Thursday, January 31, 2013

A Love Affair


I love literature so intensely that taking time to read can feel akin to engaging in an illicit affair. I sneak around at night, cover my tracks and falsify receipts from Barnes and Noble. I confess to having numerous affairs over the years: John Steinbeck, Leif Enger, Wallace Stegner, as well as a few less memorable dalliances.

One relationship has been particularly hot and cold. When I first picked up Barbara Kingsolver’s “The Poisonwood Bible,” I must not have been in the mood and put it down after 30 pages. Two years later, I flirted with her again and found her deeply alluring. As I turned the pages, I laughed and cried, thoroughly lost in her world. Her memoir “Animal, Vegetable, Mineral” was also compelling, though by that time our relationship had matured a bit, and I found parts of her world a touch less attractive. I’ve not yet read “Flight Behavior,” but am not getting great reviews from friends who have.

Like any intense relationship, a few snapshots remain fixed in my memory. I’ll never forget her ruminations over the loss of a baby to tragedy:

“Don't try to make life a mathematics problem with yourself in the center and everything coming out equal. When you are good, bad things can still happen. And if you are bad, you can still be lucky.”

Her insight into incident is superseded only by her understanding of life’s longer arc. Again, in Poisonwood Bible she writes,

“Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I've only found sorrow.”

Even though I love Barbara Kingsolver, I can’t imagine living with her over the long haul. Therefore, I’ve chosen just one picture of her to keep in my office. I lay it inconspicuously by my computer so others won’t notice, but it captures just the right balance of gravity, simplicity and insight:

“Here’s what I’ve decided: the very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. What I want is so simple I almost can’t say it: elementary kindness. Enough to eat, enough to go around. The possibility that kids might one day grow up to be neither the destroyers nor the destroyed. That’s about it. Right now I’m living in that hope, running down its hallways and touching the walls on both sides. I can’t tell you how good it feels.”

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Love and Beginning Anew

The number one emailed article in the New York Times this week is “That Loving Feeling Takes a Lot of Work.” It outlines familiar statistics around marriage failure and makes a few (very) modest proposals about how to care for our marriages: talk more, touch more, play more. The article’s popularity in light of its relative vacuity highlights how delicate most marriages feel and how desperately we long for their health.

Last week, I stood before a lovely couple who had walked the path of a first marriage and had summoned the love and courage to try again. To make a marriage last a lifetime may take talking, touching, and playing, but I’m convinced it takes even more. Here’s what I shared with all who gathered:

"On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him." (John 2:1-11)

One of the great joys of our lives is the privilege of joining in the festivities that surround a wedding. The Bible tells us it’s not only a part of our lives; it’s a part of our faith. In the gospel story we just read, we’re reminded that Jesus himself enjoyed a wedding party, enjoyed it so much that he decided to keep the party going by providing a little more wine for those who gathered, 180 gallons more to be exact. Dean and Lucy, we’re expecting the same at the reception, so you may want to start selling a few more houses.

As an ordained person I get called upon to take part in quite a few weddings, and I confess that it’s not always as easy for me to enjoy them as much as I have this one. Maybe it’s because in so many weddings I get the feeling that the wedding service is not taken as seriously as the reception. Or, it might be because the minister can sometimes feel rented much in the same manner as the tuxedos. But I think the real reason is that often there so much attention lavished on the wedding and so little on the marriage. The thoughtfulness with which you have approached this commitment is impressive, the care you have lavished on the quality of your relationship is heartening, and we believe it promises great things for you in the years to come.

As you approach this journey let me offer just a couple of thoughts that emerge from the passage we read a moment ago. First, Jesus comes when and where he is invited. If you read this passage closely enough, you’ll notice that the gospel writer differentiates between the guests. Jesus’ mother was there, though it doesn’t say whether she was invited. Other guests – neighbors, extended family, long term friends, all gathered for the wedding feast, but the writer says Jesus attended upon specific invitation, and his presence made the party infinitely better. It’s a good reminder to the two of you, so capable, so able, so can do, that you can probably pull off most any event, meet any challenge, rise to most any occasion but when Jesus gets invited the journey becomes memorable, almost magical.

Unforeseen problems are resolved, scarcity is remedied, and your capacity is multiplied. It’s a good reminder for the two of you amidst the many transitions and challenges and opportunities that will be yours over the next months and years. In the press of it all, be sure to remember your most important invitee. Invite him come not just to your wedding party, but to stay for the journey which will surely be stronger if he is the binding cord.

The second observation is to consider making Mary’s charge to the servants his charge to you. In a moment of conflict, potential public embarrassment and stress, she tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” They did, and not only did the issue get resolved, scarcity turned to abundance, stress turned to joy, and conflict was transformed into a defining moment in their lives. Let Mary’s charge to the servants be for you as well. Do whatever he tells you and watch scarcity turn into abundance, conflict into and joy.

Now a final observation. There were six vessels impacted by the miracle Jesus performed that day. Seeing the six of you: Ashley, Katherine, Libba, Alex, Bobby and John makes me realize that you have the same potential. Each of you children can, without being disloyal to the other parent or his memory, celebrate and participate in the blessings that will come with this new marriage. And in fact, the real miracle at Cana was not just all the wine; it was Jesus' capacity to turn the ordinary into extraordinary.

That’s what we really long for today. You two have stood in a place this before. You’re not naïve about marriage. Sometimes marriage is like the wine at the wedding and simply runs out.

But when that happened, Jesus, with regret at first, then resolution, seized the opportunity. And when he was done the steward of the spirits marveled in delight with the couple, saying. “You’ve saved the best until now.”

I am so privileged today to be the “steward of spirits” at your wedding, and I say, so may it be with you. The best … now. Amen.

Footnote: Thanks to my dear friend Walter Jones and his thoughts in his lovely book “Light Shining Through” for many of these thoughts.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Freedom and Respect

From the sermon series: Intimacy, Love and Marriage: Making Love Last a Lifetime
January13, 2013
Covenant Presbyterian Church
Romans 14:1-9

A rabbi and a Catholic priest were sitting next to each other at a public dinner when the waiter rather thoughtlessly served the rabbi a piece of ham. The rabbi didn't protest, deciding simply to eat around it and enjoy the other items on his plate. The Catholic priest leaned over and said, "Rabbi Cohen, we both know that the dietary laws in the Hebrew Scriptures were developed when pork was dangerous. There wasn't any refrigeration; they used low heat when cooking. Trichinosis was rampant. So, your ancestors were right to prohibit eating pork. But those days are gone; pork is safe and there is no reason to cling to outmoded ancient practices. When will you eat your first mouthful of ham?"

Rabbi Cohen responded quietly, "At your wedding, Father Maguire, at your wedding.”

Our scripture passage today offers a glimpse at specific faith practices in the early Christian church. You may be shocked to learn this, but way back in the early church apparently not everyone was of one mind. Some ate meat; others did not. Some honored the Sabbath; others did not. Some wore jeans to church; others preferred coats and ties. Some thought they should provide for the world’s poorest wherever they lived; others believed charity began at home. Some were quite convinced that church should be convenient, open, accessible; others knew God assigned 9:30 for Sunday School and 11:00 for worship. Some even dared to believe in a broadly inclusive church, that God welcomed all people, regardless; others thought it best that folks shape up a bit before coming in, modify this behavior, renounce that sin.

As you might expect, they were conflicted about it, fighting, arguing, doing all those things that drive the saner among us to the golf course on Sunday morning, and after laying out thirteen chapters of sophisticated theology, Paul addresses this community conflict by offering three specific principles. This morning as we continue our series on relationships, how to make them last a lifetime, and as we ordain and install elders, I'd like to explore them carefully.

The first principle for remaining in relationship with those who think and act differently from us is to remember that whatever that person is doing, they’re doing it, "in honor of the Lord" (14:6).

Even though their practice may seem silly or outdated, no pork, no sex, no work on the Sabbath, or, even when it’s more serious, like excluding women from leadership in the church or people of certain sexual orientations from ordination, Paul says when someone offends, the best response is to get out of our own skin, drop our default perspective, and realize they’re doing what they think is right. They're seeking to honor God with their lives.

It’s good advice for families, parents, friends and elders to be ordained today, to remember that even the most foolhardy, wrong-headed person you meet may actually be seeking to honor God as best he or she knows how.

Some times that's harder to believe than at others. I know not all of you keep up with goings on in the Presbyterian denomination, but you may have read recently that some in the Presbyterian family are disaffected by our recent decision around ordination standards. After years of trying, the denomination has finally granted congregations and presbyteries a careful way to ordain practicing homosexuals. Along the way there have been ugly trials in which people's sex lives were discussed, accusations made and a lot of mean-spiritedness. But now the PCUSA has finally made a way to honor the specific convictions of local congregations and Presbyteries, allowing each to choose whom to ordain and by what standards. Many, and I am among them, think it a long awaited great step for our denomination. Others are crestfallen.

And now, some congregations, some ministers and elders, are leaving instead of assuming the best and saying, "Maybe those who think and act differently from us are also trying to honor God and maybe, just maybe, we can learn something from them.” Instead of that, some are saying, “We can’t be members of this family anymore. We’re leaving and taking our stuff with us.” I think it breaks God's heart.

Before we get sanctimonious toward our departing friends in faith, let us also remember Paul’s teaching is not only for them; it’s for us, too, and it is for us to be able to say, “We’re disappointed in your decision. We’ll miss you. But as you go, we will remember that you’re trying to honor God as well.” It's an essential framework for unity and reconciled relationships.

The second reason Paul gives for bearing with one another is related to the first. He says not only are all trying to honor Christ but Christ is, in fact, the Lord of all people, all the time. Paul has an extraordinarily expansive view of God's reign. He says that in Christ death has been defeated, that anyone in Christ is a new creation, all things are new through him, and therefore Christ alone is judge of all. It must have been terribly difficult to hold this expansive view of God while watching his loved ones engage in such petty judgments … Should we eat this kind of meat? Worship only on Sunday, sing this song, wear that robe, play that instrument? Can you imagine Paul’s cognitive dissonance? To hear his beloved congregation majoring in the minors had to drive him crazy. So Paul says,

"If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living." (14:8-9)

It’s a powerful claim. No matter what we do, what we think, what we practice, even whether we're alive or dead, what's most true about every one of us is that we belong to God. What’s most important about us is that God claims us as God’s very own. When we disagree – even over important matters – we can at least agree on this: whether we live or whether we die, we belong to God.

This becomes clearest when standing over the grave of a loved one. Years ago, I was asked to do a funeral for a church member's adult son named Bill. Bill was in his fifties and had lived a colorful life. He had endured numerous prison sentences, been kicked out of more rehab programs than anyone could number, proliferated a few children with whom he had no contact and was still facing a number of assault charges when he died.

We gathered at the funeral home where members of his extended family and their compassionate friends streamed in. One guest sidled up to me just before the service and said, "I can't wait to hear what you're going to say about this character." We laughed at the challenge – and it was a challenge – but Bill made me consider exactly what I thought about God’s reign. When I stood to speak, I said, "Bill was exactly the kind of person Jesus hung out with. James and John were called Sons of Thunder and would have been in a motorcycle gang like Bill was. Simon was a right-wing nationalist zealot. Peter was a coward. Judas was a traitor, and Bill would have fit right in. He possessed all the qualities necessary to be in Jesus' inner circle.”

The apostle Paul understood that. He knew Jesus' primary purpose was to bring life to all, to break down the dividing wall between the most fundamental differences: Jew/Greek, slave/free, dead/living! One theologian writes, “To acknowledge Jesus as Lord implies a critique of all other powers, even the power of our most precious values and considered judgments.”

Whether we live well or die poorly, we belong to God. Remembering that allows us to stay in relationship with one another even in the most difficult times.

The third and final reason Paul offers for bearing with those who differ from us is that if there's any judging to be done, God will do it. And, one judge is enough. Some may be disappointed to hear this, but when it comes to judging the world, God doesn't need our help. Judgment is quite the popular trend these days. It’s the whole basis of the so-called reality shows, rendering judgment and evaluation on others. The tribe speaks, the panel evaluates, the bachelor chooses, and people are pitted against one another in a series of ruthless evaluations. One night not long ago I settled in to watch the brutal judgments rendered by the panelists on American Idol. Simon Cowell, always the sharpest, just crushed a contestant saying she sounded like Dolly Parton on helium.

It’s not just secular society; evangelical scholar J.I. Packer knew the dangers of his community’s propensity to judge and wrote, “Confidence that one’s impressions are God-given is no guarantee that this is really so, even when they persist and grow stronger through prayer.”

The apostle Paul reminds us God alone is judge, and taking that to heart releases us from our incessant need to evaluate, measure and categorize those who live differently. God’s role as judge releases us from the consuming energies of evaluation, deciding who’s in and who’s out, what’s right and what’s wrong – we get released from all that and freed up to love.

Occasionally we get a glimpse of the freedom of that way of life, the freedom of letting go. Instead of playing God with our judgments, we turn instead toward focusing our energies on God's redemptive work.

Many stories have been told about Mother Teresa, but one of my very favorites is about the time she spoke to the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C. The host introduced her as “the greatest woman in the world.” She bristled at all human attempts to judge her life, even positive judgments, and dismissed the introduction saying if she were the greatest woman in the world, God would have made her tall enough to see over the lectern behind which she was standing. But she went on to say, “I am nothing close to being the greatest woman in the world, but I will tell you the greatest thing about my life. I have been able to be a tiny pencil in the hand of God, someone through whom God writes love letters to the world.”

What a glad thought … that you and I might be the means by which God’s love is lived out in this broken and often, divided, conflicted, hateful and hard-edged world. … that we might be released from the binding matrix of right and wrong, good and bad, the paralysis of analysis regarding who's in who’s out and instead become pencils in God's hands through whom God writes love letters to the world.

It is my hope and earnest prayer for all of us, in our families, our work, our relationships, our new elders who will serve God in this place – that we transcend the consuming work of judgment and be freed to live as agents of God’s love and grace.

Few said it better than St. Francis, who himself had to be set free from the matrix of judgment. He wrote a prayer I'd like to use to close today’s sermon and I invite you to join me:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

Friday, January 11, 2013

Weekend Update


I've enjoyed developing a bit of a relationship with Jimmy Bartz, pastor of THADS Episcopal church in West Los Angeles. He and members of his congregation will be joining us in our mission to Kenya this summer, and I'm excited to get to know them better. Jimmy's theology is practical, earthy and fresh. When I visited his church some time back, he offered a nugget of wisdom, a modern day proverb, that has turned into something of a motto for our family. When speaking of Paul's theology of relationships, he said, "Don't let difference turn into division."

Don't let difference turn into division. Sounds simple enough doesn't it? Subjugate the dividing force of difference to the unifying force of life and love. How hard could that be? Yet most of us live with the burden of broken relationships, divided lives, and fractured families. We're well-acquainted with difference turning into division.

This week we'll continue our sermon series: "Intimacy, Love, and Friendship: Making Love Last a Lifetime" by looking at a passage from Romans in which Paul offers very practical advice to those struggling to stay in relationship. It won't quite be the old style "three points and a poem" sermon, but it will be very practical.

We'll also ordain elders at 9:30 and 11:00 and have some great music.

Join us, and bring a friend.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

The Gospel of Pragmatism

I’ve long thought it was easy to fight, especially in church. Little is easier than starting a fight. A strategically placed word, a substitute motion, a perfectly timed sigh, in a very real sense the easiest thing we can do is start a fight. That’s why we probably do it so often, not because we’re good at it, but because it’s easy to do. We’re trained in it from the playground to the boardroom, and when we stop fighting, we not only lose, we can become uncertain of who we are. One of the most chilling docudramas I ever saw was about the men of the IRA who were terrified of the Irish peace process because not only would it put them out of work, but, since they were defined by their work, which was blowing things up and killing people, they would lose their identity.

I think the Apostle Paul understood this human propensity toward conflict, which is why so much of his writing is practical. No abstract theologian, the Apostle Paul, but extremely circumstantial and practical. To the Galatians he wrote, “For freedom Christ has set you free, only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence. Instead, serve one another.” To the Romans, conflicted over the intersection of traditions, he wrote, “Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions. Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat; for God has welcomed them….Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God.” The gospel of pragmatism.

Over the last four years our staff has made a serious effort to learn to work together, to appreciate the gifts in each other and to let our common convictions draw us together instead of our disagreements pulling us apart. A team set out to describe our commitments in terms of a community covenant. I share it with joy.


CPC Staff Declarations and Covenant
(Adopted February 1, 2010)


The history of God’s relationship to God’s people is one of covenant-making.  These covenants convey the gracious nature of God toward humanity and impact our life together.  This staff covenant seeks to remind us of God’s grace and our continuing need for it, and to help us live into faithful service together for the glory of God.

Declaration:  We are participating in the ministry of Jesus Christ.
“I am the vine and you are the branches.  Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.”  John 15:5
  • we have a shared vision and unity of purpose;
  • we anticipate and seek out the gifts of each other;
  • we work beyond the limited sphere of ourselves, our job descriptions, and our church community;
  • we take wise risks and learn from excellent failures;
  • we seek to discern God’s continuing and unfolding call as we participate in Christ’s ministry

Declaration:  Our culture as a staff is Christ-centered and God-honoring.
“For we are God’s work of art, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”  Ephesians 2:10
  • we honor the unique giftedness of each person;
  • we respect differences with a commitment to cooperative resolutions;
  • we utilize repentance, forgiveness, and reconciliation as tools of God’s grace;
  • we trust one another, anticipating and encouraging the best in each other;
  • we communicate authentically and directly, giving and welcoming honest feedback (“speaking the truth in love” Eph 4:15);
  • we collaborate in interdependent ways, and remain accountable to each other.

Declaration:  We are being transformed and led by new movements of the Spirit, following Jesus Christ into death and into new life.
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.”  Romans 12:2
  • we rely on God’s grace and live in the present moment;
  • we define success as faithfulness to our discernment of God’s calling;
  • we anticipate challenges and approach these as opportunities;
  • we celebrate all God’s people and recognize God’s grace within their lives;
  • we cultivate an expectation of abundance in what is needed to do God’s work.

We recognize the need for God’s grace and the support of God’s people to make these declarations a reality within the staff of Covenant Presbyterian Church.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Twenty Children

l Iove Jane Stephens. She's smart, focused, and knows how to get things done. She founded the "Amani Children's Foundation" which does great work with abandoned children in Kenya. Stories of these children abound, but when I think of Jane I hear her singular refrain ringing in my ears, "It's about the babies."

"It's about the babies." How simple is that? In her work, she uses it to heighten the level of dialogue about what to do for Kenya's abandoned children. Historically these conversations have been mired in tribal conflicts, ethnic fears, and competing ideologies all while abandoned babies lay dying. One rescued baby I met was even abandoned in a tree, hanging in a plastic grocery bag as her cradle. Instead of obfuscating the issue by asking secondary questions "Was she Lua? Why doesn't the government do something? What kind of person abandons her baby?" Along comes Jane Stephens to remind us, "It's about the babies."

She's been remarkably successful. Her creative work with New Life Homes has now rescued hundreds of babies and facilitated their adoption across tribal lines, subjugating tribal differences to the common concern for children's welfare. Sometimes I wonder if Jane is less missionary and more prophet, a voice that cuts through the cultural noise and calls the question: Isn't this problem really about the children?

I wonder if her question isn't our nation's most urgent question. While ideologues and lobbyist, congresspersons and Presidents, dally around the edges, talking about the second amendment and crime rates, assault weapons and self-protection, I find myself saying, "Isn't it really about the children?" Isn't this really about creating a culture where the fundamental human right of children to attend school in safety is not superseded by the politically established 'right' of adults to bear arms? Isn't this about children being able to live and play freely without fear of massacre instead of living in a world that clings to the right to form militias? Isn't this about the children, none of whom should ever see a loved one shot at point blank range, attend mass funerals for schoolmates, and have their childhood traumatized by indiscriminate violence? Isn't this really about the children?

If an airliner filled with children fell out of the sky at the hands of a mentally ill pilot, we would take immediate steps to ensure future safety. We decided long ago that it was not in the interests of the community for someone to board an airplane unchecked, drive 200 miles an hour on a public highway, distribute medicine or even perform a wedding. We won't let a convicted sex-offender move into a neighborhood without public notice or come within two hundred feet of a playground, yet loopholes abound when it comes to criminals and the mentally ill possessing guns.

Christians have long understood the principle of subjugating the freedoms of some for the good of all. One of the Apostle Paul's earliest writings gives these new Christ-followers explicit instruction "For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become servants of one another.”

In this case, the freedom of some to own semi-automatic assault weapons prevailed over the rights of twenty children to grow up, celebrate birthdays, enjoy God's good gift of life and to raise children of their own. Isn't it time to focus on the children?

In the book Profiles in Courage are stories about a handful of Americans who, at critical moments in history, made decisions that departed from their parties’ ideologies and ultimately cost them dearly. Of particular surprise to me was the story of Robert Taft, the staunchly conservative Republican senator from Ohio who publicly opposed the Nuremberg Trials after World War II. “The trial of the vanquished by the victor cannot be impartial no matter how it is hedged about with the forms of justice,” Taft warned. Almost nobody agreed with him, and many think it cost him his party's nomination in the next election.

It's called courage, the courage of one's convictions, the willingness to do and say the right thing regardless of the consequences.
Isn't it time to do that for the children?