Disturbed by Faith

"A mortal, born of woman, few of days and full of trouble, comes up like a flower and withers, flees like a shadow and does not last. Do you fix your eyes on such a one? Do you bring me into judgment with you? Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? No one can. Since their days are determined, and the number of their months is known to you, and you have appointed the bounds that they cannot pass, look away from them, and desist, that they may enjoy, like laborers, their days.  Job 14: 1-6

If Job lived in our day, perhaps he would be diagnosed with clinical depression. Job thinks life would be better if God simply let him alone. I wonder how common such feelings are for people of faith. I know that some people fear such feelings and view them as a threat to faith. Job's friends who seek to "comfort" him would seem to fall in this camp. But God has nothing but criticism for these friends when God finally makes an appearance toward the end of the book.

It is surprising how many people have a Joel Osteen sort of outlook on faith. They see faith as one more consumer item to make their lives better. "God just wants you to be happy," say the Osteens, but Job would not seem to agree. Neither does Jesus, and he isn't suffering from depression.

I think one reason that faith can sometimes feel more disturbing than comforting is that it seeks to reshape us in ways that are ill suited for the world in which we live. God's ways, the ways of the kingdom, the ways Jesus teaches his disciples, are perfectly suited to a very different world. It is a place where love reigns, where forgiveness is freely offered, where revenge is never sought, where the strong and powerful act as servants, where the last are first, where divisions of race and class and nation and clan disappear. This, of course, is very different from the world where we live. All too often, it is also very different for the communities we call congregations.

However, people who go far enough in this faith walk, who are truly reshaped and transformed by it, become something remarkable. They become more and more Christ-like, more and more in tune with God's ways, and yet still able to live comfortably, even joyfully, in this world of ours. I'm not there myself, but I have witnessed it in others. I've seen people who's egos have receded, who live lives that are centered on God and display God's love, and yet they are able to love and embrace this broken world of ours without getting frustrated or angry at its un-Christ-like shape.

I wonder if such folk understand salvation in a way that I have only begun to grasp, an experience of God's love and grace so deep and full that they can love and embrace others without needing to fix or correct them first. A love that can simply love, and wait, and hope.

Click to learn more about the lectionary.

God's Call and Protection from "This Generation"

“Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan,
   I will now rise up,” says the LORD;
  “I will place them in the safety for which they long...” 

You, O LORD, will protect us;    
  you will guard us from this generation forever. Psalm 12:5, 7

As I meditated on this morning's psalm, Psalm 12, I found myself reflecting on a bit of verse 5 (see above.) I'm sure I've blogged on that verse before, on God's special consideration for the poor and needy, on their groaning being what finally moves God to act. And for the life of me, I could not understand why I would be drawn to this verse. Perhaps it was simply that I already agree with it that made it compelling to me. But if God is speaking to me through Scripture, surely it is to do more than simply confirm what I already know to be God's deep care for the poor.

Then I read the psalm a final time, and this time I was drawn to a completely different place, to a pair of words I had not even noticed before: "this generation." The psalmist speaks of God's protection from "this generation," and I found myself wondering just who "this  generation" was.

Likely candidates would be rulers or Israel who are blasted by the prophets for neglecting the needs of the poor, or perhaps the wealthy attacked by those same prophets for living lives of luxury and acquiring more and more wealth while the poor languished. But what does any of this have to do with me?

One expectation of a "spiritual reading" of Scripture is that God speaks through such reading, seeking to draw our attention and move us to act. So why would God direct me to "this generation?" What was God saying to me and what would God have me do?

This generation... In our generation, inequality in America is growing. The reasons for this are complex, but still there are many in "this generation" who work tirelessly to maintain every advantage that they can, and who seem to care little about whether or not the poor are despoiled or the needy groan. These people have great influence with political leaders and can bankroll political campaigns as never before. And if God stirs against "this generation" because of the plight of the poor, should not the Church as well?

Certainly my faith has shaped my politics, and I've usually been quite open about those politics and how they connect with my faith. But I have tended to shy away from any sort of political activism. Some of this comes from a realization that people of faith can be deep and sincere in that faith but come to different political stances. But some of it comes from a personal timidity about such things. I want people to like me, and so I don't - at least not intentionally - do things I know will infuriate some.

And now I find myself serving a church in the shadows of the nation's capital, a short Metro ride from that capital. Here I am, a pastor not much inclined to be politically activist in a congregation which itself has little history of such activism. And God sets words about "this generation"  and the plight of the needy squarely before me -me, one who is called to lead the body of Christ. Dare I ignore it?

Click to learn more about the lectionary.

Sermon video: Sowing Love - A Life of Justice and Compassion: The Social Justice Tradition

Audios of sermon and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Sowing Love - A Life of Justice and Compassion: The Social Justice Tradition

Matthew 25:31-46 (Isaiah 58:1-11)

Sowing Love

A Life of Justice and Compassion: The Social Justice Tradition

James Sledge                                                                                       August 31, 2014

One of my favorite seminary professors had a saying that I use a great deal. He said that the Jesus and the entire Christian enterprise is about creating  “true communion with God in true community with others.” It was his way of linking love of God with love of neighbor, and it aptly depicts the cross-shaped life of faith that reaches up to God but also out to others.

Human beings most always neglect one of these dimensions. For the religious sort, it is often the horizontal that suffers most. Think of the language Christians sometimes use to describe faith. “I go to church every Sunday, and I read my Bible and pray  daily.” You and me, God; you and me.

A similar problem can inflict people who are less church centered but still interested in spirituality. Spirituality can become a one dimensional pursuit of intimacy with God. You and me, God; you and me. That’s a distortion of true Christian spirituality. One of my favorite writers and spiritual teachers, Father Richard Rohr, operates a center that seeks to train people in the Christian mystical tradition so that they may serve compassionately. To me, this epitomizes a true, holistic and integrated spirituality.

In similar fashion, the unknown prophet sometimes labeled “Third Isaiah” struggles to help the people of Israel integrate both the divine and neighbor dimensions of the spiritual life. The people addressed by the prophet have done all the religious rituals correctly. They’ve attended worship; they’ve said the right prayers; they kept the appointed festivals and fasts. But none of this has transformed their relations with the other, the neighbor, and so the prophet describes another religious ritual or fast, one that undoes injustice, feeds the hungry, houses the homeless, and clothes the naked. No doubt Jesus knew these verses well. Perhaps he even has them in mind when he speaks of a final judgment based on the sort of religious rituals found in our Isaiah passage.

Apathy and Anger toward God

"O you who answer prayer!" This line from the morning psalm (Psalm 65) describes God as such. I suspect that many people of faith have times when they are not so sure. It is not that unusual for me to experience times when God seems absent, and the only answer to prayer is silence.

I'm not always sure who to blame when this happens. For a "religious professional," I can be remarkably bad at this prayer thing. Sometimes I fear that I keep my expectations of God quite low so that I am not disappointed. I don't really expect much of an answer from God. An inkling, a hint, or a nudge will do. I'm not really looking for much beyond that.

Curiously, today's Old Testament reading from Job features prayer to God, but it is not a pretty picture, and Job has nothing nice to say about or to God.

Therefore I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul... When I say, 'My bed will comfort me, my couch will ease my complaint,' then you scare me with dreams and terrify me with visions, so that I would choose strangling and death rather than this body. I loathe my life; I would not live forever. Let me alone, for my days are a breath... Will you not look away from me for a while, let me alone until I swallow my spittle? If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of humanity? Why have you made me your target? Why have I become a burden to you? Why do you not pardon my transgression and take away my iniquity? For now I shall lie in the earth; you will seek me, but I shall not be."

(If all you know about Job is his reputation for patience, you ought to read the book sometime. His patience evaporates after a two chapter, prose introduction. The next forty chapters sound more like the passage above.)

Job has had it with God, and I wonder if I, and perhaps others, don't need to be more like Job from time to time. Not that yelling and shaking one's fist is an optimum communication or relationship practice. But any deep relationship is bound to have frustrating moments that provoke anger and even rage. If I never lose my temper with God, it seems likely it's because I've never really allowed myself to become vulnerable and unguarded before God, never allowed myself to be hurt if God didn't act as I thought God would.

If I never get angry and rage at God as Job did, perhaps it is because I really don't believe that God answers prayers. And thus my God may be so vague and nondescript so as never to give offense.

I think I'll end here. I need to have a chat with God that I'm not sure I want to be public.

(This post refers to the lectionary readings from yesterday, August 27.)

Click to learn more about the lectionary.

Godly Attributes and Utilitarian Religion

Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
     whose hope is in the LORD their God,
 who made heaven and earth,
     the sea, and all that is in them; 
who keeps faith forever;
     who executes justice for the oppressed;
     who gives food to the hungry.     Psalm 146:5-7

One of the classic problems of religion is its tendency to become utilitarian. Faith easily becomes about getting God on the side of me and mine. God becomes a resource to be employed and even exploited for my good. "God bless America" does not necessarily fall into this trap, but it does whenever the petition contains an unspoken "and not them."

Utilitarian religion invariably imagines that God is more like us and less like them. This, of course, is the beginning of creating God in our own image. Religious people on both the left and the right presume themselves to be in the right, and so it only stands to reason that they are more like God than those who disagree with them. But this presumption that we are in the right is seldom a judgment dispassionately arrived at by considering the attributes and will of God. Often our "rightness" is relatively unexamined and based in little other than the fact that it is our position.

Christian faith, along with many other faiths, speaks of being made new and transformed. For Christians, this is a matter of becoming more Christ-like, which we understand as the ultimate human embodiment of godliness or being like God. Yet most of us Christians fall so short of being Christ-like that our critiques of other Christians who are not as in the right as we are border on being a farce.

Today's morning psalm touches on a few attributes of God "who executes justice for the oppressed." As the psalm continues we hear more about what God is like and cares about.

The LORD sets the prisoners free;
     the LORD opens the eyes of the blind.
 The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down;
     the LORD loves the righteous.
 The LORD watches over the strangers;
     he upholds the orphan and the widow,
     but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

I've seen a few articles this week critiquing the Church for its failure to really address some of the great societal problems in our culture. Of late, the problem of racism comes easily to mind. These critiques were aimed more at the progressive sorts of congregations where I am most at home, and that might seem more likely to engage issues such as racism. Yet somehow much of our energy ends up going elsewhere. There are so many places where we do not much resemble the body of Christ, yet so much of what we do and how we do it remains unexamined and simply assumed to be right and correct.

The Apostle Paul writes, "If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation." Lord, make it so. Reshape us in your image. Trying to cast you in ours is not working out so well.

Click to learn more about the lectionary.

Sermon video: Giving Up Control; Letting the Spirit Lead: Empowerment through the Spirit

Audios of sermons and worship can be found on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Giving Up Control; Letting the Spirit Lead - Empowerment through the Spirit: The Charismatic Tradition

John 14.15-17, 25-26, 15.26-27, 16.7-15

Giving Up Control; Letting the Spirit Lead

Empowerment through the Spirit: The Charismatic Tradition

James Sledge                                                                                       August 24, 2014

The Christian faith has its share of pithy sayings and proverbs that people can pull out in particular situations. They are a mixed bag. Some are helpful, and some are not. Some do a reasonably good job of capturing some facet of the Christian faith and life. Some distort it terribly. Some of these take on quasi-biblical status.  Many people think the saying “God helps those who help themselves,” is in the Bible. It’s not, of course. It is in Poor Richard’s Almanac by Benjamin Franklin, but the saying itself predates him. And it’s contradicted by many biblical teachings.

One of my least favorite of such sayings is one you’ve surely heard. “God never gives you any more than you can handle.” I suppose that some find this helpful, but I also know that it can inflict a great deal of pain to people who are already suffering, telling them that the experience that is leaving them broken and shattered is no more than they can handle. I wonder what Jesus on the cross would have said to someone who “comforted” him with this after he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Another of these little sayings gets trotted out when church people are in recruiting mode. When someone is asked to coordinate Vacation Bible School, teach a class, or take some leadership role but responds, “Oh I don’t think I have the gifts or abilities for that,” the recruiter may come back with, “God doesn’t call the equipped; God equips the called.”

If you’re not familiar with that one, you may want to write it down. “God doesn’t call the equipped; God equips the called.” It can come in quite handy when someone is on the fence, interested in helping but not certain she has what it takes. And while it can certainly be misused, unlike the previously mentioned sayings, this one is not only true but also biblical.

Our gospel reading this morning says as much. The Advocate, the Spirit will come and abide in Jesus’ followers. The Spirit will “teach  you everything,” says Jesus. “(The Spirit) will guide you into all truth.” As wonderful as it must have been to have been taught directly by Jesus, he says that it is to his followers’ advantage that he leaves them. They will be better off with God’s presence dwelling within them via the Spirit than they were having Jesus with them. And if Jesus is to be believed, those first disciples have no advantage at all over us. We can know all they knew, experience all they experienced, through the Spirit.

It’s only hinted at in our scripture this morning, but other places in the New Testament make clear that the Spirit empowers Jesus’ followers to do all sorts of things they could never have done on their own. Writing to the church in Corinth, the Apostle Paul says, “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” Everyone is given some spiritual gift that is an essential part of the body of Christ. And these are totally distinct from natural talents or abilities. They are, if you will, supernatural abilities.

I’m guessing that this term makes some people a bit nervous. Supernatural is not a word you hear bandied about very often in Presbyterian churches. For a variety of reasons, the Spirit has been the neglected member of the Trinity in Mainline churches over the years. We talk about God and Jesus, but we’re not quite sure what to do with the Spirit. Recent years have seen a big uptick in talk and interest in spirituality and so the Spirit. But even here, it is sometimes relegated to a very private, personal sphere, about my spirituality but not so much about the body of Christ and the work and ministry of the Church.

I recall a conversation I once had with a church leader about my wanting the Session, our Presbyterian governing council, to become a become a more spiritual body, one that spent less time discussing and debating what to do and spent more time seeking God’s will and guidance, discovering what God was calling us to do and so would bless and empower us to do. The person I was talking to looked very befuddled as I said this. She simply could not conceive of any way that church leaders could make a decision other than discuss it and do our very best to figure out what the right decision was. “God gave us minds and our reasoning ability,” she said. “We’re supposed to use those.”

I can certainly agree with that, but I can’t agree that there’s not more. God did not simply give us minds and some information in the Bible for us to do our best with. Jesus promises the Spirit, a presence who will be with us, teach us, guide us, and empower us.

Ferguson, Repentance, and Noble Lost Causes

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD.
    Lord, hear my voice! 
Let your ears be attentive
    to the voice of my supplications!   Psalm 130:1-2

There are a lot of depths out there right now. From the terrorist force ISIS to the situation in Ukraine to the Ebola epidemic to the situation in Ferguson, there is much in the world to shake your head about and wonder what to do. Of course when it comes to doing, we Americans are enamored with the quick fix, and we imagine we can fix things with a different plan, a new leader, a new formula, or a few air strikes.

When problems are far too complex for quick fixes, we tend to declare them intractable or deny them altogether. And so the situation in the Middle East is one where "They've been fighting for centuries and they'll be fighting centuries from now." But in Ferguson, MO it's simply a matter of a few "thugs and hooligans" because racism is no longer that big of a problem.

In his remarkably short, second inaugural address, Abraham Lincoln reflected on a war in which both sides read the same Bible and prayed to the same God for aid in defeating the other. And he wondered if the Civil War was not God's punishment on both North and South for the horrible sin of slavery.

Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."

Lincoln understood that the grievous sin of slavery had brought terrible and lasting consequences, ones for which quick fixes provided no real remedy. Firmly in that context did he conclude his address with a line often quoted, but not always connected to the quote above, which it immediately follows.

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

 I have to believe that Lincoln's assassination just a month later greatly impeded efforts to achieve a just and lasting peace.

I grew up in North and South Carolina in the 1960s and 70s. I did not really witness the Jim Crow era but my childhood was still very segregated. And the Civil War I learned about had nothing to do with America's atonement for her original sin of slavery. Instead it was a noble, lost cause. Even in the North, this sentiment often went unchallenged. And obviously, there is no need to repent of noble, lost causes.

Repentance is fundamental to Christian faith. When Jesus begins his ministry his first public words are, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." The good news Jesus brings requires a repenting, a turning from old ways, which naturally requires an acknowledgement that these old ways were the wrong way. But that never really happened with America's sin of slavery. Especially in my native South, this failure allowed us to replace slavery with institutions nearly as bad. Our unwillingness to confess and repent allowed the continued treatment of African Americans as less than fully human. It allowed white pastors to preach that segregation was ordained by God. And it continues to allow white Americans to underestimate, ignore, or deny the advantages and privileges we enjoy and the disadvantages and hurdles faced by African Americans to this day.

I do not know all the "facts" in the shooting of Michal Brown by a Ferguson police officer. But I do know that the Ferguson police have engaged in plenty of questionable behavior. I know that being young, male, and black puts one at considerably more risk of being confronted and killed by the police. And I know that a lot of whites would like to deny that this is so.

A fuller repenting of slavery by white Americans and especially by white southerners would not fix the racial problems in American, but it could change the dynamics. The failure to repent, to admit that the Confederate cause was not just a lost cause but also an evil one, is a refusal to acknowledge our sin. This shields us from blame for circumstances that emerged because of that sin and absolves us of a duty to help correct the problems. Our inability to repent denies that we or our forebears could have been part of a monstrous evil, and so it keeps us from recognizing the need to turn from the ways of our past in order to move toward the good news Jesus proclaims - a new day when all peoples and races and clans are one family, a new day with none of the "us versus them" divisions that we are so good at perpetuating.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD.
    Lord, hear my voice! 

Amidst all the troubles in the world, it is easy to despair that God is not paying much attention, that God is ignoring our cries and pleas. But it seems equally plausible that a bigger problem is our inattention and our ignoring Jesus' plea to repent, to turn from our ways and embrace his.

Click to learn more about the lectionary.

Sermon video: Drawing Near - Intimacy with God

Audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon video from August 3: Curing Restless Acquisition Syndrome - Sabbath and the Tenth Commandment

Audios of sermons and worship can be found on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Drawing Near - Intimacy with God: the Contemplative Tradition

Mark 14:32-42

Drawing Near

Intimacy with God: The Contemplative Tradition

James Sledge                                                                                       August 10, 2014

I’ve mentioned before that while in seminary, I had the opportunity to visit the Middle East. It wasn’t the typical tourist trip, but we still did plenty of the typical tourist things. That included a visit to the Garden of Gethsemane. Not that anyone knows exactly where this famous garden was, but that’s the case for a lot of sites in the Holy Land.

The Garden of Gethsemane is on the list of popular tourist stops because most Christians are familiar with the story of Jesus praying there prior to his arrest. It is a famous event that has been depicted in countless paintings and movies. But as familiar and well known as it is, I had never noticed something remarkably obvious about the story until just the other day.

Mark’s gospel gives us an intimate picture of that night. We see sleepy disciples who cannot manage to stay awake in support of their friend and teacher at his moment of greatest difficulty. We see an anguished Jesus who struggles to fulfill his call, hoping and praying repeatedly for some other way to complete his mission. “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”

Abba. It’s an Aramaic word that is a lot closer to “Daddy” than it is to “Father.” Abba was used by little children, a warm, familiar, intimate term. Jesus approaches God not as some far off, distant deity, but as someone with whom he has a close, intimate relationship. There is no religious formality here. Jesus pours out his heart to one he knows intimately as a tender and loving parent. He does so repeatedly, but Mark says nothing about God answering Jesus.

That’s the thing I had never noticed before. “Daddy,” Jesus prays and pleads. He gets up to check on the disciples, then comes back and prays and pleads again, “Daddy.” After another check on the disciples, Jesus prays again, but we never hear from God.

Mark’s gospel doesn’t say exactly how much time passed. Jesus mentions an hour, but I don't know how literal that is. Does he pray thirty minutes, an hour, two hours? We do not know, but in the end, Jesus is once again focused on his purpose. “Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand.”

What happened during Jesus’ prayers? Why doesn’t Mark, or the other gospel writers for that matter, tell us anything about what Jesus heard in those moments? What reassured him? What steeled his resolve? Does Mark not know? Or is it simply a level of intimacy not meant to be shared? Is it enough for us to know that Jesus has drawn close to God in prayer, as he had on so many previous occasions, and in those moments, what he must do became clear?