Last Sunday, Fr. David spoke about how God desires for us to pray and to ask Him for things. "Ask, and it will be given you;" "Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things which you have not known" (Jer 33:3). God has told us how to speak to Him and promises to give good gifts to those who ask them of Him.
In his sermon, Fr. David focused on how the most profound encounters with God occur in the midst of difficulty. It can't be found in the world, in material things, or in triumphs, but in the places God longs to search us out -- broken and on our knees. "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise" (Ps 51:17).
We all know the story of the footprints in the sand: a man is looking back at his life as two sets of footprints. One belongs to himself, and the other to God. Most of the time, the record in the sand shows that the man and God walked side by side. But the man notices that during the most difficult periods of his life, there is only one set of footprints. The man is angry and demands to know why God abandoned him during the times he needed Him the most. God replies: "No, my son, it was then, during those times, that I carried you."
Although this story may be a bit of a cliche by now, it does capture the truth that God is profoundly with us in our suffering. The constant companionship of the LORD's path next to ours reminds us that God wants us to ask things of Him, that He's never too far away to hear us.
However, I'm not sure that God wants us to always be down on our knees, fearful, grovelling, or desperate. I think sometimes God wants us on our feet, praising Him: "Hallowed be Thy Name!" Maybe that's the time it's most important to pray, the time when we feel fortunate. We can ask for what's truly important most easily when all our other needs have been satisfied -- that Christ may find a dwelling place of faith in our hearts.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
God vs. God
written by Jeff Alexander
The lectionary is a funny thing. It’s usually pretty straightforward on holy days and other specific celebrations, but the routine-Sunday combinations of Old Testament – Psalm – Epistle – Gospel often keep a poor preacher on his/her toes. This Sunday, in the midst of a celebration of baptism, was no exception. Not only were we treated to Paul’s enumeration of the sins of the flesh – and no reading is a crowd-grabber without “licentiousness” in it! – but the Gospel focused on some of Jesus’ harshest words.
As recounted by Luke (9:57-62), various anonymous speakers express their desire to follow Jesus, but only after completing routine and (on the surface) understandable tasks. “I just have to bury my father,” says one; “I’m coming after I say goodbye to my family,” states another. Would we deny these acts to anyone before they were to jump into a life-changing and life-consuming responsibility? I sure wouldn’t.
And yet, as Katherine Speeckaert pointed out in her reflection, Jesus bluntly responded that both had to choose, then and there, between these actions and devoting their lives to His service. Period. No do-overs, time-outs or polling the audience. This would have been especially troublesome for the mourning man, as Jewish law – God’s law – was very strict on the requirement for burial of a dead body.
What, I wonder, are the first-time attenders among the baptism family thinking? “Woah, this isn’t what I came for. I just wanted to be here for my [family member/friend/co-worker], snap a few cute pictures and fill myself with finger sandwiches and ultra-frosted cake.” Or are they even listening? Are we even listening to Jesus’ words?
There’s the point on which Kat zeroed in. Jesus didn’t hesitate to be controversial or to jar His listeners, even to the point of seemingly contradicting the Father’s will. How can we reconcile when Jesus’ commands fly in the face of the Law?
Step 1 is seeing, through Jesus’ eyes, how God’s commandments and laws had become a way for the religious elite to stay eliter than the rest of the citizenry. “Hypocrites! Well did Isaiah prophesy about you, saying: ‘These people draw near to Me with their mouth, and honor Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me. And in vain they worship Me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.’ ” (Matthew 15:7-9). Jesus, like God, is all about the heart, not the action; the relationship, not the procedure. The ultimate worth of the Law, and its rituals, was to draw all Jews to the Father. Even love for the family and the ritual of burial are consumed by the call of Christ to be His disciple.
As Kat underlined, the Christian life is not one of ease. There is no room for the half-hearted when Jesus is the desire. Remember, the context for this reading was in the midst of Jesus heading relentlessly towards the cross. How can we not give our all in the face of His suffering, humiliation and excruciating death on the cross? We are baptized into a faith that demands our total obedience and willingness to sacrifice for the One who sacrificed His earthly life for our eternal salvation. This is reflected in the very sober promises of the sacrament of baptism, and ring true through the lives of all believers.
Maybe the lectionary wasn’t so strange after all.
The lectionary is a funny thing. It’s usually pretty straightforward on holy days and other specific celebrations, but the routine-Sunday combinations of Old Testament – Psalm – Epistle – Gospel often keep a poor preacher on his/her toes. This Sunday, in the midst of a celebration of baptism, was no exception. Not only were we treated to Paul’s enumeration of the sins of the flesh – and no reading is a crowd-grabber without “licentiousness” in it! – but the Gospel focused on some of Jesus’ harshest words.
As recounted by Luke (9:57-62), various anonymous speakers express their desire to follow Jesus, but only after completing routine and (on the surface) understandable tasks. “I just have to bury my father,” says one; “I’m coming after I say goodbye to my family,” states another. Would we deny these acts to anyone before they were to jump into a life-changing and life-consuming responsibility? I sure wouldn’t.
And yet, as Katherine Speeckaert pointed out in her reflection, Jesus bluntly responded that both had to choose, then and there, between these actions and devoting their lives to His service. Period. No do-overs, time-outs or polling the audience. This would have been especially troublesome for the mourning man, as Jewish law – God’s law – was very strict on the requirement for burial of a dead body.
What, I wonder, are the first-time attenders among the baptism family thinking? “Woah, this isn’t what I came for. I just wanted to be here for my [family member/friend/co-worker], snap a few cute pictures and fill myself with finger sandwiches and ultra-frosted cake.” Or are they even listening? Are we even listening to Jesus’ words?
There’s the point on which Kat zeroed in. Jesus didn’t hesitate to be controversial or to jar His listeners, even to the point of seemingly contradicting the Father’s will. How can we reconcile when Jesus’ commands fly in the face of the Law?
Step 1 is seeing, through Jesus’ eyes, how God’s commandments and laws had become a way for the religious elite to stay eliter than the rest of the citizenry. “Hypocrites! Well did Isaiah prophesy about you, saying: ‘These people draw near to Me with their mouth, and honor Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me. And in vain they worship Me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.’ ” (Matthew 15:7-9). Jesus, like God, is all about the heart, not the action; the relationship, not the procedure. The ultimate worth of the Law, and its rituals, was to draw all Jews to the Father. Even love for the family and the ritual of burial are consumed by the call of Christ to be His disciple.
As Kat underlined, the Christian life is not one of ease. There is no room for the half-hearted when Jesus is the desire. Remember, the context for this reading was in the midst of Jesus heading relentlessly towards the cross. How can we not give our all in the face of His suffering, humiliation and excruciating death on the cross? We are baptized into a faith that demands our total obedience and willingness to sacrifice for the One who sacrificed His earthly life for our eternal salvation. This is reflected in the very sober promises of the sacrament of baptism, and ring true through the lives of all believers.
Maybe the lectionary wasn’t so strange after all.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The Unnecessary Savior
On Sunday, Fr. David spoke about how the ‘world’ seems to have decided it doesn’t need God anymore. It goes about its business -- Grand Prix, the World Cup, etc. -- thinking that God isn’t a part of it at all. Life is fine just the way it is: a solitary individual or group or team going about their business for their own benefit, and nothing more.
It’s when you’re really down, when you really hit rock-bottom, that you know God is with you. Fr. David reminded us of the story of Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his own brothers and ended up in prison after being accused of a crime he didn’t commit. All that time, God was with him, and God had a plan. Joseph wasn’t in it alone.
How many times in our own lives have we felt God’s presence beneath layers of setback and hardship? Feeling like we have nowhere else to turn really does awaken a knowledge of God’s presence in a person’s heart. We come to know, in our difficulties, that God has a plan for us in our lives and will not abandon us to ourselves. For some reason, God is always easiest to see against starkness and barrenness. From within comfort and extravagance, He often can seem absent.
It’s important to remember that God is with us in our successes as well as our failures. God’s plan for Joseph wasn’t only that he would suffer but that he would rise to greatness, and someday use that power for the good of others -- even those who had brought harm to him in the first place.
God raises us up, and we always need him. The ‘world’ is wrong to think that God is dead or unnecessary, because the whole world, in all its aspects, is held within God’s eternal plan. It is important that we, as Christians, do not forget our dependence on God, or we may become caught up in a world bent on living without Him. Our God is with us both in sickness and in health, in abundance and drought.
In what ways do we, as a community and as people, acknowledge our dependence on God’s saving help?
It’s when you’re really down, when you really hit rock-bottom, that you know God is with you. Fr. David reminded us of the story of Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his own brothers and ended up in prison after being accused of a crime he didn’t commit. All that time, God was with him, and God had a plan. Joseph wasn’t in it alone.
How many times in our own lives have we felt God’s presence beneath layers of setback and hardship? Feeling like we have nowhere else to turn really does awaken a knowledge of God’s presence in a person’s heart. We come to know, in our difficulties, that God has a plan for us in our lives and will not abandon us to ourselves. For some reason, God is always easiest to see against starkness and barrenness. From within comfort and extravagance, He often can seem absent.
It’s important to remember that God is with us in our successes as well as our failures. God’s plan for Joseph wasn’t only that he would suffer but that he would rise to greatness, and someday use that power for the good of others -- even those who had brought harm to him in the first place.
God raises us up, and we always need him. The ‘world’ is wrong to think that God is dead or unnecessary, because the whole world, in all its aspects, is held within God’s eternal plan. It is important that we, as Christians, do not forget our dependence on God, or we may become caught up in a world bent on living without Him. Our God is with us both in sickness and in health, in abundance and drought.
In what ways do we, as a community and as people, acknowledge our dependence on God’s saving help?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
A Still, Small Voice
This Sunday we heard testimony from Missy about how God is at work in her life. She spoke about feeling lost in the hectic rhythm of day-to-day life, about feeling spiritually lost, and about feeling as if she were in a void sometimes. I’m sure everyone has felt that way at least once in their lives. In the midst of our busy days, how do we find our way back onto the path? How do we find time to get un-lost when all our responsibilities are pressing down upon us?
Missy testified powerfully about the effect taking five minutes out for God can have on our day and on our lives. By spending a few moments in quiet meditation at the beginning of the day, she found a space to be alone with God, and the effect of having that space for relationship spread through the rest of her life.
She also spoke about the signs in her life that led her to slow down and take time for God, time to find her way back onto the path again. For her, these signs were physical illnesses. The idea that God wants us to take a break at times is a really important lesson that we as a society often forget. When people run into adversity in their lives, the often-heard message is one that urges us to keep going, work harder and –whatever we do – not to give up. But maybe that isn’t always what we need to do, maybe we shouldn’t always be forging blindly onward. Instead we may need, as Missy did, to take time out and discern what God wants for us in our lives. It might be that we need to move sideways to get onto the path, and that charging straight ahead is exactly what we shouldn’t do.
One could say that Sunday’s service was exactly the opposite of the still space where Missy found God: full of music and words and reflection and speech. One could say that, but it would be wrong. We are called to seek God in all things and in all the manifold ways we seek God, we find that stillness. That still, small voice within the chaos; that still, small voice that leads us home.
Missy testified powerfully about the effect taking five minutes out for God can have on our day and on our lives. By spending a few moments in quiet meditation at the beginning of the day, she found a space to be alone with God, and the effect of having that space for relationship spread through the rest of her life.
She also spoke about the signs in her life that led her to slow down and take time for God, time to find her way back onto the path again. For her, these signs were physical illnesses. The idea that God wants us to take a break at times is a really important lesson that we as a society often forget. When people run into adversity in their lives, the often-heard message is one that urges us to keep going, work harder and –whatever we do – not to give up. But maybe that isn’t always what we need to do, maybe we shouldn’t always be forging blindly onward. Instead we may need, as Missy did, to take time out and discern what God wants for us in our lives. It might be that we need to move sideways to get onto the path, and that charging straight ahead is exactly what we shouldn’t do.
One could say that Sunday’s service was exactly the opposite of the still space where Missy found God: full of music and words and reflection and speech. One could say that, but it would be wrong. We are called to seek God in all things and in all the manifold ways we seek God, we find that stillness. That still, small voice within the chaos; that still, small voice that leads us home.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Upon This Rock
This week we celebrated Pentecost -- the outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles that gave them the courage and tools to go out and proclaim the Good News. In John's gospel, Jesus breathes the Spirit upon upon them, and in Acts of Apostles the Spirit comes down like tongues of fire. Either way, the Spirit empowers them to do things that would otherwise have been impossible.
Fr. David said something that really stuck with me: that religious faith is the most powerful human experience there is. It's real. It's so real that it calls us to, and speaks to us of, the kind of life God wants us to have -- Eternal life. Basing our lives on Christian faith is like building a house on solid rock, like planting our roots in deep earth.
The 'world' is seductive with answers, and it tells us we have everything we need in it. Cars, televisions, hockey matches; everything that is exhilarating; everything that is life. But really, all of it is fleeting, here for a season and then gone. Basing our lives on these things is like building a house on sand, like planting our roots in a land without water.
As Fr. David pointed out, Jesus found his disciples at the shore because they had returned to their old lives and were fishing. It was too much for them, and they ran. But he came after them, and called them back, and gave them the Spirit so they could do the work they were called to do. In the same way we, too, sometimes run away, back to the soft and easy ground that demands less of us. And, in the same way, the Spirit fills us with the power to return to God Who is our rock and fortress. The Spirit is not gone but among us, was given and has not been taken away.
As members of the universal priesthood of all believers, we have been given the power of God and the strength of God to preach the Gospel by building our lives on the faith of Christ Jesus. At Pentecost, we celebrate the work of the Spirit in all the world by recalling those disciples who, though frightened, built up the foundation of our faith.
How do we, as Christians, lead others to the sure foundation of faith, and how do we build upon it by allowing the Spirit to move within ourselves?
Fr. David said something that really stuck with me: that religious faith is the most powerful human experience there is. It's real. It's so real that it calls us to, and speaks to us of, the kind of life God wants us to have -- Eternal life. Basing our lives on Christian faith is like building a house on solid rock, like planting our roots in deep earth.
The 'world' is seductive with answers, and it tells us we have everything we need in it. Cars, televisions, hockey matches; everything that is exhilarating; everything that is life. But really, all of it is fleeting, here for a season and then gone. Basing our lives on these things is like building a house on sand, like planting our roots in a land without water.
As Fr. David pointed out, Jesus found his disciples at the shore because they had returned to their old lives and were fishing. It was too much for them, and they ran. But he came after them, and called them back, and gave them the Spirit so they could do the work they were called to do. In the same way we, too, sometimes run away, back to the soft and easy ground that demands less of us. And, in the same way, the Spirit fills us with the power to return to God Who is our rock and fortress. The Spirit is not gone but among us, was given and has not been taken away.
As members of the universal priesthood of all believers, we have been given the power of God and the strength of God to preach the Gospel by building our lives on the faith of Christ Jesus. At Pentecost, we celebrate the work of the Spirit in all the world by recalling those disciples who, though frightened, built up the foundation of our faith.
How do we, as Christians, lead others to the sure foundation of faith, and how do we build upon it by allowing the Spirit to move within ourselves?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Game Changers
Written by Jeff Alexander
Who was St. Monica, other than the namesake of the city in southwest California? On this Mother’s Day, it was interesting to hear from Father David Hart the story of St. Monica and her more-famous child, Augustine of Hippo. Before the latter became one of the most important “deep thinkers” of the early church, Augustine led a pretty self-indulgent life of wine, women and song, and became a devotee of non-Christian beliefs and philosophies while away at school in the big city of Carthage. Monica, however, was a devoted Christian, and kept at her son, praying for him and pleading with him to put his belief in Jesus. Augustine eventually became not just a believer, but devoted his life and great mind to working for God.
In Augustine’s life, Monica was the game changer. Without her, he was living it up; he even snuck away from her while they were both in Rome. But Monica was tenacious; she caught up with him in Milan, where Augustine eventually was baptized into the Christian church. Her interventions brought him to a place where he came to faith, and the rest is (literally) history.
The term “game changer” gets tossed around with regularity in the mainstream media. It reflects the point in an event that shifts the momentum significantly. The British media labeled now-former Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s “bigoted woman” gaffe the game changer of the recent election.
Father David challenged us to think about the “game changers” in our lives. Whom has God put in our paths to point us to Him? What circumstances have brought us to a deeper faith, possibly through a crisis? Do others see us as their game changers?
It is at the same time humbling and amazing to consider how God works all things to His plan. Please note: I am not saying that God makes all things happen, and tragedies and victories are both slapped with a generic “good” label. Horrible, heart-wrenching things happen in this world with regularity, just as do joyous, miraculous and triumphant things. But God works within human history – sometimes more directly than others – to bring about goodness and to shine His light in the world. And the ultimate goodness is that souls are won to Him to spend eternity in a new heaven and new earth where horrors and tragedies aren’t even memories, and where “coincidence” isn’t found in the dictionary.
Make the most of your opportunities to change the game for someone every day.
Who was St. Monica, other than the namesake of the city in southwest California? On this Mother’s Day, it was interesting to hear from Father David Hart the story of St. Monica and her more-famous child, Augustine of Hippo. Before the latter became one of the most important “deep thinkers” of the early church, Augustine led a pretty self-indulgent life of wine, women and song, and became a devotee of non-Christian beliefs and philosophies while away at school in the big city of Carthage. Monica, however, was a devoted Christian, and kept at her son, praying for him and pleading with him to put his belief in Jesus. Augustine eventually became not just a believer, but devoted his life and great mind to working for God.
In Augustine’s life, Monica was the game changer. Without her, he was living it up; he even snuck away from her while they were both in Rome. But Monica was tenacious; she caught up with him in Milan, where Augustine eventually was baptized into the Christian church. Her interventions brought him to a place where he came to faith, and the rest is (literally) history.
The term “game changer” gets tossed around with regularity in the mainstream media. It reflects the point in an event that shifts the momentum significantly. The British media labeled now-former Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s “bigoted woman” gaffe the game changer of the recent election.
Father David challenged us to think about the “game changers” in our lives. Whom has God put in our paths to point us to Him? What circumstances have brought us to a deeper faith, possibly through a crisis? Do others see us as their game changers?
It is at the same time humbling and amazing to consider how God works all things to His plan. Please note: I am not saying that God makes all things happen, and tragedies and victories are both slapped with a generic “good” label. Horrible, heart-wrenching things happen in this world with regularity, just as do joyous, miraculous and triumphant things. But God works within human history – sometimes more directly than others – to bring about goodness and to shine His light in the world. And the ultimate goodness is that souls are won to Him to spend eternity in a new heaven and new earth where horrors and tragedies aren’t even memories, and where “coincidence” isn’t found in the dictionary.
Make the most of your opportunities to change the game for someone every day.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Jesus, The Non-Disney Version
This Sunday, Jeff reminded us of the book at the end of the Bible that so many people want to forget: Revelation. This book has caused division within churches and between denominations as people fight over things like if Jesus will come before the millennium or afterward, who the Antichrist is, and whether or not there will be a literal dragon.
Whatever our take on it, Revelation does not present us with an image of Jesus-meek-and-mild. It's an R-rated gore fest filled with rivers of blood and a lot of killing. There's a final battle and everlasting torment. There's even childbirth and prostitution.
Even though we can take comfort in knowing how it ends -- God wins -- Revelation still challenges us and makes us uneasy. It isn't a picture of Jesus that we want to see. It isn't an end we really want to envision. It isn't the kind of all-forgiving, sweet God that we want to believe in. Seen through our modern eyes, it brings on a crisis of Christian belief because it means Jesus has not usurped the place of YHWH in the Hebrew Scriptures and set up a monarchy of absolute pacifism. Jesus comes in power with a sword in his mouth that will be used for slaughter.
This is not the way we imagine God's grace, and it isn't what we understand as every tear being wiped away. So what is it?
As Jeff pointed out, it's a picture of God's justice. Heaven is a perfect place, and so all sin must be eliminated. There's simply no question about it: in a place without death, sorrow, or crying anymore, all that does not fit with God's perfection must be purged. Only in such a place could we dwell with God.
I don't know whether or not the end of times will really be like this. I think the outpouring of God's unmerited grace manifests in the world both as mercy and justice, and that the two cannot be separated.
In this world, it makes sense that the image of God's justice would be one of destructive warfare. After all, we've seen that while love and peace can stand firm against iniquity, and sometimes even overcome it, it can't destroy it. But while this may be a picture of justice we can understand, I don't think it's literally true. In the same way, the image of the Good Shepherd coming to lead us all to green pastures makes sense of God's mercy. But I don't really think it will be like that. These pictures help us grasp what is fundamentally incomprehensible about God, which is that He's both perfectly just and perfectly merciful.
When the end comes, we won't need any of these images anymore. All the images, like all things, will be made new. Until then, Revelation helps us remember that, whatever we think God is like, He isn't that, because He's so much more. Even though He gives Himself to us in the person of Jesus, we cannot enclose or comprehend him in our own flawed humanity.
While building a church on a missionary assignment, Homer Simpson says, "Well, I may not know much about God, but I have to say we built a pretty nice cage for Him." In what ways do we try to limit God to being only what we want Him to be?
Whatever our take on it, Revelation does not present us with an image of Jesus-meek-and-mild. It's an R-rated gore fest filled with rivers of blood and a lot of killing. There's a final battle and everlasting torment. There's even childbirth and prostitution.
Even though we can take comfort in knowing how it ends -- God wins -- Revelation still challenges us and makes us uneasy. It isn't a picture of Jesus that we want to see. It isn't an end we really want to envision. It isn't the kind of all-forgiving, sweet God that we want to believe in. Seen through our modern eyes, it brings on a crisis of Christian belief because it means Jesus has not usurped the place of YHWH in the Hebrew Scriptures and set up a monarchy of absolute pacifism. Jesus comes in power with a sword in his mouth that will be used for slaughter.
This is not the way we imagine God's grace, and it isn't what we understand as every tear being wiped away. So what is it?
As Jeff pointed out, it's a picture of God's justice. Heaven is a perfect place, and so all sin must be eliminated. There's simply no question about it: in a place without death, sorrow, or crying anymore, all that does not fit with God's perfection must be purged. Only in such a place could we dwell with God.
I don't know whether or not the end of times will really be like this. I think the outpouring of God's unmerited grace manifests in the world both as mercy and justice, and that the two cannot be separated.
In this world, it makes sense that the image of God's justice would be one of destructive warfare. After all, we've seen that while love and peace can stand firm against iniquity, and sometimes even overcome it, it can't destroy it. But while this may be a picture of justice we can understand, I don't think it's literally true. In the same way, the image of the Good Shepherd coming to lead us all to green pastures makes sense of God's mercy. But I don't really think it will be like that. These pictures help us grasp what is fundamentally incomprehensible about God, which is that He's both perfectly just and perfectly merciful.
When the end comes, we won't need any of these images anymore. All the images, like all things, will be made new. Until then, Revelation helps us remember that, whatever we think God is like, He isn't that, because He's so much more. Even though He gives Himself to us in the person of Jesus, we cannot enclose or comprehend him in our own flawed humanity.
While building a church on a missionary assignment, Homer Simpson says, "Well, I may not know much about God, but I have to say we built a pretty nice cage for Him." In what ways do we try to limit God to being only what we want Him to be?
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