the prayers of the

most blessed Mother of God

and of all the saints.

Amen.

St. Seraphim of Sarov

2007-04-22T13:15:00.000-07:00

If you've not heard the story of St. Seraphim of Sarov you should. So, I will tell it to you now. He was a sickly child and was healed when his mother held him up to a local "miracle-working" icon, The Mother of God. He entered the monastary as a novice in Sarov when he was 18. He was a devout and excellent prayer and lived simply especially in his eating. When he did eat, it wasn't much. He grew ill after one prayer retreat in the woods and was healed again in the presence of The Mother of God.

He took the monastic vows at 27 and given the name Seraphim which means "fiery" or "burning." This reflected his prayer life most appropriately. Once on retreat deep in the wilderness he was attacked by robbers demanding everything he had. He simply placed his axe on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. The robbers beat him with his axt handle until he bled from his mouth and ears. They trampled him and drug him along the ground. The robbers only quit when they thought he was dead. After he recovered and the robbers were caught, Seraphim spoke out on their behalf. Seraphim walked hunched over for the rest of his life.

One day he was teaching his student, Motovilov about the Christian life and what it took to be a real follower of Christ. Seraphim said, "It is necessary that the Holy Spirit enter our heart. Everything good that we do, that we do for Christ, is given to us by the Holy Spirit, but prayer most of all, which is always available to us."

Motovilov asked how he could see the grace of the Holy Spirit and how did he know whether He was with him or not. Seraphim told the stories and examples of the saints and the apostles, but Motovilov was still confused. Seraphim took him by the arm and said, "My friend, we both are in the Holy Spirit right now!" It was as if scales fell from Motovilov's eyes and he saw the face of Seraphim shining brighter than the sun. Motovilov felt a peace in his heart and a gentle warming of his entire body. Seraphim said, "Do not fear, dear fellow. You would not even be able to see me if you yourself were not in the fullness of the Holy Spirit. Thank the Lord for His mercy toward us." This is how Motovilov came to understand the presence of the Holy Spirit and transfiguration.

St. Seraphim of Sarov is someone for us all to look at and admire and learn from. He is a true part of our Canonical Heritage of persons, materials, and practices.

To Hell and Back: a devotional

2007-04-18T06:07:00.000-07:00

The Apostle’s Creed

I believe in God, the Father Almighty,

the Creator of heaven and earth,

and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:

Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died, and buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day He arose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven

and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty,

whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy catholic church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and life everlasting.

Amen.

First of all you should know that the Creed as we know it today was not settled until around the sixth century. However, it has as its form and structure the very teachings of Jesus Christ to his apostles as he was taken up to “sit at the right hand of God, the Father, almighty.” It is no accident that it is called the Apostle’s Creed. It has, in fact, at its very nucleus the core teachings of those who had seen the resurrected Lord. Its form is the very name of God; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

With that, I want to focus on two lines. First, “He descended into hell.” Where did it come from and what does it mean? It came from scripture as well as the ante-scripture beliefs of first century Christians. As H. Ray Dunning points out, it could be that this literally meant that because of Christ’s becoming sin for us he was to also suffer the consequence of eternal separation from God as well. 2 Corinthians 5:21 states the case, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” Of course, we are Wesleyan so we need to at least see what Wesley says about it. His interpretation is that “He became a ‘sin offering’ for us.”

However, the word hell here is also about the “place of the dead” or “Hades.” In the Creed it is a way of emphasizing the passion of the Christ, as Dunning says, “experiencing the reality of his suffering and death, which he tasted for every person.” Hebrews 2:9 (NRSV) says, “but we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honour because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.”

Luther said, “No one ever feared death so much as this Man.” This death and descent into hell is not so much about the division between us (in sin) and God, but about the division between God when Jesus screams out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34).

None of this is very devotional and I was trying to read this Creed devotionally, so I will try to do that now. Hans Urs Von Balthasar says (with William Placher as his mouth piece), “Yes, the descent into hell did come after Christ’s death, but it was not a victory march but a movement into radical loneliness and darkness in solidarity with those who have rejected God.” Thus the words of the Psalmist are proved, “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

The second line I want to look at is particularly because we are in the Easter season. We are celebrating the part of the Creed that is the victory of us all. We cannot merely stop at the descent and not see it through. There is no darkness God will not enter, no hell he is afraid of, there is not lengths he will not go to in order to reconcile his children. He is truly the Hound of Heaven. He is the Christ who will go to hell and back to save his people. This is the radical, life-giving atonement of God that is entirely about his love for us and desire for communion with us: first incarnation, then death, then resurrection, and he will come again. Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again. This is truly something to devote our lives to.

What Are You Thinking About This Week?

2007-03-15T06:18:00.000-07:00

Here is a short list of a few things that I'm thinking about this week. What are all of you thinking about and why?

1. The Holy Trinity as the actual name of God (or Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) Oooh, which reminds me. I just learned that El Shaddai is usually translated "the Almighty" but is more literally translated as "the Breasted One" and is always used in maternal contexts. with that in mind, William C. Placher chooses to describe God as "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, One God, Mother of us all." Brilliant!
2. Donatist and Arian controversies in the early church and the Eastern Fathers' response
3. Ending world poverty by convincing North Americans and Europeans to stop eating ice cream (see Jeffrey Sachs' The End of Poverty)
4. The most effective way to hold a paper airplane contest for families
5. Getting my tax stuff to my tax guy
6. Missing Julia because she's at a writer's conference in Kansas City
7. When am I going to get Brian Wiprud's new book and looking forward to the new Harry Potter

So, what are you thinking about this week.

It's Not About Us

2007-03-11T19:07:00.000-07:00

That’s right. I said it. What Galileo proved about the Sun 500 years ago, we’re still having trouble figuring out about God. I mean, that God does not revolve around the Earth, or me, or you for that matter. And when it comes to worship, the biggest disservice we do to ourselves and to our children is mistaking our music, our emotions, our praise, our thanksgiving, our instruction, even our love for our worship of the Triune God.
And we’re teaching this to our children.
So, what is worship? We’re teaching them that worship is simply singing and a sermon. It is determined by performance and style. And the most important thing is that worship be relevant to us. But worship comes from worth. That simply means that we tell God who He is — and he will always be the sole subject. When “I” becomes the subject of your sentence, even “I love you” is not worship.
This “I” rears its ugly head in other ways. Anyone heard of the “worship wars?” Do we leave church frustrated because we haven’t “gotten anything out of the sermon?” Or do we squirm or shudder when a child’s cry pierces the air disrupting our prayers?
Try this sometime: without using any personal pronouns like I, me, or my, adore God . . . It’s hard isn’t it? Before we think we’ve got the “worship thing” figured out. . . Just remember how easily our own minds wandered during that last prayer service or how easy it is to require “being fed” as our criteria for “good” worship.
In the book, Teaching Kids Authentic Worship, Kathleen Chapman seeks to reassert a basic fact about God and all of us. When we genuinely return our focus back to God — and who He is— we return to our rightful place in relationship to Him. It’s a humbling thought. We are not the center of the universe. We are God’s people reflecting His image into the world.
So, what is worship? And what does this mean for pre-schoolers who are just beginning to recognize they aren’t the center of the universe? This is a question I want to explore with our pre-school team and with you as parents in the coming weeks and months. I want us to think seriously about what we model and teach about worship to our youngest generation. How do we teach our children what true worship is? How does our Kinderchurch space focus our children toward worship? How do we sincerely incorporate our children into intergenerational worship times? And most importantly, how do we foster authentic worship practices in our children?
I believe that children need to worship. They can, sometimes with more imagination and honesty than we adults can muster, come face to face with the living Triune God. Let’s celebrate the gift of worship God has given to every one of us. Thank goodness it isn’t about us! God is the one who delivers, protects, and provides for His people. And He does it even when we aren’t asking for it.

I wrote this for "The Stream" our monthly preschool newsletter (March issue), but I thought others might like to comment.

The past 2 weeks I have done a worship "exercise" with the Kinderchurch children (ages 3-K). Last week we spent 30 seconds in silence listening to what God was saying to us. You know what? God spoke to 3 year olds! He told one boy that He loved him. He told another girl that she should be kind to her sister. Crazy! This week we spent another time of silence waiting for God to bring a neighbor to mind. These children reverently closed their eyes and bowed their heads and people that they can love and care for came to their mind.

Why do we still choose the strong things of this world -- the brilliant successes, the stunning victories of strength and will to "prove" our God? They shame us.

"But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, (1 Corinthians 1:27-30)."

Happy Valentines Day to Everyone!

2007-02-13T18:07:00.000-08:00

I found this little gem from the past and so I'm sending it to everyone I love. I'm not particularly fond of Valentine's Day, because of it's misplaced emphasis (like Mother's and Father's Day) upon spending money and effort for what you should be doing anyway. But since Evan informed me today that there actually was a Saint Valentine, I'll let it pass. You'll never believe this, but I never was boy crazy. Now you know why. The only way I know this is from 4th grade is that I am wearing glasses. (That was the same year my Halloween costume fell off in front of an entire classroom of 4th grade boys. Don't ask.) I made the blouse that I'm wearing for 4-H. I was such a nerd -- and it actually got worse.

I'm so glad Evan married me.

Accepted

2007-02-13T06:47:00.000-08:00

I am officially a student of United Theological Seminary. I finally received my acceptance news last week and began classes and colloquoy this week. United is a graduate school of the United Methodist Church. In 1871, United Theological Seminary was founded as Union Bible Seminary under the direction of the Rev. Milton Wright. Other notables involved in the school are former president, Leonard Sweet, and current preaching professor, Richard Eslinger. I am in the MTS program and am very excited.

Incidently, you might recognize the name of that first president of the seminary. He had two sons, Wilbur and Orville. They had something to do with airplanes or something. I say if God hand intended us to fly, he would have given us the ingenuity to build something to help us do it.

Anyway, it's good to be in school again.

Christ as the Retarded Boy

2007-02-01T06:27:00.000-08:00

Alexander Schmemann is so wise. I first discovered him (well, not Schmemann, but a book of his) in the Desert Wisdom book store, a little Eastern Orthodox church with a store at street level in Kansas City. I bought his book Of Water & the Spirit: a Liturgical Study of Baptism. In it he talks about the history and liturgy of baptism. It has done a lot, as much as Rob Staples, to shape the way I think about sacrament and specifically baptism. On page twenty Schmemann writes, "Conversion is not an event in the realm and on the level of ideas, as so many people think today. It is not the choice of an 'ideology,' not even an answer to 'problems'-a word delightfully ignored by the early Church and the Holy Scripture. It is truly an escape from darkness and despair. One comes to Christ in order to be saved and because there is no other salvation."

Sometimes people ask me how old I was when I was saved. I think I was three, but I don't know for sure. I have always been Christian, that is, a follower of Christ. I have always, as long as I can remember, confessed his Lordship. When I was thirteen I experienced a 'strange warming of the heart' that I have always thought of as sanctification. I grew up politically conservative, rigidly so, a real Republican in the editorial sense of the word (think Limbaugh). I always assumed myself on the right path. When I was seventeen, my youth pastor introduced me to Soren Kierkegaard (what seventeen year old isn't interested in 19th Century Danish philosophy). I've been hooked on such things since.

However, everything changed the next year. I attended Edison College in Ft. Meyers, Florida for my freshman year. I met with a group of Christians almost every week for a time of worship and devotion in this little room with no air conditioning. The windows were open, but in the afternoon in South Florida even the wind is naturally heated. There was a retarded boy on campus and he was fat. Before I'm arrested for not knowing better than to speak in such a way of another human being, I am painting a picture of offense that must be painted (I'll allow this counselor, go on). He was retarded and enormous and he didn't wash his clothes often, he had holes in his shoes. Not only were his clothes not washed often, but they didn't fit properly so there was a good 5 inches of crack showing. Worse than all of that, he smelled wretched, as though he didn't really have a good concept of what it meant to wipe.

As the stuffy wet air in that room wafted around, gaining strength each time it passed the retarded boy, it would accost me and those around me, holding us up for our lunch money. I looked around at my friends and they would wince everytime they smelled the retarded boy. I've never seen such faces (except maybe in the church). They would turn their heads, scowl, and move away from the smell. It was a small room and it was crowded, but no one stood within three feet of that fat retarded boy as we sang songs of worship and praise.

The last time I remember a hot breeze blowing and smelling the boy is when it happened. I have thought a lot about it since then. I can't stop thinking about it. But when that foggy smell hit me, I looked up. The retarded boy turned and looked at me and smiled at me. In that moment, not figuratively, but literally and mystically I saw the bloodied, beaten, spit on, pissed on face of Christ smiling at me and I died. I don't know who I thought I was before that, but in that moment I was saved. To this day I don't know how to talk about it except in terms of mysticism. This was no imagined event, it happened. And I never looked at the boy the same. I wish I could talk to him now. I wish I could thank him. I wish I could give him a hug and smell him.

Years later when I read what Schmemann wrote about salvation not being in the realm of ideas, I understood. It was the Christ of Our Lord who looked at me and smiled as a retarded boy, and I was saved from darkness and despair. Thanks be to God. Now, you'll know what I mean if you ever hear me say that Jesus was a retarded boy because that day he was.

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me This Before?

2007-01-31T07:30:00.000-08:00

I have been reading Kenneth Scott Latourette's A History of Christianity: Beginnings to 1500 and read that King Herod was not even Jewish. I had always assumed that he was not only of Jewish stock, but also a descendant, albeit distant, of David. Poor assumption on my part. Apparently he got lucky and married into the Maccabeean family. There he set up a deal with the Romans and appointed himself King of Israel. Of course we all know he rebuilt the temple and everyone lived happily ever after. Well, actually he killed his wife and at least two of his children, his brother in-law, another wife, the other wife's mother, and possible several others just to stay in power, and everyone pretty much hated him, so really no one lived happily ever after.

Anyway, I write all this because I didn't know it before. I didn't know Herod was a Maccabeean wannabe with no real right to the throne. No one told me and it really would have made a lot more sense with the whole scared of Jesus thing. No wonder he killed all those babies in Bethlehem.

Very interesting nonetheless. Here is Giotto's "Massacre of the Innocents."

I Want to Direct Your Attention to . . .

2007-01-17T12:09:00.000-08:00

I want to just direct your attention to another blog. Please take the time to look at Real Live Preacher's short 6 minute videos "Read the Bible." They are very thoughtful and he has a lot of good stuff to say for the beginner and scholar alike.

Evan's Most Favored 2006 Awards

2007-01-16T11:27:00.000-08:00

Okay, it's been a couple of weeks and it's time for Evan's Most Favored 2006 Awards. As you may or may not know, the eligibility is based on my reading, seeing, hearing, etc. in that given year. For instance this years fiction award goes to a book that was published June 1, 2004. However, I read the book in 2006, therefore it is eligible. Remember, these are very fun favorites that you could feel relatively good about supporting. So, without further explanation, Evan's Most Favored 2006 Awards.

Most Favored Movie 2006

This was not particularly a difficult decision as 2006 was a year of mostly unmemorable movies. There were a few that stood out, even a made for TV movie (Sometimes in April about genocide in Rwanda in 1994). But the film selected for this category impacted me on several levels. It deals with some of the same issues as last years Most Favored Movie, death of a parent, juvenile main character, non US setting. And the Most Favored Movie 2006 is . . . Duma, directed by Caroll Ballard.

Most Favored Printed Work of Fiction 2006

As I said earlier, this book was released in 2004, but I didn't read it until 2006. It's author is relatively unknown, but anyone who writes a murder mystery involving rockabilly, taxidermy, and communism isn't sane enough to go wrong. And the Most Favored Printed Work of Fiction 2006 is . . . Pipsqueak by Brian Wiprud.

Most Favored Printed Work of Nonfiction 2006

This is always a difficult choice as there are so many great books out there. This year, though, I read three that should be given particular attention: Myth of a Christian Nation by Gregory Boyd, Most Moved Mover by Clark Pinnock, For All the Saints? by N. T. Wright. And the Most Favored Printed Work of Nonfiction 2006 is . . . For All the Saints?: Remembering the Christian Departed by N. T. Wright.

Most Favored Television Show 2006

This is a new show for me. It was chosen for its simple complexities. Not merely because it's another mystery police procedural, but for its nod to Sherlock Holmes in a institutionalized sort of way. And the Most Favored Television Show 2006 is . . . Monk.

Most Favored Magician 2006

This is always a difficult category for me because it's such a limited field. Ricky Jay stole the title from Penn and Teller last year who held it for two years before that. They took it away in 2003 from Lance Burton. This year they take it back because of their hit Showtime show. And the Most Favored Magician 2006 is . . . Penn and Teller.

Most Favored Band/Musician 2006

This is another difficult category because I am so particular about what I listen to. I demand quality writing and overall sound. Julia calls me a music snob. I am a huge fan of Punk Rock and the Blues, but eventually we grow up. This year the award is based on his Songs for Silverman album as well as his soundtrack to Hoodwinked. And the Most Favored Band/Musician 2006 is . . . again . . . Ben Folds.

Most Favored Talk Show Host 2006

This is chosen not based on political views (I feel like I need to make that very clear). It is based on entertainment value. And the Most Favored Talk Show Host 2006 is . . . again . . . Glenn Beck

Happy New Year Everybody!

2006-12-31T21:49:00.001-08:00

Why I Am a Nazarene: Reason Number 4, We Believe in Free Will, and Can Even Believe in An Open God

2006-12-26T06:26:00.000-08:00

Again, I am admitting in these posts that I am an Open theist. To many that is no surprise. I first read The Openness of God about seven years ago and have explored the possibilities and probabilities since. Now, not all Nazarenes are Open theists, but many of us are. Open theism is very agreeable with our Arminian heritage. Because as Nazarenes we believe in free will, we can have a very open view of God.

As we were created in God's image, and God is free to do that which he cannot do without ceasing to be God, we too were given the ability to choose right and wrong. We are free and morally responsible beings (article 7), just as God is free. God is not bound by anything. As an Open theist, I would say that God is not bound by anything, even the future.

Because of this free will that we have, the future is partly open. God has chosen to partner with his created, otherwise, why would he go to all the trouble to redeem us. God, in his sovereignty, chose to allow us to have free will, thus limitting his own knowledge of the future. God knows what he will do, and knows what we will probably do, but allows us to choose that future, and allows himself to change his mind as well as to how he will do what he will do.

We see this extreme freedom throughout scripture. There are numerous instances where God changes his mind (Abraham, Moses, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Jonah, etc.), changes the way he does certain things, etc. How many times did he decide to destroy Israel and then changed his mind? This is one way in which we see that the future is not determined out right.

Logically, as an Open theist, I do not even say that God knows what I will do. He knows me better, certainly, than anyone else, but doesn't know for sure what I will choose to wear in the morning. If he were to know, that perhaps I am going to wear a button up, then I cannot be free to choose a rugby. Because who am I to go against God's knowledge, and therefore determination of the future? If God knows the future exhaustively, then it must be determined. Whereas if God knows what he will do and has limited himself to the knowledge of what we all might do, then we have true freedom.

In Most Moved Mover, Clark Pinnock writes, "God is the God of hope and we share in his hopefulness. The end is in view, though the precise route to it is open and subject to circumstances" (Pinnock 53). God knows what he's doing, and who are we to question his freedom and right to allow his creatures to affect him?

I am a Nazarene, because within its doctrine I am free to understand God as he has revealed himself to me (scripture, reason, tradition, and experience). We have freedom because we are created in his image and because we are created in his image, the future is partly open.

Why I Am a Nazarene: Reason Number 3, We Baptize Infants

2006-12-18T06:21:00.000-08:00

Peadobaptism is a touchy subject with some Christians. Nazarenes handle it with finesse. We decided a long time ago as Wesleyans and Holiness peoples came together that we weren't going to risk splintering the church along certain lines. Therefore, we both baptize infants and we dedicate. I am a Nazarene because we value children, even infants, enough to allow them the grace of baptism.

Baptism is not merely a symbol, if we believed that, we would not be Wesleyan. Baptism, because it is a sacrament, is a means of grace. It is a sacred event by which God bestows his grace to both the catechumen and the congregation. The Church of the Nazarene recognizes that God's grace is even given to infants.

But why do we insist that it's okay to baptize infants, they don't even understand it? Many, even Nazarenes, insist that the catechumen understand baptism before receiving it. It is as though God's grace must be understood by the receiver before God can give it (and who in their right mind would put this limitation on a free God?). Who is to say any adult understands baptism? Most don't know what a sacrament is, yet God gives his grace freely through the sacred event of baptism. Requiring a person have faith before they are baptised is to miss the point of baptism as a means of grace. Baptism calls us to faith. Requiring the faith to which baptism calls us before we are baptised would be to set up a new works-righteousness, and really nobody wants that.

When we understand that baptism calls us to the faith that God gives us, we begin to see that to deny infants the waters of baptism would be to deny God from giving his grace and faith even to an infant. I am a Nazarene because we love children/infants enough to understand that God graces them as much as, if not more than, he graces us.

Why I Am a Nazarene: Reason Number 2, We Aren't Fundamentalists, but We'll Sit in the Pew Next to One

2006-12-15T11:54:00.000-08:00

Now that I've thoroughly bashed things Funda-Reformed, I would like to give balance to yesterday's reason. I love the church of the Nazarene and I am a Nazarene precisely because an Open theist such as me can sit in the pew next to a Fundamentalist. Not only can we sit in the pew next to one another, but we can share/receive Holy Eucharist together, praise be to God Almighty.

It is extraordinary that the Christ of Our Lord chose disciples of such varying background. Christ called together the tax collector and the zealot, and we know that for the most part they lived, worked, ministered, and worshiped well together. Imagine the love and grace it must have taken for Jesus to bring together such opposing personalities. Yet he is at work in us today. Lion and lamb next to each other in the same pew, worshiping in faith community with one another.

Despite my impassioned plea against the verbal/epistemological inerrancy of fundamentalism, I will make room in the seat next to me any day. This is what it means to be a citizen of the Kingdom of God.

Why I Am a Nazarene: Reason Number 1, We Are Wesleyan, Not Fundamentalists

2006-12-14T10:14:00.000-08:00

I love my church. Locally, for the most part and certainly in my situation, it cares deeply for its pastors. Generally, for the most part it cares for its people, even when it seems to give in to the kingdom of the world sort of politics and polity, but I'll overlook those things for now.

The first reason that I am a Nazarene has everything to do with our understanding of scripture. When my wife recently applied for a position in an unnamed organization whose name contains the word "Christian" she was to sign a "Statement of Faith" documenting that she agreed with and adhered to a list of statements regarding some aspect of the Christian faith. Topping the chart at number one was a statement concerning scripture. It reads "I believe the Bible to be the verbally inspired and only infallible, authoritative, inerrant Word of God." The first statement of faith is about Scripture, not God and not only is it about Scripture, but of one that is verbally inspired, only infallible, authoritative, and inerrant Word.

I love the Church of the Nazarene because we don't put scripture ahead of God and because God is an issue of love and salvation, not merely (only) of truth (it is this truth that comes from love and salvation), and because nowhere in our 4th Article of Faith (that's right, 4th, after the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, the doctrine of the Divine Christ who is the God-man Jesus, and the doctrine of the Holy Spirit) do we confuse the Holy Scripture as written word of God with the Christ of Our Lord as the (big W, capitalized, proper) Word of God. (You may now take a breath.) The point is more eloquently written by Rob Staples in his Outward Sign and Inward Grace. He writes, "Fundamentalism tends to need proof texts for its positions, because its view of biblical authority rests on particular concept of verbal inerrancy. Inerrancy as taught in Fundamentalist theology may be called 'epistemological inerrancy.' That is, it believes the basic question in theology to be: What is truth? . . . . For Wesleyanism, the basic theological questions is: What must I do to be saved?" (Staples 173).

As Wesleyan folk, we Nazarenes don't bring the idea of Truth to scripture, we allow scripture to determine Truth. "I am the way, the truth, and the light, no one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). For the Wesleyan, as Staples writes, "Truth is determined and defined by what salvation is, not the other way around" (Staples 174). Truth is subject to God. Truth is for God to decide. For the fundamentalist, truth is eternally existent/existence and only then may scripture be determined as truth and therefore only then may God be determined as truth. It seems that if we allow Truth the precedent over God, then we allow God to be nailed down again.

What is true must be good and is communicated by beauty. Truth is held in balance by Good and Beauty. I love the Church of the Nazarene because we do not commit idolatry in our understanding of Holy Scripture.

Thankful

2006-11-22T06:10:00.000-08:00

This is a only one day of 365 for us to be thankful and though it is sappy sentimentality (that's my synical self talking) here are my cheepened-by-the-internet thank yous.

I thank God for his gracious provision and deliverance in my own life. It is by his grace that I am alive.

I have supporting, liberating parents who helped to teach me that independent thought and search for answers is better than being told what to think. I am sure not to be in the church today had they just told me to be Christian or else. I thank God that he let them teach me and that he gave me so many uncomfortable questions to ask them.

I have a family, though loud and obnoxious (with special emphasis on obnoxious), is still the best family in the world. I thank God for them.

I serve in an international church that at times seems to act injustly, favoring rich Americans over the poor and sick here and in the rest of the world, yet is still willing to change (however slowly) seeking out new ways of helping the poor (this includes an uprising of a generation of pastors and laity who seek to reflect the influential power-under of Calvary and right wrongs of social injustice, God help us to do that more). I thank God for the Church of the Nazarene, may God help us to never put down the cross in favor of the sword.

I specifically serve a local church whose people have shown us grace and love and support. I thank God for a church that does so much for the poor of Dayton (Target Dayton) and throughout the world (Dominica) and who is open to the idea of ministry to the whole family, whatever that family may look like. May God continue to bless Parkview Church, so that it may bless the world.

Lastly and most importantly, I have a beautiful, loving wife whom I do not deserve. She shows me the very grace of God even when I'm in a bad mood and short with her. I thank God for her, every day. Thank you.

Skinny Dave or I Will Be Your God and You Will Be My People

2006-11-15T06:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Julia, Paul, and I went to a lecture with Tim Green. It was a refreshing reminder of the prophetic voice of undividedness in the Deuteronomic (Deuteronomy) and Deuteronomistic (Joshua, Judges, 1 & 2 Samuel, 1 & 2 Kings, Hosea, and Jeremiah) texts. This was a bit of a review of my first masters class at SNU last year with Tim. During the class, I was reminded of a friend of mine in Florida. I call him a friend, but I haven't really put forth any effort to stay in contact with him. Which of course, speaks more about my lack of friendship to him, but nonetheless, I'll call him friend even though it's been eleven years since I've seen him.

Skinny Dave was a crack addict. He was older than me by a few years. He had a wife and two children in another state. I don't remember how he had begun, but while I knew him, he was more than definitely an addict. He would be fine, we'd hang out, talk Rock and Roll, The Smiths, Morrissey, Elvis Costello (still my favorite), Pearl Jam, Midnight Oil, Living Color, the Clash, Green Day, and theology. We'd drive around, eat at Taco Bell, hang out, whatever. It's what we did. Then, every two or three months, he'd disappear.

He was living with his mom and dad and I'd get a call from them, "Hi Evan, have you seen Dave in the last couple of days?" I would tell them no, and they'd thank me and hang up. We all knew it had started. He'd go missing for a week, sometimes longer, and then he'd call his parents from jail or he'd show up somewhere strung out and broke. It didn't matter, though, Skinny Dave was my friend.

One time, in my naivete, I asked him what crack had that God didn't. Skinny Dave said, "There's no feeling in the world like it. There's no high like it. and when you're up, you are the most generous person in the world. Then, the bottom drops out from under you and you there's nothing you won't do to feel that way again. Nothing!"

Skinny Dave sometimes lived in a halfway house. A guy in the church, who did this sort of thing, would work with him. The guy talked to me about Dave a lot. One time he told me that what Dave needed was some tough love. I think it's tough to love a crack addict in the first place, but I don't think that's what he meant. After the binge, Skinny Dave would come back, penitent, and he'd be fine for a few months, ridding his body of the drugs, cutting out that crap inside of him.

We worked our way through the Deuteronomistic texts yesterday (and this is most clearly illustrated in Judges) and Israel would be going along fine, then they'd slip back into their old ways of worshiping Ba'al. God calling out to them, "I will be your God and you will be my people." Moses, Joshua, Samuel, Elijah, Josiah, and sometimes even God himself would remind them of God's deliverance and provision. Israel would fall into the tyrannical hands of some other nation who would enslave them and when they were tired of it, they would repent, and cry out. Once again, God would deliver them.

I hear Joshua saying "make your choice, God or Ba'al. Me and my clan will serve God." Israel would respond, "Of course we'll serve God, we wouldn't be God's people if we didn't." And Joshua would say, "Okay, but you can't do it." They couldn't either. I can't either. And Skinny Dave sure couldn't do it. Three months later, Skinny Dave would disappear, this time with his mother's car, using it to buy more crack.

In Moses' sermons in Deuteronomy he constantly tells Israel, "The Lord God is One, Love the Lord God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength." But they couldn't. Toward the end of the sermons, Moses finally gives them the answer they've needed. Deuteronomy 30:6 "The Lord will circumcise the foreskin of your hearts and the hearts of your children, so that you can love him with all your heart, with all your soul in order that you may really live." I can't do it, but God can.

I thought a lot about Skinny Dave yesterday and today and will probably think about him tomorrow. He reminds me of, well, me. I can't do it either. It is only by the grace of God that I have life. All that I have is his, but I can't do it. So, I pray that God circumcise my heart that I may love him undividedly. "Lord, I believe, but help me in my unbelief." I know without God's grace, I'll be back to my church growth, manipulative, productive, baalistic, idolatrous, consumerist ways in just a few months no matter the measure I take to purge all the poles, pillars, and priests of Asherah and Ba'al out of my life.

I don't know what has happened to Skinny Dave, but I hope he hears God's call as clearly as Skinny Dave has helped me to hear it. "I will be your God and you will be my People."

Norman Borlaug

2006-11-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

Heroes are great. The people we look up to and who influence us are so important. Our parents, pastors, great theologians and teachers, all keep us going. I want to introduce you to one of my heroes, Norm.

Norm is a great guy. He was born March 25, 1914 and while his birthday will probably never be celebrated the way it should, you will remember his name when this story is finished. Norm was the descendant of Norwegian parents. He grew up on a farm in Iowa and attended a one-room school house until the ninth grade. Sports were important to Norm, as to any kid his age. He played baseball and wrestled in high school.

It was his grandfather who pushed him academically. He wanted nothing more for his grandson than to get a good education and to work hard. As a result, after high school Norm attended the University of Minnesota. Because of financial strains, though, he frequently had to dropped out and earn money for tuition, room, and board. During one hiatus from school, Norm worked for the Civilian Conservation Corps where he helped jobless men work federal projects. While working for them he discovered that many of the men were starving and malnourished.

When he returned to school, he studied agricultural biology and plant pathology. In 1942, Norm earned his PhD. It was in 1944 when he started his work in Mexico. The Rockefeller Foundation needed someone who could figure out how to increase wheat yields in the agricultural areas and to help starving folks out of poverty. He did just that. Norm genetically altered wheat and corn to grow on shorter stalks, bigger heads with increased yields. Because of his work literally millions were saved.

By 1960, Norm was looking somewhere else in the world. By the mid Sixties, he was in India and Pakistan where one of the world's worst famines was killing millions of children, women, and men. Again, using the altered strains of wheat and corn, Norm saved millions. The decade was not without adversity. Between politics of the region, Mexico, and US Customs, Norm almost failed.

By 1970 it is estimated that Norm literally saved over 1 Billion people. For those of you in the UK that's a thousand million. That was also the year that Norm won the Nobel Peace Prize for his humanitarian efforts. But the award slowed him down. According to an interview with David Turrant of the Dallas Morning News, Norm said, "It was a disaster as far as I'm concerned. You get pushed into so many things. A lot of your energies are cut off from the things you know best. Some of them you have to do. Because you end up being the spokesman for science in general."

Now while Dr. Norman Borlaug fights to keep hungry people fed in Mexico and Africa he is forced to fight extremist organizations like GreenPeace who convince corrupt governments in Africa from receiving genetically altered seeds. GreenPeace calls such food "frankenfoods" and protests, at times violently, their use. GreenPeace supports the strict use of organic foods in supermarkets and in homes. What they don't tell you is that if all of the earth's farmable land (that would include cutting down every rain forest in the world) were used to grow and raise only organic foods, two thirds of the world's population, that's over 4 billion (4 thousand million) people would die. While Dr. Borlaug feeds the world, GreenPeace would starve it to death and they're not alone. There are other organizations (such as Organic Consumers Association and Rainforest Action Network) that allow people to die in the same way. I prefer to allow people who are starving to death go ahead and eat while GreenPeace searches for evidence (any . . . at all) that genetically altered foods can hurt us. Thank you GreenPeace for caring so much.

However sarcastically I treat GreenPeace, my prayers are with Dr. Norman Borlaug. May God bless him as he does what the Church doesn't even seem to be able to do. Perhaps we, the Church, could see Dr. Borlaug as a hero and may he inspire us to follow in the footsteps of the Christ of Our Lord in feeding the hungry! If you would like to find out more about Dr. Norman E. Borlaug go here or here or here.

This Is a Casting Call for One Thing

2006-11-02T07:48:00.000-08:00

What that one thing is I don't know. What I do know is that I received one forwarded email this morning and it sparked my interest. How one email sparks interest, I'll never know, especially considering it was a forward. You've all gotten one before. I know you have. You delete it, or ack, you read it. Some of you do something even worse, you forward it to everyone you know. That one becomes many. Some of you, and I among you on this one, think yourselves discerning and read it. Then, again thinking yourself discerning, you choose one among many forwards to forward and maybe you only forward that one to only one other.

All of that to say, today I recieved one that sparked in me the idea for "One Thing." This will be a post theme for our blog. Occasionally when I find an appropriate "One Thing" I will post it under that heading here on this blog.

So, without further discussion, here is the One Thing that caught my breath today. It is an artist by the name of Peter Callesen. Apparently he makes things with One sheet of paper. So, enjoy. If you would like to see more of Peter Callesen's work visit him here. If you come across One Thing that catches your eye, email me at thesecretllama@sbcglobal.net or comment here.

Grief as Love in the Presence of Absence

2006-10-19T06:39:00.000-07:00

In dealing with Don's death, I have recently sought the comfort of God through the writings of N. T. Wright. Specifically, I have read For All the Saints? Remembering the Christian Departed. Through it all, after dealing with purgatory, heaven, hell and all that, Wright shares three parts to his conclusion.

First, "What happens to the soul?" He avoids all talk of the soul until the very end, and in truth still avoids it somewhat. Personally, I am reluctant to talk of the soul. Scripturally the dichotomy is post-exilic. And really, it is stressed the most in these binarily opposed, Platonic terms by Paul (obviously Roman educated). Wright however settles without settling (and I think I like this). In reference to Revelation 6, he refers to the soul as a "useful way of talking about personal continuity despite bodily discontinuity." Wright talks about the Cambridge physicist/theologian (a combination of biblical proportion, snicker), John Polkinghorne who said, "God will download our software on to his hardware, until the day comes when he gives us new hardware on which to run our own software once more." Clever and without the Platonic mishmash. Polkinghorne leaves gray what the New Testament leaves gray. Wright writes, "You could simply say, if you like, following Polkinghorne's image, that those who have died as a part of God's people are sustained in life by God. Couple that with Paul's remark about 'departing and being with Christ', and that's about as far as you can go in terms of what the New Testament teaches."

Next, Wright tackles "Praying for and with the Dead?" I think here we have an interesting problem for most protestants. The assumption is that without purgatory (Wright clearly doesn't believe in purgatory, by the way) there is no reason to pray for the departed. Because of the promises of Christ, there is no need to convince God to accept those whom he has already accepted. However, Wright says, "True prayer is an outflowing of love." When we love someone, we will want to pray for them, no difficulties, no needs, but merely "because holding them up in God's presence is the most natural and appropriate thing to do." God also chooses to work through our prayers (personal emphasis on chooses to those who think he must) to bless others. Our love doesn't stop at death. Wright might say that grief is love in the presence of absence. Grief is "the form love takes when the object of love has been removed; it is love embracing an empty space, love kissing the air and feeling the pain of that nothingness." He concludes that there is no reason why love ends at death. Love continues and can continue through the prayers that lift the loved one up in prayer before the mystery of God. The prayer for the departed becomes a celebration! Here, here, Wright!

Finally, death is not the end, but neither is the rest (heaven, paradise, etc.) after death. Our hope is in the Resurrection. We believe in Christ's Resurrection, his the first, and we believe in our own resurrection. The Apostle's Creed and Scripture are clear regarding this bodily resurrection to come. Wright talks extensively about the disparity between the Scriptures and the belief of many folks in the eternity in heaven. Heaven/Paradise is not our final destination, the resurrection and the New Heaven and New Earth as one is! So, Wright has encouraged a change in the liturgy of funerals. No longer should we say, "May the souls of the faithfully departed rest in peace." He encourages, as would I, dropping "the souls of" and adding "and rise in glory."

So, I say it now, May the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace and rise in glory. Grief is such a hard thing for me to talk about. I still cry at the mere mention of my brother's name or the playing of B. B. King and Eric Clapton. But it is gradually getting (not easier) better. Such is the process of grief. I pray in love, that Don's rest in the presence of Jesus Christ fills him with all the grace of God and that same grace will fill me and comfort me and my sister, Marsha and their boys Chad and Chandler and the rest of our family. May he rest until we rise again in glory. Amen.

Mythology, Time, Space, and Narrative

2006-10-16T13:08:00.000-07:00

I have been delving into the retcon mythology of Clark Kent and Superman's beginnings through the television show Smallville. So far, I have seen the first four seasons and am awaiting, not so patiently, the fifth to be returned to the local movie store. Superman happens to be my favorite of all superheroes. Sure, this says a lot about my shallow popculture tendancies, but nonetheless, it's true. After this summer's movie, perhaps not the box office success it would have been had Pirates of the Carribean 2 not come out a week after Superman Returns, this childhood love for the spandex wearing superhero was reaffirmed. When I was a kid, I had Superman Underoos and I'm ready to publicly admit it. (Oh, well, there go my chances at a promising political career, shucks!) I would often visualize myself running alongside the car on family vacations, and even dream about helping folks out of jams perhaps winning the affection of some love struck reporter. Alas, I grew up. Now, I watch others act it out on the television, still somewhere deep in my imagination, dreaming of being the righter of wrongs.

However, in thinking so much about it and watching so much of Smallville, I have wondered how Superman et. al. fit into mythology. What purpose does mythology serve? Does it still serve that purpose today? For folks who find themselves in postmodernity? Do we allow ourselves to be moved by mythology?

As a Christian, Wesleyan-Arminian, Open theist, and poet, I have to say that I know we have mythologies (classically speaking of course). We have our creation mythologies (sic), and our flood mythology (sic), and the rest. And they do what mythology has done for folks throughout time. They are an oral, now written, explaination for the world around us. Now, to merely speak of scripture in these terms would be shortsighted as scripture is not about how or what, but rather about who. In this case, God created, etc. For me and those out there like me, though I understand they are few and far between (at least who would admit to it), Scripture is the written revelation of God to his people. These mythologies still define us, help to shape us.

Robert Graves, author of Greek Myths and Legends, wrote, "True myth may be defined as the reduction to narrative shorthand of ritual mime performed on public festivals, and in many cases recorded pictorially." In fact, many myths stem from many cultural needs. Do we have cultural needs as Americans as much stuck in as freed by postmodernity? Then, do we have mythologies and would these mythologies be super heroes?

Jerry Siegal and Joe Shuster created Superman in 1932 while living in Cleveland, Ohio. This was during the Great Depression and there was certainly cultural need for mythology. Of course Action Comics #1 featuring the Kryptonian didn't debut until 1938. This superhero wasn't there to provide a fantastical escape, as some opponents to entertainment would deduce, but rather to inspire hope. While certianly more jingoist now than it would have been at the time, Superman was there to defend "Truth, Justice, and the American way." His positive tone and historically moral opposition to evil constantly sold more and more comic books.

Julia and I have often talked about how different Superman is than other superheroes. There is never the question of whether or not he will do what is right. That just does not seem to be the point. Rather, Superman has come to right the wrongs. The story of how he became Superman is more important than whether or not he will choose good or evil. The question of which came first, Clark Kent, Kal-El, or Superman, is more important a question than whether or not he will choose good or evil. The choice is still there, mind you; Superman still chooses to do good over evil. For other superheroes this is not the case. It is simply not that simple.

So, is Superman a part of our American/Western (not all bad) mythology? Does he inspire hope? There are criticisms of Superman that associate him to Moses or even a Christ figure. And though both allusions are supported, the illustration would fall short.

What remains is that perhaps a boy in his Superman underoos, flying around his house with a blankey cape tied around his neck is inspired to hope. Perhaps a God who loves us so much that he would rather die than live without us is free to use such entertaining mythologies to inspire hope in us.

Ramblings at Apple Butter Time

2006-10-13T19:53:00.000-07:00

Today we made 2 batches of apple butter. Mom gave me about 5 lbs. of the apples she had picked with Carolyn at home (Havana). We bought another 3-4 lbs. today and spent several hours peeling, slicing, cooking down, stirring and canning them into some very tasty apple butter. At last, Autumn is here.

Evan began his canning career last year when someone gave us a Walmart bag full of tiny pears. They were going bad, because we weren't eating that many. He already had an inkling to make some salsa and can it for Christmas gifts, but when he decided to make pear butter out of those gift pears, he caught the canning bug. He eventually canned 2-3 batches of hot hot and southwestern salsa, pear butter, and pickled garlic.

Speaking of canning, jars, and such, while I was at home last week I had to get a ladder, lug it out to the saw mill and pilfer through several stacks of canning jars my dad had stored up in the rafters. I was looking for any extra old blue jars to add to my old jar collection. I found 4 more. Here's a picture of my jars.

I usually find mine like I did last week, in Dad's barn, in among the rafters of a building, or digging them up in our woods.

pickyourown.org gives a brief history of the canning jar. Among the interesting information,

"Meanwhile, in Buffalo, NY, William Charles Ball and his brothers (Lucius, Lorenzo, Frank C., Edmund Burke, and George Alexander) were in the business of manufacturing wood-jacketed tin cans for the storage of oil, lard and paints. In 1883, the Ball's changed from tin to glass containers and then, in 1886, to glass fruit jars. They moved their operations to Muncie, Indiana, after a fire at their Buffalo factory. Muncie (where a supply of natural gas had been discovered) was chosen because the city was offering free gas and land to rebuild the factory. "

There's more about different companies and types of jars there. I think I have mostly Atlas and Ball.

I like going home because of my pilfering, or rather, rescueing abilities. I have rescued a number of crocks, milk glass, old bottles, and my most recent rescue pictured here:
Canning reminds me of home and those hazy memories I have to think hard to think back to . . . my Dad used to can all sorts of stuff in the summer kitchen next to the house. Pints and pints of tomates, which he would drink all winter to keep from getting sick. The wonderful blackraspberry jelly he made when he had a grove of bushes. He would give almost all of them away at Roat Christmas. I guess we're carrying on the tradition.

One Year

2006-10-02T00:19:00.000-07:00

His laugh was infectious. Whenever something funny would come up, not something mildly funny that the rest of us would laugh at, but rather something truly and mysteriously funny that could only be delivered by Bill Murray, Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, or Jerry Lewis, Don would start to laugh and that was the end of world as we knew it. From there the rest of the room would catch it and it would continue spreading until finally everyone with tears in eyes would be croaking out the laughs. Don Cuttill could laugh as no one could laugh. And when he did, everyone else was consumed with laughter. I think the contagiousness of his laugh had something to do with the size of his heart. Only someone with a huge heart could laugh the way he did.

I remember one time, when I was in college and living with Don and Marsha in the old Southshores house, we had to replace the wax ring seal underneath the toilet in the basement. After unscrewing the bolts we tried to lift the toilet. Don had to move into the shower to set the toilet aside. I was on one side and Don on the other. Don's foot hit the lip of the shower and he tripped. I dropped the toilet in the shower and it shattered. We no longer needed to merely replace the wax ring; we had to replace the toilet as well. Though it was thouroughly enraging, I laugh about it now, and I'm sure he does too. The picture of Don dropping the toilet and it shattering stirs other memories of Don.

When we'd drive around together the radio tuned to the classic rock station, and Led Zeppelin would come on. Don would inveriably say, "A little Led for the head." It was cool no matter how many times he'd say it.

Don liked good movies. Caddyshack, Groundhog Day, Stripes, Young Frankenstein, The Nutty Professor, It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World all brought on that infectious laugh. Sometimes I watch Groundhog Day just to remember Don. I've easily watched it five times in the last month and a half.

Don is a Christian, which means that this November 1st (All Saint's Day) I will be celebrating him. I will be praying that the Father's glory fills him continually as he basks in God's presence in Paradise, Don sitting next to all those other saints of the church and he's playing a heavenly Martin guitar, strung by angels themselves. You know at the feast they serve Krekel's burgers and Famous Dave's barbeque. This is not the final destiny for which he is bound, though. We all await the resurrection.

The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest:
Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest.
Alleluia!

I miss him terribly. Writing this is harder than you can imagine and it's taken a week. I was very young when my sister and Don were married. They lived with us for a while and I really have no memories without him. That is to say until this past year.

Woods

2006-10-01T15:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I came home to my mom and dad's house for a few days of much needed retreat. I think I tend to build up this place in my mind a bit more than I should. I want to walk in the woods. Pick up strange stuff. Find buried pottery. Then when I come back it's really hot. There's a lot of poison ivy that I have to avoid. At night it is more starless, blacker than I'm comfortable with.

Last night as I was falling to sleep, just outside my window (on the second floor), coyotes started yelping. They were running through the trees. They seemed to be surrounding the house. Then a loud howl. Silence. More yelping. Another howl. Then silence.

I thought of my ancestors who carved out cabins and houses in these woods. Hearing those coyotes only a few feet away in the surrounding woods. I finally fell asleep.

Kid U Conference

2006-09-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

Evan and I just spent the past couple days in Columbus at Grove City CoN at the Kid U conference sponsored by Kidology. I have to say for the price and the distance it was well worth the money. Evan even said that in some ways he found it more valuable than CPC. It is a good length (Fri pm and Sat am-afternoon). They had a fairly good mix of visionary and practical information.

The speakers placed a heavy emphasis both avoiding burnout and family ministry. Both of these topics have been near to our hearts lately, so it is good to hear that this is what others in the field are talking about as well. BTW, get ready for family ministry because it is redefining not only how pastors view their role (vocational expectations, placing the responsibility for children's spiritual lives back into the hands of parents, etc.) but also how we view the church in general.

My main comments however, stems from a conversation Evan and I had with a NCPA (Nazarene Children's Pastor's Association) board member and the upcoming Ignite! conference in Kansas City. I had posted a rant just a few days ago regarding my disappointment with what I felt was yet another lazy attempt by the CoN to "resource" its local ministers. My rant as follows: "OK, I know this is a little off subject, but I just read the info on the NCPA (Nazarene Children's Pastors Association) conference in October and I think the problem of Naz white flight [HQ moving to Lenexa] continues because of all-around general laziness (theological, ethical and otherwise). There's so much that could be said right now, but essentially, why would I pay over $200 in conference fees alone to hear what is going on in Lenexa, Kansas in children's ministry? Ohio, perhaps? Oklahoma . . . really? Something is actually going on there???Incredibly (or not) three of the four speakers for the conference hail right from the KC area. (No hotel or travel?) But please tell me that there are other people -- yes, even Nazarenes -- who have as much to offer as these people who could use a wee bit more street cred right now (besides the fact that they or their spouse have been affiliated with HQ in the past) . . . I mean, who cares if they're "Wesleyan" at this point. Anyway, I bring this up because it seems to further support your suggestion of insulation, us vs. them mentality, i.e. running for the hills that is apparently paralyzing the denomination. We are simply more willing to pay the price for mediocrity than do whatever it takes to be citizens of the Kingdom of God here on earth -- even if it means losing ourselves in the process. All for today. Sorry, it's 1:45 a.m. ET which I think makes it even more irritating. Disclaimer: Evan told me to go ahead and post this. Of course, he was asleep when he gave me his blessing. I'll have nothing to do with it tomorrow."

So then, my conversation with said board member at KidU was very enlightening. What she explained to be the purpose of this conference was far different from the promotional material posted on the website. http://www.nazarene.org/ssm/children/ncpa/ignite.html. As she stated it, some members of the board asked themselves, what is the best thing about us (the NCPA group) getting together each year (which they do 2 x a year)? They came to the conclusion that the opportunities that they had for sharing experiences and ideas with one another, encouraging colleagues in specific situations, and general networking were the most valuable things they did during their time together. They wanted to give this opportunity to others not serving directly on the board. But the only way this basically voluntary group could do this was through HQ involvement Sunday School/children's ministry. Hence K.C.. Hence speakers speaking gratis. Understood.

NCPA, from my limited understanding of its history has been one of the few recognized voices advocating for children's ministry in the CoN. They are doing what they can. I appreciate that. I don't know that Evan will be able to attend this conference, but I hope it is able to fulfill the expectations set out by the NCPA. This is an effort by children's pastors to do what the denomination seems to be reticent to do from within. But considering the church almost disbanded children's ministries on a denominational level at one point, I suppose it's better than nothing.

Reflection Part 2: First things first

2006-09-26T07:15:00.000-07:00

I'm posting this first, but you'll read a post of some of my initial reflections upon the KidU conference Evan and I attended last Friday and Saturday later.

A lot was said about family ministry - expanding our vision for what it means to minister to the spiritual needs of children. And I think it's true - as a matter of vocation for pastors and responsibity for parents - to return that responsibility for children's spiritual lives to the parents. That, however, represents a reality shift for how many churches perceive the purpose and place of children in their local church.

More on that ask Evan.

The one concern that I have stems from a few comments I heard throughout the day. My impression was that we take care of "our own" children first. It may even be ok to favor them. Then our ministry to other children kicks in . . . Is that true? Do "our own" children matter most simply because we have legal claim to them?

Please tell me, is it creepy that Evan and I, having no children of "our own," still work in children's ministry? What in the world would motivate us to take on the spiritual lives of other people's children?

There's got to be something more than family ministry - as important as that shift is - because the family itself reflects the relationships we find as citizens of the Kingdom of God. Just as a man and a woman coming together is a symbol of Christ and his Church. We are no longer mother and son, father and daughter. We are all brothers and sisters in Christ.

Family Day

2006-09-25T07:29:00.000-07:00

Today is Family Day. Family Day began in 2001 by the National Center for Adiction and Substance Abuse at Columbia University. Visit their site here. CASA Research "consistently finds that the more often children eat dinner with their families, the less likely they are to smoke, drink or use drugs. The conversations that go hand-in-hand with dinner will help you learn more about your children's lives and better understand the challenges they face."

Family Day was created as a way to help reduce subtance abuse in children and is celebrated on the fourth Monday in september every year. On the web site, CASA says, "Family Day is not just for families. It is a day for all to celebrate, including businesses, unions, religious organizations and community groups. The symbolic act of regular family meals should be promoted and celebrated inside and outside the home throughout the year."

Isn't it interesting that this research organization at Columbia University is telling us to do what we need to be doing as the Church every Sunday. As citizens of the Kingdom of God, we have a meal that we eat together (although as Nazarenes we don't receive often enough), Holy Eucharist. Remarkably, it too is a meal that should be linked to the reduction of adiction, poverty, AIDS, violence, greed, and war. Perhaps if we received more often, the world would see the grace of God spill out of us more often into a world that so desparately needs it.

I am of the opinion that the best possible response to worship and a sermon on Sunday, is by washing it down with Holy Eucharist. I am also of the opinion that the best response to Holy Eucharist is to go into the world and make suffering folks lives better.

Riptide

2006-09-21T06:27:00.000-07:00

Riptide was a television series from 1984-1986 involving two Vietnam buddies who opened a detective agency in Los Angeles. It is classic 80s shtick now, but at the time it was pretty cool. Cody Allen (Perry King) and Nick Ryder (Joe Penny) who ran the Riptide Detective Agency, recruited a "genius" who worked with computers, Murray 'Boz' Bozinsky (Thom Bray). Boz had a robot named Roboz. They also had a Sikorsky S-58T (aka, Sikorsky H-34 Choctaw) helicopter, painted pink with a huge gaping mouth painted on the front. It was called Screaming Mimi. I remember my brother loving this show (of course he also liked The Dukes of Hazzard and Charlie's Angels). I thought it was all right, but I was a more serious television watcher (Miami Vice, A-Team, and McGuyver). I thought of this show the other day with seemingly no reason to make the connection. I don't know why I thought of it; it just came to mind.

I think television gets a bad rap. Now, I am a voracious reader, and my loyalty to literature should never be questioned, but it's easy for me to have a love for both television and books as I sleep less than most people. Granted, if given the choice between the annihilation of either, I would keep books near me and guard them forever. All that said, television still gets a bad rap.

I think the problem is not watching television, it is the passive watching of television. I can come home from work exhausted, and believe me that is a possibility as a pastor, and just sit passively in front of the television passing the hours away and failing to use my imagination. But I don't. I cannot tell you the last time I passively watched television. When I watch I allow the show to engage me, making connections with television, films, literature. I watch critically, asking "Why did the writer choose that turn of phrase?" or "What a brilliant angle on that shot." James Burke, writer and creator of Connections understands the importance of linking things. Now, with all that said, there are only certain shows I watch. I am very picky.

Sure all of this seems like the justification of a couch potato, but it's true nonetheless. Oh, yeah. I probably should mention that while Julia and I have a library that won't fit into one room, we only have a 13" television without cable. (Mmm, more justification.) So those of you who proudly bash television with your holier than thou attitudes, I say stop beating up on the poor thing. In ten years we'll look back at most of what we watch and remember Riptide. It was fun at the time, but now it's a bit dorky.

From Oppression and Violence He Redeems Their Life!

2006-09-19T10:55:00.000-07:00

Today I read Psalm 95. I love reading the Psalms just as I would read a Billy Collins poem or Gwendolyn Brooks or Mark Strand. I read it out loud in my mind, uttering every syllable with my imagination's tongue. At first, the poem is a bit patriotic, and I'm not a particularly patriotic person (that may be an understatement). But it is not a patriotic poem. It is a poem that identifies foundational characteristic traits of God to a new king perhaps during an inauguration.

Isn't that interesting how I began the post waxing about how I read poetry and then went into some sort of explanation. Now, as I back-peddle this tricycle, I have to bring up something else entirely. Eugene Peterson, in his book Under the Unpredictable Plant, writes about the poet Czeslaw Milosz and his understanding of imagination. Peterson paraphrasing Milosz writes, "The minds of Americans have been dangerously diluted by the rationalism of explanation." With that explained, you know why I wrote from imagination into explanation in the above paragraph. Nice.

Back to Psalm 75. As I read this poem, I couldn't help but think of the massive numbers of people in this world dying without clean drinking water, any food, or of AIDS. Numbers in the thousand-millions. But the Psalm states very clearly of God:

"For he delivers the needy when they call,
the poor and those who have no helper.
He has pity on the weak and the needy,
and saves the lives of the needy.
From oppression and violence he redeems their life;
and precious is their blood in his sight."

If we are truly the embodiment of the Risen Lord Jesus Christ, should we not act on this? Too long have we as Christians allowed modernity to force us into contentment with Jesus as our spiritual savior. I happen to believe that when the Risen Lord comes to town, things get better. I happen to believe that "from oppression and violence God redeems their life!" What are we doing about it. I also believe that freedom from oppression and violence can only come through the cross of Christ. Here are a few ways you can help.

Go here for the One Campaign.

Go here to Save Darfur.

Go here to Heifer International.

Go here to sponsor a child.

Heifer International works to help folks in rural areas around the world become more self-sufficient. This year our Kid's Church offering will go to this event. I will be encouraging them to give more than they normally would. Just before Christmas, the fifth and sixth graders will get together to decide how to spend the money raised in the "Best Gift Catalog in the World."

Right, Left, Whatever

2006-09-13T07:22:00.000-07:00

When I was in high school, I was a Republican. Not just your average Republican, I was a conservative Republican. I was involved in conservative Republican sorts of things. I listened to conservative radio, particularly Rush Limbaugh. I was loud and most importantly, I was always right.

Mariner High School in Cape Coral, Florida had a cable access news program of which I was a part. We produced news stories, anchored the news and announcements, and I was given an editorial commentary every week. I used this time to rant and rave about current issues, politics, and much more. I enjoyed the opinions that I held and enjoyed the voracity and determination that I held in being right. I believed the only place for a Christian who wanted to transform this world was in politics and if one were Christian then one must be conservative and republican.

Wow, was I wrong.

Obviously, for those of you who know me, I have changed over the past decade. Thankfully, I am more thoughtful than I once was. I bring this up because I heard an interview on On Point, a show on NPR. The interveiw was with Gregory A. Boyd, a proponent (as am I) of an Open view of God. He has a new book, that I have on order at Amazon, called The Myth of a Christian Nation. In the interview Gregory Boyd talks about the idolotry of movement of Christians into politics, referencing Jesus' refusal to be caught up in the movement of folks that wanted to make him king, and (obviously as to the title of his new book) the myth that exists in many conservative Christian circles regarding America as Christian. Boyd made some very interesting points, especially regarding Christians affiliating themselves first with the Kingdom of God, not with any particular politcal party. Check out the interview here. Buy the book here.

I say all of this in part as a confession. I've probably said this before, but I interviewed at a church once and was confronted after the interview. A member of the church said to me, "All of this is good, but the real question is: Are you a Democrat or a Republican." I answered quickly and without really thinking about the possible consequences, "Neither. I am a citizen of the Kingdom of God."

I don't think it was the answer the church member was looking for, but it is true. Anyway, what do you all think about the interview, et. al.?

A Boy King

2006-09-12T06:25:00.000-07:00

James Burke writes in his book The Day the Universe Changed:

"You are what you know. Fifteenth-century Europeans ‘knew’ that the sky was made of closed concentric crystal spheres, rotating around a central earth and carrying the stars and planets. That ‘knowledge’ structured everything they did and thought, because it told them the truth. Then Galileo’s telescope changed the truth. As a result, a hundred years later everybody ‘knew’ that the universe was open and infinite, working like a giant clock. Architecture, music, literature, science, economics, art politics – everything – changed, mirroring the new view created by the change in the knowledge. . . . At any time in the past, people have held a view of the way the universe works which was for them similarly definitive, whether it was based on myths or research. And at any time, that view they held was sooner or later altered by changes in the body of knowledge."

Now for an 8 year old boy named Josiah, it was not much different. For Josiah, Galileo’s telescope came from the mouth of one of King Amon’s messengers who carried the horrifying news that Josiah’s father, the king was dead. A political assassin was responsible for Josiah’s fatherless nights. There would be no more tucking in; no more nightly prayer with his father; no more songs just before lights out. Josiah’s universe changed. But with this terrible news that his father was dead, came also a crown. And for an eight-year old boy who’s mind should be on his next little league game is this was a huge deal. This boy’s world was turned on its ear and he was only eight.

Josiah was crowned king of a nation at the age of eight. I want each of you to think back to when you were eight, and think of who you were, what you did, what was important to you. I was probably a bit different than you. By the time I was eight, I had been Superman, a member of an elite paramilitary group called the A-Team, the next 007 agent, otherwise known as 008, and I could turn myself invisible by just wearing my jacket backward. At eight, I would sneak time to watch MTV and Nickelodeon. At eight girls were still kind of disgusting.

It was very different for Josiah. At eight he was the king of a nation. At eight he recognized the importance to live for God even though his father, Amon, and grandfather, Menasseh, only modeled idolatry for the young king. Josiah’s convictions had already been formed. But his knowledge of the universe changed drastically and he was only eight.

Okay, okay, you get it already. You know where I’m going with this. You’ve heard it before. Children are important to God. We know that God has hidden the things of his Kingdom “from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children” (Matthew 11:25). But do you get that you must become like little ones to enter the Kingdom of God? Do you really see that?

I say certain things as I minister to children and families. Julia calls them Evanisms. You will hear me say, “Children are not the future of the church. Children are to be expected to be and accepted as the church here and now.” You will also hear me say, “Children, just like adults, are called to be whole and holy citizens of the Kingdom of God with all the rights and privileges therein.” These things are not easy to grasp, and to our sensibilities they are just as radical as Galileo’s telescope.

Josiah grew up differently than his father and grandfather. He feared the Lord. He worshiped God and even began to rebuild the temple of the Lord. He did these things because he knew it was right. When Helkiah brought the lost sermons of Moses to Josiah and they were read aloud to him, the universe changed again. When Josiah heard the words of Deuteronomy, “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and soul and mind” he tore his clothes. He went to the prophet of Israel, Huldah, and she told him that while he caught the eye of the Lord and would not be punished, God would still allow Judah to be exiled because they did not adhere to his commandments. This news of Judah’s destruction did not stop Josiah. He mounted his men and rode throughout the country destroying the statues of Baal and Asherah, rebuilding the synagogues, celebrating Passover once again, and putting nothing before God. For Josiah, God was not merely first, God was only! The revival of Judah came because the boy-king Josiah got it. He understood his role as a citizen in God’s Kingdom.

All of this from a king crowned at the age of eight, a child to whom the mystery of the Kingdom of God was revealed. The Bible calls him Israel’s greatest king. He brought Galileo’s telescope. He made revival possible. People once again knew that there were to be no other gods before God. God is not God first, he is God only.

I believe revival will come today when we begin to accept children as proper citizens of God’s Kingdom, when we begin to expect them to make disciples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Revival will sweep this world when children are accepted as our brothers and sisters in Christ.

As pastor to children and their families, I will partner with parents, casting vision, equipping, encouraging, resourcing, building relationships with you so that we can minister to the children of Dayton, Oh. Together we will model for them what it means to be citizens of the Kingdom of God But know this, I cannot not do it alone. It can only be done in partnership. Perhaps this for you is Galileo’s telescope, changing the way you view the church. God has called us to his purpose. We must become like little children to enter into his Kingdom.

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day . . . Part 2

2006-08-31T08:48:00.000-07:00

We finally arrived in Dayton to look at our new house. We hadn't signed a lease agreement or made any formal agreement yet, but we were only four days out from actually moving in and were a little concerned about where we would live. The neighborhood was urban and we liked that. As we pulled up to the curb and saw our house, we were pleased. It was definitely a big place.

The gray brick exterior stood out. The front yard was small and parking was accessed through the alley in back. Then we were taken inside. We were greeted by two very contrasting things: the horrifying stench of cat urine and beautiful refinished hardwood floors. But that was it. The two telephone jacks we found had been ripped out of the wall. The kitchen was floored in an old parque vinyl covering of some sort. The refridgerator didn't have any handles and the were three cabinets. This was not going well. The basement was unpresentable. The carpet upstairs was old, used and had not been layed, but was placed. The bathroom needed a lot of work. We discovered with the rent and utilities the cost would have exceded what it would've cost to live closer to the church. Perhaps I have not done the shambled state justice. It was bad, really bad. And then, we didn't have a home to live in.

We had originally planned to go back to Decatur, Il that night, but we were confronted with the prospect of homelessness. So, we decided to stay. We spent the evening with a realtor, a member of our church, who graciously showed us other options. That night we stayed at the local Holiday Inn Express. And the next morning we toured five or six apartment complexes. We finally settled on a three bedroom townhouse in a complex immediately next to the church. Even after finding the place, we were not sure until Sunday that we would actually have a place to live.

Now, of course, the day doesn't feel so bad. We are moved in, it is smaller than our house, and we will have to rid our selves of some things, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Anyway, things are beginning to settle.

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day . . . Part 1

2006-08-25T21:34:00.000-07:00

We heard something hit under the wheel well and didn't stop to check it. Now, it was nothing major. It didn't sound like the lug studs snapping off, the wheel throwing the end of the stud still attached to the nut, up under the car. No, we know what that sounds like (that's another story altogether). This was more like the sound of a piece of some truckers steel belt radial: a soft, rubber-padded thud, but a thud nonetheless. Julia was driving with the cruise control engaged. Just a mile or so down the road she complained about the wind and its subtle tug on the car.

We were in the process of moving from the panhandled of Oklahoma where the gale force winds were 25-70 mph and constant. In Indiana, about 30 miles from Indianapolis, I doubted it was usually that windy. A small, white pick-up truck pulled around us to pass. A minute or so went by and the truck hadn't passed. Julia made a comment about people who didn't use their cruise controls on the freeway. The truck still hadn't passed.

After a few minutes Julia became annoyed, perhaps frustrated with the odd behavior of the pick-up truck driver. Now he was making gestures and such. That's when it happened. I looked over to see if there was something wrong when a muffled boom came from the rear driver's side of the Jeep. Julia attacked the brakes sending the full 44 oz. Coke I held in my lap (as if I needed that much anyway) tumbling to the floor. Julia pulled over without any further danger to us, however the carpet on the passenger's side will need a good shampooing. The truck that was acting so suspicious immediately pulled over, the driver jumped out, and ran back toward our Jeep. I got out, checked the tire to find it completely blown with massive damage from sidewall to surface one third of the way around the tire, and then walked to meet the (as we now realized) kind stranger.

The man approached me, telling me that he tried to warn me that the tire was extremely low. He flashed his headlights, waved his arms, all trying to get our attention. I told him thank you and that I was sorry we didn't understand him (although I didn't tell him that while driving we though he was some sort of loon). He asked if we need him to call anyone. I told him that it wasn't necessary, that I would just put the spare on and get the tire repaired in Indianapolis. He waved goodbye and that was the last we saw of him.

We drove to a Sam's Club in Indianapolis, bought a new tire to replace the blown tire, and we were finally on our way again. We recently had serious issues with a warped rim, broken lug studs, and a 3 day stay in a very small town in Southern Kansas. The fact that Sam's Club fixed the tire in less than an hour was very joyous indeed. However, this was only the beginning. This was only part 1 of a "Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day."

WonderBread

2006-08-13T15:32:00.000-07:00

John 6:35-51

I was afraid I was going to sound a bit repetitive, not just because I assumed someone else would be doing the homily this week, and would be able to give a different perspective on this passage, but because the passage we read today from John 6 is simply a continuation of the sermon we were listening to as Jesus spoke in the synagogue last week. I thought – what else do we have to learn from this?

I see I was wrong. Even though it seems like he keeps saying the same thing over and over again.

He keeps saying a very strange and dangerous thing, “I am the bread of life,” . . . The crowd is skeptical already, looking for a plausable explanation as to why and how he can make these claims. We already saw that when he said these things last week; Jesus was in fact suggesting that faith is based not on a set of beliefs, concepts, propositions, but on a person itself. And more on this now, we come to “The Sermon, Part II: Up to and Over the Edge.”

Jesus doesn’t just make up these claims of divine Sonship. He draws on the richest and deepest memories of the Jews to connect himself to the expectations and assumptions they had already made. More like, he picks the scab of exile, separation, frustration and begins to clean out an old wound. He brings up their desert wandering: 40 years of grumbling, mumbling under their breath, and always looking sideways for the next big thing. Remember God in the wilderness -- your lack of faith and God’s relentless provision and the inevitable consequences of sin? These wanderers were literally fed every single day with bread from heaven, but they did not ever see the promised land.

Jesus draws a direct parallel between who he is and the God of manna and quail, the God of water from a rock, the very IAM of Moses’ burning bush. They should know him; they should recognize him as their own. Their beloved Scriptures point to him, and they have embraced His Laws.

Yet His I AM’s literally begin to “flesh-out” the veiled, terrible face of Yahweh. Ordinary earthy images that somehow transform into eternal reality.
I AM . . . the light of the world.
I AM . . . the gate for the sheep.
I AM . . . the good shepherd.
I AM . . . the resurrection and the life.
I AM . . . the true vine.
and of course,
I AM . . . the bread of life.

Do you notice their reaction? We might as well be back in Exodus – and John goes right along with this – for he says the crowd complained. That’s right – in political exile, still wandering -- their God comes to them face to face, and just like in the days of old, they murmur under their breath, grumble quietly to their closest neighbor.

But Jesus doesn’t just stop there. He’s taking them to the edge. Now it is time to push them over. “Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life.” Again, “I am the bread of life.”

Now a quick aside regarding this word “believe.” We use this verse a lot, or at least something close to it, when we “present the gospel,” to a seeker. Our A,B,C’s are as easy as: Admit you’ve sinned, Believe in Jesus Christ, and Confess Him as your Savior. Simple. Easy. Viola!

But hopefully when we use this tool in bringing our neighbors to Christ, as when Christ himself said it here, we are not just speaking of a ubiquitous assent or indisputable claim. Belief is actually more than just saying you think it’s true or think it exists. I can believe in ghosts. They still may not exist. Cogito ergo sum – chucked out the window.

Perhaps belief and eternal life is not so much about “think it’s true and because you believe, you will last forever” (thank you, Chicago). Eternal life, sure, it’s a reward. But it’s not so much about that particular pattern of cause and effect – in other words, God saying, “I’ll scratch your terms of existence if you scratch mine,” -- as it is the inherent result of being in understanding, deep intimate knowledge of Jesus Christ himself. The Giver and Sustainer of Life.

The fact that we would experience eternal life is only possible because it is inextricably linked and rooted in who Jesus is.

Now here is where I think we’ve messed it up.

What if we’ve got it all wrong? What if where we’re going, what we’ve always done and have always thought we were supposed to do is completely wrong. Off base. Out in left field. Wrong.

What if what we’re supposed to be doing and what we’re supposed to be about is what we’ve unwittingly been working against. For all our good intentions, we’ve missed the point . . . we’re wandering in the desert, expecting the promised land, looking and making up signs to point us to it, and in the end we may never reach it.

I wonder this aloud, and in relation to Jesus’ claims about our belief and living forever and being “bread,” because I’ve been reading a very interesting and probably dangerous book, Adventures in Missing the Point by Tony Campolo and Brian McClaren.

They talk about the Kingdom of God, which interestingly is what defined Jesus’ earthly ministry. Jesus’ preaching was not all fire and brimstone, though he warned of being cast out into the darkness. His teaching was not a neat outline articulating the “Ten Steps to Eternal Life,” though he spoke of his going to prepare a place. His real message was quite straightforward, “The Kingdom of God is at hand.”

It is HERE. And it’s about life NOW. We need not look anywhere else.

So salvation, McClaren and Campolo maintain, is not so much about being bailed out of any particular political exile, or for that matter, being deterred from morally repugnant behavior. But neither did salvation mean being tractor-beamed up into a celestial utopian bliss never to deal with the dirty, smelly, indiscreet world again. Instead, salvation was literally being rescued from the constant oppression of any and all of these corrupt circumstances to live the kind of life God created us to live.

Then McClaren actually suggests,

“If our theologies make us focus on the eternal and the individual (i.e. getting my soul into heaven) so that we avoid God’s concern for the historic and the global (i.e. God’s will being done on earth as well as in heaven), then the more people we win over to our theologies the fewer people will care about God’s world here and now.”
”The more converts we make, the worse the world will become.”

“If God really cares about justice in this world here and now, and if we are converting people away from the concern, then we are working against God. We could inadvertently become enemies of God’s wishes.”

Now I am not saying that we don’t have something to look forward to – we certainly await our reigning King to return in this already-not yet Kingdom. But when he returns, he’s not throwing this world away.

He’s proved this through His Incarnation – simply by becoming man, our God proved that flesh and spirit are no longer, or maybe never were, at war. He did not come for us to merely believe with our minds, and in gaining a special otherworldly knowledge about him, He himself could never be grasped, embraced . . . eaten.

For Jesus says, “Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

Salvation through Jesus Christ is real – spread through every substance, compound, molecule, and atom of Creation, for Christ’s personal sacrifice was neither a mental game nor a mystical battle. His sacrifice was a sacrifice of sarx – flesh – you know, the earthy, prone, vulnerable – that stuff we all have to deal with too. Jesus physically died upon a cross, while ribs cracked under his own weight, and blood poured from gaping wounds in his hands and feet, and water poured from his side.

This is our Bread.

This is our Daily Bread.

The Bread we ask for through gritted teeth. Or crossed fingers. Or faraway looks. Someday everything will be alright . . . when we all get to heaven.

But thank God, it’s not when all the bills are paid, or when the school year is finally over, or when Vacation Bible School is finished. Christ did not tell us to wait. He didn’t wrap us up in white robes and lock us in a little room to hold hands and drink some funky Kool-Aid – and for goodness sakes, get up here as fast as you can. He told us to go. Go into the world. Go and make disciples and baptize them into the Kingdom. He wanted us to Live.

Here, today, in celebrating the elements of Christ’s Body around the Table, and as Christ’s Body in the world, we usher in the Kingdom of God. As citizens of this Kingdom seeking to do his explicit will, we demonstrate belief in his Son for we also incarnate the very Spirit of Christ that is present and active in THIS world. This is more than a foretaste of the day when Christ does return to a new heaven and new earth.

So, what is our grumbling? For bread we believe we have never received.

We get to taste the Kingdom.

Live as though we believe. Believe that Jesus is Lord. He is Lord of Creation and Lord of our lives.

Let our ordinary lives reflect our eternal lives, the eternal life that we enjoy even today.

Paper Doll Funerals

2006-08-07T07:30:00.000-07:00

Janice Hancock was just a little southern girl in Conway, Arkansas who loved to play with paper dolls. Everyday she would dress them up and take care of them. She would play with them and put them away when she was done. Those paper dolls were some of her favorite toys and good friends for a little girl.

Janice had a cousin who would come to play. His name was Hollis Williams. Hollis was a serious child with a fascination for ritual. Every day, Janice would pull out her paper dolls, dress them, and play with them. When Hollis would visit he would play with her and her paper dolls. Sometimes, her paper dolls would get sick and on the rare occasion those sick paper dolls just wouldn't pull through, Hollis would be ready with Bible in hand to perform the funeral. A small, private family service attended by only that little southern girl, a boy priest, and a few other paper dolls.

Janice is my mother. This was Conway, Arkansas in the 1940s. She told me that even as a little boy, Hollis loved ritual and liturgy. He grew up to become a priest in the Episcopal church. She doesn't know where he is now, but she just knew that's what he would end up doing.

Even now, I see the spiritual lives of children take on Kingdom of God qualities. I see kids who take the candy that they have and share it with other kids. Many times they count out the number of pieces so that eveyone has some. Sometimes, I see kids ask others if they are all right, you know, when they fall and have hurt themselves. I see a little boy who notices his friend pray a prayer of beginning, the start of a journey perhaps, or even his next step in the journey to wholeness and holiness.

Children have a heart for the spiritual. Not always, like adults, do they make the decisions that honor God and others. Those are the times they fail to mirror the Creator and instead mirror parents who they've seen talk abusively to each other or something they've seen on television. Notwithstanding, they are sensitive to the heart of God, moreso, certainly than adults.

I see in a boy who finds joy and comfort in meaningful ritual or a girl who takes part in the same, the heart and voice and mind of God. Take comfort in a paper doll funeral, for our hope is in the Resurrection. Take joy in the faith of a child, because the Kingdom of God belongs to them.

Soulshine Is Better Than Sunshine . . .

2006-07-29T12:37:00.000-07:00

Last night, or rather early this morning, Julia and I walked in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life. Almost a year ago my brother in-law died because of cancer and yesterday Julia's father was diagnosed with cancer. We thought it would be good to participate in the walk. It was a good night and there were several people there that we knew from town and from the church. We walked with our good friend Steve Lehew whose nephew died a while back and whose niece, just a few weeks after her brother died, was diagnosed with cancer.

I bring this up because I was listening to one of my very favorite songs "Soulshine" by the Allman Brothers Band. This song was played at Don's, my brother in-law, memorial celebration. Everytime I hear this song I smile and sometimes I cry.

"Life can take the strongest man and make him feel so alone . . . I think back to what by daddy said, he said it's always darkest before the dawn. Gotta let your soul shine, it's better than sun shine, it's better than moonshine, and it's damn sure better than rain. Oh, the people don't mind. We all get this way sometimes. Gotta let your soul shine, shine to the break of day."

I've been thinking and writing about John 6, just after Jesus feeds the five thousand with a boys lunch. Evening had come and the disciples crossed the lake. They had trouble because the wind picked up and it was dark. They had rowed a few miles out and that's when they saw him and were terrified, scared out of their minds. It's always darkest just before the dawn. It was of course Jesus they saw, walking on the water, toward the boat. No wonder they were so frightened. Jesus said to them, "It is I; do not be afraid." Then something else amazing happened. The disciples wanted to get Jesus into the boat, but immediately the boat reached the land where they were headed.

We walked from 11:00 until almost 1:00 am. Certainly not the darkest time of the night, especially with the football stadium's lights at full blast. It was a good time for us. A real means of grace as we thought of Don and Julia's dad. God is a gracious God and he is a faithful deliverer.

And Now For Something Completely Different

2006-07-26T07:21:00.000-07:00

I realized that our blogs had been a bit more serious than expected recently. With that in mind, today's topic is the Candy Bar. I am going to talk about some candy bars, rate and rank a few of my favorites and maybe others can comment with a top three favorite candy bar list.

Now, I have two friends who lived in Europe for a while with their families and they swear that chocolate from the United States is horrible compared to their European, particularly Swiss, counterparts. They say it is as though chocolate here in the U.S. is watered down compared to other world chocolates. However here, we are not going to discuss chocolate bars per se; we are going to discuss candy bars and chocolate only as it pertains to the specific mentioned bars. Well, let's get started!

First, I would like to mention my very favorite candy bars. This candy bar hails from Australia/New Zealand. The Violet Crumble, made by Nestle now, is a "honey comb" center covered in chocolate. This ambrosia candy bar is not to be confused with it's lesser Cadbury made rival the Crunchie. While both are similarly made and styled, the Violet Crumble has this sort of melt-in-your-mouth texture that tastes and feels fresher than the Crunchie (Cadbury 1939). Just to give an idea of my feelings for Violet Crumble, if I were in the woods and my left arm were caught in a bear trap and there were a Violet Crumble just out of reach, I would naw off my left arm in order to reach that miracle of a candy bar. You can purchase this candy bar at some specialty candy stores as well as Jason's Deli. There you have numero uno in the candy bar list.

Second place goes to another Nestle product. This bar has recently reemerged and because of the popularity of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It is Nestle owned Willy Wonka's Wonka Bar. The Wonka Bar is Wonka milk chocolate (reminds me a bit of Tobler chocolate because of the texture and chew quality) with crumbled up graham crackers. It is the perfect candy bar to eat while playing board games. I don't know why, but I enjoy them very much while playing Settlers of Catan. You can purchase this bar at some convenient stores, movie rental counters, and the occasional grocer.

The final candy bar on my list to round off the top three is a Cadbury product. Caramello has been one of my favorite bars since I was a kid. I can't tell you how many Caramellos and Mt. Dews I've had. All that sweet caramel and chocolate can't be bad for you! This is also a good board game candy bar, although I'd be kidding myself if I didn't say all three of these candy bars are good with a board game and a glass of milk (whole, of course).

There you have it, the best three candy bars in the history of candy: Violet Crumble, Wonka Bar, Caramello. What do you all have?

Dayton, Oh

2006-07-24T13:27:00.000-07:00

It's official. Julia and I have accepted ministry positions at Parkview Church of the Nazarene in Dayton, Oh. We are very excited and yet sad. We are looking forward to working with Rev. Dave Ringhiser and being a part of his team. However, we know we are leaving behind a church and folks we love very much. We do feel God's direction in this decision. Please be praying for us and for our churches during this time of transition.

Clarity In the Arms of Christ

2006-07-18T07:51:00.000-07:00

I spent some time with those wonderful Irish Jesuits at Sacred Space today. They reminded me that in all of this decision making, all of the prayer and conversation, all of all of it, I had not yet really taken the time to rest my whole self in Jesus' lap and just listen. It is about time to really listen, don't you think?

Where Is God in Decisions?

2006-07-17T08:22:00.000-07:00

This question has been plaguing me for some time now. When I talk to great men and women of faith and hear of the clarity with which God speaks to them, guides them with what seems to be an iron clad control, I can't help but feel a bit jealous. It is different for those of us who espouse the openness of God. We believe that God knows all that is possible for him to know, which of course leaves out the future. As we have free will, the future cannot possibly exist without it being decided and thus exempting free will. What is left is the God who has determined what he will do in the future, leaving open the idea that he might change his mind or the possibility of folks standing in the way of that will. Thus, God in his choiced goodness, gives us direction that can be altered by our choice or others.

That is where we stand today, trying to discern what God might have for us, knowing that he might have a choice between two or more valid options. How do we as Open Theists pray for God's will and at the same time feel honored by his redemption of bad situations and recognize his deliverance of us from situations gone bad? I have asked for clarity, peace, and always sought God's will. This has meant, for me, giving up things that I would have loved to do, such as the academy, for something that I have grown to love, pastoring. Now, I wouldn't trade pastoring for anything. However, we stand at a crossroads and I have no guitar and there is no devil there to whom I can trade my soul for guitar playing skills (nor would I want to, I just wanted to point out that I have mundane knowledge of Robert Johnson and his bluesy mythology).

What we really need is focus and clarity. We are praying that God's will be done. Please pray with and for us.

The God Who Touches Us, The God Who Is Touched By Us

2006-06-25T14:03:00.000-07:00

In thinking about next Sunday's (Proper 8) lectionary Gospel text (Mark 5:21-43, Episcopal reading) I see, or rather begin to see the real extent of the grace of God. In this scripture, Jarius comes to Jesus to ask if he will touch his deathly ill daughter and make her better. Jesus agrees and walks to his house. On the way, a woman who has suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years touches the hem of Jesus' cloak so that she may be healed. She is; Jesus feels it; Jesus confronts the woman. The woman falls before Jesus and explains everything and Jesus tells her that her faith has healed her. As Jesus continues to Jarius' house a messenger meets Jarius and tells him not to waist anymore of Jesus' time as Jarius' daughter has died. Jesus still insists on seeing her, tells the mourners that she is not dead just sleeping, whereupon they laugh at him. Jesus goes to the girl's room, touches her hand, and tells her to get up. She gets up, everyone is amazed, and Jesus tells them to keep their mouths shut.

There it is more or less. However, there is, to me, a great revelation of God that I have lingered on for years in this passage. It is the touch. There are two touches of significance here. There is the touch of the woman who has bled for twelve years, and there is the touch of Jesus that raises the dead girl. The touch is something that perhaps we glaze over as we read this story. We've heard it enough anyway and there are surely more important things to focus on, why would Jarius, a Jewish leader, seek Jesus out for help, or the faith of the woman versus the faithless mourners. However, I focus on the touch in this story. It is the thing that moves me.

Touch is a sense that makes sense to a sensory people whose lives need sense. Think of the paternal or maternal touch that can be so comforting for some, yet so abusive for others. Think of the excitement of the touch of the first hand you held. I think I was so excited that I had to pee. Think of the first kiss, a touch still, and the rush of adrenaline and hormones that can't possibly explain all there is to feel in a first kiss. I remember the first time I brushed skin with my wife (of course then she wasn't my wife) and every time I think about it I smile. Think about the first punch you threw, or took. Think of the last time a loved one died and a friend or pastor put their hand on your shoulder or hugged you. Think of what touch really means. It is one fifth of all that we sense and when it comes to sense the parts are just as great as the sum.

Now, think of God in the flesh. In Christ we see God/Man. Christ is both fully God and fully man. He was born a baby, wrapped in strips of cloth, and laid in a trough out of which cows eat. He grew up, died as man, was risen as man, and ascended to be at the right hand of God the Father almighty as man. But this was no Greco-Roman half god, half man, Hercules. Jesus is the real deal. He, while fully man, is also fully God, present at creation, fulfillment of the law, God with us.

This is my dilemma with the passage. God touches the little girl to raise her from the dead. He touches her and she is moved. God became man and touched people. People were changed because of it. It happens all through the Gospels. Jesus heals the sick, touches children, lepers, mother in-laws. It's amazing. God touches people and they respond by being moved, healed, transformed. This is heresy. Certainly God would not debase himself by touching people. Yet he does. And people respond, all glory and honor be to God, they respond. God touches us.

If it ended there, all heaven would rejoice and all Earth would seek to be touched by God, but it does not end there. The bottom falls out. Logic is shattered. Economies spill like milk from a screaming child's glass. The world is turned on its ear as God allows the unthinkable. This story is not merely about God touching people. It is also about people touching God. This is the part of the story that could offend those who stand so firm in their belief of an ineffable, immutable, self-sufficient, invulnerable, changeless (oh, did I already say that) God. If you believe in such a deity, please do not continue reading. On second thought, go ahead, your comments will be fun to read.

The crowd pushed in on Jesus. They were uncomfortably close and someone wreaked of body odor. Who is that? The static electricity of excitement about Jesus and what he would do about Jarius' daughter built like leather soles and a wool sweater on thick pile carpet. Something was going to pop at any moment. This was her chance. She'd been bleeding for twelve years and had heard what Jesus could do, but people were too close for her to get to him. She thought that if she could just touch, even the hem of his cloak, the bleeding would stop. She leaned over at just the right time when two people had stepped ahead. She reached out and touched. All hell broke loose. Jesus just stopped. The crowd couldn't stop in time and fumbled getting control of itself. Three people fell and were embarrassed. Jesus knew he'd been touched. He'd felt his power move out in blessing. He was affected. He was moved and the woman was healed. She told him what had happened and he told her that her faith had healed her. But it was too late. History was changed forever and God had been touched by people. The unmoved mover was suddenly moved.

God was touched by a person and not just any person . . . A woman and not just any woman . . . An unclean woman. Suddenly, the ineffable God doesn't seem so far away. The unaffected, self-sufficient God isn't so ivory tower any more. It seems when God became man, he really did get off his high horse. This is why this passage affects me so much. God not only touches us and we are changed forever, but God is touched by us and he is changed forever. In YHWY the Transcendent and Imminent are One. We are invited by God to be touched by God and to touch God. What an invitation. I accept. . . With everything that I am, with everything that God will make me.

The Bee Jays

2006-06-25T12:19:00.000-07:00

The sky was clear and the sun shone through the gap in the grand stands. The smell of low cut grass and ball park franks wafted. We were sitting in the shade behind home plate. Louisiana Tech's Dylan Mosley was pitching and I hadn't been to a real ball park in almost two years. The last (non little league) game I had attended was at Kaufman stadium in Kansas City to watch the Royals lose to some or for that matter any other team in the MLB. This, however, was not Major League Baseball. This was the Jay Hawk league.

The Jay Hawk league is a semi-pro league touting such teams as the Liberal Bee Jays, the Southwest Slashers (Joplin), Hays Larks, and others. This night, it was the Bee Jays vs. the Slashers and would end in a close loss for Liberal. I found myself cheering for a team that had been around for 50 years. The Bee Jays solicit local corporate "buy outs" for each game so they can offer free entrance. The Bee Jays were named for American League founder Ban Johnson who offered good "clean" fun and low ticket prices for their fans.

It was a truly fun evening with friends, so fun that we returned for the double header on Saturday. The Bee Jays split the double header with the Southwest Slashers and I'm a fan for life. So take me out to the ball game . . .

It's Been Too Long

2006-06-13T07:21:00.000-07:00

Almost a month goes by without a word. There's been a week long class with too much reading, Julia gone a week without me, and last week I caught up to her and spent a week on vacation. What a glorious, loud (after all we were with my family), crazy week it was. I took the train and met Julia and her parents in Galesburg, IL. I had never ridden the train before, though they have. It was uncomfortable overnight withougt a real pillow and blanket, but all in all, not a bad experience. It was good to go to a water park with two of my nephews; I really wish everyone could've gone, but alas, there was work and fear of water and stuff they'd rather do. It was good to see all of my nephews, though. I wish we lived closer.

Julia and I did discover something. It is a truth. It is a fact within time that takes on both subject and object in a balancing act that is guarded by "good" and communicated by "beauty." It is right up there with one truth that my brother-in-law taught me, "Life's too short for cheap toilet paper." It is the fact that one does, in fact, need a vacation from vacation. We were exhausted and so (write this on something more permanent than a blog) we took an extra night and got a hotel in Tulsa, Ok. That's right, spent money we didn't have to make sure we weren't so tired the next day, and it worked.

We arrived at about 7:00 pm in Tulsa and ordered pizza, hot tubbed, watched television, and hung out. The next morning we got up, had a huge breakfast, and went home. It worked. Imagine that. So, this will be our vacation practice from now on in order to ensure a vacation from a vacation. Amen.

Something Called Pioneer Days

2006-05-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

Guymon captures (and perhaps holds hostage) its "No Man's Land" identity in a celebration called Pioneer Days. There's a Dodge Rodeo, carnival, craft fair, and a parade. Now this might sound innocent enough, but there's something about the parade that everyone should know. This is not a normal sort of thing that happens at every parade, in fact it is not just for mere knowledge that I'm telling you all this. It is so that you will lock up your children, cover their eyes and don't stand too close to the road. For that matter, do not even come out in public without the ability to ward off the greatest of fears. At any moment, something horrifying could happen. Protect those you love, because the longhorns are coming.

You see, someone, at some point in time thought it would be a good idea to drive several head of cattle through the downtown during the parade. Now, granted I can't speak of no incident of violence this has caused, but it frightens me nonetheless. I have included a few pictures so that those of you who do not know or have not been to Guymon may see the insanity that is a cattle drive through the streets.

Flying the Coop

2006-04-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

Since we're so far away from home these days, my Mom sends me pictures of family events we can't attend. I see these kids, 2-3 generations away from me, sons and daughters, in the same images and stories I've heard before. These are pictures of cousins leaping off the top of our chicken coop to ride the bag swing. Apparently the roof of the barn was not good enough. They moved the ladder to the coop, step off onto the refrigerator and swing away. Didn't Uncle Paul once try this once with an umbrella? I've seen U. Marvin, A. Bess, and A. Carol, swinging their blackened feet out of the hay mow -- 12+ feet above the ground.

We often reject ritual out-of-hand as meaningless or insignificant. Yet like any gift of grace, it is not so much a matter of what we are able to bring to it as it is discovering what is already and always there. These stories of flying off windmills and falling off tractors should be a part of these 4th and 5th generation sons and daughters as much as they are to our ancestors. They should not experience failing memories on our account.

The accomplishments and "relative" happiness of my family is not by accident. It is reinforced through the annual rituals of pinatas, name eggs, familiar photos, John Deere tractors, juicy watermelons.

Either our family is not afraid of heights or we find ourselves doing what families do best -- reliving and renewing the rituals and traditions that have shaped our lives for years, centuries, millenia. We are grounded in these things. They are what allow us to take the leaps of faith and ambition we need to fly.

Lines Written Over Dogs Barking Next Door

2006-04-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

What are the sounds that move us from where we are to
where we would like to be, from here to who we want to be?
The sounds of honking horns and the only-in-a-city hums
remind us when we leave the city behind for something
not so city that there is such a thing as silence. Listen to
the click of a turned knob, the drip of water to drain.
The sounds of the wind in the winter and spring keep us
up on the memories and hope for the gentler, warmer,
a summer and early fall breeze.

The dogs next door bark at night, the sound of sirens, the cat
and dog breathing at the foot of the bed. They are all reminders
of life. Now awake thinking about the sounds of life, hear it,
the baby cries in church, and not everyone hears the real liturgy.
Some complain, disturbed and distracted, those also
bothered by other naturalnesses of children. That is not
the real sound heard. The baby cries again (sacramental)
during Word spoken from prophet, all of heaven rejoices,
I whisper, “Thanks be to God.”

Hands and Feet

2006-04-23T15:39:00.000-07:00

John 20:19-31
It was a crazy idea. That these very tiny little things -- invisible, in fact -- are the building blocks of the universe. Atoms! So tiny that they are indivisible. This would explain so many things, and yet because they are invisible there’s no way to prove it!

Believe it or not, this is what a crazy Greek man named Democritus conceived over 2400 years ago. Amazing that this man with no microscopes, no particle accelerators, no nano-technology, should come up with such an unbelievable idea. It would take 2000 years for such an idea to actually take hold in the minds of scientists and philosophers. But we believe it today . . . not so much because we’ve seen the atom ourselves, but because we’ve been told enough times and with the sufficient evidence to know that they exist.

Split one and we can cause the universe to collapse in on itself.

Evidence is really a hard thing. Evan and I love watching CSI – all three of them – Las Vegas, Miami, and New York. They pull little hairs out of carpet with tweezers, test white substances, boil bones. Juries convict on this stuff. It seems that the modern age does not require so much of a logical argument as much as it does good solid physical evidence. Stuff that we can see and touch and taste.

And we find our CSI’s at work here in this passage. For Thomas gives us a pretty understandable response when confronted with the suddenly fearless testimony of some previously very fearful disciples. Jesus had appeared to a shivering group of weary bleary followers. He showed them His hands and his side. He let them touch them. It still seemed like a dream. So when Thomas arrived, having missed the whole thing, you could understand his skepticism, right?

But now, poor Thomas, has been singled out. He sits right above Judas in the hierarchy of good disciples. We forget the disciples who were there were shown the same thing that Thomas demanded to see. Did they really ever have a faith any different than doubting Thomas?

Perhaps John is trying to tell us something here. Something besides a Jerry McGuire, “Show me the money!” kind of belief. A faith vomited up out of fear – fear of the Jews, fear of what is on the other side of the door, fear of death. They were all fearful. Thomas just said it out loud.

But Jesus’ response to Thomas, indeed to all the “believers,” was to let them poke into his side, and to stick their fingers into the holes and right out the other side. Jesus had the evidence that He was alive for those very people who had seen him die. Whether they should have needed it or not. It was His body itself, risen and glorified, that proclaimed the arrival of the Kingdom of God and redemption of all creation. They needed to see that because the world that is upside down had been turned right side up again.

Of course, Thomas’ response was the one of faith. He exclaims, “My Lord and my God!”

And Jesus does not deny him the recognition or the understanding.

An understanding not so much about what it was he was seeing but what it meant to see it.

For if Thomas hadn’t believed Jesus had been raised from the dead, how would he have believed the redemption fulfilled in this resurrection?

The commentator writes, “But belief itself comes from another source than evidence. It is a gift of God.”

Indeed, even our faith is something we can make up and work or will to ourselves. It is a gift we must receive only with fear and trembling. It is only formed in the moments we realize there is nothing else we can do to conjure it up, to squeeze it out. Only after enemies have left us defeated, and our efforts have left us worn out. When there nothing to have faith in . . .

I confess I am a doubter. Sometimes it’s not enough just to be told my God is faithful. That He does what He says He will do. I see His faithfulness in the lives of others – dreams fulfilled, plans carried out, redemption gained – I’m not always encouraged.

I read John’s words about why he wrote this story, “But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name,” and I sense the struggle in these people.

I was not there on the hillside when Jesus fed the five thousand. I was not there when he calmed the storm. I was not there as he died on the cross. I did not wrap his body in strips of cloth. I did not hide in a dark room eluding the Jews. What evidence do I have that Jesus was and is who he says He is – the Son of God, the Son of Man, the Savior and Redeemer of the world?

I wonder where is this belief in my life? Where is God’s faithfulness? What is there to understand? Slogging through indecision, indifference, mediocrity, I’m looking for hands and feet, holes and marks and scars.

Science tells us that patterns of past behavior do not predict future behavior. Can this be true of God as well?

John writes to his beloved community and to us about what to do when we’re not seeing what we’re supposed to be believing.

And Jesus’ reproachful statement, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” is perhaps the beginning of that gift.

Our psalm concludes, “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding.”

And in this Easter story we see certainly see fear. Fear of the Jews had lingered for days in the dark corners of their hiding places. They did not know what to believe. Jesus had told them what would happen, yet they still dreaded the knock on the door.

Jesus did not knock, but stood among them – literally breathing upon them his very presence. To touch his wounds meant no more fear and no more dealing. And doubting Thomas would be the first to proclaim what that presence meant – God with us.

He should be the one to remind us that it is the poor in spirit who inherit the Kingdom of God. Those who mourn will be comforted. Those who hunger who will be filled. Those who doubt will be met with scarred hands and wounded side.

What is understanding? Nothing that is not a gift of God. Do we come with faith to this Table? Should we, full of ourselves and our confident, nuanced, sophisticated faith? As if our faith is our backstage pass, our special clearance into these special rites and privileges.

Or may we come as Thomases with our eyes wide open in disbelief but our stomachs pained and growling ready to eat until we are filled?

I hope that we are not already there, that we might admit that we actually need Christ’s living breathing Spirit in our life and not our own hot air. Funny thing, Jesus knew then as He knows now, that we do need to get a grip on things sometimes. Let Him breathe upon us.

And today I invite you to this Table, to touch his broken body, and live again.

Julia, Word & Table Homily

Land Run of 1889

2006-04-21T11:13:00.000-07:00

Today, I was trying to think of my favorite school memory. This is a difficult thing for me as I attended a great number of schools. It is not a spectacular memory, nor is it particularly favorable in any normal sense of the word. Perhaps favorite is not the word for it. Perhaps a better word is memorable. Anyway, there are two. In the third grade I was tossing my pencil end over end up into the air (while the teacher wasn't looking). The very last time I ever attempted this, ever, I caught the pencil with my left hand. Well, sort of. I actually caught it with my left ring finger. Okay, I caught it in my left ring finger. The tip of my pencil stuck gloriously into the tip of my left ring finger. To this day there is graphite still in that finger.

The other memorable moment of my school years was in the fifth grade, when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. I remember our school turned on the newly purchased room televisions and we watched the footage. It was disturbing. I remember feeling infinitely sorry for the students of the teacher who was on board.

There you have it. My most memorable moments in school . . . That is until today. While I am not in primary school now, I can say that I experienced the very best of my primary school moments today. It was the 5th grade project on the Oklahoma Land Run of 1889. President Benjamin Harrison declared 2 million acres of government land open when Illinois rep. William Springer amended the Indian Appropriations Bill. Suddenly, those folks who wanted 150 acres of free land lined up and at noon (although, some were litigiously confused whether it was high noon or meridian noon) on April 22, 1889, the gun fired and they were off.

Much like this historical moment so many years ago, the 5th grade students, with on looking parents, grandparents, teachers, and a children's pastor, lined up their make-shift covered wagons and supplies. When the powder musket fired, the kids ran, wagon in tow, for a pre-placed stake of land. Once they had staked their "family" name on their land, they had to put up a tent, gather food and water, and then return to "town" for the deeds to their land.

I spoke with a few parents of the children involve who were both excited for the run and relieved that they no longer had to help with the building, cooking, and creation of things for the run. One parent, who had participated when she was in 5th grade said, "This was my favorite school memory." I turned to her and said, "It's mine too, now."

Betrayed

2006-04-11T15:20:00.000-07:00

It was a hot night and Jesus had just done the unthinkable. He had washed the feet of his disciples. Now, understand that Jesus’, God with us, King of Glory, washed his own servant’s feet. I barely want to touch my own feet, much less anyone else’s feet. Yet, Jesus washes his disciples dirty, nasty feet on this hot night in the upper room. When he finished he said a few things about someone who would take some bread and betrayal. But who would betray Jesus? They’d all seen who Jesus really was.

Judas son of Simon Iscariot betrayed Christ. We’ve all heard the story. We’ve heard it from Sunday school teachers, in sermons, read it, and to some extent, we glaze right over it. We’ve heard the stories of Judas and his repulsion of Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume. “Master, that stuff’s worth a fortune. We could sell it and give the money to the poor.” Hear Judas thinking, “I’m poor, after all. I sure could use the cash.” “Judas, don’t you get it.” Jesus said, “There’s always going to be poor folk and you’re always going to be poor. I won’t always be with you.” Judas’ hated to be publicly humiliated like that, especially in front of that whore, Mary.

We’ve heard the story of this night too. It was Judas who would betray his Lord. Jesus was upset and everyone there could see it in his face. It was pure pain, the weight-of-the-world-on-his-back kind of pain, to say it out loud. After all, Judas means “praised.” He was one of the twelve, not the new and improved twelve (Now With Mathias!), but the original formula, classic disciples. Jesus looked around at the twelve and said, rather laconically, “One of you is going to betray me.”

Instantly the whispered chatter spread around the room, Peter talking to Bartholomew, John and James exchanging the knowing and silent language of brotherhood, Mathew and Thaddeus exchanging questioning gestures with Phillip and Thomas. Judas, shifty eyed, looked at everyone and refused eye contact with anyone. The chatter, though, was broken by the Word of God, “The one to whom I give this crust of bread after I’ve dipped it.” Hmm, that’s funny that Jesus would still offer himself, as if giving the betrayer a second chance. There’s Jesus always the redeemer. Jesus dipped the bread into the wine and gave it to Judas. Judas took the wine soaked bread in his hand and the shadow of decision passed behind the pupils of his eyes.

Jesus said, “Whatever you are going to do, do it. Do it and get it over with. Quit putting off whatever decision you were going to make.” In that moment, I think of Joshua standing before the Israelites. If you are going to serve God, then serve him. If you are going to serve Baal, serve him, but choose already. Quit bouncing back and forth at your whim. Not one of the disciples around the table knew why Jesus said this to Judas. Some of them even thought he’d just needed to buy stuff they needed for the Passover feast, or that he needed to help some poor folk. Judas stood up, with the dripping, now soggy, piece of bread, and left. He made his choice. It was dark out.

But that is not the end of our scripture on this Holy Wednesday. It doesn’t stop there. It doesn’t stop with this dark and lonely moment in that upper room. After Judas had left, he spoke again, “Now you know who I am, who I really am. Now you know who God is. God’s glory will be on display for everyone to see.” He went on, “Listen. I am not going to be with you for much longer. You’re going to look for me, but I’m going places that you can’t go.”

And here it is. This is Christ’s answer to the betrayer. This is how God answers those who would act the part of supporter, friend, confidant and then turn around and hand him over to his enemies. This is how the Christ responds to the one who should have spoken for him, but instead took a measly penance of a bribe to have him killed. Jesus said, “Let me give you a new command: Love one another. No matter what happens. No matter who stands against you. No matter what others say about you. No matter which of your friends, spouses, children, bosses, co-workers speaks out against you. You are to love one another. Love each other just like I showed you how, just like I modeled it for you. You asked what love looks like? It is the washing of the feet, the laying down of one’s life.” Jesus looked at each one of the remaining disciples and said, “You know why I want you to love one another? Because when you love one another, like I love you, without expecting it in return, shameless love, scandalous love, when you do that everyone will know exactly whom you follow. They’ll know me when they see the love you have for each other.

As we look toward Good Friday, horribly, terribly Good Friday, I want you to remember to love one another. It’s not an easy thing, but it is the thing that marks you as whole and holy citizens of the Kingdom of God.

[this is based on the lectionary Gospel reading for Holy Wednesday, John 13:21-35]

Ketchup

2006-03-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

A papa tomato, mama tomato, and a baby tomato were walking down the street. Baby tomato was a little slow and kept falling behind. Finally Papa tomato couldn't take it anymore, walked back to Baby tomato, and stomped on him squishing him completely. Papa tomato said, "Ketchup!"

It's true. I have not written here in a month. But here is my short, ketchup. I have been building a puppet set, remodeling a bathroom (completely), taking an online class (history and polity of the Church of the Nazarene), trying to keep from slumping into a deep depression, writing some poetry, maintaining a love affair with my wife, working fifty to sixty hour work weeks, and much more.

There you have it. Ketchup.

Did you ever wonder who invented/discovered ketchup? Do you know the difference between ketchup, catsup, and fancy ketchup or catsup? Ketchup was originally the word used for sauces in general. Typically a mushroom sauce or fish sauce. In the 1800s ketchup referred to any sauce using vinegar, but as the century progressed, along with the increasing obsession Americans had with tomatoes, ketchup became a tomato based sauce. In the 20th Century, modern ketchup took off in popularity. Due to an argument with the food and drug administration over the use of sodium benzoate as a preservative in condiments, Henry J. Heinz began working on a recipe that didn't include sodium benzoate. Now, ketchup is used everywhere to cover the taste of crappy fast food. As for the difference between ketchup and catsup? I don't know.

The Peace of Sabbath Things

2006-02-12T21:50:00.000-08:00

I would like to continue a recent discussion about poetry and theology. As I have said before, poetry is a prayerful speech that will dance with words far longer than words will dance by themselves.

I want to share another poem of which this Lords Day has reminded me. I had the honor to return to a church of which I was on staff a couple of years ago. St. Paul's church of the Nazarene lavished God's grace on me today. Today the wood drake rested its beauty in the midsts of the people of St. Paul's. Thank you Father for the rest I found in sabbath.

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Do You Need God?

2006-02-07T11:27:00.000-08:00

I decided to post my sermon from this past Sunday. Let me know what you all think?

The Gospel reading is Mark1:29-39.
The Gospel of Our Lord.

Now, I don’t know about all of you, but there’s got to be a reason Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law. Perhaps Jesus knew how much Peter loved his mother-in-law, right? Or maybe the joke was on Peter. Is it any surprise Mothers-in-Law Day is less than a week before Halloween? Hey, what do you call your mother-in-law buried up to her neck in sand? Not enough sand. No, I’m just kidding. I love my mother-in-law. Anyway, we see in our gospel reading this morning something really amazing. We see Jesus at the beginning of his ministry teaching, healing, casting out demons. This is God. The God of creation revealed to us and revealing to us the Kingdom of God is in the flesh and preaching the Good News fulfilled in the resurrection. He is preaching that we, in all of our brokenness can be whole and holy.

But, now, that I’ve read our Gospel scripture this morning, I want to tell you another story. This one comes from 2 Kings chapter 4. The hero in this passage is Elisha. I’m sure all of you have heard of this prophet Elisha. He and his predecessor Elijah were bright spots in Israel’s history. There were a lot of folk who just weren’t real nice. Elijah had been taken up and left the lot of his work as a prophet to Elisha. Elisha was teased by children, and I’ll let you read that story on your own in chapter 2:23-25. Elisha gave a word to the Kings of Israel, Judah, and Edom and they had water for their men and animals during battle. Then we come to chapter four. Our hero Elisha is confronted by the widow of one of his followers. She was distraught with the fear of not only losing her husband, but loosing her two children as well. You see, the man had quite a bit of credit card debt built up and because he died before he paid it back, the debt was transferred to his wife and children. Back then, any unpaid debt that defaulted meant the payment would’ve been the children or even the wife. The widowed mother was heartbroken at a point of unbearable grief. And at that point of grief, this widow looked to Elisha.

Elisha asked her what she wanted him to do. “What do you have in your house?” He asked her. She said, “I’ve got nothing, unless of course you count this jar of oil.” Elisha said, “I want you to go out and borrow jars and Tupperware and Rubbermaid containers from everyone you know and not just a few; get a whole bunch. Then go into your house, shut the door behind you, and start pouring the oil from the jar you have into the borrowed Tupperware.” So, she did just as Elisha had told her. Her children traded out the containers as she poured and poured and poured the oil. She poured each container up to the brim until there were no more containers, then, this ever flowing jar of oil stopped flowing. She ran to tell Elisha the great news and he told her, “Now sell the oil, pay off all of your credit cards, and live on the rest.”

Once again we see our great provisional God working in the world. Here again we see the God of creation at war against this world that works so hard to subvert his love with poverty, pain, and sadness. But God is bigger than poverty. And he answered this woman’s request with gusto. He not only took care of her debts, but also provided for her and her children’s lives. Considering her place in the story, we know she was faithful. She didn’t come to Elisha because he owed her anything for all the years of service her husband provided Elisha. She came to him in faith, knowing that God would provide. And oh, how he provided.

One day Elisha was passing through a town called Shunem. There was a very wealthy woman there who asked Elisha to come and eat with her and her husband. Elisha became close to the couple and ate meals with them anytime he passed through the town. Knowing that Elisha was a prophet of God, the woman talked her husband into building on a room for Elisha to stay in anytime he came to town. What a gift. When Elisha was back in town, they showed him up to his room. He was so pleased. Elisha laid down on his bed, it must have been one of those pillow top mattresses or maybe even a sleep number set to his ideal firmness, because he had his servant, Gehazi, bring the woman up to his room. Elisha wanted to thank her for going to all the trouble of building and preparing a room for him. He asked her if there was anything he could do for her. “Can I tell the king of your kindness? Or maybe I can put in a good word to the general for you?” She said, “No, thank you. I am just from a small town and don’t really want a lot of attention.” Elisha said, “What can I do to thank you, then?” The woman answered, “Well, there is one thing, you see, I can’t have kids and I’d really like to have a son.”

I have to stop here and let you in on a little secret. Throughout the Bible there are stories of little old barren women. And I can tell you that when a little old barren woman cries out to God, he hears. Just ask Sara, Rebekah, Rachel, Samson’s mother, Hannah, Elisabeth. I’m not one to make broad sweeping statements about God, but God is faithful! He is our deliverer and in the case of these women, he is literally their deliverer as he delivers babies for them. But, back to our hero, Elisha.

Elisha said to the woman, “This time next year, you will hold your very own little baby boy!” The woman’s jaw dropped. She said, “Now, don’t joke around with me. I’m too fragile to be tricked.” Elisha said, “No joke.” The next day, he left for other business throughout the country. In a few months time, the woman became pregnant. And a year after Elisha told her, she had her own baby boy. As the little boy grew up he would work out in the fields with his father. His father looked over at him just as the boy grabbed his head and complained of a really bad headache. His father was worried about him and had his servant take him into his mother. She held him on her lap until noon, and he died. Immediately she took him up to Elisha’s room and laid him down on Elisha’s bed. She told her husband that she was going to take a servant and go visit Elisha. He said, “But it’s not sacrifice time and it’s not even the Sabbath. Why go to him now?” The woman answered, “Don’t worry about it. Everything will be all right.”

Now, keep in mind that everything was not all right. Her son just died in her arms, her only son. Of course everything was not all right. Yet she made this pure, crystal clear, statement of faith. And that’s what it was, wasn’t it? It was a statement of faith. Can you hear the echos of Abraham answering Isaac’s questions about the ram? God will provide. Listen to this woman say, “It will be all right. God will provide.” Oh, to have that much faith in the everydayness of my life. What a testimony to God’s faithfulness! But I digress. Let’s get back to our hero Elisha.

The woman saddled up her donkeys and left, telling the servant not to slow down for her. He needed to get news to Elisha. As she approached Mr. Carmel, Elisha saw her and immediately knew something was wrong so he sent Gehazi, his servant, to meet her. Once again, when Gehazi met her and asked what was wrong she answered, “It is all right.” But when she made it to where Elisha was, the wealthy woman jumped down off of her donkey and violently grabbed a hold of Elisha’s feet. She immediately began questioning Elisha, “I asked if you were kidding me when you said the Lord would give me a son! I made you swear that you weren’t just giving me false hope! He said to Gehazi, “Gird up your loins.”

Now, let me take just a moment here to ask, “What is girding up your loins?” Wait, nevermind!

Elisha told Gehazi to go quickly, not stopping for anyone or anything, and lay his staff on the boys face. Gehazi went on ahead. But this didn’t satisfy the woman. She insisted that Elisha go home with her. So, he did. When Gehazi arrived at the woman’s home, he did just as Elisha had told him and placed the staff on the boy’s face. But there was no sound or sign of life in him. When Elisha finally made it to the house, he saw the child dead on his bed. He went in, closed the door, and immediately started to pray to the God of Life. Then, Elisha did the most remarkable thing. This is where the story takes on life of its own, so to speak. Elish stood up from kneeling. He looked down at boy’s lifeless body. And then he climbed up on the bed and laid right across him with his hands on the boy’s hands, his eyes on the boy’s eyes, and his mouth on the boy’s mouth as though it were some sort of holy mouth to mouth resuscitation. As he did this, Elisha felt the child’s body warm up. He climbed down off the bed and paced once back and forth across the room. Then, he climbed back on top of the boy, and immediately, the boy sneezed seven times. He sneezed! Sneezed! I said that three times in case you didn’t here me the first or the second. The dead boy sneezed and then opened his eyes. He was alive and well. Elisha had Gehazi call in the Shunamite woman. When she saw her living son, she fell at Elisha’s feet and immediately took her son down to his father and said, “See, see! I told you it would be all right!”

The Shunamite woman knew that God would be faithful and deliver her son. She knew that she knew that she knew! Because you have to know that poverty still offers hope. Hunger still has the pangs of hope in the growl that precedes even the smallest crumb of bread. But in death, there is not hope, none at all. Death is the ultimate hopelessness. And resurrection is the ultimate end to hopelessness, breaking it into a million little pieces. If God’s power and love cannot bring life to the lifeless, then what good is money or food or good health? Now, imagine what this story means to us as we are resurrected with Christ. Isn’t God good?

But it’s not over because when Elisha returned to Gilgal (and by the way, I mentioned Mt. Carmel earlier and Gilgal now because these are the two places that most reflected faith for these now settled Hebrews.) there was a famine. The group of prophets that Elisha was discipling was there with him. He told his servant to fix a big pot of stew. The servant went out and gathered up some herbs and spices from the garden. He found some wild gourds just on the other side of the garden and grabbed some of those, thinking it would be good in the stew. The servant sliced up the herbs and the gourds and cooked it all together. As he proudly served his stewed creation to the best prophets in all of Israel and Judah, he awaited their compliments to the chef. But instead of compliments, he noticed a couple of them gagging. Two others were contorting their faces in the most disgusted of expressions. Still another yelled out “There’s death in the stew!” They couldn’t eat another bite. Elisha, very calmly, said, “Well, then bring me some flour.” As if no one had thought of this before. Sure, I use flour to keep food from being poisoned. His servants brought it to him and he threw some flour in the pot. He told the servants to serve the other prophets and everything would be fine. And it was. The stew was suddenly good.

Wow, God can even make horrible food good. He redeems horrible things. He transforms that which is spoiled and poison into sustaining grace. It is beauty from ashes. How many of us live a mundane life, a life that just doesn’t taste right? How many of us live life that is downright poison? The same God who is at war with a world that would impoverish, kill, or poison is the same God who will sustain, enrich, resurrect, and make whole again. He is the God of possibilities.

A man came from Baal-shalishah and brought the best food he had grown and raised all year. He brought it to Elisha as a gift. Elisha told his servant to feed the people who were there. The servant indignantly asked, “How is this going to serve 100 people?” It’s like asking how God is going to give little old barren ladies a baby. Elisha said, “Just give it to the people and let them eat. God already told me that they’ll eat and have some left over.” When the servant fed the people, he discovered that apparently God was right and there was even food left over.

Each of these stories should remind you of the stories of Jesus. Countless times he healed, fed thousands, made broken people whole again. It was the message of the Kingdom of God! It was a reminder to people that God was with them and that he would not leave them orphaned. It was the ethic of his words put into action. When Jesus healed the sick, fed the hungry, raised the dead, he was illustrating what a faithful God does. It was not a sideshow of his ministry, it was the Gospel revealed in very real ways. It was the Word made flesh. Jesus’ message was holiness and his miracles illustrated just how God works in this world, the very same world he is at war in, transforming the broken, the sick, the hungry, the bored, the washed-out, the dirty, the alcoholic, the divorced, the abused, the faded, the lazy into whole and holy people of God spreading out into this world doing whatever it takes to pour out God’s blessing on those who need it.

But do you need God? Do you really need him or do you get along just fine without him? Because if you don’t need him, then by all means make room for those who do! Because there are people in this world dying to know the love of Jesus Christ and you are just taking up their space if you don’t need him. And I mean really need him. These are stories of Elisha and Jesus and the way God works in this world. They are the stories of people needing God and knowing that they need God. They are the stories of people who realize that they cannot be holy without him. Too often we try to live in a world stacked against us as though we don’t need anybody. We can do it on our own. And sure we can, right? I mean look at all you did to get that raise last year. You work hard to make great grades so you can get into the best college, or any college for that matter. Your home looks so inviting did you decorate it yourself? Sure you have a lot of debt now, but you’ve got to work the hours to get out, right? Joshua said, “Choose today whom you will serve. Would you prefer to serve the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates? Work, money, family, television (ooh, that hurts). My household and I will serve the Lord.” After assuring Joshua that they would have no problem serving the Lord Joshua says, “You can’t do it. You can’t serve him on your own!” We love doing these things on our own. But we can’t do it. We just can’t do it. So, do you need God? You see, he is not the God of empty promises. He is the God of possibilities. And if you do need him, then the time has come to take the blessings of a Faithful Deliverer and pour them out to others. Holiness is about loving God and loving neighbor and if you are missing one of those, you’re missing both. To love, you must be willing to live blessing to those around you including your mother-in-law.