Encountering the Bottom Line

In 1521, Martin Luther was called before the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V to recant the beliefs he had expressed and written in several books that were displayed on the table in front of him.  Instead of doing what was expected of him, once again Luther insisted on the authority of the bible over the declarations of popes and councils, clearly implying that human leaders are fallible.  Not a popular statement!  Tradition tells us he concluded his speech by saying, "Here I stand; I can do no other. God help me."

When interviewed by Christian History Institute for Issue 34, Luther’s Early Years, Rev. Dr. Scott H Hendrix claimed, “Luther's speech was not a defiant, solitary protest, but a calm, reasoned account.” *

That demeanor is particularly challenging, isn’t it? When talking to people who do not share my point of view, I’m pretty sure my impatience or frustration leaks through.  Or worse, bursts through!  (It has happened!) Being calm and reasonable is hard.  I think most of us would rather avoid unnecessary disagreements if possible. 

But each October as Reformation Sunday approaches, I’m reminded that standing for something is necessary.  I can still hear my father saying, “If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.”

And then there’s 1 Peter 3: 15, summarizing both the need to take a stand and the best way to do it.  “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.”

How about you?  How would you put it into words? I've given that some thought once again, and here is where I stand on the role of the church today.  To the spiritual-not-religious who ask me why I stay with the church:  

Yes, I’m religious.  Each time I come to worship, I hope to be religious all the way, straight through to spiritual.  That is, I use the words, the prayers, the songs as a threshold, a way to enter the spiritual.  And it’s a particular “spiritual.” The spiritual we enter here is a relationship with the almighty God who remarkably seeks us out, knows us by name, fills us up, confronts us, calls us out and offers us a panoramic view of life that’s wide, healthy, meaningful and integrated. 

I wonder how those of you who are spiritual-not-religious discover that you are valued and loved just for being you.  I wonder how life becomes purposeful for you other than managing to stay on top of things.  Do you see spiritual as an escape when life gets too demanding?  Does your spirituality offer hope and even an eagerness for what lies ahead?   What relieves your fears?

I concede that people in churches harm each other, put others off, fail often and a lot.  Yet, in every church, every single one, there are some irrepressible souls who “get it.”  And when you’ve met them, you know you’re in the presence of something other-worldly.  They are more than just good people.  Where are the persons whose lives have become exemplary by being spiritual-not-religious?

Along with all people who are spiritual, it saddens me to see lives that are driven.  Driving is exhilarating until something breaks down or ages.  While all spiritual people admit this, the church takes an additional rather unpopular stance. Rest means more than retreat, more than distancing yourself from pressures.  An honest reason for avoiding church, I suppose, might be that we begin with brokenness and that’s something most of us would rather not admit or deal with until we have to.  Still…when we do, the grace of our Lord Jesus is so amazing!

So, God help me, I stand in a longing place because I urgently want something for others.  I think I understand where Paul is coming from when he writes to the church, “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”  (Ephesians 3: 18-19)

Come to church. Sit with me.  Let's pray. Let’s spread out our thoughts to reconsider them in the light of the sanctuary. Read with me. Consider this lineage of people in the bible who encountered God in the midst of their lives, who walked with Jesus, who have sought the counsel of his Spirit. Feel the water.  Remember the taste.  Leave some things behind. Go in peace. 

Pastor Shirley

*http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/news/2002/apr12.html

Encounter with my very own cancer…

            I’ve encountered IT before, cancer I mean.  But it’s always been someone else’s cancer.  This summer, it’s been mine.  Last night when John and I were eating supper near the open windows with that balmy Big Lake breeze wafting inland to our place, I couldn’t help but think back to this past winter.  “Remember how cold, how long, how snowy it was then?” I asked.  “Back then I thought this summer would be so wonderful compared to such a terrible winter.”  However, the summer had barely begun when I was diagnosed.  And I soon discovered that cancer sets such a high score in the bad-news category that previous bad days hardly seem worth mentioning by comparison.

            I was also surprised by another discovery.  After years of thinking of myself as rather indecisive much of the time, I found out that I can be extraordinarily decisive when faced with something as jarring as cancer.  Suddenly I had an instant motivator for re-prioritizing my life.  Not that all my old choices were bad; they weren’t.  But almost immediately, it became very clear to me that I was paying a lot of attention to things that merely filled up my time without adding much real value to my life.  Enough of that! So I unceremoniously dumped what wasn’t worth my time and, believe it or not, I almost felt physically lighter.  Easiest diet I’ve ever been on – a “spiritual” cleanse, of sorts -- and the best part was that I didn’t even have to whip up something green and Kale-ish in my blender and convince myself to drink it!

            I hope I’ve learned a lot these past three months.  I think I may have.  I’ve been reminded again how much closeness matters.   I earnestly sought out closeness to God.  In church services, I listened for words to remember later while waiting in the doctor’s office.  I copied down a verse from a hymn and sang it silently.  I covered some familiar faith-ground by thinking again how grateful I am that Jesus came to live among us.  I need the kind of God who would do that to convince me I’m not alone and that my fears and troubles are known and cared for.  I did not want God to be distant.     

            I also wanted closeness with those whose faces are so beautiful to my way of thinking that I almost tear up just bringing them to mind, my own loved ones.   And then, at the same time, I found myself more acutely aware of suffering people. For me, one of the more amazing things about coming in to the cancer center for treatments day after day has been seeing others who are going through the same thing or something even more challenging.  They smile, they talk quietly to one another, they hold the door open, wait patiently in lines, and even work on a jigsaw puzzle on a table together.   In some ways, I think we are all puzzling our way through.  

            I’ve learned something about my deep-down, bottom-line belief about prayer too.  It started with a practical question early on: who needs to know?  Who should I tell?  Again, I was surprised at my own reaction.  I didn’t feel the need to be on a massive number of prayer lists.  (I’m currently connected to four congregations in four different denominations.  Trust me, I could summon prayer partners like Jesus could summon angels!) However, especially in those first few days when I was waiting for answers to very scary questions, I longed for private, heartfelt prayers, not necessarily numbers of them.  I’m not so sure that God is impressed with volume as much as quality. I was confident in the group I turned to.  However, I soon realized that their lives weren’t carefree at the moment either.  So, we began praying for each other.  I don’t think I’ve ever fully appreciated the bond that comes from giving AND receiving prayers like this before.  It levels the ground and lifts my spirit. 

            I have learned that I love life.  I like the look of a delicate cosmos blossom and marvel that my dahlias are so huge and gorgeous, although they are grown from tubers that I stuffed into ground that hadn’t been tilled in nearly two decades.   I love the softness of skin, the sound of familiar voices.  I love the gift that life is and at the same time, I grieve that, for some here on this earth, life is incredibly brutal or endlessly bleak.  That troubles me more than cancer does. 

            When people ask how I’m doing, I usually say something about being grateful for good news, about the outcomes of tests and where I am in the process, but that’s not the half of it really, you know.  God is close.  I am blessed and I marvel.  I pray and I’m not afraid.  I am not alone.  I am loved.  I can share what really matters.  And although none of this is news, it is all so very fresh and new to me today because cancer passed my way. 

Pastor Shirley

A High-Tech, Old-Powered Remedy

Cough, cough… two dry coughs are followed by an intentionally shallow sigh so I don’t launch more of them like Roman Candles.  I’m tired of coughing, and I’m miffed to admit I have so little control over this cold.  At the start, I took the first cold pills I came across in my stash of random meds; then, when that didn’t work well enough to suit me, I resorted to finding my glasses and actually reading the mini-print on the label beyond the section that began with the bold-faced “Directions.” I took more pills, different pills, pills for different symptoms, and then, I took a break from taking pills to avoid a rebound effect that I think I remember some doctor talking about on TV one time.  Cough, cough...’why two times?’ I wonder absentmindedly. I’m not sure about much today, but I am pretty sure that my mind politely absented itself sometime around 3 AM.  Can’t have gone far though.   I’ll probably come across it somewhere around here when I’m picking up used tissues later.  Too tired to look now.

I shuffle to the computer desk and sit down, pressing a few buttons to find the world.  Still there.  Someone “likes” someone else’s post.  Nosey me, I click to see what that might be and I’m led to a Youtube upload of a slightly balding man playing an old hymn on the piano.  He’s alone.  Me too.  So, although the song is one I’ve heard a zillion and a half times, one I’ve sung so many times that I know all 4 verses by heart, I decide to unmute the speaker icon and let it roll.  To tell the truth, I decide to listen, at least partially, because I remember how irritated I was last night when a TV commercial advertising a rock concert struck me as having usurped its title to describe a mere couple of decades of radio oldies.  Calling their concert “Rock of Ages” seemed like a no-brainer affront to God, even if the hymn itself was old as the hills from whence its image came.  I was in a growly, dug-in mood.  Then, here today, in the broad daylight that I’m greeting with squinty eyes, the song itself arrives on my Internet doorstep.  I click in defiance, on principle, to demonstrate, to no one in particular, which side I’m on.  Click, click…

He sings slowly.  In no hurry.  Usually I prefer upbeat renditions, but today I just give up. 

Which, as it turns out, is the perfect way to hear this song.  At the second verse, my heart decides it’s OK to barge in with my raspy voice and make a duet of it.  Naked…helpless…foul.  Perhaps also, arrogant…controlling…wallowing in self-pity? I clear my throat during the interlude and to my surprise, I “soar to worlds unknown” in soprano.  But in the end I pray in a spoken, broken-voice, “let me hide myself in Thee.”  Once again.   

Tired, sick, old Christian that I am at times. 

Turns out that I’m still tucked into that sound, safe place.

So, I’m typing, and coughing, and still typing, and part of me thinks this will sound too hokey, too Jimmy-Fallon-Thank-You-Note-ish, but here goes.  Thank you, George Hunsberger, and thank you, some friend of a friend - unknown to me - for posting, for liking, and simply for being yourselves out there.  You matter to me.  And thank you James Ward, whoever you are, for singing and playing so beautifully. ( http://youtu.be/UznDZGOLTM8 )

It’s all so simply graceful.

You know.  

Pastor Shirley