A mother remembers...

A recent conversation with a ministry colleague, who also happens to be a young mother, made me think of this poem, written shortly after I delivered our first child many years ago.

As my friend reminds me, one of the essential differences between the way we tend to celebrate Christmas these days and the biblical story of our Lord's birth that we proclaim is the inherent level of control embedded in our expectations.

This poem takes a more back-to-basics approach to "expecting."  It's called, 13 more days.

Thirteen more days

'til Christmas --

We know beforehand

just when to celebrate

the nativity.  We

count shopping days,

penciling activities

on December's blocks,

organizing his birth.

Yet in that first moment

the words

must have been whispered

as they have been

many thousands of times

before and since,

in surprise and surety –

"It's time, Joseph. It's time."

Lord, awaken us this Christmas

sharply, suddenly,

that we might gasp

with Mary's joy,

"He's come!"

Pastor Shirley

What's Working?

I’ve always been interested in how things work and yet, I still persist in trying to catch the news in some form each day. That’s either a comment on the resiliency of optimism (holding out hope for a report of a random act of kindness somewhere), the addictive quality of pessimism (now what!), or something else.

Inaccessible healthcare websites, international surveillance of cell phone conversations, renewed interest in conspiracy theories for historical events, lack of support for public schools, shifting more responsibility for food and shelter for the unemployed or underemployed to non-profits, distrust of government representatives, disgust at huge profits and bailouts, long terms of recovery from being underwater either from storm surges or from mortgage losses - our society is a mess!  My own chosen constructs and political leanings sway and stagger.  My confidence wanes.  I’m sick of it.  Tired.  And the irony is that in the midst of this, I’m actually fine. By that I mean I’m still standing.  Solvent.  Healthy.  Secure. Befriended.  Married with children. Educated. Passionate about my life’s work. Blessed.  Fortunate.  I take the cake, as they say, on all the above, but I’m frosted with frustration and foreboding. This is what I have in common with nearly everyone I know.  I’m beginning to discover that the only thing that might work will have to be “something else.” 

I’m a Christian, but not the sort of Christian that you might expect, that is, not the sort that seems to make the daily news.  For example, I don’t worry about prayer in public schools.  I prayed in study halls, at lockers, at ball games, on my way to and from schools all my life, and I never missed another person leading the group in prayers aloud because, for one thing, the bible, and Jesus in particular, warns against its pitfalls (Matthew 6: 5-6).  In fact, I don’t regularly grumble about or retreat from humanity with all its flagrant failures and debauchery, partly because I was raised to practice honest self-examination and largely because Jesus was known for moving among and eating with low life.  It was the one true, irrefutable charge against him, and yet, in the context of his purpose and character, that choice was transformed from a condemnation to confirmation of his message and then, believe it or not, to commission for those who would follow him. 

In trying to figure out how things work, I’ve uncovered the value of that rather inauspicious word, expectation.  It was like discovering hidden wealth.  What do I expect?  The difference between what I expect and reality is the measure of my disappointment or sense of offense.  Since I can’t fix reality, I had better adjust expectations.  That doesn’t mean I accept or – what’s the psychological advice? – embrace reality.  While I am diametrically opposed to embracing judgment, I also don’t embrace what prickles or is sleazy.  There’s a third way.  I embrace something else. 

So, here’s how it works:  You have to pack and carry two basic expectations:  1) Jesus is Jesus.  We are only like Jesus when His Spirit produces something else through our attempts to engage life’s situations and relationships.  2) People are people, God love them.  Everyone I meet is lovable, because God made them so and, in fact, does love them.  But at the same time, everyone I meet is also certainly selfish.  Everyone I meet struggles with the dichotomy of money or other form of personal power and God; everyone chooses regularly between self-indulgence and sacrifice.  Everyone I meet is self-righteous, excusing him or herself and judging others.  Everyone.  It’s only when I expect something different from that, something more from others, that I’m offended, disappointed, frustrated, or shocked.  It’s only when I expect something different, something more that I tend to play dress-up in self-righteousness myself, tossing those faux-god boas of emotional reaction around my shoulders.  You can flaunt high and mighty principles all day long, but you can’t fix people.  They won’t shape up.  They don’t shame up.  They aren’t berated into better-ness. 

I expect Jesus to be Jesus and people to be people.  At the same time, I try to remember which one I am and how I'm doing at the moment.  And, especially, I remember that Jesus repurposes damaged goods, left and right.  He’s good at it.  Perfect, actually.  That’s not too high an expectation to believe; he is something else. 

So I expect the news to be graphic and gripping and awful much of the time, unless interrupted by God's grace and provision.  I expect the world to be continually dying and bent on decaying and God to be continually resurrecting and life-giving.  I do not expect to be abandoned, because I have God’s word on it that that will never happen.  I expect praise to be a response, not pre-requisite or leverage in my relationship with such a powerful ally who is also, always my loving abba-father.  That’s as far as I can go with figuring out how it all works here.  It gives me a place to stand and not be blown away.  It gives me a place to start. 

May you have undaunted Grace and Peace, 
Pastor Shirley

Back to the Basis

I have been deleting my impulsive facebook posts lately almost as quickly as I post them.  It's a sign.  I'm too preachy for that medium these days or at least on this topic.  But I'm also waking up early in the morning with this on my mind.  So I've decided to spread it out here.

I'm hoping and praying for peace continually. News of gathering war ships is scary stuff for my timid soul.  

However, I'm also frustrated by the public reasons I'm hearing for keeping out of international events: "What's in it for us?"  "How much will it cost?"  "How better might that money be spent here at home?"  "As unfortunate as it is to know human beings are being assaulted by nerve gas, face it, people suffer all the time."  "A US military response may also harm civilians so we should do nothing."  

As I hear and read these comments, I'm asking myself what they are based on. Among my particular group of friends, one answer is their faith.  I'm guessing that their faith has been trumped by fear.  I'm listening for conviction, for commitment that seeks (or at least, struggles) to transition from statements of faith to action.  

As Christians, our actions need to flow from our moral core -- from our understanding of Jesus' example of humility, compassion, confrontive truth-telling, and self-sacrifice. "Let your attitude to life be that of Christ Jesus himself."  (Philippians 2:5a) 

For me, as a Christian, it's a question of HOW we will best help any particular group of suffering humanity.  Here's my personal list of 'whether's.'
whether we stand up against their oppressors (verbally/ militarily/ influentially);
whether we can bring humanitarian aid;
whether we step back to let others take the lead, acknowledging that in this instance we are less capable of understanding and providing what is needed in ways that are most helpful;
whether, alternatively, we accept that we ourselves are, in fact, those to whom much has been given in this instance and, therefore, from whom much will be expected. 

Looking to theology, history and culture is a way to acknowledge we aren't the first people to deal with difficulties and that we can learn from those who went before us.  Debate on these levels makes sense to me.  Just being able to make a good case for something does not automatically make that a valid biblical stance; on the other hand, discerning and following God's lead often isn't easily explained to others, but there we are met and blessed by God's promised presence and power. 

Do we remember that Jesus is at table with us, at the computer, tablet?  His companionship makes all the difference.  All. The. Difference.

Following Jesus means I factor all of these weighty matters honestly, that I take risks with an attitude of humility, trusting that God will use my response. It means I throw my personal influence behind outcomes derived from such motives on local and national forums. The only cautions I find in scripture are to repress my instinct to stay where I'm confident and secure in my own understanding, to avoid judging others as having lesser insight or value than myself, and to self-examine my real motives.   

I guess, to be completely honest, I have never understood selective-biblical-literalists.  Jesus says love your enemies.  Surely the complexities of our decisions need to begin there.

Whether we work for peace by negotiating further or by taking action against oppressors, we need to re-frame the discussion so we claim and seek to act consistently from our core truths.  

Grace and Peace,

Pastor Shirley