Decisions, God's Will and Jazz

Many people find it difficult to make decisions because they are so concerned to do God's will that they are frozen into indecision. Because it is important to them to line their lives up with God's purposes, they ponder and pray over important decisions and then... they worry: what if I don't get God's will right? It is ironic to me that the community of Jesus, people who have encountered amazing grace, are sometimes frozen into indecision because they are afraid they'll miss God's plan. It seems to me that quite the opposite can be true. Because we are the recipients of grace, we can be free to make courageous decisions precisely because we are aware that nothing can separate us from the love of God, not even a less than best choice. I do believe (passionately so) that we should make decisions a matter of discernment and prayer. But what if God's guidance to us is less like micromanaging our lives and more like, well, jazz. Have you ever noticed the freedom that jazz performers have when they work through a certain piece of music, how there is flexibility to go this way and that, to improvise and experiment, all within a song that they know very well? The point is, they know the music and what the song is supposed to do, but they have great flexibility within the song to try different things. I think the gospel's work in our lives might be something like that. Yes, we absolutely have guidance in the gospel--there is a 'song' that we're called to play. "Love the Lord your God and your neighbor as yourself" is a great place to start. But within that guidance there is tremendous freedom to work it out, to try different things, to make passionate and courageous decisions about the living of our lives, all within the grand design of God's beautiful song. Perhaps something like this is what Paul had in mind when he wrote, "It is for freedom that Christ set us free."

Confessions of an Older Son

This last weekend, I was privileged to take part in a retreat along with 15 others from our congregation where my good friend Arthur Kelly took us into the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15. For me personally, the weekend was good and troubling. Good, because the relational connections were very rich and the food and laughter were potent medicine. Troubling, because our reflections on Luke 15 led me to an unanticipated place. During our meditation on the story, I found myself relating to the older brother, the one who refused to come to the party that had been thrown for the younger son who had returned home. You will recall that the father threw an outrageous party when the prodigal returned, complete with music and dancing and a splendid banquet. But the older brother sulked and complained, "I've been about your business all these years and you've never thrown a party for me..." I was moved to discomfort, while reflecting on the story, by an emerging awareness of the jealousy that lurks in me--a jealousy that limits my capacity to celebrate with and for others who are at the center of the party. Jealousy is a bitter root, a poison in the well. For me, this is not a theoretical reflection, but a personal confession. That said, I was also deeply moved during the retreat by the words of the father to the older son. "My son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." I hear those words as a powerful invitation of grace, not only to returning prodigals but also to 'older' sons.

What I'm Taking Up for Lent

Christians around the globe have entered the reflective season of Lent, the period of 40 days (excluding Sundays) leading to Easter. The Lenten season invites us to slow down and journey with Jesus toward his cross. More, it invites us to ponder the mystery that the Christian way is a way of death and resurrection. "I have been crucified with Christ," wrote the Apostle Paul, "nevertheless I live. Yet it is not I, but Christ who lives in me."

Many people want to ask, "What are you giving up for Lent this year?" That's not a bad question, but I'd like to pose a different one. What are you taking up during Lent this year? What meaningful, important, faithful practice--perhaps something that you have taken up in the past, but has gotten pressed out along the way--will you take up during Lent this year?

Here's my answer: A few years ago I became very interested in a strategy and methodology for working with many of the world's poor called 'micro-finance.' Micro-Finance is a way of providing low-interest loans to help men and women start small businesses to support themselves and their families. Millions around the globe have been empowered by means of micro-finance. Initially, I read a great deal about micro-finance , even introduced a micro-finance project in conjunction with Horizon International to our congregation . At one point, I began to research micro-finance projects that are being done in the US--and whether or not it would be possible to introduce it here (where jobs are badly needed!) in Central Michigan. Alas, I allowed my interest in micro-finance to be pushed to the edge. So, for Lent, I'm picking it up again. I'll be researching (mostly on the web) what's been happening with micro-finance around the globe, as well as the possibilities for using it here at home.

That's what I'm taking up during Lent. What about you?

If You Say So

I think I've heard more feedback from last Sunday's sermon than any I've delivered for awhile. (Feedback sometimes comes in the form of questions, at other times as comments, pro or con, and at other times as rotten tomatoes lofted at my car). I spoke about the obedience of Simon Peter in Luke 5, and the importance of the fact that his obedience was to the word of Jesus. I suggested that 'obedience' can be badly corrupted in churches (or anywhere else), when leaders (such as me) demand that church members do what the leaders say, or they will be disobeying God. I suggested that each person's task is to follow the freeing, life-giving word of Jesus.

My goal in this sermon was to reiterate that each and every one of us must do the hard work of discerning a vision for our lives, that all of us must learn to listen to the word of Jesus (the word that gives life) above the din of many other competing words, and each and every one of us must discern our calling(s) as human beings. I believe that discernment is long, hard and holy work. It involves prayerfully discovering a vision for our lives and living out that vision. It means discovering the unique ways that God is inviting us to join our lives to his love for the world. It means creatively discovering ways that we are about God's ongoing work of renewal that is taking place around and among us. I believe that this work of discernment is creative and playful and holy. And, I believe that we should allow no one--not even our pastor--to rob us of this beautiful work.

When we all, listening to the word of Jesus, discern our way, we are a beautiful chorus of differing voices--a far more beautiful thing, in my view, that folks who walk lock-step in the will of their leader.

Tomatoes anyone?

The Inclusive Fellowship of Jesus

Well, after a nice, long summer break from blogging, I'm refreshed and glad to be back at it. I hope you'll jump in and help me get the ball rolling once again.

A number of years ago, a group of church growth experts suggested that one of the ways to help a church grow is by creating a 'homogeneous' congregation. Stated simply, the idea they put forth was that the more the people of a congregation are like one another, the more likely that congregation is to grow. Churches grow faster, these experts told us, when they consist of people who are generally of the similar economic class, race, political belief, and so forth.

Over the years, this idea has morphed a little bit into the idea that if churches give people enough choices of what they would like in worship, the church will grow. For example, a traditional worship service will attract people (mostly elderly) who want to sing hymns and who enjoy a certain style of music, and a contemporary service will attract people (mostly younger than the traditional service) who like drums, guitars and choruses. This can be taken a good deal further, of course. I have a cartoon that depicts a sign hanging in front of a house of worship with a list of times and worship styles targeted for different audiences: a country and western service, a jazz service, classical, hip-hop and the list goes on. Although on the surface of things, this appears to be very different than the principle of homogeneity I mentioned in the last paragraph, I think it is in fact the same thing. Now you can be with people just like yourself, right down to the style of music you enjoy!

As you might have guessed, I'm having some trouble with this notion of homogeneity. It strikes me that one of the most radical and peculiar things about the ministry of Jesus is precisely how inclusive it is. I've teased this idea a number of times by pointing out that one of the followers of Jesus was a Zealot, a member of a party that wanted nothing more than to overthrow the Roman government; and another of the followers of Jesus was a tax collector, who gathered tolls from Jewish peasants to support the Roman government. As Clarence Jordan once quipped, I'll bet there was a night or two when Jesus had to sleep between those boys!

Paul the apostle reminds the church that in Christ the distinctions between men and women, slaves and free, and Jews and Gentiles have been overcome. A new, inclusive community has been formed in Christ. And, if I'm reading Ephesians correctly, this inclusive community witnesses to the Lordship of Jesus precisely by breaking down the walls that once separated us from one another. "He is our peace, who has broken down every wall."

One small way that our congregation attempts to bear witness to the unity-in-diversity that we have in Christ is in our worship. As we have written on our web site, "By intention, our two Sunday morning worship services are identical. While we have great respect for many churches that have opted to provide two or more very different worship services (traditional and contemporary, for example), we have chosen to have two identical, blended services. Our blended worship is intended to bring together a diverse gathering of people."

It is, or course, always an open question whether or not we're 'blending' our worship well. There are no doubt differing opinions about this (as well there should be in a diverse congregation!). However, this much seems very clear to me: Our efforts to 'blend' our worship in a way that welcomes a broad cross-section of people will cost something of everyone. Some may find it to stilted; others may long for something quieter; others may wish we sang nothing but hymns, and still others that we dispense with anything except choruses. I believe that a serious effort to come together across our differences is costly to all, but well-worth the effort if it bears witness to the one who breaks down every wall.

Glimpses of His Kingdom, by Ben Shaw

Here's a gift: a poem written by high school student Ben Shaw. .

Glimpses of His Kingdom

Have you ever stopped to listen,

To the evening crickets chirp,

Or watched the stars that glisten,

Or smelled the fresh spring dirt?

Have you ever walked a forest green,

In the cool of the day,

Or sang a holy song to God,

In a field smelling of fresh cut hay?

Have you ever let the warm spring wind,

Fill your heart with peace,

Or laughed with cold, crisp air,

That comes with Autumn leaves?

Have you ever sat in the snow,

On a winter night frosty chill,

When the only sound is your foot-fall,

And the entire world is still?

Have you ever felt the love in fathers hug,

Or the joy of an child’s embrace,

Have you wrestled your best friend to the ground,

Or seen the breath-taking smile from a beautiful girl’s face?

Have you ever run as fast you can.

To fall laughing in the summer grass,

Or lain amid the dandelions,

And watched the clouds go past?

Have you ever listened to the music,

That violins and fiddles sing,

The music moves as a thing that lives,

And sets us all to joyful weeping.

Have you ever danced in the rain,

Till the water ran down in streams,

Have you ever let the thunder shake you,

Or felt the lightning scream?

Have you ever burst out in laughter fierce,

Or let you soul leap to song,

Have you ever longed for purifying tears,

When the world seems all wrong?

Have you ever held your breath,

While you watch the sunset fire,

Or drank water so clear and pure,

It quenches all desire?

Do you know that without God,

These blessings are bread unleavened,

For without his truth you will not know,

These things are glimpses of heaven!

Have you ever felt or seen,

Something better than the best,

It leapt deep down inside you,

But words could not express?

Have you ever felt these things,

Of which I try to describe,

The thrilling shout of victory,

At the top of the mountain climb?

Have you ever felt these things and pondered,

“Are they of this world, or perhaps more?”

There is a deepness there that reason cannot bind,

These are glimpses of our lord!

He made the dirt, the sky, the sun, the rain,

He made the moon to shine,

He gave you family and friends to love,

He made the awesome mountains for you to climb!

His hands once shaped the stars,

In the farthest reaches of space,

He gave you lungs to laugh,

And he made that girl’s beautiful face.

“So, why?” You ask, “Do these joys seem,

To be something more than they are?”

These blessings aren’t just notes of song,

They are more than just glittering stars.

These joys are far, far more,

Than what they seem to be,

They’re a part of God’s true kingdom,

They are the parts of his heaven he lets us see!

This goodness felt by us,

In the deepest of our bones,

They’re glimpses of heaven on earth,

Set here by God, who’s sitting on his throne!

So remember, the next time spring brings you peace,

Or you laugh with the wind from the southern bends,

Remember these are given us by God,

With them he shows us, death is not the end!

These blessings give us hope,

Until the end of time,

When all these joys are fulfilled,

According to the Lord’s design!

As lofty as this sounds,

The truth is entirely plain,

These simple joys show you heaven on earth,

So, I ask you once again.

Have you ever stopped to listen,

To the evening crickets chirp,

Or watched the stars that glisten,

Or smelled the fresh spring dirt?

Chicago

I'm glad I came to my senses.

I almost passed on the opportunity to travel to Chicago with our choir. About three weeks ago, the pastor of Bethel Lutheran Church asked me if I'd like to go to Chicago with our choir and preach at their Sunday morning service. I hesitated, mostly because I was disappointed on the choir's behalf that they would lose out on the opportunity to hear great preaching in the African-American tradition. After thinking it through, I decided to go. After all, how many times will I have this sort of opportunity? Again, I'm glad I came to my senses.

We arrived in Chicago on Friday evening. I connected with Phil Sipka that evening. He took me to his neighborhood, one of the poorest and most violent areas of Chicago. We walked to his church, where Phil worships and works as a mentor to at-risk children. He shared some of his dreams for living and working in that neighborhood, which he had summed up beautifully in a previous visit: "I want to be a little bit of light to a little bit of people." Later, Phil drove me to another part of the city where we visited the University of Chicago's seminary bookstore, and then went out to dinner. I'm inspired, challenged and humbled by my conversations with this extraordinary young man.

Phil drove me to the motel where all of us were staying. We arrived just in time for a greeting time with some of the members of Bethel Lutheran. This was the first of many touches of their warm hospitality.

On Saturday morning we all drove to the building in which Bethel Lutheran Church worships. It is a simple but beautiful building in the midst of an urban sea. The choir went to a gospel music seminar; others of us went to a seminar on organizing neighborhoods to overcome violence. Our leader, a community organizer from Boston, began his seminar with words that went something like this. "We all know what the needs in this and other communities are. We know our goal: to end the violence. And it's really not very difficult to figure out what we must do. The process of organizing is not that difficult. The one thing that we absolutely must have is passion. This job (organizing neighborhoods to overcome violence) will not be done without passion."

Following the seminars, we joined members of Bethel Lutheran and their friends for "Rachel's Day" festivities. The festivities began with a 'peace march.' Several dozen of us were led by a small drum and bugle corp and dancers; the music and activity invited a great deal of interest from the neighbors. Many of us carried signs: "No more killing." "Stop the violence." "Think of the children." We marched for several blocks in a large circle. We walked past homes and apartments, businesses and stores. Many stopped and watched; a few spoke with us, if only briefly. One of the African-American men who was part of our march told us later that someone asked him why he was marching with "all of those white people." He responded that he is on the same side as anyone who wants to work to make the community less violent. When we arrived back at the church building we ate lunch and listened to several people speak, including a woman who had lost a son to violence, leaders of several organizations that are coordinating their efforts to resist violence and a leader from the Nation of Islam. I found the latter's presence to be a bit confusing at first, until I realized that the folks in this community absolutely must make friends with anyone and everyone who is willing to work for a more peaceful community.

Saturday evening, the choirs of Alma First Church of God and Chicago Bethel Lutheran joined for a breathtaking concert. Each of the choirs sang separately, and then they joined together in one mass choir. I have heard our choir sing on dozens of occasions and they have often given me goose bumps, but this just might have been their finest hour. After several of their songs, the folks at Bethel chanted, "Alma! Alma! Alma!" Yes, they were that good. I know it was not their intention to go put on a show. They are a worship choir. But they were fabulous and the folks at Bethel made sure that they knew it! The Bethel choir was brilliant as well, and when they came together I feared that the roof might start crumbling from the power and the passion of their combined voices.

We returned to our hotel, and then back again to Bethel for the Sunday morning service. It was very interesting for me to be part of a worship service that was liturgical (more ritual and readings than I'm accustomed to) and full of the passion and rhythm that is common among African American churches. I really appreciated the marriage of these two styles, which some might wrongly think don't belong together. I was asked to bring the reading of the Gospel (from John 10) and then to bring the sermon, from 1 John 3. Though I was very nervous, I must say that it was a rich experience for me. I told the folks at Bethel that we need them--we need the broadening of perspective that they provide us, the different ideas and passions--and I meant it. I proposed that the true test of our spirituality is the authenticity of our love for one another. We could hardly be more different, our two congregations, and the challenge and opportunity to love one another is, to me, very compelling.

All told, this was a great experience. It's an amazing thing to see two congregations, as different as they could be, coming together in Christ's name. I'm grateful to Haley Underwood for being the catalyst for all of this, to Pastor Ron for working countless hours behind the scenes to make it happen, to our choir for allowing their gift of music to be an entryway for the meeting of our churches, and to the many others who came to serve and support.