This last Sunday, the second in Lent, we looked at the narrative of Abram and Sarai, whose names were changed (humorously) to Abraham (Father of multitudes) and Sarah (Princess). The humor in the story is, of course, that they were 99 and 89 years old respectively when the incident took place. Don't look now, but we've stumbled once again into God's delicious sense of humor.
We considered the "long, slow, patient, deliberate work of God" on Sunday. God promised Abraham and Sarah that they would be the mother and father of many nations. Assumed within the text (and explicitly stated elsewhere) is that they and their family would become a blessing to the world, agents of God's healing of the creation, and that this would happen over an unimaginable number of generations.
Last Sunday I asked you to consider this long, slow, patient, deliberate work of God, and consider some of the ways that God's work in and through us can only be measured in generations. In other words, can we imagine that the way that we are living today could be a blessing to the world generations from now? If you look back in your family tree, you will certainly discover people whose lives impacted generations to follow--for good or for bad. I invited you to think about how your faithfulness to God, your relationships with family, friends and world neighbors, your relationship with the creation itself will influence generations to come.
This week I'm recommending a discipline that I might just call the discipline of 'slowness.' You could practice this discipline in one of two ways: 1) Consider, over the remaining weeks of Lent, doing without one of the time saving gadgets that you've become dependent on . In other words, try giving up your cell phone or your computer or your microwave during these weeks, so that you must slow down a bit and do things the 'old fashioned' way. Or, 2) another option is to do something during Lent that can only be properly done if it's done very slowly. For example, invite friends or family over for a gourmet meal that will require many hours of preparation. Or start an exercise regimen, such as swimming or aerobics or running. (It's impossible to get into shape quickly, after all.) Be creative. There are dozens of possibilities here.
The goal of this, of course, is to reflect in a fresh way on the good that requires much time. We want to embrace a different rhythm for our lives, a rhythm that is more in step with God's long, slow, patient, deliberate work.
I'd love to hear some of your ideas. Have you identified a 'discipline of slowness' that you're going to practice for the remainder of Lent?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
The Welcoming Prayer
Last Sunday, the first Sunday in Lent, I mentioned that each week during Lent I want to recommend a discipline for members of our congregation to practice. This week I'd like to recommend the "welcoming prayer." The welcoming prayer is a very simple and potentially liberating way to bring our anxious thoughts, reactions and lingering sins to God so that God can transform them. Several people have written about the welcoming prayer; I learned it from Pastor Cynthia Bourgeault. In what follows, I am giving my own interpretation to this helpful concept.
Allow me to share a personal experience. This last week I met a person in a public setting who somehow triggered an old prejudice in me. There was something in this man's appearance that 'pushed a button' in me, and before I knew what had hit me I had already jumped to judgments about him. Because of the way he looked, I found myself wanting to distance from him. It was as though a little flag went off in my brain that said, "That's not my kind of person." Before I could think, I had drawn a circle and placed him on the outside.
I was immediately ashamed of my reaction. After all, I've come to believe that the way of Jesus is a way of hospitality. He welcomes the tax collector and the sinner. How can I, a Christian, react with immediate judgment based solely on the way a person looks? "What a childish attitude," I thought to myself. But still, there they were, two afflictive thoughts that arose in me like a tide: prejudice and judgmentalism.
Now, there are different ways I could respond. I could embrace this sudden uprising of prejudice and judgmentalism. I could choose not to care, make them part of my life, and find ways to justify them. This would probably have the effect of making them more entrenched in my character. Needless to say, I'm not a big fan of this approach.
A second option: I could fight these afflictive ideas (prejudice and judgmentalism) with all of my energies. I could exercise all of my best efforts to resist them. I would say, in effect, "I will not be judgmental, I will not be prejudiced." The problem here, of course, is that it usually doesn't work. When I bring up all of my energies to fight an afflictive idea or attitude, I usually simply empower it. Did you ever see (forgive me for this terrible example) the movie Ghostbusters? Do you remember when Bill Murry tried with all of his energies not to think of anything frightening, because he was told that he would cause whatever he was afraid of to actually happen? Instead of stopping his fear, his efforts to resist it caused him to think of the worst thing he could imagine: a giant version of the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man ransacking New York City. (I still have nightmares of the SPMM, by the way.) Okay, dumb example, but the point is that resisting an idea with all of my energies usually has the negative effect of empowering it. Try saying, "I will not worry, I will not worry," or, "I will not lust, I will not lust," or "I will not want more food, I will not want more food..." I think you get the point. It just doesn't work.
The 'welcoming prayer' offers a third alternative. Instead of ignoring the afflictive thought, or exerting all of my energies against it, the welcoming prayer welcomes it and presents it to God to transform it. It acknowledges it as harmful, but peacefully delivers it to God to heal it.
There are three simple steps to the welcoming prayer. To illustrate them, let's go back to my recent experience.
The first step is to acknowledge the afflictive thoughts for what they are. So, I simply recognize the prejudice and judgment. I acknowledge them. I pay attention to what they do to me. Perhaps this sudden onset of prejudice makes my stomach hurt, or my palms sweat, or my head pound. In this first step it's as though I'm playfully saying, "Ah, prejudice and judgment, I see that you're back and I see what you're doing to me."
The second step is to welcome the afflictive thought or thoughts. (I know this seems terribly strange, but hang in there with me. Don't string me up from the heretic's pole just yet!) As a way of disarming the power of these anxious thoughts, I welcome them. "Prejudice, judgmentalism, I recognize you and I welcome you." Notice what's happening here. Instead of fighting them, and in so doing giving them more power, I am disarming their power by welcoming them. The goal here is to become less anxious about these afflictive thoughts, so that I can release them.
One note of warning. Don't try to do this second step too quickly! You may wish to take a few deep breaths and say it over and again, "______________ (whatever the afflictive thought is that has grasped you) I welcome you." Do it again and again. Be playful. Stop fighting. Slowly let go of your anxiety about the harmful idea that has grasped you.
The third and final step of the welcoming prayer is to prayerfully release it to God, and invite God to transform it. "Loving God, I release to you this prejudice and judgment , and ask you to transform it into something good in Jesus' name." Here, I am simply trusting God, my healer, to transform these afflictive ideas for God's good purposes.
I have on several occasions experienced how God can tame and transform destructive thoughts through the welcoming prayer. I recommend this to you, and look forward to hearing your responses. Please blog your questions, responses or concerns. And remember:
"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind (Romans 12:2)."
Allow me to share a personal experience. This last week I met a person in a public setting who somehow triggered an old prejudice in me. There was something in this man's appearance that 'pushed a button' in me, and before I knew what had hit me I had already jumped to judgments about him. Because of the way he looked, I found myself wanting to distance from him. It was as though a little flag went off in my brain that said, "That's not my kind of person." Before I could think, I had drawn a circle and placed him on the outside.
I was immediately ashamed of my reaction. After all, I've come to believe that the way of Jesus is a way of hospitality. He welcomes the tax collector and the sinner. How can I, a Christian, react with immediate judgment based solely on the way a person looks? "What a childish attitude," I thought to myself. But still, there they were, two afflictive thoughts that arose in me like a tide: prejudice and judgmentalism.
Now, there are different ways I could respond. I could embrace this sudden uprising of prejudice and judgmentalism. I could choose not to care, make them part of my life, and find ways to justify them. This would probably have the effect of making them more entrenched in my character. Needless to say, I'm not a big fan of this approach.
A second option: I could fight these afflictive ideas (prejudice and judgmentalism) with all of my energies. I could exercise all of my best efforts to resist them. I would say, in effect, "I will not be judgmental, I will not be prejudiced." The problem here, of course, is that it usually doesn't work. When I bring up all of my energies to fight an afflictive idea or attitude, I usually simply empower it. Did you ever see (forgive me for this terrible example) the movie Ghostbusters? Do you remember when Bill Murry tried with all of his energies not to think of anything frightening, because he was told that he would cause whatever he was afraid of to actually happen? Instead of stopping his fear, his efforts to resist it caused him to think of the worst thing he could imagine: a giant version of the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man ransacking New York City. (I still have nightmares of the SPMM, by the way.) Okay, dumb example, but the point is that resisting an idea with all of my energies usually has the negative effect of empowering it. Try saying, "I will not worry, I will not worry," or, "I will not lust, I will not lust," or "I will not want more food, I will not want more food..." I think you get the point. It just doesn't work.
The 'welcoming prayer' offers a third alternative. Instead of ignoring the afflictive thought, or exerting all of my energies against it, the welcoming prayer welcomes it and presents it to God to transform it. It acknowledges it as harmful, but peacefully delivers it to God to heal it.
There are three simple steps to the welcoming prayer. To illustrate them, let's go back to my recent experience.
The first step is to acknowledge the afflictive thoughts for what they are. So, I simply recognize the prejudice and judgment. I acknowledge them. I pay attention to what they do to me. Perhaps this sudden onset of prejudice makes my stomach hurt, or my palms sweat, or my head pound. In this first step it's as though I'm playfully saying, "Ah, prejudice and judgment, I see that you're back and I see what you're doing to me."
The second step is to welcome the afflictive thought or thoughts. (I know this seems terribly strange, but hang in there with me. Don't string me up from the heretic's pole just yet!) As a way of disarming the power of these anxious thoughts, I welcome them. "Prejudice, judgmentalism, I recognize you and I welcome you." Notice what's happening here. Instead of fighting them, and in so doing giving them more power, I am disarming their power by welcoming them. The goal here is to become less anxious about these afflictive thoughts, so that I can release them.
One note of warning. Don't try to do this second step too quickly! You may wish to take a few deep breaths and say it over and again, "______________ (whatever the afflictive thought is that has grasped you) I welcome you." Do it again and again. Be playful. Stop fighting. Slowly let go of your anxiety about the harmful idea that has grasped you.
The third and final step of the welcoming prayer is to prayerfully release it to God, and invite God to transform it. "Loving God, I release to you this prejudice and judgment , and ask you to transform it into something good in Jesus' name." Here, I am simply trusting God, my healer, to transform these afflictive ideas for God's good purposes.
I have on several occasions experienced how God can tame and transform destructive thoughts through the welcoming prayer. I recommend this to you, and look forward to hearing your responses. Please blog your questions, responses or concerns. And remember:
"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind (Romans 12:2)."
Friday, February 20, 2009
Lent
I grew up attending a Presbyterian church in my hometown, Casper, Wyoming. Each year our congregation observed the season of Lent. During the Sundays preceding Easter, we listened to Scripture readings and sermons that followed the movement of Jesus toward the cross. We were sometimes challenged to make sacrifices during Lent: give up a habit or take up a new one that might make us more faithful disciples. Lent was part of the rhythm of things in our church. It was just something that we did, something to which I never gave much thought.
As a teenager, I left the church and wandered about for several years. When I finally returned to the church during my senior year in high school, this time with an ardent and enthusiastic faith, it was not to the Presbyterian church of my childhood but to the local Church of God congregation. My parents and family were very supportive because of the change they observed in me. My relationship with God became personal and passionate, and for the first time in many years I began to dream big dreams for my life. For that I am, to this day, very grateful.
In those days, the Church of God did not observe Lent. Easter was, of course, a high day of the year. But Lent--those six or so weeks leading up to Easter--was never mentioned. There was no challenge to follow Jesus on the way to the cross, nor was there any mention of taking up special disciplines during the season. The pastor might preach on any theme of his choosing during those weeks and then--wham!!--it was Easter Sunday. (I should note that we did have a Maundy Thursday service on the Thursday before Easter, but other than that there was no special Lenten preparation, at least none that I can recall.)
I am incredibly grateful for the Church of God. The teachings and ministries of the Church of God have profoundly impacted my life. But I think we made a mistake back in those days when we ignored the season of Lent. I believe that the observance of Lent is especially important for we privileged Americans. Lent reminds us that the way of faith will be (not can be or might be, but will be) profoundly difficult at times. It reminds us that the faithfulness of Jesus required him to take up a cross; and it reminds us that we must take up our crosses, too, if we wish to follow him. It reminds us that the way of faith is a way of death and resurrection. We ourselves are crucified with Christ and raised to new life. There is no other way; true life comes only by way of death and resurrection. It reminds us that there is resistance to God's renewal work in our world, and we ourselves can expect to experience resistance from time to time.
Today, many Church of God congregations, including ours, observe Lent, which begins Ash Wednesday, February 25, and concludes on Easter Sunday morning, April 12. In fact, many congregations of every stripe are returning to Lenten observance. They are returning, I suspect, because they've come to believe that there's no real Easter celebration unless they've first tasted the bitterness of the cross.
I can't say that I look forward to Lent. It always challenges me in new ways, ways that I need, but perhaps don't want, to be challenged. Still, I am incredibly grateful for Lent. When you've felt the rough edges of a cross, the resurrection is all the more glorious.
As a teenager, I left the church and wandered about for several years. When I finally returned to the church during my senior year in high school, this time with an ardent and enthusiastic faith, it was not to the Presbyterian church of my childhood but to the local Church of God congregation. My parents and family were very supportive because of the change they observed in me. My relationship with God became personal and passionate, and for the first time in many years I began to dream big dreams for my life. For that I am, to this day, very grateful.
In those days, the Church of God did not observe Lent. Easter was, of course, a high day of the year. But Lent--those six or so weeks leading up to Easter--was never mentioned. There was no challenge to follow Jesus on the way to the cross, nor was there any mention of taking up special disciplines during the season. The pastor might preach on any theme of his choosing during those weeks and then--wham!!--it was Easter Sunday. (I should note that we did have a Maundy Thursday service on the Thursday before Easter, but other than that there was no special Lenten preparation, at least none that I can recall.)
I am incredibly grateful for the Church of God. The teachings and ministries of the Church of God have profoundly impacted my life. But I think we made a mistake back in those days when we ignored the season of Lent. I believe that the observance of Lent is especially important for we privileged Americans. Lent reminds us that the way of faith will be (not can be or might be, but will be) profoundly difficult at times. It reminds us that the faithfulness of Jesus required him to take up a cross; and it reminds us that we must take up our crosses, too, if we wish to follow him. It reminds us that the way of faith is a way of death and resurrection. We ourselves are crucified with Christ and raised to new life. There is no other way; true life comes only by way of death and resurrection. It reminds us that there is resistance to God's renewal work in our world, and we ourselves can expect to experience resistance from time to time.
Today, many Church of God congregations, including ours, observe Lent, which begins Ash Wednesday, February 25, and concludes on Easter Sunday morning, April 12. In fact, many congregations of every stripe are returning to Lenten observance. They are returning, I suspect, because they've come to believe that there's no real Easter celebration unless they've first tasted the bitterness of the cross.
I can't say that I look forward to Lent. It always challenges me in new ways, ways that I need, but perhaps don't want, to be challenged. Still, I am incredibly grateful for Lent. When you've felt the rough edges of a cross, the resurrection is all the more glorious.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Gloom, Despair and Agony...
Gloom, despair and agony on me I've been licking my wounds all week, but it is at last time. All right Steelers fans--Bill, Jim, and all the rest-- here goes (first, let me plug my nose): Even though you've won more super bowls than anybody should get to, even though you stole the game, even though... Oh, but I digress. What I meant to say was... Congratulations. That was a GREAT super bowl. Thanks for having some fun on with me on last week's blog and in conversations since....
And speaking of sports... Have you ever noticed that sports are often referred to negatively from pulpits? I've probably done it a few times, and I know I've heard it done in other settings. The critique often goes like this: "Folks, it's time to quit yelling and screaming for your favorite football team. We should be hollering and shouting for Jesus instead!" Or, another version that's not quite so harsh goes something like this: "All right, I'm glad we've been able to have some fun with our favorite sports team, but now it's time to get down to IMPORTANT stuff." And the important stuff is, of course, worship and Bible reading and witnessing and so forth.
Now, to be clear: I love worship and Bible reading and witnessing. And allow me also to say that I know that lots of folks don't care at all for sports, and I have no interest in trying to convert them to become sports lovers (except for my wife. Please honey, please?!?!). And, yes, I do believe that sports are often way overdone in America and are in some cases taken way too seriously.
But (you knew a 'but' was coming) I have a problem with the idea that sports (or a thousand other good things) are okay, but our religious practices are the really important things. Let's suppose for a moment that God is really interested in healing and renewing this world. That is, after all, what Jesus meant when he taught that the kingdom of God is near. God's will is breaking out on earth as it is in heaven; God is healing and renewing this world. What will that healing and renewal look like? Can you imagine that God's renewal of the world would include the renewal of our various forms of play--including the organized forms of play that we call sports? Could we imagine that where God's will is at work, sports might draw people together, give them an opportunity to celebrate the things their bodies can do, instill attitudes like teamwork, competition, unselfishness and sportsmanship? In other words, can we imagine that God's will being done on earth as in heaven might include the renewal of sport?
When we lived in Phoenix, Iobserved first-hand what happens in a city during a high season of sport. The Phoenix Suns went deep into the playoffs one year and we watched the way the city came together, rooted, rejoiced and, eventually, lamented together when the Suns were finally eliminated. I was struck, on a number of occasions, by what a positive thing it was for the whole city. Here was something that rich and poor, young and old, black and white and everything in between could come together and enjoy. It was, from my perspective, a good, wholesome enjoyment for much of the city.
Allow me to say again that, yes, sports are often twisted and perverted and fallen--like every other good thing can be twisted, perverted and fallen. There's no denying that. But I wonder if we Christians have sometimes criticized sports because we don't really believe that God is renewing this world. We imagine that what's really important is the religious stuff, forgetting that the goal of Jesus was for all heaven to break out--right here on earth. And if we're interested in all heaven breaking out on earth, won't we rejoice when sports approach their potential of drawing people together for wholesome, creative, extraordinary play?
Of course, we could rejoice a bit more if the Cardinals had won...
That's my two-bits for today.
And speaking of sports... Have you ever noticed that sports are often referred to negatively from pulpits? I've probably done it a few times, and I know I've heard it done in other settings. The critique often goes like this: "Folks, it's time to quit yelling and screaming for your favorite football team. We should be hollering and shouting for Jesus instead!" Or, another version that's not quite so harsh goes something like this: "All right, I'm glad we've been able to have some fun with our favorite sports team, but now it's time to get down to IMPORTANT stuff." And the important stuff is, of course, worship and Bible reading and witnessing and so forth.
Now, to be clear: I love worship and Bible reading and witnessing. And allow me also to say that I know that lots of folks don't care at all for sports, and I have no interest in trying to convert them to become sports lovers (except for my wife. Please honey, please?!?!). And, yes, I do believe that sports are often way overdone in America and are in some cases taken way too seriously.
But (you knew a 'but' was coming) I have a problem with the idea that sports (or a thousand other good things) are okay, but our religious practices are the really important things. Let's suppose for a moment that God is really interested in healing and renewing this world. That is, after all, what Jesus meant when he taught that the kingdom of God is near. God's will is breaking out on earth as it is in heaven; God is healing and renewing this world. What will that healing and renewal look like? Can you imagine that God's renewal of the world would include the renewal of our various forms of play--including the organized forms of play that we call sports? Could we imagine that where God's will is at work, sports might draw people together, give them an opportunity to celebrate the things their bodies can do, instill attitudes like teamwork, competition, unselfishness and sportsmanship? In other words, can we imagine that God's will being done on earth as in heaven might include the renewal of sport?
When we lived in Phoenix, Iobserved first-hand what happens in a city during a high season of sport. The Phoenix Suns went deep into the playoffs one year and we watched the way the city came together, rooted, rejoiced and, eventually, lamented together when the Suns were finally eliminated. I was struck, on a number of occasions, by what a positive thing it was for the whole city. Here was something that rich and poor, young and old, black and white and everything in between could come together and enjoy. It was, from my perspective, a good, wholesome enjoyment for much of the city.
Allow me to say again that, yes, sports are often twisted and perverted and fallen--like every other good thing can be twisted, perverted and fallen. There's no denying that. But I wonder if we Christians have sometimes criticized sports because we don't really believe that God is renewing this world. We imagine that what's really important is the religious stuff, forgetting that the goal of Jesus was for all heaven to break out--right here on earth. And if we're interested in all heaven breaking out on earth, won't we rejoice when sports approach their potential of drawing people together for wholesome, creative, extraordinary play?
Of course, we could rejoice a bit more if the Cardinals had won...
That's my two-bits for today.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Super Bowl Sunday
Here's a deeply held theological conviction: ROOT FOR THE CARDINALS NEXT SUNDAY! Root loudly! There are several reasons why you should root for the Cardinals:
* My family and I moved here from Phoenix. Any win by the Cardinals, I mean any win by the Cardinals was big news during the years I lived there. And now they're playing in the stinking super bowl!
* How can you not root for a team that has been terrible for so long and now has their chance to make history? Come on, this is America, home of the underdog! Do you want to be a bad American?
* Larry Fitzgerald. Need I say more?
* I met Kurt Warner last year while I was at a conference. I think he was deeply moved to meet me.
* Let's break down the name "Pittsburgh" and consider the Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Akkadian roots of the word. The name "Pittsburgh" is derived from two words: "burg," which, as we all know, means city or municipality, and "pitts," which means, well, "the pits."
* Let's break down the word "Arizona." I have no idea what it means, but it sounds really nice. Just say the word out loud, very slowly, AR I ZO NA. Don't you feel better now?
* And remember, the Arizona Cardinals play in a suburb of Phoenix, which, as we all know, is the mythical bird the rises from its own ashes. I can sense, even as I write, how moved you are by this.
* I have it on good authority that all good Christians will be pulling for the Cardinals. Remember, I am a "reverend." Would I misguide you?
* My family and I moved here from Phoenix. Any win by the Cardinals, I mean any win by the Cardinals was big news during the years I lived there. And now they're playing in the stinking super bowl!
* How can you not root for a team that has been terrible for so long and now has their chance to make history? Come on, this is America, home of the underdog! Do you want to be a bad American?
* Larry Fitzgerald. Need I say more?
* I met Kurt Warner last year while I was at a conference. I think he was deeply moved to meet me.
* Let's break down the name "Pittsburgh" and consider the Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Akkadian roots of the word. The name "Pittsburgh" is derived from two words: "burg," which, as we all know, means city or municipality, and "pitts," which means, well, "the pits."
* Let's break down the word "Arizona." I have no idea what it means, but it sounds really nice. Just say the word out loud, very slowly, AR I ZO NA. Don't you feel better now?
* And remember, the Arizona Cardinals play in a suburb of Phoenix, which, as we all know, is the mythical bird the rises from its own ashes. I can sense, even as I write, how moved you are by this.
* I have it on good authority that all good Christians will be pulling for the Cardinals. Remember, I am a "reverend." Would I misguide you?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Becoming Human
My apologies for being so slow to write this blog. Now that we are well on our way in the new year, I hope that we can get a bit of momentum rolling again.
I frequently hear--and have often said myself--something like, "Oh, there I am again, just being human..." when a person faulters or fails or falls short of their highest ideals. For example, in a fit of anger someone may say things they later regret and attribute it to being 'just human.' Or divisiveness may develop among a group and someone may say, "Let's not let our humanity rule us!"
The assumption in these statements is, of course, that being human is a bad thing. Our weaknesses and failures can be attributed to the fact that we are 'only' human. If we could just become something more, problem solved. In fact, I've sometimes heard people express this in very religious terms. The goal of the Christian life, they say, is to do away with their humanity and become more 'spiritual.'
I have a problem with that. It seems to me that that approach mis-diagnoses the goal of growth and maturity. The goal of growing, it seems to me, is not to become less human, but to become more authentically human. When the Bible describes the terrible tragedy of our world, particularly in Genesis chapters 3 through 11, it is describing what is often called the 'fall' of humankind. Under the influence of that 'fall,' humans are now less than we can be, less than God created and wills us to be. The horrible stories in those chapters--the disobedience of the first humans, their fall from innocense to a state of shame, their sick tendencies to rule over one another, the description of the world's first murder, the division of the world in the story of the tower of Babel, and many more--describe the new and horrific reality of us in our world, where we are now considerably less than fully human.
Why is this important? It seems to me that when we describe the goal of the Christian life as something like "becoming less human and more spiritual," we will inevitably fail to recognize the life-giving presence of God in the mundane and normal activities of our human lives. We will tend to split the world into a false dualism, a 'spiritual' world and a 'merely human' world. We will begin to think of the spiritual tasks and experiences as the important things in our lives, and everything else is mundane. The spiritual dimension of life might take place in a church building and a prayer closet, but there it stays. And the stuff of everyday life--our sexuality, relationships, money matters, keeping up a house, tending a garden, etc.--is on the other side, the less holy side of life.
If, on the other hand, we could embrace a goal of becoming more fully and authentically human, and if we could recognize Jesus as the truly human one, then we might see our lives in this world as the exact place where God is at work. All of life--including the paying of bills, the raising of children, the work that we do throughout the week, and even our sufferings--all of life could be embraced as holy. We might come to think of Christian spirituality not as something that takes us away from everyday life, but as something that takes us more deeply into it. Our goal would be Spirit-empowered living--that is, cooperating with the Holy Spirit who animates and empowers us to become more fully, freely and genuinely human.
That's what I'm thinking about today. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
I frequently hear--and have often said myself--something like, "Oh, there I am again, just being human..." when a person faulters or fails or falls short of their highest ideals. For example, in a fit of anger someone may say things they later regret and attribute it to being 'just human.' Or divisiveness may develop among a group and someone may say, "Let's not let our humanity rule us!"
The assumption in these statements is, of course, that being human is a bad thing. Our weaknesses and failures can be attributed to the fact that we are 'only' human. If we could just become something more, problem solved. In fact, I've sometimes heard people express this in very religious terms. The goal of the Christian life, they say, is to do away with their humanity and become more 'spiritual.'
I have a problem with that. It seems to me that that approach mis-diagnoses the goal of growth and maturity. The goal of growing, it seems to me, is not to become less human, but to become more authentically human. When the Bible describes the terrible tragedy of our world, particularly in Genesis chapters 3 through 11, it is describing what is often called the 'fall' of humankind. Under the influence of that 'fall,' humans are now less than we can be, less than God created and wills us to be. The horrible stories in those chapters--the disobedience of the first humans, their fall from innocense to a state of shame, their sick tendencies to rule over one another, the description of the world's first murder, the division of the world in the story of the tower of Babel, and many more--describe the new and horrific reality of us in our world, where we are now considerably less than fully human.
Why is this important? It seems to me that when we describe the goal of the Christian life as something like "becoming less human and more spiritual," we will inevitably fail to recognize the life-giving presence of God in the mundane and normal activities of our human lives. We will tend to split the world into a false dualism, a 'spiritual' world and a 'merely human' world. We will begin to think of the spiritual tasks and experiences as the important things in our lives, and everything else is mundane. The spiritual dimension of life might take place in a church building and a prayer closet, but there it stays. And the stuff of everyday life--our sexuality, relationships, money matters, keeping up a house, tending a garden, etc.--is on the other side, the less holy side of life.
If, on the other hand, we could embrace a goal of becoming more fully and authentically human, and if we could recognize Jesus as the truly human one, then we might see our lives in this world as the exact place where God is at work. All of life--including the paying of bills, the raising of children, the work that we do throughout the week, and even our sufferings--all of life could be embraced as holy. We might come to think of Christian spirituality not as something that takes us away from everyday life, but as something that takes us more deeply into it. Our goal would be Spirit-empowered living--that is, cooperating with the Holy Spirit who animates and empowers us to become more fully, freely and genuinely human.
That's what I'm thinking about today. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Monday, January 5, 2009
A New Year
I'm not normally very much impressed with January 1. Of all the holidays we celebrate, the tick of the clock that signals the beginning of a new year is the least impressive one to me. Each year I watch the ball drop on Time's Square and then wonder what the big deal is. It's another day.
For some reason--and I have no idea why--this year has been different for me. The new year really feels, in many ways, new to me. Perhaps it is because the year 2008 brought so much bad news: a financial meltdown, a federal bail -out, an auto industry in crisis, a Michigan economy that's hobbling along--that it's now a relief to be entering into a new year. Perhaps, on a more positive note, it's because of things I've been reading--the writings of the Christian mystic Evelyn Underhill, in particiular--that have beckoned me to deeper experiences of communion with God and renewal. I'm not sure why exactly, but I'm very grateful for a new year. I have a sense of the fresh possibilites for my life and ours together.
Our Scriptures speak constantly of the possiblity of newness. To note just one example, Paul reminds the Corinthians that "if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation. Old things are passed away. Behold, all things are become new." I hear that as tremendously good news today: I am not destined to be stuck in yesterday's ruts; new, genuine, authentic possiblitites are open to me because I belong to the risen Lord.
For some reason--and I have no idea why--this year has been different for me. The new year really feels, in many ways, new to me. Perhaps it is because the year 2008 brought so much bad news: a financial meltdown, a federal bail -out, an auto industry in crisis, a Michigan economy that's hobbling along--that it's now a relief to be entering into a new year. Perhaps, on a more positive note, it's because of things I've been reading--the writings of the Christian mystic Evelyn Underhill, in particiular--that have beckoned me to deeper experiences of communion with God and renewal. I'm not sure why exactly, but I'm very grateful for a new year. I have a sense of the fresh possibilites for my life and ours together.
Our Scriptures speak constantly of the possiblity of newness. To note just one example, Paul reminds the Corinthians that "if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation. Old things are passed away. Behold, all things are become new." I hear that as tremendously good news today: I am not destined to be stuck in yesterday's ruts; new, genuine, authentic possiblitites are open to me because I belong to the risen Lord.
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