Goodbye, 2018. Hello, 2019!

Sunday is the last Sunday of 2018. I always love this pause between the old year and the new. It is a chance to reflect on the year that has been and give thanks for all those whose lives touched mine. It is also a time to reflect on the baggage I have been carrying and consider what I need to let go of in order to enter the new year unencumbered.

Because there are definitely things I need to leave in 2018. Ephesians 4 urges us:

“Everything…connected with that old way of life has to go. It’s rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And then take on an entirely new way of life—a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces God’s character in you.” (Ephesians 4: 22-24, The Message)

Where bitterness has hardened my heart, may I let go of it so my heart may learn to feel again.

Where guilt has frozen me in my tracks, may I let go of it so I can move forward.

Where shame has caused me to cower in a corner, may I let go of it so I can walk with my head held high.

Where fear and doubts have eroded my self-worth, may I let go of them so I can trust not only myself again, but also others.

Where anger has burned bridges of relationships, may I let it go I can begin to rebuild them.

Where I have closed myself to the movement of the Holy Spirit in my life, may I be open, so that God may be at work within me, creating in me a “life renewed from the inside”.

This is the time of year to let go of all that has weighed us down in 2018, particularly those things that prevented us from living a life in love that God desires for us.

My favorite prayer this time of year is the Wesley Covenant prayer. The prayer is nearly 300 years old. Each time I pray it, I think of all those who came before me who uttered these same words, desiring only one thing, to live in right relationship with God:

“I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.”

As you tuck away your 2018 calendar, and crack open your new 2019 one, may the empty blocks of days ignite your imagination with the creative and unexpected ways that you will encounter God and discern fuller ways to serve as a disciple of Christ, so that your life and this world may be infused with God’s grace and healing love.

Mary’s Song Is Our Song

As I write, the US government has been partially shut down. Hundreds of thousands of government workers have been impacted, as well those who utilize governmental agencies deemed “unessential”.  I find myself pondering all this in light of Sunday morning’s reading from Luke. Known as the Magnificat, it is the song Mary sings as she responds to God’s plans for her to bear God’s Son. She sings to her cousin Elizabeth: “I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God,” is how Eugene Peterson interprets it in The Message.  The words leap from the page just as Elizabeth’s child leapt in her womb when Mary sang. 

But it is not just the joy felt at the anticipation of a child. There is so much more that Mary will bring into the world. She describes the fullness of God’s mercy and righteousness that will be brought into the world through Jesus. 

“His mercy flows in wave after wave

    on those who are in awe before him.

He bared his arm and showed his strength,

    scattered the bluffing braggarts.

He knocked tyrants off their high horses,

    pulled victims out of the mud.

The starving poor sat down to a banquet;

    the callous rich were left out in the cold.”

Into a world of oppressive governments, poverty, and warring factions, God came. Through Christ, the Hope of World, God helps us imagine a world of justice, of equity, of healing, restorative love. 

Alan Brehm  writes "In Advent we sing because we look forward to something better than the violence and suffering and injustice all around us. We look forward to the kindness and generosity and compassion of our God being fulfilled for all the peoples of the world."

We are called to continue to birth into our world God’s love in such tangible ways that the world is changed as it is infused with God’s grace and justice. In these days we are living, may you look for signs of Christ’s coming, may you allow God’s love to be born in you, and may you respond as Mary responded, offering your whole self in joy.

Bear Fruits Worthy of Repentance

Considering that this is a time of year that’s filled with much celebration and joy, John the Baptist’s words in this week’s gospel is a bit heavy. First, he does a quick reality check:

“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” (Luke 3: 8-10)

I have been pondering the line, “bear fruits worthy of repentance.” What does that look like in your life?

When the people who came to be baptized asked John for further clarification about this, he replied to them:

“Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.” (Luke 3: 11-14)

John is telling people to live lives of generosity, justice and fairness. If we would ask John what we must do in our day and age, what would he tell us?

• Offer a place of refuge to those fleeing places of violence and oppression.

• Share your food with those who are hungry.

• Speak truthfully in love at all times.

• Stand up for those who are bullied.

• Help heal those who have been violated.

• Make sure every child knows how loved and precious they are.

• Ensure that every aged person has their dignity protected and their wisdom honored.

• Give health care to the sick.

• Fight back against attitudes, policies and practices that diminish and demean people because of their skin color, language, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender identity, ability, or class.

• See every person around you as a beloved child of God.

• Love. Love some more. And love even more.

When we do these things, our lives bear fruits worthy of repentance as we live out our faith in Christ. Our living changes. Our relationships are changed. Our world is changed.

Christ came into the world bearing the Good News to help us live into this Life in God as fully as we can. This is why we prepare our lives each Christmas for his coming. This is why we make room for Him in our world and in our hearts. This is why we join the angels in singing, “Joy to the world!”

As we come before God tomorrow, may we hear John calling to us to live lives of generosity, justice and fairness as we bear fruits worthy of repentance.

Waitng For God

Tomorrow we will light the second candle in the Advent wreath. Advent is the season in which we await the inbreaking of God in our world. All that we do this time of year--our decorations and card writings, our gift wrapping and cooking--are ways for us to prepare ourselves and our world for the Christmas miracle. As the December darkness grows deeper, we wait for the Light.

Much of our lives are spent waiting: we wait for the water to boil, the mail to arrive, the page to print, the phone to ring, the baby to arrive, the loved one to return, the heart to heal, the rains to come, the storms to cease…but throughout human history, there has been a waiting of epic proportions: a waiting for God.

The Hebrew people knew a great deal about waiting. They were a people too familiar with exile, and the wait of returning to a homeland. Along with this yearning there was a deeper hunger as they waited for God.

Advent is a season for exiles, rooted in the experience of exile described by the Hebrew people. The people were far from their homeland. The people cried out for a savior to deliver them. The Messiah would light their way home. Advent expresses this yearning to return home to a secure place of peace. Every Advent we are invited to get close to these  ancient people, to hear their cries. Their longing for home reminds us of our own inner places of exile, which also cries for a place of inner peace, which yearn for a Messiah.

Each of us has our own place of exile. It may be a spiritual or psychological separation, which keeps us from being at home with our true selves. We might be in exile because of who we are, the color of our skin, or who we love. We may be in exile because of our fears, our addictions, or our past wounds.

Where are you experiencing exile? Where are you yearning for home?

To us, like the people of Israel, John the Baptist calls: “Prepare the way of the Lord!” The Messiah is coming to those who are exiled and estranged! God will come to loose the bonds of the captives, to restore sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed. The One the world hungered for is coming!

But as history showed us, this Messiah came in the most unremarkable way—people for the most part overlooked him. Instead of swooping down from heaven swinging a sword, Emmanuel, God with us, very God of very God, entered the world in the usual way for a human, the most unusual way for a deity: God became one of us.

God entered our everyday existence. God became acquainted with our sorrows and our griefs. God didn’t keep an arms length distance from our deepest hurts and hates and fears. Through the incarnation of Jesus Christ, God came as close to us as humanly possible, to share in our exile, and to lead us home.

As you sink into the waiting of Advent, as you become aware of your own places of exile and your own hunger for a home and for God, hold the love of God close to the exiled places of your heart. God offers us light, consolation and comfort for our homelessness. May this Advent be a time of homecoming, a time of joy and enthusiasm as we hear again God’s promises to be with us and to move close to us in love. For God will break into our world once again, and make our exiled state--our homelessness--God’s home.

Happy New Year!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

That’s right—happy new year! The first Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of the new year, liturgically speaking. During these weeks leading up to Christmas, we are invited to prepare our lives for the arrival of Jesus, the One called Emmanuel: God-With-Us. 

I like having this annual reminder to start again, to dig a little deeper, as I seek to grow closer to God and neighbor. What have I done this past year that’s hindered my spiritual development? Where has my love been in short supply? What habits have I acquired that have pushed Jesus out from the center of my life? 

“Prepare the way of the Lord!” cries Isaiah. What have I done that has made obstacles for God’s in-breaking in my life and our world?

Thank God for Advent. Tomorrow, we will light a single candle. In spite of winter’s long nights, this candle will burn bright, helping us focus on the things we can and need to do to prepare a place in our lives and world for the Christ Child. Each week, an additional candle will be lit, their light inviting us to this journey of preparation. 

May the days and weeks to come be a soulful new beginning  for you. May you discover more room in your heart for Christ and more love for others than you thought possible. Then, living more fully into God’s presence, may your life be a song to others, inviting them to experience “Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace, goodwill to all.”

The Reign of Christ

This Sunday is the last Sunday of the liturgical year, as next Sunday begins the Advent season. This day is known as “Christ the King Sunday”. The gospel text, John 18: 33-37, is an exchange between Pilate and Jesus. Pilate knows that Jesus poses a threat to the status quo, but doesn’t quite understand what or how. So he asks Jesus outright: "Are you the King of the Jews?"

Jesus makes it clear that his kingdom is a far cry from Pilate’s. It is not based on votes cast or military might. It isn’t swayed by opinion polls or news reports. Instead, it is a reign of selflessness for the sake of others. It is a kingdom so radical that the lion shall lay down with the lamb and enemies will beat their swords into plowshares. It is  God’s now and not yet Kingdom that rises up from the grave of humanity’s brokenness into the new and sacred  life of resurrection power. 

How do you offer your allegiance to Christ’s reign? Are you settled into a status quo that includes the well-being of some but not all? Are you treating the earth with your tender care? Are you emptying yourself of greed, status, self-reliance, and selfishness to make room for others? Are you giving yourself over to Christ, who beckons for you to create with him Beloved Community?

Puppies, Love and God

Praying for the laity and clergy of the Mountain Sky Conference as we prepare ourselves to gather for Sunday worship.

When I was at Glide, one of the teachers talked about how he keeps a scrapbook filled with pictures of puppies. When a child begins to act out, the teacher pulls out his scrapbook and shows it to the child. Almost immediately, the behavior of the child would change: the child would let go of anger or feelings of distress and begin to soften. In no time at all, the child would be able to reengage with the class.

I’ve thought about the teacher’s tactic often. What is it about puppies that disarms and delights us?

I once attended a lecture on spirituality and love. The speaker talked about how everyone craves love, but all too often makes the mistake of seeking it “out there”. As the song goes, “Looking for love in all the wrong places.” But the love you feel is not coming from out there. It’s coming from within you. For instance, the speaker said, when you see a puppy and feel love, it’s not coming from the puppy. The love is already in you and has been released.

I John 4: 7-12 reminds us:

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him.  In this is love, not that we loved God but that God loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and God’s love is perfected in us.”

“If we love, God lives in us, and God’s love is perfected in us.”

There is within each of us a wellspring of love, whose source is God. How can we, as the Body of Christ, help one another release this love that dwells in each of us? In an age where anger, hatred, and division seem to have the upper hand, how can we hold up a mirror to one another, reminding us that we are made in God’s image, that God dwells within us, and that inside us there is a limitless supply of love?

What In God's Name Are You Doing?

Praying for the laity and clergy of the Mountain Sky Conference as we prepare for Sunday worship.

When I was young, the most dreaded seven words were, “What in God’s name are you doing?” Whenever I heard those words, I froze! Even if I didn’t think of it as I was doing it, as soon as I heard those words, I knew I was doing something very, very wrong.

I have been thinking a lot about that phrase lately. There is much talk about the role of faith in politics. Yet, looking at the great divisions in our nation, I am left to wonder, “What in God’s name are we doing?” How does our faith inform our public witness? How does it impact the way we move in the world? How does it shape our relationships, not only with those we call family and friends, but those whose names we may never know?

What in God’s name are we doing?

Jesus makes it very plain what those who are his disciples are to do:

“I was hungry and you fed me,

I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,

I was homeless and you gave me a room,

I was shivering and you gave me clothes,

I was sick and you stopped to visit,

I was in prison and you came to me.” (Matthew 25)

Jesus makes it clear that to act in the name of Jesus means to look towards those who have been pushed down and pushed out to the margins. It means opening our eyes and hearts to those others are ignoring and acting in ways that bring healing, hope and justice. It means being disturbed by the mistreatment of others and doing something to challenge and change the systems that promote oppression and injustice.

Henri Nouwen said:

“Ministry is acting in the Name of Jesus. When all our actions are in the Name, they will bear fruit for eternal life. To act in the Name of Jesus, however, doesn’t mean to act as a representative of Jesus or his spokesperson. It means to act in an intimate communion with him. The Name is like a house, a tent, a dwelling. To act in the Name of Jesus, therefore, means to act from the place where we are united with Jesus in love. To the question “Where are you?” we should be able to answer, “I am in the Name.” Then, whatever we do cannot be other than ministry because it will always be Jesus himself who acts in and through us. The final question for all who minister is ‘Are you in the Name of Jesus?’ When we can say yes to that, all of our lives will be ministry.”

What in God’s name are you going? May your time in church strengthen you to live so fully connected to Jesus that everything you do will be grounded in God’s love, so that your whole life may be ministry.

I sing a song of the saints of God…

Tomorrow in many churches, All Saints Day will be celebrated. We will sing “For All the Saints” and name those who died in the past year. There will most likely be some tears and perhaps even a laugh or two, remembering the life of a loved one.

For most of human history, death has been a close partner in life. Life expectancies were short. Medical knowledge was lacking. During the Roman empire, life expectancy was 28 years. In medieval Britain, it raised to 30. It has only been in the last 100 years, with the leaps made in medicine, that life expectancy has surged to nearly 80. These medical advances caused death to no longer be understood as a natural part of living, but a pathology to be avoided at all cost. Where once we were comfortable with both death and grief, making space for it in life, we now hide death and seek to curtail the grieving process.

Try as we might, we cannot keep death at arms length. As much as we might like to surround our loved ones and especially our heart in a hazmat protective suit, death will inevitably come to those we love, and to we ourselves.

Some of us saw death this year. Many of us had our lives profoundly impacted by the loss of a loved one. Grief clings to us as bitter soot on our souls, because life has been taken from us, wrenched from our grasp. The empty place beside us in bed, or at the dinner table, or in the office, or next door, or at the family gathering, is an ever present reminder that cannot be denied that death has paid a visit and left with one we love.

Even though death has taken some dear ones from us, my faith in the risen Christ tells me that they are in fact here, still amongst us, a part of the great cloud of witness and within the communion of saints. My faith helps me continue to experience the love we shared that not even death can take away. Faith teaches me that the dead are never very far from the living.

This weekend is a time when many cultures and religious traditions believe that the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. It is a time to honor those who have passed, those saints of our lives who now rest in the arms of God. We in the Spanish Language/Liberation Theology Immersion group from our annual conference were in Mexico for El Dia de Los Muertos, and joined the people of a small town, going from home to home of those who had lost a loved one this year, to view the altars they had made for them and to be offered food and drink as a way to celebrate their lives.

Who are the saints in your life, those who from their labors rest, who today are sitting now at God’s side, watching over and caring for you, continuing to surround you in love that not even death can destroy?

Whose voice do you still hear? Who do you remember? Who showed you a bit of what God is like? Who loved you? Whose love was so big that not even death can put an end to it? I invite you to post their picture below, and offer a memory or two.

Thomas Lynch, an undertaker turned poet, reminds us to be gentle with ourselves and our grief. It is hard work. His advice is this:

“There's no easy way to do this. So do it right: weep, laugh, watch, pray, love, live, give thanks and praise; comfort, mend, honor, and remember.”

I invite you, tomorrow, to turn to your pewmates as you remember the saints of your lives. Offer comfort. Offer affirmation. Offer life. Offer love as we live into and move through our grief, as we surround ourselves with saints.