At the 'netta

So, I'm currently sitting in the lobby of the Historic Inn here at Massanetta Springs. We're in the middle of our second week of middle school conferences. It's been an amazing experience serving as the keynoter for the conference. Thanks to the help of a ten member team of youth "enablers," I think the keynotes have gone well and have been well received. The theme for this conference has been Signed. Sealed. Delivered. and our key scripture has been Exodus 3:1-12 (Moses and the burning bush). As last week was unfolding, I remember experiencing many blog-able moments but never really had the time to sit down and get them out. Now that I'm just chillin' out, it seems that my memory has failed me for the most part. Here's what I do remember:

• It's fun to simply play with middle schoolers. They're not "too cool" yet. Seeing the many games being played during station rec reminded me that I need to mix up the games back at Harpeth.
• Speaking of Harpeth, I find myself really missing "my" youth. As fun stuff is happening, I wish I could share it with the youth that make up my daily life back in Williamson County. More than ever, I'm committed to getting youth to Montreat next year.
  
• The enablers here are amazing. Enablers are hs youth who apply to serve as leaders for the middlers who come here. They really take a lot of initiative and make this conference run. It reminds me that youth really can take a huge part in leading if given the right training and adequate opportunities.

For now, that's all I've got. Maybe I'll find time this week to blog as stuff happens.

Summer chaos

So, I'm sitting at Fido (not Fido's, as I have recently learned) on a Saturday afternoon, frantically trying to pull my disparate thoughts together for the sermon I'm supposed to preach tomorrow. The text is Luke 7:36-50 if anyone happens to read this today and have thoughts. You know, in some ways, preaching is easier now that I've been doing it once a month for two years, but in many ways, it's just as hard as it ever was. For my great love of "the word" and liturgy and language and worship, I have hard time getting it together for "the sermon." Somehow it feels more and more false. I suppose I'm not saying anything the emergent folks haven't already been saying for years now, but there it is.

On a totally unrelated note, I'm staring summer chaos in the face. Bible school starts on Monday, I leave for a mission trip on Friday, return on a Sunday10 days later, and then leave for Massanetta Springs the day after that. Will I still be standing on July 13th? "I will, with God's help."

I haven't been home to CoMo since Christmas. By the time I get back there in August or September, I believe I will have been away longer than ever in my life. I know that the visits will be fewer and fewer as I put down deeper roots here in middle Tennessee, but sometimes I just want to walk out the front door of 1714, hop on my bike, and ride downtown for coffee at The Coffee Zone, lunch at Shakespeare's, and a stroll through Cool Stuff just to see what they have.

Back to the sermon..."Open my eyes that I may see" and all that good stuff.

Two totally unrelated thoughts

Totally unrelated thought number one: In the past few days, I've come across the term Bible believing Christian or Bible believing church a couple of times. Honestly, I really dislike that term Bible believing. I'm not exactly sure why. I think those who use it would say that a Bible believing Christian is one who believes that the Bible is true (maybe even inerrant) and that it's God's word to us. They might even use a capital W in word. I guess part of my objection to the term is the same one raised by Luther (or some other reformed theologian) that said that Christians are sometimes liable to worship the manger instead of the baby in the manger (the manger being the Bible and the baby being Jesus Christ). In the end, I don't place my faith and trust in Scripture, but in the loving arms of the One who we encounter in Scripture. Do I think the Bible is true? Yes. Do I think it's inerrant? No. Do I believe in the Bible? I'm not sure. I'm just not sure believing in the Bible is semantically correct. Now, I know I'm opening the door to be called a heretic and a (oh my gosh, the biggest insult some can think to give) a liberal, or a relativist, or some other label, but I'm willing to take that risk. Somebody help me see why Bible believing is something I should embrace.

Totally unrelated though number two: What's up with stars like Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears popping in and out of rehab like it's a bed and breakfast? Is rehab really something you do for a week and then check yourself out of? What leads stars like that to seek the highs of cocaine and/or the numbness of alcohol? Where are these stars' friends? I mean the real friends. The ones who know them deeply and intimately. Do they have those people in their lives? Living as one who is "recognized" by everyone but not "known" might have something do with the destructive behavior. I find myself being frustrated by people like Lindsey Lohan who complain about how difficult their lives are, and yet in the grand scheme of things, they have it so great. It's all relative I suppose. Does the church have anything to offer these self-destructive starts? How do we minister to such people? How do we offer an alternative narrative to those entrenched in the world of stardom?

Waiting for somebody to push him

This past weekend, my sister and her husband came to visit. We explored Franklin and Nashville, heard some live bluegrass, went to church, visited The Hermitage (the home of Andrew Jackson), and went to the zoo. While we were at the zoo, we were watching some sort of monkey (it had another name, but I can't think of it right now) play in it's paddock. One of them jumped on a swing of sorts, you know, the type with the log tied to trees with rope. A little girl was sitting there watching and said, "Hey, that one's waiting for somebody to push him." For some reason, that struck me as really great. How many times have we been sitting on a swing simply waiting for somebody to push us? Sure, swinging by yourself can be fun, but it's so much more thrilling to have someone pushing you as you scream, "Higher! Higher!" And then there's always the unexpected halt in the midair as the person pushing grabs the chains of the swing. So many metaphors for life there somewhere:

• Going out and coming back in.
  
• The first push to disturb inertia being the most difficult.
  
• Getting into the rhythm of life.
  
• Little nudges in the midst of the motion of life.
• Being willing to sit there and wait for somebody to push you.

For today, my mind is settling on that last one. This past Sunday at church we talked about going (or shuv-ing if you're into Hebrew), and David used the analogy of not being able to steer a parked car. But sometimes, in the midst of a go go go society, maybe we need to simply find a nice park with a swing that's completely still and simply sit there and wait for somebody to push us. Maybe we spend too much time trying to push ourselves and so we miss the joy of feeling the loving hands of God on our backs as we squeal with delight. I don't know...Maybe I'm making too much out of a little girl's comment, but I like thinking about that swing with God pushing me higher and higher.

Thoughts on worship...

So, I ran a half marathon last weekend. More on that when I have some pictures to share. For now, though, I'm reading Leaving Church by Barbara Brown Taylor. It's brilliant, as most of her writing is. Anyway, I just read this paragraph about worship and I think it captures some of the thoughts and meditations I've been having for the past 6 months or so:

If this terrific mystery is not apparent to most people sitting in the pews, then there are at least two things wrong. One is that worship has become too tame, and the other is that those who come have stopped bringing their own fire. The two may even be related, but neither is easily solved, nor am I sure that many people want them to be. Tame worship is easier to agree on than any other kind, and bringing fire requires a lot more energy than simply showing up. When life is pretty good and church is pleasant enough, who needs resurrection?

Wow! "Tame worship is easier to agree on than any other kind, and bringing fire requires a lot more energy than simply showing up." Do we who plan worship settle for "tame worship?" Do the masses who come to worship bring fire or simply show up? Who needs resurrection indeed? Powerful thoughts and a powerful question.

Thoughts on violence

So, this past Sunday was one of my weeks to preach. It was just that time in the rotation. It was when it worked out with my schedule and with David's schedule. I spent a better part of last Monday morning reading Acts 9:1-19 (Saul's blinding experience on the road to Damascus). For some reason, I left my e-mail alone and didn't really touch base with the outside world until I got a phone call about the killings at Virginia Tech. I had just spent two hours thinking about call narratives and suddenly I knew I would be spending the week re-imagining the sermon as my community and I faced the violence of 33 dead at Virginia Tech. As the week went on, I kept clinging to the call narrative, because, let's face it, preaching about violence isn't exactly easy. But, after a couple of great conversations with my friend Emily, I decided to tackle the violence of Cho Seung Hui and hold it up next to the violence of Saul and the violence in our own hearts. Tough subject matter. Anyway, after swimming around in that water for awhile, I've come up with the following conclusions (always tentative) and questions:

• When we persecute anyone, we persecue Christ (Acts 9:4-5)
• All of us are capable of doing violence to others, and sometimes we do it in the name of justice
• Violence is never OK, even in the name of justice (sorry, no just wars for me)
• We need to be more like Ananias who reached out in reconciliation and love to one who had done violence to people he loved and might have done violence to him (Acts 9:17)
• Why is called a massacre when people die on a college campus but simply violence when it happens in a market in Baghdad?
• Why do we change the channel when the media tells us how many people have died in Iraq, Palestine, Israel, Sudan, etc. but rush home to watch never ending coverage of the Virginia Tech shooting?
• Why does the Virginia Tech shooting bother us more than those who die everyday in the war in Iraq?
• Shouldn't Christians care equally and be equally outraged?

All of this is just the tip of the iceberg of my own dealing with the current issues of violence in our society and in the world. Comment as you choose. I welcome all viewpoints. I really do ask questions in seek of answers.

Welcome to 30

That's right, folks. I've come around the bend and have joined the ranks of those who have lived for at least 30 years. I'm 30 years old. How is that possible? I can't say that 30 feels any different than 29. Anyway, here are some pictures from my birthday celebration up in Media, PA.

Andy, Wes, Me, Laurie, Shelli, John

Me and Laurie

Me and Wes

Me, my three chins, Weicher, and Shelli at the top of the Rocky steps in Philadelphia.

Timeless books

Hey gang. I just finished a book called An Ethic for Christians & Other Aliens in a Strange Land by William Stringfellow. It was first published in 1973 and yet is so apropos of 2007. Basically, Stringfellow posits that America is living under the delusion that it represents Jerusalem/Israel in the vision of the apocalypse, when it actually embodies Babylon. He asserts that death is the true idol and ruler of principalities and super powers. Anyway, near the end, as he's concluding that there really isn't hope for America to ever overcome the rule of death, the calls for Christians to live as kingdom people. Here's what he says:

In the face of death, live humanly. In the middle of chaos, celebrate the Word. Amidst babel, I repeat, speak the truth. Confront the noise and verbiage and falsehood of death with the truth and potency and efficacy of the Word of God. Know the Word, teach the Word, nurture the Word, preach the Word, defend the Word, incarnate the Word, do the Word, live the Word. And more than that, in the Word of God, expose death and all death's works and wiles, rebuke lies, cast out demons, exorcise, cleanse the possessed, raise those who are dead in mind and conscience.

Wow! This is a book that could seriously have been written last week. Stringfellow raises thoughtful questions about the power of death in the military complex in the United States and how it pervades all parts of American culture.

On a note that I think is related, I attended a middle school motivational talk about bullying today. The school is planning to implement a big anti-bullying campaign next year. It sounds like a solid program with intentional times of community between students and teachers. I wonder, though, about the hypocrisy of the drivers of a parking lot full of SUVs with W stickers sitting around in a middle school library bemoaning the act of bullying as our President uses the tactics of a bully to impose his agenda on nations around the world. Doesn't our condescending rhetoric about Israel, Palestine, Iran, and Iraq sound like bullying? Bullying is bad...unless our government does it in the name of peace. Any thoughts?

Palm Sunday Hymns

So, on Sunday (Palm Sunday), as I was singing All Glory Laud and Honor, I took special note of the refrain:

All glory, laud, and honor to Thee, Redeemer, King!
To whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.

"Interesting" I thought. I never noticed that bit about the lips of children ringing out Hosannas. I mean, we always do the Palm Sunday parade with children, and this year, at Harpeth, we bordered on being Pentecostal with our shouts of Hosanna and Amen, but I never noticed that emphasis in that old classic hymn.

Then, later in the service, while we were singing Hosanna, Loud Hosanna, I noticed that the whole first verse was about little children singing Hosanna.

I stood there feeling like an idiot for never noticing that it was children who were standing along the route to Jerusalem. Did the gospels emphasize the throngs of children and I missed it. Pretty lame for a youth and families minister not to notice such a thing.

Well, upon further inspection of Scripture, it isn't until Jesus goes into the temple, after the triumphal entry that Jesus is confronted with children in the temple singing Hosanna. Of course, the Pharisees don't like it, and Jesus rephrases Psalm 8 by saying, "Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies you ahve prepared praise for yourself."

So, while the time frame is a little bit out of sync, I'd like to give props to the 19th century hymn writers who sought to emphasize the importance of children in this narrative. In the midst of Palm Sunday parades, may our ears be specially tuned to the voices of the children who sing with joy and excitement...the children who sing out loud with no regard to whether it sounds pretty or whether it's "proper." Hosanna indeed!

Taking flack

Now that I'm looking at the word "flack" I'm not sure that's how it's spelled, but whatever. The title of this post indicates the flack I've taken from a few of you Renderings readers for not posting in awhile. I do apologize. I've been entertaining family or been out of town for the past 2.5 weeks. So, here's some thoughts I had last Saturday as I was staring out my bedroom window:

As I look out my window I see one tree with little white blossoms and tiny green leaves announcing the arrival of spring...and this juxtaposed against the tree next to it that's still clinging desperately to brown shriveled leaves of the 2006 variety. I wonder if the students/youth/teens that we minister to and with have both of these trees inside of them. Sometimes they're so excited about new things, new life, new seasons, new desires, new whatever but at the same time they're afraid to let go of the old and desperately cling to what used to be the new. And aren't we all like that to some degree? Don't we all have both trees inside of us? I wonder if these trees might provide good questions for daily examen. What new life is God calling into? What old life to you desperately cling to? Spring is such a visible example of our transition from old life to new life. We're so close to the Hallelujahs of Easter morning, but we still have to face the Hosannas of Palm Sunday and the tears of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday and the deep deep sorrow of Black Saturday. So, yeah, two trees.

Tests in English

After being thwarted by Mayor Bill Purcell in their efforts to make English the official language of Nashville, proponents of such ridiculousness have proposed a bill that would require all drivers license tests to be taken in English. I mean, seriously? Why is this such a big deal, people? Is it about terrorists? I'm sure that they're just lining up to get drivers licenses. Is it about making some statement about the importance of the English language? If so, maybe we should address all the misspelled and grammatically incorrect signs I see all over the place, or maybe outlaw text-ese. I just don't understand why we can't let people take exams in their native language. What does it hurt? What is it about people speaking Spanish, French, German, Swahili, Arabic, Russian, whatever that make people so uncomfortable? Can the metro city council spend some time on issues that actually matter, like, oh, homelessness, poverty, hunger, crappy public transporatation, etc.?

Ash Wednesday

This is a sermon I preached for the Ash Wednesday service at Harpeth this evening. I'll include the Scripture from Isaiah 58:6-11 as well. I wrote it in the form of a letter to my Grandpa, who passed away while I was in high school and who I still miss.

Isaiah 58:6-11

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the Lord shall be your rearguard.
Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you continually,
and satisfy your needs in parched places,
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters never fail.

The Fast I Choose

Dear Grandpa,

It’s been 13 years since you left us. 13 years since you passed away so suddenly and so unexpectedly. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 13 years. I think about you almost every day for one reason or another. Every time I pick up my golf bag and hear the clink and clack of the clubs knocking against each other, I think of how we used to get up so early in the morning to go play a round of golf before it got too hot. Every time a little kid comes up and only half heartedly gives me five, I remember how you used to hold your hand out there until I gave you five like I meant it…until it sounded right…until it stung just a little bit…and then you’d shake your hand and say “that’s the way.”

I’m taking piano lessons again. Every time you would come to visit, you would want to hear my latest masterpiece, and, to be honest, I never really wanted to play. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play for you, but I was so much more eager to go outside and play catch. Nobody else ever wanted to play catch. And it wasn’t just the catch…it was the conversation…it was talking about baseball and basketball and other sports stuff.

For some reason, the night you were given an award by the Marshall municipal band has been on my mind lately. I’m sure you remember that night. It was a warm summer night and we were all sitting there in our lawn chairs as the Marshall band played one of its outdoor concerts. You were up front announcing all the pieces like you did each week, and then someone else took the microphone and said that they had something special for you. They handed you a plaque and thanked you for your 30-odd years of service to the band. When they gave you the opportunity to say something, you didn’t give a speech like you hear at the Oscars where you thank “all the little people.” You stood there and asked everyone to join you in prayer. You thanked God for all of the ways that God had blessed you over the years, including all your family and friends. You put everything in the context of God’s gifts. That was so amazing, Grandpa. I feel like that was the kind of moment when God smiles down and says, “That’s the way…that’s the way.”

I’m working on a sermon for Ash Wednesday, and the service is tonight, Grandpa. You know, usually on Ash Wednesday, we all make decisions about what we’re going to give up for lent. Some people give up chocolate or soda or caffeine or some other kind of food. Some people give up a bad habit like smoking or biting their nails. Some people give up something they like to do like watching TV or biking or running. Some people decide to add a spiritual discipline like journaling or daily prayer or fasting. I don’t remember if you ever gave anything up, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Well, as I was reading all the suggested scriptures for Ash Wednesday, I came across these words from Isaiah 58:

⁶Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

I feel like you would like these words, Grandpa. Here’s the thing, though: this kind of fast is so much harder to do than giving up soda. There’s so much injustice in the world that leads to oppression. How am I supposed to loose those bonds? I do my best to buy fair trade coffee and when I order t-shirts, I order sweat-free. I didn’t do so well on that Taco Bell boycott when the PCUSA was trying to help loose the bonds of injustice for tomato pickers in Florida. But, I do try.

And what about sharing my bread with the hungry? I wonder, is it good enough to just write a check to the second harvest food bank or to donate canned goods when the church has a food drive? Somehow that doesn’t feel like sharing my bread with the hungry.

Grandpa, I have never once brought the homeless poor into my house. Sure, I’ve spent the night at homeless shelters and helped out with Room in the Inn, but again, that isn’t my house. How does that compare to giving up caffeinated beverages for lent?

I’m pretty good at giving clothes to Goodwill, but really only the stuff I don’t want anymore, or stuff that has shrunk too much in the wash. How many times have I seen homeless men and women sleeping on the streets on a cold night and just kept walking or drove right by? It’s so hard to think about stopping and giving them the coat off my back or one of the blankets I have in my car. I remember being so astonished at how little clothing the men at the homeless shelters in Atlanta owned. What does God think about my closets full of clothing?

Oh, and the hiding, Grandpa. We’re all so good at that. Sometimes Mom and Dad ask me how I’m doing and when I say “fine,” I’m not. I don’t want them to worry. Sometimes I hide what I’m struggling with from my church family here at Harpeth, because I’m afraid to seem too vulnerable. I guess we all wear masks from time to time, Grandpa. Authenticity and integrity are virtues I strive to attain, but sometimes I hide myself from my own kin, and I imagine some of my kin hide themselves from me. I hope that lent can be a time for me to be more…transparent…that I will be more comfortable revealing who I really am to those who love me and care about my well-being.

After reading these words from Isaiah, Grandpa, it sounds like all the fasting and all the Lenten disciplines and all the devout worship and all the holiness in the world doesn’t amount to a hill of beans if injustice still exists and people are still oppressed and if people are still hungry and if people don’t have homes and if people are without clothing and if we all continue to wear masks and pretend to be something we’re not. These words leave me feeling a bit lost…like I’m wandering in the wilderness. And maybe that’s where I need to be for awhile. Maybe lent isn’t so much about taking control of some area of my life but letting go and wandering in the wilderness for a little while. It’s comforting to know that God promises to be with me in the wilderness…that:

The Lord will guide me continually,
and satisfy my needs in parched places,
and make my bones strong;
and I shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters never fail.

It’s time to go now, Grandpa. The YITS are coming. Thanks for all the golf and the playing catch and the early morning donut shop trips and for being a man I can look up to. Grandpa, I hope that my Lenten fast of wandering and struggling with the role I’m called to play in loosing, freeing, housing, clothing, and revealing will be pleasing to God. I hope that you’ll watch over me. Maybe you could tell God about holding out your hand until I gave you five like I meant it…so that God might hold out his loving hand and keep holding it out until I do things just right. I could sure use that kind of guidance from the Spirit.

With love and adoration,

Your Grandson, Alan

blog-able moments

The way I see it, each day is full of blog-able moments...moments that, upon further reflection, can be seen to have deeper meaning that we realize. Anyway, this week, there were two particular events that left me reflecting for hours and days afterward:

1. The Old Spaghetti Factory: On Thursday afternoons, I tutor reading for boys and girls at the Martha O'Bryan center in east Nashville. These are kids who need extra help with reading skills and comprehension. We usually read a story and talk about various reading skills associated with the story. But, this Thursday, a group of nine of them had reached the goal of reading 400 pages, so we were scheduled to go to dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory in downtown Nashville. The nine munchkins and I were dropped at the door while the other adults parked the van, so we sat around in the lobby talking about how nice the building was. As we were all waiting for our table to be ready, one of the little boys looked at me and one of the other adults and asked, "Why is this place so full of white people? Where are all the black people?" It now dawns on me that I failed to mention that all of our students are black. One of the other adults stammered out an "I don't know," and he was off to look at a scale in the corner that other kids were standing on. As I stood there thinking about that little boy's question, I realized that the only black people I could see in the restaurant were the two hostesses. Not one black person was actually dining in the restaurant or having a drink at the bar. If I were to be honest and answer that little boy's question, I would probably say something like, "Well, most of the black people who live in downtown and East Nashville can't afford to eat here." We still live in that world. A world segregated by socio-economic class and race. Anyway, that little boy's questions continues to gnaw at me.
2. Youth Lock-In: This past Friday night, the youth of Harpeth had a lock-in. We began the night with a Parents' Night Out fundraiser hosted by the sr. highs and then, at 10:00, the little kids went home, the middle school youth showed up, and the lock-in began. But, shortly before 10:00, three young ladies I'd never seen before walked in the door. As they were introducing themselves, I smelled alcohol on their breath. That's right. Someone had dropped off thre drunk eight grade girls at our lock-in. I asked them to call their parents and have them come right back. Oh, did the stories start flying at that point. "My Mom's out of town." "My Mom's not picking up." etc, etc. So, finally, two of them get picked up, and one of them is still trying to get ahold of a parent. Well, a few minutes later, other youth are running up to me to tell me that she had thrown up. To make a long story short, one of my adults had to take her home as she threw up in a trash can the whole way there. When that adult got back, there was a man in the parking lot asking for gas money. On a Friday night? Are you kidding me? Then, as the night progressed, there was the inevitable drama of girls flirting with boys and boys paying attention to the "wrong" girls and the "right" girls being upset, and crying, and he said and she said and wandering around like zombies in search of brains. Finally, at 5:00 am, everyone realized that it was snowing, so they put on their shoes and their North Face jackets and walked around in packs out in the parking lot. Yes, it was 20 degrees and they were all standing around in a pack under a street light in our church parking lot. Ah, the sociology of adolescents. I'd like to go back in time and find the guy or gal who invented lock-ins and take them out...kind of like the Terminator and John Connor, only I wouldn't have any pity like the Terminator did.
   

OK, enough rambling for now.

I love it when Jesus gets snippy

Mark 11:27-33

Again they came to Jerusalem. As he was walking in the temple, the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders came to him and said, “By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you this authority to do them?” Jesus said to them, “I will ask you one question; answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin? Answer me.” They argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But shall we say, ‘Of human origin’?” —they were afraid of the crowd, for all regarded John as truly a prophet. So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And Jesus said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”

I just love passages like this when Jesus gets snippy with people who ask him rude questions. As one who seemed to be pretty good at reading people, Jesus senses that the chief priests, chief priests, and elders are coming to him with an attitude of condescension and arrogance, and clearly, Jesus doesn't like it. He rarely has much patience with those who would lord their own positions of authority and importance over other people. Jesus was so postmodern. :)

Always "Other"

So, last night, I was registering for The Country Music Marathon, and it came time to select my occupation from a drop down list of options. Was "Clergy" listed? Of course not. When I took a moment to think about it, I don't think a clergy-esque option has ever been available. What's up with that? Do ministers/pastors/christian educators/missionaries not warrant our own option on drop down lists? Why do they oppress my people?

Any thoughts?

I'll heal them anyway!

These words from Isaiah 57:16-21 were part of the daily lectionary today:

Isaiah 57:16-21
For I will not fight against you forever; I will not always show my anger. If I did, all people would pass away – all the souls I have made. I was angry and punished these greedy people. I withdrew myself from them, but they went right on sinning. I have seen what they do, but I will heal them anyway! I will lead them and comfort those who mourn. Then words of praise will be on their lips. May they have peace, both near and far, for I will heal them all," says the LORD. "But those who still reject me are like the restless sea. It is never still but continually churns up mire and dirt. There is no peace for the wicked," says my God.

I'm particularly struck by verse 18: I have seen what they do, but I will heal them anyway! I will lead them and comfort those who mourn. This comes in the midst of God basically calling out Israel for all the ways that they've strayed from God's plans for them. Then, even though God voices a preference for God's people to be humble and repentant, God proclaims that God will not fight against us forver, nor will God always show us anger. God sees what we do, and even when we fail to repent and turn from evil ways, God promises to heal us anyway and to continue to lead us and comfort us when we mourn. What an amazing God we worship!! A God who wishes for us to have peace...a shalom peace...a shalom peace that means we are made whole.

And how about those last two verses about "the wicked?" When we ignore the peace that God plans for us...when we continue to seek after vain glory and selfish ambition...our lives will be restless like the sea...churning up all the muck that we create in our brokenness. Somehow, even as God offers us peace/shalom/wholeness/healing, we still find ways to muck it up. We find ways to miss the stillness that God wants so badly for us. Somehow these words redefine wickedness for me. I haven't figured out how yet, but I know there's something here to spend some time with.

I have seen what they do, but I will heal them anyway! I will lead them and comfort those who mourn.

Amazing...Absolutely Amazing!

My brain this week

This has been one of those weeks when my brain has been all over the place. Here are a few of the meanderings of my mind:

• Last Saturday afternoon, I went to Starbucks in Franklin to wrap up my Sunday school lesson and to do some reading. The only place to sit was at a long table where two people were already sitting. They were gracious enough to let me pull up a chair on the end. I had placed myself in the midst of a discipleship meeting. An older woman was telling a 20 something young woman that God had put it on her heart to disciple her. OK, as soon as I hear "God put it on my heart," my skeptic radar starts beeping pretty loudly. As I faded in and out of hearing their conversation, I kept hearing just about every altruism in the book: that's the devil making him thing that...God wants you to be happy...there's a whole in your heart that only Jesus can fill...blah blah blah. As far as I could tell, the young woman was voicing some doubts and some struggles, and all the older woman could do was throw altruism bombs at her and hope they exploded in the right spot. I wanted to turn and say, "You know, it's OK not to have all the answers and wonder if God is acting appropriately." Anyway, that was interesting.
• On a lighter note, I caught myself laughing out loud (lol for short) at Taco Bell on Monday when I saw these two hot sauce packets:

I mean, come one, those are hilarious. The Hot sauce packet is sitting there totally annoyed by the Fire sauce packet who is saying stuff like, "Hey, I'm hotter than you!" "I'm en fuego" "I am soooo on Fire" Then, there's the whole notion of scratching and sniffing a hot sauce packet. Anyway, I'm still holding to my theory that Taco Bell hires 3rd and 4th grade boys to come in and write stuff for the sauce packets. I love it.

• On Monday mornings, I spend a couple of hours at The Good Cup (my favorite local coffee shop) reading. I know it's a luxury that not many people get, but I wish they did. It's so nice to just sink myself into a good book and let new ideas wash over me. I'm currently reading The Secular City by Harvey Cox. I just read a chapter that discusses India and the prediction that by 1966, the country would starve to death. Then, just 10 years after the book was written, Norman Borlaug comes along and introduces high yielding dwarf wheat. I spent a good 10 minutes sitting there thinking about momentous events like that that totally change the landscape of the world and destroy all of our predictions. Anyway, I wish everybody could have time to just sit and read.
• Finally, I've woken up every morning this week to hear a report on NPR about people dying in Iraq, or more troops going to Iraq, or continued hostility in Iraq. I didn't watch the State of the Union address, because I thought I might either break something or cry. I've honestly been on the verge of tears each morning as I sit down and go through the ritual of Morning Prayer. Today, I was asked to pray for:
• those subjected to tyrrany and oppression
• wounded and injured people
• those who face death
• those who may be our enemies
• I heard that Bush and his cronies are asking for time for his new plan to work. HOW MUCH MORE TIME DO YOU NEED? We've been enmeshed in an occupation and now a civil war for five years! Thousands of lives, Iraqi and American have been lost. How can sending more people in harm's way be the answer? When does it stop? When do we realize that the Iraqi people may not be ready for the constitutional revolution that we want them to have? When is enough enough? I'm so sick and tired of waking up every morning and hearing that more people are dead. Sure, I could switch my clock radio to a pop radio station and hear about the latest hollywood breakups and makeups, but people would still be dying...people would still be wounded and injured and facing death. NO MORE! please...no more.
  

Friday at Harpeth

No lie, this guy was outside Harpeth this morning filming a music video with some women who've recorded a song about looking for a guy like Goober...No Lie.

I made it back safely from the collegiate conference at Montreat. It was a great conference. I hope Montreat commits to doing it again.

This evening I'm headed out of town with the members of the session of Harpeth...it's session retreat time. I'm pretty pumped about the weekend actually. I can't wait to hear what kind of dreams and visions these folks have for our church in the coming years.

I've been trying to observe morning and evening prayer everyday (with some midday prayer in there as well) since the new year began. I haven't been totally disciplined, but carving out some time for prayer at various times throughout the day has really changed my outlook. It's funny how often the readings for a given day seem to be so perfect for where my heart/mind/or soul is at that moment in time. Anyway, I'm diggin' it.

OK, off to the session retreat.

Collegiate Conference Episode One...Powerhouse Perks

I'm currently sitting at Powerhouse Perks, a relatively new coffee shop in Black Mountain, NC. I'm here with a bunch of college students from Vanderbilt.

We're up here at Montreat for the collegiate conference. We were all drawn here by the promise of hearing Donald Miller speak, but it ends up he's not speaking until Saturday evening. :( Oh well. So far, worship has been great. I went to a workshop this morning about emerging worship. I'll have more thoughts about the qualities of Experiential, Participatory, Something about visual that started with I, and Connectional. It all spelled EPIC. Anyway, more later.

So, we're currently playing Apples to Apples, as evidence by these photos...must go now and focus more on nouns and adjectives.

Daily Office/Conquering the world

So, after reading the chapter about The Daily Office in Tony Jones's book The Sacred Way, I got inspired and have been doing my best to observe elements of the daily office each day. I've been pretty good about doing Morning Prayer and Prayer at the Close of Day...not so good with Midday Prayer and Evening Prayer, but hoping to get those under my belt when I'm back in my "regular" routine next week. Anyway, as a part of The Daily Office each day, I read the texts assigned for the Daily Lectionary. One of today's new testament readings was 1 John 5:1-12. Here's vv 1-6:

1 John 5:1-6

Faith Conquers the World

5Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God, and everyone who loves the parent loves the child. ²By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments. ³For the love of God is this, that we obey his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome, ⁴for whatever is born of God conquers the world. And this is the victory that conquers the world, our faith. ⁵Who is it that conquers the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?

I spent a good amount of time contemplating these six verses, especially the part that reads And this is the victory that conquers the world, our faith. Who is it that conquers the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God? So, what does it mean to conquer the world? Is it texts like this that give some folks the inspiration to advocate for legislation that reflects their faith? Do we conquer the world by showing the world what true obedience to God's commandments looks like? What does it mean to conquer? These are interesting words in a book that is usually thought of as a treatise about love. Does love entail conquering? I don't think so, but maybe I'm misunderstanding what it means to conquer. I should probably look up the greek and do some word studies, but I'm in Missouri and don't have those materials handy.

So, what about all this conquering stuff?