Monday, June 3, 2013
Why Cowgirl Jazz?
I haven't been too attentive to my blog for a couple years. I read a comment someone made of how disappointed they were with me because I didn't list any great jazz artists or really have anything to do with jazz or cowgirls in my blog. For someone who is really into jazz music and a cowgirl that would be disappointing. So why did I name this blog "Cowgirl Jazz?"
One because I was a cowgirl as a girl and will always be a cowgirl at heart. Indeed I do love the western culture. Professionally I'm called to move around a lot, so having a horse or any pet is not in my lifestyle. But who knows about the future.
Two, why jazz? I love ALL music and I do love jazz but not specifically just jazz music. I think life is jazz. Life naturally is attracted to organizing itself. How life organizes is not in an orderly, predictable way. Life's way of organizing and arranging is messy. Life uses the rules but mixes them up because life will use whatever means and ways to organize. Life does not have order in it's order and yet it is attracted to order. That is how I hear jazz. Jazz the music. Jazz the art. Jazz the life. God is like jazz. God loves, but not how we command God to love. God loves and it can look and feel messy, just like life, yet it all works out. It all works out into orderly creation. Out of chaos came order. From nothing came creation. God is like Jazz. Life is like Jazz. I love God. I love life. I love jazz. Hence, I am cowgirl jazz.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Yes God, I submit!
When I was a kid we brought treats to share in class on our birthday. One of my classmates was born on April Fool’s Day and he took full advantage of this fact. One year he had us put our heads down, close our eyes and hold out our hands. Then he proceeded to place worms in our hands. April Fools! They were Gummy Worms!
When I think about the discipline of submission and I am reminded of how much life with God can feel like one big April Fool’s Day, filled with counter-cultural thoughts and practices. When I realized I was still called to ordained ministry and would have to re-start a process I’d ended in 2000 to finish the Master of Divinity degree, I thought it was a joke. “OK God, but the only way I’m gonna re-apply is if the Minneapolis Synod knocks on my door and asks me.” Fat chance of that happening, right? Wrong. I preached my first sermon back at leading worship at Spirit Garage and it was the only Sunday the bishop’s assistant responsible for ordained candidates ever attended Spirit Garage. Her words to me were, “Would you be interested in becoming a pastor? I’d love to meet with you. Next week work?” Yes Lord, I submit.
Then I challenged my call again by saying there is no way my file still existed in my former synod for a candidacy transfer. If they were shredded, I would not apply again. My call to Southwest MN Synod said the files had been shredded. Then a few hours later the phone rang. The administrator had gone down into storage and happened to find a random box hidden in the corner she had never noticed before. What was in the box? You guessed it, every file, application and record from my five years of candidacy with the SWMN Synod. Yes Lord, I submit.
I’ve heard submission described as: the freedom from the need to “Have it your way.” If I had it my way, I’d never grow through the challenges of life or stretch myself to see what I am truly capable of. My way would build a wall to keep out struggle but such a wall would keep out the good, the benefits, and the connections that come with a discipline of open-heartedness, the essence of submission.
The definition of “ego” I use is that of “edging God out.” When we get in the way of our greater good by focusing on our fear and not the expansion of love, humility, and fun that comes with submission we are like the child who keeps her eyes shut thinking she has a worm in her hand and never tastes the yummy sweetness of a silly treat. Submission is not easy. Submission is listening for the God voice in a world that buzzes with resistance. Over the years I’ve found submitting to that voice of God calms the resistance. I like to say fear is just fun in disguise. When I submit and surrender that fear I open my heart to, yes I’m going to say it, fun! Be a fool for God. Submit.
When I think about the discipline of submission and I am reminded of how much life with God can feel like one big April Fool’s Day, filled with counter-cultural thoughts and practices. When I realized I was still called to ordained ministry and would have to re-start a process I’d ended in 2000 to finish the Master of Divinity degree, I thought it was a joke. “OK God, but the only way I’m gonna re-apply is if the Minneapolis Synod knocks on my door and asks me.” Fat chance of that happening, right? Wrong. I preached my first sermon back at leading worship at Spirit Garage and it was the only Sunday the bishop’s assistant responsible for ordained candidates ever attended Spirit Garage. Her words to me were, “Would you be interested in becoming a pastor? I’d love to meet with you. Next week work?” Yes Lord, I submit.
Then I challenged my call again by saying there is no way my file still existed in my former synod for a candidacy transfer. If they were shredded, I would not apply again. My call to Southwest MN Synod said the files had been shredded. Then a few hours later the phone rang. The administrator had gone down into storage and happened to find a random box hidden in the corner she had never noticed before. What was in the box? You guessed it, every file, application and record from my five years of candidacy with the SWMN Synod. Yes Lord, I submit.
I’ve heard submission described as: the freedom from the need to “Have it your way.” If I had it my way, I’d never grow through the challenges of life or stretch myself to see what I am truly capable of. My way would build a wall to keep out struggle but such a wall would keep out the good, the benefits, and the connections that come with a discipline of open-heartedness, the essence of submission.
The definition of “ego” I use is that of “edging God out.” When we get in the way of our greater good by focusing on our fear and not the expansion of love, humility, and fun that comes with submission we are like the child who keeps her eyes shut thinking she has a worm in her hand and never tastes the yummy sweetness of a silly treat. Submission is not easy. Submission is listening for the God voice in a world that buzzes with resistance. Over the years I’ve found submitting to that voice of God calms the resistance. I like to say fear is just fun in disguise. When I submit and surrender that fear I open my heart to, yes I’m going to say it, fun! Be a fool for God. Submit.
Friday, December 3, 2010
An Advent Sermon - What do you Expect?
Isaiah 2:1-5
Matthew 24:36-44
A couple years ago the Washington Post decided to do an experiment. They placed hidden cameras in the D.C. metro station during the morning rush hour. For 43 minutes one of the nation’s greatest violinist performed six classical pieces while 1,097 people passed by. Joshua Bell had just played a concert the night before where the cheap seats had sold for $100. However, only seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money while on the run for a total of $32 and change. That leaves 1,070 people who hurried, oblivious to the event. There is a video on you-tube of the experiment set in fast motion. It is eerie how people rush by, yet Joshua Bell’s movements remain fluid and graceful. The Washington post wrote, “You think he is a ghost. Then you see it: He is the one who is real. They are the ghosts.”
The conclusion of the experiment was that people don’t recognize beauty if they haven’t been trained to see it. Do we recognize God where we haven’t been trained to see God? Where is God that you don’t expect God to be? When have we been like ghosts in a God moment?
I was raised in the church. I remember having children’s Bible stories read to me, going to Boys & Girls Fellowship on Sunday nights, singing in the church choir, acting in the Carpenter’s Tools drama group, and going to Bible camp. I grew up a church geek. I’ve been trained well to find God where I’m supposed to find God.
We live in an age of information overload where compartmentalizing life is a basic form of survival. Nonetheless, with the new age of social networking, our work and family and school and social lives are co-mingling. The lines are blurring. God is not just a church thing. God has blurred the lines for centuries. God does not compartmentalize well. God is not where God is supposed to be when we expect God to be there. God is not what we expect more often than what we expect. Where is God that you don’t expect God to be? Would we even know how to recognize those moments?
FILM CLIP – Stethoscope
Today begins the church’s New Year. It is Advent which is four weeks of traveling forward, a season of anticipation and expectation. What do you expect? Or maybe what do you not expect? The text this morning tells us to keep awake, be alert. That Christ comes again like a thief in the night and we do not know the hour or the time. This is not a call to insomnia, but to spiritual awakening. Jesus is telling this to a community of sleepy people, caught up in the mundane routines of life and unaware of the extraordinary in the ordinary. Sleepy people no longer believe that anything will change, that today and tomorrow look exactly the same and so they sleepwalk through their lives.
Meister Eckhart was a German theologian, philosopher and mystic in the 14th century who said, “What good is it if Mary was full of grace unless I am full of grace? And what good is it if Christ was born a long time ago, if he is not born in me, in my time, and in my culture?” This Advent season Spirit Garage is expecting Christ to be born in our hearts, our time, and our culture. We are expecting a God that rarely comes the way that we predict. No one expected a teenaged single mom would bear God? Who expected the kicks in her belly would inspire dreams of no more hunger, the lifting of the lowly and not learning war any more. Where is God kicking about in and among you? Where have you found God that you didn’t expect God to be?
Sadly, it sometimes takes monumental moments to wake us up. Think of 9/11 and how many people were awakened to the preciousness of life, to the shortness of time and the urgency of the moment. Our scripture today is saying, don’t get caught up in the ho-hum in life that it takes a tragedy to wake you up. Don’t get so caught up in the business-as-usual of life that you get robbed of life’s simple beauty and pleasures.
Theologian David Bartlett writes, “One day Jesus may appear in the clouds, suddenly, like a thief in the night. But before that – as [the book of] Matthew reminds us – Jesus will appear just around the corner, suddenly, like a hungry person, or a neighbor ill-clothed, or someone sick or imprisoned.” Matthew 25 tells us how we can encounter Jesus everyday in every person we speak to. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
Think of it, where is God that you don’t expect God to be? The hallmark of grace is that it is unexpected. Witness or participate in unexpected grace and mercy and you will see God where you least expected. God lives in those places we don’t want to go. Are there places or future circumstances that are so filled with unknowns and frightening possibilities that you just can’t go there? Consider putting your stethoscope in those places and you could hear mercy, forgiveness, reconciliation, love, joy, gratitude, justice, hope, beauty, and creative energy there because they are the character of our God who is living there and everywhere already. So step out with hope into the unknowns of our financially struggling, war torn, weary world with eyes wide-open & awake for God. Your pace may slow down and you may feel more real than a ghost in life. You may notice beauty where you once walked by. You may recognize hope where you only saw trouble. You may create an entirely new life from the rubble of who you once were. That’s God-stuff for you. It blurs the lines of our neat compartments and like a world-class musician panning for dollars in a subway, may surprise us when we least expect.
Matthew 24:36-44
A couple years ago the Washington Post decided to do an experiment. They placed hidden cameras in the D.C. metro station during the morning rush hour. For 43 minutes one of the nation’s greatest violinist performed six classical pieces while 1,097 people passed by. Joshua Bell had just played a concert the night before where the cheap seats had sold for $100. However, only seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money while on the run for a total of $32 and change. That leaves 1,070 people who hurried, oblivious to the event. There is a video on you-tube of the experiment set in fast motion. It is eerie how people rush by, yet Joshua Bell’s movements remain fluid and graceful. The Washington post wrote, “You think he is a ghost. Then you see it: He is the one who is real. They are the ghosts.”
The conclusion of the experiment was that people don’t recognize beauty if they haven’t been trained to see it. Do we recognize God where we haven’t been trained to see God? Where is God that you don’t expect God to be? When have we been like ghosts in a God moment?
I was raised in the church. I remember having children’s Bible stories read to me, going to Boys & Girls Fellowship on Sunday nights, singing in the church choir, acting in the Carpenter’s Tools drama group, and going to Bible camp. I grew up a church geek. I’ve been trained well to find God where I’m supposed to find God.
We live in an age of information overload where compartmentalizing life is a basic form of survival. Nonetheless, with the new age of social networking, our work and family and school and social lives are co-mingling. The lines are blurring. God is not just a church thing. God has blurred the lines for centuries. God does not compartmentalize well. God is not where God is supposed to be when we expect God to be there. God is not what we expect more often than what we expect. Where is God that you don’t expect God to be? Would we even know how to recognize those moments?
FILM CLIP – Stethoscope
Today begins the church’s New Year. It is Advent which is four weeks of traveling forward, a season of anticipation and expectation. What do you expect? Or maybe what do you not expect? The text this morning tells us to keep awake, be alert. That Christ comes again like a thief in the night and we do not know the hour or the time. This is not a call to insomnia, but to spiritual awakening. Jesus is telling this to a community of sleepy people, caught up in the mundane routines of life and unaware of the extraordinary in the ordinary. Sleepy people no longer believe that anything will change, that today and tomorrow look exactly the same and so they sleepwalk through their lives.
Meister Eckhart was a German theologian, philosopher and mystic in the 14th century who said, “What good is it if Mary was full of grace unless I am full of grace? And what good is it if Christ was born a long time ago, if he is not born in me, in my time, and in my culture?” This Advent season Spirit Garage is expecting Christ to be born in our hearts, our time, and our culture. We are expecting a God that rarely comes the way that we predict. No one expected a teenaged single mom would bear God? Who expected the kicks in her belly would inspire dreams of no more hunger, the lifting of the lowly and not learning war any more. Where is God kicking about in and among you? Where have you found God that you didn’t expect God to be?
Sadly, it sometimes takes monumental moments to wake us up. Think of 9/11 and how many people were awakened to the preciousness of life, to the shortness of time and the urgency of the moment. Our scripture today is saying, don’t get caught up in the ho-hum in life that it takes a tragedy to wake you up. Don’t get so caught up in the business-as-usual of life that you get robbed of life’s simple beauty and pleasures.
Theologian David Bartlett writes, “One day Jesus may appear in the clouds, suddenly, like a thief in the night. But before that – as [the book of] Matthew reminds us – Jesus will appear just around the corner, suddenly, like a hungry person, or a neighbor ill-clothed, or someone sick or imprisoned.” Matthew 25 tells us how we can encounter Jesus everyday in every person we speak to. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
Think of it, where is God that you don’t expect God to be? The hallmark of grace is that it is unexpected. Witness or participate in unexpected grace and mercy and you will see God where you least expected. God lives in those places we don’t want to go. Are there places or future circumstances that are so filled with unknowns and frightening possibilities that you just can’t go there? Consider putting your stethoscope in those places and you could hear mercy, forgiveness, reconciliation, love, joy, gratitude, justice, hope, beauty, and creative energy there because they are the character of our God who is living there and everywhere already. So step out with hope into the unknowns of our financially struggling, war torn, weary world with eyes wide-open & awake for God. Your pace may slow down and you may feel more real than a ghost in life. You may notice beauty where you once walked by. You may recognize hope where you only saw trouble. You may create an entirely new life from the rubble of who you once were. That’s God-stuff for you. It blurs the lines of our neat compartments and like a world-class musician panning for dollars in a subway, may surprise us when we least expect.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
A Question of Life after Death
This is a message given when I filled in for a vacationing pastor of Luke 20:27-38. Jesus is confronted with a riddle of one woman who had 7 husbands. He is asked who will be her husband in the resurrection. It's a question about is there really life after death.
I teased your pastor that she must have looked at today’s text and decided it was a good weekend to take vacation. This is what you call a “tough text.” As a seminary student, I’m familiar with debating questions of life after death and resurrection. Yet it is a far different experience trying to explain or understand such concepts when one is experiencing the emotional gravity and painful isolation of grief. What do you say when a child asks, “Where is mommy now? Will I ever see her again?” That is the moment smart theories lose their zeal and your gut aches with the true mystery of God and God’s plans for us.
Death can suck the faith right out of you. Maybe that is one reason we live in such denial of the topic. We try so hard to keep its reality from touching us. We have people die in hospitals, we have funeral homes to deal with the bodies for us, we pay money to make our dead look like they were alive, some of us keep our children from funerals, and for some the subject of death is a forbidden conversation. We are appalled by death, hide from it, or just plain ignore it until it comes knocking on our doors. Yet, when we receive news of a terminal diagnosis or experience the death of someone very significant, we can’t get enough information about death and have a voracious desire to ask the deep questions of life after death. We long to know if the one’s we have lost, if we ourselves will continue on or if death is final. We long to end the deep isolation and fear that our grief evokes. What happens next is a hope-filled mystery.
In today’s text, Jesus is in Jerusalem and is on his way to the cross. Every time he speaks, someone is out to trick him and find something to charge him with. And so he encounters the Sadducees.
Sadducees only followed the first five books of the Bible; they rejected the idea of resurrection, an afterlife, angels and other principalities because they were not mentioned in those books. The Pharisees on the other hand regarded the first five books, the prophets’ writings, wisdom literature, and oral tradition all to be valid scripture, most of what we study today. The Sadducees were wealthy, upper crust socialites who were in alignment with the Roman government and only served the temple in Jerusalem. They faded away after the temple was destroyed.
Their question to Jesus is intended to prove how ludicrous and irrational the concept of a resurrection is. Yet Jesus points out a radical thought, that what happens next is not a continuation of life as we know it. The Sadducees take life as we experience it now and project it into life after death. It’s a popular mistake. Think of all the images of heaven you’ve been exposed to. Heaven is imagined as some kind of wonderful theme park where everything is as it is now – only perfect. Everyone is happy, healthy, wealthy and wise – life is a continuous afternoon on a Caribbean beach where you can eat all the ice cream you want and always look perfect. Heaven is the “better place” where every soul is “better off.” Likewise, Hell is imagined as the worst moment of this life continuously played out.
However, what happens next is a hope-filled mystery. When Jesus says there is no marriage in the resurrection, Jesus is explaining that the resurrection is a new creation. At that time, women were the property of their husband with the job of producing an heir, so a family lived on. Jesus is letting us know that in the resurrection we experience a complete revolution of relationships where we will no longer relate to one another in roles of power versus powerlessness, no more divisions, no more death, no more pain but an entirely new experience of life.
The reality is there is no complete description of heaven or resurrection life in the Bible. Clearly any descriptions would require human ability to understand. Trying to understand heaven is like explaining an iPhone to a 1st century Sadducee. So here lie the dilemma, we naturally think about the future in a way that is somehow based on our experience, past and present. This future, the kingdom come, is not based on anything we’ve known. What happens next is a hope-filled mystery.
Resurrection is a tough concept to comprehend. Maybe that is why the idea of immortality of the soul seems easier to digest than resurrection of the body. Immortality of the soul was a Greek concept taught by Socrates and Plato in which the soul is good and lives eternally but the body is bad and is discarded in death. This is not a Christian concept. Resurrection of the body is what Jesus taught. Resurrection is not some sort of resuscitation of more of the same. This body we have hurts. It has pain. It needs to eat to survive. It has biological drives. This body fails you. This body needs to die. This body will return to dust and ash, whether naturally or speeded up by cremation. Resurrection is not a continuation of this life. Resurrection is not carrying on of a family line. There is a physical resurrection, but not a fleshly resuscitation. I will not have THIS body again.
This is not an easy thing to grasp, especially since most of us try to avoid the topic of death and the afterlife. However, what happens next is a hope-filled mystery. Jesus is a resurrected body and we also will be a resurrected person. Only the living can experience that which lives; only the living can encounter the “Living God.” God is God of the living. So we are alive, will be alive in God, will not just be floating spirits, but truly alive.
But we’re not dead yet, so how do we live as truly alive as we possibly can in this life? We take this knowledge of a hope-filled mystery, concerning resurrection and life after death, and transform our living now. God’s new life breaks into our here and now. Where is God at work in your life today? God is doing new things now and with resurrection eyes we are empowered to recognize such hope today. In the Lord’s Prayer we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done here on earth as in heaven.” We are the hands and feet of that kingdom. We are the children of God now and that means we are being called and sent in this present moment to create spiritual community, share in relationships of love, show compassion, and basically bring heaven to earth now. What we do now matters.
Our belief in the resurrection is based upon a relationship of faith we have with God as creator, redeemer, and Spirit. I know that my redeemer lives. We have been given the companionship of the Holy Spirit to guide and orient us in the dizziness of death and grief. God has a plan that includes life after death. We know because the Spirit is present with us illuminating our senses to the dark mysteries of what comes next. We can trust God in these questions. God is God of the living, so knowing what happens next is a hope-filled mystery we shout the words of Paul “Oh Death where is your Sting? Oh grave where is your victory?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)
I teased your pastor that she must have looked at today’s text and decided it was a good weekend to take vacation. This is what you call a “tough text.” As a seminary student, I’m familiar with debating questions of life after death and resurrection. Yet it is a far different experience trying to explain or understand such concepts when one is experiencing the emotional gravity and painful isolation of grief. What do you say when a child asks, “Where is mommy now? Will I ever see her again?” That is the moment smart theories lose their zeal and your gut aches with the true mystery of God and God’s plans for us.
Death can suck the faith right out of you. Maybe that is one reason we live in such denial of the topic. We try so hard to keep its reality from touching us. We have people die in hospitals, we have funeral homes to deal with the bodies for us, we pay money to make our dead look like they were alive, some of us keep our children from funerals, and for some the subject of death is a forbidden conversation. We are appalled by death, hide from it, or just plain ignore it until it comes knocking on our doors. Yet, when we receive news of a terminal diagnosis or experience the death of someone very significant, we can’t get enough information about death and have a voracious desire to ask the deep questions of life after death. We long to know if the one’s we have lost, if we ourselves will continue on or if death is final. We long to end the deep isolation and fear that our grief evokes. What happens next is a hope-filled mystery.
In today’s text, Jesus is in Jerusalem and is on his way to the cross. Every time he speaks, someone is out to trick him and find something to charge him with. And so he encounters the Sadducees.
Sadducees only followed the first five books of the Bible; they rejected the idea of resurrection, an afterlife, angels and other principalities because they were not mentioned in those books. The Pharisees on the other hand regarded the first five books, the prophets’ writings, wisdom literature, and oral tradition all to be valid scripture, most of what we study today. The Sadducees were wealthy, upper crust socialites who were in alignment with the Roman government and only served the temple in Jerusalem. They faded away after the temple was destroyed.
Their question to Jesus is intended to prove how ludicrous and irrational the concept of a resurrection is. Yet Jesus points out a radical thought, that what happens next is not a continuation of life as we know it. The Sadducees take life as we experience it now and project it into life after death. It’s a popular mistake. Think of all the images of heaven you’ve been exposed to. Heaven is imagined as some kind of wonderful theme park where everything is as it is now – only perfect. Everyone is happy, healthy, wealthy and wise – life is a continuous afternoon on a Caribbean beach where you can eat all the ice cream you want and always look perfect. Heaven is the “better place” where every soul is “better off.” Likewise, Hell is imagined as the worst moment of this life continuously played out.
However, what happens next is a hope-filled mystery. When Jesus says there is no marriage in the resurrection, Jesus is explaining that the resurrection is a new creation. At that time, women were the property of their husband with the job of producing an heir, so a family lived on. Jesus is letting us know that in the resurrection we experience a complete revolution of relationships where we will no longer relate to one another in roles of power versus powerlessness, no more divisions, no more death, no more pain but an entirely new experience of life.
The reality is there is no complete description of heaven or resurrection life in the Bible. Clearly any descriptions would require human ability to understand. Trying to understand heaven is like explaining an iPhone to a 1st century Sadducee. So here lie the dilemma, we naturally think about the future in a way that is somehow based on our experience, past and present. This future, the kingdom come, is not based on anything we’ve known. What happens next is a hope-filled mystery.
Resurrection is a tough concept to comprehend. Maybe that is why the idea of immortality of the soul seems easier to digest than resurrection of the body. Immortality of the soul was a Greek concept taught by Socrates and Plato in which the soul is good and lives eternally but the body is bad and is discarded in death. This is not a Christian concept. Resurrection of the body is what Jesus taught. Resurrection is not some sort of resuscitation of more of the same. This body we have hurts. It has pain. It needs to eat to survive. It has biological drives. This body fails you. This body needs to die. This body will return to dust and ash, whether naturally or speeded up by cremation. Resurrection is not a continuation of this life. Resurrection is not carrying on of a family line. There is a physical resurrection, but not a fleshly resuscitation. I will not have THIS body again.
This is not an easy thing to grasp, especially since most of us try to avoid the topic of death and the afterlife. However, what happens next is a hope-filled mystery. Jesus is a resurrected body and we also will be a resurrected person. Only the living can experience that which lives; only the living can encounter the “Living God.” God is God of the living. So we are alive, will be alive in God, will not just be floating spirits, but truly alive.
But we’re not dead yet, so how do we live as truly alive as we possibly can in this life? We take this knowledge of a hope-filled mystery, concerning resurrection and life after death, and transform our living now. God’s new life breaks into our here and now. Where is God at work in your life today? God is doing new things now and with resurrection eyes we are empowered to recognize such hope today. In the Lord’s Prayer we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done here on earth as in heaven.” We are the hands and feet of that kingdom. We are the children of God now and that means we are being called and sent in this present moment to create spiritual community, share in relationships of love, show compassion, and basically bring heaven to earth now. What we do now matters.
Our belief in the resurrection is based upon a relationship of faith we have with God as creator, redeemer, and Spirit. I know that my redeemer lives. We have been given the companionship of the Holy Spirit to guide and orient us in the dizziness of death and grief. God has a plan that includes life after death. We know because the Spirit is present with us illuminating our senses to the dark mysteries of what comes next. We can trust God in these questions. God is God of the living, so knowing what happens next is a hope-filled mystery we shout the words of Paul “Oh Death where is your Sting? Oh grave where is your victory?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)
Did Jesus Wear Pink and Purple?
This is a sermon I gave while filling in for a vacationing pastor. It is based on Luke 18:9-14.
This past Wednesday I and many of my friends wore pink or purple shirts to recognize National Bullying Prevention Day. Over 160,000 kids stay home from school in a single day because of bullies. Often the bullying goes unreported and is perpetuated by the stigma associated with seeking help. In many cases bullying can lead to suicide. There have already been 5 suicides due to bullying in the Minneapolis-Anoka school district this year, three associated with Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/Transgender ridicule. The point of wearing a specific colored shirt was to promote prevention and start conversation so that we can put a stop to bullying of ALL people in ALL places: kids and adults, schools and workplaces, to create a community of acceptance. Why one color was pink is due to two high school seniors in Nova Scotia in 2007 who stood up for a fellow male freshman student who was being bullied on the first day of school for wearing a pink shirt. The boys heard about it, bought a bunch of pink shirts, handed them out and texted their friends to wear pink. The next day, nearly the entire student body was wearing pink. They told their community that bullying was not okay. Likewise there is a viral video movement in the cause of suicide prevention called the “It Gets Better Project”. Countless videos online of famous and not so famous people sharing their stories of feeling left out, being bullied, and the pain of not fitting anyone’s mold concluding with the message that “It Gets Better”. In addition, viewers are asked to take the pledge: Everyone deserves to be respected for who they are. I pledge to spread this message to my friends, family and neighbors. I'll speak up against hate and intolerance whenever I see it, at school and at work. I'll provide hope for lesbian, gay, bi, trans and other bullied teens by letting them know that "It Gets Better."
God loves in spite of who we think we are. Deep down, many of us carry a thought “I’m not good enough.” We think we don’t hit the mark; we are haunted by past failure and somehow guilty. The message of humility first gleaned from today’s text can be misunderstood to mean feeling bad about yourself is spiritual. Maybe the church has stressed human sinfulness so much we’ve missed stressing human godlikeness, leaving some people seeking other spiritual communities to heal their pain.
The Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, said, “Humility is being precisely the person you actually are in the presence of God.” That means focusing on God’s presence and who we are in that presence, not on behaving a certain way to earn heavenly kudos. A way to be in the presence of God is to pray. Prayer brings us closer to God and one another. It is a means of restoring the image of God in us. Prayer is the first wireless network of communication connecting us with God, each other and revealing a significant amount about our relationship with God and others.
Prayer is the one activity the Pharisee and the tax collector share in common this morning. The tax collector prayed at a distance not even looking up, in a posture of grief, asking for mercy. He does so with the possibility of drawing closer to God. The Pharisee prays standing above in a posture of being turned into oneself, or self-focused. His is a prayer of thanksgiving. He is thankful that he is good and not like other people. His righteous life-style is his salvation; he is a spiritual bully making sure” the other” knows he’s better.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” One of the common issues Jesus addressed in his ministry was that of how we build our sense of value, our sense of worth. In the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, the Pharisee tries to prove his goodness by recounting what a great guy he is. He’s never been to prison, never murdered anyone, and been honest in his business, never cheated on his wife, provided for his kids, gone to church every week, prayed every day. To prove his point he brings up how thankful he is not to be like others who cheat on their wives, rip off the system, drink too much, make easy money. Thank God I am not like that tax collector. I give away a tenth of all I earn and I make it honestly. I contribute to my community.
However good the things the Pharisee can account for himself, he does not go home justified by God. To be justified is to be in right relationship and cleared of all transgressions. It is God’s grace toward the undeserving. Many of us carry dark secrets, addictions, failures, “if onlys”, regrets and none of us are as self sufficient and reputable as we would like others to think. And making others feel bad about themselves won’t help our self-worth either. God loves us in spite of who we think we are.
I must admit I’m a rule-follower and over-achiever, not unlike the Pharisee. Sometimes I get upset with God because I think life should hold less struggles and more rewards for being good. But bad things happen to good people and “bad people” can seem to face fewer trials. So I struggle with Jesus’ words that the tax collector, who is not a likeable fellow, goes justified and the Pharisee does not. Jesus’ audience would have figured his story’s punch-line would have been that both were justified, not that the Pharisee was left out. But this isn’t the first time Jesus told a story like that. Remember the older brother in the story of the Prodigal Son who is upset about being a good son and never having a party thrown for him. Why does the bad brother get justification and I don’t? This is troublesome, for it means that God’s justification is not based on what we do to earn it. We can’t manipulate God to bless us, love us, and work for our benefit. We can’t control God. God is a wild force that justifies in spite of our life-style, prayers, appearance, acceptability, and likeableness. Dr. Fred Craddock comments on this text with:
The Pharisee is not a venomous villain and the publican is not generous Joe the bartender or Goldie the good-hearted hooker. Such portrayals belong in cheap novels. If the Pharisee is pictured as a villain and the tax collector as a hero, then each gets what he deserves, there is no surprise of grace and the parable is robbed. In Jesus’ story, what both receive is “in spite of,” not “because of.”
God loves us in spite of who we think we are. Whatever we think separates us from God is no more. Whatever we have done that makes us think we are unworthy doesn’t count. Whatever it is we think makes us no good is taken care of. Jesus’ death on the cross says to each one of us “you are so valuable, you are somebody, and you are set free from the wounding of your mind to be the wonderful, unique creature that you are.”
And so, I challenge you to take this knowledge of your blessedness and justification in spite of what you think you are to go live life in that knowledge. Living in that knowledge, you cannot stand for bullying of any kind. This is not about approving another’s choices or life experience or even liking the person being bullied. This is about being humane, living out your godlikeness, living out our relationship with God and each other. Jesus might have worn pink. He definitely saw the beautiful child of God that lives in both bully and bullied. Let us each strive to share the good news that we are each worth it and called to treat each other as though we stood in the presence of God 24/7.
This past Wednesday I and many of my friends wore pink or purple shirts to recognize National Bullying Prevention Day. Over 160,000 kids stay home from school in a single day because of bullies. Often the bullying goes unreported and is perpetuated by the stigma associated with seeking help. In many cases bullying can lead to suicide. There have already been 5 suicides due to bullying in the Minneapolis-Anoka school district this year, three associated with Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/Transgender ridicule. The point of wearing a specific colored shirt was to promote prevention and start conversation so that we can put a stop to bullying of ALL people in ALL places: kids and adults, schools and workplaces, to create a community of acceptance. Why one color was pink is due to two high school seniors in Nova Scotia in 2007 who stood up for a fellow male freshman student who was being bullied on the first day of school for wearing a pink shirt. The boys heard about it, bought a bunch of pink shirts, handed them out and texted their friends to wear pink. The next day, nearly the entire student body was wearing pink. They told their community that bullying was not okay. Likewise there is a viral video movement in the cause of suicide prevention called the “It Gets Better Project”. Countless videos online of famous and not so famous people sharing their stories of feeling left out, being bullied, and the pain of not fitting anyone’s mold concluding with the message that “It Gets Better”. In addition, viewers are asked to take the pledge: Everyone deserves to be respected for who they are. I pledge to spread this message to my friends, family and neighbors. I'll speak up against hate and intolerance whenever I see it, at school and at work. I'll provide hope for lesbian, gay, bi, trans and other bullied teens by letting them know that "It Gets Better."
God loves in spite of who we think we are. Deep down, many of us carry a thought “I’m not good enough.” We think we don’t hit the mark; we are haunted by past failure and somehow guilty. The message of humility first gleaned from today’s text can be misunderstood to mean feeling bad about yourself is spiritual. Maybe the church has stressed human sinfulness so much we’ve missed stressing human godlikeness, leaving some people seeking other spiritual communities to heal their pain.
The Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, said, “Humility is being precisely the person you actually are in the presence of God.” That means focusing on God’s presence and who we are in that presence, not on behaving a certain way to earn heavenly kudos. A way to be in the presence of God is to pray. Prayer brings us closer to God and one another. It is a means of restoring the image of God in us. Prayer is the first wireless network of communication connecting us with God, each other and revealing a significant amount about our relationship with God and others.
Prayer is the one activity the Pharisee and the tax collector share in common this morning. The tax collector prayed at a distance not even looking up, in a posture of grief, asking for mercy. He does so with the possibility of drawing closer to God. The Pharisee prays standing above in a posture of being turned into oneself, or self-focused. His is a prayer of thanksgiving. He is thankful that he is good and not like other people. His righteous life-style is his salvation; he is a spiritual bully making sure” the other” knows he’s better.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” One of the common issues Jesus addressed in his ministry was that of how we build our sense of value, our sense of worth. In the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, the Pharisee tries to prove his goodness by recounting what a great guy he is. He’s never been to prison, never murdered anyone, and been honest in his business, never cheated on his wife, provided for his kids, gone to church every week, prayed every day. To prove his point he brings up how thankful he is not to be like others who cheat on their wives, rip off the system, drink too much, make easy money. Thank God I am not like that tax collector. I give away a tenth of all I earn and I make it honestly. I contribute to my community.
However good the things the Pharisee can account for himself, he does not go home justified by God. To be justified is to be in right relationship and cleared of all transgressions. It is God’s grace toward the undeserving. Many of us carry dark secrets, addictions, failures, “if onlys”, regrets and none of us are as self sufficient and reputable as we would like others to think. And making others feel bad about themselves won’t help our self-worth either. God loves us in spite of who we think we are.
I must admit I’m a rule-follower and over-achiever, not unlike the Pharisee. Sometimes I get upset with God because I think life should hold less struggles and more rewards for being good. But bad things happen to good people and “bad people” can seem to face fewer trials. So I struggle with Jesus’ words that the tax collector, who is not a likeable fellow, goes justified and the Pharisee does not. Jesus’ audience would have figured his story’s punch-line would have been that both were justified, not that the Pharisee was left out. But this isn’t the first time Jesus told a story like that. Remember the older brother in the story of the Prodigal Son who is upset about being a good son and never having a party thrown for him. Why does the bad brother get justification and I don’t? This is troublesome, for it means that God’s justification is not based on what we do to earn it. We can’t manipulate God to bless us, love us, and work for our benefit. We can’t control God. God is a wild force that justifies in spite of our life-style, prayers, appearance, acceptability, and likeableness. Dr. Fred Craddock comments on this text with:
The Pharisee is not a venomous villain and the publican is not generous Joe the bartender or Goldie the good-hearted hooker. Such portrayals belong in cheap novels. If the Pharisee is pictured as a villain and the tax collector as a hero, then each gets what he deserves, there is no surprise of grace and the parable is robbed. In Jesus’ story, what both receive is “in spite of,” not “because of.”
God loves us in spite of who we think we are. Whatever we think separates us from God is no more. Whatever we have done that makes us think we are unworthy doesn’t count. Whatever it is we think makes us no good is taken care of. Jesus’ death on the cross says to each one of us “you are so valuable, you are somebody, and you are set free from the wounding of your mind to be the wonderful, unique creature that you are.”
And so, I challenge you to take this knowledge of your blessedness and justification in spite of what you think you are to go live life in that knowledge. Living in that knowledge, you cannot stand for bullying of any kind. This is not about approving another’s choices or life experience or even liking the person being bullied. This is about being humane, living out your godlikeness, living out our relationship with God and each other. Jesus might have worn pink. He definitely saw the beautiful child of God that lives in both bully and bullied. Let us each strive to share the good news that we are each worth it and called to treat each other as though we stood in the presence of God 24/7.
Friday, October 8, 2010
What do you tote?
Recently I've experienced a sore shoulder and neck. One reason is the weight of my purse. A Chicago Tribune article showed these results when 48 purses were weighed on August 24 outside Tribune Tower.
* 6 lbs. average bag weight
* 5 participants complaining of back pain
* 8 lbs. heaviest single purse without laptop
* 20.4 lbs. heaviest total load
* 2.9 lbs. lightest single purse
* 9 women claiming to have just cleaned out their purse
Why do I carry all my cards, coupons, 4 shades of lipstick, and those just in case items like a swiss army knife? It's time to lighten my load and keep it simple.
This physical example of bearing unnecessary weight, just in case you need it, applies to the metaphysical as well. What beliefs, stories we tell ourselves, bear down on us unnecessarily? What pain to you tote on your shoulders like a backpack of security? Is it the pain of your divorce keeping you from committing to a new relationship? Is it the fear of past failure slowing your pace toward new adventures? Is it the judgment you received in one religious community holding you back from exploring a new spiritual community?
Consider lightening up your life. Start with the physical - clean out your purse, desk, house and simplify. Then, motivated by this physical environment ease into the deeper emotional and spiritual burdens that weigh down your shoulders and back. Begin with a few simple questions and go from there:
What do I want?
What do I need?
What do I believe?
What can I change?
* 6 lbs. average bag weight
* 5 participants complaining of back pain
* 8 lbs. heaviest single purse without laptop
* 20.4 lbs. heaviest total load
* 2.9 lbs. lightest single purse
* 9 women claiming to have just cleaned out their purse
Why do I carry all my cards, coupons, 4 shades of lipstick, and those just in case items like a swiss army knife? It's time to lighten my load and keep it simple.
This physical example of bearing unnecessary weight, just in case you need it, applies to the metaphysical as well. What beliefs, stories we tell ourselves, bear down on us unnecessarily? What pain to you tote on your shoulders like a backpack of security? Is it the pain of your divorce keeping you from committing to a new relationship? Is it the fear of past failure slowing your pace toward new adventures? Is it the judgment you received in one religious community holding you back from exploring a new spiritual community?
Consider lightening up your life. Start with the physical - clean out your purse, desk, house and simplify. Then, motivated by this physical environment ease into the deeper emotional and spiritual burdens that weigh down your shoulders and back. Begin with a few simple questions and go from there:
What do I want?
What do I need?
What do I believe?
What can I change?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
There's an app for that!
I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit. I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. Job 7:11 (NIV)
Ten years ago these were the words of my mouth as much as they were Job's. I had experienced a deep disappointment and my soul ached with bitterness. I remember reading the Psalms as if I had never read them before. Whenever a psalm used the phrase "my enemies," I would replace it with the names of those who had hurt me and received a certain cathartic delight. It was the beginning of a healing process that I am deeply thankful for. Yet I often wonder if the journey might have been easier. Nonetheless most experiences into the depths of suffering and pain call for the courage to speak your grief, acknowledge your place as one with a larger creation - a God's eye view of life, and to be forever changed by the experience.
The Scriptures tell the story of God's relationship with creation and humanities' relationship with God. Complaining and being upset is a difficult aspect of relationships, especially when it comes to knowing how to express one's grief without harming others in the process. Scripture has "an app for that." The Hebrew people were not afraid to voice their complaints to the LORD about the problems of evil and suffering. Their verbal expression of grief make up a large body of literature in the Bible including parts of Job, Habakkuk, lament Psalms, Lamentation (the only book named after an emotion) and much of Jeremiah.
To apply this app to life, let’s begin with Job. Job complained bitterly to God about his suffering. He lost everything, his family, status, wealth, and all means of security and identity in one day. Then he was plagued by a horrific skin disease that left him living in a trash heap. His wife told him to curse God and die. His “comforters” told him it was his own fault. Yet Job would not accept their conclusions. He persisted in his innocence and begged God for a chance to present his case before God. Job got his opportunity, but quickly had nothing to say as God presented a series of rhetorical questions. In these divine speeches, Job realizes he cannot condemn God to justify himself. That he is just one among the many creations that delight our creator and that such a creator has given order to the chaos that is. God restores twice what Job lost and this time Job sees his life from God’s perspective finding delight in what he has, worrying less about keeping everything under control.
The text this morning is from the beginning of Job’s journey into suffering. Job was a man who tried to do the right thing. When his children threw a party, he would pray and make sacrifices for them, just in case they did or said anything that might offend the LORD. Job didn’t like messy. But life gets messy. A healthy pregnancy and birth can end with Sudden Infant Death, a waitress who never smoked a day in her life can die of lung cancer because of second-hand smoke from the job that had sustained her for 30 years, an honor student and promising athlete can be killed in a car accident the day before starting college. We know the messiness; some of us are living in it right now.
These are the moments we realize how little control we have over so much that damages our society and ourselves. These are the moments when God seems silent. St. John of the Cross referred to days of doubt and estrangement from God as “the dark night of the soul.” Henri Nouwen called them “the ministry of absence.” A. W. Tozer called them “the ministry of the night.” Others refer to “the winter of the heart.” These are the terms of deep spiritual transformation that are often instigated by the tragedy and absurdity of life events. Grief, rage, anger and fear flash to the surface of our consciousness. Where do we go with these feelings? How do we express them? Who will listen when we speak? Where is the app for this?
The value of Biblical laments becomes priceless in these moments. A lament is a cry to God with our doubts and our complaints against God. They give us the freedom and permission to be honest about our suffering and allow us to descend into the depths that is necessary before healing can occur. Both spiritual and psychological counseling traditions recognize that speaking our complaints creates a context for surrender. Surrender – the turning of our heart over to God, asking for mercy, and receiving God’s terms for restoration is impossible without battle. To put it simply, it is inconceivable to surrender to God unless we have first declared war against him. A lament is a battle cry against God that paradoxically voices a heart of desire and faith in his goodness.
Hear the battle cry of Job: “I can’t be quiet! I am angry and bitter. I have to speak.” Such words involve deep emotion. To speak your doubt and despair is truly asking, seeking, and knocking to comprehend the heart of God. Praying our grief is a passion to ask. A lament uses language of pain, anger and confusion and moves toward God. It is not mere whining.
Lament speaks the language of the shadow side of faith. The person who hears your lament is someone you deeply and wildly trust. Lament reveals the raw nerve of trust. It cuts through insincerity. You don’t lament to someone who could fire you or threaten a cherished relationship. You don’t trust them. You don’t believe they would endure the depths of your disappointment and confusion. You admit your complaint against God because deep down you believe and have faith in God’s faithfulness, grace, and mercy. By trusting God with our dark side, we share our deepest hurts and disappointments. We know that God won’t give up on us.
The apostle John wrote that when our heart condemns us, God is greater than our hearts and knows all things, and so we can quiet our hearts. In the book of Revelation the Lord says repeatedly to the churches: “I know” – where you live; your poverty, your tribulation, the slander you have to endure. In the Greek Bible, God is called the kardiognostes, the heart-knower.
The great heart-knower has suffered the depths of life’s tragedies. Whatever messes afflict and grieve us to the core of our being, God has seen it, known it, and taken it into God’s own life in Jesus who was crucified, who died, descended into hell, and was raised on the third day. The Old Testament is not the only place we find permission to speak our pain and bitterness for the New Testament bears the cry of God in anguish, doubt, and search. “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?” The cross is the place for every human experience of hell on earth. God knows this; God has been there, and as a consequence we know that God can be trusted.
Mary Oliver in her poem “At Black River” writes: Then I remember, death comes before the rolling away of the stone. Our pain, sadness, and tragedies are often personal teachers that open us to fearless honesty. Like Job, we find a voice to speak our grief. In the depths of our despair the dark soil is laid for the growth of joy and healing. In doubt we live out our deepest expressions of faith. In our battle cry against God we seek truth as we have never done before. Our pain initiates a search, our anger clarifies the demand for relief, and our confusion opens our heart to change. Here we are transformed and truly known. If you are in the darkness of stone yet to be rolled away – there’s an app for that. Speak your bitterness and anger to the great heart-knower.
I close in prayer from Hymn 703 (ELW) “O God, Why Are Your Silent” by Marty Haugen:
May pain draw forth compassion, let wisdom rise from loss;
oh, take my heart and fashion the image of your cross;
then may I know your healing through healing that I share,
your grace and love revealing, your tenderness and care.
Ten years ago these were the words of my mouth as much as they were Job's. I had experienced a deep disappointment and my soul ached with bitterness. I remember reading the Psalms as if I had never read them before. Whenever a psalm used the phrase "my enemies," I would replace it with the names of those who had hurt me and received a certain cathartic delight. It was the beginning of a healing process that I am deeply thankful for. Yet I often wonder if the journey might have been easier. Nonetheless most experiences into the depths of suffering and pain call for the courage to speak your grief, acknowledge your place as one with a larger creation - a God's eye view of life, and to be forever changed by the experience.
The Scriptures tell the story of God's relationship with creation and humanities' relationship with God. Complaining and being upset is a difficult aspect of relationships, especially when it comes to knowing how to express one's grief without harming others in the process. Scripture has "an app for that." The Hebrew people were not afraid to voice their complaints to the LORD about the problems of evil and suffering. Their verbal expression of grief make up a large body of literature in the Bible including parts of Job, Habakkuk, lament Psalms, Lamentation (the only book named after an emotion) and much of Jeremiah.
To apply this app to life, let’s begin with Job. Job complained bitterly to God about his suffering. He lost everything, his family, status, wealth, and all means of security and identity in one day. Then he was plagued by a horrific skin disease that left him living in a trash heap. His wife told him to curse God and die. His “comforters” told him it was his own fault. Yet Job would not accept their conclusions. He persisted in his innocence and begged God for a chance to present his case before God. Job got his opportunity, but quickly had nothing to say as God presented a series of rhetorical questions. In these divine speeches, Job realizes he cannot condemn God to justify himself. That he is just one among the many creations that delight our creator and that such a creator has given order to the chaos that is. God restores twice what Job lost and this time Job sees his life from God’s perspective finding delight in what he has, worrying less about keeping everything under control.
The text this morning is from the beginning of Job’s journey into suffering. Job was a man who tried to do the right thing. When his children threw a party, he would pray and make sacrifices for them, just in case they did or said anything that might offend the LORD. Job didn’t like messy. But life gets messy. A healthy pregnancy and birth can end with Sudden Infant Death, a waitress who never smoked a day in her life can die of lung cancer because of second-hand smoke from the job that had sustained her for 30 years, an honor student and promising athlete can be killed in a car accident the day before starting college. We know the messiness; some of us are living in it right now.
These are the moments we realize how little control we have over so much that damages our society and ourselves. These are the moments when God seems silent. St. John of the Cross referred to days of doubt and estrangement from God as “the dark night of the soul.” Henri Nouwen called them “the ministry of absence.” A. W. Tozer called them “the ministry of the night.” Others refer to “the winter of the heart.” These are the terms of deep spiritual transformation that are often instigated by the tragedy and absurdity of life events. Grief, rage, anger and fear flash to the surface of our consciousness. Where do we go with these feelings? How do we express them? Who will listen when we speak? Where is the app for this?
The value of Biblical laments becomes priceless in these moments. A lament is a cry to God with our doubts and our complaints against God. They give us the freedom and permission to be honest about our suffering and allow us to descend into the depths that is necessary before healing can occur. Both spiritual and psychological counseling traditions recognize that speaking our complaints creates a context for surrender. Surrender – the turning of our heart over to God, asking for mercy, and receiving God’s terms for restoration is impossible without battle. To put it simply, it is inconceivable to surrender to God unless we have first declared war against him. A lament is a battle cry against God that paradoxically voices a heart of desire and faith in his goodness.
Hear the battle cry of Job: “I can’t be quiet! I am angry and bitter. I have to speak.” Such words involve deep emotion. To speak your doubt and despair is truly asking, seeking, and knocking to comprehend the heart of God. Praying our grief is a passion to ask. A lament uses language of pain, anger and confusion and moves toward God. It is not mere whining.
Lament speaks the language of the shadow side of faith. The person who hears your lament is someone you deeply and wildly trust. Lament reveals the raw nerve of trust. It cuts through insincerity. You don’t lament to someone who could fire you or threaten a cherished relationship. You don’t trust them. You don’t believe they would endure the depths of your disappointment and confusion. You admit your complaint against God because deep down you believe and have faith in God’s faithfulness, grace, and mercy. By trusting God with our dark side, we share our deepest hurts and disappointments. We know that God won’t give up on us.
The apostle John wrote that when our heart condemns us, God is greater than our hearts and knows all things, and so we can quiet our hearts. In the book of Revelation the Lord says repeatedly to the churches: “I know” – where you live; your poverty, your tribulation, the slander you have to endure. In the Greek Bible, God is called the kardiognostes, the heart-knower.
The great heart-knower has suffered the depths of life’s tragedies. Whatever messes afflict and grieve us to the core of our being, God has seen it, known it, and taken it into God’s own life in Jesus who was crucified, who died, descended into hell, and was raised on the third day. The Old Testament is not the only place we find permission to speak our pain and bitterness for the New Testament bears the cry of God in anguish, doubt, and search. “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?” The cross is the place for every human experience of hell on earth. God knows this; God has been there, and as a consequence we know that God can be trusted.
Mary Oliver in her poem “At Black River” writes: Then I remember, death comes before the rolling away of the stone. Our pain, sadness, and tragedies are often personal teachers that open us to fearless honesty. Like Job, we find a voice to speak our grief. In the depths of our despair the dark soil is laid for the growth of joy and healing. In doubt we live out our deepest expressions of faith. In our battle cry against God we seek truth as we have never done before. Our pain initiates a search, our anger clarifies the demand for relief, and our confusion opens our heart to change. Here we are transformed and truly known. If you are in the darkness of stone yet to be rolled away – there’s an app for that. Speak your bitterness and anger to the great heart-knower.
I close in prayer from Hymn 703 (ELW) “O God, Why Are Your Silent” by Marty Haugen:
May pain draw forth compassion, let wisdom rise from loss;
oh, take my heart and fashion the image of your cross;
then may I know your healing through healing that I share,
your grace and love revealing, your tenderness and care.
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