Spiritual Hiccups - If Only...

Do not put your trust in princes,
       in mortals, in whom there is no help.
When their breath departs, they return to the earth;
       on that very day their plans perish.
Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
       whose hope is in the LORD their God.

Congregations sometimes lament, "If only our pastor was better at this or had more of that."  Likewise, pastors often lament, "If only there were more dedicated volunteers or leaders who would do this or that."  Sometimes these laments give birth to new hopes as a new pastor or staff member comes, a new governing board takes office, or a new person becomes chair of an important committee.


As a neophyte pastor 15 years ago, I complained to the pastor of the biggest, richest, and most impressive church in our presbytery (the regional governing body) about how hard it was to get things done, how programs rose or fell on the strength of an elder or committee chair.  He responded that it was not different for him.  He said he was "completely dependent" on the strengths and weaknesses of those in leadership positions at that time.

I don't want to make too much of his remark.  He was probably just trying to help me see that there was nothing wrong with my congregation.  He was trying to tamp down some of my unrealistic expectations.  But still, I wonder where God fits into such conversations about pastors and congregational leaders.  Where does God fit into those "If only" laments?

In today's gospel, Jesus comes to his hometown, and after a brief moment of amazement, the locals "took offense" at Jesus.  Presumably these locals are good religious folks, but they already knew Jesus and so they knew what he couldn't be the one they had been waiting for.  He couldn't be the answer to their "If only" prayers.  "And he could do no deed of power there."

It's interesting how much more "successful" Jesus is when he is outside outside of the religious establishment, beyond where he is known.  Curious that those he commissions as his disciples and emissaries are not from the pillars of the religious community.  And it makes me wonder about how I may miss the power of God at work in my very midst, simply because I am bound and blinded by my "If only" laments.

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Sunday Sermon video - Slaves to Freedom

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Spiritual Hiccups - Is That Possible?

I've probably mentioned before that miracle stories often pose a challenge to me when writing sermons.  What does one say about a miracle?  Jesus healed a woman.  Jesus raised a little girl from the dead.  Of course there are interesting nuances in today's gospel story.  A woman whose illness has made her unclean and an outcast is healed by Jesus on the way to heal a religious leader's daughter.  Jesus calls this formerly unclean woman "Daughter."  She is restored to life in the community just as Jairus' daughter is restored to him.

Still, it all gets back to those miracles.  And to be honest, miracles are somewhat rare in my life.  In fact, miracles in modern American Christianity seem to be restricted to televangelists and other unsavory sorts who use their "power" to enrich themselves.  More mainline Christians like myself want little to do with the Earnest Angleys and Benny Hinns of the world.  We know what they are doing is a trick. It's not really possible.

And I think that may be where my problem with Jesus' miracles lies.  As a child of the Enlightenment and Scientific Age, I have a pretty good idea of what is and isn't possible.  And when it comes to my life, whether or not Jesus heals sick people or raises dead little girls isn't really my problem.  The bigger issue is whether or not Jesus can touch me in a way that changes me, that makes the things I think are impossible possible. 

Oh, I have some minor aches and pains that I wouldn't mind Jesus healing, but the bigger problem for me, and I think for a lot of congregations like the one I serve, is whether or not Jesus can turn us into something more than our assembled talents and abilities.  Can Jesus really call, empower, and gift us to be his living body to the world?  Are congregations any different from any other non-profits when it comes in terms of the power at work in us?  Or is that possible?

Growing up Presbyterian in the South, I sometimes snickered at the Southern Baptists I knew who insisted on some sort of "born again" experience for faith to be genuine.  I still have problems with what seems to me an overly simplistic faith formula.  But I have come to think that all of us need to have some sort of conversion experience.  If I do not experience the power of Christ at work in me, creating a person that would not have been there otherwise, I'm not sure I know anything of the faith Paul describes in today's reading from Galatians.  And my "knowledge" of what is and isn't possible may just be the thing about me that needs healing.

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Sunday Sermon audio - Slaves to Freedom

Slaves To Freedom - Jan. 23 sermon.mp3

Sunday Sermon text - Slaves to Freedom

Matthew 4:12-23

Slaves to Freedom

James Sledge                                                 January 23, 2011

I once saw a not too original comic strip in the newspaper.  A teenager was angry at his parents for not letting him do something he wanted to do and so he yelled out, “I’ll be glad when I’m 18 and no one can tell me what to do!”  The final panel of the comic showed his parents doubled over in laughter.

As much as we celebrate freedom and individualism in this country, almost none of us ever reach the point where we can do whatever we want, where no one can tell us what to do.  It may be parents; it may be a teacher or professor; it may be our boss; it may be the speed limit sign backed up by an officer with a radar gun, but at various places in our lives, we either do as others say or suffer the consequences.

But that doesn’t stop us from trying.  It starts early.  Toddlers love the word “No!” Children and adults enjoy saying, “You can’t make me.”  Part of American mythology is that anyone can grow up to be president, or anything else he or she wants to be.  We know such things are not quite true, even if they are truer here than in most countries.  We know it isn’t true but we really like the idea that no one can tell us what to do, that we can simply decide, and if we try hard enough, we will make it.

Our love of personal freedom and choice means that our culture is particularly sensitive to anything that limits them.  In some countries, all children are given aptitude tests at a young age and then slotted into certain academic or vocational tracks before finishing elementary school.  But that would never fly here.

Yet despite all this, young people often ask themselves the question, “What should I do with my life?”  They may also consider what they want to do, but I think these are very different questions.  What I want to do may be purely a matter of personal choice, but what I should do speaks of something outside myself having some say in the matter.

Sometimes people go to career counseling services to help figure out what sort of thing they should do.  Some colleges offer these services to their students.  People who are thinking about changing careers sometimes use them.  And our denomination requires people who want to become pastors to be evaluated by a reputable career center.

Such career counseling usually includes lots of tests that chart personality and interests and aptitudes.  That’s based on the premise that certain traits will make some careers much more likely than others.  When I was 12, I would have loved to become a rock and roll star, but it didn’t take very many guitar lessons to convince me that would never happen.

So I’m wondering, what information would you consider in order to make a decision about what you should do with your life?  Whose voice would you listen to; what authority would you recognize as having a say in your decision? 

And we don’t need to limit this to decisions about career.  There are many questions about what we should do with our lives.  Where should I go to college?  Should I go to grad school?  Should we get married?  Should we have children?  How should we raise our children?  How should I spend my leisure time?  What sort of volunteer and community service should I do?  How should we spend our retirement?  What should we do with our estate?  The list goes on and on.

How do you answer such questions?  What resources do your bring to making such decisions?  Who gets a say in answering the question, “What should I do?”

I wonder how Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John answered that question.  How did they decide what they should do when Jesus showed up and said, “Come on, drop everything that you’re doing; leave everything behind and come with me?”  Did they even know what Jesus meant when he said they would be fishing for people?  What on earth would make them simply get up and go like that?

When Jesus begins his ministry, the very first words Matthew reports him saying, the words immediately before he calls Simon Peter and Andrew are, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”  I think that a lot of people hear the word “repent” and hear a call to confess, to admit that you’re bad and need to turn from your evil ways.  But I don’t think that is what Jesus is talking about.  Jesus is saying that God’s rule, God’s new day is drawing close, and to get ready for it we will need to start living differently.  Peter and Andrew and James and John repent, not because they stop doing something that is bad or wrong, but because they go in a new direction when Jesus calls.  They hear Jesus telling them what they should do, what they must do if they are to get ready for the kingdom.

  Years ago, before I went to seminary, I recall taking part in a discussion with a group of youth at the church where I was a member.  At one point they were asked whether or not they would go overseas to some dangerous, poverty stricken country if they were absolutely certain that Jesus was calling them to do so.  I’m not sure a lot of us would have been as honest as they were.  Every single one of them said, “No.” 

I don’t recall much of the conversation that followed, but clearly these high school students understood their lives to grow out of the choices that they would make, and this choice would not fit.  It violated whatever standards, guidelines, or expectations influenced them, whatever authoritative voices they listened to.

Now in fairness to them, they had only said “No” to a hypothetical situation.  Peter, Andrew, James, and John might have said the same thing to a hypothetical question about leaving the life they knew behind and following Jesus.  But then they met him…

Our culture makes it quite easy to believe in Jesus.  Even though our society is becoming more and more secular, believing in Jesus is still something of a norm.  But I do not think our culture encourages following Jesus.  In fact, it tells us over and over that it’s a bad idea.  It might well deny us the prestige or wealth or possessions or any number of other things our culture tells us we need for a good life. 

Jesus calls people to counter-cultural lives, lives that love enemies, that take up the cross, that give themselves for the sake of others, even others who don’t deserve such a gift.  Following Jesus looks like a foolish choice, and it looked just as foolish back when Jesus called those fishermen, until they met him.

I think that a lot of us live with a significant, unresolved conflict in our lives.  On the one hand we know deep down inside that we were created for something, for a life of meaning and purpose.  There is a should for each of us, a calling.  But we have been well conditioned over and over again to think that happiness comes from being free to do whatever we want, from following our own wants and desires.  Some of us are virtually slaves to freedom, finding it impossible to trust anything other than our own wants and desires.  After all, how could anyone else direct our lives better than we can?

When Peter and Andrew and James and John meet Jesus, they drop everything.  They abandon all the plans they previously had and go with him, not knowing where it will lead.  I don’t think it was anything that they wanted, at least not until the met Jesus.  I’m not sure that following Jesus ever seems like something people would want to do at first, which is probably why so many stop at believing in Jesus.  But if we ever actually meet Jesus and hear him calling us…

Spiritual Hiccups - God's Favor

Be gracious to me, O God, 
   for people trample on me;
   all day long foes oppress me;
my enemies trample on me all day long,
   for many fight against me.
O Most High, when I am afraid,
   I put my trust in you.

People routinely claim that God is on their side.  Any claim to be doing God's will is a claim on God's blessing or favor.  Any religious cause presumes God's favor.  Even politicians regularly claim to be guided by God, which of course claims God's favor on what they are doing.

One problem with this is that many of us are prone to think that God is for whatever we are for.  If we are conservative God is conservative and and if we are liberal God is liberal.  Perhaps God is one or the other, or perhaps this is simply a demonstration of the human tendency toward idolatry, to create God in our own image. 

Today's psalm seems to take for granted something frequently attested in both Old and New Testament.  God's favor is especially on those in trouble, on those who are persecuted and oppressed, on those who are poor and exploited.  Of course rarely are politicians or those who run churches and denominations persecuted, oppressed, poor, exploited, etc.  More often they are people with power, and often they will invoke God's blessing on attempts to maintain their power and influence. 

I do not intend to speak for or against anything in particular here.  Rather, I am simply wondering about the way that I and others go about claiming God's favor and blessing on our actions.  And that reminds me of something Bono said at a presidential prayer breakfast a number of years ago.  He was quoting someone - I don't know who - when he offered, "Stop asking God to bless what you're doing.  Get involved in what God is doing; because it is already blessed."

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Spiritual Hiccups - Who Is This?

It's one of those Bible Stories I learned as a child.  Jesus and his disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee one evening when a gale arises and begins to swamp the boat.  But Jesus is asleep.  When the panicked disciples awake him, Jesus speaks to the storm and quiets it, then chastises the disciples' lack of faith.  The stunned disciples say to one another, "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?"

Who is this Jesus?  That's still a fundamental faith question isn't it?  And it's a question with lots of different answers.  The fact that the Bible contains four different gospels seems to suggest that no one answer is sufficient.  And I wonder if it is really necessary to decide on a single, correct answer.

There are certainly answers that I think are wrong, that cannot be reconciled with any biblical portrait of Jesus.  One popular image I find disturbing is that of the resurrected Jesus returning as an avenging warrior.  Those who embrace this image sometimes claim it is drawn from Revelation.  But a close reading of that book will find its main picture of Jesus as a lamb that is slain.

But as troubling as such distorted pictures of Jesus are, I think a more pressing problem for many of us is settling for an incomplete picture of Jesus.  For example, we can claim Jesus as Savior and simply stop there.  But of course the earliest Christian profession of faith said, "Jesus is Lord."  He is the one whose voice we are to obey, the one whose voice is to replace our own desire and will, the one who we are to give control of every facet of our lives, not just the "religious" part.

I wonder if many of us wouldn't do well to be more open to hearing additional answers to the question, Who is this Jesus?  Rather than trying to distill a single, neat answer, we might become more open to varied images and facets of Jesus revealed to us in Scripture.  Granted this will require us to become a bit more comfortable with ambiguity, but as Richard Rohr says in his devotion today, "Adult spirituality begins when you start learning to live with ambiguity, rather than insisting on absolute certitude every step of the way.  Why do you think we call it 'faith'?"

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Spiritual Hiccups - Spiritual Maturity

In today's readings, Psalm 147 calls us to praise the LORD.  And the Isaiah reading opens with, "I am the LORD, and there is no other."  I'll have to admit that I am often so preoccupied with figuring out the faith that I can find it difficult to pause in awe and wonder, to offer praise simply for its own sake.  And I worry sometimes that this is a sign of real spiritual immaturity on my part.  Or perhaps it's just a form of spiritual narcissism.

Small children tend to think that the world revolves around them.  This is largely a logical conclusion based on their parents' doting on them and responding to their every cry.  Of course as they grow older, as they mature, they gradually discover that this was an illusion.  The world is not all that focused on them.  The world keep spinning and one day moves to the next with little regard for them.

But we never fully mature, do we.  We still measure things by how they impact us.  As we get older and wiser, it is not our only measure.  In most of us, it is tempered by concern for how things impact others, but concerns about number one often still dominate.  Most of us don't take naturally to be self-sacrificial. 

For me, this focus on self often leads to anxiety and sometimes frustration.  Am I doing a good enough job?  Do people like and respect me?  If there is difficulty at the church, is it my fault?  What should I do differently? 

Pastors have long been accused of having Messiah complexes, and to the degree this is true, I suspect it comes from thinking that a congregation revolves around us.  We're indispensable.  The sun rises and sets on us.  The congregation succeeds or fails because of us.

"I am the LORD, and there is no other."  That is true whether or not I figure out and understand the most difficult theological doctrines.  God is always God, and I am, always and finally, one of God's creatures, a vessel fashioned by the potter.  No amount of wishing or hoping will make me a different vessel than the one I am, and there is actually something rather freeing in that acknowledgment.

I frequently repeat a favorite quote from the opening of John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion.  "Nearly all the wisdom we possess, that is to say, true and sound wisdom, consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves."  And I suppose that wisdom and maturity are not all that different.  True wisdom, true maturity, both frees me from my anxieties as well as freeing me to praise God.  I just wish I could mature a little faster.

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Spiritual Hiccups - The Bible Tells Me So

We had a funeral at our church yesterday with a visitation and reception afterward.  The funeral was for a much beloved member and so there was a large crowd with many church members and many  friends from outside the church.  As I was talking to people at the reception, I struck up a conversation with a fellow who said he was Roman Catholic and asked for a my thoughts on the differences between Presbyterians and Catholics.

I mentioned that we handled Mary a bit differently and then said that we elevated Scripture over Tradition.  The Bible trumps our way of doing things, and if we come to see a practice as being at odds with Scripture, we change the practice.  For example, over time we came to see the prohibition on ordaining women as un-biblical.  We thought that the overall witness of the Bible was that God can and does call women and men to all roles in the Church, and so we changed our ordination practices.

My conversation came back to me this morning as I read today's lectionary passages.  Psalm 15 spoke of God welcoming those "who do not slander with their tongue, and do no evil to their friends, nor take up a reproach against their neighbors."  I thought of the recent talk about civility in American politics and wondered about all of us Protestants who take the Bible so seriously but who nonetheless slander with our tongues those with whom we disagree.

Then I read the passage from Ephesians and found myself even more troubled.  "But fornication and impurity of any kind, or greed, must not  even be mentioned among you, as is proper among saints. Entirely  out of place is obscene, silly, and vulgar talk; but instead, let  there be thanksgiving.  Be sure of this, that no fornicator or impure person, or one who is greedy (that is, an idolater), has any  inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God."  What troubled me is they way we Christians selectively emphasize what these verses condemn. 

Some Christians seem focused almost entirely on issues of personal purity, while others worry much more about problems of greed.  As a more "progressive" Christian, I find myself in the camp that often pushes issues of social justice and loving one's neighbor.  And people on both sides often point our fingers at each other and accuse them of perverting or distorting the faith.  It seems that Christians of all stripes are quite practices at selectively doing what the Bible says.


Now I do not for a second minimize the difficulty of interpreting Scripture and determining just what it looks like to live as the Bible tells me to live.  On many issues there are contradictory Scripture passages that require us to make judgments about the witness of the Bible as a whole.  But this process, as well as becoming mature in our faith, requires us becoming aware of the filters we use to weed out parts of Scripture we do not like.  Without doing this, we elevate our likes and preferences to a position of ultimate authority.  This not only is a classic definition of idolatry, but it makes it easy to demonize those whose likes and preferences are at odds with ours.

Perhaps this is why humility has traditionally been considered a Christian virtue, even if it seems to have fallen out of favor in our culture.

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Sunday Sermon video - Remembering Who We Are

Spiritual Hiccups - Earthy Faith

As the eyes of servants
   look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maid
   to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the LORD our God,
   until he has mercy upon us.
Have mercy upon us, O LORD, have mercy upon us,
   for we have had more than enough of contempt.

There is something about these lines from Psalm 123 that resonate with me.  There is something plaintive about them.  There seems a longing here that both expects God to act and expresses anguish that God has not yet done so; "for we have had more than enough of contempt."

I sometimes think that the Christian faith lost something very valuable when the Church came of age amidst the Western philosophical mindset of the Greco-Roman world.  Greek philosophy conceived of divinity as steady-state perfection, and as Christianity became the religion of the Roman Empire, the Church conformed itself to such notions.  In the process, the more earthy and dynamic faith of biblical Judaism got displaced.  In Western thought, God could not change, could not know passion, could not, as God does frequently in the Old Testament, change God's own mind. 

I would never recommend my personal spirituality as a model for others, but one place where I have experienced some spiritual growth in recent years is in developing a more dynamic relationship with God, one where God is not quite so bound by philosophical notions of impassive perfection, one where I can be disappointed with God and God can respond to that disappointment. 

Over the years I have met very many people who are extremely loyal church folks, who never miss a Sunday and live exemplary lives, and who yet will not even entertain the notion of questioning God, much less being upset or angry with God.  Certainly this is not the way of the Hebrews nor the way of that Hebrew named Jesus.  He embraced a Jewish faith that could question God's plans, that on the cross could borrow from the psalmists and cry out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

We have been so acculturated to think of God in Greek philosophical terms that many of us feel it is an act of unfaithfulness to question God, to rail against God, to demand something of God.  Many recoil at the very notion of such things.  But I have found my spiritual life energized in discovering a more earthy, dynamic faith, one willing to join with Jacob in wrestling with God, and perhaps even limping away with a blessing.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Called

Today's reading from Ephesians begins, "I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called."  And the day when we remember the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. is perhaps an ideal time to think about what it means to be "called."  King, of course, understood his work on civil rights, justice, and peace to be a part of his Christian calling.

The Reformed/Presbyterian tradition in which I work and was raised has long emphasized the idea of vocation, which is another term for call, for something we are meant to do.  Yet even in my tradition it is common to think of faith as primarily about belief.  And I think such notions have contributed mightily to a loss of vitality in the Mainline Church.

A faith that doesn't make any difference in how I live seems terrible disconnected from life.  Such a faith implies that God isn't concerned with our life on earth.  This despite the fact that Jesus came healing and caring for people, that he taught us to pray for the day when God's will is done here on earth, that he proclaimed God rule had drawn near.  Jesus seemed remarkable interested in the shape and quality of our earthly lives. 

I don't think it an overstatement to say that any Christian faith that does not call me to live in certain ways is a distortion of faith.  Any Christian faith that does not manifest itself in the day to day is a distortion of faith.

I was just a young boy when Dr. King was assassinated, and so I don't have many vivid memories of his life.  But I do recall hearing adults I knew criticize his actions.  These adults were all church folk, and some of them were sympathetic to his goals.  But they couldn't get past the fact that he seemed to be "a troublemaker." This, of course, is one of the nicer things they said about Jesus.

The idea that faith should be no threat to the status quo might be valid if we live in the Kingdom, in God's rule fully come.  But short of God's rule, any faith that hears Jesus' call to take up the cross and follow him will often find itself ill at ease with the ways of the world.  And any such faith will find itself having to make choices between the ways of the culture and the ways of Jesus.  Martin Luther King could have been a very successful preacher and church pastor, could have kept to church matters and avoided causing trouble.  But he lived out the call God placed on him.  And many people caught a glimpse of God's coming Kingdom in the the hope Dr. King proclaimed and worked for.

"Lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called."  We each have our part to play in moving the world and history toward God's end.  As Dr. King well knew, the arc of history eventually arrives at the destination God intends.  So why wouldn't we want to become a part of that arc, whether or not the world around us sees its trajectory?

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Sunday Sermon audio - Remembering Who We Are

Remembering Who We Are - Jan. 16.mp3

Text of Sunday Sermon - Remembering Who We Are

1 Corinthians 1:1-9

Remembering Who We Are

James Sledge                                        January 16, 2011

Many of you are probably familiar with the movie, We Are Marshall, and even if you’re not, you may know some of the story behind it.  It begins when a flight carrying to football team home from a game crashes, killing players and coaches and university officials.  It is an incredibly devastating event for the campus and the surrounding community.

But the tragedy of the crash is only the backdrop for the movie.  Its story is about trying to resurrect the football program from the ashes.  It is no easy task.  There are many at the university and in the community of Huntington, WV, including the school president, who don’t think the time is right, for whom the pain is too fresh and raw to even think about going to a football game again.

And of course there is the problem of starting from scratch.  The entire program is gone, save one assistant coach and a few players who had not made the ill-fated flight to that game.  But in the face of all these obstacles, with the urging of the students and others in the community, a coach was hired, and the slow process of starting over again began. 

It would be years before the football program returned to true respectability, but those who were there at the start turned in a remarkable performance.  With those few remaining players, walk-ons from other sports, and incoming freshmen, they fielded a team and even won their opening home game.

For the players and students at Marshall in 1971 when they won that first game, the cheer “We are Marshall” spoke of an identity forged from the horrible tragedy and the remarkable triumphs they had experienced together.  “We are Marshall” did not mean quite the same thing as when some other school shouted a similar cheer.  Other students might be proud of their school and thrilled with their team’s successes, but not many people can fully know what it meant for those students to say, “We are Marshall!”

To some degree, that’s probably the case even for current day Marshall students.  1971 was a long time ago.  There are memorials and other reminders.  The movie likely revived those memories, but it is not difficult to imagine a time when shouting, “We are Marshall” would not be much different from shouting, “We are Dayton.”   It would still mean that they are students at Marshall, but not much more.

It is perilously easy to lose an identity gained at great cost.  Our daughter, Kendrick, who works with Teach for America in New Mexico, told me an experience she has had of this.  While home for Christmas, she talked about her elementary students, all of them Navajo and many residents on the reservation adjacent to the small town where she teaches.  She said that these children are fiercely proud of their heritage, of being Native Americans and Navajos.  And yet, they seem to have little sense of what that heritage means or entails. 

Kendrick said she was surprised that she knows a lot more about Native American history than her students do.  Despite their deserved pride in their heritage, their “We are Navajo” cheer speaks of little more than an accident of birth.

It is perilously easy to lose an identity, and something similar to the experience of those Navajo children sometimes goes on in the church.  We have our own identity, our own cheer, “We are Christians.”  It is a claim to be a particular people shaped by a particular life lived “in Christ,” a life lived out in a particular community, the Church.  It is an identity that was forged by faithful disciples who walked in the footsteps of Jesus, who were willing to take up the cross, were willing to die to spread the good news of God’s coming rule.  But over time, the cheer “We are Christian” can come to mean less and less.  It can speak of little more than an accident of birth, little more than being raised in a society that, until a few generations ago, expected people to belong to a church.

When I first came to Boulevard some 10 years ago, we did some work in both the Session and Deacons to name who we were, to claim our particular identity as Presbyterians here on this corner of Grandview Heights.  One of the exercises involved trying to describe our core values.  In other words, what is genuinely expected of a member?  Not what would we like members to do, but what things are so integral to being a member here that not doing them would cause people to feel they had violated some key standard or norm.  After much discussion and debate, we were able to agree that the only things we truly expected members to do were attend occasionally, and be nice.

Imagine for a moment that you had decided to start a non-profit organization so you could change the world.  You want to invite people to join this group, and when you do they quite naturally ask what your group does.  If you answered, “Oh, we meet, and we try to be nice,” how many people do you think would be dying to become part of your organization?

We live in a time when a lot of people are hungry for meaning and purpose in their lives.  They would love to discover some sort of spirituality that made a difference in their lives, that helped them become something more than they are right now.  And for such people, I’m pretty sure that “We meet, and we try to be nice,” simply doesn’t cut it.

Of course, that is not who we are called to be as the Church, and Paul speaks directly to that in his letter to the Christians in Corinth.  The situation in Corinth is quite different from our situation, but before Paul gets to any particular problems, he introduces his letter with a general description of what it means to say, “We are Christians.”

It is a common calling.  Paul does not speak to the pastor or staff or leaders of the congregation.  He writes to the church of God that is in Corinth.  The church is a group effort, a fellowship together in Christ where all the necessary spiritual gifts are given to the community so that it can be Christ to the world until God’s rule arrives.

Paul says nothing about individual salvation.  Rather he speaks of a covenant people, sanctified, set apart and called to be saints.  The word saint means holy, and it is not a designation for certain, special Christians, rather it is at the very heart of what it means to say, “We are Christians.”  It says we are called to be a holy people, that is, a people consecrated to God, a people who by our lives show Christ to the world.

This call is common to all who are baptized.  At the font, whether as infants or adults, we are joined to Christ.  The old self is crucified with him and a new self is born.  In baptism we are joined to each other, becoming one.  In baptism the Holy Spirit is present and grants each and every one of us spiritual gifts so that working together, we can be the living body of Christ to a hurting world.  This is who we are.  This is our identity.

But when we forget that every person in the pews is our brother or sister and care for only those who are our friends, we lose that identity.  When congregations called to be one in Christ remain divided by race, we lose our identity.  When we “go to church” rather than “be the Church,” we lose our identity.  When we want the 10 Commandments displayed on public buildings but don’t live lives shaped by those commandments, we lose our identity.  When we think that saying “We are Christian” primarily means believing in Jesus, being good, and getting into heaven, we lose our identity.

But when we remember… When we remember that our baptisms have marked us and set us apart for distinctive lives; when we remember that God has both called us and gifted us to be saints, a holy people living as Christ’s living body at work in our community and the world; when we remember that we are one, a holy fellowship in Christ; when we remember and begin to live into our calling, the presence of the living Christ becomes palpable in us.  New life and vitality are breathed into us by the Spirit, a life and vitality that draw others into this holy fellowship.  When we remember who we are and live into that identity, the love of God again takes on flesh and reaches out as hope to the world.  The hope and promise of God’s new day begins to become visible in us… when we remember who we are.

Spiritual Hiccups - Sin, Modesty, and Civility

After writing yesterday's blog post, "A Born Sinner," I read a wonderful column by NY Times columnist David Brooks entitled "Tree of Failure."  Brooks connected the loss of civility in our public discourse with a loss of modesty in our culture.  He notes "that over the past 40 years or so we have gone from a culture that reminds people of their own limitations to a culture that encourages people to think highly of themselves. The nation’s founders had a modest but realistic opinion of themselves and of the voters. They erected all sorts of institutional and social restraints to protect Americans from themselves. They admired George Washington because of the way he kept himself in check."

Notions of our own limitations and the need to keep ourselves in check flow quite naturally from a theology that is willing to claim sin as a part of our identity in the same manner an alcoholic embraces that identity.  It is an acknowledgment that opens us to new possibilities, that admits we cannot do it alone, that is open to being redirected toward something better.  But somehow we have become less and less inclined to think of ourselves as having fundamental flaws that require checks or restraints. 

I suspect that the move toward where we now find ourselves was begun with the best of intentions.  Perhaps is was a reaction against the unfortunate tendency of religion using "sin" as a label for anything that religion doesn't like.  Music, dance, alcohol, sexual orientation, political affiliation, voting for "Obamacare," and a nearly endless list of other things have all been declared sins at one time or another.  And Jesus finds himself in conflict with the religious folk of his day over his "sin" of violating the Sabbath.  No wonder that some folks want to reject the entire concept.

A reaction against religious misuse and abuse of sin is understandable.  But this rejection does not change anything about our true nature.  If we are to be most fully alive and fully human, surely we must understand who we truly are.

John Calvin once wrote that all true knowledge resides in knowledge of God and knowledge of self.  And a false view of ourselves, whether this be a view that obscures our tremendous gifts, capacities, and the image of God in all of us, or whether this be a view that ignores our limits, frailties, and self destructive tendencies, will necessarily lead us to live as people other than who we truly are. 

Balance is always a difficult thing to maintain.  This is as true in spiritual matters as it is in political ones.  Balance often demands that we hold seemingly contradictory things - such as being in the image of God and captive sin - in tension, that we live with paradox and even contradiction.  But often rather than deal with this difficulty, we choose to ride a pendulum, swinging back and forth, seeking a faith, a spirituality, an ideology, a political philosophy that is easier and simpler than the complex creatures that we truly are. 

As David Brooks points out, civility requires a modesty that rejects such false simplicity, that knows I do not have all answers.  Even my best efforts need the refining and correcting help of those who disagree with me and may notice what I have missed or distorted because of my own biases and blinders and limits and, yes, sin. 

You would think that people of faith might be of great help in restoring some sense of appropriate modesty and resulting civility. But I have seen some of the most uncivil behaviors at church.  The tone of debate I have occasionally seen in my own denomination is little better than that displayed in American politics.  I wonder if it would make any difference if, when we were about to engage in some heated debate, we quit worrying so much about other folk's sin and claimed out own.  What if we borrowed from AA and prefaced our remarks with, "Hello, my name is Joe and I'm a sinner. Now here's what I think."

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Spiritual Hiccups - A Born Sinner

Over the years I have found the topic of sin to be the source of much tension in my work as a pastor.  On the one hand, my theological tradition invented the notion of "total depravity," a badly misunderstood doctrine that nonetheless insists sin is a fundamental problem affecting every facet of our humanity.  On the other hand I have routinely heard from church members who dislike having a "prayer of confession" in worship.  "It's such a downer," is a common complaint.

Psalm 51 in today's readings seems to come down on the total depravity side.  "Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me."  If prayers of confession sound like a downer, how about this?  But I wonder if our problem with sin and confession doesn't arise from the tendency to think of sin in terms of moral failing.

Psalm 51 and total depravity aren't speaking of moral failings.  They are speaking of something more fundamental.  Think of an AA meeting when people stand up and say, "Hi, I'm Joe, and I'm an alcoholic."  Claiming this identity is not an admission of moral failing.  Rather, it is owning the identity of one with an underlying condition that works against a full and abundant life.  Such a claim is not a "downer" for an alcoholic.  It is one step in being freed from the grip of alcoholism. 

It is interesting how recovering alcoholics embrace that identity while so many Christians want to escape the label of sinner.  In fact, very often the label sinner is applied to others, to folks we consider morally inferior. 

And so I struggle as a pastor to find a good way for us to embrace our identity as sinners in the way alcoholics can embrace their identity, as a hopeful step on the path to a new and better life. 

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Spiritual Hiccups - God at Work

When the poor and needy seek water,
  and there is none,
  and their tongue is parched with thirst,
I the LORD will answer them,
  I the God of Israel will not forsake them.
I will open rivers on the bare heights,
  and fountains in the midst of the valleys;
I will make the wilderness a pool of water,
  and the dry land springs of water.
I will put in the wilderness the cedar,
  the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive;
I will set in the desert the cypress,
  the plane and the pine together,
  so that all may see and know,
  all may consider and understand,
that the hand of the LORD has done this,
  the Holy One of Israel has created it.

I just finished leading a Bible studay with one of the Presbyterian Women "circles" at our church.  This group is made up almost entirely of folks past retirement age, and so I was a bit surprised by a topic that one of them raised.  We had been looking at one of the very hopefule sections of Revelation, chapter 7 to be exact.  And after hear about the Lamb that becomes shepherd and guides the faithful to the water of life, about God wiping every tear from their eyes, this woman raised the quesion of how we are to continue hoping for this sort of thing without seeing some clear evidence of it, without being able to speak of some experience of it.

The question itself does not suprise me at all, but I was a bit surprised by it coming from an older, life-long church member.  I do think the difficulty we have with such questions is a primary reason that traditional churches struggle to connect with younger people.  Yet very often I find that older members find such question threatening.  Some of them seem to think that raising such questions is a sign of weak faith, a sign they dare not exhibit. 

And so I am actually quite thrilled she raised the issue.  It gives me hope because I think the Church's vitality for the future requires wrestling with this.  Too often Christian faith in America has been reduced to believing certain things and so getting "pie in the sky by and by."  But biblical faith speaks more as today's reading from Isaiah does, promising that God will answer the poor and needy when they cry out.  Jesus begins his ministry proclaiming that God's kingdom, God's rule on earth has come near.  And he gives evidence of this by curing the sick and healing the lame.

Theologically speaking, we Presbyterians insist that Jesus is Lord of all, not just Lord of the spiritual but Lord over everything from our individual lives to our finances to history itself.  But in practice we often proclaim Jesus as Lord of a tiny corner of our lives we label "spiritual." 

I wonder what the Church might look like if most of its members lived in ways that truly evidenced Jesus as Lord of all.  I wonder what the Church might look like if we took seriously this question of where we can see God at work in the world, responding to the poor, the needy, the oppressed, and the hopeless as Jesus and the Bible insist God does.

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Spiritual Hiccups - On the Move

I had a chance conversation with a member of a different church the other day, and somehow the subject of a troubled relationship with a former pastor came up.  From what little I know of that situation, both pastor and congregation contributed to things going poorly.  Still, I was a bit struck when the person made a comment about people being upset because the pastor had befriended so many homeless people and let them come into the church.

Not knowing the particulars, I'm not going to over read her comment, but it did make me think about a common tendency in congregations to put ourselves first.  Despite Jesus' instructions to be willing to lose ourselves for the sake of the gospel, we can often be very inwardly focused.  During the recent economic downturn and the tight church budgets that has produced, I've heard members here say that we should cut mission giving over any reduction in staff and programs for ourselves.

In today's gospel reading, I was struck by the way that Jesus is "on the move."  People are lined up for healings, but after one day, Jesus is ready to go elsewhere.  Even when the disciples find him and tell him people are looking for him, Jesus is ready to move on.

Unlike the biblical example, the church I grew up in was extremely settled.  This is not necessarily because of any unfaithfulness.  Rather this church grew up in the era of Christendom, in a time when it was somewhat safe to presume that those around you had heard all about Jesus.  In 1950s America the church's job was to nurture and care for Christians and support mission overseas.  My how times have changed.

Some have written that we now live in a "post-Christian" age.  True or not, we certainly live in a time when it is no longer save to assume that all our neighbors are Jesus' disciples, or even that they know just what that means.  And I wonder if the church that is appropriate for this time might not need to be a lot less settled.

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Renewal of Baptism

During Sunday's worship, following the sermon by Vice-Moderator Landon Whitsitt, we renewed our baptisms.  Thought some might want to see it.

The choir sang as people came to the font with the congregation joining in a refrain which goes:
   Oh, sisters (brothers), let's go down.  Let's go down, come on down.
   Oh, sisters (brothers), lets go down, down to the river to pray.
   Oh, down to the river to pray.

Spiritual Hiccups - Longing for God's Touch

I've been around sickness and death today, something that happens more often than I like, my being a pastor.  Today I met with a family to plan a funeral and did hospital visitations.  Sometimes when I am with people in such settings, I can see on their faces a longing that seems straight out of today's psalm. 

As a deer longs for flowing streams,
   so my soul longs for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God,
   for the living God.
When shall I come and behold
   the face of God?
My tears have been my food
   day and night,
while people say to me continually,
   "Where is your God?"

I encounter people on a regular basis who are longing for God's touch, for some experience of God; they get me instead.  There are times when it makes me feel terribly small, inadequate, and helpless.

Strangely enough, most people seem satisfied with my presence.  I don't mean satisfied with my performance or any great words I might offer, but simply with my being there.  As the Apostle Paul has written, our weakness and frailty is apparently no obstacle to God using us.

In today's gospel reading, Jesus calls a few fishermen as his first disciples.  This seems a most inauspicious start.  Surely there are much better candidates to be found.  But apparently these rough, uncouth fishermen will do just fine. 

I wonder how often my own feelings of smallness and inadequacy get in the way of my being the presence of God to someone who needs it?  How about you?  If Jesus can use a few fisherman to begin the Church, surely most any of us will do.

Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.

Landon Whitsitt's Baptism of the Lord Sermon

Sunday's sermon was preached by Landon Whitsitt, vice-moderator of our denomination.  The sermon was accompanied by a renewal of baptism.  The audio quality is not the best.  My apologies.

Spiritual Hiccups - Does God Matter?

Sometimes when I read verses such as those from today's Isaiah passage, I shrug my shoulders and think, "So what?"  So God measured the waters and marked off the boundaries of the heavens; what difference does that make to my life?  What difference does it make that God is God?

These are actually very fundamental religious and theological questions.  The vast majority of Americans are in agreement that there is a God, but clearly there is no unanimity about what that means.  I can believe in God and it not make much difference in my life.  And as many have pointed out, some atheists and agnostics are every bit as "good" as believers.  People who reject religious affiliation or belief can be outstanding citizens and neighbors.  So what difference does God make?

I read Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation prior to reading today's lectionary passages.  I think that is why I didn't shrug at the Isaiah reading today.  Instead I wondered about the "central reference point" of my life.  Is it God, or is it something else.  Rohr points out that we all need to organize our lives around something.  "The psyche needs a central reference point, and will create one. If God is not the 'one,' then the Dow Jones Index or Rush Limbaugh will be. We will have a 'one' whether we realize it or not. The First Commandment does us a psychological and spiritual favor by stating, 'You shall have no god but me' (Exodus 20:3). If we have not been authored from above, we will give away our authority to what everybody else thinks, as Pilate did."

I wonder if I sometimes shrug at biblical passages describing the grandeur and sovereignty of God because God is often quite removed from my day to day living?  Too often I don't see God at work in the world, and so what difference does it make that God marked off heaven's boundaries?

Like a lot of people, my life is busy, and there never seems enough time to get it all done.  Very often, I am too busy to pray or meditate.  I am too busy to be still, to be open to God, to wait for God.  Big deal that God "marked off the heavens with a span, enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance." I've got a sermon to write and a meeting to attend.

Sometimes I wonder if all our busyness really leads to much that matters, if it leads to lives that really matter.  And that makes me wonder what truly is the central reference point in my life.

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Preaching Thoughts on a Non-Preaching Sunday

Today celebrates The Baptism of the Lord as we remember Jesus being baptized by John in the Jordan River.  Today our congregation had the pleasure of hearing Landon Whitsitt, vice-moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA), preach and lead us in a renewal of our own baptisms.  I found it a moving service, and it was made all the more poignent for me because I offered the Prayers of the People immediately following our baptismal renewals. 

Like a lot of people, I was thinking about the shooting in Arizona yesterday as I thought about what to pray.  We had just remembered how God claims us as beloved children in the waters, how God's grace washes over us, splashing and dripping all around.  And yesterday had brought us face to face with the brokenness into which God's grace arrives.

I realize that it is far too early to draw any sweeping conclusions about yesterday's events.  This may simply be the act of a deranged individual.  But people on the left and the right are wondering today about what role the current level of vitriol in politics may have played.  Politics has long been a contact sport, but lately it seems to have gotten worse, and it is all too easy for us to demonize those with whom we disagree.  Political opponents cease to be friends and fellow citizens who have differing opinions about and become enemies.  And the language of war and battle and violence is envoked far too often.

I find this climate of hatred all the more troubling because of the fact that many Americans have been baptized as Christians yet feel free to join in the hatred.  I recall how theologian Karl Barth, in the aftermath of World War II, wondered about the fact that most all the Nazis who engaged in genocide had been baptized in the Christian Church.  He wondered about our practices regarding baptism, and he counseled the Presbyterian Church either to do a much better job of teaching and helping people live into their baptisms, or stop doing infant baptisms all together.  Sadly, we Presbyterians did not take either of his suggestions.

In his sermon, Landon spoke of how John did not want to baptize Jesus, saying that it needed to be the other way around.  But Jesus insisted, saying it was necessary.  In his baptism, Jesus began his journey to the cross.  He entered into a life lived, given, and sacrificed for the world.  And, preached Landon, in our baptisms, we enter into that same life, as a people called to give ourselves, sacrifice ourselves for the healing of the world. 

If my baptism has joined me to Christ and his work, if it has called me and the Church to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of the world, then I cannot be a party to hatred.  I cannot encourage hatred.  I cannot consider those who disagree with me my enemies.  Even if they truly were my enemies, I am called to give myself for them as well.

Today I went to the font, touched the water, and put it on my forehead.  I remembered that I have been claimed and marked for a radically different sort of life that doesn't look out for number one, but that is willing to give itself for the hope of God's new day.  Lord, help me remember that every single day.

Spiritual Hiccups - No Fear

God is our refuge and strength,
      a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
      though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; 
      though its waters roar and foam,
      though the mountains tremble with its tumult.

At the church I serve, we often use these opening verses from Psalm 46 as a responsive call to worship.  They seem an appropriate way to speak of our faith that God is with us, even in our darkest moments.  Even in the face of death we can trust that God's love does not fail. 

I know many people whose greatest comfort when they lose a loved one is this hope in God as refuge, the promise that the love of God is stronger even than death.  Despite the huge hole left when someone dies, it is a great solace to know that both we and our loved one are together held in the same love of God in Christ.

I sometimes wish we were as good at claiming the certainty and hope of God's refuge in other parts of life.  All too often in the congregations, I see people who look at the difficulties facing them with a kind of pessimistic resignation.  They see congregational decline and remember those days when the pews were all filled and the youth program was booming and see a dismal future. I have talked to long term members in some congregations who "know" that their end in inevitable.  Their best days are behind them.  Societal changes that have shaken and tossed the church's place in our culture have left them with little hope.

I've occasionally mentioned that my theological tradition highlights the problem of idolatry, of placing our hope or trust in something other than God.  And the most tempting idols are things that aren't intrinsically bad, things like family, country, and even church.  And if the struggles and decline of traditional churches pose a threat to our faith, to our hope for the future, perhaps the problem is that we have misread the Psalm saying, The church is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

One of the certainties of idols is that they will disappoint and fail us.  Perhaps when we find ourselves feeling discouraged about religious decline in America, with children who have left the church, with denominational numbers that keep shrinking, we should recall that our faith is not in religion, or churches, or denominations.  Our faith is in God and in God's love that we see embodied in Jesus. 

Jesus tells us not to worry about anything, to be willing to lose our lives for the gospel's sake.  And Jesus can do this himself because his trust in not in a movement or in his band of followers or even in his own abilities.  He trusts God to bring hope and life even from the cross.  And perhaps the church's current struggles in America offer us the opportunity to rediscover the heart of Christian faith.


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Spiritual Hiccups - Pagans at the Party

Growing up in the church, I knew all about the 3 Wise Men (although the Bible doesn't actually say how many magi were there).  But I'm not sure I had every heard of Epiphany.  Like a lot of people, we just had the Wise Men show up with the Shepherds at Christmas.  They're still there with those shepherds at the manger in the Nativity set on display in our living room.

But of course the Nativity story is in Luke and the Wise Men in Matthew.  While tradition and convenience has joined the two stories together, the point of Epiphany sometimes gets lost in the process.  Matthew doesn't actually tell any of the events at Jesus' birth.  There's a pregnant Mary and an angel visiting Joseph and then a mention that a baby was born and named Jesus.

Sometime later, perhaps as long as two years later, magi from the east come because they have seen a sign in the heavens.  These magi seem to be astrologers of some sort.  Perhaps they are Zoroastrians.  But one thing is certain.  They are Gentiles and Gentiles who follow the stars to boot.  And so in Matthew's gospel the first people to visit the young Messiah, the first to worship him, are about as far from a good Jew as you can get.  They are pagans, outsiders extraordinaire.  And their appearance in Jerusalem as they search for a new king frightens the religious insiders, not to mention the person currently claiming the title of king.

In Matthew, Jesus' birth is welcomed by outsiders, by pagans, and it instills fear in those who are heavily invested in the religious status quo, the political status quo, or both.  But all these years later, Jesus seems not at all a threat to insiders, while we insiders still often look down on outsiders.

I'm happy to keep the Wise Men a part of the creche at my house, and it doesn't bother me at all if we sing "We Three Kings" at a Christmas service.  But I think we would do well to take the time to embrace the unsettling message of Epiphany, where outsiders find it easy to accept the new day Jesus heralds, and insiders fret because they are more or less happy with things as they are.

May the joy and promise of Epiphany touch you and inspire you to give your all to the King.

Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary as well as the Revised Common Lectionary from which today's Wise Men reading comes.

Spiritual Hiccups - Losing Our Identity

My older daughter was home over the Christmas holidays from her Teach for America assignment in New Mexico.  She is teaching elementary students in a very small town just outside of the Navajo reservation.  Most all the students at her school are Navajo, and my daughter mentioned to me that although they are fiercely proud of being Navajo, most of them seem to know next to nothing about what that means.  They know very little about their own history or Native American culture.

At first this struck me as odd, but then it occurred to me that something similar can be observed in other places.  Most Americans are proud of their nationality, but many of them cannot name the most basic events from US history or the fundamental concepts of our government.  A number of years ago a study presented sections of the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution to people on the street, and a great many of them identified these as some sort of communist propaganda.

This sort of problem is even more acute in many churches.  Most Christians revere the Bible, but a large majority of them almost never read it.  And so their definition of "being Christian" is often something cobbled together from a variety of sources, and this definition is often at odds with what Scripture says.  Not only to people presume that popular proverbs such as "God helps those who help themselves" are to be found in the Bible (the saying is by Benjamin Franklin), but they presume behaviors endorsed by the society at large must be compatible with the Bible.  And so Tucker Carlson could say just the other day that he is Christian and believes in "second chances" but that Michael Vick's killing of dogs was unforgivable and he should be executed. 

That is only one, highly publicized example.  Many Christians seem to think that their faith is a purely personal thing with no political or societal implications, this despite the fact that Jesus speaks regularly in political terms about a society where God's will is done, where the poor and the oppressed have good news brought to them.  And many have combined their faith with American individualism as though there were no tension at all between the two, this despite Jesus' insistence that true life comes, not from claiming our own rights and privileges, but from being willing to give them up for the sake of others.

I could go on and on, but I hope my point is clear.  We cannot become Christians simply by absorbing some vague sense of it from the prevailing culture.  We must sit at Jesus' feet as disciples, learning from him.  And there is simply no way to do this without engaging the Bible.  We cannot be Christian in any real sense of the
word if we do not do as God commands Joshua in today's Old Testament reading.  ^"Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to act in accordance with all the law that my servant Moses commanded you; do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, so that you may be successful wherever you go. This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it."

Many of us American Christians are facing an identity crisis.  We have lost our biblical identity, and so we not only are prone to being misled by anyone who speaks with what seems an authoritative, religious voice, but we haven't a clear enough sense of what it means to be a Christian to share our faith with anyone else. 

But the good news is that all it takes to correct this situation is for intentional faith communities to take seriously their call to follow Jesus, and to begin studying and discussing together what this might look like.  And when people starting letting their encounter with Jesus change them and change the faith community they are a part of, then they start to become something that others will notice.  Then they start to be the Church, the body of Christ in the world, living out the ways of Jesus for all to see.

Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.

Spiritual Hiccups - Beyond Comfortable Routines

I'm back in the office today for the first time since December 26.  I had wonderful visits with family down in the Carolinas, but it is good to get back home.  It's nice to sleep in your own bed and to get back to regular routines.  That's true in my life at church as well.  Today I return to comfortable, well rehearsed routines of staff meetings, preparing sermons, getting bulletins ready, committee and governing board work, and so on.  Some parts of the routine may be more enjoyable than others, but on the whole, they constitute a familiar, comfortable pattern where I know how to act and what to do.  Maybe all's not right with the world, but my life is under control.

I wonder if Moses felt that way when he settled into his life as a shepherd.  Those of us who learned about Moses in church know that he isn't destined to be a simple shepherd.  But Moses doesn't know that.  After being raised in Pharaoh's house but then having to flee Egypt to escape a murder charge, he is probably quite happy to settle down into a comfortable routine.  He's gotten married.  His father-in-law, who seems like a nice fellow, has welcomed him into the family and given him meaningful work to do.  Surely Moses thinks he is set.  His life may not be grandiose, but it is good, and it is comfortable.

At least it is until God shows up.  When Moses turns aside to see a "burning bush," he is simply indulging his curiosity.  He has no way of knowing that God is about to turn his life upside down as a part of a plan to rescue Israel from slavery in Egypt.  Wouldn't a divine snap of the fingers be sufficient?  Why does God need Moses?  But in the strange ways of God, nothing seems to happen without humans joining the story.

Very often in congregations and in the work of a pastor, comfortable routines become revered treasures.  "Gimme that old time religion," says the song.  "Church like you remember it" read the billboard I saw from the highway.  It's as though something already established is where we should be.  But what if God has other ideas.

A lot of congregations in America are struggling these days.  And very often the reaction to such struggles is to cling to what we know, to what is comfortable.  We want to hang on to "Church like we remember it."  But what if God wants to take us beyond what we remember, beyond our comfortable routines, to become a part of the divine plan for salvation?  What if helping God take creation toward a new day when God's will is done "on earth" means upsetting our routines and our comfort?  What if it calls us to take risks and head out in uncertain directions. 

That is precisely what God will ask of Moses.  It was what God asked of Abraham and Sarah before, and it is what Jesus will ask of those fishermen he calls to follow him.  And it is what Jesus still asks of all who would become his disciples.  Jesus asks us to trust him when he says that letting go of those things we cherish and giving ourselves over to God and neighbor will lead to something more wonderful than any life we can build for ourselves. 

Life had finally settled down and become something Moses could count on and enjoy.  Then God showed up.  It's not too hard to understand why Moses begged God to find someone else for the job.  But I guess it's a pretty good thing Moses finally said, "Yes." 

Click to learn more about the Daily Lectionary.