Sunday, February 28, 2010

Other People

Sartre is wrong when he says that hell is other people. It is heaven that is other people. They only become hell when we are locked into our own egoism and darkness. If they are to become heaven, we have to make the slow passage from egoism to love. It is our own hearts and eyes that have to change.

- Jean Vanier, Community and Growth, p. 312

I used to think Sartre was right. Cynical and sour (although I thought myself simply realistic), I held to an existential worldview of isolation, filled with sadness that there was no meaning in the world except in resistance, that there was no real God, nothing really good.

In ministry, I rediscovered the joy of life in community. Vanier is right. Other people, as difficult and cantankerous as they can often be, are still heaven. We are created to live in relationship with one another. We are not ourselves when we are isolated. To become trapped in my own ego is to deny my responsibility for others and their responsibility for me. As one of our more modern hymns sings, “We are not our own.” But when we live in community, sharing vulnerability and setting ego aside, there the Holy Spirit moves. There, in mutual openness and accountability, we know the beginnings of holy love.

Who do you love? If your heart and mind are unlocked and set free, the answer becomes clear. Jesus called it love of neighbor. And your neighbor is anyone who is in need.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Lifeguards and Life Guards

We learn that there are lifeguards and there are life guards. The former monitor our swimming for safety and rescue us from harm. They can be indentified by uniforms—usually bright red or orange swimsuits. When they hear our exclamations of panic—“Help, help” and “Save me, I’m drowning!”—we know them by their swift response.

Life guards, on the other hand, guide and keep our feet in the paths defined by our limits. They can be identified by a uniform convention—the practice of identifying ourselves and each other in certain limited ways… We inevitable [are asked], “What do you do?” The answer to that question of vocation is my “life guard.” It helps keep my life on track.

—San Portaro, Crossing the Jordan, 34-35

I’m Jackson’s dad, Katy’s husband, Jeanne and Dan’s son, and the pastor of First Christian Church. Each of these descriptions is a “life guard.” It sets certain safe limits around who I am and what I do. It keeps my life on track. You, too, have your “life guards,” those relationships and activities that give you a place in the community, that set you apart uniquely from the rest of the world, that create a safe space in which to live.

We know very little about the “life guards” of Jesus. We treat him instead as a Lifeguard, calling on him to rescue us in trouble. But we don’t know what he did for a living. We know little about his relationship with his mother, father, sisters or brothers. Some speculate marriage, perhaps kids—important things to know! Except we don’t. And it makes it harder to “know” Jesus. We don’t know what boundaries of activity and relationship defined most of his life.

We do know that he was relatively old when, for whatever reason, he felt the need to turn his life around. John baptized Jesus in a ritual that marked a changed direction. From then on, Jesus knew his calling. He discovered new relationships. He made a radical new commitment to others and to God. From this point on, we can trace his tracks.

Have you discovered your calling? If so, your “life guards” are different than they used to be. Your vocation is set, your commitment firm, your new direction clear. Your Lifeguard, however, is the same. Go ahead and swim into deeper water in confidence that you are not alone. Help will come when needed.

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace on today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Friday, February 26, 2010

O Hilaritas

According to Newton
the intrinsic property of matter on which weight depends is mass.
But mass and weight vary according to gravity
(It is not a laughing matter).
On earth a mass of 6 kilograms has a weight of 6 kilograms.
On the moon a mass of 6 kilograms has a weight of 1 kilogram.
An object’s inertia (the force required to accelerate it)
depends entirely on its mass.
And so it is with me.
I depend entirely on a crumb of bread
a sip of wine;
it is the mass that matters
that makes matter.
In free fall, like the earth around the sun,
I am weightless
and so move only if I have mass.
Thanks be to the creator
who has given himself
that we may be.

- Madeleine L’Engle, The Ordering of Love, 94

Madeleine L’Engle plays off the dual meaning of “mass.” Mass is both a property of matter and worship that matters. The crumb of bread and sip of wine identify who we are. We may not call our form of worship “mass,” but worship makes us matter just the same. I hope to see you Sunday as we matter together to God, as we move together in prayer and song, as we worship the one who matters most, en masse.

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace on today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Beyond Ideology

I am what we should be—that is, post-ideological. We are to be about healing, not division. We are not to be subservient to ideology, but above it.

- Richard Cizik, president of the New Evangelical Partnership for the Common Good, defending himself against criticism that he has been co-opted by liberals.

Most of us are passionate about politics, religion, justice, and peace. What are your core values? They are likely to affect not only the way you vote but also the way you relate to other people. They’ll even affect the way you relate to God. You may believe people are essentially good, and left to their own devices they will be kind, loving, and generous. You see God unlocking human potential, setting people free. On the other hand, you may believe people are essentially self-serving, and left to their own devices they will always do what’s in their own best interest. You see God regulating human behavior, forgiving sin, and demanding satisfaction that only a sinless Jesus can provide. Competing ideologies lead to radically different images of the church. Communities fight and divide over things like this.

What would it be like to be truly post-ideological? Could you imagine, for a moment, an image of God that doesn’t reflect your own assumptions about human nature? It might lead to healing, both in our communities and in our souls.

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace for today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Gift of our Physical Selves

We have to remember that we have a body which has its own laws, and that the physical has its effect on the spiritual. We have to respect our body and its needs, and care for it even more than a craftsman cares for his tools. Our body is more important than a tool. It is an integral part of our being, of our self.
- Jean Vanier, Community and Growth, p. 255

Are you taking care of your body? Exercise and diet, regular checkups—you know the routine. And it is a routine, if it’s done right. Binge dieting and sporadic exercise are as damaging as binge prayer. When self-care is something you only occasionally squeeze in between other things on your “to do” list, you put stress on your body, as well as on your spirit. Instead, engage in a regular, habitual pattern of exercise and prayer that integrates your life.

The early Christians prayed with their whole bodies—whether stretching out their arms with lifted heads, or kneeling, or lying face down prone on the floor. Living in community, they prayed while planting grain, kneading bread, and laying brick. As you go through the movements of your day—making the bed, preparing breakfast, walking to the mailbox—tend to the physical needs of your body and you will be well-positioned to open yourself to the presence of God.

At work, at school, or at home, whatever you are dong with your body, allow yourself to do so in prayer.

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace for today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Sink or Swim? The Gift of Emptiness

I discovered another picture of freedom one night while lying in a warm, deep bath. I had emptied one of the little plastic bottles of bath oil into the water, hoping that its promise to be “revitalizing” would rouse me from the threat of lethargy and despondency that was lurking around the corner.

I watched idly as the bottle bobbed up and down on the water. Then I held it down and filled it up. I let it go and watched it sink slowly down and settle on the bottom. I fetched it up again, emptied it, and let it float. My childish pastime made me realize that God sometimes does the same with me. I fill up, gradually, with all the things I desire and want to hold on to. The more I fill up, the deeper I sink, until eventually I lie like a lead balloon at the bottom of the bath, quite incapable of movement. Then something happens to “tip me up and pour me out.” It is usually something unwelcome that I resist with all my strength, but it succeeds in draining me of all the attachment feelings I have collected, then something new happens. The little bottle bobs up again, freed of its cargo of bathwater, light, floating, and responding to every wave. This is the gift of emptiness; only in my emptiness can I be sustained by the buoyancy of God’s unfailing love and move on as he created me to in order to grow.

- Margaret Silf, Inner Compass, 161-162

Take a moment and let God tip you up and pour you out. Empty yourself of desires, wants, passions, moods. No longer weighed down, how does it feel to float?

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace for today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Slowly Count to 40

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.’ Jesus answered him, ‘It is written, “One does not live by bread alone.” ’

Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil* said to him, ‘To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.’ Jesus answered him, ‘It is written, “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” ’

Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, “He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you”, and “On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” ’

Jesus answered him, ‘It is said, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” ’ When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.


- Luke 4.1-13 (NRSV)

Lent takes its name from the same word that gives slow music its lento tempo: lentus. It has at least two meanings. The first and most familiar meaning is “slow, lingering, lasting.” Lent, then, is a season for slowing down, lingering a while on the spiritual journey, discovering the lasting meaning of life. Certainly, Jesus takes his time. Forty days fasting in the wilderness is enough time to slow down and figure out what direction he is to take in life. But it’s also an interminably long time when crisis comes. Now, not yet 40 days from the earthquake in Haiti, we see how long days in crisis can become.

That’s why another meaning is helpful. The second meaning of lentus is “tough, resistant, barely yielding to force.” Jesus displays toughness in his encounter with the devil. He resists temptation. He does not yield to the forces of hunger, weakness, or self-doubt. When faced with the vast suffering and evil present in the world, we must not be overwhelmed. Jesus is trustworthy. God’s love is the engine that powers our resistance. Our compassion will not yield. There is no disaster so large that we cannot meet it in the confidence of a compassionate faith.

How will you slow down this season, as the ashes imposed on your forehead on Wednesday are washed away by now, this first Sunday of Lent? Take a moment today and slowly count to 40, breathing in, holding it, and breathing out. With each new breath, visualize the inner toughness that you will draw on to resist the forces that separate you from God. Feel the compassion that rises up toward those in need. Act on your faith. Make God’s love visible in the things you do.

We do not put God to the test. Instead, in the slow, steady march of this season’s journey, God is testing us, refining us, tempering us like steel.

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace on today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Balancing Between Opposites: Detachment and Attachment


Our spiritual lives are a constant interplay, a dynamic process. At the heart of this dynamic interplay are several interdependent pairs of seeming “opposites,” such as activity/receptivity, consolation/desolation, and detachment/attachment, which are, in fact, mutually interdependent.


- Kay Northcutt, Kindling Desire for God, 103

Detachment is the practice of spiritual formation that allows us to pray for the best possible outcome, without a sense of what ought to happen. Detachment is letting go of our own desires and purposes and praying into the purposefulness of God’s intentions. “Detachment,” Northcutt says, “clears space for the Spirit’s leading and God’s purposefulness in the congregation.” Attachment, on the other hand, can be “selfish, grasping, thoughtless, and all too often motivated by a will-to-power.”

Experiencing detachment is hard for me. I care deeply about my own goals, my own desires. My attachment to family and friends is strong. The challenge for me is to remain attached to those who matter to me while not grasping. I think the key is this insight: God is already holding us together. The harder I hold on, the less I sense God already holding us close. To detach, in a spiritually healthy way, is to see the bonds God is already weaving, trusting in God’s love more than my strength, and then focusing my energy not on duplicating God’s efforts but on becoming more loving and trusting of others.

If I want to hold something fragile, I have to let go of my tight grip on hurt feelings, resentments, and unfulfilled desires. The irony is that in order to develop healthy attachments to others, I have to gently let go. Then I become free from blaming, scapegoating, resentment, and anger; free from desperately seeking others’ approval, free from the superficial. By letting go, I allow myself to be held by God, which allows me better to connect with others, who of course are also held together by God, which allows me to be filled with love.

Then, I can pray in the words of the hymn: “Weave, weave, weave us together; weave us together in unity and love. Weave, weave, weave us together; weave us together, together in love.”

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace for today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Balancing Between Opposites: Consolation and Desolation

Our spiritual lives are a constant interplay, a dynamic process. At the heart of this dynamic interplay are several interdependent pairs of seeming “opposites,” such as activity/receptivity, consolation/desolation, and detachment/attachment, which are, in fact, mutually interdependent.
- Kay Northcutt, Kindling Desire for God, 103

Each day has its ups and downs, its consolations and desolations.

Consolation is not just a second place prize. It’s a gentle pat on the shoulder or a hot crock-pot of freshly delivered soup. It’s one life reaching toward another, heart to heart. Consolation turns us outward. It exists in relationship. In prayer today, ask what forces are binding you closer to someone else. Who embraces you, picks you up? What within you generates new inspiration and ideas, releasing new energy, lifting your heart so you can see the joys and sorrows of others? These are the moments of consolation that extend the tendrils of your heart into the soil of another’s soul. Identify your consolations and give thanks.

Desolation turns us in on ourselves. It is absence, not presence, like an open wound that will not heal. Desolate moments are those without comfort and without hope. Ask also in prayer today what forces in your life cut you off from community, isolating you from family, church members, coworkers, and friends, draining you of energy, spiraling into deeper and deeper negative feelings. Identify your desolations. Name them. Let them go.

God is present in each moment. It may not be possible to know those moments of consolation until you have lived through desolate times. But when the one we know as Comforter comes, you know you will never have to face another moment completely alone.

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace for today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Balancing Between Opposites: Activity and Receptivity

Our spiritual lives are a constant interplay, a dynamic process. At the heart of this dynamic interplay are several interdependent pairs of seeming “opposites,” such as activity/receptivity, consolation/desolation, and detachment/attachment, which are, in fact, mutually interdependent.

- Kay Northcutt, Kindling Desire for God, 103

Activity is how we shape the world. We mold, influence, nudge, suggest, and close the sale. We build and plant, teach and learn, tear down and raise up. Our identity is tied up in activity. As soon as we meet someone, we want to know what they do. What would today be like if you considered part of your activity to be sacred? What would the day be like if some of your “doings” were dedicated to God? Active spiritual practices include visiting the sick, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, and working for justice. They also include singing in the choir, attending meetings, setting up potluck dinners, and writing birthday cards for your parish group. Shape the world today, as you usually do, but also shape it in the image of God.

Receptivity is how we see the world. We observe, listen, watch, taste, touch and smell. But we are receptive not only with our physical senses; we also open our minds and spirits, becoming receptive to insights, epiphanies, and revelations. It can be hard to receive instead of do. What would today be like if you sharpened your spiritual nerve endings and became more receptive to the holiness around you? Receptive spiritual practices include contemplative prayer, lectio divina, devotional reading, silence, fasting, prayer groups, and labyrinth walking. Be receptive to the world today, not only with your physical senses but also open with the eyes and mind of God.

Along the way, I wish you God’s peace for today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.

A Daily Lenten Devotional: Ash Wednesday

The Gift of Discernment
Some people have a true gift of discernment. They can seize what is essential in a complicated discussion or a confused story. They are quick to understand what is really needed and at the same time, if they are practical, they can suggest the first steps towards putting people on the road to healing. Some people in a community who do not have an important position may have this gift of light for us. We must learn to listen to them.

- Jean Vanier, Community and Growth, p. 253

Think about our church community and, sometime today, ask God in prayer who has a gift of light for you. Whose discerning eye casts light on something in your life? Their light may be broad or focused, subtle or bright. It may shine on something you haven’t seen before. It may shine on something you see all the time, but from a different angle so you see it in a new way.

Name that discerning person in your prayer, receive their gift to you in your heart, and notice the difference it makes in your day. If you see that person today, thank them for what they’ve helped you to see.

I wish you God’s peace on today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step.