Journeying with the Magi

This is the Sunday when we remember when the Magi, with a sense of urgency, journeyed from the East. They followed the star, traveling first to Jerusalem and then on to Bethlehem, seeking to encounter the Christ Child.

While they were in Jerusalem, they came to Herod and stated their intentions to find this one called the king of the Jews. Herod feared this news but feigned a reverent interest in the baby, stating that he wanted the Magi to return to him after they had located the baby.

But the Magi listened to a message that came to them in a dream: don’t go back to Herod. They went home by a new road as they sought to distance themselves from a second encounter with Herod. By avoiding Herod, they kept Jesus alive. Herod was so threatened by the baby Jesus that he on to murder all the baby boys in Bethlehem

Our dreams can startle us in their clarity, pointing us to a direction we hadn’t intended to take.

Where do your dreams lead you?

Are you willing to step out on a journey that has no clear map, trusting that you will be guided by the Spirit to a place that is both transformative and life-giving?

By taking the unfamiliar road, what will be saved? Perhaps this is a question we most overlook when we are challenged to change direction. We keep looking back at what we will lose. But our actions—like the Magi—have the capacity to bring life to others in ways we can’t even imagine.

Journey with the Magi to encounter the Christ Child. Bring what gifts you can offer. Then, rise from your knees and take the path that will offer you—and others—life!

Death Is Entwined With Life

 

This weekend was Bishop Wilbur Choy’s funeral. Like so many episcopal elections in the Western Jurisdiction, his was historic as the first Asian American elected a bishop in the UMC. 

 

This has been a season of death. From COVID’s claws to nature’s fury to war’s destruction, the cloak of death weighs heavy. Lent, too, is a season where the specter of death is uncomfortably close. It begins with the imposition of ashes, marking and reminding us of our mortality. It ends in the darkness of a tomb. 

 

We can’t escape death. We are marching towards it our entire life. 

 

And while the final death blow is ever before us, throughout our life we experience little deaths. Relationships change. Our bodies change. The world we once knew is no more.

 

Death is entwined with life. 

 

Some deaths are needed and welcomed: killing off tumors, germs and viruses or habits and relationships we finally realize are hastening our demise. Others are unwelcomed, unexpected, and feel unwarranted. Yet, these, too, hold surprises for us.

 

Helen Keller once said: “Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.”

 

We who follow a crucified yet resurrected Christ know that death is not final. There awaits, on the other side of every death, new and fuller life. Of this, the apostle Paul writes, almost mockingly: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (I Corinthians 15: 55)

 

What are the things within you that are preventing you from the promise of new life? What can you, must you let go of to receive the blessing of resurrection?

Jesus Is Calling

Facebook has been reminding me that five years ago I was the Holy Land with a group from the church I last served. I have loved the pictures that have popped up, reminding me of what a powerful trip it was. I have especially been drawn to the pictures of the Sea of Galilee. Traveling around Galilee, it is easy to imagine Jesus walking around, teaching, healing, and, especially, inviting people to follow him into a new way of living.

Those first disciples—fisherman going about their business—found their daily tasks interrupted by the One who broke through the darkness to bring light and life. They dropped their nets to join him in this new way of living, and invited others to do the same.

Since that time, all sorts of people have found their lives interrupted by Jesus. The broken have found restoration; the sick have found wholeness; those pushed to the side found themselves now in the  center of God’s love and care.

And each time someone has responded to this call, the world shifted as God’s Beloved Community took deeper form. By embracing the life Jesus offered, embodying his teaching and remaining faithful to loving God and loving others, these people have shared the Good News. As a result, others have joined this movement Jesus created.

The biblical story of the call of the disciples by the Sea of Galilee gets replayed in every life. Do you remember when Jesus first touched your life and invited you to follow him? How did your living change? How were the lives around you changed because of the ways you shared this love of God and neighbor?

Each one of us is called to join in this journey with Jesus. It doesn’t necessarily mean you are called to ordained ministry, but you ARE called to some form of ministry. How you choose to live as a disciple of Jesus will determine whether or not others will find their darkness turning to light because YOU lived the love of God so fully.

I will never forget reading, “The only Jesus someone may meet today is YOU.” Jesus has called you to follow him. May you follow him so closely that your life is a reflection of Him. And may others find themselves curious to discover more about the source of this light, life, and love.

CHOOSE LIFE!

It's Saturday night and I am praying for the clergy and laity of the Mountain Sky Conference as we prepare for Sunday worship.

"I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendants may live, loving your God, obeying the commandments and cleaving to God, for that means life to you... that you may dwell in the land which God swore to your parents."

       

Moses spoke these words the Israelites as they stood on the far side of the Jordan river. This is the second generation of those who were once slaves but were liberated from Egypt. The first generation nearly reached this same point forty years earlier but didn’t reach the Promised Land because they feared the risk of following God over the Jordan river. The result of their lack of faith was that even though this first generation experienced God's help in their release from captivity, they led themselves into another kind of captivity as they wandered in the wilderness, because they lacked the faith to follow God into the promised land.  This journey became a death march, as the first generation slowly died off. Moses speaks to their surviving children, now adults themselves. The decision is now before them: to choose life, or death. Are they able to trust God enough to risk following God over the Jordan, or shall they stay wandering in the wilderness another generation? 

The promised land is so close now that they can see it. Yet, so did their parents decades earlier. Will they have the depth of faith and trust in God to enable them to risk crossing over into Canaan? "I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendants may live."

This choice is ours as well. Every day, God sets before us life and death. Are we willing to take a step towards life, or will we be like that first generation of wandering Israelites, and choose death over life?

As a pastor, I have seen too many people settle for death instead of choosing life.  It is a culture of death which pervades so much of our world, our nation, our cities, our communities. Too many of us have adopted this culture of death in our own lives. Life has become cheap, meaningless, hopeless, and nowhere else is that visible than the way we live our lives. We have grown so comfortable with death that we invite death into our lives, into our bodies, into our relationships, into our homes, into the land, the water, the air, in countless ways.

How have you settled for a culture of death?

It’s not just individuals who must choose between life and death. Entire communities, too, must decide.  I have seen too many churches choose death instead of life. One church had dwindled down to 8 members. They didn’t want their church to close, but were unaware of the ways they had chosen death over life. They had literally nailed the front doors of the church shut, so that everyone needed to find a side door when they came to church. They allowed their building to become so run down that there were more rats than people in the church. When a newcomer made their way through the hallway maze from the side door to the sanctuary,  they were greeted with cold stares instead of warm welcome which communicated strongly to the newcomers, “What are YOU doing here?” And woe to the visitor who sat in the pew of one of the regulars.

This church had chosen death instead of life. They believed their best years were behind them and they stopped looking forward to the promised land God was calling them to.

With so many of us willingly accepting a culture of death in our lives, relationships and homes,  it is any wonder why there is so much violence in our neighborhoods, cities, schools, and world? Until we get a sense of our own self-worth, that life--our life--is not a cheap thing to be thrown away but a gift to be savored, and that the same holds for every living person, every living thing on this planet, we will be plagued with a culture of death. But it is not inevitable. It is not our fate. We can end the violence, end the death-inviting behaviors, end the brittle and battering relationships.

Jesus said,  “I have come that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” I have come that YOU might have life. And not just a miserly piece of it. Not some fraction that could be used up before you know it, but abundant life.

This life is rooted in love. Love of God, love of neighbor, love of ourselves. This is the abundant life Jesus tries to teach us over and over again: When we love, we find ourselves connect to others in deep and mysterious ways. What happens to others, even to those we don’t know, matter and move us when we are living a life of love. We react to it. We want to do something about it. We want to make things better.

You and I can push back this culture of death. Together. In community. It starts now. Whatever and wherever death has a hold of you, know God is wanting to give you life. Abundant life. And it is right this moment that we can choose life, can choose the way of love, can live into connection with others by committing ourselves to community. When we say we are a part of a church community what we mean is that I am greater, more powerful, more loving, more hopeful with you than I am without you. I can affect more change, I can transform more of the world, I can better heal my own life and the lives of those around me when I join my love with others than I can do when I am alone.

Choose life!

The Legacy We Leave Behind

After a week of meetings in Grand Junction, Robin and I travelled to southwest Colorado. Our route took us through Moab where we took in some of the amazing scenery. At one spot, we saw a bunch of petroglyphs etched on a single big rock: there was bighorn sheep, feet, centipedes, a birthing scene, horse and rider and birds. The variety of images were etched at different dates: anywhere from 1 AD to 1880!

What is it about we humans that cause us to want to leave our mark somewhere? Petroglyphs, graffiti, a stone fence, children, a building, a piece of art or book—the drive to leave something that will live long after we are gone is strong. 

Our life is but a small speck in the great expanse of time that humans have existed. 

James 4:14 reminds us of that fact: “Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.”

What is the legacy you will leave once your brief time on earth is done? Will you be remembered by the material things you left behind, or by the lives you touched and changed? We all live in social circles: families, neighborhoods, work teams, church groups. What mark are you leaving? Do you love others in ways that help them live into their best selves? Do you work to break down the divisions between people? Are you working side by side with others so justice can be realized for those without it? Are you offering tenderness and compassion in places where harshness and apathy seem to have the upper hand?

Perhaps you will never leave behind an etching on a rock that someone will gaze upon hundreds of years later. But may the seed of love you plant in someone’s heart bear fruit for generations. 

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.