Pig Pen theology

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. --Colossians 3:12-14

Yet again, my church choir experience has become the basis for thought. Imagine that: music provoking thinking.

Sunday, we sang a lovely canticle based on these verses. As I wandered through the week leading up to the actual "performance," the words followed me around.

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved. . . ." 

But the words began to change a little bit; "As God's chosen people, wholly and dearly loved. . . ." 

I think this morphing began because holy is such a difficult word to define. It shows up all over the place in Scripture, but what does it mean? Three years of seminary did little to help me in better explaining this word.

But wholly and dearly loved-- that, I understand. And it made me think of Pig Pen. 

Look at him. He is a real dirt magnet. I remember in one of the Peanuts specials, Pig Pen actually appears cleaned up-- for about a second and a half. His hair is combed smooth, shoes are tied in bows-- and the dirt has settled. Then in the blink of an eye-- poof. The old Pig Pen returns, disheveled and dirty as always. 

Now, imagine being Pig Pen's mother. This is the child she loves, flesh of her own flesh. Yet every time she gets him all cleaned up, steps back to admire what a handsome lad he is-- back in the muck he goes. And yet-- she still loves him. She might sigh deeply and shake her head, but he is still her child. Her beautiful, dirt-magnetic child.

Do you suppose God is a bit like Pig Pen's mother? Anyone care to admit how much we have in common with Pig Pen?

It seems as if every time we get all cleaned up and fresh again, maybe after a particularly rousing worship service, a stirring devotional period or a profound theological discussion at Starbucks, we slurp the last drops from the coffee cup, drop the cup in the trash, head out the door-- and wham. It's as if we never even had the conversation. We are back behind the wheel suppressing road rage; our need to be "first" or "right" returns, full force.

Or is that just me?

And yet. Just like Pig Pen's mother, our Creator who loves us sighs, maybe shakes his head a bit-- and loves us anyway. Sometimes it may seem as if he is taking that perfectly pressed hankie out and trying to wipe that smudge from our face ("You've got a little something r-i-i-i-g-h-t there-- hold still and let me get it!"), but we squirm and wiggle and try to avoid the touch. He may try to guide us in new directions, steering us clear of that really big mud puddle-- only to watch us slip and go splat on something someone else left in our path. 

The love the Almighty has for his children is endless and extravagant. And many days, we need every single ounce of God's loving grace. I am afraid, on the tolerance scale, I don't always measure up. 

And that is exactly why I need that grace. Because despite my best efforts, I am often a dirt magnet. 

Ever-loving, ever-gracious God, thank you for not losing faith in me, even when my faith in myself seems fragile or muddied. Thank you for seeing your perfect image planted in my soul, written across my heart-- and thank you for placing in me a desire to seek after your heart. Amen

A bit like Dumbo

The fruit of that righteousness will be peace;

    its effect will be quietness and confidence forever. --Isaiah 32:17

It happened again today.

I was having "one of those days." A friend who has listened to me whine more than I care to admit asked a question and prepared to listen for as long as it might take. 

And in that space of safety and mutual respect, my junque du jour began to unravel like a cheap sweater when you pull that loose thread on the bottom.

Before I knew what was happening, I found myself sitting spiritually naked in a deep pile of colorful unravelings. And I began to breathe normally again.

Few words were said by my friend. I didn't need words or platitudes. I needed someone just to listen, without call or comment. 

I needed presence. And I was blessed to find it.

There's that old saying that goes something like, "The reason we have two ears and only one mouth is so that we can listen twice as much as we talk." While I certainly know a number of people who don't seem to understand this (and I bet you do, too), it seems to be worth aspiring to.

Big old elephant ears. One on each side of our head, so whichever shoulder a friend leans up against, there is a listening space-- right there.

It's a skill, you know, that listening thing. So often, folks find themselves caught on a word or phrase in someone's conversation-- and we stop listening, because that word has triggered something in us that we are sure is just so important it has to be said, as soon as the other person stops for breath (or sooner).

News flash: It's not that important.

Sometimes, there is absolutely nothing that must be said. Sometimes-- no matter whom we are in conversation with-- we just need to keep silent. 

The greatest gift any of us can give to another is the gift of self. Our full, undivided attention and focus. It can be hard. Our ego wants nothing more than to communicate to the other that we know just how they feel (even though we do not and cannot). 

I believe learning when to shush is a big part of what "dying to Christ" or "dying to self" is all about. 

We take a deep breath. We try to slip into their moccasins and feel what they feel, try to fathom their hurt (even as it may seem trivial to us). What a gift-- to a friend or to a stranger.

It works with people; it also works well with the Divine. Being quiet; listening for God's desires for and in our lives; setting aside the "Wish List" and "to-do" prayers and allowing the Lord to carry the conversation now and then. 

My friend was gracious in their gift of presence. Thank you so much. May I learn such graciousness, as well. Amen.

True generosity

The eyes of all wait upon thee; 

and thou givest them their meat in due season.

Thou openest thine hand, 

and satisfiest the desire of every living thing.

--Psalm 145:15-16 (King James version)

(It's all Nathan's fault. That's right. I am blaming my church choir director for this post. Take it up with him.)

Last week during choir rehearsal, we were working on a piece for worship in a couple weeks. It's a beautiful piece, and you can hear it here. 

And darn it all, it made me think. It started rolling around in my brain when Nathan pointed out that he had learned that this is the one place in Scripture where David writes about Yahweh's grand gesture of provision, giving his people meat. Solid sustenance. 

Well, sort of. 

First of all, only the King James version actually calls it "meat." Everywhere else, it's just "food." The king must have really had a thing for meat, so the translators obliged him. 

Nevertheless, whatever one calls it, the imagery here is of an amazingly generous God who provides for his children in ways they cannot imagine. And as I sat with these verses, my mind wandered back to another place in Scripture that offers similar imagery, Exodus 16. 

The Israelites have departed Egypt with Moses in the lead. They are at once nervous and excited, eager to be out from under Pharaoh's cruel command. And as they travel, they are led by the Lord and lift their eyes to watch for him, seeking him in a pillar of smoke by day and a pillar of fire by night (Exodus 13). They seek his light, his guiding presence-- and it's kind of hard to miss those. 

But as the journey grows longer and more tedious, as the reality of the wilderness sets in, they cry out to God for provision. 

And God provides. Manna and quail. Mystery and meat. 

And how do they respond? They whine and complain. 

"Meat? We are so tired of meat. In Egypt we had veggies! Veggies and slavery would be better than wilderness with nothing but meat and manna!" 

Good grief. They sound-- just like me. 

How often have I whined and complained because God's most generous provision isn't what I want? How often have I chosen to step aside from the goodness God offers, and return, instead, to those enticing, alluring things that enslave me? (Be honest. I am not alone here, am I? I didn't think so.)

We have this habit of thinking we have The Very Best Plans, and we sure would like it if God would just sanction our ideas. We can get so caught up in believing we need more that we fail to see how much we already have, how generously the Almighty has provided for us-- in ways we didn't even have to ask for!

* * * * *

For many churches, November marks the time of year when we undertake a stewardship campaign and talk about the mundane, business side of running a church. Sometimes, in thinking and talking about the financial side of church, we forget that stewardship is about so much more than money. Because we have so much more to offer in service to the Kingdom than what's in our wallets.

I believe the whole point is this: everything I have and everything I am is a generous gift from God. And everything we have and everything we are is given us, so that we, as the Body of Christ, might use who we are to bless others.

What if the Lord is now choosing to use us to provide meat/ food to those who hunger? What if we are called to shine like a pillar of light in the darkness, pointing towards the goodness and mercy of the One True God?

Stranger things have happened.

Most Generous Lord, help us to be generous, to offer with open hand all that we have and all that we are, in loving obedience and service to you. Amen

Really welcome.

Abraham said, “If I have found favor in your eyes, my lord, do not pass your servant by. Let a little water be brought, and then you may all wash your feet and rest under this tree. Let me get you something to eat, so you can be refreshed and then go on your way—now that you have come to your servant.” --Genesis 18:3-5a

This Sunday, October 20, marks the anniversary of the date our congregation joined the Reconciling Ministries Network (RMN). RMN is committed to welcoming, loving and accepting all people into our churches. No ifs, ands or buts. All are welcomed, as we believe all are welcomed into the Kingdom of God.

This made me remember a time when I was young and my family moved to a new neighborhood. And the Welcome Wagon came to-- well, to welcome us. (I wasn't even sure Welcome Wagon still exists any more, but a quick Google confirms: They are still out there.)

Not long after we moved in, a Welcome Wagon hostess showed up at our door, smiling and bearing gifts. There was a goodie basket filled with things from local merchants in our new town: a toothbrush, perhaps, emblazoned with the name and phone number of the local dentist; a doggie squeak toy from the vet down the street.

And there were coupons, of course, for discounts (or even freebies) at local merchants. All designed to help make our new house feel more like a home. And it was all gift. All we had to do was say, "Thank you!" (That was easy.)

Welcome has changed over the years, as society has changed and grown more diverse and geographically widespread. We no longer invite our guests to wash their feet, as Abraham did. We are more likely to offer a glass of ice cold lemonade on a hot summer day, than to head out to kill the fatted calf. 

Life has changed. But the principle of hospitality has not. Someone shows up for a visit, we smile and seek to make them feel at home.

One of the reasons I am so pleased to be a part of University Circle United Methodist Church is because we still understand this. 

You show up on Sunday morning, we will shake your hand and help you find your way. If there is a potluck after worship, we will make sure you don't go away hungry, even if you've brought nothing to share. 

You are invited to share in Holy Communion if you desire, no questions asked. After all, it's not our Table; it is the Table of Jesus the Christ. Who are we to turn anyone away from the Lord's Supper?

Got questions-- about our church, our family, our beliefs? We may not have answers, but we are willing to listen, to share without judging-- and we are not afraid to tell you, "I just don't know the answer."

At the heart of our Christian walk, we believe that God truly loves each and every one of us. God does not pick and choose, or suggest that some are more worthy than others. We are all God's children, made in the image of the Divine.

And because we believe we are here to be a part of ushering in the Reign of God here, on earth, in this place-- as part of that task, we are here to make you feel welcomed.

We no longer kill fatted calves for feasts. We have brought our worship indoors, but after worship, if you desire to sit under one of our beautiful trees and simply rest for a bit-- that is just fine with us. And if you choose to return along the path that brought you, to keep going on your journey, we send you with God's blessing and the knowledge that you may return to us any time and you will be welcomed afresh.

We believe this is the way of the Christ. 

So while the Welcome Wagon may be a distant memory from my childhood, each Sunday (every day, really) I have the chance yet again to offer the same grace and smiling acceptance to whomever crosses my path. And if you need a listening ear or a shoulder to lean against, you will find one in this place.

You are welcome here. (Yes, you.) May the blessings of our generous God surround you, wash over you and comfort you, today and each day.

And if you are ever near University Circle in Cleveland on a Sunday morning-- worship is at 11:00. All are welcome. No jacket required.

Friends I never met

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” --Matthew 11:28-30

This past Sunday, I had the privilege of being part of Walk Into The Light, an event held at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo to promote suicide awareness and education. Depression in our young (and not-so-young) adults is a widespread problem; yet we as a society largely behave as though we believe if we just ignore it, it will go away, all on its own. Nothing could be further from the truth. The two-ton gorilla needs to be named-- and shown the door.

There were a number of speakers, all of whom either had lost a loved one to suicide, and a child psychiatrist who shared a very interesting story of a teen who went through the harrowing treatment for a rare cancer, survived and then drifted into depression. When the disease was brought under control, the teen said that he would rather have to deal with cancer again than face the darkness and hopelessness experienced during the depression. 

The keynote speaker for the evening was John Trautwein, former Boston Red Sox player whose son took his own life at age fifteen. If you would like to read more, go here. But the evening wasn't about celebrities or sports stars. It was about families and friends and co-workers coming together and realizing: you are not alone.

I have this crazy desire-- a need, really-- to hear other people's stories. So as we were hanging around before the talks, I decided I wanted to learn more. I wanted to hear about some of these young friends I would never meet in this world, these life songs left half-sung.

There were two large teams of walker I noticed right away: Team Terry in orange shirts, and Team Jenna, in purple. 

* * * * * 
Terry was 26 when he could no longer stand the pain. It was just this past August when his best friend died (not by his own hand). It was simply more than Terry could bear.  

Five days later, even as he was making plans to be married later this month, Terry hurt so badly, and had no one who could listen and actually hear the pain in his words. His mother called it post-traumatic stress. I would call it tragic.

In an ironic moment of "coincidence," out of the hundreds of people attending the Walk, I chose to listen to the story of a young man whose birthday was the same day as mine.

His family and friends drove from over an hour away to be part of this event, in the hope that other families might be spared the pain and anguish and unanswerable questions they are now facing.

And next year, Terry's mother says she will plan and host a Walk in their own-- in Terry's community.

If such good can come from such tragedy, perhaps the life was not lost in vain.

* * * * *
Team Jenna had over seventy members: family, friends from school, children Jenna had babysat. Their purple t-shirts bore a pair of angel wings and the words, "Let's talk, Jenna." 

According to her aunt, Jenna was a "baby magnet." Children just loved to be around her. And Jenna was so good with kids! They would play board games and read stories and play at the park-- moms loved to have Jenna come help out.

Jenna was bright and attractive, with an easy smile and gentle laugh. She made good grades, was about to get her driver's license.

Jenna was sixteen last July when she could bear it no more. 

And only Jenna truly knows what put her over the edge.

But as her aunt said, they cannot live that question, worrying and wondering about the "why." But they can try to ensure that not one more parent or sibling or friend or classmate has to experience the pain and loss they have experienced.

* * * * *
So much pain, going unnoticed. Such deep wounds, seen only by the wounded one. The God who has numbered the very hairs on our heads loves us-- so much-- but sometimes the busy-ness of the world and the many demands we perceive on our time and our lives become too much to bear.

We cannot bear one another's burdens if we do not stop long enough to even notice the heaving sigh, the shackled heart, the shoulders weighed down by anxiety and fear.

We sang last night, too. And so now, I offer the song to you. And yes, I mean it. You've got a friend. 

You are never alone. Never. 

Victory!

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. --Hebrews 12:1-2a

(Oh, dear. It's been nearly a month since I posted anything. I am wondering if I even remember how to write. It's been that kind of season.)

I grew up in Denver, during the years when the Broncos were definitely not the team they are today. The team rallying cry? "Wait till next year!" And we waited and waited and waited. It took a while, but the patience and perseverance paid off.

Now, I live near Cleveland, Ohio. It takes a strong stomach and Teflon spirit, sometimes, to be a sports fan in this town. Browns, Indians and Cavaliers. All really fun to watch-- and all of them, expert heart-breakers.

Ours are the teams jokes and movies are made of.  Major League? Yep. That "Wild Thing" character was a Cleveland Indians closer. For ten years, I worked for the Indians. I saw a lot of baseball, and some of it was really good. And then there was the rest. 

Through it all, hope springs eternal. We seek out other diehard fans, we listen for the heart that believes, the one that whispers, "They look pretty good this year . . ." as the words trail off in hope-filled silence and a sigh. We so want to believe. We so want to press on, cheer valiantly for the whole season-- but sometimes it's really hard. Sometimes-- well, you know. 

This last weekend was a sweet one for Cleveland sports fans. 

The Cleveland Browns managed a solid victory over the Cincinnati Bengals, in the Battle for Ohio. Not just a victory-- a Cincy victory! Football fans were really dancin' the happy dance.

But my heart was with the Indians. One hundred sixty-two games. A long, long season. And they finished by winning ten in a row to get their first shot at post-season play since 2007. 

That's perseverance. That is what it looks like and feels like to press on. It's a marathon, and there have been potholes and stumbling blocks-- but through it all, the Tribe pressed on, through injuries, near-misses and more. 

At any time, the team could have given up. Instead, they leaned on one another. One pitcher might have a rough start, but the first baseman would swing a hot bat and carry the team to victory. Strong carried weak, because all were seeking the same prize. And even as we don't yet know whether we can make it all the way to the World Series, we can rest in the knowledge that we have run the race, played well and played strong.

And that is all that the Almighty expects of any of us.

I am not a sports star. I cannot run with any speed or much grace, and have joked that if you see me running, whatever is chasing me must be pretty big, hairy and drooling. I am just not a runner. That's not who I am.

But I can write. And I can encourage you as you run your race. Together, we can accomplish much, just being who we were created to be. 

The apostle Paul writes about the Body of Christ being made of many parts (1 Corinthians 12). He reminds us that an eye cannot be an ear; nor can a hand be a stomach. Each part does what the Designer created it to do, and in that way, God is glorified.

Look, it can be tempting to think, "Oh, no one really cares if I ___________ or not." But the thing is, if your "piece of the puzzle" is missing, the picture is incomplete. The landscape just isn't the same. 

The race of life, however long, is run one step at a time. If you're struggling today, allow others to come alongside and carry you for a time. If you are running strong and sense another is stumbling, offer a hand.

We are all in this together. Thank God.

Gracious God, even you longed for companionship in the Garden. Help us to remember, always, that we are never alone. Guide us to the spaces and places you would have us be-- together. Amen

P. S. Go Tribe!!!!

Being yourself

[The Lord] took [Abram] outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars—if indeed you can count them.” 

Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.”

Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness. --Genesis 15:5-6

Sometimes we, as Christ-followers, can have a tendency to slough off the Old Testament as somehow less important than the New Testament. But that act denies the very heritage of Jesus, who was himself born into the Jewish culture. 

So be very careful about doing that. Instead, try taking a closer look and seeing what's there.

In this short pair of verses, I see two things:

First, Abram believed God. It does not say he believed in God (although he did; in those times, God truly dwelt among his people). It does not say Abram followed a certain doctrine or belief system.

No. It says that in this instance, when God lovingly invited Abram to lift his eyes and try-- just try to count the stars and imagine having even greater numbers of offspring than these, Abram remembered times in the past when God had been faithful and kept his promises, and he believed that the Lord would again be faithful. Based on his past experience, Abram knew.

That was his part of the bargain: believing the Lord.

* * * * *

Then comes that church word: righteousness. Ugh. Church-speak can be challenging to pin down and define, even for those of us raised in the church.

Believe me, I try. But there are two church words that I somehow know what they mean, but please don't ask me to explain them. Holy is one; righteous is the other.

So I looked up the one we are talking about here, righteousness. And the Urban Dictionary (www.urbandictionary.com) gave me a definition that suddenly made sense.

Righteous. Anything that is amazing, awesome or cool.

In other words, in this encounter with God, Abram believed God-- and the Lord saw this as an awesome development.

Abram, created as a Child of the Most High, trusts fully in the One who created him. Believes his promises are true, because in the past the Most High has been true and faithful.

Awesome. Amazing. Exceptionally cool.

Go forth, today and every day, and believe God's promise for your life. 

And God will smile and declare you righteous. And awesome.

Awesome Creator, help us to see ourselves through your eyes, to remember your faithfulness in the past and know you will be faithful again. Amen